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ENCYCLOPEDIA  BRITANNICA 


\ 
\ 


OR,  A 


DICTIONARY 


OF 


ARTS,  SCIENCES,  AND  MISCELLANEOUS 

LITERATURE; 


ENLARGED  AND  IMPROVED. 


THE  SIXTH  EDITION. 


3M(trateli  fnitb  neatls  ttix  OttnOreO  ^ngcaDingiBi. 


VOL.  XIV. 


INDOCTI  DISCAKT  ;   AMENT  MEMINISSE  PERITI. 


EDINBURGH: 

PRINTED  FOR  ARCHIBALD  CONSTABLE  AND  COMPANY ; 

AND  HUKST,  ROBINSON,  AND  COMPANT,  90,  CHEAPSIDE, 

LONDON. 


1823. 


.  *«-  v^"  to 

V.14- 


CI 

Ak)-nGi. 


Ej^CYCLOPiEDIA   BrITANNICA. 


•^■4aa«^^*^H 


Miccift* 


M    I    C 

MICROSCOPE,  m  •pfckaiiaatfVMiit^ooMisfiiiff 
of  Umtm,  m  uanats^  hy  meaas  of  ^tk  mmS 
obJMlv  a^pcw  larger  dMn  thi^  dk  Ao  the  nakad  ^jre^ 
iSM^ir  ancRMnpei  oonatt  of  a  an^gle  kaaoo  iMonor )  or 
tf  ■!•»  Iwiw  oir  aamnlmnmim  we  of^Uiegr-  oobji*  serve 
t»tlnoi»  ligfaft  open  tie  obyeci,  bui  d»nofc  conlnubote  t« 
«rioige  tiie  iaagB  of  it  DombU  €it  £iompn»d  ifeir 
M  tkew  ia  wlMk  the  nuige  of  Ml  0I9MI  ^ 
bjF  ttone  of  aone  leaeea  or  adnoei  tku 


Foe  the  priBciflea  enwUcb  the  oQaiir«etioiii  of  m^ 
cre«opes  jepenii,  see  0^i€»»  In  the  yreeeiMt  ertiohs^ 
It  h  iateaAcd  to  ifetcfifae  the  fiaiBbed  ketMrnnli  with 
«ll  ite  Tsried  sfporiiAM^aeoordiiig  to  th«  lelOit  Mtprovo- 
loeirto;  and  t0>  MraBtaatebf  prepes 4ei«Ha its 


L  Of  StNouR  MiBrmayim^ 


TkiE  fiMMoa  aioMoopee  nurfe  we  «£  by  Sfr  Leoik- 
««iihooelD,  weiDe  aH,  aa  Mr  Biker  aaource  w,  of  the 
eiBgle  kudf  aod  the  ceattroctaon  of  theto  tfiM  the  mott 
■ia^  ponifale)  eacb  niwaiintiig  qbIj  of  a  eii^e  leas  set 
h«4wee»  two  plaiteo  of  eihrev*  pnrAratod  with  a.  emaU 
holoy  with  a  moveable  pia  before  it  to  place  the  object 
Huandadpatktothee^ofthebehoMar..  Heiaferms 
woi^thafelmaof  odyj.aaA aot ffaMr%  were  ute4  h 
woHT^one  o£  thoia  aicaeeeepea* 
Plate  I4  The  sbgla  aiiaratoope  aow  awtft  yeially  knowt 
cccxxxTii.  aad  used  is  that  called  WUmmU  focktt  Micntoopt.  The 
Ik- 1,  bo^ianaile  of  bra»,  Wory,  sr  sUver^aad  is  repfe- 
seated  by  AA,  BB.  CC  ia  a  loog&ie  Chveaded«Mle 
sefowctiuit  tuno  bla.  the  bodv  •(  the  lasoieacepo  ^  A 
a  eonveoD  glass  at  the  endi  or  the  aorow*  Tw«  ooar- 
cave  nmnd  pieces  >ofthiii^bnes»  wilh  hsiea  of  diflbveot 
iKaaseteas  in  Ae  asiddhi  ^  thtnii  are  f)aoe4^to  oover 
the  ahinr»«w«tioned  glassy  and  thereby  4iattnMi  the 
apertare  when  the  ffoaleet  amg«»Gtn  «ve  empMe4 
££,  three  thpa  plates,  of  braes  witUa  the  be^  of  the 
nicrceeopB  I  one  of  wbccshJabeni  semiciMnilariy  in  the 
anddlb^  sot  ae  ta  fiwar  an  asehed  oavity  for  the  veoof^ 
(ten  of  ft.  tnbe  ef  ghws,  the  usq  of  the  other  tw»  bo» 
lag  to  leeeiffa  andi  hoM  the  sliders  between  then.  P, 
a  piece  of  wood  oc  ivory,  arched  in  4b(%  OHumer  of 
the  semieircaUir  plate,  aiid  cemsiited  to  iu  G,  the 
other  end  of  theboufy  of  the  nucrascope,  where  a  hol- 
low fenmb  nerew  10  adapted  to  receive  the  diflhieilt 
nwffntfien.  H  is  ik  qpiiU  spring  of  steel»  between 
Vol.  XIV.  Part  I.  f 


MIC 

the  end  O  and  the  platee  of  brass,  iatettdcd  to  (xep    iijei«. 
the  flatss  m  a  right  position  aad  countenct  the  long 
saaew  CC*    I  is  a  somU  turned  banJle,  for  die  better 
holdini^of  tb»  saatraaKnt,  to  screw  on  or  off  at  plea* 
safe* 

To  this  microscope  belong,  aiz  or  seven  magnifying 
gfawes :  six:  of  them  are  set  in  silver,  brass,  or  ivon^ 
as-  in  the  igfire  K  %  and  marked  x,  29  3t  4,  5,  6,  tM 
lowest  nmsbero  being  the  peatest  maf^mers*  L  ia 
't^  aHMMti  magaifieiv  set  m  ttie  nuumer  of  a  little 
beir^to  be  faelTin  the  hand  &r  thle  viewing  of  any 
j^uMi  object  M  ia  a  flat  sKp  of  ivory,  culled  a 
^Uder^  with  fonr  round  holes  tliraog^  it,,  wherein  to 
flaci  objects  between  two  pieces  of  gUst  or  Hiisoovy 
tak,. aathey  Apf^**  ^  dddtL  Six  such  sliders,  and 
mm  of  brass,  are  usually  sold  wiib  tbw'  mioroficope, 
oome  with  objecto  |iUped  in  ^tlieiny  and  odiers  emp^ 
liMr  viewing  a^y  thoMr  that  may'  oSer :  but  whoever 
fjeaioa  to  make  acollostionfmay  have  asjnany  m  he 
desires.  Tbobsasa  slider  ia  to  confine  any  smAll  object, 
timt  it  mqr  be  viewed  without  enishuig  or  destroying 
it.  N  is  a  tube  of  glass  contrived  to  confine  living  oU 
ject^  such  as  frogs,  fishes,.  &G.  iu  order  to  discover  the 
circubuion  of  the  Mood.  AU  tbese  at«  oontained  in  a 
little  neatboK  of  fisb^sksaor  inahcgaDji^^veiiyiwnvenient 
fi>r  csorying  in  the  pocket* 

When  aA  object  is  to  bo  viewed,  thrust  the  ivory 

-alidoi^  in  whioh.  the  said'ot(ject  ia  jj^bced,  between  the 

two  flat  brass  pUtea  ££ :  observing  always  to  not 

that  side  of  the  slider  where  tbe  bypass  rings  are  tar- 

4hest  from  the  eye.    Then  screw  on  the  wiaguii^ing 

rilass  you  intend  tor  use,  at  the  ejnd  of  the  instrument 

f}  (  and  looking  throu|^  it  against  Hhe  light.  Cum  the 

long  J6V0W  CC,  till  your  object  be  brougfal  to  -suit  your 

•0^04  which  wSl  be  known  by  its  appeariM  perfectly 

distinet  aad  daaiu    it  is  most  properio  lom^^tit  first 

through  a>maguHifT.  that  tmn  show  the  whole'  1^  «nce, 

and  afterwards  to  insnect  At  several  parts  more  parti- 

cnfaur^  with  one  of  Vie  greatest  mogmfiers  y  lor  thus 

-ypn  wall  oain-n  true  idea  ^  the  whok,  and  -of  all  ita 

fpaits,    Aad  Aimgh  the^  greatest  magnifiers  can  show 

-but  a^  minato  portion  of  any  object  at  once,  such  as  the 

•dbiw  of  a  flea,  the  hem  of  a  louse,  or  the  like  \  yet  by 

gently  moving  the  idider  which  contaias  the  object,  the 

eye  nuty  gradually  eyamine  it  all  over. 

As  objects  most  be  brought  very  near  the  glasses 
when  the  greatest  magnifiers  are  made  use  of,  be  care- 
ful not  to  scratch  thm  by.  rubbing  the  slider  against 

A  them 


MIC 


[ 


them  as  yon  mof e  it  in  or  oat.    A  few  turns  of  the 
screw  CC  will  easily  mvent  this  mischief,  hy  giving 
them  room  enough*     lov  may  change  the  objects  in 
your  sliders  for  any  others  you  think  proper,  hy  taking 
oot  the  brass  rings  with  the  point  of  a  {^ij^nife ; 
the  talcs  will  then  itX^  out,  if  yo«  but  ttrro  the  ^deis  j  ; 
and  after  patting  what  yov  please  between ibetp,  by.' 
replacing  the  brass  rings  you  will  fasten  them  as  they 
were  before.     It  is  proper  to  have  some  sliders  furnish- 
ed with  talcs,  bat  widiout  any  object  between  them, 
to  be  always  in  readiness  for  the  examinadon  of  fluids, 
salti,  san^  powders,  the  farina  of  floweis,  or  Wf^ 
other  casual  objects  of  such  sort  as  need  only  be  applied 
to  the  outside  of  the  talc 

The  etreulation  of  the  blood  may  be  easiest  seen  in 
the  tails  or  fins  of  fishes^  in  the  fine  membranes  be- 
tween a  frog^s  toes,  or  best  of  all  in  the  tail  of  a 
water-newt.  If  your  object  be  a  small  fish,  place  it 
within  the  tube  M,  and  spread  its  tail  or  fin  along  the 
side  thereof :  if  a  firog,  choose  such  a  one  as  can  b^t 
jnst  be  got  into  your  tube  j  and,  with  a  pen,  err  small 
stick,  expand  the  transparent  membrane  between  the 
toes  of  the  frog*8  hind  foot  as  much  as  you  can.  When 
your  object  ib  so  adjusted  that  no  part  of  it  can  inter* 
cept  the  light  from  the  place  you  intend  to  Tiew,  un* 
fecrew  the  long  screw  CC,  and  thrust  your  tube  into 
the  arched  cavity,  quite  through  th«  body  of  the  mi* 
oroBcope  j  then  screw  it  to  the  true  focal  distance,  And 
you  wUl  see  the  blood  passing  along  its  vessels  with  % 
rapid  motion,  and  in  a  most  surprising  manner. 

The  third  or  fourth  magnifiers  may  be  used  for 
frogs  or  fishes :  but  for  the  tails  of  watet-newts,  the 
fifth  or  sixth  will  do ;  because  the  globttles  of  their 
blood  are  twice  as  large  as  those  of  Ir^  or  fish.  The 
first  or  second  magnifier  cannot  welt  be  employed  for 
this  purpot^e;  because  the  thickness  of  the  tube  in 
which  the  object  lies;  will  scarce  admit  its  being 
brought  so  near  as  the  focal  distance  of  the  ma^i- 
ficr. 

An  apparatus  for  the  purpose  of  viewing  opaque 
objects  generally  accompanies  this  microscope }  and 
which  consists  of  the  following  parts.  A  brass  arm 
QR,  which  is  screwed  at  Q,  upon  the  body  of  the  mi- 
croscope at  G.  Into  the  round  hole  R,  any  of  the 
magnifiers  suitable  to  the  object  to  be  viewed  are  to 
be  screwed  j  and  under  it,  in  the  same  ring,  the  con- 
cave polished  silver  speculum  S.  Through  a  small 
aperture  in  the  body  of  the  microscope  under  the 
brass  plates  £E,  Is  to  slide  the  long  wire  with  the 
forceps  T:  This  wire  is  pointed  at  one  of  its  ends^ 
and  so,  that  either  the  points  or  forceps  may  be  used 
lor  the  objects  as  may  be  necessary.  It  is  easy*  to 
conceive,  therefore,  that  the  arm  at  R,  which  turns 
by  a  twofold  joint  at  a  and  ft,  may  be  brotight  with 
its.  magnifier  over  the  oM^ct,  the  light  reflieeted  upon 
It  by  the  application  of  the  speculum,  and'  the  true 
focus  obtained  by  turning  of  the  Inale  Scfew  €C  as 
before  directed.*- As  objiecbs  are  sometimes  not  Well 
fixed  for  view,  either*  by  the  forceps  or  point,-  the 
small  piece  shown  at  V  is  added,  and  in  such  eases 
answers  better :  it  screws  over  the  point  of  T  ^  it  ebn- 
taina  a  small  round  piece  of  ivory,  blackened  on  one 
side,  and  left  whke  upon  the  other  as  a  contra(flt  to 
coloured  objects,  and  by  a  small  piece  of  watch'^spring 
fastens  down  the  objects  upon  the  ivory. 

3 


]  MIC 

2.  Single  Microscope  by  reflection.    In  fig.  2.  A  is  a     Miciv. 
scroll  of  brass   fixed  upright  upon  a  round  wooden 
base  B,  or  a  mahogany  drawer  or  case,  so  as  to  stand 
perfectly  firm  and  steady.    C  is  a  brass  screw,  that  pas* 
ses  through  a  hole  in  the  upper  limb  of  the  scroll  in« 
.  to  t^  side  of  ihe  mivpscope  P,^  and  screws  it  fiut  to 
tlie'^s^id.  scrolU  j[&  iM  >  conc^sj^e  fjeculum  set  in  a 
box  of  brass,  which  hangs  in  the  arciiTS  by  two  small 
screws  ff^  that  screw  into  the  opposite  sides  thereof. 
At  the  bottom  of  this  arch  is  a  pin  of  the  same  metal, 
exactly  fitted  to  a  hole  h  in  the  wooden  pedestal,  made 
'>^ir*the  reception  of  the  pin.     As  the  arch  turns  on 
this  pin,  and  the  speculum  turns  on  the  end  of  the 
arch,  it  may,  by  this  twofold  motion,  be  easily  adjust- 
ed in  such  a  manner  as  to  reflect  the  light  of  the  sun, 
of  the  sky,  or  of  a  candle^  directly  upwards  through 
the  microscope  that  is  fixed  perpendicularly  over  it  \ 
and  by  «o  'doiagi  may  be  made  to  answer  manf  .pur- 
potea  of^thelargiadoiiUo  vdlaotii^  miarosctkpe.  >  The 
body  of' the  microaeope  nary' also  fat  fixed  heriiono    • 
tall^  aod  objeeti  viewed  ki  that  posibon  by  any  lig|it 
yoa  choose  \  -i^Uohia  ab*adwitage  'the  coasmon  double 
refleeting  mienisebpe  has  n^    It  aia|t  aiiio  boveodeP' 
od'fuithor  uarful  by  means  of  a  slip -of.  glass;  one^ead 
of  wUch  boing  thmt  throo)^  betweea  the  platas .  where 
the  slideas  go,  and-  lht4>tbBr<attmdiag  to  sooaedistanooi 
such  objects  may  be  placed  thereon  as  cannot  be  a^ 
plied  in  the  slidmv:   alid  then,  ^ving  a  limb  of  brass 
thatmay  fittkn  to  the  body  of  iIk  fiucroaeope,  and  ck» 
tend  over  the  projectiDg  gfelsa  a:  koBosi  jiog  whcceta 
to  sertw  tho  migMfiers,  ali  aorta  of  s^ibjeels  may  be 
examined  )wtfih  great  ^onyefiieifco,  j£  a  hole  bo  mode  ia 
the  pedestal,  to  place  the  speculum  exactly jwidefaeath, 
and  thereby  throw  up  the  rays  of  light.     The  pocket- 
microscope,  tbva' mounted,  saipa.MrBakibr,  "  is  as  easy 
and  pleasant  in  its  use  )   as  fit  for  the  naost  carious  ex- 
amination of  the  'oaimakflilee  and  adhe  in  flMsAsoT^bc         ^ 
fariAfle  in  vegetables,  ail^d  of  tfe  ok^adatiou  in  aamU 
animals  ^  in  abort,  is  as  ^kjAj  to  make  oooaideiahle 
discoveries  in  objeeta,^  that  hten  sbme  de|jree  of  Irana- 
parenoy,  as  any  micrsecope  I  have  ever  seen  or  heard 
of." 

The  brass  soroH  A  is  now  generally  auide  to  un*' 
Screw  into  three  parts,  and  pack  with  tha^microricope 
and  apparatus  into  the  dfmtiferof  a  omhogany  pocket* 
ease,  upon  the  lid  of  which'  tho  aorolL  ia  npade  to  fix 
when  in  use.  ^ 

The  opaque  apparatus  iJso,  as  above  described,  i* 
appKeabJe  this  way  \sj  veflecttota.  'It  ooly  consLita  ia 
turning  the  arm  H  (fig.  i.),'With  the  uu^otfier  over 
the  eoncave '  speculum  below  (fig.  a.),  or  to  receive 
the  Hght  as  t^fltcted  obtiqonly  from  it :  She.silmr  8pe«> 
culuoi  screwed  ioto  R  will  then  reflect  die  light,  whicii 
it  reaei<fe0*from  the  glasa  speoolum^  ^strongly upon  the 
object  that  4s  applied  upon  xht  wire  T  underneath; 

This  mtbcniscopev  however,  *  is  not  npoa«  the  mbst 
ton^ntMit  eonAtmetioni  in  oomporisoa  with  etkm.now 
made :  it  has  be^  eiteaaied'fi»r«iany  ynars-past  froas 
its  popular  name^  and '  recaoAmeadhtioii  by  ita-rraakieira. 
Its  poi^bility  is  oefialnly  aigMA  advantage  'in  (its  fi^ 
vour  \  bat  in  most  M«peot8  -it  is*  sopeiaeded  .by  tfae.mi- 
eros^opes  herearterdefstribed.-  ."^  o    ^ 

3/  A/M»re»Jcop^jf^  Opaout  QbfiPeU,  tailed  ike  Stt^ie  Fig.  3. 
Opaqt/4f  MitrtfKOpe^    lYi«  nvmeseipe  naaedks  ibe.inr 
eoftvenJenco'of  having- the •da»|B'  side*  of ''an  object  next 

.  I     •  '       " '  •'  the 


•ISl    I    c 


t 


teope. 


the  rfCf  whicb  formerly  was  an  inwrmoimtaWe  ob- 
jection to  tlie  making  observations  on  opaque  objects 
'with  any  considerable  degree  of  exactness  or  satis&c- 
tion  :  for,  in  all  other  eontrivanccti  commonly  known, 
the  nearness  of  the  instrument  to  the  object  (when 
glasses  that  magnify  much  are  used)  unavoidably  over- 
%adows  it  so  much,  that  its  ap{iearance  is  rendered  ob- 
6CUW  and  indistinct.  And,  notwithstandhig  ways  have 
been  tried  to  point  light  upon  an  object,  from  the  sun. 
or  a  candle,  by  a  convex  glass  placed  on  thenide  there- 
of, die  rays  from  either  can  be  thrown  upon  it  in  such 
an  acute  angle  only,  that  they  serv-e*  to'  give  a  confused 
glare,  but  are  insufficient  to  aflPord  a  clear  and  perfect 
view  of  the  object.  But  in  this  microscope,  by  means  of 
a  concave  speculum  of  silver  highly  polished,  in  whoso 
centre  a  magnifying  lens  fn  placed,  suc^  a  strong  and 
direct  light  is  r^ected  upon  the  object,  that  it  maybe 
examined  with  all  imaginable  ease  and  pleasure.  The 
Several  parts  of  this  instrument,  made  either  of  brass  or 
silver,  are  as  follow.  ' ' 

Through  the  first  side  A,  passes  a  fine  screw  B,  the 
other  end  of  which  is  fastened  to  the  moveable  side  C. 
I>  b  a  nut  applied  to  this  screw,  by  the  turning  of 
which  the  two  sides  A  and  C  are  gradoally  Brought 
togedier.  E  is  a  spring  of  steel  that  separates  the 
two  sides  when  the  nut  is  unscrewed.  F  is  a  piece  of 
brass,  turning  round  in  a  socket,  whence  proceeds  a 
small  spring  tube  moving'  upon  a  rivet ;  through  which 
tnbe  there  runs  a  steel  wire,  one  end  whereof  termi' 
nates  in  a  sharp  point  G,  and  the  other  with  a  pair  of 
pliers  H  fastened  to  it.  The  point  and  pliers  are  to 
thrust  into,  or  take  up  and  hold,  any  insect  or  object ; 
and  either  of  them  may  be  turned  upwards,  as  best 
suits  the  purpose.  I  is  a  ring  of  brass,  with  a  female 
Screw  within  it,  mounted  on  an  upright  piece  of  the 
same  metal  \  which  turns  round  on  a  nvet,  that  it  may 
be  set  at  a  doe  distance  when  the  least  magnifiers  are 
employed.  This  ring  receives  the  screws  of  all  the 
taiagnifiers.  K  is  a  concave  speculum  of  silver,  po- 
lished as  bright  as  possible  ;  in  the  centre  of  which  is 
placed  a  double  convex  lens,  with  a  proper  aperture 
to  look  through,  it.  On  the  back  of  this  speculum  a 
male  screw  L  is  made  to  fit  the  brass  ring  I,  to  screw 
into  it  at  pleasure.  There  are  four  of  tnese  concave 
specula  of  different  depths,  adapted  to  four  glasses  of 
different  magnifying  powers,  to  be  used  as  the  ob- 
jects to  be  examined  may  require.  The  greatest  mag- 
jiifiers  have  the  least  apertures.  M  is  a  round  object- 
plate,  one  side  of  which  is  white  and  the  other  black : 
The  iutention  of  this  is  to  render  objects  the  more  vi» 
sible,  by  placing  them,  if  black,  on  the  white  side, 
br,  if  white,  on  the  black  side.  A  steel  spring  N  turns 
down  on  each  side  to  make  any  object  fast ;  and  is- 
suing from  the  object-plate  Is  a  hollow  pipe  to  screw 
it  on  the  needless  point  G.  O  is  a  small  box  of  brass, 
with  a  glass  on  each  side,  contrived  to  confine  any  li-* 
ving  object,  in  order  to  examine  it :  this  also  has  a 
pipe  to  screw  upon  the  end  of  the  needle  G.  P  is  a 
turned  handle  of  wood,  to  screw  into  the  instrument 
when  it  is  made  nse  of.  Q,  a  pair  of  brass  pliers  to 
take  up  any  object,  or  manage  it' with  convensency. 
B  is  a  soft 'hair-brush  for  cleanmg  the  glasses,  &c.  8  is 
a  small  ivory  box  for  talcs,  to  be  placed,  when  wanted, 
in  the  small  brass  box  O. 

•^raien  you  would  view  kny  object  willi  thb  micro^ 


3    3-  MIC 

scope,  screw  the  specoloro,  wita  the  ma^ifier  yoil  MicA>> 
think  proper  to  use,  into  the  brass  ring  I.  Flace  yoor  leope. 
object,  either  on  the  needle  O  in  the  pliers  H,  on  the "  *•  ^ 
object-plate  M,  or  in  the  hollow  brass  box  O,  as  may 
be  most  convenient }  then  holding  op  your  instrument 
by  the  handle  F,  look  against  uie  light  through  the 
magnifying  lens  )  and  by  means  of  the  nut  D^  together 
with  the  motion  of  the  neodle^  by  managing  its  iewer 
end,  .the  object  •  may  be  turned  about^  raised,  or  de- 
pressed, brought  nearer  the  glass,  or  removed  fiulher 
from  it,  till'  you  find  the  true  fecal  distance,  and  the 
light  be  seen  strongly  reflected  from  the  specniflm  19* 
on  the  object,  by  which  means  it  will  be*  shown  in  a 
manner  surprisingly  distinct ' and  clear;  and  for  this 
purpose  the  light  of  the  sky  or  of  a  candle  will  answer 
very  well.  Transparent  objects  may  also  be  viewed  hf 
this  microscope  \  only  observing,  that  when  such  come 
under  examination,  it  Will  not  always  be  proper  to 
throw  on  them  the  light  reflected  from  the  speculum  \ 
for  the  light  transmitted  throush  them,  meeting  the  re* 
fleeted  light,  may  together  promce  too  great  a  glare; 
A  little  practice,  however,  will  show  hoWte  regulate 
both  lights  in  a  proper  manner. 

4.  ElHs*a  singk  andAyuoHe  Mktoicope*  Fig.  4.  re- Tig.  4. 
presents  a  very  convenient  and  nsefol  mierosoope,  con- 
'  trived  by  Bfr  John  Ellis,  author  of  An  Essay  upon  Co^ 
rallines,  fcc.  To  practical  botanists,  observers' of  ani- 
malcula,  &cc.  it  possesses  many  advantages  above  those 
just  described.  It  is  portable,  simple  in  its  construc- 
tion, expeditioos,  and  commodioos  in  use.  K  re- 
presents the  box  cotitaininff  the  whole  apparatus :  it 
is  generally  made  of  fish-skm  *,  and  on  dbe  lop  there 
is  a  female  screw,  for  recefviag  the  screw  that  is  at  the 
bottom  of  the  pillar  A  \  thii  n  a  pillar'  tff  brass,  and 
is  screwed  on  the  top  of  the  box.  D  is  a  brass  pin 
which  fits  into  the  pillar)  on  the  top  of  this  pin  is  a 
hollow  socket  to  receive  the  arm  whicb  carries  the 
magnifiers  \  the  pib  is  to  be  moved  up  and  down,  in 
order  to  adjust  the  lenses  to  their  fecal-  or  proper  dis- 
tance from  the  object.  [M  B% 'In  the  represent 
tions  of  this  microscope,  the  pin  D  is  delineated  as 
passing  through  a  socket  at  one  side  of  the  pillar  A } 
whereas  it  is  usual  at  present  to  make  it  pass  down  a 
hole  bored  through  the  middle  of  the  pillar.]  £,  the 
bar  which  carries  the  magilifying  lens ;  it  fiu  into  the 
socket  X,  which  is  at  the  top  A  the  pin  or  pillar  D. 
This  arm  may  be  moved  backwards  and  forwards  in 
the  socket  X,  and  sideways  by  thii  pin  D  j  so  that  the 
magnifier,  ivliich  is  screwed  into  the  ring  at  the  end  . 
£  of  this  bar,  may  be  easily  made  to  traverse  over  any 
part  of  the  object  that  lies  on  the  stage  or  plate  B. 
T  F  is  a  polished  silver  speeulom,  with  a  magnifying 
lens  placed  at  the  centre  thereof,  which  is  perforated 
for  this  purpose.  Hie  silver  speculum  screws  into  the 
arm  E,  as  at  F.  G,  another  speculum,  with  its  tens, 
which  is  of  a  different  magnifying  power  firom  the 
former.  H,  the  semicircle  which  supports  the  mirror  I ; 
the  pin  B,  affixed  to  the  semicircle 'H,  passes  through 
the  bole  which  is  towards  the  bettom  of  the  pillar  A. 
B,  the  stage,  or  the  plahe,  on  winch  the  objects  are  to 
be  placed  ;  it  fits  into  the  small  dove-tailed  arm  which 
is  at  the  opper  end  of  the  pillar  DA.  Cy  a  plane 
glass,  Trith  a  small  piece  of  black  silk  stock  on  it ;  this 
glass  is  to  lay  in  a  groove  made  in  the  stage  C.  M, 
a  hollow  glass  to  be  likid  ocen^ionAlly  on  the  stage  4n- 

A  2  tflead 


MIC  [4 

Micra.  i/tmd  of  CIm  p1«09  fbw  C  Ii»  »  pair  of  |ii|ipeiSr 
^  •'^^y^  Tittfe  ave  fixtd  to  .the  ttufe  by  tbo  pin  ^  bottQQi  | 
'  "  tkc  steel  wm  of  Ibcse  oippets  alUof  baokwardft  mi4 
ii^nnHs  b  the  socAiety  iumI  tUs  «odL^|  i«  looveiiU^ 
upmrds  ud  dowawai^A  by  meoaa  ^f  tlio  jmt,  00  Mu4 
the  poeitioE  of  the  objoet  m^y  be  variM  ftt  pleMiii^* 
The  obje<;t  may  be  is»i  in  ib»  mpfeiSf  &|uck  on  the 
poial,  ov  offised,  by  a  little  go«i*wfttw,  8(f^  t9  th«. 
vrery  cylfiader  Nf  which  ofHiwooally  H^rvm  to  the  poiat 
01  the  luppefB* 

To  use  thia  laicioacppo  (  Tiikt  aU  4i9  ptHs  ^  tb« 
ayparatns  a«t  of  the  box ;  Ib^li  begin  by  acveviii^  the 
piUar  A  to  the  oover  thfi«of|  paia  the  pip  R  of  the 
aemicirelo  whidi  canfao  the  ouxror  thnw^h  tl^  bol^ 
tiiat  18  acar  the  hotlom  of  the  pilinr  A  \  ppsh  ^  ^t^gtk 
into  the  dove-taB  at  B,  dide  the  pin  iiK#  Uie  pUbMT  (m^ 
the  N.  JB.  ahow)  »  then  pM«  the  b«r  £  tbm^  th^ 
iacket  itlpoh  ia  at  the  top  of  the  pi^  P9  and  KTew  onn 
f  f  the  mtgnifyin^  leaeep  intp  th^  nag  at  F.  Xbe  mi^ 
cfQecop9  it  now  xoady  for  m^i  and  IJio¥gb  the  aiomen 
imlioq  of  die  aitioks  SMiy  kfid  die  r?9i4«r  to  inagino  the 
iartnqneni  to  ho  of  ft  fowpkx  Oitur^t  ne  can  safely 
affirm  that  he  will  find  il  oAffwifi^*  The  instmment 
has  this,  prcniinr  adnntftg^*  ^t  it  is  diff^tt  lo  pat 
nay  o||bo  piofflf  kk  %  plao^wWdi  i*  appropriated  to  an-* 
nihef.  lifitiM  «bJQ«t  h?  now  1^^  eifk^t  on  the 
atilgoonin  tho  nippom  l^t  an4  tn  fncb  nu^nner  that  i\ 
smy  ho  MOmiy  M  piMlibW  9Yer  th^  oei^tre  of  th^  stage ; 
'  hfiag  the  apeonlmsi  F  oy^r  tk*  pavt  yoq  mean  tq  ob« 
soive  I  then  Ihntsr  an  wmk  ^gkt  on  thct  ^pecuinm  aa 
|«a  ora»  ^  iteana  af  this  PMfor  I*  and  dia  doiibla  mot 
lion  of  whicfc  il  is  aapaUt »  U»#  ^^t  r^eived  on  th^ 

roilon  aa  raloaltd  by  it  a«^  dif  ^bje^t.  Tbedialan<i^ 
tl|a  kns  T  fiNWk  the  abjaat  ia  regulated  by  roovii^ 

Iho  pint  O  np  and  dnoHi*  mapl  a  distinct  view  of  it  119 
abtainai.  tha  ban^  ««k  ii^  ta  pbce  tbe  tf  na  beyQn4 
in  foaal  diptanta  frqm  |ha  a bja^ti  i|n4  than  g^«4uaUv 
lA  4ida  iit  dawn lilLtha  abjaat  appaaa^  sharp  and  wel) 
dainad»  Tha  a^jmtmMi  nf  the  taasai  to  theiir  fpqna, 
^n^  tha  4fatribiitiM  oitfiA  tight  an  tjha  olivet,  ave  what 
loqniio  tha  ami  Utaaitioa  1  op  tha  i^\  th^  ^ti^c^nl^  ' 
af  tha  iH0ia»d4eandt$  dMi  pkaama  afising  f^om  a  pleav 
iwm  of  MM  parts  «!i4e«  obfiarvi^aB  ia  dae  to  the  modi* 
fi^tian  iif  tha  Mghl^  Na  paaais^  mla  can  be  givco  {or 
aflainiAg  noaarataljii  tlw^  pointy  ^  it  i^  (moi  pr^tio^ 
aiona  tbiit  aaadi  haibit4  a(  abtai^ing  the^n  neaessapy  ffth 
paitim  aan  b«  aaqiaiva^  aii4  with  the  ns^irtaqce  of  thi^ 
nadiftii4(yi«lb#fo}nA. 

yig  5.  ^*  ^  ^■7-  wspVe  an4  aa^ijaaiant.  aiWproscopa  tm; 

botnoiaal  aa4  oMiea  piw^asa^t  thongb  i^ie^  in  npu^nj 

Mspfi*^'^,  Ihai^  of  Mr  iPUp*  Wfi  coB^i^  by  tb^ 
ingan»a«a.Mi  Sa^iiawia  Maa^  wi  i(i  i|«pfes^ti;d  a^ 
fi&  5*  wfiaae  ii9  iviWailtaa.sni^U  aim  snppprting 
iiro  or  maaa  am^pnifiaBH  09a  k^  to  tha  wppar  pa^t 
as  at  ft»  tha^lbfiir  ta  the  lmai^p:«t;  of  th^  arm  m  C  ^ 
thasa  flMiy  ha  nsadt  «a«f«)Mal]i  <)f  fflaabioiid  t^ogt  the^ 
The  am  AB  in  ■«pifwtfi4  by  thf  amre  pill^  VS^ 
Jibe  teller  an4  qf  wbi^^  6t«  >At9  M«  99ahet  p  af  tbf 
iaotFQ}  tbe.ataga  J^I^  vimla  tp«li4ai|^nn4  4oin» 
iba  9ffftm^  piDiir  ^  H»  %  aapffn^rn  ^limr  iar  ^e^poting 
light  aia  tha  abiaot<Ff^1>.  iMr  tkia  ^mwf^^  aUca  tha 
4J0aat  09.  the  s^iga,  valjeiit:  thu  ^bt  ^  it  firani  tbr 

aoncoTa  miirart  and  imi)«t|»  >%  t9,  W  £km^  by  naving 
|Im»  8tm  navas  ta  ar  Sffftas  Wi^  tbe  Ipna  at.  B.   The 

woqi  «i4m  |98f  thmiijb  Ibci  ttpei}  #»  abj<^  mj 


}  MIC 

befixedindieninpersMN,an*thanlrongJitmidextL^    «,«:^ 
eye-glasses  ^  or  ibey  may  be  laid  on  one  of  the  glasses     icope. 
which  fit  the  sta^e.    The  appavatns  to  tbia  instrument' — 
consists  of  three  ivory  sliders  j  a  pair  of  nippers  \  a  pair 
qf  forceps }  a  flat  glass  and  a  concave  ditto,  both  fitud 
to  the  sti^c. , 

The  two  last  micrQ9cpjpes  are  frc^nently  fitted  up 
with  a  toothed  nick  and  pinion»  for  the  more  ready  ad- 
justment of  tbe  glasses  to  tbeir  pn^r  focus. 

(u  IFitherin^f  fcrtabk  Bi^ank  MicroHtfs.  Fig.  6.«g  s 
Bcpresents  a  8n>a^  botanical  niicreecope  contrived  by 
Ht  Withering^  and  de^ribad  by  him  In  his  BQUmkal 
Arrangemfinlf.  It  consiots  of  thm  brass  plates,  ABC» 
which  ajre  parallel  to  each  other  ^  the  wjires  D  and  £ 
ajpe  rivetted  into  the  upper  nnd  lower  plates,  which  are 
ky  this  means  united  to  eacb  other)  the  middle  pUto 
or  stage  is  moveable  on  the  aforesaid  wires  by  two  little 
sockets  which  are  fixed  to  it*  The  two  upper  plates 
each  contain  a  magnifying  lens,  but  of  different  powers  ^ 
one  of  these  confines  ana  keeps  in  their  places  the  fine 
point  F,  the  foroeps  G,  and  tbe  small  knife  H.— To 
fMT  this  iastrument,  unscrew  tbe  upper  lena,  and  takc^ 
aut  the  point,  the  knife,  and  the  forceps  j  then  screw 
the  lens  on  again,  place  the  object  ou  the  stage,  anijt 
then  move  it  up  or  down  till  you  hava  pined  a  dis-i 
tinct  view  of  the  object,  aa  one  lens  is  made  of  a  shortejc 
(ocus  than  tbe  other  ^  and  spare,  lenses  of  a  still  deepen 
(ocqa  may  be  bad  if  required^  Tbia  little  microscope 
is  tbe  most  portable  of  any.  Its  pnncipat  mtixit  is  it,^ 
simplicity. 

f*  Botanical  Lem^i  or  Hagnifiers.  The  baste  with 
wluch  botanists,  &c«  have  fmiuently  occasion  to  view 
^^jeot^i  renders  an  exteinpora  pocket-^^hsa  indispen- 
sably necessary;  The  most  convesiient  of  any  yet  con- 
structed, afyiears  to  be  that  contrived,  ia  regard  tp  tha 
form  of  the  mounting,  by  Mr  Benjamin  Martin  >  and 
is  what  he  called  a  wnd  Megahuccfg^  because  it  is 
wall  adapted  fqr  viewing  all  tbe  larger  sort  of  smalJi 
obiecU  nniver^lj,  and  by  only  tkceolmesithas  seven 
dinerent  magnifymg  powers* 

Fig«  7*  represents  the  case  with  the  three  firamcs  and  ^S-  7' 
lenses,  which  are  usually  of  x,  il,  and  2  inches  focus ; 
ther  all  tn^a  over  eadi  othci,  and  shut  into  tlie  case, 
1^10  are  turned  out  at  pleasnro. 

Tbe  tbiee  lenses  singly,  afford  three  magpii^ing 
powers }  and  by  combining  two  and  two^  we  make  tWe 
pi9re :  far  d  with  e  makes  one,  d  with  jf  another,  and 
^  with/a  third  J  which,  with  tbe  three  singly,  make 
six  i  and  lastly,  aU  three  cambined  together  make  aft- 
other  f  so  that  upon  the  wbole*  there  are  seuen  pawori 
of  magnifying  with  these  glasses  only. 

WJiso  the  three  lenses  0^  confined,  it  is  better  to 
tam  them  iui  and  Iqok  tbiioagb  them  by  the  small  apen- 
tniwa  in  the  aid^s.  of  the  ci^se.  Tbe  eye  i^  this  case 
is  exchided  from  extra  light  (  the  ahenration  of  tha 
si|perflui»ua  rays  thfovgktbe  glasses  is  cut  qS^  and  the 

2e  coincides,  mora  a^Miatly  wUh  tiba  ^mnmon;  a;ies,of 
alense^. 

A  xanr  npobl  and  easy  kind  af  mic^sccpe  (doscub^ 
e4  bu  JoUot,  and,  whil^h  has  been  long  in  use;,  adapt- 
^  chie^  far  viexringranA  canfining.  at  the  same  timr, 
1^  living  inseata»snp^lanixna]a»  &c.  is  shown  at  fig^  &iig.  aw 
wbareiA»i;eyresen|^.a  daap  tnha,  about  li  inch  div 
met^,  and  2  inches  hi^.     B,  a  case  of  hrasst  or  wood, 

i.flljdiog  ti^^witk  tw«  OK.  tbjcce  miviify- 

ing 


Flatc 


MIC 


[    5 


y*-9- 


ing  gluBeo  that  nay  be  used  either  iepantlelj  cur  com^ 
bined.  In  the  inside^  at  the  bottom,  is  a  piece  of  ivbrr^ 
black  -and  white  on  opposite  aides,  that  is  occasioBally 
xemoved,  and  admits  a  point  to  be  screwed  into  the 
centre.  The  cap  nnacreifs  at  D,  to  admit  the  pbuiing 
of  the  object :  the  proper  distance  of  tlie  glasses  from 
the  object  is  iiegulated  bj  pulling  np  or  down  the  brass 
tube  £  at  top  containing  the  eye-glaases. 

This  roicroiicope  is  particularly  useful  for  exhibiting 
the  well-known  coricus  curculio  in^erkdh^  vulgarly 
called  the  dMwmmd  beetle^  to  the  greatest  advantage  ^ 
fiir  which,  as  well  as  for  other  objects,  a  glass  bottom, 
and  a  p<dished  reiector  at  the  top^  are  often  applied, 
to  condense  the  light  upon  the  object*  In  this  case» 
the  stand  and  brass-bottom  F,  as  snown  In  the  figure^ 
are  taken  away  by  unscrewmg. 

9*  Mr  Lyfmei^9  Stagk  AmHomical  Dissectrng  Micrth 
jc^^— Fig.  9.  represents  a  curious  and  extremely  use- 
fol  microscope,  invented  by  thai  gentleman  for  the  pms 
pose  of  minote  dissections,  and  microscopic  prepara- 
ttons«  This  instruoAeat  must  be  truly  aseful  to  ama- 
teura  of  the  minutiae  of  insects,  &c.  being  the  best 
ad^qited  of  any  br  the  purposes  of  dissection.  With 
this  inatroment  Mr  Lyooet  made  his  very  curious  mi- 
croscopical dissection  of  the  chenille  de  tauky  as  related 
In  his  Ttaite  Anatomique  de  la  chemUe  qui  ronge  k  Lais 

de  saulet  4t& 

AB  is  the  anatomical  taUe,  which  is  snspocted  by 
a  pillar  NO  j  this  is  screwed  on  the  foot  ClX  Hie 
*  table  AB  is  prevented  from  tnmiog  round  by  meaaa 
of  two  steady  pins.  In  this  table  or  board  theve  is  a 
hole  G,  whicb  is  exaclly  over  the  centre  of  the  mirros 
£F,  that  is  to  reflect  the  light  on  the  object  ^  the  hola 
G  is  designed  tp  receive  a  flat  or  concave  gkus^  on 
which  the  objects  for  examination  are  to-  be  placed. 

RXZ  b  an  arm  formed  of  seveml  balls  and  socketSi^ 
by  whidh  means  it  may  be  noiied  in  every  jpossiUe  si- 
tnatios  »  it  is.  fixed  to  the  board  by  meana  of  the  screw 
H.  The  last  arm  IZ  has  a  female  screw,  into  which 
a  magnifier  may  he  serewed  as  at  Z.  By  means  of  the 
screw  H,  a  smul  motion  may  be  occaaianally  given  to 
the  arm  IZ,.  for  adjusting  the  lens  with  aconracy  to  lift 
focal,  distance  from,  the  object. 

Another  chain  of  balls  is  sometimes  used,  carrying  a 
lens  to  throw  light  upon  the  object  y  the  mirror  is  like* 
wiee  so  mounted,  as  to  be  taken  from  its  place  at  K,  and 
fitted  <m  a  clamp,  by  which  it  may  he  fixed.to  any  part 
of  die  table  ABi. 

To  uv.  the  Di$9ecting  Table.— Jj^I  the  o^ratoi  sit 
with  his  le£t  side  near,  a  light  window  ;  the  inatcument 
being  placedion  a  firm  table,  the  side  DH  towuds  the 
stomach,  the  observations  shonU.be  made  witb  the 
left  eye*    Im dissecting,,  the.  two< elbows  are  to.bo  snp- 

Ked  by.  the.  tahle  on  wbiek  the  instrument  rcsta^  tha 
I9  resting  against  the  board.  AB^  andioitorder  to 
giwB  it  fiEeater  stability  (as  ajnoalL  shaken  though,  iro-, 
jysrceptijUe  to  the  naked,  eye^,  is  ^^ery  yisikle  in  Ube.  mi^ 
croscoitB),  the  dissecting  instruments  are  to«be  hei4 
one  in  each  haiid».  between,  tlte.  thumb,  and  two  fbre- 
fiogarsf 

H.  W  BmmixtKer9&eom9*  cwnm9nlU:  ealM^  Cc^* 
^  Boable  microscopiM  are  so^called^Jicsimbeipg^.a  com^ 

UnaiioiLQLtKD  «>  mnac  laBSCS. 


ro. 


1  MIC 

The  particidar  and  chief  advantages  which  tha  eM-    Mlem 
pound  microscopes  have  over  the  single,  are,  that  the 
objects  are  represented  under  a 'larger  field  nf  view, 
with  a  greater  amplification  of  reflected  light* 

X.  C^p^p<?r*«  JltcrMcepr.--Theeompottiidmioroscdpey 
originally  contrived  by  Mr  Culpeper,  is  reprtsentid  lif 
fig.  io«  It  consists  of  a  luge  externai  brass  body  A^f>ig, 
B,  C,  I),  supported  upon  three  seroUs,  whieh  are  axed 
to  the  stage  £F  ^  the  stage  is  su^iorted  by  three  ki^ 
m:  scrdls,  that  are  scnwedto  ^  mahagikoy  pedestal 
GIL  There  is  a  drawer  in  the  pedetftal^  which  holda 
the  apparatus.  The  concave  mirror  I  h  fitted  td  m 
socket  in  the  centre  of  the  pedestal.  The  lowet  partf 
liMCD  of  the  body  forms  an  exterior  tube,  into  whiekf 
the  upper  part  of  the  body  ABLM  siidesy  aAd  may 
be  moved  np  or  down,  so  as  to  bring  the  ma^jnifiers,; . 
whieh  are  screwed  on  at  N^  neartr  to  er  farther  iroiw 
the  object. 

To  use  this  microooope :  Sersif  one  of  tk»  buttons^ 
which  eontaintf  a  magntfyioig  lens^  to  tha  eod  N  of  the 
body :  place  the  slider,  with  the  objectii^  bdtwete.  the 
plates  of  the  slider^bolder.  Then,  te  aittain  distinct 
vifiion,  and  a  pieasing  view  of  the  ohjeet^  adjdbt  the  - 
body  to  the  focus  of  the  lens  you  ate  using^  fc^  ihovin^ 
the  uj^ier  part  gently  up  and  doWn^  and  reg^tr  rfao 
ligfit  by  the  concave  mirroK. 

For  opa^e  objects,  two  additieBa}  pieces'  mnat  be 
used.  Thafi«stisacyUodricallubeofb*tos(^rdprcse«N 
ed  at  L,.fi|^  iu%  which  fit*  00  the  c^dindrioal*  part  a*Flg.  ir. 
N  of  the  body.^  The  seconds  piece  is-  the  eenea  ve  speow 
lun^  A;^  this'ia  to  he  secewbdi  ta  the  lowttr  end  of'  thw 
aforesaid  tube:  the  upper  edge  of  this  tnbe  shenld  ha 
made  to  ooiacide  witb  the  line  wUob  haa  the  tome  nam« 
ber  affixed  to  it  as  to  the  magnifier  jeU>ara  rising  ^^e.  fjC 
if  yoa  are  making  nsa  of  the  magnifiar  mteked'  5,  sli& 
the  tube  t»  t&a  circwlap  line  an*  th*  ttibe'  N  fbat  ia 
marked  also  with  N''  j,  The  slidarMder  should  be 
removed  when  you.  are  going,  te  view  epaqM  e^ 
|ects,  and  a  plane  glass  shenldi  be  plabed  ets-  this  stage 
IB  its  atead.  to>  receive  the  object  ^  or  iD  maf  be  plaficd* 
in  the  nippers,  the  pinof  Hiiiekiteinto  ihe  holi  in  tii# 
stage. 

The  appasataB  belonging  te  thiamieroseope  eoesistl^ 
of  the  fofiowing  partieuTars:  viz.  Five  rnkgiafielB^  esnii  . 
ikted  in  a  bi«a  button  $  one  o£  these  ia<  seen  .at  N,. 
fig,.iOj  Six  ivory  slideie^  SkV0i  ef  them  with  ehjeetaJ 
A  brass  tube  to  hold  the  esnoaMe  apeoulnnir  The 
concavd^specalam'i&.abrasa  beiik  A-fish  pnni  A«se# 
of  glass  tubes.  A.  flat:  gloss-  fittedT  to  the  stMm  Al 
concave  gla8afitted>tathe.  stegtf.-  A  piir  of  mce|)a» 
JL  steel  .wice,(.  with»  n^  pain  o|S  nippeva  at-  one  end!  alid  ar 
point*  at  the.  other*  Ismail  ivory  cylijMler,.  tb  litloir 
the  pointed  end  of  the  aforesaid'  nippers.  A  contem 
lisns,,  moreaUe  ia*a:bvas&  sendeircle-^  thie  iit  affixlNi^  tv 
a^loag  brass  pin^  which  fits  into  a>he)eoti  the  slagei 

The  coflBtmctiookof  the.feiegoiag.mieffOeedpe  ie  itex)» 
ftimple,.  and  it.is.eas$<ia  osor^.  bat  Ae  adtai^geenf  tfaer 
stagjB  andjairnoraseteo  mm^ednfioed-for  an'e:[Meilsite 
afpTicatlan'and:  maoagetteatrof 4llL  kinds'* of. objeotsj  I tsi 
g^xatestsecommendation^is  itacheepaels^v  and  to  those: 
who.  are  desinaasrof  havij»g  afcodlppufid  miereaeope.  at' 
a  low- ppee,  it.may / be. aoceptabkl  • 

3*  Guff^s.  AUcptmcepe^T-'Tlm'  impeoved  miortoeoper 
next  in. order. is»tbat^  Mr  Cuii^  Besidee-  remedyta^ 
the  disadvmitaj^  above  mentionedi;  it  ckmtetns  ib&\ 

additioa 


li'ig.  II. 


MIC  [6 

a^dtttoil  of  Ml  adJQSttng  screw,  whicb  is  a  consider- 
able impravefnent,  and  liigfaly  necessary  to  the  ex- 
amination of  objects  under  the  best  defined  appear* 
ance  from  the  glasses.  It  as  represented  at  fig,  ir, 
with  the  apparatus  that  osuallr  accompanies  it.  A, 
By  C,  shows  the  body  of  this  microscope ;  which 
oontaiBs  an  ttyt^f^w  at  A,  a  broad  lens  at  B,  and 
a '  magnifier  whi^  ^is  screwed  on  at  C.  The  body 
»  supported  by  the  arm  D£,  from  which  it  may 
he  removed  at  pleasure.  The  arm  'D£  is  fixed 
on  the  sliding  bar  F,  alid  may  be  raised  or  depres- 
sed to  any  height  within  its  litaiits.  The  main  pil- 
lar a  6  is  fixed  in  the  box  6  e ;  und  by  means  of  the 
brass  foot  d  is  screwed  to  the  mahogany  pedestal  XY, 
in  which  is  a  drawer  containing  all  the  apparatus.  O'is 
a  milled-headed  screw,  to  ti^ten  the  bir  F  when  the 
adjusting  screw  e  g-  is  used.  /»  9  Is  the  stage,  or  phite, 
which  carries  the  objects  \  it  has  a  hole  at  the  centre 
G,  a  concave  mirror,  diat  may  be  turned  in  any 


1 


M    I    C 


fi. 


direction,  to  reflect  the  light  of  a  candle,  or  the  sky, 
upon  the  object. 

To  U9e  this  microscope :  Screw  the  nlagnifier  you 
intend  to  use  to  the  end  C  of  the  bodv;  place  the 
slider-holder  P  in  the  hole  n,  and  the  slider  with  the 
object  between  the  plates  of  the  slider-holder ;  set  the 
upper  edge  of  the  bar  D£  to  coincide  With  the  di* 
visions  which  correspond  to  the  magnifier  you  have  in 
use,  and  pinch  it  by  the  milled  nut;  now  reflect  a 
proper  quantit;|r  of  light  upon  the  object,  by  meaps  of 
the  concave  mirror  G,  and  regulate  the  body  exactly 
to  the  eye  and  the  focus  uf  the  glasses  by  the  adjusting 
screw  c  g» 

To  view  opaque  objects,  take  away  the  slider-holder 
T,  and  place  the 'object  on  a  flat  glass  under  the  cen- 
tre of  the  body,  or  on  one  end  of  the  jointed  nippers 
•  p.  Then  screw  the  "silver  concave  speculum  h  to  the 
end  of  the  cvlinder  L,  and  slide  this  cylinder  on  the 
lower  part  or  the  body,  so  that  the  upper  edge  thereof 
maV  coincide  with  the  line  which  has  the  same  mark 
with  the  magnifier  that  is  then  used  :  reflect  the  light 
from  the  concave  mirror  G  to  the  silver  specnlnm, 
from  which  it  will  again  be  reflected  on  the  object. 
The  glasses  are  to  be  adjusted  to  their  focal  distance  as 
before  directed* 

The  tqtparaius  consists  of  a  convex  lens  H,  to  col- 
lect the  rays  of  light  firom  the  sun  or  a  candle,  and 
condense  them  on  the  object.  L  a  cylbdrical  tube, 
open  at  each  side,  with  a  concave  speculum  screwed  to 
the  lower  end  A.  P  the  slider-holder :  this  consists  of  a 
cylindrical  tube,  in  which  an  inner  tube  is  forced  up- 
wards by  a  spiral  spring ;  it  is  used  to  receive  an  ivoiy 
slider  K,  which  is  to  be  slid  between  the  plates  A 
and  u  The  cylinder  P  fits  the  hole  n  in  the  stage  ^ 
and  the  hollow  part  at  A;  is  designed  to  receive  a  glass 
tube.  >R  is  a  brass  cono,  to  be  put  under  the  b<^om 
of  the  cylinder  P,  to  intercept  occasionally  some  of 
the  rays  of  light.  8,  a  box  containing  a  concave  and 
a  flat  glass,  between  which  a  small  living  insect  may 
be  confined:  it  is  to  be  placed  over  the  bole  n.  T, 
ft  flat  glass,  to  lay  any  occasional  object  upon  %  there 
is-«bo  a  concave  one  for  llnids.  O  is  a  long  steel  wire, 
with  a  small  pair  of  pliers  at  one  end,  and  a  point  at 
the  other,  designed  to  stick  or  hold  objects:  it  slips 
backwards  and  forwards  in  'the  short  tube  o;  the  pin 
p  fits  into  the  hole  of  the  Stage.     W,  a  little  «round 


ivoiy  box,  to  hold  a  supply  of  talc  and  rings  for  Ae    itfT'^To. 
sliders.     V,  a  small  ivory  cy finder,  that  fits  on  the     sco{k. 
pointed  end  of  the  steel  wire :  it  is  designed  for  opaque  -     » 
objects.      Light-coloured  ones  are  to  be  stuck  open 
the  daik  side,  and  tier  versa.    M,  a  fish-pan,  whereon 
to  fasten  a  small  fish,  to  view  the  circulation  of  the 
blood :  the  tail  is  to  be  spread  across  the  oblong  hole 
k  at  the  small  end,  and  tied  fast,  by  means  of  a  rib- 
band fixed  thereto ;  the  knob  /  is  to  be  shoved  through 
the  slit  made  in  the  stage,  that  the  tail  may  be  brpu^t 
under  the  magnifier. 

3.  This  microscope  has  received  several  material  im- 
provements from  Mr  Martin,  Mr  Adams,  8cc.  By 
an  alteration,  or  rather  an  enlargement,  of  the  body  of 
the  tube  which  coiAains  the  eye-glasses,  and  also  of  the 
eye-glasses  themselves,  the  field  of  view  is  made  much 
larger,  the  mirror  below  for  reflecting  light  is  made  to 
move  upon  the  sanie  bar  with  the  stage ;  by  which  means 
the  distance  of  it  from  the  stage  may  be  very  easily  and 
suitably  varied.  A  condensing  glass  is  applied  under 
the  stage  in  the  slider-holder,  in  order  to  modify  and 
increase  the  light  that  is  reflected  by  the  mirrors  be- 
-low  from  the  light  of  a  candle  or  lamp.  It  is  furnish- 
ed also  with  two  mirrors  in  one  frame,  one  concave 
and  the  other  plane,  of  glass  silvered ;  atid  by  simply 
unscrewing  the  body,  the  instrument,  when  desired,  may 
be  converted  into  a  single  microscope.  Fig.  12.  is  a  Fig.  ii* 
representation  of  the  instrument  thus  improved  ^  and 
the  following  is  the  description  of  it,  as  given  by 
Mr  Adams  in  his  Essays. 

AB  represents  the  body  of  the  microscope,  con- 
taining a  double  eye-glass  and  a  body-glass  y  it  is 
here  shown  as  screwed  to  the  arm  CD,  from  whence 
it  may  be  occasionally  removed,  either  for  the  conve- 
nience of  packing,  or  when  the  instrument  is  to  be  used 
as  a  single  microscope. 

The  eye-glasses  and  the  body-glasses  are  contained 
in  a  tube  which  fits  into  the  exterior  tube  Afi  ^  by 
pulling  out  a  little  this  tube  when  the  microscope  is  in 
use,  the  magnifying  power  cf  each  lens  is  increased. 

The  body  AB  of  the  microscope  is  supported  by 
the  arm  CD ;  this  arm  is  fixed  to  the  main  pillar  CI , 
which  is  screwed  firmly  to  the  mahogany  pedestal 
GH  'y  there  is  a  drawer  to  this  pedestal,  which  holds 
the  apparatus. 

NiS,  the  plate  or  stage  which  carries  the  slider-holder 
KL  )  this  stage  is  moved  lip  or  down  the  pillar  CF,  by 
turning  the  milled  nut  M  ;  this  nut  is  fixed  to  a  pinion, 
that  works  in  a  toothed  rack  cut  on  one  side  of  the  pil« 
lar.  By  means  of  this  pinion,  the  stage  may  be  gradu- 
ally raised  or  jlepressed,  and  the  object  adjusted  to  the 
focus  of  the  difiere&t  lenses. 

KL  is  a  slider-holden  which  fits  into  a  hole  that  is  in 
the  middle  of  the  stage  NIS ;  !t  is  used  to  confine  and 
guide  either  the  motion  of  the  sliders  which  contain  the 
objeets,  or  the  glass  tubes  that  are  designed  to  confine 
small  fishes  fi>r  viewing  the  circulation  of  the  blood« 
The  sliders  are  to  be  passed  between  the  two  upper 
plates,  the  tubes  through  the  bent  plates. 

L  is  a  brass  tube,  to  the  upper  part  of  which  is  fixed 
the  condensing  lens  before  spoken  of  j  it  fits  into  tht 
under  part  of  the  slider-holder  KL,  and  may  be  set  at 
different  distances  from  the  object,  according  to  its  dis- 
tance from  the  mirror  or  the  candh^. 

O  is  the  frame  which  holds  the  two  reflecting  mir- 
rors^ 


Plate 
CCXT 


M      1       C 

fOKSf^ta^  of  whichis'DUne,  tbe  oCbef  «eiicave. 
ttirrocs  b»j  be  iinoTea  in  Vftripos  dircctioiw,  in  ordcar 
to  reflect  tlie  light  properly,  Jby  means  .of  the  pivols 
on  wbichfttMJ.BBOvei  in  the  'eemicutde  QSR,  and  the 
Aedon  of  the  Benieiirle  itself  on  the  pin  S :  the  con- 
cave minror  aenefalljF  anawm.  best  ia  the  dayttione  ^ 
the  plan*  nurrar  •ceoi^iiies  better  with  the  condensing 
leap,  and  a  kmp  or^candle.^  AtjD  there  19  a  ^^ketfor 
xeceiYwg  the.pin  .of  the  arm  Q  (fig*  d^O  to  iKhich  the 
<;oiiQave.apecttUmi9  furfeflectingjighton^^paque  objects, 
is  fixed.  At  S  isa  hohe  and  slit  for  receiving  eitb^fr  the 
nipfrm  L  (fig.  31-.)  or  the  fitifr-pan  I^  when  these  are 
viidf  the  siider^holder  OMMt.  be  removed.  T,  a  hole  Vx 
receive  the  pin  of  the  convex  leaa  M. 

To  use  this  microscope :  Take  it  out  of  the  box. 
Screw  the  body  into  the  round  end  of  the  upper  part 
of  the  arm  CD.  Place  the  brass  sliders,  which  con- 
tain the  magnifiers,  into  the  dove-tftikd  slit  which  is 
00.  the  under  side  of  the  aforesaid  ann,.  as  seen  at  £^ 
and  slide  it  forwards  until  the  aiagaifier  you  mean 
to  use  is  under  the.  centre  of  the  body :  opposite  to 
each  magnifier  in  this  slit  there  is  a  notch,  and  in 
.the  dove-tailed  pari  of  the  arm  CD  there  is  a  spring,, 
which  (alls  into  the  above-ifientioaed.  notch,  and  thus 
makes  each  magnifier  coincide  with  the  centre  o&  the 
body*  Pass  the  ivory,  slider  you  intend  to  use  between 
y>e  upper  plates  of  the.  slider*holder  KL,.  and  then 
reflect  as  strong  a  liffht  as  you  can  on  the  subject  by 
means  of  one  of  the  mirrors ;  aft^  this,  adjnst  the  ob- 
ject  to  the  focus  of  the  magnifier  and  your  eye,  by 
turning  the  milled  screw  M,  the  motioa  of  which  raises 
and  depresses  the  stage-  NIS.  The  degree  of  light 
necessary  for  each  object,  and  the  accuracy  required  in 
the  adjustmeat  of  the  lenses  to  their  proper  focal  di- 
stance firom  the  objectf  .will  be  easily  attained  by  a  little 
practice* 

When  opaatte  objects  are  to  he  exaonned,  remove 
the  slider-iialder,  and  place^the  object  on  a  flat  glass, 
or  fix  it  to  the  nippers  L,  the  pin  of  these  fit  into  the 
hole  on  the  >^Re>  screw  the  cobcave  speculnm  R 
into  the  arm  Q  (fig,  31.),  and  then  pass  the  pin  of  this 
arm  through' the  bochet  D  (fig.  12.)  ^  the  light  is  now 
ia  be  reflected  firomthe  concave  mirror  to  the  silver  c^e- 
cnlnm,  and  from-this  down  on  the  object.  No  exact 
role  can  be  given  for  reflecting  the  lijgbt  on  the  objeot; 
we  must  thtreferc  refer  the  reader  to  the  mother  ef-aU 
aptness,  pradioe*  The  speculum  most  be  moved  lower 
er  higher,  to  suit  the  focus  of-  the  dafierent  magnifiers 
and  the  nature  of  the  object* 

The  {brcgoing  directions  apply  equally  to  the  usiitf* 
of  this  instrument  as  a  single  microsL-ope  ;  with  this  di& 
ference-  only,  that  the  body  AB  is  then  removed,  and' 
the  eye  is  applied  4o  the  upper  snriiMse  of  the  armCD^ . 
exactly  over  thsi  magnifiers. 

This  micrsBcope  is  sometimes  made  with  thefoUow^  ■ 
iog  uUerathns^  which  are  supposed  to  make  it  atili ' 
more  ooovenient  and  useful.  The  arm  CD  thai  car» 
ries  the  body  and  magnifiers  is  made  both  to  turn  on 
a  pin,  and  to  slide  backwards  and  forwards  in  a  socket 
at-«C  ^  so  that,  instead  of  moving,  the  ofajeels.befew  on 
tbe-stage,: and:  disturbing  them,,  the  magnifiers  Menmee 
eooveniently  brought  over  anjrpart  efitthe^bbjctta  as 
destoeflk..  The  eondeosing  ^ass'is  made  hnrgeryand 
%\iitn,sxfk%  thfr  scfnare  kti^^F  quslerdisttnct  liai^  th^ 
itife^Uke.thu^manaMft.hBiow  5  .aod  ttlis,^ 


C    7    ] 


■cope. 


PUte 


MIC 

useful  for  any  other  objects  that  may  be  applied  en 
glasses  fitted  to  the  stage,  as  well  as  those  put  into  tbe 
slider-holder  K.  It  is  thereby  not  confined  to  this  stage 
alone  as  in  the  preceding.  When  tbe  body  AB  is 
taken  away,  the  arm  CD  may  be  slipt  away  from  its 
bar,  with  the  magnifiers,  and  tbe  forceps,  wire,  and 
joint,  applied  to  it  \  and  it  thereby  serves  tlie  purpose 
of  a  small  single  or  opaque  hand  microscope,  for  any  ob- 
ject occasionally  applied  to  this  wire.  The  nuignifiers 
in  the  slider  £  are  mounted  in  a  wheel  case,  which  per- 
haps prevents  its  being  in  the  way  so  much  as  the  long 
slider  £  before  described.*— This  contrivance  is  repre- 
sented at  X,  fig.  12. 

4.  Marim'.s  New  Umversai  Compound  ilicroscope^'^ 
This  instrument  was  originally  constructed  by  Mr  B. 
Martin,  and  intended  to  comprise  all  the  uses  and  ad- 
vantages of  tbe  single,  compound,  opaque,  and  aquatic 
microscopes.    The  following  is  a  description  of  it. 

Fig.  13.  is  a  representation  of  the  instrument  pla- 
ced -up  tor  use.  ABCD  is  the  body  of  the  micro- cccxxxix.*- 
soope :  which  consists  of  four  parts,  viz.  AB  the  eye-  ^'  '3> 
piece,  or  that  containing  the  eye-glasses^  and  is  screw- 
ed into  C,  which  is  a  moveable  or  sliding  tube  on  the 
top  'f  this  inner  tube  contains  the  body-glass  screwed 
into  its  lower  part.  D  is  the  exterior  tube  or  case, 
in  which  the  other  slides  up  and  down  in  an  easy  and 
steady  manner.  This  motion  of  the  tube  C  is  usefiil 
to  increase  and  decrease  the  magnifying  power  of  the 
body-glass  when  thought  necessary,  as  before  mention* 
•ed.  £  is  a  pipe  or  snont  screwed  on  to  the  body  of  the 
microscope  D,  and  at  its  lower  part,  over  the  several 
magnifying  leases  hereafter  described.  FGHI  is  tbe 
square  stem  of  the  microscope,  upon  which  the  stage 
R  moves  in  an  horizontal  position,  upwards  or  down- 
ward, by  means  of  the  fine  rack  work  of  teeth  and  pinion. 
KL  is  a  strong  solid  joint  and  pillar,  by  which  the  po- 
sition of  the  instrunent  is  readily  altered  from  a  verti- 
cal one  to  an  oblique  or  to  a  perfectly  horizontal  one  as 
may  be  required :  it  is  thus  well  adapted  to  tbe  eaoe  of 
tbe  observer  either  sitting  or  standing ;  and  as  it  is  veiy 
often  convenient  to.viesv  objects  by  direct  unreflected 
light,  wh«i  the  square  stem  FI  is  placed  in  a  horizon- 
tal position  for  this  purpose,  the  mirror  T  is  then  to  be 
taken  off  in.  order  to  prevent  the  obstmetion  of  the 
xays.  M  is  a  circular  piece  of  brass,,  serving  as  a  base 
to  the  pilUr.  NOP,  the  tripod  or  foot  by  which  the 
whole  body  of  the  microscope  is  steadily  supported^  it  * 
folds  up  when  packed  into  the  case.  W  is.  a  brass 
Jrame,  that  contains  the  condensing  lens,  .and  ads.  in 
conjunction  with  the  larg^  concave .  and* plane  mirrors 
below  at  T )  the  reflected  rays  4rom  which^  either  of 
the  common  light  or  of  that  of  a  candle  or  lamp,  it 
modifies^  and  ..makes  steady  in  the  &eld  of 


view.^ 


The  partieulan  of  thei  apparatus  t»  this  mierescope 
are.  as  follow.:  Q  is  a  circular  brass  hox,  containing  six 
magnifiers  or  object  lenses,  numbered  i,'  a,  '39-4, .  Sr  64^ 
the  digits  of  which «ppe«r. severally  throngh^a  small 
round  hole?  in  'the*  upper  plate  of  at.  To  the  upper  side 
is  fixed  a  small  circle  of  brass,  by  which  it  is  connected 
yMi)  and  )  screwed  *iDtov  the  round  end  of  the  arm 
a.b  o^;  which  ii^  a  long  piece  of  brass,  and  moves  throiuh 
eiliier  hy  teeth  or  pinion,  or  not,  as  may  be  desired,  in 
ef;  which  is  a  socket  on  the  upper  part  of  the  pillar, 
attd  ndmjtSy  with  a  motion  both  easy  and  steady,  the 

brass 


lh 


Flf.t4- 


MIC  [    ? 

^ass  wai.  R  2s  a  fixed  stage,  vpon  which  di«  objects 
to  be  «*iewod  mtc  to  be  placea  :  it  b  finnly  fastened  ip 
the  sqfiare  pillar,  wbioh  io  moved  by  the  mek^work. 
In  the  pftiddie  is  a  large  eifoular  hole,  for  receiving 
veneave  gtaiees,  with  fluids,  Sto.  i  h  has  also  a  sliding 
•spring  trame  to  fasten  down  slips  of  ^ase  or  other  tilings;: 
at  abo  are  three  small  sockets  or  holes,  intended  to 
receive  several  parts  of  the  apparatus.  8  is  the  refipae- 
<or,  or  iUuminating  lens,  for  oontpetgiug  the  siin*s  ra^js 
upon  opaque  objects  laid  upon  the  stage  R.  To  this 
purpose  it  moves  on  ^  semteircle  upon  a  long  shank  ftt 
in  »  spring  socket  ^  in  the  ami  t  /  this  arm  rooving 
every  way  by  a  stout  pin  k  in  the  socket  a  of  the  stege. 
In  this  manner  it  is  easily  adjusted  ti  any  position  of  the 
sun,  ci^ndle,  ftc'-^T,  toe  ridecting-glass  fimme,  con- 
taining a  concave  and  plane  specokim,  which  is  moved 
upon  the  square  pillar  by  the  hand.  The  use  of  it  is  to 
illuminate  all  transparent  ohjects  that  are  a]^ied  to  the 
stage  above. 

Fig»  14*  1^  |.  is  anauxiliarj  moveable  stage ;  which 
hy  means  of  a  pin  k  is  pkced  in  the  hole  •  of  the  stage 
R,  and  can  be  moved  in  a  horoontal  diasction  over 
the  whole  field  of  the  stage.  la  this  stage,  there  are 
three  <»rcular  holes  with  stKNihiered  botteaisv)  a  hi|^ 
one  in  the  middie,  and  on  each  side  a  small  ene^ 
for  the  leoeption  of  the  three  following  necessary  arti- 
stes :  N^  f.  a  watch-glass  to  he  plaeed  in  the  btge  hole, 
ie  hold  iuids  oontaining  animakiiles,  Csc.  j  a  oiroo- 
kr  pieoe  of  ivory,  I^  3.  one  side  of  which  is  hlad^  the 
^other  i^ite,  to  sbpport  opaque  objects  ef  difierent  ooi»^ 
Crested  oolonrs }  and ^incular  |tfaine aiidcoocatie«lae8oi, 
Nf  4.  fer«lc^poraneenetranqMtfe»tofcjects,«^!jKes»me 
tise  is  made  et  tha  «lfaer  etnall  bale,  as  of  the  birge  oee^ 
only  in  a  kseer  4egrte,  to  riBceive  small  oancave  glasses, 
phileeilftc. 

N^  5«  IS  the  dlverod  specuktnH««elbd  a  hiefMim^ 
whmh  makes  the  single  <^NU|ae.  mkroscope,  by  being 
screwed  to  die  sliiteraftei/  (&«;  13.)  m  room  of  the  box 
of  bases  Q,  iusd  «he  body  JlE  above  it.  Tfae^^kief 
^e ot  Am  is  to«ieiw.^Mry  sesaU'eh^ects  stron^y  iUi»- 
mioated  near  the.  coaip^ndid-fiMms  of  the  mirror 
T'(fig.  ij.).  N^fi.  iatkslnraepaor  pliers,  in  holding 
such  kind'  of)  objeats,-aBd  by  which  th^  can -be  aa^ 
plied'very-ntidilylo-lherleGiu^  of  the  kna  hi  the  Hr 
hetkhiia.  vOflMyhaee  e  motiep  all  ways  bymean^of 
the  spnng<  socket  0,  the  joint.  ^,  ano  the  sluwk  c: 
they  ate  ^aoed«i»  the  eoqket  c  of  the  fii^d*  stage-  R 
(fig.'  ij.y  :K^  7*  is-  e  small  piece  of  ivorjr,  to  be 
placed  tiipoa  the  pointedl  end  of  the  pliers :  it  is  hiaek 
upon  one  si4e^  and  white  upon  the  ether,  to  reoeive 
opaqne  objects. ' 

N^>8.  is  a  Kbevkhun  of  a  larger  sise  tbaathat  fitat 
meatieued^.whk.a  hole  ia  its  cont|«ei  thia  is  eeneesd. 
into  N^  9.  the  hole  a  of  a  brass  ring,  fastened  to  a  long 
^qf^b^  wfasoh  moves  npiaad  down  in  the  spring  soc- 
ket b:o£  thestiigeB^  ie  wUeh  it  alas  movea udesaaya^ 
aodr  thws,  ifith  the  body.A}E  ahoive,  focma  aaei^iieiap 
'€oaipoimdmkro9eyi€  feehonring^ali  sorts  of  ohjaots^a 
water  af^  other Juida  plBcedi«odei;  ft  ie  tbe^walcb.glast 
N?-a.  on.  the  stage. 

N^' II.  is  e cone, with aprepeRapeitnie a toiOKphide 
sifperAums  iight^  that  woold  >  di^t^i  b .  a  critioalrgihserwH 
tioi^ofi  eoiirioas4»bjec^9  ibis^pboed  enihe  nnder^side 
ef  the.  fixed,  stage  Rl 

N?'  I2«  is  what  la  umaUycalbd  a  heg4i[n»  ewsiit* 


1 


MIC 


itig  of  a  ceneaee  ijbes  with  e  wkni  m»  scteewid  ever   Mi«^^ 
it^  by  means  ef  which  a  hiig,  ioose,  flea,  &e.  majr  he 
eeeuted  and  viewed  a|ive»    it  is  to  he  pbeed  en  either' 
of  the  stages  R  (fig.  13.),  or  N^  I.  (ig.  14^). 

N^  13.  Is  the  fish  pan.  In  the  bi^  eencave  body 
a  ^,  a  fish  may  be  se  ooofined  hy  the  rtfoband  e,  that 
the  tranepareat  tatt  may  he  is  favteiwr  ^  slit  or  h4e 
at «.  In  this  state,  it  Is  pbced  •on  the  etage  R,  with 
dw  pi«i#  in  the  hole  c  ef  the  stage,  and  anovee  ftee* 
ly  and  horicfBtally  for  lowing  the  eireebtieii  of  the 
mood,  &c 

N^  14.  is  the  tBder*btider  that  lA  pieced  on  the  stege 
R :  it  receivea  the  sliders  and  tabes  when  filled  with 
transparent  objects,  to  be  viewed  either  by  the  com* 
pound  or  single  fiiicrescope. 

N^  15.  represents  the  ivery  slider,  te  hold  the  eljjeets 
hetmwen  the  tabs  as  vsnal. 

N"  >6.  is  a  nseM  anxiUanr  slider  framed  in  brass. 
In  this  slider  small  ceneaee  glasses  are  cemented  9  and 
a  slip  of  plane  gbss  slides  over  them }  by  whbh  any 
small  living  olgect,  as  mitea,  8cc.  may  be  coo&Md  with* 
•out  injufy,  and  denberately  viewed. 

N^  17.  represents  a  set  of  glass  tubes,  three  in  nnm- 
her,  one  within'  another )  they  are  useful  for  small  tad- 
■foles,  wMer  newts,  eels,  ficc.  when  the  cfrenbtion  of 
the  blood  is  to  be  viewed.  There  is  a  small  hob  at 
one  end  o£  each  tnbe,  that  serves  to  admit  the  air }  finr 
*evhen  they  are  filled  with,  waiter^  the  other  end  is  stop* 
•fed  with  a  coik. 

V^  18.  ie  a  smaH  ivory  box^  tontaining  spore  talcs 
and  wins,  to  supply  the  sliders  with  eecaaionally. 

19^  15^  a,  brass  cell  or  button,  oontnining  every  small 
^lens,  properly  set  between  two  small  plates  ef  brass, 
that  it  may  he  brought -very  neap  to  the  obfcct  when 
viewed  therewith  1^  a  single  micrseoepe.  This  magai* 
fier  is  screwed  into  the  same  hole'  as  the  wheel  ef  *  sijc 
memifieva  Q  are  (fig.  13.). 

N?.to.  is  a  leas,  adapted  -"torvieip  and  eaenmine  ohh 
jecti,  by^magaiff ing  th^n  snfficicntlv,  se  as  4o  be  abb 
to  ai^y^them  to  the  microeeqpe  for  ai^pedien  s  on  thb 
account  it  is  catted  the  ejtphraiarm 

The  preceding  are  the^inf  nrtiebe  of'  the  appara« 
4u^ :  which,  on  acceuat  ttf  .their  %cing  seraewhat  dif** 
ferent  Aomwhat  ia- applied  to  other  mieroeeopes,  we 
have  been  thua  particular  in  describings  ia  using 
the  micrescepe,  aad^whib  viesnag  ehfscte^br  either 
the  singber  eompennd  instrnmtnt,  the  fbeal  distances 
e£  the  magaifiers>  are  made  perleiBtly  exact  by  turn* 
iuK  of  the  pinion  at  the  nut  Wf  in  ene  way  or  the 
ewer,  veiy  gshtly  in  the  teeth,  of  the  rackwwork  at 
X  (fig.  i3»). 

It  is.  neoessmy  that  ^tsentres  of  the  ehject^bneea 

OB  miigaifiera,  the  stage^  and  the*  mirrera  •  at    beei> 

tom,  sbould  s^  be  in  a  right  line  iir>4he  nana  of  the 

^mmoseepe,  ^when  opaque  objecta  afe>  ta  he  vkwed, 

'  that  are  placed  iipea  the^  ivcey  piece*  N'^  7^  or  the  finw 

^caps  N^6k  and  all  other  such  soK'of  ohgecta  which  ane 

pboed  in  the<  centre  of  the  stage  R,  er  slider*holder 

'ii?  14 :  Rut  when  aqaatk  or  Kvi^  objects,  whkhra- 

r*m»a  great  apace  te*  move  in,  are  fee  be  viessed,  then 
heakental  metian  at*  ef  (^g.  ^3.)  k  made  use  ei^ 
>nn4thn  loesr.  may  ha  <en^nided  bterattv  ^over  the  whob 
of  tl^  dkmeteriof  the  -^t^mt  or  fim  of- view f  and 
by.pnttmg>tlieiara^n&c«^'fitrwnvd«OE^  backward  .ia 
its.  aookntr^  Utt  eiawk  ostmided^ia  the,  contrary 

direction 


KHS- 


M    I    C  [    9 

directioa  eqnftlly  well ;  and  in  thk  manner  the  vhole 
cf  the  objects  may  be  viewed  wilhont  the  least  disturb- 
ance. 

As  the  brass  arms  a  6c  d  may  be  brought  to  the 
height  of  three  or  four  inches  above  the  stage  R  ^  so^ 
by  means  of  the  rack.- work  abotion.of  the  stage»  a 
lens  of  a  greater  fbcal  distance  than  the  greatest  in 
the  wheel  Q  may  be  occasionally  ap]daed  in  place  of 
the  wheel,  and  thereby  the  larger  kind  of  objects  be 
viewed  ^  the  instmment  becoming,  in  this  case,  what  is 
called  a  fHegaiaacope* 

In  viewing  moving  living  objects,  or  even  fixed  ones, 
when  nice  motions  are  requisite,  a  rack-work  and  pi- 
nion is  often  applied  to  the  arm  a  b  c  d:  the  arm  is 
cbt  out  with  teeth ;  and  the  pinion,  as^  shown  at  Y,  is 
applied  to  work  it*  This  acts  hot  in  one  direction  ; 
and,  in  order  to  produce  an  equally  necessary  motion 
perpendicular  to  dib,  rack-work  and  pinion  is  applied 
tangent-wise  to  the  stage,  which  is  then  jointed. 

What  has  been  related  above  respects  the  construc- 
tion of  those  denominated  parhur  microscopes,  in  con  • 
tradistinction  to  those  which  are  portable:  their  di- 
mensions, however,  have  been  considerably  reduced  by 
opticians,  in  order  to  render  them  fit  for  the  pocket  \ 
and  as  tbey  are  for  the  most  pact  constructed  on  nearly 
the  same  principles  as  those  which  have  been  already 
described,  what  has  been  said  will  sufficiently  instruct 
our  readers  in  using  any  pocket  microsec^  whatever. 
Only  it  may  be  observed,  that  in  those  reduced  instru- 
ments, both  the  field  of  view  and  the  magnifying 
power  are  proportionably  diminished. 

We  shall  conclude  the  account  of  this-  sort  of  mi- 
croscope with  descriptions  of  a  very  portable  pocket 
apparatus  of  microscopic  instruments,  and  of  a  new  mi- 
croscopic pocket  telescope,  both  invented  by  the  late 
Mr  B.  Martin,  and  since  made  by  most  instrument- 
makers  in  London. 

The  former  is  represented  at.  fig.  15.  It  consists 
of  two  parts,  viz.  the  body  a  b^  and  the  pedestal  i  k^ 
which  is  joined  by  a  screw  at  the  part,  between  b  and 
ill  It  consists  of  three  cylindric  tubes,  viz.  (1.)  the 
exterior  tube,  or  case,  ab;  T a.)  a  middle  tube  c  b ; 
and  (3.)  the  interior  tube  /  g.  The  middle  tube 
c  d  is  the  adjuster  ^  and  is  connected  with  the  outer 
tube  by  the  rack-work  of  teeth  and  pinion,  as  shown 
St  e:  by  which  means  it  is  moved  up  and  down  at 
pleasure  through  the  smallest  space,  and  carries  with 
it  the  internal  UAe/g,  The. interior  tubey^  receives 
on  its  lower  put  at  b  the  several  capsules  or  boxes  a, 
3*  49  59  (^  '60  wlMch  contain  the  object  lenses  or 
magnifiers. 

The  method  of  using  this  compound  microscope  in 
the  perpendicular  position,  is  as  ibllows :  The  stage 
N°  i^.  is  put  within  the>  exterior  tube  at  £.  Un- 
der the  springs  ase  applied  the  four  ivory  sliders, 
which  contain  a  variety  of  transparent  objects^  then 
move  the  interior  tube  fg  up  and  down  with  the  hand, 
till  you  discern  the  object  in  the  slider,  and  there  let 
it  rest.  After  thi^  turn  the  pinma  at  e  very  tenderly 
one  way  or  the  other,  till  yon  obUuo  a  perfect  view 
of  the  transparent  objects  properly  illuminated,  from 
a  mirror  eootained  in  the  pedestal  or  stand  1  k^  sus- 
pended npon,    and  moveable  about,,    the    points   of 

Vol.  XIV.  Part  L 


M     I 
N^  6.  (fig.  16.)  represents  a  move-    uicrv^ 


scope. 


J 

two  scfears  (/()* 

able  stage,  which  is  placed  in  the  spring  socket  m.    It 

contains  a  concave  glass,  for  the  reception'  of  animal-  ' !"  ^^ 
cnieir  in  fluids  j  and  has  the  advantage  of  bcinffinf|  any  '^'  '  ' 
part  into  view  by  moving  the  handle  at  n.  if  living 
and  moving  Objects  are  required  to  be  shown,  they  must 
be  confined  in  the  concave,  by  potting  a  glass  cover, 
N^  7.  upon  the  stage  ^  and  then  a  small  spider,  a  louse, 
a  flea,  buff,  &c.  may  be  seen,  and  the  motion  or  cir- 
culation of  the  blood,  &c.  observed  with  surprising  di- 
stinctness. 

To  view  the  circulation  of  the  blood  in  the  most 
eminent  degree,  it  must  be  done  by  placing  small  frogs, 
tadpoles,  water-newts,  fishes,  &c.  in  a  tube  as  repre- 
sented N°  8.  (fig.  17.)  9  which  tube  is  placed  in  thel'ig.  17^ 
holes  o  in  the  opposite  sides  of  the  case  a  6,  fiff.  15.  in 
the  lower  part.— N**  9.  (fig.  16.)  is  a  pair  of  pincers 
or  pliers  </,  for  holding  any  object  ^  the  other  end  of  . 
the  steel  wire  is  pointed  to  receive  a  piece  of  ivory  6, 
with  one  end  black,  and  the  other  white,  on  which  you 
stick  objects  of  diflereot  hue : .  this  also,  when  used,  is 
placed  in^the  spring  socket  m» 

To  use  this  instrument  as  a  compound  opaque,  you 
screw  off  the  body  part  a  b^  and  screw  to  it  the  handle 
r  (fig.  16.)  J  by  this  means  you  may  hold  the  micror 
scope  in  a  horizontal  position,  as  shown  in  the  figure. 
The  silver  dish  or  speculum  (which  is  contained  in  the 
bottom  or  base  i(r,  fig.  Lj.)*  is  then  screwed  on  at  b, 
N^  ^  is  placed  in  the  spring  socket  m,  and  adjusted 
backward  and  forward  in  m,  till  the  reflected  light  from 
the  speculum  falls  in  a. proper  manuer  on  the  opaque 
object.  Either  of  the  four  magnifiers,  2, 3, 4,* 5,  may  be 
used,  and  brought  to  a  proper  focus,  as  before  describ- 
ed by  the  tooth  and  pinion  e  (fig.  I5«).  If  you  take 
off  the  opaque  apparatus,  and  apply  the  stage  N^  i.  (fig. 
16.)  with  an  ivoryslider,  and  at  the  end  b  screw  in  eilber 
of  the  two  lenses,  N®  10.  (which  are  distinguished  by 
the  name  of  illuminators),  the  microscope  being  held  up 
to  the  light  (and  properly  adjusted),  the  whole  field  of 
view  will  be  strongly  illuminated,  and  present  a  most 
pleasing  appearance  of  any  transparent  object.  The^e 
two  convex  lenses  are  of  different  focuses,  and  are  to  be 
used  singly- or  together ',  N°  2.  being  tlie  greatest  magni- 
fier, will  require  the  object  to  be  strongly  illuminated, 
and  of.  course  both  the  lenses  must  be  used  together. 
By  candle-light,  this  method  of  viewing  transparent  ob- 
jects will  prove  very  entertaining ',  by  screwiug  the 
handle  r  into  the  part  s  of  N^  lo.  it  becomes  a  delight* 
iui  hand  megalascope  for  viewing  flowers,  fossils,  shells, 
&c,  ^  and  each  lens,  as  before  mentioned, .  having  a 
different  focns,  produces  two  magnifying  jiowers  used 
singly,  and  when  combined  a  third. 

The  manner  of  using  this  instrument  as  a  single  mi- 
oroscope  (like  Wilson^s)  is  represented. in  fig.  x  7.  where 
the  button  or  magnifier  at  each  is  to  be  screwed  off,  and 
the  circular  piece  N^  1 1,  is  screwed  in  its  place*  This 
piece  has  a  spring  socket  made  to  receive  the  slider-hol- 
der N^  12.  N°  1 3.  is  a  circular  piece  of  brass,  with  a. 
long  shank  and  spring,  and  is  introduced  through  the 
outside  tube  a  6  at  ^  N^  2,  3,  4,  5,  are  screwed  occa- 
sionally in  the  centce  of  this  piece,  and  used  as  single 
lenses  with  ivory  sliders,  &g.  N^  14.  contains  a  lens  of 
a  great  magnifying  power,  for  viewing  very  minute  ob- 
jects :  to  render  this  instrument  the  most  complete  single 
opaque  microscope,  you  have  only  to  scieiv  into  N*  13. 
+  -  B  the 


ENCYCLOPAEDIA  BRITANNICA. 


Fig.  a  a. 


MIC  r   I 

the  vrbile  of  those  who  are  desirous  of  taking  many 
draughts  In  this  way,  to  get  a  frame,  wherein  a  sheet 
of  paper  may  be  put  in  or  taken  out  at  pleasure  ;  for  if 
the  paper  be  single,  tlie  image  of  an  object  will  be  seen 
almost  as  plainly,  on  the  back  as  on  the  fore  side  i  and, 
by  standing  behind  the  screen,  the  shade  of  the  hand 
will  not  obstruct  the  light  in  drawing,  as  it  must  in 
some  degree  when  one  stands  before  it.**  This  con- 
struction, however,  has  ugw  beoomo  rather  obsolete, 
and  is  superseded  by  tlie  following. 

II.  The  improved  Solar  Microscope^  as  used  with  (he 
improved  singie  Microscope^  with  teeth  and  pinion.  Fig. 
22.  represents  the  whole  form  of  the  siftffle  microscope  i 
the  parts  of  which  are  as  follows  :  ABCD  the  external 
tube ;  GHIK  the  internal  moveable  one  \  QM  part 
of  another  tube  within  the  last,  at  one  end  of  which 
is  fixed  a  plate  of  brass  hollowed  in  the  middle,  for  re- 
ceiving the  glass  tubes  \  there  is  also  a  moveable  fiat 
plate,  between  which,  and  the  fixed  end  of  the  second 
tube,  the  ivory  sliders  are  to  be  placed.  L,  a  part  of 
the  microscope,  containing  a  wire  spiral  spring,  keep- 
ing the  tube  QM  with  its  plates  firm  against  the  fixed 
part  IK  of  the  second  tube. 

£F  is  the  small  rack-work  of  teeth  and  pliiion,  by 
which  the  tnbe  IG  is  moved  gradually  to  or  firom  the 
end  AB,  for  adjusting  the  objects  exactly  to  the  focus 
of  difierent  lengths.  NO  is  a  brass  slider,  with  six 
magnifiers  ;  any  one  of  which  may  easily  be  placed  be- 
fore the  object.  It  is  known  when  either  of  the  glasses 
is  in  the  centre  of  the  eye-hole,  by  a  small  spring  fall- 
ing into  a  notch  in  the  side  of  the  slider,  made  again«t 
each  of  the  glasses.  Those  parts  of  the  apparatus, 
cc<S!Six.%-  M-  n^^rkcd  N«  15,  16,  17,  18,  19,  20,  21, 
and  22.  are  made  use  of  here  to  this  microscope. 
GH  is  a  brass  cell,  which  holds  an  Illuminating  glass 
for  converging  the  sun*s  beams  or  the  light  of  a  candle 
strongly  upon  the  objects.  The  aperture  of  the  glass 
is  made  greater  or  less,  by  two  circular  pieces  of 
brass,  with  holes  of  dilFcrent  sizes,  that  are  screwed 
separately  over  the  said  lens.  But  at  times  objects  ap- 
pear best  when  the  microscope  is  held  up  to  the  com- 
mon light  only,  without  this  glass.  It  is  also  taken 
away  when  the  microscope  is  applied  to  the  apparatus 
now  to  be  described. 

Fig.  23.  represents  tlie  apparatus,  with  the  single 
microscope  screwed  to  it,  which  constitutes  the  Solar 
Microscope.     AB  is  the  inner  moveable  tube,  to  which 
the  single  microscope  is  screwed.     CD  is  the  external 
tube,  containing  a  condensing  convex  glass  at  the  end 
D,  and  is  screwed  into  the  plate  EF,  which  is  cut 
with  teeth  at  its  circumference,  and  moved  by  the  pi- 
•nion  I,  that  is  fixed  with  the  plate  GH.     This  plate 
is  screwed  fast  a^jainst  the  window-shotter,  or  board 
fitted  to  a  convenient  window  of  a  darkened  room, 
when  the  instrument  is  used.     KL  is  a  long  frame, 
'fixed  to  the  circular  plate  EF  •,  containing  a  looking- 
glass  or  mirror  for  reflecting  the  solar  rays  through  the 
lens  in  the  body  of  the  tube  D.     O  is  a  brass  milled 
bead,  fastened  to  a  worm  or  endless  screw  j  which  on 
the  outside  turns  a  small  wheel,  by  which  the  reflecting 
mirror  M  is  moved  upwards  and  downwards. 

In  using  this  microscope,  the  square  frame  GH  is 
first  to  be  screwed  to  the  window  shutter,  and  the 
room  well  darkened ;  which  is  best  done  by  cutting 
a  round  hole  of  the  size  of  the  moveable  plate  EF, 


Plate 


Pig.  «3' 


2     ]  MIC 

that  carries  the  reflector,    in   the  windovr-siratter  or    Mkro. 
board  ;  and,  by  means  of  two  brass  nnt8*a  a,  lot  in-     scope. 
to  the  shatter  to  receive  the  screws  FP,  when  placed        ^ 
through  the  holes  in  the  square  fnune  GH,  at  tbe  twp 
holes  QQ :  which  will  firmly  fauten  the  microscope  to 
the  shutter,  and  is  easily  taken  away  by  only  unscrew- 
ing the  screws  PP. 

The  white  paper  screen,  or  white  cloth,  to  receive 
the  imaged,  is  to  be  placed  strveral  feet  distant  from 
tbe  window :  which  will  make  the  represcaSations  the 
larger  in  proportion  to  the  distance.  The  usual  dis- 
tances are  from  6  to  16  feet. 

The  frame  KL,  with  its  mirror  M,  is  to  be  moved 
by  turning  the  pinion  I,  one  way  or  the  other,  till 
the  beams  of  the  sun^s  light  come  through  the  hole 
into  the  room  :  then,  by  turning  of  the  worm  at  O, 
the  mirror  must  be  raised  or  depressed  till  the  rays  be- 
come perfectly  horizontal,  and  go  straight  across  the 
room  to  the  screen.  The  tube  CD,  with  its  lens  at 
D,  is^ow  to  be  screwed  into  the*  hole  of  the  circular 
plate  EF :  by  this  glass  the  rays  will  be  converged  to 
a  focus ;  and  from  thence  proceed  dive^ng  to  the 
screen,  and  there  make  a  large  circle  of  light  The 
single  microscope,  fig.  22.  is  to  be  screwed  on  to  the 
end  AB  (fi^.  23.)  of  tbe  inner  tobe  \  and  the  slider 
NO,  with  either  of  the  lenses  marked  1 9  2,  3,  4,  5,  or 
6,  in  the  centre  of  the  hale  at  tbe  end  AB.  This 
will  occasion  a  circle  of  light  upon  the  screen  mocb 
larger  than  before.  The  slider  or  glass*tube,  with  tbe 
objects  to  be  viewed,  is  to  be  placed  between  tbe  plates 
at  IK  against  the  small  magnifier,  and  moved  at  plea- 
sure. By  shifting  the  tube  AB  in  or  out,  you  may 
place  the  object  in  snch  a  part  of  the  condensed  rays 
as  shall  be  soflicient  to  illuminate  it,  and  not  scorch 
or  burn  it ;  which  will  generally  require  tbe  glass  to 
be  about  one  inch  distant  from  the  focus.  It  now  re- 
mains only  to  adjust  the  object,  or  to  bring  it  so  near 
to  the  magnifier  that  its  image  formed  upon  tbe  screen 
shall  be  the  most  distinct  or  periect :  and  it  is  effected 
by  gently  turning  the  pinion  F,  fig.  22.  a  small  matter 
one  way  or  the  other.  If  tbe  object  be  rather  large 
in  size,  the  least  magnifiers  are  goncrally  used,  and.i^^ 
versa, 

N°  I.  is  the  greatest  magnifier,  and  N°  6.  the  least, 
in  the  brass  slider  NO.  Bat,  if  desired,  single  lenses 
of  greater  magnifying  powers  are  made :  and  tliey  are 
applied,  by  being  screwed  to  the  end  AB,  fig.  22.  and 
the  brass  slider  NO  is  then  taken  away. 

The  same  object  may  be  Tarionsly  magnified,  by  the 
lenses  severally  applied  to  it  ^  and  the  degree  of  mag- 
nifying power  is  easily  known  by  this  rule :  As  ihe  di- 
stance  cfthe  object  is  to^th^t  of  its  image  from  the  mag^ 
nifier;  so  is  the  length  or  broadth  of  the  ob^t  to  that 
of  the  image* 

.  Instead  of  the  brass  sliders  with  the  lenses  NO, 
4bere  is  sometimes  screwed  a  lens  of  a  large  size,  and 
longer  fockl  distance  2  the  instramcnt  is  then  converted 
into  a  megalascope$  and  is.  adapted  fin*  viewing  tbe 
larger  kind  of  objects  contained  in  large  sliders,  sudi 
as  is  represented  at  R.  And,  in  the  same  maimer, 
small  objects  of  enteitainment,  painted  upon  glass  like 
the  sliders  of  a  magic  lanthom,  are  much  magnified, 
and  represented  npon  the  same  screen. 

The  solar  microscopes  just  described  are  capable  on- 
ly of  magnifying  transparent  objects  ^  for  which  pur- 

4  pose 


MIC 


I    13    3 


MIC 


f%.  24. 


p«se  tke  last  instraioent  is  extremely  well  adapted. 
But  as  opaque  objects  form  the  most  considerable  part 
of  Uie  curious  collections  in  the  works  of  art  as  Tvell 
as  nature,  a  solar  microscope  for  this  purpose  was  a 
long  time  wanted.— For  s^everal  years  previous  to 
1774,  Mr  Martin  made  several  essays  towards  the 
construction  of  such  an  instrument  ^  and  at  last  com^ 
pletcd  one  about  the  time  just  mentioned^  which  he 
aamedy 

III.  The  Opaaue  Solar  Microscope.  With  this  in- 
strument (to  use  his  own  words)  '*  all  opaque  objects, 
whether  of  the  animal,  vegetable,  or  mineral  kin^* 
dom,  may  be  exhibited  in  great  perfection,  in  all  their 
native  beauty }  the  lights  and  shades,  the  prominences 
and  cavities,  and  all  the  varieties  of  dinerent  hues, 
tints,  and  colours ;  heightened  by  reflection  ^f  the  so- 
lar  rays  condensed  upon  them. — Transparent  objects 
ar«  also"  shown  with  greater  perfection  than  by  the 
common  solar  microscope." 

Fig.  24.  represents  the  solar  opaque  microscope, 
mounted  for  exhibiting  opaque  objects. 

Fig.  25.  is  the  single  tooth  and  pinion  microscope, 
as  before,  which  is  used  for  showing  transparent  ob- 
jects i  the  cylindrical  tube  Y  thereof  being  made  to  fit 
into  the  tobe  F£  of  the  solar  microscope. 

AfiCDEF,  (fig.  24.)  represents  the  body  of  the 
solar  microscope ;  one  part  thereof,  ABCD,  is  coni- 
cal >  the  other,  CDEF,  is  cylindrical.  The  cylindri- 
cal part  reccrves  the  tube  G  of  the  opaque  box,  or  the 
tube  Y  of  the  single  microscope.  At  the  lai^  end 
AB  of  the  conical  part,  there  is  a  lens  to  receive  the 
rays  from  the  mirror,  and  refract  them  towards  the 
box  HIK.L.  NOP  is  a  brass  frame  \  which  is  fixed 
to  the  moveable  circular  plate  a  b  c:  iu  this  frame  there 
is  a  plane  mirror,  to  reflect  the  solar  rays  on  the  afore- 
mentioned lens.  This  mirror  may  be  moved  into  the 
most  convenient  position  for  reflecting  the  light,  by 
means  of  the  nuts  Q  and  R.  By  the  nut  Q  it  may  be 
moved  from  east  to  west  \  and  it  may  be  elevated  or 
depressed  by  the  niit  R.  d  ^,  Two  screws  to  fasten  the 
microscope  to  a  window  shutter.  The  box  for  opaque 
objects  is- represented  at  HIKL:  it  contains  a  plane 
mirror  M,  for  reflecting  the  light  which  it  receives  from 
the  large  lens  to  the  object,  and  thereby  illuminating 
it  J  S  Is  a  screw  to  adjust  tlus  mirror,  or  place  it  at  a 
proper  angle  for  reflecting  the  light.  VX,  two  tubes 
of  brass,  one  sliding  within  the  other,  the  exterior  one 
in  the  box  HIKL  ;  these  carry  the  magnifying  lenses : 
the  interior  tube  is  sometimes  taken  out,  and  the  ex- 
terior one  is  then  used  by  itself.  Part  of  this  tube  may 
be  seen  in  the  plate  within  the  box  HIKL.  At  H 
there  is  a  brass  plate,  the  back  part  of  which  is  fixed 
to  the  hollow  tube  h^  in  which  there  is  a  spiral  wire, 
which  keeps  the  plate  always  bearing  against  the  side 
H  of  the  brass  box  HlfCL.  The  sliders,  with  the 
opaque  objects,  pass  between  this  plate  and  the  side  of 
the  box  'y  to  put  them  there,  the  plate  is  to  be  drawn 
back  by  means  of  the  nut  g:  ikia%  door  to  one  side  of 
the  opaque  box.  The  foregoing  pieces  constitute  the 
several  parts  necessary  for  viewing  opaque  objects.  We 
shall  now  proceed  to  describe  the  single  microscope, 
%vhich  is  used  for  transparent  objects :  but  in  order  to 
examine  these,  the  box  HIKL  must  be  first  removed, 
and  in  its  place  we  must  insert  tke  tube  Y  of  the  single 
;nicroscope  that  we  are  now  going  to  describe. 


Fig.  25.  represents  a  large  tooth  and  pinion  micro-    Micro- 
scope  :  at  yn,  within  the  body  of  this  microscope,  are     Kope. 
two  thin  plates,  that  are  to  be  separated  in  order  to '       » 
let  the  ivory  sliders  pass  between  them ;  they  arc  pros-  ^'  *^' 
sed  together  by  a  spiral  spring,   which  bears  op  the 
under  plate,  and  forces  it  against  the  upper  one. 

The  slider  S  (under  fig.  4.},  which  contains  the 
magnifiers,  fits  into  the  hole  n  ;  and  any  of  the  magni- 
fiers may  be  placed  before  the  object,  by  moving  the 
aforesaid  slider :  when  the  magnifier  is  at  the  centre  of 
the  hole  P,  a  small  spring  falls  into  one  of  the  notches 
which  is  on  the  side  of  the  slider. 

Under  the  plate  m  are  placed  two  lenses,  for  en- 
larging the  field  of  view  on  the  screen  :  the  smaller  of 
the  two  is  fixed  in  a  piece  of  brass,  and  is  nearest  the 

?late  m  ;  this  is  to  be  taken  out  when  the  magnifiers, 
^^  4,  5,  or  6,  are  used,  or  when  the  megalascope  lent 
T  (fig.  24.)  is  used^  but  is  to  be  replaced  for 
N*  I,  2,  3. 

This  microscope  is  adjusted  to  the  focus  by  turning 
the  milled  nut  O. 

To  use  the  solar  microscope :— Make  a  round  hole 
jn  the  window  shutter,  a  little  larger  than  the  circle 
a  b  c  ;  pass  the  mirror  ONP  through  this  bole,  and 
apply  the  square  plate  to  the  shatter  \  then  mark  with 
a  pencil  the  places  which  correspond  to  the  two  holes 
through  which  the  screw  is  to  pass  \  take  away  the  mi- 
croscope, and  bore  two  holes  at  the  marked  places,  suf- 
ficiently large  to  let  the  milled  screws  d  e  pass  through 
them. 

The  screws  are  to  pass  from  the  outside  of  the  shut- 
ter, to  go  through  it :  and  being  then  screwed  into 
their  respective  holes  in  the  square  plate,  they  will, 
when  screwed  home,  hold  it  fast  against  the  inside  of 
the  shutter,  and  thus  support  the  microscope. 

Screw  the  conical  tube  ABCD  to  the  circle  ab  c^ 
and  then  slide  the  tube  G  of  the  opaque  box  into  the 
cylindrical  part  CDEF  of  the  body,  if  opaque  objects 
are  to  be  examined ;  but  if  they  be  transparent  objects 
you  mean  to  show,  then  place  the  tube  Y  within  the 
tube  CDEF. 

The  room  is  to  be  darkened  as  much  as  possible, 
that  no  light  may  enter  but  what  passes  through  the 
body  of  the  microscope  j  for,  on  this  circumstance, 
together  with  the  brightness  of  the  sunshine,  the  per- 
fection and  distinctness  of  the  image  in  a  great  measure 
depend. 

AVhen  the  microscope  is  to  be  used  for  opaque  ob- 
jects, I.  Adjust  the  mirror  NOP,  so  as  to  receive  the 
solaf  rays,  by  means  of  the  two  finger  screws  or  nuts, 
QR  \  the  first,  Q,  turns  the  mirror  to  the  right  or 
left;  the  second,  R,  raises  or  depresses  it:  this  yon 
are  to  do  till  you  have  reflected  the  sun^s  light  through 
the  lens  at  As  strongly  upon  a  screen  of  white  paper 
placed  at  some  distance  from  the  window,  and  formed 
thereon  a  round  spot  of  light.  An  unexperienced  ob- 
server will  find  it  more  convenient  to  obtain  the  light 
by  forming  this  spot  before  he  puts  on  either  the 
opaque  box  or  the  tooth  and  pinion  microscope. 

Now  put  in  the  opaque  box,  and  place  the  object 
between  the  plates  at  H ;  open  the  door  f  kj  and  ad- 
just the  mirror  M  till  you  have  illuminated  the  object 
strongly.  If  you  cannot  eflect  this  by  the  screw  S, 
you  must  move  the  screws  Q,  R,  in  order  to  get  the 
light  reflected  strongly  from  the  mirror  NOP,  or  the 

mirror 


MIC 


I 


PUie 


CCCXU  objects. 


mrrror  M,  without  which  the  latter  cAtonol  illuminate 
the  object. 

The  object  being  strongly  illuminated,  shut  the  door 
t  kf  and  a  distinct  view  of  the  object  will  soon  be 
obtained  on  your  screeui  by  adjusting  the  tubes  VX, 
which  is  elected  by  moving  them  backwards  or  for- 
wards. 

A  round  spot  of  light  cannot  always  be  procured  in 
northern  latitudes,  the  altitude  of  the  sun  being  often 
too  low  i  neither  can  it  be  obtained  when  the  sun  is 
directly  perpendicular  to  the  front  of  the  room. 

As  the  sun  is  continually  changing  its  place,  it  will 
be  necessary,  in  order  to  keep  bis  rays  full  upon  the 
object,  to  keep  them  continually  directed  through  the 
axis  of  the  instrument,  by  the  two  screws  Q  and  R. 

To  view  transparent  objects,  remove  the  opaque  box, 
and  insert  the  tube  Y,  fig.  25.  in  its  place  ;  put  the 
slider  S  into  its  place  at  n^  and  the  slider  with  the  ob* 
jects  between  the  plates  at  m  ;  then  adjust  the  mirror 
PIOP,  as  before  directed  by  the  screws  Q,  R,  so  that 
the  light  may  pass  through  the  object^  regulate  the 
focus  of  the  magnifier  by  the  screw  O.  The  most 
pleasing  magnifiers  in  use  are  the  fourth  and  fifth.    , 

The  size  of  the  object  may  be  increased  qr  dimi- 
nished, by  altering  the  distance  of  the  screen  from  the 
microscope  :  five  or  six  feet  is  a  convenient  distance. 

To  examine  transparent  objects  of  a  larger  size,  or 
to  render  the  instrument  what  is  usually  called  a  mega-' 
lascope^  take  out  the  slider  S  from  its  place  at  #?,  and 
screw  the  button  T  (fig.  24.)  into  the  hole  at  P,  fig. 
25.  and^  remove  the  glass  which  is  under  the  plate  at 
171,  and  regulate  the  light  and  focils  agreeable  to  the 
foregoing  directions. 

N.  B.  At  the  end  of  the  tube  G  there  is  a  lens  for 
increasing  the  density  of  the  rays,  for  the  purpose  of 
burning  or  melting  any  combustible  or  fusible  sub- 
stance :  this  lens  must  be  removed  in  most  cases,  lest 
the  objects  should  be  burnt.  The  intensity  of  the 
light  is  also  varied  by  moving  this  tube  backwards  or 
forwards. 

Apparatus  of  the  Opaque  Solar  Microscope.'^The 
large  square  plate  and  mirror ;  the  body  of  the  micro- 
scope ;  the  opaque  box  and  its  tube  j  the  tooth  and 
pinion  microscope ;  the  slider  with  the  magnifiers  ^  the 
megalascope  magnifier  ^  the  two  screws  d  and  e  ;  some 
ivory  sliders ;  some  sliders  with  opaque  objects  j  a  brass 
frame,  with  a  bottom  of  soft  deal  to  stick  any  object 
on  ^  a  brass  cylinder  K  (fig.  3l.)9  for  confining  opaique 


IV.  The  Camera  Obscuha,  or  Lvcernal^  Microscope* 

The  great  facility  with  which  objects  can  be  repre- 
sented on  paper  or  a  rough  glass  in  the  camera  obscura, 
and  co]>ie8  drawn  from  them  by  any  person  though 
unskilled  in  drawing,  evidently  suggested  the  applica- 
tion of  the  microscope  to  this  instrument.  The  great- 
est number  of  experiments  that  appear  to  have  been 
^ade  with  this  view,  were  by  Mr  Martin  and  Mr 
Adams)  the  former  of  whom  frequently  applied  the 
microscope  lo  the  portable  camera,  and  with  much 
effect  and  entertainment.  But  these  instruments  being 
found  to  answer  only  with  il)^  assistance  of  the  sun^ 
Mr  Adam»  directed  his  experiments  to  the  construc- 
tion of  an  Instrument  of  more  extended  utility,  tvhich 
could  be   equally  employed  in  the  day-time   aud  by 


4    ]  MIC 

night.  He  accordingly  succeeded  so  far  as  to  pro- 
duce, by  candie-Hghtj  the  images  of  objects  refiractted 
firom  a  single  magnifier  npon  one  or  two  largie  Convex 
lenses  (of  about  five  inches  or  upwards  in  diameter), 
at  the  end  of  a  pyramidal  shaped  txnr,  in  a  very  pleas- 
ing and  magnified  appearance,  so  as  to  give  opaque 
objects  as  well  as  transparent  ones  the  utmost  distinct- 
ness of  representation  \  but  still  the  light  of  a  candle 
or  lamp  was  found  generally  insufficient  to  throw  the 
requisite  degree  of  illumination  upon  the  objects.  The 
invention  of  what  is  called  ArgamTs  lamp,  within  these 
few  years,  offered  a  complete  remedy  for  this  defect,  by 
the  intensity  and  steadiness  of  its  light.  This  did  not 
escape  Mr  Adams  (son  of  the  former),  who  immedi- 
ately applied  it  y  and  who  had  likewise  so  altered  and 
improved  his  fkther^s  instrument,  both  in  construction 
and  form,  as  to  render  it  altogether  a  different  one,  and 
far  more  perfect  and  useful. 

The  advantages  and  properties  of  this  excellent- 
ly conceived  instrument  are  numerous  and  important. 
**  As  the  far  greater  part  of  the  objects  which  sur- 
round us  are  opaque  (says  our  author),  and  very  few 
are  sufficiently  transparent  to  be  examined  by  the  com- 
mon microscopes,  an  instrument  that  could  be  readily 
applied  to  the  examination  of  opaque  objects  has  al- 
ways been  a  desideratum.  Even  in  (he  examination 
of  transparent  objects,  many  of  the  fine  and  more  cu- 
rious portions  are  lost,  and  disowned,  as  it  were,  in  the 
light  which  must  be  transmitted  through  them ;  while 
different  parts  of  the  same  object  appear  only  as  dark 
lines  or  spots,  because  they  are  so  opaque  as  not  to 
permit  any  light  to  pass  through  them.  These  diffi- 
culties, as  well  as  many  more,  are  obviated  in  the  iu- 
cemal  microscope ;  by  which  opaque  objects  of  vari- 
ous sizes  may  be  seen  with  ease  and  distinctness :  tlie 
beautiful  colours  with  which  most  of  them  are  adorn- 
ed, are  rendered  more  brilliant,  without  changing  in 
the  least  the  real  tint  of  the  colonr  $  and  the  concave 
and  convex  parts  retain  also  their  proper  form.<^The 
fiicility  with  which  all  opaque  objects  are  applied  to 
this  instrument,  is  another  considerable  advantage,  and 
almost  peculiar  to  itself  j  as  the  texture  and  confign^ 
i*ation  of  the  more  tender  parts  are  often  hint  by  pre- 
vious preparation,  every  object  may  he  examined  by 
this  instrument,  first  as  opaque,  and  afberwards  (if  the 
texture  will  admit  of  it)  as  transfparent.— The  Inoer- 
nal  microscope  doe»  not  in  the  least  fatigue  the  eye  ; 
the  object  appears  like  nature  itself,  giving  ease  to  the 
sight  and  pleasure  to  the  mind :  there  is  also,  in  the 
use  of  this  instrument,  no  occasion  to  shut  the  eye 
wbich  is  not  directed  to  the  object.  A  further  ad- 
vantage peculiar  to  this  microscope  is,  that  by  it  the 
outlines  of  every  object  may  be  taken,  even  by  those 
who  are  not  accustomed  to  draw ;  while  those  who 
can  draw  well  will  receive  great  assistance,  And  execute 
their  work  with  more  accuracy  and  in  less  time  than 
they  would  otherwise  have  been  able  to  have  )>erfonu- 
ed  it.  Transparent  objects  as  Well  as  opnqne  may  be 
copied  in  the  same  manner.  The  instrument  may  be 
used  at  any  time  of  the  day,  but  the  best  effeet  is  by 
night  'y  in  Ivhich  respect  it  has  a  superiority  over  the 
solar  microscope,  as  that  instrument  cian  only  be  used^ 
whksn  the  sun  shines. 

Transparent  objtcts  may  be  examined  with  the  Itt- 
cecnal  microscope  in  tliree  or  fonr.  diffecent  modcCt 

from 


M    I    C 


t 


Fbte 


from  ft  Uaz6  of  light  almost  too  great  for  the  eye  to 
bear,  to  that  which  iR  perfectly  easy  to  it :  And  by 
the  addition  of  a  tin  lantbom  to  the  apparatus,  may 
be  thrown  on  a  screen,  and  exhibited  at  one  view  to  a 
lam  company,  as  by  the  solar  microscope* 

We  shall  now  proceed  to  the  descrintlon  of  the  in« 
strament  and  apparatus  as  given  by  ifr  Adams. 

Fig.  26. representsthe  improved Xtfr^rffa/ilffirroicqpf, 

CCCXIX  moonied  to  view  opaque  objects.     ABCD  is  a  large 

^         mahogany  pyramidal  box,  which   forms  the  body  of 

the  microscope}  it  is  supported  firmly  on  the   brass 

pillar  FG,  by  means  of  the  socket  H  and  the  curved 

piece  IK. 

LMN  is  a  guide  for  the  eye,  in  order  to  direct  it 
in  the  axis  of  the  lenses }  it  consists  of  two  brass  tubes, 
one  sliding  within  the  other,  and  a  vertical  flat  piece, 
at  the  top  of  which  is  the  hole  for  the  eye.  The  out^r 
tube  is  seen  at  MN,  the  vertical  piece  is  represented 
at  LM.  The  inner  tube  may  be  pulled  out^  or  push- 
ed in,  to  adjust  it  to  the  focus  of  the  glasses.  The 
vertical  piece  may  be  raised  or  depressed,  that  the  hole, 
through  which  the  object  is  to  be  viewed,  may  coin- 
cide with  the  centre  m  the  field  of  view  ^  it  is  fixed  by 
a  milled  screw  from  M,  which  could  not  be  shown  in 
this  figure. 

At  rl  is  a  dove-tailed  piece  of  brass,  made  to  re- 
ceive the  dove-tail  at  the  end  of  the  tubes  MN,  by 
which  it  is  affixed  to  the.  wooden  box  ABCDE.  The 
tubes  MN  may  be  removed  from  this  box  occasionally, 
fer  the  convenience  of  packing  it  up  in  a  less  com- 
pass. 

OP,  a  small  tube  which  carries  the  magnifiers. 

O,  one  of  the  magnifiers ;  it  is  screwed  into  the  end 
of  a  tube,  which  slides  within  the  tube  P }  the  tube 
P  may  be  unscrewed  occasionally  from  the  wooden 
body. 

QRSTVX,  a  long  square  bar,  which  passes  through 
the  sockets  YZ,  and  carries  the  stage  or  frame  that 
holds  the  objects ;  this  bar  may  be  moved  backward 
or  forward,  in  order  to  adjust  it  to  the  focus  by  means 
of  the  pinion  which  is  at  a. 

hj  A  handle  furnished  with  an  universal  joint,  for 
more  conveniently  turning  the  pinion.  When  the 
handle  is  removed,  the  nut  (fig.  27.)  may  be  used  in 
its  stead. 

de,  A  brass  bar,  to  support  the  curved  piece  KI, 
and  keep  the  body  AB  firm  and  steady. 

fg  h  t.  The  stage  for  opaque  objects :  it  fits  upon 
the  bar  QRST  by  means  of  the  socket  h  t ,  and  is 
brought  nearer  to  or  removed  fiirther  from  the  magni- 
fying lens  by  turning  the  pinion  a :  the  objects  are 
placed  in  the  front  side  of  the  stage  (which  cannot  be 
seen  in  this  figure)  between  four  small  brass  plates  \  the 
edges  of  two  of  these  are  seen  at  k  /.  The  two  upper 
pieces  of  brass  are  moveable  5  they  are  fixed  to  a  plate, 
whtdi  is  acted  on  by  a  spiral  spring,  that  presses  them 
dkvwn,  and  confines  the  slider  with  the  objects :  this 
pl^te,  and  the  two  upper  pieces  of  brass,  are  lifited  up 
by  the  small  nut  m.  ' 

At  the  lower  part  of  the  stage,  there  is  a  semicircu- 
lar lam|^  of  fflass  fi,  idliich  is  designed  to  receive  the 
light  firom  Hie  lamp,  fig.  29;  and  to  collect  and  throw 
it  on  the  concave  mirror  0,  whence  it  is  to  be  reflected 
9p  the  object 
^Tkt  upper  l/extfghs  (fig.  26.)  of  the  opaque  stage 

4 


r«.  57. 


5    ]  MIC 

takes  ont,  tbat  the  stage  for  transparent  objects  may    Micro« 
be  inserted  in  its  place.  icope. 

Fig.  28.  represents  the  stage  for  transparent  objects  5 '.  »  ' 
the  two  legs  5  and  6  fit  into  the  top  of  the  under  part^'  ^ 
rsA  1  of  the  stage  for  opaque  objects  j  7  is  the  part  which 
confines  or  holds  the  sliders,  and  through  which  they 
are  to  be  moved  ;  9  and  10,  a  brass  tube,  which  con< 
tains  the  lenses  for  condensing  the  light,  and.throwiog 
it  upon  the  object  j  there  b  a  second  tube  within  that« 
marked  9  and  10,  which  may  be  placed  at  different 
distances  firom  the  object  by  the  pin  i  r. 

When  this  stage  is  used  as  a  single  microscope,  with- 
out any  reference  to  the  lucemal,  the  magnifiers  or 
object  lenses,  are  to  be  screwed  into  the  hole  1 2,  and 
to  be  adjusted  to  a  proper  focus  by  the  nut  ^3. 

JV.JP.  At  the  end  AB  (fig.  26.)  of  the  wooden  body 
there  is  a  slider,  which  is  represented  as  partly  dra^vii 
out  at  A :  when  quite  taken  out,  three  grooves  will  be 
perceived ;  one  of  which  contains  a  board  that  forms 
the  end  of  the  box  j  the  next  contains  a  frame  with  a 
grayed  glass ;  and  the  third,  or  that  farthest  from  the 
end  AB,  two  large « convex  lenses. 

Fig.  29.  represents  one  of  Argand's  lamps,  which  Fig*  29- 
are  roost  suitable  for  microscopic  purposes^  on  ac- 
count of  the  clearness,  the  intensity,  and  the  steadipess 
of  the  light.  The  following  account  of  tbe  method 
of  managing  them,  with  other  observations,  is  copied 
from  an  account  given  by  Mr  Parker  with  those  he 
sells. 

The  principle  on  which  the  lamp  acts,  consists  in 
disposing  the  wick  in  thin  parts,  so  that  the  air  may 
come  in  contact  with  all  the!  burning  fuel ;  by  which 
means,  together  with  an  increase  of  the  current  of  air 
occasioned  by  rarefiMtion  in  the  glass  tube,  the  whole 
of  the  fuel  is  converted  into  flame. 

The  wicks  are  circular}  and,  the  more  readily  to 
regulate  the  quantity  of  light,  are  fixed  on  a  brass  col- 
lar, with  a  wire  handle,  by  means  of  which  they  are 
raised  or  depressed  at  pleasure* 

To  fix  the  wick  on,  a  wooden  mandril  is  contrived, 
which  is  tapered  at  one  end,  and  has  a  groove  turned 
at  the  other. 

The  wick  has  a  selvage  at  one  end,  which  is  to  be 
put.  foremost  on  the  mandril,  and  moved  up  to  the 
groove }  then  putting  tbe  groove  into  the  collar  of 
the  wick-holder,  the  wick  is  easily  pushed  fonrard 
upon  it. 

The  wick-holder  and  wick  being  put  quite  down  itt 
their  place,,  the  spare  part  of  the  wick  should,  while 
dry,  be  set  a-light,  and  suffered  to  bum  to  the  edge 
of  the  tubes  *,  this  will  leave  it  more  even  than  by  cut- 
ting, and,  being  black  by  burning,  will  be  much  easier  . 
liglited  :  for  this  reason,  the  black  should  never  be 
quite  cut  off. 

The  lamp  should  be  filled  an  hour  or  two  before  it 
is  wanted,  that  the  cotton  may  imbibe  the  oil  and 
draw  the  better. 

Tbe  lamps  which  have  a  reservoir  and  valve,  need 
no  other  direction  for  filling  than  to  do  it  with  a  pro- 
per trimming  pot,  carefully  observing  when  they  are 
uiH ;  then  palling  up  the  ^^ve  by  the  point,  the  re- 
servoir, being  turned  with  the  other  hand,  may  be  re- 
placed without  spilling  a  drop. 

Those  lamps  which  fill  in  the  front  like  a  bird-foun- 
tain,  must  be  Teclined  on  the  back  to  fill )  and  this 

should 


MIC  [     1 

Micro-  should  be  clone  gently,  that  the  o3  in  the  burner  may 
scope,  return  into  the  body  when  bo  placed  and  filled  :  if,  by 
being  too  full,  and  oil  appears  above  the  guard,  only 
move  the  lamp  a  little,  and  the  oil  will  diBappear  ;  the 
lamp  may  then  be  placed  erect,  and  the  oil  will  flow  to 
its  *proper  level. 

llie  oil  must  be  of  the  spermaceti  kind,  commonly 
ealled  chamber  oil,  which  may  generally  be  distinguish- 
ed by  its  paleness,  transparency,  and  inoffensive  scent : 
all  those  oils  which  are  of  a  red  and  brown  colour,  and 
of  an  offensive  scent,  should  be  carefully  avoided,  as 
their  glutinous  parts  clog  the  lamp,  and  the  impurities 
in  such  oil,  not  being  inflammable,  will  accumulate  and 
remain  in  the  form  of  a  crust  on  the  wick.  Seal  oil  is 
nearly  as  pale  and  sweet  as  chamber  oil  *,  but  being  of 
a  heavy  sluggish  quality,  is  not  proper  for  lamps  with 
fine  wicks. 

Whenever  bad  oil  has  been  used,  on  changing  it,  the 
wick  must  also  be  changed  ^  because,  after  having  im- 
bibed the  coarse  particles  in  its  capillary  tubes,  it  will 
not  draw  up  the  fine  oil. 

To  obtain  the  greatest  degree  of  light,  the  wick 
should  be  trimmed  exactly  even,  the  flame  will  then  be 
completely  equal. 

Theie  will  be  a  great  advantage  in  keeping  the  lamp 
clean,  especially  the  burner  and  air  tubes  j  the  neglect 
of  cleanliness  in  lamps  is  too  common :  a  candlestick 
is  generally  cleaned  every  time  it  is  used,  so  should  a 
lamp  \  and  if  a  candlestick  is  iiot  to  be  objected  to  be- 
cause it  does  not  give  light,  after  the  candle  is  ex- 
hausted, 80  a  lamp  should  not  be  thought  ill  of,  if  it 
does  not  give  light  when  it  wants  oil  or  cotton  :  but  this 
last  has  often  happened,  because  the  deficiency  is  less 
visible. 

The  glass  tubes  are  best  cleaned  with  a  piece  of  wash 
leather. 

If  a  fountain  lamp  is  left  partly  filled  with  oil,  it  may 
he  liable  to  overflow  :  this  happens  by  the  contraction 
of  the  air  when  cold,  and  its  expansion  by  the  warmth 
of  a  room,  the  rays  of  the  sun,  or  the  heat  of  the  lamp 
when  re-lighted  :  this  accident  may  be  effectually  pre- 
vented by  keeping  the  reservoir  filled,  the  oil  not  being 
subject  to  expansion  like  air.  On  this  account,  those 
with  a  common  reservoir  are  best  adapted  for  microsco- 
pic purposes. 

2o  examine  Opaque  ObjeeU^  with  the  Lucernal  Mu 
croscope.  To  render  the  use  of  this  instrument  easy,  it 
is  osually  packed  vcith  as  maay  of  the  parts  together  as 
possible :  it  occupies  on  this  account  rather  more  room, 
but  is  much  less  embarrassing  to-  the  observer,  who  has 
only  three  parts  to  put  on  after  it  is  taken  out  of  its 
box,  namely,  the  guide  for  the  eye,  the  stage,  and  the 
tube  with  its  magnifier. 

But  to  be  more  particular :  Take  out  the  wooden 
slider  A  (fig.  26.),  then  lift  out  the  cover  and  the 
gray  glass,  from  their  respective  grooves  under  the 
slider  A. 

Put  the  end  N  of  the  guide  for  the  eye  LMN  into 
its  place,  so  that  it  may  stand  in  the  position  which  is 
represented  in  this  figure. 

Place  the  socket  which  is  at  the  bottom  of  the 
opaque  stage,  on  the  bar  QXT,  so  that  the  concave 
mirror  p  may  be  next  the  end  D£  of  the  wooden 

^7- 


6    ]  MIC 

Screw  the  tubes  PO  into  the  end  DE.  The  mag- 
nifier you  intend  to  use  is  to  be  screwed  on  the  end  O 
of  these  tubes. 

The  handle  G  ^,  or  the  milled  luit,  fig.  27.  must  be 
placed  on  the  square  end  of  the  pinion  a. 

Place  the  lamp  lighted  before  the  glass  lamp  17, 
and  the  object  you  intend  to  examine  between  the 
spring  plates  of  the  stage  \  and  the  instrument  is  ready 
for  use. 

In  all  microscopes  there  are  two  circumstances  which 
must  be  particularly  attended  to :  first,  the  modifica- 
tion of  the  light,  or  the  proper  quantity  to  illuminate 
the  object  \  secondly,  the  adjustment  of  the  instrument 
to  the  focus  of  the  glass  and  eye  of  the  observer.  In 
the  use  of  the  lucernal  microscope  there  is  a  third  cir- 
cumstance, which  is,  the  regulation  of  the  guide  for  the 
eye. 

1 .  To  throw  the  light  upon  the  object.  The  flame 
of  the  lamp  is  to  be  placed  rather  below  the  centre  of 
the  glass  lump  fi,  and  as  near  it  as  possible  ^  the  con- 
cave mirror  0  must  be  so  inclined  and  turned  as  to  re- 
ceive the  light  from  the  glass  lump,  and  reflect  it 
thence  upon  the  object'^  the  best  situation  of  the  coa- 
cave  mirror  and  the  flame  of  the  lamp  depends  on  a 
combination  of  circumstances,  which  a  little  practice 
will  discover. 

2.  To  regulate  the  guide  for  the  eye,  or  to  place  the 
centre  of  the  eye- piece  L  so  that  it  may  coincide  with 
the  focal  point  of  the  lenses  and  the  axis  of  vision : 
Lengthen  and  shorten  the  tubes  MN,  by  drawing  out 
or  pushing  in  the  inner  tube,  and  raising  or  depressing 
the  eye-piece  ML,  till  you  find  the  large  lens  (which 
is  placed  at  the  end  AB  of  the  wooden  body)  filled  by 
an  uniform  field  of  light,  without  any  prismatic  coloocs 
round  the  edge  \  for  till  this  piece  is  properly  fixed, 
the  circle  of  light  will  be  very  small,  and  only  occupy 
a  part  of  the  lens  \  the  eye  must  be  kept  at  the  centre 
of  the  eye-piece  L,  during  the  whole  of  the  opera- 
tion \  which  may  be  rendered  somewhat  easier  to  the 
observer,  on  the  first  use  of  the  instrument,  if  he  hold 
a  piece  of  white  paper  parallel  to  the  large  lens,  re- 
moving it  from  or  bringing  it  nearer  to  them  till  he 
find  the  place  where  a  hicid  circle,  which  he  will  per- 
ceive on  the  paper,  is  brightest  and  most  distinct  \  then 
he  is  to  fix  the  centre  of  the  eye-piece  to  coincide  with 
that  spot ',  after  which  a  very  small  adjustment  will  set 
it  perfectly  right. 

3.  To  adjust  the  lenses  to  their  focal  distance.  This 
is  effected  by  turning  the  pijiion  a,  the  eye  being  at 
the  same  time  at  the  eye -piece  L.  The  gray  glass 
is  often  placed-  before  the  large  lenses,  while  regulat- 
ing the  guide  for  the  eye,  and  adjusting  for  the  focal 
distance. 

If  the  observer^  in  the  process  of  his  examination  of 
an  object,  advance  rapidly  from  a.  shallow  to  a  deep 
magnifier,  he  will  save  himself  some  labour  by  pulling 
•ut  the  internal  tube  at  O. 

The  upper  part^g*  r  s  of  the  stage  is  to  be  raised  or 
lowered  occasionally,  in  order  to  mdke  the  centre  of  the 
object  coincide  with  the  centre  of  the  lens  at  O. 

T»  delineate  objects,  the  gray  glass  must  be  placed 
before  the  large  lenses  j  the  picture  of  the  object  will 
be  formed  on  this  glass,  and  the  outline  may  be  acca- 
cately  taken  bv  going  over  the  picture  with  a  pencil. 

The 


MIC  t     I 

Micro-        ^e  opaque  pari  may  be  used  in  tlie  davtime  withoat 
a  lampy  provided  tbe  large  lenses  at  AB  are  screened 
^  from  the  figlit. 

To  use  tie  Lucernal  Microscope  in  the  examitiation  of 
Transparent  O^lnrf  jw— The  instrument  is  to  remain  as 
before :  the  upper  part  /g  s  of  tbe  opaque  stage  must 
be  removed,  and  tbe  stage  for  transparent  objects,  re- 
presented at  fig.  28.  put  in  its  place  ^  tbe  end  9x0 
to  be  next  tbe  lamp. 

Place  the  grayed  glass  in  its  groove,  at  tbe  end  AB, 
and  the  objects  in  the  slider-bolder  at  the  front  of  tbe 
stage  'f  then  transmit  as  strong  a  light  as  you  are  able 
4m  the  object,  wbicb  you  will  easily  do  by  raising  or 
lowering  the  lamp. 

The  object  w21  be  beautifiilhr  depicted  on  tbe  gray 
glass  *,  it  must  be  regulated  to  the  focus  of  the  magni- 
ner,  by  turning  tbe  pinion  a. 

The  object  may  be  viewed  either  with  or  without 
the  guide  for  tbe  eye.  A  single  observer  will  see  an 
object  to  tbe  greatest  advantage  by  using  this  guide, 
which  is  to  be  adjusted  as  we  have  described  above.  If 
two  or  three  wish  to  examine  tbe  object  at  the  same 
time,  the  guide  for  the  eye  must  be  laid  aside. 

Take  the  large  lens  out  of  the  groove,  and  receive 
the  image  on  the  gray  glass ;  in  tbis  case,  tbe  guide 
for  the  eye  is  of  no  use :  if  the  gray  glass  be  taken 
away,  the  image  of  the  object  may  be  received  on  a 
paper  screen. 

Take  oat  the  gray  glass,  replace  the  large  lenses, 
and  use  the  guide  n>r  the  eye  j  attend  to  the  foreffo- 
iag  directions,  and  adjust  the  object  to  its  proper  fo- 
cus. Yon  will  then  see  tbe  object  in  a  blaze  of  light 
almost  too  great  for  tbe  eye,  a  circumstance  that  will 
be  found  very  useful  in  the  examination  of  particular 
objects.  The  edges  of  the  object  in  this  mode  will  be 
somewhat  coloured :  but  as  it  is  only  used  in  tbis  full 
l^t  for  occasional  purposes,  it  has  oeen  thought  bet- 
ter to  leave  this  small  imperfection,  than,  by  remedying 
it,  to  sacrifice  greater  advantages  ^  the  more  so,  as  this 
fault  is  easily  corrected,  a  new  and  interesting  view 
of  the  object  is  obtained,  by  turning  the  instrument 
out  of  the  direct  rays  of  light,  and  permitting  there  to 
pass  through  only  in  an  oblique  direction,  by  which 
the  upper  surface  is  in  some  degree  illuminated,  and 
tbe  object  is  seen  partly  as  opaque,  partly  as  transpar- 
ent. It  has  been  already  observed,  that  tbe  transparent 
objects  might  be  placed  between  the  slider-holders  of 
the  stage  for  opaque  objects,  and  then  be  examined  as 
if  opaque. 

Some  transparent  objects  appear  to  tlie  greatest  ad- 
vantage when  tbe  lens  at  p  10  is  taken  away  ^  as,  by 
giving  too  great  a  quantity  of  light,  it  renders  tbe 
edges  less  sharp. 

The  variety  of  views  which  may  be  taken  of  every 
object  by  means  of  the  improved  lucernal  microscope, 
wUl  be  found  to  be  of  great  use  to. an  accurate  observ- 
er: it  willflnve  him  an  oppoitunity  of  correcting  or 

Vol.  Xrv.  Part  I.  f 


7      1  -MIC 

confirming  his  discoveries,  and  investigating  those  parts 
in  one  mode  which  are  invisible  in  another. 

To  throw  the  image  of  transparent  objects  on  a  screen 
as  in  the  soiar  microscope, — It  has  been  long  a  microsco- 
pical desideratum,  to  have  an  instrument  by  which 
the  image  of  transparent  objects  might  be  thrown  on 
a  screen,  as  in  the  common  solar  microscope :  and  this 
not  only  because  the  sun  is  so  uncertain  in  this  cli- 
mate, and  tbe  use  of  the  solar  microscope  requires 
confinement  in  tbe  finest  part  of  the  day,  when  time 
seldom  hangs  heavy  on  the  mind  \  but  as  it  also  affords 
an  increase  of  pleasure,  by  displaying  its  wonders  to 
several  persons  at  tbe  same  instant,  without  the  least 
fatigue  to  tbe  eye. 

This  purpose  is  now  effectually  answered,  by  affix- 
inj|r  the  transparent  stage  of  the  lucernal  to  a  Ian  thorn, 
with  one  of  Argand^s  lamps. — ^The-  lamp  is  placed 
within  the  lanthom,  and  the  end  9  10  of  the  trans- 
parent stage  is  screwed  into  a  female  screw,  which  is 
rivetted  in  the  sliding  part  of  tbe  front  of  tbe  lan- 
thom \  tbe  magnifying  lenses  are  to  be  screwed  into 
tbe  hole  represented  at  12,  and  they  are  adjusted  by 
turning  tbe  milled  nut.  The  quantity  of  light  is  to  be 
regulated  by  raising  and  lowering  the  sliding-plate  or 
tbe  lamp. 

Apparatus  which  usually  accompanies  the  unproved 
Lucernal  Microscope.^^The  stage  foi^  opaque  objects, 
with  its  semicircular  lump  of  glass,  and  concave  mirror. 
Tbe  stage  for  transparent  objects,  which  fits  on  the 
npper  part  of  the  foregoing  stage.  The  sliding  tube, 
to  which  the  magnifiers  are  to  be  affixed :  one  end  of 
these  is  to  be  screwed  on  tbe  end  D  of  the  wooden 
body}  the  magnifier  in  use  is  to  be  screwed  to  the 
other  end  of  tbe  inner  tube.  Eight  magnifying 
lenses  :  these  are  so  constructed  that  they  may  be 
combined  together,  and  thus  produce  a  very  great 
variety  of  magnifying  powers.  A  fish-pan,  sucn  as 
is  represented  at  I.  A  steel  wire  L,  with  a  pair  of 
nippers  at  one  end,  and  a  small  c^ylinder  of  ivoiy  /  at 
tbe  other.  A  slider  of  brass  N,  containing  a  flat 
glass  slider,  and  a  brass  slider  into  which  are  fitted 
some  small  concave  glasses.  A  pair  of  forceps.  Six 
large  and  six  small  ivory  sliders^  with  transparent 
objects.  Fourteen  wooden  slides,  with  four  opaque 
objects  in  each  slider ;  and  two  spare  sliders.  Some 
capillary  tubes  for  viewing  small  aaimalcula. 

Ingenious  men  seldom  content  themselves  with  an 
instrument  under  one  form  j  hence  such  a  variety  of 
microscopes,  hence  many  alterations  in  the  Lucernal 
Microscope.  Mr  Adams  himself,  we  understand,  has 
fitted  up  this  last  in  a  great  many  different  ways  ',  and 
it  is  raasonable  to  think  that  no  person  was  more  likely 
to  give  it  every  improvement  of  which  it  is  susceptible, 
or  tbe  alterations  by  other  hands  we  shall  only  parti- 
cularize one,  made  by  Mr  Jones  of  Rolbom  (b), 
whose  description  is  as  follows : 

A  (fig.  30.)  represents  a  portion  of  the  top  of  tbe  ma- Fig:  s^ 

C  hogany 


(b)  We  trust  the  reader  will  never  coarider  any  paragraph  wherein  the  name  of  an  instrument-maker  or 
other  artist  is  inserted,  as  a  recommendation  of  those  artists  by  tbe  editors  of  this  work.  In  the  course  of  a 
pretty  extensive  correspondence,  they  have  been  favoured  with  very  liberal  communications  from  various  artists, 
for  which  they  are  greatly  indebted  to  theda :  the  inserting  their  names  in  this  work  is  therefore  to  be  considered 


MIC 


[ 


Micro-  hosAD^  box  in  which  it  packs,  to  presenre  it  steady  ^  it 
scope,  slides  in  a  dove-tail  groove  withinside,  a  similar  groove 
to  which  is  cut  in  the  top  of  the  box  A  ^  so  that  when 
the  instrument  is  to  be  used,  it  is  slipt  out  of  the  box 
withinstde,  and  tlien  slipt  ioto  the  groove  at  top  ready 
for  use,  almost  instantly,  as  shown  in  the  figure.  The 
adjustment  of  the  objects  is  at  the  stago  £  \  for  the 
right  focal  distance  is  readily  and  conveniently  made 
by  turning  the  long  screw-rod  BB,.  which  goes  through 
the  two  pillars  supporting  the  box,  and  works  in  the 
base  of  the  brass  stage  £ ;  which  base  is  also  dove- 
tailed, so  as  to  have  a  regular  and  steady  motion  in  an- 
other brass  basis  tliat  supports  it.  In  this  iustroment, 
therefore,  the  pyramidlcal  box  does  not  move ;  but 
the  stage  part  only,  which,  from  its  small  weight, 
moves  in  the  most  agreeable  and  steady  manner.  While 
observing  the  image  of  the  object  upon  the  glass 
through  the  sight-hole  at  G,  the  object  may  be  moved 
or  changed  by  only  turning  the  rack- work  and  pinion 
applied  to  the  stage  by  means  of  the  handle  I),  for 
that  purpose.  By  this  contrivance  you  have  no  occa- 
sion to  change  your  position  during  the  view  of  the 
objects  upon  one  of  the  sliders.  This  motion  changes 
the  objects  horizontally  only  ^  and  as  they  are  gene- 
rally placed  exactly  in  one  line,  it  answers  all  the  pur- 
poses for  which  this  motion  is  intended  very  well. 
]But  it  may  sometimes  happen  that  the  observer  would 
wish  to  alter  the  vertical  position  of  the  object }  to 
perform  which  there  is  another  plain  rod  at  F,  that 
acts  simply  as  a  lever  for  this  purpose,  and  moves  the 
sliding  part  of  the  stage  £  vertically  either  upwardi 
or  downwards. 

Thus,  without  altering  his  position,  the  observer 
may  investigate  all  parts  of  the  objects  in  the  most  8a« 
tisUctory  manner.  Rack-work  and  pinion  might  be 
applied  to  the  stage  for  the  vertical  motion  also ;  but 
as  it  would  materially  enhance  the  expence,  it  is  seldom 
applied.  The  brass  work  at  the  handle  of  D  contains 
a  Hookers  universal  joint. 

The  brilliancy  of  the  images  of  the  objects  shown 
upon  the  large  lenses  at  the  end  of  the  box,  being  very 
frequently  so  great  as  to  dazzle  the  eyes,  Mr  Jones  ap- 
plies a  slight  tinge  of  blue,  green,  and  other  colomred 
glass,  to  the  sight-hole  at  G,  which  softens  this  gla^, 
and  casts  an  agreeable  hue  upon  the  objects. 

Description  of  those  Parts  of  a  Microscopical  Appa^ 
ratuSf  cemtnon  to  most  Instruments^  which  are  dc" 
tineated  at  fig.  31. 

A  and  B  represent  the  brass  cells  which  contain  the 
magnifiers  belonging  to  the  different  kinds  of  com- 
pound microscopes.  The  magnifiers  are  sometimes 
contained  in  a  slider  like  that  which  is  delineated  at  S 
(fig.  24.).  The  lenses  of  A  and  B  are  confined  by  a 
small  cap  \  on  unscrewing  this,  the  small  lens  may  be 
taken  oat  and  cleaned.  The  magnifiers  A  of  the  lu- 
cemal  microscope  are  so  contrived,  that  any  two  of 


8    ]  MIC 

them  may  be  screwed  together,  by  which  means  a  con- 
siderable variety  of  magnifying  powers  is  obtained. 

To  get  at  the  lenses  in  the  slider  S  (fig.  24.)  take 
out  the  two  screws  which  hold  on  the  cover. 

C  represents  the  general  form  of  the  slider-holder. 
It  consists  of  a  cylindrical  tube,  in  which  an  inner  tube 
is  forced  up  by  a  spring.  It  is  used  to  receive  the 
ivory  or  any  other  slider,  in  which  the  transparent  ob- 
jects are  placed  ;  these  are  to  be  slid  between  the  two 
upper  plates:  the  hollow  part  in  one  of  the  plates  is  de- 
signed for  the  glass  tubes. 

D,  the  condensing  lens  and  its  tube,  which  fits  into 
the  slider-holder  C,  and  may  be  moved  up  and  down 
in  it.  When  this  piece  is  pushed  up  as  far  as  it  will 
go,  it  condenses  the  light  of  a  candle,  which  is  reflect- 
ed on  it  by  the  plain  mirror  of  the  compound  micro- 
scope, and  spreadd  it  uniformly  over  the  object ;  in 
this  case  it  is  best  adapted  to  the  shallowest  magnifiers. 
If  the  deeper  lenses  are  used,  it  should  be  drawn  down, 
or  rather  removed  further  from  the  object,  that  it  may 
concentrate  the  light  in  a  small  compass,  and  thus 
render  it  more  dense.  The  condensing  lens  is  some- 
times fitted  up  differently  \  but  the  principle  being  the 
same,  it  will  be  easy  to  apply  it  to  use  notwithstanding 
some  variations  in  the  mechanism. 

£,  a  brass  cone.  It  fixes  under  the  slider-bolder, 
and  is  used  to  lessen  occasionally  the  quantity  of  light 
which  comes  from  the  mirror  to  any  object. 

F,  a  box  with  two  fiat  glasses,  which  may  be  placed 
at  different  distances  from  each  other  in  order  to  con- 
fine a  small  living  insect. 

G,  a  small  brass  box  to  hold  the  silver  speculum  JI* 
H,  a  small  silver  concav'e  speculum,  designed  to  ra- 

Sect  the  light  from  the  mirror  on  opaque  objects  \  it 
should  only,  be  used  with  the  shallow  magnifiers.  It  is 
applied  in  different  ways  to  the  compound  microscope  ; 
sometimes  to  a  tube  similar  to  that  represented  at  X, 
which  slides  on  the  lower  part  of  the  body  j  sometimes 
it  is  screwed  into  the  ring  of  the  piece  Q  \  the  pin 
of  this  generally  fits  into  one  of  the  holes  in  the  stage. 
When  this  speculum  is  used,  the  slider-holder  should  be 
removed. 

I,  a  fish-pan,  whereon  a  small  fish  may  be  fastened, 
in  order  to  view  the  circulation  of  the  blood :  its  tail 
is  to  be  spread  across  the  oblong  hole  at  the  smallest 
end,  and  tied  fast  by  means  of  the  ribbon  fixed  there- 
to, by  shoving  the  knob  which  is  on  the  back  of  it 
through  the  slit  made  in  the  stage  \  the  tail  of  the  fish 
may  be  brought  under  the  lens  which  is  in  use. 

K,  a  cylindrical  piece,  intended  for  the  solar  opaque 
microscope  \  by  pulling  back  the  spiral  spring,  smaller 
or  larger  objects  may  be  confined  in  it. 

^,  A  pair  of  triangular  nippers  for  taking  hold  of 
and  confining  a  large  object. 

L,  a  long  steel  wire,  with  a  small  pair  of  pliers 
at  one  end  and  a  steel  point  at  the.  other:  the* wire  slips 
backwards  or  forwards  in  a  spring  tube,  which  is  af- 
fixed to  a  joint,  at  the  bottom  of  which  is  a  pin  to  fit 

one 


as  a  grateful  acknowledgment  itotn  the  editors  for  fiivours  conferred  on  them,—- not  as  a  testimonial  of  their  opi- 
nion of  the  abilities  of  aii  individual,  or  as  designed  to  insinuate  any  preference  over  others  in  the  same  line,  where 
such  preference  has  not  been  already  bestowed  by  the  public^ 


MIC  [ 

Me  -of  tll^  lioles  in  the  atagt' ;  tbia  pioce  is  oaed  to  coa- 
fine  small  objects. 

'  /y  A  small  tvory  cy!tn^*r  that  "fits  on  the  pointed  end 
of  the  steel  wire  L  ^  it  is  -designed  to  receive  opaque 
;ohject8.  Ligbt-colotured  ones  are  to  be  stuck  on  the 
-dark  side,  and  vic^  versa, 

M,  a  convex  ^ens,  which  -fits  to  the  stage  bj  means 
of  the  long  pin  adhering  to  it.  This  piece  is  designed 
to  collect  the  tight  him  the  sun  or  a  candle,  and  to 
-throw  them  on  any  object  placed  on  the  stage  j  but  it 
18  very  little  used  at  present. 

N,  a  brass  slider,  into  which  is  fitted  a  ^t  piece  of 
glass,  and  a  brass  slider  containing  four  small  glasses, 
one  m*  two  of  them  concave,  ihe  others  flat  j  it  is  de- 
-signed  to  confine  small  living  objects,  and  when  used  is 
to  be  placed  between  the  two  upper  plates  of  the  slider* 
holder. 

O,  a  ^ass  lube  to  receive -a  small  fish,  &c. 

P^  represents  one  of  the  ivory  sliders,  wherein  -ob- 
jects  are  placed  between  two  piece^of  talc,  and  con- 
fined by  a  brass  ring. 

Q,  a  piece  to  hold  the  speculum  H  :  this  piece  is  ge- 
nerally fitted  to  the  -microscope  represented  at  fig.  1 2. 

R,  a  pair  of  .Ibrceps,  to  take  up  any  occasional  ob- 
ject. 

S,  a  eameUs  hair  pencil  to  brush  the  'dost  oflf  the 
glasses ;  the  upper  part  of  the  qui^ll  is  scooped  out,  to 
take  op  a  drop  of  any  fluid,  and  place  it  on  either  of 
the  glasses  for  examination. 

T,  an  instrument <for  cutting  thin  transTerse  sections 
of  wood.  It  oonsiAs  of  a  wooden  base,  which  supports 
four  brass  pillars  ;  on  the  top  of  the  pillars'  is  placed  a 
flat  piece  of^^brass,  near  the  middle  of  which  there  is  a 
tiiangular  hode. 

A  sharp  knife,  which  moves  in  a  diagonal. direction, 
is  fixed  on  the  upper  side  of^the  afore-mentioned  plate, 
and  in  such  a  manner  that  the  edge  always  coinotdes 
with  the  surface  thereof. 

The  knife  is  moved  backwards  and  forwards  by 
means  of  the  handle  a.  The  piece  of  wood  is  placed 
in  the  triangular  trough  which  is  under  the  brass 
plate,  and  is  to  be  kept  steady  therein  by  a  milled 
screw  which  is  fitted  to  the  -  trougli^  the  wood  is 
to  be  pressed  forward  fiir  cutting  by  the  -micrometer 
acrew  ^. 

The  pieces  -of  wood  should  be  applied  to  this  in- 
strument immediately  on  being  taken  out  of  the 
ground,  or  elso'-they  should  be  soaked  for  some  time  in 
water,  to  soften  them  so  that  they  may  not  hurt  the 
edge  of  the  knife. 

When  the  edge  of  the  knife  is  brought  in-  contact 
with  the  piece  of  wood,  a  small  quantity  of  spirits  of 
wine  should  be  poured  on  the  surfiice  of  Hie  wood,  to 
prevent  its  -curling  up  }  it^will  also  Uiake  it  adhere  to 
the  knife,  firom  which  it  may  be  removed  hy  pii^ssing  a 
piece  of  blotting  paper  on  it. 

IT,  An  appendage  to  the  cutting  engine,  which  is- to 
be  used  iBStead  of  the<4nicrometer  screw,  being  prefer^ 
red  to  it  by  some.  It  is  placed  over  the  triangular 
hde,  and  kept  flat  down  upon  the  surface  of  the  brass 
plate,  while  the  piece  oC- wood  is  pressed  against  a  «ir- 
oular  piece  of  brass  which  is  on  the  under  side  of  it. 
lids  circular  piece  of  brass  is  fixed  to  the  screw,  by 
wUch  its  distance  firom  &e  flat  plate  on  which  the  kni^ 
aoTies  may  be  regulated. 


'9    ] 


MIC 


!8,'  An  Ivory  box,  containing  at  one  end  spare  talc 
for  the  ivory  slider,  and  at  the  other  spare  rings  for 
pressing  the  talcs  together  and  tonfining  tliem  to  the 
slider. 

Fluid  microscopes  have  been  alao  proposed }  the  first, 
it  would  appear,  was  suggested  by  Mr  Grey.  Thb  was 
formed  of  water,  and  an  account  of  it^will  be  found  in 
N°  221,  223,  Phil.  Trans.  An  improved  microscope, 
on  a  similar  principle,  has  been  invented  by  Mr  Brew- 
ster, of  which  the  follofring  is  a  description,  taken 
firom  a  note  by  the  translator  of  Ibiiy^s  Natund  Plii- 
losopfay. 

'^  A  vertical  bar  (says  Mr  Gregory),  is  fixed  upon 
a  horizontal  pedestal ;  and  from  the  top  of  this  bar 
proceeds  a  horizontal  prm^  ivhich  supports  a  circular 
case  cohtaining  the  lenses  5  below  this  another  horizon- 
tal arm  slides  up  and  down,  capable  of  adjustment  by ' 
means  of  a  screw,  and  carrying  the  usual  sliders  to  hold ' 
the  object  which  it  is  proposed  to  examine  ^  and  upon  ' 
the  pedestal  is  fixed  the  Irame  of  a  mirror,  which  hun 
both  an  inclined  and  a  horizontal  motion,  in  order  to 
iliuqiinate  any  object  upon  the  glider.     The  upper  etr- 
eulio'  case  is  hollotf ,  and  contains  -four  or  more  plano- 
convex lenses,  which  are  constituted  e^ich  of  a  drop  of 
very  pure  and  viscid  turpentine  varnish,  taken  up  by 
the  point  of  a  piece  of  wood,  and  dropped  upon  a  piece 
of  very  thin  and  well  polished  glass.     The  lenses  thus 
formed  may  be  made  of  any  focal  length  by  taking  up 
a  greater  or  a  less  quantity  of  fluid.  1  be  lower  surface 
of  the  glass  having  4>een  first  smoked  with  a  candle,  the 
hlack  pigment  immediately  below,  the  Senses  is  then  to 
be  removed,  so  that  no  light  may  pass  but. through  the 
lenses.     The  piece  of  glass  is  then  perforated  at  its  ' 
centre,   and  surrounded  by  a  toothed  wheel,   which, ' 
whenthe  wheel  is  put  in  the  upper  circular  screw,  may 
be  turned  by  a  common  endless  screw,  so  that  the  fluid 
lenses  shall  Jie  brougbt  severally  und^r  an  eye-aperture 
properly  disposed,  and  any  object  be  successfully  exa- 
mined with  a  variety  of  magnifying  powers.^*     Note, 
p.  3155.   -See  also  Ferguson's  Lectures  by  Brewst^, 

vol.  II. 

After  what  has-been  related  of  microscopes,  they 
-'cannot  be  said  to  be  complete  without  the  valuable  ad- 
dition of  a  micrometer  ;  •  for  the  use  and  advantages  of 
which,  see  the  article  MiCRt)|SET£R, 

Having  presented  our  readers  with  descriptions  of 
the  various  mieroscopes  generally  used,  we  think  it.  our 
duty  to  point  out  to  them  those  which  we  conceive  to 
be  best  calculated  to  answer  the  purposes  of  science. 
The  first  which  presents  jtsejf  to  our  mind  is  that  of 
Ettis :  It  is  better  adapted  than  any  other  portable  mi- 
croscope, to  the  purpojBc  0/ general  observation;  simple 
in  its  construction,  and  general  in  its  application.  To 
those  who  prefer  a  double  microscope,  we  should  recom- 
mend duit  figured  in  opiate  CCCXXXVIIl.  fig.  1 2. 
If  opaque  objects,  as  insects,  &c.  be  subjects  of  inves- 
tigation, the  lAtcemal  Microscope  claims  the  preference  \ ' 
but  if  amusement  alone  guides  the  choice,  the  Soiar 
Microscope  must  be  fixed  upon. 

Wc  shall  now  proceed  to  explain  some  necessary  par- 
ticulars respecting  l3ie  method  of  using  microscopes^' 
after  which,  we  shall  subjoin  an  enumeration  <^  the  prin- ' 

C  2  cipal 


ecope. 


MIC  [ 

cijial  objects  discovered  or  elucidated  by  their  aneans. 
On  diis  subject  Mr  Adams,  in  bis  Eswf  on  the  Mtcro^ 
scope y  has  been  very  copious  \  with  a  view,  as  he  ia- 
fbrms  uSy  to  remove  tbe  common  complaint  made  by 
Mr  fiaker,  *'  that  many  of  tbo9e  who  purchase  micro- 
scope are  so  little  acquainted  with  their  general  and 
extensive  usefulness,  and  so  much  at  a  loss  for  objects 
to  examine  by  them,  that  after  divertioff  their  friends 
some  few  tiroes  with  what  the^  find  in  the  sliders 
which  generally  accompany  the  instrument,  or  perhaps 
with  two  or  three  common  objects,  the  microscope  is 
laid  aside  as  of  little  further  value :  whereas  no  instru- 
ment has  yet  appeared  in  the  world  capable  of  affording 
ho  constant,  various,  and  satbfactory  an  entertainment 
to  the  mind/^ 

I.  In  using  the  microscope,  there  are  three  things 
necessary  to  be  considered,  (i.)  The  preparation  and 
adjustment  of  the  instrument  itself.  (2.)  The  proper 
quantity  of  light,  and  the  best  method  of  directing 
it  to  the  object,  (3.)  The.  method  of  preparing  the 
objects,  so  that  their  textnre  may  be  properly  under- 
stood. 

I.  With  regard  to  the  microscope  itself,  the  first 
thing  necessary  to  be  examined  is,  wbetber  the  glasses 
be  clean  or  not :  if  they  are  not  so,  they  must  be  wiped 
with  a  piece  of  soil  leather,  taking  care  not  to  soil 
them  afterwards  with  tbe  fingers  \  and,  in  replacing 
them,  care  must  be  taken  not  to  place  them  in  an  oh- 
lique  situation.  We  mast  likewise  be  careful  not  to 
let  the  breath  fall  upon  the  glasses,  nor  to  hold  that 
part  of  the  body  of  the  instrument  where  the  glasses  are 
placed  with  a  warm  hand  ^  because  thus  the  moisture 
expelled  by  the  heat  from  the  metal  will  condense  upon 
the  glass,  and  prevent  the  object  from  being  distinctly 
seen.  The  olyect  should  be  brought  as  near  the  centre 
of  the  field  of  view  as  possible  j  for  there  only  it  will 
be  exhibited  in  the  greatest  perfection.  The  eye  should 
be  moved  up  and  down  from  the  eye-glass,  of  a  com- 
pound microscope,  till  the  situation  is  fonnd  where  the 
largest  field  and  most  distinct  view  of  the  object  are  to 
be  bad :  but  every  person  ought  to  adjust  the  mipror 
scope  to  his  own  eye,  and  not  to  depend  upon  the  situa- 
tion it  was  placed  in  by  another.     A  small  magnifying 


20    ]  MIC 

contracted  by  dryness,  or  in  any  manner  out  of  a  na- 
tural state,  without  niaking  toitable  allowances.  The 
true  colour  of  objects  cannot  be  psopedy  detefmined 
by  ^erj  ^reat  magnifiers  ^  for  as  the  pores  and  iatentices 
of  an  ob»|ect  are  enlarged  according  to  the  magnifying 
power  of  the  glasses  made  ose  of,  the  component  parti«> 
cles  of  its  anbstanoe  will  appear  separated  many  tkou- 
•and  times  farther  asunder  than  they  do  to  the  naked 
eve  :  hence  the  reflection  of  the  light  from  these  parti- 
cles will  be  very  different,  and  exhibit  difiierent  coioanb 
It  is  likewise  somewhat  difficult  to  observe  opaqoe  ob- 
jects \  and  as  the  apertures  of  the  lar|^  laagniBers  are 
but  small,  they  are  not  proper  for  the  purpose.  If  an 
object  be  so  very  opaque,  that  no  light.will  pass  through 
it,  as  much  as  possible  must  be  thrown  upon  the  up- 
per surface  of  it.  Some  consideration  is  likewise  ne- 
cessary in  forming  a  judgment  of  the  motion  of  living 
creatures,  or  even  of  fluids,  when  seen  thmngh  the 
microscope}  for  as  the  moving  body,  and  the  space 
wherein  it  moves,  ,ju«  magnified,  the  motion  will  also 
be  increased. 

2.  On  the  management  of  the  light  depends  in  a 
great  measure  the  distinctness  of  the  vision :  and  as,  in 
order  to  have  this  in  the  greatest  pef&ction,  we  must 
adapt  the  quantity  of  light  to  the  nature  of  the  object 
and  the  focus  of  the  magnifier,  it  is  therefore  neces- 
sary to  view  it  iu  various  decrees  of  light.  In  some 
objects,  it  is  difficult  to  distinguish  between  a  promi- 
nence and  a  depression,  a  shadow  or  a  black  stain  :  or 
between  a  reflection  of  light  and  whiteness,  which  is 
particularly  observable  in  the«eye  of  the  libellula  and 
other  flies  :  all  of  these  appealing  very  different  in  one 
position  from  what  they  do  in  another.  The  bright- 
ness of  an  object  likewise  depends  on  the  quantity  of 
light,  the  distinctness  of  vision,  and  on  regulating  the 
quantity  to  the  object  \  for  some  will  be  in  a  manner 
lost  in  a  quantity  of  light  scarcely  sufficient  to  render 
another  visible. 

There  are  various  ways  in  which  a  strong  light  may 
be  thrown  upon  objects  j  as  by  means  of  the  son  and 
a  convex  lens.  For  this  purpose,  the  microscope  is 
to  be  placed  about  three  feet  from  a  southern  window  ^ 
then  take  a  deep  convex  lens,  mounted  on  a  semicircle 


power  should  always  be  begun  with  \  by  which  means  '  and  stand,  so  that  its  position  may  easily  be  varied  : 


the  observer  will  best  obtain  an  exact  idea  of  tbe  situa- 
tion and  connexion  of  the  whole ;  and  will  of  conse- 
quence be  less  liable  to  form  any  erroneous  opinion 
when  the  parts  are  viewed  separately  by  a  lens  of  greater 
power.  Objects  should  also  be  examined  first  in  their 
most  natural  position :  for  if  this  be  not  attended  to,  we 
shall  be  apt  to  form  very  inadequate  ideas  of  the  struc- 
ture of  the  whole,  as  well  as  of  the  connexion  and  nse 
of  the  parts.  A  living  animal  ought  to  be  as  little  hurt 
or  discomposed  as  possible. 

From  viewing  an  object  properly,  we  may  acquire  a 
knowledge  of  its  nature ;  but  this  cannot  be  done  with- 
out aa  extensive  knowledge  of  the  subject,  much  pa- 
tience, and  many  experiments  ^  as  in  a  great  number 
•f  cases  the  images  will  resemble  each  other,  though 
derived  from  very  different  substances..  Mr  Baker 
thei*efore  advises  us  not  to  form  an  opinion  too  suddenly 
after  viewing  a  microscopical  object  \  nor  to  draw  our 
inferences  till  after  repeated  experiments  and  examina- 
tions of  the  object  in  many  different  lights  and  positions  \ 
ta  pass  no  judgo>ent  upon  things  extended  by  force,  or 


place  t^iis  lens  between  the  object  and  the  window,  so 
that  it  may  collect  a  considerable  number  of  solar  rays,, 
and  refract  them  on  the  object  or  tbe  mirror  of  Uie 
microscope.  If  the  light  thus  collected  from  the  sun 
be  too  powerful,  it  may  be  lessened  by  placing  a  piece 
of  oiled  paper,  or  a  piece  of  glass  lightly  grayed,  be- 
tween the  object  and  lens.  Thus  a  proper  degree  of 
Hght  may  be  obtained,  and  diffused  equally  lUl  over 
the  surface  of  an  object :  a  circumstance  which  ought 
to  be  particularly  attended  to  \  for  if  vhe  light  be 
thrown  irregularly  upon  it,  no  distinct  view  can  be 
obtained.  If  we  mean  to  make  use  of  the  solar  lights 
it  will  be  found  convenient  to  darken  tbe  room,  and 
to  reflect  the  rays  of  the  sun  on  the  above-mentioned 
lens  by  means  of  tbe  mirror  of  a  solar  microscope  fix- 
ed to  the  window-shutter :  for  thus  the  observer  will 
be  enabled  to  preserve  the  light  on  his  subject,  notwith- 
standing the  motion  of  the  sun*  But  by  reason  of  thia 
motion,  and  the  variable  state  of  the  atmoapbere,  kn 
lar  observations  are  rendered  both  tedious  and  iacon-^ 
venient :  whence  it  will  be  proper  for  tho  ohwsvcr  In- 


MIC  f    2 

with  ^  large  tin  laathoniy  Ibrmed  Mine* 
thing  like  the  common  magic  lanthamy  capable  of 
contaiaing  one  of  Argand*9  iampt.  This,  hoT««ever, 
ooght  not  to  be  of  the  fountain  kind,  lest  the  rarefao^ 
tion  of  the  air  in  the  ianthoto  shoald  force  the  oil  over. 
There  onght  to  be  an  aperture  in  the  iiroiit  of  the 
lanthom,  which  may  he  moved  up  and  down,  and  be 
tepaUe  of  holding  a  lens ;  by  which  means  a  pleasant 
and  nniibrm  as  well  as  strong  light  may  easily  be  pro- 
cured. The  lamp  should  likewise  moTe  on  a  rod,  so 
that  it  may  be  easily  raised  or  depressed.  This  kn- 
thom  may  likewise  be  nsed  ibr  many  other  purposes ; 
as  viewing  of  pictures,  exhibiting  microscopic  objects 
on  a  flcreen,  &c.  A  weak  light,  however,  is  best  for 
viewing  many  transparent  objects :  among  which  we 
may  reckon  the  prepared  e}'es  of  flies,  as  well  as  the 
animalcnlfls  in  fluids.  The  quantity  of  Jight  from  a 
lamp  or  candle  may  be  lessened  by  removing  the  mi* 
Cfoscope  to  a  greater  dastance  from  them,  or  by  dimi- 
nbhing  the  strength  of  the  light  which  falls  upon  the 
objects.  This  'may  very  conveniently  be  done  by 
pieces  of  black  paper  with  circular  apertures  of  diflFer- 
ent  sizes,  and  placing  a  larger  or  smaller  one  upon  the 
reflecting  mirror,  as  occasion  may  require.  There^  is 
an  oblique  situation  of  the  mirrors,  which  makes  like- 
wise an  obliqne  reflection  of  the  light  easily  discovered 
by  practice,  (hot  for  which  no  general  rule  can  be  giv- 
en in  theory)  y  and  which  will  exhibit  an  object  more 
disdwctiy  tban  any  other  position,  showing  the  surface, 
as  well  as  those  parts  through  which  the  light  is  trans- 
raRted.  The  light  of  a  lamp  or  candle  is  generally 
better  for  viewing  microscopic  objects,  than  day  light ; 
it  being  more  easy  to  modify  the  former  than  the  lat- 
ter, and  to  throw  it  upon  the  objects  with  different  de- 
grees of  density. 

3.  Swammerdam  has  excelled  in  the  preparation  of 
objects  almost  all  other  investigators.  Neither  difficulty 
nor  disappointment  conid  make  him  abandon  the  pur- 
suit of  any  object  until  he  had  obtained  a  satisfactory 
idea  of  it.  Bot  unhappily  the  methods  he  used  in  pre- 
paring his  objects  for  the  microscope  are  now  entirely  un- 
known. Boerhaave  examiaed  with  the  strictest  atten- 
tion all  the  letters  and  manuscripts  of  Swammerdam 
which  he  could  find  \  but  his  researches  were  far  from 
being  successful.  The  following  are  all  the  particulars, 
which  have  thus  come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  pub- 
lic. 

For  dissecting*  smaU  tfuecis^  Swammerdam  had  a 
brass  table  made  by  S.  Muschenbroeck,  to  which  were 
affixed  two  brass  arms  moveable  at  pleasure  to  any  part 
of  it.  The  upper  part  of  these  vertical  arms  was  con- 
structed in  such  a  manner  as  to  have  a  slow  vertical 
motion;  by  whidi  means  the  operator  could  readily 
alter  their  h^ght  as  he  saw  convenient.  One  of  these 
arms  was  to  bold  the  minute  objects,  and  the  bther  to 
i^ly  the'microseope. 

The  lenses  of  Swammerdam's  mferoscopes  ^vere  of 
various  sizes  as  weH  as  foci :  but  all  of  them  the  best 
that  conld  be  procured,  both  for  the  transparency  of 
the  glass  and  the  fineness  of  the  workmanship.  His 
ohserratiotta  were  always  begun  with  the  smallest  mag- 
nifiers, from  which  he  proceeded  to  the  greatest ;  but 
in  the  ose  of  them,  he  was  so  exceedingly  dexterous, 
that  be  made  every  obs^^ation  subservient  to  that  which 
flOfioesded  it,  and  all  of  them  to  the  confirmatioo  of 


I    }  MIC 

each  other,  and  to  the  completing  of  the  description,    nfieie. 
His  chief  art  seems  to  have  been  in  conatructing  scis-     Bcope. 
•an  of  an  exquisite  fineness,  and  making  them  very        » 
tfharp.    Thus  he  was  enabled  to  ent  very  minute  ob- 
jects to  much  more  advantage  than  eould  be  done  by 
knives  and  lancets ;  for  these,  though  ever  so  sharp  and 
fine,  are  apt  to  disorder  delicate  substances  by  dis- 
placing some  of  the  filaments,  and  drawing  them  af« 
ter  them  as  they  pass  through  the  bodies  \  but  the 
scissars  cut  diem  all  equally.     The  knives,  lancets, 
and  styles  he  made  use  of  in  his  dissections,  were  so 
fine  that  he  could  not  see  to  sharpen  them  withoot 
the  assistance  of  a  magnifying  glassy,  but  with  these 
he  could  dissect  the  intestines  of  bees  with  the  same  ac-  ' 

curacy  that  the  best  anatomists  can  do  those  of  large 
animals.  He  made  use  also  of  very  small  glass  tubes 
no  thicker  than  a  bristle,  and  drawn  to  a  very  fine 
point  at  one  end,  but  thicker  at  the  other.  These 
were  for  the  purpose  of  blowing  j^p,  and  thus  render- 
ing visible,  the  smallest  vessels  which  could  be  discover- 
ed by  the  microscope  ^  to  trace  their  courses  and  com- 
munications, or  sometimes  to  inject  them  with  coloured 
liquors. 

Swammerdam  sometimes  made  use  of  spirit  of  wine, 
water,  or  oil  of  turpentine,  for  suflbcating  the  insects 
he  wished  to  examine ;  and  would  preserve  them  for 
a  time  in  these  liquids.  Thus  he  kept  the  parts  firom 
putrefying,  and  gave  them  besides  such  additional 
strength  and  firmness,  as  rendered  the  dissections  much 
more  easy  than  they  would  otherwise  have  been.  Hav- 
ing then  divided  the  body  transversely  with  the 
scimars,  and  made  what  observations  he  could  with- 
out faither  dissection,  he  proceeded  to  extract  the 
intestines  carefully  with  very  fine  instruments,  to 
wash  away  the  fat  in  the  like  careful  manner  j  and 
thus  to  put  the  parts  into  such  a  state  as  would  - 
best  expose  them  to  view ;  but  these  operations  are 
best  performed  while  the  insects  are  in  their  nympha 
state. 

Sometimes  the  delicate  viscera  of  the  insects,  afler 
having  been  suffocated  as  above  mentioned,  were  put 
into  water :  after  which,  having  shaken  them  gently, 
he  procured  an  opportunity  of  examining  them,  espe- 
cially the  air  vessels,  which  last  he  could  thus  separate 
entire  from  all  the  other  parts,  to  the  admiration  of 
all  who  beheld  them  :  as  these  vessels  cannot  be  di- 
stinctly seen  in  any  other  manner,  or  indeed  in  any 
way  whatever,  without  injuring  them.  Frequently  al- 
so he  injected  water  with  a  syringe  to  cleanse  the  parts 
thoroughly,  aft^  which  he  blew  them  up  with  air  and 
dried  them ;  thus  rendering  them  durable^  and  fit  for 
examination  at  a  proper  opportunity.  Sometimes  he 
made  very  important  discoveries,  by  examining  insects 
which  be  had  preserved  for  several,  years  inibaJsam. 
Other  insects  he  punctnred  with  a  very  fine  needle  y 
and  after  squeezing  out  alK  their  moisture  through  tlie 
holes  made  in  this  mknner,  he  filled  them  with  air, 
by  means  of  very  slender  glass  tubes  ;  then  dried  them 
in  the  shade  j  and  lastly,  anointed  them  with  oil  of  spike 
in  which  a  little  rosin  had  been-  dbsolved  }  and  by 
which  means  tbey  fbr  a  long  time  retained  their  pro- 
per forms.  He  was  likewise  in  possession  of  a  singular 
secret,  by  which  he  could  preserve  the  limbs  of  insects 
as  limber  and  perspicuous  as  ever  they  bad  been.  He 
used  to  make  a  small  punctoxe  or  iaciflioa  ia  tho  tails  of 

worms ; 


M  'I  <; 


Blicro-  worms  'f  aod  ftftdr  haviog  with  great  cftilljon  sqoeesed 
^ope.  oat  all  the  humours,  as  well  as  great  part  of  the  viacerat 
"*  ^  he  injected  them  with  wax  in  such  a  manner  as  to  give 
them  the  •  appearance  of  living  creatures  in  perfect 
heath.  ■  He'fbund  that  the  fat  of  all  insects  was  entire- 
)y  dissolvable  ip  oil  of  turpentine ;  by  which  means  he 
was  enabled  plainly  to  discern  ihe  viscera }  though, 
after  this  dissolution,  it  was  necessary  to  cleanse  add 
wash  them  frequently  in  clean  water.  In  this  manner 
he  would  frequently  have  spent  whole  days  i£  ihe  prepara- 
tion of  a  sinffle  caterpillar,  and  cleansing  it  from  its  fat, 
in  order  to  discover  the  true  situation  of  the  insectV 
heart.  He  had  a  singular -dextenty  in  stripping  off  the 
skins  of  caterpillars  that  were  on  the  point  of  spinning 
their  cones.  This  was  done  by  letting  them  drop  by 
theit'  threads  into  scaMing  water,  and  then  suddenly 
withdrawing  them.  Thus  the  epidermis  peeled  off 
very  easily;  and,  when  this  was  done,  he  put  Ihem 
into  distilled  vinegar  and  spirit  of  wine  mixed  together 
in  equal  proportions  ;  which,  by  giving  a  ^ue  degree 
of  firmness  to  the  parts,  gave  him  an  opportunity  of 
separating  them  with  very  little  trouble  from  ^he  exu- 
viae, without  any  danger  to  the  internal  parts.  Thus 
the  nympha  could  be  shown  to  be  wrapped  up  in  the 
Caterpillar  and  the  butteHiy  in  the  nympha  y  and  there 
is  little  doubt  that  those  v^ho  look  into  the  ^works  of 
Swammerdam, .  will  -  be  amply  recompensed,  whether 
they  consider  the  unexampled  Jabour  or  tfa^  piety  of  the 
author. 

M.  Lyonet,  an  eminent  naturalist,  usually  drowned 
thcinsects  he  designed  to  examine^  by  which  means -he 
Vras* enabled  to  preserve  both  the  softness  and  transparen- 
cy of  the  parts.  According  to  him,  the  insect,  if  very 
small,  viz.  one- tenth  of  an  inch,  or  little  more,  in 
length,  should  be  dissected  on  a  glass  somewhat  concave. 
If  iC  should  be  suspected  that  the  insect  will  putrefy4>y 
keeping  for  a  few -days,  spirit- of- wine '^  diluted  with 
water  must  be  substituted  instead,  of  pure- water.  '  The 
insect  must  be  suffered  to  dry;  after  which  it  may 
be  fastened  by  a  piece  of  soft- wax,  and  again  covered 
with  water.— Larger  objects  should  be  placed  in  a 
trough  o£  4hin  wood  \  and  for  this  purpose^  the  bottom 
of  a .  common  chip  box  ^rill  answer  very  well ;  only 
surrounding  the  edge  ;of  it  with- soft  wax,  to  keep  in 
the  water  or  other  fluid  emplc^ced  in  preserving  the  in* 
sect.  The  body  is  then  to  be  opened  :-  and  if  the  parts 
are  soft  like  those  of  a  caterpillar,  they  should  be  turn- 
ed back,  and  fixed  to  the  trough  by  small  pins,  which 
ought  to  be  set  by  a  small  pair  of  nippers.  At  the 
same  time^  the  skin  being  stretched  hy  another  pair  of 
finer  forceps,. the  insect  must.be  put  into  water, 'and 
dissected  theeein,  occasionally-  covering  it  with  spirit 
of  wine.  Thus  the  subject  will  bo  preserved  in  per- 
fifiction,  so  that  its  parts  may  be  gradually  unfolded,  no 
other  change  being  perceived  than  that  the  soft  elastic 
parts  become  Stiff  and. opaque,,  while  some  others  lose 
their  colour. 

The  following  instruments  were  made  use  of  by  M. 
Jjyonet  in  his  dissection  of  the  Chenille  de  Satile.  ■«  A 
pair  of  scissars  as  small  as  could  be  roade,iirith  long  and 
fine  arms :  A  pair  of  forceps,  with  their  ends  so.  nicely 
adjusted,  that  they  could  easily  lay  hold  of  a  spider^s 
thread,  or  a  grain  of  sand  :  Two  fine  steel  needles  fixed 
in  wooden  handles,  about  twp  inches  and  three  quarters 

2 


w 


f      22     1  MIC 

in  length  ;  which  were  the  most  generaHy  useful  instrn* 
ments  he  employed. 

I}r  Hookc,  who  likewise  made  many  microscopic 
observations,  takes  ndttee,  that  the  toommon  ant  or 
pismire.4s- much  more  troublesome  to  draw  than  otlier 
insects,  as  it  is  extremely  difficok'to  get  the.body  in  a 
quiet  natural  postvre.  If  its  feet  be  fettered  with  wax 
or  glue,  while  the  animal  remains  alive,  it  so  twists  its 
body,  that  there  is  no  possibility  of  gaining  a  proper 
view  of  it ;  and  i£  it  be  killed  before  afty  -dbservation 
is  made,  the  shape  is  often  spoiled  before  it  can  be  exa- 
mined. The  bodies  of  many  minute  insects,  when  their 
life  is  destroyed,  instantly  drivel  up ;  and  this  is  oIh 
•ervable  even  in  plants  as  well  as  inseets,  the.  sur&ce 
of  these  small  bodies  being  affected  by  the  least  change 
of  air;  which  is  particularly,  the  case  with  the  ant*  If 
this  creature,  however,  be  dropped  into  rectified  spirit 
of  wine^  it  will  instantly  be  killed  ;. and  when  it  is  tar* 
ken  out,  the  spirit  of  wine  evaporates,  leaving  the  ani- 
mal dry,  and  in  its  natural  posture,  or  at  least  in  such, 
a  state,  that  it  may  easily  be^  placed  iurwhatever  po»« 
ture  we  -please. 

Parts  of  Insects,  The-^ingSy  in  many  Insects,  are  so 
ti9ansparent,.4hat  they  require  lio  previous  preparation : 
buC  some -of  ithose  that  are  folded  up  under  efytra  or 
cases,  require  a  •considerableohafe  of  dexterity  to  unfold 
them  ;  fur  these  wings^aro«atorally  endowed  with  such 
a  spring,:  that  they  immedlatdy  fold  themselves  again, 
unkss  care  *  be  taken  to>  prevent  them.  The  wing,  of 
the  earwig,  when  expanded,  is  of  «•  tolerable  size,  yet 
is  folded  up  under  a  ^case  not  one-eighth  part  of  its 
bulk  ;  and  the  texture  of  this-  wing  renders  it  difficult 
to  be  unfolded*  This  is^  done- with  the  least  trouble 
immediately  after  the  insect  is.  killed.  Holding  then 
the  creature  by  the  diorax,  between  the* finger  and  the 
thumb,  with  a  •hlunft-'p^inted  pin  endeavour-  gently  to 
open  it,  by  spreading^t  over  the'  forefinger,  and  at  the 
same  time  gradually- sliding  the  thumb  ^ver  it.  When 
the  wing  is.  sufficiently  expanded,  separate  it  from  tie 
insect  by  a  sharp  knife  or  a  pair  of  scissars.  The  wing 
should  be  pressed  for  some  .lime  between  the  *thumb  and 
finger  before  it  be  removed  ;  it  should  then  be  placed 
between  two  pieces 'of  paper,-  and  i^gain-  pressed  for  at 
least  an  hour). after  which  time^  as  there. will  be  no 
danger  of  its<*lblding«  up  any  more,  it  may  be  put 
lietween  the  talcs,  and  applied  to  the  microscope. 
Similar  care  is  requisite  in  displaying  the  wings  of  the 
notonecta  and  othe&  water  insects,  as  well  as  most  kinds 
of  grylli* 

/  The  ^minute  scales  or  fetUAers^  which  cover  the 
wings  of  moths  or  butterdies,  #fford  vecy  beautiful  ob- 
jects for  the  microscope.  Those  from  one  part  of  the 
wing  frequently  idiffer  in  shftpe  from  such  as  are  taken 
firom^  other  partsj  and  near  ihe  thorax,  shoulder,  and 
oifr^  the  fringes  ef  the  ^iogs,  we  generally  meet  with 
hair  instead  of  scales.  The  whole  may  be  brushed 
off  the -wing,  upon  a  piece  of  paper, '^  by  ^  means  of 
a^camel^s  haizi  pencil;  after  which  the  hairs  can  be 
separated  with  the  assistance  of  a  common  magnifying 
glass. 

It  is  likewise  a  matter  of  considerable  difficulty  to 
dissect-  properly  the  ^proboscis  of^  insects,  such  as  the 
gnat,  tabanus,  &c.  and  the  expeijftient  most  be  repeat^ 
ed  a-  great  numhev  of  times. befefe  the  structure  aad  si* 

tuatioD 


MIC  I     23 

taatioa  of  the  'pnU  cin  be  thordsghly  iiiTeatigatedi  u 
the  observer  will  frequently  discoTer  ia  one  what  be 
ciMild  net  iQ  another.  The  collector  of  the  hce^  which 
forms  a  very  curieaa  object^  ought  to  be  first  carefully 
washed  in  spirit  of  turpentine  \  by  which  means  it  will 
be  freed  from  the  unctuous  matter  adhering  to  it : 
when  dry,  it  is  again  to  be  washed  with  a  camel^s  hair 
pencil  to  disengage  and  bring  forward  the  small  hairs 
which  form  part  of  thia  microscopic  beanty.  The  best 
method  of  raanagii^  the  stings  of  insects,  which  are  in 
danger  of  being  broken  by  reason  of  their  hardness,  is 
to  soak  the  ca^e  and  the  rest  of  the  apparatus  for  some 
time  in  spirit  of  wine  or  turpentine  \  then  lay  them  on 
a  piece  of  paper,  and  with  a  blunt  knife  draw  out  the 
sting,  holding  the  sheath  with  the  nail  of  the  finger  or 
any  blunt  instrument^  but  great  care  is  neoessary  to  pre- 
serve attejeelers^  which' when  cleaned  add  much  to  the 
beauty  of  the  object.  The  beard  of  the  lepas  anati(era 
ia  to  be  soaked  in  clean  soft  water,  frequently  brushing 
It  while  wet  with  a  camel's  hair  pencil :  after  it  is 
dried,  the  brushing  must  be  repeated  with  a  dry  pencil 
to  disengage  and  separate  the  haiis,  which  art  apt  to 
adhere  together. 

To  view  to  advantage  the  Jatf  brains^  and  other  si« 
miiar  subetances,  Dr  Hooke  advises  to  render  the  sur- 
face smooth,  by  pressing  it  between  two  > plates  of  thin 
glass,  by  which  means  the  matter  will  be  rendered 
much  thmner  and  more  transparent :  withoat  this  pre« 
caution,  it  appears  confused,  by  reason  of  the  parts 
lying  too  thick  upon  one  another*  For  muscular  JibreSf 
take  a  piece  of  the  flesh,  thin  and  dry  j  moiste»  it  with 
warm  water,  and  after  this  is  evaporated  the  vessels 
will  appear  more  plain  and  distinct }  and  by^repeated 
macerations  they  appear  still  mofe  so.  The  sMuvia  of 
insects  afford  » pleasing  object,  and  require  but  little 
preparation.  If  bent  or  curled  up,  they  wlU  become  so 
relaxed  by  being  kept  a  few  hours  i»a  moist  atmosphere, 
that  yon  may  easily  extend  them  to  their  natuiul  po- 
sitions 'y  or  the  steam  of  warm  water  will  answer  the 
purpose  very  well. 

The  eves  of  insects  in  general  form  very  carious  and 
beautiful  objects.  Those  of  the  libellula  and  othev  flies, 
as  well  as  of  the  lobster,  &c.  must  first  be  cleaned  from 
the  blood,  &c.  after  which  they  should  be  soaked  in 
water  for  some  days :  one  or  two  skins  are  then-  to  be 
separated  from  the  eye,  which  would  be  otherwise  too 
opaque  and  confused  \  but  some  care  is  requisite  in  this 
operation  \  for  if  the  skin  be  rendered  too  thin,  it  is 
impossible  to  form  a  proper  idea  of  the  organization  of 
the  part.  In  some  substances,  however,  the  organiza- 
tion is  such,  that  by  altering  the  texture  of  ihe  part,  we 
destroy  .the  objects  which  we  wish  to  observe.  Of  this 
sort  are  the  nerves,  tendons,  muscular  fibres,  many  of 
which  are  viewed  to  most  advantage  when  floating  in 
some  transparent  fluid.  Thus  very  few  of  the  muscular 
fibres  can  be  discovered  when  we  attempt  to  view  them 
in  the  open  air,  though  great  numbers  may  be  seen 
if  they  be  placed  in  water  or  oil.  By  viewing  the 
thread  of  a  ligament  in  this  manner,  we  find  it  com- 
posed of  a  vast  number  of  smooth  round  threads  lying 
close  together.  Elastic  objects  should  be  pulled  or 
stretched  out  while  they  are  under  the  microscope,  that 
the  texture  and  nature  of  those  parts,  the  figure  of 
which  is  altered  by  being  thus  pulled  out,  may  be  more 
fully  discovered* 


]  MIC 

'  Other  obfeets.  To  examine  bones  by  the  uicroseope^  Mlcr». 
they  should  first  be  viewed  as  opaque  objects :  but  af-  Ecope. 
terwards,  by  procuring  thin  slices  of  them,  they  may 
be  viewed  as  transparent.  The  seetions  should  be  cut 
in  all  directions,  and  be  weU  washed  and  cleaned  j  and 
in  some  cases  macseration  will  be  useful,  or  the  bones 
may  be  heated  red  liot  in  a  clear  fire,  and  then  taken 
out  \  by  which  means  the  boaycdls  wiU  appear  mora 
conspicuous.  ■  Tike  pores  of  the  skin  may  be  examined  by 
enttmg  tSi  a  thin  slice  of- the  upper  skin  with  a  razor,' 
and  then  a  second  from  ^  same  place  \  apfilying  the 
latter  to- the  jnicroscope.  The  lizard,  gnana,  Gcc.  have 
two  skins,  one  very  transparent,  the  other  thicker  and 
more  opaqne  \  and,  separating  these  two,  you  obtaia 
very  beautiful  objects. 

To  view  the  scaies  ^ fish  ta  advantage,  they  ought 
to  be  soaked  in  water  hxt  a  few  days,  and  then  care- 
fully rubbed  to  clean  them  firom  the  skin  and  dirt^ 
which. may  adhere  to  them.  The  scales  of  the  eel  are 
a  great  curiosity  5  and  the  more  so,  as  this  creatuie' 
was  not  known  to  hajre  any  scales  till  they  were  disc<K 
vered  by  the  microscope.  The  method  of  discovering^ 
them  is  this.  Take  a  piece  of  the  skin  of  an  eel  fromr 
off  its  side,  and  spread  it  while  moist  on  a  piece  of 
glass,  that  it  may  dry 'Very  smooth :  when  thns  dried, 
the  surface  will  appear  all  over  dimpled  or  pitted  by 
the  scales,  which  Ue  under  a  sort  of  cuticle  or  thin- 
skin  *,  whicbmay  be  raised  with  the  sharp  point  of  v 
penknife,  together  with  the  scales,  which  will  then 
easily  slip  out  \  and  thus  we  may  procure  as  many  as 
we  please. 

The  leaves  of  many  trees^  as  weU  as  of  some  plants,- 
when  dissected,  form  a  very  agreeable  object.  In  or* 
der  to  dissect  them,  take  a  few  of  the  most  perfect 
leaves- yon  can  find,  and  place  them  vn  a  pan  with  cleans 
water.  Let  them  remain  there  three  weeks^  or  a^ 
month,  without  changing  the  water:  then  take  thew 
np  \  and  if  they  feel  very*  soft,  and  almost  totten,  they 
are  suflSciently  soaked.  They  must  then  be  laid  on  » 
flat.  board»  and  holding  them  by  the  stidk,  draw  ther 
edge  of  a  knife  over  the  uppea  side  of  the  leaf,  whicb* 
will  take  off  most  of  the  skin.  Then  turn  the  leaf,  and 
do  the  same  with  the  under  side  ^  and  when  the  skin  is 
taken  off  on  both  sides,  wash  out  the  pulpy  matter,  and 
the  fibses  will  be  exhibited  in  a  very  beautiful  man* 
ner.  The  leaf  may  be  slit  into  two  parts,  by  split-* 
ling  the  stalk  \  and  the  skins  peeled  from  the .  fibres 
will  also  make  a-  good  object.  This-  operation  is  bestr 
performed  in  the  autumn  \  the  fibres  ofi  the  leaves  ar» 
much  stronger  at  that  season,  and  less  liable  -  to^  be 
broken.— -The  internal  structure  of  shells  may  be  oh-^ 
served  by  grinding  them  down  on  a  hone :  and  all  ores 
and  minerals  should  be  carefully  washed  and  brushed* 
with  a  smallr  brushy  to  remove  miy  sordes  that  may  ad-* 
here  to  them*. 

To  view  >the  circulation  of  the  bloody  we  must  oh^ 
sec^e  living  animals-  of  the  most  transpairentUnd.*— - 
A  small  eel  is  sometimes  nsed  for  this  puqpose^  in>' 
which  case  it  must  be  cleansed  from  the  slime  naturally: 
adhering  to  it ;  after  which  it  mayrbe  put  into  a  tube 
filled  with  water,  were,  it  can<be  viewed  ^n  a  satis- 
factory manner.  The  tail  .of  any  other  small  fish  may- 
be viewed  in  the  same  manner^  or  put-  upon  a  slip  ofi^ 
flat  glass^  and  ^  thus  laid  before  the  microscope.  Byr 
filling  the  tube  with  water  when  an  eel. is  made  use  of^ 


—  « 


MIC  [    24.    ]  MIC 

Micfo.   ive  pMVtiil  in  %  gntJt  meanse  tbe  ilimkrnB  of  the     fooo  as  Toftferceiire  that  an amankde bu eaieied  tlia 

scope,    aolmal  from  Miling  the  gUflB^  clear  dxDp,  cot  off  the  connesEioa  again. 

'     ~       The  particles  of  the  blood  farm  a  rtrf  eurioas  ob«         Eds  in  paste  ate  ohuined  bj  boiling  a  little  floor 

ject,  and  have  been  cafefuUjr  viewed  hy  different  phi*     and  water  into  the  cooaistence  of  bookbinders  paste } 

losophers  ^  1^0^  neTdrtfaeless,  diCbr  from  one  another  ^  then  exposing  it  to  the  air  in  an  open  vessel^  and  beat^ 


▼ery  much  in  their  acooonts  of  them.  Tbe  best 
method  of  viewing  these  is  to  take  a  small  drop  of 
blood  when  warm,  and  spread  it  as  thin  as  possible 
upon  a  flat  piece  of  glass.  By  diluting  it  a  little 
with  warm  water,  some  of  the  luge  globnies  witt  be 
separated  from  the  smaller,  ami  many  of  themsnbdiTid-> 
ed ;  or  a  small  drop  of  blood  may  be  pnt  into  a  ca« 
pillary  glass  tnhev  and  theni  pkmed  hef<ne^  the  mieni- 
scope.  Mr  Baker  advises  warm  milk  as  proper  to  be 
mixed  with  the  blood}  but  Mr  Hewsoh  dilated  the 
blood  with  its  own  sernm:  and  by  this  method  he  could 
preserve  Che  small  particles  entire,  and  view  them  di« 
stinctiy  ^  and  thus  he  fonnd  that  diey  were  not  glebolar, 
as  had  been  ima^pned  by  other  anatomists,  hot  nt.  Ha* 
ving  shaken  a  psece  of  the  crassamentma  of  the  blood 
in  scrum  till  the  latter  became  a  little  coloaied,  he 
spread  it  with  a  soft  hair  pencil  on  a  pieoe  ai  thin  f^ass, 
which  he  placed  under  the  microscope,  in  such  a  ssan* 
ner  as  not  to  be  qnite  horiiontal,  but  rather  higher 
at  one  end  than  the  other*  Thus  the  serum  flows 
from  the  higher  to  the  lower  part  i  and,  as  it  flows, 
some  of  the  particles  will  be  found  to  swim  on  their 
flbkt  sides,  and  will  appear  to  have  a  dark  spot  in  the 
middle  ^  while  others  will  torn  over  from  ope  side  to 
the  otlMr  as  they  roU  down  the  glass*  Many  cruel 
experiments  have  been  tried  in  <nder  to  observe  the 
cirenhtien  of  the  blood  in  living  creatures,  and  an 
apparatus  had  been  invented  for  viewing  the  cirealai^ 
tioB  in  die  mesentery  of  a  frog  j  hot  as  this  can  an- 
swer no  useful  purpose,  and  will  never  be  pnt  in 
practice  by  persons  of  hmnanity,  we  forbear  to  men- 
fbnit. 

n.  Besides  the  objects  for  the  ndcroseope  already 
mentioned,  there  are  innumerable  others,  some  hardly' 
visible,  and  others  totally  invisible,  to  the  naked  eye  $ 
and  which  therefore,  in  a  mora  peculiar  senses  are  de- 
nominated* 

MicmcopiB  Animals,  They  are  the  ammalculetf  or 
moving  bodies  in  water,  m  which  certain  substances' 
have  been  infused  ^  and  of  which  there  are  a  great 
many  different  kiii^.  These  animalcola  are  sometimes 
fennd  in  water  which  we  would  call  /m/v,  did  not  the 
mieroseope  discover  its  minuEle  inhabitants}  but  not 
equally  in  all  kinds  of  water,  or  even  in  all  parts  of  the 
same  kind  of  it*  The  surlaecs  of  isAiaionB  are  general* 
)y  covered-  with  a  scum  which  is  easily  broken,  bat  ao* 
^piires  thicknem  by  standing*  in  thu  senm  the  gnat- 
est  number  of  animalcules  are  usually  fbund;  Seme<» 
times  it  is  necessary- to  dilute  the'  innisions  ^  but  thie 
on^t  always  to  be  done  with  water,  not  only  distill- 
ed, but  viewed  through  a  microscope,  lest  it  should 
also  have  aniasalcHles  in  it,  and  thus  prove  a  source  of 
deception.  It  is,  however,  nmst  proper  to  observe 
those  minute  objects  after  the  water  is  a  little  evapo- 
rated $  the  attention  being  less  diverted  by  a  few  ob* 
jects  than  when  thev  appear  in  great  number*  One 
or  two  of  the  animsilcnies  nmv  be  separated  frtmi  the 
rest  by  placing  a  small  drop  of  water  on  the  glass  near 
that  of  the  iorasion  $  join  them  together  by  making  m 
small  coonexion  between  Aem  witk  a  pin  y  and  as 

3 


ing  it  frequently  together  to  keep  the  surface  from 
Browing,  mouldy  or  hard.  In  a  few  dajs  it  will  he 
found  peopled  with  myriads  of  little  animals  visible  te 
the  naked  eye,  which  are  the  eels  in  question.  They 
may  be  preserved  for  a  whole  year  by  keeping  the 
paste  nwbtened  with  water }  and-  while  this  is  done, 
the  motion  of  the  animals  will  keep  tbe  sur&ice  from 
growing  mouldj.  Mr  Baker  direcls  a  drop  or  two 
of  vinegar  to  be  put  into  tbe  paste  now  and  then. 
WhcB  they  are  applied  to  the  mtcroscope,  the  paste 
must  be  disnted  in  a  piece  of  water  for  them  to  swim 
is. 

Nomberiem  anknalcoles  are  observed  by  the  micro- 
scope in  infosions  of  pepper.  To  make  an  iniusion  for 
this  purpose,  bruise  as  much  common  black  pepper  as 
win  cover  the  bottom  of  an  open  jar,  and  lay  it  there- 
on about  half  an  inch  thick :  pour  as  much  soft  water 
into  the  vessel  as  will  rise  about  an  inch  above  the 
p^per.  Shake  the  whole  well  together ;  afUr  which 
they  must  not  be  stirred,  but  be  left  exposed  to  the 
air  for  a  few  days  ^  in  which  time  »  thin  pellicle  will 
be  fonned  on  the  surflMO,  in  which  innumerable  ani- 
mals me  te  be  observed  by  the  microscope; 

Tbe  microsoopic  animals  aro  so  diflnent  from  those 
of  the  larger  kinds,  that  scarce  any  9ort  of  analogy 
seems  to  exist  between  them  >  and  one  would  almost 
be  tempted  to  thii^  that  they  lived  in  consequenoe  of 
laws  dueetly  opposite  to  those  which  preserve  ourselves 
and  other  visible  animals  in  existence.  They  have 
been  systematiadly  arranged  by  O.  F.  Mdler }  though 
it  is  by  no  means  probable  that  all  the  di&rent  eiassee 
have  yet  been  discovered.  S»:h  as  have  been  observ* 
ed,  however,  are  by  this  author  divided  in  the  foUewing 
manner: 

I.  Such  as  hove  no  estemai  organs* 

1.  Monas  :  Puncti forme.     A  mere  point* 

2.  Proteus  :  Mutabilis.     Mutable. 

3.  Vol  vox  :  Spbaericum.     Spherical. 

4.  Enchelis:  Cylindracea.     Cylindrical. 

5.  Vibrio :  Elongatum.     Long. 

*  Membranaceous. 
6»  CycUdium  :  Ovale.   '  Oval* 

7.  Paramecium :  Oblongum.     OUong. 

8.  Kolpoda :  Sinuatum.     Sinuous.    - 

^  Gonium :  Angulatum.     With  angles, 
lo.  Bursaria*    l£)llow  like  a  purse. 

II.  l%ose  that  have  extemai  organs. 

*  Naked,  or  not  enclosed  in  a  shell. 

1.  Ceircaria :  Caudatum.     With  a  tail. 

2.  Trichoda :  Crinitum.     Hairy. 

3.  Kerona :  Corniculatura.    With  horns. 

4.  Himantopus  :  Cirratum.     Cirrated. 

5.  Leucophra :  Ciliatum  undique.     Every  part  cili- 

ated. 
6*  Vorticella :  Ciliatum  apice*    Tbe  apex  ciliated. 

*  Covered  with  a  shell* 
7.  Brachionus :  Ciliatum  apice.    The  apex  ciliated* 

In 


MIC  [25 

Mkm.  In  V»  ttrwtif^  oa  Ib&lfXNTHOlooy  iMi4tr  fhe  fiftk 
scope,  order  of  the  class  venneSy  viz.  Infusoria^  tbe  generil 
^  hert  dnuncimted  Imt6  alreidjr  been  nolieed  according 
to  aa  aitan^metit  eomewliat  ditfel^nt,  «id  a  few  of  the 
species  have  been  described*  For  tbe  sake  of  fHose 
who  wish  to  proseciite  mieroscefiical  inquiries^  wt  shall 
iatrodaee  deacriptieiis  of  a  few  lAorey  and  faltlcnlarly 
Ihoas  whose  habitats  lure  known. 

I.  Monas, 

This  is  by  our  author  defined  to  be  *'  an  invisible 
(to  the  naked  eje)i  peUncidy  simple,  pnnctifonn 
worm  ;**  but  of  which,  small  as  it  is,  there  are  several 


The  fuontis  terma  or  gehtinosa^  is  a  small  jelly- 
libe  pdidt,  which  enn  be  but  irh^ifeictly  seen  by  the 
single  ibieroseope,  And  not  at  All  by  the  Compound  one. 
In  tf  foil  tight  they  totally  disappear,  by  reason  6f 
their  transpafency.    S<m)e  inftfsinns  are  so  fVilI  6f  tbem 

that  scarce  the  least  empty  space  can  be  perceived  \ 
Ihe  water  itself  appearing  c^inposed  of  innnmerable 
glebnlar  points,  in  which  a  ikiotiefi  may  be  perceived 
somewhat  similar  to  that  which  is  observed  when  the 
snto^s  rays  shiAe  oH  the  vvtXet ;  the  whole  multitude  of 
tfliiittald'Appearilig  id  CommtftiOtt  like  a  hive  of  bees. 
Thid  A6iltial  'id  y^ty  commoii  in  ditch-water,  and  iA 
almost  aH  infusions  either  of  animal  or  tege table  sub- 
stances. 

Mdnas  aiothta  of  uUfda;  white  monas  with  a  variable 
point.  This  appear^  like  a  white  point,  n^hich  through 
a  high  magnifier  appears  somewhat  egg-shaped.  The 
smaller  end  is  genetiilly  ntaiiced  with  a  black  point, 
tbe  sitoation  of n^ich  is  variable)  sometimes  it  ap- 
pears on  the  large  end,  and  sometimes  there  arc  two 
bbek  spoi»  ill  t£y  i^dle.  This  species  was  fdMid  in 
8e«  wtter,  which  had  been  kept  chmngh  the  Whole 
wkMteri  b<it  was  net  Very  fetid.  No  other  kind  «f  ani* 
ttad^nle  was  faotfd  in  it. 

IL  TheProt€u$. 

An  invisible,  very  simple,  pellucid  worm,  of  a  variable 

form. 

The  r<vte>,  rnnl^g  oot  inU»  a  fine  points  This  is  a 
pellucid  gelatinons  body,  stored  with  blamk  moletnlea, 
and  likewise  changing  iu  figure,  but  in  a  oMNPe  re^lar 
order  than  the  fivnnei-.  It  fim  Mitevds  itself  in  ft 
straight  Kne,  the  lo#er  part  terminating  in  a  bright 
acute  point.  It  apftears  to  have  no  IniDolines)  and 
when  the  globules  are  all  coHeeted  in  the  upper  part, 
it  next  draws  the  pointed  end  up  tOW«rd  the  middle  of 
fhe  body,  which  asstrines  *  mmid  foruh  It  g«w» 
ihrangh  a  nmnber  of  dtftrent  shapes,  part  of  which 
are  described  under  the  article  Awimalcole.  It  is 
found  in  some  kinds  of  river  water,  and  appears  con- 
fined  almost  entirely  to  one  place,  only  bending  side* 
wise. 

III.  VtOvta. 

An  invisible,  very  simple^  peUncid,  spherical  warm* 

Tbe  punctum  ;  of  a  black  colour,  with  a  lucid  point. 
This  is  a  small  globule,  with  one  hemisphere  opaque 
nod  black,  the  other  having  a  crystalline  appearance  \ 
and  a  vehement  motion  Is  oBs^n^ed  in  the  black  part; 

•  Vol.  3ttV.  Pact  L  t 


]  MIC 

It  nwvei  lis  hn  aik  aiii,  frequently  pissitig  thiMgh  iBst 
drop  in  thin  maitear^  BCaiiy  atn  eftea  iee*  JMcd  to- 
gether in  their  paasage  through  the  wslar  |  aonwiiaUil 
fanyviag  hs  in  t  \Mt  whirlfool,  aiid  tbMI  aeparatftig. 
Their  are  fi>und  in  great  famnhira  oh  th^  teftbt  2f 
fetid  sea  water* 

The  ghbuha^  with  the  hnder  part  aomttwhat  oik 
icim,  semetiDftsB  vuget  a  little  tolvnrdi  Ibt  bval  im  its 
shape,  having  a  skjw  flntlcrinf  kind  of  ujrtinn»  hut 
more  quick  when  disturbed.  The  intestines  are  Imt 
just  visible.  It  is  found  in  most  vegetable  infiisions, 
and  is  ten  times  larg^  tkan  the  mohas  lens. 

The  hnula^  with  lunular  molecules,  is  a  small 
rouddiiAi  transparent  bffdy,  bomihitisg  <rf  an  immrteAlith 
multitude  of  homogeneoM  tndlecules  of  the  shape  of  a 
cikretdlffit,  withMI  any  OetaiMtt  ndKgin«.  It  InAves  «lm« 
tinoally  fai  a  twofold  tanimler^  vin.  of  the  nMleenkt 
among  one  aaelheiv  aid  the  whole  mnes^  turning  ^e^ly 
round.  It  is  foaild  in  itefahy  planes  in  the  b^nniag 
of  spring. 

tV.  Mncheks. 

A  simple,  invisible,  cylindfic  worm. 

The  viridisy  or  green  encheSs,  has  an  obtuse  tail, 
the  fore  part  terttiMtllig  ill  all  afcnite  truncated  angle  > 
the  intestines  are  obscure  and  indistinct.  It  oentinnally 
varies  its  motion,  turning  Irom  right  to  lefk. 

The  fmmntfera^  having  the  toe  |»ri  ohinae,  the 
hinder  part  pointed.  It  in  efaquof  and  rf  a  gpreen  el»- 
lour,  with  a  small  pellucid  spot  ill  ^  fiwe  party  in  which 
two  blaek  points  may  be  teen )  aid  a  kind  of  double 
band  i»osses  the  middle  of  the  body,  llie  hinder  pari 
is  pellucid  and  pointed,  with  an  iicisieto  supposed  to  bfe 
the  mouth,  at  the  apex  of  the  fore  part*  It  is  £>uiid  in 
marshes* 

The  pupulot  with  the  iofe  jpart  ^pillary,  is  fonnd  in 
dunghill  water  in  November  and  I)ecember :  it  has  a 
roUtbf y  Ibotimi  <M  k  Khigitndhli}  i±is|  AM  iM^ev  in  an 
oblique  direction  through  the  water.  Both  ends  arc 
obtuse)  anj  the  kinder  part  is  faiarked  with  a  trans- 
parent circle,  or  circular  aperture* 

V.  tibrk, 
A  very  simple,  invisihie,  round,  and  raUier  long  worm. 

Tbe  Hneda  is  foUikd  itf  hiHit  te^tibfe  {nflisions  id 
such  numbers,  that  it  seems  to  fill  up  almost  the  ^hdte 
of  their  substance.  It  \i  sb  ^inilli,  thit  irith  tbe  best 
ftiagnifiers  we  can  dbceili  nttl6  Hk^ft  thin  an  ott^ca/h 
tremtfloU§  motSofi  anitfng  them,  tt  is  ttiore  slender  thill 
ihe  monas  tertnii. 

The  ierpensj  with  obtuse  windings  or  flexures,  ih 
found  in  river  t^ater,  but  seldom,  tt  is  slender  and  ge* 
latinous,  resembling  a  serpentine  Ilni^,  trith  an  intestine 

do#n  the  middle. 

The  $pifiikfm  is  exceedingly  minute,  and  tiristed  iit 
k  spiral  form,  which  seems  to  be  its  liaturM  shape,  as  it 
never  tkntv^ists  itself,  but  moVes  fori^afd  Iii  a  straight 
tine,  vibrating  the  hind  and  fore  parts.  It  was  foaB4 
In  178  a  tii  ail  infusion  of  the  sonchus  arveiisis. 

The  ver/mculus  has  a  milky  appearance,  with  an  ob- 
tuse apex,  and  a  languid  undulatory  ibotion,  like  that  of 
the  common  trorm.     It  k  found  tu  mar&hy  water  ift 

D  November, 


MIC 


Uieto-    Notembc^,  Imt  seldom.    It  it  thought  to  be  the  animftl 
^^V^   ^  mentioned  hj  Leeuwenhoeck  as  foaod  in  the  dung  of 
the  £rog  and  spawn  of  the  male  llbellula. 

The  MagittOf  with  a  setaceous  tail,  has  a  long  and 
flexible  body)  broadest  about  the  middle,  and  filled 
there  also  with  gray  molecules  *,  the  fore  part  being 
drawn  out  into  a  thin  and  transparent  neck,  and  the 
tipper  end  thick  and  black*  It  is  found  in  s>dt  water, 
and  seems  to  move  by  contracting  and  extending  its 
neck* 

VI.  Cydidium. 

A  simple,  invisible,  flat,  pellucid,  ocbicular  or  oval 

worm. 

The  buBa^  or  orbicular  bright  cyclidium.  This  is 
found  occaBtonally  in  an  infusion  ox  hay*  It  is  very 
pellucid  and  white,  but  the  edges  somewhat  darker 
than  the  rest.  It  moves  slowly,  and  in  a  semicircular 
direction. 

The  fnilUum  is  very  pellucid,  and  splendid  like  cry- 
stal 5  and  of  an  elliptical  figure,  with  a  line  through 
the  whole  length  of  it.  The  motion  is  swift,  interrupt- 
ed, and  fluttering. 

VII.  ParamiBcium. 
An  invisible,  membranaceous,  flat,  and  pellucid  worm. 

The  ckry$aU$  is  found  in  salt  water,  and  differs  very 
little  from  the  former,  only  the  ends  are  more  obtuse, 
and  the  mar^ns  are  filled  with  black  globules. 

The  versuHun  is  found  in  ditches,  and  has  an  oblong, 
green,  and  gelatinous  body,  filled  with  molecules  \  the 
tower  part  thicker  than  the  other  \  and  both  ends  ob« 
tuse.     It  propagates  by  division. 

Vm.  Koipoda. 

An  invisible,  pellucid,  flat,  and  crooked  worm. 

The  lameUa  is  very  seldom  met  with.  It  resembles 
a  long,  narrow,  and  pellucid  membrane,  with  the  hind 
part  obtuse,  narrower,  and  curved  towards  the  top.  It 
has  a  vacillatory  and  very  singular  motion  j  gobff  upon 
the  sharp  edge,  not  on  the  flat  side  as  is  usual  with  mi- 
croscopic animals. 

The  gaUinmia  is  found  in  fetid  salt  water  y  and  has 
the  apex  somewhat  bent,  the  belly  oval,  convex,  and 
striated. 

The  rosirtan  is  found,  though  seldom,  in  water 
where  the  lemna  grows  ^  and  has  a  slow  and  horizontal 
motion.  The  fore  part  is  bent  into  a  kind  of  hook  \ 
tike  hind  part  obtuse,  and  quite  filled  with  black  mole- 
cules.   . 

Tbe  triqiietra  was  found  in  salt  water,  and  appears 
to  consist  of  two  membranes }  the  upper  side  flattened, 
the  lower  convex,  with  the  apex  bent  into  a  kind  of 
•boulder. 

The  QtiimSis  is  found  on  the  sea-coast,  and  has  an 
'Mptic  mass  In  the  middle,  but  is  not  folded  like  tbe 
ibrmer.  The  margin  of  the  fore  part  is  notched  firom 
the  top  to  the  middle  \  the  lower  part  swella  out,  and 
contracts  again  into  a  small  point. 

Tbe  cuculktkts  is  found  in  an  infusion  of  tbe  sonchus 
•rvensis.    It  is  very  pellucid  and  crystalline,  with  se- 


[    26    5  MIC 

veral  globules,  and  has  an  oblique  incision  a  little  below 
the  apex. 

The  reftf  or  erasta^  is  found  in  an  infusion  of  hay,  ^ 
commonly  about  13  hours  afiter  the  infusion  is  nlade, 
and  has  a  quick  and  vacillatory  motion.  Its  body  is  yel« 
low,  thick,  and  somewhat  opaque ;  curved  a  Httle  in 
the  middle,  so  that  it  resembles  a  kidney  ^  and  full  of 
molecules*  When  tbe  water  in  which  it  swims  is  about 
to  fail,  it  takes  an  oval  form,  is  compressed,  and  at  last 
bursts. 


Blicn^ 
scope. 

V    - 


IX.  Gonium* 

An  invisible,  simple,  smooth,  and  angular  worm. 

The  pulvinatum  is  found  in  dunghills  j  and  appears 
like  a  little  quadrangular  membrane,  plain  on  both 
sides  'y  but  with  a  large  magnifier  it  appears  like  a  bol- 
ster formed  of  three  or  four  cylindric  pillows  sunk  he^e 
and  there. 

The  corrugatum  is  found  in  various  kinds  of  infu* 
sions  'f  and  is  somewhat  of  a  square  shape,  very  small, 
and  in  some  positions  appears  as  streaked.  ^ 

The  truncatum  is  found  chiefly  in  pure  wi«Ler,  and 
then  but  seldom*  It  has  a  languid  motion,  and  is  much 
larger  than  the  foregoing.  The  fore  part  is  a  straight 
line,  with  which  the  sides  form  obtuse  angles,  the  end 
of  the  sides  being  united  by  a  curved  line.  The  inter- 
nal molecules  are  of  a  dark  green,  and  there  are  two 
little  bright  vesicles  in  the  middle. 

X.  Bursaria, 

A  very  simple,  hollow,  membranaceous  worm. 

The  truncateUa  is  visible  to  the  naked  eye  \  white, 
oval,  and  truncated  at  the  top,  wheve  there  is  a  large 
aperture  descending  towards  the  base.  Moot  of  them 
have  four  or  five  yellow  eggs,  at  the  bottom.  They 
move  from  left  to  right,  and  from  right  to  left  ^  ascend- 
ing to  the  surface  in  a  straight  line,  and  sometimes  roU- 
ingabout  while  thev  descend. 

The  huUina  is  pellucid  and  crystalline,  having  splen- 
did globules  of  different  sizes  swimming  about  with  it. 
The  under  side  is  convex,  the  upper  hollow,  with  the 
fore  part  forming  a  kind  of  lip. 

The  Ainmdweila  has  two  smaU  projecting  wings, 
which  give  it  somewhat  of  the  appearance  of  a  bird  : 
and  it  moves  something  like  a  swsdlow.  It  is  invisible 
to  the  naked  eye ;  but  by  the  microscope  aj^ears  a 
pellucid  hollow  membrane. 

The  dupkUa  was  found  among  duckweed,  and  ap- 
pears like  a  crystalline  membrane  folded  up,  without 
any  visible  intestines  except  a  small  congeries  of  points 
under  one  of  the  folds. 

XI.  Ccrcaria. 

An  invisible  transparent  worm  with  a  tail. 

Tbe  gyrtfuis  greatly  resembles  the  spermatic  animal* 
Cttles.  It  has  a  white  gelatinous  body  ^  the  fore  part 
somewhat  globular  >  the  hind  ptft  round,  long,  and 
pointed.  Sometimes  it  appears  a  little  compressed  on 
each  side.  When  swimming  it  keeps  its  tail  in  conti^ 
nual  vibration  like  a  tadpole. 

The  gibia  is  found  in  the.  infusions  of  hay  and  other 

vc^getables  ^ 


Wen- 


MIC  r^  -2 

VegctaUes  ;  and  in  small,  opaque,  ^latinoud,  white, 
and  withou*  any  visible  intestines* 

The  ingpaeim  is  found  in  salt  water,  and  Is  remarkable 
for  changing  the  shape  of  its  body :  sometimes  it  ap- 
^ars  spherical,  sometimes  like  a  long  cylinder,  and 
some  times  oval.  It  is  ^bite  and  gdatilious,  the  tail  fi- 
liform and  flexible,  the  npper  part  vibrating  violently* 
A  pellucid  globule  may  be  obsei^ed  at  tlie  ^lase,  and 
two  very  small  black  points  near  the  top. 

The  tm-hoj  with  a  tail  like  a  bristle,  is  found  among 
duckweed.  It  is  of  a  talcy  appearance,  partly  oval  and 
fmrtly  spherical ;  and  seems  to  be  composed  of  two  glo* 
boiar  bodies,  the  lowermost  of  whhfih  is  the  smallest, 
and  it  has  two  little  blai^k  pohits  like  eyes  on  tlie  upper 
)Mirt.  The  tail  is  sometimes  straight,  $ometimertumed 
i>ack  on  the  hodfw  \ 

-The  podufia  is  fouml  in  NovemlMeritpd  December, 
in  marshy  places  covered- with  lemna.  It  is  pellucid  ^ 
«nd  seema  to  consist  of  -a  head,  trunk,  and  tail :  the 
head  resembles  that  of  a  herring  \  the  'trunk  is  ventri'- 
cose  and  full  of  intestines,  of  a  spiral  form  and  black 
colour.  The  tail  most  commonly  appears  to  be  divided 
into  two  bristles.  The  intestines  are  in  a  continual 
motion  when  'the  body  moves,  and  by  reason  of  their 
various  shades  make  it  appear- very  rough.  There  are 
4ikewise  some  hairs  to  be  perceived.  It  turns  romfd  as 
upon  an  aris  when  it  moves. 

'The  vkidis  i»fQ«md  in  the  spring- in  ditches  of  stand- 
ing water^;  and  in  some  of  its  states  has  a  considerable 
resemblance  to  the  last,  but  has  a  much  greater  power 
iof  changing  its  shape.  It  is  naturally  cylindrical,  the 
lower  end  sharp,  and  divided  into  two  parts  ;  bpt  some- 
times ccmlraets  tbe'iiead  and  tail  so  as  to  assume  a  sphe- 
rical figure. 

The  Metifira  \%  found  in  salt  water,  but  seldqm. 
It  ia  small,  the  body  rather  opaque,  and  of  a  round  fi- 
gure* The  upper  part  is  bright,  and  smaller  than  the 
vest:  the  trunk  is  more  opaque^  tfie  tail-sharp,  and 
near  it  a  little  row  of  short  hairs«  It  has  a  slow  rottfto-' 
ry  motion. 

'  thit  ^kirta  was  likewise  found  in  salt  water.  It  is 
opaque  and  cylindrieal  \  and  when  in  motion,  the  body 
appears  to  be  surrounded  with  rows  of  small  h^irs  sepa* 
^ted  firMii  emh  other. 

-The  /i^<n«roiwrfe«  is  found  in  water  which  has  been 
jLept  for  several  months.  It  is  membranaceous,  round- 
kb,  and  white,  -with  two  blackish  points  in  the  fore 
part,  the  hinder  part  being  furnished  with  a  slender 
sharp  tail*  it  has'orlMeular  intestines  of  ^difierent  sizes 
in  the  middle;  the  larger ^f- them  bright.  The  mo- 
tion is  vacillatmry;  and  in  swimming  it  keeps  one 
adge^ofthe  lateral  membrane  upwatfds,*  tbe  <rther  folded 
down. 

The  /inyEWf  is'4at,  peHueid,  triangular,  bating  each 
Wigle  of  the  base  or  fore  part  bent  down  into  two  linear 
anns,  the  apex  of  the  triangle  prolonged  into  a  tail.  It 
is  found  in  salt  water. 

XII..  JLouccfhra* 

An  invisible,  pellucid,  and  ciliated  worm. 

The  mamUla  is  of  a  dark  colour,  and  filled  with  glo- 
bular mfdecttles  \  short  hairs  are  curved  inwards  ;  and 
it  occaaionally  projects  and  draws  in  a  Httle  white  pr»- 
tnberance.    It  b  pretty  common  in  marshy  water* 


r     ]  MIC 

The  vircscens  is  a  large,  pear-shaped,  greenish-co- 
loured animalcule,  filled  with  opaque  molecules,  and  co- 
vered witb  short  hairs  ;  generally  moving  in  a  straight 
line.    It  is  found  in  salt  water. 

The  btirsata  is  found  in  salt  water,  and  is  similar  In 
many  respects  to  the  former.  It  is  of  a  long  oval  shape, 
bulging  in  the  middle,  and  filled  witb  gteen  molecobs;^ 
everywhere  ciliated  except  at  the  apex,  which  is  trun- 
cated and  shaped  somewhat  like  a  purse  \  the  bairs  are 
sometimes  collected  into  little  fascicles. 

The  postkuma  is  globular,  and  Covered  as  it  wejre' 
with  a  pellucid  net.;  is  found  in  fetid  salt  water. 

The  stgnata  is  common  in  saltwater  in  tbcfttonths  of 
Novemb^  and  December.  '  It  is  oblong  and  subd^pres- 
sed,  with  a  black  margin  ill  led  with  little  molecules, 
but  nsore  particularly  distinguished  by  a  curved  line  in 
the  middle  spnewhat  in  tbe  shape  of  the  letter  S ;  one 
end  of  which  is  sometimes  bent  intp  the  form  of  a.  small 
spiral. 

XUI.Tnciada. 

An  invisible,  pellucid,  hairy  worm* 

The  gyrinus  ist>ne  of  tbe  smallest  of  this  senus,  and 
is  found  in  saltwater.  It  is  smooth  and  fireeirom  hair% 
except  at  the  fore  party  wbere  there  are  a  few. 

The  nigra  was  found  in  salt  Water,  and  has  an  opaque 
body ;  but  when  at  re^t ,  one  side  appears  pellucid. 
When  in  violent  motion,  it  seems  entirely  black. 

The  pubes  is  'fbuTid  in  water  where  duckweed  {^ows, 
chiefly  in  ^st  month  tif  December.  It  has  a  buuch 
above  the^bind  part  marked  witb  black  spots,  depressed 
towards  the- top,  a  "little  folded,  and  somewhat  convex 
on  the  Under  'part.  The  apex  is  furnished  wil;h  hairs, 
but  they  are -seldom  visible  till  the  creature  is  in  the 
agonies  of  death,  when  it  extends  and  moves  them  ve- 
hemently, apd  attempting  as  it  were,  to  draw  in^  tbe  y^vj 
last  drop  cff  water. 

Tht^ patens  is  found  in  salt  water ;  and  is  of  a  long 
cylindrical  shape,  filled  with  mplecules,  the  fore  part 
bright  and. clear,  with  a  long  openinff  near  the  top  which 
tapers  to  a  point,  and  is  beset  with  bairs. 

Tbe  striata  is  found  in  the  manth  of  December  in 
river  .water.  It  is  a^ieautsful  animalcule,  of  a  fox  co- 
lour. It  is  of  an  oblong  shape,  the  low^r  end  some- 
what larger  than  the  other.  It  has  a  set  of  streaks 
runniuff  from  one  end  to  the  other,,  and. at  the  abdo- 
men a  double  row  of  little  eggs  lying  in  a  transverse  di- 
Ivction. 

The  vvuia  is  found  in  the  infusion  of  bay  and  other 
vegetables.  *  It  is  six  timetf  longer  than  broad,  round, 
^xuous,  of  an  equal  size, 'the  greater  part  :fil led  with 
oliscnre  molecules ;  the  fore  part  rather  empty,  witb 
an  alimentai^  canal  and  lucid  globules  near  the  middle. 
Tbe  margin  >  of  tbe  fore  part  is  covered  with  ^hort 
bairs. 

llie  iinter  is'fonnd  in  an  infusion  of  old  grass.  It  is 
egg-sbaped,  oblong,  with  both  extremities  raised  so  that 
the  bottom  becomes  convex,  and  the  upper  part  de- 
pressed like  a  boat :  it  is  of  difierent  shapes  at  different 
ages,  and  sometimes  has  a  rotatory  motion. 

•The  paM'ilus  is  fonnd  in  salt  water ;  and  is  long,  full 
of  gray  molecules }  the  fore  part  ti-uncated  and  hairy, 
and  rather  smaller  than  tbe  other. 

Tbe  wmdcukfris  is  found  in  river  water ;  and  is  pel- 

D  2  lucid 


Micro- 
Mope 


MIC  [•    28 

A*icm.    Icrpi  J  in  tbe  fore  luirty  with  the  hind  part  full  of  mole- 
icopc.     culea. 

^  The  ffulitma  Is  found  in  salt  water,  but  very  rarely. 
It  18  oblong,  ciliated,  with  a  globular  apex,  a  dilatable 
i^ect;,  and  a  kind  of  peristaltic  motion  perceivable  with- 
m  it* 

The  p^riitum  is  frequently  found  in  marshes.  It  is 
cylindrical,  pellucid,  muscular,  aud  cafHible  of  being 
^Ided  up.  It  appears  double  $  the  ipterior  part  full  of 
molecules,  with  an  orbicular  muscular  appendage,  which 
if  ca^  opun  and  shut,  and  which  forms  th^  mouth.  The 
external  p^  is  membranaceous,  pellucid,  dilated,  and 
marked  with  transverse  streaks  ^  and  it  can  protrude  or 
draw  in  the  orbicular  membrane  at  pleasure*  ^me 
have  four  articulations  In  the  tail,  others  ^ve )  and  it 
has  two  p^irs  pt  hnstles,  one  placed  at  the  second  joint, 
t]b.e  other  at  the  last. 

The  deiplds  is  found  in  river  water.  It  is  smooth, 
feBocid,  having  the  fore  part  dilated  into  a  semicircle, 
mdoal^  decreasing  in  Invadth  towards  the  tail.  The 
nont  18  hain^  the  hairs  standing  as  rays  from  the  se- 
micircular eSfget  one  of  the  edges  is  sometimes  con-  - 
tracted. 

The  delphimt*  is  found  in  hay  that  has  been  inioBed 
for  some  months.  It  is  pellucid,  smooth,  and  egg-sha- 
ped 'y  the  hinder  part  terminating  in  a  tail  about  hal( 
the  length  of  the  body,  dilated  at  the  upper  end,  trun- 
cated, and  always  bent  upwards.  It  moves  sometimes 
on  its  belly  and  sometimes  on  its  aide. 

The  rostrata  is  found  in  water  where  duckweed  has 
been  kept.  It  is  depressed,  capable  of  changing  its 
shape,  yellow,  with  long  ciliated  hairs  \  it  h^s  four  feet 
tapering  to  ^  point,  one  of  them  longer  tlian  the  rest. 
Both  feet  and  hairs  are  within  the  margin.  The  shape 
of  the  body  is  generally  triangular  \  the  apex  formed 
into  an  obtuse  beak,  which  the  creature  sometimes 
draws  in  so  that  it  appears  quite  round. 

The  charrm  was  found  in  salt  water.  It  is  oval,  and 
resembles  a  boat  as  well  in  its  motion  as  shape  \  the  up- 
per part  is  hollowed,  the  under  part  fuirowed  and  con- 
vex ^  the  stem  round,  with  several  hairs  proceeding 
horn  it. 

XIY.  Kmna* 

An  invisible  worm  with  boms. 

The  ra^tMim  is  found  in  river  nHteic-  It  b^^  tl^ree 
rows  of  horns  on  the  back,  which  occupy  aln^oH  Ih^ 
whole  of  it. 

The  cypris  is  found  in  water  covered  with  lemna.  It 
is  somewhat  of  a  pear  shape,  compcesaed,  witii,^  broa4 
^nd  blunt  fare  part  \  the  front  funiisbed  ^iUi  hairs,  or 
little  vibrating  poipts  inserted  under  the  edge,  s|ioj[t^r 
(jn  the  bin4  part,  p;|rtly  extenjedL  strj^igbt,  and  pa|;t|y 
bent  down,  having  a  retrograde  motion. 

The  calmtium  is  fboiid  in  the  iqfu&ioiv  of  vegetables. 

.pThe  body  i^  broad  and  ftst,  hpth  sides,  obtu^  &]Ud 

^with  black  mplecules,  and.  thf^  is  a  black,  sppt  neap 

the  hinder  part,  whei*e  thj^re  axe  lik^wjcse  a  few  sh4>r-t 

bristles. 

The  pustithta  is,  fopnd.  ifi  s^)t  wat/f^r.  It  is^  oval,  con- 
vex \  one  edge  of  the  hinder  part  sinuated,  bpth  ends 
set  with  hairs,  and  some  fa^cos  qq.  the  fp.re  partf 


]  MIC 

XV.  Umantopus*  « 

A  pellucid,  invisible,  and  cirrated  worm. 


tcopc. 


The  acarus  is  lively,  conical,  v^ntricose,  full  of 
black  molecules,  with  a  bright  and  transparent  fore 
part.  The  lower  part  of  the  apex  has  rows  of  long 
hairs  on  the  under  part  set  like  rays.  Foqt  locks  of 
long  crooked  hair  or  feet  proceed  from  the  belly^  and 
it  is  continually  moving  tliese  and  other  hairs  in  various 
directions. 

The  huiio  h  a  lively  diverting  animalcule,  smooth, 
pellucid,  full  of  small  points,  the  fore  part  clubbed  and 
a  little  bent,  the  hinder  part  mjttow ;  the  base  oblique- 
ly truncated,  and  terminating  in  a  tail  stretehed  out 
transversely.  The  top  of  the  head  and  middle  of  the 
back  are  fnmisbed  with  long  and  vibrating  hairs }  three 
moveable  and  flexible  curls  hang  down  flora  the  side 
of  the  bead  at  a  distance  from  each  other.  When  the 
creature  is  at  rest,  its  tail  is  curled  }  but  when  in  mo- 
tion, it  is  drawn  tight  and  extended  upwards. 

The  sanmo  is  found,  though  seldom,  in  water  where 
the  lemna  grows.  The  cilia  are  longer  than  the  hairs, 
and  are  continually  vibrating:  it  has  two  moveable 
curls  hanging  on  the  side  of  the  head. 

The  charon  is  found  in  sea  water,  but  rarely.  It  is 
oval,  pellucid,  and  membranous,  with  longitudinal  fur- 
rows and  several  bent  divergii^  rows  of  hair  below  the 
middle,  but  none  on  the  hinder  part. 

XVI.  VmiceUa. 

i. 

A  naked  worm  with  rotatory  cilia,  cappible  of  contract*' 

ing  and  extending  itself. 

The  luntferOf  is  found  in  salt  water  )  has  the  fore  part 
obtuse,  the  base  broad,  and  hollowed  away  like  a  cre»*> 
cent,  with  a  short  protubecanee  in  the  middle  of  the 
concave  part :  the  fore  part  is  ciliated. 

The  hurwta  is  found  in  salt  water,  and.  is  ventri- 
cose,  crammed  with  molecules  >  the  ibre  part  truncat- 
ed, and  both  sides  of  it  pellucid :  thei^  is  a.  proaunent 
papilla  i^  the  middle,  which  when  th^  animalcule  is  at 
rest  appears  notched,  the  edge  of  the  apertwre  being 
ciliated  ^  tl^  hi^rs  %re  capable  of  moving  in  various  di- 
rections. , 

The  sputariumvi  found  in  Qcloher»  wilb  the  lesser 
lemna,  and  is  one  of  the  most  singular  of  the  mtcrosno- 
pic  animalcules.  When,  viewed  side  wise,  it  is  somelimea 
nearly  cylindrical^  only,  ti^pering  a  little  towiards  tb« 
builder  part,  and  having  a  hrosii  peDo^id'  edge.  Viewed 
from  tbe  top,  it  h^  sometapN^  a.  bi^oad  fime  or  disk, 
furnished  with  radiating  hairs,  the  under  part  cenlnbCt" 
ed  into  a  lobular  shape,  of  a  dark  gneeii  coloor^  and 
filled  with  small  grains* 

The  multiformifi  is  found  ia  sul/L-  mler,  and  very  mudt 
resembles  the  former. 

The  n^ra  is  found  in  August  in  meadows  covered 
with  water.  It  may  be  seen  with  the  paked  eye,  ap- 
pearing like  a  black  point  swimming  oq  the  surface. 
Through  the  microscope  it  appears  as  a  small  conical 
body,' obtuse  and  ventiicase  at  one  end,  and  aeote  at 
tb^  other.  When  the  extremities  are  extended,  two 
small  white  hooks  become  visible,  by  the  assiataooe  of 

which 


M    1    -C  [ 

wUbh  it  inoves  in  Um  wster,  and  it  jNrobnblj  baa  a  ro- 
tatory orgao:  it  movea  conttnoally  in  a  Tacillating 
manner  on  the  top  of  the  water. 

The  ocreato  is  met  with  in  rivers,  though  very  sel- 
dom, and  in  shape  somewhat  resembles  the  lower  part 
of  a  boot.  The  afiex  of  the  upper  part  is  tronoated  and 
oiltated,  the  heel  pointed,  and  the  foot  round. 

TIm  vaka  is  as  broad  as  long,  and  die  apex  tronca* 
ted  and  cilmted }  both  angles  of  the  base  projecting  out« 
wards,  one  somewhat  like  a  wart,  the  other  like  a  fioger* 
It  is  found  in  marshv  waters. 

The  papiUarit  is  likewise  found  in  marshes  where  the 
consenra  nitida  grows.  It  is  ventrioose ;  the  fore  part 
truncated,  with  a  papillary  tail,  and  a  beantifnl  papiU 
hHy  ezorescenoe  on  the  side. 

The  craiagand  is  found  in  the  month  of  April,  both 
in  the  mod  and  on  the  tail  of  the  monoculos  quadricor- 
Bts.  They  are  generally  heaped  together  in  a  spherical 
fiurm,  and  united  to  one  common  stalk.  They  are  like- 
wise  often  to  he  Ibund  without  a  pedicle,  the  body  ra- 
ther contracted,  the  aperture  circofau',  and  surrounded 
with  a  marked  margin.  It  has  two  small  arms ;  and 
with  a  powerful  magnifier  a  violent  rotatory  motion  may 
he  observed.  Sometimes  an  individual  will  separate 
lirom  the  community,  and  move  in  a  kind  of  spiral  Kne 
£»  a  little  time,  and  then  go  back  to  the  rest. 

The  rotoAorib  is  the  wAeei  animal  described  by  Mr 
Saker^  and  of  which  an  acooont  is  given  under  the 
article  Anikialcule, 

The  Jhrcaia  is  commonly  found  in  water,  and  has 
a  cylindric  body  with  a  rotatory  organ,  consisting  of  a 
now  of  hairs  at  the  i^x  :  the  tail  is  divided  into  two 
parts,  taming  a  little  inwards.  When  at  rest  it  joins 
the  segments  of  the  tail,  but  opens  them  when  in  mo- 
tion. 

The  cHrina  is  iMind  in  stagnant  water  j  the  head 
Ml  of  molecules,  ronad,  everywhere  of  an  equal  siae, 
and  very  transparent.  Both  sides  of  the  orifice  are  ci- 
liated, and  each  has  a  rotatory  motion,  appearing  some* 
times  without  and  sometimes  within  the  edge  of  the 
month. 

The  etmvailaria  is  the  same  with  the  belUanimcU 
mentioned  by  Mr  Bsker.     See  the  article  Anikiai^ 

CULK. 

The  atMKMi  inhabits  that  whitish  substance  which 
often  entirely  covers  plants,  wood,  shelb,  &c«  When 
this  sabstance  is  examined  hy  a  microscope,  it  ai^ars 
to.be  wholly  eomposed  of  living  animals  of  the  polype 
kind.    SeoPoi^Yni. 

ThepiyrorMk 

Tbe  amutmtica  ^  See  the  artiole  Folype. 

The  digdMi 


-} 


XVII.  Braehimtt. 

A;  contrai^tile  woroif  covered  with  a  shell,  aad.  iUmii^d 

with  rotatory  cilia* 

The/Mliitti  ie  found  in  mardiy  water  in  the  winter* 
lime.  It  t»  onivaftvey  the  shell  oval,  plain,  cryBtal- 
Uae^  with  the- anterior  pavt  lerminatang'  in  two  aeote 
points  on  both  sidee^  though  Uie>  intewenisg  space  v% 
oommsniy  iHed  op  with-  tlw  head  of  the  animah  By 
thsso  pomis  it  fasl^no  ilself,  and^  whirls  albout  the  body 
eieot.  nib  rotatory  cilia  are  pofceived  wilh  great  dif- 
■Knltyu 


29    ]  MIC 

To  what  has  been  already  said  on  this  subject,  ander  Ifieio. 
the  article  Animalcule,  we  sfasll  here  add  the  follow*  tcope. 
ing  observations  from  Mr  Adams.—**  How  many  kinds 
of  these  invisibles  there  may  be  (says  he),  is  yet  un» 
known  \  as  they  are  discerned  of  all  sizes,  from  those 
which  are  barely  invisible  to  the  naked  eye,  to  such  as 
resist  the  force  of  the  microscope  as  the  fixed  stars  do 
that  of  the  telesc4^,  and  with  the  greatest  powers  hi* 
therto  invented  appear- only  as  so  many  moving  points* 
The  smallest  livioe  creatures  our  instruments  can  show, 
are  those  which  inhabit  the  waters  \  for  though  animal- 
cula  equally  minute  may  fly  in  the  air,  or  creep  upon 
the  earth,  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  get  a  view  of  them  \ 
but  as  water  is  transparent,  by  confining  the  creatures 
within  it  we  can  easily  observe  them  by  applying  a  drop 
of  it  to  the  glasses. 

**  Animalcules  in  general  are  observed  to  move  in 
all  directions  with  equal  ease  and  rapidity,  sometimes 
obliquely,  sometimes  straight  forward ;  sometimes  mov- 
ing in  a  circular  direction,  or  rolling  upon  one  another, 
running  backwards  and  forwards  through  the  whole  ox- 
tent  of  the  drop,  as  if  diverting  themselves  ^  at  other 
times  greedily  attacking  the  little  parcels  of  matter  they 
meet  with.  Notwithstanding  their  extreme  minuteness,  . 
they  know  how  to  avoid  obstacles,  or  to  prevent  any  in- 
terference with  one  another  in  their  motions :  sometunes 
they  will  suddenly  change  the  direction  in  which  they 
move,  and  take  an  opposite  one ;  and,  by  inclining  the 
glass  on  which  the  drop  of  water  is,  as  it  can  be  made . 
to  move  in  any  direction,  so  the  animalcules  appear  to 
move  as  easily  against  the  stream  as  with  it.  When  the 
water  begins  to  evaporate,  they  fleck  towards  the  place 
where  the  fluid  is,  and  show  a  great  anxiety  and  un- 
common agitation  of  the  wgans  with  which  they  draw 
in  the  water.  These  motions  grow  hingnid  as  the  wa- 
ter fails,  and  at  last  oease  altogether,  withont  apuissibi* 
lity  of  rsnewal  if  they  be  lef^  dry  for  a  short  time. 
They  sostain  a  great  degree  of  cold  as  well  ae  infects,  . 
and  will  perish  in  much  the  same  degree  of  beat  that 
destroys  insects.  Some  animalcules  are  produced  in  wa- 
ter at  the  freofting  paint,  and  some  insects  live  in  snow. 
*-»By  mixing  the  least  drop  of  urine  wj^h  the  water  in 
which  they  swim,  they  instantly  fall  into  convulsions  • 
and  die* 

**  The  same  rale  seems  to  hold  good  in  those  minute 
creatures,  whioh  is  observable  in  the  larger  animals, 
viK.  that  the  larger  kinds  are  leas  nnntwoos  than  such 
as  are  smaller,  while  the*  smaUest  of  alt  are  found  in 
such  multitudes,  that  there  seem  to  he  myriads  for  one 
of  the  others.  Tliey  tnereaoe  in  siae,  like  other  animalsi 
from  their  birth  nntti  fh^^y  have  attninsd  their  fbll 
growth;  and  ^vhen  deprived  of  proper « nourishment,  . 
Hiey  is  like  manner  grow4h4n  and  perish.** 

The  modes  of  propagation-  among  these  animalenles 
•TO' various,  and  the  observation  of  them'  is  extremely 
enriottSk.    Slome  multiply  bj-a  trmi9v«rse  Vision,  as  ia*. 
observed  under  the  article  ANlMALeu&S :  and  it  is  re*  . 
markablei  thai  liioagll  in  genOra^  they  sivofd  one 
other,  it  is  not  uncommon,'  when  one  is  nearly 
to  see  another  posh  itself  npon  the  s^•md^  neek 
joins  the  two  bodies  in  order  to  acfsdevatC'  the  sepava* 
tion.— Othevs,  when  about  to  multiply,  ftx  themselves 
to  the  bottom  of  the  water ;  then  becoimug  first  ob» 
loag^  and  alberwarde  rounds  turn  rapidly  as  on>  a  oontre, 
btifl  perpetnnHy  varyinjg  tiie  direction  of  tlheir  rotatory 

motion. 


MIC  [3 

fnotiOn.  In  a  little  time,  two  lines  forihiug  a  tSross  «irc 
|ierceived  ^  after  which  the  spherule  divides  into  fouc^ 
which  grow,  and  are  again  divided  as  before.  A  third 
kind  multiply  by  a  longitudinal  division,  whicb  in  some 
begins  in  the  foi-e  part^  in  others  in  the  hind  part  ^  and 
from  otliers  a  small  fragment  detaches  itself,  which  in  a 
short  time  assumes  the  shape  of  the  parent  animalcule. 
liAstlyt  others  propagate  in  the  same  manner  as  the 
Diorfe  perfect  animals. 

In  our  observations  under  the  article  Animalcule, 
we  suggested  some  doubts  whether  all  those  minute  bo" 
dies  which  go  under  the  name  of  animalcuies  really  de 
enJQy  animal 'life^  or*  whether  they  are  not  in  many 
cases  to  be  accounted  only  inanimate  and  exceedingly 
minute  points  of  matter  actuated  by  the  intemal  motion 
of  the  iluid.     This  has  also  been  the  opinion  ^f  others  1 
but  -to  all  hypotheses  of  this  kind  Mr  Adams  makes 
the  following  reply :  ^'  -From  what  has  been  said,  it 
clearly  appears,  that  their  motions  are  not  purely  me^* 
chanical,  but  are  produced  by  an  internal  spontaneous 
principle^  and   that  they  must  therefore   be  placed 
among  the  olass  ef  living  animals,  for  they  possess  the 
strongest  marks*  and  the  most  decided  characiers  of  sknl* 
matioQ ;  and,  consequently,  that  there  is  no  foundation 
for  tlie  -supposition  of  a  chaotib  and  neutral  kingdom, 
'  which  ean  only  have  derived  its  origin  from  a  very 
transient  and  superficial  view  of  these  animalcules. — ^It 
may  ako^be  further  observed,  that  as  we  see  that  the 
'    Rfottoos'of  the  limbs,  &c*  of  the  larger  animals,  are 
produced  hj  the  mechanical  construction  of  the  body, 
and  the  action  of  the  soul  thereon,  and  are  forced  l^ 
the  ocular  demonstration  which  arises  from  anatoaeiicai 
dissection  to  acknowledge  this    mechanism  which  is 
adapted  to  produce  the  various- motions  necessary  to  the 
animal;  and  as,  when  we  have  -recourse  to  the  micro- 
scope,  we  find  those -pieces  which  had  appeared  to^*  the 
'    naked  eye  -as-  the  primary  mechanicaV  causes  of:  particn- 
lai^moCioBS,  to  consist  themselves  of  lesser  parts,  which 
are  the  causes-  of  motion,  extension,-  &c.'  in  the  largw } 
when  the  structure  thereforecan  be  traced  no  farther 
by  the  eye,  or  by  the  glasses^  we  have  no  right  to  con- 
'    elude  that  the  parts  whibb  are  invisible  are  not  e^ally 
the'stibject  of  mechanism  :  for' this- Would  be  only  to  as* 
sort  in  other  words,  that  a  thing  may  exist  because^we 
see  and  feel  it,  and  have  no  existence  when  it  is  not*  the 
object  of  our  senses.-— The  same  train  of  reasoning  may 
be  applied  to  microscopic  insects  and  animalcula :  ^we 
see  them  move )  but  because  the^  mosbles-  and  members 
which  occasion  these  ^nMtions  are  mviBible^-^hall  we  in** 
feir  that  they  have  not  muscles^  With  ot-gans  A^[»opri^ 
ated  to  the  motion  of  ifa^  whole  and  its*  parts'  ?  To  say 
that  they  exist  not  beeause  we  .cannot  perceive 'them, 
would  not  be  a  rational  cbnelusion.     Our  senses  are 
indeed  given  us  that  we  may  comprehe)id  some  efiects  i 
but  then  we  hav6'idso  a  mind,  with  reason,  bestowed 
ppon  U8|  that, 'finom  die- things  which  we  do  perceive 
'    with  oilr  senses,  we  may  deduce  the  natlire  iof  those 
causes  and  eflfects  which  are  Mn|»erceptiUe  to  the  cor- 
poreal eye.'^ 

Leaving  these  speculations,  howoTer^  we  shall  now 
proceed  to  give  a  particular 

ExplamUuM  of  the  Jigures  rf*  the  Uttrious  ammtUSf 
pi^^     wtih  their  parUf<nH»f  Sfc.  represented  in  thepkUes. 
CCCXUL      FifT*  3^  33'  i^present   the  eggs  of  the  phalscna 
ig*  3^  33*  neastriay  is  Ihey  are  taken  from  the  tree  to  which 


o    ]  MIC 

(hey  adhere^  aocl  iHagnified  by  the  mieroac0p6»    The    "hlUrkt^ 
strong    ground-work  visible  in    many    places    sha$v8     seofie. 
the   gum    by    which    they    are    fastened    together ;         r      ' 
and  A^m  connexion  is  strengthened    by  a   very  te- 
nacious substance  interposed  between  the  eggs,  and 
filling  up  the  .vacant  spaces.  «Figk  ^4.  shows  a  vertical  Fig.  34. 
section  of  the  egffs,  exhibitiiig  their  oval  shape.-* 
Fig.  55.  is  an  honaontal  section  ihreiuJi   the  middle  Fig.  ^s* 
of  the  t^g*    These  eggs  make  a  beauiinil  appearanee 
through  the.  nHcroscope.    The  small  figures  a,  ^,  c,  re- 
present the  objects  in  thetr-aattical  state,,  without  being 
magnified. 

Fig.  36.  shows  the  laiwn  of  theJmMeo  ehameieon^  ao*Fig  -^6. 
aquatic  insect.  When  viewed  by  the  naked  eye,  it  ap- 
pears (as  here  represented)  to  be  composed  of  twelve 
annular  divisions,  separating  it  into  an  head,  thorax, 
and  abdomen  j  but 'it  is  not  easy  te  distinguish  the  two 
last  parts  lirom  each  other,  as  the  intestines  lie.  equally 
both  in  the  ttibrax  and  lUidomen.  -The  tail  is  Camished 
with  »fine  crown  or  oirele  of  hair  &,  disposed  in  the 
form  of  a  ring,  and  by  this  means  it  is  supported  on 
the  surface  of  the  4vater,.the  head  and  body  han^ng 
down  dowards  the  -bottom^  .in  which  posture  it  will 
sometimes  remains  for.  a .  censidereble  time .  without  any 
motion  I— When  it  has  amind«  to*  sink  io  ^e  bottom^,  it 
closes  the  hairs  of  the  ring«  as  in -fig..  57.  ^Tlnisjiti'hel-  p^.  3^. 
low  space  is  formed,  including  a-staiall  bubble  of  air  j 
by  enlarging  or  diminishiog- which,  fit/ caa rise  or  sink 
in  the  water  at  pleasure.  When  the  bubble  escapes,^  the 
insect  can .  replace  St  from  the  ^pulnMuary  tubes,  and 
sometimes  considerable /quantities  of  air  may  be  seen 
ta escape  from  the  lail^ of.. the  worm  iote  the  common 
atmosphere  ^*fvhiob  ^operation  may  easily  be  observed 
when  the  weim  is  placed  in  a  glass  ef  water,  and  af- 
fords an  interesting  spectacle.  The  snout  of  this  in- 
iect  is  divided  into  -three  parts,  ef  which,  that  in  the 
middle  is  immoveable  ^  ^  the  other  ^  two,  which  grow 
-frem  the  sides  of  the  middle  one^  are  moveable,  and 
vibrate  like  the  tongues  of  lizards  or  serpents.  In  these 
lateral  patts  lies  most  of  the  creature^s  strength  \  for  it 
walks  upon  them  when  out  of  the  water,  appearing  to 
walk  on  its  mouth,  and  to  use:  it. as  the  parrot  does  its 
beak  to  assist  it  in  climbing. 

The  larva  is  shown,  fig.  38.  as  it  appears  thronch  a  p.  • 
liiicrosoope.  It  grows  sarrewer  towards  the  head,  is 
largest  about  that  pait  which  we  may  call  the  thorax, 
converges  fill  along  the  abdomen,  and  terminates  at 
length  in  a  sharp  tml*  surrounded,  with  hairs,  as  has  al- 
ready been  mentioned.  The  twelve  annular  divisions 
are  now  extremely  visible,  and  are  marked  by  numbers 
in  the  plate-.  .  The  skin  -appears  somewhat  hard,  and 
resembling  shagreen,  being  Uiick  set  with  gtaina^t- 
ty  equally  distributed.  It  has  nine  holes,  or  spiracula, 
probably  ^or  the  purpose  6f  breathing,  on  each  side  j 
but  it  has  none  of  these  on  the  tail  division  0,  nor  any 
easily  visible  on  the  third  from  the  head.  -  In  Uie  lat<- 
ter,  indeed,  it  has  some  very  'Siball  holes  concealed  un- 
d«r  the  skin,  near  the  place  where  the  embryo  wings 
i^f  the  fiiture  fly  are-liid.  ^*.It  is  remarkable  says  Mjt 
Adams)  that  caterpillars,  in  generel,  have  two  rings 
without  these  spiracula,*  pferbaps  beeause  they  change 
intb  flies  with  four  wings,  whereas  rthis  Worm  prodnces 
a  ^f  with  only  two.*'  :11ie  akin  of  the  larva  is  adorn- 
ed-with  oblong  black  fiirrows,  spots  of  a  light  colour, 
atld  orbicular  rings,  firom  which  there  geqerally  opring^ 

a 


M    T    C 


[31] 


MIC 


Micro-  a  tiaiT')  but  only  th&ie  hairs  which  grow  on  the  inaect^a 
tSksr 'we  :repre8eiited  in  the  i^ure.  There  are  also  some 
la^rllAtrs  here  and  there,  as  at  c  c.  The  difierence 
ef^ohMir,  boweveri  in  this  •  wofrm  arises  onlj  from  the 
quantity  of  graips  in  the  same  space  j  for  where  they 
are  in  very  great  numbers,  the  furrows  are  darker,  and 
paler  where  they  are  less  plentiful. 

The  head  d  is  divided  into  three  parts,  and  eovered 
widi  a  skin  wfajch  has  hardly  any  disoemtble  ffrains.— 
The  eyes  are  rather  protuberant,  and  lie  near  the  snout  ( 
on  which  last  are  two  small  horns  at  1 1.  It  is  crooked, 
and  ends  in  a  sharp  point  as  at^I  The  legs  are  placed 
near  the  snout  between  the  sinuses  in  which  the  eyes 
are  fixed.  Each  of  these  legs  consists  of  three  joints^ 
the  outermost  of  which  is  covered  with  stiff  hairs  like 
bristles  g  g.  From  the  next  joint  there  springs  a  homy 
bone  k  A,  used  by  the  insect  as  a  kind  ef  thumb }  the 
joint  b  also  composed  of  a  black  substance  of  an  inter* 
mediate  hardness  between  bone  and  horn  }  and  the  third 
joint  is  of  the  same  nature.  In  order  to  distinguish 
these  parts,  those  that  form  the  upper  sides  of  the  mouth 
and  eyes  must  be  separated  by  means  of  a  small  knife } 
after  which,  bv  the  assistance  of  the  microscope,  we 
may  perceive  that  the  leg  is  articulated  by  some  parti- 
cular ligaments,  with  the  portion  of  the  insect's  mouth 
which  answers  to  the  lower  jaw  in  the  human  frame* 
We  may  then  also  discern  the  muscles  which  serve  to 
move  die  legs,  and  draw  them  up  into  a  oavity  that 
lies  between  the  soont  and  those  parts  of  the  mouth 
which  are  near  the  horns  i  f .  The  insect  walks  upon' 
these  legs,  not  only  in  the  water,  but  on  the  land  also.- 
It  likewise  makes  use  of  them  in  swimmings  keeping  its 
tail  on  the  surface  contiguous  to  the  air,  and  banging 
downward  with  the  rest  <^  the  body  in  the  water.  Is 
tins  situation,  the  only  perceptible  motion  it  has  is  in 
its  legs,  which  it  moves  in  a  most  elegant  roanoeri  from« 
whence  it  is  reasonable  to  conclude,  that  the  most  of 
this  creature's  strength  lies  in  its  legs,  as  we  have  al* 
ready  observed. 

The  snout  of  this  larva  is  black  and  hard  :  the  hack 
part  q«ite  solid,  and  somewhat  of  a  globular  Ibrm  y  the 
front  y  sharp  and  hollow.  Three  membranaceous  d»- 
visiens  may  be  perceived  on*  the  back  part  ^  by  meane 
ef  which,  and  the  muscles  ocntained  in  the  snout^  the 
creature  can  contract  or  expand*  it  at  pkasure. 

The  extremity  of  the  tail  is  surrounded  with  thirty 
hairs,  and  the  sides  adorned  with  others  that  are  small* 
er  'j  and  here  and  there  the  large  hairs  faraach  out  into 
smaller  ones,  which  may  be  leokoned*  single  hairs.  Alt 
these  have  their  roots  in  the  outer  skin,  which  in  thia 
place  IS  covered  witb  rough  grains,  as  nay  be  ohserv* 
ed  by  cutting  it  off  and  hoMing  it  against  the  light 
upon  a  slip  of  glass.  Thus  also  we  find,  that  at  the  ex* 
tremities  of  the  hahrs  there  are  grains  like  thoae  on  the 
skin  'j  and  in  the  middle  of  the  tasi  there  is  aamall  «fpea^ 
log,  within  which  are  minute  holes,  by  which  the  insect 
takes  in  and  lets  out  the  air  it  bveathies.  These  hsnrs, 
however,  are  seldom  disposed  insuuh  a  regular  ordex^iu^ 
IS  represented  in  fig.  38.  unless  when  the  insect  floats 
with  the  body  in  the>  water,  and  the  tatt  with  ith  hairs  m 
little  lower  than  the  surface,  in  which  caas  they  lare  dis- 
posed exaody  in  the  order  deHneaited  in  die  plate.  The 
least  motion  of  the  tail  downwards  pnduocs  aeehcavity 
in  the  water  ^  and  it  then  assumes  the  figure  of  a  wine 
ghoa,  wide  at  the  top  aa4  naiyow  at  the  bottom.    The 


tail  answers  the  double  purpose  of  swimming  and  breath- 
ing, and  through  it  the  insect  receives  what  is  the  prin- 
ciple of  life  and  motion  to  all  animals.  By  means  of 
these  hairs  also  it  can  stop  its  motion  when  swimming, 
and  remain  suspended  quietly  without  motion  for  any 
length  of  time.  Its  motions  in  swimming  are  very 
beautiful,  especially  when  it  advances  with  its  whole 
body  floating  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  afier  filling 
itself  with  air  by  the  tail.— To  set  out,  it  first  bends 
the  body  to  the  risht  or  left,  and  then  contracts  it 
in  the  form  of  the  letter  S,  and  again  stretches  it  out 
in  a  straight  line :  by  thus  contracting  and  then  ez« 
tending  the  body  altematelj,  it  movea  on  the  surface 
of  the  water.  It  is  very  quiet,  and  is  not  disturbed  by- 
handling.  * 

Hiese  creatures  are  commonly  found  in  shallow- 
standing  waters  in  the  beginning  of  June :  but  some 
years  much  more  plentifully  than  others.  They  crawl 
on  the  grass  and  other  plants  which  grow  in  such  wa-  * 
ters,  and'  are  often  met  with  in  ditches,  floatiuff  on  the 
surfhce  of  the  water  by  means  of  their  tail,  the  head 
and  thorax  at  the  same  time  hanging  down  }  and  in 
this  posture  they  turn  over  the  clay  and  dirt  with  their 
snout  and  feet  in  search  of  fi>od,  which  is  commonly 
a  viscous  matter  met  with  in  small  ponds  and  ditches. 
It  is  very  harmless,  though  its  appearance  would  seem 
to  indicate  the  contrary.  It  u  most  easily  killed  for 
dissection  by  spirit  of  turpentine. 

•  Fig.  39*  shows  in  its  natural  size  a*beau4ifnl  nnsect^'ii^.  ^9 
descried  by  Linnmis  under  the  name  of  Leucapsis  dor^ 
s^erOf  and  which  appears  to  be  a  kind  of  intermedi- 
ate genus  between  a  sphex  and  a  wasp.  The  antennse 
are  black  and  cylindncal,  increasing  in  thickness  to- 
wards the  extremity^  the  joint  nearest  the  head  is 
yellow }  the  head  and  thorax  are  black,  eneompaseed 
witha  yellow  line;  and  furnished  with  a  cress  line  of  the 
same  colour  near  the  head.  The  scutellum  ie  yellow,- 
the  abdomen  black,-  with  two  yellow  bands^  and  a 
deep  spot  of  the  same  colour  on  each  side  between  the 
bands.  A  deep  polisbed  groove  ^extends  down  the 
back  60m  the  thorax  to  the  anus,  into  which  the 
sting  turns  and  is  deposited,  leaving  the  anus  very  cir- 
cular y  a  yellow  line  runs  on  each- ride  of  the  sting.-—* 
The  anus  and  whole  body,  when  viewed  with  a  small 
magnifier,  appear  punctuated  ^- but  when  these  points 
are  seen  through  a  laige  magnifier,  they  appear '  hexa^ 
«m«k  Fig.  40.  dKms  U.e  ..iiMet  ^  mMJ.  m.^  Tig.^^„ 
Bed.  rig.  41.  gives  a  side  view  ai  it  magnined'  in  a 
smaller  degree. 

Fig.  43;.  shows  an  insect  discovered  by  Mr  John-    pbte 
Admnsof  Edmonton,   as   he  happened  to  be  at  an^CCXLIIIr 


as 
BfB.-  It  was  first  seen  by  some  labouring  people 
who  were  there  at  the  time,  by  whom  it  was  conjee-- 
tured  to  be -a^ louse  witii  unusually  long  horns,  a  mite, 
&e.  Mr  Adams  hearii^  the  debate,  procured  the 
insect^  and  baring  riewed  it  throoffh  a  microscope,  it 
wesented  the  i^peavanoe  exhibited  in  fig.  43.-  Th» 
insect  seems  toibe  quite  distinct  from  the  phahuigium 
eancroides  of  Linnaeua.  The  latter  has  been-described 
by  several  authors,  but  none  oC  their-descriptrona  agree 
with  this.  The  abdomen  of  this  insect  is  more  ex- 
tended^ the  olaws  larger,  and  much  mere  obtuse  $  the- 
body  of'  the  other  *  being  neariy  orbicular,  the  claws 
slender,. and  almost  terminating  in  a  point,  more  trans^ 
parent^  afid  of  a  paler  colour.    Mr  Marsham  has  ene 

ia« 


llg-4^- 


M    I    C 


[    32    ] 


MIC 


Micro- 
■cope. 


y*43. 


Jig.  44. 


•1%  45- 


I^g.  4^. 


it  haft  p<woc3flidn  not  16  be  distiogli&sbbd  6rma  tb«t  re« 
presenUd  10  fig.  4a*  exaepCuig  onW  that  it  wants  th^ 
'^  break  or  dk&t  ia  tbt  elaws^  wkioh  is  ao  tetidpioiKiiiis 
in  thia.  He  found  thai  ias^t  firmly  fixed  by  its  cla«8 
to  tbe  tbjgb  of  a  large  fiy,  which  be  caught  en  • 

'  fiower  in  &sex  in  the  first  week  of  August,  and  from 
whieh  he  could  net  disengage  it  without  great  diffiouli* 
ty^  add  tearing  off  the  leg  of  the  flv.  This  wat  dead 
>  ufOB  a  piece  of  writing  ^per  ^  mm  he  was  surprised 
le  see  the  Kttle  creature  spriag  forward  a  quarter  df 
an  inck^  and  again  seiie  the  thigh  with  its  olaws^  so 
diait  he  bad  great  difficulty  in  diseAgaging  it.  The  na- 
tural sue  ef  lhi»cnpatutey  whiob  Mr  Adams  caUs  the 
Mufer^iMSsM,  is  exhibited  at  «• 

Fig.  43.  shows  the  insect  named  by  M.  .de  Geetf 
tku9^^^  on  aecotilht  of  the  bladdeia  at  its  feet, 
(3%r*fjie  phy§(tfrti8^  Lin.).  TUs  insect  is  to  be  foiifeidin 
greait  plenty  upon  the  lowerd  of  daadelioliy  &c  in 

'  the  9fmg  and  BaaMnet.  It  has  feu^  wiag»|  two  up» 
per  and  two  undeir  euea  (represented  fig.  44^)  j  bul 

•  the  two  nddenuosC  *e  net  to  be  perceived  without 
great  diffieuky.    ^i^iey  are  very  long  ^  and  fixed  to  the 

•'Upper  part  of  tbe  breast,  lying  honEontally.     Both  of 

^  thoB  are  radier  p^tdd  towards  the  edges,  and  huTo 
a  strong  Ucrve  tUMiing  round  them,  which  is  set  with 
a  hair  mnge  tufted  at  tbe  eatremity.  The  coieur  of 
these  wings  is  whttish :  the  body  of  the  insect  is  black  ^ 
the  head  smidl,  with  two  large  reticulsreyes^  The  an* 
tennse  a^  of  an  equat  siae  throughout,  and  dtrided  in- 
to six  oiFal  pieces^  which  are  articulated  tegether.**^ 
The  extremities  of  the  feet  are  fiimisbed  with  a  meal* 
branaoeoue  and  flexible  bladder,  which  it  cm  throw 
out  or  dkraw  in  at  pleasure.  .  It  pressed  this  bladder 
against  the  substaaces  on  which  it  walks,  and  thus 
SeeoBS  to  &K  itsdlf  to  them  \  the  Uadder  sometimes  ap- 
pears ooneave  towards  the  bofetonl,  the  concavity  ditnw 
nishing  as  it  is  less  pressed.  The  intect  ia  repteseuted 
of  its  natural  iize  at  h. 

Fig.  45*  represents  tbe  rtiMnr  HrmHt$  of  Linnseus^ 
remadkahle  for  very  brightl  end  elegantly  disposed 
coloui^,  though  few  in  number.  The  bead,  pnn 
bescis,  and  thdfax,  art  bkok  :  the  thorax  oraa- 
.  mented  with  yellow  spots  j  the  middle  one  large^ 
smd  ooci^yiog  almost  o0e«third  of  the  posterior  part$ 
the  other  two  are  on  each  side,  and  triangular. 
The  scutellum  hsB  two  yellow  oblong  spots,  pomted 
at  each  end»  The  ground  of  tbe  elytra  is  a  bright 
yellow ;  spotted  and  striped  with  black.  The  nerves 
are  yellow;  and  there  is  a  brilliant  triangular  spot  of 
orange,  which  unites  the  crustaceous  and  membrana- 
ceous pisrts  *f  the  latter  are  brown,  and  clouded.  It  i^ 
found  in  the  elm  tree  in  June.  It  is  ritprcsented  of  its 
natural  size  at  r. 

Fig*  46.  ^ws  the  chrytomebtatpmragi .oilMnKOBi 
so  called  from  the  larva  «^the  insect  feeding  upon  that 
plant.  It  is  a  oodimon  insect,  and  very  beautiful*  It 
is  of  -an  oblong  figaie^  with  black  antemne^  composed 
of  many  joints,  nearly  oval.  The  head  iB  a  deep  aad' 
bri^t  blue  'f  the  thorax  red  and  oylindridal :  the  elytf» 
are  blooi  with  a  yelloW  margin,  and  having  three  spota 
of  tbe  same  colour  on  each  \  one  at  the  base,  of  aw 
oblong  form,  and  two  united  with  the  margin :  thcf 
legs  are  black ;  but  the  under  side  of  the  belly  is  of 
the  same  blue  colour  with  the  elytra  and  head.  This 
iittle  aofionl,  when  viewed  by  the  naked  eye,  scavoelf 

3 


appears  to  deserve  ady  aotiee  \  hot  wbeb  exaiaaied  bjr 
the  miereBcopei  is  one  of  ike  most  pleasing 
jeota  we  have«     It  is  found  in  June  on  the 
after  it  has  run  to  seed  >  and  it  is  shown,  of  ita  ndtec^sl 
siae  at  </•    De  Geer  says  that  it  is  very  scarce  in  Swu* 
^den* 

Fig.  47.  shows  an  iasect  of  a  shape  9ti  rrmarkablef  fig  ^y. 
tbait  natdralists  have  been  at  a  lote  to  deterdiine  the 
genus  to  which  it  belongs.  In  the  Fauna  Sueeicat 
ImmfiBOs  makes  it  an  attehbuf:  but  in  the  last  edition 
of  the  Systedia  Naturao,-  it  is  ranged  as  a  rteloe,  wi- 
der the  title  6f  the  Meioe  mo$tocerm  ;  though  of  thia 
also  there  seems  to  be  some  doubt*  The  true  figure  of 
it  can  only  be  discovered  by  a  vefy  g^ood  mioroseope. 
The  head  is  blacky  and  appears  td  be  hid  or  buried 
under  the  thorax,  Which  projecte  forward  like  a  hern : 
the  antennee  are  composed  of  diany  joints,  and  are  of 
a  dirty  yellow  colour,  as  well  as  ifae  feet  z  the  hinder 
]k«tof  the  thorax  is  reddtshi  the  fore  ptert  blaclu--** 
The  elytra  are  yellow^  with  a  black  longitudinal  line 
down  the  suturb  ^  there  ia  a  band  of  the  same  colour 
near  tbe  apex^  and  also  a  black  point  near  tbe  base,  the 
whole  aniroal  being  curiously  covei^d  with  hair.  The 
natural  siae  of  it  is  shown  at  e*  It  was  found  in 
May.  CSeofiroy  says  that  it  lives  upon  umbelliferous 
plaats. 

Fig.  48.-^54.  exhibit  the  anatomy  of  the  cossus  car  piate 
terpilUur,  whioh  lives  on  the  willoW.  The  egg  fromC€CXLIII. 
which  it  proceeds  is  attadied  to  the  trank  of  the  ^•4^— 54* 
tree  bv  a  kind  oi  visoous  juice,  ^hich  soon  becomes 
so  hard  that  the  rain  cannot  dissolve  it. .  The  egu  it'* 
self  is  very  small  and  spberesdioal,  and,  When  examined 
by  the  microscope,  appears  to  have  broad  waving  for-» 
rows  running  through  the  whole  length  of  it,  which  are 
again  ersssed  by  close  streaks,  giving  it  the  appearance 
01  a  wicker  basket.  It  U  not  exactly  known  Whai 
time  they  are  hatched  $  but  as  the  smell  caterpillars 
appear  in  September,  it  is  probable  that  the  eggs  are 
hatched  some  time  in  August.  When  small,  they  are 
genekimy  met  with  unde]^  the  bark  of  the  tree  te  which 
&^  eggs  were  affixed  ;  and  an  aqueous  moisture^  oexing 
firdm  the  bole  through  whibh  they  gdt  under  the  baric, 
is  fi«quedtly,  though  not  always,  a  direction  for  find- 
ing t:hem*  These  eaterpillaia  change  their  cdour  but 
very  little,  being  nearly  the  dame  when  younir  as  when 
old.  Like  dMiuy  others,  they  are  dapable  of  spinning 
as  soon  as  they  eome  from  the  egg.  They  also  change 
their  skin  several  times ;  but  as  it  is  almost  impossible 
to  rear  thdra  under  a  glass,  so  it  is  very  difficult  to 
know  exactly  how  ofhsn  this  moulting  takes  pldoe.*-* 
Mr  Adamd  oonjectures  that  it  is  more  frequently  thaa 
the  generality  of  caterpillars  do,  some  having  been 
observed  to  chaUge  mere  than  nide  times. 

The  eoosus  goaerally  fiu^  for  some  days  previous  to 
the  moulting  }  during  whiek  time  the  fleshy  and  other 
interior  parts  of  the  head  are  detached  firom  the  M 
skull,  and  retire  as  it  were  within  the  neck.  The  new 
coverings  Soon  grew  on,  but  are  at  fiirst  very  soft««-« 
When  the  new  skin  and  the  odier  parts  are  formed^ 
the  old  skin  is  to  be  opened,  and  all  the  members  with- 
dravm  froni  it$  an  operation  naturally  difficult,  but 
whtth  mnst  be  rendered  mord  so  firom  the  soft  and  weak 
state  of  the  creature  at  that  time.  It  is  ahvaya  nmdt 
larger  after  each  chaafe** 

From  Mr  Iiyonet*s  expcrinlentSi  it  a^pears^  that  the 

cossus 


M    I    C 


[     33    1 


M    I    C 


Micr^.  oMSM  giMotaUy  ptaaa  at  kast  two  wiaten,  if  net 
•cope,  tiuf^^  before  it  aMUinea  the  pupa  state.  Ax  the  ap- 
proadi  of  winter^  it  forms  a  little  case,  the  inside  of 
wkich  is  lined  wltk  silk,  and  the  outside  oovcfed  witk 
wood  gronnd  like  wry  fine  saw-dust*  .During  tke 
whole  season  it  neither  moves  nor  eats. 

This  caterpillaFy  at  its  first  appearance^  is  not  above 
one-twelfth  of  an  inch  Iong>   hot  at  last  attains  the 
length  of  two,  and  sometimes  of  three  inches.     In  the 
month  of  May  it  prepares  for  the  pupa  state  j  the  first 
care  being  to  find  a  hole  in  the  tree  sufficient  to  allow 
the  moth  to  issue  (brth  ^  and  if  this  cannot  be  found, 
it  makes  one  eqnal  in  size  to  the  future  pupa.     It  thea 
begins  to  fi>rm  of  wood  a  case  or  cone  ;  uniting  the 
hits,  which  are  very  thin,  together  by  silk,  into  the 
form  of  an  eUipsoid,  the  outside  being  formed  of  small 
bits  of  wood  joined  together  in  all  directions )  taking 
care,  however,  that  the  pointed  end  of  the  caie  may 
always  be  opposite  to  the  mouth  of  the  hole :  having 
finished  the  outside  of  the  case,  it  lines  the  inside  with 
a  silken  tapestry  of  a  close  textiwe  in  all  its  parts,  ex- 
cept the  pointed  end,  where  the  texture  is  looser,  in 
order  to  facilitate  its  escape  at  the  proper  time.     The 
caterpillar  then  places  itself  in  such  a  posture,  that  the 
head  may  always  lie  towards  the  opening  of  the  hole 
in  the  tree  or  pointed  end  of  its  case*     Thus  it  re- 
nmins  at  rest  for  some  time :  the  colour  of  the  dun  first 
becomes  pale,    and  afterwards  brawny   the  interior 
parts  of  the  head  are  detached  from  the  skull ',    the 
legs  withdraw  themselves  firom  the  exterior  case  }  the 
body  shortens  ^  the  posterior  part  grows  smaU,  while 
the  anterior  part  swdk  so  much,  that  the  skin  at  last 
bursts  ^  and,  by  a  variety  ni  motions,  if  pushed  down 
to  the  tail  ^  and  thus  the  pupa  is  exhibited,  in  which 
the  parts  of  the  future  moth  may  be  easily  traced.-— 
The  covenog  of  the  pupa,   though  at  first  sofk,   hu- 
mid, and  white,  soon  dries  and  hardens,  ,and  becomes 
of  a  dark  purple  colour  ^  the  posterior  part  is  move- 
able }  but  not  the  fore  part,  which  cimtains  the  rudi- 
ments of  the  head,  legs,  and  wings.    The  fore^part  of 
the  pupa  is  fiiroished  with  two  horns,  one  above  and 
the  other  under  the  eyes.     It  has  also  several  rows  of 
points  on  its  back.     It  remains  for  some  weeks  in  the 
case  'f  after  which  the  moth  begins  to  agitate  itself,  and 
the  points  are  then  of  essential  service,  by  acting  as  a 
fulcrum,  upon  which  it  may  rest  in  its  endeavours  to 
proceed  fiirward,  and  not  slip  back  by  its  efibrts  for 
that  purpose. 

The  rooCfa  generally  continues  its  endeavours  to  open 
the  case  for  a  qnarter  of  an  hour :  after  which,  by  re- 
doubled effinrts,  it  enlarges  the  hde,  and  presses » for- 
ward until  it  arrives  at  the  edge,  where  it  makes  a  full 
stop^  lest  by -^idvancing  fiiKtor  it  should  fall  to  the 
^^und.  Alter  having  in  this  manner  reposed  itself' 
for  some  time,  it  begins  to  disengage  itself  entirely  j 
and  having  rested  lor  some  honrs  with  its  head  op- 
wards,  it  becomes  fit  for  action.  Mr  Marsham  says, 
that  it  generally  pushes  one-third  of  the  case  out  of 
the  hole  before  it  halts. 

The  body  of  the  caterpillar  is  divided  into  twelve 
rings,  marked  i,  2,  3,  &c.  as  represented  in  fig.  48, 
4^.  5^9  5^*  ^"^^  of  which  is  distmguishod  irom  that 
which  precedes,  and  that  which  follows,  by  a  kind  of 
neck  or  hidlow  ^  and,  by  formittg  boundaries  to  the 
rinfls,  we  make  twelve  other  divisions,  likewise  exnres- 

VoL.  XIV.  Part  I.  "^  \ 


sed  in  the  figures  j  but  to  the  first  of  these  the  word 
rmg  is  affixed,  and  to  tbe  second,  Mviabn*  To  facili- 
tate the  description  of  this  animal,  M.  Lyonet  supposed 
a  line  to  pass  down  throu£[h  tbe  middle  of  the  back, 
which  he  called  the.  superior  line,  because  it  marked 
the  most  elevated  part  of  the  baek  of  the  caterpillar} 
and  another,  passing  firom  the  head  down  the  belly  to 
the  tail,  ho  called  the  inferior  line. 

All  caterpillars  have  a  small  organ,  resembling  an 
elliptic  spot,  on  the  right  and  left  of  each  ring,  ex- 
cepting the  second,  third,  and  last  \  and  by  these  we 
are  furnished  with  a  further  subdivision  of  this  caterpilr 
lar,  vix.  by  lines  passing  through  the  spiracula,  the  one 
on  the  right  side,  the  other  on  the  left  of  the  caterpil- 
lar. These  low  lines,  which  divide  the  caterpillar 
longitudinally  into  four  equal  parts^  mark  each  the 
place  under  the  skin  which  is  occupied  by  a  consider- 
able viscus.  Under  tbe  superior  line  lies  the  heart,  or . 
rather  thread  of  hearts  v  over  the  inferior  line,  the  spi- . 
nal  marrow  ;  and  the  two  tracheal  arteries  follow  the 
course  of  the  lateral  lines.  At  equal  distances  from 
the  superior  and  two  lateral  Hues,  we  may  suppose 
four  intermediate  linesb  The  two  between  the  supe- 
rior and  lateral  lines  are' called  the  intermediate  supe- 
rior $  the  two  others  opposite  to  them,  and  between 
the  lateral  and  inferior  lines,  are  called  the  interme* 
diate  inferior. 

Fig.  48,  49.  show  the  muscles  of  the  caterpillar,  ar-  Fig-  48^ 
ranged  with  the  most  wonderful  symmetry  and  order,  *^^  49* 
especially  when  taken  off  by  equal  strata  on  both  sides, 
which  jexhibits  an  astonishing  and  exact  form  and  cor- 
respondence in  them.  The  figures  show  the  muscles 
of  two  different  caterpillars  <^iened  at  the  belly,  and 
supposed  to  be  joined  together  at  tbe  superior  lines. 
The  muscles  of  the  back  are  marked  by  capitals  \  the 
gastric  mOscles  by  Roman  letters  \  the  lateral  ones  by 
Greek  characters.  Those  marked  I  are  called,  by  M. 
Lyonet,  dividing  muscles,  on  account  of  their  situa- 
tion. 

The  caterpillar  was  prepared  for  dissection  by  being 
emptied,  and  the  muscles,  nerves,  &o«  freed  from  the 
fiu  in  the  manner  formerly  directed :  after  which  the 
following  observations  were  made. 

Tbe  muscle  A  iu  the  first  ring  is  double  ^  the  ante- 
rior one  being  thick  at  top,  and  being  apparently  di- 
vided into  different  musdes  on  tbe  upper  side,  but 
witboot  any  appearance  of  this  kind  on  the  under  side. 
One  insertion  is  at  the  dun  of  tlie  neck  towards  the 
head ;  the  other  is  a  little  above  ;  and  that  of  the  se- 
cond muscle  A  is  a  little  below  the  first  spiraculum, 
near  which  they  are  fixed  to  the  skin. 

The  muscle  marked  «  is  long  and  dender,  fixed  by 
its  anterior  extremity  under  the  gastric  nrascles  a  and 
&  of  the  first  ring,  to  the  cirdumfiex  scale  of  the  base 
of  tbe  lower  lip.  It  communicates  with  tbe  muscle 
r  of  the  second  ring,  after  having  passed  under  some 
of  the  arteries,  and  introduced  itself  below  the 
muscle  I. 

The  muscle  /S  is  so  tender,  that  it  is  scarcely  possible  • 
to  open  the  bdly  of  the  caterpillar  without  breaking 
it.  It  is  sometimes  double,  and  sometimes  triple.— 
Anteriwly  it  is  fixed  to  the  posterior  edge  of  the  side 
of  the  parietal  scale,  the  lower  fixture  being  at  the  mid- 
dle of  the  ring  near  the  inferior  line. 

There  are  three  muscles  marked  ( >  the  first  affixedi 

E  at 


.* 


MIC  [34 

at  one  extremity  near  the  lower  edge  of  the  upper 
part  of  the  parietal  scale  ;  the  other  end  divides  itself 
into  three  or  fonr  tails,  fixed  to  the  skin  of  the  cater- 
pillar sunder  the  moscle  }.  The  anterior  part  of  the 
second  is  fixed  near  the  first  ^  the  anterior  part  of  the 
third  a  little  under  the  first  and  second,  at  the  skin  of 
the  neck  under  the  mnscle  A.  These  two  last  passing 
over  the  cavity  of  the  first  pair  of  limhs,  are  fixed  by 
several  tails  to  the  edge  opposite  to  this  cavity.  In 
this  subject  there  are  two  muscles  marked  },  bnt  some- 
times there  is  only  one  anteriorly }  they  are  fixed  to 
the  lower  edge  of  the  parietal  scale,  the  other  ends  be- 
ing inserted  m  the  first  fold  of  the  skin  of  the  neck  on 
the  belly-side*  Fig.  50.  best  represents  the  muscles  /8 
amd  }  }  as  in  that  figure  they  do  not  appear  injured  by 
any  unnatural  connection. 

-  In  the  second  and  four  •  following  rings  we  dis- 
cern two  large  dorsal  muscles  A  and  B.  In  the  7th, 
5^  and  loth  rings  are  three,  A,  B,  and  C  ;  in 
the  nth  are  four,  A,  B,  C,  and  D ;  and  in  the  an- 
terior part  of  the  12th  ring  are  five.  A,  B,  C,  D, 
and  £.  All  these  ranges  of  muscles,  however,  as 
well  as  the  gastric  muscles  o,  &,  r,  </,  appear  at  first 
sight  onlv  as  a  single  muscle,  running  nearly  the  whole 
length  ot  the  caterpillar  $  but  when  this  is  detached 
fnm  the  animal,  it  is  found  to  consist  of  so  many  di- 
stinct muscles,  each  consisting  only  of  the  length  of 
one  of  the  rings,  their  extremities  being  fixed  to  the 
division  of  each  ring,  exceptinff  the  middle  muscle  0, 
which,  at  the  6th,  7th,  8th,  and  9th  rings,  has  its  in- 
sertions rather  beyond  the  division.  Each  row  of 
muscles  appears  as  one,  because  they  are  closely  con- 
nected at  top  by  some  of  the  fibres  which  pass  from  one 
ring  to  the  other. 

The  muscles  A,  which  are  1 2  in  number,  gradually 
diminish  in  breadth  to  the  lower  part  of  the  last  ring : 
at  the  8tb  and  three  following  divisions  they  communi- 
cate with  the  muscles  B,  and  at  the  nth  with  D.  In 
the  lower  part  of  the  last  ring,  A  is  much  broader  than 
it  was  in  the  preceding  ring  ^  one  extremity  of  it  is 
contracted,  and  communicates  with  B ;  the  lower  in- 
sertion being  at  the  membrane  I,  which  is  the  exterior 
skin  of  the  fecal  bag.  The  muscles  A  and  B,  on  the 
lower  part  of  the  last  ring,  cannot  be  seen  until  a 
large  muscle  is  removed,  which  on  one  side  is  fixed  to 
the  subdivision  of  the  ring,  and  on  the  other  to  the  fecal 

bag. 

The  right  muscles  B,  which  are  also  1 2  in  number, 
begin  at  the  second  ring,  and  grow  larger  from  thence 
to  the  seventh.  They  are  usually  narrower  firom  thence 
to  the  1 2th  ;  the  deficiency  in  width  being  supplied  by 
the  six  muscles  C,  which  accompany  it  from  the  7th  to 
the  subdivision  of  the  1 2th  ring.  The  muscles  B  and  C 
communicate  laterally  with  the  8th,  iith,  and  12th  di- 
visions. C  is  wanting  at  the  subdivision  of  the  12th  ; 
its  place  being  here  supplied  by  B,  which  becomes 
broader  at  this  part. 

The  first  of  the  three  floating^uscles  V  originates 
at  the  first  ring,  from  whence  itWroduces  itself  under 
N,  where  it  is  fixed,  and  then  subdivides,  and  hides  it- 
self under  other  parts.  The  second  begins  at  the  second 
division,  being  fixed  to  the  anterior  extremity  B  of  the 
second  ring  j  from  thence  directing  itself  towards  the 
stomach  $  and,  after  communicating  with  the  case  of 
the  corpus  crassumf  it  divides,  and  spreads  into  eight 


3 


MIC 


muscles  which  run  along  the  bellyk  The  third  begins 
at  the  third  division,  originating  partly  at  the  skin,  and 
partly  at  the  junction  of  the  muscles  B  of  the  second 
and  third  ring.  It  directs  itself  obliquely  towards  the 
belly,  meeting  it  near  the  third  spiraculum  ^  and  branch- 
ing from  thence,  it  forms  the  oblique  muscles  of  some 
of  the  viscera. 

The  thin  long  moscle  I,  which  is  at  the  subdivision 
of  the  last  ring,  and  covers  the  anterior  insertion  of  the 
muscle  (a)  where  the  ring  terminates,  is  single.  It  be* 
gins  at  one  extremity  of  the  muscle  {c)  ;  at  the  fore 
part  of  the  ring  runs  along  the  subdivision  round  the 
belly  of  the  caterpillar,  and  finishes,  on  the  other  side, 
at  the  extremity  of  a  similar  muscle  C. 

Fig.  49.  shows  the  dorsal  muscles  of  the  cossns.  To 
view  which  in  an  advantageous  manner^  we  must  nse 
the  following  mode  of  preparation. 

1.  All  the  dorsal  muscles,  35  in  number,  must  be 
taken  out,  as  well  as  the  seven  lata*al  ones  already  de« 
scribed* 

2.  All  the  straight  muscles  of  the  belly  must  be  taken 
away,  as  well  as  the  muscular  roots  (c),  and  the  ends 
of  the  gastric  muscles  (r),  which  are  at  the  third  and 
fourth  divisions. 

3.  At  the  second  division  the  muscle  I  must  be  re- 
moved \  only  the  extremities  being  left  to  show  where 
it  was  inserted. 

The  parts  being  thus  prepared,  we  begin  at  the  third 
ring  \  where  there  are  found  four  dorsal  muscles  C,  D, 
£,  and  F.  llie  first  one  C,  is  inserted  at  the  third  di- 
vision,' under  the  muscles  I  and  «,  where  it  communi- 
cates by  means  of  some  fibres  with  the  muscle^  of  the 
second  ring  \  proceeding  from  thence  obliquely  towards 
the  intermediate  superior  line,  and  is  fixed  at  the  fourth 
division.  As  soon  as  C  is  retrenched,  the  muscle-D  is 
seen  \  which  grows  wider  from  the  anterior  extremity : 
it  lies  in  a  contrary  direction  to  the  muscle  C,  and  is 
inserted  into  the  third  and  fourth  divisions.  The  mnscle 
£  lies  in  the  same  direction  as  the  middle  C,  but  not  so 
obliquely :  the  lower  insertion  is  at  the  fourth  division ; 
the  other  at  the  third,  immediately  under  C.  The 
muAcle  F  is  neariy  parallel  to  D  which  joins  it ;  the 
first  insertion  is  visible,  but  the  other  is  hid  under  the 
muscles  £  and  G  at  the  fourth  division. 

In  the  eight  following  rings,  there  are  only  two  dor- 
sal muscles  \  and  of  these  D  is  the  only  one  that  is  com- 
pletely seen.  It  is  very  large,  and  diminishes  gradually 
in  breadth  from  one  ring  to  the  other,  till  it  comes  to 
the  last,  sending  off  branches  in  some  places.— £  is 
one  of  the  strait  muscles  of  the  back  \  and  is  inserted 
under  the  dividing  muscles  I,  at  the  divisions  of  its  own 
ring. 

On  the  anterior  part  of  the  12th  ring  there  are  three 
dorsal  muscles,  D,  £,  and  F.  D  is  similar  to  that  of 
the  preceding  ring,  marked  also  D,  only  that  it  is  no 
more  than  half  the  length  \  terminating  at  the  subdivi- 
sion of  its  own  ring.  £  is  of  the  same  length,  and 
differs  from  the  muscle  £  of  the  preceding  ring  only 
in  its  direction.  F  is  parallel  to  £,  and  shorter  than 
it  \  its  anterior  end  does  not  reach  the  twelfth  divi- 


sion. 


On  the  posterior  part  there  is  only  one  dorsa) 
muscle,  fastened  by  some  short  ones  to  the  sobdivi- 
sien  of  the  last  ring,  traversing  the  muscles  « ;  and  be- 
ing fixed  there  as  ijf  designed  to  strengthen  them^  anil 

to 


MIC 


t    35    1 


M    I    C 


to  Vsry  their  directioii.«-«  Is  a  ungle  tnasele,  of  which 
the  Eotftrior  iasertioo  ia  visible,,  the  other  end  being 
fixed  Jto  the  bottom  of  the  foot  of  tlie  last  leg  j  its 
use  is  te  move  the  foot*  The  anterior  part  of  the 
mascle  /9  branches  into  three  or  Ibnr  heads,  whieh 
«nM8  the  sojperior  line  obliquely,  and  are  fixed  to  the 
skin  a  litUe  above  it*  Tbe  other  end  is  fiutened  to  the 
membrane  T. 
ri^  50. 51.  Eig.  50%  and  51*  shoir  the  muBcl(>s  of  the  oaterpillar 
iBvhrn  it  is  opened  at  the  back.  The  preparation  for 
this  view  is  to  disengage  the  fat  and  odier  extraneous 
matter,  as  .before  directed. 

The  first  ring  has  only  two  gastric  mosdes  (c)  and 
-{d)  :  tbe  former  is  broad,  and  has  three  or  four  little 
tails  :  ihe  first  fixture  is  at  the  base  of  the  lower  lip, 
from  whence  it  descends  obliqnelr,  and  is  fixed  be- 
tween tbe  inferior  and  lateral  line.  The  small  muscle 
(^)  is  fitftened  on  one  side  to  the  first  spiraculnm ;  on 
4he  otheri  a  iittle  lower,  lo  the  intermediate  inferior 
and  lateral  line }  and  seems  .to  be  an  antasonist  to  the 
muscle  P,  which  opens  the  spiracola.  The  posterior 
£adtare  of  )  is  under  the  muscle  C,  near  tbe  skin  of  tbe 
neck ;  il  is  fixed  a  little  on  the  other  side  of  C,  at  the 
middle  of  the  ring. 

In  the  second -ring  tbcR  are  three  gastric  muscles, 
g:,  A,  and  i:  g  and  n  are  fixed  at  the  folds  which  termi- 
nate the  ring:)  imt  only  tbe  anterior  part  of  i  is  fixed 
-there.  The  muscle  h  is  triple,  and  in  one  of«the  divi- 
sions separated  Into  two  parts  \  ibat  marked  f  comes 
-nearer  the  inferior  line,  and  is  fixed  a  Httle  beyond  tbe 
middle  of  the  ring,  where  the^sorresponding  muscle  of 
the  opposite -side  is  forked  to  receive  it. 

In  the 'third  ring,  the  nrasple  A,  which  was  triple  in 
the  foregoing  ring,  Is  only  doable  here,  that  part  which 
is  nearest  the  inferior  line  being  broadest :  it  has  three 
rtaih,  of  which  only  two  are  visible  in  tbe  figure.  It  is 
exactly  similar  to  ihat  of  the  preceding  ring  \  and  is 
crossed  in  the  same  manner  by  the  mn&cle  firom  the  op- 
>posite  side  of  the  ring 


part  has  a  larger  muscle  marked  c,  with  several  di\  U     Micros 
one  placed  under  6,  with  one  extremity  fixed     scope. 


sions 


near  ihe  lateral  line,  at  the  subdivision  of  its  ring  \  ^'^''V 
the  other  to  the  fecal   bag,   a  little  lower  than  the 
mascle  b. 

In  fig*  51.  all  the  gastric  muscles  described  in  fig. 
5^.  disappear,  as  well  as  those  lateral  and  dorsal 
ones  of  which  tbe  letters  are  not  to  be  fimnd  b  this 
figure. 

In  the  fir^t  ring  are  the  gastric  mnscles,  r,  f^  g^ 
which  are  best  seen  here  :  the  first  is  narrow  and  long, 
passing  under  and  crossingy*:  one  of  its  insertions  is  at 
tbe  lower  line,  the  other  at  the  lateral,  between  the  spi- 
raculum  and  neck  ifiB  short,  broad, andnearly  straight, 
placed  along  the  intermediate  line  ^  but  between  it  and 
the  lateral  it  passes  under  ^,  and  is  fixed  to  the  fold  of 
tlie  skin  which  goes  from  tbe  one  bag  to  the  other  \  the 
lower  insertion  is  near  the  second  division.  There  ace 
sometimes  three  muscles  of  those  marked  g,  and  som^ 
times  .four :  the  lower  parts  of  them  are  fixed  about  the 
middle  of  tbe  ring,  and  the  anterior  parts  at  the  fold 
of  the  skin  near  the  neck.  The  mosdes  t  and  h  are 
fixed  to  the  same  Ibid  \  the  other  end  of  h  being  fixed 
under  the  muscle  H,  near  4he  spiracttlum*  Above  the 
upper  end  of  y|  a  muscular  body,  g^  may  be  seen.  It 
is  formed  by  the  separation  of  two  floating  muscles. 

The  second  ring  has  six  gastric  muscles,  A:,  /,  m,  n, 
'O,  p.  The  first  is  a  large  oblique  muscle,  with  three  or 
four  divisions  placed  at  the  anterior  part  of  the  ring  : 
the  head  is  fixed  between  the  inferior  line  and  its  intei^ 
mediate  one,  at  -the  fold  of  the  second  division  ;  frpm 
whence  it  crosses  ^  inferior  line  and  its  corresponding 
muscle,  terminating  to  the  right  and  left  of  the  line. 
I  is  a  narrow  muscle,  whose  head  is  fixed  to  the  fold  of 
the  second  division-^  the  tail  tif ,it  lying  under  n,  and 
fastened  to  the  edge  of  the  skin  that-fwrns  the  cavity 
'for  the  leg.  The  two  muscles  marked  m  have  the  satpo 
obliquity,  and  are  placed  the  one  on  the  other}  tbe 
bead  is  inserted  in  the  skin  under  the  muscle  /8,  an^ 


Thiwighout  the  eight  fiillowing  rings, 'the  muscle  y   •communicates  by  a  nomber  of -fibres  with  the  tail  of 


whidi  runs  through  them  all  is  very  broad  and  strong. 
The  anterior  part  of  it  is  fixed  at  the  intermediate  in- 
ferior line,  on  the  fold  of  the  first  division  of  the  ring : 
>the  other  part  is  fixed  beyond -the  lower  division  \  with 
this  difierence,  that  at  thc'ioth  and^ith  rings  it  iB^fi»- 
-«d  at  the  last  fi>ld  of  'nts  ring ;  whereas,  in  the  others  it 
passes  over  that  ring,  and  is  inserted  into  the  skin  of 
the  following  onob    In  all  these,  the  -first  extremity  of 
the  mosde  g  is  fastened  to  the  fold  which  separates  the 
Ting  ficom-the  preceding  one,  and  is  parallel  to  f,  and 
placed  at  the  side  of  it.    The  first  six  mnocles  marked  g*, 
•are  fi»rked  ;  that  of  the  fourth  ring  being  more  so  than 
tbe  rest,  nor  does  it  unite  till  near  its  anterior  insertion. 
The  longest   tail   lays  bold  of  the  following,   and   is 
inserted  near  the  inferior  line^  the  other  inserts  itself 
the  same  line,  at  about  tbe  middle  of  its  own 


near 


•ring  J  the  two  last  do  not  ^'branch  out;  but  termi- 
■oate  at  tbe  divisions,  withoot  reaching  the  following 
zbg.  The  mnscle  A,  placed  at  the  side  of  f,  'has 
iiemrlj  the  same  Erection,  and  •finishes  at  the  Adds  of 
thermg. 

Tbe  anterior  part  of  the  rith  ring  has  only  one  gas- 
tric muscle,  marked  e:  it  is  placed  on  the  intermedmte 
inferior  line  \  and  is  inserted-  at  the  fiilds  of  tbe  upper 
division,  and  at  the  sabdivision  of  this  ring.  The  lower 


the  muscle  v'rthe'Other  end  is  fixed  to  the  intermediate 
•inferior  line  at  the  f»ld-of  the  third  dirision.  The  laige 
•and  broad  muscle  ^,  covers  the  lower  edge  of  tb^  cavi* 
ty  of  the  limb,  and  the  extremity  of -the  tail  of  A  It 
is  fixed  first  at  •the  ektn,  near  tne  intermediate  lin^ 
'iirom  whence  it  goes  in  a  perpendicular  direction  to- 
wards m,  and  introduOies  itself  under  0  and  in,  where  it 
is  fixed.  The  musde  o  is  narrow  and  bent,  and  covesa 
tbe  edge  of  the  cavity  of  the  leg  for  a  little  way  ;  one 
end  terminating- there,  and  the  other  finishing  at  tbe 
■third  division  near  m.  Tliat-marked  p  is  also  bent :  it 
.runs  near  the  anterior  edge  of  the  cavity  of  the  leg  \ 
«ne  end  meets  the  head  of  0,  tbe  other  end-terminates 
at  a  raised  fold  near  the  inferior  line.  There  is  a  trian- 
gular muscle  on  the  side  of  the  lateral  mascle  0,  similar 
-to  that  marked  g  in  the  following  ring  \  in  this  figure 
it  is  entirely  concealed  by -the  mnscle  m. 

The  third  ring  has  no  muscle  similar  to  tn  ;  that 
marked  k  dtfiers  only  firom  that  of  the  second  ring 
in  being  crossed  by  the  opposite  muscle.  Those  mark- 
ed /^  n,  0,  p,  are  similar- to  those  of  the  preceding  one. 
The  mnscle  ^  is  triangular ;  the'base  is  fastened  to  the 
last  fold  of  tbe  ring^  on- the  lower  side  it  is  fixed  to 
the  mnscle  0,  the  top  to  the  skin  at  the  edge  of  the  ca- 
vity for  the  leg. 

E2  The 


MIC 


[    36    3 


M    I    C 


The  eigbt  following  rings  have  the  gastric  moflcles, 
fy  ky  l^  and  m.  The  muscle  f  is  quite  straight,  and 
placed  at  some  distance  from  the  inferior  line :  it  is 
broad  at  the  fourth  ring,  but  diminishes  gradually  in 
breadth,  to  the  nth.  In  the  fourth  it  is  united  >  bot 
divides  into  two  heads,  which  divaricate  ia  the  follow- 
ing rings.  In  the  six  next  rings  these  beads  are  fixed 
nearly  at  the  same  place  with  a  andyV  and  in  die  other 
two  it  terminates  at  the  fold  of  the  ring.  The  anterior 
insertion  of  the  first  and  last  is  at  the  fold  where  tlie 
riuff  begins ;  that  of  the  six  others  is  somewhat  lower 
under  the  place  where  the  muscle  i  teroiinates.  The 
lower  part  of  tl*e  oblique  muscle  k  is  inserted  in  the  skin 
near  i ;  the  upper  part  at  tlie  intermediate  inferior 
muscle  upon  the  fold  which  separates  the  followiiM; 
ring,  but  is  wanting  in  the  nth.  The  muscle  /  is 
large,  and  co-operates  with  M:  in  the  opening  and 
shutting  the  spiraculum,  one  of  its  fixtures  is  near  the 
intermediate  inferior  line,  .at  about  the  same  height  as 
f.  The  tail  terminates  a  little  below  the  spiracu- 
lum. 

The  twelfth  ring  has  only  the  single  gastric  muscle 
</,  which  is  a  bundle  of  six,  seven,  or  eight  muscles  : 
the  first  fixture  of  these  \m  at  the  subdivision  of  the  ring 
near  the  inferior  line :  one  or  two  cross  this,  and  at  the 
same  time  the  similar  muscles  of  the  opposite  side. 
Their  fixture  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  foot^  and  their 
office  is  to  assist  the  muscle  a  in  bringing  back  the  loot, 
and  to  loosen  the  claw  from  what  it  lays  hold  of.  One 
of  the  insertions  of  this  muscle  a  is  observed  in  this 
figure  near  d^  the  other  near  the  subdivision  of  the 

^S  5V53  Fig.  52.  and  53.  show  the  organization  of  the  head 
of  the  Gossus,  though  in  a  very  imperfect  manner,  as 
M.  Lyonet  found  it  necessary  to  employ  twcntjf  figures 
to  explain  it  folly.  Tlie  head  is  represented  as  it  ap- 
pears when  separated  from  the  fat,  and  disengaged  from 
the  neck.  HH  are  the  two  palpL  The  truncated 
muscles  D  belong  to  the  lower  lip,  "and  assist  moving  it. 
K  shows  the  two  ganglions  of  the  necfc  united.  II  are 
the  two  vessels  which  assist  in  spinning  the  silk.  L,  the 
GBSOpbagus.  M,  the  two  dissolving  vessels.  The  He- 
brew diaracters  acaan  show  the  continoatioo  of  the  four 
cephalic  arteries.  In  %•  52.  tlie  ten  abductor  muscles 
of  the  jaw  are  represented  by  SS,  TT,  VV«  and  Z. 
Four  occipital  muscles  are  seen  in  fig.  53.  under  ee  and 
ff.  At  o  ^  is  represented  a  nerve  of  the  first  pair  be- 
longing to  the  ganglion  of  the  neck  ^  ^  is  a  branch  of 
this  nerve. 

Fig.  54.  exhibits  the  nerves  as  seen  from  the  under 
part ;  butexceptiog  in  two  or  three  nerves,  which  may 
he  easily  distinguished,  only  one  of  each  pair  is  drawn, 
in  order  to  avoid  confusion.  The  nerves  of  the  first 
ganglion  of  the  neck  are  marked  by  capital  letters, 
those  of  the  ganglion  (a)  of  the  head  by  AonHia  let- 
ters \  the  nerves  of  the  small  ganglion  by  Greek  cha- 
racters. Those  of  the  frontal  ganglion,  except  one,  by 
numbers. 

The  muscles  of  tlie  oossus  hwve  neither  the  colour 
par  ferm  of  those  of  larger  animals.  In  their  nata- 
ral  stale  they  are  soft,  and  of  ^be  consistence  of  a  jelly. 
Their  colour  is  a  grayish  blue,  which,  with  the  silver- 
coloured  appearance  of  the  pulmonary  vessels,  form  a 
glorious  spectacle.  After  the  caterpillar  has  been 
soaked  for  some  time  in  spirit  of  wine,  they  lose  their 


^i«-  54- 


elastidty  and  traneparency,  beeontng  fins,  apaqot, 
and  white,  and  tho  air-yessels  teUHy  disapyar,  TW^Jf^ 
Dumber  of  muscles  in  a  caterpillar  is  very  ICKat*  The 
greatest  part  of  the  head  »  compoeed  of  them,  attd 
there  is  a  vast  number  afaoat  the  cBsophagos,  aaCea- 
tines,  &c*  \  the  skin  is,  as  it  were,  lined  by  difierent 
beds  of  tbem,  placed  the  one  uader  tke  other,  and 
ranged  with  great  symmetry.  M.  Lyonet  has  bec& 
able  to  distinguish  238  in  the  head,  1647  ^^  ^^^ 
body,  and  2066  in  the  tnteetinal  tube,  auJung  ia  all 

3SHI- 

At  first  sight  the  muscles  might  he  taken  fiir  ten- 
dons, as  being  of  the  same  oolottr,  and  having  nearly 
the  same  lustre.  Tliey  are  generally  flat,  and  of-  an 
equal  size  throughout^  the  middle  seldom  differing 
either  in  colour  or  size  finom  either  of  the  extremities. 
If  they  are  separated,  however,  by^  means  of  very  fine 
needles,  ia  a  drop  of  some  fluid,  we  find  tbem  com- 
posed not  only  of  fibres,  membranes,  and  air-vesseb, 
but  likewise  of  nerves;  and,  from  the  drops  of  oil 
that  may  be  seen  floating  on  the  fluid,  they  appear  al- 
so to  be  furnished  with  many  uaduous  particles.  Their 
ends  are  fixed  to  the  skin,  but  tJie  rest  of  the  nrascle 
ia  generally  free  and  floating.  Several  of  them  branch 
out  considerably  \  and  the  branches  sonsetimes  extend 
so  far,  that  it  is  not  jpasy  to  discover  whether  they 
are  distinct  and  separate  nmscles  or  parts  of  another. 
They  are  moderately  strong;  and  those  which  have 
been  soaked  in  spirit  of  wine,  when  examined  by  the 
microscope,  are  found  to  be  covered  with  a  membraoe 
which  may  be  separated  firom  them  ;  and  they  appear 
then  to  consist  of  several  parallel  bands  lying  longi- 
tudinally along  the  muscle,  which,  when  divided  by 
means  of  fine  needles,  appear  to  be  composed  of  still 
smaller  bundles  of  fibres  lying  in  the  same  direction ; 
which,  when  examined  by  a  powerful  magnifier,  and 
in  a  favonrable  light,  appear  twisted  like  a  small  cord. 
The  muscular  fifaies  of  the  spider,  which  are  moeb  lar- 
ger than  those  of  the  caterpillar,  consist  of  two  diflerent 
substances,  one  soft  and  tbe  other  hard ;  the  latter  be- 
ing twisted  round  the  fonncr  ^irally,  and  thus  giving 
it  the  twisted  appearance  just  mentioned. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  caterpillar  similar  to  the 
brain  in  man.  We  find  indeed  ia  the  head  of  this 
insect  a  part  from  which  all  the  nerves  seem  to  pro- 
ceed ;  but  this  part  0  entirely  unprotected,  and  so 
small,  that  it  does  not  occupy  one-fifUi  part  of  the 
head;  the  surface  is  smooth,  and  has  neither  lobes 
nor  any  aufractuosity  like  the  human  brain.  But  if 
we  call  this  a  brain  in  the  caterpillar,  we  must  say 
that  it  has  thirteen:  fer  there  are  twelve  other  socn 
parts  following  each  other  in  a  straight  line,  all  ef 
them  of  the  same  substance  with  that  ia  the  head,  and 
nearly  of  the  same  size ;  and  from  them,  as  well  as 
from  that  in  the  head,  the  nerves  are  distributed  throogh 
the  body. 

The  spinal  marrow  in  the  eossns  goes  along  the 
belly ;  is  very  small,  forking  out  at  intervals,  nearly 
of  the  same  thickness  throughout,  except  at  the  gan- 
glions, and  is  not  enclosed  in  any  case.  It  as  by  no 
means  so  tender  as  in  man ;  but  has  a  great  degree 
of  tenacity,  and  does  not  break  withont  a  consider- 
able deirree  of  tension.  The  substance  of  the  gan- 
glion differs  from  that  of  the  spinal  marrow,  as  no 
iwssds  can.  be  discovered  in  the  latter;  but  the  ibfw 


MIC 


t    37    ] 


MIC 


foil  of  Tciy  delicate  ofoes.  There  are  ^4 
principal  nerreSy  which  diTide  into  iaomerable  nuiii£« 
catioiie. 

The  009809  has  two  large  tracheal  arteries,  creepii^ 
Bn^r  the  skin  dose  to  the  spiracnla :  one  at  the  right 


•and  the  other  at  the  left  side  of  the  insect,  each  of    a  roilk-white  coloor. 


fenns  a  kind  of  sheath  wfaieh  envelopes  and  cown  all 
the  entrails,  and,  introducing  itself  into  the  bead,  enters 
all  the  muscles  of  the  bodj,  filling  the  greatest  part  of 
the  empty  spaces  in  the  caterpilliur.  It  very  much  re- 
sembles the  confignratjon  of  the  bamaa  brain,  and  is  of 


them  communicating  with  the  air  fay  means  of  nine 
spiracnla.  Tbey  are  neariy  as  long  as  the  whole  ca- 
terpillar; beginning  at  the  first  spiraculnm,  and  ex- 
tending somewhat  farther  than  the  last ;  some  branches 
abo  extending  quite  to  the  extremity  of  the  body. 
Konnd  each  spiraculum  the  trachea  poshes  forth  a 
great  number  of  branches,  which  are  again  divided 
into  smaller  ones,  and  these  further  sobdirided  and 
spread  through  the  whole  body  of  the  caterpillar.  The 
tracheal  artery,  with  all  its  nnmerona  ramifications,  are 
open  elastic  vessels,  which  may  be  pressed  close  toge- 
ther, or  drawn  out  considerably,  but  return  imme- 
diately to  their  nsnal  size  when  the  tension  ceases. 
Tbey  are  naturally  of  a  silver  cohnir,  and  make  a 
beautiful  appearance.  This  vessel,  with  its  principal 
branches,  is  composed  of  three  coats,  which  may  be 
separated  from  one  another.  The  outmost  is  a  thick 
membrane  furnished  with  a  great  variety  of  fibres, 
which  describe  a  vast  number  of  circles  ronnd  it,  com- 
municating with  each  other  by  numerous  shoots.  The 
second  is  very  thin  and  transparent,  without  any  par> 
ticnlsT  vessel  being  distingnisbable  in  it.  The  third  is 
composed  of  scaly  threads,  generally  of  a  spiral  form  ; 
and  so  near  each  other  as  scarcely  to  leave  any  inter- 
val. They  are  curiously  united  with  the  membrane 
which  occupies  the  intervals  'y  and  form  a  tube  which 
is  always  open,  notwithstanding  the  flexure  of  the  veo- 
sel.  There  are  also  many  other  peculiarities  in  its  struc- 
tnre.  The  principal  tracheal  vessels  divide  into  1326 
different  branches. 

The  heart  of  the  cossus  is  very  different  from  that  of 
larger  animals,  being  almost  as  long  as  the  i|nimal  it- 
self. It  lies  immediately  under  the  skin  at  the  top  of 
the  back,  entering  the  head,  and  terminating  near  the 
mouth.  Towards  the  last  rings  of  the  body  it  is  large 
and  capacious,  diminishing  very  much  as  it  approaches 
the  head,  frinn  the  fiiurtfa  to  the  twelfth  division.  On 
both  sides,  at  each  division,  it  has  an  appendage,  which 
partly  covers  the  muscles  of  the  bade,  but  which, 
growing  narrower  as  it  approaches  the  lateral  line,  it 
forms  a  number  of  irregular  lozenge-sfaaped  bodies.— 
This  tube,  however,  seems  to  perform  none  of  the  func- 
tions of  the  heart  in  larger  animals,  as  we  find  no  ves- 
sel opening  into  it  which  answers  either  to  the  aorta  or 
vena  cava.  It  is  called  the  heart,  because  it  is  general- 
ly filled  with  a  kind  of  lymph,  which  naturalists  have 
supposed  to  be  the  blood  of  the  caterpillar;  and  because 
in  all  caterpillars  wliich  have  a  transparent  skin,  we  may 
perceive  alternate  regular  contractions  and  dilatations 
along  the  superior  line,  beginning  at  the  eleventh  ring, 
and  proceeding  from  ring  to  ring,  fi*om  the  fourth; 
whence  this  vessel  -is  thought  to  be  a  string  or  row  of 
hearts.  There  are  two  white  oblong  bodies  which  join 
the  heart  near  the  eighth  division  ;  and  these  have  been 
oalled  renifomt  bodies,  from  their  having  somewhat  of 
the  shape  of  a  kidney. 

The  most  considerable  part  of  the  whole  caterpillar 
with  regard  to  bulk  is  the  corpus  crassum.  It  is  the 
ftrst  and  only  substance  ^t  is  seen  on  opening  it.    It 


The  oeso^hagna  descends  from  the  bottom  of  tba 
mouth  to  about  the  fourth  division.  The  fore  part, 
whioh  is  in  the  head,  is  fleshy,  narrow,  and  fixed  by 
different  muscles  to  the  crostaceous  parts  of  it  ^  the 
lower  part,  which  passes  into  the  body,  is  wider,  and 
forms  a  kind  of  membranaceous  bag,  covered  witli 
very  small  muscles ;  near  the  stomach  it  is  narrower, 
ancf,  as  it  were,  confined  by  a  strong  nerve  fixed  to  it 
at  distant  intervals.  The  ventricle  begins  a  little  above 
the  fourth  division,  where  the  oesophagus  ends,  and 
finishes  at  the  tenth.  It  is  about  seven  times  as  long 
as  broad ;  and  the  anterior  part,  which  is  broadest,  is  ge- 
nerally folded.  These  folds  diminish  with  the  bulk  as 
it  approaches  the  intestines ;  the  surface  is  covered  with 
a  great  number  of  aerial  vessels,  and  opens  into  a  tube, 
which  M.  Lyonet  calls  the  large  intestine.— There  are 
three  of  these  large  tubes,  each  of  which  differs  so  much 
from  the  rest,  as  to  require  a  particular  name  to  distin- 
goisb  it  from  them. 

The  two  vessels  from  which  the  cossus  spins  its  rilk 
are  often  above  three  inches  long,  and  are  distinguished  . 
into  three  parts  ;  the  anterior,  intermediate,  and  poste- 
rior. It  has  likewise  two  other  vessels,  which  are  sup- 
posed to  prepare  and  contaip  the  liquor  for  dissolving 
the  wood  on  which  it  feeds. 

Fig.  ^^.  shows  the  wing  of  an  earwig  magnified ;  piaie 
a  represents  it  of  the  natural  size.  The  wings  of  this  CCCXUV. 
insect  are  so  artificially  folded  up  under  short  cases,  ^C^  55* 
that  few  people  imagine  they  have  any.  Indeed,  they 
very  rarely  make  use  of  their  wings.  The  cases  under 
which  they  are  concealed  are  not  more  than  a  sixth  part 
of  the  size  of  one  wing,  though  a  smaH  part  of  the 
wing  may  be  discovered,  on  a  careful  inspection,  pro- 
jecting from  under  them.  The  upper  part  of  the  wing 
is  crustaceons  and  opaque,  but  the  under  part  is  beau- 
tifully transparent.  In  putting  up  their  wings,  they 
first  fold  back  the  parts  AB,  and  tftien  shut  up  the 
ribs  like  a  fan;  the  strong  muscles  used  for  this  purpose 
being  seen  at  the  upper  part  of  the  figure.  Some  of 
the  ribs  are  extended  from  -the  eentre  to  the  outer  edge; 
others  only  from  the  edge  about  half  way :  but  they 
are  aH  united  by  a  kind  of  band,  at  a  small  but  equal 
distance  from  the  edge  ;  the  whde  evidently  contrived 
to  strengthen  the  wing,  and  facilitate  its  various  mo- 
tions. The  insect  itself  dMfers  very  little  in  appearance 
in  its  three  difierent  states.  De  Geer  asserts,  that  the 
female  batches  e^gs  like  a  hen,  and  hvoods  over  her 
yonng  ones  as  a  hen  does. 

Fig.  S^'  represents  a  wing  of  the'  fiemer^ius  prrh  Fig.  55, 
magnified.  It  is  an  insect  which  seldom  livtes  more 
than  two  or  three  days. — ^The  wings  are  nearly  ^rf  a 
length,  and  exactly  similar  to  one  another.  They  are 
composed  of  fine  delicate  nerves,  regularly  and  elegant- 
ly disposed  as  in  Ae  figure,  beautifuHy  adorned  with 
hairs,  and  lightly  tinged  with  green.  Ttie  body  is  of  a 
fine  green  colour ;  and  its  eyes  appear  like  two  bur- 
nished beads  of  gold,  whence  it  has  obtained  the  name 
of  gokkn  eye.  This  insect  lays  its  eggs  on  the  leaves 
of  the  plum  or  the  tosc  tree ;  the  eggs  are  of  a  white 

colour, 


MIC 


C   38   ] 


MID 


Micro- 
scope. 


*'ig-  57- 


Tig.  58. 


^   Plate 
CCCXLV. 

%.  60. 


colonr,  and  each  of  tfaem  fixed  to  a  little  pedicle  or 
foot-stalk,  by  which  means  thejr  stand  off  a  little  from 
the  leafy  appearing  like  the  fructification  of  some  of 
the  mosses.  The  larva  proceeding.'from  these  eggs  re- 
sembles that  of  the  coccinella  or  lady-cow,  but  is  much 
more  handsome.  Like  that,  it  feeds  upon  aphides  or 
fucerons,  sucking  their  bloody  and  forming  itself  a  case 
with  their  dried  bodies )..  in  which,  it  changes  into  the 
jrapa  state,  from  whence  they  afterwards  emerge  Jn  the 
form  .of  a  fly. 

fig.  £,  F,  J,  represent  the  dust  of  a  moth^s  .  wing 
magnified.  This  is  of  different  figures  in  different 
moths.  The  natural  size  of  these  small  plumes  is  re- 
presented at  JL  / 

Fig.  57.  shows  a  part  of  the  cornea  of  the .  libellula 

•magnified.     In  some  positions  of  the  light,  the  sides  xti 

.the  hexagons  appear  of  a  fine  gold  colour,  and  divided 

by  three  parallel  lines.     The  natural  size  of  the  part 

.magnified  is  shown  at  6* 

w  Fig.  58.  shows  the  part  c  of  a  lebster^s -cornea  nuig- 

nified. 

Fig.  59.  shows  one  of  the  arms  or  koms  of  thelepas 
anatlfera,  or  barnacle,  magnified }  its  natural- size  being 
represented  at  </.  Each  horn  consists  of  several  joints, 
and  each  joint  is  furnished  on  the  concave  side  of  the 
arm  with  long  hairs.  When  viewed  in  the  microscope, 
4he  arms  appear  rather  opaque  ',  but  they  may  be  ren* 
dered  transparent,  and  become  a  most  beautiful  objec<t, 
by  extracting  ont  of  the  interior  cavky  a  bundle  of 
iongitudinal  fibres,  which  runs,  the  whole  length  of  the 
arm.  Mr  Needham  thinks  that  the  motion  and  use  ^f 
these  arms  may  illustrate  the  nature  of  the  rotatory  mo- 
tion in  the  wheeUanimal.  >  In- the  midst  of  the  arms*  is 
an  hollow  trunk,  consisting  of  a/ jointed  hairy  tube, 
which  encloses  a  long  round  tongue  that  can  be  push- 
ed occasionally  out  of  the  tube  or  sheath,  and  retract- 
ed occasionally.  The  mouth  of  the  animal.  Consists  of 
six  laminae,  which  go  off  with  a  bend,  indented  like  « 
saw  on  the  convex  edge,  and  by  their  circular  dlsposi- 
lion  are  so  ranged,  that  the  teeth,  in  the  alternate  ele- 
vation and  depression- of  each  plate,. act  against  what- 
ever comes  between  them.  The  .plates  are  placed  to- 
gether in  such  a  manner,  that  to  the«  naked  eye  they 
form  an  aperture  not  much  unlike  the.  mouth  of  a  con- 
'tracted  ipurse. 

Fig*. 60. .shows  the  ai^arattts  of  the  tahanus  or  gad- 
fiy,  •  by  which  i|b  pierces  the;  skin  of  horses  and  oxen,  in 
order  to  sack  the  .blood*  The  whole  is  contained  in  a 
fleshy  case,  not  expressed  in  the. figure.  The  feelers  a  a 
are  of  a  spongytexture  and  gray  coloured,  covered  with 
short  hairs.  They  are  4inited  to  the  head  .by  a  small 
joint  of  the  same  substance.  They  defend  the  other 
parts  of  the  apparatus,  being  laid  upon  it  side  by  side 
whenever  the  animal  stings,  and  thus  preserve  it  finom 
external  injury.  The  wound  is  nuide  by  the  two  lan- 
cets b  b  and  0,  which  are  of  a  delicate  structure,  but 
very  sharp,  formed  like  the  dissecting  knife  of  an  ana- 
tomist, growing  gradually  thicker  to  the  back.-— <The 
two  instruments  c  c  and  C,  appear  as  if  intended  to  en* 
large  the  wound,  by  irritating  the  parts  round  it  >  'for 
which  they  are  jagged  or  toothed.  "They  may  also 
serve,  from  their  hard  and  homy  texture,  to  defend  the 
tube  e  £,  which  is  of  a  sofUr  nature,  and  tubtilar  to  ad- 
mit the  blood,  and  convey  it  to  the  stomach.  This  part 
is  totally  enclosed  in  a  line  d  D,  which  entirely  covers 

'  2 


•cope, 
Midu. 


it.  These  parts  are  drawn  separately  at  B,  C^  D,  £.  Micw. 
De  Geer  9b8erves,  that  only  the  females  suck  the  blood 
of  animals  \  and  Reaumur  informs  us,  that  having  made 
one,  that  had  sucked  its  fill,  disgorge  itself,  the  blood 
it  threw  up  appeared  to  him  to  be  more  than  the  whole 
body  of  the  insect  could  have  contained.  The  natural 
size  of  this  apparatus  is  shown  at^ 

Fig.ii.  shows  a  bit.  of  the  skin  of  a  lamp^fish  icy'tig,$u 
clopterus)  magnified.     When  a.  good  spedhnen  of  this 
can  be  procured,  it  forms  a  most  beautiful  object.    I1ie 
tubercles  ejihihlted  in .  the  figure  probably  secrete  an 
.unctu<Mi8  juice. 

.Fig,  62.  shows,  the  scale  jof  a  sea  perch  found  on  the  Fig.  tfi. 
£l9glish  coast  \  the  natural  size  is  exhibited  at  k. 

.  Fig*.  63.  the  scale  of  an  haddock  magnified  )  its  na-  pig.  tfj. 
tural  size  as  within  the  circle* 

Fig.  64.  the  scale  of  a  parrot  fish  from,  the  West  In-  pj^.  5.. 
dies  magnified  >  /  the  natural  size  of  it. 

.  Fig.  65.  the  scale  of  a.  kind  of  perch  in  the  West  In-  ^\^^  ^^ 
^ies  magnified  }  A:  the  natural  size  of  tlie  scale. 

Fig*  66.  part  of  the  skin  of  a  sole  £&h,  as  viewed  Fig.  6tf. 
through  an  opaque  miscroscope  \  the  magnified  part  in 
its  real  size,  shown  at  /. 

The  scales  0^  fishes  afford  a  great  variety  of  beauti- 
ful objects  for  the  microscope.  Some  are  long  >  others 
Tound,  square,  &c.  varying  eonsideTably  not  only  ia 
different  fishes,  but  even  in  different  parts  of  the  same 
fish.  Leeowenhoeck  supposed .  them  to  consist  ef  an 
infinite  number  of  small  scales  or  strata,  of  which  those 
next  to  the-  body  of  the  fish  are  .the  largest.  When 
viewed  by  the  microscope,  we  find  some  of  them  or- 
namented with  a  prodigious  number  of  .concentric  flu- 
tings,  too  near  each  other,  and  too  fine,  ta  be  easily 
enumerated.  These  flutangs  are  frequently  traversed  by 
others  diverging  from  the  centre^  of  the  scale,  and  ge- 
nerally proceeding  from  thence  in  a  straight  line  to  the 
tdrcumference« 

For  more  full  information-  concerning  these  and 
x>ther  microscopical  objects,  the  reader  may  consult 
Mr  Adamses  Essays  on  the  Mtcro^ope^  who  has  made 
the  most  valuable  collection  that  has  yet  appeared  on 
the  subject.  See  also  the  articles  Animaj^cule,  Cry- 
stallization, Polype,  Plants,  and  Wood,  in  the 
present  work. 

MIDAS,  in  fabulous  history, .  a  famous  king  of 
t^hrygia, .  who  having  received  Bacchus  with  great 
magnificence,  that  god,  out  of  gratitude,  offered  to 
grant  him  whatever  he  should  ask.  Midas  desired  that 
eveiy  thing  he  touched  should  be  changed  into  gold* 
Bacchus  consented  ^  and  Midas,  with  extreme  pleasure* 
everywhere  found  the  effects  of  his  touch.  But  he  had 
soon  reason  to  repent  of  his  folly  :  for  wanting  to  eat 
and  drink,  the  aliments  no  sooner  entered  his  mouth 
than  they  were  changed  into  .gold.  This  obliged  him  to 
have  recourse  to  Bacchus  again,  to  beseech  him  to  re- 
store him  to  his  former  state ;  on  which  the  god  ordered 
him  to  bathe  in  the  river  Pactolus,  which  from  thence- 
forward had  golden  sands.  Some  lime  af^r,  being 
chosen  judge  between  Pan  and  Apollo,  he  gave  an- 
other instance  of  his  folly  and  bad  taste,  in  .preferring 
Panes'  music  to  Apollo^s  ^  on  ^which  the  latter  being 
enraged,  gave  him  a  pair  of  asses  ears.  This  Midas 
attempted  to  conceal  from  the  knowledge  of  his  sub- 
jects :  hut  one  of  his  servants  saw  the  length  of  his  ears, 
and  being  unable  to  keep  the  secret,  jet  afraid  to  re- 
veal 


Microscope 


>  MllhAihlliMAtkUllilL^^iiT^^ 
f  ,HI)flll!l||ll||PHHl!  a)]  ] ' 


EU, /.*.//  ,,,,/p  • 


MICROSCOPE. 

F^9 


PLATE  cccxxxvni. 


MICROSCOPE.  PLATE  CrCXXXlX. 


sncRoscoPE. 


pi^rrji  cccxL. 


MICROSCOPE. 


PLATE  COJU. 


MICROSCOPIC  oamcrs.  J'ZATE  CCCAZ,n. 


J^.M.  Jfy.JX. 


MICROSCOPIC  OBJECTS.         PLATE CCCXLUI. 


MICROSCOPIC 


rL.\TE  cccxi.i\: 


MICROSCOPIC. 

OBJSCTS. 


PLATE  CCCXLV. 


Ttgti. 


Fig.  64. 


^'\ 


MID 


C     39     1 


MID 


1 


» 
1 


Mldai  veal  it  from  apprehension  of  the  king^s  resentment,  he 
^  n  opened  a  bole  in  the  earth,  and  afler  he  had  whispered 
*j™^'  there  that  Midas  had  the  ears  of  an  ass,  he  covered  thd 
^^'  .  place  as  before,  as  if  he  had  bnried  bis  words  in  the 
ground.  On  that  place,  as  the  poets  mention,  mw  a 
number  of  reeds,  which  when  agitated  by  the  wmd  ut- 
tered the  same  sound  that  had  been  buried  beneath,  and 
published  to  the  world  that  Midas  hfld  the  ears  of  an 
ass.  Some  explain  the  fable  of  the  eais  of  Midas,  by 
tlie  supposition  that  he  kept  a  number  of  informers  and 
spies,  who  were  continually  employed  in  gathering 
every  seditious  word  that  might  drop  from  the  mouths 
of  his  subjects.  Midas,  according  to  Strabo,  died  of 
drinking  bolPs  hot  blood.  This  be  did,  as  Plutarch 
mentions^  to  free  himself  from  the  numerous  ill  dreams 
which  continually  tormented  him.  Midas,  according 
to  some,  was  son  of  Cybele.  He  built  a  town  which  he 
called  Ancyrtr, 

Midas,  Ear-skeU.  See  Haliotis,  ConchologY 
Index, 

MID-HEAV£K,  the  point  of  the  ecliptic  that  culmt-* 
nates,  or  in  which  it  cuts  the  meridian. 

MIDDLEBURG,  one  of  the  Friendly  islands  in 
the  South  sea.  The  island  was  first  discorered  by 
Tasman,  a  Dutch  navigator,  in  January  1642^3^  and 
is  called  by  the  natives  Ea-OtMvhe  r  it  is  about  16 
miles  from  north  to  south,  and  in  the  widest  part  about 
8  miles  from  east  to  west.  The  skirts  are  chiefly  laid 
out  in  plantations,  the  sontb-west  and  north-west  sides 
es]^ially.  The  interior  parts  are  but  little  cultiva- 
ted, though  very  capable  of  it :  but  this  neglect  adds 
greatly  to  the  beauty  of  the  island ;  for  here  are  agree- 
ably dispersed  groVes  of  cocoa-nuts  and  other  trees, 
lawns  covered  with  thick  grass,  here  and  there  planta- 
tions and  paths  leading  to  every  part  of  the  island,  in 
such  beautiful  disorder,  as  greatly  to  enliven  the  pro* 
spect.  The  hills  are  low  ;  the  air  is  delightful  j  but 
unfortunately  water  is  denied  to  this  charming  spot. 
Tarns,  with  other  roots,  bananas,  and  bread  fruit,  are 
tbe  principal  articles  of  food  j  but  the  latter  appeared 
to  be  scarce.  Here  is  the  pepper-tree,  or  ava  ava^ 
with  which  they  make  an  intoxicating  liquor,  in  the 
same  disgusting  manner  as  is  practised  in  the  Society 
islands.  Here  are  several  odoriferous  trees  and  shrubs, 
particularly  a  species  of  the  lemon  tribe  \  and  the  bo- 
tanical gentlemen  met  with  various  new  species  of  plants. 
Here  also  are  a  few  hogs  and  fowls. 

There  are  no  towns  or  villages  \  most  of  the  houses 
are  built  in  plantations,  which  are  laid  out  in  diflPerent 
parts,  with  no  other  order  than  what  convenience  re- 
quires. They  are  neatly  constructed,  but  •  are'  less 
roomy  and  convenient  than  those  in  the  Society  isles. 
The  floors  are  a  little  raised,  and  covered  with  thick 
strong  mats.  The  same  sort  of  matting  serves  to  enclose 
them  on  the  windward  side,  the  others  being  open. 
They  have  little  areas  before  most  of  them,  which  are 
planted  round  with  trees  or  ornamental  shrubs,  whose 
fragrance  perfumes  the  air.  Their  household  furniture^ 
consists  of  a  few  wooden  platters,  eocoa-nut  shells,  and 
pillows  made  of  wood,  and  shaped  like  foar-footed 
atools  or  forms :  their  common  clothing,  with  the  addi- 
tion of  a  mat,  serves  them  for  bedding. 

The  natives  are  of  a  clear  mahogany  or  cbesnnt 
brown,  with  black  hair,  in  short  frizzled  eurls,  which 
seems  to  be  burnt  at  the  tips  ^  their  beards  are  cut  or 


shaven.  Tbe  general  stature  of  the  men  is  equal  to  Midaie- 
our  middle  size,  from  five  feet  three  to  five  feet  ten  ^  burg, 
inches  \  the  proportions  of  the  body  are  very  fine,  and 
the  contours  of  the  limbs  extremely  elegant,  though 
something  more  muscular  than  at  Otaheite,  which 
may  be  owing  to  a  greater  and  more  constant  exertion 
of  strength  in  their  agriculture  and  domestic  economy. 
Their  features  are  extremely  mild  and  pleasing ;  and 
differ  from  the  old  Otaheitan  faces  in  being  more  ob- 
long than  round,  the  nose  sharper,  and  the  lips  rather 
thinner.  The  women  are,  in  general,  a  few  inches 
shorter  thap  the  men,  but  not  so  small  as  the  lower 
class  of  women  at  the  Society  islands.  The  practice 
of  puncturing  the  skin,  and  blacking  it,  which  is 
called  tattowtngf  is  in  full  force  among  the  men  here, 
for  their  belly  and  loins  are  very  strongly  marked  ax 
configurations  more  compounded  than  those  at  Ota- 
heite. The  tenderest  parts  of  the  body  were  not  free 
horn  these  punctures  j  the  application  of  which,  besides 
being  very  painful,  must  be  extremely  dangerous  on 
glandulous  extremities. 

The  men  in  general  go  almost  naked,  having  only 
a  small  piece  of  cloth  round  the  loins,  but  some  wrapr* 
it  in  great  abundance  round  them  from  their  waist : 
this  cloth  is  manufactured  much  like  that   at  Ota- 
heite, but  overspread  with  a  strong  glue,  which  makes 
it  stiff,  and  fit  to  resist  the  wet.     The  women  are 
likewise  covered  from  the  waist  downwards :  they  ofleu' 
have  loose  necklaces,  consisting  of  several  strings  of 
small  shells,  seeds,  teeth  of  fishes ;  and  in  the  middled 
of  all,  the  round  opcrcuhim^  or  cover  of  a  shell  as  large* 
as  a  crown-piece.    The  men  frequently  wear  a  string' 
round  their  necks,  from  which  a  mother-of-pearl  shell 
bangs  down  on  the  breast ;  both  the  ears  of  the  woh 
men  were  perforated  with  two  holes,  and  a  cylinder 
cut  out  of  tortoise-shell  or  bone  was   stuck  through 
both  the  holes.    The  most  remarkable  circumstance* 
observed  of  thb  people  was,  that  most  of  them  wanted 
the  little  finger  on  one,  and  sometimes  on  both  hands : 
the  difference  of  sex  or  age  did  not  exempt  them  fronr 
this  amputation  \   for  even  among  the   few  children 
that  were  seen  running  about  naked,  the  greater  part 
had  already  suffered  such  loss.    This  circumstance  was* 
observed  by  Tasman.     Another  singt^larity  which  was 
observed  to  b^  very  general  among  these  people,  was 
a  round  spot  on  each  cheek-bone,  which  appeared  to' 
have  been  burnt  or  blistered.     On  some  it  seemed  to 
have  been  recently  made,  on  others  it  was  covered 
with  scurf,  and  many  had  only  a  slight  mark  of  its* 
former  existence:    how,  or  for  what  purpose   it  was 
made,  could  not  be  learnt.     Tbe  women  here,  in  ge- 
neral, were  reserved  -,  and  turned,  with  disgust,  from 
tbe  immodest  behaviour  of  ungovernable  seamen  :  there' 
were  not,  however,  wanting  some  who  appeared  to  be 
of  easy -virtue,  and  invited  their  lovers  with  lascivious* 
gestures.     Tlie  language  spoken  here  is  soft,  and  not 
unpleasing ;  and  whatever  they  said  was  spoken*  in  ar 
kind  of  singing  tone.     Omai  and  Mahine,  who  were 
both  passengers  on  board  the  ship,  at  first  declared  that 
the   language   was  totally  new   and  unintelligible   to 
them^    however  the  afiihity  of  several   words   being- 
pointed  out,  they  soon  caught  the  particular  modifica- 
timi  of  this  dialect,  and  conversed  much  better  witlr* 
the  natives  than  any  on  board  the  ships  could  have 
done,  after  a  long  lotereourse.    They- have  the  tieat-^' 

est. 


MID 


[    AO    ] 


M    I    B 


Mii)£e>  tU  ornaments  imaginable,  consisting  of  a  number  of 
burg,  little  flat  sticks^  about  £ve  inches  long,  of  a  yellow 
MiddJe-  wood  like  box,  firmly  and  elegantly  connected  toge- 
™*  tber  at  the  bottom  by  a  tissue  of  the  fibres  of  cocoa- 
nuty  some  of  which  were  of  their  natural  colour,  an  J 
others  dyed  black  ^  the  same  fibres  were  likewise  used 
in  the  making  of  baskets,  the  taste  of  which  was  high- 
ly elegant,  and  varied  into  different  forms  and  pat- 
terns. Their  clubs  are .  of  a  great  variety  of  shapes, 
and  manv  of  them  so  ponderous  as  scarcely  to  be  ma- 
naged with  one  band.  The  most  common  form  waa 
quadrangular,  so  as  to  make  a  rhomboid  at  the  broad 
end,  and  ffradually  tapering  into  a  round  handle  at  the 
other.  Far  the  greater  part  were  carved  all  over  in 
many  chequered  patterns,  which  seemed  to  have  r«- 
quired  a  long  space  of  time,  and  incredible  patience, 
to  work  up }  as  a  shai^  stone,  or  a  piece  of  coral,  are 
the  only  tools  made  use  of :  the  whole  surface  of  the 
plain  cluba  was  as  highly  polished  as  if  an  European 
workman  had  made  them  with  the  best  instruments : 
Besides  clubs,  they  have  spears  of  the  same  wood, 
which  were  sometimes  plain  sharp-pointed  sticks,  and 
sometimes  barbed  with  a  sting-ray's  tail.  They  have 
likewise  bows  and  arrows  of  a  peculiar  construction } 
the  bow,  which  is  six  feet  long,  is  about  the  thick- 
ness of  a  little  finger,  and  when  slack,  forms  a  slight 
curve}  its  convex  part  is  channelled  with  a  single 
deep  groove,  in  which  the  bow-string  is  lodged.  The 
arrow  is  made  of  reed,  near  six  feet  long,  and  pointed 
with  hard  wood :  when  the  bow  is  to  be  bent,  instead 
of  drawing  it  so  as  to  increase  the  natural  curvature, 
they  draw  it  the  contrary  way,  make  it  perfectly 
straight,  and  then  form  the  curve  on  the  other  side. 
Most  of  their  canoes  have  outriggers,  mad^  of  poles  j 
and  their  workmanship  is  very  admirable :  two  of 
these  canoes  are  joined  together  with  a  surmising  ex- 
actness, and  the  whole  surface  receives  a  very  cu- 
rious polish*  Their  paddles  have  short  broad  blades, 
something  like  those  at  Otaheite,  but  more  neatly 
wxoogbt  and  of  better  wood. 

They  keep  their  dead  above  ground,  after  the  man- 
ner of  the  Society  islands  ^  as  a  corpse  was  seen  depo- 
sited on  a  low  hut. 

Here  were  seen  several  men  and  women  afflicted 
with  leprous  diseases,  in  some  of  whom  the  disorder 
bad  risen  to  a  high  degree  of  virulence :  one  man  in 
particular  had  his  back  and  shoulders  covered  with  a 
large  cancerous  ulcer,  which  was  perfectly  livid  with- 
in, and  of  a  bright  yellow  all  round  the  edges,  A 
woman  was  likewise  unfortunate  enough  to  have  her 
face  destroyed  by  it  in  the  most  shocking  manner } 
there  was  only  a  hole  left  in  the  place  of  her  nose  ^  her 
cheek  was  swelled  up,  and  continnally  oozing  out  a 
purulent  matter :  and  her  eyes  seemed  ready  to  fall  out 
of  her  head,  being  bloody  and  sore.  Though  these  were 
some  of  the  most  miserable  objects  that  could  possibly 
be  seen,  yet  they  seemed  to  be  quite  unconcerned  about 
their  misfortunes,  and  traded  as  briskly  as  any  of  the  rest. 

MIDDLEHAM,  a  town  in  the  n<»*th  riding  of 
Yorkshire,  situated  on  the  river  Ure,  255  miles  from 
London.  It  bad  once  a  castle,  wh^re  was -bom  Ed- 
ward prince  of  Wales,  only  son  of  Richard  III ;  and 
is  noted  for  a  woollen  manufiu^tory  and  frequent  horse- 
races. Its  market  is  on  Monday  j  and  fairs  Nov.  6« 
and  7*    The  town  stanza  en  a  rising  ground )  and  the 

3 


castle  was  formerly  moated  round  by  the  help  of  a   ji^aUls- 
spring  conveyed  in  pipes  from  the  higher  grounds.  The     iuim 
population  in  181 1  was  714.  i) 

MIDDLESEX,  a  county  of  England,  which  de.W«Wicfi» 
rives  its  name  from  its  situation  amidst  the  three  king- 
doms of  the  East,  West,  and  South  Saxons.  It  is 
bounded  on  the  north  by  Hertfordshire  ;  on  the  south 
by  the  river  Thames,  which  divides  it  £rom  Sorry  }  on 
the  west  by  the  river  Colae,  which  separates  it  from 
Buckinghamshire }  and  on  the  east  by  the  river  Lea, 
which  divides  it  from  E^sex.  It  extends  about  23 
miles  ill  length,  but  hardly  14  in  breadth,  and  is  not 
more  than  115  in  circumference  j  but  as  it  compre- 
bemU  the  two  vast  cities  of  London  and  Westminster, 
which  are  situated  in  the  south-east  part  of  the  coun- 
ty, it  is  by  far  the  wealthiest  and*  most  populous 
county  in  England.  It  is  divided  into  602  liberties, 
containing  200  parishes,  besides  a  vast  number  of  cha- 
pels of  ease,  and  5  market  towns,  exclusive  of  the  cities 
of  London  and  Westminister.  The  air  is  very  pleasant 
and  healthy.  The  soil,  which  is  gravelly,  produces  plen- 
ty of  com,  and  the  county  abounds  with  fertile  meadows 
and  gardeners  grounds.  In  a  word,  the  greater  part  of 
the  county  is  so  prodigiously  assisted  by  the  rich  com- 
post fitrai  London,  that  the  whole  of  the  cultivated  part 
may  be  considered  as  a  garden.  The  natural  produc- 
tions are  cattle,  corn,  and  fruit  ^  but  its  manufactures 
are  too  many  to  be  enumerated  here,  there  being  hard- 
ly a  single  manufacture  practised  in  Great  Britain  but 
what  is  also  established  in  this  oounty.-*Though  Lea- 
don  is  the  chief  city,  Brentford  is  the  county  town 
where  the  members  of  parliament  are  ek<:ted.  In  1 81 1 
it  cootabed  126,269  houses,  and  S^4t358  inhabitants 
in  towns,  and  8670  houses,  and  48,918  inbabitanU  in 
the  country,  making  altogether  9539276  inhabitants* 
See  Middlesex,  Supflement. 

Middlesex  is  also  the  name  of  four  different  coun- 
ties in  the  United  States  of  America  ^  one  of  them  is 
in  Massachussets,  another  in  Connecticut,  a  third  in 
New  Jersey,  and  the  fourth  in  Virginia. 

MIDDLETON,  Da  CeNTERS,  a  very  celebrated 
English  divine,  the  son  of  a  dergyman  in  Yorkshire^ 
was  bom  at  Richmond  in  1683.  He  distinguiahed  him- 
self, while  fellow  of  Trinity  college,  Cambridge,  by 
his  controversy  with  Dr  Bentley  his  master,  relating  to 
some  mercenary  conduct  of  the  latter  in  that  station* 
He  afterwards  had  a  controversy  with  the  whole  body 
of  physicians  on  the  dignity  of  the  medical  profession  } 
concerning  which  he  published  De  medkorum  apud  ve^ 
teres  Romanoi  degentium  eonditione  dusertatio}  qya^  can* 
tra  vtras  celeberrimoe  Jacobum  Sponium  et  Rkhardvm 
Meadium^  eervikm  atque  ignobilem  eamjiasst  oetendi- 
tur :  and  in  the  course  of  this  dispute, much  resentment 
and  many  pamphlets  appeared.  Hitherto  he  bad 
stood  well  with  bis  clerical  brethren  ^  but  be  drew  the 
resentment  of  the  church  on  him  in  1729,  by  writing 
'^  A  Letter  from  Borne,  showing  an  exact  conformity 
between  Popery  and  Paganisni,*^  &c.  ^  as  thia  letter, 
tboupb  politely  written,  yet  attacked  Popish  miracles  with 
a  gaiety  that  appeared  dangerous  to  the  cause  of  miracles 
in  general.  Nor  were  his  Objections  to  Dr  Water- 
land's  manner  of  vindicating  Scripture  against  Tindal'a 
"  Christianity  as  old  as  the  Creation,^  looked  on  in  a 
more  favourable  point  of  view.  In  174I9  came  out  hia 
great  work,  '*  llie  hiatory  of  the  li&  of  M.  TnUiua 

Cicero,'* 


MID 


C    41     1 


MUdletoA  CioerOy^*  2  vols  4to :  wbieh  is  indeed  a  fine  perfMtn* 
II  anoe^  and  will  probaUy  be  read  as  long  as  taste  and 
^il!!?.!^^  polite  literatnrs  subsist  among  us:  tbe  author  lias  ne- 
vertheless fallen  into  the  common  error  of  biographers, 
who  oflen  give  panegyrics  instead  of  history.  In 
1748,  be  poblished,  ^*  A  free  inquiry  into  the  miracul- 
oiis  powers  which  are  sopposed  to  have  subsisted  in  the 
Christian  chnrch  from  the  earliest  ages,  through  several 
successive  centuries.^*  He  was  now  attacked  from  all 
quarters ;  but  before  he  took  any  notice  of  his  anta- 
gonists, be  supplied  them  with  another  subject,  in  *'  An 
examination  of  the  Lord  Bishop  of  London's  disooursee 
concerning  the  use  and  extent  of  prophecy,'*  &e« 
Thus  Dr  Middleton  continued  to  display  talents  and 
learning,  which .  are  highly  esteemed  b^  men  of  a  free 
turn  of  mind,  hut  by  no  means  in  a  method  calculated 
to  invite  promotion  in  the  clerical  line.  He  was  in 
1723  ohosea  principal  librarian  of  tbe  public  library  at 
Cambridge  J  and  if  he  rose  not  to  dignities  in  the 
church,  he  was  in  easy  circumstances,  which  permitted 
him  to  assert  a  dignity  of  mind  often  forgotten  in  the 
career  of  preferment.  He  died  in  i^S^f  ^^  Hildersbam 
in  Cambridgeshire,  an  estate  of  his  own  purdiasing ; 
and  in  1752,  all  his  works,  except  the  life  of  Cicero, 
were  collected  in  4  vols  4to. 

MIDDL£WICH,  a  town  of  Cheshire,  167  miles 
from  London*  It  stands  near  the  conilox  of  the  Croke 
and  Dan,  where  are  two  salt  water  springs,  from  which 
are  made  great  quantities  of  salt,  the  bnne  being  said 
to  be  so  strong  as  to  prodnce  a  full  fourth  part  salt.  It 
is  an  ancient  borough,  governed  by  burgesses ;  and  its 
parish  extends  into  many  adjacent  townships.  It  has  a 
spaoiOQs  church.  By  means  of  inland  navigation,  it  has 
communicatioo  with  the  rivers  Mersey,  Dee,  Ribble, 
Ouse,  Trent,  Darwent,  Severn,  Hnmber,  Thames,  Avon, 
&&  'f  which  navigation^  including  its  windings,  extends 
above  500  miles,  in  the  connties  of  Lincoln,  Netting* 
ham,  York,  Lancaster*  Westmoreland,  Stafford,  War- 
wick, Leicester,  Oxford,  Worcester,  &c.  Tbe  river 
Wheelock,  afiter  a  course  of  about  1 2  miles  from  Mow- 
cop-hill,  runs  into  the  Dan  a  little  above  this  town.  Its 
population  in  iSii  was  1252. 

MIDHURST,  a  town  of  Sussex,  52  miles  hem 
London,  has  been  represented  in  parliament  ever  since 
the  4th  of  Edward  II*  It  is  a  neat  small  town,  on  a 
hill  surrounded  with  others,  having  the  river  Arun  at 
tbe  bottom  y  and  is  a  borough  by  prescription,  govern- 
ed by  a  bailiflF,  chosen  annually  by  a  jury  at  a  court- 
leet  of  the  lord  of  the  manor. 

MIDIAN,  or  Madiak,  in  Ancient  Geography^  a 
town  on  the  south  side  of  Arabia  Petrsea,  so  called 
from  one  of  the  sons  of  Abraham  by  Keturab.-^ Ano- 
ther Midian^  near  the  Amon  and  JEoplis,  in  ruins  in 
Jerome's  time.  With  the  daughters  of  these  Midianites 
tbe  Israelites  committed  fornication,  and  were  guilty  of 
idolatry.  A  brandi  of  the  Midianites  dwielt  on  die 
Arabian  gulf,  and  were  called  Kenitei :  some  of  whom 
toraed  proselytes,  and  dwelt  with  the  Isradites  in  the. 
land  of  Canaan. 

MID-LOTHIAN.  See  LoTHiAif  andEDinBURGH- 

SHIRE. 

MIDSHIP-FEAifB,  a  name  given  to  that  timber, 
or  eomhmatioD  of  pieces  fanned  into  one  timber, 
which  deteamotts  the  extreme  breadth  of  the  ship. 

Vol.  XIV.  PartL  t 


MID 

di  As  ttie  figure  and  dimension  of  all  the  inferior    Midship. 
timbers.  fr*"* 

In  the  article  SsiP-BuUdh^^  the  reader  will  find  a  ^{^^Hi^jp. 
full  explanation  of  what  is  meant  by  a  frame  ^of  tim-      „^, 
hers.     He  will  also  perceive  the  outlines  of  all  tlie 
principal  frames,  with  their  gtadoal  dimensions,  from 
the  midship-frame,  delineated  in  the  plane  of  projection 
annexed  to  that  article. 

MIDSHIPMAN,  a  sort  of  naval  cadet,  appointed 
by  the  captain  of  a  ship  of  war,  to  second  the  orders  of 
the  .superior  officers,  and  assist  in  the  necessary  busi- 
ness of  the  vessel,  either  aboard  or  ashore. 

The  nvmber  of  midshipmen,  like  that  of  several  other 
officers,  is  always  in  proportion  to  tbe  size  of  the  ship 
to  which  they  belong.  Thus  a  first-rste  man  of  war 
has  24,  and  the  inferior  nites  a  suitable  number  m^pro- 
portion.  No  person  can  be  appointed  lieutenant  with- 
out having  previously  served  two  years  in  the  rt>yBl  navy 
in  this  capacity,  or  in  that  of  itidfr,  besides  having  been 
at  least  four  years  in  actifeal  service  at  sea,  either  in 
merchant  ships  or  in  the  royal  navy. 

Midshipman  is  accordingly  the  station  in  which  a 
young  volunteer  is  trained  in  the  several  exercises  ne- 
cessary to  attain  a  sufficient  knowledge  of  the  muchi- 
nery,  movements,  and  military  operations  of  a  ship,  to 
qualify  him  for  a  sea  officer. 

On  his  first  entrance  in  a  ship  of  war,  every  midship- 
nuin  has-  several  disadvantageous  circumstances  to  en- 
counter.    These  are  partly  ocoasioned  by  the  nature 
of  the  sea  service ;  and  partly  by  the  mistaken  preju- 
dices of  people  in  general  respecting  naval  discipline, 
and  the  genius  of  sailors  and  thdr  officers.     No  cha- 
racter, in  their  opinion,  is  more  excellent  than  that  of 
the  common  sailor,   whom  they  generally  suppose  to 
be  treated  with  great  severity  by  his  officers,  drawing 
a  comparison  between  them  not  very  advantageous  to 
the  latter.    The  midshipman  usually  comes  abcntrd  tinc- 
tured with  these  prejudtoes,  especially  if  his  edacation 
has  been  amongst  the  higher  rank  of  people  \  and  if 
the  officers  happen  to  answer  his  opinion,  he  conceives 
an  eariy  disgust  to  the  servi<ee,  from  a  very  partial  a)id 
incompeteHt  view  of  ifs  operations.     Biitoded  by  these 
prtpossessiona,  he  is  thrown  oflf  his  guard,  and  very 
soon  surprised  to  find,  sieiongst  those  honest  'sailors,  a 
crew  of  abandoned  miscreants,  ripe  fbi^  ant  mischief 
or  villany.     Perhaps,  afbr  a  littile  obsei'vl^ion,  many 
of  them  will  appear  to  him  equally  destitute  of  grati- 
tude, shame,  or  justice,  and  only  deterred  from  the 
commission  of  any.  crimes  by  the  terror  of  severe  pu- 
nishment.    He  will  discover,  that  the  pernicious  ex- 
ample of  a  few  of  the  vilest  in  a  ship  of  war  is  loo 
of^en  apt  to  poison  the  principles  of  the  greatest  num- 
ber, especially  rf  the  reins  of  disci j^ine  are  too  mbch 
relaxed,  so  as  to  foster  that  idleness  and  dissipation, « 
wMch  engender  sloth,  diseases,  and  an  utter  prc^igacy 
of  maimers.     If  the  midshipman  on  many  occasions  is 
obliged  to  mix  with  these,  partienlarly  in  the  exercisrs 
of  extending  or  reducing  tbe  sails  in  the  tops,  he  ou^it 
resolutely  to  euard  against  this  contagion,  with  whidi 
tbe  morals  of  his  inferior  may  be  infected.   He  sliouKI, 
however,  avail  himself  of  their  knowledge,  and  acquire 
their  expertness  in  managing  and  fixing  the  sails  ^nd 
riggings  and  never  snfibr  himself  to  be  excelled  by  an 
inferior.      He  will  probably  find  a  virtue  in  almost - 

F  cve?y 


MID  [42 

Midslup-  every  private  sailor,   fvhich  is  entirely  nnknown   to 
™<^n-      many  of  his  officers :  that  virtue   is  emulation,  which 
is  not  indeed  mentioned  amongst  their  qualities  by  the 
gentleman  of  terra  firma^  by  whom  their  characters  are 
often  copiously  dt^scribed  with  very  little  judgment. 
There  is  hardly  a  common  tar  who  is  not  envious  of 
superior  skill  in  his  fellows,  and  jealous  on  all  occa- 
sions to  be  outdone  in  what  he  considers  as  a  branch 
of  his  duty :  nor  is  he  more  afraid  of  the  dreadful  con- 
sequences of  whistling  in  a  storm,  than  of  being  stig- 
matised with  the  opprobrious  epithet  of  lubber.     For- 
tified against  this  scandal,  by  a  thorough  knowledge 
of  his  business,  the  sailor  will  sometimes  sneer  in  pri- 
vate at  the  execution  of  orders  which  to  him  appear 
awkward,  improper,  or  unlike  a  seaman.     Nay,  he 
will  perhaps  be  malicious  enough  to  suppress  his  own 
judgment,  and,  by  a  punctual  obedience  to  command, 
execute  whatever  is  to  be  performed  in  a  manner 
which  he  knows  to  be  improper,  in  order  to  expose 
the  person  commanding  to  disgrace  and  ridicule.  Little 
skilled  in  the  method  of  the  schools,  he  considers  the 
officer  who  cons  his  lesson  by  rote  as  very  ill  qualified 
for  his  station,  because  particular  situations  might  ren- 
der it  necessary  for  the  said  officer  to  assist  at  putting 
his  own  orders  in  practice.    An  ignorance  in  this  prac- 
tical knowledge  will  therefore  necessarily  lie  thought 
an  nnpardonable  deficiency  by  those  who  are  to  follow 
his  directions.     Hence  the  midshipman  who  associates 
with  these  sailors  in  the  tops,  till  he  has  acquired  a 
competent  skill  in  the  service  of  extending  or  reducing 
the  sails,  &c«  will  be  often  entertained  with  a  number 
of  scurrilous  jests,  at  the  expence  of  his  superiors. 
Hence  also  he  will  learn,  that  a  timely  application  to 
those  exercises  can  only  prevent  him  from  appearing 
in  the  same  despicable  point  of  view,  which  must  cer- 
tainly he^a  cruel  mortification  to  a  man  of  the  smallest 
sensibility. 

If  the  midshipman  is  not  employed  in  these  services, 
which  are  undoubtedly  neoessary  to  give  him  a  clearer 
idea  of  the  different  parts  of  his  occupation,  a  variety 
of  other  objects  present  themselves  to  his  attention. 
Without  presuming  to  dictate  the  studies  which  are 
most  essential  to  his  improveipent,  we  could  wish  to 
recommend  such  as  are  roost  suitable  to  the  bent  of  his 
inclination.  Astronomy,  geometry,  and  mech:»nics, 
which  are  in  the  first  rank  of  science,  are  the  mate* 


1 


MID 


rials  which  form  the  skilful  pilot  and  the  stiperior  ma-  Mid^bip- 
riner.     The  theory  of  navigation  is  entirely  deriYed      man, 
from  the  two  former,  and  all  the  machinery  and  move-  Midwife. 
ments  of  a  ship  are  founded  upon  the  latter.     The  ac-        ' 
tion  of  the  wind  upon  the  sails,  and  the  resistance  of 
the  water  at  the  stem,  naturully  dictate  an  inquiry  into 
the  property  of  solids  and  fluids  ^  and  the  state  of  the 
ship,  floating  on  the  water,  seems  to  direct  his  appli- 
cation to  the  study  of  hydrostatics,  and  the  cflects  of 
gravity.     A  proficiency  in  these  brandies  of  science 
will  equally  enlarge  his  views,  with  regard  to  the  ope- 
rations of  naval  war,  as  directed   by   the  efforts  of 
powder  and  the  knowledge  of  projectiles.     The  most 
effectual  method  to  excite  his  application  to  those  stu- 
dies, is,  perhaps,  by  looking  round  the  navy,  to  ob- 
serve the  characters  of  individuals.     By  this  inquiry 
he  will  probably  discover,  that  the  officer  who  is  emi- 
nently skilled  in  the  sciences,  will  command  universal 
respect  and  approbation  ;  and  that  whoever  is  satisfied 
with  the  despicable  ambition  of  shining  the  hero  1^  an 
assembly,  will  be  the  object  of  universal  contempt. 
The  attention  of  the  former  will  be  engaged  in  those 
studies  which  are  highly  useful  to  himself  in  particular, 
and  to  the   service  in  general.     The  employment  of 
the  latter  is  to  acquire  those  superficial  accomplishments 
that  unbend  the  mind  firom  every  useful  science,  emas- 
culate the  judgment,  and  render  the  hero  infinitely 
more  dexterous  at  failing  into  his  station  in  the  dance 
than  in  the  line  of  battle. 

Unless  the  midshipman  has  an  unconquerable  aver- 
sion to  the  acquisition  of  those  qualifications  which 
are  so  essential  to  his  improvement,  he  will  very  rare- 
ly want  opportunities  of  making  a  progress  therein. 
Every  step  he  advances  in  those  meritorious  employ- 
ments will  facilitate  his  accession  to  the  next  in  order. 
If  the  dunces,  who  are  his  oflicers  or  messmates,  are 
rattling  the  dice,  roaring  bad  verses,  hissing  on  the  flute, 
or  scraping  discord  from  the  fiddle,  his  attention  to  more 
noble  studies  will  sweeten  the  hours  of  relaxation.  He 
should  recollect,  that  no  example  from  fools  ought  to  in- 
fluence his  conduct,  or  seduce  him  firem  that  laudable 
ambition  which  his  honour  and  advantage  are  equally 
concerned  to  pursue. 

MID'WIFE,  one  whose  profession  is  to  deliver  wo- 
men in  labour.    See  Midwifery. 


MIDWIFERY, 


Xkfinitioa.  'T^HE  art  of  assisting  women  in  labour.  In  a  more 
-^  extended  sense,  it  is  understood  to  comprehend  al- 
so the  treatment  of  the  diseases  of  women  and  children. 
In  this  work  we  shaU  consider  it  in  the  formier  limited 
sense,  viz.  as  relating  to  the  birth  of  the  ofibpzing  of 
man. 
2  History  rf  Midwifery.'^i  must  be  yery  obvious  that 

this  art  must  have  been  almost  coeval  with  mankind : 
but  in  £u|ope  it  continued  in  a  very  rude  state  till  the 
17th  century;  and  even  after  physic  and  surgery  had 
become  distmct  professionsi  it  remained  almost  totally 
uncultivated. 


It  is  a  curious  fact,  that  in  the  empire  of  Cfaiiw 
the  very  reverse  of  this  has  taken  ph.ce.  In  that  em- 
pire,  according- to  the  latest  accounts,  both  physic  and 
surgery  are  still  in  a  state  of  the  utmost  degradation, 
even  more  so  than  among  the  savages  of  America  \ 
but  for  some  hundred  years,  the  art  of  midwifery  haa 
been  practised  by  a  set  of  men  destined  to  the  purpose 
by  order*of  government.  These  own,  v^  hold  in  eo- 
ciety  the  same  rank  which  lithotoniists  did  in  this  coun- 
try about  the  beginning  of  last  century,  are  ealled  in 
whenever  a  woman  has  been  above  a  certain  number  of 
hours  in  labour,  and  employ  a  mechanieal  contrivance 

foK 


MIDWIFERY. 


fliFtofy.    tot  completing  tke  delivery  without  injory  to  tlie  in- 
*■'  V        fant.     A  certain  number  of  such  iodividuaJs  ia  allotted 
to  each  district  of  a  certain  population. 

it  is  taid^  that  the  Chinese  government  was  led  to 
make  this  proviaion  for  alleviating  the  sufferings  of 
child-bearing  women,  in  consequence  of  a  representa- 
4toa,  that  attuuall  J  many  women  died  uudeliTered,  and 
that  in  the  majority  of  cases  the  cause  of  obstmctiou 
might  haVe  been  remoTed  by  very  simple  mechanical 
expedients. 

Both  Sir  Gem^  Staunton  and  Mr  Barrow  were 
ignorant  of  this  fact  ^  and  the  latter  in  particular  ex- 
pressly mentions,  that  there  are  no  men-midwives  in 
China.     But  the  writer  of  this  article  had  his  informa- 
tion iroro  a  more  authentic  source  than  the  works  of 
^ntlemen  who  were  only  a  lew  months  in  that  coun- 
try, and  were  in  a  ^reat  measure  treated  as  state  pri- 
soners.    He  has  it,  through  the  medium  of  a^friend^ 
4rom  a  gentleman  who  resided  upwards  of  twenty  years 
as  surgeon  to  the  British  factory  at -Canton,  and  who 
had  both  the  ahility  and  the  inclination  to  learn,  durinff 
the  course  of  so  long  a  residence,  all  the  customs  and 
{prejudices  of  the  liatives  relating  to  the  preservation  -of 
human  health* 

4  Towards  the  end  of  the  lyth  century,  jthe  same 
causes  which  had  so  long  before  led  to  the  cultivation 
of  midwifery  in  China  produced  the  same  effect  in 
Europe.  The  dangers  to  which  women  are  sometimes 
exposed  during  labour  excited  the  compassion  of  the  be- 
nevolent ;  so  that  a  considerable  part  of  the  first  hos- 
pital which  was  established  for  the  reception  of  the  in- 
digent sick,  the  Hotel  Dieu  ef  Paris  was  appropriated 
to  lying-in  women. 

The  opportunities  of  practice  which  tjiat  hospital  af- 
forded, directed  the  attention  of  medical  men  to  the 
numerous  accidents  which  happen  during  labour,  and 
to  the  various  diseases  which  occur  after  delivery.  Pu- 
blic teaching  followed,  and  soon  after  the  custom  of 
employing  mcii  in  the  practice  of  midwifery  began. 

From  this  period  the  art  became  rapidly  improved^ 
and  it  is  now»in  many  parts  of  Europe,  and  particular- 
ly in  Great  Britain,  in  as  great  a  state  of  perfection 
as  physic  or  surger3r. 

5  In  the  year  1725,  n  professorship  of  midwifery  .was 
established  in  the  university  of  Edinburgh  j  and  the 
town-counoil  «t  'the  same  time  ordained,  that  no 
woman  should  he.ailowed  to  practise  midwifery  within 
the  liberties  of  the  city,  without  having  previously  ob- 
tained a  certificate  from  the  professor  of  her  being  pro- 
perly qualified*  This  salutary  regulation  has  fallen  in- 
to desuctnde. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  improvement  of  the 
art  of  midwifery  was  chiefly  .in  consequence  of  medical 
men  directing  their  attention  to  the  subject ;  hot  the 
propriety  of  men  being  employed  in  such  a  profosston  is 
much  questioned  by  many  individuals  of  considerable 
respectability. 
^  Dr  John  Gregory,  in  his  Comparative' View,  p.  22> 

says,  *'  every  other  animal  brings  forth  its  young  with* 
out  any  assistance,  but  we  think  a  midwife  understands 
it  better.*^  Had  this  eminent  philosopher  said,  *'  other 
animals  content  themselves  with  the  clothing  which 
providence  has  bestowed,  but  we  think  it  necessary  to 
cover  our  bodies  with  the  workmanship  of  weavers,** 
very  few  in  this  northern  climate  would  have  attended 


43 


to  the  sneer.  His  son,  the  present  profe^t^ior,  has  ini-  of 
proved  upon  the  idea.  He  seems  to  suppose  that  women  Conceptioii 
without  any  instruction,  and  of  course  without  any 
knowledge  of  the  subject,  are  capable  of  assisting  one 
another  while  in  labour  $  and  in  the  sportiveness  of 
his  lively  imaftination,  he  compares  men-midwives  to 
that  species  of  frog,  in  which,  according  to  the  allega- 
tion of  Reaumur,  the  male  draws  out  the  ova  from  the 
female,  or,  to  use  the  naturalist's  wordfi,  **  accovc/w 
la  femcUc.'' 

It  appears  to  us  that  this  question,  on  which  much 
declamation  has  been   employed    by  the  parties  who 
have  agitated  it,  may  be  brought  within  a  very  narrow 
compass.     It  may  be  assumed  as  a  foct  established  be- 
•  yond  the  reach  of  controversy,  that  sometimes  dangers 
and  difficulties  occur  during  labour  (from  causes  to  b«f 
explained  in  a  subsequent  part  of  this  essay),  which  can 
be  lessened  or  removed  by  those  only  who  have  an  inti- 
mate knowledge  of  the  structure  of  the  human  body 
and  of  the  practice  of  physic.     On  such  occasions,  it 
must  be  admitted,  medical  men  alone  cau  be  useful. 
But  as  such  labours  occur  only  in  the  proportion  of  two 
-or  three  in  the  hundred,  the  general  practice  might  be 
•confided  to  midwives,  if  they  could  be  taught  to  manage 
ordinary  cases,  and  to  foresee  and  distinguish  difficnitits 
-or  dangers,  so  as  to  procure  in  sufficient  time  additionai 
assistance.     It  is  on  this  point  that  the  decision  of  the 
question  must  depend.     It  consists  with  the  knowledge 
of  the  writer  of  this  article,  that  women  may  be  taught 
-all  this.     But  there  are  many  who  allege,  that  a  little 
knowledge  being  a  dangerous  thing,  midwives  acquire 
o  self-sufficiency  which  rentiers  them  averse  from  call- 
ing in  superior  assistance,  and  that,  in  consequence,  they 
often  occasion  the  most  deplorable  accidents  both  to 
mother  and  child.     In  England  this  is  the  popular  opi- 
nion,  so  that  there  women  are  almost  entirely  exclud- 
ed from  the  practice  of  midwifery.    A  similar  prejudice 
against  midwives  has,  it  is  believed,  begun  in  some  parts 
of  Scotland  ;  but  it  is  presumed   this  will   gradually 
-cease,  when  it  is  considered  that,  in  general,  vhe  Scotch 
midwives  are  regularly  instructed,  and  are  at  the  same 
time  both  virtuous  and  industrious.      If  they  attend 
strictly  to  their  duty,  and  invariably  prefer  their  pa- 
tients safety  to  their  own  feelings  or  supposed  interest, 
they  will  deservedly  retain  the  public  confidence.     But 
if  in  cases  of  difficulty  or  danger  they  trust  to  their  own 
exertions,  or  from  disinterested  motives  decline  the  as- 
sistance of  able  practitioners,  and  if  they  inteifere  in 
the  treatment  of  the  diseases  of  women  and  children, 
they  will  in  a  few  years  he  excluded  from  practice. 

biviihn  ff  the  tubfecL  In  order  to  exhibit  an  ac- 
curate view  of  what  relates  to  the  birth  of  man,  we  shall 
consider,  in  the  first  place,  conception  j  secondly,  the 
effects  of  impregnation  j  thirdly,  the  act  of  childbear- 
ing ;  and  lastly,  tiie  deviations  from- the  ordinary  course 
which  sometimes  happen.  These  topics  will  form  tlie 
subjects*of  the  following  chapters. 

Chap.  I.  'Of'Concepiwn* 

Three  circumstances  are  required  for  conception  in 
the  human  race,  viz.  puberty  ^  a  healthy,  vigoroui;,  and 
natural  state  of  the  parts  subservient  to  the  operation 
in  both  sexes ;  and  successfol  sexual  intercourse. 

I.  The  age  of  puberty  in  women  differs  considerably 

Fa  in 


'f 


44 


Of  Con- 
ception* 


lO 


II 


M  I  D  W  I 

in  different  climates.  In  Eoroiie  it  takes  place  com- 
monly between  the  fouiteentb  and  sixteenth  year.  Tbia 
important  era  is  marked  by  certain  changes  both  in 
the  mind  and  body.  The  girl  feels  seosatioos  to  which 
she  had  been  formerly  unaccustomed.  She  loses  a  relish 
for  her  former  amusements,  and  eveii*  for  her  youthful 
companions.  She  seeks  solitude,  indulges  in  the  de- 
pressing passions,  and  these  are  excited  hy  the  most  ap- 
parently trifling  causes.  She  feels  occasionally  certain 
desires  which  modesty  represses ;  and  it  is  hy  degrees 
only  that  she  regains  her  Ibnner  tranquillity. 

The  cha,nge8  in  her  body  are  even  more  alroDgly 
marked  than  those  in  her  mind.  H^r  breasts  assume 
that  forn^  wluch  adds  to  the  beauty  of  hter  person,  and 
renders  them  fit  for  nourishing  her  infant  ^  and  eveij  . 
part  of  the  genital  system  is  enlarged.  A  periodi- 
cal discharge  from  the  uterus  rendecs  the  woman 
perfect. 

In  young  men  the  same  causes  produce  very  different 
effects.  The  lad,  about  fifteen  or  sixteen,  feds  a  great 
increase  of  strength  ^  his  features  expand,  his  voice  he^ 
comes  rough,  his  step  firm,  his  body  athletic  j  and  he 
engages  voluntarily  in  exercises  which  require  an  exer- 
tion of  strength  and  activity.  The  changes  in  his 
railed  are  as  strongly  marked  as  those  in  his  body*  He 
loses  that  restless  puerility  which  bad  distinguished  his 
early  years,  and  becomes  capable  of  attending  steadily 
to  one  object.  His  behaviour  to  the  fair  sex  is  sudden- 
ly altered.  He  no  longer  shows  that  contempt  for  wo- 
men, which  he  had  forqaerly  betrayed.  He  is  softened, 
api^oaches  them  with  deference,  and  experiences  a  de- 
gree of  pleasure  in  their  company,  for  which  he  can 
scarcely  account;.  In  him  too  there  is  an  important 
change  in  the  condition  of  the  genital  organs* 

2.  Unless  the  parts  which  constitute  peculiarity  of  sex 
be  in  a  healthy,  vigorous,  and  natural  state,  conception 
cannot  take  place. 

In  womep,  conception  is  prevented  if  the  organs  he 
too  much  relaxed ;  if  there  be  obatrnction  between  the 
external  and  internal  parts }  if  any  preternatural  dis- 
charge take  place  firom  the  internal  parts  ^  if  the  men- 
strual evacuation  be  not  natural  in  every  respect,  and  if 
the  appendages  of  the  uterus,  called  fallopian  tubes^aod. 
ovaria,  be  not  of  the  natural  structure. 

In  men,  die  same  circumstance  happens  if  the  organs 
be  too  much  relaxed  ^  if  the  orifice  of  the  urethra^,  be 
in  an  improper  situation  *,  if  the  urethra  be  diseased  j  if 
the  teates  be  not  in  a  natural  healthy  state  >  and  if  there 
be  any  defect  in  the  erectores  penis,  which  prevents  the 
propc^r  erection  of  that  organ, 

3.  The  sexual  intercourse  cannot  be  successful  unless 
somewhat  necessary  for  conception  be  furnished  by  both 
sexes.  This  consists  in  the  male  of  a  floid  secreted  by 
the  testes  -,  and  in  the  female,  of  a  detaehroent  of  a 
substance,  supposed  to  resemble  a  very  minute  vesicle 
situated  in  the  ovarium,  and  called  by^  phyaiologists 
ovum.  Each  ovarium  contains  a  number  of  these  vesi- 
cles. After  every  conception,  certain  marks  of.  the 
detachment  of  the  ovuo^  remain  in  the  respective 
ovarium. 

When  the  circuinstances  required  for  conception  con- 
cur, a  Wing  is  produce<l  which  generally  resembles 
both  parents.  This  resemblance  is  most  strikingly 
aoarked^iKV  the  human  suitject,  when  one  of  the  parents 

5 


F  E  R  Y.  Chap.  L 

is  an  European,  and  the  other  an  African.     What  i»  or  Co». 
called  a  mulatto  is  prodoced* 

The  human  race  ponsewci  the  power  of  propagation 
in  oonnon  with  all  the  other  species  of  the  animal 
kingdom,  and  also,  it  has  been  said,  with  the  vegetable 
kingdom. 

As  generation  thai,  as  it  haa  been  styM,  is  common 
to  two  of  the  kingdoaMi  of  nature^  it  has  been  insagined 
hy  ingenious  agiea,  that  this  wonderful  operation  is 
regulated  in  both  -by  a  certain  general  law.  But  Uiey 
have  difiered  much  in  their  account  of  this  law.  The 
question  at  issue  between  t^  two  parties  is  whether 
the  embryos  of  animals  be  prepared  by  the  sexual  tn- 
tereourse  out  of  inorganic  materials,  or  whether  they 
pre-exist  in  the  bodies  of  anunab,  and  are  only  deve- 
loped as  it  were  by  that  intercoarse.  The  former  of 
these  opinions  is  called  the  doctrine  of  epigenesta,  the 
hLtler  that  of  evolution. 

Both  doctrines  have  been  maintained  with  m«ch  in* 
genuity  by  equally  respectable  authorities*  Negative 
arguments  have  been  adduced  in  favour  of  the  one, 
positive  in  suf^iort  of  the  other,  and  it  must  be  confess- 
ed that  the  balance  between  them  s^me  nearly  equal. 
The  pre-existencc  of  ova  in  the  oviparous  ammala  ap» 
pears  a  positive  argument  in  favonr  of  evolntion  j  hut 
the  satirical  remark  of  a  late  witty  author,  *  that,  were  «  Bkanen- 
this  theory  true,  every  individual  of  the  human  racetecfti. 
must  have  been  lodged  in  the  ovaria  of  our  first  parent, 
by  affording  a  negative  argument- in  fiivour  of  epigenesis, 
restores  the  balance. 

The  various  arguments  advanced  on  each  side  by  the 
opposite  parties  in  this  dispute  are  so  very  munerons,  . 
that  we  cannot  attempt  to  detail  them  in  this  work ; 
and  on  a  subject  which  has  divided  the  opinions  of  so 
many  able  physiologists,  it  would  be  presumption  to  de-  • 
cide  peremptorily. . 

If  genenUion  be  regarded  as  an  animid  operation^' 
one  is  led  to  inquire  wlwther  the  product  be  tiie  result 
of  the  combined  influence  of  both  sexes,  or  whether  it 
be  produced  by  either  sex  alone. 

The  first  opinion  was  generally  adopted  hy  physiolo* 
gists,  till  about  the  end  of  the  J  7th  century,  when  an 
accidental  discovery  convinced  many  that  the'  embryo 
was  produced  by  the  male  parent  aUioe ;  and  another 
discovery  some  years  afterward^,  again  overturned  that 
(^nion,  and  rendered  it  believed  by  not  a  few  that 
the  embryo  is  furnished  exclusively  by  the  female, 
parent.. 

Several  circumstances  concurred  to  render  iht  first 
opinion  probable  ^  the  structure  of  the  organs  whiob  con- 
stitute peculiarity  of  sex  in  both  parents,  the  circum- 
stances necessary  for  successful  impregnation,  and  the 
»»iUUM]«  of  chikb«tto  both  p»ienU,«ppeacT«T  8tn»g 
arpnaoMnts  m  its  favour^ 

The  second  theory,  although  first  brought  into  Yogoe 
about  the  end  of  the  17th  century  by.  the  discoveries  of 
Leeuwenhoeck,  had  bioen  formerly  proposed  by  the  fol- 
lowers of  Pythagoras.  Their  argument  was  analogy: 
the  seed,  said,  tbey,  is  sown  in  the  earth,  nourished 
and  evolved  there  ^  so  the  male  semen  i»  sown  in 
the  uterus,  and.  in  the  same  manner  nourished  and 
evolvedi 

Leeuwenhoeck's  discovery  seemed  a  more  ooncluAve 
argument .  in  favour  of.  the.  theory-  than  vague  anal^jry* 

He 


»3 


1+ 


Chap.  I.  M  I  D  W 

OfCoa-    He  observed  innadierable  animalciiia  ki  tlw  flemiaal 
ccptkm.    ftiidttf  tbemale^rf  inaiiyaiitnMd8>    These  ke  intfigioed 
to  be  embryos. 

But  as  animidcabi  uf  appsnnlly  tbe  same  mutmre  have 
been  observed  in  many  aaibiai  floids  betides  the  semen 
masGulinum,  the  opiniMi  of  Leeuwenboeck  and  the 
theory  itsdf  are  ovartonied. 

It  was  owin^  prineipally  to  tbe  laboorsi  Indiistryy  mud 

^^      iogenaity  of  Baron  HaUer^  that  the  third  theory,  that 
of  the  yre-cxisting  germ,  became  fasfaionaUe. 

Hia  observations  seem  to  contain  a  demonstration  of 
the  met* 

Those  nvho  have  adopted  this  theory,  imagine  that 
the  semen  mascnlianm  possesses  the  power  of  stimolatiBg 
the  varions  parts  of  the  pre'>ezisting  embryo*  And 
hence  they  attribute  the  nmilitade  to  both  parents,  and 
partiedany  the  appearance  of  tbe  hybrid  prodoctions,  to 
that  flaid  nourishing  certain  parts,  and  new-arranging 
others.  Bot  if  this  were  true,  then  the  semen  niasculi- 
nnm  of  all  animals  should  possess  the  power  of  sdmoial- 
ing  the  germs  of  afti  female  animals^  and  besides,  in  each 
class  of  animals  it  should  possess  certain  specific  powers 
of  giving  a  direction  to  the  growth  of  parts*  £xper»- 
once,  howeveif,  has  not  proved  this  to  be  the  case,  for 
the  hybrid  productions  are  very  Kmited  ;  and  we  may 
be  permitted  perhaps,  without  the  imputation  of  arro- 
gance in  prstendiog  to  seareh  into  the  intentions  of  the 
Aotbor  of  nature,  to  observe,  that  had  the  somen  mas- 
enlinnm  been  possessed  of  such  powers,  tbe  whole  spe- 
cies of  animals  would  have  been  soon  confounded,  and 
the  whole  animal  kingdom  would  soon  have  returned  to 
that  chaos  from  which  it  has  been  allegorically  said  it 
originated. 

Yet  we  are  reduced  to  the  alternative  of  either  re- 
jecting the  theory,  or  of  believing  that  tbe  semen  does 
possess  the  powers  alluded  to.  If  we  examine  attentive- 
ly tbe  anatomical  discovery  on  which  this  theory  is 
built,  we  shall  perhaps  he  inclined  to  believe  that  the 
^Mmdation  of  the  whole  is  ver^  insufficient  ^  and  hence 
to  conclude  that  the  great  superstmciure  is  in  a  very 
tottering  conditioB.  If  it  be  possible  that  the  attach- 
ment of  the  chicfc  to  the  yolk  uf  the  tgg  should  be  in 
consequence  of  inosculation,  the  theory  must  fall  to  the 
gronnd.  Hailer  has  endeavoured:  to  obviate  this  objec- 
tion, but  not  with  his  usual  judgment. 

,5  Two  circumstances,  however,  seem  to  show  that  the 

attachment  is  really  by  inosculation  :  i.  That  vessels 
are  seen  in  the  membrane  of  tbe  yolk  evidently  con4> 
taining  blood  befinre  the  heart  of  the  chick  begins  to 
beat ;  yet  these  vessels  afterwards  appear  to  depend  on 
the  vascular  system  of  the  chick.  And,  2.  That  in 
many  animals,  as  in  the  human  subject,  the  umbilical 
cord  Seems  to  be  attached  to  the  abdomen  by  inoscula- 
tion -,  for  there  is  a  circle  round  the  root  of  the  cord 
which  resembles  a  cicatrix,  and  within  a  few  days  af- 
ter birth,  the  cord  uniformly  drops  off  at  that  very 
circle,  whatever  portion  may  have  been  retained  after 
deliveiy. 

j^  There  is  one  objection  equally  applicable  to  all  the 

three  theories,  viz.  the  difficulty  of  explaining  the  steps 
of  the  process.  A  variety  of  evplanatioos  havo  boon 
offered  by  ^n^en\om6  men.  Spallanmani  and  IMEr  John 
Hunter  lately,  HMler  and  Bonnet  formerly,  have  ren- 
^td"  tfaemsielves  oonspicooos  on  this  sobject.  Spailan- 
suiaij  in  particular^  app^irs  to  many  to  have  produced. 


I  F  E  R  Y.  45 

by  his  artificial  impregnation,  the  most  coovinciog  jEiccttof 
proofs  of  the  pre-existence  of  the  germ.     But  to  what  Unpregoft- 
do  his  celebrated  experiments  amount  ?  They  sliow,  that      *'*'^    . 
in  all  animals  it  is  necessary  that  the  somen  masctflinom        ' 
should  be  applied  to  the  somewhat  expelled  by  the  fe- 
male during  the  coitus,  otherwise  impregnation  canOot 
take  place.    Bnt  was  not  this  universally  acknowledged 
before  the  abb^  was  bom  ?     In  tbe  unfortunate  firacs 
who  were  the  subjects  of  his  experiments,  the  whme 
operation  of  generation  was  completed  except  the  ap- 
plioatioB  of  the  male  semen  to  the  substances,  expelled 
by  the  female.     Nature,  by  establishing  that  tbe  busi- 
ness should  be  carried  on  in  water,  shows  that  tbe  se- 
men must  be  diluted,  otherwise  it  cannot  fecundate. 
The  abb6  only  imitated  nature.     He  left  the  question 
in  tlie  state  in  which  he  found  it.     His  experiment  on 
the  bitch  may  appear  more  coadusive'^  but  alas !  it  has 
never  succeeded  with  any  person  but  himself. 

On  the  whole,  since  the  process  of  generation  is  so 
obscaie  that  no  rational  explanation  of  it  has  yet  been 
ofiered,  are  we  not  entkled  to  conclude  that  the  gene- 
ral theory  which  accounts  most  satisfactorily  for  the 
various  phenomena  which  impregnation  exhibits  is  the 
best}  and  consequently,  that  the  product  of  genera* 
tion  cannot  pre-exist  in  the  body  ci  either  parent  exclu- 
sively ? 


Chap.  II.  Effects  of  Impregnation. 


iS 


IHF  consequence  of  impregnation,  certasn  important 
changes  take  place  in  the  uterine  system  of  the  hnman 
subject.  TVe  shall  consider  tbe  natural  changes  only. 
On  some  occasions,  there  are  morbid  changes  ;  but  we 
shall  not  notice  them,  except  in  so  far  as  some  of  them 
serve  to  illustrate  the  nature  of  tlie  usual  ones. 

The  first  visible  change  is  on  the  ovarium.  One  of 
those  organs  swells  out  at  one  point  like  a  small  papilla, 
then  bursts,  and  somewhat  is  disclwrged. 

A  substance  is  found  in  the  ovanura  afler  this,  which       19 
is  called  ewfna  hitentn.     Koederer  has  described  very 
accurately  its  appearance  a  few  Iroors  after  delivery. 
He  says  *'  corpus  luteum  locator  in  rotundo  apice.    To- 
tam  ovarii  crassitiem  occupat,  immediate  *pone  ovarii 
membranam  ilia  sede  tenuiorem   locatum  \   ab  ovario    • 
cum  quo  cellolosse  ope  cohscret  separari  sine  Isesione 
potest  \  nuUi  peeuliari  ovarii  rimse  respondet :  neque 
canalis  in  illo  excavatns,  sed  totum  solidum  est.     Ln- 
tmis  color  est,  substantia  acinosa,  acinis  admodum  com- 
pactis  et  ad  sese  pressis  ambitus  rotundas.  Potest  aliquo 
mods,  veint  in  glandulissuprarenalibus, duplex  substantia 
distingni,  corticalis  et  medullaris  \  quarnm  ilia  insequa<- 
lis  crassitiei  I-— 2  lin.  lutea  comprehendit'  banc  mcdul- 
larem  albam,  quae  tennis  et  membrana  quasi  cailosa,  ali- 
um  nncleum  flavum  indudit  cassioremV     It  is  very  *  ilo^(&Mr 
large  soon  after  ooaception,  and  then  gmdually  he-^^^'''^'* 
comes  smaller :  hot  never  totally  disapneartu    Rcsderer    ^  ?^ 
observes^  **  post  pnerpenum  eo  magis  contram  et  indu-^^,.,^  ^ 
rari  ilia'  corpora  videntnr,  ^uo  remotior  fit  partus  jIuW.  p.  42. 
qnalia  videlicet'  observsntur  in  femfiois  qast  noper  par- 
tnm  non  ediderant* 

**  Lntea  corpomquo  serius  Si  partu  obser  vaninr  cuneta 
ghasdnlis  snpraretialibvs  similla  esse  videntur,  dnplioe 
nempe.  substantia^,  eaeteriore  certicaH^  solida  seuflava 
lntea  et  nucleo  fiisco :   velot  ettam  illat  giamhilGB  com-    _^ 
pressa  suntf  "     In  cases  where  there  b  a  plurality  of  J       * 

chifdren. 


46  MID  W 

TiJkriMof  tliiMreiit  tlicre  i^  evidently  a  corpus  lutenm  to  each 

•'ImprcfBa.  child.  ,  In  sonie  quadrupeds,  as  in  the  bitch  or  cat,  tde 

-    ^""^    _■  ""*'****  ®^  young  in  the  uteros  may  be  g^eneraHy  known 

•  'by  the  corresponding  corpora  lutea  in  the  evaria. 

,3  The  next  change  in  the  human  uterine  system  which 

.    deserves  notice  is  that  in  the  fallopian  tnbes.     They 

'  vweil  out  towards  the  fimbriated  extremity,  and  form  a 

cavity  which  has  'been  called  antrum.     Roederer  was 

the  brst  who  observed  and  accurately  ilelineated  this 

-  change. 

•  He  says,  p.  14.  loco  citato,  *^  In  hoc  etiam  ntero  an- 
trum tubsB  dextrse  apparet,  cj".  tab.  i.  not.  5.  ubi  qui- 
dem  in  utraqoe  tuba  adest,  in  hujus  iconis  ntero  ad  so- 
lum tubam  deztram  antrum  pertinet.     Ad  uteram  fe- 
minae  octiduum  puerperse  non  longe  a  fimbria  in  istius- 
modi  antrum  tuba  sinistra  prominet :  dextra  quidem 
'  sine  antro  est,  sed  versus  fimbriam  ita  flectitnr  ut  ultima 
flexura  dimidium  pollicem  ultra  reliquam  tubam  efier»- 
'tur.     Tubse  feminse  quae  mox  a  maturo  partn  mortua 
est,  et  alterius  tres  dies  puerperce  antris  qtiidem  earent, 
sed  multum  versus  simbrias  dilatantur.     An  est  facta 
'conceptione  ista  antra  nascuntur  ? 

*'  In  uteri,  tab.  iv.  ovario  dextro  lutenm  corpus  Iat«t 
in  uteri  feniinse  octldunm  pucrpene  or«rio  sinistro  >  in 
•uteri,  tab.i*  ovario  sinistro."  He  adds,  ^  ulteriori  indi»^ 
gine  ista  antra  non  indigna  esse  mihi  videntur.  Licebit 
forsan  conjectare  aliquid  liquoris  ex  vcsicnia  graafiana 
in  tubam  Upsum  et  ad  introitum  morans  illam  dila* 
Urn." 
21  fiut  the  most  astonishing  changes  are  those  produced 

in  the  uterus  itself.     Its  parietes  separate,  a  cavity  is 
formed  which  becomes  filled  with  a  fluid,  and  the  os 
•ntert  ia  closed  up.     The  matter  contained  within  the 
^cavity  soon  assumes  an  organized  form.    Tt  is  said  that 
some  time  after <:onoeption,  a  small  vesicle  is  observed 
attached  at  one  point  to  the  internal  surface  of  the 
ntems  ^  that  the  rest  of  the  parietes  is  covered  with  a 
gelatinous  fluid  $  and  that  the  whole  internal  surface  as- 
sumes a  fiocculent  appearance.  IBy  degrees  the  vesicle, 
which  is  in  fact  the  ovum  containing  the  embryo,  in- 
creases so  much  in  size  that  it  nearly  fills  the  whole 
cavity  in  whioh  it  is  contained,  and  then  its  structure 
becomes  the  object  of  our  senses.       * 
la  The  increase  of  size  in  the  utemsis  very  gradnah 

It  is  at  first  confined  almost  entirely  to  the  fundus,  and 
it  proceeds  so  slowly  that  it  does  not  leave  the  cavity  of 
<he  pelvis  till  nearly  the  fourth  month.  The  principal 
.  change  in  the  cervix  for  the  first  five  months  is  the  com- 
plete cloenre  of  the  orifice,  which  is  efieoted  by  a  ge* 
'  latinoos  fluid  c  afierwards  the  cervix  is  gradually  ex* 
tended,  and  *  at  last  its  form  is  obliterated,  the  whole 
nterut  becoming  like  an  oval  pouch. 

Af^ei  the  fifih  month  the  increase  of  siie  in  the  ute- 
rus is  very  rapid.  The  fundus  can  be  just  felt  above  the 
pubes  about  the  fifih  month,  but  at  the-end  of  the  ninth 
month  it  extends  to  the  scrobiculua  cordis. 

Some  authors  have  alleged  that  the  changes  in  the 
cervix  and  in  the  situation  of  the  fundus  are  so  uni- 
>  formlj  regular  in  every  case,  that  by  attending  to  them 
it  is  possible  to  ascertain  the  exact  period  of  impregna- 
tion«  Bnt  in  this  respect  they  are  much  mistaken ;  the 
changes  being  not  only  different  in  different  women^ 
but  also  in  the  same  woman  in  different  pregnancies. 
The  texture  of  the.  parietes  of  the  utems  seema  moflh 

2 


t>OB. 


2J 


«4 


I  F  E  R  Y.  Cliap.  H. 

altered  after  impregnation.     It  becomes  spongy  and  CflerUof 
fibrous.    The  fibres  run  in  very  different  directions,  and  fn}preg«»- 
from  their  power  and  appearance  are  certainly  nra&co- 
lar.     The  blood-vessels  become  much  enlarged,  bnt  are 
still  in  a  tortuous  direction*     They  are  particularl^r 
largae  at  one  pait  of  the  oterus. 

The  lymphatic  vessels,  which  in  the  nnimpregnaled 
nterus  cannot  be  demoostnited  by  anatomists,  become, 
as  well  a^  the  blood-tvessels,  remarkably  large. 

The  ovum  is  not  ofken  expelled  entire  till  after  the 
»«ighth  or  twelfth  week  after  conception*  It  is  shaped 
somewhat  like  an  egg,  and  is  about  the  latter  period 
/about  four  inches  m  length.  When  cut  into,  it  is 
>found  to  consist  of  four  layers  or  nemfaranes,  and  to 
'Contain  a  foetus  surrounded  by  ascertain  quantity  of 
'Water,  and^conneeted  to  one  part  of  the  parietes  (which 
'is  considerably  thicker  than  the  rest)  by  a  vascular 
'cordt 

The  external  membmne  ^covers  the  whole  ovum.  It 
-is  thidc,  spongy,  and  very  vascular,  the  vessds  evideni- 
'ly  deriving  their  bbod  from  the  utems ;  it  has  three 
'^perforations  which  correspond  with  the  openings  of  the 
-OS  tincse  and  fi^lopian  tubes.  It  has  been  called  decidua^ 
tunica  Jiktmeniosaj  &4;.  Jmt  its  most  ordinary  a{ipelk« 
<ion  is  spongy  chorion* 

The  •  second  membrane  pnoeeds  from  the  edges  of 
4hat  part  into  which  4he  vascular  rope  which  connects 
-the  foetus  i«  attached.  It  was  first  pointed  out  to  ana- 
tomists by  'Dr  WilKam  Hnnter,  and  called  by  him 
\decidtta  reflexa.  The  name  nn fortunately  records  to 
« posterity  the  absurd  idea  respecting  its  origin  which 
'Was  entertained  by  Dr  Hunter.  It  is  not  so  thick  and 
spongy  as  the  former  iiiembrane,  nor  so  vascular.  It 
lies  loosely  between  the  external  membrane  and  that  to 
be  next  described  \  but  it  appears  only  for  a  short  timei 
48  it  soon  becomes  blended  with  the  others. 

The  third  membrane  is  thin  and  transparent,  but 
"Strong.  It  is  lined  with  the  fourth  membrane,  and  lies 
in  the  same  situation  with-it.  It  contains  no  vessels  at 
this  period  of  impregnation  conveying  red  blood  in  the 
human  subject,  bnt  in  the  cow  the  vessels  are  very  di« 
etinct  at  every  period.  This  membrane  however  in  the 
early  period  of  impregnation  is  very  vascular,  and  its 
vessels  are  derived  from  the  -ftetus.  The  history  of  a 
case  of  morbid  impregnation,  where  the  foetus  was  ex- 
tra-uterine, detailed  by  Dr  Clarke  in  the  ^  Trans- 
Bctious  of  a  Society  for  the  Improvement  of  Medical 
and  Chirurgical  Knowledge,"  proves  this  circumstance 
very  clearly.  He  says,  p.  220.  *^  a  laceration  was  found 
to  be  in  the  fallopian  tube  about  an  inch  and  a  half  in 
length,  each  extremity  of  which  was  about  an  equal 
distance  from  the  respective  termination  of  the  tube  in 
the  fimbria:  and  in  'the  uterus.  The  distension  of 
the  tube  at  this  part  was  nearly  of  the  size  of  a  kurge 
walnut,  forming  a  kind  of  pouch.  More  of  the  coagu- 
lated blood  being  removed  from  the  kcorated  part,  the 
shaggy  vestck  ^tha  chorion  immedialely  appeared,  in- 
terspersed with  small  coagula,  and  lying  in  contact  with 
the  internal  surface  of  the  pooch  formed  by  the  fallo- 
pian tobe  *,  these  being  separated,  and  the  chorioo  di- 
vided, the  amnios  shewed  itself,  conuining  a  foetus  per- 
fectly formed  of  above  six  or  seven  %reeks  growth,**  &c« 
This  membrane  is  called  the  true  chorion. 
The  fourth  membrane  is  even  thinner  and  oMire  trans*> 

parent 


atf 


«7 


Chap.  IT.  MIDWIFERY. 

£ff<ctii  of  parent  than  the  former.     It  lines  the  whole  ioteroal 


47 


I'Bp'^'cgi^*^  surface  of  the  ovum^  and  together  nvilh  the  chorion  is 
^^^*  continued  along-  the  vascular  cord  which  connects  the 
ovum  and  fcetus.  Betweea  this  membrane  and  the 
chorion,%ear  the  insertion  of  the  vascular  cord,  a  small 
white  vesicle  appears  very  dtstioctai  this  period  ^  it  was 
first  described  and  delineated  by  Dr  W.  Hunter,  and 
was  called  by  him  vesicula  umbtUcalis.  At  the  full 
period  of  utero- gestation  it  is  no  longer  visible,  being 
tften  quite  transparent* 

The  foetus  at  thu  period  is  between  two  and  three 
inches  in  length,  and  its  external  conformation  is  near- 
ly complete. 

The  fluid  contained  in  the  ovum  is  in  such  quantity 
as  to  prevent  the  foetus  from  touching  the  parietes  of 
the  covering  in  which  it  is  included.  It  is  a  clear  wa- 
tery fluid,  of  greater  specific  gravity  than  water,  and 
of  a  saltish  taste.  When  examined  chemically  it  is 
found  not  coagnlable  .by  heat  or  alcohol,  and  to  contain 
a  pfoportioa  of  ammomacal  and  sea  salt.  This  fluid  is 
called  liquor  amnii. 

The  connection  of  the  parts  thus  entfmera^  with  the 
uterus  cannot  he  explained,  unless  the  appearance  of  the 
ovum  at  the  full  period  of  geststion  be  described. 
«S  The  ovum  then  consists  of  three  membranes ;  a  spongy 

vascular  substance  caMed  placenta,  to  which  the  &- 
tus  is  connected  by  a  vascular  rope,  and  the  liquor 
amnii.  - 

The  three  membranes  consist  of  the  qiongy  chorion, 
the  true  chorion,  and  the  amnios.  * 

The  spongy  chorion  covers  the  whole.  Its  vessels 
are  numerous,  and  they  can  be  filled  by  throwing  hot 
wax  into  the  vessels  of  tlie  uterus. 

The  true  chorion  and  amnios  are  in  the  same  situa- 
tion  as  in  the  eariy  months,  being  continued  along  the 
navel-string.  They  are  quite  transparent,  and  contain 
no  visible  vessels  of  any  description. 

The  placenta  is  a  large  vascular  spongy  mass,  of  va- 
rions  fonns  in  different  cases,  meat  generally  approaching 
to  a  round  one,  placed  on  the  outside  of  the  true  chorion, 
between  it  and  the  spongy  chorion.  Its  external  surface 
is  lobulated ;  its  internal  or  that  towards  the  fcetus  is 
smooth,  except  from  the  rising  of  the  blood-vessels. 

It  is  not  attached  to  the  olems  at  any  regular  place, 
being  sometimes  at  the  cervix  or  side,  but  roost  gene- 
rally about  the  fimdus.  On  the  one  side  it  receives 
blood  from  the  mother,  and  on  the  other  firom  the 
child.  Mr  John  Hunter  was  the  first  who  clearly  tra- 
ced the  insertion  of  the  blood-veasels  in.the  uterus  into 
the  placenta.  He  describes  it  thus  (j>) :  -  '^  The  late 
indefatigable  Dr  M^Kenzie,  about  the  month  of  May 
>754»  ^^®°  assistant  toDrSmellie,  having  procured 
the  body  of  a  pregnant  woman  who  had  died  undeliveT^ 
ed  at  the  iiill  term,  had  injected  both  the  veins  and  ar- 
teries with  particular  success  ^  the  veins  being  filled 
with  yellow,  the  arteries  with  red. 

^  Ibving  opened  the  abdomen,  and  exposed  the  ute- 
rus, he  made  an  incision  into  the  fore  part,  quite 
through  its  substance,  and  came  to  somewhat .  having 
th^  appearance  of  an  irregular  mans  of  injected  matter, 
which  afterwards  proved  to  be  the  pkcenta*    This  ap- 


tion« 


pearance  being  new,  he  stopped,  and  greatly  obliged  £ffecu  of 
me  by  desiring  my  attendance  to  examine  the  parts,  in  Impregaa^ 
which  there  ai^eared  something  do  uncommon. 

'^  I  first  raised,  with  great  care,  part  of  the  uterus 
from  the  irregular  mass  above  mentioned  j  in  doing 
which,  I  observed  regular  pieces  of  wax,  passing  ob- 
liquely between  it  and  the  uterus,  which  broke  off, 
leaving  part  upon  this  mass  ;  and  when  they  were  at- 
tentively examined,  towards  the  uterus,  plainly  appear- 
ed to  be  a  continuation  of  the  veins  passing  nom  it  to 
this  substance  or  placenta. 

'*  I  likewise  perceived  other  vessels,  about  the  size  of 
a  crow  quill,  passing  in  the  same  manner,  although  not 
so  obliquely  ;  these  also  brdke  upon  separating  the  pla- 
centa and  uterus,  leaving  a  small  portion  on  the  surface 
of  the  placenta  >  and,  on  examination,  they  were  dis- 
covered to  be  continaations  of  the  arteries  of  the  uterus. 
My  next  step  was  to  trace  these  vessels  into  the  sub- 
stance of  what  appeared  placenta,  which  I  first  at- 
tempted in  a  vein  *,  but  that  soon  lost  the  reffularity  of 
a>  vessel,  by.  terminating  at  once  upon  tb&surface  of  the 
placenta,  in  a  veiy  fine  spongy  substance,  the  interstices 
of  which  were  filled  with  the  yellow  injected  matter. 
This  termination  being  new,  I  repeated  the  same  kind 
of  examination  on  other  veins,,  which  always  led  me  to  - 
the  same  terminations,  never  entering  the  substance  of 
the  placenta  in  the  form  of  a  vessel.-  I  next  examined 
the  arteries,  and,  tracing  them  in  the  same  manner  to- 
ward the  placenta,  found  that  they  made  a  twist,  or  • 
close  .spina  turn  upon  themselves,  and  then  were  lost  on 
its  surface.  On  a  more  attentive  view,  I  perceived  that 
they  terminated  in  the  same  way  as  the  veins ;  for  op- 
posite to  the  mouth  of  the  artery,  the  spongy  substance 
of  the  placenta  was  readily  observed,  and  was  inter-  - 
mixed  with  the  red  injection^^- 

'*  Upon  cutting  into  the  pUcenta*,  I  discovered,  in  • 
many  places  of  its  substance,  yellow  injection  \  in  others 
red,  and  in  many  others  these  two  colours  mixed.  This 
substance  qf  the  placenta,  now  filled  with  injection,  had  • 
nothing  of  the  vascular  appearance,  nor  that  of  extra- 
vasation, but  had  a  regularity  in  its  form,  which  shew- 
ed it  to  be  a  natural  cellular  structure  fitted  for  a  re- 
servoir for  hload« 

'*  In  some  of  the  vessels  leading  from  the  placenta  ' 
to  the  uterus,  I  perceived  that  the  red  injection  of  the 
arteries  (which  had  been  first  injected)  had  passed  into  - 
them  out  of  the  substance  of  the  placenta,  mixing  itself 
with  the  yellow  injection.  •  I  also  observed,  that  the 
spongy  chorion,  called  the  decidua  by  Dr  Hunter,  was  • 
very  vascular,  its  vessels  oominff  from,  and  returning  to, 
the  uterus,  being  filled  wi(h  the  different  coloured  in- 
jections.*^- 

It  appeara  then  that  the  placenta  has  a  cellular  struc-  ^ 
ture,  which  receives  blood  firom  the  arteries  of  the  mo-- 
ther,  and  that  there  are  veins  by  which  that  blood  is 
returned,  so  that  not  a  drop  passes  into  the  fcetus.     Of 
this  practitioness  of  midwifery  have  a  very  familiar 
proof.     When  the  placenta  is  retained  attached  to  the 
uterus,  after  the  birth  of  the  child,  not  a  drop  of  blood  • 
passes  firom  the  umbilical  cord,'  except  what  was  con- 
tained in  the  ramifications  of  the  foetal  vessels  when  the 

child- 


29^ 


(d)  Observations  on  certain  parts  of  the  Animal  Oeconomyy  by  John  Hunter,  p.  i27« 


tMm. 
39 


50  M  I  D  W 

Efteu  tS  cMwe  it  is  in  Tefy  large  pro^itioB  irben  the  ftictas  is 
Impregnu  scarcely  visible.     From  what  source  then  ^does  ft  pro- 
ceed P  Most  probably  Iram  tbe  coats  of  tbe  ammoe. 

6*  Since  from  the  situatieo  of  the  foCw  it  has  no 
dtirect  communkation  with  the  atmo^eric  air,  ^ro 
questions  occur  on  the  snbieot  j  first,  whether  it  be  ne- 
cessary that  the  foetus  should  receive  the  vivifying  some* 
what  which  the  natus  receives  firom  the  almospbeve. 
adly,  If  this  be  answered  in  the  affirmattviey  by  what 
means  is  this  somewhat  furnished  P 

X.  On  looking  into  the  werks  of  Nature,  we  find  that 
there  is  a  class  of  animals  placed  in  a  similar  sitaatton 
with  the  foetus,  viz.  the  locomotive  fishes.  These  re- 
ceive the  vivifying  somewhat  furnished  by  the  atmo- 
^here  tinrough  the  medium  of  the  fluid  in  which  they 
are  immersed )  for  their  bhied  is  always  distributed  by 
the  smallest  ramifications  over  a  substance  in  constant 
contact  with  the  water,  befiipo  it  return  into  the  arte- 
rial system  to  serve  for  tbe  purposes  of  nutrition. 

From  analogy  therefore  it  must  be  allowed,  that  the 
feetus  does  receive,  through  some  means  or  other,,  the 
vivifying  principle  of  the  atmosphere. 

2.  By  what  means  then  is  this  furnished  ?  Alany  ctr* 
enmstances  eoncor  to  prove  that  it  is  by  means  oJF  the. 
placenta.     For, 

rst,  The  structure  of  the  plaoentii  resembleR  much 
that  of  the  hmgs.  It  is  ceHular,  and  has  the  whole 
blood  of  the  foetoe  distribnted  in  (^  smallest  branches 
over  its  substance.   See  Amatomt,  Aihmal,  Cbap.  4^ 

SOPPLCMENT. 

2dfy,  Tbe  blood  retnming  from  the  phicenta  is  sent 
by  the  nearest  possible  means  to  the  lefl  side  of  the 
heart.  And,  3dfy,  Compression  of  the  nmbilieal  cord  to 
such  a  degree  as  to  interrupt  the  oircnlatfon  throngh  it, 
destroys  the  foetus  as  soon  as  comprsssiott  of  the  trachea 
does  the  natns. 

It  appears  therefere  that  the  placenta  serves  te  the 
foetus  the  same  purpose  which  kings  do  to  the  natus. 

The  celebrated  H aller  has  objected  to  this  probable 

use  of  the  placenta  in  the  following  words.     **  Non 

paaci  etiam  auctores  secundis  pulmonis  officium  tribue- 

mnt,  cum  in  vena  umbiKcali  san^is  ruber  sit  et  flori- 

dus,  si  cum  sanguinis  soMie  artense  compaietnr.  Idex- 

perimentum  mca  non  confimant.     In  pnllo  arteria  fere 

coccinea,  vena  violacea  est.     In  fioetu  humane  nunquam 

Ifloridum  sanguinem  vidij  neque  intelligo  ut  placenta, 

in  qua  certissime  nnHa  sint  aertfle  mutabtles  vesieute 
^^ ^1 •    t«*:  ♦  n 


I  F  E  R  Y.  Chap.  IIt» 

nem  jam  ante  in  parte  ciroumhitam,  ad  plaeetotttm  per-   Kttm! 
ferebat,  puncta  est^  quam  prope  arterim  puncturam  PintaritiDs. 
vena  quoque  umbi licalis  similtter  pottdta  est.    Quo  fac-       ^ 
tck  ex  vena  sangois  «fihienB,  eum  eo  qui  ex  arteria  ef- 
•fluebat  fiicile  compamrt  polerat.   'Ille,  venosi  sanguinis 
•instar,  nigrieabat  ^  hie,  ssmguisis  in  ndultm  ta/tmlt  mox 
vivide  florebat  (d).** 

7*  The  means  by  whi<A  the  foetus  is  nourislied  have  43 
hitherto  escaped  the  investigation  of  physiologists. 
That  the  stomach  and  in^estiiies  do  not  serve  this  pur- 
pose is  obvNfoS'from  many'COHCurrent  te^monies  5  but 
•particularly  ivom  these  lergans  bding  on- seme  oiteamns 
entirely  wanting;  while  other  parts  of  the  System  ef*the 
fiaetns  were  complete.  It  is  probable  Ifrat  the  plaoenta 
stt^liea  nourishment,  as  well'as  the  ^fvifyfiig  principle 
of  the  air  to  the  fioMus  in  utero. 


40 


4» 


*  Bailer,    pessit  pulmonis  moncre  fengi 

I0&  cit.  lib.     Bntlater  obserVationshftffecontradicted  the  assertions 
nix  lect  3.  ^f  HaH^r  on  this  occasion.    In  parlicnlar,  Dr  leftray, 

*  ^''4 1      professor  of  anatomy  in  the  university  of  Glssgow,  m 

an  inaogural  ^ssertetion  published  here  m  the  year 
1786,  relates  an  experiment  made  by  him  which  is 
completely  opposite  to  the  opinion  of  Haller.  •*  Puero 
♦'  he  says"  in  obstetficatoris  sinu  jtcenti,  funiculus 
tribus  vinculis  circumjectis,  et  simuh  in  arotum  tractis 
fr^HJgfttiia  est  V  ^UA  deia  juxta  umbilicum  iociso,  in 
arteriis  umbilicalibus  et  venis,  inter  duo  vincula  pla- 
centum  proaime,  saagninis  eopia  ivtereoftum  est.    In- 

lercepti  spatii  vasa,  gclatinosa  funiculi  parte  cultro  _  ...  j.         •    • 

dMupto,  i»  eonsp«ottt»  v«m«rol>  «(tnrt«ria,qum aangni^    que  fammliutes  aMnpan,  qmn  m  eo  medicos  mmis  ere- 


Chap.  HI..  Natural  Parturition^. 

HfJMAK  parturition,  where  every  thing  is  natural,  is 
perhaps  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  interestiog  opera- 
tions in  nature  \  for  what  can  be  more  beautiful  than  a 
process  accomplished  by  the  combined  action  of  a  niim* 
ber  of  powers  admirably  welt  adapted  to  tbe  intended' 
purpose )  and  what  can  be  more  interesting  tlian  the  con- 
tinuation of  oor  species  which  depends  on  the  operation  ? 

In  treating  of  this  subject,  we  shall  first  consider  the 
term  of  gestation  \  2dly,  the  phenomena  of  natural  par- 
turition 'y  and,  3cllj,  the  causes  of  tboj<e  phenomena. 

Sect.  I..  Temi  of  Gestation. 

The  ancients  imagined  that  althottgh  -nine  knlendar 
months  be  the  most  usual  period  of  human  pregnancy,  yet- 
00  some  oceaalons  that  period  may  be,  andaretually  is,  pro- 
tracted oven  beyond  ten  calendar  months.  Accordn^y, 
at  was  laid  down  as^a  maxim  in  amtent  junsprndeneey 
that  children  bom  within  eleven  montfao  aiVer  the  death. 
of  dwir  supposed  father  should  bo  declared  legitrmate. 

In  modem  times  the  question  has  been  often  agitated, 
both  among  WBodical  practitioners  and  among  lawyers. . 
Piwrtrtioners-  01  mwwnery  however  hs^ve  had  most  fre- 
quent noeasion  to  inveslsgate  this  subject,  and  they  have 
diffiBrod  matoriaNy  in  their  eondusaons. 

Rosdeiw  says,  *'  Heme  ferminum,  nuem  nempe  tn." 
gosimfls  BOBse  et  nontranqown  quadragesfrnte  hebdonia- 
dis  paiptoi  vnatnro  nBtufa,  uti  accuntiui?  observatio  do- 
«et  cowtitnit,  dtraqve  cum  non  facile  diflertur.  Ni- 
hil hie  v«let  energta  senmris  defictens,  morbosa  vel 
dcbiKs  patiis  constitbtio,  matris  dispositio  phthisica^ 
hedtiea,  <ftm  fcetns  snfficienti  aKmento  privatnr^  nihil,, 
status  matris  cacheoticos,  fluxus  menstruus  tempore 
gostatwnis  contingens,  diarrhcea  aKasre  morbus;  nihil 
imnia  utevi  amplitodo  ^  nihtl  afiectus  matris  vehemen* 
tiop,  qm^is  tristitta;;  nihil*  difleta  matris  extraordinaria, 
vel  inedia  \  nihil  foetus  debilitas  et'dispositio  morbosa  ; 
nihil  plures  foetus  in  utero  detenti. 

"  Tantum  enim  abest  ut  hae  causae  foetus  moram  in 
utero  retapiMt,  «t  potius  ••oolerent.  Viduse^mdem 
vanis  hisce  speciebns,  illicitam  vonerem  defendere  at- 


44 


4S 


4<5 


(d)  Tentamen  modicum  inaugurale,  qusedam  de  placenta  proponcns,  auctore  Jaooho  Jeficay,  &c.  Edinburgk 
X786,  p.  41. 


47 


Chap-  ITL  M  I  D  W 

Katnrnl    Moty  viel  lucsi  copidos  in  sum  patUs  tiabeve'  8liidMit( 
Pftrtoritian.8ed  men  hae  •oai  ludibm,  ptwicreaqiie  nihil  (x).** 

B«%  naiif  cnriMnt  teMh«n  of  nidwifiity  bttlievB 
tbat  in  some  eateft  innMa  pr^gmney  it  protnded  for 
twe  or  three  Sleeks  beyond  the  mom  common  period. 

Dr  Hamilton  eepeoinily  Bsyf,  **  In  the  hommi  spe^ 
cies  nine  keieoder  laentlie  aeem  neoeesery  for  the  per* 
fection  of  the  foetne  \  that  ie,  neaHy.  tbiity-nane  weekS| 
<xr  two  hundred  and  eeveo^three  days  from  eoneep 
tion.  The  term  does  not|  imweiery  appear  to  be  so 
arbitrarily  eelabiishodi  but  that  natnre  may  transgiess 
her  nsnal  la^vs  ;  and  as  many  •otvcnnwtaaoes  freqi;iently 
eoneor  to  anticipate  drfivery,  it  ceitainiy  aaay  in  some 
instances  be  m^traefeed*  Individoals  in  the  same  class 
of  qnadropeds,  it  is  ivell  known,  vary  in  their  periods 
of  pregnancy.  May  we  nMy  thercwre,  from  acmlogy 
reaeoo^y  infer,  that  women  sometimes  exceed  the 
move  nrdiaary  period  P  In  several  teAembly  well  attest- 
ed CB0^  the  bMi  a^ipears  to  have  been  pralraeted  se*- 
veml  week»  beyond  tbi  common  term  of  delivery,  if 
the  charaoter  of  the  woman  be  nnexceptionaUe,  a  hr 
ywjtnkk^  report  may  be  given  for  the  motbsTy  thoogh 
the  child  shonid  not  be  prednced  till  nearly  ten  ka- 
lendmr  months  after  the  absence  or  sadden  deatb  of  her 

^tMsttwt  hnsband  V 

of  Mtd- 

SscT.  II.  Phemmefm  qf  Naiural  Labour. 

The  safieriogo  of  «  womna  daring  labour  having  been 
compiimd  to  tbe  fatignes  of  a  person-ona  jenmey,  the 
phenomena  of  labour  have  been  divided  into  three  staees. 
The  first  stage  ooosists  of  the  opening  tf  the  month  of 
tbowomb ;  t£i  second,  of  die  nctnal  passage  of  the  child ; 
and  the^Mrd,  of  the  separation  and  expnkion  of  the 


49 


4« 


Phenomena  of  ike  Fn^  Stage.'^hk  most  instances 
tho  bnlk  nf  tbe  beUy  snbsiibss  km  a  day  or  two  before 
kboor  begino^  bnt  the  fimt  evidenoe  of  the  actoal 
osHimenceiPtwt  of  that  process  is  the  oeenrreace  of 
pains  in  Itt  belly  affecting  the  Imns,  and  otriking 
down  the  thighs^  cooanoding  consideraMe  irritiition  of 
the  bladder  and  bowds*-  These  pains,  &o.  however, 
often  takee  placer  during  seme  hours  of  tbe  night,  for 
dafi,  or  even  weeks,  before  tran-  labour  begins,  and 
un  then  styled  spatioos  parins.  |t  io  not  easy  on  many 
oeeasions  to  diotingtiisfa  true  kboor  tbreeo  from  spn^ 
rioos  pains,  unless  the  statn  of  tbe  montb  of  the  vramb 
be  examined,  so  vm<y  neariy  do  they  MBemble  eaoh 
othe«\  Snt  Ik  general  spnrions  pains  recnr  at  irregular 
liiter«nl9,  andde  oot  incienso  in  force  accordBng  to  their 
dnratkm ;  wfaemas  trae  pains  gradnnlly  reenp  at  >8hortcr 
iMorvads,  and  beeeme  mere  and  more  violeffti 

Spurious  pains  are  sometimea  attended  with  an  occur* 
lewee  which  <wns  first  pnMioly  notieed  and  >deoeribed  by 
the  prtfseot  profesanr  of  midwifery  in  the  university  of 
S^Mrorgh  (r),  viz.  the  pratmsion  of^tbo  uivnarv'  blad- 
der Tliiei«senibleS|  toat  superficial  observ«r,  tn^  bag 
formed  by  the  nMrnbrftnes-  wkicb  iaelose  the  diM,  lind 
in  oonseqoevce:  has  repeatedly  been  buiet  li>y  the  Aagers 
oftheopmnMK.  Inettmblo^aooMlinenceofurhBKvinflmn- 
maithm  ol^iAie'pnsaages^  «ke«  havtf'foiewed  ibis  nocidoM. 


IFEBY-  5i 

Pintrosion  of  tke^  ucinaiy  bladder  may  be  readily  Kateml 
distiaguiohed  from  that  of  tim  memhsanea  wUsh  in-  Partnritioa' 
dude  the  iafont  bf  tw»  ciacuantaBces.  First,  tho  bag  •  ^ 
vooedes  comploleiy  during  tin  interval  of  the  painj 
and  secondly,  when  pushed  down,  the  finger  cannot  be 
pamed  round  it  at  the  fooe  part  of  the  pelvis>  it  seems 
as  if  fixed  to  the  pubis.  True  ld)Ottr*^ns  arise  from  , 
the  contractiass  of  the  womb  by  wUch  that  mgan  is 
shpftened  and  thiekened }  and,  at  the  same  time,  its 
contents  are  forced  thpougk  iu  osifioe.  When  tiw|r 
hooome  regular  and  foroiag,  they  knve  the  eiect  of  opeor 
tug'  the  mouih  of  the  womb,  so  that  a  practitioner  can 
readily  ascertain  the  difference  between  them  and  spurs- 
ons  pains.  Tbeopenhig  of  tbe  montb  of-  the  womb,  in 
most  instsBoes,  is  sncninpnnisd  by  tho  discbargit  «f  n 
slimy,  bloedy*lik&  matter,  termed  siwws)  bnt  in  nMn|r 
iworoen  there  ia  no  eucb  cinonmstanoe* 
.  This  pfnoem .  is  genemUy  gmdnal,  tke  pains  io^ 
creasing  in  freyaency  and  foroe }  and  eight,  ten,  or 
twelve .  bourn,  commonly  elapse  before  they  csmpleto> 
the  opening  of  the  womb.  In  souse  oases  the  dilatation 
takes  place  to  a  considerable  extent  before  pains  occur, 
so  that  a  few  pains  accomplisb  this  stage.  But  these 
eaeceptieno  are  not  so  frequent  as  those  of  an  opppsitn 
description,  where  one  or  two  complete  days  are  requi- 
red to  open  the  womb,  though  the  pains  be  unremitting. 

In  propoition  as  the  first  stafle  advances,  the  mem- 
branous bag  containing  tke  child  ia  pushed  througk 
the  moudi  <$  tbe  womb^  and  forced  gradually  into  the 
vagina.  During  the  pain  it  is  tense,  and  dnring  tbe  in- 
terval it  becomes  nehuoed.  IVhen  this  happens,  the 
head  of  the  infant  can  be  distinctly  folt  behmd  it.  ikt 
last,  the  passages  being  sufitcienuy  opened,  the  pains 
having  become  stronger  and  more  frequent,  the  mem- 
branes give  way,  and  tbe  water  contained  within  them 
is  discharged }  wfaioh  finishes  tho  first  sti^e.  Shivering, 
vomiting,  headach,  thirst,  and  pain  in  the  back,  take 
place  in  many  instances  during  this  stage. 

Phenomena  ^tke  Second  Slay,"— Sometimes  an  inter-  50 
ral  of  ease  of  some  minutes  duration  snoceeds  tbe  dis- 
charge of  the  waters*  The  pains  then  become  muck 
mone  violent  and  forcings  and  the  head,  by  the  con^ 
tmctions  cf  the  uterus  thus  beooming  mors  pownrftt^, 
is  pushed  throogb  the  brim  of  tbe  pelvis  into  the  va* 
gina.  For  this  puifiose  the  vertex  is  foreed  foremost, 
nnd  tbe  brow  is  turned  to  one  sacro-iliao  synchondrosis, 
so  that  the  largest  pait  of  the  bead  is  applied  to  the 
widest  part  of  tbe  bason ;  for  as  the  bead  is  oval,  and 
the  opening  tbrovigb  wbidi  it  is  to  pass  is  of  the  same 
form,  this  b  absolotely  necessary. 

After  the  head  is  in  the  vagina,  tke  pains  still  oon« 
tinning,  the  vertex  is  turned  into  the  arch  of  the  pubis,  • 
and  tho  face  into  the*  bdlow  of  tbe  sacrum,  by  whick 
tbe  largest  part  of  the  bead  'is  brought  into  the  direc- 
tion of  the  widest  part  at^fke  outlet.  AH  the  sofl  parts 
SOPS  now|irotruded  in  the  form  of  n  tumour,  a  portion 
of  tbe  vertex  is  poshed  through  the  orifice  of  the  vagi* 
na,  and  every  pain  advances  the  progrtoss  of  the  infant, , 
tUl  at  last  tlM  head  is  eacpeUed.  An  interval  of  a  mi^ 
Utttis  or  two  now  ensues,^  after  whick  another  pain  ta- 

G2  king 


,  I 


(e)  Koedereri  Elementa  Artis  Obstetri^se.  Goettingse,  1766.  page  98. 
(F)  Select  Cases  in  MBdiriferf,  by  James  Hamiltmi,  M;  D.  1795.  page  i€. 


52  M  I  D  W 

NtLtnnil    kiag  place,  the  bee  is  turned  to  ooe  tliigh,  and  the 

rtjituritioa  shoulders  ojf  the  child  being  pbiced  towards  iiiibis  and 

^  sacrum,  the  irhole  of  the  body  is  h<Mrn.     J>uriog  this 

process  the  patient  generally  adds  voluntary  efforts  to  the 

contractions  of  the  uterus* 

This  stage  is  in  many  instances  extremely  tedious  i 
hut  after  the  woman  has  had  one  child,  it  often  is  com* 
plet^d  within  the  time  of  six  or  eight  pains. 
51  Fhenomtna  of  the  Third  ^l^gr^*-^ Whenever  the  in- 

fant is  bom,  if  there  be  no  other  in  the  womb,  the  pa« 
rietes  of  the  abdomen  become  relaxed,  and  the  womb 
can  be  perceived  through  them,  contracted  almost  into 
the  size  of  a  child's  head.  An  interval  of  ease  of  some 
minutes  duration  now  elapses,  afUr  wfaioli  pains  again 
recur,  commonly  attended  with  the  discharge  of  some 
dots  of  bloody  occasioning  a  kind  of  gmq^ing  noise, 
and  the  placenta  and  membranes  are  thrown  off,  and 
the  womb  remains  quite  contracted  or  nearly  so,  with 
Ur  cavity  scarcely  capable  of  containing  a  hen's  egg* 
In  some  cases  a  single  pain  accomplishes  this,  and  m 
others  several  pains  are  required  \  but,  generally  speak- 
ing, this  stage  is  completed  within  an  hour  after  the 
birth  of  the  child.    . 

It  sometimes,  however,  happens  that  the  natural  ef- 
forts  are  Inadequate  to  the  expulsion  of  the  secundines. 
The  causes  are,  want  of  sufficient  contractile  power  in 
the  uterus,  irregular  contraction  of  that  organ,  and  in* 
durated  state  of  the  placenta  itself. 

From  the  above  description  it  is  obvious  that  all  the 
three  stages  of  labour  are  completed  by  one  simple 
power,  viz.  the  contraction  of  the  womb. 


5* 


Sect.  TIL  Causes  of  the  'Phenomena  of  Labour. 

I.  The  first  phenomenon  which  requires  explanation  is 
the  action  of  the  uterus.  Why  does  that  organ  gene* 
rally  act  at  a  certain  period,  alter  having  remained  in 
a  quiescent  state  for  so  long  a  time  ? 

This  question  has  puzzled  physiologists  strangely. 
Some  have  attributed  the  circumstance  to  a  stimulus 
^communicated  by  the  foetus :  but  their  opinion  is  over* 
turned  by  a  well-known  fact,  that  the  same  phenomenn 
occur  though  tbe  foetus  be  dead.  Others  have  imagin- 
ed that  the  uterus  is  excited-  to  act  in  consequence  of 
previous  distension.  But  were  this  tbe  case,  women 
should  never  have  the  uterus  of  a  larger  bulk  in  one 
pregnancy  than  in  another  \  whereM,  on  the  contraiy, 
it  is  well  known  that  women  who  have  twins  or  triplets 
often  have  the  womb  disteqded.lo  fully  double  tbe 
usual  size. 

Physiologists  as  well  as  physicians  have  fallen  into 
very  great  errors  from  referrioff  complex  phenomena  to 
a  single  cause.  A  variety  of  facts  concur  to  prove, 
that  in  the  present  instance  it  is  absurd  to  impute  the 
action  of  the  uterus  to  any  single  cause. 

To  what  then  ahonld  we  attribute  it  ?  To  a  variety 
of  circumstances. 

1st,  To  the  strncture  of  the  uterus.  From  tbe  ap- 
pearance of  that  organ  in  its  unimpregnated  state,  it 
would  seem  that  nature  had  laid  up  in  store  a  certain 
proportion  of  fibres  to  be  developed  during  pregnancy. 


I  F  E  B  Y.  Caiap.  HI. 

Wb^n  thtae  fibres  are  evolved,  if  tie  uterus  be  distend*  NaiorBi 
ed  farther,  the  edges  of  the  os  tincsr  must  Vt  aeparate<l,.P«rtuntivQ. 
in  consequence  of  which  |>art  of  the  vterioe  contents 
passing  through  it,  the  conlractiea  of  tbe  uterus  follows. 
A  fact  very  iamiliar  to  practAtioaeiu  of  midwifirry  af- 
fords a[^rendy  a^  con\pLete  eonfirmation  of  ibis  hypo- 
thesis, viz.  that  in  some  women  iabour'  occum  as  regu- 
larly and  naturally,  in  tbe  seventh- or  eiglith  nMnth  of 
gestation,  as  in  others  it  does  at  the  end  of  the  ninth, 
the  cervix  uteri  having  become  quite  obliterated. 

ad.  It  is  probaUe,  however,  that  in  ordinary  cases- 
this  store  of  muscular  fibres  is  sehiom  entirely  exhausted, 
from  tbe  cirooaislanee  of  women  bairiiig  sometimea 
twins  or  triplets  \  some  other  cause  therefore  must  con- 
cur in  exciting  the  action  of  the  uterus*  The  contents, 
of  the  uterus  perhaps  furnish  this  cause. 

In  the  latter  months  of  gestation,  some  parts  of  the 
foetos  cosM  in  contact  .with  the  parietes  of  the  uterus,, 
in  consequence  of  the  decrease  in  proportion  of  the  li- 
quor amnii.  This  is  principally' the  case  witb  respect 
to-  the  bead,  which  presses  on  the  cervix,  and  that  part 
of  the  uterus,  it  is  probable,  is-  more  irritable  than  any 
other  \  for  we  find  that  the  entrance  or  «xit  of  all  hol- 
low muscular  oigaas  is  moi'C  irritable  than  the  other 
parts,  as  we  see  exemplified  in  the  cardia  of  the  stomach, 
and  in  tbe  cervix  of  the  urinary  bladder. 

3d,  It  is  not  improbable  too,  that  the  pressnk'e  of  the 
neighbouring  parts  contributes  somewhat  to  induce  the 
action  of  the  uterus ;  for  it  t^  remarked  by  praetitionera 
of  midwifery,  that  women  seldom  arrive  at  the  full  pe- 
riod of  gestation  in  a  first  prennancy,  and  the  ps^etes 
of  the  abdomen  yield  with  difficulty  at  first,  as  is  ob- 
served in  cases  of  dropsy,  fiesidea  all  fanners  know 
well,  that  in  every  succeeding  pregnancy,  cows  exceed 
their  former  period  of  gestation. 

II.  The  next  phenomenon  worthy  of  notice  is  the    53 
manner  in  which  the  cbild^s  head  enters  the  pelvis. 
Two  circumstances  contribute  towards  tUs|  first  the 
connection  of  the  head  of  the  child  with  the  neck  \  and 
adly,  The  form  of  the  brim  of  the  pelvis. 

The  first  rf  these  circnmstaooea  has  been  accurately 
pointed  ont  by  Dr  Osbora.  He  says,  **  after  the  os 
uteri  has  been  firat  opened  by  the  membranes  and  con- 
tained waters,  forming  a  wedge-like  hag^  the  next 
operation  and  effect  of  the  labour-pains  or  contractiona 
of  the  uterus  (for  they  are  convertible  terns)  must  be 
on  the  body  of  tbe  child,  v^hkh  being  united  to  the  basse 
^the  cranium  ai  the  great  foramen  and  nearer  the  oe^ 
eipat  thanfbreheadt  &  greater  pressure  will  be  allied 
to  the  occiput,  which  being  likewise  smaller,  and  ma* 
king  less  resistance*  will  be  the  first  part  squeezed  inte 
the  cavity  of  the  pelvis  (e).^' 

The  latter  cirewnstance  has  been  clearly  explained 
by  Professor  Saxtorph.  He  remarks,  '*  causa  hujns  di- 
rectionis  capitis,  concnrrente  toto  mechanismo  perfect! 
partus,  potiisimnm  hmrtt  in  pelvi.  Nam  agente  utcm 
in  foetnm,  in  axi  pelvis  kcatum,  caput  ejus  huaisqne 
liberum,  in  hnmore  amnii  fluctuans,  propter  molana 
soam,m«j«rem.inintfoitttm.ipso  pelvis  magpamresisten- 
tiam  patitur  d  pramilientia?  oasis  aacri,  quae  in  posteriori 
parte  segmenti  inferioris  uteri  ita  impressa  est,  ut  pro- 

montorii 


(x)  Essays  on  the  Practice  of  Midwifery,  ^c,  by  WjUiam  Osboro,  ^I«  ^* 


54 


Ciiap.  iir.  M  I  D  w 

N4t«ml  mootorii  in^r  foetus  froatefn  glalinuii;  rotiindafn,  unico 
IWUf;tU>ii.  poiicto  tantomroodo  illam  tangentem  eC  satis  mobiieniy 
blaodo  mota  ad  latus  dtrlgat,  in  spatiam  ei  evaabU  re- 
spondens  inter  praCttberantiam  ipsam.  et  roaffgiDeni  in* 
tern  am  acatum  ilii  excavatoaii  quam  ob  vem,  aiacipitia 
prsevii  sotnra  sagtttalts  cadit  neeessario  in  diametnira 
•Uiqoam  aperturse  saperioris  pelvis  (f).'* 

It  is  Femarkable,  that  neither  ef  these  celebrated  au- 
thors discovered  that  a  combination  of  both  the  circom* 
stances  just  esnmeraited,  is  necessarjp  to  occasion  the 
phenomenon* 

Two  adrantages  resnlt  from  this  psMio^of  the  bead 
of  the  cliild  ;  for,  1st,  The  largest  paart  of  the  head  is 
applied  to  the  widest  part  of  the  superior  aperture;  and, 
2dly,  The  head,  when  the  occiput  is  forced  foremost^ 
occupies  the  least  possible  space. 
•'  III.  The  phenomenon  which  next  strikes  os,  is  that 
change  in  the  position  of  the  head  by  which  the  face  is 
turned  into  the.  hollow  of  the  sacrum. 

Although  the  advantage,  and  even  necessity,  of  this 
change  in  the  position  of  the  head,  has  been  long  known 
to  practitioners ;  yet  Dr  Osbom  is,  perhaps,  the  first 
author  «vHio  has  clearly  explained  the  efficient  cause  of 
this.  His  remarks  are  these:  ^*  As  it  (viz.  the  head) 
descends  obliquely  through  the  pelvis,  the  pressure  of 
the  two  converging  ischia  will  not  be  exacdy  opposite 
to  each  other  on  the  two  parietal  hones ;  but  one  is- 
chium acting  or  pressing  on-  the  part  of  that  hone  con- 
tiguons  to  the  occiput,  and  the  other  on  the  opposite 
side  next  to  the  face,  the  head  being  made  up  of  dif- 
ferent bones,  united  by  membranes,  and  forming  va- 
Tions  soUnres  and  fontanels,  which  permit  the  shape  to 
he  changed,  »nd  the  volume  to  be  lessened,  it  necessa- 
rily follows,  that  the  head,  thus  compressed,  will  take 
a  shape  nearly  resembling  the  cavity  through  which  it 
passes  *j  and,  as  from  the  oonvergency  of  the  ischia,  the 
cavity  of  the  pelvis  somewhat  approaches  the  Ibrm  of  a 
cone,  the  child^s  head  is  moulded  into  that  shape,  the 
shape  of  all  others  best  adapted  to  open  the  aofk  parts, 
and  make  its  way  through  the  os  externum.  This  un- 
equal pressure  of  the  two  ischia  upon  the  head,  will,  in 
the  first  instance,  direct  the  occiput,  or  apex  of  the 
oone,  to  tuni  under  the  arch  of  the  pubis,  where  there 
is  little  or  no  resistance;  while  the  pressure  of  the  other 
ischium,  in'  its  further  descent,  will  have  the  same  ef- 
fect on  die  other  side,  and  direct  or  compel  the  fiu»  to 
*  J)r  Of.  tonr  into  the  hollow  of  the  sacrum  *•'* 
iom,  loc.  Thb  change  of  position  is  productive  of  three  advan- 
^^^•30.   toges. 

1st,  Thelai^gest  part  of  the-  head  is  again-  adapted  to 
the  widest  part  of  the  pelvis. 

2dly,  The  smalleat  possible  sarfaee  of  the  head  is  ap- 
plied to  the  surface  of  the  hones  of  the  pubes.    And, 

jdly^  As  Dr  Osbom,  in  the  passage  quoted,,  very 
joMly  observes,  the  head  is-  moulded  into  that  shape 
-vdiich  is  best  calculated  to  pass  without  doing*  harm, 
tbrovfih  the  soft  pnitSk 

I^^  The  phononiena  which  occur  when  the  head 
passes  throuf^  the  external  parts,  are  easily  explained. 

After  thtf  head  has  made  that  turn,  by  which  the 
hte  is  placed  in  the  hollow  of  the  sacrum,  the  coccyx 


I  r  E  R  Y.  5j 

and  perinttiim  resist  iu  further  descent  in  that  direc-  Katnral 
tion,  and  byibrcing  tlie  nape  of  the  neck  against  the  Partttritioi). 
-inferior  edge  of  the  symphysis  pubis,  every  successive 
pain  contributes  to  make  the  occiput  rise  up  towards 
the  abdomen,  by  which  the  chin  leaves  the  top  of  the 
thorax,  00  which  it  had  rested  during  the  preceding 
process  of  delivery. 

By  this  simple  roechaaiBm,  the  soft  parts  are  gradu- 
ally prepared  tor  the  passage  of  the  ciiild,  while,  at  Uie 
same  time,  the  shoulders  are  brought  into  the  most  fa- 
vourable position  for  passing  through  the  pelvis. 

V.  The  phenomena  of  the  third  stage  of  labour  ob-  55 
viously  originate  from  the  contraction  of  the  uterus,. 
which  both  separates  and  expels  the  secundines.  Some 
authors  have  imagined  that  nature  has  provided  for  this. 
purpose  a  particular  apparatus,  placed  at  the  fundus 
uteri }  but  as  the  placenta,  when  attached  to  the  cer- 
vix uteri,  is  thrown  off  as  readily  as  when  it  is  attach- 
ed to  the  fundus,  it  is  very  evident  that  these  authors 
have  been  deceived  by  a  seeming  regularity  of  fibres, 
which  is  sometimes  observed. 

Lastly,  The  obstacles  which  nature  has  opposed  to       57 
the  passage  of  the  child,  occasion  all  the  difficulties  of 
human  parturition.    These  obstacles  are  formed  by  the 
situation  and  shape  of  the  pelvis,  and  the  structure  of 
the  soft  parts  concerned  in  parturition. 

The  pelvis  is  situated  in  such  a  direction,  that  its 
axis  forms  an  obtuse  angle  with  that  of  the  body  y  con- 
sequently, it  is  not  placed  perpendicularly,  but  oblique- 
ly to  the  horizon  y  and  hence  nothing  can  pass  through 
it  by  the  force  of  gravity. 

The  shape  of  the  pelvis,  too,  is  such,  that  the  head 
of  the  child  cannot  pass  through  the  outlet  in  the  same 
direction  in  which  it  entered  the  brim  \  and,  from  the 
structure  of  the  soft  parts  concerned  in  parturition,  they 
yield  with  considerable  difficulty. 

By  these  means,  the  Author  of  our  existence  has 
guarded  against  the  effects  of  the  erect  posture  of  the 
body,  and  has  prevented  the  premature  expulsion  of 
the  child  and  the  sudden  laceration  of  the  soft  parts. 


55 


Sect.  IY.  Treatment  ffNaturai  Labour. 

First  «^gr.<— ^When  this  stage  proceeds  naturally  and 
regularly,  there  is  very  little  else  to  be  done,  after 
having  ascertained  that  labour  has  really  begun,  and 
that  the  child  is  in  the  ordinary  position,  than  taking 
care  that  the  bowels  he  open,  and  palliating  any  un- 
pleasant symptoms,  such  as  shivering  or  vomiting,  &c. 
which  may  occur. 

But  if  after  the  pains  have  become  so  regular  as,  by 
their  continuance,  to  disturb  the  ordinary  functions  of 
Hie,  that  is^  most  commonly,  after  they  have  been  quite 
xegttlar  for  twelve  or  fifteen  hours )  if  this  stage  be  not 
completed,  it  is  necessary  to  interfere,  and  to  endea- 
vour, by  art,  to  effect  the  dilatation.  The  reason  for 
this  role  is  abundantly  evident.  If  this  stage  ofsufler- 
ing  be  longer  protracted,  the  strength  of  the  patient 
must  be  exhausted  by  the  long-continued  exertion,  and, 
of  course,  the  remaining  process  of  labour  cannot  be 
completed.     Hence  the  child  may  be  lost,  or  alarming 

discharges 


58 


(?)  Dissertatio  inauguralis  de  Diverse  Partu,  &c.  Auctore  Matthia  Saxtorph.     HafnisB,  l^^l•  p*  19. 


<4 


MIDWIFERY. 


Naiiir!«]    (liscliarger.  of  blood  maj  follow  tbe  birth  of  the  in- 
ParturitJon.  faiit. 

This  vcr3r  oUvioiis  effect  of  the  protrtction,  heymkl 
certain  limits,  of  the  first  stage  of  labour,  was  finCvpub* 
licly  insisted  on  by  the  present  professor  of  midwifery  in 
the  university  of  Edinburgh. 

The  means  to  be  adopted  for  oompletaig  the  dilata- 
tion,  when  that  assistance  becomes  necessary,  are  vene- 
section or  opiates;  or  soppocting  the  os  oteri^  according 
to  ciroumstances. 

When  the  resistance  to  the  opening  of  the  womb 
arises  from  the  prematore  dischaige  of  the  water,  or 
from  natural  rigitiity  of  the  womb,  copious  blood-let- 
ting affords  the  adequate  rcmo6v.  But  if  tbe  patient 
be  already  reduced  by  previous  disease,  ee  that  she  caa« 
not  safely  be  bled,  an  opiate,  in  4be  form  of  glyster, 
ought  to  be  administered. 

And  when,  on  ihe  recurrence  of  every  pain,  the 
mouth  of  the  womb  is  forced  down  upon  the  external 
passages  before  the  child,  its  edges  ought  to  be  support- 
ed, tn  sitUf  by  the  fingers  cautiously  applied  to  eadi 
aide. 
59  Second  If i^tf.— When  it  is  &ond  that  the  head  has  be- 

gan faitly  to  enter  tbe  pdvis  in  the  patural  direction, 
no  assistance  is  necessary  till  tbe  perineal  tumour  be 
formed  ^  and  tlien  snch  support  must  be  given  to  the 
protruded  parts  as  shall  both  relieve  tlie  distressing  feel- 
iDgs  of  the  patient,  and,  at  the  same  time,  prevent  any 
laceration  from  happening.  Of  course,  tbe  predae 
manner  of  supporting  the  perinseum  must- be  varied  ac- 
cording to  tbe  circumstances  of  the  case*  Inattention 
to  this  nas  rcTj  fineqoently  occasioned  the  nmst  deplor- 
able accidents. 

After  tbe  head  is  bom,  it  must  be  ascertained  whether 
there  be  any  portion  of  the  navel^strmg  ronnd  tbe  neck 
of  the  infant,  and  if  there  be,  it  must  be  slackened  or 
dgiwn  over  tbe  head,  otherwise  the  infant  will  be 
lost. 

If  possible,  time  should  be  allowed  for  die  accommo^ 
dation  of  the  shotitders,  and  tbe  expulsion  of  tbe  body 
of  the  infant  ^  and,  at  any  rate,  the  utmost  attention 
should  be  paid  to  supporting  tbe  pennseum  during  that 
part  of  the  process. 

Third  stagc^^Vnuetk  the  dnU  is  bom,  and  it  is  as- 
certained that  there  is  no  other  infant  remaining  in  the 
womb,  the  patient  should  be  allowed  to  rest  for  a  little, 
unless  pains  again  come  on,  bv  which  the  seewndinea 
are  separated.  In  that  case,  the  cord  is  to  be  firmly 
grasped,  and  polled  gently,  till  the  pfaRxnta  be  brought 
down  to  the  external  parts,  when  it  b  to  be  drawn  out 
carefully,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  bring  off  at  the  same 
time  the  complete  membranous  ba||^. 

Should  pains  not  recur  at  the  distance  of  an  hour  ml^ 
ter  the  birth  of  the  infimt,  it  becomes  necessaty,  for  se^ 
veral  reasons,  to  introduce  the  hand  into  the  womb  to 
hcparate  and  extract  the  secondines. 

First,  If  the  cord  were  pulled  by  before  the 
womb  had  contracted,  or  the  aftetwbirth  had  be- 
come separated,  the  womb  must  inevitably  be  turned 
inside  out>  an  accident  tiuit  has  occaiioQally  hap- 
peneds 

Secondly,  K  a  longer  period  than  an  hour  were  suf- 
ioMd  to  eli^te,  the  passages  would  become  so  much 
roDtracted,  that  the  force   required  again  to  dilate 

4 


»o 


them,  would  prodooe  iDflanmttton,  with  all  its  alam-^ 
ingcooaeqneBces* 

^Thirdly,  If  the  nfter-bifth  were  allowed  to  remain^ 
hoger  tium  an  boor,   exoeesive  flooding  mi^t  take 
place,  which  wooU  soon  prave  fatal* 

Fourthly,  Were  the  patient  to  escape  the  danger  of 
flboding,  she  would  incur  that  of  .potre£sotion  of  the 
phKontm,  which  is  cqoally,  though  not  so  rapidly,  pro- 
dactive  of  mortal  event. 

In  thus  iatrodnciBg  the  hand  to  separate  the  placen- 
ta, the  two  gpeat^^utions  to  be  attended  tOt  are  to  a^ 
ply  the  fing«i  to  the  substance  of  the  plnetiila,  not  to 
InsiMnle  &m  between  its  sorfiice  and  that  of  the  ute- 
rus, and  to  brmg  off  onlf  that  portien  of  the  pla- 
centa which  can  be  separated  frem  the  uterus  without 
force. 

When  any  alaming  circoaMtanoe  happens  after  the 
birth  of  tbe  infant,  requiring  the  extraction  of  the  pla^ 
centa,  the  practitioner  b  not  to  delay  for  an  hour, 
indeed  not  lor  a  minnte,  giving  the  requisite  assist- 


Chap,  IV. 


Chap.  IV.  Of  tbe  Dmiaium  fim»  Nahin  in  Ht^ 

FnoM  the  view  thus  given  of  human  partnrition»  ua* 
der  Ihe  most  finomabie  drcuBMtanoes,  it  must  be  ob- 
vious that  many  deviations  from  nature  may  oeour. 

These  deviations  nuiy  pvaeeed  \  first,  £rom  the  pro* 
polling  powcia  concened  in  parturitton ;  seoendly,  fimn 
the  state  of  the  seeundines  \  thirdly^  fiwm  the  state  of 
the  child  itself  ^  or,  fimrtU^,  fimn  the  stale  of  the  pas- 
sages through  which  the  child  bibroed:  There  may  al- 
so be  a  comtanation  of  these  causes.  We  shall  consider 
each  of  these  canoes  of  deviation  in  the  order  just  eno- 
flserated.  fiat  as  n  minute  investigation  of  the  subject 
would  far  exceed  the  necessary  liouts  of  thb  work,  we 
shall  treat  eadi  of  theso  causes  as  shsftly  as  pesubla^ 
and  notice  only  the  moat  striking  ciroumstances* 

Sect.  I.    Of  the  DeviaHoM  firom  Vfatural  Lahom\ 
whteh  proceed  from  the  Propelling  Powere. 


The  prop^liag  powers  ooncemed  in  partairitien  oon- 
sbt  of  voluntary  and  in vekmtary  museolar  nation.  The 
diapfatagm  and  abdominal  mnsrles  fambh  the  lbrme% 
and  the  uterus  the  hitter. 

An  excess  or  difflintttien  of  the  notion  of  these  powers 
must  interrupt  the  ordinary  progress  of  labour. 

a.  The  vs^entnctiott.of  the  maphnagm  and  abdomi- 
nal muscles,  if  exerted  at  the  heginaingof  laboov  tends 
to  exhaust  the  patient  and  to  retard  driisery,  and  if  in- 
duced when  the  head  b  within  the  vagina,  may,  pn»* 
'vided  proper  preeantienB  /he  net  tak^  bwerate  the 
1^  and  ffendor  the  futmre  life  of  thepatieat 


The  action  of  these  muscles  being  quite  volnntsry, 
ly  ha  readily  posventod  by  the.pntiOHt  submittiog  to 

rr.advioe. 
b.  Impaired  notion  ef  the  diaphran  and  abdsminal 
flmsolest  gensndljr  eriginales  fiwm  the  imfrnpsr  exet- 
tion  of  those  muscles  at  the  beginning  of  labour,  or 
from  passions  of  the  mind.  It  always  retards  delivery, 
and  consequently  protracts  the  inifferingB  of  the  patient. 

e.  Violent 


€t 


€i 


^3 


«5 


Chap.  IV.  M  1  D  W 

PkvcMiuu  c.  Violent  ftction  of  the  nteros  mt  tbe  beginniog  of 
tnml  Fw-  labour,  is  frequently  productive  of  moch  nufchief.  It 
*""*'<>"' ,  exfanusts  the  patient,  and  renders  the  snbseqoent  process 
of  delivery  exceedingly  tedious  and  dfficolt.  It  al- 
sa  sometimes  occasions  an  accident  which  generally 
proY«s  ahnott  immediately  fieita],  viz.  roptuxe  of  the 
ttterus. 

This  accident  has  heen  described  by  authors  under 
the  title  of  spontaneous  rnpUve  of  (he  uterus.  The  kcent- 
tion  in  the  uterus  in  those  cases  is  sometimes  transverse 
and- sometimes  longitudinal.  Whenthe  accident  happens 
fft>rti  this  cause,  the  laceration  is  most  frequently  in  the 
cervix.  The  accident  is  preceded  by  excruciating  pain, 
especially  during  the  action  of  the  uterus,  at  one  p^rt, 
as  in  the  loins  or  toivards  the  pubes ;  and  it  is  announ- 
ced by  a  most  agonizing  increase  of  the  pain,  succeeded 
by  violent  vomiting,  the  discharge  of  a  little  blood,  a 
total  cessation  of  tbe  labour  throes,  very  great  irregulari- 
ty and  feebleness  of  the  pulse,  cold  sweaty  coldness  of 
the  extremities,,  difficulty  of  breathing,  inability  to  lie  in 
the  horizontal  posture,  and  sometimes  delirium.  Along 
with  these  symptoms,  it  often  happpens  that  the  present- 
ing part  of  the  child  recedes  entirely,  and  the  limbs  of 
the  infant  may  be  readily  distinguished  through  the  pa- 
irtetes  of  the  abdomen.  Btrt  this  circumstance  does 
not  always  take  place,  for  sometimes  the  head  of  the 
child  is  so  firmly  wedged  within  tbe  pelvis,  that  it  does 
not  recede  although  the  other  parts  be  in  the  cavity  of 
the  abdomen. 

The  rupture  of  the  uterus- is  generally  fatal.  A  few 
cases,  however,  are  on  record,  where,  by  prudent  ma- 
nagement, the  patient,  even  under  such  dangerous  cir- 
cumstances has  been  saved,  fiuch  are  the  cases  record- 
ed by- I>r  Hamilton  (h),  by  Dr  Douglas  (i),  and  Dr 
Hamilton,  junior  (k).  But  the  injuries  which  must  ensue 
from  loss  of  blood,  acnte  pain,  the  presence,  of  the  child 
in  the  cavity  of  the  abdomen,  and  the  probable  protru- 
sion and  strangulation  of  tbe  intestines,  are  such,  that  it 
cannot  be  expected  that  many  patients  can  survive  the 
accident. 

Tlie  cause  of  violent  action  of  the  uterus  at  the  be- 
ginning of  labour^  is  obviously  the  premature  discharge 
of  the  liquor  amnii.  By  tins  circumstance,  the  body 
of  the  clnld  comes  In  contnct  with  tbe  parietes  of  the 
uterus,  by  which  the  notion  of  that  organ  is  imme- 
diately and  violently  excited.  How  much  mischief 
then  may  the  rash  interference  of  an  ignorant  operator 
produce  f 

Tbe  cnuse  of  rupture  of  the  uterus  from  its  own  vio- 
lent action,  is  die  resistance  to  the  passage  of  the  child, 
either  from  undilaled^ys  uteri,  or  from  deformities  of  the 
peKis,  or  from  wrong  position  of  tbe  child.  When- 
ever, therefore,  the  rupture  is  threatened,  means  must 
he  instantly  adopted  to  remove^thc  resistance,  or  to  sus- 
pend the  action  of  the  uterus.  The  former  is  in  general 
the  more  easily  accomplished. 

When  the  uterus  has  alctually  burst,  the  onN-  chance 
which  can  be  afforded  to  the  patient,  is  instant  cfelivery ; 
per  vias  nahirde$y  where  that  is- practicable  \  and  where 


torition. 


66 


I  F  E  R  Y.  SS 

there  is  extrelws  narrowness  of  the  pelvis,  by  an  incision  prctcrna- 
through  the  parietes  of  the  abdomen.     A  ca«e  where  tufal  Par- 
this  latter  praetice  wns  niccesslnlly  had  recourse  to  oc- 
curred a  few  years  ago  in  LancasHire. 

Violent  action  of  the  vtetus  during  the  latter  stage 
of  kbouTv  altboagh  not  productive  of  the  same  dangers 
which  ensne  from  it  at  the  beginning,  is  by  no  means 
exempt  from  hazard  *,  for  if  the  soft  parts  be.  rigid  or 
not  suffieiently  relaxed,  the  woman  may  be  miserably 
torn. 

The  violent  action  of  the  nteftn  towalrds  the  termi- 
nation of  labour  proceeds  from  some  polr er  of  that  or-  • 
gan  itself,  or  from  the  stimulus  communicated  by  the 
position  of  the  child. 

This  circumstance,  howeveri  h  sometimes  beneficial  \ 
as,  for  instance,  when  tbe  child  is  in  an  unfavotfrmble 
position.  Dr  Denman  was  the  first  who  durtovered ' 
this  effect  of  Wolent  uterine  action,  and  published  it 
in  the  fifth  volume  of  the  London  Medical  Journal, 
page  64. 

d.  Impaired  action  of  di»  uterus  during  the  first 
stage  of  labour  is  in  many  instances  productive  of  no 
othor  inconvenience  than  the  protraction  of  labour  \  but 
if  it  exhausts  the  strength  of  the  patient,  it  influences 
materially  the  subsequent  process,  as  already  stated* 
When  it  occurs  during  the  second  stage,  it  occasions  the 
most  dangerous  symptoms.  First,  it  the  head  of  the 
child  continue  to  press  for  a  considerable  time  on  the 
soft  parts  within  the  pelvis,  these  parts  must  necessarily 
from  the  impeded  circulation  become  swelled,  and  coa^. 
sequently  the  action  of  the  uterus,  though  it  should  re- 
turn, would  then  be  totally  insofficirnt  for  the  expul- 
sion of  the  child.  This  effect  of  the  protraction  of  the 
second  stage  was  first  pointed  out  to  the  public  in  Ih: 
Hamilton's  letters  to  l>r  Osbom.  It  merits  most  par- 
ticular attention  ;  not  only  as  it  is  one  of  the  most  fre- 
quent causes  of  the  loss  of  the  infant  during  labour,  and 
of  considerable  danger  to  the  parent,  but  also  as  it  may 
be  very  readily  prevented  by  an  attentive  practitioner. 
Previous  to  this  swelling  becoming  so  considerable  as 
to  impede  the  progress  of  the  infant,  there  is  a  tender- 
ness and  heat,  and  dryness  in  the  passage^  which  an- 
nounces the  actual  commencement  of  the  inflammation. 
Immediate  delrvery  ought  then  to  be  had  recourse  to. 

Many  disagreeable  symptoms  also  proceed  from  the 
same  cause,  such  as  suppression  of  urine,  and  violent 
eramps  in  the  lower  extremities. 

When  it  b  asceilatned,  that,  in  consequence  of  the 
deficiency  of  action  of  the  uterus,  the  child  is  detained 
so  long  in  the  passage  as  to  endanger  the  health  or  life  of . 
the  mother,  it  becomes  necessary  to  extract  tbe  infant 
by  mechanical  means.  Two  contrivances  have  been 
thought  of  for  this  purpose,  viz.  the  vectis-or  lever,  and 
the  forceps. 

Roonhuysen,  a  Dutch  practitioner,  who  flourished 
about  the  beginning  of  the  x8th  century,  contrived  the 
vectis,  and  &em  the  great  success  which  attended  its 
use  in  his  hands,  an  edict  was  issued  by  the  states-ge- 
neral, that  no  surgeon  should  practise  midwifery  wmi- 

out 


67 


iM» 


(h)  Outlines  of  Midwifery,  p.  348. 

(i)  Observations  on  the  rupture  of  the  gravid  uterus,  Sec.  by  A.  DougTas,  M.  D.  &c«  8vo.  London  1789, 

(k)  Select  Cases  of  Midwifery,  p.  138. 


S8 


:56  M  I  D  W  I 

FretcniA.  out  being  possessed  of  the  Rooubuysen  secret,  for  tbe  ia- 
tar^  Far-  strumeot  was  not  publicly  kuown.  In  tbe  year  17569 
^^"^^"^  however,  the  secret  having  bee«»  porcbased  by  two  U- 
beral-minded  physicians,  Visdier  and  VAu4e  Foil,  was 
published  by  them  for  Uie  benefit  of  mankind.  Since 
■that  time,  the  instrument  has  4indergone  aTariety  of  al- 
terations in  its  form^  for  a  particular  account  of  which, 
,tbe  reader  is  Deferred  io  Mulder's  Historia  Forcipia* 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Buonboyscn  and  his 
successors  employed  the  vectis  as  a  lever  of  the  first  spe- 
cies, the  head  of  the  infant  being  the  resistance,  the 
parts  of  tbe  woman  the  fulcrum,  and  the  hand  of  the 
.o^rater  forming  the  moving  power.  Tbe  injuries  arl- 
smg  from  this  practice  have  been  well  explained  by  Dr 
Osbom-  in  his  Essays  on  Ijaborious  Labours.  Al- 
though Dr  Bland  and  Dr  Denman  still  recommend  the 
same  ptactioe,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  whenever  the 
rUse  of  tbe  vectis  proves  succ-essful  according  to  their 
directions,  the  fi^rtunate  termination  is  to  be  attributed 
to  the  action  of  the  uterus  being  excited  by  tlie  pressure 
.of  the  instrument  j  or,  in  otber  words,  the  delivery 
,  midbt  have  been  completed  without  any  mechanical  in- 
tenerence  at  all.  On  the  other  hand,  whenever  the 
.  action  of  the  uterus  is  either  quite  suspended  or  much 
weakened,  both  mother  and  child  sufler  from  the  appU- 
.  cation  of  the  vectis. 

Tbe  late  Dr  Dease,  in  altering  the  shape  of  the  vec- 
tis, wished  to  impress  upon  the  profession  the  necessity 
.for  changing  the  mode  of  employing  it  \  and  according- 
ly he  called -his  instrument  an  extractor^  This  power, 
however,  seems  to.be  possessed  in  a  superior  degree  by 
Dr  Lowder^s.  instrument,  of  which  a  description  is  con- 
tained in  the  eighth  volume,  second  decade,  of  Dr  Dun- 
can's Medical  Commentaries,  p.  400.  As  this  instru- 
ment may  be  used  with  perfect  safety,  both  to  mother  and 
child,  and  as  in  some  cases  it  is  superior  to  the  forceps, 
.we  have  represented  its  form  in  one  of  the  plates,  and 
now  add  the  description  and  an  account  of  the  manner 
of  applying  it  from  the  work  already  referred  to. 

The  instrument  "  consists  of  a  blade  and  handle 
(between  which  there  is  a  binge,  that  renders  it  por- 
table), measuring  in  length  iij-  inches.  Its  length, 
before  it  be  curved,  is  I2t  inches.  The  curve  be- 
gins about  half  an  inch  from  the  hinge.  It  describes, 
.reckoning  an  inch  from  its  first  curvature,  as  nearly  as 
.can  be  estimated,  an  arc  of  '87  decnrees  of  a  circle,  the 
radius  of  which  is  four  inches.  The  breadth  of  the 
blade,  at  the  beginning  of  the  carve,  is  half  an  inch, 
And  is  gradusUly  increased,  till  within  three  quarters 
of  an  inch  of  the  extremity,  where  it  measures  an 
inch  and  three-fourths.  Its  extremity  is  semicir- 
cular. Within  2t  inches  of  the  extremity  there  is  an 
oval  opening,  measuring  2^  inches  in  length,  and  I  j- 
at  its  greatest  breadth.  By  this  opening,  the  depth  of 
the  curve  is  considerably  increased,  without  rendering 
the  instrument  inconvenient  in  its  introduction.'* 

**  Let  us  suppose  that  it  is  found  necessary  to  use  Low- 
der's  lever,  when  the  head  of  the  child  has  just  begun  to 
enter  the  cavity  of  the  pelvis.  The  patient  is  to  be  placed 
in  the  ordinary  position,  on  the  left  side,  in  bed.  Tbe  oc- 
ciput of  tbe  child  is  to  be  carefully  distinguished,  and 
tire  curve  of  tbe  instrument  is  to  be  applied,  with  all 
the  necessary  precautions,  over  it.  l*he  extremity  of 
the  blade  should  be  within  a  very  little  of  the  nape  of 
ihc  neck.    To  accomplish  this  part  of  the  operation 


-69 


70 


F  E  R  Y.  Chap.  IV. 

with  facility,  it  i^  necessary  that  the  operator  be  well  pKeterna- 
acquainted  with  the .  shape  of  the  pelvis,  an4  that  be  toxal  Far. 
have  accustomed  himself  to  apply  tht;  instrument  over  a .  ^""^»- 
round  substance. 

,  "  When  the  instrument  is  applied  in  this  manner,  the 
operator  will  find,  that  he  can  exert  very  considerable 
power  in  drawing  down,  without  pressing  on  any  other 
part  than  the  occiput  of  the  child.  Tbe  mother  can- 
not possibly  feel  tbe  instrument  ^  while,  at  tbe  same 
time,  tbe  many  points  of  tbe  foetal  crauium,  on  which 
it  rests,  present  any  injury  ^«hateyer  to  the  iufaut. 

**  If -there  be  any  pains,  however  slight  they  may  be, 
the  operator  should  draw  down  only  duciqg  the  pain  ; 
in  the  intervals,  a  soft  warm  cloth  should  be  wrapped 
I'ound  the  handle.  If  there  be  no  pains,  he  must  draw 
down  from  time  to  time,  imitating,  ^  nearly  as  he  can, 
the  natural  efforts.  It  is  astonishing,  of  what  use  even 
the  most  trifling  pains  are,  on  such  occasions.  With- 
out pains,  a  long  time  is  required  befbi%  the  head  be 
made  to  advance  in  a  perceptible  degree  (thou^, 
after  it  has  advanced  a  little,  it  soon  yields  entirely)  ; 
while,  with  them,  the  progress  if  often  rapid. 

'*  The  operator  should  continue  to  draw  down  in  the 
same  manner,  till  the  head  be  completely  in  the  ca- 
vity of  the  pelvis.  Should  any  circumstance,  as  danger- 
ous uterine  hsemorrhaffy,  or  convulsions,  require  that 
the  delivery  be  expeditiously  finished,  after  the  head  is 
brought  into  this  position,  tbe  forceps  must  be  applied  5 
for  it  is  in  the  power  of  the  operator,  by  means  of 
them,  to  accomplish  the  extraction  of  the  head  within  a 
very  short  space  of  time,  or  at  least,  within  a  much 
shorter  space  than  would  be  required,  were  tbe  use  of 
Lowder^s  lever  continued. 

''  But  if  there  be  no  danfferous  svmptom,  the  opera- 
tion may  be  completed  by  the  first  instrument,  without 
any  assistance  from  the  mrceps. 

'*  For  this  purpose,  the  operator  should  continue  to 
^raw  down,  by  pressing  on  tbe  occiput,  as  already 
directed,  until  tbe  fiice  shall  have  turned  into  the  hol- 
low of  the  sacrum.  The  direction  of  the  instrument 
roust  then  be  changed.  The  reason  of  this  is  very  ob- 
vious. After  the  face  is  in  the  hollow  of  tbe  sacrum, 
the  occiput  becomes  engaged  in  tbe  arch  of  the  pubis, 
and  rises  under  it,  while,  at  the  same  time,  the  c:hin 
leaves  the  top  of  the  breast,  on  wliich  it  had  rested 
during  tbe  preceding  process  of  labour,  and  describes 
a  course  equal  to  a  full  quarter  of  a  circle,  which  is 
tbe  consequence  of  tbe  occiput  describing  a  similar 
course  under  the  arch  of  tbe  pubis.  Were  the  practi- 
tioner then  to  continue  to  press  in  the  same  direction 
as  he  did  while  the  head  was  passing  through  tbe  brim, 
he  would  counteract  this  natural  process,  and  hence 
would  retard  delivery,  and  injure  the  iMurts  against 
which  he  would  necessarily  press  tbe  child. 

"  The  instrument  must,  therefore,  be  withdrawn  finom 
tbe  occiput,  and  applied  with  the  proper  precautions  ovor 
tbe  chin,  when  the  operator  is  to  imitate  the  process 
of  nature,  by  disengaging  tbe  chin  fram  the  breast, 
and  making  the  occiput  nse  under  the  arch  of  ths  pu- 
bis, while,  with  his  left  hand,  he  protects  the  perinseum 
from  injury.^* 

**  From  these  observations  it  is  obvious,  that  the  instru* 
ment  introduced  into  practice  by  Dr  Lowder,  affords 
exactly  the  assistance,  in  the  first  oider  of  labonous  la- 
bour, which  is  required  ^  for  it  supplies  tbe  place  of  the 

propelling 


71 


Chap.  IV. 

Pirtcnia-  propelling  potrcrs,  or  inctcases  llicir  efficacy,  by  acting' 
turJ  Par-  on  tbc  body  ei'  the  ehildy  witboat  injnring  any  part  of 
^  laritf on.  ^  ^j^  nw*hcn 

*•  Tfcts  property  wmlerB  it  of  great  use  in  certain  cunes 
•f  deformed  peWis,  vtr.  xfhtre  the  fihort  diameter  of  tbe 
brim  id  about  three  inches.  In  such  cases,  the  long 
contm«ed  strong  attion  of  the  atoms,  often  eventually 
Ibrces  tbe  head  into  tbe  pelvis  y  but  the  strength  of  the 
|iattent  is  in  conseqaemee  so  much  reduced,  that  after 
It  has  proceeded  so  far^  the  pains  are  entirely  sospended, 
«nd  the  defivexy  mast  necessarily  be  finished  W  the  use 
«f  mechanical  expedients  ;  but  the  cKifd*a  life  is  ccmi- 
;tnon^  pf^viouslj  destroyed,  by  the  compression  of  the 
la-ain; 

**  If,  in  sueh  cases,  it  be  possibfe  to  increase  with 
safety  the  vis  ii  tci-go,  the  child  would  then  be  forced 
tbrougfa  tbe  brim  of  the  pelvis  before  ilie  voman^s 
fttrengtb  urere  exfiansted,  and  before  its  life  were  -on- 
ilangered ;  consequently,  many  children,  commonly 
doomed  to  Tncn4table  destroctton,  would  be  preserved* 

^  Lowder^  kver,  I  apprehend,  possesses  tbis  power. 
It  may  be  calculated,  that,  by  its  use,  the  efficacy  of 
tbe  labonr  throes  is  at  least  donbled.  Hence  the  child, 
.in  cases  of  slight  deformity  of  the  pelvis,  is  forced 
-through  the  oppoiiing  part  within  one  half  of  tbe  time 
which  would  be  otherwise  required  ^  a»d  this  is  ac- 
complished withont  injory  either  to  tbe  mother  or  in* 
.fant  \  for  tbe  instmment  presses  on  no  part  of  the  for- 
mer *y  and  it  rests  on  such  parts  of  the  latter,  that  no 
-barm  can  possibljr  be  Aone, 

**  In  face-cases,  too,  where  tlie  interference  of  rtie 
pnctittoner  is  necessary  (which,  indeed,  is  a  rare  occur- 
.rence),'  this  instntment  may  be  cmplc^ed  with  much 
advantage.  Tbe  great  aim  should  be,  to  draw  down 
^he  occipot. 

•*  As  it  appears,  therrfbre,  that  Lowder^s  lever  is  ap- 
tdicable  in  many  cases  where  tbe  forceps  are  inadmissi- 
ble^ and  that  its  «se  is  not  ptoducti«e  of  so  mucdi  ha- 
zard to  the  mother  as  that  of  the  forceps,  it  might  per- 
haps be  inferred,  that  ibe  latter  instrument  maiy  be 
banished  from  pnustice,  as  unnecessary  and  dangerous. 
Accordingly,  many  practitioners  of  midwifery  have 
adopted  an  opinion  of  tbis  kind ;  and,  indeed,  there  are 
^ery  few  who  'do  not  employ  one  or  other  of  these  in- 
struments exchisively. 

**  Bnt  however  denmble  it  may  be  to  lessen  the  num- 
'ber  of  mechanical  expedients,  and  to  simplify  practice,  I 
apprehend,  that  nrany  lives  would  be  lost  if  we  possessed 
tyr  employed  no  snch  rnstmment  as  the  forceps.  As 
they  have  the  property  of  a  lever,  deliveiy  can  in  many 
eases  be  aecompKshed  am6h  more  expeditiously  by  tbem 
.than  by  l>r  Lowdei<*s  instrument.  This  seems  to  be 
-the  sole  advantage  which  they  possess  over  h ;  and  that 
is  cottnterbtlanccd  by  several  great  disadvantages. 
Many  authors,  indeed,  have  alleged,  that  tbe  forceps 
have  exclo'lvely  the  power  of  diminishing  the  size  of 
the  foetal  cranium,  by  the  pressure  of  tlieir  blades,  and 
hence  bate  attributed  a  degree  of  pre-eminence  to  tbem, 
which  in  fiiCt  is  not  tbeir  doe;  for  as  the  size  of  tbe 
«hild*s  head  is,  in  natural  cases,  diminished  as  far  as  is 
necessary,  by  tbe  contractions  of  tbe  uterus  forcing  it 
forward  through  the  bones  of  the  pelvis,  an  increase  of 
tbe  vis  ^  tergo  will  of  course  increase  that  diminution,, 
if  the  shape  of  the  passage  require  it.  While  Lowder^s 
lever,  therefore,  possesses  the  power  of  compressing  tbe 
Vol.  XIV.  Part  L  *    t 


MIDWIFERY. 


57 


turitjon. 


cranium  in  common  with  tbe  forceps,  it  has  a  decided  Preicnia 
superiority  over  them  in  this,  that  it  accomplishes  that  tural  Par- 
end  by  stmrbtr  means  \rith  nature. 

*'  Tbe  great  disadvantages  of  the  forceps  are,  that  they 
are  iaappKcabie  when  the  child's  bead  is  situated  high 
in  the  pelvis ;  that  their  application  is  often  difficult  to 
the  operator,  and  painful  to  the  patient  j  and  that,  a9 
their  centre  of  action  is  ort  the  parts  of  the  patient,  they 
must  injure  her  in  proportion  to  the  resistance  opposed 
to  the  delivery. 

•*  On  the  tdiofe,  then.  In  eases  of  the  first  order  of 
faiiorious  labours,  both  instruments  must  be  oceasionalTy 
had  recourse  to.  When  the  bead  is  not  completely 
within  the  cavity  of  the  pelvis^  Lowder*8  lever  must  be 
employed;  and  even  when  it  is  in  that  position,  tbe 
same  means  may  be  used,  if  there  be  pajns.  Bnt^wben 
the  labour  throes  are  entirely  suspended,  or  %vlien  any 
circumstance  ^nders  it  necessary  to  terminate  tlie  de- 
livery .with  expedition,  the  forceps  ought  to  be  em- 
ployed In  preference  to  every  other  instrument,  if  the 
bead  of  the  child  be  within  their  reach.'' 

The  forceps  are  supposed  to  have  been  invented  by 
t>r  Hugh  Chamberlain,  who  was  physician  to  King 
•Charles  II. ;  but  their  form  has  been  greatly  altered 
since  his  time.  Tbe  most  approved  form  is  that  repre- 
aenied  in  the  plate. 

Tbis  instrmnent  is  only  applicable  in  presentations  of 
the  head ;  but  it  was  formerly,  by  Dr  Smellie  and  others, 
recommended  in  face  cases* 

In  order  that  this  instrument  be  applicable,  it  is  ne*> 
oessary  that  tbe  head  be  completely,  or  nearly  so,  in 
the  cavity  of  the  pelvis.;  but  sometimes  a  Icngtliencd 
pair  is  used -for  cases  where  tbe  liead  is  situated  high. 
The  employment  of  long  forcens,  however,  being  ex- 
tremely dangerous,  is  seldom  justifiable ;  ainl  -tliere- 
fore  we  shall  limit  our  directions  to  tbe  use  of  tbexxim- 
mon  short  forceps. 

TTiere  are  three  principal  cases  in  which  that  instru- 
ment .may  be  liad  recourse  to,  viz.  I.  where  the  foce  Is 
in  the  hollow  of  the  sacf<iim ;  2*  idiere  the  face  is 
wedged  under^he  pubis ;  and,  3.  wbei^e  it  is  on  one  side 
of  the  pelvis. 

In  whatever  situation  the  bead  is,  the  instrument  is 
to  be  applied  over  tbe  ears,  otherwise  there  could  be 
no  safe  and  secure  bold.  In  tbe  proctss  of  extracting 
thetihild  with  this  instrument  too,  it  is  to  he  observed^ 
that  the  convex  edge  of  the  blades  is  to  be  brought 
along  tbe  hollow  of  the  sacrum. 

The  instrument  being  applied  so  cautionslv  o«rar  the 
ears  of  (he  infant  that  no  pail  of  the  woman  be  injTrred 
by  tbeir  introduction,  the  locking  parts  are  to  be 
brought  together,  and  secured  by  a  ligature.;^  after 
which  tbe  operator,  supporting  carefully  the  perina;om 
with  one  band,  is  to  draw  gently  in  a  direction  of  from  , 
blade  to  blade  daring  a  pain,  or  now  and  then  to  imi- 
tate labour  throes,  while  he  at  the  same  time  favours 
tbe  mechanism  of  labour  by  accommodating  tbe  child^s 
faead^o  the  passage  so  as  to  make  it  take  up  tbe  ]ea<it 
possible  room.  If  tbis  be  done  with  suitable  caution 
and  gentleness,  no  part  of  the  woman  should  be  injur- 
ed, and  the  parts  t>f  the  infant  on  which  tbe  Instrument 
had  rested  ahonld  not  even  be  marked.  But  as  (here 
can  be  no  doubt,  that  in  tbe  process  of  using  tbe  for- 
ceps, tbe  parts  of  tbe  woman  are  pressed  upon  by  the 
blades,  if  much  force  be  exerted,  or  if  due  attention  be 

H  not 


7i 


58 

P(«tcma 
antl  Fai 
tUi  iXioM, 


74 


M  I  D  W  I 

not  paid  to  tbe  adaptation  of  the  head  of  the  iofant  to 
tttfAl  Par-  iIj^  apertures  through  which  it  is  to  be  bronffbt.  the 
most  dreadful  eflects  result  from  the  operation. 

Sect.  IT.  Of  the  Deviations  from  Natural  Labour y 
which  proceed  from  the  itate  of  the  Sectindines, 

The  membraoes  which  envelope  tXif.  foetus  are  in 
some  cases  more  tender,  and  in  otbers.^ore  rigid,  than 
in  general  they  are  found  \  circumstuaces  which  have  a 
considerable  effect  on  the  process  of  parturition.  Be- 
sides this,  the  placenta  is  on  some  occasions  attached  to 
the  cervix  or  os  uteri,  by  which  not  only  is  the  order 
of  labour  interrupted,  tbe  placenta  being  expelled  be- 
fore the  child,  but  also  is  the  patieiit^s  life  exposed  to 
much  danger. 
75  o.  Where  the  membranes  are  too  tender,  the  liquor 

amnii  is  discharged  at  the  be^nning  of  labour  before 
tbe  09  tincae  be  dilated,  and  then  all  the  bad  conse* 
qnences  detailed  under  tbe  article  A,  ^ect.  I.  necessarily 
ensue.  ':• 

h.  Where  the  membranes  are  too!;rigid,  the  labour 
may  be  protracted  to  such  a  period  as  shall  injure  the 
mother  roost  materially,  and  at  last,  as  the  whole  ovom 
may  be  expelled  entire,  the  life  of  the  child  may  be 
endangered. 

Ailer  the  os  uteri  is  completely  dilated,  if  the  child 
included  in  the  membranes  do  not  advance  into  the  ca- 
vity of  the  pelvis,  the  membranes  should  be  ruptured. 
But  if  it  do,  they  ought  not  to  be  broken  till  they  press 
on  tbe  external  parts. 

c.  But  the  most  alarming  deviation  from' nature, 
which  can  proceed  from  the' state  of  the  secundines,  is 
that  which  originates  from  the  attachment  of  tbe  pla* 
centa  over  the  cervix  or  os  oteri«  As  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  the  uterine  vessels  dip  into  tbe  substance  of 
the  placenta,  and  that  thcj  are  lacerated  when  the  pla- 
centa is  separated  from  its  attachment,  it  is  obvious 
that  in  such  a  situation  bsemorrfaagy  to  a  most  danger* 
0U9  extent  must  unavoidably  ensue  during  tbe  process 
of  the  labour. 
7^  Mr  Rigby  of  Norwich  was  the  first  British  practi- 

tioner who  publicly  explained  this  cause  of  baeroor- 
rbagy.  In  tbe  drst  edition  of  bis  work>  via.  that  pu^ 
blisbed  in  1775,  be  expresses  himself  in  tlie  following 
words.  '*  But  from  the  uncertainty  with  which  (as 
before  observed)  nature  fixes  tbe  placenta  to  tbe  ute- 
rus, it  may  happen  to  be  so  situated,  that  when  tbe  full 
term  of  pregnancy  is  arrived,  and  labour  begins,  a 
iooding  necessariiy  accompanies  it,  and  without  the  in- 
tervention of  any  of  tbe  above  accidental  circumstances  j 
that  is,  when  it  is  fixed  to  that  part  of  the  womb  which 
always  dilates  as  labour  advances,  namely,  the  coUum 
and  OS  uteri,  in  which  case  it  is  very  certain  that  the 
placenta  cannot,  as  before  described,  remain  secure  till 
tbe  expuUion  of  the  child,  but  must  of  necesssity  be  se- 
parated from  it,  in  proportion  as  tbe  uterus  opens,  and 
by  that  mean^  an  haemorrhage  must  unatxndaUy  be  pro- 
duced. 

*^  That  flooding^,  which  atise  from  these  two  different 


F  E  R  Y.  Chap.  IV- 

causes,  which  I  will  distinguish  by  the  names  of  acct-  Pntcni»- 
dental  and  unavoidabie^  though  they  may  appear  exact-  tiinil  Pkt. 
ly  similar  in  their  first  symptoms,  should  terminate  very ,  m^Q"- 
differently,  if  left  to  nature,  assisted  only  by  tbe  palli-  ' 
ative  means  before  mentioned,  cannot  seem  strange  \  nor 
can  it  be  a  doubt,  that  of  these  two  kinds  of  fioodings, 
only  one  of  them,  namely,  that  which  is  produced  by 
an  accidental  separation  of  the  placenta,  can  be  relieved 
by  the  use  of  these  palliatives  \  and  that  the  other,  in 
which  the  placenta  U  fixed  to  tbe  os  uteri,  and  the 
flooding  is  therefore  unavoidable^  cannot  possibly  be 
suppressed  by^iny  other  method  whatever. than  tbe  time- 
ly removal  of  the  contents  of  the  womb  \  for  supposing 
the  discharge  to  be  for  a  while  restrained  by  bleeding, 
medicine,  cool  air,  &c«  it  will  inevitably  return,  when 
nature  is  so  far  recovered  as  again  to  bring  ou  labour : 
in  the  first  case,  if  the  haemorrhage  have  been  checked 
by  the  use  of  the  above  meaiis^  it  is  not  impossible  but 
labour  may  come  on,  and  the  child  be  safely  expelled 
by  tbe  natural  pains  before  it  returns  ^  or  if  it  should 
return,  it  may  not  increase  in  quantity ;  as  in  this  case 
very  probably  the  separated  part  of  the  placenta  which 
occasions  the  discharge  remains  nearly  the  same  \  where- 
as in  the  otlier  case,  in  which  the  dilatation  of  tbe  os 
uteri  produces  the  separation  of  the  placenta,  every  re- 
turn of  pain  must  be  a  return  of  tbe  bleeding,  and  it 
must  become*  greater  and  greater  as  the  uterus  opens 
more  and  more,  and  the  placenta  is  in  proportion  de* 
tachedy  till  it  increases  to  a  degree  that  exhausts  tbe  pa- 
tient, and  she  dies  before  nature  has  been  able  to  expel 
tbe  child.  That  such  must  inevitably  be  tbe  promta 
and  event  of  floodines  arising  from  such  a  cause,  if  left 
to  nature,  is  too  obvious  further  to  be  insisted  on. 

"  That  this  attachment  of  the  placenta  to  the  os 
uteri  is  much  oftener  a  cause  of  flood ings  than  authors 
and  practitioners  are  aware  of,  I  am  finom  experience 
fully  satisfied,  and  so  far  am  I  convinced  of  its  frequent 
occurrence,  that  I  am  ready  to  believe  tliat  most,  if 
not  all  of  those  cases  which  require  turning  the  child 
are  produced  by  this  unfortunate  original  situation  of 
it  (L)." 

No  case  in  practice  requires  more  decision  and  more  77 
attention  than  this.  It  must  be  obvious  that  no  inter- 
nal remedy  can  be  of  any  avail  in  flooding  from  snch  a 
cause,  and  that  the  life  of  the  patient  can  be  saved  by 
immediate  delivery  alone,  whenever  considerable  hse^ 
morrhagy  takes  place.  But  it  is  to  be  recollected  that 
the  dischar^  In  many  iastances  threatens  for  days  or 
even  weeks  oefore  it  becomes  serious,  and  that  for  tbe 
sake  of  the  child,  the  patient  should  be  allowed  to  ad- 
vance as  near  as  her  own  safety  will  permit  to  the  full 
period.  These  threatenings  may  often  be  removed  by 
astringent  injections,  per  va^inam,  while  at  the  same 
time  every  means  of  moderating  the  circulation  of  the 
blood  should  be  suggested. 

But  whenever  the  discharge  becomes  profuse,  de* 
livery  by  art  is  to  be  had  recourse  to.  The  rule  of  Mr 
Rigby,  and  of  some  other  eminent  practitioners,  '*  to 
watch  from  time  to  time  the  dilatability.  of  the  oa 
nteri,*^  and  take  advantage  of  that  state,  aounds  well  \ 

but 


(t)  E^say  on  tbe  Uterine  Heemorrhagy  which  precedes  the  delivery  of  the  full-grown  Foetus,  illustrated  by 
cases  by  £d.  Rigby,  London  1775,  p.  14.     Vide  also  3d  edition  1784,  same  page. 


<%ap.  IV. 


M  I  D  W 


Pretenia.  but  if  followeJI  kk  )prmctice,  mast  either  give  such  a 
tural  Par-  ofaock  to  thc  woman's  coDatitotion,  as  shall  end  in 
t<»itio>.  a^p^y  4r  ai«n»ioi«,  or  «iast  prove  imnwaiiUely  fiiUl. 
In  all  those  cases  the  os  uteri  may  be  foi^ced,  and  a)* 
though  it  be  not  more  ofen  than  bafely  to  adroit  the 
iDtroductioa  of  the  finger,  it  may  in  a  very  few  minutes, 
•if  the  operator  have  steadiness  and  perseteranoe,  be  ren- 
dered capable  of  allowing  the  hand  to  pass. 

If  possible,  the  hand  should  be  carried  forward  at 
one  aide  of  the  placenta,  for  if  that  part  be  torn  (which 
it  must  be  admitted  is  sometimes  inevitable)  the  in&at 
must  be  destroyed.  After  the  feet  are  brought  down, 
the  child  is  to  be  extracted  as  expeditiously  as  regard  to 
its  safety  will  permit,  and  the  hand  is  then  to  be  again 
passed  into  the  uterus  for  the  purpose  not  merely  of  de- 
taching completely  the  secundines,  but  chiefly  of  se- 
curing the  contraction  of  that  organ  which  is  the  great 
object  of  the  delivery* 


79 


So 


5i 


SfCT.  III.  Of  the  DevuttioMjrom  Natural  Lajbour^ 
which  proceed  Jrom  the  etate  of  the  Child. 

The  regular  process  of  parturition  may  be  inter- 
rupted, in  consequence  of  the  position  and  of  the  shape 
Mti  the  child* 

I.  Position  if  the  chiid*  The  most  natural  po- 
sit ion  of  the  child,  at  the  begiiining  of  labour,  is 
with  the  head  placed  at  the  brim  of  the  pelvis, 
the  face  towards  the  sacro-iliac  synchondrosis  of  one 
mJc,  and  the  occiput  towards  the  groin  of  the  opposite 
side.  But  there  are  many  deviations  from  this  natural 
position. 

a.  Although  the  head  be  applied  to  the  brim  of  the 
pelvis,  it  may  be  forced  with  the  sinciput  towards  the 
promontory  of  the  sacrum,  and  the  •  ccipit  towards  the 
syinphysli  pubis.  In  this  situation  tlie  largest  diameter 
of  the  bead  is  opposed  to  the  smallest  of  the  pelvis,  con- 
sequently the  head  remains  firmly  fixed  in  that  position, 
for  as  the  sinciput  cannot  advance  a  point  beyond  the 
promontory  of  the  sacrum,  the  occiput  is  forced  just  so 
much  below  the  brim  at  the  pubis  as  to  wedge  the 
head  firmly  between  the  aacrum  and  pubis*  By  the 
long-continued  pressure  the  soft  parts  become  much 
swelled,  and  at  last  the  head  is  found  so  immoveable 
fixed,  thai  it  can  neither  he  made  to  recede,  nor  can  it 
advance  in  the  same  direction*  This  constitutes  what 
has  been  styled  the  cujpci^  incuneatum^  or,  as  it  is  called 
by  French  practitioners,  la  tite  enclavee.  This  case 
.most  commonly  is  the  effect  of  mismanagement  \  for  if 
a  very  little  pressure  be  made  on  the  hei^  when  it  pre- 
sents at  the  brim  of  the  pelvis  in  this  unfavourable  po- 
sition, the  pains  will  readily  force  it  into  the  passage  in 
tlie  proper  direction* 

Whea  the  locked  head  has  actually  taken  place,,  the 
practice  must  be  varied  according  to  the  circumstanoes 
of  the  individual  case  \  hence  the  long  -forceps,  and 
sometimes  even  the  crotchet,  are  required.  Turning  is 
quite  inadmissible,  and  the  three-bladed  forceps  so 
strenuously  recommended  by  Dr  Leake,  in  this^ase  are 
totally  inapplicable. 

h.  The  long  diameter  of  the  head  may  also  be  applied 
to  the  short  diameter  at  the  brim,  in  a  different  nwnner, 
viz.  with  the  face  towards  the  pubis,  and  the  occiput 
to  the  base  of  the  sacrum.  The  obstacles  to  the  pro- 
gress of  th&head^re  not  in  this  case  so  great  as  in  the 


I  F  E  R  Y.  .      59 

former  (a)  j  for  as  the  occiput  ia  round,  and  its  sur-  Pretema- 
face  inconsiderable,  while  at  the  same  time  the  promon-  tnnl  Par- 
tory  of  the  sacrum  is  round,  the  labour  throes^  after .  toritiwi. 
some  time,  force  the  occiput  either  a  little  to  one  side, 
or  at  least  past  the  jpromontory.  The  case,  however,  is 
tedious,  painful,  and  even  dangerous  to  the  patient}  for 
as  the  face  presents  a  larger  surface  to  the  pubis  than 
the  occiput,  it  must  require  longer  time  to  pass,  and 
as  there  are  many  inequalities  on  the  face,  the  patient 
must  suffer  much  pain  from  their  pressure,  and  from  the 
same  circumstance  must  incur  the  hazanl  of  having  the 
urinary  bladder  or  the  urethra  irreparably  injured. 

In  this  case  Professor  Saxtorph  remarks,  *'  vel  occi-  <* 
put  prime  descendit^  quod  cum  acctdit,  frons  ab  ossibos 
•pubis  sustentata  elevatur,  mentomque  pectori  infantis 
imprimitur,  nrgeutibus  porro  doloribus,  versus  anum 
et  periDaeom,  adagitur  acuminatum  occiput,  et  .nolle 
modo  sub  arcu  ossiom  pubis  extorqueri  potest  inflexile 
sinciput, bine  partus  in  exitu  pelvis impossibilisredditttr.** 

That  this  is  a  mistake,  the  obs«;rvatton  of  other  prae- 
titioners  has  sufficiently  demonstrated ;  for  it  is  well 
known  that  in  such  cases,  after  the  perinsmm  Has  been 
much  stretched  the  occiput  is  forced  throngh  the  parts, 
and  immediately  slips  back  towards  the  anus,  while 
the  natie  of  the  neck  being  applied  to  the  anterior 
edge  of  the  perinscoro,  moves  on  it  as  on  an  axis,  so  that 
the  sinciput  and  face  emerge  from  under  the  symphysis 
pubis,  the  chin  leaving  tho  top  of  the  thorax  io  the 
same  manner  as  if  the  face  were  situated  naturally  ia 
the  hollow  of  the  sacrum. 

Although  in  this  case  the  natural  effi>rts  most  ordi- 
narily complete  the  process,  yet  in  many  instances  the 
injury  which  threatens  the  imnary  bladder  renders 
the  a^icatioa  of  the  forceps  expedient. 

c.  Although  the  head  may  have  entered  tlie  pelvis  ia  33 
the  most  natural  position,  yet  it  may  not  make  those 
changes  in  situation  which  are  required  to  accommodate 
it  to  the  outlet  \  for  the  fiuse  may  turn  under  the  qrm* 
nhysis  pubis  instead  of  into  the  hollow  of  the  sacrum. 
When  this  happens  the  phenomena  already  deserihed  (A) 
take  place. 

d.  It  someliroes  happens,  that  instead  of  the  smooth      S4 
part  of  tho  cranium  being  forced  first  into  the  pelvis, 
the  face  presents.     In  this  case  it  may  be  sitiuited  in 
three  positions,  viz.  with  the  chin  to  the  sacrum^  or 
pubis,  or  side. 

a  er.  The  first  case  is  esteemed  llie  OMist  dangerous 
both  for  4he  mother  and  child.  For  ihie  mother, 
because  the  child  in  this  position  requires  more  room 
4han  the  pelvis  affords,  eonsequeittly  tho  soft  parts  in 
contact  with  the  chin  and  smooth  part  of  the  cranium 
-are  much  compressed,  and  hence  if  the  delivery  he  not 
speedily  accomplished,  much  injury  to  those  parts  will 
'Onsue.  As  the  chin  too  must  pass  along  a  curved  line 
formed  by  the  sacrum  and  coccyx,  the  obstacles  to  de- 
livery are  very  great }  and  even  after  the  face  has  been 
forced  so  low  as  to  press  on  the  perinaeun,  that  part  \b 
jn  much  hazard  of  being  torn  by  the  violent  distension 
which  it  undersoes.  The  delivery  in  such  cases  is  very 
rarely  accomplished  naturaUy. 

This  speeies  of  labour  is  equally  dangerous  to  th^ 
child  as  to  the  mother,  not  only  on  account  of  the  ionff* 
continued  pressure  on  the  brain,  but  also  from  the  occi- 
put being  forced  so  strongly  on  the  superior  dorsal  ver- 
tebra that  the  free  return  of  the  blood  from  the  head  it 

Ha  interrupted* 


6o 


MIDWIFERY, 


FMtcrM.  MU^mmfUif  Mdl  benoe  apdpLsxy  enaoes  ^  a  cminMlaiioe 
tiiralPw-  wbioh  18  yvoved  even  by  the  appeanuice  «f  oliiUnn 
tnriiion.  ^||q  {^  sucb  cases  are  bora  aHw,  fior  tke  face  of  such 
childcen  ia  perfectly  livid.  Jacebs  kas  pointed  out 
tlieae  dangers  pretty  accnraleiy.  **  U  est  idaagerenx 
pour  renfanty  (he  says),  parce  ^e  la  tdte  etant  pen- 
chec  et  portant  sur  son  coo,  elle  comprime  les  vaisseauK 
mmguins  au  point  que  le  sang  ne  ponvant  plus  civcnler, 
il  meyre  d'oae  apoplexie  pour  pen  que  I'on  tarde  a  Tex- 
traice.**  £cole  praiique  det  AacoucAemaUf  par  le  Pnh 
fcsseyr  /.  B>  Jacobs.    A  Paris^  ^l^S*  P-  3^- 

b  b.  The  aeoond  ease,  viz.  tvbere  ifae  cjiui  is  pbioed 
towards  the  pubis  and  the  sincipat  to  the  sacrum,  is 
neither  so  daQgerova  lor  she  aoolher  nor  child.  For  if 
by  the  foroe  of  the  panw  the  Smot  be  pushed  so  far  §m- 
waod  that  the  -chin  becomes  engaged  urithin  ibe  arch  of 
the  pubis,  then  the  inferior  edge  of  tiie  symphysis  pubis 
ibfBB  a  fukvum  on  which  the  inlerior  jaw  moves,  fay 
which  the  einoiputnnd  ocdput  pass  readily  and  easily 
aloiig  the  hollow  of  the  sacrum,  their  surface  being 
well  Adapted  to  that  of  the  sacran,  and  the  seveial  parts 
Af  Abe  Imo  fees  in  suoccssion  thiaugh  the  vulva. 

ep.  The  tUrd  .case,  viz.  wberesthe  clitn  is  to  one  side, 
is  nltU.n»te>fiirottrahie  ithan  the  second  \  lor  die  tfaee 
jasses  .reallily  tthraafh  the  «bliqae  •diameter  of  the  pel- 
vai  till  ilef  t  >by  the  «tabenisities  lof  tke  ischia,  wben  the 
4shin  tusns  into  ibe  laidi  of  the  pubia,  nuuLthen  the  same 
^beaooMni  wbidi  eocunin  ihe  second  case  take  pbice. 

3Jhe«nnse«iQSi^nneBaUy  Assigned  &r  faoe*cases  is 
the  ill  directed  exertion  of  the  pnpelting  powers.  May 
at  ^aot  4dao  depend  Jm  wmny  caacs  on  the  original  posi- 
tion nf t  the  ifostOB :? 

WbeMify  etdmoitiner^iffienlty  oocnrs  in  Cue^oases, 
Lowder*s  lever  is  itke*  instmment  ito  which  nooorse 
.0i|ght  do  he  Susd.  The  fonseps,  ns  ccoenimended  by 
&aBlUe4Uid«lbcffa,  hsiog^uste  inanffictest  to  nSbrd  a 
mJkmAmaam  kM  ofibeidfiut. 

^  On^eflMnflB  wmnsiena  the  side  of  the  head  pre- 
aonte»'4o  Jbat lowe  cor  is  in  dfae  aentve  jof  the  pelvis.  In 
inuph  A  ceasa,  the  tstwayist  nontnctinns  of  the  uterus 
cannot  make  the  head  enter  the  pelvis,  and  the  woman 
•mnuM  gofvanllydlin.nndclivjKd  were  it  not  •(«  the  in- 
lerCHTOSMieetftast.    Caeeo.of  ikss  kksd  aietremarkably 


16 


The  band  nf  the  flpsntor  nnit  be  earned  apin  sucb 
cases,  and  moderate  pressure  must  be  made  in  suck  a 
4ipantioD.aSfabalUdlnw-tbe<ooalraotions  of  tbe  uterus  to 
jmlhAkeinnoothipartiaf  tbei  omnium  into  tbe  cavity  of 


87 


/:  The  be«dpf!tbe. child  is  jwttbe  part  ahmys 
t^iad  to  thespelvas  ;  fer.oonetinBSs  the  bead  passes  kst. 
MThenrrerias^otbv  pnrt>cban  the  -bend  presents,  the 
Moor  sa  rtykd  diy  Mutbers  pnUtwaturoL 

All  .ptetewMtand  lahenrs  ;bave  .been^  divided  into  two 
.nrdcn.  A.  Creaentations  jof  ihe  inferior  extremities  5 
4Bd  B.  (BiesrntwrifS4>f  tbe  Mpeaior  extiemities. 

Am  I^BsenlatiaaB  ef  tbe  lower  estremities  compr^ 
band  eaaes -when  MiB4ir  both  feet,  one  or  betb  kneea^ 
fuid  Ibe  keateh  fveaevt. 

g.  Cases  where  both  feetfnaent  are  •nmre 'frequent 
than  thsss  iwbm  one  only  freacoti.    It  has  been  cal- 


Chap.tV. 

culated  that  ^le  fcet  preseat  nneein  105  eases  of  la-  tvetcnn. 
hour*  tontl  Psr* 

Some  aatben  have  divided  laboaes  of  this  kind  into  ^ntka. 
a  great  variety  of  species.  There  4S,  however,  no  ne- 
cessity §DT  such  divisions,  and  tbey  tend  to  cuslcad  nnd 
emhanass  practitioners.  AU  the  varieties  may  he  re- 
duced under  ibree  heads  j  for  the  toes  must  he  either 
towards  the  skde  of  the  pelvis,  or  towards  tke  saeram 
or  pahes. 

dd.  Wh^e  tbe  toes  are  towucds  the  side  of  the  pel- 
vis, the  child  is  generally  placed  in  each  a  inannertbat 
she  abdomen^  beeaM,  and  face  ^ ass  in  succession  along 
die  snonKiliac  sjinohondrosis  of  that  eide.  This  is  the 
most  fiuvonrafale  situation  in  wbioh  the  child  uud^r  such 
eircnmatanoes  can  be  placed  }  for  the  largest  parts  af 
its  body  pass  through  the  largest  apeiture  of  the  pelvis. 
In  this  case,  then,  tlie  action  of  the  ntcms  forcing 
forward  the  child,  the  feet  are  'by  •degrees  excluded 
through  the  external  parts,  tbe  toes  being  situated  be- 
tween the  point  of  the  coccyx  and  the  tuberasity  of  the 
ischium. J  tlie  thighs  follow,  then  the  abdonwn  and 
thorax  ^  but  the  farther  progress  of  the  child  is  for  some 
time  interrupted  by  :|fae  asms  ^lassing  np  along  each -side 
«f  the  bead,  which  add  oenaiderably  to  its  bulk }  at 
last,  however,  tbe  repeated  contractions  of  the  uterus 
£orce  tbe  ^e  into  the  hollow 'of  the  uncrum,  and  -then 
the  oape  of  the  -neck  turning  ontbe  inferior  edge  of  the 
symphysis  pubis  as  on  a  pivot,  theftite  is  excluded,  fol- 
jlowed  by  the  ainciput  nnd  occiput. 

Where  tbceiorts  of  nature  in  this  process  aresole^ 
lyrtxusted,  the  child,  unless  jt  be  soMill  and  the  pelvis 
be  very  capacious,  while  the  soft  parts  are  mudi  relax- 
ed, is  ffenerally  still-bosn }  for  before  the  obstacks  to 
tbe  idekvery  of  the  head  be  overcome,  die  long-conti- 
nued compression  <of  the  funis  umbiliealts,'by  tntercept> 
ingthe'Convse  of  the  blood,  proves  fatal. 

€  e^  Authors  have  generally  considered  that  to  be  tbe 
.most  fonroorable  position  in  wbioh  the  feet  -can  present, 
where  the  toes  are  towards  the  sacrvm.  Roederer  for 
euunple  says,  '*  pedum  tunc^igiti  si  ossi  sacro  obver- 
tantur,  foetus  abdomini  incombens  recte  situs  est  (l.)*' 
fiuttwo  disadvantages  attend  this  position :  First,  tbe 
largest  pait  of  the  child's  body  is  forced  through  the 
emallest  part  ef  the  outlet  of 'the  pehfis  \  and  2dly,  The 
:longest  diaaKter  of  the  bead  -is  applied  to  the  snortest 
."diameter  of  tbe  brim  of  the  pelvis.  In  such  cases,  there- 
fore, the  patient  commonly  suffers  much  pain,  and  the 
child's  life  is  destroyed. 

ff^  When  the  tees  are  toned  to  the  pubes,  it  baa 
•been  universally  acknowledged,  that  the  feet  are  in  the 
-worst  possible  position.  Indeed  not  only  do  tbe  disad- 
•vantagee  stated  as  resulting,  from  the  last  position  (r  r) 
equally  take  place  in  this  one,  but  another  cause  of 
difficulty  and  danger  is  added,  viz.  that  *the  face  being 
npplied  tothe  pubes,  the  progress  of  the  child  must  be 
impeded  in  no  inconsiderable  degree.  Hence  in  sucb 
'U  case  the  patient  mav  be  very  much  injured,  and  the 
ehild  must  be  alasoet  inevitably  lost. 

The  management  of  fooUing  eases  was  first  explain- 
ed, in  as  far  as  we  know,  in  Dr  Hamikdn's  Select 
Cases  in  Midwifery,  p.  89. 

•**It 


(1.)  BoedcoerXlemtiita  ArtisObstetricsB,  p.  249. 

2 


CSmp, 


MIDWIFERY. 


6x 


ttnl  Par- 


is ft 

in 


tiiraiHMdttioe^lMit  ^e  bMt«M«lft:«^ '<»C8.    ItJiftBlMQa  cftkiil^tedlbiktitbfi^lifipp^iitipcem  Pietcxfif^ 


£»otiiDg  eaiw  hfts  not  yo|t  h^tn  e^KpUoitly 
pointed  oat  bf  «»y  «albftr«  This  iwiat  ft|i|ieiir-#iu'pnr 
«aBg  wiii5B  it  is  oon^ideved  thai  smtk  p««MaMiiQ9  If;^ 
^atnU J  «oear «,  that  the  life  of  the  cbiU  dfipQOjdt  ^av 
-di^piscticeadofted ;  aadi  tliftt  4he  miui^geilifliii  ^f  eveiy 
fffptcaanftttiral  iabow  jviwH  fWioflneoMd  by  ^  ri^k^  fip- 
yitcftbie  40  ifootiiofr  csms. 

^  When  itlie  feet  piweat,  the  in&nt^a  vitWktipn  jreUr 
tively  to  the  mother  most  be  with  its  boiler  .pl«ce4  tfir 
mnais  her  hook,  iisr  Wtyt  ^^**  '^^^*  ^  *^^^  inter  me- 
4ia*e  point.  The  (first  of  Ihose  fMN(itioB#  .W  ^^^ 
gOMnily  coMidered  as  the  most  favoMiVkhky  wd  ^thp  .)a#it 
ftsiliei<ever8e.  fiot.slilUe^efleetMn  mostii^ooff ince evevy 
IvmctitMNner  Ihst  Abe  in&nt  ocQ»piea*the  leiwst  p^^oiiblf 
apftce,  ^wheft  its  ^lly  is  towardB  the  ude  of  Ae  motW* 
to  apeak  mora  aecucaitelyy  tanmrds  tbnf  SMTo-ilin^ 


or, 


ayachonditisis  ^  .for  then  the  largest  :p9irt. of  its  bod[y  i? 
arithio  the  iargeat  diameter  of  the  peWis  at  the  hwnt 
arhiie  in  its'progfcss  4hroogh  the  .pel«is»  the  •haeeofa  i# 
net  fiircod  ithawgh  the  shortest  diaonelcr  at  tho  <itttlet^ 
vie  thatbetwcoD  the  tuberartities  of  .the  iadbia. 

**  in  ofcary  ease  therefiNre^xthere  the  fset  are  lirovgbt 
dowD,  (he  toes  should  ip  the  ^process  4al  eif tiiao^n  :be 
tamed  iatoaaioh  ^a  posilioOy  thatitheibeUyyihe  )lw|Mlb 
•ad  the  face,  «baU  •he  madettopass  in  suacesAiopalaoif^ 
Iheneaaest  faoro-iliac  aynchoadaqsis.  Alter  ^theairmf 
are  diseagagedy  ^be  face  can  he  aaadiiy  iinsMd  iotoithis 
Mlaw  of  the  -saerom.'* 
89  <A.  One  foot  may  pteaent  in  the  :same  vmjaty.  of  Urm^ 

tioas^as  both  leet.  Wheve  one  &ot  praseata  natwallf^ 
if  4he  pains  :be  regular  and  stvoag,  the  caae  ia  atleoded 
with  less  paia  to^the  mother  and  lass  daagorito;lhei(biU» 
than  where  under  similapcivcumstanoes  •bothdeet^present* 
it  is  less  ^afol  to  the'  molber,  because  the  lOhiM  .ia 
foTQied  into  the  abapa  of  a  ooiiey  aynd  the  apax  paases' fiflit 
Ihaoagfa  the  pelvic,  bywhich  -the  paats  are  ^gradoaUgr 
preparedy  and  not  suddenly  forced  >op«n  ',  and  it  is  li^ia 
daagerans  for  the  ehihi,  beoaose  the.oaa  leg  bm^  Ibid- 
ed  along  the  belly  and  bneaaty  the  umbilical  cord  its  .pao* 
tested  from  oompression. , 

From  those  circnmatanoes,  a  very  evroneoni  infei enoe 
has  been  deduced  by  some^aelobsated  anthers,  yia.  that 
in  cases  where  it  is  necessary  to  perfovm  ;tba  opeaation 
styled  turning,  the  one  foot  should  be  'brought  down 
in  prefeivnoe  »to  both.  iBot  .as  on  aocb  ooeaaions  tbe 
operator  cannot  be  aasistod  by  pains,  it  ia  obviaaa  that 
be  eould  not  hare  a  aufficient  hold  of  the  «bild  'by.it 
siBffiefoota 

'With  Iho'exoeptions  just  sftated^  thephaBfanana  HlhoM 
one  bet  preaeats^aae  theaame  with'tboee 
in  cases- wheve'both(feat<aae<in<the  pnnssy. 


jzqapes  of  labour. 

This  bceeoh  may  present  in  the  same  yariety  of  por 
futiooa  as  the  feet,  viz.  with  t(ie  bellv  of  the  child  tp 
she  -baijc,  to  the  belly,  v  to  the  siit  of  tbe  mother. 
£QrtaA9  advfntag^  and  4iBfdvfmt]||^  at^oad  each  of 
t)k09p  positioQS. 

J^hen  the  belly  is  to  the  back  of  the  mother,  the 
tbigh  boaes  beipg  sti^aight,  pass.with  difficulty  alpoj;  the 
curved  line  of  the  sacrum^  after  that  obstacle. is  sur- 
IDonntcd,  {the  largest  part  of  the  .child  is  applied  to  the 
9mfiUest  diametitrr  at  the  brim  of  the  pelvis  >  and  aftc^r 
tfac  bo^y  is  deU^fOwd,  .the  .head  is  situated  in  wtf^  a  di- 
iiecljo|i  that  it  amoot  enter  the  bri^  >  for  ,M>e  simupnt 
i^  t^pppsite  to  tbe  ;promontozy  of  ^^^rum  and  tjl^e  occiput' 
tfi  the  .ajwphysis  pfibis.  . 

If  tbe  beily  of  Mi«  «hild  l|e  to  the  belly  of  the 
mother,  <itbon  tbe  itb'gh  bones  pass  .very  readwy  ^long 
thekw^cf  tbe  pubcis,  while  the  spipe  bea^ipi^  f^^om^- 
modates  itself  admirably  .to  tbe  hollow  of  tbe.  si^qnuo* 
cooseqi^n^ly  at  fir^t  the  l^our  pzocee40  spi^e^ily  and 
Sfifsly^  biat  After  .tbe  h«eech.ba*pwed  tbrqi^  Ml® .ca- 
vity of  the  pelvis,  it  is  ^ppUed  with  its  Ifffgeat  4iaipeter 
to  jibe  tbprte^t  diameter  at  tb^oytlct,  andaAeritbap  at^ 
}f»^  oaevQoaie.tbe  ^es^tapce  oqcaaiooed-by  i^h^t  circum- 
sVmoe,  and'thebody^^pelM,  tlie  £sce^  .Wog^ti^icjucdd 
tbe^Yiapl^sis  pubis,  nubjecU  JLhe.pf|tieqt.toMl!tbe  pain, 
apd  IhAcbiUAo^ai  ^  dap0srs,^p^tfi|imi:»UdC#). 

When^  belly  of  tbe.qbild  ifi  iplaced  towards  the 
side  of  the  mother  in  breech  cases,  ,t^en  t,\ip  W^^  ^duran- 
t«|g«s,fi|taiBdt4^  #itv»ti9f^  .vhisb  ,bave  .beoa  .eoi^jciein^d 
upd?r  M>e  ^rst.^liag4^ase,^)  ;  ipr  tbejar^st^pfurt  ^ 

af  tbeiffbM  i«  mii&^vdyiiipp)^^  r^  the  ^^fst  .iwer- 
tmie^  tbe  ji^lvis^  Bewftes  .^hi|i,  (be^hil^  iDcygrsi^iir 
ha<iHUrAin  Utit^gBitian  tb»n  |vbQ»  theieet  9xig^lalIy  .pre- 
Sfiit }  Air^he  l^gs.beipg/oldfd  oa  ,^e .belly :prp^ot  tbe 
fiiiMsjii9bUiq^  from  ooiap^pessian.' 

t^re^  Qaaesywh^se  the^pafos  arefpo9rerful,ac^.tpbe 
left  entirely  to  nature,  taking  eare  to  .,snp|M;rt  >t)]e  ne- 
riaswn,  till  the  .in^t  :be  €9^]\ei}  tl^e  naYeU^t^ng 
is  tbfia  tiO;be  taikien  off  itbe  st9at<Ji,^od  tbe  ..child  ^com^ 
modated  to  the  passage  onthe  aame  jrineiple|isfpotUog 
oases. 

iWbeo.tbe  paint :Pipveia;^efli|ate  to  tbe  ei^iiIsjlon.Qf 
Ibe  bveeah,  vaviou^  metbpda  b^ve  been  >iecoypijended, 
tiiM)h^:bQoKi4g  the>fi9gfr.in  tbe^g^in,'ficstpn  the  one 
4ide,  -affd :  tbep.oii  M»  other  ^  enylajiifg  .^  bl^u^t  boqkr 
for  the.taqde.pni^atiB  ;  ,foi^.a.g}i^.i^  piece  pf  ,tape^ 
aver,oae  ffsM^  tifi^yafkH  ^^plyitUf  U>e  fopceps. 

The  r&Bf  t  pf  tbe«e  ipetb94f»^irc  W»eW  vrb^re.^e  jm» 
sligbt  fi^VHH  tap4  .^  u»lf  >^; » :fi^  UkS^*  The  a^cpnd 
and  lh«)rdiai^tb(N|8.«r^.if)jttrioi9s  bo^h.to  ^  mother  smd 


tural  Par- 
turition. 


90  r.  When  the  knees  present,  all  the  tnconvenieBCea.af    child,  for  they  add  to  the^vis,!  -Uf^f  .witbout  dimi- 

nishing ;the^«piltent^.  Botihe%r^lp^tbodrtJwt>, 
atplyiog  (boffi)i;Qi^ii%i|iYai;4t:bly  bptKsffe^  s^cceas- 
fal  'y  .bataiweffwbUe  ft  D^bkis  .|JI»b  f^^^ti\if}^tr  ^tp  fir^ 
fcawardj the. nhild iHilfayt #^iy -fttwne  aoti(^,  .itjjit  the 
lavie  t^peipatSLit  in.bis*paw^V>'A?ep|Of^<b^  it.to^ 
paasager  hy^  twmi^gJt-jomd. j#i|tbe  proper,  dii^c^ipp. 

)B.  iaM^i9Mn4<diMisifl|^,oftp69)9f7y4ii^  ip- 

ehidaa  ri\,^m$^.iriji^^  '^^y^^)^er  §pLTt  than  |Jtie,be%4 
cr  iowBr.txtroM^  preff^^;  .j^oh  ^  ^fhe.nei^,  (]b 
arm.  AT  sbauU^r,  lbe[bra^^4b^b<^»bf:4ho^lM^lyf  ^jiH^ 


S^ 


eaaes  take  plac^,  with  tbit  addiiiaaaLdanger  to 
the  child, -that  if*  thelegabe-  crasssdy  apeior  bath/nay jba 
fractured' before  ttbe.knectf  be<expdiled. 

The  management  of  knee  peesentatioaa  must: depend 
on  'the  advsflcce  which  tbeae  ipacts  oaay  h«fe  at  rtha 
time  assiafeance  iaproaucad.  (if  they  he  atiH  at  the.  bcin 
of  tbepeliris,  4he  foot 'sbonidibetboaiuid  <dcMrp« .  ;Batiif 
they  be  fairly  wiiliia«lhe>eaviaf  of  >theiptlvisriar.i»^h0 
vagina,  they  must  be  allowed  to  pro^rade  mtbont  'Iba 
parts  until  the  leet-be  oapcUed. 

k.  Breach  oatoB  ocear  •laarciftafDeotlythaQTfaalliag 


9Z 


.Jtt 


62 


MIDWIFERY. 


nUon. 


>3 


Pretcrna.  '  It  IS  o1)vioo6,  tliat  a  fiill-grown  cbild  cannot  possibly 
tnralPartn- be  expelled  through  the  uatural  passages  in  such  posi- 
tions, and  consequently,  unless  nature  perfbrm  the  ope- 
ration first  described  by  Dr  Denman,  both  mother  and 
child  roust  be  destroyed  \  for  the  nnarailiiig  contrac- 
tions  of  the  uterus  will  first  operate  in  impeding  the 
circulation  of  the  child  ^  and  then  by  pushing  forward 
its  body  with  'greit  force  on  the  ^oft  parts  of  the  mo- 
ther, will  induce  such  a  decree  of  pain  and'  tnflamma*- 
tion,  that  she  must  at  last  sink  exhausted. 

The  practice  of  turning,  as  it  is  called,  that  is,  of 
bringing  down  the  feet  in  cases  belonging  to  this  divi- 
sion of  preternatonll  labours,  Originally  suggested  by 
iPierre  Franco,  but  first  properly  established  hy  Am- 
brose Parre,  has  been  the  means  of  saving  many  valu- 
able lives.  Indeed  the  superiority  of  this  practice  to 
that  of  making  the  present  under  such  circumstances 
must  be  very  obvious ;  for  after  the  operator  has  got 
hold  of  the  mfant^s  feet,  lie  can  complete  the  delivery 
without  requiring  the  assistance  of  pains. 

The  dangers  to  be  dreaded  in  performing  the  opera- 
lion  of  turning  are  rupture  of  the  uterus,  or  subsequent 
inflammation  of  the  passages,  and  loss  of  the  dfaild. 

The  first  of  these,  is  to  be  guarded  against,  by  pur* 
suing  such  means  as  shall  suspend  the  labour-pains,  and 
Remove  the  uterine  stricture,  when  the  opportuifiCy  of 
ttiming  before  tlie  discharge  of  the  water  which  sur- 
rounds tlie*  infant  has  been  lost.  These  are  blood-let- 
ting and  opiates  in  large  doses,  singly  or  combined,  ac- 
cording to  circumstances. 

Oreat  gentleness  and  caution,  on  the  part  of  the  ope« 
rator,  are  indispensably  teqnisite  to  prevent  both  rnp- 
tofe  of  the  uterus  and  the  suVsequent  inflammation  of 
the  passages.  When  it  is  Yidded,  that  a  perseverance 
for  several  hours  is  sometimes  necessary  for  accomplish- 
ing this  operation,  it  must  be  obvious,  that  it  demands 
in  many  instances  a  greater  degree  of  patience,  as  well 
as  dexterity,  on  the  part  of  the  operator,  than  most 
cases  of  surgety* 

The  safety  ot  the  infant  can  only  be  secured,  by  at- 
tending very  accurately  to  the  rules  for  the  manage- 
ment of  footling'  cases. 

Dr  Denman,  whose  discovery  of  the  spontaneous  evo- 
lution has  been  already  mentioned,  at  one  time  suppos- 
ed that  in  the  cases  under  consideration,  the  operation 
of  turning  might  be  dispensed  with,  and  that  the  pa- 
tient might  be  saved  much  hazard,  and  the  practitioner 
great  anxiety  and  trouble,  by  waiting  for  that  change. 

But  although  in  the  later  editions  of  his  valuable 
work  (Introduction  to  Midwifery),  be  has  relinquished 
this  idea,  his  observations  on  the  management  of  pre* 
tematural  labour  of  the  Second  order,  are  evidently  in- 
fluenced by  his  former  opinion. 

He  says  (vol.  ii.  p.  249.),  **  Yet  the  knowledge  df 
this  fact,  however  unqnestionably  prov^,  does  not  free 
us  from  the  necessity  and  propriety  of  terming  children 
presenting  with  the  superior  extremities,  in  evety  case 
in  which  that  operation  can  be  perfoftned  with  safety  to 
the  mother,  or  give  us  a  better  chance  #f  saving  the 
child.  Under  such  circumstances,  the  instructions  given 
by  former  writers,  and  the  observations  we  have  before 
made,  must  still  be  considered  as-  proper  to  guide  our 
conduct.  But  when  we  are  called  to  a  patient  with  a 
preternatural  labour,  in  which  there  is  no  room  to 
ioft  for  the  preservation  of  the  child,  or  in  which  we 

3 


94 


Chap.  IV. 

are  assured  of  its  death,  or'tfhen  the  operation  of  ttnm-  pietcns. 
ing  cannot  be  performed  without  violence  and  some  tvralPacv 
dan^  to  the  mother,  then  the  knowledge  of  thia  pto-  ^""^ 
bability  of  a  spontaneous  evolution,  will  set  our  minds       ' 
at  ease,  and  disengage  us  from  the  consideration  of  ma^ 
king  any  hasty  attempts  to  perfbrai  a  baxardooa  ope* 
Tation,  Tjrom  which  no  possible  good  can  be  derived, 
except  that  of  extracting  a  dead  cbild,  and  which  at  aU 
'events  miglit  be  efii^ted  by  a  method  much  nior0  safe 
^0  the  mother. 

*'  The  time  required  for  the  spontaneous  evolution  of 
the  child,  atid  the  faedity  wkh  which  it  may  be  made, 
will  depend  upon  a  variety  of  circumstances,  bat  chief- 
ly upon  the  size  of  the  cluld,  the  aptitude  of  its  posi- 
tion, the  dimensions  of  the  pehris,  and  the  power  ex- 
erted by  the  ntems*  If  the  child  be  very  large  or 
much  below  the  common  size,  the  slower  I  believe  will 
be  the  evolution,  n<n*  can  it  he  made  at  all  without  a 
strong  action  t>f  the  titeros.  It  is  possible,  therefore, 
when  we  hilve  conducted  ourselves  im  the  ground  of 
^expectation  that  the  evolution  would  ho  snadci  that  the 
pains  may  h\\  oflP  or  be  unequal  to  the  eflfect,  and  we 
may  be  disappointed.  It  might  then  be  apprehended, 
that  the  difficulty  of  extraolttig  the  child  would  be  in- 
finitely increased.  But  though  the  evolution  ^vas  not 
perfected,  I  have  not  found  this  consequence  ;  lor  the 
child,  though  not  expelled,  has  been  brought  into  such 
n  state  that  I  could  afterwards  pas6 .  my  hand  with 
ease,  and  bring  down  its  feet,  though  in  an  attempt  te 
-do  this  at  the  beginning  of  the  labour  I  had  been  foiled. 
In  one  case  in  which  the  evolution  did  not  take  place, 
1  could  not  bring  down  the  inferior  extremities,  hot  I 
had  no  difficulty  in  fixing  an  instrument  upon  the  cur- 
ved part  of  tt»e.  body  of  the  child,  or  in  bringing  it 
away  with  entire  safety  to  the  motlier.  It  was  before 
presumed  that  the  chald  was  dead,  and  the  sole  object 
Was  to  free  the  mother  from  her  danger  ^  and  with  her 
safety  no  appearances  of  the  child»  however  disagree- 
able, are  to  be  put  in  competition.  In  cases  of  this 
kind  another  mode  of  practice  has  been  recommend- 
ed, that  of  separating  the  head  from  the  body  with  a 
hlunt  hook  or  other  convenient  safe  instrument;  but  as 
I  have  never  practised  the  method,  I  give  the  descrip- 
tion of  it  in  a  note.'^ 

Thcfre  are  two  points  in  the  above  observations,  id  P5 
which  it  appears  that  Dr  Denman  has  erred*  In  the 
first  place,  in  sanctioning  delay  in  having  recourse  to 
the  operation  of  toming  where  the  superior  extremity 
presents.  In  many  such  cases,  if  the  paina  be  not 
speedily  suspended,  or  the  position  of  the  child  altered, 
Ifae  uterus  would  burst ;  an  accident  which  has  repeat-* 
edly  fallen  under  the  observation  of  the  writer  of  this 
article. 

The  second  error  is,  the  supposition  that,  af^er  it  has 
been  found  by  experience  in  any  given  case,  that  the 
spontaneous  evolation  is  not  to  happen,  it  is  easy  to  ex- 
tract the  child  either  by  the  feet  or  by  some  instru- 
ment. Bol  it  will  be  found  in  the  majority  of  socli 
cases,  that  the  infant  is  impacted  into  so  close  a  body^ 
while  the  parts  are  all  in  a  state  of  swelling  kod  in- 
flammation, that  immense  difficnlty  and  great  danger 
attend  the  attempt. 

The  following  observations  on  this  subject  cannot  be 
too  strongly  impressed  on  the  minds  of,  especially  yoimg, 
practitioners. 

^«  Several 


.    (^p.  IV. 


M  I  D  W  I 


9^ 


« 


ftetens.  *^  Several  yttm  ago  it .  was  discovered  by  Dr  Den- 
tsnlPaftn-maDy  that  ia  presentations^,  such  as  that  in  the  above 
«^^^  case,  the  position  of  the  child  is  sometimes  altered,  and 
its  expulsion  accomplished,  by  the  natural  contractions 
of  the  uterus.  Although  the  doctor,  with  his  usual 
candour,  has  allowed,  that  this  favourable  event,  under 
such  alarming  circumstances,  is  rather  to  be  wished  than 
expected }  yet  he  has  offered  it  as  his  opinion,  that  if 
all  interference  of  art  were  avoided,  *'  the  woman  would 
not,  in  this  case,  die  undelivered.*' 

^*  The  preceding  history,  however,  affords  a  melan- 
choly contradiction  to  this  opinion.  The  midwife,  who 
attended  from  the  beginning,  did  nothing  to  interrupt 
the  natural  process,  as  far  as  could  be  learned'.  Her 
fatal  error  was  having  only  looked  on,  and  having  nei* 
ther  given  that  assistance  which  was  necessary,  nor 
sent  for  others  who  could  do  so. 

^*  The  spontaneous  evolution,  as  Dr  Denman  has  call- 
ed it,  can  only  take  place  where  the  child  lies  in  a  par. 
ticular  situation,  viz.  where  the  action  of  the  uterus 
cannot  be  exerted  on  the  presenting  part,  or  where  that 
part  is  so  shaped  that  it  cannot  be  wedged  within  the 
pelvis.  A  practitioner  may,  therefore,  by  a  careful 
examination,  be  abl^  to  decide  whether  the  evolution 
will  happen  or  not.  This  observation  is  by  do  means  a 
matter  of  spetnlation,  being,  on  the  contrary,  of  much 
practical  utility  ;  for,  if  there  be  signs  which  indicate 
the  event  alluded  to,  it  follows,  as  a  consequence,,  not 
only  that  the  natural  process  is  not  to  be  counteracted, 
but  al$o,  that  it  is  to  be  assisted.  Two  cases  occurred 
during  one  year,  where  the  author  of  these  remarks  had 
an  opportunity  of  prognosticating  and  assisting  the  evo- 
lution, in  presence  of  two  gentlemen  then  attending 
tlie  professor  of  midwifery,  as  annual  pupils. 

"  That  the  uterus  should  continue  rigidly  contracted 
on  the  body  of  the  child,  while  the  strength  of  the  wo- 
man was  so  much  exhausted  that  no  pulse  could  be  felt, 
and  that  she  appeared  sinking  very  fast,  is  a  singular 
and  an  instructive  fact.  It  will,  it  is  to  be  hoped, 
teach  practitioners  the  fallacy  of  the  assertion,  t/iat  the 
hngtr  the  operation  of  turning  is  delayed^  tlis  more 
eoabf  it  will  be  accomplished. 

"  It  may  seem  astonishing,  that  the  body  of  the  child 
oould  not  be  drawn  down  with  the  crotchet,  since  it 
was  in  a  state  of  great  putridity :  But  when  it  is  con- 
sidered, that  the  long-continued  action  of  the  uterusJiad 
wedged  it  very  strongly  within  the  pelvis,  while,  at  the 
same  time,  the  pressure  on  the  soft  parts  lining  that  ca- 
vity had  swelled  them  much,  the  ourcumstanoe  will  he 
readily  understood  (n).** 

Authors  have  endeavoured  to  ascertain,  the  causes  of 
preternatural  labours  \  but  little  sactisfaction  has  been 
derived'  from  their  researches.  It  is  probable, .  that 
some  cases  depend  on  different  causes  from  others.  For 
example,  in  some  women  preternatural  labour  occurs 
more  than  once.  Such  cases  seem  to  depend  on  some 
peculiarity  in  the  uterus  or  ovum.  Again, .  it  is  well 
known  to  practitioners  of  midwifery,  that,  on  some  oc- 
casions, where  the  child  had  been  found  to  pjxsent  na- 
turally at  the  commencement  of  labour,  the  position  is 


9S 


9^ 


F  E  R  Y.  53 

perceived  to  be  preternatural  after  the  first  stage  is  com-  Preteraa. 
pleted  (o).     In  these  cases  the  change  of  position  may  tonilPHrtu- 
perhaps  be  justly  attributed  to  irregularity  of  action  of ,    "tion. 
the  uterus.  Besides,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  some 
cases  of  preternatural  labours  originate  from  the  prema- 
ture rupture  of  the  membranes. 

2.  The  bulk  of  the  fcetus  also  occasions  considerable 
deviations  from  nature  in  labour  *,  for  it  may  be  cither 
too  small  or  too  large. 

/•  The  foetus,  at  the  full  period  of  gestation,  is  never 
of  so  small  size  as  to  occasion  any  deviation  from  na- 
ture, unless  it  have  been  for  some  time  dead.  It  is  in- 
deed, a  very  remarkable  fact,  that  women  often  carry  to 
the  full  time  a  foetus  which  had  died  about  the  fifth  or 
sixth  month. 

In  such  cases,  the  child  is  sometimes  expelkd  so  ra- 
pidly, the  passages  opposing  little  or  no  resistance,  that 
the  uterus  is  suddenly  emptied  of  its  coutents^and 
hence,  from  the  irregularity  of  its  contraction,  the 
placenta  is  retained,  or  uterine  beemorrhagy  takes 
place. 

m*  The  patient,  however,  is  exposed  to  more  dangers 
from,  the  increased .  than  the  diminished  bulk  of  the 
fcetus.  The  foetus  may  exceed.the  ordinary  size,  either 
from  a  natural  increase  of  bulk,  or  from  monstrosity,  or 
from  disease. 

k  k.  It  has  been  already  stated  that  the  foetus  at  the 
full  term  of  gestation,  generally  weighs  from  seven  to 
nine  pounds  ^  but  on  some  rare  occasions  it  is  found  to 
exceed  ten  or  twelve  pounds,  or  even  thirteen.  Al- 
though, however,  (he  process  of  delivery  is  not  so  rapid 
where  the  child  is  so  large,  yet  if  no  other  circumstance 
occurs  to  impede  labour,  it  will  be  eventually  termi- 
nated with  safety  both  to  mother  and  child  in  most  cases. 
Where  indeed,  under  such  circumstances,  the  patient 
has  not  formerly  had  a  child,  there  is  always  reason  to 
apprehend  that  the  infant  may  be  destroyed  by  apo- 
plexy, or  the  mother  may  be  very  much  bruised.  In 
some  cases  of  this  kind,  it  becomes  necessary  to  open 
the  bead  of  the  infant. 

//.  When  the  child  is  monstrous,  from  the  redundan- 
cy of  some  large  parts,  as  from  two  heads  or  two  bo- 
dies, it  is  sufficiently  obvious  that  if  the  mother  he  at 
the  full  term  of  gestation,  the  obstacles  to  delivery  will 
bo  insurmountable,  by  .the  natural  powers.  Fortunately, 
however,,  ia  by  far  the  greatest  number  of  cases  of  mon- 
sters of  that  kind,  the  action  of  the  uterus  is  .•excited 
before  the  ordinary  period. 

m  m»  The  most  frequent  disease  of  diildren,  which 
proves  an  obstacle  to  labour,  is  the  enlargement  of  the 
head  from  hydrocephalus.  On  some  occasions  the  head 
is  enlarged  to  an  extraordinary  size. 

Sometimes  too,  tlie  thorax  or.  abdomen  is  distended 
and  enlarged  by  a  watery  fluid.  Professor  Saxtorph 
has  recorded  the  following  example  of  an  obstacle  to 
deliveiy  from  a  very  uncommon  disease.  **  D.  1 8.  Sept. 
J  775.  in  domo  obstetricua  regia,  mox  paritura  admitte- 
batur  gravida.  Instante  partus  pi^iiusipio  doloxes  partus 
veri  debito  modo  altemantes,  sed  solita  proportione  ve- 
hemeoti^.du^tioDoetcelerioiirecuisainfligebant.  Bite 

tendehatnr 


>ioo 


(n)  Select  Cases  in  Midwifery,  p.  1x0. 

(o)  Vide  Denman^s  Introductioni  voLiL  p.  254, 


«4 


M  I  D  W 


Pretcmft.  fendebatdf  oriGeiam  t>ostei*iora  versus  irrcltnaii^ ;  jnstA 

tural  Par-  emut  eapitis  situs,  difectio  et  ftquarom  farmatM ;  peWii 

.  ^""^'Q'^ ,  partesque  AiolHoreB,  yrara  partus  constitui^fiteff,  nuMo  !•• 

^         borabant  vitio ;  quibus  ofkinibos  scoessit  adhac  sanu^  et 

rbbuBtus  Corporis  feihinei  habitus,  et  paHtis  aliqMlfct 

antea  perpessi  feiix  eventus,  quse  Indubte  ominabantttr 

incecptum  hottti  negotium  partus  feKcitex'  quoque  finku- 

dum  fore.     Itfi  pragressivo  rjte  procedebst  partus. 

*'  In  fine  vero  capite  sponte  nato,  trttikcus  solitai  facilt- 
iate  deqiri  nolebat,  qu^rt*  obstettix  in  arte  adbuc  novitia 
coAstitutKm  domvs  ebstetricem  experteiti  satis  seeiam 
sibi  advocAbat. 

^  Corpore  foetus  aA  latii^  revotuto,  tftf  hufnerlin  ma* 
j6r6  diameti^  apertnrse  pelvis  inferiori  ifiin^rem  ^- 
cerent  resistentiam,  brachiiSque  edSctis,  junctis  v'M-^ 
bus  trtincum  ad  ax  in  pelvis  extmbere  mdiebantur  j 
attameti  obstabat  abdomen  iiuHa  iltamm  vi  ukerius 
« cedetj. 

^ ''  In  abxinum  ttinc  accedens,  qui  dumum  isto  teiti^ 
.  'p6f6  arlem  addisccmdi  gratia4fabitab«t  stuAioaus^  maihtm 
«ub  abdomine  prudenter  intulit,  quod  tensum  atque 
■  tomplslhatum  dfue  omni  obstaeulo  inveuiebAt  j  ultetius 
vei-o  mauum  prottiideUs  pedeis  tettgit,  iifterque  ertrtk 
intiMtetii  ingenterii  tensuifi  fiuidoque  contento  plenum 
reperiebat. 

**  Compressa  bocce  tumore,  dum  adstantes  pmni  vi 

■-•tfOdCum  simnl  attrafaebant,  dis^umpebatur  subito,  in- 

si^isqde  aquse  copla  effluxit;    superato  sic  obstacu* 

Id,   facillimc  eittrabebatnr  foetus,  vitam  'per  bidoum 

trahedd. 

**  Fobtus  posted  exftmroatus  fsemdlas  erat,  in^tktem 
•>  sa<i<ium  inter  femom  gcreuv,  qui  ex  elongatione  mtegu- 
>  mentortim  univei^aliuto  corporis  a  tergo  versus  anteriora 
^  ita  prOtrtfOtoram,  ixt^^rtficium  ani  ex  fknie  atftetiorie 
corporis  prope  volvatn  ^t^nspiceretur,  ortum  habebat. 
In  ipso  si^oco  poU  effloxionem  humorit,  aquse  fere  Kb. 
iv#  cilfAetite,  ikihll  prater  bjdatSded  pftrvfcs  ^obteivatn 
dignOfn  erat.   ^  Os  satro  vero,  ad  angulum  rectum  ver- 
sus postmora  tkorvatmn  caudse  iiut4r  prominebat  (t).^ 

.»oi  Sect.  lit.  Of  the  t)evtaiwns  /rom  Uatural  Labour* 
,  which  depend  on  the^SuUe  of  the  PoHugts  through 
■'  which  the  Child  isjorced. 

Hie'  dtvhitions  from  naturat'labonr  oetasioned  hy  tlie 
state  6f  the  passages,  originate  either  ftom  the  soft  parts, 
ot  the  b^toes. 

The  obstacles  from  the  soft  pluis  ore  tomoUT^witfaiti 
the  \Vdmb,  thickening  and  induration  of  the  neck  and 
m6i<th  of  the  womb,  enlargement  of  the  ovary,  cicatrix 
ill  the  viigiua,  collection  of  fsetes  within  the  rectum, 
swelling  of  the  partfi  liuing  the  pdVis,  nmlformatioii 
and  exttiedie  rigidity  of  the  external  parts. 

It  18  A  curious  fact,  uot  6dly  that  Conception  some- 
times takes  pliice  wliett  tbere  is  a  tttmour  within  the 
Womb,  but  also  thM  pregnancy  gossoir  to  the  ftill.  pe- 
riod. Vfhtn  this  has  happened,  the  tumour  has  beeu 
^hed  down  before  (he  itaAait,  nsd  has  filled  u]^  the 
pa^g^s. 

If  this  obstAcle  be  asceitkifi^d  at  im  early  period  uf 
the  labour,  which  it  mostibe  if  the  practitioner  be  in 


13; 


I  P  E  n  Y.  CIiap.1V. 

Kny  ordmmry  degree  s&ilM  an^  attentrve,  ther  tonmur  rfttm*. 
may  bo  pushed  back,  and  the  feei  cf  the  child  may  be  ttml  Par- 
Itfought  down*  In  a^  case  of  this  kind,  wfaefe  the  wri* ,  tantML 
ter  of  this  article  Was  called  in  after  the  tumofir  bad 
become  wedged  wHbin  the  peivis,  and  the  head  bad 
been  opened,  the  dciitery  was  accomplished  with  ex« 
Creme  difllctfltv,  and  cbe  poor  woman  survived  onty  4 
few  hours* 

The  following  singular  case  oif  an  excrescence  on  tlm 
08  uteri,  is  stated  by  l>r  Denman,  vol*  ii«  p.  65. 

**  Iti  June  1770^  I  WAS  desired  to  see  a.psAient  in  the 
eighth  month^  of  her  pn^gnsncy,  who  in  the  precedisg 
night  had  a  p^oltise  Itemorrhage.  Her  countcAanoe 
shewed  the  effects  of  the  great  -loss  of  blood  she  bad 
sostilined }  and  from  the  repi^senfation  of  the  case  given 
me  by  the  gentleman  whd  was  lirst  caHed  in,  I  con- 
cluded that  the  placenta  was  fixed  oveir  the  oe  uteri. 
On  examination  I  Mt  tt-nerj  large  -fleshy  tumour  at 
-the  exti^mify  of  tho  vagina,  representing  and  neariy 
eqnalKngin  si^e  the  placcfnta, 'Which  I  judged  it  to  be. 
Had  this  be^n  the  case,  -there  could  not  b«  a  doubt  of 
the  propriety  mid  necessity  tff  deKsering  the  patient 
speedily  \  and  with  tluit  infentioa  I  passed  my  finger 
round  the  tumour,  to  discover  the  state  of  the  os  nteri. 
But-4hisT  couM  not'iind,  and  on  a.  more  aoenrate  exn- 
mtnatioh,  I  was  convinced  that  this  tumour  was  an  ex- 
crescence growing  from  Iht  os  uteri,  with  a  very  ex* 

•  tended  and  broad '  baftiir.  ^I  tben  condxided  that  tlie 
patient  was  not  with  chiM,  notwithstanding  the  disten- 
tion-of  the  abdomen,  bot  that  she iaboured under  snine 
disease  which  resembled  pregnancy,  and  that  the  ke- 
morrfiage  ^ras  the  consequence  of  the  disease.  A*nn>- 
4ion  •  which  was  very  evidetitly  perceived  when  I  ap- 
plied my  hand  to  the  abdomen,  did  not  prevail  witk 
me  to  alt^r  this  (>pfnidrt» 
**  It  was  of  all  others  w  case  in  which  a  consuHation 

4-was  desirable,  both  to  decide  upon  the  disease,  and  the 
measures  which  It  might  be  necessary  to  pursue  ^  and 
several  gentlemen  of .  eminence  were  called  in«     That 

"she  was  actually  pregnant,  was  afterwards  proved  to 
the  satisfaction  of -every  one }  and  it  was  then  conclud- 
ed, that  such  means  should  be  used  as  might  prevent  or 
lessen  the  hemorrhage,  and  that  we  should  wait  and  see 

v^hat  efforts  might  he  natnrally  made  for  accomplishing 
the  delivery. 

"Nn  very  urgent  symptom  Cccmred  till  the  latter 

.'end  of  July,  when  the  hemorrhage  returned  in  a  very 
nhkrming  way,  and  it  was  thought  necessaiy  that  the 
patient  should  be  delivered.    There  was  not  a  possibtli. 

'  ty  of  extirpating  the  tumoon,  and  yet  it  was  of  such  a 
size,  as  to  prevent  the  chthl  from  being  bom  in  any 

•other  way  than  by  lessening  the  head.  This  was  per- 
formed;  but  after  many  attempts  to  extract  the  child, 
the  patient  Was  so  exhsusted,  that  it  heoame  necessary 
to  leave  her  to  her  repose,  and  Very  soon  after  our  leav- 
ing her,  lAte  exptt^d. 

^'  We  were  permifti^  to  examine  the  body.  ITbems 
wss  no  appearance  of  disease  in  any  of  the  abdominid 
viscera,  or  on  the  external  surface  of  the  uterus,  which 
wss  of  its  regulsr  form*^  and  when  a  lai^  oral  piece 
was  taken  out  of  the  anterior  part,  the  child,  which 

had 


(l)  Vide  Societatismedicae  Haumonsis  Cnllsctane^  vol;  ii.  p.  23. 


Chap.  IV. 


M  I  D  W 


4«ral  Par- 
tiritum. 


loj 


104 


105 


ig6 


107 


.  had  ao  nuurks  of  putre&ction,  wtti  foand  in  a  natural  fo- 
•  sation.  An  incision  was  nuule  on  each  side  of  the  oer* 
.  Tix  lo  the  Tagina,  ami  tfaon  a  large  canliflower  excves- 
oence  was  fcund  growing  to  the  whole  anterior  part  of 
the  OS  Qteri.  The  placenta  adhered  with  its  whole  sur- 
face *t  80  that  the  Ueod  whidi  she  had  lost  mnst  have 
heen  wholly  discharged  from  the  tmnoor  (m)  J^ 

In  two  cases,  where  a  great  thickening  and  indora- 
txon  of  the  neck  and  month  of  the  Womb,  approaching 
to  the  nature  of  sditftositj,  had  taken  place  previont  to 
concofition,  the  natural  action  of  the  ntemt,  though^  af- 
ter a  very  constdeirahle  tame  indeed^  assisted  by  oopieiis 
blood4etting,  eventaally  overcame  the  resistanor.  One 
of  tbe  patientir  died  ten  months  after,  with  all  the  symp* 
toms  of  real  cancer  uteri.  The  other  was  restored  to 
perfect  health  after  lytng-in^ 

Dr  Deanuun  has  recoiled  (toI.  ii«  p.  73.)  two  cases, 
where  the  enlaiiged  ovarinm  impeded  the  progress  of 
the  child*  In  the  one  case  the  head  of  the  in£snt  was 
opened,  and  the  drUvefy  completed  bv  the  crotchet ; 
hnt  the  patient  died  at  the  distance  of  three  weeks.  In 
the  othsr,  a  trocar  was  passed  into  the  tumour,  and  a 
living  child  was  bon.  The  patient  recovered  from  her 
lying4n  ;  b«t  died  hectic  at  the  end  of  six  months.  In 
such  cases,  the  ovary  may  he  poshed  back,  if  the  cir- 
cumstance be  discovered  ^ariy  enongh. 

Cicatrix  of  tbe  vagina,  in  consequence  of  (ormcr  in- 
jury, may  appear  at  first  to  impede  the  progress  of 
the  infant  ^  bat  it  will  always  he  feund  to  yield  to  the 
pains,  if  the  strength  of  the  patient  he  snppsrted,  and 
proper  means  be  adopted  to  counteract  the  effects  of  the 
loagcontinned  labosv  throea.  A  case  occur  red  some 
time  ago  to  Dr  Hamilton,  where  a  substance,  ef  the 
luurdness  ^  grille,  as  thidk  as  an  ordinary  sized  finger 
placed  between  the  vagina  md  rectum,  and  appnrendy 
extending  firom  the  rannM  of  one  ischiam  to  that  of  the 
other,  presented  an  nnsumionntahle  obstacle  to  the  paa- 
sage  of  the  child.  He  was  called  in  after  an  nnsaeoess- 
f  al  attempt  had  been  made  to  tear  away  the  infant,  and 
found  the  woman  in  a  state  of  extreme  danger.  He 
was  ii^ermed,  that  five  years  befiyre  that  period,  she 
had  had  a  very  severe  tedious  labour,  fellewed  by  great 
iailammation  and  suppuration  of  the  exilemal  parts. 
Tbe  indnrsted  part  wascutthmngh  without  the  patieat 
making  any  oomplaint,  and  the  child  was  very  easily 
eztiacted  j  hot  she  survived  the  delivery  only  two 
days.  The  idations  would  net  pemut  the  body  to  ha 
opened* 

A  collectaoB  of  fseces  within  the  seotun  has  been 
known  to  occasion  snob  resistaaoe  to  iht  passage  of  tbe 
child,  that  the  woman  has  died  undelivered.  In  ge- 
neral, however,  it  is  in  the  power  of  an  activa  practi- 
tioner to  empty  the  gnt  at  the  beginning  of  labour. 
But  i^  fipom  negleet,  die  head  of  the  child  be  jammed 
in  the  pdvis,  and  immovsaUy  wedged  in  oonsequenoe 
of  an  accnninlati—  of  faaea,  it  then  becomes  necessary 
to  open  tfaejiead» 

Perhaps  ibt  most  fireqnent  aflection  of  the  soft  parts 
which  inipedes  the  pMeem  of  llba  inftmt  is,  swelltng  ef 
the  parts  lining  the  pelvis.  This  ciscomstanee  has  been 

Vol.  XIV.  Part  I.  t 


lot 


109 


I  F  E  B  Y.  65 

already  hinted  at.  It  eta  aeverhappen  where  the  pra^-  Preteraa. 
titioner  is  ordbarily  attentive }  for  the  tenderness,  lieat,  tvrmi  Par. 
and  dryness  ef  the  passages,  which  precede  tbe  actus!  .tnritimi. 
swelling,  cannot  be  overlooked  by  one  at  all  aware  of 
the  ponhility  of  such  an  event.  When  it  has  actually 
happened,  nothing  can  save  the  mother  but  opening  the' 
hold  of  the  infiint.  After  this  most  unpleasant  opera- 
tion is  completed,  tbe  extractioB  of  the  child  is  seiklom 
a  matter  of  mach  diflieulty. 

Malfonnatiott  of  the  external  parts  in  some  cases  ^oes 
not  prevent  conception.  Two  cases  have  fallen  within 
the  knowledge  of  the  writer  of  this  article,  where  the 
wonnm  had  conceived  though  the  orifice  of  the  vagina 
had  not  been  capable  of  permitting  tbe  intreduction  of 
even  tbe  little  finger.  Aod  it  consists  with  his  know* 
ledge,  that  aboot  thirty  years  ago  a  woman  under  sini- 
iMTcireumstances,  was  brought  into  the  Royal  Infirmary 
of  this  place,  and  was  delivered  by  the  Caesarean  opera- 
tion.    She  died  within  two  days. 

It  is  sufficiently  obvious  that  the  safc  practice  under 
such  circumstances  is  to  enlatge  the  natural  opening,  by 
making  an  incision  in  the  dire<Aion  of  the  perinseum, 
taking  care  not  to  wound  the  sphincter  ani. 

Extreme  rigidity  of  the  eatermd  parts  is  one  of  the 
most  frequent  causes  of  deviation  which  depends  on  the 
sute  of  theooft  parts.  It  takes  place,  in  a  greater  or  less 
degree,  in  die  greatest  number  of  women  who  lie  in  for 
tbe  first  tinse ;  and  genrretly  in  all  women  who  are  con* 
siderably  advanced  in  life  before  they  have  children. 

It  is  seldom  that  the  resistaaoe  opposed  by  the  exter- 
nal parts  is  so  very  great  as  to  preve  an  invincible  ob- 
stacle to  labour.  But,  on  many  occasions,  the  long- 
oentroued  pressure  of  the  child  on  those  parts  produces 
the  most  disagreeable  canseqoences,  as  infiammation  of 
all  these  parts  and  of  the  bladder.  Inflammation  in 
thoee  parU  is  always  dangerens,  for  there  seems  to  be  a 
remaikahle  tendency  to  gangrene.  Cases  are  on  re- 
cord where  the  whole  parts  have  slooghed  off,  and  where 
the  RCtam,  vagina,  and  bladder,  have  fermed  one  ca- 
nal. Perhaps  death  is  much  preferable  to  life  under 
such  ciroumstanoes. 

Copious  blood-letting,  and  the  liberal  use  of  some 
unctuous  appKcntien,  with  time  and  patience,  in  gene- 
ral overcome  tbe  rigidity  of  the  external  parts.  Pla- 
cing the  patient  ever  the  steams  of  ^ot  water  was  for- 
meakj  leeommended  in  soch -cases,  but  this  practice  is 
now  exploded. 

B.  Many  deviations  from  natural  lahour  occur  from 
the  state  of  tbe  bones  of  the  pelvis,  for  they  may  be  so 
much  alteted  in  shape  as  either  to  increase  or  diniiiiisb 
considerably  thn  aperture  of  that  part. 

d.  When  the  apertm^  of  Che  pelvis  are  too  large, 
the  mother  incairs  nnch  danger,  and  the  diild  is  not 
totally  exempt  from  hazard. 

no.  The  danger  incurred  by  the  mother  arises  from 
there  being  no  nsii^nee  to  the  passage  of  the  child,  so 
that  when  the  action  of  Ifie  uterus  begins,  the  child 
nay  be  pushed  %fy  the  force  of  the  pains  through  the 
passage  befi)re  tm  soft  parts  he  dilated ;  hence  the  ute- 
vn  may  be  ruptured,  or 'the  eoft  parts  lacerated.    If, 

I  on 


no 


(m)  Were  stth  a  case  again  to  aecnr,  there  oouid  be  doubt  WBft^Aoi  fbe  ptbpri^  nftei^g  a  Kgature  reund 
the  neck  of  the  tumour. 


IIZ 


111 


66  M  1  D  W  I 

Pretema-  oM  tbe  other  hand,  the  external  ^rts  be  soft  and 
tucal  Par-  yielding,^ a  considerable  portion  of  the  uterua  maj  be 
torition.  ^  excluded  ivithoat  the  parts.  There  is  a  very  wonder- 
ful history  of  a  case  of  this  kind  alladed  to  by  Saxtoiqrfi 
in  the  following  words.  "  Memorabilius  adhuc  exem- 
plum  est  illud  \  eel.  Wolfg.  Mullnero  allatum,  ubi  totus 
uterus  una  cum  fbetu  extra  genitalia  dikpsus,  foetusque 
vivus  extra  pelvim  versione  extractus  fuit,  matre  post 
reductionem  uteri  superstite.  Vide  ejus  BaArnehmung' 
von  einec  samt  deni  Rinde  ausgefalienen  Debahrmutter^ 
Numberg  1771  (l). 

bb.  The  hazard  which  the  child  undergoes  is  that  of 
being  suddenly  expelled,  included  within  the  entire 
ovum,  BO  that  it  may  be  lost  before  proper  assistance 
can  be  afforded.  Another  danger  is,  that  the  mem- 
branes having  given  way,  it  may  be  dashed  with  vio- 
lence upon  the  floor  on  which  the  patient  walket. 
Whenever  from  the  great  width  of  the  hips,  there  is 
reason  to  suspect  that  the  pelvis  is  too  large,  the  pi'acti- 
tioner  should  continue  in  constant  attendance  from  the 
very  commencement  of  labour,  and  should  carefully 
adopt  the  appropriate  and  obvious  means  to  prevent  the  ' 
hazards  just  enumerated. 

e.  But  deficiency  of  space  in  the  apertures  of  the  pel- 
vis occuru  much  more  frequently  than  increase.  The 
apertures  of  the  pelvis  may  be  diminished  from  natural 
small  size  or  malformation  of  the  bones,  from  excyitosis, 
or  fi'om  altered  shape  in  consequence  of  moUities  os- 
sium. 

Cases  where  the  sacrum  and  ilia  are  of  an  uncommon 
small  shape  are  not  frequent.  Narrowness  of  the  base 
of  the  sacrum  is  sometimes  met  with  \  and  in  a  few  cases 
it  has  been  found  that  the  apex  of  the  sacrum  has  ap- 
proached too  nearly  to  the  anterior  part  of  the  pelvis, 
so  as  to  diminish  toe  apertures  at  tbe  outlet 

Exostoses  seldom  prove  an  obstacle  to  delivery ;  but 
one  exception  to  this  rule  fell  under  the  observation  of 
the  writer  of  this  article  several  years  ago.  The  exos- 
tosis extended  along  the  whole  extent  of  the  symphysis 
pubis,  and  was  fully  as  thick  as  an  ordinary  sized  fin- 
ger. The  woman  had  been  delivered  previous  to  bis 
being  called  in,  but  tbe  exhaustion  which  followed, 
(for  she  had  been  allowed  to  continue  five  days  and 
nights  in  constant  hard  labour)  occasioned  her  sinking 
a.  very  short  time  after  delivery.  In  this  instance  both 
mother  and  child  were  lost  from  the  self-sufficiency  and 
ignorance  of  the  midwife. 

The  deficiency  may  exist  in  the  brim,  the  outlet,  or 
the  cavity  singly,  or  combined. 

The  brim  is  much  more  frequently  affected  by  mol- 
lities  ostium  than  the  outlet  ^  and,  as  was  long  ago  re- 
marked by  Levret,  it  generally  happens,  that  when 
the  brim  is  narrowed  from  this  cau^e,  the  outlet  is  wid- 
ened. 

The  brim  may  be  diminished  in  size  by  the  projection 
of  the  promontory  of  the  sacrum,  or  by  the  flattening 
of  tbe  pubes,  or  by  the  approximation  of  the  bones 
where  the  pubes  and  ilia  unite,  or  by  a  combination  of 
some  of  these  circumstances.  The  projection  of  the' 
promontory  of  the  sacrum,  however,  is  by  far  tbe  moat 


J 


"3 


114 


F  E  R  Y.  Chap,  IV- 

common.  When  tbia  happens,  tbe  projection  somettmea  Preiema- 
renders  one  aide  of  the  pelvis  wider  than  tbe  other,  and  lural  Par. 
this  constitutes  what  authors  call  the  distoiled  pelvis.  ^  tpritiop. 
Sometimes,  however,,  it  leaves  both  sides  of  an  equal  ' 
widths  and  this  is  called  the  deformed  pelvis. 

The  deficiency  in  the  brim  produced  by  these  causes 
is  very  various  *,  roost  firequently  slight,  hot  sometimes 
so  great  that  there  is  not  an  inch  between  pubes  and 
sacrum. 

Tbe  outlet  may  be  diminished  by  the  approximation       115 
of  the  tuberosities  and  rami  of  the  ischia,  or  by  tbe 
apex  of  the  sacrum  and  coccyx  projecting  more  than 
usually  forward,  while  they  are  at  the  same  time  hook- 
ed up. 

When  both  the  brim  and  outlet  are  diminished  In  ixd 
aperture,  the  cavity  of  the  pelvis  is  generally  affected 
also  J  but  when  the  deficiency  of  space  is  confined  to 
either,  the  cavity  is  commonly  more  shallow  than  na- 
tural, by  which  both  the  resistance  and  the  danger  are 
considerably  lessened.  Melancholy  are  the  cases  where 
the  cavity  is  rendered  deeper  than  usual. 

As  toe  practice  in  cases  of  extreme  deficiency  in  the 
apertures  of  the  pelvis  is  to  be  regulated  by  the  degree 
of  narrowness,  it  is  a  matter  of  the  first  importance  to 
be  able  to  ascertain  the  dimensions  in  any  given  case 
with  tolerable  precision* 

For  this  purpose,  instruments  called  pelvimetres  have  117 
been  invented.  M.  Conlnoli  has  proposed  one  for  in- 
ternal use,  and  M.  fiandelocque  has  recommended  one 
for  external  application.  But  however  plausible  in 
theory  the  use  of  such  contrivances  may  appear,  it  is 
now  well  known  that  no  dependence  can  be  placed 
upon  them  in  actual  practice,  and  therefore  the  baud 
of  the  operator  must  be  bad  recourse  to  for  determining 
both  tbe  shape  and  the  extent  of  the  apertirres  of  the 
pelvis,  wherever  there  is  any  narrowness.  The  follow- 
ing directions  for  this  purpose  given  by  Dr  Wallace 
Johnson  are  extremely  judicious. 

**  On  passing  the  finger  along  the  vagina,  if  the  coc-  2,5 
cyx,  or  any  part  of  the  sacrum,  be  felt  unusually  forwards 
or  near  at  hand  j  or  if  the  symphysis,  or  any  other  part 
of  the  pubes,  is  found  projecting  rather  inwards  than 
outwards,  it  is  evident  that  the  pelvis  is  distorted.  In 
which  case,  as  well  as  in  those  where  it  is  not  distorted, 
but  only  very  small,  the  principal  part  of  the  child's 
head  (allowing  the  presentation  right)  remains  fai^, 
the  vertex  making  only  a  little  round  tumor  within  the 
brim :  so  that  when  the  os  uteri  us  opened,  and  come  a 
little  forwards  towards  the  pubes,  the  capacity  of  tbe 
pelvis  may  be  found  out  by  moving  the  end  of  the  fin- 
ger round  that  part  of  the  head  which  has  entered  the 
upper  strait.  This  method  is  used  by  several  practi* 
tioners  m  London.  However,  should  the  finger  not  be 
long  enough  to  effect  it  properly,  as  sometimes  is  the 
case,  there  is  then  another  method,  which,  being  more 
certain,  may  be  used,  provided  it  be  done  with  tender- 
ness and  caution,  and  when  the  orifices  are  so  well  open-* 
ed  as  to  admit  of  it  with  safety.  But  previous  to  it^ 
tbe  operator  must  be  well  ac^uunted  with  tbe  diaen-^ 
sions  of  his  own  hand,  viz. 

"First, 


(I,)  Disaertatio  InaugunJie  de  Diveiso  Partu,  &c.  Auctoia  Matth.  Saxtorph,  p.  4& 


Oiap.  IV.   .  M  I  D  W 

Pi^ienuu      **  Firsty  The  fingers  of  a  middle-sized  hand  (as  we 

tsnd  Par-  nmj  8U{^KMe  the  operator's  to  be)  being  gathered  toge- 

^  tnriiion.    ili^r  equally  into  the  palm,  and  the  thumb  extended 

'        and  applied  closely  along  the  second  or  middle  joint  of 

the  finger ',  the  distance  between  the  end  of  the  thumb, 

and  outer  edge  of  the  middle  joint  of  the  little  finger, 

is  usually  four  inches. 

*'  Secondly,  Whilst  they  are  in  the  aboTe  position, 
the  distance  from  the  thumb,  at  the  root  of  the  nail,  in 
«  straight  line  to  the  outside  of  the  middle  joint  of  the 
little  finger,  is  full  three  inches  and  a  half. 

**  Thirdly,  the  fingers  being  still  in  the  same  situa- 
tion, and  the  thumb  laid  obliquely  along  the  joints  next 
the  nails  of  the  first  two  fingers,  and  bent  down  upon 
them  J  the  distance  between  the  outside  of  the  middle 
joint  of  the  fore  finger,  and  the  outside  of  thalt  of  the 
little  finger  is  three  inches  and  a  quarter. 

**  Fourthly,  The  hand  being  opened,  and  the  tops  of 
the  four  fingers  being  a  little  bent,  so  as  to  come  near- 
ly in  a  straight  line ;  their  whole  breadth,  across  the 
joint  next  the  nails,  is  two  inches  and  a  half. 

**  Fifthly,  when  the  first  three  fingers  are  thus  bent^ 
their  breadth  across  the  same  joint  is  two  inches. 

*'  Sixthly,  The  breadth  of  the  first  two,  across  the 
nail  of  the  first  finger,  is  one  inch  and  a  quarter. 

**  And,  seventhly.  The  fingers  being  gathered  into  a 
conical  form,  the  thumb  lying  obliquely  upon  the  palm 
of  the  hand,  with  its  point  upon  the  first  joint  of  the 
ring  finger,  reckoning  downwards,  will  raeasnre  in 
thickness,  between  its  back  and  the  fore  part  of  the 
thnmb,  two  inches  and  two-eighths. 

^  Now,  as  hands  are  extremely  various,  the  operator 
ought  always  to  know  how  much  the  size  of  his  dif- 
iereth  from  the  above  dimensions  y  and  this  being 
rightly  understood,  the  application  may  be  made  as 
follows : 

'*  The  patient,  being  in  the  position  as  for  natural 
delivery,  and  the  operator's  left  hand  being  well  anoint- 
ed, and  the  fingers  and  thumb  gathered  into  a  cone, 
it  mast  be  gently  passed  into  ^e  vagina^  and  then 
through  the  os  uteri,  upless  in  this  part  there  is  still  a 
rigidity  to  forbid  it }  if  so,  the  fingers  only  mnst  be  pas- 
sed, their  extremities  ibrmed  into  the  fourth  dimension, 
and  then  placed  edgeways  in  the  strait  ^  which  being 
done,  if  the  fore  finger  touch  the  angle  of  the  sacrum, 
and  the  little  one  the  symphysis  of  the  pubes,  the  width 
is  then  manifestly  no  more  than  two  inches  and  a  half ; 
a  space  through  which  a  mature  child  can  neither  pass 
alive,  nor  be  bronglit  so  by  ait,  unless  it  happens  to  be 
pretematnrally  small  indeed.'' 

Three  methods  of  practice  have  been  adopted  in 
cases  -of  sndi  narrowness  of  the  pelvis  -as  renders  it 
impossible  for  the  child  to  be  protruded  alive,  viz. 
the  operatioQ  of  embryulcia  or  embryotomy,  the 
Caesarean  section,  and  the  division  of  the  ^rmphysis 
pubis. 
up  I.  Eikbryotomy^     The  cases  requiring  this  most 

shocking  operation  are  those  where  the  infant  cannot ' 
be  extracted  alive  throngb  the  natural  passages  \  while 
thsre  is,  nevertheless,  such  space  that  it  may  be  torn 


turition. 


uo 


I  F  E  R  Y,      •  67 

away  piece-meal  without  injury  to  the  mother.  Of  Pretcma- 
course,  in  these  oases  the  life  of  the  woman  can  be  saved  ^f^^..^^^' 
only  at  the  expence  of  her  infant. 

But  although  authors  and  practitioners  in  modem 
times  adopt  in  general  this  principle;  they  differ  ma- 
terially in  their  account  of  the  precise  cases  requiring 
the  operation. 

Dr  Osbonf  alleges,  that,  as  the  head  of  the  infant 
at  the  full  time  of  utero-gestation  cannot  be  diminish- 
ed to  less  than  three  inches  between  the  parietal  pro- 
tuberances by  the  natural  contractions  of  the  uterus 
forcing  it  against  the  bones  of  the  pelvis  ^  wherever  the 
aperture  at  the  brim  or  outlet  falls  under  three  inches, 
the  operator  ought  to  proceed  as  soon  as  possible  to 
open  the  head  of  the  infant. 

But  on  so  very  serious  an  operation  as  that  by  which 
one  life  is  destroyed,  it  becomes  a  practitioner  to  adopt 
no  role  which  can  be  at  all  liable  to  error ;  and  it  is 
evident,  that  there  are  tliree  very  strong  objections  to 
this  precept  of  Dr  Osbom. 

First,  It  is  impossible  in  any  case  at  the  beginning 
of  labour,  to  ascertain  that  the  infant  is  at  the  full 
term  of  utero-gestation  \  but  it  is  well  known,  that  a 
child  at  the  age  of  between  seven  and  eight  months,  if 
bom  alive,  may  be  reared  to  maturity,  and  that  such 
a  child  is  capable  of  being  expelled  without  injury, 
through  an  aperture  incapable  of  permitting  the  pass- 
age of  a  full-grown  foetus. 

Secondly,  The  heads  of  childrei),  even  at  the  full 
time,  are  sometimes  so  small  and  so  yielding  as  to  ad- 
mit readily  of  their  short  diameter  being  -diminished 
below  three  inches. 

l^irdly,  every  candid  practitioner  mast  allow,  that 
it  is  quite  impossible  to  ascertain  with  geometrical  ac- 
curacy the  precise  dimensions  of  the  pelvis ;  and  con- 
sequently what  in  any  given  case  may  appear  to  the 
operator  to  be  less  than  three  inches,  may  in  fact  be 
above  these  dimensions. 

For  these  reasons,  wherever  the  ^narrowness  is  not 
obviously  very  considerable,  the- prudent  rule  is  to  as- 
certain the  effect  of  the  labour-throes,  supporting  the 
strength  of  the  patient,  and  palliating  distressing  symp- 
toms. By  adopting  this  rule,  the  practitioner  will  not 
only  have  the  consciousness  of  not  having  destroyed  life 
unnecessarily,  where  he  is  eventually  forced  to  open 
the  head,  by  the  conviction  that  it  is  too  large  to  pass 
unopened,  but  also  the  innate  satbfaction  of  sometimes 
saving  a  life,  which  under  less  cautious  management 
must  have  been  sacrificed.  Great  care  indeed  is  ne- 
cessary in  such  cases  not  to  be  deceived  in  the  estimate 
of  the  ^gress  of  the  child,  ibrthe  swelling  of  the  scalp 
may  mislead  a  young  practitioner. 

There  has  been  a  variety  of  opinion  too,  respecting 
the  lowest  dimensions  of  the  pelvis  which  permit  the 
operation  of  embryulcia  with  safety  to  the  mother ;  and 
it  is  .surely  unnecessary  to  state,  that  unless  there  be  a 
moral  probability  of  saving  the  life  of  the  mother  by 
this  operation,  it  ought  never  to  be  had  recourse  to. 

Dr  Kellie,  of  London  (p),  andDr  Osbom  (q),  have 
recorded  some  cases  where  this  operation  was  performed^ 

I  2  although 


lU 


(B)  Dr  Wallace  Johnson. 
(«)  Dr  Osbom's  Essays. 


68  M  I  D  W 

PretcnM-  ftlthoogh  the  narrowntts  was  very  great  j  aad  the  latter 
^taJ^fi^"'  ^?'*^^™*°»  foundiag  oa  a  ainglo  case,  assoaes  the  ^if»- 
'  '^^f  c»plc»  that  whenever  there  is  a  space  eqaal  to  an  inch 
an4  a  half  between  pubes  and  sacroro,  the  opnation 
of  embrjFulcia  is  practicablfi.  But  a  carefal  perusal  of 
the  case  alluded  to  (a)  mt^t  satisfy  any  unprejudiced 
person  that  there  must  have  been  some  mistake,  most 
probably^  from  the  swelling  of  the  soft  parts  lining  the 
pelvis  bavLig  added  to  the  aj^arent  narrowness,  and 
having,  after  the  head  had  been  opened  above  36 
hours,  subsided.  And  at  any  rate,  since  experience  Ims 
now  fuU^  established  the  fact^  that  the  danger  resukiag 
from  this  operation  is  always  in  propoctioa  to  the  de- 
gree of  resistance,  it  may  be  concliidbBd  that  the  operai- 
tioQ  of  embryulcia  cannot  prove  safe  to  tWs  mother,  on- 
less,  first,  there  be  an  aperture  equal  taalwut  two  inches 
by  four  ^  and,  secondly,  the  narrowness  be  chiefly,  if  aol 
aUegether,  confined  either  to  the  brim  or  tlieootlcL 
When  both  brim  and  outlet  are  deficient,  and  the  cavity 
h  deeper  than  usual,  even  although  the  several  apertures 
be  quite  sufficient  to  allow  the  diminished  head  to  be  ex- 
tracted, the  injury  that  must  accrue  from  the  violent 
pressure  on  all  the  parts  within  the  pelvis  would  de« 
ter  any  prudent  practitioner  from  hazarding  sttch  an 
operation. 

When  it  is  determined  to  have  recourse  to  the  opera* 
tion  of  embryotomy,  the  instruments  required  are  the 
perforator,  the  crotchet,  and  the  embryotomy  forceps 
delineated  in  the  plate. 

The  operation  is  to  coasbt  of  twa  diflerent  procesKs; 
first,  the  diminution  of  the  head  ^  and,  secondly,  the 
extraction  of  the  mangled  child.  In  many  cases  the 
latter  shonld  be  performed  immediately  after  the  former 
is  accomplished  ^  but  whenever  the  resistance  is  very 
considerable,  an  iiiterval  should  be  iaterposed  between 
the  two.  The  advantages  resulting  from  this  practice 
were  first  publicly  noticed  by  Dr  (kbon,  theegh  there 
can  be  little  doubt  that  the  practice  itself  was  the  eflTect 
of  necessity.  By  waiting  after  the  head  has  been  open- 
ed,.  the  woman^s  strengUi  will  be  restored,  so  that  the 
assistance  of  the  pains  in  the  expulsion  of  the  child  may 
be  obtained  ',  the  swelling  of  the  soft  puU  wiU  subside, 
by  which  the  resistance  ma^  be  greatly  lessened,  as  well 
as  the  danger  of  ioflammatioii  reraeved,  and  the  ehild^ 
hody  will  become  puiiid,  by  which  iu  extractioa  may 
be  greatly  Cu:ilitated« 

In  opening  the  head,  which  is  to  he  done  by  means 
of  the  perforator,  the  two  great  points  to  be  aimed  at 
are  to  avoid  injuring  any  part  of  the  woman,  Md  te 
make  a  suScisnti;^  large  opening  of  the  headi  Oe  the 
complete  acconpMuaeai  of  the  latter,  the  eveetoal 
success  of  the  operatioa  mml  depend  in  all  eases  of  ex* 
tceroe  dcfifiiency  of  spate. 

Should  it  he  found  exaeiienl  to  delay  the  exttaetiea 
of  the  infant  after  the  hea#  haa  been,  opened  and  its 
contents  e^racualed^  the  togusoeets  ase  te  be  caiefolly 
brought  over  the  sagMd  edges  oC  the  heiiesv.  so  that  m 
the  event  of  labour  thaoes  rteuvrtng,  there  shall  be  ms 
risk  of  Ae  parU  within  the  pshria  heiiig  ia j^e4 


12% 


"3 


X24 


I  F  E  R  Y.  Chap.  IV. 

When  it  has  beeii  footid  proper  to  proceed  to  Ae  ex-  jpKteraft. 
■tractioQ  of  the  infant,  the  .first  thing  to  be  attempted  is  lenl  Pap. 
to  diminish  the  bulk  of  the  craaium  as  much  as  possible. ,  tiuitioa. 
This  may  be  doee  by  nseaas  of  tlie  embryulcia  ibr oeps, 
delineated  ia  tbe  plates,  and  contrived  it  is  believed  by 
Dr  Lyon  of  Liverpool.  It  is  an  instrument  far  sepc* 
rior  to  tbe  almisdach  of  the  Arabians,  in  use  even 
within  these  fifty  years  among  the  practitioners  of  this 
island  (B). 

After  the  head  has  been  sufficiently  reduced  ia  bnlk, 
tbe  crotchet  is  to  be  fixed  at  first  on  tlie  inside  of  the 
cranium )  and  while  two  fingers  of  the  left  hand  are  ta 
he  kept  constantly  so  ai^lied  that  if  the  instnuneat 
should  slip  in  the  process' of  ex traetioa,  it  shall  he  re* 
eeived  on  the  fingers,  and  cannot  possibly  touch  any 
part  ef  the  mother,  the  operator  is  to  draw  down  with 
a  suitable  exertion  of  fi>rce,  ia  such  a  direction  that  the 
largest  part  of  the  head  shall  be  brought  thiengh  the 
widbst  part  of  the  pelvis. 

In  some  cases,  ssuoh  time  and  very  vi^nt  exertioas 
are  required  to  accompliBh  the  delivery ;  but,  if  the 
proper  precantions  to  prevent  any  injury  to  the  passagea 
be  adopted,  and  if  at  the  same  tisw  the  operator  imi- 
tate nature  by  working  only  from  time  to  time,  and  in- 
crease the  force  employed  gradually  as  may  be  required^ 
and  persevere  patiently,  notwithstanding  the  resistance, 
takiag  care  te  support  by  noortshmenl  and  cordiala 
the  strength  of  the  woman,  the  delivery  at  last  will  be 
eompleted. 

The  dangers  to  be  dreaded  from  this  most  shocking 
operation,  are  injuries  ef  the  passages,  finom  the  inatm^ 
mentis  slipping  threngh  the  emharrasSment  of  the  prac- 
titiener ;  or  Tielenl  infiaasmation  of  all  the  contents  of 
the  pelvis  extending  to  the  abdomen,  in  oenseqnence 
of  the  parts  through  which  the  child  most  be  so  fi>reU 
bly  extracted  being  severely  bruised.  Accordingly,  % 
greater  number  of  women  die  from  the  eSeds  of  diis 
<^ration  than  practitieners  are  wiUtM^  to  admit  ^  and 
indeed,  in  every  case  ef  extreme  deficiency  ef  space, 
where  embryoleaqp  is  perfecmedy  the  recovery  is  tn  bn 
renffded  aa  denbtfiil. 

This  operation  is  semetiaMS  had  rqsenrsc  tnin  eases 
where  the  foroeps  should  have  been  used  had  the  chiM 
been  alive.  But  such  cases  are  veiy  rate,  hernaee  tin 
evidnnee  ef  the  infiint  in  uteee  being  dead^  is  seMom  an 
complete  as  to  justify  the  practitiener  proceeding  en 
the  princtpk  thet  it  is  so. 

II.  By  the  Caaarean  Mrtriui  is  menat  the  estnctaen 
of  the  infant  through  the  parietea  of  the  abdonien  by  aa 
incision  into  the  uterus. 

This  hoM  operation  was  perhaps  never  pedbmwd  by 
the  ancients  on  the  lining  suhjsct,  and  certainly  was 
first  recommended  te  practitionen  by  M.  Bwiwst  in  hie 
Trm'te  mmweik  dt  PHvtieftUmnie^  &n^  1581.  Sinee 
that  time  it  has  been  onen  performed  on  iit  continent^ 
and  about  twenty  times  in  Great  Britain.  The  succeen 
of  this  operation  roeerded  in  the  early  works  haa  cer- 
tainly been  exaggerated  *,  hnt  it  appears  by  an  elabo^ 
rale  memoir  by  M.  Banddocque^  Iranslated  into  Eaglisli 


"S 


ts4 


'(a)  Osbom^s  Essay,  p.  240. 

(b)  For  an  account  of  the  ancient  instruments  employed  in  the  practice  of  mtdwtfery,  ase  Scidteti  Anna#> 
ment.  Chijf. 


Chap. 


tamioB. 


"7 


xtS 


"9 


IV-  M  1  D  AV 

Pntoma.  by  Dr  Hull  of  Manchester^  Ihiit  during  the  50  years 
tand  Piur-  preceding  i8o2«  tbe  operatioa  has  been  bad  reooarte 
.-^^^  to  on  the  continent  95  times,  and  that  37  of  these  cases 
proved  succeosfal.  In  Gfeat  Britain,  on  the  contrarr, 
this  operation  has  never  yet  succeeded,  a  circumstance 
to  be  attributed  partly  to  tbe  delay  which  has  always 
taken  place  after  the  necessity  for  such  an  oNpedient 
bad  been  deterained,  and  hence  the  intieat,  at  tbe  time 
tbe  operation  was  perfiimied,  must  have  been  in  a  state 
of  exhaustion  j  and  partly,  perhaps  eluefly,  to  tlie  pre- 
vious veiy  afavminff  state  of  health  of  the  subjects  of 
the  operation  in  this  island.  It  is  at  any  rate  certain 
that  all  over  tbe  continent  practitioners  have  less  horror 
at  perfonsingthe  Cseaarean  section  diam  British  practi- 
tioners have  coamMBly  shewn  ^  and  it  ia  deemed  necessary 
in  cases  wbeie  the  operation  of  erabryulcia  is  prefenred 
in  this  eeontry,  and  where  of  course  the  women  are 
not  in  snch  a  pcccanoas  state  of  health  as  tiiese  con»- 
nionly  are  who  bave  extreme  narrowness  of  tbe  pelvis* 
In  oonss^uenoe  of  the  fatality  of  the  Caesarean  sec- 
tion ia  Great  Britain,  several  eminent  practitionesB 
have  regwded  it  as  nn^ustifiafale.  Dr  Osbem  has  rei^ 
derod  biroaelf  partieoburly  conspicuous  on  this  subject, 
and  uses  very  strong  language  in  reprobation  of  it.  His 
aigoments  are,  its  aeknowlei^d  iatality  ^  tbe  capability 
ef  coaspktittg  the  delivery  by  means  o£  the  crotchet, 
in  cases  of  such  deformity  of  the  pehris,  that  there  is 
no  more  than  one  and  a  half  inch  between  the  pabis 
and  sacrum,  or  to  one  side  of  the  projecting  sacrum  ^ 
and  the  impossibilitv  of  impregnation  taking  alace  in 
eases  «f  gtealer  deficieney  of  spaee.  We  mui  notice 
these  ugumenta  in  their  turn. 

1st,  IXr  ^kfimifM^ed  JittaHij^  9f  ^  ^ptrmtmm^^ 
Tbia  relates  only  to  tfce  result  ef  the  operatiow  in  Great 
Britain  \  inr,  as  already  raentieDed,  a  great  proportion 
of  the  patients  has  been  saved  en  tlie  continent.  But 
in  ittsisdng  on  this  argument  1>r  Osbom  has  over* 
looked  that  the  ohject  of  the  operatiei^  is  tn  save,  if 
possible,  two  lives,  and  at  any  rate  one.  Now  if  it  can 
be  satisfnotorily  proved,  that  en  some  oceasiens  the 
eporatieu  of  embryotonnr  b  abeobitely  impracticable,  it 
becoawa  the  dmy  of  toe  practitioner  tn  saive  one  life 
at  least ;  awl  it  i»  well  known  that  tke  Csesareaa  opera- 
tien  is  hr  lesa  pmnlbl  to  the  woman  than  that  of  em*- 
biyutea^,  ev«n  where  tbnt  latter  opeititien-  is  eventually 
aneeessfak  in  snch  cases  etf  extieme  deformity,  eidiep 
an  attempt  should  be  made  to  deliver  the  woman  anil 
save  Ike  child,,  or  both  nrast  be  iiJlowed  to  perish }  for 
the  operation  of  anbt^etomy,  if  attempted,  most  be  re^ 
gaided  as  wtlfol  murifer. 

adiy,  the  p^neHcMHt^  of  teniing  sway  the  cbild  ia 
pieces  by  aMana  of  Ike  perflation  and  orotcbet,  in  casea 
wkere  there  is  no  more  thnn  as  inok  nnd  a  half  be- 
tween tbe  pubis  and  sacrum,  or  lo  one  side  of  the  pro- 
jecting sacrum,  is  alleged  by  the  doctor  on  tbe  founda- 
tion of  a  single  case,  that  of  EKaaketk  SheruMod  al- 
Rady  sufened  to.  But  any  person  mho  shall  take  the 
tasdble  to  bave  ^  apeitnre  of  Shcrweod's  pelvis,  as 
stilted  by  Dr  Onkorn,  out  out  in  weed,  and  to  compare 
tkiBwithtke  basis,  of  an  infant's  skuU  as  mudi  diminish'^ 
ed  as  possible  by  tbe  croteket  (which  is  done  in  tbe 


turition. 


one  OS 


ijo 


I  F  E  R  Y.  69 

coarse  ef  his  lectarcs  bv  tbe  profea^or  of  midwifirry  in  prrternft. 
this  university),  muAt  be  convinced,  that  there  was  tvral  Par- 
some  mistake  in  tbe  supposed  dimensions  of  that  wo- 
man^s  pelvis.  And  it  is  quite  obvious,  that  unless  there' 
be  the  space  already  stated,  viz.  three  and  a  half  or 
four  Inches  by  two,  it  is  unsafe  to  extract  tbe  UMUgled 
cbiU  throngh  the  natural  passages. 

3dly,  Tbe  aUegmtian  that  where  there  is  a  greater  de- 
gree of  narrowness  of  tbe  pelvis  than  that  whicb  was 
supposed  to  have  happened  in  tbe  case  of  Sherwood,  im- 
pregnation cannot  take  place,  is  4|uite  inconsistent  with 
facts.  One  of  the  most  remarkable  cases  ef  extreme  de- 
formity is  that  of  £lixabeth  Thompson,  on  whom  the 
Csesareaa  operation  was  periomied  at  Manchester  in 
i8o2.  The  description  as  given  by  Dr  Hull  (g)  is  as 
follows :  **  The  pelvis  of  this  patient  was  not  nearly  so 
soft  as  has  sofcetimes  been  observed*  It  still  had  a  con- 
siderable degree  of  bony  firmness.  The  ossa  innominata 
at  their  sacro-iliac  synchondroses,  and  at  the  symphysis 
pubis,  before  the  pelvis  was  dried,  admitted  of  a  slight 
degeee  of  motion.—- Tbe  distance  from  the  crista  of  one 
OS  iltum  to  the  other,  at  their  most  zemete  points,  mea^ 
sures  ten  incbes  and  a  half. 

'*  The  alse  of  both  ossa  ilia  are  very  mudt  bent  ^  and 
en  the  left  side  the  curvature  is  so  great,  that  it  oicfr- 
smrea  only  two  inchea  from  tbe  anterior  and  infirriar 
spinous  process  to  the  opposite  posterior  point.  The 
lumbar  vertehrse  project  Harwaids  or  inwards,  and  make 
a  considerable  curve  to  the  left  side  of  the  pelvia. 
The  distance  from  the  lower  part  of  the  second  lum- 
bar vertebra  to  the  anterior  part  ef  the  spine  of  the  oa 
ilium,  on  the  left  side,  is  twe  inches*  Tbe  distance 
from  the  lowest  part  of  the  aecend  lumbar  vertebra  to 
the  anterior  part  ef  the  ^ae  of  the  os  iltum,  on  tbe 
right  side,  is  hvt  inches^ 

"  Superior  aperture*    The  conjugate  or  antor»-pe»' 
tenor  dianwter,  from  the  symphysis  pnbb  to  the  upper 
edge  of  the  last  lumbar  vertebra  is  one  inch  and  a  ball; 
—-This  diameter  is  not  taken  from  the  oa  sacrnm,  or  its 
junction  with  the  last  lumbar  vertebra,  because  tbe  point 
of  their  junction  is  so  mncb  sunk  into  the  pelvis,  thai 
tbe  place  it  should  have  occupied,  is  represented  by  tbe 
jmictiea  of   tbe  fiMirtb  and    fiftk    kmbar    vertebra*. 
The  tranverse  diameter  measures  four  inches  and  &ve^ 
eighths.     It  is  taken  from  one  sacro-iliac  symphysis  to 
tim  ether.    The  distance  of  the  point  of  this  aperture, 
which  is  opposite  to  the  anterior  part  of  tbe  right  aeetn* 
bttlum,  from  tbe  lumbar  vertebra,  is  only  half  an  ineb. 
The  distaace  from  that  part  of  tbia  apmtnre,  which 
corresponds  with  tbe  poaleiior  part  of  the  sight  acetar 
bnlum,  to  tbe  08  saorum,  is  three-fourths  of  an  inch. 
The  distance  ef  tbe  point,  eomspondiag  with  the  a»« 
trrior.part  of  the  left  aficlabulnin,  frwn  dm  lumbar 
vertebra,  ia  five^eigbtkB  of  a»  inch*      The  distance 
of  tbe  point  of  this  aperture,  oppmito  to  tbe  poste- 
rior part  ef  the  left  acetabukim,  firom   the  oa  sa- 
I  thres-fonrtka  of  an  inch»     The  distance  of 
pubis  from,  the  ether,  in  the  points  marked 
in  the  pinto,  is  seven-eigbtha  oi  an  inch.     The  d&i- 
tnnoe  from  the  right  sser^iiiae  syn^vais  to.  the  sym- 
physis pubis  is  thsee  inchea  and  three*  fonrtlK.    The  di- 
stance 


I3« 


(o)  Ofaservatioos  on  i/b  Simmoaa^s  Detection,  &c*  p*  zj^j. 


70 


»3* 


Preterna-  stance  from  the  right  sacro-iliac  symphysis  to  th^  left  os 
t^  P*'-  pubis  is  three  Inches  and  three*eigbths.  The  distance 
tunuoa.  £^^  ^1^^  Yeh  sacro-iliac  symphysis  to  the  symphysis 
pnbis  is  three  inches  and  five-eighths.  The  distance 
from  the  left  Kacro-iliac  symphysis  to  l\m  right  os  pobis 
'h  three  inches  and  one-fourth.  The  largest  circle,  that 
can  be  formed  in  any  part  of  the  superior  aperture, 
does  not  exceed  in  diameter  one  inch. 

'*  Inferior  aperture.  The  distance  from  one  ramus 
ossis  ischii  to  the  other,  where  they  are  united  with  the 
rami  ossium  pubis,  measures  only  half  an  inch.  The 
distance  from  the  tuberosity  of  one  os  ischium  to  the 
other  measures  one  inch  and  two-tenthtb  The  conju- 
gate or  antero- posterior  diameter,  taken  from  the  sym- 
physis pubis  to  the  point  of  the  oa  poccygis  is  three 
inches. 

**  The  angle,  included  by  the  rami  of  the  ossa  pubis, 
is  very  acute,  viz.  an  angle  of  about  20  degrees.  The 
perpendicular  iieight  from  the  tubera  of  the  ossa  ischia 
to  the  inferior  margin  of  the  symphysis  pubis  is  two 
inches  and  a  half.  The  perpendicular  height  of  the 
symphysis  pobis  is  one  inch  and  a  half.  The  tuberosity 
of  the  left  OS  ischium  advances  forwards,  beyond  that 
of  the  right,  about  six-tenths  of  an  inch,  and  the 
whole  of  the  rami  ossis  pubis  and  ischii  on  the  left  side 
projects  beyond  those  of  the  right.  The  perpendicular 
height  of  the  os  sacrum  and  coccyx  is  two  inches  and 
one-fourth  only,  the  os  sacrum  being  bent  so  as  to  form 
a  very  acute  angle.  The  ace  tabula,  at  their  nearest 
points,  are  only  three  inches  distant.  The  symphysis 
^lubis  is  much  more  prominent  than  natural.  The  up* 
per  margin  of  the  symphysis  pubis  is  situated  as  high  as 
the  bottom  of  the  fourth  lumbar  vertebra.^* 

It  appears  then  that  Dr  Osbom's  arguments  are  fal- 
lacious, and  that  cases  occur,  where  the  operation  of 
embryotomy  is  neither  safe  nor  practicable.  Under 
such  circumstances,  the  Csesarean  section  most  be  had 
recourse  to ;  and  it  is  therefore  to  be  Regarded  as  an 
operation  of  necessity,  not  one  of  choice.  If  this  role 
be  adopted,  the  cases  requiiing  so  formidable  an  expe« 
dient  will  happily  be  very  seldom  met  with. 

Mr  Simmons  of  Manchester,  observing  that  Dr 
Osbom^s  third  argument  is  untenable,  has  proposed  in 
the  following  words,  another  substitute  for  the  Cassarean 
operation. 

*^  When  a  case  shall  arise  in  which  the  child  cannot 
be  delivered  by  the  crochet,  from  the  brim  of  the  pel- 
vis being  no  more  than  one  inch  in  diameter  I  propose 
to  combine*  the  two  operations,  and  to  divide  the  sym- 
physis pubis  to  make  way  for  the  crotchet.  Dr  Osbom 
has  ur^d  several  objections  against  this  proposal,  al- 
though he  admits  that  the  operation  at  the  symphysis  is 
not  so  certainly  fatal  as  tlie  Cacsarean  section.  Weighty 
objections  doubtless  press  against  it  j  but  while  there* 
are  m  other  means  for  preserving  life,  bad  as  the 
chance  is,  it  becomes  a  question  whether  it  be  worth 
risking  ^  and,  after  maturely  considering  the  case, 
should  an  attempt  for  saving  the  life  of  the  mother  be 
judged  expedient,  as  the  last  resource  it  may  be  adopted. 

*'  The  space  gained  has  been  differently  stated  at  from 
three  to  eight  or  nine  lines  in  the  diameter ;«— the  me- 
dium distance  would  probably  be  sufficient  to  accom- 
plish the  delivery  by  the  crotchet. 

*^  The  objections  urg<fd  against  this  mode  of  delivery, 
-when  the  Jiead  is  of  the  full  size,  will  not  apply  to  its 

4 


MIDWIFERY.  Chap.  1\^ 

reduced  bulk  ^  and  it  should  be  remembered,  that  the  PKterna. 


^33 


symphysis  is  formed  of  cartilage  and  ligament  -j  so  that  tnr&l  Par* 
whatever  pressure  shall  be  made  against  the  divi-  tsntioB. 
ded  edges,  will  not  be  made  against  the  sharp  angles  '  ^ 
of  bone;  That  much  injury  may  be  done  anteriorly 
will  not  be  denied  ^  but  does  the  continued  pressure 
of  the  child^s  head  never  produce  mischief  in  other 
cases  ^  By  the  introduction  of  a  female  sound  for  a  guide, 
A  cautious  and  steady  operator  will  avoid  wounding  the 
urethra  ;  and,  as  the  base  of  the  skull  will  probably  be 
turned  sideways,  it  will  su&r  less  in  extraction  than  in 
other  cases  of  the  crotchet ;  in  which  it  must  in  general 
be  injured  from  pressure  against  the  pubis.  If  the  sepa- 
ration, however,  be  carried  beyond  a  certain  length, 
laceration  will  probably  ensue  j  and,  should  this  acci- 
dent occur,  I  see  no  reason  to  apprehend  more  danger 
from  it  than  follows  the  extraction  of  a  large  stone 
from  th(B  bladder  through  a  small  opening,  which  will 
induce  a  lacerated  wound,  but  which  we  know  will 
not  uncommonly  faetfl.  The  sacro-iliac  ligameats  would 
certainly  not  be  injured  fay  choice,  but  the  consequences, 
I  believe,  are  not  generally  fatal ;  and,  should  it  be 
lurged  that  great  pain  and  lameness  will  afflict  the  pa- 
tient for  a  long  time  after,  a  reply  will  readily  occur, 
that  life  was  at  stake }  and  surely  there  are  few  who 
would  not  compound,  for  the  |»rospect  of  temporary 
pain  and  inconvenience,  to  have  it  preserved  to  them. 

*'  A  spontaneous  separation  sometimes  occurs,  both 
there  and  ai  the  pubis  $  and  yet  the  patient  has  been 
again  restored  to  health. 

*'  I  do  not  aee,  in  ether  respects,  in  what  this  com- 
pound operation  differs  from  the  most  difficult  crotchet 
case — the  Csesarean  section  ia  certainly  fatal  to  the  mo- 
ther in  this  country^-the  life  of  the  child,  it  is  agreed, 
shall  not  be  put  in  competition  with  the  parent's  liii>» 
the  section  of  the  symphysis  is  neither  so  formidable  nor 
so  fatal  as  the  Csesarean  sectiou*-4Uid  the  crochet  has 
been  successfully  applied  in  dimensions  which  will  pro- 
bably be  thus  acquired. 

'*  Upon  the  whole,  then,  in  that  supposed  case  of  dis- 
tortion (which  I  hope  will  never  happen)  in  which  the 
mother  must  be  doomed  to  death,  from  the  impossibi- 
lity of  delivering  the  child  by  the  crotchet,  the  com- 
pound operation  I  have  recommended  will  fumaah  a  re- 
source, approved  by  reason  and  sanctioned  by  experience  ^ 
inasmuch  as  the  section  of  the  symphysis  pubia  has  been 
made,  and  the  crotchet  has  been  used,  though  separate- 
ly, yet  with  safety.  Such  a  case  will  be  attended,  un- 
questionably, widi  additional  hazard ;  but  it  offers  the 
only  chance  to  the  mother,  to  tlie  preservation  of  whose 
life  our  chief  care  should  be  directed :  and  I  hope  thai 
in  future  all  trace  of  the  Csesarean  operation  will-  be 
banished  from  professioeal  books  \  for  it  can  never  be 
justifiable  during  the  parent's  life,  and  stands  recorded 
only  to  disgrace  the  art.'* 

He  himself  has  afforded  the  most  satisfactory  evidence  ^^ 
of  the  absurdity  of  his  own  propUsal  ^  for  he  had  not- 
published  it  many  months  when  the  very  case  he  had 
described  as  ideal  aetually  occurred  in  hbneigbourhood, 
and  he  had  the  opportunity  of  making  the  experiment  of 
bis  own  plan.  But  he  shrunk  from 4t,- and  no  wonder  ; 
for  the  woman  was  Elizabeth  Thompson,  whose  pelvis 
has  just  been  described.  It  is  unfortunate  that  Mr 
Simmons  has  not  had  the  candour  to  confess  his  error, 
and  to  retract  his  opinion^  more  especially  since  his  re- 

fiections 


Chap.  IV. 


MIDWIFERY. 


7 1 


BEeterna- 

tonlPar- 

tiiritioii. 


135 


I3<5 


flections  against  the  Csesarean  operation,  urere  couched 
in  language  peculiarly  hitter  and  invective. 

With  respect  to  the  mode  of  pcrformiog  the  Ceesarean 
section,  there  has  heen  considerable  variety  of  opinion. 
On  theoretical  principles,  the  external  incision,  viz. 
that  through  the  parietes  abdominis,  ought  to  be  in  the 
direction  of  the  linea  alba,  because  there  is  less  chance 
of  any  considerable  retraction  of  muscular  fibres,  or  of 
interfering  with  the  intestines,  than  if  it  were  made  m 
any  other  direction.  But  the  result  of  the  practice 
seems  at  variance  with  the  theory.  According  to  the 
testimony  of  Baudelocqne,  of  35  operations,  where  the 
incision  was  made  on  the  side  of  the  abdomen,  eighteen 
proved  successful ;  of  thirty  in  the  direction  of  the  linea 
alba,  ten  only  succeeded  ;  and  of  eight  in  tlie  manner 
recommended  by  Lauverjat,  that  b,  by  a  transverse  in- 
cision between  the  recti  muscles  and  spina  dorsi,  three 
sacceeded.  But  it  may  be  remarked,  that  the  event, 
in  many  of  those  cases,  may  have  been  influenced  by  a 
variety  of  circumstances,  totally  independent  of  the  line 
of  direction  of  the  external  incision. 

In  whatever  part  of  the  abdomen  the  external  inci- 
sion be  made,  it  ought  to  be  extended  to  six  inches  ;  and, 
previous  to  cutting  into  the  uterus,  any  active  arterial 
branch,  which  may  have  been  divided,  must  be  secured  ^ 
and  the  liquor  amnii,  if  not  already  dischai^d,  must 
he  drawn  off.  The  opening  into  the  uterus  need  not 
he  above  five  inches  in  length,  and  should  be  made  as 
much  towards  the  fundus  as  possible.  Means  are  to  be 
employed  to  prevent  the  protrusion  of  the  intestines  at 
the  time  the  uterus  is  emptied.  Both  foetus  and  secun- 
dines  are  to  be  quickly  extracted  y  after  which,  the 
hand  is  to  be  passed  into  the  uterus,  to  clear  out  any 
ooagula  which  ■  may  have  formed  within  its.  cavity,  to 
prevent  the  os  tincse  being  plugged  up,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  to  promote  the  contraction  of  the  uterus. 
The  wound  in  the  uterus  is  to  be  left  to  nature  ^  but 
thut  of  the  parietes  of  the  abdomen  is  to  be  carefully 
closed  by  means  of  the  interrnpted  suture  and  adhesive 
straps ;  and  the  whole  belly  is  to  \fe  properly  supported 
by  a  suitable  bandage  or  waistcoat.  In  the  after  treat- 
ment of  the  patient,  the  great  objects  to.  be  held  in 
view,  are  to  support  the  strength  and  moderate  the  de->  ■ 
gree  of  local  inflammation. 

III.  Division  of  the  symphysis  puSts,'-~Thi9'w^  ori* 
ginally  proposed  and  performed  by  M,  Sigault  of  Paris. 
His  proposal  was  made  in  1768;  hut  he  had  no  oppor-< 
tnnity  of  making  the  actual  experiment  till  September 
1777. — ^The  success  of  his  first  case  was  such,  that  a 
medal  was  struck  to  commemorate  the  event  ^  and  the 
operation  was  admired  and*  recommended^  vnth  all  the 
extravagance  of  French  enthusiasm. 

The  operation  consists  of  the  division  ofthe  symphysis- 
pubis  and  separation  of  the  innominata^  For  this  pur- 
pose, a  catheter  is  to  be  introduced  into  the  urethra, 
and,  with  a  common  scalpel,  the  articulation  is  to  be 
not  through  fit>m  the  upper  edge  of  the  symphysis,  to 
within  a  quarter  of  an .  inch  of  the  inferior  edge.  By 
separating  the  thighs,  the  divided  bones  are  forced 
asnnder.    After  tbis^  the  operator  ia  either  to  torn  ^he 


tnral  Par- 
torition. 


S£CT.  IV.  Of  the  Deviations  from  Natural  Labour 
which  happen  from  anomalous  dr^umsiances. 

Certain  circumstances  besides  those  already  enume- 
rated occasion  deviations  in  the  process  of  labour. 
Some  of  these  respect  the  child,  and  others  the  woman. 

a.  The  child's  life  is  endangered  if  the  navel-string 
be  80  strongly  convoluted  round  its  neck,  that  after  the 
head  is  born  the  remainder  cannot  be  expf'Ucd  without 
the  cord  being  drawn  bO  tight  as  to  interrupt  the  circu- 
lation through  it.  Dr  Denman,  vol.  ii.  p.  16.  has 
stated  this  as  a  cause  of  protracted  labour,  and  has  ad- 
vised 


'37 


child,  or  to  extract  it  by  the  forceps,  according  to  the  Pf^terea- 
circumstances  of  the  case. 

This  expedient  was  proposed  as  a  substitute,  both  for 
the  operation  of  embryulcia,  and  for  the  Csesarean  sec- 
tion, as  it  was  alleged  to  be  perfectly  consistent  with 
the  safety  both  of  mother  and  child. 

It  is  quite  unnecessary  for  us  to  offer  any  theoretical 
objections  to  this  operation,  biecause  we  can  now  reason 
on  the  event  of  thirty-six  cases,  which  have  heen  publish- 
ed.—But  those  who  may  wish  to  investigate  this  subject, 
may  consult  Baudelocque,  par  1994*  and  2091.  inclu- 
sive^ and  Dr  Osbom,  p.  271.  To  that  latter  practition- 
er's professional  zeal  and  ability  is  chiefly  to  be  ascrib- 
ed the  total  rejection  of  this  operation  in  Great  Britain. 

Of  the  thirty-five  subjects  of  the  published  cas^s  (for 
in  one  woman  it  was  performed  twice),  fourteen  women 
and  eighteen  children  died. — Of  the  twenty- one  wo- 
men' who  survived,  nine  had  either  had  living  chil- 
dren before  the  Sigaultian  operation,  or  had  such  at  a 
subsequent  period.  Most  of  the  remainder  suffered 
much  from  the  operation.  Some  had  incurable  incon- 
tinence of  urine,  others  lameness,  &c.  But  the  most 
important  fact  is,  that  whenever  the  bones  of  the  pelvis 
were  separated  from  each  other  above  an  inch  (and  no 
space  of  any  consequence  could  be  added  to  the  brim, 
unless  they  were  so),  the  sacro-iliac  synchondroses  were 
torn,  and  no  woman  survived  that  accident. 

These  facta  have  at  last  convinced  foreign  practition* 
ers  o£  the  futility  of  this  expedient  ^  and,,  accordingly, 
for  above  ten  years,  iV  has  not  been  performed  on  the 
continent  by  any  practitionei's  of  respectability. 

When  a  woman,  with  a  narrow  pelvis,  who  has  had 
the  good  fortune  to  recover  after  the  operation  of  em- 
bryotomy, again  falls  with  child,  she  should  not  incur 
the  hazard  of  a  repetition  of  so  horrible  an  operation ; 
but  ought  to  have  premature  labour  indu'ced  between 
the  seventh  and  the  eighth  month.  Under  the  direc- 
tion of  an  intelligent  practitioner  this  operation  is  easily 
performed;  and,  while  it  affords  the  only  chance  of 
saving  the  infant,  which  it  is  the  duty  of  the  mother 
and  of  the  practitiouer  to  attempt,  it  at  the  same  time, 
by.  lessening  the  resistance,  diminishes  both  the  suffer-  - 
ing  and  the  risk  of  the  patient  (n). 

For  a  further  account  of  the  practice  in  cases  of  ex- 
treme deformity  of  the  pelvis,  the  reader  is  referred  to . 
Osbom^s  Essays ;  Hamilton's  Letters  to  Osbom  ;  Sim- 
mons*s  Reflections,  and  Hull's  Detection  of  Simmons. . 


'3S 


,/ 


I3P 


Z40 


(k)  See  a  paper  on  this  subject,  in  th«  i8th  voluii:e«of  the  Medical  Facta  and  Observations,  by  Mr  Barlow^ 


:X4< 


14a 


7a  M  I  D  W 

Preierna-  vised  certain  snodef  of  practiee  in  canse^eoce.  But 
tund  Par.  if  there  be  pains,  there  cannot  be  tarj  material  protrac- 
tnrition.    tion  of  the  labour  from  this  canse. 

All  risk  of  the  infant  may  be  prevented  by  slacken* 
ing  the  cord,  and  waiting  for  the  action  of  the  utems, 
if  the  operator  find  thut  he  cannot  draw  the  loop  of 
cord  which  surrounds  the  chi^s  neck  easily  over  its 
head.     But  this  in  most  <»se8  can  be  leadily  done. 

b>  The  cord  is  sometimes  pushed  down  before  the 
presenting  part  of  the  child. 

If  this  happen  before  the  membranes  are  burst,  the 
only  certain  method  of  saving  the  child  is  to  perform 
the  operation  of  turning  as  soon  as  the  state  of  the  pas- 
saces  will  permit. 

when  the  cord  is  pushed  down  along  with  some 
other  part,  as  the  head,  after  the  waters  are  discharg- 
ed, a  variety  of  practice  is  required  according  to  the 
-circumstances  of  the  particular  case^  hence  merely 
keeping  the  cord  for  a  little  time  beyond  the  present- 
ing part  by  means  of  the  fingers,  or  wrapping  it  up  in 
a  piece  of  soft  rag,  and  pushing  it  above  the  presenting 
point,  or  the  application  of  the  forceps,  are  severally 
found  useful  in  different  ^cases. 

c.  Sometimes  one  or  both  arms  of  the  child  are  for- 
ced down  along  with  the  head,  inhere  proper  assistance 
is  not  had  at  the  beginning  of  labour.  If  the  pelvis 
be  roomy,  and  the  woman  have  formerly  had  children, 
the  delivery  may  be  at  last  completed  by  the  natural 
powers,  notwithstanding  this  increased  degree  of  resist- 
ance. But  in  many  cases  of  this  kind  an  experienced 
practitioner  is  not  called  in  till  the  strength  of  the  wo- 
man be  very  much  exhausted,  and  then  it  becomes  ne- 
cessary to  use  the  forceps,  or  even  on  some  occasions  to 
have  recourse  to  the  operation  of  embryulcia. 

d.  It  is  well  known,  that  sometimes  there  is  more 
than  one  child  in  the  womb.  Instances  where  there 
are  twins  are  not  nnfrequent  ^  cases  of  triplets  are  al- 
leged to  happen  once  in  between  three  or  four  thou- 
sand births  J  four  at  a  birth  have  not  occurred  in  this 
city  for  the  last  twenty-seven  years ;  and  there  are  on- 
ly two,  or  at  most  three,  well-authenticated  cases  of 
five  at  a  birth  having  happened  within  a  hundred  years 
in  this  island. 

All  the  signs  by  which  the  existence  of  more  than 
one  child  in  utero  can  be  ascertained,  previous  to  the 
actual  commencement  of  labour,  are  fallacious  ^  and  in 
general  it  is  not  till  after  the  birdi  of  one  child  that  it 
can  be  determined  that  another  remains  in  the  womb  j 
and,  unless  under  very  particukr  circumstances,  it  is 
cf  no  importance,  llie  circnmBtances  alhidcd  to  are 
where  different  parts  of  botb  children  are  forced  in* 
to  the  passage  at  the  same  time.  Of  this  a  very  re- 
markable case  is  recorded  in  the  book  of  Genesis,  verse 
27.  chap,  xxxviii. 

When  the  womb  appears  to  remain  bulky  and  hard 
after  4e  birth  of  one  diild,  tiiere  is  reason  to  suppose 
that  it  contains  a  second.  But  if  there  be  any  doubt 
on  the  subject,  the  practitioner  has  it  in  his  power  to 
ascertain  the  point  by  examination.  When  there  is 
no  second  child  in  the  uterus,  the  further  the  fingeiB 
are  carried  up  within  the  passages,  the  more  contract- 
ed do  they  feel  ^  whereas,  if  Uiere  be  a  second  child, 
the  more  open  are  they  found. 

When  it  is  ascertuned  that  another  infant  remains, 
the  womaa^s  belly  should  be  immediately  compressed  by 

I 


43 


^44 


I  F  E  R  Y-  €liap.lV. 

means  of  a  rotter,  in  order  to  prevent  faintishncss  from  prcttna. 
the  sudden  relaxation  of  the  parietes  abdominis,  ai:d  tnraiPiiK. 
the  portion  of  the   navel-«tring  remaining  attadied   t«riti<a. 
to  the  afler-birth  of  the  first  bom  sbouid  be  cai«-'"'  ^  "* 
fully  secured,  let  the  vessels  of  the  placenta  anasto- 
mose. 

In  regard  to  the  subsequent  treatment,  then  has  M5 
been  much  variety  of  opinion  among  practitfoners. 
•Some  have  proposed  waiting 'till  the  action  of  the 
uterus  expel  the  second  as  it  had  done  the  first  in- 
fanL  Others  nrgc  strongly  the  necessity  for  imme* 
diate  delivery. 

Against  the  former  of  these  practices  it  is  to  be  <^ 
jected  -f  first,  that  in  some  cases,  days  or  even  wtcAlb 
have  been  known  to  intervene  between  the  birth  of  one 
child  and  the  action  of  the  ntenis  wbich  exyeUed  the 
second.  Secondly,  that  if  this  happen,  the  passages 
must  become  contracted  and  their  subsequeut  dtlatatioa 
may  be  productive  of  inflammatory  symptoms.  Third- 
ly, that  during  the  time  the  uterine  action  is  suspend- 
ed, internal  bsemorrhagy  may  take  place,  and  may  de- 
stroy the  patient.  And,  fourthly,  the  second  cfafld  may 
be  suddenly  forced  down  in  such  a  position^  as  may  en- 
danger its  life,  and  at  the  same  time  occasion  great* 
pain  to  the  mother. 

For  these  reasons  it  is  now  an  estaUished  rule  aiaoog 
judicious  practitioners,  to  examine  the  situation  of  the 
second  infimt,  as  soon  as  the  patient  shall  have  reco- 
vered from  the  shock  of  tbe  birth  of  the  first  cluld  } 
and,  if  its  position  be  natnrsl  and  the  patient  have  not 
been  exhausted  by  the  previous  labour,  and  pains  come 
5>n,  to  rupture  the  membranes,  and  allow  the  natural 
powers  to  complete  the  delivery.  But  if  the  infant 
present  any  other  part  than  the  bead,  or  thouffb  tbe 
bead  do  present,  if  the  woman  be  exhausted,  or  if  there 
be  no  appearance  of  the  return  of  pains  within  an  boor 
after  the  birth  of  the  first,  then  the  band  is  to  be  psissed 
up  to  bring  down  the  feet  of  the  second  child,  and  the 
delivery  is  to  be  expedited.  Tiie  extraction  of  tbe  pla- 
centse  is  to  be  conducted  with  great  cire,  and  every 
possible  precaution  is  to  he  adopted  against  the  occur- 
rence of  flooding,  which  is  always  to  be  dreaded  as  die 
consequence  of  ^uraltty  of  children. 

The  same  principles  apply  to  the  management  ef  tri- 
plets, &c. 

d.  Umbilical  hernia,  to  which  wnmen  are  perliaps      14^ 
more  subject  than  to  any  other  species  of  rupture,  nsay 
infiuence  the  labour  materially. 

If  it  be  reducible,  it  disappears  after  the  fifth  BMmtli 
of  preffuancy  \  but  immediafeely  af^r  tbe  expnkinn  of 
the  child  it  returns^  and  occasions  friehtfid  fiuiitingB 
and  floodings.  This  may  be  prevented  by  the  siniple 
expedient  of  having  tbe  belly  compressed  by  a  roller  in 
such  a  manner,  that  in  proportion  as  the  hsfaat  ndvan- 
oes,  the  compression  may  be  increased. 

Should  it  be  irTDducible,  if  the  heniia  be  affipcted  by 
the  continaance  of  labour,  as  may  be  known  by  the 
colour,  &c.  the  operation  of  turning  must  be  bad  xe- 
conrse  to. 

e.  Convulsions  sometimes  happen  durii^  bibour,  and      i47 
occasion  great  danger  both  to  the  mother  and  the  cbild. 

The  woman  is  quite  insensible  during  the  fit,  wbicJi 
consists  of  violent  convulsions  of  the  muscles  wbtch 
moire  the  body,  and  of  those  of  the  eyes,  the  face,  and 
the  lower  jaw ;  it  lasts  in  some  cases  only  a  few  seconds, 

and 


Chap. 

taf»l  Par- 


148 


•49 


ICO 


«5i 


IV.  M  I  D  W  I 

and  to  odiers  tor  ^verft)  minates.  After  the  fit  bw 
ceasedy  it  sometimes  happens  that  the  patient  remains  in 
a  comatose  state  }  in  other  cases  the  sensibility  returns. 

The  circnmstances  which  distinguish  this  disease  from 
epilepsy  were fir^t  stated  explicitly  byDrHamiitoninlhe 
following  words  :  ^*  The  old  distinction  between  eclamp- 
sia and  epilepma  has  been  rejected  by  Dr  Cullen,  without 
fluffioient  reason.  Theconvulsionsthatoccur  duriog  preg- 
nancy and  labour,  should  be  distinguished  by  the  former 
name,  for  the  disease  is  always  an  acute  one,  and  itnevery 
as  far  as  my  experience  goes,  lays  the  foundation  for  ha- 
bitual epilepsy.  To  an  inattentive  practitioner,  indeed, 
the  pbenomena  app^ur  similar  to  those  of  epilepsy  \  but, 
independent  of  its  violence  and  fatality,  there  are  many 
circumstances  peculiar  to  it.  This  has  been  reoMurked 
by  several  authors,  pavticularly  Dr  Denman  ^  but  those 
•^rcumstances  have  never  been  accurately  ^inted  out 
in  any  publication  which  has  fallen  into  my  hands. 

'*  The  eclampsia,  peculiar  to  pregnancy  and  labour, 
differs  frata  epilepsy  in  the  following  respects. 

"  I.  The  symptoms  which  precede  tiie  attack  are 
well  marked,  announcing  to  an  experienced  practitioner 
the  approach  of  the  disease. 

'*  2.  If  the  first  fit  do  not  prove  fatal,  and  if  no 
means  of  cure  be  attempted,  it  is  within  a  few  hours 
followed  by  other  paroxyms,  provided  delivery  do  not 
take  place. 

'*  3.  After  the  paroty^iws,  even  where  they  have 
tieen  very  severe^  the  patient  in  many  cases  continues 
quite  sensible  during  the  intervals,  tfnd  the  sensibility 
^returns  the  moment  the  fit  is  dff. 

**  4.  What  may  appear  still  more  extraordinary  is, 
that  in  some  cases  there  is  a  remarkably  increased  sus- 
*ceptibility  of  impression  of  the  externaUenses  \  and  this 
supersensation  is  not  confined  to  patients  in  whom  the 
convulsions  are  slight. 

'*  The  Burs' ^tleptica  never  occurs  in  the  cases  ai- 
Inded  to. 

**  6.  The  pulse  is,  in  every  case,  affected  in  some 
degree  during  tlie  remissions  of  the  fits.  It  is  slow,  or 
oppressed,  or  intermitting,  or  frequent  and  rapid.  But 
it  is  most  commonly  slow  and  oppressed,  becoming  ful- 
ler and  more  finequent  after  blood-letting. 

The  symptoms  above  hinted  at. as  preceding  the  fits 
are,  violent  headachy  or  sudden  delirium,  or  violent 
tremors  during  the  second  stage  of  labour.  Impaired 
or  depraved  vision  commonly  prove  the  immediate  bar- 
bmgers  of  the  fit.  The  event  of  this  occurrence  is  al- 
ways precarious,  for  a  single  fit  may  destroy  the  pa- 
tient. Death  happens  in  such  cases  in  two  way^,  viz. 
either  by  rupture  of  some  of  the  vessels  within  the  head, 
or  hy  the  rupture  of  the  womb  itself. 

The  cause  of  the  disease  is  Evidently  an  overload  in 
the  vessels  within  Che  cranium,  and  this  may  be  occa- 
sioned firom  a  variety  of  causes,  as -violent  labour  throes, 
.passions  of  the  mind,  irritations  in  the  primae  vise^  &c. 

-In^cases  of  so'Very  alarming  a  nature,  it  is  not  won- 
derful that  practitioners  have  differed  much  respecting 
the  practice  to  be  adopted.  The  following  is  what  has 
been  recommended  by  Dr  Hamilton  in  the  volume  of 
Dr  Duncan^s  annals  already  refnred  to. 

^*  When  fits  have  actually  occurred  during-the  latter 
months  of  pregnancy,  the  first  remedy  to  be  employed, . 
after  having  adopted  the  suitable  means  for  protecting 
the  tongue,  is  blood-letting,  both  general  and  topical. 

Vol.  XIV.  Part  I.  t 


FERY.  73 

Opening  the  external  jugular  might  answer  both  pur^  PreteroA. 
poses,  but  the  restlessness  of  the  patient  in  many  cases  uml  Par. 
makes  the  surgeon  or  attendants  dread  this  operation,  iurition. 
A  quantity  of  blood,  therefore,  adapted  to  the  exigency 
of  the  case,  is  to  be  drawn  from  the  arm,  and  either  a 
branch  of  the  temporal  artery  is  to  be  divided,  or  seve- 
ral leeches  are  to  be  applied  to  the  temples.  After  the 
bleediogi  a  powerful  laxative  glyster  ought  to  be  exhi- 
bited. And  if  there  be  any  evidence  of  disordered  primse 
vise,  an  emetic  must,  if  possible,  be  given.  The  state 
of  the  08  uteri  is  then  to  be  ascertained  j  and  if  labour 
have  not  commenced,,  noaittompts  whatever  are  to  be 
made  to  promote  that  process.  In  some  rare  cases 
however,  wheae.the  bulk  of  the  gravid  uterus  is  enor- 
inotts,  it  may  be  -necessary  to  remove  a  part  of  its  con- 
tents ;  but  Sttdi  cases  cannot  happen  once  in  a  thousand 
ioi^nces  of  the  disease. 

^*  Shoukd  the  fits  still  continue,  the  head  must  be  shav- 
edy  and  covered  with  a  large  blister  ^  and  if  the  oppres- 
sion or  fulness,  or  hardness  of  tlie  pulse,  be  not  removed, 
the  blood-letting  is  to  be  repeated. 

"  As  soon  as  f  he  patient  becomes  -capable  of  swallow- 
ing, the  camphor,  in  doses  of  ten  grains,  ought  to  be 
given  every  Uiree  or  four  hours.  The  most  cfHcacious 
and  palatable  form  in  which  this  medicine  can  be  pre- 
scribed, is  by  suspending  it  in  boiling  water,  through 
the  medium  of  alcohol,  sugar  and  magnesia.  Its  use 
must  be  persevered  in  for  several  days,  gradually  lessen- 
ing ^he  nnmber^of  doses. 

'*  Where  the  eclampsia4]as  been  preceded  by  oedema, 
the  digitalis  may  be  employed  with  much  success. 

"  Convulsions  during  labour  are  to  be  treated  upon 
the  same  principles,  with  these  additional  precautions, 
that  delivery  is  to  be  accomplished  by,  the  most  expedi- 
tious possible  means,  and  that  if  the  delivery  be  fill- 
lowed  by  uterine  hsemorrhagy,  the  discharge  is  for  some 
time  to  be  ratlier  encouraged  thau'checked.  I  knew  two 
instances  of  the  fits»  which  had  been  suspended  for  some 
hours,  recurring,  in  consequence  of  the  flooding  being 
•stopped,  and  in  both  cases  the  convulsions  were  remov- 
ed, by  allowing  the  discharge  to  return. 

**  When  the  symptoms  that  precede  eclampsia,  take 
place  in  the  latter  months  of  pregnancy,  the  most 
certain  method  of  guarding  against  toe  threatening  ac- 
cident is,  having  recourse  to  immediate  blood-letting, 
and  afterwards  prescribing  camphor,  attention  to  the 
state  of  the  bowels,  and  a  spare  diet. 

*'  Wlien  the  same  symptoms  occur  during  labour,  a 
copious  bleeding  should  be  instantly  ordered,  and  the 
appropriate  means  of  terminating  the  delivery  should  be 
adopted  with  as  much  expedition  as  may  be  consistent 
with  the  safety  both  of  mother  and  child. 

"  In  these  concise  practical  suggestions,  practitioners 
will  observe  circumstances  omitted,  which  have  been 
recommended  by  gentlemen  of  deserved  professional 
eminence,  and  noveltito  of  practice  proposed,  which  I 
believe  have  not  hitheito  been  explicitly  advised.  Some 
explanation,  therefore,  of  the  plan  above  recommended 
may  perhaps  be  expected. 

^  The  most  obvious  remedy  apparently  omifLted  is 
^opium.  This  powerful  medicine  was  not  prescribed,  as 
far  as  we  have  reason  to  know,  by  the  practitioners  who 
lived  at  the  end  of  the  I7tb  and  beginning  of  the  J  8th 
centuries.  The  first  author  who,  in  strong  tenns,  asserts 
the  efiicacy  of  opium  in  such  cases,  appears  to  be  the 

K  translator 


ton  t  ion. 


74  M  I  D  W 

Prctema-  translator  of  Astrac's  Midwifery  (a)  \  and  bis  opinion 
turnl  P^r.  has  been  adopted  by  Dr  Denman  (b),  and  by  Dr 
Bland  (c ) .  But  in  every  case  of  true  eclampsia,  durinff 
pregnancy  or  laboor,  opiates  do  irreparable  mibchief^ 
where  a  copious  bleeding  has  not  been  premised }  and 
even  where  that  precaution  has  been  attended  to,  they 
have  been  found  useless,  if  not  hurtful.  Melancholy 
experience  has  completely  established  in  my  mind  this 
practical  precept ;  and  I  consider  it  to  be  a  matter  of 
\ery  great  moment,  that  it  should  be  universally  known ; 
for  general  practitioners,  who  are  often  first  called  to 
those  cases  where  the  fits  happen  during  pregnancy,  are 
extremely  apt  to  prescribe  opium:  I  can  solemnly  de- 
clare, that  no  patient  to  whose  assistance  I  have  been 
called,  who  had  taken  a  dose  of  opium  previous  to -my 
arrival,  has  recovered,  and  I  have  known  that  medi- 
cine given  in  almost  every  variety  of  dose.  My  father, 
Dr  A.  Hamilton,  of  whose  judgment  and  practical 
knowledge  it  does  not  become  roe  to  speak  in  the  terms 
they  so  justly  merit,  prevented  my  ever  employmg 
opium  under  such  circumstances. 

**  A  second  remedy  extolled  by  Dr  Denman,  and 
now,  after  a  fair  trial,  rejected  in  my  practice,  is  vo- 
miting. This  seems  to  have  been  a  very  common  pre- 
scription in  the  time  of  Mauriceau,  as  he  takes  great 
pains  to  point  out  its  hnrtfulness  in  several  parts  of  his 
works  (d).  Where  there  are  unequivocal  marks  of 
disordered  stomach,  an  emetic  may  be  prescribed  with 
advantage  after  blood-letting,  but  it  should  be  avoided 
under  all  other  circumstances. 

*'  With  regard  to  the  warm-bath,  which  is  a  favou- 
rite remedy  among  foreign  practitioners,  and  has  been 
advised  by  several  British  authors,.  I  have  never  had  an 
opportunity  of  trying  its  effects.  Upon  theoretical 
principles  I  should  reject  it ;  but  my  chief  reason  for 
never  having  directed  its  use,  has  been  the  impossibility, 
iu  ordinaiT  cases  of  practice,  of  commanding  a  warm  bath 
into  which-  a  woman  in  such  a  situation  could  be  put. 

**  Dashing  cold  water  by  surprise  upon  the  face  is  a 
practice  suggested  by  Dr  Denman,  and  on  which  he 
had  much  dependence  at  one  period.  Experience  les- 
sened his  hopes,  and,  many  years  ago,  prevented  my 
ever  indulging  any*  I  gave  it  several  fair  trials,  (on<^ 
or  twice  in  public  in  the  lying-in- ward  of  the  Royal 
Infirmary),  and  had  even  reason  to  be  convinced,  that 
k  rather  aggravated  than  diminished  the  violence  of  the 
paroxysms.^* 

In  addition  to  these  observations  it  may  be  pro- 
per to  remark,  that  a  much  larger  quantity  of  blood 
ftbould  be  drawn  in  those  cases  than  has  commonly 
been  done.  Dr  H.  advises  fi>rty  ounces  to  be  taken 
at  this  first  bleeding,  and  the  same  quantity  to  be  aeain 
drawn  within  an  hour,  irUie  symptoms  be  not  mitiga- 
ted 'f  and  he  talks  with  the  utmost  confiidenee  of  the 
utility  of  this  practice. 
1^         y.  Although  the  woman  be  delivered  safely  both  of 


I  F  E  R  Y:  Chap.  IV. 

the  child  a^d  afterbirth,  she  may  sink  very  soon  af-  pnteiM. 
ter  in  consequence  of  internal  flooding.     This  is  to  tan]  Piv. 
be  suspected  if  the  patient  suddenly  complain  of  giddi-  ^  tmition. 
ness  or  sickness,  or  singing  in  the  ears,  or  impaired  vi-        ' 
sion  'y  or  if  she  become  delirious,  with  k  pallid  face  and 
cold  limbs.     The  state  of  the  pulse  at  the  wrist  too 
should  lead  a  judicious  practitioner  to  suspect  the  exist- 
ence of  internal  flooding.     Positive  certainty  of  this  ac- 
cident may  be  obtained  by  feeling  through  the  belly 
the  condition  of  the  uterus  j  or,  more  certainly  still,  by 
feeling  the  state  of  the  vagina,  for  if  its  parietes  ap- 
proach, there  is  not  much  probability  of  there  being 
any  considerable  internal  hsemorrhagy  ^  whereas,  if  it 
be  found  filled  with  coagulated  blood,  there  is  a  certain- 
ty, that  the  womb  too  is  distended  from  the  same  cause. 

This  accident  is  entirely  owing  to  the  womb  not 
having  contracted  with  soflicient  energy.  It  very  often 
proves  the  cause  of  sudden  and  unexpected  death. 

The  boldest  and  apparently  most  violent  measures  '53 
are  required  to  save  tbe  patient  in  many  of  those  cases. 
The  womb  and  vagina  most  be  immediately  emptied, 
and  such  pressure  must  be  made  on  the  inside  of  the 
uterus  with  the  hand,  as  shall  force  it  into  contraction. 
In  some  cases  cold  water  in  great  quantity  roust  be 
dashed  from  a  height  on  the  naked  belly  at  the  same 
time ;  and  in  .the  mean  while  the  strength  of  the  pa- 
tient must  be  supported  with  large  doses  of  opium.  If 
there  be  vomiting,  which  is  a  frequent  symptom  in  such 
cases,  five  grains  of  solid  opium  should  be  given  at  first, 
and  afterwards  three  grains  eveiy  three  or  four  hours^ 
till  the  pulse  becomes  steady  and  the  strength  recruit- 
ed, when  the  opiates  are  to  be  withdrawn  and  lessen- 
ed by  degrees.  The  writer  of  this  article  cannot  avoid 
this  opportunity  of  paying  a  just  tribute  of  respect 
to  the  practical  discernment  of  the  able  editor  of  the 
New  London  Medical  Dictionary,  who  seems  the  first 
author  who  has  mentioned  this  practice  of  giving  large 
doses  of  opium  \  a  practice  by  which  many  valoabJSs 
lives  have  been  saved. 

C9yir/t»fbff.— In  the  preceding  account  of  the  devia- 
tions, which  sometimes  happen  in  the  process  of  human 
parturition,  although  we  have  endeavoured  to  give  a 
fiill  view  of  the  subject,  we  have  not  pursued  the  beaten 
tract.  But  as  this  article  may  rather  be  consulted  by 
many  as  a  dictionary,  than  pursued  regularly  as  a  trea- 
tise, we  shall  add  the  ordinary  arrangement  of  labours, 
with  the  reference  to  the  nnmerical  articles,  under 
which  the  several  varieties  may  be  found. 

Labours  are  divided  into  four  classes }  viz.  natural, 
laborious,  preternatural,  and  complex. 

Natural  labour  comprehends  all  cases  where  the  head 
of  the  infant  is  forced  foremost  y  and  the  whole  process 
is  completed  with  safety,  both  to  mother  and  child, 
within  twenty-four  hours  from  the  commencement.  It 
is  desmbed  under  articles  48.  to  60. 

Laborious 


(a)  The  Art  of  Midwifery,  &e.  8vo«  London,  printed  fiir.  J.  Noorse  1767.     Appendix,  p.  295. 

(b)  Vol.  ii.  pw  418.  (c)  Loco  citato,  page  136. 

(d)  Particularly  in  Aphorism  232.  **  L'^m^tique  est  pemicieux  aux  femmes  ^ossrs,  on  nouvelleroent  ac- 
cooch6es,  qui  sent  surprises  des  con\  ulsions.^*  And  Levret,  page  451.  of  his  L^Art  dcs  Accouchemens,  sayai, 
in  reference  to  that  apboxism,  **  Cette  sentence  est  dos  mieux  fondles,  et  elle  doit  £tre  rigoorcusement  observ6c 
4ips  tons  Mf-poinU.^ 


Chap.  IV. 


M  I  D  W 

CMicliiaoii.  Laboriotts  labour  b  tbat  where,  although,  the  head 
of  the  infant  be  forced  foremost,  the  process  is  pro- 
tracted beyond  twenty*foar  hoars  from  the  commence- 
ment. It  is  divided  into  three  orders :  First,  where  the 
natoral  powers  at  last,  after  much  suffering  on  the  part 
of  the  mother,  complete  the  deliver  j.     See  article  64. 

Secondly,  Where,  although  the  action  of  the  uterus 
be  inadequate  to  the  expulsion  of  the  infant,  it  is  prac- 
ticable to  extract  the  child  through  the  natoral  passages, 
without  injury  either  to  it  or  to  the  mother.  See  ar- 
ticles 661  to  74.  82.  and  84. 

Thirdly,  Where  it  is  impossible  to  extract  the  child 
alive  through  the  natural  passages.  See  articles  8o. 
and  99.  to  133. 

Preternatural  labours  comprehend  all  cases  where 
any  other  part  of  the  diild  than  the  bead  is  forced  fore- 
most \  and  consist  of  two  orders  : 

First,  Presentations  of  the  lower  extremities,  viz. 
footling  cases,  article  87.  Breech  cases,  article  91. 
Cases  where  one  foot  presents,  article  89.  and  knee- 
cases,  article  90* 


I  F  E  R  Y.  75 

.  Secondly,  Presentations  of  the  superior  extremities  ExpUma- 
or  other  parts  than  the  head  or  lower  extremities,  ar-  tion  of  th« 
tides  192.  to  196-  Plates. 

Complex  labours  include  all  cases  where  any  other 
circumstances  than  those  enumerated  under  the  former 
three  classes  take  place,  viz. 

Cases  where  the  pelvis  is  too  large,  articles  no.  and 
III. 

Cases  where  haBmorrbagy  occurs  at  the  beginning  of 
labour,  article  76.  or  at  the  conclusion  of  that  process, 
articles  152.  and  Z53. 

Cases  where  there  is  more  than  one  child,  articles 

I43>  '44»  145-  .1*. 

Cases  where  the  patient  had  previously  been  affected 

with  umbilical  hemiae,  article  146. 

Cases  where  convulsions  happen,  articles  .147,  148. 

Cases  where  the  navel-string  is  twisted  round  the 
neck  of  the  in&nt,  article  140.  or  where  it  is  forced 
down  along  with  some  part  of  the  child,  article  141* 

And  cases  of  rupture  of  the  uterus^  article  6^^ 


EXPLANATION  of  the  PLATES. 


Plate  CCCXLVI. 

Fig.  I.  A  front  view  of  the  uterus  in  the  nnimpreg- 
liated  state,  in  situ^  suspended  in  the  vagina  \  the  an- 
terior parts  of  the  ossa  ischia,  with  the  ossa  pubis,  pu- 
denda, perineum,  and  anus  being  removed,  in  order  to 
ehow  the  internal  parts. 

A,  The  last  lumbar  vertebra. 

B,  B,  The  ossa  ilia. 

C,  C,  The  aceUbula. 

D,  D.  The  inferior  and  posterior  parts  of  the  oss^t 
ischia. 

£,  The  part  covering  the  extremity  of  the  coccyx. 

F,  The  inferior  part  of  the  rectum. 

G,  G,  The  vagina  cut  open  longitudinally,  and 
stretched  on  each  side  of  the  cervex  uteri,  in  order  to 
show  the  manner  in  which  the  uterus  is  suspended  in  it. 

H,  H,  Part  of  the  urinary  bladder  stretched  on  each 
side  of  the  vagina  and  inferior  part  of  the  fundus  uteri. 
I,  The  cervix  uteri. 
K,  The  fundus  uteri. 
L,  L,  The  fallopian  tubes. 
M,  M,  The  ovaria. 
N,  N,  The  broad  ligaments. 

0,  O,  The  superior  part  of  the  rectum. 

Fig.'  2.  A  view  of  the  internal  parts  as  seen  from  the 
right  groin,  the  pelvis  having  been  divided  vertically. 

A,  Tie  lowest  vertebra  of  the  loins. 

B,  C,  The  OS  sacrum  and  coccyx  with  the  integu- 
ments. 

D,  The  left  os  ilium. 

£,  The  inferior  part  of  the  os  ischium. 

F,  The  08  pubis  of  the  same  side. 

G,  The  foramen  magnum. 
H,  The  acetabulum. 

1,  The  inferior  part  of  the  rectum. 

K,  The  OB  externum  and  vagina,  tbe  os  uteri  lying 
loosely  in  the  latter* 


L,  The  vesica  urinaria. 

M,  N,  The  cervix  and  fundus  uteri,  with  a  view  of 
the  cavity  of  the  uterus.  The  attachment  of  the  vagi- 
na to  the  uterus,  and  the  situation  of  the  uterus  when 
pressed  down  by  the  intestines  and  bladder  into  the 
concave  part  of  the  os  sacrum,  are  likewise  shown. 

O,  The  broad  ligament  of  the  left  side. 

P,  P,  The  left  &llopian  tube. 

Q,  The  left  ovarium. 

R,  R,  Tbe  superior  part  of  the  rectum  anil  inferior 
part  of  the  colon% 

Fig.  3,  Is  a  sketch  taken  from  Dr  Hunter's  magni- 
ficent plate,  N^  6.  of  the  gravid  uterus.  All  the  fore 
port  of  the  uterus  and  secundines  (which  included  tbe 
placenta)  is  renaoved.  The  navel-string  is  cut,  tied^ 
and  turned  to  the  leflt  side  over  the  edge  of  the  womb. 
At  the  fundus  the  investing  membranes  are  likewise 
turned  over  tbe  edge  of  the  womb,  that  they  might  be 
more  apparent.  The  bead  of  the  child  is  lodged  in  the 
lower  part  of  the  womb,  or  in  the  cavity  of  the  pelvis, 
and  its  body  lies  principally  in  the  right  side.  Its  poy 
sition  is  diagonal  or  obfique,  so  that  its  posterior  parts 
are  turned  forwards,  and  to  the  right  side  of  the  mo- 
ther, and  its  fore  parts  are  directed  backwards,  and  to 
the  lefl  side.  Its  right  foot  appears  between  its  left 
thigh  and  leg.  Every  part  is  stated  by  Dr  Hunter  to 
have  been  represented  just  as  it  was  found. 

Fig.  4.  A  front  view  of  the  gravid  Uterus  in  the  first 
stage  of  labour }  the  anterior  parts  are  removed,  but 
the  membranes  not  being  ruptured,  form  a  large  bag 
containing  the  foetus  and  the  liquor  anmii. 

A,  A,  The  substance  of  the  uterus. 

B,  B,  C,  C,  D,  D,  E,  E,  The  bones  of  the  pelvis. 
G,  G,  The  vagina. 

H,  H,  The  OS  uteri  dilated  during  a  pain  \  with 
I,  The  membranes  containing  the  liquor  amnii  pro- 
truding through  it. 
K,  The  chorion* 

K2  L, 


7<5 


MIDWIFERY. 


Etpbma-       Ir,  The  chorion  dissectetf  off  at  the  hftck  of  the  ute- 
tioB  of  tbe  1X19,  to  show  the  -head  of  the  diild  through  the  aminos. 
Phrtes.         1^^  j^^  placenU  j   the  lohulated  sorface,  or  that 
which  is  attached  to  tlie  uterus,  being  shown. 

Plate  CCCXLVII. 

Fig.  I.  Bepresents  a  well-formed  pelvis. 

Ay  A,  Tbe  ossa  ilia,  properly  so  called. 

a,  a,  The  iliac  fossae. 

A,  bf  The  linea  ionominata,  making  part  of  the  brim 
of  the  pelvis. 

Cj  c,  The  crista  of  tbe  ossa  ilia. 

f ,  e^  Their  superior  abterior  spinous  processes. 

By  B,  The  OS  ischium. 

f^/f  Its  tuberosities. 

h,  A,  Its  bratiches. 

C,  C,  The  body  of  the  os  pubis. 

t,  f ,  The  crista  pubis. 

A;,  A:,  Its  descending  branch  uniting  with  that  of  the 
ischium. 

/,  The  ^rmpbysis  pubis. 

I),  D,  The  06  sacrum. 

fn,  fn,  Its  base. 

tij  Uj  Tbe  sacro-iliac  synchondrosis. 

0,  Its  internal  surface  called  hoUow, 

p^  Its  apex  to  which  the  coccyx  is  joined. 

£,  The  coccyx. 

Fig.  2.  Represents  a  vertical  section  of  the  f^vis. 

A,  Tbe  promontory  of  the  sacrun. 

B,  The  point  of  tbe  coccyx, 
lie  distance  from  these  two  points  marks  tbe  depth 

of  tbe  pelvis  behind,  which  in  tbe  majority  of  cases  is 
six  inches. 

C,  The  spinous  process  of  the  ischium* 

D,  Tbe  tuberosity  of  tbe  ischium. 
£,  Tbe  crista  pubis,  the  distance  which  two  points 

marks  the  deptb  of  the  pelvis  at  tbe  sides,  and  is  ordi« 
narily  about  four  inches. 

F,  The  foramen  tbyroideum. 

G,  Tbe  surface  by  which  the  two  ossa  pubis  are  join* 
ed  to  form  tbe  sym^^ts  pubis,  and  by  which  junction 
die  depth  of  the  pelvis  at  the  front  is  reduced  to  about 
one  and  a  half  ineb. 

.  Fig.  3*  Bepresents  the  brim  of  a  well-formed  pelris. 

Ay  B,  Tbe  short  or  conjugate  diameter  between  pu- 
bis and  sacstim,  which  measures  commonlv  a  little  less 
than  four  inches. 

C,  D,  The  long  diameter  in  the  skeleton,  whichy 
however,  in  the  living  subject,  is  rendered  almost  as 
short  as  the  former,  in  consequence  ef  tbe  bellies  of  tbe 
psose  muscles  being  lodged  in  tbe  lower  cavity  of  tbe 
tunica  innominata. 

£,  F,  The  diagonal  diameter  in  the  skeleton,  which, 
in  fact,  is  the  long  diameter  in  tbe  living  body,  and 
measures  somewhat  less  than  five  inches. 

Fig.  4.  Bepresents  tbe  outlet  of  a  well-formed  pelviis. 

A,  B,  The  short  diameter,  extending  from  one  tu* 
berosjty  of  the  ischium  to  the  othery  and  measuring  less 
than  four  inches. 

C,  D,  Tbe  long  diameter,  extending  from  tbe  lower 
edge  of  the  symphysis  pubis  to  tb6  point  of  tbe  coccyx, 
and  measuring  nearly  five  inches. 

Fig.  5.  Represents  tbe  brim  of  a  distorted  pelvis. 

Fig.  6.  Represents  tbe  outlet  of  a  deformed  p^yis. 


Chap.  IV. 


Pkte  CCCXLVm. 


Fifir.  I.  Tbe  fceUl  heart. 


y.nJaiUp 

tieo  ofthe^ 

PUtei. 


i: 


o,  The  right  ventricle. 

&,  Tbe  right  auricle. 

c,  The  left  auricle. 

</,  Branches  of  the  pulmonary  veins  of  the  right  lobe 
of  the  lungs,  those  of  tbe  left  being  cut  off  short. 

ej  Arteries  of  the  left  lobe  of  the  lungs. 

J'y  The  vena  cava  descendens. 
r.  The  gorta  descedens. 
r.  The  trunk  of  the  arteria  pulmpnalb. 

f ,  The  ductus  arteriosus. 

Fig.  2.  Bepresents  the  first  stage  of  natural  labour, 
towards  its  termination. 

A,  The  membranes  of  tbe  ovum  distending  tbe  cer- 
vix uteri,  wbUe  the  head  of  the  child  is  just  entering 
tbe  brim  of  tbe  pelvis. 

B,  B,  Tbe  OS  uteri  nearly  dilated. 

C,  The  vagina. 

D,  Tbe  orificiom  externum. 

Fig.  3.  Represents  tbe  second  stage  of  natural  la- 
bour, when  the  bead  has  descended  into  tbe  cavity  of 
tbe  pelvis,  while  tl^  face  is  still  towards  the  sacro-iliac 
synchondrosis. 

Fig.  4.  Represents  the  second  stage  of  natural  labour, 
after  the  head  has  advanced  so  fax  that  the  face  ib  iu 
the  hollow  of  the  sacriun,  and  the  vertex  in  the  arch  of 
tbe  pubis. 

Hate  CCCXUX. 

Fig.  I.  A  view  of  a  defom^^d  pelvis  whe^  tbe  defi- 
ciency of  space  is  not  very  considen^ble. 

Fig.  2.  The  child's  skull. 

a.  The  vertex,  or  posterior  fontanelle. 

&,  The  anterior  fontanelle. 

Fig.  3.  ^ttd  4*  The  common  short  forccfs,  reduced 
to  one-fourth  ot  the  natural  size. 

Tbe  instrument,  when  of  tbe  proper  si;^,  is  to  lengtb 
I X  inches.  The  length  of  each  handle  is  four  inches 
and  a  half.  If  a  stvaight  line  be  drawn  through  tbe 
plane  surface  of  one  handle,  and  be  produced  to  the 
extremity  of  tbe  instrument  (wbi/cb  forms  tbe  axis  of 
tbe  bandies  when  both  are  joined),  the  convex  edge  of 
tbe  blade,  at  tbe  greatest  distaqce  fix>m  this  line,  is  di- 
stant I-)-  inch  'f  and  the  extreme  dist,auce  of  tbe  point 
on  tbe  opposite  edge  is  yl^hs  of  an  inch.  Wlien  both 
blades  are  joined,  their  greatest  width  b  2^  inches.  The 
right-hand  blade  has  a  hinge  between  tbe  handle  and 
blade,  by  which  it  is  easily  introduced^  while  the  pa- 
tient lies  on  tbe  left  side. 

Fig.  5.  and  6.  Views  of  Lowder^s  lever)  for  a  par- 
ticular description  of  which,  see  art.  69* 

Fig.  7.  Orme^s  perfpratQr  reduced  to  ooe-fi^uctb  the 
natural  sixf*. 

Fig.  8.  Embryotomy  forceps,  one-fourth  the  natural 


size. 


Fig.  9.  Tbe  crotchet,  one-fourth  tbe  natural  size. 

Plate  CCCLJ 

Fig.  I.  Represents  an  ordinary  sized  child  forced 
against  the  brim  of* a  deformed  pelvis. 

Fig.  2.  Represents  tbe  ehild  when  -the  £eet  had  pre- 
sented, turned  into  that  direction  \)f  wbich  ita  ^ead  is 

best 


MIDH^1■■BRY: 


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midwifery: 


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M    I    G 


Mut-iiion.  t\ic  rctUIiank  and  ssindlpiper  breed  in  this  couhtry,  and 
reside  here.  Ail  the  othej*s  absent  themselves  during 
summer. 

19.  Plovers  and  oyster-catcher.  The  long-legged 
plover  and  sanderiing  visit  ns  only  in  mrinter ;  the  dot- 
trel appears  in  spring  and  in  autumn  'y  yet,  what  is  very 
singular,  vre  do  not  find  it  breeds  in  South  Britain. 
The  oyster-catcher  lives  with  us  the  whole  year.  The 
Norfolk  plover  and  sea-lark  breed  in  England.  The 
green  plover  breeds  on  the  mountains  of  the  north  of 
England,  and  on  the  Grampian  hills. 

We  must  here  remark,  that  every  species  of  the  ge- 
nera of  curlews,  woodcocks,  sandpipers,  and  plovers, 
that  forsakes  us  in  the  spring,  retires  to  Sweden,  Po- 
land, Prussia,  Norway,  and  Lapland,  to  breed :  as  soon 
as  the  young  can  fly,  they  return  to  us  again,  because 
the  frosts  which  set  ia  early  in  those  countries  totally 
deprive  them  of  the  means  of  subsisting }  as.  the  dry- 
ness and  hardness  of  the  ground,  in  general,  during  our 
summer,  prevent  them  from  penetrating  the  earth  with 
their  bills,  in  search  of  worms,  which  are  the  natural 
food  of  these  birds.  Mr  Ekmark  speaks  thus  of  the 
retreat  of  the  whole  tribe  of  cloven- footed  water-fowl 
.  out  of  bis  country  (Sweden)  at  the  approach  of  win- 
ter y  and  Mr  Klein  gives  much  the  same  account  of 
those  of  Poland  and  Prussia. 

20.  Rath  andgallinules.  Every  species  of  these  two 
genera  continues  with  us  the  whole  year ;  the  land-rail 
excepted,  which  is  not  seen  here  in  winter.  It  likewise 
continues  in  Ireland  only  during  the  summer  months, 
when  they  are  very  numerous,  as  Mr  Smith  tells  us  in 
the  History  of  TVaterforc^^  p.  336.  Great  numbers  ap- 
pear in  Anglesea  the  latter  end  of  May  *,  it  is  sapposed 
that  they  pass  over  from  Ireland,  the  passage  between 
the  two  islands  beiug  but  small.  As  we  have  instances 
of  these  birds  lighting  on  ships  ia  the  Channel  and  the 
bay  of  Biscay,  we  may  conjecture  their  winter  quarters 
to  be  in  Spain. 

Finked-footeD  Water  Bihbs. 

31.  Phalaropes,  Visit  us  but  seldom  \  thefr  breeding 
place  is  Lapland,  and  other  arctic  regions. 

22.  Grebes.  The  great  crested  grebe,  the  black  and 
white  grebe,  and  little  grebe,  breed  with  us,  and  never 
migrate  \  the  others  visit  us  accidentally,  and  breed  in 
Lapland. 

WEB^roerED  BntDs. 

23.  AvoseU  Breed  near  Fossdike  in  Lincolnshinc, 
but  quit  their  quarters  in  winter.  They  are  then  shot 
in  different  parts  of  the  kingdom,  which  they  visit,  not 
regularly,  but  accidentally. 

24.  Auks  and  guillemots.  The  great  auk  or  pinguln 
sometimes  breeds  in  St  Kilda.  *  The  auk,  the  guillemot, 
and  puflini  inhabit  most  of  the  maritime  cliffs  of  Great 
Britain,  in  amazing  numbers,  during  summer.  The 
black  guillemot  breeds  in  the  Bass  isle,  and  in  St  Kilda, 
and  sometimes  in  Llandidno  rocks.  We^are  at  a  loss 
for  the  breeding  place  of  the  other  species  ^  neither  can 
we  be  very  certain  of  the  winter  residence  of  4iny  of 
them,  excepting  'of  the  lesser  guillemot  and  black-billed 
auk,  which,  during  winter,  visit  in  vast  flocks  the  frith 
of  Forth. 

25.  Divers.  These  chiefly  breed  in  the  lakes  df 
Sweden  and  Lapland,  and  in  some  countries  near  the 

2 


pole ;  bat  some  of  the  red-throtfted  divers,  the  nortliera  AU^^rttioa 
and  the  imber,  may  breed  in  the  north  of  Scotland  and 
its  isles. 

26.  Terns,  Every  spiectes  breeds  here  \  hot  leaves 
as  in  the  winter. 

27.  Petrels*  The  fulmar  breeds  in  the  isle  of  Si 
Kilda,  and  continues  there  the  whole  year  extept  Sep- 
tember and  part  of  October ;  the  shearwater  visits  the 
is4^  of  Man  in  April;  breeds  there  ;•  and,  leaving  it  in 
An^rust  or  the  beginning  of  September,  disperses  over 
all  parts  of  the  Atlantic  ocean.  The  stomfinch  is 
seen  at  all  distances  from  land  on  the  same  vast  watesy 
tract;  nor  is  ever  found  near  the  shore  except  by  flome 
very  rare  accident,  unless  in  the  breeding  season.  Mr 
Pennant  found  it  on  some  little  rocky  isles  off  the  north 
of  Skye.  It  also  breeds  in  St  KUda.  He  also  suspects 
that  it  nestles  on  the  Blasquet  isles  off  Kerry,  and  that 
it  is  tbe  gourder  of  Mr  Smith. 

28.  Mergansers^  This  whole  genus  is  ntientioned 
among  the  birds  that  iHl  the  Laplattd  lakes  during  sum« 
roer.  Mr  Pennant  has«ten  the  vonng  of  the  red-breast- 
ed in  the  north  of  Scotland :  a  few  of  these,  and  perhaps 
of  the  ffoosanders^  may  breed  there. 

29.  Ducks.  Of  the  numerous  species  that  form  this 
genus,  we  know  of  i^w  that  breed  here :  The  swan  and 
goNise,  the  shield  duck,  the  eider  duck,  a  few  shovelers, 
garganies,  and  teals,  .And  a  very  smsJl  portion  of  the 
wild  ducks. 

The  rest  contribute  ^0  form  that  amazing  Inniti* 
tode  of  water-fowl  that  annually  re^ir  from  most  parts 
of  Europe  to  the  woods  and  lakes  of  Lapland  and 
other  arctic  regions,  there  to  perform  the  functions  of 
incubation  and-  nutrition  in  full  security.  -They  and 
their  young  quit  their  retreat  in  September,  and  dis- 
perse themselves  over  Europe.  With  us  they  make 
their  appearance  the  beginning  of  Oetober ;  circulate 
first  round  our  shores  ;  and^  when  compelled  by  severe 
frost,  betake  themselves  to  our  lakes  and  rivers.  Of 
the  web-fobted  fowl  there  are  some  of  harJier  consti- 
tutions than"  others :  these  endure  the  ordifaary  winters 
4>f  the  more  northern  countries ;  but  When  the  cold 
reigns  there  with  more  than  common  rigour,  they  repair 
for  shelter  to  these  kingdoms :  this  regulates  tbe  ap- 
pearance of  some  of  the  dtvef  kihd,  as  afeo  of  the  wild 
swans,  the  swallow-tailed  shield  duck,  and  the  difierent 

'.sorts  of  goosanders  which  then  visit  our  coasts.  Barenta 
Ibund  the  Barnacles  whh  their  nests  in  great  numbers 
in  Nova  Zembla.  (Collect.  Voy.  Dutch  East'India 
Company^  8vo,  1703,  p.  19.).  Clusius,  in  his  Exot.  368. 
also  observes,  that  the  Duteh  di8co%'ered  them  on  the 
rocks  of  that  country  and  in  Waygale  straits.     They, 

.  as  well  as  the  other  species  of  wild  geese,  go  very  far 
north  to  breed,  as  appears  from  the  histories  of  Green- 
land and  Spitzbergen,  by  Egede  and  Crantz.  These 
birds  seem  to  make  Iceland  a  resting  place,  as  Uorre- 
bow  observes :  few  continue  there  to  breed,  hut  only 
visit  that  island  in  the  spring,  and  af^er  a  short  stay  re- 
tire still  further  north. 

30.  Corvorants.  The  corvorant  and  <shag  breed  on 
most  of  our  high  rocks :  the  gannet  in  some  of  the 
Scotch  isles  and  on  the  coast  of  Kerry  :  the  -two  first 

.  continue  on  our  shores  the  whole  year.  The  gnnnet 
disperses  itself  all  round  the  seas  of  Great  Britain,  in 
pursuit  of  the  herring  and  pilchard,  and  even  at  far  as 
the  Tagus  to  prey  on  the  sai:dina. 

But 


Sf^»ntioii- 

Few  breed 
in  Uiis 
conntiy. 


M    I    G  [8 

But  of  the  numerous  ppecies  of  fowl  here  enomerat- 
edy  it  may  be  ohserved  how  very  few  iDtrust  them- 
selves to  u8  in  the  breeding  season,  and  what  a  distant 
flight  they  make  to  perform  the  first  great  dictate  of  na- 
ture. 

There  seems  to  be  scarcely  any  but  what  we  have 
traced  to  Lapland,  a  country  of  lakes,  rivers,  swamps, 
and  alps,  covered  vritb  thick  and  gloomy  forests,  that 
afford  shelter  during  summer  to  these  fowls,  which  in 
innter  disperse  over  the  greatest  part  of  Europe.  In 
those  arctic  regions,  by  reason  of  the  thickness  of  the 
woods,  the  ground  remains  moist  and  penetrable  to  the 
woodcocks,  and  other  slender-billed  fowl :  and  for  the 
web-footed  birds,  the  waters  affi>rd  larvae  innumerable 
of  the  tormenting  gnat.  The  days  there  are  long  j  and 
the  beautiful  meteorous  nights  indulge  them  with  every 
opportunity  of  collecting  so  niinnte  a  food :  whilst  man- 
kind is  very  sparingly  scattered  over  that  vast  northern 
waste. 

Why  then  should  Linnaeus,  the  great  ez^orer  of 
these  fiide  deserts,  be  amazed  at  the  myriads  of  water- 
fowl that  migrated  with  him  out  of  Lapland  ?  which 
exceeded  in  multitude  the  army  of  Xerxes  ^  covering, 
for  eight  whole  days  and  nights,  the  surface  of  the  liver 
Calix !  His  partuil  observation  as  a  botanist,  would 
confine  their  food  to  the  vegetable  kingdom,  almost 
denied  to  the  Lapland  waters  -,  inattentive  to  a  more 
plenteous  table  of  insect  food,  which  the  all-bountiful 
Creator  had  spread  fi>r  them  in  the  wilderness.  It  may 
be  remarked,  that  the  lakes  of  mountainous  rocky 
countries  in  general  are  destitute  of  plants :  few  or 
none  are  seen  on  those  of  Switzerland  j  and  Linnseus 
makes  the  same  observation  in  respect  to  those  of  Lap- 
land I  having,  during  his  whole  tour,  discovered  only 
a  single  specimen  of  a  kptma  triscuka^  or  *'  ivy-leaved 
dock's  meat,'*  Fhra  Lap,  N^  470. ;  a  few  of  the  «nr- 
pus  laeuitrisj  or  '*  bulrush,''  N^  \%^\  the  aiopecurw 
genkulatus^  or  '*  flote  foxUil-grass,"  N*  38.  \  and  the 
nmsHMtc/ttf  aquatiiis^  N^  234.  ^  which  are  all  he  enu- 
merates in  his  Prolegomena  to  that  excelleot  perfi>rm- 
ance. 

We  shall  afterwards  state  the  principal  arguments  for 
Haimt  ni-uid  against  the  migration  of  swallows  ^  but  here  we 
P*^'^'^  shall  nye  a  short  abstract  of  the  arguments  used  by  the 
Hon.  Daines  Barrington  against  the  migration  of  birds 
in  general,  from  a  paper  published  by  him  in  the  62d 
vdume  of  the  Philosophical  Transactions.  This  gen* 
tieman  denies  that  any  well-attested  instances  can  be 
produced  of  this  supposed  migration ;  which,  he  thinks, 
if  there  were.any  such  periodical  flight,  could  not  possi- 
bly have  escaped  the  frequent  observation  of  seamen. 
It  has  indeed  been  asserted  that  birds  of  passage  become 
invisible  in  their  flight,  because  they  rise  too  high  in  the 
air  to  be  perceived,  and  because  they  choose  tb«;  night 
for  their  passage.  The  author,  however,  expresses  his 
doubts  **  whether  any  bird  was  ever  seen  to  rise  to  a 
greater  height  than  perhaps  twice  that  of  8t  Paul's 
«ro6S  ^"  and  he  fiirther  endeavours  to  show,  that  the 
extent  of  some  of  these  supposed  migrations  (from  the 
northern  parts  of  Europe,  for  instance,  to  the  line)  is 
too  great  to  be  accounted  for,  by  having  recourse  to  the 
mraument  founded  on  a  nocturnal  passage. 

The  author  next  recites,  in  a  chronological  order, 
all  the  instances  that  he  has  been  able  to  collect,  of 
t>irds  having  been  actually  seen  by  mariners  when  they 

Vol.  XrV.  Part  L  + 


I     ]  M    I    G 

were  crossing  a  large  extent  of  sea ;  and  he  endeavours  Migndoa. 
to  show  that  no  stress  can  be  laid  on  the  few  casual  ^       ^       * 
observations  of  this  kind  that  have  been  produ^d  in 
rapport  of  the  doctrine  of  a  regular  and  periodiad  mi- 
gration. 

Mr  Barrington  afterwards  proceeds  to  invalidate  M. 
Adanson's  celebrated  observation  with  reepect  to.  the 
migration  of  the  swallow  in  particular,  and  which  has 
been  considered  by  many  as  perfectly  decisive  of  the 
present  question.     He  endeavours  to  show  that  the  four 
swallows  which  that  naturalist  caught,  on  their  settling 
upon  his  ship,  on  the  6th  of  October,  at  about  the  dis- 
tance of  50  leagues  from  the  coast  of  Senegal,  and 
which  he  supposes  to  have  been  then  proceeding  from 
Europe  to  pass  the  winter  in  Afiica,  could  not  be  true 
Europeau  swallows  j  or,  if  they  were,  could  not  have 
been  on  their  return  from  Europe  to  Africa.     His  ob- 
jections are  founded  principally  on  some  proofs  which 
he  produces  of  M.  Adanson's  want  of  accuracy  on  this 
subject,  which  has  led  him,  in  the  present  instance,  to 
mistake  two  Afiican  species  of  the  swallow  tribe,  de- 
scribed and  engraved  by  Brisson,  far  European  swallows, 
to  which  they  bear  a  general  resemblance }  or  grant- 
ing even  that  they  were  European  swallows,  he  con- 
tends that  they  were  flitting  from  the  Cape  de  Verd 
islands  to  the  coast  of  Africa  j  **  to  which  short  flight, 
however,  they  were  unequal,  and  accordingly  fell  into*  KtOm-al. 
the  sailors  hands."*— We  shall  here  only  add,  in  oppo-Hufory  of 
sition  to  the  remarks  of  Mr  Barrington,  the  following ^'^^'T*^* 
observations  of  the  Rev.  Mr  White*  in  a  letter  to  Mr^J^"* 
Pennant  on  this  subject.  5' 

^  We  must  not  (says  he)  deny  migration  in  general }  rlrgamenu 
because  migration  certainly  does  subsist  in  some  places,  >>^  support 
as  my  brother  in  Andalusia  has  fully  informed  me.  Of°^^^' 
the  motions  of  these  birds  he  has  ocular  demonstration, 
for  many  weeks  together,  both  spring  and  fall :  during 
which  periods  myriads  of  the  swallow  kind  traverse  the 
Straits  from  north  to  soudi,  and  from  south  to  north, 
according  to  the  season.  And  these  vast  migrations 
consist  not  only  of  hirundines,  but  of  bee-birds,  hoo- 
poes, oro  pendolos  or  golden  thrushes,  &c.  &c.  and 
also  of  many  of  our  soft-billed  summer  birds  of  passage  j 
and  moreover  of  birds  which  never  leave  us,  such  as  all 
the  various  sorts  of  hawks  and  kites.  Old  Belon,  200 
years  ago,  g^ves  a  curious  account  of  the  incredible 
armies  of  hawks  and  kites  which  he  saw  in  the  spring 
time  traversing  the  Thracian  Bosphorus  firom  Asia  to 
Europe.  Besides  the  above  mentioned,  he  remarks 
that  the  procesrion  is  dwelled  by  whole  troops  of  eagles 
knd  vultures.  « 

'*  Now  it  is  no  wonder  that  birds  residing  in  Africa 
should  retreat  before  the  ran  as  it  advances,  and  retira 
to  milder  regions,  and  especially  birds  of  prey,  whose 
blood  being  heated  with  hot  animal  fi)od,  are  more  im- 
patient of  a  sultry  climata :  but  then  I  cannot  help 
wondering  why  kites  and  hawks,  and  such  hardy  birds 
as  are  known  to  defy  all  the  severity  of  England,  and 
even  of  Sweden  and  all  northern  Europe,  should  want  to 
migrate  from  the  south  of  Europe,  and  be  dissatisfied 
with  the  winters  of  Andalusia. 

**  It  does  not  appear  to  me  that  much  stress  may  be 
laid  on  the  difliculty  and  hazard  that  birds  must  run  in 
their  migrations,  by  reason  of  vast  oceans,  cross  winds,  • 
&c.  \  because,  if  we  reflect,  a  bird  may  travel  from 
England  to  the  equator  withont  launching  out  and  ex- 

L  posiug 


M    I    G  [83 

Migntioii.  posing  iUelf  (0  boandlem  bms  j  and  tbat  by  crossing  th^ 
water  at  Dover  and  agaia  at  Gibraltar.  And  I  with 
the  more  confidence  advance  this  ohrions  remark,  be- 
cause my  brother  has  always  found  that  some  of  his 
birds,  and  particularly  the  swallow  kind,  are  very  sjia- 
itng  of  their  pains  io  crossing  the  J^editerranean :  for 
when  arrived  aSt  Gibraltar,  they  do  not, 


-**  rang*d  in  figare,  wedge  their  way, 
— — **  and  set  forth 


•« 


« 


]  M    I'  G 

third  have  been  strongly  defended  by  the  hoDOorable  Mlgrttioa 
Daines  Barrington.  ^  ^ 

Though  we  cannot  help  giving  a  preference  to  that 
opinion  which  appears  the  most  probable,  yet  we  do  not 
think  that  any  one  of  them  is  established  upon  soch  evi- 
dence as  so  curious  a  subject  requires^  and  as  the  advan- 
ced state  of  natural  history  would  lead  us  to  expect 
We  shall  therefiore  state  the  arguments  upon  which  each 
opinion  is  founded  as  fairly  and  distinctly  as  we  can, 
and  as  often  as  possible  in  the  very  words  of  their  re^ 
spective  advocates.  By  doing  so,  we  shall  place  the 
whole  subject  before  the  eyes  of  our  readers,  who  will 
thus  have  an  opportunity  of  examining  it  attentively, 
and  of  making  such  observations  and  experiments  as  may 
lead  to  the  truth*  g 

Those  who  assert  that  the  swallow  migrates  to  a  war*  Rnt  opi- 
mer  country  in  winter,  argue  in  this  madncr:  Thatnwn>tfttc< 
many  birds  migrate,  is  a  fact  fully  proved  by  the  obser-^'  ^ 
vations  of  natural  historians.     Is  it  not  more  probable,  ^^^^ 
therefore,   tliat  swallows,  which  disappear  regularly  mates, 
every  season,  retire  to  some  other  country,  than  that 
they  He  in  a  state  of  torpor  in  caverns  or  lakes  f  But 
this  opinion  does  not  rest  on  probability,  it  is  founded 
on  facts. 

We  often  see  them  collected  in  great  flocks  on  chur- 
ches, rocks,  and  trees,  about  the  time  when  they  an- 


Their  airy  caravan  high  over  seas 
Flying,  and  over  lands  with  mutual  wing 
**  Easing  their  flight"—  MiLTOK. 

but  scout  and  hurry  along  in  little  detached  parties  of 
six  or  seven  in  a  company  (  and  sweeping  low,  just  over 
the  surface  of  the  land  and  water,  direct  their  course  to 
the  opposite  continent  at  the  narrowest  passage  they  can 
find.  They  usually  slope  across  the  bay  to  Uie  south- 
west, and  so  pass  over  opposite  to  Tangier,  which  it 
seems  is  the  narrowest  space. 

**  In  former  letters  we  have  considered  whether  it 
was  probable  that  woodcocks  in  moon-shiny  nights 
mross  the  German  ocean  from  Scandinavia*  As  a  proof 
that  birds  of  less  speed  may  pass  that  sea,  considerable 
as  it  is,  I  shall  relate  the  feliowing  incident,  which, 
though  mentioned   to  have  happened  so  many  years 

ago,  was  strictly  matter  of  fact :— As  some  people^    sually  disappear.  The  direction  of  their  flight  has'been 
were  shootil^  in  the  parish  of  Trotton,  in  the  cxmnty     observed  to  be  southward.     Mr  White,  the  ingenious ^9^*'*' 
of  Sussex,  they  killed  a  duck  in  that  dreadful  _winter     historian  of  Selbome,  travelling  near  the  coast  of  ^^£2/ 

BritiBh  Channel  one  morning  early,  saw  a  flock  of.  ^.    ' 


1708-9,  with  a  silver  collar  about  its  neck  (I  have 
read  a  like  anecdote  of  a  swan),  on  which  were  en- 
graven the  arms  of  the  king  of  Denmark.  This  anec- 
dote the  rector  ^f  Trotton  at  that  time  has  often  told 
to  a  near  relation  of  mine  }  and,  to  the  best  of  my  re- 
membrance, the  collar  was  in  the  possession  of  the  rec* 
tor. 

'*  At  present  I  do  not  know  any  body  near  the  sea 
s^^de  that  will  take  the  trouble  to  remark  at  what  time 
ci  the  moon  woodcocks  first  come.  One  thing  I  used 
to  observe  when  I  was  a  sportsman,  that  there  were 
times  in  which  woodcocks  were  so  sluggish  and  sleepy 
that  they  would  drop  again  when  flushed  just  before 
the  spaniels,  nay,  just  at  the  muzxle  of  a  gun  that  had 
been  fired  at  them :  whether  this  strange  laziness  was 
the  effect  of  a  recent  fatiguing  journey,  I- shall  not  pre- 
sume to  eay. 

*'  Nightingales  not  only  never  reach  Northumber^ 
land  and  Scotland,  but  also,  as  I  h»ve  been  always  told, 
Devonshire  and  Cornwall.  In  those  two  last  counties 
we  cannot  attribute  the  failure  of  them  to  the  want  of 
warmth  :  the  defect  in  the  west  is  rather  a  presumptive 
argument  that  these  birds  come  oyer  to  us  from  the 
continent  at  the  narrowest  passage,  and  do  not  stroll  so 
&r  westward." 

Upon  the  subject  of  the  migration  of  the  swallow 
iiiei«  are  three  opinions.  Some  say  that  it  migrates  to 
vTaHows  in*^  warmer  climate ;  some,  that  it  retires  to  hollow  trees 
^namt?  and  caverns^  where  it  lies  in  a  torpid  state  'y  and  others 
have  aflirmed,  that  it  lies  in  the  same  state  in  the  bot- 
tom of  lakes  and  under  the  ice.  The  first  opinion  is 
•npported  by  Marsigli,  Ray,  Wil  lough  by,  Catesby, 
Beaumur,  Adaason,  Buffon,  occ.  The  first  and  second 
opinion  are  both  adopted  by  Pennant  and  White.  The 
third  is  sanctioned  by  Schseffer,  Hevelias,  Derham, 
lEUeia,  Ettisy  Liaasrns,  Kahn :  and  the  sacnad  and 


llaci^ian, 
Wbat  be- 
ar 


swallows  take  their  departure.  At  the  beginning  of  his 
journey  he  was  environed  with  a  thick  fog  y  but  on  a 
large  wild  beatb  the  mist  began  to  break,  and  discover- 
ed to  him  numberless  swallows,  clustered  00  the  stand*> 
ing  bnshes,  as  if  they  had  roosted  there :  as  soon  as  the 
sun  burst  out,  they  were  instantly  on  wing,  and  with  an 
easy  and  placid  flight  proceeded  towards  the  sea.  After 
this  he  saw  no  more  flodLs,  only  now  and  then  a  straggler. 

Mr  Laskey  of  Exeter  observed  attentively  the  direc- 
tion which  a  flock  of  swallows  took  in  the  autumn  of 
1793.  On  the  22d  of  Sept.  about  seven  oVlock  in  the 
morning,  the  wind  being  easterly,  accompanied  with  a 
cold  drizzling  rain,  Mr  Laskey 's  house  was  entirely 
covered  with  house-swallows.  At  intervals  large  flocks 
arrived  and  joined  the  main  body,  and  at  their  ar- 
rival an  unusual  chirping  commenced.  The  appear- 
ance of  the  whole  company  was  so  lethargic,  that  he 
found  it  an  easy  matter  to  catch  a  considerable  aomberGmt  Mac- 
of  them,  which  he  kept  in  a  room  all  that  day.  ~  By/'*'  '79^ 
heating  the  room  they  all  revived  :  he  opened  Your  of 
them,  and  found  their  stomachs  quite  full.  The  maia 
body  occupied  the  house  top  all  day,  except  for  two 
haurs.  About  half  an  hour  after  nine  ia  the  morning 
of  the  23d,  there  was  a  great  commotion,  with  very 
loud  chirping,  and  witliin  a  few  minutes  after,  the 
whole  multitude  took  their  flight,  in  a  direct  south-east 
dirtction,  having  ascended  to  a  great  height  in  the  at- 
mosphere. He  let  go  the  birds  which  he  had  caught, 
at  certain  intervals  till  four  oVlock,  aud  they  aU  flew 
toward  the  same  quarter. 

Not  only  has  the  direction  of  their  flight  been  obser- 
ved, but  they  have  also  been  found  on  their  passage  at 
a  great  distance  from  land.  Mr  Adauboo  informs  us, 
that  about  50  leagues  from  the  coast  of  Senegal  four 
•waUovs  settled  upon  the  ship  on  the  6lh  of  October  ; 

that 


M'  I    G 


i 


Sf^tioB  tlMit  Uiese  birds  were  taken  ^  tnd  that  1m  knew  them  to 
u  ^  t  be  European  swallows,  which,  he  eonjectiues,  were 
retaining  to  the  coast  of  Africa*    Sir  Charles  Wiiger's 


▼•Lliil 


XUa*t 


pkibmpki-  anthonty  may  also  be  appealed  to  :  **  Rettumtng  home 
tai  Trvu-  (says  be)  in  the  spring  of  the  year,  as  I  came  into 
sonndingB  in  our  channel,  a  great  fleck  of  swallows 
came  and  settled  on  all  my  rigging }  everjr  ro|w  was 
covered,  they  bong  on  one  another  like  a  swarm  of 
bees }  the  decks  and  carving  were  filled  witb  tbera. 
Tbey  seemed  almost  famished  and  spent,  and  were  only 
featbers  and  bones  j  but,  being  recruited  with  a  night's 
rest,  took  their  flight  in  the  morning.**  This  vast  h^ 
tigcie  proves  that  their  journey  most  have  been  very  great, 
considering  the  amazing  swiftness  of  these  birds :  in  all 
probability  they  bad  crossed  the  Atlantic  ocean,  and 
vrere  returning  from  the  shor^  of  Senegal,  or  other  parts 
of  Africa ;  so  that  this  acconnt  from  that  most  able  and 
iionest  seaman,  oonflrms  the  later  information  of  Mr 
Adanson. 

Mr  Kahtt,  who  is  an  advocate  fot  the  opinion  that 
swallows  lie  immersed  in  lakes  during  winter,  acknow- 
ledges that  in  crossing  the  Atlantic  from  Europe  a 
swallow  lighted  on  the  ship  on  the  2d  September,  when 
k  bad  passed  only  tw^thirds  of  the  ocean.  Since, 
therefore,  swallows  have  been  seen  assembled  in  great 
*'''  **  ^^' flocks  in  autumn  flying  off  in  company  towards  southern 
dimes,  since  tbey  have  been  found  both  in  their  passage 
from  Europe  and  returning  again,  ean  there  be  anv 
doubt  of  their  annual  migration  ?—Mr  Barrington's 
objections  to  this  opinion  have  been  noticed  above  in 

Sccoad  opU     T^e  second  notion  (says  Mr  Pennant)  has  great  anti- 
***"*  1^*^  qaity  on  its  side.     Aristotle  and  Pliny  give  it  as  their 
^ttJtmit  belief,  that  swallows  do  not  remove  very  far  from  their 
in  a  torpid  ftummer  habitation,  but  winter  in  the  hollows  of  rocks, 
ttatc         and  during  that  time  lose  their  feathers.     The  former 
part  of  their  opinion  has  been  adopted  by  several  inge- 
nious men ;  and  of  late  several  prools  have  been  brought 
of  some  species,  at  least,  having  been  discovered  in  a 
Pmnaafs   torpid  state.  '  Mr  G>llinson  favoured  ns  with  the  evi- 
dence of  three  gentlemen,  eye-witnesses  to  numbers  of 
sand  martins  being  drawn  out  of  a  cliff  on  the  Rhine, 
in  the  month  of  March  1762.     And  the  honourable 
I>aines  Barrington  communicated  to  us  the  following 
fiictf,  on  the  aunority  of  Lord  Belbaven,  That  numbers 
of  swallows  have  been  found  in  old  dry  walls  and  in 
sand-bills  near  bis  Lordship's  seat  in  East  Lothian  ^  not 
once  only,  but  ftt)m  year  to  year ;  and  that  when  tbey 
were  exposed  to  the  wantitb  of  a  fire,  they  revived. 
We  have  also  heard  of  the  same  annual  discoveries  near 
Morpeth  in  Northumberland,  but  cannot  speak  of  tbem 
witb  the  Same  assurance  as  the  two  former :  neither  in 
the  two  last  instances  are  we  certain  of  the  particular 
species. 

''  Other  witnesses  crowd  on  ns  to  prove  the  residence 
of  those  birds  in  a  torpid  state  during  the  severe  season, 
fust,  in  tfie  chalky  cliffs  of  Sussex  \  as  was  seen  on  the 
fall  of  a  great  fragment  some  years  ago.  Secondly,  In 
a  decayeil  hollow  tree  that  was  cut  down,  near  Dolgel- 
li,  in  Merionethshire.  Thirdly,  In  a  cliff  near  Whitby, 
Yorkshire  ^  where,  on  digging  out  a  fox,  whole  bushels 
of  swallows  were  found  in  a  torpid  condition.  And, 
Isstly,  The  reverend  Mr  Conway  of  Sychton,  Flint- 
shire, was  so  obliging  as  to  communicate  the  following 
fact :  A  fiiw  years  ago,  on  looking  down  an  old  lead- 


Brituh 
Zoology, 
ToL  jL 


83    3  M    I    G 

niine  in  tbat  county,  be  obeerved  numbers  of  swallows  Migtatioa. 

clinging  to  the  timbers  of  tbe  shafit,  seemingly  asleep ; 

and  on  flinging  some  gravel  on  tbem«  they  just  moved, 

but  never  attempted  to  fly  or  change  their  place :  tbis 

was  between  All  Saints  and  Christmas.  ' 

**  These  are  doubtless  tbe  lurking  places  of  the  later 
hatches,  or  of  those  young  birds  which  are  incapable  of 
distant  migrations,  lliere  they  continue  insensible  and 
rigid  ;  but  like  flies  may  sometimes  be  reanimated  by 
an  unseasonable  hot  day  in  the  midst  of  winter :  for  very 
4iear  Christmas  a  few  appeared  on  the  moulding  of  a 
window  of  Merton  college,  Oxford,  in  a  remarkably 
warm  nook,  which  prematurely  set  their  blood  in  mo- 
tion, having  the  same  effect  as  laying  them  before  a 
fir^  at  the  same  time  of  year.  Others  have  been  known 
to  make  this  premature  appearance }  but  as  soon  as  the 
eold  natural  to  tbe  season  returns,  they  withdraw  again 
to  their  former  retreats. 

**  The  above  are  circumstances  we  cannot  but  assent 
to,  though  seemingly  contradictory  to  the  common  course 
of  nature  in  regard  to  other  birds.  We  must,  therefore, 
divide  our  belief  relating  to  these  two  so  diflerent  opi- 
nions 'y  and  conclude,  that  one  part  of  the  swallow  tribe 
migrate,'  and  that  others  have  their  winter  quarters 
near  home,  if  it  should  be  demanded,  why  swallows 
alone  are  found  in  a  torpid  state,  and  not  the  other 
many  species  of  soft-billed  birds,  which  likewise  dis- 
appear about  the  same  time  ?  reasons  might  be  assign- 

The  third  opinion  we  shall  state  and  support  in  theThiid  opi- 
words  of  Mr  Kalm.  ^  Natural  history  (says  heX  asnioBf  that 
all  other  histories,  depends  not  always  upon  the  intrin-f^"^jj|^ 
sic  degree  of  probability,  but  npon  facts  founded  on  tbe^^^^i^^^ 
testimony. of  people  of  noted  veracity.— 'Swallows  are 
seldom  seen  sinking  down  into  water ;  swallows  have 
not  such  organs  as  frogs  or  lizards,  which  are  torpid 
during  winter^  ^^H^y  swallows  livQ  not,  and  cannot 
live,  under  water.-— This  way  of  arguing,  I  believe^ 
would  carry  us,  in  a  great  many  cases,  too  far :  for 
though  it  is  not  clear  to  every  one,  it  may  however  be 
true  'f  and  lizards  and  frogs  are  animals  of  a  class  widely 
different  from  that  of  birds,  and  roust  therefore  of  course 
have  a  different  structnre ;  hence  it  is  they  are  classed 
separately.  The  bear  and  marmot  are  in  winter  in  a 
torpid  state,  and  have,  however,  not  such  organs  as 
lizards  and  frogs  ^  And  nobody  doubts  of  their  being, 
during  some  time,  in  the  most  rigid  climates,  in  a  tor- 
nid  state :  for  the  Alpine  nations  hunt  the  marmots 
frequently  by  digging  their  holes  op  \  and  find  them  so 
torpid,  tbat  they  cut  their  throats,  without  their  reviv- 
ing or  giving  the  least  sign  of  life  during  the  operation^ 
but  when  the  torpid  malmot  is  bronght  into  a  warn 
room,  and  placed  before  the  fire,  it  revives  firom  its 
lethargy.  The  question  most  therefore  be  decided  by 
facts  y  nor  are  these  wanting  here.  Dr  Wallerius,  the 
celebrated  Swedish  chemist,  informs  us,  Tbat  he  has  ' 

more  than  once,  swallows  assembling  on  a  reed^ 


seen, 


till  they  were  all  immersed  and. went  to  the  bottom  |r 
this  being  preceded  by  a  dii^  of  a  quarter  <^  an  hour's 
length.  He  attests  likewise,  tbat  be  had  seen  a  swallow 
caught  during  winter  oot'of  a  lake  with  a  net,  drawn^ 
as  is  common  in  northern  countries,  under  the  ice;  this 
bird  was  brought  into  a  warm  room,  revived,  fluttered 
about,  and  soon  af^er  died. 

''  Mr  Klein  applied  to  many  farmers-general  of  tbe 

L  2  king 


1 


M    I    G  [84 

MtgimtiM.  king  of  Prnttim^s  domains,  who  had  great  Imkos  in  tbeir 
dittricts,  the  fishery  in  them  being  a  part  of  the  rerenue. 
In  winter  the  fishery  thereon  is  the  most  considerable 
under  the  ice,  trith  nets  spreading  more  than  200  or 
300  fathoms,  and  they  are  often  woand  by  screws  and 
engines  on  account  of  their  weight*  AU  the  people 
that  were  questioned  made  affidavits  upon  Oath  before 
the  magistrates.  First,  The  mother  of  the  countess 
Lehndorf  said,  that  she  had  seen  a  bundle  of  swallows 
brought  from  the  Frishe-Haff  (a  lake  communicating 
with  the  Baltic  at  Pillaw),  which,  when  brought  into 
a  moderately  warm  room,  revived  and  fluttered  about* 
Secondly,  Count  Schileben  gave  an  instrument  on 
btamped  paper,  importing,  that  by  fishing  on  the  lake 
belonging  to  his  estate  ofGerdauen  in  winter,  he  saw 
several  swallows  canght  in  the  net,  one  of  which  he 
took  up  in  his  hand,  brought  it  into  a  warm  room, 
where  it  lay  about  an  hour,  when  it  began  to  stir,  and 
half  an  hour  after,  it  flew  about  in  the  room.  Thirdly, 
Farmer-general  (Amtman)  Witkouski  made  affidavit, 
that,  in  the  year  1740,  three  swallows  were  brought 
up  with  the  net  in  the  great  pond  at  Didlacken  j  in  the 
year  1741,  he  got  two  swsllows  from  another  part  of 
the  pond,  and  took  them  home  (they  being  all  canght 
in  his  presence)  j  after  an  hour's  space  they  revived 
all  in  a  warm  room,  fluttered  about,  and  died  in  three 
hours  after.  Fourthly,  Amtman  Bonke  sajs,  that 
having  had  the  estate  of  Kleskow  in  farm,  he  had  seen 
nine  swallows  brought  up  in  the  net  from  under  the  ice, 
all  whidi  he  took  into  a  warm  room,  where  he  distinct- 
ly observed  how  they  gradually  revived ;  but  a  few 
hours  after  they  all  died.  Another  time  his  people  got 
likewise  some  swallows  in  a  net,  but  he  ordered  them 
to  be  again  thrown  into  the  water.  Fifthly,  Andrew 
Rntta,  a  master  fisherman  at  Oletsko,  made  affidavit, 
in  1747,  that  2%  years  ago,  two  swallows  wero  taken 
up  by  him  in  a  net,  under  the  ice,  and,  being  brought 
into  a  warm  room,  they  flew  about.  Sixthly,  Jacob 
Kostulo,  a  master  fisherman  at  Stradauen  made  affidavit, 
that,  in  1 7^6,  he  brought  up  in  winter,  in  a  net,  from 
under  the  ice  of  the  lake  at  Raski,  a  seemingly  dead 
swallow,  which  revived  in  half  an  hour's  time  in  a 
warm  room;  and  he  saw,  in  a  quarter  of  an  boor  after, 
the  bird  grow  weaker,  and  soon  after  dying.  Seventh- 
}y,  I  can  reckon  myself  (says  our  author)  amons  the 
eye-witnesses  of  this  paradox  of  natural  history.  In  the 
year  I735f  being  a  little  boy,  I  saw  several  swallows 
brought  in  winter  by  the  nshermen  from  the  river 
Vistula  to  my  father's  house  \  where  two  of  them  were 
brought  into  a  warm  room,  revived,  and  flew  about.  I 
saw  them  several  times  settling  on  the  warm  stove 
(which  the  northern  nations  have  in  their  rooms))  and 
I  recollect  well,  that  the  same  forenoon  they  died,  and 
1  had  them,  when  dead,  in  my  hand.  In  the  year 
1754,  after  the  death  of  my  uncle  Godefiroy  TVolf, 
captain  in  the  Polish  regiment  of  foot  guards,  being 
myself  one  of  his  heirs,  I  administered  for  my  co-heirs 
sevend  estates  called  the  StaroityrfDischoH^  in  Polish 
Prossia,  which  my  late  uncle  farmed  under  the  king. 
In  Jaooary,  the  lake  of  Lybohaw,  belon&inff  to  these 
estates,  bean^  covered  with  iot,  I  ordered  the  fishermen 
lo  itk  tbcrem,  and  in  my  preseaee  several  swallows 
were  taken,  which  the  fisbenen  threw  in  apin;  but 
one  I  took  up  myself,  brought  il  home,  which  was  five 

1 


]  M    I    G 

miles  firom  thence,  i^d  it  revived,  but  died  about  «a  Mlgntis^ 
hour  afier  its  reviving. 

**  These  are  facts  attested  by  people  of  the  highest 
quality,  Inr  some  in  public  offices,  and  by  others  who, 
though  of  a  low  rank,  however,  made  these  affidavits 
upon  oath.  It  is  impossible  to  suppose  indiscriramately 
that  they  were  prompted,  by  views  of  interest,  to  assert 
as  a  fact  a  thing  which  had  no  troth  in  it.  It  is  there- 
fore highly  probable,  or  rather  incontestably  trae,  that 
swallows  retire  in  the  northern  countries,  during  winter, 
into  the  water,  and  stay  there  in  a  torpid  state  till  the 
return  of  warmth  revives  them  again  in  spring.  The 
question  therefore,  I  believe,  ought  for  the  future  to 
be  thus  stated  :  The  swallows  in  Spain,  Italy,  France, 
and  periiaps  some  from  England,  remove  to  warmer 
climates  \  some  English  ones,  and  some  in  Germany 
and  other  mild  countries,  retire  into  clefts  and  holes  in 
rocks,  and  remain  there  in  a  torpid  state.  In  the  cold- 
er northern  countries  the  swallows  immerse  in  the  sea, 
in  lakes,  and  rivers  ^  and  remain  in  a  torpid  state, 
under  ice,  during  winter.  There  are  still  some  objec- 
tions to  this  latter  assertion,  which  we  must  remove. 
It  is  said,  Why  do  not  rapacious  fish,  and  aquatic  qua- 
drapeds  and  birds,  devour  these  swallows  ?  The  answer 
is  obvious,  swallows  choose  only  such  places  in  the 
water  for  their  winter  retreat  as  are  near  reeds  and 
rushes  \  so  that  sinking  dowa  there  between  them  and 
their  roots,  they  are  by  them  secured  against  the  rapa* 
dousness  of  their  enemies.  But  others  object,  "Why  are 
not  these  birds  caught  in  such  fresh  watera  as  are  ami* 
tinually  harassed  by  nets  P  I  believe  the  same  answer 
which  has  been  made  to  the  first  objection  will  serve 
for  this  likewise.  Fishermen  take  care  to  keep  off  witk 
their  nets  from  places  filled  with  reeds  and  rushes,  for 
fear  of  entangling  and  tearing  their  net  \  and  thus  the 
situation  of  swallows  under  water,  is  the  reason  that 
they  are  seldom  disturbed  in  their  silent  winter  retreats* 
What  confirms  this  opinion  still  more  is,  that  swallows 
were  never  canght  in  Prussia  according  to  the  above* 
mentioned  affidavits,  but  with  those  parts  of  the  net 
which  passed  near  to  the  reeds  and  riMhes  \  and  some- 
times the  swallows  were  vet  fastened  with  their  fe^t  to 
a  reed,  when  they  were  drawn  up  by  the  net.  As  to 
the  argument  taken  from  their  being  so  long  nadcr 
water  without  corruption,  I  believe  there  is  a  real 
difference  between  animals  snfibcated  in  water  and 
animals  being  torpid  therein.  We  h^ve  examples  of 
things  beins  a  long  time  under  water  \  to  which  we 
nwy  add  the  intense  cold  of  these  northern  regions, 
which  preserves  them.  Who  would  have  thonght  that 
snails  and  polypes  might  be  dissected,  and  couliT  repro- 
duce the  parts  severed  from  their  bodies,  if  it  was  not  a 
fact  ?  Natural  history  oueht  to  be  studied  as  a  collec- 
tion of  facts,  not  as  the  history  of  our  guesses  or  opi- 
nions. Nature  varies  in  an  infinite  manner  \  and  Pro- 
vidence has  diversified  the  instinct  of  animals  and  their 
economy,  and  adapted  it  to  the  various  seasons  and 
climates." 

With  Mr  Kalm's  concluding  observations  we  heaiti- 
]y  concur.     Natural  history  ought  to  be  studied  as  a 
collection  of  facts  \  and  it  was  from  this  very  notioB ^*^*f^ 
that  we  have  stated  the  above-mentioned  opinions  soViT"    • 
fully,  and  brought  together  the  facU  which  the  bestMi-I.'Z^ 
advocates  for  each  opinion  have  judged  OMWt  proper  for  by 

supporting  ■**<» 


it 


M    I    G 


[    85    ] 


M    1    G 


lljgntioii. 


'fll«. 


M^n9^' 


IS 

MrHn- 
tei't 


fenioQij 


^    »3 

tat  not 

vCCMVO 

sped  to 
■athera 

cltBMtei. 


BupportioK  them.  We  are  sensible  of  the  great  impro- 
babilit?  of  the  third  opiniooy  and  know  that  many  ar- 
goments  have  been  used  to  prove  its  absurdity :  sach  as 
these.  The  swallow  is  lighter  than  water,  and  therefore 
cannot  sink }  if  it  moults  at  all,  it  roust  moult  under 
water  during  its  torpid  state,  which  is  very  improbable  ^ 
there  is  no  instance  of  land  animals  living  so  long  un- 
der water  without  respiration.  Many  other  arguments 
of  the  same  sort  have  been  advanced,  and  certainly  af- 
ford a  short  way  of  deciding  the  question }  but  unless 
they  were  sufficient  to  prove  the  immersion  of  swallows 
a  physical  impossibility,  -they  are  of  no  force  when  op- 
p<»ed  to  the  evidence  of  testimony,  if  there  be  no  cause 
to  sospect  the  witnesses  of  inaccnracy  or  design*  The 
true  way  to  refute  such  an  opinion  is  by  accurate  obser- 
vation and  experiment.  We  have  not  heard  of  any  ac- 
curate inquiries  being  made  by  philosophers  in  those 
northern  countries  where  swallows  are  said  to  pass  the 
winter  under  water.  The  count  de  Buffon,  indeed, 
shot  up  some  swallows  in  an  ice-house  by  way  of  experi- 
ment, which  died  in  a  few  days ;  but  as  be  does  not  tell 
us.  what  precautions  he  took  to  make  the  experiment 
saeceed,  it  is  not  entitled  to  any  attention. 

Mr  John  Hunter  made  a  very  judicious  experi- 
ment on  the  banks  of  the  Thames,  which  is  describ- 
ed by  a  correspondent  in  the  Gentleman^s  Maga- 
line,  who  asserts  that  he  had  it  from  Mr  Hunter  him- 
self. 

One  year  in  the  month  of  September,  he  prepared  a 
room,  with  every  accommodation  and  convenience  which 
he  could  contrive,  to  serve  as  a  dormitory  for  swallows, 
if  they  were  disposed  to  sleep  in  winter.  He  placed  in 
the  centre  a  large  tub  of  water  with  twigs  and  reeds, 
&C.  which  reached  to  the  bottom.  In  the  comers  of 
the  room  he  contrived  artificial  caverns  and  holes,  into 
which  they  might  retire }  and  he  laid  on  the  floor,  or 
suspended  in  the  air,  different  lengths  of  old  wooden 
pipes,  which  had  formeriy  been  employed  in  conveying 
water  through  the  streets,  &c. 

When  the  receptacle  was  rendered  as  complete  as 
possible,  he  then  engaged  some  watermen  to  take  by 
night  a  large  quantity  of  the  swallows  that  hang  upon 
the  reeds  in  the  Thames  about  the  time  of  their  depar- 
tnre.  They  brought  him,  in  a  hamper,  a  considerable 
number }  and  had  so  nicely  hit  the  time  of  their  cap- 
ture, that  on  the  very  day  following  th^v  were  none  to 
be  seen. 

He  put  the  swallows  iato  the  room  so  prepared, 
where  they  continned  to  fly  about,  and  occasionally 
perch  on  the  twigs,  &c.  But  not  one  ever  retired  into 
the  water,  the  caverns,  holes,  or  wooden  pipes,  or  shewed 
the  least  disposition  to  grow  torpid,  &c.  In  this  situa- 
tion he  let  them  remain  till  they  all  died  but  one. 
Hiis  appearing  to  retain  some  vigour,  was  set  at  liber- 
ty }  when  it  mounted  out  of  sight,  and  flew  away.  All 
the  birds  lay  dead  scattered  about  the  room  j  but  not 
one  was  found  asleep  or  torpid,  or  had,  if  the  corres- 
pondent remembers,  so  much  as  crept  into  any  of  the 
receptacles  he  had  so  provided. 

This  experiment  was  ingenious,  and  certainly  does 
render  the  doctrine  of  iounersion  much  more  improba- 
ble ;  but  it  is  not  decisive  j  for  it  may  still  be  urged 
by  the  advocates  for  that  doctrine,  as  Mr  Kalm  has 
done,  that  it  mav  only  be  in  the  colder  countries  where 
swallows  retire  into  tae  water.    We  formerly  said  that 


none  of  the  three  opinions  is  supported  by  snob  evi-  Migimtion; 
deuce  as  to  satisfy  the  mind  completely.  Opinions^"  v  ■■' 
respecting  events  which  happen  every  year  ought  to 
be  confirmed  by  a  great  number  of  observations,  and 
not  by  a  few  instances  divested  of  almost  all  their  con- 
comitant circorostances.  Can  no  better  proofs  be 
brought  to  prove  the  migration  of  swallows  than  those 
of  Adanson  and  Sir  Charier  Wager,  or  the  circumstan- 
ces mentioned  by  Mr  White  and  Mr  Laskey  respecting 
their  disappearing  ?  We  ought  not  merely  to  know  that 
some  swallows  have  taken  a  southerly  fli^t  in  autumn, 
that  some  have  been  found  at  a  great  distance  from  land 
in  the  spring,  or  in  harvest  'y  but  we  ought  to  know  to 
what  countries  they  actually  retire.  Before  we  can 
rest  satisfied,  too,  that  it  is  a  general  fact  that  swallows 
remain  in  a  torpid  state  during  winter,  either  in  ca- 
verns or  in  the  bottom  of  lakes,  &c.  we  must  have 
more  proofs  \  we  most  know  what  species  of  swallows 
they  are  said  to  be,  in  what  countries  this  event  takes 
place,  and  several  other  circumstances  of  the  same 
kind.  _ 

We  cannot  help  being  of  opinion  that  much  remains  Maaj 
to  be  done  in  order  properly  to  ascertain  what  becomes  ^Idngi  7«t 

of  the  swallows  in  Europe  during  winter.     It  would  bcr^*"  *? 
•      1     <•  1  «  «       a      De  Qo&e  ui 

necessary,  in  the  first  place,  to  know  accurately  whatoi^er  to 

are  the  countries  in  which  swallows  are  found.  2.  DodcUimine 
they  remain  visible  the  whole  year  ?  or,  if  they  disap-tldi  poiBt. 
pear,  at  what  season  does  thb  happen,  and  when  do 
they  appear  again  ?  3.  Do  they'  ever  appear  while  a 
strong  north  wind  blows,  or  do  they  only  come  in 
great  numbers  with  a  south  wind  f  We  will  endeavour 
to  answer  some  of  these  questions  in  part }  but  must  re- 
gret, that  all  the  information  on  this  subject  which  we 
have  been  able  to  cull  from  the  best  writers  in  natural 
history  is  verv  scanty  ^  and  we  merely  give  it  by  way 
of  specimen,  hoping  that  future  observations  will  render 
it  more  complete.  ,. 

There  are  five  species  which  visit  Britain  during  the  A  few  »&• 
summer  months  ;  the  common  or  chimney  swallow,  theP^'^'"^^ 
martin,  sand  martin,  swift,  and  goat-sucker,     i.  Xhe^®^****^ 
chimney^  swallow  frequents  almost  every  part  of  the 
old  continent  ^  being  known  (says  Dr  Latham)  from 
Norway  to  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  on  the  one  side, 
and  from  Kamtscbatka  to  India  and  Japan  on  the  other. 
It  is  also  found  in  all  parts  of  North  America,  and  in 
several  of  the  West  Indian  islands.    In  Europe  it  dis- 
appears during  the  winter  months.    It  appears  general- 
ly a  little  after  the  vernal  equiuox  ^  but  rather  earlier 
in  the  southern,  and  later  in  the  northein  latitudes.    It 
adheres  to  the  usual  seasons  with  much  regularity  j  for 
though  the  months  of  February  and  March  should  be 
uncommonly   mild,   and  April  and   May  remarkably 
cold,  it  never  deviates  from  its  ordinary  time.     In  the 
cold  spring  of  1740  some  appeared  in  France  before 
the  insects  on  which  they  feed  had  become  numert»u8 
enough  to  support  them,  and  great  numbers  diedfJBt^m'a 
In  the  mild  and  even  warm  sprine  of  17^4  they  ap-^?^*""' 
peared  no  earlier  than  usual.     l%ey  remain  in  some  n^|!?^  ^*^ 
warm  countries  the  whole  year.     Kolben  assures  ustoLvL 
that  this  is  the  case  at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope^  butp^  5«7* 
(he  says)  they  are  more  numerous  in  winter.     Some 
birds  of  this  species  live,  during  winter,  even  in  Eu- 
rope  ;  for  example  on  the  coast  of  Genoa,  where  they 
spend  tbe  night  in  the  open  country  on  the  orange 
shrnbs. 

2.  The 


M    I    G 


[    86    3 


M    I    G 


i!iML484. 


a.  The  m^ritnf  are  also  widely  diffiised  throo^b  the 
M  oonttDeBt ;  bat  the  coontries  wfaers  tbey  resiiie  or 
visit  bave  nut  been  marked  by  naturalista  with  macb 
aMentioo.  5.  The  sand  martins  wt  foood  in  every  part 
t  Wd.  597.  of  Europe,  and  frequeatly  spend  tbe  winter  ia  Malta  %* 
Two  birds  of  tbis  species  were  seen  in  Prrigord  in 
France,  00  tbe  27th  December  ifTS*  ^^'^^  there  was 
a  sootberiy  wind,  attended  witb  a  little  rain  ||.  4.  Tbe 
nrtj^  visits  tbe  wbele  continent  of  Europe  j  bai*  also 
been  ebsenred  at  tbe  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  and  in  Ca«> 
rolim  in  North  America.  Tbe  goat  suckers  are  not 
very  conwaon  birds,  yet  are  wideTjr  scattered.  Th^ 
•re  feoad  in  every  eoantry  between  Sweden  and  Afin* 
ca :'  tbey  are  found  also  ia  India.  In  April  the  south* 
wvst  wind  brings  them  to  Malta,  and  in  atitumn  tbej 
lepam  m  great  nimibers. 

Mr  Markwick  of  Catsfield,  near  Battle  in  Sussex, 
has  drawn  ap  an  accurate  table,  expreming  tbe  day  of 
the  month  on  which  tbe  birds,  commonly  cdled  mtgrO' 
lory,  appeared  in  spring,  and  disappeared  in  autumn, 
for  16  years,  from  1768  to  1783  inclusive.  The  ob- 
•crvationo  were  made  at  Catsfield.  From  this  table  we 
shall  extract  the  dates  for  five  years,  and  add  the  very 
few  ebset  nations  which  we  have  been  able  to  collect  re* 
ipeeting  tbe  time  when  tbe  awallow  appears  and  disap- 
pears in  other  oooatriesi 

First  seen. 

April  14* 

14. 

May  7* 

178a 


ofiks 


foLi 


Chimney  Swallow 
Martins 
Sand  Martin 
Swift 


Last  setn» 

October  Of* 
*5- 


Chimney  Swallow 
Martins 
Sand  Martin 
Swift 

Chimney  Swallow 
ftlartins 
Sand  Martin 
Swift 

Chimney  Swallow 
Martins 
Sand  Martin 
Swift 

Chimney  Swallow 
Martins 
Sand  Martin 
Swift 


April  29« 

May  6. 

1781. 

April  8. 

May  12. 

April  26* 

May  12. 

1782. 
April  22* 
26. 
May  1  c. 

'783. ' 
April  13, 

May  I. 

July  25» 

May  13. 


November  3 

3 
September  8 

8 

October  1 5 
September  7 
September  i 


September  I 

November  2. 

August  28 

28 

November  6 

6 

September  i 

November  6 


CUn.  8waL    Siviftt     Martiat.    S  Mart 


ibid. 
tfmtf's 


la  Borpmd  J  f 


la  Sclbocne,  Hanptlifre  i  Ap  4.  Ap  94.  Ap  3a 

la  Sosth  Z«le,  DeroDthtiie  |    ^5.  May  i.  May  15. 

Ia  Bladkbum,  Laacaibire  |    19.  Ap  aS. 

Halofyt^latipMliaSwadca^  tdmy  9. 


Ap.  9.  Ap  t2t 


Wd. 


Were  tables  of  tbe  saoM  kind  made  in 
coinitiy»  partienhtfly  witUn  the  torrid  zone,  it  weald 
be  easy  to  determine  the  qoestbn  which  we  have  been 
coQsiderii^  To  nMoy^  pohaps,  it  may  not  appear  fc 
matter  of  suob  importance  w  to  be  worth  the  laboar. 

4 


We  acknowledge  it  to  be  rather  a  curious  then  an  im-  Migntfas. 
portant  inquiry  \  yet  it  is  one  which  must  be  highly    Migid. 
gratifying  to  every  mind  that  can  admire  the  wisdom ' 
of  the  Great  Architect  of  nature.    The  instinct  of  tbe 
swallow  is  indeed  wonderfiil :  it  appears  among  us  just 
«t  tbe  time  when  insects  become  nomerons  \  and  it  con* 
tinues  witb  as  during  tbe  hot  weather^  in  order  to  pre- 
vent tbem  firom  multiplying  too  much.     It  disappeaie 
wben  these  insects  are  no  longer  troublesome.    It  is  ne- 
ver (bund  in  solitude  j  it  is  tbe  firiend  of  man,  and  al- 
ways takes  up  its  residence  with  us,  that  it  may  pro- 
tect ow  booses  and  oltr  streets  fimn  being  annoyed  with 
awarms  of  flies. 

MioRATioH  ^Fishes.    See  Clctpka. 

St  MIGUEL,  or  St  Michael,  one  of  the  Azore 
islands,  situated  in  W.  Long.  25.  45.  N.  Lat.  38.  xo. 
ThtB  island  appears  to  be  entirely  volcanic.  The  best 
account  we  have  of  it  bath  been  publiNfaed  in  tbe  68th 
volnme  of  the  Philosophical  Transactions  by  Mr  Fran« 
ois  Masson.  According  to  him,  thb  productions  differ 
greatly  from  those  of  Madeira,  insomuch  that  none  of 
the  trees  of  the  latter  are  found  here,  except  the  faya : 
it  has  a  nearer  affinity  to  Europe  than  Africa-  Tbo 
monntains  are  covered  with  the  erica  vulgaris,  and  an 
elegant  evergreen  shrub  very  Kke  a  pbillyrea,  which 
gives  them  a  most  beautiful  appearance. 

It  is  one  of  tbe  principal  and  most  fertile  of  tbe  Azo- 
rian  islands,  lying  nearly  east  and  west.  Its  length  is 
about  18  or  20  leagues ;  its  breadth  nneqna!,  not  ex« 
eeeding  five  leagues,  and  in  some  places  not  more  than 
two.     It  contains  abont  8o,eoo  inhabitants. 

Its  ci^ital,  the  city  of  Ponta  del  Guda,  which  con- 
tains about  X  2,000  inhabitants,  is  situated  on  the  simth 
side  of  the  island,  on  a  fine  fertile  plain  country,  pretty 
regularly  built  \  the  streets  straight,  and  of  a  good 
breadth.  It  is  supplied  witb  good  water,  which  is 
brought  about  the  distance  of  three  leagues  from  the 
neighbouring  monntains.  The  churches  and  other 
religious  edifices  are  elegant  and  well  built  fi>r  such  sn 
island.  There  is  a  large  convent  of  Franciscan  friaia 
and  one  of  the  order  of  St  Augustine,  four  convents 
for  professed  nuns,  and  three  Ricolhimentoe  fbr  young 
women  and  widows  who  are  not  professed.  The  ves- 
sels anchor  in  an  open  road  \  hot  it  is  not  dangerous, 
as  no  wind  can  prevent  their  going  to  sea  in  case  of 
stormy  weather. 

The  country  ronnd  the  city  is  plain  for  sevend 
miles,  well  cultivated,  and  laid  out  with  good  taste  in* 
to  spacious  fields,  which  are  sown  with  whest,  barley,' 
Indian  com,  pulse,  &c.  and  commonly  produce  an- 
noally  two  crope  \  for  va  soor  as  one  is  taken  off,  an- 
other is  immediately  sown  in  its  place.  The  soil  b 
remarkably  gentle  and  easy  to  work,  being  for  the 
most  part  composed  of  pulverized  pomioe  stone.  There 
are  in  the  plains  a  number  of  pleasant  conntiy  seats, 
with  orchards  of  orange  trees,  which  are  esteemed  the 
best  in  Europe. 

The  second  town  is  Ribeira  Grande,  situated  on  the 
north  side  of  tbe  island,  containing  about  as  many  inha- 
bitants as  the  city  ^  a  large  convent  of  Franciscan 
friars,  and  one  of  nuns.  It  gives  title  to  a  count,  cat* 
led  the  Omde  Ribeira  Grande^  who  first  instituted 
linen  and  woollen  manufactories  in  the  island. 

The  third  town  w  Villa  Franca,  on  the  south  side 
of  the  islaad,  about  six  leagues  east  of  Ponta  del  Goda. 

It 


I» 


M    I    G  [ 

Migod.  It  hMM  a  convent  of  Franciscan  friars  and  not  af  nuii% 
which  contains  aboot  500.  Here,  ahoiiit  half  a  mile 
from  the  ehore,  lies  a  small  island  (iniao)^  which  is 
hoUoF  in  the  middle,  and  cootaios  a  fine  haaon  wltk 
anlj  one  entrance  into  it,  fit  to  hold  50  sail  of  vessels 
secure  from  all  weather ;  at  jireseat  k  wants  cieaoiag 
oet,  as  the  winter 'rain  washes  down  great  ^asatities 
of  earth  into  it,  which  hss  greatly  diminished  its  depth* 
Bnt  vessels  frequently  anchor  hetween  this  ishind  aad 
the  giain. 

Besides  these  towns  are  several  smaller,  viz.  Alagao^ 
Agoa  de  Pad,  Brelanhs,  Fanaes  de  Ajuda,  aad  a  mun- 
her  of  hamlets,  called  k^^s  or  places* 

About  four  leagues  northeast  frsn  Villa  Franca, 
lies  a  place  called  the  Furnas,  being  a  round  deep  valley 
in  the  middle  of  the  east  part  of  the  island,  surrounded 
with  high  raeuntaias,  which,  though  steep,  may  be 
easily  ascended  on  horseback  by  two  roads.  The 
valley  is  aboot  five  or  six  leagues  in  circuit.  The  face 
of  the  mottotains,  whtdi  are  very  steep,  is  entirely  co- 
vered with  heantifnl  evergreens,  viz.  myrtles,  laurels,  a 
large  idiocies  of  bilberry  called  uva  de  serra^  &c.  and 
nomberiess  rivulets  of  the  purest  water  run  down  their 
sid€«.  The  valley  below  is  well  cultivated,  prodacing 
wheat,  Indian  com,  flax,  Sec.  The  fields  are  planted 
nmnd  witl»  a  beautiful  sort  of  poplars,  which  grow  lata 
pyramidal  forms,  and  by  their  careless  irrsgnlar  disposU 
tiofl,  together  with  multitude  of  rivulets,  which  ma 
in  all  dnrections  through  the  valley,  a  munber  of  boil> 
ing  fountains  throwing  up  clouds  of  steam,  a  fine  lake 
in  the  south-west  part  about  two  leagues  round,  compose 
a  prospect  the  finest  that  can  be  imagined.  In  the  hot* 
tarn  of  the  valley  the  roads  are  smooth  and  easy,  there 
being  no  rocks,  but  a  fine  pulverized  pumice  stone  that 
the  earth  is  composed  of. 

There  are  nnmeroos  hot  fountains  in  diflerent  parts 
of  the  valley,  and  also  on  the  sides  of  the  mooo> 
tains  :  hut  the  most  lemarkable  is  that  called  the  chal- 
detroj  siteated  in  the  eastern  part  of  the  valley,  on  a 
small  eminenoe  by  the  side  of  a  river,  on  which  is  a 
hasoo  aboot  30  feet  disraeter,  where  the  water  conti- 
nually boils  with  prodigious  fury.  A  fiew  yards  di^ 
stant  from  it  is  a  caTom  in  the  side  of  the  bairic,  iit 
which  the  water  boils  la  a  dreadfal  manner,  thrswing 
out  a  thick,  mnddy,  nactdoos  water,  several  yards  froo» 
its  mouth  with  a  Indeous  noise.  In  the  mid<He  of  the 
liver  are  several  places  where  the  water  boils  up  so  hot, 
that  a  person  cannot  dip  hisfiager  into  it  without  being 
scalded  \  also  along  its  bsnks  are  several  apertures,  out 
of  whteli  the  steam  rises  to  a  considerable  height,  so 
hot  that  there  is  no  approaching  it  with  one's  hand :  in 
other  places,  a  person  would  think  that  too  smiths 
bellows  were  blowing  altogether,  and  sulphureous 
steams  issuing  out  in  thousands  of  ptaees  ^  so  that  na* 
tive  sulphur  is  fiMmd  in  every  chink,  and  the  gvsanci 
cover«^  with  it  like  hoar  mst  ^  even  the  bushes  that 
happen  to  lie  near  these  places  are  covered  with  pure 
brimstone,  condensing  from  the  steam  that  issues  out 
of  the  groand,  whioh  in  many  places  is  covered  over 
with  a  substance  like  burnt  alum.  In  these  small  ca- 
verns from  which  the  steam  issues,  the  people  often  boil 
their  yams. 

Near  these  boiling  fountains   are  several  mineral 
springs  ^  two  in  particular,  whose  waters  have  a  very 


87    1  M    I    G 

Strong  9«ality,  of  an  acid  taste,  and  hittsr  to  the    Miguel, 
tongne. 

About  half  a  mile  in  the  westward,  and  close  by  the 
river  side,  are  several  hot  springs,  which  are  nsed  by 
sick  pei^le  with  great  socoess.  Also,  on  the  side  of  » 
hill  west  of  St  Anne's  church,  are  many  others,  with 
three  bathing  houses,  which  are  most  commonly  osed* 
These  waters  are  very  wans,  although  not  hoiliag  hot;, 
hut  at  the  same  place  issue  several  streams  of  cold  mine- 
ral water,  by  whidi  they  are  tempered,  according  to 
.  every  one*s  liking. 

About  a  mile  south  of  this  plaee,  and  over  a  low 
ridge  of  hills  lies  a  fine  lake  about  two  leagues  in  oir- 
cumferen^,  and  very  deep,  the  water  thick,  aad  of  a 
greenish  colour.  At  the  north  end  is  a  plain  piece  of 
ground,  where  the  sulphureous  stesms  issue  ont  in  many. 
pUces,  attended  with  a  surprising  blowing  noise,  (hit 
author  could  observe  strong  springs  in  the  lake,  bat 
eoold  not  determine  whether  they  were  hot  or  cold  :  this 
lake  seems  to  have  no  visible  evacaation.  The  othec 
springs  immediately  fi>rm  a  considerable  river,  called 
Ribeira  Quente^  which  runs  a  course  about  two  or  three 
leagues,  through  a  deep  rent  in  the  mountains,  on  each 
side  of  which  are  several  places  wbn^e  the  smoke  issues 
out.  It  discharges  itself  into  the  sea  on  the  south  side, 
near  which  are  some  places  where  the  water  boils  np  at 
some  distance  in  the  sea. 

This  wonderful  place  had  been  taken  little  notice 
of  until  very  lately :  so  little  curiosity  had  the  gentle- 
men of  the  island,  that  scarcely  anyof  them  had  seen 
it,  until  of  late  some  per^bos,  sfl9icted  with  very  viru- 
lent disorders,  were  persuaded  to  try  its  waters,  and 
found  immediate  relief  ftom  them.  Since  that  time  ib. 
has  become  more  and  more  foequented^  several  per^ 
sons  who  had  lost  the  use  of  their  limbs  by  the  dead' 
palsy  have  been  eured ;  aad  also  others  wbo^  were 
troubled  with  eruptions  on  their  bodies. 

A  clergyman,  who  was  greatly  afflicted.>with  the 
gout,  trif'd  the  said  waters,  and  was  in  a  short  time  per- 
fectly cured,  and  has  had  no  return  of  it  since.  When 
Mr  Masson  was  there,  several  old  gentlemen,  who  were 
.  quite  worn  out  with  the  said  disorder,  were  using  the « 
waters,  aad  had  rceived  incredible  benefit  from  them^ 
in  particular,  an  old  gentleman  about  60  years  of  age» 
who  had  been  tormented  with,  tliat  disorder  more  thask 
20  years,  and  often  confined^to  his  bed  for  six  moaths 
together :  *  he  had  used  these  waters  for  about  three 
weeks,  had  quite  recovered  the  use  of  his  limbs,  and 
walked  about  in  the  greatest  spirits  imaginahk*.  A 
friar  also  who  had  been  tpoqhied  with  the  said  disorder 
aboot  12  years  and  reduced  to  a  cripple,  by.  using  then 
a  short  time  was  qjaile  well,  and  wenti  a«bunting  every, 
day. 

There  are  several  other  hot  sprii^  in  the  island,-, 
particularly  at  Ribeira  Grand:  ^  hot  they  do  not  pos- 
sess the  same  virtues,  at  least  not  in  so  great  ade- 

The  oast  and  west  part  of  the  island  rises  into  high 
mountains^  but  the  niiddie  is  low,  interspersed  wkh 
round  conic  hills,  all  of  which  have  very  recent  marks 
of  ftre  ^  all  the  parts  below  the  snr&ce  consisting  of 
melted  lava  lying  very  hoUow. 

Most  of  the  mountains  to  the  westward  have  their 
tops  hollowed  out  like  a  punch  bowl,  and^  contain  wa- 
ter. 


MIL  C    8d 

Mkoel,  ter.  Near  theivest  end  is  an  immense  deep  valley 
MUaiu  like  the  Furnas,  called  the  Sete  Cidades.  This  vallej 
is  surrounded  with  very  abrupt  mountains,  about  seven 
or  eight  leagues  round }  in  the  bottom  is  a  deep  lake 
ef  water  about  three  leagues  in  circuit,  furnished 
with  great  numbers  ef  water  fowls.  This  water  (us 
no  mineral  quality  j  neither  are  there  any  hot  springs 
in  the  valley.  All  these  mountains  are  composed  of  a 
white  crumbly  pumice  stone,  which  is  so  loose,  that 
if  a  person  thrust  a  stick  into  the  banks,  whole  wag- 
gon loads  of  it  will  tumble  down.  The  inhabitants 
of  the  island  relate  a  story,  that  he  who  first  discovered 
it  observed  an  extraordinaxy  hiffh  peak  near  the  west 
«id  J  bat  the  second  time  he  visited  it,  no  such  peak 
was  to  be  seen,  which  he  supposed  must  have  certainly 
sunk  J  bnt,  however  improbable  this  story  may  be,  at 
some  period  or  other  it  must  have  certamly  been  the 
case.   See  Azores,  Supplement. 

MILAN,  or  the  duchy  of  the  Milanese,  a  coun* 
try  of  Italy,  bounded  on  the  west  by  Savoj,  Pied- 
:aiont,  and  Montferrat  \  by  Switzerland  on  the  north  $ 
by  the  territories  of  Venice,  the  duchies  of  Mantua^ 
Parma,  and  macentia  on  the  east;  and  by  the  ter^ 
ritories  of  Genoa  on  the  south.  It  is  150  miles  long, 
and  78  broad. 

Anciently  this  duchy,    containing  the  north  part 
of  the  old  Liguria,  was  called    Ituubria^  from  its 
inhabitants  the  Insuhrea;   who  were  conquered    by 
the  Romans,  as  these  were  by  the  Goths;  who  in 
their  turn  were   subdued   by  the    Lombards.      Di- 
dier,  the  last  king  of  the  Lomoards,  was  taken  prisoner 
l^  Charlemagne,  who  pat  an  end  to  the  Longobardic 
empire,  and  appointed  governors  of  Milan.    These  go-* 
vemors  being  at  a  distance  fromr  their  masters,  soon 
began  to  assume  an  independency,  which  brought  a 
dreadful  calamity  on  the  country;  for,  in   11 53,  the 
capital  itself  was  levelled  with  the  ground  by  the  em- 
peror Frederii^  Barbarossa,  who  committed  great  de-  ■ 
vastations  otherwise  throughout  the  duchy.     Under 
this  emperor  lived  one  Galvian,  a  nobleman  who  was 
descended  from  Otho  a  Milanese.      Galvian,  along 
with  William  prince  of  Montferrat,  served   in  the 
crusade,  when  Godfrej  of  Boulogne  took  Jerusalem : 
he  killed  in  single  combat  the  Saracen  general,  whom 
he  stripped  of  hu  helmet,  which  was  adorned  with  the 
image  of  a  serpent  swallowing  a  youth  ;  and  this  ever 
afterwards  was  the  badge  of  that  family.     His  grand- 
son Galvian,  having  opposed  the  emperor,  was  taken 
prisoner,  and  earned  in  irons  into  Germany,  from 
whence  be  made  hb  escape,  and  retuning  to  Milan, 
died  in  the  service  of  his  country.     From  him  descend- 
ed anotlier  Otho,  at  the  time  that  Otho  IV.  was  em- 
peror of  Germany,  and  who  soon  distinguished  him- 
self by  the  accomplishments  both  of  his  mind  and  bo- 
dj.      When  he  grew  up,  be  was  received  into  the 
family  of  Cardimd  Octavian  Ubaldini  at  Rome.     This 
prelate,  who  was  himself  aspiring  at  the   popedom, 
was  in  a  short  time  greatlj  taken  with  the  address  and 
accomplishments    of  young  Otho,  and  predicted  his 
future  greatness.     In  the  mean  time,  one  Torres,  or 
Torriano,  a  Milanese  nobleman  of  unbounded  ambi- 
tion, was  attempting  to  make  himself  master  of  Mi- 
lan.    The  popular  faction  had  some  time  before  been 
caballing  against  the  nobilitj ;  and  at  last,  Torriano 
Butting  himself  at  their  head,  expelled ,  the  bishop,  and 


] 


MIL 


put  to  death  or  banished  all  the  nobility ;  by  which 
means  the  popular  government  was  fuUjr  established ; 
and  Torriano,  under  this  pretence,  ruled  every  thing 
as  he  pleased*  He  was,  however,  soon  opposed  by 
one  Francisco  Sepri,  who  formed  a  great  party,  pre- 
tending to  deliver  the  city  from  Torriano's  haughti- 
ness and  cruelty.  Bnt  while  the  two  parties  were 
collecting  their  forces  against  eadi  other.  Cardinal 
Ubaldini  was  projecting  the  destruction  of  both,  by 
means  of  his  favounte  Otbo.  This  prelate  had  for 
some  time  borne  an  implacable  hatred  to  Torriano, 
becanse  he  had  been  by  him  prevented  from  carrying 
ont  of  the  treasury  of  St  Ambrose^s  church  at  Mi- 
lan, a  carbuncle  or  jewel  of  great  value,  which  he  pre- 
tended to  reserve  for  adorning  the  papal  tiara ;  for  which 
reason  he  now  determined  to  oppose  his  ambition. 

Ubaldini   began  with  naming  Otho  archbishop  of 
Milan  ;  which,  as  the  pope's  legate,  he  had  a  right  to 
do.      This  nomination  was  confirmed  by  Pope  Ur- 
ban IV.;  and  the  party  of  the  nobility  having  now 
got  a  head  from  the  pope  himself,  began  to  gather 
strength.     Otho  in  the  mean  time  employed  himself 
in  collecting  troops  ;  and  had  no  sooner  procured  a^bow 
of  an  army  than  he  advanced  towards  Lago  Mag- 
giore,  and  took  possession  of  Arona,  a  strons  post 
near  that  lake :  but  Torriano,  marchinff  immeoiately 
against  him  with  all  his  troops,  obliged  him  to  aban- 
don the  ^ace,  and  leave  his  party  to  make  the  best 
terms  they  could  with  the  conqueror.    This  was  fol- 
lowed  by  the  destruction  of  the  castles  of  Arena, 
Anghian,    and   Brebia:   soon  after  which    Torriano 
died,  and  was  succeeded  by  his  brother  Philip,  who 
had  sufficient  interest  to  get  himself  elected  podesta,  or 
praetor  of  Milan,  for  ten  years.     During  his  lifetime, 
however,  the  party  of  the  nobility  increased  consider- 
ably under  Otho,  notwithstanding  tlie  check  they  had 
received.    Philip  died  in  1265,  living  lost  ground  con- 
siderably in  the  affections  of  the  people,  though  be  ob- 
tained a  great  reputation  for  his  courage  and  conduct. 
His  successor  Napi  rendered  himself  terrible  to  the 
nobility,  whom  he  proscribed,  and  put  to  death  as  of- 
ten as  he' could  get  them  into  \m  power*   *He  pro- 
ceeded such  lengths,  and  acted  with  such  fury  against 
that  unfortunate  party,  that  Pope  Clement  iV.  who 
had  succeeded  Urban,  at  last  interdicted  Milan,  and 
excommunicated  Napi  and  all  his  party.      By  this 
Napi  began  to  lose  his  popularity,  and  the  public  dis- 
affection towards  him  was  much  heightened  by  the 
natural  cruelty  of  his  temper.     Bnt  in  the  mean  time, 
the  party  of  the  nobiliw  was  in  the  utmost  distress. 
Otho  himself  and  bis  friends,  having  spent  all  their 
substance,  wandered  about  from  place  to  place;  the 
pope  not  being  in  a  capacity  of  giving  them  any  as- 
sistance.    Otho,  however,  was  not  discouraged  by  his 
bad  success,  but  found  means  still  to  keep  up  the  spirits 
of  his  party,  who  now  chose  for  their  general  Squar- 
cinl  Burii,  a  man  of  great  eminence  and  courage,  whose 
daughter  was  married  to  Matthew  Visconti,  afterwards 
called  Matthew  the  Greai*     At  the  same  time  they  re- 
newed their  confederacy  with  the  marquis  of  Mont- 
ferrat, who-wav  son-iu'law  to  the  king  of  Spain.    The 
marquift  agreed  to  this  confederacy  chiefly  with  a  view 
to  become  master  of  the  Milanese. 

The  nobility  now  again  began  to  make  head ;  and 
having  collected  an  army,  which  was  joined  by  600 

Spanisii 


MIL 


[    89    1 


M    I    L 


MUml  Bptmish  cavftlty  and  a  body  of  foot,  gained  some  ad- 
Tantages.  But  in  die  mean  time  Napi,  having  gather^ 
ed  together  a  superior  army,  suddenly  attacked  Otfao 
and  Burri,  and  defeated  them.  After  this  disaster 
Otho  applied  to  the  pope;  from  ivhom,  however,  he 
did  not  obtain  the  assistance  he  desired  j  and  in  the 
mean  time  Napi  ivrited  the  emperor  Rodolph  into 
Italy,  with  the  promise  of  being  crowned  at  Milan. 
This  invitation  was  accepted  of  with  great  readiness 
by  Rodolph  5  who  oonstitated  Napi  his  governor  and 
viear^neral  in  Lombardy,  sending  to  him  at  the  same 
time  a  "fine  body  of  German  horse,  the  command  of 
iwhich  was  given  to  Cassoni,  Naples  nephew.  On  this 
Otho  again  appliod  to  the  pope  (Gregory  X.)  *,  bat  he 
was  so  far  from  granting  him  any  assistance,  that  he 
is  said  to  have  etitered  into  a  scheme  of  assassinating 
Ilka  privately  ^  but  Otho  escaped  the  danger,  and  in  1 276 
began  to  recover  hb  affairs.  The  reason  of  Pope  Gre- 
gory's enmity  to  him  was,  that  be  and  his  paity  were 
thought  to  be  Gibelines,  and  were  opposed  by  great 
numhexs  of  the  nobility  themselves }  but  after  that  pope's 
death,  the  Milanese  exiles  being  nnited  under  one 
liead,  soon  became  formidable.  They  now  chose  for 
their  general  Godfrey  count  of  Langusio,  a  noble  Pa- 
vian,  and  an  inveterate  enemy  of  the  Tornano  family. 
This  nobleman  hetng  rich  and  powerful,  enlisted  many 
<9ei«ian  and  other  mercenaries,  at  whose  head  be  mar- 
ched towards  the  Lago  Maggiore.  All  the  towns  in 
that  coontry  opened  their  gates  to  him,  through  the  in- 
terest of  the  Viscooti  family,  who  resided  in  these  parts* 
But  this  success  soon  met  with  a  severe  check  in  an  •un- 
fortunate engagement,  where  Godfrey  was  defeated  and 
taken  prisoner ;  after  which  he  and  34  nobles  had  their 
lieads  struck  of^  and  sent  from  the  field  of  battle  piled 
-up  in  a  common  waggon. 

This  defeat  greatly  affected  Otho ;  but  baving  in  a 
short  time  recovered  himself,  he  again  attacked  his 
enemies,  and  defeated  them  ^  but,  snSering  his  troops 
to  grow  remiss  after  their  victory,  the  fugitives  rallied, 
and  entirely  defeated  him.  Tbe  next  year,  however, 
Otho  bad  better  success,  and  totally  dmated  and  took 
prisoner  Napi  himself.  After  this  victory  Cassoni  was 
fobliged  to  abandon  Milan  to  his  competitor,  who  kept 
possession  of  it  till  his  death,  which  happened  in  1 295, 
in  tbe  87th  year  of  bis  age. 

Otho  was  succeeded  by  Mattbew  Visconti  above 
mentioned ;  and  Milan  continued  in  subjection  to  that 
family  without  any  vei^  memorable  occurrence  till  the 
year  1378,  when,  by  tbe  death  of  Galeazzo  II.  his 
brother  Bamabo  became  sovereign  of  Milan.  He  was 
of  a  brave  and  active  disposition  *,  but  excessively  pro- 
fuse in^bis-expenses,  as  bis  brother  Galeazzo  bad  also 
been  \  and  to  procnre  money  to  supply  his  extra- 
vagancies, -was  obliged  to  oppress  'his  subjects.  Ga- 
leazzo had  engaeed  in  an  enter  prize  against  Bologna, 
and  the  siege  of  it  was  continued  by  Barnabo.  It 
lasted  for  nine  years  ^  and  during  this  time  is  said  to 
have  cost  30O  millions  of  gold,  a  prodigious  sum  in 
those  days,  near  40  millions  sterling,  the  lowest  .gold 
coiu  being  in  value  somewhat  more  than  half  a  crown 
English,  Botb  the  brothers  were  excessively  fond  of 
building,  Barnabo  erected  a  bridge  over  the  Adda, 
consisting  of  three  stories  ;  the  lowest  for  chariots  and 
heavy  carriages,  the  middle  for  horses,  and  the  up- 
permost for  foot  passengers^     He  built  also  another 

Vol,  XIV.  Part  L  t 


bridge  which  was  carried  over  bouses  witliout  touching  Milan. 
them.  To  aecomplish  these,  and  many  other  expensive 
schemes,  he  became  one  of  the  greatest  tyrants  imagi- 
nable, and  every  day  produced  fresh  instances  of  his  ra- 
pacity and  cruelty.  He  instituted  a  chamber  of  inquiry, 
for  punishing  all  those  who  bad  for  five  years  before 
been  guilty  of  killing  boars,  or  even  of  eating  them  at 
the  table  of  another.  They  who  could  not  redeem, 
themselves  by  money  were  hanged,  and  above  100 
wretches  peritihed  in  that  manner.  Those  who  had  any 
thing  to  lose  were  stripped  of  all  their  substance,  and 
obliged  to  labour  at  the  fortifications  and  other  pub- 
lic works.  He  obliged  his  subjects  to  maintain  a  great 
many  hunting  dogs,  and  each  district  was  taxed  a 
certain  number.  The  overseers  of  his  dogs  were  at 
the  same  time  tbe  instruments  of  his  rapacity.  When 
tbe  dogs  were  poor  and  slender,  the  owners  were  al- 
ways fined  ;  but  when  the  dogs  were  fat,  tbe  owners  were 
also  fined  for  suffering  them  to  live  without  exercise. 

The  extravagant  behaviour  of  Barnabo  soon  rendered 
public  affairs  ready  for  a  reiiolution,  which  was  at  lavt 
accomplished  by  his  nephew  John  Galeazzo.  He  af- 
fected a  solitary  life,  void  of  ambition,  and  even  inclin- 
ing to  devotion  \  but  at  the  same  time  took  care  to  have 
his  nncle*0  oonrt  filled  with  apies,  who  gave  him  infor- 
mation of  all  that  passed.  He  reduced  bis  table  and 
manner  of  living,  pretending  that  he  took  these  step* 
as  preparatives  to  a  retirement  from  tbe  world,  whicti 
was  soon  to  take  plate  after  he  hnd  paid  a  rcKgions 
vow.  In  short,  be  acted  bis  pavt  so  well^  that  even 
Barnabo,  though  abundantly  cautious,  had  no  ens]iiriou 
of  his  having  any  designs  against  him  -,  and  so  entirely 
did  he  conceal  his  ambition,  that  he  several  times  made 
applicatioo  to  his  nncle  for  his  interest  to  procure  him  a 
^uiet  retreat  as  soon  as  his  veligious  vows  were  perform- 
ed. One  of  these  was  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  church  of 
the  blessed  Virgin  upon  Mount  Varezzio.  This  was  to 
be  done  with  so  much  secrecy  that  all  kinds  of  eye  wit- 
nesses were  to  be  excluded ;  and  it  ^as  with  difficulty 
that  Barnabo  himself  and  two  of  his  sons  were  allowed 
Jto  accompany  our  devotee.  But,  in  the  mean  time, 
the  hypocritical  Galeazzo  had  mddiers  advancing  from 
«ll  quarters ;  so  that  Barnabo  and  bis  sons  were  Mnme- 
diately  seized,  and  the  faonses  of  those  who  had  sided 
with  them  given  up  to  be  plnndered.  The  booty  in 
plate,  monev,  and  all  kinds  of  rich  iumitBre,  was  im- 
mense. The  ministers  of  the  late  government  were 
dragged  from  their  hiding  places,  and  put  to  death  \ 
and  at  last  the  citadel  itsdf  fell  into  the  bands  of  Ga- 
leazzo, who  found  in  it  an  immense  sum  of  money. 
Barnabo  was  casried  prisoner  to  Tritici,  a  castle  of 
bis  own  building,  where  he  had  the  happiness  to  find 
one  person  still  faithful  to  him.  This  was  bismistresfi, 
named  Damnut  Porra ;  who,  when  he  was  ahnBdoned 
by  all  the  ^orld,  shut  herself  np  a  voluntary  prisoner 
in  his  chamber,  and  remained  with  him  as  long  as  he 
lived,  which  was  onty  seven  months  after  hb  degrada- 
dation. 

John  Galeazzo  was  tbe  first  who  took  upon  him  the 
title  of  the  Duke  of  MUan^  and  was  a  prince  of  great 
policy  and  no  less  ambition.  He  made  war  with  tbe 
Florentines,  became  master  of  Pisa  and  Bologna,  and 
entirely  defeated  the  emperor  in  1401,  so  that  he  en- 
tertained bopes  of  becoming  master  of  all  Lombardy, 
and  catting  off  all  possilnlity  of  invading  it  either  from 

M  France 


M    I    L 


Alilun.  France  or  Germiiiy }  but  his  designs  were  frustrated 
t>y  death,  which  happened  in  1402,  in  the  55th  year 
of  his  agf.  After  his  decease  the  Milanese  govern- 
ment fell  into  the  most  violent  distractions,  so  that  it 
could  not  be  supported,  even  in  time  of  peace,  with- 
out an  army  of  ao,ooo  foot  and  as  many  horse.  In  the 
year  142 1,  however,  Philip  duke  of  Milan  became  ma- 
ster of  Genoa  ^  but  ihoogh  he  gained  great  advantages 
in  all  parts  of  Italy,  the  different  states  still  found 
means  to  counterbalance  his  successes,  and  prevent  him 
irom  enslaving  them :  so  that  Milan  never  became  the 
capital  of  any  extensive  empire ;  and  in  1437  Genoa  re- 
volted, and  was  never  afterwards  reduced. 

Philip  died  in  1448,  and  by  his  death  the  male  line 
of  the  \  KMonti  family  was  at  an  end.  The  next  law- 
ful heir  was  Valenttna  his  sister,  who  had  married  the 
duke  of  Orleans,  son  to  Charles  V.  of  France.  By  the 
contract  of  that  marriage,  the  lawful  progeny  of  it 
was  to  focceed  to  the  duchy  of  Milan  in  failure  of  the 
beirs  male  of  the  Visconti  family  \  but  this  succession 
was  dtspoted  by  Sforza,  who  had  married-  Philip's  na- 
tural daughter.  It  is  certain,  however,  that  the  right- 
ful succession  was  vested  in  the  house  of  Orleans  and 
the  kings  of  France  j  and  therefore  though  the  Sfor- 
2A  family  got  possession  of  the  dochj  for  the  present, 
Louis  XII.  afterwards  put  in  his  claim,  being  a  grand- 
son to  John  Galeazzo.  For  some  time  be  was  success- 
ful }  but  the  Freock  behaved  in  suck  an  insolent  man- 
ner, that  they  were  driven  out  of  the  Milanese  by  the 
Swiss  and  Maximilian  Sforza.  The  Swiss  and  Mila- 
nese were  in  their  turn  expelled  by  Francis  I.  who 
obliged  the  Sforza  fiunilv  to  relinquish,  the  government 
for  a  pension  of  30,000  ducats  a-year.  Francis  Sforza, 
the  son  of  Maximilian,  however,  being  assisted  by  the 
emperor  and  the  pope,  regained  the  possession  of  the 
IVlilanese  about  the  year  1521  >  and»  eight  years  afker, 
tlie  French  king,  by  the  trea^  of  Cambray,  gave  up 
bis  claim  on  the  duchy. 

But,  in  fact,  the  emperors  of  Germany  seem  to  have 
had  the  fairest  \itle  to  the  Milanese  in  right  of  their  be- 
ing for  a  Ions  time  sovereigns  of  Italy.  On  the  death 
of  Francis  Sforza,  therefere,  in  the  year  1536,  the  em- 
peror Charles  V,  declared  the  Milanese  to  be  an  impe- 
rial fief,  and  granted  the  investitore  of  it  to  his  son 
Philip  II.  king  of  Spain.  In  his  family  it  continued 
till  the  jrear  1706,  when  the  French  and  Spaniards 
were  driven  out  by  the  Imperialists,  and  the  emperor 
ngain  took  possession  of  it  as  a  fief.  It  was  confirmed 
to  his  house  by  the  treaty  of  Baden  in  1714,  by  the 
quadruple  alliance  in  1 7181  and  by  tho  treaty  of  Aix-la- 
Chapelle  in  1748. 

Tne  duchy  of  Milan  is  one  of  the  finest  provinces 
in  Italy.  It  is  bounded  on  the*  south  by  the  Apen* 
nine  mountains,  and  the  lexritory  of  Genoa  ;  on  the 
north  by  Switzerland  ^  on  the  east  by  the  Venetian 
territories,  and  the  duchies  of  Mantua,  Parma,  and 
Plaoentia  ^  and  on  the  west  by  Savoy,  Piedmont,  and 
Montferrat  ^  extending  from  north  to  south  about  100 
miles,  and  from  east  to  west  about  108.  It  is  weU 
watered  by  the  Tessiiio,  the  Sesia,  the  Adda,,  the  Po^ 
the  Oglio,  the  Lombro,  Serio,  &c.  and  also  by  se- 
veral canals  and  lakes.  Of  the  latter,  the  Lago  Ma^ 
giore  is  between  30  and  40  miles  in  length,  and  in 
some  pkces  six  or  seven  miles  broad.  In  it  lie  the 
Boromcan  ithndi^  as  they  are  called,  viz*  Isola  Bella 


t  90  ] 


MIL 


and  Isola  Madre,  the  beauty  of  which  almost  exceeds 
imagination :  art  and  nature  seem  to  have  vied  with 
one  another  in  embellishing  them.  In  each  of  them 
is  a  palace  with  delicious  gardens,  belonging  to  the 
Boromean  family.  The  water  of  the  lake  is  clear 
and  of  a  greenish  colour,  and  abounds  with  fish.  The 
hills  with  which  it  is  surrounded  present  a  most  charm- 
ing landscape,  being  planted  with  vines  and  chesnut 
trees,  interspersed  with  summer  houses.  There  is  a 
canal  running  from  it  towards  Switzerland,  with  which 
the  city  of  Milan  has  a  communication.  It  vras  an- 
ciently called  Lacus  Verbanus,  The  Lago  de  Como, 
which  was  called  by  the  Latin  poets  Lacui  Lariut^  but 
bad  its  modem  name  from  the  city  near  which  it  lies, 
extends  itself  about  30  miles  northward  from  Como, 
but  its  greatest  breadth  is  not  above  five  miles.  From . 
the  Lago  Maggiore  issues  the  Tessino  \  and  from  that 
of  Como  the  Adda.  Of  the  other  lakes,  that  of  Lugano 
and  Guarda  are  the  chief:  that  of  Guarda  was  ancientr 
ly  called  Benacus,  > 

The  trade  and  manufactures  of  this  duchy  consist 
principally  in  silk  stufls,  stockings,  gloves,  and  hand- 
kerchiefs, linen  and  woollen  cloth,  hardware,  curious 
works  of  crystal,  agate,  hyacinths,  and  other  gems  ^ 
but  their  exports  are  usually  far  short  of  their  imports. 
It  produces  also  abundance  of  rice,  com,  fruit,  wine, 
and  hemp.  Great  quantities  of  cheese  are  also  made 
here. 

In  the  year  1 767,  the  Austrian- government  of  Milan  « 
published  a  law,  by  which  all  the  rights  which  the  pop» 
or  the  bishops  had  till  then  exercis^  over  •ecclesiastics,  ^ 
either  with  regard  to  their  effects  or  persons,  was  trans- 
fierred  to  a  counctLestablished^for  that  purpose  at  Mi«> 
Ian.     By  the  same  edicts  all  ecclesiastics  wera  oblised 
to  sell  the  estates  which  they  had  become  possessed  of 
since  the  year  1722  }  and  no  subject,  whether  ecclesi- 
astic or  secular,  vras  to  go  to  Rome  to  solicit  any  far 
v>our,.  exeept>letters  of  indulgence,  without  the  consent . 
•f  the  said  council. 

This  duohy  was  subdued  by  theFranch  in  the  year 
1706,  wlien  it  formed  a  part  of  the  Cisalpine  re^blic^ 
When  hostilities  recommenced  in  1799,  it  was  again 
taken  by  the  allies,  but  afWwards  reconquered  by 
Bonaparte  in  1 8oo.  From  this  period  it  formed  a  part 
of  the  kingdom  of  Italy,  till  the  overthrow  of  Bonaparte^s 
government  in  1814,  whei|  it  was  restored  to  Austria 
with  the  rest  of  Lombardy. 

MiUkN,  the  capital  oi  the  duchy  of  that  name,  i» 
Latin  Mediohmtntf  is  a  large  city,  and  has  a  wall 
and  rampart  round  it,  with  a  citadel  ^  yet  is  thou^t 
to  be  incapable  of  making  any-  gnat  resistance* 
The  gardens  within  the  city  take  up  a  great  deal  of 
ground. .  In*  the  citadel  is  a  founderv  for  cannon,  and 
arsenal  furnished    with    arms    lor   12,000 


Milut 


an 


Milan  hath  experienced  a  great  variety  of  fortune, 
having,  been  subject  sometimes  to.  tho  French,  some- 
times to  the  Spaniards,  and  sometimes  to  the  Germans. 
A  great  number  of  persons  of  rank  and  fortune  live> 
in  it,  especially  during  the  winter.  The  ladies  in 
France  are  not  allowed  more  liberty  than  those  of  this 
city :  even  the  austerities  of  the  monastic  life  are  sa 
far  mitigated  here,  that  geutlemen  have  not  only  the 
liberty  of  ulkiog  with  the  nuns,  and -of  rallying  and 
laughing  at  the  grate,  but  also  of  joining  with  thenn 
in  concerts  of  muaic,  and  of  spending  whole  afternoons. 

in 


MIL 


VikB.  >n  their  emnpany.  The  place  where  the  beau  monde 
tmke  the  air,  either  in  their  coaches  or  on  foot,  is  the 
rampart  betwixt  the  Porta  Orientale  and  the  Porta. 
Tosa,  where  it  is  straight  and  broad,  and  extremely 
pleasant,  being  planted  with  white  mulberry  trees,  and 
commanding  a  prospect  dn  one  side  of  the  open  country, 
and  on  the  other  of  the  eardens  and  vineyurds  between 
the  ramparts  and  the  city.  Milan,  which  is  said  to 
have  been,  built  by  the  Uanls  about  200  jturs  after 
the  foundation  of  Rome,  contains  a  great  number  of 
stately  edifices,  as  churches,  convents,  palaces,  and 
hospitals.  The  cathedral  is  a  vast  pile,'  all  of  marble ; 
and  18  the  largest  in  Italy,  except  that  of  St  Peters  at 
Rome.  It  is  449  feet  in  length,  275  in  breadth,  and 
238  in  height,  under  the  'cupola.    Though  founded  in 


[   91    1 


M    I    L 


of  glass  and  paper.  There  are  four  theatres  in  the  lk?ilan. 
city :  the  great  theatre  Delia  Scala,  built  in  1778  ;  that 
of  the  Canobiana,  the  theatre  Re ;  and  the  t^reano.  On 
the  right  of  the  Plaoa  d^Armes  is  a  roagaificent  am- 
phitheatre, appropriated  to  horsemanship  and  games, 
erected  durin?  the  French  nile.  Two  large  canals 
extend  from  hence,  the  one  to  the  Tessino,  and  the 
other  to  the  Adda  ^  the  Tessino  having  a  commqnica* 
tion  with  the  Lago  Maggiore,  and,  by  a  canal,  with 
the  Sesia ;  and  the  Adda  issuing  from  the  Lago  di  Co- 
and  having  a  communication  by  canals  with  the 


mo 


Lorobrtf  and  Serio.  In  a  void  s|)ace  in  one  of  the 
streets  of  Milan,  where  stood  the  house  of  a  barber  who 
had  conspired  with  the  commissary  of  health  to  poison 
his  fellow  citizens,  is  erected  a  pillar  called Co/ofiiia/;z- 


1386,  the  fumade  was  only  completed  a  few  years  ago    Jonte^  with  an  inscription  to  perpetuate  the  memory 


by  order  of  Bonaparte.  Of  the  great  number  of  sta- 
tues about  it,  that  of  St  Bartholomew,  just  flead  alive, 
with  his  skin  hanging  over  his  shoulders ;  and  of  Adam 
and  Eve,  over  the  main  portal,  are  the  finest.  The 
pillars  supporting  the  roof  of  the  church  are  all  of 
marble,  and  the  windows  finely  painted.  This  church 
contains  a  treasure  of  great  vame,  particularly  a  shrine 
of  rode  crvstal,  in  which  the  body  of  St  Charles  Bo- 
romseo  is  deposited.  The  other  churches  most  worthy 
a  stranger^s  notice  are  those  of  St  Alexander,  St  Je- 
rome, St  Giovanni  di  Casarottl  della  Passione,  that  of 
the  Jesuits,'  and  of  St  Ambrose,  in  which  lie  the  bo- 
dies of  the  saint  and  of  the  kings  Pepin  and  Bernard. 
In  the  Ambrosian  college,  founded  by  Frederic  Bo- 
26  professors  teach  gratis.     In  the  same  col- 


lege vA  also  an  academy  of  painting,  with  a  museum, 
and  a  library  containing  about  45,000  printed  books 
and  manuscripts  j  among  the  last  of  which  Is  a  transla- 
tion of  Jose^us^s  History  of  the  Jews,  done  by  Rufi- 
nus  about  1200  years  ago,  and  written  on  the  bark  of 
a  tree  ^  St  Ambrose's  works  on  vellum,  finely  illumi- 
nated ;  the  orations  of  Gregory  Nazianzen,  and  the 
works  of  Virgil,  in  fi)lio,  with  Petrarch's  note^*  In 
the  museum  are  Leonard!  da  Vinci's  mathematical 
and  mechanical  drawings,  in  1 2  large  volumes.  The 
seminary  for  sciences,  the  college  of  the  nobles,  the 
Helvetian  college,  and  the  mathematical  academy,  ar» 
noble  foundations,  and  stately  buildings.  Of  the  hos- 
pitals, the  most  remarkable  are  the  Lazaretto,  and 
that  called  the  great  hospital;  the  latter  of  which  re- 
ceives sick  persons,  foundlings,  and  lunatics,  and  has 
six  smaller  hospitals  depending  on  it,  with  a  revenue 
of  100,000  rix  dollars. 

The  number  of  the  Inhabitants  of  this  city  is  said 
to  be  about  130,000.  It  has  been  40  times  besieged, 
taken  20  times,  and  four  times  almost  entirely  demo- 
lished 'y  yet  it  hath  always  recovered  Itself.  It  is  said 
that  gunpowder  is  sold  here  only  by  one  person,  and 
in  one  place.  The  houses  of  entertainment,  and  the 
ordinaries  here,  are  represented  as  very  Indiflerent.— - 
Mr  Keysler  says.  It  Is  not  unusual  for  young  travellers, 
when  they  go  to  any  of  the  taverns  in  Milan,  to  be 
asked,  '*  whether  thev  choose  a  tettofomitOy  or  female 
bedfellow,'*  who  continues  masked  till  she  enters  the 
bedchamber.  Milan  is  described  as  inferior*to  Turin 
both  in  beauty  and  convenience,  many  of  the  streets 
being  crooked  and  |iarrow,  ana  paper  windows  much 
more  frequent  than  in  that  city^  even  in  grand  pa- 
laces, ^he  windows  are  often  composed  promiscuously 


of  the  execrable  design.  The  environs  of  this  city 
are  very  pleasant,  being  adorned  wit^  beautiful  seats, 
cardens,  orchards,  &c.  About  two  Italian  miles 
from  it,  at  the  seat  of  the  SimonettI  family,  is  a  build  • 
Ing,  that  would  have  been  a  masterpiece  of  its  kind 
had  the  architect  designed  it  for  an  artificial  echo.  It 
will  return  or  repeat  the  report  of  a  pistol  above  6a 
times  \  and  any  single  musical  instrument  well  touched 
will  have  the  same  effect  as  a  great  number  of  instru- 
ments, and  produce  a  most  surprising  and  delightful 
concert. 

Bonaparte  was  crowned  king  of  Italy  In  this  city  in 
May  1 80  c,  and  it  was  visited  by  the  emperor  of  Au- 
stria in  1816.  It  is  now  the  capital  of  the  kingdom  of 
Venetian  Lombardy. 

According  to  Dr  Moore,  '*  there  is  no  place  in  Italy, 
perhaps  in  £urope,  where  strangers  are  received  in 
such  an  easy  hospitable  manner  as  at  Milan.  For- 
merly the  Milanese  nobility  displayed  a  degree  of 
splendour  and  magnificence,  not  onfy  in  their  enter- 
tainments, but  in  their  usual  style  of  Jiving,  unknown 
in  any  other  country  of  Europe.  They  are  under  a 
necessity  at  present  of  living  at  less  expeoce,  but  they 
still  show  the  same  obliging  and  hwpitable  disposition. 
This  country  having,  not  very  Ions  since,  been  pos- 
sessed by  the  French,  firom  whom  it  devolved  to  tbe 
Spaniards,  and  from  them  to  the  Germans,  4he 
troops  of  those  nations  have,  at  diflierent  periods,  had 
their  residence  here,  and  in  the  course  of  these  vi- 
cissitudes, produced  a  style  rf  manners,  and  stamped  % 
character  on  the  inhabitants  of  this  duchy,  difTerenC 
firom  what  prevails  in  any  other  part  of  Italy  j  and 
nice  observers  imagine  they  perceive  in  Milanese  man- 
ners, tbe  politeness,  formality,  and  honesty  imputed  to 
those  three  nations,  blended  with  the  ingenuity  na« 
tural  to  Italians.  In  Italy,  the  ladies  have  no  notion  of 
quitting  their  carriages  at  the  public  walks,  and  using 
their  own  legs  as  in  England  and  France.  On  see- 
ing the  number  of  servants,  ^md  the  splendour  of  the 
equipages  which  appear  every  evening  at  the  Corso  on 
the  ramparts,  one  would  not  suspect  that  degree  of 
depopulation,  and  diminution  of  wealth,  which  we 
are  assured  has  taken  place  within  these  few  years  all 
over  the  Milanese  \  and  which  proceeds  from  the  bur- 
densome nature  of  some  late  taxes,  and  the  Insolent 
and  oppressive  manner  in  which  they  are  gathered."— 
Milan  is  situated  19  leagues  N.  E.  of  Turin,  no 
N.  W.  of  Rome,  and  143  S.  £.  of  Paris.— rE.  Long. 
9.  II.  N.  Lat.  45.  28. 

M  z  ftULBORN-POHT, 


MIL  [ 

MILBOBN-roRT,  a  town  of  Somersetshire  in 
Eaglandf  seated  on  a  branch  of  the  river  Parret,  115 
miles  from  London.  Though  represented  in  parlia- 
ment, it  is  no  market  town  nor  corporation^  but  it 
appears  in  Domesdaj-book  to  have  had  a  market  once, 
and  ^6  burgesses.  It  is  in  a  manner  surrounded  by 
Dorsetshire.  Here  are  nine  capital  burgesses,  who 
yearly  choose  two  bailifis,  that  have  the  government 
of  the  borough  wider  them,  and  jointly  relnm  tho 
members  to  parliament  witli  the  two  stewards,  who 
are  chosen  yearly  out  of  nine  commonalty  stewards, 
and  have  the  custody  of  the  corporation-seal.  These 
two  stewards  also  distribute  the  profits  of  the  lands 
given  to  the  poor  here,  of  which  the  said  commonalty 
stewards  are  trustees.  The  number  of  inhabitants  in 
181 1  was  1000,  of  houses  230.  W.  Long.  2.  37.  N, 
Lat.  50.  50. 

MILBROOK,  a  town  of  Cornwall,  on  the  west 
side  of  Flymoutfi  haven.  It  has  a  good  fishing  trade, 
and  has  formerly  furnished  our  fleet  with  many  able 
hands. 

MILDENHALL,  a  town  of  Suffolk,  seven  miles 
from  Newmarket,  1 2  from  Bury,  and  70  from  Lon- 
don, It  is  situated  on  the  river  Lark,  a  braneh  of  the 
Ouse,  with  a  harbour  for  boats,  and  contained  in  181 1, 
2493  inhabitants.  It  has  a  well  frequented  market 
on  Fridays.  Its  church  has  a  tower  or  steeple  120 
fieet  hiffh.    E.  Long.  o.  33.  N.  Lat.  52.  24. 

MILDEW,  is  said  to  be  a  kind  of  thick,  clammy* 
sweet  juice,  exhaled  from,  or  falling  down  upon,  the 
leaves  and  blossoms  of  plants.  By  its  thickness  aud 
claoHDiAess  it  prevents  perspiration,  and  hinders  the 
growth  of  the  plant.  It  sometimes  rests  on  the  leaves 
of  trees  in  fomi  of  a  fatty  juice,  and  sometimes  on  the 
ears  of  corn.  It  is  naturally  very  tough  and  visoous, 
and  becomes  still  mere  so  by  the  sun^s  heat  exhaling 
its  more  fluid  parts  ^  by  which  means  the  young  ears 
of  com  are  so  daubed  over,  that  they  can  never  arrive 
at  theiv  full  ffrowth.  Bearded  wheat  is  less  subject  ta 
the  mildew  than  the  common  sort  ^  and  it  is  observed 
that  newly  dunged  lands  are  more  liable  to  mildew 
tbao  ethers.  The  best  remedy  is  a  smart  shower  of 
raii,  and  immediately  afterwards  a  brisk  wind.  If 
the  mildew  is  seen  before  the  sun  has  much  power, 
it  has  been  recommended  to  send  two  men  into  the 
field  with  A  long  cord,  each  holding  one  end;  and 
drawing  this  aJong  the  field  through  the  ears,  the 
dew  will  be  dislodged  from  them,  before  the  heat  of 
the  sun  is  able  to  dry  it  to  that  viscous  state  in  which 
it  dees  the  mischief.  &>me  also  say,  that  lands  which 
have  for  many  years  been  subject  to  mildews,  have 
been  cured  of  it  by  sowing  soot  along  with  the  gobb, 
or  immediately  after  it. 

*Mr  J.  S.  Segar,  the  author  of  a  treatise  upon  this 
subject,  observes,  that  the  mildew  is  of  inch  a  sharp 
corrosive  nature,  that  it  raises  blisters  on  the  feet  of 
the  shepherds  who  go  barefoot,  and  even  consumes  the 
hoefe  of  the  cattle.  He  suspects  that  it  possesses  some 
arsenical  qualities,  though  he  does  not  pretend  te 
affirm  this  positively.  Its  pernicious  infioence,  ac- 
cording to  him,  is  rendered  still  more  powerful  by  a 
variety  of  circumstances  ^  snch  as  sending  the  cattle  into 
the  fields  too  early  in  the  springs  their  drinking  water 
muxed  with  ice,  or  but  lately .  thawed  ^  their   being 


92     ]  M    I    L  - 

kept  in  stablei  that  are  too  close  and  filthy,  and  which    Mildew 


are  not  sufliciently  aired.  The  same  author  cuDbiders 
the  mildew  as  a  principal  cause  of  eplilvaiical  distem- 
pers among  the  cattle.  The  mildew  producing  these 
diseases,  he  says,  is  that  which  dries  and  bums  the 
grass  and  leaves.  It  falls  usually  in  the  moraiag, 
particularly  after  a  thunder  storm.  Its  poisonous  qua- 
lity (which  does  not  continue  above  24  hours)  never 
operates  but  when  it  has  been  swallowed  immediately 
after  its  falling.  The  disorder  attacks  the  stomach, 
is  accompanied  with  pimples'  on  the  tongue,  loss  ei* 
appetite,  a  desiccation  of  the  aliments  in  the  stomach, 
a  cough,  and  difliculty  of  respiration.  As  a  preserve-* 
tive,  the  author  prescribes  purging  in  spring  and  in 
winter.  The  medicine  he  advises  is  composed  of  30 
grains  of  sulphur  of  antimony,  and  60  grains  of  resin  of 
jakip.  He  is  against  vomiting,  and  every  thing  that  is 
of  a  heating  nature. 

MILE,  a  measure  of  length  or  distance,  containing 
eight  furlongs.  The  English  statute  mile  is  80  chainst 
or  1760  yards }  that  is,  5280  feet. 

We  shall  here  give  a  table  of  the  miles  in  use  among 
the  principal  nations  of  Europe,  in  geometrical  paces, 
60/300  of  which  make  a  d^^ree  of  the  eqnater. 


Mile  of  Bussia 

of  Italy 

of  England 

of  Scotland  and  Ireland 
Old  league  of  France 
The  small  league,  ibid. 
The  mean  league,  ibid. 
The  great  league,  ihid* 
Mile  of  Poland 

of  Spain 

of  Germany 

of  Sweden 

of  Denmark 

of  Hungary 


II 

MiletoiL 


750 
1000 
1200 
1500 
1500 
2000 
2500 
3000 
3000 
3428 
4000 
5000 
5000 
6000 


MILETUS,  in  Ancient  Geogf^ky^  a  town  of  Crete 
mentioned  by  Homer  ;  but  where  situated  does  not  ap- 
pear. It  is  said  to  be  the  mother  town  of  Miletus  m 
Caria,  whither  a  colony  was  led  by  Sarpedon,  Miaos*a 
brother,  (Ephorus,  quoted  by  Strabo).  MiUsii^  the 
people,  (Ovid). 

Miletus,  in  Ancient  Geograpfyf  a  celebrated  towa 
of  Asia  Minor,  on  the  confines  of  Ionia  and  Caria.  It 
was  the  capital  city  of  all  Ionia,  and  famous  both  for 
the  arts  of  war  and  peace.  It  was  situated  about  10 
stadia  south  of  the  mouth  of  the  river  Maeander,  neav 
the  sea  coast.  It  was  founded  by  a  Cretan  colony  under 
Miletus,  the  companion  of  Bacchus  \  or  (according  to 
others)  by  Neleos  the  son  of  Codrus  \  or  by  Sarpedon 
a  son  of  Jupiter.  It  has  successively  been  called 
Lelegds^  PithyuM^  and  Anactoriti.  The  inhabitants, 
calldl  Mileniy  were  very  powerful^  and  long  maintain- 
ed an  obstinate  war  against  the  kio^  of  Lydia. 
They  early  applied  themselves  to  navigation  )  and 
planted  no  less  than  80  colonies,  or  (according  to 
Seneca^  380,  in  different  parts  of  the  world.  It  was 
the  only  town  that  made  head  against  Alexander,  and 
vms  with  much  difficulty  taken.^    It  gave   birth  to> 

Thalcsy 


MIL  [ 

Thales,  <me  of  the  seven  wise  men,  and  tbe  first  who 
g  R|iplied  bimself  to  the  study  of  nature.  It  was  also 
MilftMd.  xh»  Goantry  of  AnaxuDandery  the  scholar  and  sacces- 
sor  of  Thales,  the  ioventor  of  sun  dials  and  the  gno- 
moOy  and  the  first  that  published  a  geographical  map } 
of  Anaxinienes,  scholar  and  successor  to  the  forego- 
ing $  and  of  other  great  men.  It  was  noted  for  its 
excellent  v^od,  according  to  Virgi! ;  and  was  also  ce- 
lebrated for  a  teiripte  and  oracle  of  Apollo  Didy- 
msens.  This  famous  people^  from  being  powerful, 
becoming  afterwards  opulent  and  abandoned  to  plea- 
sores,  lost  both  their  riches  and  their  power.— At  pre- 
sent it  is  f»lled  by  the  Turks  MeUUf  and  not  far  distant 
from  it  runs  the  river  Maeander.  8t  Paul  going  from 
Corinth  to  Jerusalem  passed  by  Miletus,  and  as  he  went 
by  sea,  and  could  not  take  £phe8us  in  his  way,,he  caused 
the  hbheps  and  priests  of  the  church  of  Ephesus  to 
come  to  Miletus  (Acts  xx.  15.  &c.),  which  was  about 
1 2  leagues  from  them. 

MI£F0IL,  or  Yarrow.  See  Achizxea,  Botakt 
Index, 

MILFORD,  a  town  of  North  America,  in  Sussex 
county,  in  the  Delawart  state,  is  situated  at  the  source 
of  a  small  river,  15  miles  from  Delaware  bay,  and  150 
southward  of  Pbiladetphia.  llils  town,  which  contains 
about  So  houses,  has  been  built,  except  one  house,  since 
the  cevolntion.  It  is  laid  out  ,with  much  taste,  and  is 
by  no  means  dbagreeable.  The  inhabitants  are  Epis- 
copalians, Qnakers,  and  Methodists. 

MiLfOKD  Haven^  one  of  the  finest  harbours  in 
Europe,  and  indisputably  the  best  in  Britain,  is  situ- 
ated in  Pembrokeshire  in  South  Wales,  and  lies  on 
the  north  side  of  the  Bristol  channel.  It  is  very  large, 
'  safe,  and  deep ;  there  is  no  danger  of  going  in  or  out 
with  the  tide,  or  almost  with  any  wind.  If  a  ship 
comes  in  without  a  cable  or  anchor,  she  may  run 
ashore  on  the  ooze,  and  there  lie  safe  till  she  is  rentted  ; 
and  in  an  hour's  time  she  may  get  out  of  the  harbour 
into  the  open  sea.  It  lies  extremely  convenient  for 
ships  bound  from'  the  English  or  Bristol  channels 
to  Ireland,  or  farther  west,  and  from  thence  to  the 
channels.  It  b  said,  that  looo  sail  of  any  size  mav 
ride  secnre  in  this  haven.  It  has  16  deep  and  safo 
creeks,  five  bays,  and  13  roads,  all  distinguishect  by 
their  several  names.  The  spring  tide  rises  36  feet, 
•0  that  ships  may  at  any  time  be  laid  ashore.  Dale 
harbour  is  a  ready  outlet  for  small  vessels,  where  they 
may  ride  tn  two  or  three  fathoms  at  low  water.— In 
the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  before  the  Spanish  inva- 
sion, two  fbrts  were  begun  at  the  entrance  of  Mil- 
fbrd  Haven,  one  on  each  side,  called  Nangie  and 
Dale  blockbonses  \  but  they  were  not  then  finnhed.— 
The  Stack  rock  rises  here  above  water,  lying  near  the 
middle  of  the  entrance  between  Nangie  and  Dale. 
Penermonth  is  the  opening  of  that  branch  of  the  ha* 
ven  on  which  the  town  <n  Pembroke  is  seated,  and 
where  tbe  Cttstomhouse  of  Milford  is  kept.  Tbe 
breadtii  of  the  entnnoe  between  rock  and  rock  is 
but  200  yards  irt  high  water,  and  112  at  low  water. 
There  is  a  ridge  of  rocky  ground  that  has  tbe  name 
of  Carrtif  which  runs  ahnost  across  Milford  Haven, 
from  Peter  f^nrch  towards  Llandstadwell,  where  it 
renders  the  landing  place  difficult  to  strangers,  from 
its  not  appearing  at  low  water.  The  great  conveni- 
ence of  this  harbour  ia,  that  in  an  boor's  time  a  ship 


93    ]  MIL 

may  be  in  or  oat  of  it,  and  in  the  way  between  tbe    BdUfoid 
Land^s  End  and  Ireland.     As  it  lies  near  the  mouth        B 
of  the  Severn,  a  ship  in  eight  or  ten  hours  may  be .  ^'^fy* 
over  on  the  coast  of  Ireland,  or  off  the  Land's  End 
in  the  English  channel ;  and  a  vessel  may  get  out 
hence  to  the  west  m\ich  sooner  than  from  either  Ply- 
mouth or  Falmouth.     This  harbour  has  been  greatly 
improved  by  new  works,  at  the  expence  of  the  go- 
vernment.   The  pariiament  on  April  14.  1759  granted 
io,oool.  for  fortifying  the  harbour  of  Milford,  all  of 
which  was  expended  on  the  fort  at  Neyland,  which, 
however,  still  remains  unfinished. 

MILIARY,  in  general,  something  resembling  nullet 
seed. 

Miliary  Fever*    See  Medicike  Index* 

MILITANT,  or  Church-militant,  denotes  the 
body  of  Christians  while  here  on  earth. 

MILITART,  something  belonging  to  the  soldiery 
or  militia* 

Military  Dt9cipHne^  the  training  of  soldiers,  and  the 
due  enforcement  of  the  laws  and  regulations  instituted ' 
by  authority  for  their  conduct. 

Next  to  the  forming  of  troops,  military  discipline  is 
the  first  object  that  presents  itself  to  our  notice  ;  it  is 
the  soul  of  all  armies  ^  and  unless  it  be  established 
amongst  them  with  great  prudence,  and  supported  witli 
unshaken  resolution,  they  are  no  better  than  so  many 
contemptible  heaps  of  rabble,  which  are  more  dangerous 
to  the  very  state  that  maintains  them  than  even  its  de- 
clared enemies. 

Military  Execution^  the  ravaging  or  destroying  of 
a  country,  or  town,  that  refuses  to  pay  the  contribution 
inflicted  upon  them. 

Military  Exercise,  See  Exercise  and  Words 
of  Command. 

Military  State^  in  Britisb  >)]ity,  one  of  the  three 
divisions  of  the  laity.     See  Laitt. 

This  state  includes  the  whole  of  the  soldiery,  or 
such  persons  as  are  peculiarly  appointed  among  the- 
rest  of  the  people  for  tbe  safeguard  and  defence  of  the 
realnk 

In  a  land  uf  liberty,  it  is  extremely  dangerous  to 
make  a  distinct  order  of  the  profession  of  arms.  In  ab- 
solute monarchies,  thSi  is  necessary  for  the  safety  of  the 
prince  \  and  arises  from  thef  main  principle  of  their 
constitution,  which  is  that  of  governing  by  fear  ^  but, 
in  free  states,  the  profession  of  a  soldier,  taken  singly 
and  merely  as  a  profession,  is  justly  an  object  of  jea- 
lousy. In  these  no  man  should  take  up'  arms  but  with 
a  view  to  defend  his  country  and  its  laws  :  tie  puts  not 
off  the  citizen  when  he  enters  the  camp }  but  it  is  be- 
cadse  he  is  a  citizen,  and  would  wish  to  continue  so, 
that  he  makes  himself  for^a  while  a  soldier.  The  laws 
therefore,  and  constitution  of  these  kingdoms,  kuow  no 
such  state  as  that  of  a  perpetual  standing  soldier,  bred 
up  to  no  other  profession  than  that  of  war  >  and  it 
was  not  till  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.  that  the  kings 
of  England  had  so  much  as  a  guard  about  their  per- 
sons. 

In  the  time  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  as  appears  from 
Bdward  the  Confessor^s  laws,  the  military  force  of 
England  was  in  the  hands  of  the  dukes  or  heretocbs, 
who  were  constituted  through  every  province  and 
county  in  the  kingdom  \  being  taken  out  of  the  princi- 
pal nobility,  and  such  as  were  most  remarkable  for  be- 
ing"^ 


M    1    L  [    94 

Military,  ipg  saqnenteSfJtdeles^etannnosi.  Their  duty  was  to  lead 
^and  regulate  the  English  armies  with  a  very  uoliiftited 
power  f  protU  eis  vmtmjverit^  ad  honorem  corona  ei  uti* 
litatem  regm.    And  hecause  of  this  oreat  power  they 
were  elected  hy  the  pepple  in  their  full  assemUj,  or 
Tolkmote,  in  the  same  manner  as  sheriffs  were  elected : 
following  still  that  old  fundamental  maxim  of  the  Saxon 
constitution,  that  where  any  officer  was  entrusted  with 
such  power,  as,  if  abused,  might  tend  to  the  oppression 
of  the  people,  that  power  was  delegated  to  him  by  the 
▼ote  of  the  people  themselves.     So  too,  among  the  an- 
cient Germans,  the  ancestors  of  our  Saxon  forefathers, 
they  had  their  dukes,  as  well  as  kines,  with  an  inde- 
pendent power  over  the  military,  as  the  kings  had  over 
the  civil  state.     The  dukes  wen  elective,' the  kings  he- 
reditary :  for  so  only  can  be  consistently  understood 
Ihat  passage  bf  Tacitus,  Reges  es  nobtHtafe^  duces  ex 
viriute  sumunt.    In  constituting  their  kings,  the  fa- 
mily or  blood  royal  was  regarded;  in  choosing  their 
dnkes  or  leaders,  warlike  merit :- just  as  Csesar  relates 
of  their  ancestors  in  his  time,*  that  whenever  they  went 
to  war,  by  way  either  of  attack  or -defence,  they  elect- 
ed leaders  to  conraiand  them.    This  large  share   of 
(power,  thus  conferred  by  the  pepple,  though  intended 
to  preserve  Ithe'  liberty  of  the  sul>ject,   was  perhaps  un- 
reasonably detrimental  to  tho. prerogative  of  the  crown : 
and  accordingly  we  lEnd  a  very  ill  use  made  of  it  by 
Edric  duke  of  Mercia,'  in  \he  reign  of  King  Edmund 
Ironside  \  who,  by  his  office  of  duke  or  heretoch,  was 
entitled  to  a  large  command  in  the  king^s  army,  and 
by  his  repeated  treacheries  att  last  transferred  the  crown 
to  Canute  the  Dane. 

It  seems  universally  agreed  by  all  historians,  that 
King  Alfred  first  settled  a  national  militia  in  this  king- 
dom, and'  by  his  prudent  discipline  made  all  the  sub- 
jects of  his  dominions  soldiers:  but  we  are  unfortu- 
nately left  in  the  dsurk  as  to  the  particulars  of  this  his 
80  celebrated  regolatioi^ ;  though,  from  what  .was  last 
observed,  \be  dukes  seem  to  have  been  left  in  possession 
of  too  large  and  independent  a  power :  which  enabled 
I>nke  Harold,  oh  the  death  of  *£dward  the  Confessor, 
though  a  stranger  to  the  royal  blood,  to  mount  for  a 
short  space  the  throne  of  this  kingdom,  in  prejudice  of 
Edgar  Etheling  the  rigbtfiil  l^eir. 

Upon  the  Norman-  conquest,  the  feodat  law  was  in- 
troduced here  in  all  its  rigour,  the  whole  of  which  is 
built  on  a  military  plan,  in  consequence  thereof,  all 
the  lands'  in  the  kingdom  were  divided  into  what  were 
called  A:nffAl^^#j^«,  in  number  above  6o,ooo  \  and  for 
every  knight^s  Tee,  a  knight  or  soldier,  miles^  was 
bound  to  attend  the  king  in  his  wars,  for  40  days  in  a 
year ;  in  which  space  of  time,  before  war  was  reduced 
to  a  science,  the  campaign  was  generally  finished,  and 
a  kingdom  either  conquered  or  victorious.  By  this 
means  the  king  bad,  without  any  expence,  an  army  of 
60,000  men  always  ready  at  his  command.  And  ac- 
cordingly we  find  one,  among  the  laws  of  William  the 
Conqueror,  which  in  the  king's  name  commands  and 
firmly  enjoins  the  personal  attendance  of  all  knights  and 
others  ;  quod  habeant  et  teneant  se  semper  in  amds  ei 
eqtiis^  ut  decet  et  oportei :  et  quod  semper  sint  promptt  ei 
parati  ad  servitium  suum  integrum  nobis  explendum  et 
peragendum^  cum  opus  adfuerit^  secundum  quod  debent 
defeodis  et  tenementis  suis  dejure  nobis  facere.  Thb 
,  personal  service  in  process  of  time  degenenited  into 

3 


] 


M    T    ^ 


pecuniary  comovtations  or  aids  \  and  at  laH  the  nd-  \ss^ 
litarypart  of  the  feodal  system  was  abolished  at  tbe^^^^ 
Restoration,  by  stat.  12  Car.  II.  c  24.    See  Fwbih 
System. 

In  the  mean  time,  we  are  not  to  imagine  that  the 
kingdom  was  left  wholly  without  defence  in  case  of 
domestic  insurrections,  or  the  prospect  of  foreign  in* 
vasions.   -Besides  those  who  by  their  military  tenures 
were  bound  to  perform  40  days  service  in  the  field,  first 
the  assize  of  arms,  enacted  27  Hen.  II.  and  afterwards 
the  statute  of  -Winchester,  under  Edward  I.  obliged 
every  man,  according  to  his  estate  and  degree,  to  pro- 
vide a  determinate  quantity  of  such  arms  as  were  then 
in  use,  in  order  to  keep  the  peace  ^  and  constables  were 
appointed  in  all  hundreds  by  the  latter  statute,  to  see 
that  such  arms  were  provided.     These  weapons  wera 
changed,  by  the  statute  4  and  5  Ph.  and  M.  c  2.  into 
others  of  more  modern  service  ^  but  both  this  and  the 
former  provisions  were  repealed  in  the  reign  of  James  I. 
While  these  continued  in  force,  it  was  usual  from  time 
to  time  for  our  princes  to  issue  commissions  of  array, 
and  send  into  eveiy  county  officers  in  whom  they  could 
confide,  to  muster  and  array  (or  set  in  military  order) 
the  inhabitants  of  every  district ;  and  the  form  of  the 
commission  of  array  was  settled  in  parliament  in  the 
5  Hen.  IV,     But  at  the  same  time  it  was  provided,  that 
no  man  should  be  compelled  to  go  out  of  the  kingdom 
at  any  rate,  nor  out  of  his  shire,  but  in  cases  of  urgent 
necessity  ^  nor  should  provide  soldiers  unless  by  consent 
of  parliament.     About  the  reign  of  King  Heniy  VIIT. 
and  his  children,  lord-lieutenants  began  to  be  utroda- 
ced,  as  standing  representatives  of  the  crown,  to  keep 
the  counties  in  military  order  ^  for  we  find  them  men- 
tioned as  known  officers  in  the  statute  4  and  5  Ph.  and 
M.  c.  3*  though  they  had  not  been  then  long  in  use ; 
for  Camden  speaks  of  them  in  the  time  of  Queei\  Eliza- 
beth as  extraordinary  magistrates,  constituted  only  in 
times  of  difficulty  and  danger. 

In  this  state  things  continued  till  the  repeal  of  the 
statutes  of  armour  in  the  reign  of  King  James  I. ;  after 
which,  when  King  Charles  I.  had,  during  his  northern 
expeditions,  issued  conimissions  of  lieutenancy,  and  ex- 
erted some  military  powers  which,  having  been  long  ex- 
ercised, were  thought  to  belong  to  the  crown,  it  be- 
came a  question  in  the  long  parliament,  how  far  the 
power  of  the  militia  did  inherently  reside  in  the  king  t 
being  now  unsupported  by  any  statute,  and  founded 
only  upon  immemorial  usage.  This  question,  long  agi- 
tated with  great  heat  and  resentment  on  both  sides,  be- 
came at  length  the  immediate  cause  of  the  fatal  rupture 
between  the  king  and  his  parliament :  the  two  houses 
not  only  denying  this  prerogative  of  the  crown,  tlie  le- 
gality of  which  claim  perhaps  might  be  somewhat  doubt- 
ful ^  but  also  seizing  into  their  bands  the  entire  power 
of  the  militia,  the  illegality  of  which  step  could  never 
be  any  doubt  at  all. 

Soon  after  the  restoration  of  King  Charles  II.  when 
the  military  tenures  were  abolished,  it  was  thought  pro- 
per to  ascertain  the  power  of  the  militia,  to  recogmie 
the  sole  right  of  the  crown  .to  govern  and  command 
them,  and  to  put  the  whole  into  a  more  regular  method 
of  military  subordination :  and  the  order  in  which  the 
militia  now  stands  by  law,  is  principally  built  upon  the 
statutes  which  were  then  enacted.  It  is  true,  the  two 
last  of  them  are  apparently  repealed  *,  butnoany  of  their 

provisions 


MIL 


C    95     ] 


MIL 


jgStMTj  pronsions  ave  re-enacted,  .with  the  addition  of  some  new 
'  ^regttlaUons,  by  the  present  militia  laws  ^  the  general 
ficheme  of  which  b  to  discipline  a  certain  number  of  the 
inhabitants  of  every  counbr,  chosen  by  lot  for  three 
years,  and  officered  by  the  lord-lieoitenant,  the  deputy 
lieutenants,  and  other  principal  landholders,  under  a 
commission  from  the  crown.  They  are  not  eompellable 
to  march  out  of  their  ^unties,  unless  in  case  of  invasion 
er  actual  rebellion,  nor  in  any  case  compellable  to 
march  out  of  the  kingdom.  They  are  to  be  exercised 
at  stated  times :  and  their  discipline  in  general  is  libe- 
ral and  easy ',  but,  when  drawn  out  into  actual  service, 
they  are  subject  to  the  rigours  of  martial  law,  as  neces- 
sary to  keep  them  in  order.  This  is  the  constitutional 
security  which  our  laws  have  provided  for  the  public 
peace,  and  for  protecting  the  realm  against  foreign  or 
domestic  violence ;  and  which  the  statutes  declare  as 
essentially  necessary  to  the  safety  and  prosperity  of  the 
kingdom.. 

when  the  nation  was  engaged  in  war,  more  veteran 
troops  and  more  regular  discipline  were  esteemed  to  be 
necessary,  than  conld  be  expected  from  a. mere  militia', 
and  therefore  at  such  times  more  rigorous  methods  were 
put  in  use  for  the  raising  of  armies  and  the  due  regula- 
tion and  discipline  of  the  soldiery,  which  are  to  be 
Looked  upon  o^y  as  temporary  excrescences  bred  out  of 
the  distemper  of  the  state,  and  not  as  any  part  of  the 
permanent  and  perpetual  laws  of  the  kingdom..  For 
martial  law,  which  is  built  upon,  no  settled  principles, 
but  is  entirely  arbitrary  in  its  decisions,  is,  as  Sir  Mat*, 
the w  Hale  observes,  in v truth  and.reality.no-law,  but 
«»mething  indulged  rather  than  allowed  as  a  law.  The 
necessity  of  order  and  discipline  in  an  army  is  the  onl^ 
thing  which  can  give  it  countenance  \  and  therefore  it 
ought  not  to  be  permitted  in  time  of  peace,  when  the 
king^s  courts  are  open  for  all  persons  to  receive  justice 
according  to  the  laws  of  the  land.  Wherefore,  Thomas 
eaxl  of  Lancaster  being  convicted  at  Pontefraet,  15  Ed- 
ward II.  by  martial  law,  his  attainder  was  reversed 
I  Edward  tiL  because  it  was  done  in  time  of  peace. 
And  it  is  laid  down,  that  if  a  lieutenant,  or  other,  that 
hath  commission  of  martial  authority,  doth  in  time  of 
ppace  hang,  or  otherwise  execute  any  man  by  colour  of 
martial  law^  this  is  murder  ^  for  it  is  against  magna 
cJiarta.  And  the  petition  of  right  enacts,  that  no  sol- 
dier shall  be  quartered  on  the  subject  without  his  own 
consent  ^  and  that  no  commission  shall  issue  to  proceed 
within  thi&-land  according  to  martial  law.  And  where- 
as, ifter  the  Restoration,  King  Charles  II.  kept  up 
about  5000  regular  troops,  by  nis  own  authority,  for 
guards  and  garrisons,  which  King  James  II.  by  degrees 
increased  to  no  less  than  30,000,  all  paid  from  his  own 
civil  list  \  it  was  made  one  of  the  articles  of  the  bill  of 
rights,  that  tlie  raising  or  keeping  a. standing  army  with- 
in the  kingdom  in  time  of  peace,  unless  it  be  with  con- 
sent of  parliament,  is  against  law. 

But  as  the  £sshion  of  keeping  standing  armies  (which 
was  first  introduced  by  Charles  VII.  in  France  1445) 
has  of  late  years  universally  pi:evailed  over  Europe 
(thoorii  some  of  its  potentates,. being  unable  themselves 
to  maintain  them,  are  obliged  to  have  recourse  ICLricher 
powers,  and  receive  subsidiary  pensions  for  that  pur- 
pose), Jtjias.  also  for  .many  years  past  been  annually 
judged  necessary  by  our  legislature  for  the  safety,  of  the 
kiDgdom,  the  defence  of  the  possessions  of  the  arowa  of 


Great  Britain,  and  the  preservation  of  the  balance  of  Mllitaiy. 
power  in  Europe,  to  maintain  even  in  time  of  peace  a 
standing  body  of  troops,  under  the  command  of  the 
crown  \  who  are  however  ipsojacto  disbanded  at  the  ex- 
piration of  every  year,  unless  continued  by  parliament. 
And  it  was  enacted  by  statute  10  William  III.  c.  i. 
that  not  more  than  x  2,000  regular  forces  should  be  kept 
on  foot  in  Ireland,  though  paid  at  the  cliarge  of  that 
kingdom :  which  permission  is  extended  by  statute 
8  Geo.  Ill,  c.  xj.  to  16,235  men  in  time  of  peace. 

To  prevent  the  executive  power  from  beins  able  to 
oppress,  says  Baron  Montesquieu,  it  is  requisite  that 
the  armies  with  which  it  is  intrusted  should  consist  of 
the  people,  and  have  the  same  spirit  with  the  people : 
as  was  the  case  at  Rome,  till  Marius  new-modelled  the 
legions  by  enlisting  the  rabble  of  Italy,  and  laid  the 
foundation  of  all  the  military  tyranny  that  ensued. 
Nothing  then,  according  to  these  principles,  ought  to 
be  more  guarded  against  in  a  free  state,  than  making 
the  military  power,  when  such  a  one  is  necessary  to  be 
kept  on  foot,  a  body  too  distinct  from  the  people. 
Like  ours,  therefore,  it  should  wholly  be  composed  of 
natural  subjects  \  it  ought  only  to  be  eilisted  for  a  short 
and  limited  time  \  the  soldiers  also,  s&ould  live  inter- 
mixed with  the  people  \  no  separate  camp,  n<>  barracks, 
no  inland  fortresses  should  be  allowed.  And  perhaps  it 
miffht  be  still  better,  if,  by  dismissing  a  stated  number, 
and  enlisting  others  at  every  renewal  of  their  term,  a 
circulation,  could  be  kept  up  between  the  army  and  the 
people,  and  the  citizen  and  the  soldier  be  more  inti- 
mately connected  together. 

To  keep  this  body  of  troops  in  order,  an  annual  act 
of  parliament  likewise  passes,  ''  to  punish  mutiny  and  > 
desertion,  and  fer  the  better  payment  of  the  army  and 
their  quarters.*^  This  regulates  the  manner  in  which . 
they  are  to  be  dispersed  among  the  several  inn-keepers 
and  victuallers  throughout  the  kingdom  3  and  establishes 
a  law  martial  for  their  government.  By  this,  among 
other  things,  it  is  enacted,  that  if  any  officer  or  soldier 
shall  excite,  or  join  anv  mutiny,  or,  knowing  of  it, 
shall  not  give  notice  to  the  commanding  officer,  or  shall 
desert,  or  list  in  any  other  regiment,  or  sleep  upon  his 
post,  or  leave  it  before  he  is  relieved,  or  hold  corres- 
pondence with  a  rebel  or  enemy,  or  strike  or  use  vio- 
lence to  his  superior  officer,  or  shall  disobey  his  lawful 
commands  \  such  offender  shall  suffer  such  punishment 
as  a  court  martial  shall  inflict,  though  it  extend  to  death 
itself. 

However  expedient  the  most  strict  regulations  may 
be  in  time  of  actual  war,  yet  in  times,  of  .profound, 
peace,  a  little  relaxation  of  military  jrigpnr  would  not^i 
one  should  hope,  be  productive  of  much  inconvenience. . 
And,  upon  this  principle,  .though  by  our  standing  laws 
(still  remaining  ia  force,  though  not  attended  to)  de- 
sertion in  time  of  war .  is .  made,  felony,  without,  benefit 
of  clergy,  and  .the  offence  is  triable  by  a  jury^.  and  »he*«i 
fore  the  judges  of  the  common  law  \  yet,  by  'Our  mi- 
litia laws  before  mentioned,  a  much  lighter  punishment 
is  inflicted  fox  desertion  in  time  of  peace.  So,  by  the 
Boman  law  .also,  4esertion  in  time  of  war  was  punish- 
ed with  death,  but  more,  mildly  in  time  of  tranquil-' 
lity.  But  our  mutiny  act  makes  no  such  distinction : 
for  any  of  the. faults  above  mentioned,  are  equ^ly.-at 
all  times,  punishable  with  d^th  itself,  ii'  a  court  mar- 
tial shall  think  proper..  This  discretionary  pawer  of 

the 


M    I    L 


t    96    ] 


MIL 


Milrtftry.  Ae  cotirt  martial  is  indeed  to  Xte  guided  hy  the  direc- 
*-*-?v-**^  tions  of  the  crown :  which,  with  regard  to  military 
offences,  has  almost  an  absolute  legislative  power.  •*  His 
Majesty  (says  the  act)  may  "omi  articles  of  war,  and 
constitute  courts  martial,  with  power  to  try  any  crime 
by  such  articles,  and  inflict  such  penalties  as  the  articles 
direct/'  A  vast  and  most  important  trust !  an  unlimit- 
ed power  to  create  crimes,  and  annexto  them  any  pd- 
nishments  not  extending  to  life  or  limb  f  These  are  in- 
deed forbidden  to  be  inflicted,  except  for  crimes  decla- 
red to  be  so  punishable  by  this  act ;  which  crimes  we 
have  just  enumerated,  and  among  whtcb»  we  may  ob- 
serve, that  any  disobedience  to  lawful  commands  is  one. 
Perhaps  in  some  future  revision  of  this  act,  which  4s 
in  many  repects  hastily  penned,  it  may  be  thought 
worthy  the  wisdom  of  parliament  to  ascertain  the  li- 
mits of  military  subjection,  and  to  en»ct  express  articles 
of  war  for  the  government  of  the  army,  as  is  done  for 
the  government  of  the  navy  'y  especially  as,  by  our  pre- 
bent  constitution,  the  nobility  and  gentry  of  the  king- 
dom, who  serve  their  country  as  militia  officers,  are.an- 
'  nually  subjected  to  the  same  arbitrary  mle  during  their 
time  of  exercise. 

One  of  the  greatest  advantages  of  onr  law  is,  that 
not  only  the  crimes  themeelves  which  it  punishes,  but 
also  the  penalties  which  it  inflicts,  are  ascertained  and 
.  notorious :  nothing  is  left  to  arbitrary  discretion  :  the 
'  king  by  his  jtidges  --dispenses  what  the  law  has  previ- 
onsly  ordained,  'bot  is  not  himself  the  legislator.     How 
mucn,  therefore,  is  it  to  be  regretted,  that  a  set  of 
men,  whose  bravery  has  so  often  presented  the  liberties 
of  their  country,  shoold  be  reduced  to  41  state  of  servi- 
tude in  the  midst  of  a  nation  ef  freemen }  for  Sir  Ed- 
ward Cokcr  will  inform-  tis^  that  it  is  one  of  the  ge- 
Blackd,     nuioe  marka^;tof  servitude,  to  have  the  law,  which  is 
CmMjngtiL   oiir  ^-yle  of  action^  either  concealed  or  precarious  \ 
^Misera  est  servitus^  ubi  jus  est  vagum  out  tncbgnttutn. 
Nor  is  this  state  of  serTiiude4|Ajite  consistent  with  the  . 
maxims  of  ^o«md  policy  observed  jby  other  free  na- 
tions. -For  the  greater  the  general  liberty  is  which 
,  any  state  enjoys,  the  jnore  cautious  has  it  usually  been 
in  introducing  slavery  in  any  particular  order  ^  or  pro- 
fession.    These  men,  ai^iB^ron  Montesqidea  obseEves, 
seeing  the  liberty  which. others  {K>ssess»  and  which  they 
themselves  are  excluded  from,  are  apt  (like  eunuchs 
in  the  easte^i  seraglios)  to  live  in  a  state  of  perpetual 
envy  and  hatred  towards  the  rest  of  the  community, 
and  indulge  a  malignant  pleasure  in  contributing  to  de- 
stroy those  privileges  to  which  they  can  flever  be  ad- 
mitted. /^Hence  have  many  free  states,  by  departing 
from  this  rule,  b«en  endangered  by  the  revolt  of  their 
slaves  'y  while,,  in  absohite  and  despotic  governments, 
'  where  no  real  liberty ^exists^  and  consequently  no  invi- 
dious comparisons  can  be  foimed,  such  incidents  are  ex- 
.  tremely  rare.  >  Two  precautions  are  therefore  advised  to 
,  be  observed  in  all  prudent  and  firee^vemments:  i.  To 
.  prevent  the  introduction  of  slavery  at  all  z-or,  2.  If  it 
?  be  already  introduced,  not  to  intrnst  those  slaves  with 
arms  who  will  then  find  themselves  an  overmatch  for 
the  freemen.     Much  less  ought  the  soldiery  to  be  an 
exception  to  the  people  in  general,  and  the  only  atate 
.  of  servitude  in  thie  nation. 

Bat  as  soldiers,  by  this  annual  act,  are  thus  put  in 

a  worse  condition  than  any  other  subjects  5  so,  by  the 

-  humanity  of  our  standing  laws,  they  are  in  some  eases 


11 

Milk. 


put  in  a  much  better.  By  statute  43  Elir^  c.  3.  a  jV!ri»«ry 
weekly  allowance  is  to  be  raised  in  every  county  for 
the  relief  of  soldiers  ttiat  are  sick,  hurt,  and  maimed  : 
not  fbrgetting  the  royal  hospital  at  Chelsea  for  such  as 
are  worn  out  in  their  duty*  Officers  and  soldiers, 
that  have  been  in  the  king^s  sen'ice,  are  by  several  sta- 
tutes, enacted  at  the  close  of  several  wars,  at  liberty 
to  use  any  trade  or  occupation  they  are  fit  for,  in  any 
town  in  the  .kingdom  (except  the  two  univei*sities), 
notwithstanding  any  statute,  custom,  or  charter  to  the 
contrary.  And  soldiers  in  actual  militarv  service  may 
make  nuncupative  wills,  and  dispose  of  their  goods, 
wages,  and  other  personal  chattels,  without  these 
.forms,  solemnities,  and  expences,  which  the  law  re- 
quires in  other  cases.  Our  law  does  net  indeed  extend 
this  privilege  so  far.  as  the  civil  law,  which  carried 
it  to  an  extreme  that  borders  upon  the  ridieuloos  : 
for  if  a  soldier,  in  the  article  of,  death,  wrote  any 
thing  in  bloody  letters  on  his  shield,  or  in  the  dust  of 
the  field  with  his  3Word,  it  was  a  very  good  military 
testament. 

Military  Court.     See  CmvAXJtT,  CSwrr/  of. 
Military  Tenures.    See  Tenure,  Fjeodjl   Sys-- 
tem^  and  Knight. 

Military  ff^ays  {viee  fntlitares)^  are  the  large  Ro- 
man roads  whicIr4Agr]ppa  procured  to  be  made  through 
the  empire  in  the  time  of  Augustus,  for  the  more  ooo« 
venient  marching  of  troops  and  conveyance  of  carriages. 
N.  Bergier  has  written  the  history  of  the  origin,  pro- 
gress, and  amaziogextent,«f  these  military  roads,  which 
were  pav^d  from  the  gates  of  Rome  tolhe  extreme 
parts  of  the  empire.     See  Way. 

MILITIA,  in  general,  denotes  the  body  of  soldiers, 
or  those  who  make  profession  of  arms. 

In  a  more  restrainifid  sense,  militia  denotes  the  train- 
ed bands  of  a  town  or  country,  who  arm  themselves, 
upon  a  short  warning,  for  their  own  defence.  So  that, 
in  this  sense,  militia  is  opposed  to  regular  or  stated 
troops.     See  Military  State^  tind^TEODAL  System* 

MILIUM,  Millet,  a  genus  of  plants,  belonging  to 
the  triandria  class  5  and  in  the  natural  method  ranking 
under  the  4th  order,  Gramina.     See  Botany  Jvdex. 

MILK,  a  well  known  fluid,  prepared  by  nature  in 
the  breasts  of  women,  and  the  udders  of  other  ani- 
mals, for  the  nourishment  4>f  their  young.-^According 
to  Dr  Culleh*,  milk  is  a  connecting  and  intermediate  «  2>ff  m 
substance  between  animals  and  vegetables.     It  seems  21/02.  yiva, 
immediately  to  be  secreted  from  the  chyle,  both  being 
a  white  liquor  of  the  same  conai«tence :  it  is  most  co- 
piously secreted  after  meals,  and  of  an  acescent  nature. 
In  most  animals  who  live  on  vegetables,  the  milk  is 
acescent  \  and  it  is  uncertain,  though  at  the  same  time 
no  observation  proves  the  contiary,  whether  it  is  not 
so  likewise  in  carnivorous  fininials.     But,  whatever  be 
in  this,  it  is  certain,  that  the  milk  of  all  animals  who 
live  on  vegetables  is  acescent.     Milk  being  derived 
frt>m  the  chyle,  we  thence  conclude  its  ^vegetable  na- 
ture ;   for  in  those  who  live  on  both  promiscuously, 
more  milk  is  got,  and  more  quickly, -from  the  i«ge- 
table  than  the  animal  food.     Milk,  however,  is  not 
purely  vegetable;  though  we  have  a  vegetable  liquor 
that  resembles  its  taste^  consistence,  colour,  acescency, 
and  the  separability  of  the  oily  part,  viz.  an  cmulsioa 
of  the  nuces  oleosa;  and  farinaceous  substances.     But 
these  wifbt  the  coagulable  part  of  milk,  which  seens 

to 


MIL  [ 

MSk.     to  be  of  aoima]  nataret  approacbinff  to  that  of  tbe 

*"   y      'coagulable  lympb  of  the   blood,      ftiilk,  then,  seems 

to  be  of  an  intermediate  nature,  between  chyle  taken 

up  from  tbe  intestines  and  the  fully  elaborated  animal 

fluid. 

Its  contents  are  of  three  kinds :  ist,  An  oily  plirt, 
which,  whatever  may  be  said  concerning  the  origin  of 
other  oils  in  the  body,  is  certainly  immediately  derived 
from  the  oil  of  the  vegetables  taken  in  -y  as  with  these 
it  agrees  very  exactly  in  its  nature,  and  would  entirely, 
if  we  could  separate  it  fully  from  the  coagulable  part. 
Another  mark  of  their  agreement  is  the  separability, 
which  proves  that  the  mixture  has  been  lately  attempt- 
ed, but  not  folly  performed.  2dly«  Besides  this  oily, 
there  is  a  proper  coagulable  part :  And,  3dly,  Much 
water  accompanies  both,  in  which  there  is  dissolved 
a  saline  saccharine  substance.  These  three  can  be  got 
separate  in  cheese,  butter,  and  whey  y  but  never  per- 
fectly so,  a  part  of  each  being  always  blended  with 
every  other  part. 

Nothing  is  more  common,  from  what  has  been  said 
of  its  immediate  iiature,  than  to  suppose  that  it  re- 
quires no  assimilation  ^  and  hence  has  been  deduced  the 
leason  of  its  exhibition  in  the  most  weakly  state  of  the 
boman  body.  But  wherever  we  can  examine  milk, 
we  always  find  that  it  coagulates,  suffers  a  decompo- 
sition, and  becomes  acescent.  Again,  Infants,  who 
feed  entirely  on  milk,  are  always  troubled  with  eruc- 
tations, which  every  body  observes  are  not  of  the  same 
quality  with  the  food  taken ;  and  therefore  it  appears, 
that,  like  all  other  food,  milk  turns  naturally  acescent 
in  the  stomach,  and  only  enters  the  chyle  and  blood  in 
conseqoence  of  a  new  recomposition.  It  approaches  then 
to  the  nature  of  vegetable  aliment,  but  is  not  capable 
of  its  noxious  vinous  fermentation,  and,  therefore  has 
an  advantage  over  it ;  neither  from  this  quality,  like 
animal  food,  is  it  heating  in  the  stomach,  and  produc- 
tive of  fever ;  though  at  the  same  time,  horn  its  qnan* 
tity  of  coagulable  matter,  it  is  more  nourishing  than 
vesetables. 

Milk  is  the  food  most  universally  suited  to  all  ages 
and  states  of  the  body ;  but  it  seems  chiefly  designed  by 
nature  as  the  food  of  infiints.  When  animab  are  in 
the  foetus  state,  their  solids  are  a  perfect  jelly,  inca- 
pable of  an  assimilatory  power.  In  such  state  nature 
has  perfectly  assimilated  food,  as  the  albumen  ovi  in 
the  oviparous,  and  in  the  viviparous  animals  certainly 
somewhat  of  the  same  kind,  as  it  was  necessary  the 
vessels  should  be  filled  with  such  a  fluid  as  would  make 
way  for  an  after  assimilation.  When  the  infant  has 
attained  a  considerable  degree  of  firmness,  as  when  it 
is  separated  from  the  mother,  yet  such  a  degree  of 
weakness  still  remains  as  makes  somewhat  of  the  same 
indication  necessary  ^  it  behoves  the  infant  to  have  an 
alkalescent  food  ready  prepared,  and  at  the  same  time 
its  noxious  tendency  to  be  avoided.  Milk  then  is 
given,  which  is  alkalescent,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
has  a  sttflicient  quantity  of  acidity  to  correct  that  alka- 
lescency.  As  the  body  advances  in  growth,  and  the 
alkalescent  tendency  is  greater,  the  animal,  to  obviate 
tiiat  tendency,  is  led  to  take  vegetable  food,  as  more 
suited  to  its  strength  of  assimilation. 

I>r  CnUea  observes,  that  milk  is  suited  to  almost  all 
iemperaments  ^  and  it  is  even  so  to  stomachs  disposed 

Vou  XIV.  Part  L  t 


97      ]  MIL 

to  acescency,  more  than  those  substances  which  have 
undergone  the  vinous  fermentation  y  nay,  it  even  cnres 
the  heartburn,  checks  vinous  fermentation ;  and  pre- 
cipitates the  lees,  when,  by  renewal  of  fermentation, 
the  wine  happens  to  be  fouled.  It  therefore  very  pro- 
perly accompanies  a  great  deal  of  vegetable  aliment  : 
although  sometimes  its  acescency  is  troublesome,  ei- 
ther from  a  large  proportion  taken  in,  or  from  the  de- 
gree of  it  'y  for,  according  to  certain  unaccountable  cir- 
cumstances, different  acids  are  formed  in  the  stomach 
in  different  states  of  the  body  j  in  a  healthy  body  e.  g. 
a  mild  one  \  in  the  hypochondriac  disease  sometimes, 
one  of  a  very  acrid  quality.  When  the  acidity  of 
milk  is  carried  to  a  great  degree,  it  may  prove  re- 
markably refrigerant,  and  occasion  cold  crudities,  and 
the  recurrence  of  intermittent  fevers.  To  take  the 
common  notion  of  its  passing  unchanged  into  tbe 
blood,  it  can  suffer  no  solution.  But  if  we  admit  its 
coagnlum  in  the  stomach,  then  it  may  be  reckoned 
among  soluble  or  insoluble  foods,  according  as  that 
coagulum  is  more  or  less  tenacious.  Formerly  rennet, 
which  is  employed  to  coagulate  milk,  was  thought  an 
acid  'y  but,  from  late  observations,  it  appears,  that,  if 
it  be  an  acid,  it  is  very  different  from  other  acids,  and 
that  its  coagnlum  is  stronger  than  that  produced  by  acids. 
'  It  has  been  imagined,  that  a  rennet  is  to  be  found  in 
the  stomachs  of  all  animals,  which  causes  coagulation  of 
milk  y  but  according  to  Dr  Cullen  the  coagulation  of 
milk  seemB  to  be  owing  to  a  weak  acid  in  the  stomach, 
the  relics  of  our  vegetable  food,  inducing,  in  healthy 
persons,  a  weak  and  soluble  coagnlum  :  but  in  different 
stomachs  this  may  be  very  different,  in  these  becoming 
heavy  and  less  soluble  food,  and  sometimes  even  eva- 
cuated in  a  coagulated  undissolved  state  both  by  sto- 
nuach  and  stool. 

As  milk  is  ascescent,^it  may  be  rendered  sometimes 
purgative  by  mixing  with  the  bile ;  and  some  examples 
of  this  have  been  remarked.  More  commonly,  how- 
ever, it  is  reckoned  among  those  foods  which  occasion 
costiveness. 

Hoffman,  in  his  experiments  on  milk,  found  that 
all  kinds  of  it  contained  much  water  \  and  when  this 
was  dissipated,  found  the  residuums  very  different  in 
their  solubility.  But  we  must  not  thence  conclude, 
that  the  same  insolnbility  takes  place  in  the  stomach  ^ 
for  extracts  made  from  vegetables  with  water  are  often 
very  insoluble  substances,  and  hardly  diffusible  through 
water  itself:  therefore,  in  Hoffmanns  extracts,  if  we 
may  so  call  them,  of  milk,  somewhat  of  the  same  kind 
might  have  appeared  j  and  these  substances,  which  in 
their  natural  state  were  not  so,  might  appear  very  in- 
soluble. However,  we  may  allow  that  milk  is  alwaya 
somehow  insoluble  in  the  intestines,  as  it  is  of  a  drying 
nature,  and  as  cheese,  &c.  is  very  costive*  And  this 
effect  shows  that  milk  is  always  coagulated  in  the  sto* 
mach^  for  if  it  remained  fluid,  no  faeces  would  be 
produced,  whereas  sometimes  very  hard  ones  are  ob- 
served. In  the  blood  vessels,  from  its  animal  nature, 
it  may  be  considered  as  nutritiousr  \  but  when  we  con«- 
sider  its  v^;etable  contents,  and  acescency  in  the  primse 
vide,  we  find  that,  like  animal  food,  it  does  not  excite 
that  degree  of  fever  in  the  time  of  digestion,  and  that 
from  its  acescency  it  will  resist  putrefaction.  Hence 
its  use  in  hectic  fevers,  which,  whatever  be  their  cause. 


Mflk. 


MIL 


[ 


MiDl  tppeftr  <m\y  to  be  exKccrbations  of  natural  feverish  pa- 
roxysms, which  occur  tvico  every  day»  commonly  af- 
ter meals,  and  at  night.  To  obviate  these,  therefore, 
we  give  such  an  aliment  as  produces  the  least  exacer- 
bation of  these  fevers  :  and  of  this  nature  is  milk,  on 
account  of  its  acescent  vegetable  nature. 

There  appears  also  somewhat  peculiar  to  milk,  which 
requires  only  a  small  exertion  of  the  animal  powers  in 
order  to  its  assimilation  ;  and  besides,  in  hectic  com* 
plaints  there  is  wanted  an  oily,  bland  food,  approach- 
ing to  the  animal  nature  j  so  that  on  all  these  accounts 
milk  is  a  diet  peculiarly  adapted  to  them,  and,  in  ge- 
neral, to  most  convalescents,  and  to  those  of  iafiam- 
matory  temperaments.  So  far  of  milk  in  general.  We 
shall  now  speak  of  the  particular  kinds  which  are  in 
common  use. 

The  milks  of  women,  mares,  and  asses,  agree  very 
much  in  their  qualities,  being  very  dilute,  having  little 
solid  contents,  and,  when  evaporated  to  dryness,  having 
these  very  soluble,  containing  much  saccharine  matter, 
of  a  very  ready  acescency,  and,  when  coagulated,  their 
coagulum  being  tender  and  easily  broke  down.  From 
this  view  they  have  less  oil,  and  seem  to  have  less  coa- 
gulable  matter  than  the  rest. 

The  milks  of  cows,  sheep,  and  goats,  agree  in  op- 
posite qualities  to  the  three  just  mentioned  ^  but  here 
there  is  somewhat  more  of  gradation.  Cows  milk 
c^mes  nearest  to  the  former  milk :  goat9  milk  is  4es9 
fluid,  less  sweet,  less  flatulent,  has  the  largest  propor- 
tion of  insoluble  part  after  coagulation,  and  indeed  the 
largest  proportion  of  coagulable  part  j  its  oily  and  co- 
agulable  parts  are  not  spontaneously  separable,  never 
throwing  out  a  cream,  or  allowing  butter  to  be  rea- 
dily extracted  from  it.  Hence  the  virtues  of  these 
milks  are  obvious,  being  more  nourishing,  though  at  the 
same  time  less  easily  soluble  in  weak  stomachs,  than  the 
three  first,  less  acescent  than  these,  and  so  more  rarely 
laxative,  and  peculiarly  fitted  for  the  diet  of  conva- 
lescents without  fever.  The  three  first  again  are  less 
nourishing,  more  soluble,  more  laxative,  as  more  aces- 
cent, and  adapted  to  the  convalescents  with  fever. 

These  qualities,  in  particular  milks,  are  considerably 
diversified  by  different  circomstances.  First,  Different 
animals,  living  on  the  same  diet,  give  a  considerably 
different  milk  ;  for  there  seems  to  be  something  in  the 
constitution,  abstracting  frvm  the  aliment,  which  con- 
stitutes a  considerable  diversity  of  milk,  not  only  in  the 
same  species  of  animals,  but  also  in  the  some  animal, 
at  different  ages,  and  at  different  distances  after  deli- 
very :  this  applies  to  the  choice  of  nurses.  Secondly, 
Milk  fellows  the  nature  of  the  aliment  more  than  any 
other  juice  in  the  human  body,  being  more  or  less  fluid 
and  dilute,  more  or  less  solid  and  nourishing,  in  pro- 
portion as  these  qualities  are  more  or  less  in  the  ali- 
ment. The  nature  of  the  aliment  differs  according  to 
ks  time  of  growth,  e,  g.  old  grass  being  always  feund 
more  nourishing  than  young.  Aliment,  tao,  is  always 
varied  aceording  to  the  season,  as  that  is  warm  or  dry, 
Bioist  or  olondy. 

The  milk  of  each  particular  kind  of  anima)  is  fitter 
fiir  particular  purposes,  when  fed  on  proper  food*—- 
Thus  the  cow  delights  in  the  tuccnlent  herbage  of  the 
vale  :  if  the  sheep  be  fed  there  he  certainly  rots,  but 
•n  the  higher  and  more  dry  side-  of  the  aaoantain  he 


98    ]  MIL 

feeds  pleasantly  and  healthy  j  while  the  goat  never 
stops  near  the  bottom,  but  ascends  to  the  craggy  sum- 
mit :  and  certainly  the  milks  of  these  animals  are  al- 
ways best  on  their  proper  soil,  and  that  of  goats  is  best 
on  a  mountainous  country.  From  a  dissertation  of 
Linnseus,  we  have  many  observations  concerning  the 
diversity  of  plants  on  which  each  animal  chooses  to 
feed.  All  the  Swedish  plants  which  could  be  collect- 
ed together,  were  presented  alternately  to  domestic 
animals,  and  then  it  appeared  that  the  goat  lived  oa 
the  greatest  variety,  and  even  on  many  which  were  poi- 
sonous to  the  rest ;  that  the  cow  chose  the  first  succu- 
lent shoots  of  the  plant,  and  neglected  the  fructifica- 
tion 'y  which  last  was  preferred  by  the  goat.  Hence 
may  be  deduced  rules  concerning  the  pasturage  of  dif- 
ferent animals  ^  e*  g.  Farmers  find,  that,  in  a  pasture 
which  was  only  fit  to  feed  a  certain  number  of  sheep, 
an  equal  number  of  goats  may  be  introduced,  while 
the  sheep  are  no  less  nourished  than  befeiv. 

It  is  not  easy  to  assign  the  difference  between  milk 
fresh  drawn  and  that  detained  in  the  open  air  fer  some 
time :  but  certainly  there  is  some  material  one,  other- 
wise nature  universally  would  not  have  directed  infanta 
to  sucking  ;  and  indeed  it  seems  better  than  the  other, 
fitted  for  digestion  and  nourishment.  Physicians  have 
supposed  that  this  depended  on  the  evaporation  of  some 
spt,  rector :  but  our  author  cannot  conceive  any  such, 
except  common  water  here  ^  and  besides,  these  volatile 
parts  can  hardly  be  nutritious.  A  more  plausible  ac- 
count seems  deducible  from  mixture :  milk  new  drawa 
has  been  but  lately  mixed,  and  is  exposed  to  sponta- 
neous separation,  a  circumstance  hurtful  to  digestion  ^ 
none  of  the  parts  being,  by  themselves,  so  easily  assi- 
milated as  when  they  are  all  taken  together.  Heoce^ 
then,  milk  new  drawn  is  more  intimately  blended,  and 
therefore  then  is  most  proper  to  the  weakly  and  in- 
fants. 

Another  difference  in  the  nse  of  milk  exposed  for 
some  time  to  the  air,  is  taking  it  boiled  or  nnboiled. 
Physicians  have  generally  recommended  the  former; 
bat  the  reason  is  not  easily  assigned.  Perhaps  it  is 
this  :  Milk  kept  fer  some  time  exposed  to  the  air  has 
gone  so  far  to  a  spontaneous  separation  \  whereas  the 
heat  thoroughly  blends  the  whole,  and  hence  its  reso- 
lution is  not  so  easy  in  the  stomach  j  and  thus  boiled 
milk  is  more  costive  than  raw,  and  gives  more  fexeo. 
Again,  When  milk  is  boiled,  a  considerable  quantity  oT 
air  is  detached,  as  appears  from  the  froth  on  the  snr- 
face  ^  and  air  is  the  chief  instrument  of  fermentation 
in  bodies ;  so  that  after  tbia  process  it  is  not  liable  to 
acescency  :  for  these  reasons  it  is  proper  for  the  robust 
and  vigorous* 

Another  difference  of  milk  is,  according  as  it  is  fluid 
or  coagulated.  The  coagulated  is  of  two  kinds,  as 
induced  by  rennet,  or  the  natural  acescency  of  the 
milk.  The  former  preparation  makes  the  firmer  and 
less  easily  soluble  coagulum  \  though,  when  taken  witb^ 
the  whey  unseparated,  it  is  less  difficult  of'solntioa^ 
though  more  so  than  any  other  coagulum  in  the  sam^ 
ease.  Many  nations  nae  the  latter  fwm,  which  is  easier 
aolnble,  but  very  much  acescent,  and  Uierefore,  in  point 
of  solution,  should,  be  confined  to  the  vigorous,  in  point 
of  acescency,  to  those  who  live  on  alkaleeoent  food  ^ 
and  in  the  last  case,  the  Laplanders  use  it  as  their  chief 


Milk. 


MIL 


[    95r    ] 


MIL 


Mil^  acescent  condiiDeiit.  From  the  same  coDuderations  it 
is  more  cooling,  and  in  its  other  e&cta  like  all  other 
acescent  vegetables. 

MUk  by  evaporation  yields  a  sweet  saline  matter,  of 
which  Dr  Lewis  gives  the  following  proportion  : 


Twelve 
ounces  of 


Cows  milk 
Goats  milk 
Human  milk 
Asses  milk 


Left  of  dry 
matter 


13  drachms. 

8 
8 


From  which  water  extract 
ed  a  sweetsaltne  substance 
amounting  to 


il 


drachms. 


The  saline  substance  extracted  from  asses  milk  was 
white,  and  sweet  as  sugar  ^  those  of  the  others  brown 
or  yellow,  and  considerably  less  sweet  >  that  from  cows 
Biilk  had  the  least  sweetness  of  any. 

On  distilling  1 2  quarts  of  milk  in  bcdneo  tnariay  at 
least  nine  quarts  of  pure  phlegm  were  obtained  ^  the 
liquor  which  afterwards  arose  was  acidulous,  and  by 
degrees  greWsensibly  more  and  more  acid  as  the  di- 
attUation  was  continued.  After  this  came  over  a  little 
spirit,  and  at  last,  the  empyreumatic  oil.  The  remain- 
ing solid  matter  adhered  to  the  bottom  of  the  retort, 
in  the  form  of  elegant  shining  black  flowers,  which  be- 
ing calcined  and  elixated  yielded  a  portion  of  fixed  al- 
kaline salt. 

l^Iilk  set  in  a  warm  place,  throws  up  to  the  surface 
an  unctuous  cream,  from  which,  by  agitation,  the  but- 
ter is  easily  separated.  The  addition  of  alkaline  salts 
prevents  this  separation,  not  (as  some  have  supposed)  by 
absorbing  an  acid  from  the  milk,  but  by  virtue  of  their 
property  of  intimately  uniting  oily  bodies  with  watery 
liquors.  Sugar,  another  grand  mtermedium  betwixt 
oils  and  water,  has  this  effect  in  a  greater  degree, 
though  that  concrete  is  by  no  means  alkaline,  or  an  ab- 
sorbent of  acids. 

The  sweet  saccharine  part  of  the  milk  remains  dis- 
solved in  the  whey  after  the  separation  of  the  curd  or 
cheesy  matter,  and  may  be  collected  from  it  in  a  white 
crystalline  form,  by  boiling  the  wliey  till  all  remains 
of  the  curdled  substance  have  fallen  to  the  bottom } 
then  filtering,  evaporating  it  to  a  due  consistence,  set- 
ting it  to  shoot,  and  pinrifying  the  crystals  bjr  solution  in 
water  and  a  second  crystallization.  Much  has  been 
said  of  the  medicinal  virtues  of  this  sugar  of  milk,  but 
It  does  not  seem  to  have  any  considerable  ones  :  It  is 
from  cows  milk  that  it  has  been  generally  prepared  ^ 
and  the  crystals  obtained  from  this  kind  of  milk  have 
but  little  sweetness. 

When  milk  is  suffered  to  coagulate  spontaneously, 
the  whey  proves  acid,  and  on  standing  grows  more 
and  more  so  till  the  putrefactive  state  commences. 
Sour  whey  is  nsed  as  an  acid,  preferable  to  the  directly 
vegetable  or  the  mineral  acids,  in  some  of  the  che- 
mical arts  ^  as  for  dissolving  iron  in  order  to  the  stain- 
ing of  linen  and  leather.  This  acid  was  commonly 
made  use  of  in  the  bleaching  of  linen,  for  dissolving 
and  extracting  the  earthy  particles  left  in  the  cloth  by 
the  alkaline  salts  and  lime  employed  for  cleansing  and 
whitening  it.  Butter  milk  is  preferred  to  plain  sour 
mtlk  or  sour  whey :  This  last  is  supposed  to  give  the 
cloth  a  yellow  colour.     Dr  Home,  in  his  ingenious 


treatise  on  this  subject,  lecdrnmends  water  acidulated 
with  sulphuric  acid  (in  the  ^portion  of  about  half  aii 
ounce,  or  at  most  three  quarters  of  an  ounce,  to  a  gal- 
lon), as  preferable  in  many  respects  to  the  acid  of  nulk, 
or  of  the  more  direotiy  vegetable  substances. 

He  observes,  that  the  latter  are  often  difficultly  pro- 
curable, abound  with  oleaginous  particles,  and  hasten 
to  corruption  \  whilst  the  vitriolic  acid  is  cheap,  aaA 
pure,  and  indisposed  to  putrefy :  That  milk  takes  five 
days  to  perform  its  office,  whilst  tJbe  vitriolic  acid 
does  it  in  as  many  hours,  perhaps  in  as  many  minutes  : 
That  this  acid  contribntes  also  to  whiten  the  doth,  an4 
does  not  make  it  weaker  though  the  cloth  be  kept  in  it 
for  months.  He  finds,  that  a^id,  as  well  as  alkalies^ 
extract  an  oily  matter  from  the  cloth,  and  lose  their 
acidity  and  alkalicity.  Since  this  treatise  appeare4> 
the  use  of  sour  milk  is  very  generally  sUpersed€^d  by 
oil  of  vitriol. 

It  is  observable,  that  asses  milk  is  greatly  disposed, 
on  standing  for  a  little  time,  to  become  thick  and  ropy% 
In  the  Breslaw  collection  for  the  year  17  20,  there  is  a 
remarkable  account  of  milk  (which  probably  was  that 
of  the  ass)  grown  so  thick  and  tenacious  as  to  be  drawn 
out  into  long  strings,  which,  when  dried,  were  quite 
brittle. 

New  cows  milk,  suffered  to  stand  for  some  days  on 
the  leaves  of  butterwort  or  sun-dew,  becomes  uniformly 
thick,  slippery,  and  coherent,  and  of  an  agreeable  sweet 
taste,  without  any  separation  of  its  parts.  Fresh  milk, 
added  to  this,  is  thickened  in  the  same  nuuiner,  and 
this  successively.  In  some  parts  of  Sweden,  as  we  are 
informed  in  the  Swedish  Memoirsy  milk  is  thus  pr^ia- 
red  for  food. 

New  milk  has  a  degree  of  glutinous  quality,  so  as  to 
be  used  for  joining  broken  stone  ware.  There  is  a  far 
greater  tenacity  in  cheese  properly  prepared. 

Milk,  when  examined  by  a  microscope,  appears 
composed  of  numerous  globules  swimming  in  a  trans- 
parent fluid.  It  boils  xn  nearly  the  same  degree  of 
heat  with  common  watery  some  sorts  rather  sooner, 
and  some  a  little  later :  after  boiling,  it  is  less  dis- 
posed to  grow  sour  than  in  its  natural  state.  It  is 
coagulated  by  acids  both  mineral  and  vegetable,  and  by 
alkflJies  both  fixed  and  volatile.  The  coagulum  made 
by  acids  falls  to  the  bottom  of  the  serum  \  that  made 
by  alkalies  swims  on  the  surface,  commonly  forming 
(especially  with  volatile  alkalies)  a  thick  coriaceous 
skin.  The  serum,  with  alkalies,  proves  green  or  sa- 
nious  \  with  acids,  it  differs  little  in  appearance  irom 
the  whey  that  separates  spontaneously.  The  coagulum 
formed  by  acids  is  dissolved  by  alkalies,  and  that 
formed  by  alkalies  is  redissolved  by  acids ;  but  the 
milk  does  not  in  either  case  resume  its  original  pro- 
perties. It  is  coagulated  by  most  of  the  middle  salts, 
whose  basis  is  an  earth  or  a  metallic  body  \  a^  solution 
of  alum,  fixed  sal  ammoniac,  sugar  of  lead,  green  and 
blue  vitriol  \  but  not  by  the  chalybeate  or  purging 
mineral  waters,  nor  by  the  bitter  salt  extracted  from 
the  purging  waters.  Among  the  neutral  salts  that 
have  been  tried,  there  is  not  one  that  produces  any 
coagulation.  They  all  dilute  the  milk,  and  make  it 
less  disposed  to  coagulate  with  acids  or  alkalies  :  Nitre 
seems  to  have  this  effect  in  a  greater  degree  than  the 
other  neutral  salts.   It  b  instantly  coagulated  by  highly 

N  a  rectified 


Biilk. 


MIL 


[      lOO     ] 


MIL 


Milk,     rectified  spirit  of  wine^  bat  scarcely  by  a  phlegmatic 
^      i       *  spirit.     It  does  not  mingle  with  expressed  oils.     All 
the  ooagula  are  dissolved  by  gall. 

It  has  generally  been  supposed  by  medical  aathors, 
that  the  milk  of  animals  is  of  the  same  nature  with 
chyle,  and  that  the  human  milk  always  coagulates  in 
the  stomach  of  infants ;  but  in  a  lato  dissertation  upon 
the  subject  by  Mr  Clarice,  member  of  the  Royal  Irish 
Academy,  we  find  both  these  positions  controverted. 
According  to  him,  woroen^s  milk,  in  a  healthy  state,  con- 
tains no  coagulable,  mucilaginous,  or  cheesy  principle, 
in  its  composition ;  or  it  contains  so  little,  that  it  can- 
not admit  of  any  sensible  proof.    Dr  Rutty  states,  that 
it  does  not  aflbrd  even  a  sixth  part  of  the  curd  which 
is  yielded  by  cows  milk  ^  and  Dr  Young  denies  that 
Iriih         it  is  at  all  coagulable  either  by  rennets  or  acids.     This 
Tram,  far  \^  confirmed  by  Dr  Ferris,  who  in  1782  gained  the  Har- 
'7  veian  prize  medal  at  Edinburgh  by  a  dissertation  up- 

on milk.  'Mjt  Clarke  informs  us,  that  he  has  made  a 
vast  number  of  experiments  upon  women's  milk  with 
a  view  to  determine  this  point.  He  made  use  of  ar- 
dent spirits,  all  the  different  acids,  infusions  of  infants 
stomachs,  and  procured  the  milk  of  a  great  many  dif- 
ferent women  \  but  in  no  instance,  excepting  one  or 
two,  did  be  perceive  any  tiling  like  curd.  This  took 
place  in  consequence  of  a  spontaneous  acescency  \  and 
only  a  small  quantity  of  soft  flaky  matter  was  formed, 
which  floated  in  the  serum.  This  he  looked  upon  to  be 
a  morbid  appearance. 

The  general  opinion  that  women's  milk  is  coaffu- 
lable  has  arisen  from  a  single  circumstance,  viz.  that 
infants  frequently  vomit  the  milk  they  sock  in  a  state 
of  apparent  coagulation.  This  greatly  perplexed  Dr 
Young  'y  who,  alter  having  tried  in  vain  to  coagulate 
human  milk  artificially,  concluded,  that  the  process 
took  place  spontaneously  in  the  stomach  \  and  that  it 
would  always  do  so  if  the  milk  were  allowed  to  re- 
main in  a  degree  of  heat  equal  to  about  96  degrees  of 
Fahrenheit.  Mr  Clarke  took  equal  quantities  of  three 
different  kinds  of  milk,  and  put  tliem  into  bottles 
slightly  corked,  and  these  bottles  into  water,  the  tem- 
perature of  which  was  kept  up  by  a  spirit  of  wine 
lamp  as  near  as  possible  to  96^  of  Fahrenheit :  but  af- 
ter firequently  examining  each  bottle  during  the  course 
of  the  experiment,  at  the  expiration  of  several  hours 
there  was  not  the  smallest  tendency  towards  coagula- 
tion to  be  perceived  in  any  of  them  ;  the  cream  was 
only  thrown  to  the  surface  in  a  thick  and  adhesive 
form,  and  entirely  separated  from  the  fluid  below, 
which  had  something  of  a  gray  and  wheyish  appear- 
ance. As  the  matter  vomited  by  infants  is  sometimes 
more  adhesive  than  we  can  suppose  cream  to  be,  Mr 
Clarke  su^osed  that  the  curd  mi)B[ht  be  so  entangled 
with  the  cream,  as  to  be  with  difficulty  separated  from 
it  \  but  having  collected  a  quantity  of  rich  cream  from 
the  milk  of  ififferent  women,  he  repeated  the  experi- 
ment with  precisely  the  same  event,  not  being  able  in 
any  one  instance  to  produce  the  smallest  quantity  of 
cord.  To  determine,  however,  what  effects  might  be 
produced  upon  milk  by  the  stomach  of  an  infant,  Mr 
Clarke  made  the  following  experiment :  Having  taken 
out  the  stomach  of  a  foetus  which  had  been  deprived 
of  life  by  the  use  of  instruments,  he  infused  it  in  a 
small  quantity  of  hot  water,  so  as  to  make  a  strong 
lAfosioD.    He  added  a  tea-spoonful  of  this  infusion  to 


equal  quantities  of  cows  and  human  milk  ;  the  conse- 
quence of  which  was,  that  the  cow's  milk  was  firmly 
coagulated  in  a  short  time,  but  the  human  milk  was 
not  altered  in  the  least  \  neither  was  the  least  coagula- 
tion produced  by  adding  a  second  and  third  spoonfiil 
to  the  human  milk.     **  Upon  the  whole,  then,  (says 
Mr  Clarke),  I  am  persuaded  it  will  be  found,  that  hu- 
man milk,  in  an  healthy  state,  contains  little  or  no  curd, 
and  that  the  general  opinion  of  its  nature  and  proper- 
ties is  founded  upon  fallacious  analogy  and  superficial 
observations  made  on  the  matter  vomited  by  infants. 
AVe  may  presume,  that  the  cream  of  women's  milk, 
by  its  inferior  specific  gravity,  will  swim  on  the  surface 
of  the  contents  of  the  stomach  \  and  being  of  an  oily 
nature,  that  it  wDl  be  of  more  difficult  digestion  than 
any  other  constituent  part  of  milk.     When  an  infant 
then  sucks  very  plentifully,  so  as  to  over-dbtend  the 
stomach,  or  labours  under  any  weakness  in  the  powers 
of  digestion,  it  cannot  appear  unreasonable  to  suppose, 
that  the  cream  shall   be  first  rejected  by  vomiting. 
Analogous  to  this,  we  know  that  adults  affected  with 
dyspepsia  often  bring  up  greasy  fluids  from  the  sto- 
mach by  eructation,  and  this  especially  after  eating  fat 
meat.    We  have,  in  some  instances,  known  this  to  blaze 
when  thrown  into  the  fire  like  spirit  of  wine  or  oil." 
Our  anthor  derives  a  confirmation  of  his  opinion  from 
the  following  observation,  viz.  that  curds  vomited  by 
infants  of  a  few  days  old  are  yellow,  while  they  become 
white  in  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks.     This  he  accounts 
for  from  the  yellow  colour  of  the  cream  thrown  up  by 
the  milk  of  women  during  the  first  four  or  five  days  al- 
ter delivery. 

Mr  Clarke  likewise  controverts  that  common  opi- 
nion of  the  human  milk  being  so  prone  to  acidity,  that 
a  great  number  of  the  diseases  of  children  are  to  be 
accounted  for  from  that  principle.  ^  Whoever  (says 
he)  takes  the  trouble  of  attentively  comparing  human 
milk  with  that  of  ruminant  animals,  will  soon  find  it 
to  be  much  less  prone  to  run  into  the  acescent  or  acid 
process.  I  have  very  often  exposed  equal  quantities 
of  hnman  and  cows  milk  in  degrees  of  temperature, 
varying  from  the  common  summer  heat,  or  6^^  to  ioo^> 
and  I  have  constantly  found  that  cows  milk  acquires  a 
ffreater  degree  of  acidity  in  36  hours  than  the  human 
did  in  many  days :  cows  milk  bec4>mes  offensively  pu- 
trid in  four  or  five  days  \  a  change  which  healthy  hu- 
man milk,  exposed  in  the  same  manner,  will  not  un- 
dergo in  many  weeks,  nay,  sometimes  in  many  months. 
I  once  kept  a  few  ounces  of  a  nurFe's  milk,  delivered 
about  six  or  seven  days,  for  more  than  two  yean  in  a 
bottle  moderately  corked.  It  stood  on  the  chimner- 
piece,  and  was  frequently  opened  to  be  examined.  At 
the  end  of  this  period  it  showed  evident  marks  of  mo- 
derate acidity,  whether  examined  by  the  taste,  smell, 
or  paper  stained  with  vegetable  blues  or  purples  \  the 
latter  it  changed  to  a  florid  red  colour,  whereas  cows 
milk  kept  a  few  days  changed  the  colour  of  the  same 
paper  to  a  green,  thereby  clearly  showing  its  putrescent 
tendency." 

Our  author  next  goes  on  to  consider  of  the  pro- 
bability there  is  of  milk  becoming  so  frequently  and 
strongly  acid  as  to  occasion  most  of  the  diseases  of  in- 
fants. He  begins  with  an  attempt  to  show  that  the 
phenomena  commonly  looked  upon  to  be  indications 
of  acrimony  are  by  no  means  certain.    Curdled  milk 

has 


lV9flk. 


M    I    L 


[ 


Kflk.  baa  already  been  shown  to  be  no  Bign  of  aciditj>  and 
the  other  appearance,  which  has  commonly  been 
thought  to  be  so  certaid,  viz.  green  faeces,  is,  in  the 
opinion  of  Mr  Churke,  equally  fallacious.  In  support 
of  this  he  quotes  a  letter  from  Dr  Sydenham  to  Dr 
Cole ;  in  which  he  says,  that  the  green  matter  vomited 
by  hysterical  women  is  not  any  proof  of  acrid  humours 
being  the  cause  of  that  disease,  for  sea-sick  people  do 
the  same«  The  opinion  of  green  faeces  being  an  effect 
of  acidity,  proceeds  apon  the  supposition  that  a  mixture 
of  bile  with  an  acid  produces  a  green  colour :  but  it  is 
ibond,  that  the  vegetable  acid,  which  only  can  exist  in 
Ibe  human  body>  is  unable  to  produce  this  change  of  co- 
lour, though  it  can  be  effected  by  the  strong  mineral 
aci^.  As  nothing  equivalent  to  any  of  these  acids  cjm 
he  supposed  to  exist  in  the  bowels  of  infants,  we  must 
therefore  take  some  other  method  of  accounting  for  the 
green  fasces  frequently  evacuated  by  them.  **  Why 
should  sour  milk,  granting  its  existence,  give  rise  to 
them  in  infants  and  not  in  adults  ?  Have  butter  milk, 
summer  fruits  of  the  most  acescent  kind,  lemon  or 
orange  juice,  always  this  effect  in  adults  by  their  ad- 
mixture with  bile  ?  This  is  a  question  which,  I  be- 
lieve, cannot  be  answered  in  the  affirmative/^ 

On  the  whole,  Dr  Clarice  considers  the  disease  of  aci- 
dity in  the  bowels,  though  so  frequently  mentioned,  to 
be  by  no  means  common.  He  owns  indeed,  that  it 
may  sometimes  occur  in  infancy  as  well  as  in  adults, 
from  weakness  of  the  stomach,  costiveness,  or  improper 
food  V  and  an  indubitable  evidence  is  afforded  by  faeces 
which  stain  the  blue  or  purple  coloor  of  vegetables  to  a 
red,  though  nothing  ean  be  inferred  with  certainty  from 
the  colour  or  smell. 

The  doctor  next  proceeds  to  state  several  reasons 
for  his  opinion,  that  the  greater  number  of  infantile 
diseases  are  not  owing  to  acidity :  i.  Women^s  milk 
in  a  healthy  state  contains  little  or  no  coi^golable 
matter  or  curd.  2.  It  shows  less  tendency  out  of  the 
body  to  become  acescent  than  many  other  kinds  of 
milk.  3.  The  appearances  which  have  been  generally 
supposed  to  characterize  its  acidity  do  not  afford  satis- 
fi^tory  evidence  of  such  a  morbid  cause.  4.  Granting 
this  to  be  the  case,  we  have  plenty  of  mild  absorbents, 
capable  of  destroying  all  the  acid  which  can  be  suppos- 
ed to  be  generated  in  the  bowels  of  an  infant ;  yet 
many  children  are  observed  to  die  in  consequence  of 
these  diseases  supposed  to  arise  from  acidity.  5.  Though 
the  milk  of  all  ruminant  animals  is  of  a  much  more 
acescent  nature  than  that  of  the  human  species,  yet 
the  yonng  of  these  animals  never  suffer  any  thing  like 
the  diseases  attributed  to  acidity  in  infants.  6.  His- 
tory informs  us  that  whole  nations  use  sour  curdled 
milk  as  a  considerable  part  of  their  food,  without  feel- 
ing ai^  ineonvenience  ^  which,  however,  must  have 
been  the  case,  if  acidity  in  the  stomach  were  pro- 
ductive of  such  deletenous  effect  ks  has  been  sup^ 
posed. 

The  reasoning  of  Dr  Clarke  seems  here  to  be  very 
plausible,  and  nothing  has  as  yet  been  offered  to  con^ 
tradict  it.  The  reviewers  in  taking  notice  of  the  trea- 
tise only  observe,  that  the  doctor^s  positions  are  sup- 
ported by  great  probability  ^  yet  "  they  have  seen 
them,  or  think  they  have  seen  them,  contradicted  by 
the  appearance  of  diseases  and  the  effects  of  medt- 


01     ]  MIL 

cines  \*^  so  that  they  must  leave  the  subject  to  farther 
examination. 

In  a  memoir  by  Messrs  Parmentier  and  Deyeux, 
members  of  the  royal  college  of  pharmacy,  &c.  in  Pa- 
ris, we  have  a  great  number  of  experiments  on  the 
milk  of  asses,  cows,  goats,  sheep,  and  mares,  as  well 
as  women,     llie  experiments  on  cows  milk,  were  made 
with  a  view  to  determine  whether  any  change  was 
made  in  the  milk  by  the  different  kinds  of  food  eaten 
by  the  animal.     For  this  purpose  some  were  fed  with 
the  leaves  of  mai%e  or  Turkey  wheat  \  some  with  cab- 
bage^   others  with  small  potatoes  j   and   others  with 
common  grass*     The  milk  of  those  fed  with  the  maize 
or  Turkey  wheat  was  extremely  sweet  ^  that  from  the 
potatoes  and  common  grass  much  more  serous  and  in- 
sipid ;  and  that  from  the  cabbages  the  most  disagreeable 
of  all.     By  distillation  only  eight  ounces  of  a  colour- 
less fluid  were  obtained  from  as  many  pounds  of  each 
of  these  milks  \  which  from  those  who  fed  upon  grass 
had  an  aromatic  flavour  \  a  disagreeable  one  from  cab- 
bage 'y  and  none  at  all  from  the  potatoes  and  Turkey 
wheat.     Thia  liquid  became  fetid  in  the  space  of  a 
month,  whatever  substance  the  animal  had  been  fed 
witli,  acquiring  at  the  same  time  a  viscidity  and  be»> 
coming  turbid  \  that  from  cabbage  generally,  but  not  al- 
ways, becoming  first  putrid.     All  of  them  separated  a 
filamentous  matter,  and  became  clear  on  being  exposed 
to  the  heat  of  25^  of  Reaumur's  thermometer.     In  the 
residuums  ai  the  distillation  no  difference  whatever 
could  be  perceived.     As  the  only  difference  therefore 
existing  is  cows  milk  lies  in  the  volatile  part,  oor  aiy> 
thors  conclude,  that  it  is  improper  to  boil  milk  either 
&r  common  or  medicinal  purposes.    They  observed  al- 
so that  any  sudden  change  of  food,  even  from  a  worse 
to  a  better  kind  was  attended  bv  a  very  remarkable  di- 
minution in  the  quantity  of  milk.    *A\\  the  residuums 
of  the  distillations  yielded,  in  a  strong  fire,  a  yellow  oil 
and  acid,  a  thick  and  black  empyreumatic  oil,  a  volatile 
alkali,  and  towards  the  end  a  quantity  of  inflammable 
air,  and  at  last  a  coal  remained  containing,  seme  fixed, 
alkali  with  muriatie  aeid»- 

On  agitating  in  long  botdes  the  creams  from  the  milk 
of  cows  feci  with  different  substances,  all  of  them  were 
formed  into  a  kind  of  half'-made  butter  \  of  which  that 
formed  fr^m  the  milk  from  maize  was  white,  firm, 
and  insipid}  that  from  potatoes  was  softer  and  more 
pinguedinous  J  but  that  frvm  common  grass  was  the 
best  of  all.  Cabbage,  as  in  other  cases,  gave  a.  strong 
taste. 

In  the  course  of  their  experiments,  it  was  endeavour- 
ed to  determine  whether  butter  is  actually  contained  in 
the  cream,  or  whether  it  be  a  chemical  production  of 
the  operation  of  churning.  They  could  not  find  any 
reason  absolutely  satisfactory  on  either  side,  but  incline 
to  the  latter  opinion ;  because  when  cream  is  allowed  to 
remain  among  the  milk,  and  the  whole  curdled  promis- 
cuously, only  fat  cheese,  without  any  butter,  is  produ- 
ced. The  oily  parts  cannot  be  separated  into  butter  ei- 
ther by  acids  or  any  other  means  than  churning :  even 
the  artificial  mixture  of  oil  with  the  cream  is  insufficient 
for  the  purpose. 

The  serum  of  milk  was^  reduced  by  filtration  to  a 
clear  and  pellucid  liquor  ^  and,  by  mixture  with  fixed 
alkali,  deposited  a  portion  of  cheesy  matter  which  had 

been 


Milk. 


MIL  [     102 

MKk.      laeen  dissolved  in  the  whey.    The  sugar  of  milk  was  al- 
so found  in  this  liquor. 

In  their  experiments  upon  the  milk  of  various  ani- 
mals, it  was  found  that  tlie  milk  of  asses  yielded  by 
distillation  an  insipid  liquor,  and  deposited  a  liquor 
similar  to  the  lymph  of  cows  milk.  It  is  coagulated 
'  by  all  the  acids,  but  not  into  an  uniform  mass  ^  ex- 
hibiting only  the  appearance  of  distinct  floccuH.  It 
affords  but  little  cream,  which  is  converted  with  dif- 
ficulty into  a  soft  butter  that  soon  becomes  rancid.  It 
lias  but  a  small  quantity  of  saccharine  particles,  and 
these  are  often  mixed  with  muriatic  selenite  and  com- 
'SiKm  salt.  Goats  milk  has  a  thick  cream,  and  agree- 
able to  the  taste ;  and  the  milk  itself  may  be  pieserved 
Jsnger  in  a  sound  state  than  any  other  species,  the 
scum  on  its  surface  being  naturally  convertible  into 
palatable  cheese.  It  is  easily  made  into  firm  butter, 
which  does  not  soon  become  xancid,  and  has  a  good 
flavour.  The  butter  milk  -contains  a  large  quantity  of 
cbeesy  matter,  which  readily  coagulates  }  but  lias  still 
less  saccharine  matter  than  that  of  asses.  Sheeps  milk 
can  scarce  be  distingaulied  from  that  of  a  cow,  and  ea- 
sily parts  with  its'  cream  by  standing.  It  is  of  a  yellow 
cdoor,  an  agreeable  flavour,  and  yields  a  great  propor- 
tion of  butter ;  but  this  is  not  solid,  and  soon  becomes 
rancid.  Mares  milk  is  the  most  ins^id  and  least  nutiir 
tions  of  any  ;  notwithstanding  which  it  has  been  much 
recommended  for  weak  and  consumptive  patients:  in 
which  cases  it  is  probable  that  it  proves  efficacious  by 
being  more  consonant  than  any  other  to  the  debilitated 
powers  of  digestion.  It  boils  with  a  smaller  fire  than 
«ny  other  kind  of  milk,  is  easily  coagulated,  and  the 
distilled  water  does  not -soon  change  its  natnre.  It  baa 
-but  a  small  quantity  of  cheesy  matter,  and  very  few 
oily  particles :  the  cream  cannot  be  made  into  butter  j 
and  the  whey  contains  about  as  much  sugar  as  cows  or 
•■goats  milk. 

In  this  memoir  our  authors  remark,  that  in  order  to 
augment  the  quantity,  as  well  as  to  improve  the  qua- 
lity, of  the  milk  of  animals,  they  should  be  well  fed, 
their  stalls  kept  clean,  and  their  litter  frequently  renew- 
ed: they  should  be  milked  at  stated  hours,  but  hot 
drained :  great  attention  should  also  be  paid  to  the 
breed;  because  inierior  cattle  are  maintained  at  as 
gteat  expence  as  the  most  valuable  kinds.  No  change 
ought  to  be  made  in  the  fixid;  though  if  the  milk 
be  employed  for  medicinal  purposes,  it  may  be  improv- 
ed by  a  proper  mixture  of  herbs,  &c. 

In  their  experiments  on  women^s  milk,  Messrs  Par- 
mentier  and  Deyeux  differ  somewhat  from  Dr  Clarke. 
They  first  tried  the  milk  of  a  woman  who  bad  been 
delivered  four  months:  and  observed,  that  after  the 
cream  had  been  separated  the  other  part  appeared  of 
a  more  perfect  white,  and  that  it  could  not  be  coa- 
gulated either  by  vinegar  or  mineral  acids  j  which 
they  attributed  to  a  superabundance  "of  serum.  But 
they  found  that  in  proportion  to  the  age  of  the  milk 
it  was  found  to  be  mere  easily  coagulable ;  and  this 
was  coafimoed  by  experiments  made  upon  the  milk  of 
20  nuTses*  Its  coagulability  was  not  increased  by 
lieat.  The  cream,  by  agitation,  formed  a  viscid  unc- 
tuous matter,  but  could  not  be  changed  into  perfect 
butter ',  but  they  found  that  it  was  extremely  difficult 
to  determine  the  proportions  of  the  various  compo- 
nent parts  in  human  milk,  as  it  differs  remarkably, 

4 


]  MIL 

« 

not  only  in  different  sabjects,  bnt  in  the  same  subjeiSt 
at  different  times.  In  a  nurse  aged  about  32  years, 
who  was  extremely  subject  to  nervous  affections,  the 
milk  was  one  day  found  almost  quite  colourless  and 
transparent.  In  two  hours  after,  a  second  quantity 
drawn  from  the  breast  was  viscid  like  the  white  of  an 
egg.  It  became  whiter  in  a  short  time,  but  did  not 
recover  its  natural  colour  before  the  evening.  It  was 
afterwards  found  that  these  changes  were  occasioned 
by  her  having  some  violent  hysteric  fits  in  the  mean 
time. 

Sugar  of  Milk*  Different  methods  have  been  pre- 
ssed for  obtaining  the  sugar  of  milk.  The  following 
is  an  account  of  a  method  used  by  some  of  the  Tartar 
nations  of  preserving  their  milk  by  means  of  frost :  in 
which  operation  great  quantities  of  the  sugar  of  milk 
are  accidentallv  formed.  The  acooont  was  given  by 
BAr  Fahrig  of  iPetersburgh,  who  undertook  %,  journey, 
by  order  of  the  academy  of  Petersburgh,  among  the 
Mc^ttl  tribes  who  inhabit  the  country  beyond  the  lake 
Baikal,  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Salenga.  Tbese  peo- 
ple allow  their  milk  to  fireease  in  large  quantity  in  iron 
kettles  J  and,  when  it  is  perfectly  congealed,  they 
place  them  over  a  gentle  fire  to  soften  the  edges  of 
the  cake,  after  which  it  may  be  taJ&en  out  with  a 
wooden  spatula.  They  commence  these  operations 
at  the  beginning  of  tbe  cold,  when  they  have  milk 
in  tbe  greatest  abundance  \  after  which  it  may  be  pre- 
served with  great  ease  throughout  the  n^ole  wint^^r. 
Mr  Fahrig  having  frequent  opportunities  of  seeing 
these  cakes,  soon  observed,  that  the  surface  of  them 
was  covered  to  a  considerable  depth  with  a  farinaceous 
powder  ;  and  having  established  a  dairy  upon  the  same 
plan  with  those  of  the  Moguls,  he  found  the  same 
thing  take  place  with  himself.  This  powder  was  ex- 
tremely sweet,  and  he  received  platefuls  of  it  firom  tbe 
native^,  who  used  it  in  their  food,  and  sweetened  their 
other  victuals  with  it.  Having  caused  a  number  of 
cakes  of  frozen  milk  to  be  conveyed  to  the  top  of  his 
house,  where  they  were  directly  exposed  to  the  violent 
cold,  he  found  that  the  separation  of  the  saccharine 
powder  was  greatly  promoted  by  this  means.  He 
scraped  the  cakes  every  week  to  the  depth  of  two 
inches,  and  aflerwards  spread  out  the  powder  upon  an 
earthen  plate  in  order  to  destroy  the  remains  of  mois- 
ture which  might  have  prevented  it  from  keeping  for 
any  length  of  time.  When  exposed  in  this  manner  it  had 
a  very  agreeable  and  strong  saooharine  taste  \  dissolved 
in  warm  water  ;  and  when  strongly  stirred  by  means  of 
a  chocolate  stick,  would  at  all  times  produce  an  excel* 
ient  and  well  tasted  milk.  Raw  milk  affords  a  mncb 
larger  quantity  of  this  saccharine  matter  than  suefa  as 
has  been  boiled,  or  which  has  had  the  cream  taken  off 
it.  Neither  must  the  milk  be  suddenly  exposed  to  tbe 
cold  before  it  has  lost  its  natural  heat  \  for  the  sudden 
contact  of  the  cold  drives  all  the  cheesy  and  fat  fttrt 
towards  the  middle,  while  the  external  parts  consist  of 
little  else  than  water.  In  order  to  allow  the  parts 
of  the  milk  to  be  all  properly  mixed  together,  Mr 
Fahrig  allowed  the  milk  when  newly  taken  from  the 
cows  to  cool,  and  then  poured  it  out  into  shallow- 
kettles. 

Oor  author  is  <^  opinion  that  this  method  of  making 
milk  would  be  of  great  service  to  navigators  to  sop-^ 
ply  themselves  with  milk  during  long  sea  voyages :  and 

he 


Milk. 


MIL 


[     103    1 


MIL. 


Mflk.  be  Msures  us,,  from  hU  own  experience^  that  it  will 
always  succeed,  if  proper  attention  be  paid  to  it.  He 
is  of  opinion,  however,  that  all  countries  are  not 
equally  proper  for  the  preparation  of  this  saccharine 
matter :  and  indeed  this  seems  very  evidently  to  be 
the  case,  as  the  process  appears  to  be  a  crystallization 
of  the  saccharine  parts  of  the  milk,  and  a  separation 
of  them  from  the  aqueous  ones  by  means  of  extreme 
cold.  The  country  in  which  he  made  the  experiments 
is  one  of  the  roost  elevated  in  all  Asia  \  and  $0  cold, 
that,  though  it  lies  only  in  the  50th  degree  of  north 
latitude,  its  rivers  are  frozen  up  for  six  months  of  the 
year.  A  very  dry  cold  wind  also  prevails  throughout 
almost  the  whole  year ;  and  the  dry  winds  generally 
come  from  the  north,  being  almost  always  preceded 
by  a  warm  wind  from  the  south,  which  blows  for 
some  time.  The  dry  rarefied  air  increases  the  eva* 
poration  from  the  ice  cakes,  and  leaves  nothing  but 
the  saccharine  or  pure  constituent  parts  of  the  milk, 
which  with  the  addition  of  water  can  always  recompose 
the  fluid. 

Milk,  in  the  wine  trade.  The  coopers  know  very 
well  the  use  of  skimmed  milk,  which  makes  an  inno- 
cent and  efficacious  forcing  for  the  lining  down  of  all 
white  wines,  arracks,  and  small  spirits  \  but  it  is  by  no 
means  to  be  used-  for  red  wines,  because  it  discharges' 
their  colour.  Thus,  if  a  few  quarts  of  well  skimmed 
milk  be  put  into  a  hogshead  of  red  wine,  it  will  sooiv 
precipitate  the  greater  part  of  the  colour,  and  leave 
the  whole  nearly  white :  and  this  is  of  known  use 
in  the  turning  of  red  wines,  when  pricked,  into  white  ^ 
in  which  a  small  degree  of  acidity  is  not  so  muck  per* 
eeived. 

Milk  is,  from  this  quality  of  discharging  colour  from 
wines,  of  use  also  to  the  wine  coopers,  for  the  whiten- 
ing of  wines  that  have  acquired  a  brown  colour  from 
the  cask,  or  from  having  been  hastily  boiled  before 
fermenting ;  for  the  addition  oi  a  little  skimmed  milk, 
in  these  oases,  precipitates  the  brown  colour,  and  leaves 
the  wines  almost  limpid,  or  of  what  they  call  a  water 
whiteness^  which  is  much  coveted  abroad  in  wines  as 
well  as  in  brandies. 

Milk  of  Lime  ;  Milk  of  Sulphur^  The  name  pf  milk 
is  given  to  substances  very  difierent  from  milk  properly 
so  called,  and  which  resemble  milk  only  in  colour. 
Soch  is  water  in  which  quicklime  has  been  slaked, 
whicb  acquires  a  whiteness  from  the  snutll  particles  of 
the  lime  being  suspended  in  it,  and  has  hence  been 
called  the  milk  of  JSrW.  Such  also  is  the  solution  of 
liver  of  sulphur^  when  an  acid  is  mixed  with  it,  by, 
which  white  particles  of  sulphur  are  made  to  float  in  the 
liquor. 

Milk  of  Vegetables,  For  the  same  reason  that  milk 
•f  animals  may  be  considered  as  a  true  animal  emul- 
sion, the  emulsive  liquors  of  vegetables  may  be  called 
vegetable  tnUks.  Accordingly  emulsions  made  with,  al- 
monds are  commonly  called  milk  of  ahnonds.  But  be* 
sides  this  vegetable  milk,  which  is  in  some  measure  ar- 
tificial, many  plants- and  trees  contain  naturally  a  large 
quantity  of  emulsive  or  milky  juices.  Such  are  lettuce, 
spurge,  fig  tree,  and  the  tree  which  furnishes  the  elas^ 
tic  American  resin.  The  milky,  juicea  obtained  from 
all  these  vegetables  derive  their  whiteness  from  an  oily 
natter,  mixed  and  undissolved  in  a  watery  or  mucila- 
giaons  liquor.     Most  resinous  gums  wsre  originally 


sgch  milky  juices,  which  afterwards  become  solid  by  the 
evaporation  of  their  more  fluid  and  volatile  parts. 

MiLK-Fever.    See  Medicine  Index* 

MiLKT-Hedge^  the  English  name  of  a  shrub  growing 
on  the  coast  of  Coromandel,  where  it  is  used  for  hedg- 
ing.    The  whole  shrub  grows  very  bushy,  with  numer- 
ous erect  branches,  which  are  composed  of  cylindrical 
joints  as  thick  as  a  tobacco  pipe,  of  a  green  colour, 
and  from  three  to  six  inches  long  :  the  joints  are  thick- 
er than  the  other  parts,  but  always  give  way  first  on  any 
accidental  violence  offered  to  the  plant.     When  broken 
it  yields  a  milk  of  an  excessively  caustic  qualitv,  which 
blisters  any  part  of  the  skin  it  touches.     When  the 
joints  are  broken  off  at  each  ond,  the  tube  then  contains 
but  very  little  milk.    In  this  state  Mr  Ives  ventured  to 
touch  it  with  his  tongue,  and  found  it  a  little  sweet. 
In  the  hedges  it  is  seldom  very  woody  ^  but  when  it  is, 
the  wood  is  very  solid,  and  the  bark  gray  and  cracked. 
This  plant,  he  informs  us,  has  acquired  great  reputation 
in  curing  the  venereal  disease,  on  the  following  account: 
A  poor  Portuguese  woman,  the  eldest  female  of  her 
family,  had  wrought  surprising  cures  in  the  most  inve- 
terate venereal  disorders,  even  such  as  the  European 
physicians  had  pronounced  incurable.     These  facts  be- 
oame  so  notorious,  that  the  servants  of  the  Company, 
and  especially  their  surgeons,  were  induced  to  offer  her 
a  very  considerable  premium  for  a  discovery  of  the  me- 
dicine 'y  but  she  always  refused  to  comply,  giving  for  a 
reason,  that  while  it  remained  a  secret,  it  was  a  cer- 
tain provision  for  the  maintenance  of  the  family  in  the 
present  as  weU  as  in  future  generations.     On  account 
of  this  denial  the  English  surgeons  were  sometimes  at. 
the  pains  to  have  her  motions  without  doors  carefully 
watched  \  and  as  they  were  not  able  to  discover  that 
she  ever  gathered  of  any  other  plant  or  tree  but  this,. 
they  coojeotured  that  the  milk  of  this  tree  was  the  spe- 
cific employed.     Mr  Ives  inquired  at  the  black  doc- 
tors concerning  the  virtues  of  this  plant  >  who  all  a- 
greed,  that  it  will  cure  the  lues  venerea,  but  differed  as 
to  the  manner  of  administering  it  ^  some  saying  that  a 
joint  of  it  should  be  eaten  every  morning  \  others  that- 
the  milk  only  should  be  dropped  upon  sugar  \  and  then 
put  into  milk,  oil,  &c.  and  given  daily  to  the  pa- 
tient. 

MjLKY'Way.    See  Astronomy  Index. 

MILL,  a  machine  for  grinding  corn,  &c.  of  which 
there  are  various  kinds,  according  to  the  different  me* 
thods  of  applying  the  moving  power  ^  as  water-mills, , 
wind-mills,  mills  worked  by  horses,  &c.     See  Mecha-^ 
Nics  Indev. 

The  first  obvious  method  of  reducing  com  into  flour 
for  bread  would  be  by  the  simple  expedient  of  pound* 
ing.  And  that  was  for  ages  the  only  one  which  WES'- 
praetised  by  the  various  descendants  of  Adam,  and  ac- 
tually continued  in  use  among  the  Romans  below  th|a 
reign  of  Vespasian.  But  the  process  was  very  early 
improved  by  the  application  of  a  grinding  power,  and 
the  introduction  of  millstones.  This,  like  most  of 
the  common  refinements  in  domestic  life,  was  pro* 
bably  the  invention  of  the  antediluvian  world,  and  cer« 
tainly  practised  in  some  of  the  earliest  ages  after  it } 
and,  like  most  of  them,  it  was  equally  known  in  the  east 
and  west.  Hence  the  Gauls  and  Britons  appear  familiar- 
ly acquainted  with  the  use  of  hand-mills  before  the  time 
of  theix  stthmiision  to  ths  Bomans  >  thoBrituDs  j»rticu» 

larlyt 


Milk, 
MilL 


M    I    L 


[     104    ] 


M    I    L 


.  lUill.  larly  distiagiiisfaiog  them,  as  the  Highlanders  and  we 
T  distinguish  them  at  present,  by  the  simple  appellations  of 
quemsy  cameSf  or  stows.  And  to  these  the  Romans 
added  the  very  useful  invention  of  water  mills.  For 
this  discovery  the  world  is  pretty  certainly  indebted  to 
the  genius  of  Italy  ^  and  the  machine  was  not  uncom- 
mon in  the  country  at  the  conquest  of  Lancashire. 
This,  therefore,  the  Romans  would  necessarily  intro- 
duce with  their  many  other  refinements  among  us. 
And  that  they  actually  did,  the  British  appellation  of  a 
water-mill  fully  suggests  of  itself",  the  melin  of  the 
Welsh  and  Cornish,  the  nm//,  meill^  and  melin  of  the 
Armoricans,  and  the  Irish  muilean  and  muilind^  being 
all  evidently  derived  from  the  Roman  mola  and  molen" 
dinum.  The  subject  Britons  universally  adopted  the 
Roman  name,  but  applied  it,  as  we  their  successors  do, 
only  to  the  Roman,  mill;  and  one  of  these  was  proba- 
bly, erected  at  every  stationary  city  in  the  kingdom. 

fWhUaka't  One  plaitily  'Was  jbX  Manchester,  serving  equally  the 
Af'^  Am.    P^n*^^  ^^  ^^^  town  and  the  accommodation  of  thte 

^^^^  garrison.— ^And  one  alone  would  be  sufficient,  as  the 

use  of  handmills  remained  very  common  in  both,  many 
having  been  found  about  the  site  of  the  station  particu- 
larly ^  and  the  general  practice  having  descended  a- 
mong  ns  nearly  to  the  present  period.  Such  it  would 
be  peculiarly  necessary  to  have  in  the  can^i,  that  the 
garrison  might  be  provided  against  a  siege.  And  the 
water-mill  at  Manchester  was  fixed  immediately  below 
the  Castlefield  and  the  town,  and  on  the  channel  of  the 
IJiiedlock.  There,  a  little  above  the  ancient  ford,  the 
sluice  of  it  was  accidentally  discovered  about  30  years 
ago.  On  the  margin  of  Dyer's  croft,  and  opposite  to 
some  new  constructions,  the  current  of  the  river,  acci- 
dentally swelled  with  the  rains,  and  obstructed  by  a 
dam,  broke  down  the  northern  bank,  swept  away  a 
large  oak  upon  the  edge  of  it,  and  disclosed  a  long  tun- 
nel in  the  rock  below.  This  has  been  since  laid  open 
in  part  with  a  spade.  It  appeared  entirely  uncovered 
at  the  top,  was  about  a  yard  in  width,  and  another  in 
•  depth,  but  gradually  narrowed  to  the  bottom.  The 
sides  showed  everywhere  the  marks  of  the  tool  on  the 
rock,  and  the  course  of  it  was  parallel  with  the  channel. 
It  was  bared  by  the  flood  about  25  yards  only  in  length, 
but  was  evidently  continued  for  several  further ;  hav- 
ing originally  begun,  as  the  nature  of  the  ground  evin- 
ces, just  above  the  large  curve  in  the  channel  of  the 
Medlock. 

For  the  first  five  or  six  centuries  of  the  Roman  state, 
there  were  no  public  bread  bakers  in  the  city  of  Rome. 
They  were  first  introduced  into  it  from  the  east,  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  war  with  Perseus,  and  about  the  year 
167  before  Christ.  And,  towards  the  close  of  the 
first  century,  the  Roman  families  were  supplied  by 
them  every  morning  with  fresh  loaves  for  hreakfiist.— 
But  the  same  custom,  which  prevailed  originally  among 
the  Romans  and  many  other  nations,  has  continued 
nearly  to  the  present  time  among  the  Mancunians.  The 
providing  of  bread  for  every  family  was  left  entirely 
io  the  attention  of  the  women  in  it ;  and  it  was 
baked  upon  stones,  which  the  Welsh  denominate  grei- 
dials  and  we  grefUes*  It  appears,  however,  from  the 
kiln-burnt  pottery  which  has  been  discovered  in  the 
British  sepulchres,  and  firom  the  British  appellation  of 
an  odyn  or  oven  remaining  among  us  at  present,  that 
.furnaces  for  baking  were  generally  known  among  the 

I 


original  Britons.  An  odyn  would,  therefore,  be  erect-  Mill, 
ed  at  the  mansion  of  each  British  baron,  for  the  use  MtlUte&« 
of  himself  and  his  retainers.  And,  when  he  and  they 
removed  into  the  vicinity  of  a  Roman  station,  the  oven 
would  be  rebuilt  with  the  mansion,  and  the  public 
bakehouses  of  our  towns  commence  at  the  first  foun- 
dation of  them.  One  bakehouse  would  be  constructed, 
as  we  have  previously  shown  one  mill  to  have  been  set 
up,  for  the  public  service  of  all  the  Mancunian  families. 
One  oven  and  one  mill  appear  to  have  been  equally 
established  in  the  town.  And  the  inhabitants  of  it  ap- 
pear immemorially  accustomed  to  haJke  at  the  otie  and 
grind  at  the  other.  Both,  therefore,  were  in  all  pro- 
bability constructed  at  the  first  introduction  of  water- 
mills  and  ovens  into  the  country.  The  great  similarity 
of  the  appointments  refers  the  consideration  directly 
to  one  and  the  same  origin  for  them.  And  the  gene- 
ral natuie  of  all  such  institutions  points  immediately  to 
the  fi]*st  and  actual  introduction  of  both.  And,  as  the 
same  establishments  prevailed  equally  in  other  parts  of 
the  north,  and  pretty  certainly  obtained  over  all  the  ex- 
tent of  Roman  Britain,  the  same  erections  were  as 
certainly  made  at  every  stationary  town  in  the  king- 
dom. 

Mill,  John^  a  very  learned  divine,  was  bom  at 
Shap  in  Westmoreland,  about  the  year  1645$  ^^^  ^' 
came  a  servitor  of  Queen's  college,  Oxford.  On  his 
entering  into  orders  he  became  an  eminent  preacher, 
and  was  made  prebendary  of  Exeter.  In  168 r,  he 
was  created  doctor  of  divinity  \  about  the  same  time  be 
was  made  chaplain  in  ordinary  to  King  Charles  II.'  and 
in  1685  he  was  elected  principal  of  St  Edmund's  haU 
in  Oxford.  His  edition  of  the  Greek  Testament, 
which  will  ever  render  his  name  memorable,  was  pub- 
lished -about  a  fortnight  before  his  death,  which  hap- 
pened in  June  1 707.  Dr  Mills  was  employed  30  yeaia 
in  preparing  this  edition. 

MILLSTONE,  the  stone  by  which  com  is  ground. 
«— The  millstones  which  we  find  preserved  firom  ancient 
times  are  all  small,  and  very  different  firom  those  in 
use  at  present.  Thoresby  mentions  two  or  three  such 
found  in  England,  among  other  Roman  antiquities, 
which  were  but  20  inches  broad  \  and  there  as  great 
reason  to  believe  that  the  Romans,  as  well  as  the 
Egyptians  of  old,  and  the  ancient  Jews,  did  not  em- 
ploy horses,  or  wind,  or  water,  as  we  do,  to  torn 
their  mills,  but  made  their  slaves  and  captives  of  war 
do  this  laborious  work :  they  were  in  this  service 
placed  behind  these  millstones,  and  pushed  them  on 
with  all  their  force.  Sampson,  when  a  prisoner  to 
the  Philistines,  was  treated  no  better,  but  was  con- 
demned to  the  millstone  in  his  prison.  The  runner  or 
loose  millstone,  in  this  «ort  of  grinding,  was  usoalJy 
very  heavy  for  its  si^e,  being  as  thick  as  broad.  This 
is  the  millstone  which  is  expressly  prohibited  in  Scrip- 
ture to  take  in  pledge,  as  lying  loose  it  was  more 
easily  removed.  The  Talmudists  have  a  story,  that 
the  Chaldeans  made  the  young  men  of  the  captivity 
carry  millstones  with  them  to  Babylon,  where  there 
seems  to  have  been  a  scarcity  at  that  time ;  and  hence, 
probably,  their  paraphrase  renders  the  text  **  have 
home  the  mills  or  millstones  ^^*  which  might  thus  be 
true  in  a  literal  sense.  They  have  also  a  proverbial 
expression  of  a  man  with  a  millstone  about  bis  neck  \ 
which  they  use  to  express  a  man'  under  the  severest 

weighs 


MIL 


t 


n 

Millen. 


Mflktone  weight  of  affliction.     Tiiis  also  plainly  refers  to  this 
small  sort  of  stones. 

Rhenish  MiLLSTOKE^  a  stone  which  has  been  clas- 
sed among  volcanic  products,  on  account  of  .its  appear- 
ance, which  is.  a  blackish  grav,  porous,  aud  very  much 
resembling  a  lava  of  Mount  .Vesuvius. 

MIIiLEDGEVILLE,  a  town  in  thestate  of  Geor- 
gia in  North  America,  situated  on  the  river  Ooconeet 
jibout  150  miles  from  the  sea.     Its  jM>pulation  jn  1810 
; was  1257.    .W.  Long.  83.  10.  *N.  Lat.  3^2.  40. 

MILLENARIANS,  or  Chiuasts,  a  name  given 
4o  Jthsfte  in  the  primitive  ages,  who  believed  that  the 
^fiainls  will  rejgn  on  earth  with  Christ  1000  years.    See 

Millenium. 

MILL£N£R,.or  milliner,  one  who  sells  ribbands 
and  dresses,  particularly  head  dresses  for  women ;  and 

.who  makes  up  those  dresses.    -Of  this  word  different 

^etymologies  bave  been  given.  It  is  UQt  derived  from 
tlie  French.  The  French  cannot  express  the  notion  of 
mUliner^  otherwise  than  by  the  circumlocution  marchand 
or  marchande  des  modest     Neither  is  it  derived  from 

.the  Low  Dutch  language,  the  great,  but  neglected, 
magazine,  of  the  Anglo-Saxon.      For  Sewel,    in   his 

.  Dictionary  English  and  Dutch,  1708,  describes  fni/- 
Jener  to  be  **  a  pedlar  who  sells  ribbands  and  other 

^  trimmings  or  ornaments  \  a  French  pedlar.^* 

Littleton,  in  his  Fi^gtish  and  Latin  Dictionary,  pub- 
lished 1677,  defines  millener,  ^  a  jack  ef  all  trades  j*^ 
q.  d.  ndUcnartus^  pr  miUe  mercium  A^enditor;  that  is, 
«'  one  who  sells  a  thousand  diffierent  sorts  df  things.** 

.From  this  etymology,  which. seems  fanciful,  we. must 
hold,  that  it  then  implied  wl^at  is  now  termed  ^  a  ha- 
berdasher of  sinall  wares.** 

Before  Littleton^s  time,  however,  a  somewhat  nicer 
characteristic  than  seems  compatible  with  his  notion, 
appears  to  have  belonged  to  tbem  >  fpr  Shakespeare,  in 

;his  Henry  IV,  makes  Hotspur,  when  complaining  of 
the  daintiness  pf  a  courtier,  .sayi 

-^  He  was  perfumed  Tike  a.milliner« 

The  fact  seems  to  be,  that  there  were  nrilleners  of 
several  kinds :  aSt  horse  miUeners^  (for  so  those  persons 
were  called  who  make  ornaments  of « coloured  worsted 
for  horses) ;  haberdashers  of  small  wares,  the  miUeners 
M  Littleton  j  and  mUleners  such  as  those  now  pecu- 
liarly known  by  that  name,  whether  male  or  female, 
and  to  whom  ShakespeaiJeTs  alluiion  seem»most  appro- 
priate. 

Lastly,. Dr  Johnson,  in  his  dictionary,  derives  the 
word  from  tnUaner^  an  inhabitant  of  MUan^  frqm 
whence  people  of  this  profession  first  came,  as  a'Zonk- 
bord  is  a  banker. 

MILL£rAS9US,  oT"Miilia'Passtit/m^  %  very  com- 
jnon  expression  among  the  ancient  Romans  for  a  mea- 
sure of  distance,  commonly  called  Skmik.  MUHaHum^ 
rarely  used.  Which  Hesychius  made  to  consist  of  seven 
stadia  \  Plutarch,  little  short  of  eight  \  but  many  others, 
as  Strabo  and  P<^ybius,  make  it  just  eight  stadia*  The 
reason  of  this  difference  seems  to  he,  that  the  former 
bad  a  regard  to  the  Grecian  foot,  which  is  greater  than 
the  Roman  or  Italic.  Thb  distance  is  oftentimes  cal- 
led lapis^  which  see*  Each  passus  consisted  of  five 
feet  (ColnmeUa). 

MFLLENNIUM,  /*  a  thousand  years  \^  generally 
Vol.  XI V.  Part  L  t 


mam. 


05    3  MIL 

employed  to  denote  the  thousand  years,  during  which,  Millen* 
according  to  an  ancient  tradition  in  the  church,  ground- 
ed on  some  doubtful  texts  in  the  Apocalypse  and  other 
Scriptures,  our  blessed  Saviour  shall  reign  with  the 
faithful  upon  earth  after  the  first  resurrection,  before 
the  final  completion  of  beatitude. 

Though  there  has  been  no  ace  of  the  church  in 
which  the  millennium  was  not  admitted  by  individual 
divines  of  the  first  eminence,  it  is  yet  evident  from  the 
writings  of  Eusebius,  Lnenseus,  Origen,  and  others 
among  the  ancients,  as  well  as  from  the  histories  of 
Dupin,  Mosheim,  and  all  the  modems,  that  it  was 
never  adopted  by  the  whole  church,  or  made  an  ailicle 
of  the  established  creed  in  any  nation. 

About  the  middle. of  the  fourth  century  the  Millen- 
nians  held  the  following  tenets  : 

ist,  That  the  city  of  Jerusalem  should  be  rebuiit, 
and  that  the  land  of  Judea  shonld  be  the  habitation  of 
those  who  were  to  reign  on  earth  1000  years. 

2dly,  That  the  first  resurrection  was  not  to  be  con- 
fined to  the  martyrs  %  but  that  after  the  &U  of  Anti- 
christ all  the  just  were  to  rbe,  and  all  that  were  on  the 
earth  were  to  continue  for  that  space  of  time. 

3dly,  That  Christ  shall  then  come  down  from  hea- 
ven, and  be  seen  on  earth,  and  reign  there  with  Ins 
servants. 

4thly,  That  the  saints  during  this  period  shall  enjoy 
all  the  delights  of  a  terrestrial  paradise.         ^ 

These  opinions  -were  founded  upon  several  passa- 
ges of  Scnpture,  which  the  MHlenartans  «mong  the 
fathers  understood  in  no  other  than  a  literal  sense, 
hut  which  the  modems,  who  hold  that  opinion,  con- 
sider as  partly  literal  and  partly  metaphorical.  Of 
these  passages,  that  upon  which  the  greatest  stress  has 
been  laid,  we  believe  to.  be  the  following: — "  And 
I^aw  an  angel  come  down  from 'heaven,  having  the 
key  of  the  bottoidless  pit,  and  a  great  chain  in  his 
hand.  And  heiaid  hold  on  the  dragon,  that  old  ser- 
pent,, which  is  the  devil  and  "Satan,  ami  bound  him  a 
thousand  years^  and  cast*  him  into  the  bottomless  pit, 
and  shut  him  up,  and  set  a  seal  npon  htm,  that  he 
should  deceive  the  nations  no.  more  till  the  thousand  years 
should' be  fulfilled -j  and  after  that^he  must  be  loosed 
a  little  season*  Aiid  I  saw  thrones,  and  they  sat  np- 
on them,. and  judgment  was  given  unto  them:  and 
1  saw  die  souls  of  them  that  were  beheaded  for  the 
witness  of  Jesus,  and  Norther  word  of  God,  and  which 
had  not  worshipped  the  beast,  neither  his  image,  nei- 
ther bad  received  hts  mark  upon  their  foreheads,  or  in 
their'  hands  ;  and  they  lived  and  reigned  with  Christ 
a  thousand  years*  But  the  rest  of  the  dead  lived  not 
again  till  the  thousand  years  were  finished  This  is 
the 'first  resurrection*.**  This  passage  all  the  ancient*  Rom.  fx. 
-Millenarians  took  in  a  sense  grossly  literal  \  and  tanght,  i*--5.  j 
that  during  the  millennium  the.  saints  -on  earth  were 
to  enjoy  every  bodily  delight*  The  modems,  on  the 
other  hand,  consider  the  power  and  pleasure  of  this 
kingdom  as  WhoHy  spiritual  %  and  they  represent  them 
as  not  to  commence  till  after  the  conflagration  of  the 
present  earth.  But  that  this  last  supposition  is  a  mis- 
take, the  very  next  verse  except  one  assures  us  :  for 
we  are  there  told,  that  ^*  when  the  thousand  years  are., 
expired,  Satan  shall  be  loosed  out  of  his  prison,  and  • 
shall  go  out  to  deceive  the  nations  which  are  in  the 
four  quarters  of  the  earth  ^^  and  we  have  no  reason  to 

O  believe 


MIL 


vRoaun. 

f  £ph.  T. 
»4- 


^3- 


believe  tbat  be  will  bave  such  power  or  sucb  liberty  in 
*'  the  new  heavens  and  the  new  earth  wherein  dwelFeth 
righteousness.^* 

For  this  and  other  reasons,  which  our  limits  will  not 
permit  us  to  enumerate,  the  most  judicious  critics  coi)- 
tead,  th%t  the  prophesies  of  the  millennium  point,  not 
to  a  resurrection  of  martyrs  and  other  just  men  to  reign 
with  Christ  a  thousand  years  in  a  visible  kingdom  upon 
eai^th,  "but  to  that  state  of  the  Christian  church,  which, 
for  a  thousand  years  before  the  general  judgment,  will 
be  so  pure  and  so  widely  extended,  that,  when  coropa« 
red  with  the  state  of  the  world  in  the  ages  preceding, 
it  may,  in  the  language  of  Scripture,  be  called  a  resur- 
rection from  the  dead.  In  support  of  this  interpretation 
they  quote  two  passages  from  St  Paul,  in  which  a  con- 
version from  Paganism  to  Christianity,  and  a  reforma- 
tion of  life,  18  called  a  resurrection  from  the  dead  :— 
^*  Neither  yield  ye  your  members  as  instnaments  of  un- 
righteousness into  sin ',  but  yield  yourselves  unto  God 
as  those  that  are  alive  from  the  dead*:^^  And  agaiq, 
**  Wherefore  he  saitli,  Awake  thou  that  sleepest,  and 
arise  frwn  the  dead^  and  Christ  shall  give  thee  light  f  .** 
It  is  likewise  to  be  observed,  that  in  all  the  descriptions 
of  the  resurrection  and  future  judgment  which  are 
riven  us  at  such  length  in  the  gospels  and  epistles,  there 
IS  no  mention  made  oftijirsi  and  second  resamciion  at 
the  distance  of  a  thousand  years  from  each  other. 
There  is  indeed  an  order  in  the  resurrection :  for  we 
are  told  {,  that  **  every  man  shall  rise  in  his  own  order ', 
Christ  the  first  fruitK,  afterwards  they  tbat  are  ChrisOs 
at  his  coming,*'  &c.  But  were  the  millennarian  hypo- 
tbesb  well  founded,  the  words  should  rather  have  run 
thus :  '*  Christ  the  first  fruits,  then  the  martyrs  at  bis 
coming,  and  a  thousand  yeal^  afterwards  the  residue  of 
mankind.    Then  cometb  the  end,**  &c. 

Tbe3e  arguments  strongly  incline  us  to  believe,  that 
by  the  reign  of  Christ  and  the  saints  for  a  thousand 
years  upon  eartli,  nothing  more  is  meant,  than  that 
before  the  general  judgment  the  Jews  should  be  con- 
verted, genuine  Christianity  be  diffused  through  all  na- 
tions, and  mankind  enjoy  that  peace  and  nappiness 
which  the  faith  and  precepts  of  the  gospal  are  calcu- 
lated to  confer  on  all  by  whom  they  are  sincerely  em- 
braced. 

Our  Saviour^s  own  account  of  his  religion  is,  that 
from  a  small  beginning  it  will  increase  to  the  full 
harvest.  The  niilieDBinm  therefore  is  to  be  considered 
as  the  full  effect  of  t)ie  Christian  principles  in  the  hearts 
of  men,  and  over  the  whole  world}  and  the  divines 
who  have  treated  of  this  subject  endeavour  to  prove, 
that  this  IS  to  be  expected  firom  the  facts  which  have 
alitady  existed,  and  from  the  importance  of  the  Chris- 
tian doctrine. 

1.  Hie  gradual  progress  of  Christianity  is  no  objec- 
tion to  this  fact*  This  is  similar  to  the  progress  and 
advancement  from  less  to  greater  perfection  in  every 
thing  which  possesses  vegetable  or  animal  life.  The 
..same  thin^  is  observed  in  the  arts,  in  civilization,  in 
•ocietieh,  and  in  individuals— and  why  should  it  not  be 
adaiiltcd  to  have  place  in  religion  ?  There  is,  indeed,  a 
^eneml  principle  on  which  a  gradual  progression,  both 
in  the  natural  and  moral  world,  is  founded.  The 
^Almighty  never  employs  supernatural  means  where  the 
.ihL  g  can  \^  aooomplisli^d  by  those  which  are  natural. 
Xhit  idea  if  of  the  moat  general  extent  through  the 


[    to6    3  MIL 

whole  of  the  present  system  of  nature.  The  ^pocsAtlity*  kfillea. 
of  another  plan  could  easily  be  admitted  j  hot  in  this  case 
there  would  be  a  total  alteration  of  eVery  paM  of  the 
works  of  God  or  of  man  tbat  we  are  Acquainted  Witb. 
In  the  same  manner,  if  the  religion  of  Christ  had  be^ 
irresistible,  it  would  have  totally  filtered  its  natural  con- 
sequences. It  was  necessary,  therefore,  frotn  the  pre- 
sent condition  of  man,  as  an  active,  intelligent,  and  ac- 
countable beipg,  that  means  should  be  employed  ^  and 
wherever  means  are  employed,  the  effects  ^rtfduced 
must  be  gradual,  and  not  inistantaneous. 

2.  Though  the  progress  of  a  divine  revelation  be  gra- 
dual, yet  it  is  to  be  expected,  from  the  wisdom  and 
compassion  of  God,  that  it  will  still  be  advancing  in  the 
hearts  of  men,  and  over  the  world.  In  the  first  stage  of 
the  church,  the  word  of  God,  supported  by  miracles^ 
and  by  the  animated  zeal  of  men  who  spake  what 
they  saw  and  heard,  grew  and  prevailed.  In  this  case 
supernatural  means  were  necessary,  because  the  pre- 
judices of  the  world  could  not  be  subdued  without  them* 
It  was  the  first  watering  of  a  plant  which  you  after- 
wards leave  to  the  dew  of  heaven.  Miracles  at  the 
same  time  were  employed  only  as  the  means  of  convic* 
tion  'f  and  they  were  not  continued,  because  in  thla 
case  they  would  have  become  a  constant  and  irresistible 
principle,  incompatible  with  the  condition  of  man  as  ft 
reasonable  agent.  After  this  power  was  withdrawn^ 
there  were  many  ages  of  ignorance  and  superstition  • 
in  the  Christir  n  church.  But  what  b  necessary  to  be 
established  on  this  subject  is,  not  that  the  progress  of 
Christianity  has  never  been  interrupted,  but  that  on 
the  whole  it  has  been  advancing.  The  effects  of  this 
religion  on  mankind,  in  proportion  as  it  was  received, 
were  immediate  and  visible :  It  destroyed  the  gross  su- 
perstition of  idol  worship  ^  it  abolished  the  practice, . 
which  was  general  in  the  heathen  World,  of  reducing 
to  the  lowest  state  of  servitude  the  greatest  part  of  our 
brethren }  it  softened  the  horrors  of  war,  even  when  the 
▼ices  of  mankind  made  defence  necessary  i  it  entered 
into  social  and  private  life,  and  taught  men  benevolence, 
humanity,  and  mercy.  It  is  in  these  blessed  effects  that 
we  can  observe  the  progress  of  Christianity  even  to  this 
day.  Superstition  and  idolatry  were  soon  engrafted  on 
the  stem  which  our  Saviour  planted  in  the  world  ^  but 
the  simplicity  of  the  gospel  has  been  gradually  under- 
mining the  fabtic  of  superstition  ^  and  the  men  who  are 
most  nearly  interested  in  the  deceit  are  now  almost 
ashamed  to  show  their  faces  in  the  cause.  The  practice 
of  slavery  has,  generally  speaking,  been  extinguished  in 
the  Christian  world }  yet  the  remains  of  it  have  been  a 
disgrace  to  the  Christian  name,  and  the  professors  of 
that  religion  have  now  begun  to  see  the  inconsistency. 
"War  is  not  only  carried  on  with  less  animosity,  and  lets 
havock  of  the  human  species ;  but  men  begin  to  culti- 
vate more  generally,  and  to  delight  in,  the  arts  of 
peace.  The  increasing  .spirit  of  charity  and  benevo- 
lence, of  which  it  were  easy  to  give  unexampled  instan- 
ces in  the  present  age,  is  a  decided  proof  ol  the  increa- 
sing influence  of  Christianity.  At  the  same  time,  if, 
instead  of  these  general  principles,  we  were  to  descend 
to  private  examples  of  infidelity  or  of  wicktdne&i»,  it 
would  be  easy  to  bring  proois  in  tiupport  of  an  opposite- 
opinion  :  but    the  reasoning  would    by   liO   nu  ans   be 


equally   conclusive;    for  if  the  general    principles  by 
which  society  is  regulated  be  more  liberal  aud  merciful. 


MIL 


C    107   3 


M    I    h 


ItiUea-  it  is  evident  tkat  there  is  more  goojoess  in  a  greater 
nioiiL  number  of  the  human  race.  Society  is  nothing  more 
*  '  than  a  collection  of  individuals  ^  and  the  general  tone, 
especially  when  it  is  on  the  side  of  virtue,  which  almos^ 
in  every  instance  opposes  the  designs  of  leading  and  in- 
terested men,  is  a  certain  evidence  of  the  private  spirit. 
To  show  that  this  reformation  is  connected  with  Chri- 
stianity, it  is  unnecessary  to  state  any  comparison  be- 
tween the  influence  of  heathen,  and  the  influence  of* 
Christian  principles  :  between  civilization  as  depending 
on  the  powers  of  the  human  understanding,  and  on  the 
efficacy  of  the  word  of  God.  The  whole  of  this  contro- 
versy may  be  appealed  to  an  obvious  fact,  viz.  that  as 
any  nation  has  come  nearer  to  the  simplicity  of  the 
gospel  in  the  standard  of  its  worship,  it  has  been  more 
possessed  of  those  national  virtues  which  we  have 
ascribed  to  the  influence  of  Christianity.  This  fact  is 
worth  a  thousand  volumes  of  speculation  on  this  sub- 
ject. 

3.  A  revelation  sanctioned  by  God,  for  a  benevolent 
purpose,  will  be  expected  to  produce  effects  correspond- 
ing to  the  wisdom  which  gave  it,  and  to  the  purpose 
for  which  it  is  employed.  It  may  be  gradual  ^  but  it 
will  be  increasing,  and  it  must  increase,  to  the  full  har- 
vest. He  that  has  begun  the  good  work  will  also  finish 
it.  It  is  reasonable  to  expect  this  illustrious  success  of 
the  gospel,  both  from  the  nature  of  the  thing,  and 
from  the  prophecies  contained  in  the  sacred  scriptures. 
The  precepts  of  the  gospel,  in  their  genuine  sense,  are 
admirably  calculate^  for  the  ^ace  and  welfare  both  of 
individuals  and  society.  The  greatest  liberality  of  mind, 
the  greatest  generosity  of  temper,  the  most  unbounded 
love,  ^Bd  the  greatest  indifference  to  the  accumulation 
•f  this  world^s  property,  if  th^y  glowed  from  breast 
to  breast,  [gind  operated  with  equal  force  on  all  men, 
would  be  productive  of  equal  good  and  happiness  to  all. 
IVe  are  s^sarcely  able  to  perceive  the  force  of  this  at 
first  view,  becaus.e  the  deceit  and  imposition  which  yet 
exist  in  t^e  world,  prevent  the  operation  of  the  best 
principles  even  in  tl^e  best  hearts.  Bi^t  in  proportion 
to  the  improvement  of  mankind,  what  is  their  real  in- 
terest, and  what  are  the  real  objects  of  happiness,  will 
gradually  unfold.  The  contempt  of  vice  will  be  great- 
er in  proportion  to  the  scarcity  of  it :  for  one  villain 
mves  countenance  and  support  to  another,  just  as  iron 
sharpenetjb  iron.  This  opens  to  our  view  another  fact 
connected  with  the  practice  of  Christianity,  namely, 
that  the  nearer  it  arrives  to  its  perfect  state,  it  will  be 
the  more  rapid  in  its  progress.  The  beauty  of  holiness 
will  be  more  visible }  and,  in  the  strong  language  of 
the  prophet,  ^'  the  earth  shall  bring  forth  in  one  day, 
lLloL8.and  a  nation  shall  be  bom  at  once*.'^  This  future 
perfection  of  the  gospel  is  consistent  with  its  nature  and 
importance. — We  can  sca^ely  believe  that  means  so 
admirably  adapted  to  the  reformation  of  mankind 
should  he  without  their  effect  ^  and  if  the  most  difficult 
pa|l  he  already  accomplished,  we  have  no  reason  to  ap- 
prehend that  the  scheme  will  not  be  completed.  This 
fact  is  aJso  dearly  the  subject  of  ancient  prophecy.  For 
*'  thus  saitfa  the  Lord  t,  I  will  extend  peace  to  her  like 
a  river,  and  the  glory  of  the  Gentiles  like  a  flowing 
stream.  And  it  shall  come  to  pass,  from  one  sabbath 
to  another,  and  frojm  one  new  moon  to  another,  9hall 
all  flesh  come  to  worship  before  me,  saith  the  Lord.**—- 
*^  Violence  sliall  he  no  more  heard  in  thy  land,  wasting 


Vcr.  II. 


nor  destruction  within  thy  border  ^  but  thou  shalt  call    Miiien-. 
thy  walls  salvation,  and  thy  gates  praise.**  (Is.  Ix.  1 8.).      uium 

\Vithout  entering  more  minutely  on  the  prophecy  ^^Icpof**^ 
already  qubted  from  chap.  xx.  of  the  book  of  the  Ro-  ""^^ 
velation,  it  is  sufficient  to  observe,  that  Dr  Whitby,  in 
his  treatise  on  the  millennium  at  the  end  of  his  commen- 
tary, proves,  in  the  clearest  manner,  from  the  spirit  of 
the  passage  and  the  similarity  of  the  expressions  with 
those  of  other  prophets,  that  it  refers  to  a  state  of  the 
ckurch  for  a  tbousand  years,  which  shall  be  like  life 
from  the  dead.  The  commencement  of  this  period  is 
connected  with  two  events :  the  fall  of  antichrist,  and 
the  conversion  of  the  Jews.  The  latter  of  these  events 
must  be  considered  as  a  key  to  all  the  prophecies  con* 
cerning  the  millennium.  As  the  Jews  were  the  ancient 
people  of  God,  and  as  their  conversion  is  to  be  the  pre- 
vious step  to  the  general  knowledge  of  Christianity,  (hQ 
prophecies  of  the  millennium  have  a  chief  relation  to  this 
important  event.  We  have  already  observed,  that  God 
never  interposes  with  miraculous  power  to  produce  what 
can  be  effected  by  natural  means  ^  and  from  what  we 
know  of  human  nature,  we  cannot  but  perceive  that  the 
conversion  of  the  Jews  will  powerfully  operate  to  the 
general  conversion  of  mankind.  Freed  from  those  pie-' 
judices  which  now  make  them  the  objects  of  hatred  in 
all  nations,  and  fired  with  that  zeal  by  which  new  con- 
verts are  always  actuated,  they  will  preach  the  gospel 
with  a  fervour  of  which  we,  who  have  long  been  bles- 
sed with  its  rays,  can  hardly  form  a  conception  ^  and, 
by  their  present  dispei-sion  over  the  whole  earth,  tliey 
will  be  enabled  to  adapt  their  instructions  to  every  in- 
dividual of  the  human  race  in  the  language  of  his  fa- 
thers. Indeed,  if  they  are  not  at  some  future  period  to 
be  employed  by  Providence  for  this  purpose^  it  is  diffi- 
cult, if  not  impossible,  to  give  any  reason  for  their  dis- 
persed state  and  political  existence.  Just  now  it  must  be 
confessed  that  they  are  the  most  implacable  enemies  of 
the  Christian  name  >  but  their  conversion  is  not  on  that 
account  more  unlikely  or  improbable  than  were  events 
which  have  taken  place  of  nearly  equal  importance  s 
very  few  ^ears  ago.  On  the  whole,  the  perfection  of 
Christianity  is  ^  doctrine  of  reasonable  expectation  to 
the  church  ^  and  it  is  impossible  for  the  advocates  for 
natural  relinon  to  deny,  that  unlimited  obedience  to 
its  precepts  is  consistent  with  the  purest  state  of  liberty 
and  of  happiness.  This  is  the  only  millennium  which 
the  propliets  and  apostles,  as  we  understand  them,  pro- 
mise to  the  saints  ^  but  as  men  figuring  in  the  very  first 
ranks  of  learning  have  thought  otherwise,  we  would  not 
be  too  confident  that  our  interpretation  is  just.— -Such 
of  our  readers  as  wish  for  further  information,  will  find 
it  in  the  works  of  Mr  Mede,  Bishop  Newton,  Dr  Whit- 
by and  Dr  Gill ',  and  to  those  masterly  writers  we  refer 
them  for  that  satisfaction  which  in  such  an  article  as 
tliis  cannot  begiven. 

^ilLLEPES,  or  WooD-LOUS£  ^  a  species  of  Okis- 
cus.     See  Entomology  Index. 

MILLEPORA,  ia  Natural  History^  a  name  by 
which  Linnseus  distinguishes  that  genus  of  lithophytes^ 
of  a  hard  structure  and  full  of  holes,  which  are  not  stel- 
lated or  radiated,  and  whose  animal  is  the  hydra,  in 
which  it  differs  firom  the  madrepora,  and  comprehend- 
ing 14  differei^t  species. 

In  the  millepora,  the  animal  which  forms  and  inha- 
bits it  occupies  the  substance  \  and  it  is  ofasenxd  that 

O  a  the 


MIL  [I 

MlUepacft  the  mlllepone  grow  upon  one  another  \  their  little  ani- 
n  mals  produce  their  spawn ;  which  attaching  itself  either 
*^'^^  .  to  the  extrcmit J  of  the  body  already  formed,  or  un- 
derneath it,  gives  a  different  form  to  this  produc- 
tion. Hence  the  Tarioos  shapes  of  the  mtllepora, 
which  is  composed  of  an  infinite  number  of  the  cells 
of  those  little  insects,  which  all  together  exhibit  differ- 
ent figures,  though  every  particular  cellula  has  its  essen- 
Ual  fopm,  and  the  nune  iGmensions,  M^coniiDg  to  it. 
own  species. 

MILLET.    See  Milium,  Botakt  Index. 

MILLIARE,  or  Milliarium,  a  Roman  mile, 
\rhich  consisted  of  looo  paces,  miUejpasntSy  whence  the 
name. 

MILLIASIUM  AUREUM,  was  a  gilded  pillar  in 
the  forum  of  Rome,  at  which  all  tfie  highways  of  Italy 
met,  as  one  common  centre.  From  this  pillar  the  miles 
were  counted,  and  at  the  end  of  every  mile  a  stone  was 
put  down.  The  milliary  column  was  erected  by  Au- 
ffttsttts  Csesar,  and,  as  we  are  informed  by  travellers, 
IS  still  to  be  seen. 

MILLING  of  Cloth.    See  Fulling. 

MILLION,  in  ArUkmetic^  the  sum  of  ten  hundred 
thousand,  or  a  thousand  times  a  thousand*.  See  Arith- 
metic. 

MILLO,  a  part  of  Mount  Zion  at  Fts  extremity ; 
and  therefore  called'  MiUo  of  the  city  of  David 
(2  Chron.  xxxii.),  taken  in  with  the  wall  that  encom- 
passed Mount  Zion.  Uncertain  whether  Beth  Alilloy 
(^Judges  ix.  20.)  denotes  a  place  \  if  it  did,  it  lay  near 
oechenu 

MILLOT,  Claude  Francis  Xavier,  of  the 
French  academy,  was  bom  at  Besan^on,  March  1726, 
and"  was  for  some  time  a  Jesuit.  He  was  consecrated 
for  the  pulpit,  and  continued  to  preach  ifter  he  left  the 
society :  But  the  weakness  of  his  voice,  his  timidity,,  and 
the  awkwardness  of  his  manner,  not  permitting  him  to 
continue  in  thfs  pofession,  lie  relinquished  it,  although 
Ke  had  preached  Advent  sermons  at  Versailles,  and' 
Lent  sermons  at  Lunevilfe.  The  marquis  de  Felino, 
minister  of  Parma,  instituted  an  historical  class  for  the 
benefit  of  the  young  nobility ;  and,  at  the  desire  of 
M.  te  Due  de  Nivemois,  he  gave  the  charge  of  it  to 
the  abb6  Millot*  The  minister  having  oecasioned'  a 
kind  of  rebellion  among  the  people  by  some  innovations 
which  he  had  made  in  the  state,  the  abb^  continued  at* 
lacked  to  the  interests  of  hit  patron,  and  would  not  de- 
sert him  till  the  storm  was  blown  over.  When  he  was 
told  that  he  would  looe  his  place  by  this  conduct,  he  re- 
plied, **  My  place  is  with  a  virtuous  persecuted  man 
who  has  heeo  m%  benefiMtor ;  and  that  I  shall  never 
lose.^*  At  length,  laving  fiUed  the  historical  chair 
with  great  approbation.  Me  returned  to  France,  and  was 
appointed  preceptor  to  M.  fe  Due  d^Enghien.  In  thia 
situation  be  died,  A.  D.  1785,.  aged  59.  The  abbd 
Millet  did  not  Matt  in  company }  he  was  cold  and  re- 
served in  his  naanncr  \  but  every  thing  he  said  was  ju- 
dicious, and  exactly  in  point-»D*Alembert  said,  that 
of  all  his  acquaintance  the  abb^  Millot  had  the  fewest 
prejudices  and  the  least  pretension.  He  composed  seve- 
ral works,  which  are  digested  with  great  care,  and 
iqrritten  in  a  pure,  simple,  and  natural  style.  The  prin- 
eipal  are,  1.  Elemens  de  l^Histoire  de  JTronrr,  depuit 
Cloviejuequ^  i  Louu  XIV.  3  vols,  in  i3mo.  The  an- 
thoti  selecting  the  most  curiom  and  important  fsctSi  has 


08    ]  MIL 

suppressed  every  thing  foreign  to  the  subject ;  and  has 
not  only  arranged  the  materials  in  their  proper  order, 
hut  chosen  them  with  the  greatest  judgment.  Querlon 
thought  this  the  best  abndgement  which  we  have  of  the 
history  of  France,  and  preferred  it  to  that  of  the  presi* 
dent  Henaolt.  2.  Elemens  de  PHistoire  d^Angleterre 
depuis  son  origtne  sous  les  Romains^  jusqu*  d  George  IT, 
3  vols.  l2mo.  In  this  valiuble  abridgement,  the  au^ 
thor  satisfies,  without  tiring,  his  readers.  It  is  all  that 
is  necessary  for  those  who  wish  to  gain  a  general  know- 
ledge of  the  English  history,  without  entering  minute* 
ly  uto  its  particular  parts.— 3.  Elemens  de  PHistoire 
universelle^  9  vols.  1 2mo.  A  certain  critic  maintains, 
that  this  work  is  merely  a  counterfeit  of  Voltaire^s  ge- 
neral history.  But  this  censure  is  altogether  unjust. 
The  ancient  history  in  this  work  Ts  wholly  composed  by 
the  abb^  Millot  \  and,  no  less  than  the  modem  part, 
discovers  bis  abilities  in  the  choice  of  facts,  in  divesting 
them  of  useless  circumstances,  in  relating  them  without 
prejudice,  and  in  adomingthem  with  judicious  reflec- 
tions* 4.  L^Histotre  desjTroubtufours^  3  vols.  T2mo, 
compiled  from  the  manuscripts  of  M.  de  Saint  Palaie. 
This  work  appears  rather  tedious,  because  it  treats  of 
men  almost  unknown,  and  most  of  them  deserving  to  be 
What  is  there  quoted  from  the  Provencal  poets  is 


MiDot. 


80. 


not  at  all  interesting ;  and,  according  to  the  observation 
of  a  man  of  wit,  '*  it  serves  no  purpose  to  search  curi- 
ously into  a  heap  of  old  ruins  while  we  have  modem 
palaces  to  engage  our  attention.*^  5.  Mcmoires  PoH' 
tfques  et  MUitaires pour  servtr  6  PHistoire  de  LouisXIK 
et  de  Louis  XV,  composed  from  original  papers  collect- 
ed by  Adrian  Maurice  due  de  Noailles,  marshal  of 
France,  in  6  vols.  i2mo.  6.  The  abbe  Millot  pub- 
lished afso  several  Drscourses,  in  which  he  discusses  a 
variety  of  philosophical  questions,  with  more  ingenuity 
of  argument  than  fire  of  expression  ;  and  a  translation 
of  the  most  select  harangues  in  the  Latin  historians }  of 
which  it  has  been  remarked,  as  well  as  of  the  orations 
of  the  abb^  d^Olivet,  that  they  are  coldly  correct,  and 
elegantly  insipid.  The  character  of  the  author,  more 
prudent  and  circumspect  than  lively  and  animated,  sel- 
dom elevatecT  his  imagination  above  a  noble  simplicity 
without  warmth,  and  a  pure  style  without  ostentation. 
Some  of  the  critics,  however,  have  accused  him  of  de- 
clamation in  some  parts  of  his  histories,  particularly  in 
those  parts  which  concern  the  clergy.  But,  in  our  opi- 
nion, the  word  declamation  is  totally  inapplicable  to  the 
writings  off  the  abbd  Millot.  He  flatters,  it  is  tnCf, 
neither  priests  nor  statesmen  ^  and  he  relates  more  in- 
stances of  vicious  than  virtuous  actions,  because  the  one 
are  infinitely  more  common  than  the  other  r  But  he  re- 
lates them  coldly  ^  and  he  appears  to  he  guided  more 
bv  sincerity  and  a  love  of  truth,  than  by  that  partial 
philosophy  which  blames  the  Christian  religion  (or  those 
evils  which  it  condemns. 

MILO,  a  celebrated  at&Iete  of  Crotona  in  Italy. 
His  fkther*s  name  was  Diotimus.  He  early  accnstoffled" 
himself  to  carry  the  greatest  burdens,  and  by  degree* 
became  a  prodigy  of  strength.  It  is  said  that  he  car- 
ried on  his  shoulders  a  young  bollock,  four  years  old, 
for  above  forty  yards  ^  and  sifterwards  killed  it  with  one 
blow  of  his  fist,  and  eat  it  up  in  one  day.  He  wa^  se- 
ven times  crowned  at  the  Pytfiian  games,  and' six  at  the 
Olympian.  He  presented  himself  a  seventh  tune}  but 
no  one  had  the  courage  or  boldness  to  enter  the  lists 

against 


MIL 


t 


ICloft  Against  dim.  He  tras  one  of  the  disciples  of  Pythago- 
ras \  and  to  his  uncommon  strength,  it  is  said,  the 
learned  preceptor  and  his  pupils  owed  their  life :  The 
pillar  which  supported  the  roof  of  the  school  suddenly 
gave  way ;  but  MUo  supported  the  whole  weight  of  the 
huildingy  and  gave  the  philosopher  and  his  auditors  time 
to  escape.  In  his  old  age,  Milo  attempted  to  pull  up  a 
tree  by  the  roots,  and  break  it.  He  partly  eflPected  it ; 
but  his  strength  being  gradually  exhausted,  the  tree 
when  half  cleft  re-united,  and  his  hands  remained  pinch- 
ed in  the  body  of  the  tree.  He  was  then  alone  ^  and, 
being  unable  to  disentangle  himself,  he  was  devoured 
by  the  wild  beasts  of  the  place,  about  500  years  before 
the  Christian  era. 

Milo,  T.  Annmsj  a  native  of  Lanuvium,  who  at- 
tempted to  obtain  the  consulship  at  Rome  by  intrigue 
and  seditious  tumults.  Clodius  the  tribune  opposed 
his  views ;  yet  Milo  would  have  succeeded  but  for  the 
following  event :  As  he  was  going  into  the  country,  at- 
tended by  his  wife  and  a  numerous  retinue  of  gladiators 
and  servants,  he  met  on  the  Appian  road  his  enemy 
Clodius,  who  was  returning  to  l6>me  with  three  of  his 
friends  and  some  domestics  compTetely  armed.— A 
quarrel  arose  between  the  servants.  Milo  supported  his 
attendants,  and  the  dispute  became  general.-^Clodius 
received  many  severe  wounds,  and  was  obliged  to  re- 
tire to  a  neighbouring  cottage.  Milo  pursued  his  ene- 
my in  bis  retreat,  and  ordered  his  servants  to  despatch 
him.  The  body  of  the  murdered  tribune  was  carried 
to  Rome,  and  exposed  to  public  view.  The  enemies 
of  Milo  inveighed  bitterly  aeainst  the  violence  and  bar- 
barity with  which  the  sacred  person  of  a  tribune  bad 
been  treated.  Cicero  undertook  the  defence  of  Milo  ; 
but  the  continual  clamours  of  the  friends  of  Clodius, 
and  the  sight  of  an  armed  soldiery,  which  surrounded 
the  seat  of  judgment,  so  terrified  the  orator,  that  he 
forgot  the  greatest  part  of  bis  arguments,,  and  the  de- 
fence he  made  was  weak  and  injudicious.— Milo  was 
condemned,  and  banished  to  Massilia.  Cicero  soon  af- 
ter sent  his  exiled  friend  a  copy  of  the  oration  which 
Be  bad  prepared  for  his  defence,  in  the  form  in  which 
we  have  it  now  j  and  Milo,  after  he  had  read  it,  ex- 
claimed, O  Cicero^  hadst  thou  spoken  hefore  my  accusers 
in  these  termsj  Milo  would  not  be  now  eating  Jigs  at 
Marseilles,  The  friendshipiuid  cordiality  of  Cicero  and 
Mifo  were  the  fruits  of  long  intimacy  and  familiar  in- 
tercourse. It  was  to  the  successfiil  labours  of  Milo  that 
the  orator  was  recalled"  from  banishment,  and  restored 
to  his  friends. 

Milo,  (anciently  Melos)^  an  island  in  the  Archipe- 
lago, about  50  miles  in  circumierence,  with  a  harbour, 
which  is  one  of  the  largest  in  the  Mediterranean.  The 
principal  town  is  of  the  same  name  as  the  island,  and 
was  prettily  built,  but  abominably  nasty:  the  houses 
are  two  stories  high,,  with  flat  roofii ;  and  are  built  with 
a  sort  of  pumice  stonej  which,  is  hard,  blackish,  and  yet 
▼ery  light. 

This  island  was  formerly  rich  and  popnTouB.  From 
the  earliest  times  of  antiquity  it  •njoyed  pure  liberty. 


09    ]  MIL 

The  Athenians,  not  being  able  to  persuade  the  MeKans  ifn^^f, 
to  declare  in  their  favour  in  the  Peloponnesian  war,  *  v  '"^ 
made  a  descent  upon  the  island,  and  attacked  them  vi- 
gorously. In  two  different  expeditions  they  failed  of 
their  purpose  :  but  returning  with  more  numerous 
forces,  they  laid  siege  to  Melos  ;  and  obliging  the 
besieged  to  surrender  at  discretion,  put  to  the  sword 
all  the  men  who  were  able  to  bear  arms.  They  spared 
only  the  women  and  children,  and  these  they  carried 
into  captivity.  This  act  of  cruelty  puts  humanity  to 
the  blush,  and  disgraces  the  Athenian  name.  But  war 
was  then  carried  on  with  a  degree  of  wild  rage,  unex- 
ampled in  the  present  times.  Republics  know  not 
how  to  pardon,  and  always  carry  their  vengeance  to 
an  extravagant  height.  When  Lysander,  the  Lacedfo^ 
monian  general,  came  to  give  law  to  the  Athenians,- 
he  expelled  the  colony  which  they  had  sent  to-  Melos,*  ■- 
and  re-established  the  unfortunate  remains  of  its- origin 
nal  inhabitants. 

This  island  lost  its  liberty  when  Rome,  aspiring*  ttf  ^ 
the  empire  of  the  world,  conquered  all  the  isles  of  the 
Archipelago.  In  the  partition  of  the  empire,  it  fell 
to  the  share  of  the  eastern  emperors,  was  governed  by 
particular  dukes,  and  -was  at  last  conquered  by  Soli* 
roan  II.  Since  that  period,  it  has  groaned  under  the 
yoke  of  Turkish  despotism,  and  has  lost  its  opulence 
and  splendour.  At  the  commencement  of  the  present 
century,  it  boasted  of  17  churches  and  11  chapels,  and 
contained  more  than  20,000  inhabitants;  It  was  very 
fertile  in  com,  wine,  and  f^uita*;  andthe-whole  space 
from  the  town  t6  the  harbour,  which  is  nearly  twd 
miles,  was  laid  out  in  beautifdl  gardei^s.  M.  Toume^ 
fort,  who  visited  it  in  the  year  1700,  gives  a  fine  de» 
scription  of  it.  "  The  eartl{,^  being  constantly  warmed  - 
by  subterraneous  fires,  produced  alinost  without  inters 
rtiption  plenteous-  crops  of  com,  barley,  cotton,  ex- 
quisite wines,  and  delicious  melons.  8t  Elias,  the  finest 
monastery  in  the  island,  and  situated  onrthe  most  ele- 
▼ated  spot,  is  encircled  with  orangt,  cidron,  cedar,  and 
fig  trees.  Its  gardens  are  watered  by  a  copious  spring. 
Olive  trees,  of  which  there  are  but  few  in  the  other 
parts  of  the  island,  grow  in  great  numbers  around  this 
monastery.  The  adjacent  vineyards  afford  excellent 
wine.  In  a  word,  all  the  productions  of  the  island  are  - 
the  very  best  of  their  kinds ;  its  partridges,  quails,  kid^  . 
and  lambs,  are  highly  valued,  and  yet  may  be  bought 
at  a  very  cheap  price.** 

Were  M.  Toumefort  toTetnra  to  Milo,  M.  Savary  ♦  *J>«^" 
assures  us,  he  would  no  longer  see  the  fine  island  which  TlPCi^f*^ 
he  has  described.  ^  He  might  still*  see  alum,  in  the 
form  of  feathers,  and  fringed  with  sllfer  thread,  hang- 
ing firom  the  arches  of  the  ca^ms  f  pieces  of  pure 
sulphur  filling  the  clifl&  of  the  rocks  3  a  variety  of  mi- 
neral springs  \  hot  baths  (though  these  are  now  only 
a  set  of  small  dirty  caves) ;  ttefr  same  subterraneous 
fires  which  in  his  days  warmed  the  bosom  of  the 
earth,  and  were  the  cause  of  its  extraordinary  fertility : 
but  instead  of  5000  Greeks,  all  paying  the  capitation 
tax  (a),  he  would  now  find  no  more  than  about  700 

inhabitants 


(a)  Grown  up  men  are  the  only  persons  who  pay  the  capitation  tax.  Therefore,  by  adding  to  the  number  of 
5000  who  paid  the  tax,  the  women,  boys,  and  girb,  we  find  that  Melos,  in  the  days  of  Toumefort,  contained  at 
kast  20,000  soub. 


M    I    L 


C 


Mflo.  iDhabiUints  on  aa  island  i8  leagues  in  circiunfereDee. 
He  would  sigh  to  behold  the  finest  lands  lying  unculti- 
vatedy  and  the  most  fertile  valleys  converted  into  mo- 
rasses ;  of  the  gardens  scarcely  a,  vestige  is  left  |  three- 
fourths  of  the  town  in  ruins,  and  the  inhabitants  daily 
decreasing.  In  short,  daring  the  last  50  years,  Melos 
has  assumed  a  quite  different  appearance.    The  plague, 

'  which  the  Turks  propagate  everywhere,  has  cut  off 
one  part  of  its  inhabitants;  the  injudicious  admini- 
stration of  the  Porte,  and  the  oppressive  extortions  of 
the  captain  pacha,  have  destroyed  the  rest.     At  pre- 

'  sent,  for  want  of  hands,  they  cannot  cut  out  a  free 

'  channel  for  their  waters,  which  stagnate  in  the  vaUeys, 
corrupt,  and  infect  the  air  with  their  putrid  exhala- 

^  tions.  The  salt  marshes,  of  which  there  are  nimibers 
in  the  island,  being  equally  neglected,  produce  the 
same  effects.     Add  to  these  inconveniences,  those  sul- 

,  phureous  exhalations  which  arise  all  over  the  island, 
and  by  which  the  inhabitants  of  Melos  are  afflicted 
with  dangerous  fevers  during  three-fourths  of  the  year. 
Perhaps  tbey  may  be  obliged  to  forsake  their  coun- 
try. £very  countenance  is  yellow,  pale,  and  livid ; 
and  none  bears  any  marks  of  good  health.  The  pru- 
dent traveller  will  be  careful  to  spend  but  a  very  short 
time  in  this  unwholesome  country,  unless  he  chooses 
to  expose  himself  to  the  duiger  of  catchinff  a  fever. 
To  sleep  over  night,  or  to  spend  but  one  day  in  the 
island,  is  often  enough  to  occasion  his  being  attacked 
with  that  distemper. 

*^  Yet  (continues  our  author)  a  judicious  i^nd  en- 

•  lightened  government  might  expel  those  evils  which 
ravage  Melos.  Its  iirst  care  would  be  to  establish  a  la^ 
zaret,  and  to  prolybit  vessels  whose  crews  or  cargoes 
are  infected  with  the  plague  from  landing.  Canals 
might  next  be  out,  to  drain  the  marshes  whose  exhala- 

'  tions  are  so  pernicious.  The  island  would  then  be  re- 
peopled.  The  sulphureous  vapours  are  not  the  most 
noxious.  These  prevailed  equally  in  ancient  times,  yet 
the  island  was  then  very  populous.  M.  Toumefort, 
who  travelled  through  it  at  a  time  less  distant  from  the 

•  period  when  it  was  conquered  by  the  Turks,  and  when 
they  had  not  yet  had  time  to  lay  it  waste,  reckons  the 
number  of  its  inhabitants  (as  we  have  said)  at  about 
ao,000.  The  depopulation  of  Melos  is  therefore  to  be 
ascribed  to  the  de^tism  of  the  Porte,  and  its  detestable 
police.'* 

The  women  of  Milo,  once  so  celebrated  for  their 
^^/^^y.  beauty,  are  n^  sallow,  unhealthy,  and  disgustingly 
up  ihe  ugly  5  and  render  themselves  still  more  hideous  by  their 
dress,  whic^  is  a  kind  of  loose  jacket,  with  a  white  coat 
and  petticoat,  that  scarcely  covers  two-thirds  of  their 
thighs,  barely  meeting  the  stocking  a.bove  the  knee. 
Their  hind  luiir  hangs  down  the  back  in  a  number  of 
plaits  \  that  on  the  ioxe.  part  of  the  head  Is  combed 
down  each  side  of  the  face,  and  terminated  by  a  small 
stiff  curl,  which  is  even  with  the  lower  part  of  the 
oheek.  AH  the  inhnbitimtB  are  Greeks,  for  the  Turkjs 
are  not  ibnd  of  truslii^  themselves  in  the  small  islands ; 
but  every  summer  the  captain  hashaw  goes  round  with 
a  squadron  to  keep  them  in  subjection,  and  to  collect 
the  revenue.  When  the  Russians  made  themselves  mas- 
ters of  the  Archipelago,  many  of  the  islands  declared 
in  their  faip>ur  \  but  being  abandoned  by  the  peace, 
they  were  so  severely  nroleted  by  the  grand  signior,  that 
they  have  professed  a  determination  to  remain  perfectly 


vp  the 
StraitB, 
p  146, 


10    }  MIL 

quiet  in  future^  A9  the  Turks,  however,  do  not  think  f^iio 
them  worth  a  garrison,  and  will  not  trust  them  with  1| 
anos  and  ammunition,  all  those  which  the  Russians  may  MiUudct. 
choose  to  invade  will  be  obliged  to  submit.  The  two 
.  points  which  form  tlie  entrance  of  the  harbour,  cros- 
sing each  other,  render  it  imperceptible  until  you  are 
close  to  it.  ThuS|  while  you  are  perfectly  secure 
within  it,  you  find  great  difficulty  in  getting  out,  par- 
ticularly in  a  northerly  wind  >  and  as  no  trade  is  car- 
ried on  except  a  little  in  com  and  salt,  Milo  would 
scarcely  ever  be  visited,  were  it  not  that,  being  the 
first  island  which  one  makes  in  the  Archipelago,  the 
pilots  have  chosen  it  for  their  residence.  Tbey  live  in 
a  little  town  on  the  top  of  a  high  rock,  whioh,  firom  its 
situation  and  appearance,  is  called  the  Ca«f/p.— Par- 
tridges still  abound  in  this  island ;  and  are  so  cheap, 
that  you  may  buy  one  for  a  charge  of  powder  only. 
The  peasants  get  them  by  standing  behind  a  portable 
screen,  with  a  small  aperture  in  the  centre,  in  which 
they  place  the  muzzle  of  their  piece,  and  then  draw 
the  partridges  by  a  call.  When  a  sufficient  number  are 
collected,  they  fire  among  them,  and  generally  kill 
fi*om  four  to  seven  at  a  shot )  but  even  this  method  of 
getting  them  is  so  expensive,  horn  the  scarcity  of  am- 
munition, that  the  people  can  never  afford  to  shoot 
them,  except  when  there  are  gentlemen  in  the  island, 
firom  whom  they  can  beg  a  little  powder  and  shot. 

Milo  is  60  miles  north  of  Candia  j  and  the  town  is 
situated  in  £.  Long.  25.  1 5.  N.  Lat.  36.  27. 

MILSTONE.    See  Millstone. 

MILT,  in  Anatomy^  a  popular  name  for  the 
Spleen. 

Milt,  or  Mek^  in  Naturai  History^  the  soft  roe  in 
fishes }  thus  called  from  its  yielding,  by  expression,  a 
whitish  juice  resembling  milk*     See  RoE. 

The  milt  is  properly  the  seed  or  Spermatic  part  of  the 
male  fish.  The  milt  of  a  carp  is  reckoned  a  choice  bit. 
It  consists  of  two  long  whitish  irregular  bodies,  each  in- 
cluded in  a  very  thin  fine  membrane.  M.  Petit  consi- 
ders them  as  the  testicles  of  the  fish  whearein  the  seed  is 
preserved  }  the  lower  part  next  the  anus,  he  supposes 
to  be  the  vesicuia  seminales. 

MILTHORP,  a  port  town  of  Westmoreland,  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Can,  eight  miles  south  from  Kendal.  It 
IS  the  only  sea  port  in  the  county  -,  and  goods  are 
brought  hither  in  small  vessels  from  Grange  in  Lan- 
cashire. Here  are  two  paper  mills.  It  has  a  market 
on  Friday,  and  a  fair  00  Old  May  day  >  and  there  is  a 
good  stone  bridge  over  the  river  Betha,  which  runs 
throufih  the  town.    Population  10 16  in  181 1. 

MjGLTIADES,  an  Athenian  captain,  son  of  Cyp- 
sehis.  He  obtained  a  victory  in  a  chariot  race  at  the 
Olympic  games.  He  led  a  c<^0By  of  Athenians  to 
the  Chersonesus.  The  causes  of  this  appointment  are 
strikiag  and  singular.  The  Thracian  Dolonci,  ha- 
rassed by  a  long  war  with  the  Absynthians,  were  di- 
rected by  the  oracle  of  Delphi  to  take  for  their  king 
the  first  man  they  met  in  their  return  home,  wbo  in- 
vited them  to  come  under  his  roof  and  partake  hb 
entertainments.  This  was  Miltiades,  whom  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  Dolonci,  with  their  strange  arms  and 
garments,  bad  struck.  He  invited  them  to  bis  house, 
and  was  made  acquainted  with  the  commands  of  the 
oracle.  He  obeyed^  and  when  the  pracle  of  I>elphi 
had  approved  a  second  time  the  choice  of  the  i3o- 

lonci. 


MIL  [    \ 

iXxJtudet.  lofici,  be  departed  for  the  CbersonesuSi  Itfid  was  ia- 
Wested  by  the  inhabitants  with  sovereign  power.  The 
first  measures  he  took  ieere  to  stop  the  farther  incur- 
sloDS  of  the  Absyotbians,  liy  bailding  a  sYfong  waH 
across  the  isthnias*  When  he  had  established  himseYf 
at  home,  and  fort%ed  his  domitiidns  again^  ^^^}SP^ 
invasion,  he  tunied  his  arms  a|(aiilst  liampsacos.  His 
expedition  was  unsuccessfai  ^  he  was  taken  in  an  am- 
t)a5cside,  and  made  prisoner.  ![Iis  friend  CrOesns  king 
ofLydiawas  informed  of  his  captivity,  and  procured 
Vis  release.  He  lived  a  few  years  after  he  had  reco- 
vered bis  liberty.  As  he  had  no  issue,  he  left  his 
kiDgdom  and  possessions  to  Stefagoras  the  son  of  Ci- 
mon,  who  was  his  brother  by  the  same  mother.  The 
memory  of  Miltiades  was  greatly  honoured  by  the 
Dolonci,  and  thej  regularly  celebrated  festivals  and 
exbibited  shows  in  commemoration  of  a  iiiati  to  wboifi 
they  owed  their  greatness  and  preservation. 

Miltiades,  the  son  of  Cimon,  and  brother  ^fSte- 
Cigoras  mentioned  in  the  preceding  artide,  was  some 
time  after  the  death  of  the  latter,  who  died  without 
iasae,  sent  by  the  Athenians  with  one  ship  to  take 
possession  of  the  Chersonesus.     At  his  arrival  Mil- 
tiades appeared  mournful,  as  if  lamenting  the  recent 
death  of  his  brother.      The  principal  inhabitants  of 
the  conntry  visited  the  new  governor  to  condole  witik 
him )  but  their  confidence  in  his  sincerity  proved  fa- 
tal to  tbem.     Ikliltiades  seized  theirpersons,  and  made 
himself  absolute  in  Chersonesus.     To  strengthen  him- 
self, he  married  Hegesipyla,  the  daughter  of  Olorus 
the  king  of  the  Thracians.      His  triumph  was  short, 
la  the  third  year  of  his  government,  his  dominions 
were  threatened  bj  an  invasion  of  the  Scythian  No- 
mades,  whom  Darius  had  some  time  before  irritated 
by  entering  their  country.       He  fled  before  them  ^ 
hut  as  their  hostilities  were  of  short  duration,  he  was 
soon  restored  to  his  kingdom.     Three  years  after,  he 
left  Chersonesus  ^  and  set  sail  for  Athens,  where  he 
was  received  with  great  applause.      He  was  present 
at  the  celebrated  battle  of  MARATHON ;  in  which  all 
the  chief  officers  ceded  their  power  to  him,  and  left 
the  event  of  the  battle  to  depend  upon  his  superior 
abilities.    He  obtained  an  important  victory  over  the 
more  numerous  forces  of  his  adversaries.     Some  time 
after,  Miltiades  was  intrusted  with  a  fleet  of  70  ships, 
and  ordered  to  punish  those  ishuids  which  had  revolt- 
^  to  the  Persians.      He  was  successful  at  first,  but 
a  sodden  report  that  the  Persian  fleet  was  coming  to 
attack  him,  changed  bis  operations  as  he  was  besieging 
P»n».    He  raised  the  siege,  and  returned  to  Athens. 
He  Was  accused  of  treason,  and  particularly  of  hold- 
*J^  conespoudence  with  the  enemy.      The  falsity  of 
1°^^  siccosations  might  have  appeared,  if  Miltiades 
"^d  been  able    to  come   into  the    assembly.      But  a 
Wound  which  he  had  received  before  Pares  detained 
^°>  at  home  y  and  his  enemies,  taking  advantage  of 
"**  *bsence»  became  more  eager  in  their  accusations,. 
™  louder    in  thf  ir  clamours.      He  was  condemned 
•^««ath;  but  the  rigour  of  his  sentence  was  retract- 
^Mbe  recollection  of  his  great  services  to  the'A- 
J*^Quqs,  and  he  wa»  put  into  prison  till  he  had  paid  « 
T^*  ^^  50  talents  to  the  state.     His  inability  to  dis- 
^^  RO  great  a  sum  detained  htm  in  confinement  j 
^  his  wounds  becomin<*  incurable,    be  died  a  pn- 
««>er  tbout  489  yearai'  before  the  Christian  era.    Hia 


11     J  M    f    L 

body  was  ransomed  by  bis  son  Cimon ;  who  was  ebli-  MOtiades, 
ged  to  borrow  and  pay  the  50  talents,  to  give  his  father .  Milton. 
a  decent  burial.-— The  accusations  against  Miltiades 
were  probably  the  more  readily  believed  by  his  coun- 
trymen, when  they  remembered  bow  be  made  faim- 
teif  absolute  in  Chersonesus  )  and  in  condeimiing  the 
barbarity  of  the  Athenians  towards  a  general,  who 
Was  the  source  of  their  military  prosperity,  we  most 
remember  the  jealousy  which  ever  reigns  among  a 
free  and  independent  people,  and  how  watcbfbl  they 
are  in  defence  of  the  natural  rights  which  diey  see 
Wrested  from  others  by  violence.  Cornelius  ISTepos 
has  written  the  life  of  Miltiades  the  Son  of  "Cimon  ; 
^ut*  his  history  is  incongruous  and  unintelligible,  from 
his  confounding  the  actions  of  the  son  of  Cimon  with 
those  of  the  son  of  Cypselus.  Greater  reliance  is  to 
be  placed  on  the  narration  of  Herodotus,  whose  ve- 
racity is  confirmed,  and  who  was  indisputably  better 
informed  and  more  capable  of  giving  an  account  of 
the  life  and  exploits  of  men  who  flourished  in  his  age, 
and  of  which  he  could  see  the  living  monuments. 
Herodotus  was  born  about  six  years  after  the  famous 
battle  of  Marathon :  and  C.  Nepps,  as  a.  writer  of  the 
Augustan  age,  flourished  about  450  years  after  the  age 
of  the  fiitber  of  history. 

MILTON,  John,  the  modt  illustrioiis  of  fte  Eng- 
lish poets,  was  descended  of  a  genteel  family,  seated 
at  a  place  of  their  own  name,  viz.  Milton^  in  Oxford- 
shire. He  was  bom  December  9.  i6o9,  and  received 
bis  first  rudimeiits  of  education  under  the  care  of  his 
parents^  assisted  by  a  private  tutor.  He  afterwards 
passed  some  time  at  8t  Paulas  school,  .Londoa;  in  which 
city  his  father  had  settled,  being  engaged  in  the  busi- 
ness of  a  scrivener.  At  the  age  of  17,  he  was  sent  to 
Christen  college,  Cambridge*,  where  he  made  great 
progress  in  all  parts  of  academical  learning  ^  but  his 
chief  delight  Was  in  poetry.  In  1628,  he  proceeded 
bachelor  of  arts,  having  performed  his  exercise  for  it 
with  great  applause.  His  father^ designed  him  for  the 
church  'f  but  the  young  gentleman's  attachment  to  the 
Muses  was  so  strong,  that  it  became  impossible  to  engage 
him  in  any  other  pursuits.  In  1632,  he  took  the  de- 
gree of  master  of  arts  ^  and  having  now  spent  as  much 
time  in  the  university  as  became  a  person  who  deter- 
mined not  to  engage  in  any  of  the  three  professions, 
he  left  the  college,  greatly  regretted  by  his  acquain- 
tance, hut  highly  displeased  witb-the  Usual  method  of 
training  up  youth  there  for  the  study  of  divinity ;  and 
being  much  out  of  humour  with  the  public  administra- 
tion of  ecclesiastical  affairs,  he  grew  dissatisfied  witb 
the  established  form  of  church  government,. and  disliked 
the  whole  plan  of  education  practised  iii  the  university. 
His  parents,  wko  now  dwelt  at  Horton,  near  C%ln> 
brook,  in  Buckinghamshire,  received  bicn  with  una- 
bated affection,  notwithstanding  he  had  thwarted  their 
views  of  providing  for  him  in  the  church,  and  they 
amply  indulged  him  in  bis  love  of  retirement^  wherein 
he  enriched  his '  mind  with  the  dioicest  stores  of  Gre- 
c^n  and  Roman  literature  ^  and  his  poems  of  Comus^ 
l^ Allegro^  U  Penserom^  and  Lycidas^  all  wrote  at  this 
time^  would  have  been  sufficient,  bad  be  sever  produ- 
ced any  thing-  more  eoosiderable,  to  have  transmitted  ■ 
his  fame  to  the  latest  posterity.  However,  he  was  not 
so  absorbed  in  his  studies  as  not  to  make  frequent  ex- 
.  ciu:sion3  .to  London y  neither  did. jbo  much  excellence 

pass 


Mflloa. 


M  •!    X  {    II 

pan  onnoticed  .among  his  neigbboun.  in  the  country, 
uriih  the  most  distinguished  of  wiiom '  he  sometimes 
^.hose  to  relax  his  mind,  and  improve  his  acquaintance 
vith  the  wodd  as  well  as  with  books. — After  five 
years  spent  in  this  manner,  he  obtained  his  father's 
.permission  to  travel  ibr  farther  improvement.  At  Paris 
lie  became  acquainted  with  the  celebrated  Hugo  Gro- 
tins;  and  from  thence  travelling .  into  Italy,  he  was 
everywhere  caressed  by  persons  of  the. most  eminent 
quality  and  learning. 

Upon  his  return  home,  he  set  op  a  genteel  academy 
in  Aldermte  street — In  1641,  he  began  to  draw  his 
pen  in  defence  of  the  Presbyterian  party  j  and  the  next 
year  he  married  the  dau^ter  of  Richard  Powell,  Esq, 
of  Forest  Hill  in  Oxfondshire.  This  lady,  however, 
whether  from  a  difference  on  account  of  party,  her 
father  being  a  zealous  royalist,  or  some  other  cause, 
soon  thought  proper  to  return  to  her  relations )  which 
•80  incensed  her  husband,  that  he  resolved  never  to  take 
her  again,  and  wrote  and  published  several  tracts  in 
defence  of.  the  doctrine  and  discipline  of  divorce.  'He 
even  made  his  addresses  to  another  lady  ;  but  this  in* 
cident  proved  the  means  of  a  reconciliation  with  JSIw 
'Milton. 

In  1644,  he  wrote  his  Tract  upon  Education; 
and  the  restraint  on  the  liberty  of  the  press  being 
•  continued  by  act  of  parliament,  he  wrote  boldly  and 
nobly  against  that  restraint.  In  1645,  he  published 
his  juvenile  poems;  and  about  two  years  after,  on  the 
death  of  his  father,  he  took  a  smaller  house  in  High 
Holbom,  the  back  of  which,  opened  into  Lincoln V  . 
Inn  Fields.— Here  he  quietly  prosecuted  his  studies, 
till  the  fatal  catastrophe  and  death  of  Charles  I. ;  on 
which  occasion  he  published  his  Tenure  of  Kings  -and 
.Magistrates,  in  justification  of -.the^&ct. '  -  He  was  now 
takefr  into  the  service  of  the  commonwealth,  and  made 
Latin  secretary  to  the  council,  of  state,  who  resolved 
neither  to  write  to  others  abrAid,  Aor  to  receive  any 
answers,  except  in  the  Latin  tongue,*  which  was  com- 
mon to  them  all. .  The  famous  Emm  B«i#vA4«i  coming 
out  about  the  same  time,  our  author,  by  command, 
wrote  and  published  his'  Iconoekutes  the  same  •  year. 
It  was  also  by  order  of  his  masters,  backed  by  the  re- 
wand  of  XQOol.  that,  in  165!  he  published  his'cele^ 
brated  .piece,  entitled  Pro  Popula  Anglicano  Defen-^ 
no;  **  A' Defence  of  the  people  of  England,^^  in  an- 
swer to  Salmasius^s  Defence  of  the  King ;  which  per- 
formance spread  his  fame  over  all  Europe.  He  now 
dwelt  in  a  pleasant  house  with  a  ganlen  in  Petty 
France,  Westminster,  .opening  into  St  Jameses  Park. 
In  1652  he  buried  hb  wife,  who  died  not  long  after 
the  delivery  of  her  fourth  child  ;  and  about  the  same 
ti|^  he  also  lost  his  eye-sight,  by  a  gutta  iertna^  which 
had  been  growing  upon  him  many  years. 

Cromwell  took  the  reins  of  government  into  his  own 
hand  in  the  jear  1653  >  ^^^  Milton  Aill  ^eld  his  of- 
fice. His  leisure  hours  he  empl<^ed  in  prosecuting  his 
studies ;  wherein  he  was  so  far  £rom  being  disconnged 
by  the  loss  of  his  sight,  that  he  even  conceived  hopes 
'  this  misfortune  would  add  new  vigour  to  his  geniua ; 
which  in  &ct  seems  to  have  been  the  case^^-Thua 
animated,  he  again  ventured  upon  matrimony :  his  se- 
cond lady  was  the  daughter  of  Captain  Woodstock  of 
Hackney:  she  died  in  childbed  about  a  year  after. 
Oa  the  depoiitiofi.  of  the  protector,  Sichard  Cron« 

-  2 


2    ]  MIL 

well,  aodr  ou  the  return  of  the  long  parlia>ment,  ACIton 
being  still  continued  ttecretary,  he  appeared  again  in 
print ;  pleading  for  a.  farther  reformation  of  the  laws 
relating  to  religion ;  and,  4]uring  the  anarchy  that  en- 
sued, be  drew  pp  several  siphemes  for  re^-establishing  the 
commonwealth,  exerting,  all  his  faculties  to  prevent 
^he.  return  of  Charles  II.  England^s  destiny,  however, 
and  Charleses  good  fortune  prevailing,  our  author  chose 
io  consult  his  safety,  and  retired  to  %  friend's  house  m 
IBartbolomew  Close.  A  particular  pposecjation  .was  in- 
tended against  him ;  but  the  just  esteem  to  whi^  hit 
admirable  genius  and  extraordinary  accomplishmeiils 
entitled  him,  had^raised  him  so  many  triends,  even  .among 
those  of  the  opposite  party,  that  he  was  included  in  the 
genend  amnesty. 

This  storm  being  OY«r,  he  ms^rriied  a  third  wife,  Eli- 
zabeth, ds^ughter  of  Mr  Minshall  a  Cheshire  gentleman  ; 
and  not  long  after  he  took  a  house  in  the  Artillery 
Walk,  leading  toBunhiU  Fields.  This  was hisjast  sUge : 
here  he  sat  down  for  a  longer  continuance  than  he  h«d 
been  able  to  do  anywhere ;   and  though  he  had  lost 
his  fortune  (for  every  thing  belonging  to  him  went  to 
.  wreck  at  the  Restoration),  he  did  not  lose  his  taste  for 
Jitcrature,  but  continued  his  studies  with  almost  as  muck 
..ardour .as  ever  ^  and  applicd-liimself  particularly  to  the 
finishing  .his  gratfd  work,  the  Paradise  Lost ;  one  of  the 
noblest  poems  that  ever  was  produced  by  human  genius. 
—It  was  published  in  1667,  and  his  Paradise  Regained 
came  out  in  1670. — This  latter  work  fell  short  of  the 
excellence. of  the  former  production^  although,  were 
•  it  not  for  the  transcendent  merit  of  Paradise  Lost,  the 
.^second  composition  would  doubtless  have  stood  fore- 
most in  the  rank  of  English  epic  poems.    After  this  he 
published  many  pieces  in  prose ;  for  which  we  refer  our 
readers  to  the  /edition  of  his  Historical,  Poetical,  and 
Miscellaneous  Works,  printed  by  Millar,  in  2  vofe.  4to, 

.in  »753- 

In  1674,  this  great  man  paid  the  iast  debt  to  pa* 

tore  at  his  house  in  Bunhill  Fields,  in  Xlie  66th  year 
of  his  age ;  and  was  interred  on  the  1 2th  of  Novem- 
ber,, in  the  chancel  of  St  GiWs,  Cripplegate.— A  de- 

-  <^ent  monument  was  erected  to  bis  memory,  in  1 737, 
in  'Westminster  Abbet,  by  Mf  Benson,  one  of  the  audi- 

'  tors  of  the  imprest.— Milton  was  remarkably  handsome 
in  his  person  ;  but  his  constitution  was  tender,  and  by 
no  means  equal  to  his -incessant  application  to  his  studies. 
-—Though  greatly  reduced  in  his  circumstances,  yet  he 
died  worth  1500I.  in  money,'  beside^  his  household 
goods. — He  bad  no  son  i  but  left  behind  him  three 
daughters,  whom  he  had  by  hid  first  wife. 
Milton,  the  name  of  several  places  in  England^ 

.  particularly,. 

Milton,  or  Middleian^  in  Dorsetshire,  south-west 
of  Blandfddl,  near  the  road  to  Dorchester,  114.  miles 

'  from  London.     It  is  chiefly  noted  for  its  abbey,  boih 

J  by  King  Athelstan.  The  church  stands  near  the  sooth 
side  of  the  abbev.  It  is  a  large  and  magnificent  nib 
of  Gk>thic  architecture,  and  eonfains  several  ancient 
monuments.  Here  is  an  almshouse  for  six  people,  who 
have  1 2s.  a-week,  and  three  yards  of  cloth  for  a  gown, 
one  pair  of  shoes  and  etockings,  and  los*  each  on  St 

'Thomas's  day  yeariy.  .Here  is  a  firee  school,  and  a 
market  xm  Tundays. 

Milton,  in  KAnt,^near  Sitttngboum  and  the  isle  of 
fiheppey,  6  miles  north-west  of  FoTersham,  and  40 

fipOQl 


Mihss. 


1 


xHon 

R 

nner- 

lOS. 


M    I    M  [I 

from  London.  It  is  also  caHed  Mtddkttm  ffom  its  si* 
tuation  near  the  middle  of  the  connty,  i.  e.  froift  Dept- 
ford  to  the  Downs.  The  kings  of  Kent  had  a  palace 
herey  which  was  castellated,  and  stood  below  the  church ; 
but  was  barnt  down  in  Edward  the  Confessor's  time 
by  Earl  Goodwin,  Sec  Its  church  stands  near  a  mile 
on.  On  approaching  the  town  up  the  Thames,  by 
the  East  Swale,  it  seems  hid  among  the  creeks :  yet  it 
is  a  large  town  ;  and  has  a  considerable  market  on  8a« 
tardays,  and  a  fair  on  July  24.  The  oysters  taken  here 
are  the  most  famous  of  any  in  Kent.  This  town  «9 
f^vemed  by  a  portreere,  chosen  yeariy  on  St  James's 
day,  who  superriaes  the  weiglits  and  measures  all  over 
the  hundred.     Population  2470  in  181 1. 

MiLTOX,  in  Kent,  a  mile  on  the  east  side  of  GraTes^ 
end,  was  incorporated  with  it  in  the  reign  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  by  the  name  of  the  portreeve,  jurats,  and 
inhabitants  of  the  towns  of  Gravesend  and  Milton. 
King  Henry  YIII.  raised  a  platform  or  bloekhoose 
here,  for  the  defence  both  of  this  town  and  Graves- 
end,  and  the  command  of  the  river.  It  has  a  fair,  Ja- 
nuary 25* 

MLLvIUS,  MoLVius,  or  MifLVius,  P^ns;  a 
bridge  on  the  Tiber,  built  by  ^milius  Scaurus  the 
censor,  in  the  time  of  Sylla,  at  two  miles  distance  from 
the  city,  on  the  Via  Flaminia,  and  repaired  by  Ao|os- 
tns.  From  this  bridge  the  ambassadors  of  the  AUobro* 
ges  were  brought  back  to  Rome,  by  Cicero's  manage- 
ment, and  made  a  discovery  of  Catiline's  conspiracy 
(Sallust).  Near  it  Maxentius  was  defeated  by  Con-* 
stantine  (Entropius).     Now  called  Ponte  Malle, 

MiLvius,  a  species  of  Falco.  See  Falco,  Or- 
nithology Index* 

MIMI,  Mimes,  in  the  ancient  comedy,  were  buf- 
foons or  mimics,  who  entertained  the  people  by  taking 
off  certain  characters,  using  snch  gestures  as  sotted  the 
persons  or  subjects  they  represented.  There  were  oti 
the  Roman  stage  female  perfenders  of  this  kind,  called 
tnitna.  The  word  is  derived  iVom^  fUfafuuj  I  imitate. 
Some  of  the  tnimi  acted  tfaejr  parts  to  the  sound  of  th« 
tibia}  these  they  called  minundi. 

MiMi  were  also  a  kind  qf  farces  or  ludicrous  come- 
dies, generally  performed  by  one  person.  They  had 
no  acts,  nor  any  ^jror^tf^.-— The  mtWwere  introduced 
upon  the  Roman  stage  long  after  comedy  and  tragedy 
had  arrived  at  their  full  perfection.  The  actor  wore 
no  mask,  but  smeared  his  face  with  soot,  was  dressed  in 
lambskin,  wore  garlands  of  ivy,  and  carried  a  basket 
of  flowers  and  herbs,  in  honpur  of  Bacchus,  and  di- 
verted the  audience  with  apish  tricks  and  ridiculous 
dances.  This  was  the  s^tate  of  the  mimi soon  after  their 
first  introduction ;  but  they  underwent  many  altera- 
tions, which  it  would  take  up  too  piuch  room  to  relate, 
and  which  are  not  of  sufficient  importance  to  justify  a 
detailed  account.     See  Pantomimes. 

MIMESIS,  in  Rhetoric^  the'  imitating  the  voice 
and  gestures  of  another  person. 

MiMNERMnS,  an  ancient  poet  and  musician, 
floorished  about  the  beginning  of  the  sixth  century  B.  C« 
He  was  of  Smyrna,  and  cotemporary  with  Solon.  A- 
tbenseus  gives  him  the  invention  of  pentameter  verse« 
Uis  elegies,  of  ^hich  only  a  few  fragments  are  pre- 
served, were  so  much  admired  in  antiquity,  that  Ho- 
race preferred  them  to  those  of  Callimachus.  He  com- 
posed a  poem  of  this  kind,  as  we  learn  from  Pausanias, 
Vol.  XIV.  Part  I. 


aim 


13    ]  M    I    N 

^  upon  the  battle  fought  betwioeii  the  people  of  Smyna,   Mhimcr' 
and  the  Lydiaas  under  Gyges,     He  likewise  was  au-       miu 
thor  of  a  poem  in  olegiaa  Tevse,  quoted  by  Strabo,    .    U 
which  he  entitled  Nann^  and  in  which  we  nuty  sup-    ^^^^^  '' 
pose  he  chiefly  celebrated  a  young  and  beautiful  girl  of 
that  name,  who,  aceording  to  Athenteua,  waa  a  player 
on  the  flute,  with  whom  he  w«s  enamoared  in  his  old 
9^..     With  respect  to  love  matters,  according  fee  Pro- 
pertius,  his  verses  were  more  valuable  than  all  the 
writings  of  Homer. 

Plus  in  etmore  valet  Mimnermi  verstts  Homcro, 

Lib*  !•  Eleg.  ix.  v.  zi. 

And  Horace  bears  testimony  to  his  abilities  in  describ- 
ing that  seducing  passion : 

Si  Mimnennt/s  ttti  cense t^  sine  amore  jocisquc 
Nil  estjucundum^  XHvas  in  amore  jocisqite. 

Lib.  I,  Epist.  vi.  V.  6^, 

IF,  as  wise  Mtmnermis  said. 
Life  unblest  with  love  and  joy 
Ranks  us  with  the  senseless  dead, 
Let  these  gifts  each  hour  employ. 

Alluding  to  some  much  admired  lines  of  the   Greek 
poet,  which  have  been  preserved  by  Stobsece. 

What  is  life  and  all  its  pride, 
•    If  love  and  pleasure  be  dented  ? 
Snatch,  snatch  me  hence,  ye  Fates,  whenever 
The  amorous  bliss  I  eease  to  share. 
Oh  let  us  crop  each  fragrant  flower 
While  youth  and  vigour  give  us  pow'r ; 
For  frozen  age  will  soon  destroy 
The  force  to  give  or  take  a  joy  ) 
And  then,  a  prey  to  pain  and  «are, 
Detcisted  by  the  young  and  fair. 
The  sun's  best  beams  will  hatefbl  grow, 
And  only  shine  on  scenes  of  wo. 

MIMOSA,  the  Sensitive  Plant,  a  gemis  of  plants 
belonging  to  the  monoeeia  class ;  and  in  the  natural 
method  ranking  under  the  33d  order,  Lomextaome,  See 
JBoTANY  and  Materia  Mcdica  Index. 

The  name  mimosa^  signifying  ^'  mimio,*'  js  givea  te 
this  genus  on  account  of  the  sensibiltty  of  the  leaves, 
ivhich,  by  their  motion,  mimie  or  imitate,  as  it  were, 
the  motion  of  animals. 

MINA,  or  Maneh,  a  ^ectes  ef  mosey  whiofa  pro- 
periy  signifies  one  part  or  ounce.  It  is  observed  that 
dbis  word  occurs  only  in  the  books  of  Kings,  Chro- 
nicles, Ezra,  and  Ezektel.  This  prophet  (xlv.  12*) 
tells  us,  ^at  the  mina  or  maneh  was  valued  at  6» 
Aekels,  which  4n  gold  make  of  our  English  money 
about  54^  pounds,  and  in  silver  almost  seven  pooods. 
Thus  for  the  Hebrew  maneh.  But  the  Greek  or 
Attic  miqa»  which  is  probably  that  mentioned  in  the 
bogks  'of  the  Maccabees  and  in  the  New  Testament, 
is  rained  at  xoo  drachma,  or  about  2I.  17s.  sterling. 
There  was  also  a  lesser  mina,  which  was  valved  at  75 
drachm  se. 

MINAGNGHINIM,  a  pulsative  instrument  of 
music,  among  the  Hebrews,  which  was  a  square  table 
of  wood,  fitted  with  a  handle)  .ofer  this  table  wa» 
t  V  stietcheA 


M    I    N  [II 

Mioftgn-  <tvetcbc«l  an  iron  chain,  or  iiempen  conly  passing  tlirougb 
ghimm     balls  of  wood  or  brass,  which  struck  against  the  table, 
II        when  the  instnunent  was  shaken,  and  occasioned  a  clear 
Mmdanso  g^^gj^  which  might  be  heard  at  a  great  distance. 

MINCHA,  in  the  Jewish  customs,  offerings  of 
meal,  cakes,  or  hiscnits,  made  in  the  temple  of  the 
Lord*  The  Seventy  have  sometimes  preserved  this 
word  in  their  translation  (  hut  instead  of  mincha  tbey 
read  manaa^  which  doubtless  was  the  received  pronon< 
ciation  in  their  time.  We  find  tnanaa  in  the  same 
sense,  in  Baruch  i.  fo.  Levit.  ii.  3.  &c«  See  the 
Greek  of  Jerem.  xviL  26.  Dan.  ii.  46.  2  Kings  vlii.  5. 
9.  xvii.  7.  XX.  12.  2  Chron.  viL  7.  Nehem.  xiii.  5.  9. 

MINCHING-HAMPTOK,  a  townof  Gloacestersbire, 
ao  miles  firom  Bath  and  Bristol,  and  near  90  from  Lon- 
don, with  a  market  on  Tuesdays,  and  two  fairs.  The 
parish  is  pretty  large,  being  bounded  on  the  north  by 
the  Stroud,  and  on  the  south  by  the  brook  Avening  ^ 
and  has  12  hamlets  belonging  to  it,  with  a  common 
called  Amberley.  Here  is  a  mnI  large  rectory  church, 
built  in  form  of  a  cross.  In  x8ii  the  innabitants 
amounted  to  3246,  many  of  whom  are  employed  in 
the  woollen  manufacture.  W.  Long.  2.  14.  N.  Lat. 
51.  38. 

MINCIUS,  a  river  of  the  Transpadana  in  luly  \ 
running  from,  or  rather  transmitted  through,  the  Lacus 
Benacus,  from  north  to  south,  into  the  Padns  \  but  ori- 
ginally rising  in  the  Rhetian  Alps.  Now  Mincio  or 
Tenzo,  running  through  the  duchy  of  Mantua  into 
the  Po. 

MIND,  a  thinking  intelligent  being,  otherwise  call- 
ed spirit^  in  opposition  to  matter  or  body.  See  M£* 
TAPHYSics,  Part  IIL 

MINDANAO,  or  Magindanao,  a  lar^e  bland 
of  Asia  in  the  East  Indies,  and  one  of  the  Philippines  \ 
160  miles  in  length,  and  120  in  breadth.  The  inte- 
rior parts  contam  several  chains  of  lofty  mountains, 
between  which  are  extensive  plains,  where  vast  herds 
of  cattle  roam  at  large  in  the  moot  delicious  pastures. 
Several  deep  valleys  also  intersect,  as  it  were,  certain 
parts  of  the  country,  through  which,  during  the  rainy 
seasons,  vast  torrents  poor  from  the  mountains,  and 
force  their  impetuous  way  to  the  sea.  The  rains  and 
vapours  which  lodge  in  the  plains  diffuse  themselves  into 
meandering  rivulets,  and,  collecting  a  variety  of  small 
streams  in  their  course,  approach  the  sea  in  the  form  of 
consideraUo  riven.— The  sovereign  of  Magindanao  is 
a  powerful  prince,  and  has  several  inferior  chiefr,  who 
acknowledge  him  aa  their  head.  Nevertheless,  there 
are  others  of  them  who  refuse  submission  to  him,  and 
are  consequently  in  a  continual  state  of  war  \  so  that 
peace,  at  least,  does  not  appear  to  be  one  of  the  bles- 
sittffs  of  this  island*  The  Spaniards,  indeed,  assert 
their  right  to  the  entire  dominion  of  Magindanao', 
hot  it  is  mere  assertion  *j  for  though  they  have  firats, 
&c  on  the  island,  it  is  by  no  means  in  a  state  of  sub- 
jection to  their  nation. 

The  air  is  esteemed  salubrious,  particularly  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  sea.  The  heat  there  is  not,  in  any  de- 
gree, so  intense  as  might  be  expected  in  a  country 
which  is  situated  on  the  very  ver^  of  the  torrid  zone. 
The  prevalence  of  the  easterly  winds,  in  that  part  of 
liic  coasts  which  is  washed  by  the  Pacific  ocean,  ren- 
dan  tht  air  cool  and  pleasant,  the  trade  wind  blowing 


4    ]  M    I    N 

incessantly  on  its  shores.  It  acts,  indeed,  with  ho  .viiad«sts 
much  power  as  to  sweep  tlie  wbolc  breadth  of  the  || 
island  \  and  though  in  its  passage  it  loses  much  of  its  Miodcs, 
fttrengtb,  it  retains  a  sufficient  degree  of  force  to  af- 
ford  refreshing  breezes  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  western 
shore.  The  interior  parts  are  much  colder,  from  a 
very  cloudy  atmosphere,  which  frequently  hangs  over 
the  summits  of  the  mountains  in  thick  and  humid  va- 
pours. The  soil,  which  is  very  exuberant,  is  suited 
to  the  cultivation  of  the  whole  vegetable  tribes.  Rice 
is  produced  in  the  greatest  abundance  \  a  pecul,  or  133 
pounds,  may  be  purchased  for  a  Spanish  dollar.  Every 
part  of  the  island  abounds  with  buffaloes,  cows,  bogs, 
goats,  &c.  It  affords  also  great  variety  of  fowls,  and 
a  species  of  dock,  whose  head  is  of  a  fine  scarlet  colour. 
Here  is  also  a  small  breed  of  horses,  remarkable  for 
their  spirit.  The  natives,  however,  principally  employ 
bufialoes  in  the  various  branches  of  husbandry  and  agri- 
culture. 

The  city  of  Magindanao  is  situated  on  the  south- 
east side  of  the  island,  has  a  river  capable  of  admitting 
small  vessels,  and  carries  on  a  considerable  trade  with 
Manilla,  Sooloo,  Borneo  and  the  Moluccas.  Their 
exports  are  rice,  tobacco,  bees  wax,  and  spices  >  in 
return  for  which  they  receive  coarse  cloths  of  Coro- 
mandel,  China  ware,  and  opium.  The  villago  or  town 
of  Samboingan  is  situated  on  the  banks  of  a  small 
rivulet,  which  empties  itself  immediately  into  the  sea, 
and  is  agreeably  shaded  by  groves  of  cocoa  trees.  The 
niunher  of  its  inhabitants  is  about  1000,  aaM^ng 
which  are  included  the  officers,  soldiers,  and  their  re- 
spective fitmilies.  In  its  environs  there  are  several 
small  look-out  booses,  erected  on  posts  of  twelve  feet 
high,  in  all  of  which  a  constant  guard  is  kept^  so 
that  it  appears  as  if  the  Spaniards  were  in  a  continual 
state  of  enmity  with  the  natives.  The  houses  are  built 
of  those  simple  materials  which  are  of  very  general  use 
in  the  eastern  seas.  They  are  erected  fm  posts,  and 
built  of  bamboo,  covered  with  mats  \  the  lower  apart- 
ments serve  fiir  their  hogs,  cattle,  and  poultry,  and 
the  upper  ones  are  occupied  by  the  family. 

MINDELHEIM,  a  town  of  Germany,  in  the 
circle  of  Suabia,  and  in  Algow,  with  a  castle.  It 
is  capital  of  a  small  territorv  between  the  rivers  Dler 
aild  Lech,  subject  to  the  bouse  of  Bavaria.  It  was 
taken  by  the  Imperialists  after  the  battle  of  Hoch- 
stet,  who  erected  it  into  a  principality  in  fisvoor  of 
the  duke  of  Marlborough^  but  it  returned  hack  to 
the  house  of  Bavaria  by  the  treaty  of  Rastadt.    It  is 

{3  miles  south-east  ot  Ulm.  E.  Loi^.  io»  40.  N. 
lat  48.  5* 

MiNDJCLHXiM,  a  district  of  Germany,  in  Suabia,  ly- 
ing between  the  bishoprick  of  Augsburg  and  the  m- 
bacy  of  Kempten,  which  is  20  miles  in  length  and  16 
in  breadth. 

MINDEN,  a  considerable  town  of  Germany,  in  the 
circle  of  "Westphalia  \  and  capital  of  a  territory  of  the 
same  name ;  seated  on  the  river  Weser,  which  renders 
it  a  trading  place.  It  formerl;^  belonged  to  the  king  of 
Prussia,  who  secularized  the  bishoprick.  It  is  27  milea 
east  by  sooth  of  Osnaburg,  and  37  west  of  Hanover. 
E.  Long.  9*  5.  N.  Lat.  52.  22. 

MiNOEN  (the  principality  of),  In  Germany,  lies  in 
the  circle  of  Westphalia,  to  tiM  north  of  the  county 
of  Ravensbuig,  and  along  each  side  of  the  river  Weter. 

It 


M    I    N  [I 

It  is  about  22  miles  square,  aad  Minilen  and  Peters- 
liagen  are  the  principal  places.  It  was  fbrnerly  a 
bisbopnCf  bdt.is  now  secularizfeil  $  was  afterwards  ceded 
to  the  elector  of  Brandenburg,  and  is  now  annexed  to 
the  new  kingdom  of  Westphalia* 

MINDORA,  an  island  of  Ana,  in  the  £ast  Indies, 
and  one  of  the  Philippines,  50  miles  in  circnmferenoe, 
and  separated  from  Loconla  by  a  narrow  ebannel.  It 
is  full  of  momitains,  which  aboond  in  palm  trees  and 
all  sorts  of  fruit9.  The  inhabitants  are  idolater*, 
and  pay  tribute  to  the  Spaniards,  to  whom  this  islaad 
belongs. 

MINE,  in  'Natural Hutory^  a  deep  pit  under  ground, 
from  whence  Tarions  kinds  of  minerals  are  dug  out ; 
but  the  term  is  more  particularly  applied  to  those 
which  yield  metals.  Where  stones  only  are  procured, 
tbe  appellation  of  quarries  is  uniTcrsally  bestowed  upon 
the  places  from  which  they  are  dug  out,  however  deep 
they  may  be. 

The  internal  parts  of  the  earth,  as  far  as  they  have 
been  yet  investigated,  do  not  consist  of  one  uniform 
substance,  but  of  various  strata  or  beds  of  substances, 
extremely  different  in  their  appearances,  specific  gra* 
▼ities,  and  chemical  qualities,  from  one  another.     Nei- 
ther are  these  strata  similar  to  one  another  either  in 
their  nature  or  appearance  in  different  comitries ;  so 
that  even  in  the  short  extent  of  half  a  mile,  the  strata 
will  be  foend  quite  different  from  what  they  are  in 
another  place.      As  little   are   they  the  same  either 
in  depth  or  solidity.     Innumerable  cracks  and  fissures, 
bj  thtt  miners  called  lodes^  are  found  in  every  one  of 
them ;  but  these  are  so  entirely  different  in  size  and 
shape,  that  it  is  impossible  to  form  any  inference  from 
their  size  in  one  place  to  that  in  another*    In  these 
lodes  or  fissures  the  metallic  ore  is  met  with^  and, 
considering  the  great  uncertainty  of  the  dimensions 
of  the  lodes,  it  is  evident  that  the  business  of  mining, 
which  depends  on  that  size,  most  in  like  manner  be 
quite  micertatn  and  precarious.      Mr  Price,  in  his 
treatise  on  the  Cornish  mines,  observes,  that  **  the 
comparative  smallness  of  the  largest  fissures  to  the  bulk 
of  the  whole  earth  is  really  wonderful.     In  the  finest 
pottery  we  can  make,  by  a  microscopic  view,  we  may 
discover  nomerous  cracks  and  fissures,  so  small  as  to 
be  impenetrable  by  any  fluid,  and  impervious  to  the 
naked  eye  ^  as,  Iry  the  laws  of  nature  originally  im« 
posed  by  the  Creator,  it  happens  that  matter  cannot 
contfact  itself  into  solid  large  masses,  without  leaving 
fissures  between  them,  and  yet  the  very  fissures  are  as 
necessary  and  usefiil  as  the  strata  through  which  they 
pass.    They  are  the  drains  that  carry  dET  the  xedun* 
dant  moisture  from  the  earth;  which,  but  fi>r  them, 
would    be    too  full  of   fens  and    hag^  fer   animals 
to  live    or  plants  to  thrive    on.      In    these  fissuivs, 
the  several  ingredients  which  form  MeSf  by  the  conti- 
nual passing  of  waters,  and  the  menstrua  of  metals,  are 
brought  out  of  the  adjacent  strata,  collected  and  con- 
veniently lodged  in  a  narrow  duinnel,  much  to  the 
advantage  of  those  who  search  fer  and  pursue  them ; 
for  if  metals  and  minerals  were  more  dispersed,  and 
scattered  thinly  in  the  body  of  the  strata,  the  trouble 
4>f  finding  and  getting  at  them  would  be  .endless,  and 
the  expence  of  procuring  them  exceed  the  value  of  the 
acquisition* 
The  insides  of  the  fissures    are  conmionly  coated 


15    1  M    I    N 

over  with  a  hard,  crystalline,  earthy  substance  or 
rind,  which  very  often,  in  the  breaking  of  hard  ore, 
comes  off  along  with  it,  and  is  commonly  called  the 
ct^teis  or  vfoJis  of  the  lode  :  but  Mr  Price  is  of  opi- 
nion, that  the  proper  walls  of  the  lode  are  the  sides 
of  the  fissure  itself,  and  not  the  coat  just  mentioned, 
which  is  the  natural  plaster  upon  those  walls,  furnished 
perhaps  by  the  contents  of  the  fissures,  or  from  oozings 
of  the  surrounding  strata. 

llie  breadth  of  a  lode  is  easily  known  by  the  di- 
stance betwixt  the  two  incrusted  sides  of  the  stones  of 
ore ;  and  if  a  lode  yields  any  kind  of  ore,  it  is  a  bet- 
ter sign  that  the  walls  be  regular  and  smooth,  or  at 
least  that  one  of  them  be  so,  than  othervrise;  but 
there  are  not  many  of  these  fissures  which  have  regu- 
lar walla  natil  they  have  been  sunk  down  some  fa- 
thoms. 

Thus  the  inner  part  of  the  fissure  in  which  the  ore 
lies,  is  all  the  way  bounded  by  two  walls  of  stone, 
which  are  )|eneraliy  parallel  to  one  another,  >  and  in- 
clude the  breadth  of  the  vein  or  lode.  Whatever 
angle  of  inclination  some  fissures  make  in  the  solid 
strata  at  their  beginning,  they  generally  continue  to 
do  the  same  all  alone*  Some  are  very  uncertain  in 
their  breadth,  as  they  may  be  small  at  their  upper 
part  and  wide  underneath,  and  vies  versa*  Their  re- 
gular breadth,  as  well  as -their  depth,  is  subject  to 
^reat  variation }  for  though  a  fissure  may  be  many 
fathoms  wide  in  one  particular  place,  yet  a  little  fur- 
ther east  or  west  it  may  not  perhaps  be  one  inch 
Wide.  This  excessive  variation  happens  generally  in 
very  compact  strata,  when  the  vein  or  fissure  is  squeez- 
ed, as  it  were,  through  hard  rocks  which  seem  to 
compress  and  straiten  it*  A  true  vein  or  fissure,  how- 
ever, is  never  entirely  obliterated,  but  always  shows  a 
string  of  metallic  ore  or  of  a  veiny  substance  j  which 
often  serves  as  a  leader  for  the  miners  to  follow,  until 
it  sometimes  leads  them  to  a  large  and  richly  im* 
predated  part*  IWr  length  is  in  a  great  measure 
unlimited,  though  not  the  space  best  fitted  for  yield- 
ing metal*  The  richest  state  for  copper,  according 
to  Mr  .Price,  is  frx>m  40  to  80  fathoms  deep  j  for  tin, 
from  20  to  60 :  and  though  a  great  quantity  of  cither 
may  be  raised  at  80  or  100  fathoms,  yet,  *'  the  quality  . 
(says  our  author)  is  often  too.'^muoh  decayed  and  dry 
for  metal.** 

Mr  Price  informs  us,  that  the  fissures  or  veins  of 
the  Cornish  mines  extend  from  east  to  west }  or,  more 
ivoperly,  one  end  of  the  fissure  points  west  and  1^ 
south,  or  west  and  by  north }  while  the  other  tends 
east  and  by  south,  or  east  and  by  north.  Thus  they 
frequently  pass  through  a  considerable  tract  of  coun- 
try with  very  few  variations  in  their  directions,  un- 
less they  be  interrupted  by  some  intervening  cause- 
But,  besides  this  east  and  west  direction,  we  are  to 
consider  what  the  miners  call  the  underfying  or  kade 
of  the  vein  or  lode  ^  viz.  the  deflection  or  deviation 
of  the  fissure  from  its  perpendicular  line,  as  it  is  follow- 
ed in  depth  like  the  ^ope  of  the  roof  of  a  house*  or 
the  descent  of  the  steep  side  of  a  hill.  This  slope  is 
generally  to  the  north  or  south ;  but  varies  .much  in 
different  veins,  or  sometimes  even  in  the  same  vein  ; 
for  it  will  frequently  slope  or  underlie  a  small  space 
in  different  ways,  as  it  may  appear  to  be  forced  by 
hard  strata  on  either  aide.— Some  of  the  fissures  do 

P2  not 


Mine. 


M    I    N  t     I 

Mitee.     flo^  "^17  much  fMm  a  perpeirdiculaKr,  ikrbile  eome^devi- 
ate  mbre  than  a  fathdm  ;  that  is,  for  evfsry  fathom  the.y 
doscfend  ih  p^if^ndioular  height^  tliey  deviate  likewise 
as  much  to  the  south  or  north.    Others  diffisr  so  much 
from  the  perpietfdicfilhis  that  tbej  asaume  a  position 
almost  horizontal  ^  vhenoe  they  are  also  called  hon- 
Konttti  or  Jlat  hdet^  iwd  sometimies  hde  flats*     Ano- 
ther kind  of  these  has  an  ilregalar  position  with  re- 
gard to  the  rest^   widening  horizontally  for   a  little 
waj,  and  then  descending  perpeadicularly  ahnost  like 
stairs,  ^with  only  a  emali  string  'or  leader  to  follow  a^ 
ter ;   aad  thnu  they  alternately  vary  and  yield  ore  la 
cteveral  flat  or  horizontal  fissm^es.     This,  by  the  Gor- 
iiish  tiniien,  is  called  (but  in  Mr  Frice^s  opfaion  errv- 
neoilBly)  a  fioor  or  9^udt ;  which,  properly  speaknngi, 
is  a  lK>ie  or  ohaskli  impv^gimted  with  nnetal,  making 
no  continued  line  of  direction  or  regular  walls.     Nei- 
ther does  «  floor  of  ore  descend  to  any  cottsideimble 
depth  ^  for  nndemeath  it  there  appears  ao  sign  of  a 
i^n  or  fissure,  either  leadhig  directly  down  or  any 
other  way.     This  kind  ci  vein  is  very  rare  in  Britain^ 
The  fissOres  most  comfDon  In  Britain  are  the  perpendi* 
cnlanr  and  molmed,  whc^thtfr  their  direction  be  north  or 
south,  east  or  west. 

The  perpeodioultfr  and  horizontal  fissores  (acoord*^ 
mg  to  our  aulhor)  probably  remain  little  altered  ftom 
their  fiM  )>osiliob,  when  they  wene  formed  at  the  in- 
duration of  (he  strata  immediately  after  the  wiiters 
•left  the  laOd.  The  perpendionlar  fissures  are  foand 
more  eoilutionly  sttuatefl  In  )eirel  grdniid,  at  a  dbtance 
from  bills,  and  from  the  sea  «hore  %  but  with  regard 
to  the  latter,  we  find  thit  the  tipper  and  under  masses 
of  strata  difier  in  their  solidity  and  other  "properties. 
^*  Hence,  (says  our  authdr)  it  is  veiy  plain^  that  in* 
clined  fissures  owe  thert'  deflection  or  underlie  to  some 
secondary  cause,  violence,  or  subsidence,  of  the  >earth : 
lor  though  peq>ettdioular  fisanres  are  seldom  to  be  seen, 
yet  snch  as  are  inclined  at  '^r*/  considerable  depths,  be- 
come more  and  more  perpendicular,  as  tbe  more  central 
strata  by  reason  of  tbe  Vast  superincumbent  w«tghl,  do 
not  seem  so  likely  to  be  driven  oot  of  their  position  as 
tbose  which  lie  nearer  the  siftHaCe.** 

The  fissures  aVe  <^en  met  with  fractured  as  *tirc1] 
:i.s  inclined  ^  tlie  reaton  of  whidb,  in  lAt  Prrte^s  opi- 
nion, has  been  a  isubsid«^ace  of  the  eaith  from  some 
extraordinary  cause.  '*  The  original  position  (says 
he)  mu^t  have  'been  botiztmtal,  or  pamllel  'to  «he  sur- 
face of  the  ranth :  but  ^f e  often  find  these  strata  very 
"^nsibly  declined  'ffbm  that  first  position  ;  nay,  some- 
tifDcs  qdife  TcfVersed,  and  chahg^  into  fMnrpendioular. 
When  we  see  a  trail  lean,  We  immddia'tely  conclude 
tbftt  tlic  foundation  has  given  way,  according  to  the 
angles  wbidh  tbe  walls  make  t)»kh  tlie  hOtn^on  *,  and 
when  we  find  thd  like  decl  Ida  lion  iu  stMta,  ure  may 
conclude,  by  parity  of  reason,  ^it  there  has  bceh  n 
like  failure  of  what  supported  th^tti,  in  proportion  to 
that  declination  ;  <x  that  Whtft^o^r  made  thte  Strata  to 
jiill  so  much  sHvry,  ftiust  also'eause  €veir  thing  inclod- 
cd  in  those  str:<ta  'to  fiill  proportiodally.  wherever 
the  greatest  subsideUce  4s  tot^  "north,  Clie*tUp  of  the 
lode  or 'fissuns  will  pbi^  to  the  HoKb,  and  of  conse- 
qiiemie  underlie  'to  the  south,  and  vi&e  verm :  the 
slide  or  heave  of  the  -lod^  maiiifests  the  greater  sUbsi- 
denoe  of  the  strata ;  but  -the  some  lode  is  frequently 
fmcturcd  and  hearved  in  several  places,  all  of  which, 


16    ]  M    I    N 

by  due  ohaervatioti,  trill  show  us  they  were  oocasioned 
by  so  OMiny  several  shocks  or  subsideacies,  and  that  the 
strata  were  net  uefeoted,  shaken,  or  bna^ht  to  fall  on- 
ly oooe  or  twiee»  but  several  times.^* 

Mr  Price,  in  the  course  'of  his  work,  observes,  tbat, 
though  the  buHM^  veins  generally  run  fiism  east  to 
west,  they  are  frequently  intersected  hy  v^ias  or  lodes^ 
as  he  calls  them,  of  other  BMitters,  which  run  from 
north  to  south.  Some  of  these  cross  veins  contain  letd 
er  antniooy,  hot  never  tin  or  copper.  Sometiiaes 
*Mie  of  these  omnetalUc  Veins  intersects  the  true  one 
at  right  angles,  sometimes  obliquely^  and  sonetimes 
the  nixture  of  both  is  so  intiUhate,  tiott  the  most  «x- 
fiert  miners  are  at  a  loss  to -discover  the  separated  pait 
«f  the  true  vein.  IThen  this  last  is  intercepted  at 
rigitt  angles,  it  is  moved  either  north  ar  south,  a 
very  Iktjle  way,  perhaps  sot  more  than  one  iatbom^ 
m  arhich'Case,  the  miners  hawing  worked  to  a  smalt 
distance  in  one  of  these  directions,  if  tbeyfiad  them- 
selves  disappointed,  tOm  to  the  other  hand,  and  seliiom 
lail  of  fneeting  with  what  they  expected*  Soroetimes 
they  are  directed  ita  their  search  by  tbe  pointing  of  a 
rib  or  string  of  the  true  vein  ^  but  when  the  ioterrup* 
tioR  happens  in  an  oblique  direction,  tlie  difficulty  of 
ihdtng'the  vein  again  is  much  greater. 

When  two  metallic  veins  in  the  neighbourbood  of 
each  other  run  in  an  oblique  direction,  and  of  conse- 
quence HMCt  together,  they  commonly  produce  a  body 
of  ore  at  the  place  where  they  intersect ;  and  if  both 
are  rich,  the  quantity  will  be  considerable  ;  but  if  odc 
be  poor  and  the  other  rich,  then  both  are  either  so* 
riched  or  impoverished  by  tbe  meeting.  After  some 
time  they  separate  again,  and  each  will  continue  its  for- 
mer direction  near  to  the  <Aiher  y  but  semeitimes,  though 
rarel}r,  they  continue  imked. 

It  is'a  Sign  of  a  poor  vein  when  it  separates  or'diver- 
gee  into  strings  ^  but  on  the  ^contrary,  when  scleral  of 
them  are  found  mnning  into  one,  it  is  acconiiled  a  pro- 
mising sign.  Sometimes  there  are  branches  without  the 
walls  of  the  vein  -in  the  adjacent  strata,  which  often 
come  either  oblii^iiely  or  transversely  into -it.  If  tbess 
branches  ^u?e  impregna|ed'with  ore,  er  if  they  underlie 
foster  than  the  tree  vein,  that  is,  if  they  dip  derper  into 
the  groundy  then  they  are  said  to  overtake  or  come  into 
the  lode,  and  to  enrich  it  ^  or  if  they  do  net,  then  they 
are  said  to  go  off  from  it,  and  to  impoverish  it.  But 
neither  these  nor  any  other  ibarfws -either  of  the  richness 
or  ipoverty  of  a  mine  are  to  be  entirely  depended  upon ) 
for  many  mines,  wbieh  have  a  very  bad  appeHraooe  at 
first,  do  nevertheless  turn  oat  eiltremely  well  after- 
wards ;  while  others,  which  ia  the  beginning  seemed 
very  rich,  turn  gradually  worse  smd  worse :  but  in  ge- 
neral, where  a  vein  has  a  bad  appearance  at  firA,  it 
will  be  in^rudent  to  be  at  much  expence  with  it« 

Veins  of  metal,  ashas  been  already  obeerved,  are  fre- 
quently, as  It  were,  soxompresscd  betwixt  hard  strata, 
that  they  are  not  an  itioh  wide :  neverthelesa,  if  they 
have  a  string  of  good  ore,  it  will  generally  he  worth 
while  to  pursue  them :  and  they  frequently  turn  out 
Well  at  last,  after  they  have  come  iUto  softer  ground. 
In  like  manner,  it  is  an  encourageneilt  to  go  on  if 
Ihe  bnioehes  or  leaders  of  ore  enlaf  ge  either  m  width 
or' depth  as  they  aro  worked ;  but  it  is  a  had  sign  if 
they  continue  horizontal  without  inclinlDg  downwards ', 
though  it  is  not  proper  always  to  discoDtimie  the  work- 
ing 


Mioc 


M    I    N  [I 

Mig  of  a  Teio  which  has  aa  imfavoiirable  as]iect  at  first. 
Veins  of  tin  are  worth  working  when  only  three  inches 
imde,  provided  the  ore  be  good  ^  and  copper  ores  when 
six  inches  wide  will  pay  very  well  lor  the  working. 
Same  of  the  great  mines,  however,  have  very  Jarga 
veinsy  with  a  number  of  other  small  ones  very  near  each 
olher.  There  are  also  veins,  erossing  one  another  some- 
tisMS  met  with,  which  are  called  cen^rgs^  vu^^ly 
cmmier^.  Sometimes  two  veins  run  down  auto  the 
gnmnd  in  such  a  manner  that  they  meet  in  the  direc- 
tasn  of  their  depth  ^  in  which  case  the  same  observa- 
tions ^ply  to  them  which  are  applicable  to  those  that 
meet  in  a  horiEontal  diicciion.  SooietMBes  a  vein  will 
suddenly  disappear  wiiboat  giving  any  warning,  by  be- 
coming narrower,  or  of  worse  ^ality  ^  which  by  the 
miners  is  called  a.  sittrt  or  ieap^  and  is  very  oomoion  in 
the  mines  of  ComwaH.  In  one  day^  time  they  may 
thus  be  disappointed  in  the  woiking  of  a  rich  vein  of 
tin,  and  have  no  fuHher  sign  of  any  thing  to  work 
upon.  At  the  fractured  ^tremity  of  their  veiii  they 
peraeive  a  4>ody  of  cUy  or  other  matter  ^  and  kbe  me- 
thod of  reeoveriiig  their  vein  is  to  drive  on  the  work  in 
the  direction  of  the  Ibrmer  part»  so  that  their  new  work 
shall  amke  the  same  angle  with  the  clay  that  the  other 
pert  of  the  vein  does*  Sometiroes  they  sink  a  shaft 
down  from  the  surface  ^  but  it  is  generally  a  mattex  of 
difficulty  to  recover  a  vein  when  thus  lost. 

The  -method  of  liiscovering  mines  is  a  matter  of  so 
much  difficaky,  that  it  seems  surprising  bow  those  whu 
'  were  totally  niiacqaaiiited  with  the  natUK  of  metals 
first  came  to  tlunk  of  digging  them  out  of  the  earth. 
According  to  Lucretius,  the  discovery  was  made  by  the 
conflagration  of  certain  woods,  whicJi  melted  the  vc^ins 
of  metal  in  the  earth  beneath  them  j  bat  tliis  seeaw  ra- 
ther to  be  improbable.  Aristotle,  however,  is  of  the 
same  opinion  with  Locrelius,-  and  tells  us,  that  soiho 
shephercbi  of  Spain  having  set  fire  to  the  woods,  the 
earth  was  thus  heated  to  sneh  a  degiee  that  the  silver 
near  the  surfirae  of  it  meUed  and  flowed  into  a  mass  ^ 
and  that  in  a  short  time  the  metellic  mass  was  discover- 
ed by  the  rending  of  tfaeeartb  in  the  time  of  an  earth- 
quake :  and  the  same  story  is  told  by  Strabo,  who  as- 
cribes the  discovery  of  the -mines  of  Andiiilusia  to  tl)b 
accident.  Cadmus  is  said  by  some  to  have  been  the 
first  who  discovered  gold  :  while  othens  ascribe  (his  to 
Thoas  the  Thractan,  to  Mercury  the -son  of  iu^er,Qr 
to  Piaus  king  of  Italy  \  who  having  loft. his  own  coun- 
try, went  into  Egypt,  where  he  was  elected  king  after 
the  doalfa  of  Mjftsaim  the  son  of  Ham  y  and,  on  ac- 
eonot  flf  his  discovery,  was  called  the  Goiden  G^iL 
Others  -say,  that  JHoqUs  or  Cseaons  the  son  of  Jupiter, 
or  Sol  (be  son  of  Ocoanus,  was  the  first  discoverer  j  but 
j'E^iehyltts  attributes  the  discovei^  not  only  of  gold,  but 
of  all  other  metais,  to  Prometheus.  The  brass  and 
eopper  mines  in  Cyprus  were  first  discovered  by  Cinyra 
the  son  of  A^yopa  \  and  Hesiod  ascribes  the  discovery 
of  the  iron  mines  of  Crete  to  the  Cretan  Dactyli  Idaei. 
The  extraction  of  lead  or  tin  from  its  ore  in  the  island  of 
Caasitcris,  according  to  several  aaaient  authors,  was 
discovered  by  Mtdacritas«^— The  Scripture,  however, 
ascribes  the  invention  of  brass  and  iron,,  or  at  least  of 
the  methods  of  working  them,  to  Tilbal  Cain  before  the 
flood. 

In  more  modem  times,  we  know  that  mines  have 
been  frequently  discovered  by  accident  3  as  in  sea  clifis, 


17    ]  M    I    N 

among  broken  craggy  rocks,  by  the  washing  of  the  Mine, 
tide  or  floods,  also  by  irruptions  and  torrients  of  wa- 
ter issuing  out  of* hills  and  mountains,  and  sometimes 
by  the '  weacing  of  high  roads.  Mr  Price  mentions 
another  way  by  which  mines  have  been  discovered,  vis. 
by  fiery  c<miscations ;  which,  he  says,  he  has  heard 
from  persons  whoae  veracity  he  is  unwilling  to  ques- 
tion. '^  The  tinners  (says  he)  generally  compare 
these  effluvia  to  blaKing  stars  or  other  whimsical  like- 
nesses, as  their  lears  or  hopes  auggest  \  and  search  with 
uncommon  eagerness  ibe  f^ronnd  over  which  these 
jack-a-lantems  have  appeared  and  pointed  out.  We 
have  heard  but  little  of  these  phenomena  for  many 
years  :  whether  it  be,  that  the  fise^ent  age  if  less  cre- 
dulous than  the  fimgoing,  or  that  the  ground,  being 
more  perfi>rated  by  innumerable  new  pits  sunk  every 
year,  some  of  which,  by  the  stannary  laws,  ave  prevent- 
ed from  being  filled  up,  has  given  these  vapours  a  more 
gradual  vent,  it  is  not  necessary  to  inquire,  as  the  fact 
itself  is  not  generally  believed.*' 

Mines,  however,  are  now  most  commonly  discovered 
by  investigating  the  nature  of  such  veins,  ores,  and' 
stones  as  may  seem  most  likely  to  turn  to  account : 
but  there  is  a  particular  sagacity^  or  Itabit  oi  judging 
from  particular  signs,  which,  can  be  acquired  only  by 
long  practice.  Mines,  especially  those  of  copper,  may 
also  be  discovered  by  the  harsh  and  disagreeable  taste 
of  the  waters  which  issue  from  them ;  though  it  is  pro- 
bable that  this  only  happens  when  the  ore  lies  above 
the  level  of  the  water  which  breaks  out ;  for  it  does 
not  seem  likely  that  the  taste  of  the  ore  could  asocnd,^ 
unless  we  were  to  suppose  a  pond  or  lake  of  water 
standing  above  it.  The  piosence  of  copper  in  any  wa* 
ter  is  easily  discovered  by  immerging  in  it  a  bit  of  po- 
lished iron,  which  will  thus  instantly  be  turned  of  a 
copper  colour,  by  reason  of  tlie  precipitation  of  the  fne- 
tal  upon  it.  A  candle,  or  piece  of  tallow  put  into  water^ 
of  this  kind,  will  in.  a  short  time  be  tinged  of  a  grceu 
colour. 

An<^ber  and  still  tmore  remarkable  method  of  dis- 
oovering  mines  is  said  to  be  by  the  znrgula  divvmtoriay 
or  ^'  divining  rod  ^'^  which,  however  incredible  the  sto- 
ries related  concianing  it  may  be,  is  still  relied  on. 
by  some,  and  among  others  by  Mr  Price.  It  is  not 
known  who  was  the  inventor  of  this  method  ^  but  A- 
gricola  supposes  that  it  took  its  rise  from  the  magi- 
cians, who  pretended  to  discover  mines  by  euchantmeut. 
No  mention  is  made  of  it,  however,  before  the  i itb 
oentury,  since  whidi  time  it  has  been  in  frequent  use ^ 
and  the  Corpuscular  Philosophy  has  even  been  called 
in  to  account  for  it.  Bot  before  wc  pretend  to  account 
for  phenomena  so  very  extraordinary  as  those  reported 
of  the  wrgula  divinatoria^  it  is -necessary,  in  the  firsL 
place,  to  detormine  whether  or  not  they  exist.  Mr 
Price,  as  has  been  abeady  hinted,  believes  in  it,  though, 
he  owns  that  by  reason  of  his  eonstitution  of  mind 
and  body,  he  is  almost  incapable  of  co-operating  with 
iis  infl.Uence.  The  following  account,  however,  he 
gives  from  Mr  William  Cookworthy  of  Plymouth,  a. 
gentleman  of  known  veracity  and  great  chemical  abi- 
lities. 

He  had  the  first  information  concerning  this  rod 
from  one  Captain  Ribeira,  who  deserted  from  the 
Spanish  service  in  Queen  Anne^s  veign,  and  became 
captain-commandant  in  the  garrison  of  Plymouth  •,  in 

wbuL'h 


V 


M    I    N  [     II 

Miae.  ^hich  town  be  satisfied  several  intelligent  persons  of 
the  Tirtoes  of  the  rod,  by  many  experiments  on  pieces 
of  metal  hid  in  the  earth,  and  by  an  actoal  discovery  of 
a  copper  mine  near  Oakhampton,  which  was  wrought 
for  some  years.  This  captain  very  readily  showed  the 
onethod  of  osbg  the  rod  in  general,  but  would  not  by 
any  means  discover  the  secret  of  distinguishing  the  dif- 
ferent metals  by  it :  though,  by  a  constant  attention 
to  his  practice,  Mr  Cookworthy  discovered  it«  Cap- 
tain Ribeira  was  of  opinion,  that  the  only  proper  rods 
for  this  purpose  were  those  cut  from  the  nut  or  fruit 
trees  y  and  that  the  virtue  was  confined  to  certain  per- 
sons, and  those,  comparatively  speaking,  but  feir: 
hot  Mr  Price  says,  that  the  virtue  resides  in  all  per« 
sons  and  in  all  rods  under  certain  circumstances. 
**  The  rod  (says  he)  is  attracted  by  all  the  metals,  by 
coals,  limestone,  and  springs  of  water,  in  the  follow- 
ing order :  t.  Gold  ^  a.  Copper  ^  3.  Iron  j  4.  Silver ; 
5.  Tin  ^  6.  Lead  ^  7.  Coals }  8.  Limestone  and  springs 
of  water.  One  method  of  determining'  the  different 
attractions  of  the  rod  is  this :  Stand,  holding  the  rod 
with  one  foot  advanced  }  put  a  guinea  under  that  foot, 
and  an  hal^^ny  under  the  other,  and  the  rod  will  be 
drawn  down }  shift  the  pieces  of  money,  and  the  rod 
will  be  drawn  towards  the  fiu^  or  backwards  to  the 
gold,  which  proves  the  gold  to  have  the  stronger  at- 
traction. 

**  The  rods  formerly  used  were  shoots  of  one  year's 
growth  that  grew  forked }  but  it  is  found,  that  two 
separate  shoots  tied  together  with  packthread  or  other 
vegetable  substance  answer  rather  better  than  such  as 
are  naturally  foriied,  as  the  shoots  of  the  latter  are 
seldom  of  an  equal  size.  They  are  to  be  tied  together 
by  the  greater  ends,  the  small  ones  being  held  in  the 
hands.  HazJe  rods  cut  in  the  winter,  such  as  are  used 
for  fishinff  rods,  and  kept  till  they  are  dry,  do  best ; 
though,  where  these  are  not  at  hsind,  apple-tree  suck- 
ers, rods  from  peach  trees,  currants,  or  Uie  oak,  though 
green,  will  answer  tolerably  well.'' 

Our  author  next  proceeds  to  describe  the  manner  of 
holding  the  rod  \  of  which  he  gives  a  figure,  as  he  says 
it  is  difficult  to  be  described.  The  small  ends  being 
crooked,  are  to  be  held  in  the  hands  in  a  position  flat 
or  parallel  to  the  horizon,  and  the  upper  part  in  an 
elevation  not  perpendicular  to  it,  but  at  an  angle  of 
about  70  degrees.  **  The  rod  (says  he)  being  pro* 
periy  held  by  those  with  whom  it  will  answer,  when 
the  toe  of  the  right  foot  is  vrithin  the  semidiameter  of 
the  piece  of  metal  or  other  subject  of  the  rod,  it  will 
be  repelled  towards  the  face,  and  continue  to  lie  so 
while  the  foot  is  kept  from  touching  or  being  directly 
over  the  subject  $  in  which  case  it  will  be  sensibly  and 
strongly  attracted,  and  be  drawn  quite  down.  The 
rod  ^ottld  be  firmly  and  steadily  grasped  j  for  if,  when 
it  has  begiin  to  he  attracted,  there  be  the  least  inia« 
ginahle  jerk  or  opposition  to  its  attraction,  it  will  not 
move  any  more  till  the  hands  are  opened,  and  a  fresh 
grasp  taken.  The  stronger  the  grasp  the  livelier  the 
rod  moves,  prorided  the  grasp  Se  steady  and  of  an 
equal  strength.  This  observation  is  very  necessary, 
as  the  operation  of  the  rod  in  many  hands  is  defeated 
purely  by  a  jerk  or  counteraction  *,  and  jt  is  from 
thence  condoded,  that  there  is  no  real  efficacy  in  the 
rod,  or  that  the  person  who  holds  it  wants  the  virtue  j 

I 


8    ]  M    I    N 

whereas,  by  a  proper  attention  to  this  circumstance  in 
using  it,  five  persons  in  six  have  the  virtue,  as  it  is 
called ;  that  is,  tbe  nut  or  fruit-bearing  rod  will  an* 
swer  in  their  hands.  If  a  rod,  or  tbe  least  piece  of 
one  of  the  nnt-bearing  or  fruit  kind,  be  pat  under  the 
arm,  it  will  totally  destroy  the  operation  of  the  virgteim 
divinatoria^  in  regard  to  all  the  subjects  of  it,  except 
water,  in  those  hands  in  which  the  nod  oatundly  ope- 
rates. If  the  least  animal  thread,  as  silk,  or  worsted, 
or  hair,  be  tied  round  or  fixed  00  the  top  of  the  rod, 
it  will  in  like  manner  hinder  its  operation  ^  bot  the 
same  rod  placed  under  the  arm,  or  the  same  aaimal  sob- 
stances  tied  round  or  fixed  on  the  top  of  the  rod,  will 
make  it  work  in  those  hands,  in  wUeh  without  these 
additions  it  is  not  attracted." 

Such  are  the  accounts  of  this  extraordinary  rod,  to 
which  it  is  probable  that  few  will  assent^  and  we  believe 
the  instances  of  mines  having  been  discovered  by  it  an 
but  very  raro.  Another  and  very  ancient  mode  of  dis- 
covering mines,  less  uncertain  tnan  the  divining  rod, 
but  extremely  difficult  and  precarious,  is  that  called 
shodtngi  that  is,  tracing  them  by  loose  stones,  frag- 
ments, or  shodeSf  which  may  have  been  separated  or 
carried  off  to  a  considerable  distance  from  the  veb,  and 
aro  found  by  chance  in  mnninr  waters,  on  thesuperficiea 
of  the  ffround,  or  a  littlei  under.— ^  When  tbe  tinner* 
(says  Mr  Price)  meet  with  a  loose  single  stone  of  tin 
oro,  either  in  a  valley  or  in  plonghing  or  hedging, 
though  at  xoo  fathoms  distance  from  the  vein  it  came 
firom,  those  who  aro  accustomed  to  this  work  will  not 
fail  to  find  it  out.  They  consider,  that  a  metallic  stone 
must  originally  have  appertained  to  some  vein,  from 
which  it  was  severod  and  cast  at  a  distance  by  some  vio- 
lent means.  The  deluge,  they  suppose,  moved  most  of 
the  loose  earthy  coat  of  the  globe,  and  in  many  plaees 
washed  it  off  fiitmi  the  upper  towards  the  lower  grounds, 
with  such  a  force,  that  most  of  the  backs  or  lodes  of 
veins  which  protruded  themselves  above  the  fiut  wero 
hurried  downwards  with  the  common  mass:  whence 
the  skill  in  this  part  of  their  business  lies  much  in  direc- 
ting their  measures  according  to  the  situation  of  the  sur- 
fiice."  Afterwards,  however,  our  author  complains  that 
this  art  o{*koding^  as  he  calls  it,  is  in  a  great  measnre 
lost 

The  following  account  of  a  method  of  finding  silver 
mines  by  Alonzo  Barba  seems  to  be  similar  to  that  of 
shoding  just  now  mentioned*  **  The  veins  of  metal 
(says  he)  are  sometimes  found  by  great  stones  above 
ground  ',  and  if  the  veins  be  coverod^  they  hunt  them 
out  after  this  manner  j  viz.  taking  in  their  bands  a 
sort  of  mattock,  which  baa  a  steel  point  at  one  end 
to  dig  with,  and  a  blunt  head  at  the  other  wherewith  to 
break  stones,  they  go  to  the  hollows  of  the  mountains, 
whero  the  cnrront  of  rain  water  desoends,  or  to  soine 
other  part  of  the  skirts  of  the  mountains,  and  then 
observe  what  stones  they  meet  with,  breaking  in  pieces 
those  that  seem  to  have  any  metal  in  them ;  wheieof 
they  find  many  times  both  middling  sort  of  stones  and 
small  ones  also  of  meUl.  Then  they  consider  the  situa- 
tion of  that  place,  and  whence  these  stones  can  tnmUe, 
which  of  necessi^  must  be  from  higher  ground,  and 
follow  the  track  of  them  up  the  hill  as  long  as  they  can 
find  any  of  them,"  &c. 

**  Another  way  (says  Mr  Price)  of  discovering 


MiOf. 


IS 


M  I  w  r  1 

line,  i^  by  working  drifts  aoroM  the  tmtntry^  as  we  call  it, 
that  is,  from  north  to  south,  and  vice  versa,  \  tried 
the  experiment  in  an  adventure  under  my  management, 
where  I  droTe  all  open  at  grass  about  two  feet  in  the 
shelf,  very  much  like  a  level  to  convey  water  upon  a 
mill  wheel ;  by  so  doing  I  was  sure  of  cutting  all  lodes 
in  my  way  :  and  I  did  accordingly  discover  five  courses, 
one  of  which  has  produced  above  x8o  tons  of  copper 
oie,  but  the  others  were  never  wrought  upon.  This 
Bwtthod  of  discovering  lodes  is  equally  cheap  and  cer-; 
tain }  for  loo  fathoms  in  shallow  ground  may  be  driven 
at  COS.  expence.^ 

In  that  kind  of  ground  called  by  our  author  fea* 
«uMr,  and  which  he  explmns  by  the  phrase  tendereiand^ 
wgj  he  tells  as,  that  ^  a  very  effectual,  proving,  and  con* 
sequential  .way  is,  by  driving  an  adit  firom  the  lowest 
ground,  either  north  or  south  ^  whereby  there  is  a  cer« 
tainty  to  cat  all  lodes  at  20,  30,  or  40  fathoms  deep, 
if  the  level  admits  ef  it»  In  driving  adits  or  levels 
across,  north  or  south,  to  unwater  mines  already  found, 
there  are  many  fresh  veins  discovered,  which  frequently 
prove  better  than  those  they  were  driving  to.** 

After  the  mine  is  found,  the  next  thing  to  be  consi« 
dered  is,  whether  it  may  be  di^  to  advantage.  In  or* 
der  to  determine  this,  we  are  duly  to  weigh  the  nature 
of  the  place,  and  its  situation,  as  to  wood,  water,  car- 
riage, healthiness,  and  the  like ;  and  compare  the  result 
with  the  richness  of  the  ore,  the  chai^  of  digging, 
stamping,  washing,  and  smelting. 

Partiealarly  the  form  and  situation  of  the  spot 
should  fae  well  considered.  A  mine  most  either  hap- 
pen, I.  In  a  mountain  J  a.  In  a  hill  ^  3.  In  a  valley } 
or,  4*  In  a  fiat.  But  moontaios  and  hills  are  dug  with 
mnch  greater  ease  and  eoBvenience,  chiefly  because  the 
drains  and  borrows,  that  is,  the  adits  or  avenues,  may 
be  here  readily  cut,  both  to  drain  the  water  and  to 
form  gangways  for  bringing  out  the  lead,  &c.  In 
all  the  fonr  cases,  we  are  to  look  out  for  the  veins 
which  the  rains  or  other  accidental  thing  may  have 
laid  htkn }  and  if  soch  a  vein  he  found,  it  may  often 
be  proper  to  open  the  mine  at  that  place,  especially  if 
the  vein  prove  tolerably  large  and  rich  j  otherwise  the 
most  commodious  place  for  situation  is  to  be  chosen  for 
the  purpose,  viz.  neither  on  a  flat,  nor  on  the  tops  of 
momtains,  but  on  the  ridesu  The  best  situation  for 
a  mine  is  a  mountainous,  woody,  wholesome  spot  ^  of 
a  safe  easy  ascent,  and  bordering  00  a  navigable  river. 
The  plaoes  aboundiag  with  mines  are  generally  healthy ; 
as  standing  high,  and  everywhere  exposed  to  the  air } 
yet  some  pla»BS  where  mines  are.  found  pcove  poison- 
oos,  and  can  upon  no  account  be  dng,  though  ever  so 
rich.  The  way  of  examining  a  suspected  place  of  this 
kind,  is  to  make  experiments  upon  brutes,  by  expos-?, 
ing  them  to  the  effluvia  or  exhaiations,  to  find  the  ef- 
fects* 

I>evoiishire  and  Cornwall,  where  there  are  a  great 
many  mines  of  copper  and  tin,  is  a  very  mountainous 
country,  which  gives  an  (^portmiity  in  many  places 
to  make  adits  or  subterraneous  drains  to  some  valley 
at  a  distance,  by  which  to  carry  off  the  water  from 
the  mine,  which  otherwise  would  drown  them  out 
from  getting  the  ore.  These  adits  are  sometimes  car- 
ried a  mile  or  two,  and  dng  at  a  vast  expence,  as  from 
2000l.  to  4000L  especially  where  the  ground  is  rocky  ^ 


19    ]  M    I    N 

and  yet  tfaey  find  this  cheaper  than  to  draw  np  the 
water  out  of  the  mine  quite  to  the  top,  when  the 
water  runs  in  plenty,  and  the  mine  is  deep.  Some- 
times, indeed,  they  cannot  find  a  level  near  enoogh  to 
which  an  adit  may  be  carried  from  the  very  bottom  of 
the  mine  ^  yet  tlity  find  it  worth  while  to  make  an  adit 
at  half  the  height  to  which  the  water  is  to  be  raised, 
thereby  saving  half  the  expence. 

Mr  Costar,  considering  that  sometimes  from  small 
streams,  and  sometimes  from  little  fprings  or  collections 
of  rain  water,  one  might  have  a  good  deal  of  water 
above  ground,  though  not  a  sufficient  quantity  to  turn 
an  overshot  wheel,  thought  that  if  a  sumcient  lall  might 
be  had,  this  collection  of  water  mig^t  he  made  useful  in 
raising  the  water  in  a  mine  to  the  adit,  where  it  may 
be  carried  off.  ^ 

But  now  the  most  general  method  or  draining  mines 
is  by  the  steam  engme.     See  STSAU-Engine. 

Mike,  in  the  military  art,  denotes  a  subterraneous 
canal  or  passage,  dug  under  the  wall  or  rampart 
of  a  fortification,  intended  to  be  blown  up  by  gun- 
powder. 

The  alley  or  passage  of  a  mine  is  commonly  about 
four  feet  square  \  at  the  end  of  this  is  the  chamber  of 
the  mine,  which  is  a  cavity  of  about  five  feet  in  width 
and  in  length,  and  ajieut  six  feet  in  height  \  and  here 
the  gunpowder  is  nowed.  The  sancisse  of  the  mine 
is  the  train,  for  which  there  is  always  a  little  aperture 
left. 

Two  ounces  of  powder  have  been  found,  by  experi- 
ment, capable  of  raising  two  cubic  feet  of  earth ;  con- 
sequently 200  ounces,  uat  is,  12  pounds  8  ounces,  will 
raise  200  cubic  feet,  which  is  only  16  feet  short  of  a 
cubic  toise,  because  200  ounces,  joined  together,  have 
proportionably  a  greater  force  than  two  ounces,  as  being 
an  united  force. 

All  the  turnings  a  miner  uses  to  carry  on  his  mines, 
and  through  which  he  conducts  the  sancisse,  should  be 
vrell  filled  with  earth  and  dung  \  and  the  masonry  in 
proportion  to  the  earth  to  be  blown  np,  as  3  to  2. 
The  entrance  of  the  chamber  of  the  mine  ought  to  be 
firmly  shut  with  thick  planks,  in  the  form  of  a  St  An- 
drew's crossy  so  that  the  enclosure  be  secure,  and  the 
void  spaces  shut  up  with  dung  or  tempered  earth.  If 
a  gallery  be  made  below  or  on  the  side  of  the  chamber, 
it  must  absolutely  be  filled  up  with  the  strongest  ma- 
sonry, half  as  long  again  as  the  height  of  the  earth  5 
for  this  gallery  will  not  only  burst,  but  likewise  eh- 
struct  the  effect  of  the  mine.  The  powder  should  al- 
ways be  kept  in  sacks,  which  are  opened  when  the 
mine  is  charged,  and  some  of  the  powder  strewed 
about :  the  greater  the  quantity  of  earth  to  be  raised 
is,  the  greater  is  the  effect  of  the  mine,  supposing  it 
to  have  the  due  proportion  of  powder.  Powder  has 
the  same  effect  npon  masonry  as  upon  earth,  that  is^ 
it  will  proportionably  raise  eitner  with  the  same  velo- 
city. 

The  branches  which,  are  carried  into  the  solidity  of 
walls  do  not  exceed  three,  feet  in  depth,  and  two  feet 
six  inches  in  width  nearly :  this  sort  of  mine  is  most  ex- 
cellent to  blow  up  the  strongest  walls. 

The  weight  of  a  cnhic  foot  of  powder  should  be 
8olb.  \  I  foot  I'  inch  cube  will  weigh  loolb.  and  1  foot 
2  inches  and  i\  1501b.  |  and  20oIb.  of  powder  will 

be 


Mine. 


M    I    N 


[ 


Mine,     be  I  foot  5  inches  cube  5  boirever,  there  is  a  diversity 
"— v*""*^  ID  this,  according  to  the  quantity  of  saltpetre  in  the 
gunpowder. 

if,  t?hen  the  mines  arc  made,  ivater  be  found  at  the 
bottom   of  the   chiimbcr,    planks  are   laid   there,    on 
which  the  powder  is  placed  either  in  sacks  ei  barrels 
of  loolb.  each.    The  saucisse  must  have  a  clear  passage 
'^  to  the  powder,  and  be  laid  in  an  auget  or  wooden 

^^  trougli,  through  all  the  branches.  When  the  powder 
h  placed  in  the  chatiber,  the  planks  are  laid  to  cover 
it,  and  others  acrain  across  these ;  then  one  is  placed 
over  the  top  of  the  chamber,  which  b  shaped  for  tbat 
purpose  'y  between  that  and  those  which  cover  the 
powder,  props  are  placed,  which  shore  it  np}  some 
inclining  towards  the  outside  ^  others  to  the  inside  of 
the  wall  ;  all  th^  void  spaces  being  filled  with  earth, 
dung,  brick,  and  rough  stones.  Afterwards  planks 
are  placed  at  the  entrance  of  the  chamber,  with  one 
Across  the  top,  whereon  they  buttress  three  strong 
props,  whose  other  ends  are  likewise  propped  against 
another  plank  situated  on  th^  side  of  the  earth  in  the 
branch  ^  which  props  being  well  fixed  between  the 
planks  mth  wedges,  the  branch  shonld  then  be  filled 
np  to  its  entrance,  with  the  forementioned  materials. 
The  saucisses  which  pass  throogh  the  side  branches 
roust  be  exactly  the  same  length  with  that  in  the  mid- 
dle, to  which  they  join :  the  part  which  reaches  bejond 
the  entrance  of  the  mine  is  that  which  conveys  the  fire 
to  the  other  three  ^  the  saucisses  being  of  equal  length, 
will  spring  together. 

From  a  great  nnmber  of  experiments,  it  appears, 
I,  That  the  force  of  a  mine  is  always  towards  the 
weakest  side  ^  so  that  the  dKsposition  of  the  chamber 
of  a  mine  does  not  at  all  contribute  to  determine  this 
effect.  2.  That  the  quantity  of  powder  must  be  greater 
or  less  in  proportion  to  the  greater  or  less  weight  of 
the  bodies  to  be  raised,  and  to  their  greater  or  less 
cohesion^  so  that  you  are  to  allow  for  each  cubic 
lathom 

Of  loose  earth,  -  -  9  or  lolb. 

Finn  earth  and  strong  sand,  11  or  12 

Flat  clayey  earth,         -  -  15  or  16 

New  masonry,  not  strongly  bound,  1 5  or  20 

Old  masonry,  well  bonnd,         -  25  or  30 

3.  That  the  aperture,  entonnoir  of  a  mine,  if  rightly 
charged,  is  a  cone^  the  diameter  of  whose  base  is  double 
the  height  taken  from  the  centre  of  the  mine.  4.  That 
when  tlie  mine  has  been  overcharged,  its  entonnoir  is 
nearly  cylindrical,  the  diameter  of  the  upper  extreme 
not  much  exceeding  that  of  the  chamber.  5.  That  be- 
sides the  shock  of  the  powder  against  the  bodies  it  takes 
up,  it  likewise  crashes  all  the  earth  tbat  borders  upon 
it,  both  underneath  and  sidewise. 

To  charge  a  mine  so  as  to  have  the  most  advantage- 
ous effect,  the  weight  of  ^he  matter  to  be  carried  must 
be  known  *,  that  is,  the  solidity  of  a  right  cone,  whose 
base  is  doable  the  height  of  the  earth  over  the  centre 
of  the  mine :  thus,  having  found  the  solidity  of  the  cone 
in  cubic  fathoms,  multiply  the  nnmber  of  fiithoms'  !iy 
the  number  of  poonds  of  powder  necessary  for  raising 
the  matter  it  contains  y  and  if  the  cone  contains  mat- 
ters of  different  weights,  take  a  mean  weight  between 

4 


20    ]  M    I    N 

them  all,  always  having  a  regard  to  their  degree  of  co- 
hesion. 

As  to  the  disposition  of  mines,  there  is  bat  one  gene- 
ral rule,  which  is.  That  the  side  towards  which  one 
would  determine  the  effeet  be  the  weakest  ^  but  this 
varies  according  to  oecasions  and  circumstaAoes. 

The  calculation  of  mines  is  generally  bnilt  apon  this 
hypothesis.  That  the  entonnoir  of  a  mine  is  the  frustom 
of  an  inverted  cone,  whose  altitude  is  eqaal  to  the  radios 
of  the  excavation  of  tlie  mine,  and  the  diameter  of  the 
whole  lesser  base  is  equal  to  the  line  of  least  resistance } 
and  though  these  suppositions  are  not  qnite  exact,  yet 
the  calculations  of  mines  deduced  from  them  have 
proved  soGcessftil  in  practice ;  for  which  reason  this  cai- 
<A]httion  shonld  be  followed  till  a  better  and  more  siRiple 
be  found  out. 

M.  de  Valliere  fonnd  that  the  entonnoir  of  a  mine 
was  a  paraboloid,  which  is  a  solid  generated  by  the 
rotation  of  a  semiparabola  about  its  axia  ^  but  as 
the  difference  between  these  two  in  very  insignifi- 
cant in  practice,  that  of  the  frostttm  of  a  cone  wsbj  be 
used. 

MINEHEAD,  a  town  of  Sonersetshiie,  166  mtles 
from  London.  It  is  an  ancient  borough,  with  a  hop- 
hour  in  the  Bristol  channel,  near  Dnnster  castle,  nmich 
frequented  by  passengers  to  and  from  Ireland.  It  was 
incorporated  by  Queen  Elizabeth,  with  great  privileges, 
on  condition  the  corporation  should  keep  the  ^uay  in  re- 
pair *y  but  its  trade  falling  off,  the  quay  was  neglected, 
and  they  lost  their  privileges.  A  statute  was  obtained 
in  the  reign  of  King  \¥iniam,  lor  recovering  the  port, 
and  keeping  it  in  repair,  by  which  they  were  to  have 
the  profits  of  the  quay  and  pier  for  36  yean,  vrkich 
have  been  computed  at  ahont  9col.  a  year  ^  and  tbey 
were  at  the  ex  pence  of  new-bnilding  the  quay.  In  pur- 
suance of  another  act,  confirming  the  firnner }  a  new 
head  has  been  built  to  the  quay,  the  beach  cleared,  &c. 
so  that  the  biggest  ship  may  enter,  and  ride  safe  in  the 
harboin*.  The  town  in  1811  contained  1057  inha- 
bitants. It  was  formeriy  governed  by  a  pmtreere, 
and  now  by  two  constables  chosen  yeariy  at  a  court  leet 
held  by  the  lord  of  the  manor.  Its  chief  trade  is  wtth 
Ireland,  from  whence  abont  40  vcsmIs  used  to  come 
hither  in  a  year  with  wool  ^  and  about  400  chaldrons 
of  coals  are  yearly  imported  at  this  places  Watchet, 
and  Poriock,  from  South  Wales,  which  lies  directly 
opposite  to  it  about  seven  leagues  over,  the  eooamon 
breadth  of  this  channel  all  the  wav  from  Holmes  to  the 
Land^  End.  Here  are  several  rich  merchants,  vr ho 
have  some  trade  also  to  Virginia  and  the  West  Indies  ^ 
and  they  correspond  much  with  the  merchants  of  Bame- 
staple  and  Bristol  in  their  foreign  commerce.  Three 
or  four  thousand  barrels  of  herrings,  which  come  up  the 
Severn  in  great  shoals  about  Micbaefanas,  are  caught, 
cured,  and  shipped  off  here  every  year,  for  the  Medi- 
terranean, &c.  The  market  here  is  on  Wednesday, 
and  fiiir  en  Whitsun-'Wednesday. 

MINERAL,  in  Natterai  History^  is  used  in  general 
for  all  fossil  bodies,  whether  simple  or  connpound,  dug 
out  of  a  mine  ;  from  whence  it  takes  its  denomination. 
See  MiyCRALOGY* 

MnmtAL  Waters,  All  waters  naturaHy  impregnat- 
ed with  any  heterogeneous  matter  which  they  have  dis- 
solved witmn  the  earth  may  be  called  rMnrroi  tvatrrs^ 

in 


M    I    N  [I 

«1.  in  the  ioo9t  general  and  extensive  meaning  of  that  name  ^ 
^^  in  which  are  therefore  comprehended  almost  all  those  that 
flow  within  or  u^n  the  suriace  of  the  earth,  for  almost 
^11  these  contain  some  earthy  or  saline  matter.  But, 
strictly  speaking,  those  waters  only  which  hold  in  solu- 
tion such  a  qnantity  of  foreign  ingrediepts  as  to  give 
them  properties  which  .are  easily  irecognised  hy  the  taste 


21     ]  M    I    N 

or  smell  come  under  the  denomination  of  mineral  wa« 
ters.  For  the  methods  of  analyzing  mineral  waters,  see 
Chemistry  Index  in  this  work,  and  Decomfositiok 
Chemical,  Supplement. 

Here  we  shall  give  a  tabular  view  of  the  more  e- 
markahlo  mineral  waters  which  have  been  discovered 
and  examined. 


Mineral 


An  Alphabetical  Table  of  the  most  noted  Mineral  Waters  in  Europe,  exhibiting  their 

Medicinal  Properties  and  Contents. 


Names  <^ 
SpriifgSm 
^bcourt, 


Countries  in  which 
they  are  found. 

Near  St  Germains 
in  France. 


Aberbrothick, 

Acton, 
Aghaloo, 

Aix-la-Cha- 

pelle, 


Alford  or  Aw- 

ford, 
Askeron, 


Antrim, 
Baden^ 

Bagnigge, 


Balimore, 


Ball  or  Band- 
well, 

Balamc, 


Ballycastle, 
Ballynahinch, 
Ballyspellan 
Vol.  XIV. 


County  of  Porfar  in 
Scotland. 

Middlesex  county, 

England. 
Tyrone,  Ireland. 


Juliers  in  Oermany. 


jSomersetshire,  Eng- 
land. 

Yorlishire,  in  Eng- 
land. 

Ireland. 

Swabia  in  Genqany. 


Middlesex,  near 
London. 


Worcestershire  in 
England. 


Contents  and  Quality  of  the 
fTater. 

A  cold  chalybeate  water, 
containing  besides  the  iron 
a  small  quantity  of  fossil 
alkali  saturated  with  fixed 


air. 


liincolnshire  in  Eng- 
lai^d. 

Languedoc   in 
.France. 

Antrim  in  Ireland. 

Down  in  Ireland. 

.Near  Kilkenny  in 
Ireland. 
Parti. 


A  cold  chalybeate.  Con- 
tains iron  dissolved  in  fix- 
ed air. 

Contains  Epsom  and  sea  salt. 
Cold. 

Sttljibur,  fossil  alkali,  and 
some  purging  salt.     Cold% 

Sulphureous  and  hot.  Con- 
tain aerated  calcareous 
earth,  s^a  salt,  fossil ,  al- 
kali, and  sulphur. 

A  purging  salt  along  with 
sea. salt.     Cpld. 

Contains  Epsom  salt,  aerat- 
ed calcareous  earth,  apd 
sulphur.     Cold. 


Hot  and  sulphureous  springs 
iind  baths,  resembling 
those  of  Aix-la-Chapelle. 

Epsom  salt  and  muriated 
magnesia.  Cold.  Ano- 
ther spring  contains  iron 
and  fixed  air. 

A  fine  cold  chalybeate,  con- 
taining iron  rendered  so- 
luble by  fix^d  air,  along 
with  some  other  salt  sup- 
posed to  be  fossil  alkali. 

A  cold  petrifying  watery 
contains  aerated  calcare^ 
eus  earth  or  magnesia. 

Hot,  and  contain  so^e  pur- 
ging salts. 

jChalybeate  and  sulphureous. 
Cold. 

•Iron,  fixed  air,  and  sulphur. 
Cold. 

Iron,  fixed  air,  and  proba- 
bly fossil  alkali, 
t 


'Medicinal  Virtues, 

-Diuretic  and  purgative.  Internally  used 
in  dropsies,  jaundice,  and  obstructions 
of  the  viscera  ^  externally  in  scorbutic 
eruptions^  ulcers,  &c. 

Diuretic  and  corroborative.  Used  in 
indigestions,  nervous  disorders,  &c. 

Strongly  purgative,  and  causes  a  soreness 
in  the  fundament. 

Alterative  and  corroborant.  Useful  in 
scrofulous  disorders,  worms,  and  cu- 
taneous diseases. 

.Diaphoretic,  purgative,  and  .diuretic 
Used  as  baths  as  well  as  taken  in- 
ternally. Useful  in,  rheumatisms,  and 
all  diseases  proce$)ding  from  a  ^debility 
of  the  system. 

Strongly  purgative. 

Diuretic.  Useful  whe»  drunk  yi  leprosy, 
and  other  cutaiiepus  diseases. 

Similar  to  BorrowdalOf  water,  but  weak- 
er. 
'  See  Aix-la-Chaf£LL£,  and  Baden,  in 
the  order  of  the  Alphabet.  ^ 

Strongly  purgative,  three  half  pints  be- 
ing a  dose.  The  •  chalybeate  spring 
also  proves  pnrgative  when  the  bowels 
contain  any  vitiated  matter. 

Corroborative,  and  sped  in  obstructions 
of.tlie  viscera.  Drank  from  two  to 
three  pints  in  a  morning. 


Corroborative  and  astringent.     Drunk 

to  the  quantity  of  two  pints,  or  two 

and  a  half. 
Drank  as  purgatives,  and  used  as  hot 

baths.    UseSl  in  scrofulous  and  cnta-, 

neous  disorders. 
Resembles  that  of  Balimore  in  virtue.     . 

Useful  in  scorbutic  disorders  and  diseases 

of  indigestion. 
Similar  in  virtue  to  that  of  Balimore* 

Q  Bagoeres, 


Samei  of 
Springs. 
Bagneres, 


Bareges^ 


Barnet  and 

Ntftth-hali, 
Bath) 


BanMa, 


Brentwood, 
Bristol) 


Bromley, 
Broughton, 


Bnxtoni 


M    I    N 

Couniriti  in  which 

they  art  found, 
Bigone  in  Franee. 

Bigorre  in  France. 


Hertfocdsbire  ia 

England. 
Somersetshire  in 

England* 

Italy. 


Borrowdale,  Cumberland  in  Eng- 

land. 


Essex  in  England. 

Somersetshire  in 
England. 


Kent  in  England. 
Yorkshire  in  Eng- 
land. 

Derbyshire  in  Eng^ 
land. 


Caroline  baths,      Bohemia. 


Carlton, 


Nottinghamsliire  ia 
England. 


Carrickfergos,       Antrim  in  Ireland* 


Carrickmore,        Cavan  in  Ireland. 

Cashmore,  Waterford  in  Ire- 

land. 
Castle-Connel,       Limerick  in  Ireland. 


[      "2      ] 

Contents  and  QftaHty  of  ths 

fTater. 
Earth  and  sulphur.     Hot. 


Sea  salt,  fossil  alkali,  calca- 
reous earth,  selenites,  sul- 
phur, and  a  fine  bitumi- 
nous oil.     Hot. 


Epsom  salt,  and  aerated  cal- 
careous earth. 

Iron,  aerated  calcareous 
earth,  selenite,  Clauber^s 
salt,  aud  sea  salt.     Hot. 

Iron,  fixed  air,  fossil  alkali, 
and  a  little  sulphur.*— 
Cold. 

A  great  quantity  of  soa.salt, 
aerated  calcareous  earth, 
and  some  bittern.    Cold. 


Castfe-Leod, 
3 


Ross-shire  in  Scot* 
land. 


Epsom  salt,  and  aerated  cal- 
careous earth. 

Calcareous  earth,  sea  salt,. 
Epsom  salt,Glauber^ssalt,. 
and  selenitesr.    Hot. 

Iron  and  fixed  air.     Cold. 

Sulphur,  sea  salt,  Epsom 
salt,  and  aerated  earth. 
Cold. 

A  small  quantity  of  sea 
salt,,  fossil  alkali,  Epsom 
salt,  and  aerated  calcare- 
ous earthk  Hot.  Here 
is  also  a  fine  cold  chaly- 
beate spring. 

Iron,  fixed  air,  aerated  earth, 
sea  salt,  fossil  alkali,  Ep- 
som salt,  and  Glauber^s 
salt.     Hot. 

Iron  dissoWed  in  fixed  air, 
along  with  a  bituminous 
oil,  Mhich  gives  it  the 
smell  of  horse  dnng.^— 
Cold. 

Seems  from  its  bluish  colour 
to  contain  a  very  small 
quantity  of  copper.  Cold. 

Fossil  alkali,  fixed  air,  and 
some  purging  salt.    Cold. 

Green  vitriol. 

Iron  dissolved  in  fixed  air, 
&c     Cold. 

Aerated  earth,  selenites, 
Glauber^s  Kalt,  and  sul- 
phur.    Cold. 


M    I    N 

Medicinal  Virtvet* 

The'  waters  used  in  baths,  like  those  of 
Aix-la*Chapelle.  Some  of  tho  springa 
purgative,  others  diuretic. 

Diuretic  and  diaphoretic.  Useful  in  ner* 
tons  as  well  as  cutaneous  disorders,  in 
old  wounds  and  some  venereal  com- 
plaints.  Used  as  baths,  as^well  as  taken 
internally  to  the  quantity  of  a  quart  or^ 
three  pints. 

Purgative. 

Powei:fu]ly  corroborative,  and  very  use- 
ful in  all  kinds  of  weaknesses.  Used.' 
as  a  bath,  and  taken  internally. 

Gently  laxative,. diuretic,  and  diaphore* 
tic. 

Strongly  emetic-  and  cathartic.  Some- 
times useful  in  the  jaundice  and 
dropsy,  scorbutic  disorden,  and  chro- 
nic obstructions.  Used  likewise  as 
a  bath  in  cutaneous  diseases.  Taken 
in  the  dose  of  a  pint,  containing 
only  about  seven  drachms  and  a  half 
of  sea  salt  *,  so  that  a  great  part  of  the 
virtue  must  reside  in  the  aerated  calca- 
reous earth. 

Purgative. 

Used  as  a  bath  \  and  drank  from  four  to 
eight  ounces  at  a  time,  to  two  quarts 
per  day.  Useful  in  consumptions,  dia- 
betes, fluor  albus,  &c. 

Diuretic  and  corroborative. 

Similar  to  Harrowgate. 


Useful  in  gout,  rheumatism,  and  other 
disorders  in  which  tepid  baths  are 
serviceable.  Used  as  baths,  and  drank 
to  the  quantity  of  five  or  six  pints  per 
day. 

Purgative,  and  used  as  baths.  Of  ser- 
vice in  disorders  of  the  stomach  and 
bowels,  scrofula,  &c. 

Diuretic  and  corroborative. 


Weakly  purgative. 


Purgative  and  diuretic. 

Purgative,  diuretic,  and  sometines  emo> 

tic. 
Resembles  the  German  Spaw,  and  is  in 

copsiderable  repute. 
Diun-tic,  diApiioretic,  and  corroborant; 

useful  in  cutaneous  diseases. 

Castlemain^ 


ifafrtestf 
Springs, 
Castlemain, 

Cairley, 


Cawtborpy 

ChadliogtOD, 

Chaude  Fon* 

taine, 
Cheltenfaanii 


CblpjKnbam, 
CtereSy 

Cliftoii, 

CobbuD, 

Codsal  woody 

Colcbester, 

CoIoiiaOy 

CoBmcTy  or 
CaDrocTy 


Cool 


aonn, 


Contorpbine, 
Coventry, 
Crickle  SpaW, 
Croft, 
CroastowD, 
Cunlej-boutfey 
Das  Wild  Bad, 
i)'  ax  en  Fobr, 
Oeddington, 

Derby, 

Detryuicb, 
Denindaffy 


M    I    ^ 

Countries  inwAicA 

they  are  found. 
Kerry  in  Ireland. 

Derbjshiit  in  Eng- 
lancl. 

Lincolnsbire  in  Eng- 
land. 

Oxfordsbire  in  Eng- 
land. 

Liege  in  Germany. 

Oloncestersbire  in 
England. 


M    I    N 

Medicinal  Virtun* 
Corroboraiit  and  dioretic 


Wiltsbire  in  Eng" 

land. 
Germany. 


Qsfordsbire  in  Eng- 
land. 

8nrry  in  England* 

Staflbrdsbire  in  Eng- 
land. 
Essex  in  Enghind. 

Cornwall  in  Eng- 
land. 

Berkshire  in  Enc- 
landl 


Fermanagb   in  Ire- 
land. 

Mid  Lotbian  in  Scot- 
land. 

Warwicksbire     in 
England. 

Lancasbire  in  Eng- 
land. 

Yorksbire   in  Eng- 
land. 

Waterford   in    Ire- 

'    land. 

Lancasbire  in  Eng- 
land. 

Nuremberg  in  Get- 
many. 

I  jleagues  fromTbou- 
louse  in  France. 

Oxford  in  England. 


Near  tbe  capital  of 
Derby^ire    in 
England. 

Fermanagh  in  Ire- 
land. 

CaTan  ia  Ireland. 


t     t23    1 

Contents  and  QjUaHty  if  the 

Wiater. 
Iron,  sulphur,  and  fixed  air. 

Cold. 
Epsom  salt,  aerated  calea-    Gently  purgative. 

reoos  earth,  and  snlphur. 

Cold. 
Iron,  fixed  air,  and  proba-    Pmgative,  and  oonreets  aciditteA 

bty  fossil  alkali.     Cold. 
Fossil  alkali,  sea  salt,  and    Purgative* 

sulphur.     Cold. 
Aerated  earth,  fossil  alkali, 

and  fixed  air.     Hot. 
Calcareous  earth,  iron,  Ep- 
som salt,  and  common  salt. 

Cold. 


Iron  dissolved  in  fixed  air. 

Iron,  fixed  ^air,  and  other 
ingredients  of  Pyrmcmt 
watbr. 

Fossil  alkali  and  aerated  Cal- 
careous earth  or  selenite. 
Cold. 

Iron,  and  some  purging 
salt. 

Sulphor,  fixed  air,  and  ae- 
rated earth. 

Epsom  salt,  and  aerated  cal- 
careous earth. 

Iron,  fixed  air,  and  aerated 
earth. 

Some  purging  salt,  and  pro- 
bably aerated  earth  ^  the 
water  is  of  a  whitish  co» 
lour« 

Iron,  fined  air,  and  aerated 
earth. 

Sulphur,  sea  salt,  clay,  and 
Epsom  salt.    Cold. 

Iron^  fixed  air,  and  some 
purging  salt. 

Sulpha,  sea  salt,  and  aerated 
earth. 

Aerated  earth,  vitriolated 
magnesia,  and  sea  salt. 

Martial  Vitriol. 

Sulphur,  aerated  earth,  abd 
fixed  air. 

Iron,  fixed  air,  and  some  sa- 
line matter. 

Similar  to  Aix-la-CJiapelle. 
Hot. 

Iron,  snlphur,  aerated  earth, 
sea  salt,  or  fossil  alkali. 

Iron  dissolved  by  fixed  air. 


Sulphur  and  fossil  alkali. 
Snlphur  and  purging  salt. 


Resembles  those  of  Aix-la-Chi^le  an  J 
Buxton. 

I^nrgattve  and  corrofaorant;  taken  hi 
the  quantity  of  from  one  to  three  or 
four  pints.  It  is  useful  in  cases  of  in- 
digestion and  scorbutic  dis6ideis  ^  also 
in  th«  gravel. 

Diuretic  and  corroborative. 


DioTotic  and  corroborant. 

Gently  laxative,  and  used  as  a  bath  for 
cutaneous  disorders. 

Purgative,  diuretic,  and  corroboranti 

Resembles  the  Aakeron  water. 

Strongly  purgative. 

Corroborative  and  dinretio. 

Purgative,  in  the  quantity  of  ooe^  twdy 
or  three  quarts. 


Dioretic. 

Diuretic  and  laxative. 

Purgative,  diuretic,  and  corroWant. 

Purgative,  Md  resembling,  Hattowgate 

Water. 
Purgative^  and  rOMtil^ing  AskeiOB  wa^ 

ter. 
Diuretic,  purgative,  and  sometinei  emc^ 

tic. 
Purgative,  and  resembling  tbe  Askerot 

water. 
Corroborant.    Useful  in  obstructions  of 

the  viscera,  and  female  Oompkints. 
Used  as  a  bath,  and  also  draij^  like  the 

Aix-la-Chapelle  waters. 
Alterative,  purgatiire  in  large  quantity, 

and  useful  in  scorbutic  Imd  cutaneous 

disorders. 
Ck>rrobora]itk 


Diuretic  and  diaphoretic. 

Similar  to  the  Askeron  water. 

»   Q  z  Derrylestct^ 


Names  <f 
Springs. 
Denylestery 

Duck, 

DortobiU, 

Drigwelly 

Droppiog- 

welly 
DnuDJU-iiATe) 


Dramgooiiy 
Boblia  salt 


mi 


Dal 


;wi< 


Dnnnar^ 
Danse, 

DoiluUDy 


£p6oniy 


Fairban, 

Fektemd, 
Filab, 

Frankfort, 
Gainsboroiigbt 

Galwiy, 

GbtttoDborj, 
Gkody, 
Graodiaw, 
Haigb, 


Baobriilge, 


M    I    N 

Countries  in  which 

they  are^fiund. 
Cavan  in  Ireland. 

St  George^s  Fields, 
London. 

Staflbrdsbirein  Eng- 
land. 

Cumberland  in  Eng- 
land. 

Yorkshire  in  Eng- 
land. 

Leitrim  in  Ireland. 


Fermanagh  in   Ire- 
land. 
Ireland. 


[     124    ] 

Contents  and  Quaiity  of  the 
looter. 

Similar  to  Swadlingbar  wa- 
ter. , 

Aerated  magnesia,  Epsom 
salt,  and  sea  salt. 

Iron  dissolved  in  fixed  air. 

Similar  to  Deddington. 

Aerated  earth. 


M    I    N 

Medicinal  Virtues^ 


Cooling  and.pargative,  but  apt  to  bring 
on  or  increase  the  floor  albos  in  wo* 


men. 
Corroborant. 


Astringent  and  cosroborant. 


Sulphur,  fossil  alkali,  with.    Powerfully  diuretic  and  anthelmiotic,  and 
some  purging  salt.  of  use  in  cutaneous  and  scrofulous  dis- 

orders. 
Similar  to  the  former. 

Sea  salt  and  Epsom  salt.  Purgative. 


Kent  in  England.         Sea  salt  and  Epsom  salt. 


1 8  miles  from  Dub- 

lb. 
Scotland. 


Enghnd. 


Bohemia. 

Surry  in  England. 


Boss-shire  in  Scot* 
land. 

Essex  in  England. 

Yorkshire  in  Eng- 
land. 

Germany. 

Lincolnshire  in  Eng- 
land. 

Iveland. 

Ireland. 
Somersetshire  in 

England.. 
Mems    county    in 

Scotland. 
Down  in  Ireland. 

Lancashire  in  Eng- 
land. 


Hampstead,  England 


Lancashire  in  Eng- 
land. 


Purgative  and  diuretic.     Useful  in .  ner- 
vous cases  and  diseases  proceeding  from 
debility. 
Iron  dissolved  in  fixed  air.       Diuretic  and  corroborant. 


Iron  dissolved  in  fixed  air, 
with  a  little  sea  sadt  and 
bittern. 

Sulphur,  sea  salt,  and  a  little 
aerated  earth.  In  the  mid- 
dle of  the  river  is  a  salt 
spring. 

Similar  to  Cheltenham  wa- 
ter. 

Vitriolated  and  muriated 
magnesia,  with  a  small 
quantity  of  aerated  calca- 
reous earth. 

Sulphur,  aerated  earth,  and 
Glauber*s  salts. 

Similar  to  Islington. 

Sea  salt  and  aerated  earth. 

Sulphur  and  sea  salt. 

Sulphur,  iron,  aerated  earth, 
and  Epsom  salt. 

Similar  to  Tunbridge  wa- 
ter. 

Similar  to  Peterhead  water. 

Similar  to  Clifton  water. 

Similar  to  Peterhead  water. 

Iron  'f  similar  to  the  German 
Spaw. 

Green  vitriol,  iron  dissolved 
by  fixed  air,  with  some 
aerated  earth. 

Green  vitriol,  iron  dissol- 
ved by  fixed  air,  and  a 
small  quantity  of  aerated 
earth. 

Similar  to  Scarborough  wa- 
ter. 


Similar  to  the  former. 


Similar  to  the  Harrowgate  water.^* 
That  of  tbe  salt  spring  used  as  a  pur- 
gative. 


Purgative,    and  of  use  in  washing  old 
sores. 


Alterative,  and  useful  in  cutaneous  dis- 
eases. 

Powerfully  diuretic  and  purgative. 

Similar  to  Harrownte. 
Diuretic  and  laxative. 


Emetic  and  cathartie. 


Alterative  and  corroborant  The  water 
is  taken  frtim  half  a  pint  to  sevrnd 
pints )  is  better  in  the  morning  than 
in  the  middle  of  the  day,  and  u  cold 
than  hot  weather. 

Less    purgative   than    tho   Scarboroogli  • 
water. 

Haalya 


Names  of 
Springs^ 
Hanlys, 

Harrowgate, 


HartfelU 


nmbgtoDy 


loglewhite, 
Islington, 


Kaotork, 

Kedlestone, 

Kensington, 
Kiibrew, 

KUbiirn, 


M    I    N 

Cwmtries  in  which 

they  ore  found. 
SbropBhire  in  £ng« 

land. 
Yorkshire  in   Eng- 
land* 


Annandale  in  Scot* 

land* 


Hartlepooly  Durham  in  England. 


Holt,  Wiltshire    in   Eng- 

land. 

Joseph^B  well,        Stock  Common  near 

Cobham^  in  Sony. 


Warwickshire     in 
England. 

Lancashire  in  Eng- 
land. 
Near  London. 


Cork  in  Ireland. 

Derbyshire  in  Eng- 
land. 
Near  London. 
Meath  in  Ireland. 

Near  London. 


Elillasher,  Fermanagh  in   Ire- 

land. 
KillingshanTal-     Fermanagh,  Ireland. 

Kilroot,  Antrim  in  Ireland. 


Kinalton, 
Kincardine,      « 
Kingsdiff, 
Kirbj, 

KnaresboroD^, 

Knowsley, 

K^ka, 

Lancaster, 
Latham, 


Nottinghamshire  in 

England. 
Mems  in  Scotland. 

Nortbamptbnshire  in 

England. 
Westmoreland  In 

England. 
See  Dropnine-weli* 

land. 
Bohemia. 

England. 

Lancashire  in  Eng- 
land. 


[    125   ] 

Contents  and  Qpah'ty  of  the 
Water. 

Epsom,   or    other    purging    Purgative, 
salt. 

Sulphur,  sea  salt  and  some 
purging  salt.  Some  cha- 
lybeate springs  here  also. 


M    I    N 

Medicinal  Virtues^. 


Green  vitriol,  alum,  and 
azotic  ga». 

Sulphur,  iron  dissolved  by 
fixed  air,  with  some  pur- 
ging salt. 

Purging  salt,  with  a  large 
quantity  of  aerated  earth. 

A  very  large  proportion  of 
Epsom  salt,  and  possibly  a 
little  sea  salt. 


Aerated  fossil  alkali j  with 
some  iron  dissolved  by  fix- 
ed air. 

Sulphur,  and  innr  dissolved 
by  fixed  air. 

Iren  dissolved  by  fixed  air. 


Similar  to  the  water  at  Pe- 
.terhead. 

Sulphur,  sea  salt,  and  aera- 
ted earth. 

Similar  to  Acton  water. 

A  laree  quantity  of  green 
vitriol. 

Fixed  air,  hepatic  air,  Ep- 
som salt,  Glauber^s  salt  j 
mnriated  magnesia,  sea 
salt,  aerated  earth,  and 
ii^n. 

Sulphur  and  fossil  alkali; 

Similar  toHanlys  chalybeate 

water. 
Nature  of  Botrowdale  water, 

but  weaker. 
A  purging  salt. 

Similar  to  the  water  of  Pe- 
terhead. 

Similar  to  Cheltenham  wa- 
ters. 

Iron,  fixed  air,  and  probably 
some  fossil  alkali. 

Similar  to  Sc8i1>orough  wa- 
ter. 
Aerated  fixed  alkali. 

Similar  to  Tunbridge  water; 
Similar  to  the  former. 


Alterative,  purgative,  and  anthelmintic  y 
useful  in  scurvy,  scrofula,  and  cuta- 
neous diseases.  Used  externally  for 
strains  and  paralytic  weaknesses. 

Astringent  and  corroborant.  Useful 
in  all  kinds  of  inward  discharges  of 
blood. 

Diuretic  and  laxative. 


Mildly  purgative.     Useful  in  old  ulcers^ 
and  cutaneous  disorders. 

Alterative,  purgative,  and  diuretic. 
Drank  to  about  a  quart,  it  passes 
briskly  without  griping  :  taken  in 
less  doses  as  an  alterative,  it  is  a 
good  antiscorbutic. 

Diuretic  and  laxative. 


Alterative.  Useful  in  scorbutic  and  cu- 
taneous diseases. 

Corroborant.  Usefiil  in  lowness  of  spi- 
rits and  nervous  diseases.  Operates 
by  urine,  and  may  he  drank  in  large 
quantity. 


Similar  t»  Harrowgate  ^  but  intolerably 

Emetic  and  cathartic,  in  the  dose  of  half 
a  pint. 


Similar  to  Swadllogbar  water... 


Purgative* 


Laxative,  and  useful  in  correcting  acidi 
ties. 


Operates  by  insensible  perspiration,  some- 
times by  spitting,  sweat  or  urine. 


Llandrludod, 


Names  of 
Springs, 
Boad, 

St  Bartholo- 

-  mew^s  well, 
St  Bernard^t 
well, 


M    I    N 

Countries  in  which 

they  are  found, 
Wiltshire,  England, 

Cork  In  Ireland. 

Near  Edinburgh. 


[     129     ] 

Contents  and  Qfiality  (^  ihe 

Water, 
.Sulphur,  iron,  fossil  alkali, 

and  fixed  air. 
Fossil  alkali,  iron,  and  fixed 

air.  ! 

Similar   to    the>  waters  «of 

Mofiat. 


St  Erasmos^s 

well, 
Scarborough, 


Scollieosis, 

Seidlitz, 
Seltzer, 

Sene,  or  Send, 
Sejdschutz, 
Shadwell, 
Shapnoor, 

Shettkwood, 

Shipton, 

Somersham, 

Spaw, 

Stanger,  - 

Stenfield, 

Streathami, 

Suchaloza, 
Sotton  bog, 

Swadlingbar, 

Swansey, 

Sydenham, 

Tarleton, 

TewksbttTj, 

Thetford, 

Thoroton, 

lliiink, 

Tibsheir, 


A 


Stafibrdshire,    Eng- 
land. 
Yorkshire,  England.     Aerated    calcareous    earth, 

Epsom  salt,  sea  salt,  and 
iron. 
Jjrop,    fossil  alkali,  and   a 
great  quantity    of  £xed 
•   air. 

Epsom  salt. 

Calcareous  earth,  magnesia, 
fosisil  alkali,  and  fixed  air. 
Similar  to  Islington. 
Similar  to  Seidlitz. 
Green  vitriol. 
Westmoreland,  Eog*     Sulphur  and  purging  salt. 

land. 
Derbyshire;   Eng- 
land. 
Yorkshire,  England.     Sulphur,  sea  salt,  aad  pur- 

.    gingsalt. 

Green  vitriol,  alum,  and  fix- 
ed air. 
Possil  alkali,  iron,  aerated 
earth,  Epsom  salt,  and  sea 
salt. 
Green  vitriol. 


Switzerland. 

Bohemia. 
Germany. 

Wiltshire,  England. 
Germany. 
Near  London. 


Huntingdonsh  ire, 

England. 
Xi^  ia  Germany. 


Cmnberland,    Eng* 

land.  * 

Lincolnshire,    Eng^ .    Similar  to  Onton. 


M    I    N 

Medicinal  Virtues* 

XJseful  in  scrofula,  scurvy,  and  cntaseoaa 

disorder8.*-Acts  as  a  laxative. 
Similar  to  Tilbury  water. 

•  » 

Somewhat  congeoial  with  Moffat  and 
Harrowgate.  In  nervous  and  sto- 
machic cases,  analeptic  and  restora- 
tive \  in  scorbutic,  scrofolons,  and 
^most  dropsical  cases,  reckoned  a  spe- 

.   cific 

Similar  to  Borrowdale  water. 

Diuretic  and  puigative. 


Excellent  in  colic  pains,  both,  as  a  cure 
and  preventive. 

"Strongly  purntive.  • 

Diuretic.    Useful  ia-^the  gravel,  rheuma* 
tism,  scurvy,  scrofula,  &c. 


Emetip  and  cathartic. 
Similar  to  Askeroa  water. 

.-Similar  to  Harrowgato.water. 

Similar  to  Harrowgate. 

Corroborant  and  alterative.'  Useful  for 
washing  foul  ulcers  and  cancers. 

Diuretic  and  pui^gattve.  Serviceable  ia 
many  disorders.  See  the  article 
Spaw. 

Emetic  and  c;ithartic« 


land. 
Bnrryp  England. 


Hungary. 

Oxfordshire,   Eng« 
•  land. 
Cavan  in  Ireland. 

Glamorganshire  in 

North  Wales. 
Kent  ia  England. 


Aerated  earth,  Epsom  salt.     Purgative. 

sea    salt,    and    muriated 

magnesia. 

Similar  to  Nexdenice. 
Sulphur,  fossil  alkali,  and  sea    Alterative  and  laxative. 

salt. 
Sulphur,  earth,-sea  salt,  and    Alterative  and  diaphoretic* 


iipi 

KMsil  alkali. 
Green  vitriol. 

Similar  to  Epsom,  but  weak- 
er* 


Similar  to  Shad  well. 


'Lancashire  in  Eng*  Similar  to  Scarborough  wa- 

land.  ter. 

Gloncestershire  in  Similar  to  Acton. 

England. 

NoribTk  in  Eng^nd.  Fossil  alkali,  fixed  air,  and  'Purgative  and  diuretic. 

iron. 

Nottinghamshire  in  Similar  to  Orslmi* 

Yoriuhiia  in  Eng-  Similar  to  Scarboronghi 


Em 


ighami 
nand. 


land. 

Derbyshire  in  Eng-    Iron  dimdved  in  fixed,  air. 
land. 


Similar  to  Spaw  water. 


Tilbury, 


VameMof 

SpTMgS. 

Tilboiy, 
Tober  Bony, 

TonsteiD, 

TraJee, 

TuoKridge, 


Upminrter, 

WardreWy 
WeathenUck, 

Wallenfrowy 

West  Aafaton, 

Westwood, 

Wexford, 
Wbitracrei 

Wigglf^swortfa, 


M    I    N 

Countries  in  which 
they  arefiund. 

Essex  in  England. 

Near  DublLi  in  Ire- 
land. 

Cologne  in  Germany. 

Kerry  !n  Ireland. 

Kent  in  England. 


Essex  in  England. 

Danphiny  in  France. 

Northumberland. 

Westmoreland  in 
England. 

Northamptonshire  in 
England. 

Wiltshire    in   Eng- 
land. 

Derbyshire  in  Eng- 
land. 

Ireland. 

Lancashire  in  Eng- 
land. 

Yorkshire   io  Eng- 
land. 


Wildungao,  Waldech  in  Germa- 


Windgale 
Spaw, 

Witharo, 

Wirksworthy 

ZahoTovice, 


ny. 
Northumberland. 


Essex  in  England. 

Derbyshire  in  Eng- 
land. 

German?. 


[    129    3 

Contenti  and  Quaiity  of  the 
fFater. 

Fossil  alkali. 

Fossil  alkali,  earth,  and  bi- 
tuminous oil. 

Fossil  alkali. 

Similar  to  Castle  Connel. 

Iron,  some  sea  salt,  with  a 
little  selenites  and  calca- 
reous earth. 

Sulphur,  fossil  alkali,  and 
purging  salt. 

Fossil  alkali. 

Sulphur,  earth,  and  sea  salt. 

Iron,  sica  salt,  and  a  small 
quantity  of  hepatic  gas. 

Similar  to  Islington  water. 

Similar  to  IslingtMi. 

Green  vitrioL 

Similar  to  Islington. 
Aerated  iron,  and  probably 

calcareous  earth. 
Sulphur,  earth,  and  common 

salt 

Similar  to  the  waters  of 
Bath. 

Carbonate  of  iron,  green  vi- 
triol, alum,  common  salt, 
calcareous  earth. 

Aerated  iron,  and  common 
salt. 

Sulphur,  purging  salt,  and 
aerated  iron. 

Similar  to  Nezdenice  water. 


M    I    N 

Medicinal  Viriues, 

Diuretic  and  diaphoretic. 
Similar  to  Tilbury. 

Similar  to  Seltxer,  but  more  purgative. 

An  excellent  chalybeate,  useful  in  all 
diseases  for  which  the  Spaw  is  recom< 
mended. 

Purgative  and  diuretic. 

Diuretic  and  laxative. 
Similar  to  Harrowgate  water. 
Purgative. 


Similar  to  Shadwell.  Used  for  washing 
ulcers  of  the  legs. 

Somewhat  astringent. 

Emetic  in  the  quantity  of  two  quarts,  and 
said  to  be  cathartic  in  the  quantity  of 
three ;  a  singular  circumstance  if  true* 

Useful  in  scorbutic  and  gouty  diseases. 

Corroborant  and  diuretic ;  and  useful  in 
stomach  complaints  and  scrofula. 

Diuretic,  alterative,  and  corroborant. 

Useful  in  scrofulous  and  cutaneous  diseases « 

Much  esteemed  in  scrofulous  cases. 


MINERALOGY. 


lUriNEKALOGY  is  that  branch  of  natural  history 
^^  wkicb  has  for  its  objeot  the  description  and  dis- 
diminfttion  of  inorganized  or  mineral  substances,  as 
they  are  found  in  the  earth  or  on  its  surface. 

The  knowledge  of  sohm  mineral  bodies  may  be  con- 
sidered as  coeval  with  the  earliest  ages  of  the  world. 
The  rudest  and  most  barbarous  nations  could  not  be 
ignonuit  of  some  of  the  properties  of  the  substances 
w^icb  were  most  familiar  to  their  observation  \  and 
naokind  have  made  little  progress  in  civilization',  when 
they  are  entirely  nnacquninted  with  the  nature  of 
those  matters  from  which  some  of  the  metals  are  extrac- 
ted. 

Precious  stones,  it  seems  not  at  all  improbable,  first 
attracted  the  notice  of  mankind.  The  richness  of 
colovr,  brilliancy,  lustre,  and  durability  of  these  bodies, 
could  not  fail  to  excite  admiration,  and  make  them  be 
sought  after  as  amaments,  even  by  the  least  civilized 
people,  and  in  countries  where  they  are  most  abundant. 
^Ihij  were  well  known,  it  would  appear  from  the  saered 

Vol.  XIV.  Part  I.  t 


writings,  among  the  Jews  and  Egyptians  in  thd  time  of 
Moses.  At  this  period,  however,  both  the  Jews  and 
Egyptians  had  advanced  far  in  refinement. 

But  this  knowledge  was  too  limited  to  be  dignified 
with  the  name  of  Mineraiogy.  It  wanted  that  compre- 
hensive, connected,  and  scientific  view  which  could 
entitle  it  to  that  denomination.  And  indeed  it  may  he 
said  to  be  only  of  modem  date  that  the  knowledge  of 
minerals  rose  to  the  rank  of  science,  and  assumed  any 
thing  like  a  regular  and  connected  form.  ^ 

Dioscorides  aqd  Theophrastus  among  the  Greeks,  and  'Wntiett  on 
Pliny  among  the  Bomans,  have,  it  is  true,^  described  a">ii^«'^'^ 
few  mineral  bodies ;  and  Avicenna,  an  Arabian  philo. 
sopher  and  physician,  who  flourished  in  the  end  of  the 
]  oth  and  beginning  of  the  1  ith  century;  arranged  thosi*. 
objects  into  four  great  classes,  viz.  1.  Stony  bodies.  2. 
Sdine  bodies.  3.  Inflammable  bodies ;  and,  4.  Metals 
—an  arrangement  which,  it  is  curious  to  remark,  roust 
be  well  founded  j  for  it  has  been  adopted,  sometimes  in- 
d^d  with  slight  deviations,  by  .aljnost  all  minerajogical 

R  writers 


130 

History. 


4 
AgncoU. 


Beccher. 


6 

JJniueut. 


7  . 
\ralleritt: 


MINER 

writen  since  ikatft  period*     But  still  the  knowledge  of 
■^  minerals  was  bounded  by  very  narrow  limits. 

The  variety  and  value  of  mineral  productions  in  Ger* 
many  have  excited  more  attention  to  these  studies,  and 
have  thus  rendered  this  knowledge  of  more  interest  and 
importance  than  in  any  other  country.  To  Germany 
indeed  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  mineralogy  Is  in*- 
debtcd  in  a  great  measure  for  its  origin,  and  for  a  ytrj 
ample  share  of  its  progressive  improvement.  George 
Agricola,  a  native  of  Misnia,  in  which  country  he  set- 
tled as  a  physician,  lived  during  the  first  half  of  the 
i6th  century.  Being  strongly  attached  by  inclination 
to  the  study  of  minerals,  he  removed  to  Chemnitz  In 
Hungary,  where  he  might  have  an  opportunity  of  pro- 
secutinff  his  favourite  studies  j  and  there,  by  the  most 
unwearied  application  to  mineralogy,  and  particularly  to 
the  various  operations  on  the  metals,  he  became  the  most 
celebrated  metallnrglst  of  his  time.  He  is  supposed  to 
be  the  first  German  author  who  professedly  wrote  on 
mineral  substances.  The  following  titles  chiefly  com- 
prehend the  various  heads  into  which  his  works  on  me- 
tallurgy and  mineralogy  are  divided,  De  Ortu  et  Causis 
SUbterraneorum  ;  De  Natura  eorum  qua  affluunt  ex 
Terra;  De  Natura  FossiUum ;  de  Medicatis  Ftmtibua$ 
De  Suhterratieis  Animantibus  ;  De  Veteribus  et  Novia 
Metallis  ;  and  De  Re  Metallioa.  His  arrangenient  of 
minerals  Is  into  two  great  divisions,  x.  Simple  or  Ho- 
mogeneous Minerals ;  and,  2.  Heterogeneous  Minerals. 
The  first,  or  simple  minerals,  includes  four  subdivisions, 
viz.  I.  Terra  \  2.  Succus  Concretus  ^  3.  Lapis  ^  4.  Me- 
tallum.  The  second  great  divlsbn,  the  heterogeneous 
minerals,  comprehends  two  subdivisions,  viz.  i.  Com- 
ponad  minerals  ^  2.  Mixed  minerals. 

Several  writers  on  mineralogy  appeared  In  the  course 
of  the  1 7th  century ;  and  about  the  beginning  of  the 
18th  Beccher  proposed  an  arrangement  of  bodies  on 
chemical  principles,  or  according  to  their  constituent 
parts.  In  tlie  year  1736,  Linnseus  published  a  system 
of  mineralogy,  in  which  mineral  bodies  are  divided  in- 
to three  classes,  viz.  i.  Petree  ;  2.  Mineree  ;  3.  FoS" 
silia.  These  are  subdivided  Into  orders :  the  first  con- 
taining three,  Vitrescentes^  Cakarea^  Apyrte  ;  the  se- 
cond containing  three,  SeUia^  SulphureOj  Mercurialia  ; 
and  the  third  also  containing  three,  dncretOy  Petri" 
facta^  Terree,  Three  years  afterwards  the  system  of 
Cramer  appeared,  according. to. which  all  mineral  sub- 
'  stances  are  arranged  into  seven  classes,  of  which  the 
follbwing  are  the  titles,  i.  Metals  \  2.  Semimetals ; 
3.  Salts  ^  4.  Inflammable  sabstancet  y  5.  Stones  -,  6. 
•  Earths^  and,  7.  Waters.  About  10  years  after  the 
first  publication  of  the  mineral  system  of  Linnseos,  WaU 
lerius  professor  of  mineralogy  at  Upsal^  and  his  cotem- 
porary,  communicated  to  the  world  a  more  enlarged  and 
Improved  arrangement  of  mineral  bodies  than  any  which 
had  hitherto  appeared.  According  to  the  system  of 
Wallerius,  all  minerals  are  distributed  into  four  classes, 
each  of  which  is  subdivided  into  four  orders.  The  first 
.class,  Tf/T<F,  Includes  the  orders  Macra^  Pinguea^ 
ilinerales^  and  Arenocea  ;  to  the  second  dass^  Lapidee^ 
belong  the  orders  Calcarei^  VitrescenteSy  Aptpri^  Sara  ; 
the  third  class,  Mineregy  comprehends  the  orders  Salia^ 
^ulphurea^  Semimetaila  and  Metalla  ;  and  the  fourth,. 
''oncretaj  Is  composed  of  tbe  orders  Porti  PetrtfactOf 
igurata^  and  Calcuiu 
Of  the  systematic  writers  on  mineralogy  from  the 

4 


•A  L  O  G  ¥• 

time  of  Linn^us,  whicb  have  now  been  mentioned,  and  Histw. 
of  others  which  the  limits  of  this  historical  sketch  do^-  y^ 
not  permit  us  to  notice,  it  is  to  be  observed,  that  by  all 
of  them,  although  the  general  arrangement  of  Avi- 
cenna  was  not  followed,  yet  In  the  subonlinate  divisions 
his  classes  were  adopted,  and  constituted  some  of  their 
orders.  The  classes  of  Avicenna  were  not  restored  till  s 
the  time  of  Cronstedt,  a  Swedish  mineralogist,  in  whose  Cno^t 
system,  which  was  published  In  the  year  1 758,  they  re- 
sumed the  place  which  they  formerly  held.  The  system 
of  Cronstedt  Is  divided  into  four  classes,  2Vrrtf,  Satia^ 
PMogisttca^  and  Metalla.  The  first  class,  Terra^  in- 
cludes 9  orders,  Calcarece^  SiUcea^  Granatinee^  ArgH- 
hceee^  Micacett^  FluoreSy  Asbeetime^  ZeoUtk^j  and 
Magnesiie.  To  the  second  class,  Salt'a^  belong  two 
orders,  Acida  and  Alkalina*  The  third  class,  Phlogk^ 
tka^  consists  only  of  one  order  \  and  the  fourth  class, 
Metalla^  is  composed  of  two  orders,  Metalla  petfecia 
and  Semimetaila,  The  system  of  Cronstedt^  the  moit 
complete  which  had  yet  been  offered  to  the  world,  and 
w4uch,  by  comparing  it  with  the  systems  accounied  by 
some  the  most  perfect  of  the  present  day,  will  be  found 
not  much  different  In  its  arrangement,  continued  to  be 
read  and  studied  for  more  than  twenty  years,  and  was 
translated  Into  different  languages.  This  arrangement 
is  founded  on  chemical  principles.  The  first  class,  for 
instance.  Is  divided  into  nine  orders  already  enumerat- 
ed, and  corresponding,  as  he  supposed,  to  nine  earths, 
of  one  of  which  the  stones  Included  in  each  order  are 
chiefly  composed.  But  as  the  improvements  in  chemi- 
cal analysis  led  to  greater  accuracy  of  Investigatioii, 
the  earths  which  Cronstedt  supposed  to  be  simple  were 
found  to  be  compound.  The  number  of  simple  or  pri- 
mitive earths  was  then  diminished  to  five ;  and  thus  the 
nui^ber  of  genera,  as  they  appeared  in  the  Sctagraphia  ^ 
Begni  Mmeralis  of  Bergman,  published  in  1782,  wasBeigBai> 
also  five.  At  that  period  five  earths  only  were  known. 
Tlie  same  method  of  constructing  the  genera  is  still 
followed,  so  that  the  number  of  genera  has  increased  in 
proportion  to  the  number  of  earths  which  have  been 
since  discovered. 

In  the  year  1 780,  a  translation  of  Cronstedt^s  mineral 
system  appeared  In  Germany,  accompanied  with  notes      10 
by  Werner,  the  celebrated  professor  of  mineralogy  at  Wener. 

Freyberff  in  Saxony.  Six  jvars  before  this  time  l¥eiTier 
had  published  a  separate  treatise  on  the  clasaifioation  of 
minerals,  in  which  he  exhibited  his  method  of  describing 
them  by  means  of  external  characters.  Tbe  notes  on 
Cronstedt^s  system  are  to  be  considered  as  ar  farther  illus- 
tration of  this  method,  as  well  as  a  catalogue  of  minerals 
belonging  to  Pabst  Von  Ohain,  which  was  drawn  up  by 
the  same  naturalist  and  published  in  1 791.  In  Gemiasy 
the  method  of  Werner,  we  believe,  is  almost  eaiclosively 
adopted  \  and  it  Is  ehiefly  followed  in  most  other  conn- 
tries,  France  excepted,  where  mineralogioal  knowledge 
is  also  sreatly  cultivated.  n 

Mr  fCirwan  first  introduced  the  knowledge  of  thisKiiFafi< 
svstem  into  Britain,  In  his  treatise  on  mtncrahigy  pub- 
lished in  1784}  and  about  ten  years  afterwnrds  it  was 
still  farther  elucidated  by  the  same  author  in  an  impro* 
ved  and  enlarged  edition  of  that  work.     In  preparing 
the  latter  edition,  Mr  Kirwan  enjoyed  the  pecnliac  ad- 
vantage of  consulting  one  of  the  coonpleleat  and  best      u 
arranged  collections  of  minerals  which  had  yet  beenLnkco^ 
made  in  any  country.    This  is  the  Leskeao  collection  ^^^li^i 


MINERALOGY. 


tj.  of  fosstk,  which  Mr  Kirwan  pronoances  to  be  the  most 
"^  perfect  moiiuiiient  of  mbenilogical  ability  now  extmnt. 
**  That  the  possewnen  of  this  cabinet,  Mr  Kin^-an  pro- 
ceeds to  state,  should  escape  the  vigilance  of  the  most 
learned  nations,  and  fall  to  the  lot  of  Ireland,  hitherto 
••  inattentive  to  matters  of  this  natore,  was  little  to  be 
expected.  Throogh  the  active  zeal,  howerer,  of  two 
of  its  most  enlightened  patrioto  (a),  and  the  influence 
seemed  to  them  by  former  serrices  of  the  most  essen- 
tial natme,  the  soros  requisite  for  its  purchase,  and 
fhcc  for  building  a  repository  to^receive  it,  were  dbtoined  *.** 
"^  lliis  splendid  aikl  extensive  collection^  we  are  farther 
^'  nfermed,  was  made  by  Leske,  whose  name  it  now 
btars,  and  who  was  one  of  the  earliest  and  most  emi* 
Bent  of  ^  disciples  of  Werner.  It  was  arranged  be- 
tween the  years  1782  and  1787,  according  to  the  prin- 
ciples of  Werner,  and  with  his  assistance.  After  the 
doath  of  Mr  Leske,  a  catalogue  was  drawn  np  by  Kar- 
slen,  another  of  Werner's  disciples.  This  catalogue  in 
its  arrangement  corresponds  to  the  arrangement  of  the 
cabinet,  which  is  divided  into  five  parts. 

The  first  part,  which  is  denominated  the  eharaetet* 
utie  part,  consists  of  580  specimens.  These  are  in- 
tended for  the  iHustratiott  of  the  external  characteni, 
or  thi^  principles  of  the  classification. 

The  seeond,  which  is  the  mfstenuUic  or  oryctognos- 
tic  part,  comprehends  all  simple  minerals  distributed 
Bceording  to  their  genera  and  species  agreeable  to  the 
method  then  follow^  by  Werner.  This  part  contains 
3368  specimens. 

The  third  part,  which  is  called  the  geognostic  w  geo-» 
logktd^  includes  the  substances  found  in  the  different 
kinds  of  rocks,  as  they  are  divided  into  primitive^ 
transition^  Btrai^wm^  aUttviat^  and  ^jokanic  mountains. 
This  pnit  of  the  collection  is  peculiarly  rich  in  petri- 
factions; and  the  whole  number  of  specimens  which  it 
contains  extends  to  1 100. 

The  fourth  part  is  intended  to  illustrate  the  minera- 
loffy  of  every  country  00  the  globe,  by  exhibiting  its 
mmeral  productions.  The  order  of  arrangement  of 
this  part  is  fin>m  America  to  Asia,  Europe,  and  Africa. 
As  there  are  many  countries  yet  unexplored,  it  is  the 
most  imperiect  division  of  the  whole  collection  \  and, 
indeed,  as  Mr  Kirwan  observes,  it  can  only  be  com- 
Ijleted  by  national  opulence. 

The  fifth  part  is  called  the  economical  collection.  It 
u  formed  of  474  specimens  of  minerals  which  are  em- 
pbyrd  in  arts  and  manuiactores,  as  in  architecture, 
sculpture,  agriculture,  jewellery,  colouring,  dyeing, 
clothing,  pottery,  glazing,  enamelling,  polishing  of 
metals,  fomace-buildmg,  medicine,  metallurgy,  &c. 
The  whole  cabinet  consists  of  7331  specimens. 

Snch  is  the  valuable  source  firam  which  Mr  Kirwan 
derived  the  information  detailed  in  his  system  of  mine- 
ralogy. And  here  we  are  led  to  throw  out  a  hint  that 
the  -friends  of  this  science  could  not  more  effectually 
•  promote  its  knowledge,  and  encourage  its  progress, 
than  by  establishing  similar  collections  wherever  it  is 
taught  and  studied.     But  patriotism  and  power  are  un- 


i3r 

fortunately  oftener  directed  to  deed^  of  splendour  aud    iiistory. 
magnificence,  than  they  are  occupied  in  'forming  and         w 
accomplishing  the  humbler  and  more  permanent  plans 
of  national  utility. 

But  to  resume  our  narrative  of  the  history  of  roine- 
^ogy,  we  cannot  help  expressing  our  regret  that  Mr 
Kirwan  has  never  found  it  convenient  to  revise  and 
improve  his  system  as  he  might  have  done,  aided  by 
the  immense  stock  of  mtneralogical  knowledge  which 
has  been  accumulated  since  its  first  publication.  This 
is  the  more  to  be  regretted,  because,  notwithstanding 
the  rapid  progress  of  the  science,  and  the  great  im- 
provements which  the  system  of  Werner  has  received, 
no  good  or  even  tolerable  account  of  it  has  yet  appear- 
ed m  the  English  language. 

France,  where  many  bhinches  of  natural  history  havtE; 
long  flourished,  has  contributed  largely  to  the  science 
of  mineralogy.  Even  the  period  of  war,  which  at  first 
sight  would  appear  to  be  extremely  adverse  to  the  tran- 
quil pursuitH  of  knowledge,  has  in  this  case  proved  pc- 
coliarly  favourable  to  the  study  of  mineralogy  in  that 
kingdom.  The  knowledge  of  minerals  has  not  only 
been  encouraged  and  promoted  in  France,  by  being  for- 
ced to  direct  her  attention  to  her  own  resources,  while 
her  intercourse  with  other  countries  from  which  she 
derived  various  commodities  indispensably  necessary 
for  economical  purposes  was  interrupted  \  but  also  by 
the  subjugation  to  her  overgrowfi  power,  of  those  parts 
of  Europe  where  mineralogy  has  been  most  cultivated 
and  improved,  thus  affording  every  facility  of  corre- 
spondence, and  rendering  accessible  those  mineral  trea- 
sures which  exhibit  the  best  and  fiillest  illustration  of 
the  science.  The  French  government,  indeed,  what- 
ever form  it  may  have  assumed,  has  invariably  been 
impressed  with  the  importance  of  mineralogy  4  and 
even  during  the  horrors  of  revolution,  has  never  fiiiled 
to  promote  its  progress,  by  forming  and  supporting  ex- 
tensive collections,  mud  establishiDg  able  and  enlighten- 
ed teachers  at  the  expence  of  the  nation. 

Of  the  works  on  mineralogy  which  have  appeared  in 
France,  we  shall  onlv  mention  the  treatises  of  Brochaot, 
Hauy,  and  BrongniarL  They  are  the  sources  from 
which  the  information  in  the  foHowing  treatise  is  chiefly 
derived,  and  they  may  he  recommended  as  tbe  best 
guides  to  tbe  study  of  tins  department  of  natural  history.  ,3 
The  system  of  Brochant  is  formed  entirely  on  the  prio*  Brochsat. 
ciples  of  Werner's  classification,  and  is  undoubtedly  the 
most  perspicuous  account  of  the  system  of  the  German 
mineralogist  which  has  yet  been  published.  The  prin- 
ciples on  which  the  elaborate  and  ing(enious  method  of 
arrangement  proposed  by  the  celebrated  Hauy  have 
been  already  detailed.  (See  CRYSTAliLiZATXON). 
Here  we  shall  only  remark  that  the  study  of  tbe  regu- 
lar forms  of  minerals  with  a  view  to  methodical  ar- 
rangement, was  successfully  prosecuted  by  Bergman 
and  Rom6  do  Lisle  ;  but  has  been  extended  and  can'ied 
to  the  hi^est  degree  of  perfection  by  the  sagacity,  pro- 
found physical  knowledge,  and  mathematical  address  of 
the  Abbe  Hauy.  .  But  although  the  mineral  system  of HuJ^ 

Ri  this 


(a)  The  Right  Honourable  John  Forster,  late  Speaker  of  the  Irish  House  of  Commons,  and  the  Right  Ho- 
oourable  W.  B.  Cunningham. 


MINERALOGY. 


tbid  distiugQished  philosopher  be  founded  on  characters 
the  most  certain  and  the  most  uniformly  permanent,  yet 
it  may  be  doubted  whether  the  previous  knowledge 
necessary  to  understand  it,  and  in  some  cases  the  diffi- 
culty of  applying  its  principles  in  ascertaining  some  of 
the  most  essential  characters^  may  not  predode  this 
work  from  belngso  generally  and  practically  useful  as 
other  systems.  The  scientinc  mineralosist,  however, 
will  always  regard  it  as  a  monument  of  indefatigable 
industry  and  patient  research  which*  has  rarely  been 
equalled,  and  will  derive  from  it  the  most  material  aid 
in  his  studies. 

The  system  of  Hauy  consuts  of  four  classes.  I.  The 
first  class  consists  of  substances  which  are  composed  of 
aa  acid  united  to  an  earth  or  an  alkali,  and  sometimes 
to  both  y  and  it  contains  three  orders :  i.  Earths  com- 
bined with  an  acid }  2.  Alkalies  combined  with  an 
acid }  and,  J.  Earths  and  alkalies  combined  with  an 
acid.  II.  This  class  includes  bnlv  earthy  Kubstaaces, 
but  sometimes  combined  with  an  alkalL  It  eonstitntes 
the  siliceous  genus  of  other  systems.  UL  The  third 
class  comprehends  combustible  substances  which  are  not 
metals.  It  is  divided  into  two  orders  y  the  first  con* 
taining  simple,  and  the  second  compound  combustibles. 
IV.  The  metals  form  the  fourth  class.  It  is  divided 
into  three  orders,  which  are  characterized  by  different 
degrees  of  oxidation.  Besides  these  classes  there  are 
three  appendices.  The  first  contains  those  substances 
whose  nature  is  not  sufficiently  known  to  have  their 
places  accurately  assigned  in  the  system.  The  second 
appendix  inclndea  aggregates  of  different  mineral  sub- 
stances. It  is  divided  into  three  orders.  The  first 
treats  of  primitive  rocks  >  the  second  of  secondai^ 
and  tertiary  rocks  ^  and  the  third  of  breccias.  The 
third  appendix  is  devoted  to  the  consideration  of  volca- 
nic products.  This  is  divided  into  six  classes ;  hut  it  is 


to  be  observed,  that  the  volcanic  products  of  this  mine*   Huery. 
ralogist  comprehend,  not  only  such  substances  as  are  ^      ^  '"^ 
universally  allowed  to  have,  a  volcanic  origin,  but  also 
basalts,  traps,  and  other  minerals^  the  origin  of  which 
is  still  questioned.  15 

The  system  of  Brongniart  takes  a  wider  range  than  Broagntit 
other  systems,  including  substances  which  aie  not  treat- 
ed of  by  writers  on  mineralogy.  It  is  divided  into  five 
classes.  The  first  contains  those  substances,  excluding 
the  metals,  which  are  combined  with  oxygen.  It  coo- 
tains  two  orders ;  the  first  including  air  and  water, 
and  the  second  the  adds.  The  second  class,  which 
treats  of  saline  bodies,  is  divided  into  two  orders :  the 
first  comprehends  the  alkaline  salts,  and  the  second  the 
earthy  siUts.  The  third  class,  containing  the  stones,  is 
divided  into  three  orders :  the  first,  hard  stones  y  the 
second  magnesianj  and  the  third  argillaceous.  The 
fourth  class  contains  the  combustible  substances,  which 
are  divided  into  two  erders  y  first  compound,  and  se- 
cond, simple  combustibles.  The  fifth  class  includes 
the  metals,  which  are  divided  into  two  orders  y  fint, 
the  brittle,  and  second  the  ductile  metals.  The  trea- 
tise of  Brongniart,  notwithstanding  some  peculiarities 
in  the  classification  which  are  not  quite  fiwiiliar  to  ns, 
win  be  found  one  of  the  most  useful  that  has  hitherto 
appeared,  not  only  on  account  of  theaccnracv  of  the 
descriptions,  which  are  divested  of  every  kino  of  re- 
dundancy, but  also  on  account  of  the  interesting  ges- 
logical  discussions  which  are  introduced,  as  well  as  nu- 
merous and  important  practical  details  in  metallnrgy 
and  other  useful  arts. 

The  following  treatise  will  be  divided  into  two  partsr 
The  first  jpart  will  contain  the  classification  and  de- 
scription of  minerals  j  and  the  second  part  will  be  des* 
tined  to  the  analysis  of  minerals  and  to  metalhugy^  or 
the  method  of  extxacting  metals  from  their  ores. 


PART  I.    OF  THE  CLASSinCATION  OF  MINERALS. 


THE  method  to  be  followed  in  this  treatise  is  near- 
ly that  of  Werner,  all  the  material  parts  of  which  we 
shall  fireely  borrow  firom  the  work  of  Brochant  already 
noticed,  as  the  best  on  the  sabject  which  we  have  had 
an  opportunity  of  consulting.  We  shall,  however,  oc- 
casionally avail  onrselves  of  any  oseful  infi>rmation 
which  may  be  derived  from  the  nuneralogy  of  Kirwan, 
Brongniart,  and  Hauy )  and  in  particular  we  shall  in. 
sert  the  essential  characters  of  the  species  given  by  the 
tecer. 


The  universal  characters  employed  by  Werner  in 
the  description  of  minerals  are  seven  in  number: 
I.  Colour}  2.  Cohesion  }  3.  Unctoostty  y  4.  Coldness  j 
f.  Wei^t ;  6.  Smell }  7.  Taste.  The  table  and  the 
illustrations  which  follow  are  chiefly  taken  from 
Weaver*s  translation  of  Wemer*s  treatise  on  that  sub- 
ject. 

In  the  following  table  is  exhibited  the  arrangement 
of  the  generic  external  characters  of  fossils* 


ConuttOH 


MINERALOGY. 

Common  Generic  External  Characters. 
I.  The  Colour, 

II,  The  Cob^Ion  of  the  particles,  in  relatloo  to  which  Fossih  are  distinguished 

into 


i^V 


Solid 


and 


Fluid. 


SoUd 


and        FriaUe. 


Characters 
fnr  the 
Sight. 


Particular  generic  charac- 
ters of  solid  Fossils. 

The  external  Form. 
External  Appearance.  {  The  external  Surface. 

.The  external  Lustre. 


'{: 


Particular    generic 
characters  of  fluid 
fossils. 
The  external  Fonn.|The  external  Form. 


Ampearance 
Fracture. 


of  the 


Appearance  of  the  di- 
stinct Concretions. 


rThe  internal  Lustre. 

<  The  Fracture. 

(The  form  of  the  Fragments. 

'The  Form  of  the  distinct 

Concretions. 
The  Surface  of  Separation. 
»The  Lustre  of  Separation 


The  Lustre. 
The  appearance  of 
the  particles. 


General  Appearance 


{ 


The  Transparencj. 
The  Streak. 
;rhe  Stain. 


Characters  for  the  Touch. 


^The  Hardness. 
The  Solidity. 
The  Frangibility. 
The  FlexibiHty. 
The  Adhesion  to  the 
Tongue. 


Ch^acters  fcr  thel  ^  g^^^^^       Jg*  cSg. 
Hearing.  ^  t  The  Rustling. 


Particular  generic 
characters  of  fri- 
able FossUs. 


The  Stais. 


The  Friability.       The  Fluidity. 


Wetting  ofthe 
fingers. 


The  Lustre. 


The  Tran^rency. 


»33 


Chusiics- 
tlon. 


Skmaimng  Common  Generic  External  Characters. 


Characters  for  the 


rill.  The  Unctuosity, 
Touch.  { IV.  The  Coldness. 

IV.  The  Weight. 
SmeU.       VI.  The  Smell. 
\  Taste.       VII.  The  Taste.. 


' 


•  •  « 


External  Gharactirs  of  Minerali  arranged  according  to  tbdr  respective  generic  cha^ 

racters^  and  illustrated  by  appropriate  examples • 


Common  Generic  External  Characters* 

I.  THE  COLOUB. 

The  most  ohTiousof  the  extetnal  characters  of  mine- 
raky  is  colour ;  it  is  also  one  of  the  most  certain  charac- 
ters, and  often  serves  as  the  principal  distinguishing 
mark  of  many  mineral  snhstances.  In  deriving  the 
efaaiacters  of  minerals  from  colour,  three  things  are  con- 
•idered:  i.  The  several  prbcipal  colours,  vrith  their 
nrieties.  2*  The  diade  of  colour.  3.  The  tarnished 
orionrs. 


I.  Principal  Colours. 

The  several  principal  colours  are  not  derived  from 
the  division  of  the  solar  ray  hy  means  of  the  prism,  but 
are  such  as  are  considered  siinple  in  common  liib.  The 
principal  colours  are  the  eight  foUowiuff  ^  viz*,  whfte, 
gray^  black,  blue,  gMen,  yelmr,  red,  and  brown. 

A.  White  is  the  first  principal  colour,  and  it  in- 
cludes the  following  eight  varieties. 

I.  Snow  whitCf  as  snow  white  quartz,  white  lead 
ore^  Carrara  marble. 

2.  Reddish 


«34  MINER 

clai«ifio».      2.  Reddish  whice^  fts  porcelain  earth,  reddish  while 
tipp.      quartz. 

3.  Yellowish  whi'te^  as  white  amber,  zeolite,  chalk. 

4.  Silver  white,  as  Dative  silver,  native  bismatb,  and 
arsenical  pyrites. 

5*  Grayish  white,  as  several  kinds  of  g]rpnun,4nactz» 
and  foliate4  granular  limestone. 

6.  Greenish  white,  a^  while  nmianthus,  talc,  and  cal- 
careous spar. 

7.  MUk  white,  as  cal.cedony,  opal,  and  milk  white 
quartz. 

8.  Tin  white,  as  native  qaicMilver,  native  antimopj, 
and  white  cobalt  ore. 

B.  Gray  is  the  second  principd  colour,  and  its  va- 
rieties are  the  following. 

1.  Lead  gray,  as  in  common  galena,  compact  galena, 
gray  antimonial  ore,  and  vitreous  copper  ore. 

2.  Bluish  gray,  as  in  bluish  gray  day^  bluish  gray 
marble,  and  blubh  gray  limestone. 

3.  Peart  gray,  as  in  quartz,  calcedony,  and  porcelain 
jasper. 

4.  Reddish  gray,  as  in  granular  limestone  and  feld- 
spar. 

5.  Smoke  grtttf,  as  in  gray  homstone,  and  in  daik 
gray  flint. 

6.  Greenish  gray^  ns  in  cat^s  eye,  prehni^,  and  some 
varieties  of  anrOlaceous  schistus. 

7.  Yellowish  gray,  as  in  yellowish  gray  calcedony, 
jrellowish  gray  tripoli. 

8.  Steel  gray,  as  in  specular  iron  ore,  ^ray  copper 
dre,  striated  gray  ore  of  man^nese. 

9.  Ash  gray,  as  in  quartz,  wacken,.and  some  varie- 
ties of  argillaceous  schistus. 

C.  Black,  which  is  the  third  principal  colour,  is  di- 
vided into  the  six  following  varieties. 

I.  Grayish  black,  as  in  basalt,  black  limestone,  and 
black  flint. 

a.  Brownish  black,  as  in  black  blende,  tin-stone 
crystals,  black  cobalt  ore,  and  bituminous  shale. 

3.  Dark  black,  or  velvet  black,  as  in  Iceland  agate 
or  obsidian,  schorl,  and  jet. 

4.  Iron  black,  as  in  micaceous  iron  ore,  magnetic 
iron  stone,  and  sometimes  in  antimoniated  silver  ore. 

5.  Greenish  black,  as  in  pitchstone,  hornblende,  and 
serpentine. 

6.  Bluish  black,  as  in  aluminous  shale,  black  cobalt 
ore,  dull  black  lead  ore. 

D.  Blue  is  the  fourth  principal  colour,  including 
seven  varieties. 

1.  Indigo  blue,  as  in  blue  martial  earth. 

2.  Prussian  blue,  as  in  the  sapphire  and  blue  rock 
salt. 

3.  Azure  blue,  as  in  lapis  lazuli,  and  azure  copper 
ore. 

4.  Violet  blue,  as  in  fluor  spar,  amethyst,  and  in  rock 
salt. 

5.  Lavender  bltie^  as  in  a  variety  of  porcelain,  jasper, 
and  litbomargap 

1$.  Smalt  blue,  as  in  light  azure  xopper  ore,  and  blue 
martial  earth. 

7.  Sky  blue,  as  in  light  azure  copper  ore,  blue  native 
vitriol,  and  sky  blue  fluor  spar. 

£.  Green  is  the  fifth  principal  colour,  of  whick 
there  axe  the  following  varieties. 


A  L  O  G  y.  Parti. 

1.  Ferd^grease  green,  as  in  green  copper  ore,  gieen  Ckwfic^. 
fluor  spar.  uoo. 

2.  Celadon  green,  as  in  the  Brasilian  beryl,  and  in 
pure  green  earth. 

3.  Mountain  green,,  as  in  actynolite,  homstone,  and 
in  jnoBt  beryls. 

4.  Emerald  green,  as  in  fibrous  malachite-  and  fluor 
spar* 

5.  Leek  green,  as  in  actynolite,  jade,  and  prasiam. 

6.  Afple  green,  as  in  chrysolite,  prehnite,  and  nickel 
ore. 

7.  Grass  green,  as  in  some  varieties  of  chrysopraie 
and  some  gr^en  lead  ores. 

8.  Pistachio  green,  as  in  chrysolite,  iron  shot  green 
copper  ore. 

9.  A^n^us  green,  as  in  chryso  beryl,  and  sooe 
varietes  of  green  lead  ore. 

10.  Olive  gree$$^  as  in  gpseen  lead  ore,  serpentine, 
pitchstone,  and  garnet. 

1 1.  Blackish  green,  as  in  dark  greeps^  serpentine, 
z  2.  Canary  green,  as  in  green  lead  ore,  micaceous 

nranitic  ore,  and  green  steatites. 

F.  Y£UX>w  is  the  sixth  of  the  principal  cokmrs.  It 
includes  z  2  ^ourieties,  which  are  the  following. 

1.  Sulphur  yellow,  as  in  native  sulphur  and  some  va- 
rieties of  serpentine. 

2.  Lemon  yellow,  as  in  ye)low  orpimont,  and  want 
yellow  lead  ores. 

3.  Gold  yellow,  as  in  native  gold. 

4.  Bell  metal  yellow,  as  in  iron  pyrites. 

5.  Straw  yellow,  as  in  calamine  and  bismuth  ochre. 

6.  Vine  yellow,  as  in  Saxon  topaz  and  yellow  cala* 
reoos  spar. 

7.  Isabella  yellow,  as  in  calamine  and  sparry  iron  ore. 

8.  Ochre  yellow,  as  in  iron  ochre,  yellow  jasper,  and 
calamine. 

9.  Orange  yellow,  as  in  red  orpiment  and  red  lead  ore. 

10.  Honey  yellow,  as  in  amber  fluor  spar  and  calce- 
dony. 

1 1.  Was  yellow,  as  in  yellow  lead  ore,  eonunoB 
opal,  and  calcedony. 

1 2.  Brass  yellow,  as  in  copper  pyrites^  and  nati^x 
gold. 

G«  Red  is  the  seventh  principal  colour,  and  it  in- 
cludes the  following  15  varieties. 

1.  Morning  or  aurora  red,  as  in  red  lead  ore,  red  or- 
piment. 

2.  Hyacinth  red,  as  in  the  hyacinth,  and  a  variety  of 
brown  blende. 

3.  Brick  red,  as  in  porcelain  jasper. 
4*  Scarlet  red,  as  in  light  red  cinnabar. 

5.  Copper  red,  as  in  native  copper. 

6.  Blood  red,  as  in  Bohemian  garnet,  and  red  car- 
nelian. 

7.  Carmine  red,  as  in  red  copper  ore,  and  clear  red 
cinnabar. 

8.  Cochineal  red,  as  in  cinnabar,  s6metimes  jasper, 
and  red  quartz. 

9*  Crunson  red,  as  ii)  ruby,  oriental  garnet,  and  red 
cobalt  ore. 

10.  Columbine  red,  as  in  precious  garnet,  and  red 
cobalt  ore. 

1 1.  Flesh  red,  as  in  feldspar,  red^psuov  red  qoartz, 
and  flesh  red  barytes. 

•  12*  R9se 


I.  MINER 

e«.       22.  'Roie  redf  as  in  red  reoUte,  rose  red  quartz,  and 

ruby. 
^      13.  Peach  blonom  red^  as  in  striated  and  earthy  red 

cobalt  ores. 

14.  Cherry  red^  as  in  red  antimony  ore  and  ruby. 

15.  Brownish  red^  as  in  red  argillaceous  iron  stone, 
and  red  earthy  iron  stone. 

H.  Brown  is  the  eighth  and  last  of  the  principal 
colours.  It  •  is  divided  into  the  eight  following  varie- 
ties. 

1.  Reddish  hrown^  as  in  brown  tin  stone,  and  brown 
blende. 

2.  Chve  hrown^  as  in  rock  crystal,  brown  iron  ore, 
and  thnmerstone. 

3.  Hair  hroum,  as  in  wood  tin  ore  from  Cornwall. 
4*  Yelkwiih  brown^  as  in  brown  iron  ochre   and 

jasper. 

5.  Tomhae  hrown^  or  pinchbeck,  brown,  as  in  brown 
n>ica. 

6.  Wood  hroumy  as  in  bituminous  wood,  a  variety  of 
asbestos. 

7.  Liuer  browny  as  in  brown  cobalt  ore,  and  brown 
jasper. 

8.  Blaekiih  brown^  as  in  lowland  argillaceous  iron 
ore,  mineral  pitch,  and  bitominous  wood. 

IL  Shad0  or  IfUensitjf  of  Cohmr* 

Coloon  may  be  determined  by  the  relation  in  which 
tbey  stand  to  each  other  with  regard  to  intensity  or 
shade.  Thus  among  the  principal  colours,  there  are 
some  which  are  light,  as  white  and  yellow  'y  and  some 
which  am  dark,  as  blue  and  black  \  and  besides,  the 
varieties  of  the  principal  colours  differ  from  each  othesin^ 
respect  to  shade.  Thus  among  the  bhie  colours,  indigo 
blue  is  dark,  azure  blue  clear,  and  sky  blue  light  \  and 
even  tbe  varieties  may  afford  a  diversity  of  shade,  as^ 
£»  instance,  clear  canary  green,  light  canary  green* 

Here  it  ought  to  be  remarked,  thi^  the  peculiar  shade 
of  Golovr  in  a  mineral  is  frequently  owing  to  its  greater 
er  less  transparency,  die  paleness  being  in  proportion  to 
the  degree  of  transparency,  and  the  darkness  to  the  de- 
gree of  opacity.  The  degree  of  lustre  also  in  minerals 
produces  great  variety  in  the  shade  of  colour. 

In  discriminating  the  shade  or  intensity  of  colour,. 
iossc  degrees  have  only  in  general  been  adopted.  These 
are  the  following,  i.  Dark,  2.  Ckar.  5.  Light,  4* 
PaU. 

I.  Darky  as  in  Bohemian  garnet^  whioh  is  dark 
Mood  red. 

z,  CltOTy  as  in  green  homstone,  which  is  dear  moun- 
tain green. 

3.  Lighty  as  in  red  carnelian,  which  is  light,  blood, 
red. 

4.  PaUy  as  in  aquamarine,  whiob  is  pale  mountain 
green. 

III.  Tarnished  Colours. 

Tarnished  colours  afford  peculiar  dmracteristic  marks 
of  many  minerals.    By  tarnishing,  is  meant  a  difference 
in  tbe  colour  of  the  surface  after  exposure  to  the  air/ 
from  what  the  fresh  fracture  of  the  mineral  exhibits. 

Some  minerals  are  alwayif  found  tarnished  in  their 
natural  position  in  the  earth,  as  in  common  galena, 
gray  ore  of  antimony  and  blende :  some  tarnish  on  every 
ue^  fracture  being  ipade,  as  in  native  arsenic  and  cop- 


A  L  O  G  Y. 


^3S 


per  pyrites }  while  others  are  tarnished  in  both  cases,  caasslftca* 
as  in  native  arsenic,  and  purple  copper  ore.  tiok 

The  colours  of  tarnished  minerals  are  divided  into, 

1.  Simple^  and  2.  Variegated. 

1.  Simple  Tarkishsd  colours  afford  five  varieties. 

0.  Chray  is  the  tarnished  colour  of  white  cobalt  ore, 
and  steel  gray  of  brown  hematites. 

b.  Black  is  the  tarnished  colour  bf  native  arsenic, 
brown  hematites,  and  gray  cobalt  ore. 

c.  Brown  is  the  tarnished  colour  of.  native  silver, 
which  is  white. 

d.  Reddish,  of  native  bismuth,  the  fresh  fracture  of 
which  is  silver  white. 

e.  Yellowish^  of  white  cobalt  ore,  and  argentiferous 
arsenical  pyrites. 

2.  Variegated  TARNISHED  COLOURS  include  four 
.  varieties. 

'    o.  Pavonine  tarnished,  as  in  copper  pyrites,  purple 
copper  ore  and  common  pyrites. 

b.  Iridescent  tarnished,  as  in  gray  antimonial  ore,, 
galena,  specular  iron  ore. 

c.  Columbine  tarnished,  as  in  copper  pyrites. 

d.  Steel^oloured.  tarnished,  as  in  gray  cobalt  ore. . 

IV.  The  Phy  of  Colour. 

The  play  of  edour  in  a  mineral  can  only  be  observ 
ed  in  sunshine  or  in  a  strong  light.  By  this  is  under* 
stood  that  property  which  some  minerals  possess  of  re- 
fracting from  particular  spots  the  different  rays  of  light. 
This  effect  is  produced  by  the  peculiar  association  of  the 
molecules  of  the.  mineral,  and  the  various  degrees  of 
its  transparency.  Accidental  -causes,  however,  produce 
a  similar  effect,  such  as  slight  rifts,  cracks,  &c. 

The  play  of  colour  is  remarkable  in  the  diamond  and: 
in  the  opal,  and  sometimes  in  rock  crystal. 

V.  The  Mutable  Reflection  rf  Cohur. 

This  is  distinguished  .from  the  play  of  colour  by  the 
mineral  exhibiting  in  the  same  spot  a  change  of  colour  - 
according  to  the  position  of  its  surface  being  varied, 
producing  a.  dlfierent  angle  with,<  the  incident  rays  of" 
light.     This  change  takes  place,  i.  On  the  sufface;: 

2.  Intemtdly. 

1.  The  superficial' m»iXMe  reflection  is  fi)iely  exem- 
plified in  Labrador  stone,  and  in  a'  variety  of  marble 
which  contains  petrified  shells. 

2.  The  internal  mutable  reflection  of  colour  appears^ 
in  cat's  eye,  precious  opal,  and. moonstone. 

VI.  Th0  Mutation  of  Colour. 

T\6s  is  distinguished  from  the  tarnish ;  in  which  \kU 
ter  the  surfiice  only  undergoes  a  change  of  colour,  but 
in  the  mutation  of  colour,  the  eflfect  penetrates  the  mi- 
neral, and'Sonetimes  pervades  the  whole.     This  affords, 
two  varieties. 

I.  The  fading  of  ooANir.<— By.  this  is  meant  that. the 
oolour  of  a  mineral  becomes  paler  when  it  is  exposed  to 
the  light,  heat,  or  is  undergoing  decomposition.  Ex- 
amples of  these  changes  may  be  observed  in  striated 
red  cobalt  ore,  which  exposed,  to  the  air  becomes  pale, 
brownish  ^  blue  fluor  spar  bl^comes  green ;  chrysoprase 
becomes  light  green  $  pearl  gray  silver  ore  becomes 
clear  brown. 

2«  The  perfect  change  of  colour  is  oflen  the  conse* 
quence  of  fadingi  when  one  colour  is  lost,  and  anew 

one 


136  MINER 

Claisiflca^  OD^  appeftTS,  aaia  light«coloiired  spany  inm  ore  >  ear- 
<*<»•    ^  tby  gray  ore  of  manganese,  and  argUlaceoiu  iron  stone. 

VIL  DeUmeations  (if  CoiourM. 

The  delineations  of  colonrs  are  obserred  on  simple 
minerals,  the  same  specimen  containing  several  colours, 
which  pass  through  its  interior*  according  to  certain  de- 
lineations. Of  these  delineations  the  following  nine  va- 
rieties are  described. 

1.  Doiiedf  when  fine  points  of  another  colour  are  dis- 
persed over  the  surface,  as  in  serpentine,  and  some  va- 
lieties  of  jasper. 

2.  Spotted^  when  the  points  or  spots  are  of  the  size  of 
a  lentil  to  that  of  a  sixpence,  or  from  one-fourth  to  one 
inch  in  diameler.  The  spots  are  round  and  regular,  or 
irregular* 

0.  Regular,  as  in  some  varieties  of  serpentine,  and  in 
argillaceotts  schtstus. 

o.  Irregular,  as  in  a  variety  of  marble  from  Bay- 
reuth. 

3.  Nebulous  or  cloudy^  when  the  spots  are  large  and 
irregular,  forming  with  the  ground  colour  the  appear- 
ance of  clouds,  as  in  calcedony  and  jasper. 

4*  Flamy^  when  the  spots  are  large,  and  drawn  in 
«no  direction  to  a  sharp  point,  as  in  striped  jasper  and 
some  marbles. 

5.  Striped^  when  large  spots  are  drawn  in  the  same 
Erection,  and  mn  parallel  through  the  whole  specimen. 
There  are  two  varieties. 

0.  Straight  or  curved  striped,  as  in  straight  striped 
jasper. 

h.  Broad  or  linear,  as  in  linear  striped  agate,  calce- 
donv,  &c 

0.  Annular^  when  the  stripes  form  concentric  circles, 
as  in  jasper,  caruelian,  and  flints. 

7*  Dendritic^  when  the  delineation  resembles  the 
trunk  of  a  tree  separating  into  ramifications,  as  in  stea^ 
tites,  some  limestones,  Egyptian  marble,  and  calce- 
dony. 

8.  Ruinou$^  when  the  delineation  pcesents  the  ap- 
pearance of  ruins,  as  in  Florentine  or  landscape  mar- 
ble. 

9.  Veined^  when  the  delineation  consists  of  variously 
coloured  narrow  stripes,  crossing  each  other  in  differ- 
ent directions,  forming  sometimes  the  appearance  of  a 
net,  as  in  marble,  serpentine,  and  jasper. 

II.  THE  COHESION  OF  THE  PABTICLE8. 


The  cobesioH  of  the  partides  in  minerals  is  the  se- 
cond common  generic  character,  which  is  observed  1>y 
the  sight,  and  also  by  the  touch.  According  to  this 
property,  minerab  are  divided  into  solid,  friable,  and 
fluid  \  but  these  properties  also  belong  to  the  particular 
generic  characters  of  minerals,  to  be  afterwards  de- 
scribed. 

Particular  Generic  External  Characters  of  Solid  Mi- 

nends* 

X.  The  Extehkal  Appearaxce. 

In  the  external  appearance  of  a  mineral,  three  things 
are  to  be  observed,  the  external  form,  the  external  sur- 
face, and  the  external  lustre. 

;i.  The  external  form  of  a  mineral  is  that  figure  or 

X 


A  L  O  G  Y.  Part  L 

shape  of  the  natural  surface,  whieh  its  primitive  indivi-  ciasofn^ 
duals  are  found  to  possess.    The  external  forms  of  solid 
minerals'  ^re  distinguished  into  common,  particular,  re- 
gular or  crystallized,  and  extraneous. 

I.  Common  External  Shape. 

When  'a  mineral  exhibits  no  resemblance  to  any 
known  substances  in  common  life,  it  is  said  to  be  of  a 
common  form.     Of  common  forms  there  are  six  kinds. 

A.  Massive^  when  a  mineral  is  of  an  indeterminate 
form,  or  amorphous,  and  of  nearly  equal  dimensions, 
from  the  sizQ  of  a  hazel  not  to  the  greatest  magnitude, 
and  when  it  is  incorporated  with  another  solid  mineral, 
it  is  said  to  be  massive.  Solid  minerals  are  most  fre- 
quent^ found  of  this  external  form,  and  some  are  never 
found  otherwise,  as  in  steatites,  common  pit^coal,  gale- 
'na,  and  copper  pyrites. 

B.  Disseminated^  or  interspersed,  when  a  mineral, 
without  any  particular  form,  is  in  small  pieces  not  ex- 
ceeding the  sixe  of  a  hazel  nut,  incorporated -with  ano- 
ther smid  mineral.     This  affords  three  varieties. 

«.  Giarselv  interspersed,  in  size  of  a  hazel  not  to  that 
of  a  pea,  as  m  copper  pyrites. 

6.  Finely  interspersed,  from  the  size  of  a  pea  to 
that  of  a  grain  of  millet,  as  in  tinstone,  in  granular 
quartz. 

c.  Minutely  interspersed,  from  the  size  of  a  grain  of 
millet  till  it  is  scarcely  perceptible  to  the  eye,  as  in  in- 
terspersed native  gold. 

C.  In  angular  pieces,  oi  wiitch  there  are  two  vari- 
eties. 

a.  Sharp-cornered,  as  in  calcedony  and  in  quartz. 

b.  Blunt-cornered,  as  in  common  opal. 

D.  In  grains.  Detached  minerals,  from  the  size  of 
a  hazel  nut  to  that  which  may  be  distinguished  by  the 
eye,  are  said  to  be  in  grains.    These  are  distinguished, 

o.  According  to  size,  into 

••  In  gross  grains  from  the  -size  of  a  hazel  nut  to 
that  of  a  pea,  as  in  lowland  argillaceous  iron  ore. 

/8.  Large  grains,  from  the  sizb  of  a  pea  to  that  of 
a  hemp  seed,  as  in  precioos  garnet,  magnetic  iron  sand. 

y.  Small  grains,  from  the  size  of  hemp  seed  to  that 
of  millet,  as  in  the  above  minerals. 

}.  In  minute  or  fine  grains,  such  as  are  smaller  than 
millet  seeds,  as  platina,  native  gold,  tinstone. 

b.  According  to  the  form,  which  is  in 
«.  Angular  grains,  as  in  magnetic  iron  sand. 

'/8.  Rounded  grains,  as  in  platina  and  native  gold. 

c.  According  as  they  inhere  b  other  minerals.  In 
this  respect  they  are,  «.  Loose,  /8.  Partially,  or  y. 

Whollv. 

£•  In  plates,  distinguished  into 

o.  Thick  plates,  as  in  red  silver  ore. 

b.  Thin  plates,  as  in  vitreous  sUver  ore. 
F.  In  membranes  or  flakes,  when  the  thickness  does 

not  much  exceed  that  of  paper,  divided  into 
0.  Thick,  as  in  native  silver. 
b*  Thin,  as  in  iron  pyrites. 

c.  Very  thin,  as  in  vitreous  silver  ore. 

2.  Particular  External  Forms. 

The  forms  which  come  under  this  denomination  ex- 
hibit a  greater  or  less  resemblance,  both  to  natural 
and  artificial  objccU.     They  are  called  particular,  be- 
cause, like  the  former,  they  are  not  usual  or  common. 
'  ^  There 


I.  MINER 

Tbaee  ate  fire  lunAs.oC  pKiticiiistf  ^steiwrf  AnM,  viz. 
elongated,  roaodedy  flattened,  impresaed,  sad  ceofMed* 

A.  Elongated.    Of  this  there  are  eleveii  rarieiies. 

Q.  Dentifhrm.^  aa  in  native  silvery  and  d<Mitifenii  ▼!• 
tfeoos  silver  ore. 

.b^FiUfirmt  as  inaattTe  silver,  and  vitroaas silver 

ore. 

c.  Ce^puSbf^y^ea^mbliag  hairs,  as  in  native  gold  and 

jiative  ttlver. 

dL  Rrtkuiatedf  as  in  natm.silaer,  native ^copper,  and 
a  variet  J  of  gakna. 

e.  Dembiiie^  which  is  either  aegnlar  or^rr^nlar,  as 
in  native  silver  and  native  copper. 

/,  .C^ntU^brm,  as  ineaicareoos  stalactites,  coaBnonly 
known  by  the  name  o( JioMjerH^  nod  hrown  hsematites* 

gn  Stalactit^/orm^  as  in  calcareoos  ainter,  hrown  iron 
Btooet  aQdcakedoo^Tf 

A.  Tuhttl^ormf  as  in  compact  brown  iron  stone,  and 
galena. 

u  Fuini^brm^  as  in  .martial  pyrites. 

h  FrmUteemi^  or  oritM^^^iwi,  as  in  Uaek  iron  stone, 
jmd  compact  ftray  ore  of- manganese. 

L  Matranmmff  having  the  fignte  of  a  obemical  itoa« 
trass,  »M  in  blaek  hwrnatites,  and  gray  oromf  manganese. 

B.  JSouVBEDtt  ^  which.ihere  are  five  vnrieties. 
0.  Bairjiformj  resembling  a  bnnch  of  grapes,  as  in 

Mack  cobalt  oie,  .malachite,  and  copper  pyrites. 
b»  Qhbuiari^  of  .which  there  are  five  varieties. 
«•  Ferfectif  ghbudar^  9S  in  pisolite,  and  white  cobalt 

•re. 

/S.  E/Kptical^  as  in  quartz  and  flint* 

^.  Amggdidoid^as  in  zeolite  and  gvaen  earth. 

i.  I^hermdal^  as  in  Egyptian  .jasper  and  calcedony. 

,#.  Impeifettiy  ffioMar^  as  in  camelian  and  adcedony. 

r.  Ktdneyfarmj  as  in  red  haematites,  native  arsenic, 
and  malachite. 

d,  BtUbcm  or  nodular^  as  ianodular  flint 


A  L  O  G  Y. 


137 


Uqmfiurm^jA  in  a  siqgnbr  variety  of  galena,  from 
Freyberg* 

C.  £uiTKNl3D.  Of  the  particnlar  forms  .-ef  this 
^eoomiaatwm  there  are  diree  kinds. 

a.  ^^eaUmif  as  in  compact  galena,  aad-con|paot  led 
iaon  stone. 

h»  In  lamintt  or  leaves^  which  fem^is  pecidiaar4o  me- 
tnlay-as'tn -native  gold  and  silver. 

c*  Peetmaied^  as  in  quartz  from  Schemnitz. 

D.  IiiB]L£flBKl>.  Articttlar^onns  of  these  aHerd 
aix*  varieties. 

0.  CWMar,  of  whidHlMre  an  several  kinds,  as, 
.m.  Stru^ht  eettuhtj  wbich  presents  two  varieties. 
z.  Hezahedia],  as  in  qoaiiz )  '2.  Polyhedral,  as  in  cel- 
lular quarta  and  ealoaieons  spar. 

fi.  Jiottnd ceHmlar^  as,  i.  Parallel  found,  as4&  qnartz^ 
2.  Spongifiim,  as  jalso  in«qnnrtzi  3.  Indeterminate, 
aa  in  brown  iron  stone*,  4.  Double,  as  in  quartz  and 
hepatic  pyrites.;  y  Veiny,  as  in  wbuite  cobalt  ore. 
b»  Wknimpres^mBM^  wnich  aae, 
«.  CMcal^  as  in  quartz  and^flnor  spar. 

Pymmidai^  as  in  quartz,  ^Auor  spar,  and  vitreous 


e.  PetfirM^df  as  in  lowland  argillaceous  iron  ere.      cUssifica. 
d^€bivW(w/,asinquartz,galena,andvitreou88ilverore.      tioa. 
e.  Heieromorpkous^  as  in  native  iron,  swampy  iron  ^ 

ore,  and  native  arseaic 
/.  VnimhTj  as  in  lavas,  pumice  stones,  basalt,  and 


y.  Comcalj  as  in  native  arsenic  and  qu 
i«  JSaiaiAirer/rwaiialur,  asinqw 
t.  Gbbuior^  as  in  vitreous  silver  ore. 
Voir*  XIV.  Part  I. 


£.  CoiTFUSSB,  of  which  thene  is  only  one  variety, 
a.  jBiHwaWy.as  in  native  iron,  sometimes  nativecopper, 
and  vitrcoos  silver  4MMU 

3.  Regular  External  Fomu  or  CrjfStuUisatwMm 

la  describing  crystallizations  or  rsgular  forms  of  mi- 
nerals, four  things  are  to  be  considenfd  ;  the  essential 
quality  of  the  cv^stals  j  the  Jfiirm,  aggregation,  and  mag- 
nitnde. 

A.  The  essential  ^icalitt  of  ortstals,  wBicit 

la  CITHER  GENUINE  OR  SPUaiOVS. 

A  Genuine  or  true  crystaU^  which  are  theinost  com- 
mon, as  in  calcareous  and  floor  spars. 

h.  Spurious  or  i^Ur  cryekdsj  which  are  distin^idied 
fimn  true  crystals  by  b<ing  hollow,  faring  a  rough  or 
drosy  surface,  and  the  solid  an^es  or  edges  never  %arp 
or  <)vell  defined.  "Examples  are  found  in, quartz  of  the 
spurious  crystals  of  the  cube,  and  of  the  oetahedron  of 
finer  spar- 

B.  Form  of  CRarsTALS.  Tbis  is  the  most  conspicu' 
00s  property  of  crystals,  and  commonly  serves  as  a  di- 
stinctive character  of  (hose  minerals  which  have  regular 
forms.  The  form  of  crystals  is  composed  of  planes ;  of 
edges  formed  by  the  joni;tion  of  two  planes  ;  of  deter- 
minate angles,  and  of  solid  angles  formed  1^  the  unjoa 
of  three  or  ineae- planes  in  one-point. 

«.  In  the  £brm  of  crystals,  the  primary  mt  fundamen- 
tal forms  an  first  to  be  oonsidered,  and  then  the  varia- 
tions or  modlfioations  of  these  finrms. 

I.  3^E  PARTS  OF  THE  FRIM ART  FORM  ARE, 

1.  Planes,  which  aro  either 

<a.  Lateral  planes,  forming  the  confines  of  the  body 
tewasds  its  smallest  extent^  or,  &•  Exto^ene  or*termind 
planes,  which  fimn  the^rCooAoM  -of  the  body  towards  i^  • 
greatest  extent. 

2.  Edges,  which  aro, 

a.  Lateral  edges,  or,- 6.  'fixtrome  edges. 

3*  Solid  angles  whjob  have  been  defined  above. 

ll.'&iifl>8  OF 'PRIMARY  FORMS,  vfaich  aro  the  sevcu 
fcdlowing. 

I.  Tme  IcomAcdrmifjMnkk  is  composedr»f  2o^uila- 
taral  triangular.planes,  united  mider^nal  angles,  as  in 
iron  pyrites. 

'X  The'Dttdeeahedran^  whidi  is  composed  of  tarelve 
regular,  pentangular- planes,  united  under  equal  iclituse 
angles,  as  in  iron  pyrites,  and  white  •cobalt  ore. 

-.3.  The  Hewahedntu^  'indnding  Che  cube  and  the 
rhomb,  is  composed  of  six  quadrilateral  planes,  as  in  cal- 
careous spar,  fluor  spar,  iron  pyrites,  galena,  &C4 

4*  The  Priem^  ndiidi  is  one  of  tte.  most  common 
crystallizations  among  minerals,  is  composed  of  an  in-  ■ 
determinate  number  m  quadrangular  lateral  planes,  ha- 
ving tiie  same  direction,  and  all  terminating  in  two  ex- 
treme planes,  each  of  whidi  has  as  many  sides  as  the 
crystallization  possesses  lateral  planes  ^  as  in  various 
lead  ores,  rock  crystal,  topaz,  and  sborl. 

5.  The  Pyramid  is  composed  of  an  indeterminate 
number  of  triangular  lateral  planes,  converging  to  a 

8  print. 


138  MINER 

ClasKfica-  point,  and  of  a  base  having  as  many  sides  at  the  ery- 
tioii       sUllizatloD  has  lateral  planes  }  as  in  quartz*  calcareous 
spar,  and  amethyet. 

6.  The  Table ^  which  is  composed  of  two  parallel  !»▼ 
teral  planes,  much  larger  in  comparison  than  the  other 
planes  \  the  extreme  planes  being  indeterminate  in  noro^ 
ber,  small,  and  narrow  \  as  in  tabular  crystallized  spe- 
cular iron  ore,  calcareous  spar,  and  heavy  spar. 

7.  The  £eii«,  consists  of  two  lateral  planes  only,  dif* 
fering  according  as  the  lateral  planes  are  differently 
carved.  Of  this  there  are  two  kinds :  i.  The  common 
lens,  composed  of  two  convex  lateral  planes  \  and, 
2.  The  selliform,  consisting  of  one  convex  and  one  la- 
teral plane,  somewhat  resembling  a  saddle.  Crystals  of 
both  kinds  are  observed  in  sparry  iron  ore  and  calcare* 
ous  spar.    - 

III.  Differences  in  each  kind  of  primary 

FORMS. 

These  primary  fwrns  differ  from  each  other  according 
to  simplicity,  position,  number  of  planes,  size  of  the 
planes,  angles  under  which  they  meet,  direction,  of  the 
planes,  and  fulness  of  the  crystal. 

1.  Simplicity,  This  distinction  is  confined  to  the  py- 
lamid,  which  la  either, 

A.  Simple^  as  in  light  red  silver  ore,  gray  copper  ore, 
quartz,  amethyst ;  and 

B.  Double^  in  which  those  of  the  one .  pyramid  are 
either, 

a.  Set  on  the  lateral  planes  of  the  other,  and  this 
#.  directly,  or  /3  obliquely  \  or  b.  on  the  lateral  edges  of 
the  other.  Examples  of  this  are  observed  in  double  py 
ramidal  vitreous  silver  ore,  galeaa,  rock  crystal,  ruby, 
and  diamond. 

2.  Positiim^  which  is  either, 
A.  Erect^  which  is  very  commoii  \  or,  B.  Inverted^ 

which  has  only  been  observed  in  simple  hexahedral  py- 
ramidal crystals  of  calcareous  spar. 

3.  Number  qf  Planes^  in  the  primary  form,  is  in 
some  determinate,  and  in  the  others  variable.  Here 
are  to  be  considered, 

A.  The  kind  of  planes,  as 
a.  In  the  prism  and  pyramid,  in  which  the  lateral 

planes  vary ;  and,  b*  In  the  table,  ia  which  the  ex- 
treme planea  vary. 

B.  The  number  of  planes,  whieh  in  the  prism  and 
pyramid  are  found, 

a.  Trihedral,  having  three  planes,  as  in  the  trihe- 
dral prism  of  shorl, .  and  the  trihedral  pyramid  of  graj 
copper  ore. 

b.  Tetrahedralf  having  four  planes,  as  in  the  tetra- 
bedral  prism  of  arsenical  pyrites,  and  in  the  double  te* 
trahedral  pyramid  of  ruby  and  galena. 

c.  Hexahedral^  as  in  the  hexahedral  prism  and  pyra- 
mid of  calcareous  spar. 

J.  Octahedral,  as  in  the  octahedral  pribm  of  topaa ; 
and  in  the  double  octahedral  pyramid  of  garnet  and 
zeolite. 

The  table  occurs, 

a.  Qjuadragonal,  having  four  extreme  planes^  as  in 
heavy  spar,  yellow^  lead  ore,  and  calamine. 

6.  Hioiogotial^  having  six  extreme  planes,  as  in  mica 
and  heavy  spar.. 

c.  Octaganal,  or  with  eight  extreme  phmes,  a&  in 
y^eilow  lead. ore  a^id  hfavy  spar. 


A  t  O  G  T.  Parti. 

4.  The  sime  of  the  planee,  in  relatian  to  each  odwr,  n^.^^ 
whieh  are  said  to  be,  ^^^ 

A.  Equal,  or 

B.  Unequal ;  and  this  lattier  is  either  indetenniiate, 
or  determinate. 

a.  IndeUrminaie,.  which  n  observed  b  the  latenl 
planes  of  the  hexahedral  prism  of  rock  crystal. 

b.  Determinatefy  uikfqual,  as  in  prismatic  white  lead 
ore,  and  hexahedral  prismatic  calcareous  spar.  In  thii 
latter  the  following  vuietiea  are  observed. 

'  «.  Alternately  broad  and  narrow,     (k  The  two  op* 
posite  broader  >  and,  y.  The  two  opposite  narrower. 

5.  Angles  under  which  the  ptanee  are  associated. 
These  are  angles  of  the  lateral  edges,  of  the  extreme 
edges,  and  of  the  summit. 

A.  Angles  of  the  lateral  edges.    These  are, 
a.  Equianguktr,  as  in  the  icosahedral  crysuls  of  iioa 
pyrites. 

6.  Rectangular,  as  in  cubical  fluor  spar. 

c.  Oblique  angular,  as  in  rhomboidal  c^carcons  spar. 

d.  Unequiangular,tL9  in  the  hexahedral  prism  of  rock 
crystal,  and  in  the  octahedral  prism  of  topaz. 

A.  Angles  of  the  extreme  edges  are, 

a.  Equiangular,  as  in  the  hexagonal  table  of  mica. 

b.  Mctangular,  as  in  thequadragonal  table  of  heavy 
spar* 

r.  Oblique  angular,  which  is  either,  «.  Parallel,  as 
in  the  tetrahedral  prism  of  feldspar-5  or,  #.  Alteniate 
oblique  angular,  as  in  copper  pyrites* 

d.  Unequiangular,  as  in  the  hexagonal  table  of  preh« 
nite. 

G.  Angles  of  the  snmrait,  which  are  confined  to  the 
pyramid,  and  present  the  following  varieties. 

a.  Very  obtuse,  when  the  angle  is  from  150^  to  130^ 
as  in  tourmalin.. 

b.  Obtuse,  when  the  angle  is  from  130^  to  i<io^,  as 
in  calcareous  spar. 

c.  Bather  obtuse,  from  iio^  ta  90^,  as  in  hooey 
stone. 

d.  Rectangular,  as  in  zircon. 

e.  Rather  acute,  from  90%  to  70%  as  io  qtiartz. 
/  Acute^  from  70"  to  50*^,  as  in  cakarecHM  spar. 
g.  Very  acute,  from  50°  to  30®,  as  in  sapphire. 

6.  The  direction  of  the  lateral  posies.  These  aie  ei- 
ther straight  or  curvated. 

A.  Straight  j^nes  areeven  surfaoes,  and  are  the  moat 
common. 

B.  Curvated  pkmes  are  distinguished  according  to 
position  and  form. 

a.  Position,  which  -is,  #1.  Inwardly  enrrated  or  eon- 
cave  y  on,  #^  OtttwanUy  eurvated  or  convex  $  and,  y. 
Inwardly  and  outwardly  cnrvated^  or  concave  and  con- 
vex, llie  first  is  observed  in  finer  spar,  the  second  in 
diamond,  and  the  third  in  spairy  iron>  stone. 

6..  The  fyrtn  is  either,  «.  Sphcrieal,  as  in  brown 
q^r;  ^.  Cylindrical,  in  which  the  cnrvatnre  mna, 
I.  Parallel  to  the  sides,  as  in  iron  pyrites,  or,  9.  Pa- 
rallel to  the  diagonal,  as  in  fluor  spar  j  and,  y.  Conical, 
as  in  g3rpsum.. 

7.  Thefulnfisa  of  the  crystals  Crystals  axw  ekher  foil 
and  perfect,  or  hollowed  at  the  extremity,  or  through- 
out. 

A.  Full  or  perfect  crystals,  which  is  most  comm(»ly 
the  case. 

B^HoUowed 


L 


MINERALOGY* 


B.  BoDowed  jit  Ae  extcemity,  as  ta  calcursoos  spar, 
green  lead  ore,  &c. 

C«  Holknr  thnnigh  the  whole  orysUl,  m  in  prinna- 
tic  beijl. 

4.  Modifications  of  the  primaxy  form* 

The  chaoses  or  alterations  which  take  place  on  the 
principal  or  iundameotal  form,  are  three  )  truncatioiii 
hevelJicgy  and  acomination. 

L  Truncatiom.  In  the  truncation  are  to  he  oo»> 
sidcred  the  parts  and  the  detenninatioo. 

1.  The  parts  of  the  truncation  are  the  planes,  the 
edgeSt  and  the  angles. 

2.  The  detennination  of  the  truncation  relates  to, 

a.  The  situation  as  it  occurs  at  the  angles  or  edges 
of  the  primary  form. 

b.  lu  magnitude^  which,  in  relation  to  the  planes  of 
the  primary  form,  is  small  or  large :  in  the  one  case 
the  angles  or  edges  are  said  to  be  slightly,  in  the  other 
deeply  truncated. 

c.  jTAe  t^fpiication  of  the  truncation,  which  is  either 
direct  or  oUique.  The  edges  of  cubical  iron  pyrites 
afiOTd  an  example  of  oblique  truncation. 

d.  The  direction  of  the  truncation,  which  presents 
either  an  even  or  a  curvated  snrfiioe. 

Cubical  galena,  with  truncated  angles  \  tetrahe.dral 
prismatic  tin  stone  crystals,  with  truncated  edges) 
double  tetrahedral  pyramidal  tin  stone  crystals,  with 
truncated  edges,  are  instances  of  truncation. 

II.  BxvcUfiNGy  in  which  the  parts  and  determina- 
tion are  also  to  be  considered. 

1.  The  parts  of  the  bevelling  are,  the. planes,  the 
edges,  and  the  angles.  The  bevelling  edges  are  di- 
stinguished into  the  proper  bevelling  edge,  which  is 
fonned  by  the  conjunction  of  the  bevelling  planes,  and 
the  bevelling  edges  formed  by  the  junction  of  the  bevel- 
iiog  planes  with  the  lateral  planes  of  the  primary  form. 

2.  The  detennination  of  the  bevelling,  in  which  is 
to  be  observed, 

A.  Its  situation  as  it  takes  place,  a.  At  the  extreme 
planes,  which  is  confined  to  the  prism  and  table}  &•>  At 
the  edges,  which  is  met  with  in  the  hexahedron,  prism, 
pyramid,  and  table :  and,  r.  At  the  angles,  which  is  a 
very  rare  occurrence. 

B.  Its  magnitude,  which  is  said  to  be  slight  or  deep. 

C.  The  angle  under  which  the  bevelling  planes  con- 
join, which  is  said  to  be,  a.  Acutely,  h»  Rectangularly, 
or,  c.  Obtusely  bevelled. 

D.  The  continuation,  of  the  hevellii^,  which  is  ei- 
ther uninterrupted,  or  interrupted.  Of  the  latter  case 
there  are  two  varieties,  when  it  is  once  or  twice  inter- 
rupted. The  lateral  edges  of  double  trihedral  pyrami- 
dal calcareous  spar  are  once  interruptedly  bevelled  \  and 
the  obtuse  extreme  edges  of  quadrangular  tabular  heavy 
spar,  are  twice  interruptedly  bevelled. 

£,  The  application,  a.  Of  the  bevelling  itself,  which 
is  either  direct  or  oblique  (the  former  is  the  most  cohk 
mon,  and  the  latter  occurs  in  prismatic  basaltic  horn- 
blende) %  and,  b.  Of  thebevdlii^  planes,  which  are  set, 
either  on  the  lateral  planes,  or  on  the  lateral  edges. 

UI.Th£  acumination,  in  which  are  also  to  be 
ciNisidf  red  the  parts,  of  the  acumination  and  the  deter- 
mination. 

I.  The  parts  of  the  acumination  consist  of, 

A.  The  acuminating  planes.  B.  The  acuminating 
edges  \  which  are  distinguished  into,  «•  Proper  edges  rf 


139 


aounriaation,  fonned  by  the  jnnetion  of  the  acuminat-  aassifica- 
ing  planes  \  b.  The  extreme  edges  of  acumination  \      tlbn. 
r.  The  edges  between  the  acuminating  and  lateral '""    v 
planes.    C.  The  angles  of  acamination. 

2.  The  determination  of  the  acominati'on  relating  to, 

A.  Its  sitnation,  as  it  oocnra  at  a.  The  solid  angles  \ 
or,  b.  At  the  extreme  planes  of  the  primary  form.  The 
acumination  of  the  prism  is  always  at  the  extreme 
planes  ^  of  the  cube  usually  at  the  angles,  aAd  of  the 
pyramid  generally  at  the  summit. 

B.  The  planes  themselves,  in  which  are  to  be  ob- 
served, 

a.  Their  number^  which  is  either  equal  to,  or  fewer 
than  those  of  the  primary  form.  In  the  hexahedfal 
prism  of  calcareous  spar  and  game^  and  in  the  trihedral 
prism  of  tourmaline,  the  acumination  is  by  three  planes; 
in  the  tetrahedral  prism  of  jargon  and  hyacinth,  by  four 
planes  j  in  the  hexahedral  prism  of  cakmreous  spar  and 
rock  crystal,  by  six  planes  ^  and  in  tetrahedral  prisma- 
tic topaz,  by  eight  planes. 

b.  Their  relative  si^e^  which  is  either  equal  or  un- 
equal. In  quartz  and  Tock  crystal,  the  planes  of  acu>- 
mination  are  generally  indeterminately  unequal  \  *and  in 
heavy  spar  they  are  determbately  equal. 

c.  Thevr  foirm^  which  is  determinate,  as  in  hyacinth 
and  calcareous  spar  \  or  indeterminate,  as  in  jargon  and 
wolfram. 

d.  Their  appHeation^  which  is  either  on  the  lateral 
planes  of  the  primary  form,  as  in  jargon  and  hyacinth, 
or  on  the  lateral  edges,  as  in  calcareous '  spar  and 
garnet. 

C.  The  summit  of  the  acumination,  which  is,  o.  Ob- 
tuse, as  in  hexahedral  prismatic  garnet )  h»  Rectangu- 
lar, as  in  tetrahedral  prismatic  jargon  ;  or,  c.  Acutev 
•a  in  hexahedral  prismatic  calcareous  spar. 

D.  Tbe  magnitude  of  the  acumination,  which  is  said 
to  be,  a.  Slightly  aonniinated,  as  in  gray  copper  ore 
and  copper  pyrites  ^  or,  b.  Deeply,  as  in  floor  spar, 
with  the  angles  acuminated  by  6  planes. 

£•  Determination  of  tbe  acumination  \  which  is  ei- 
ther a  point  or  a  line.  Tbe  first  ift  the  most  common  \ 
and  the  last  is  met  with  in  prismatic  white  lead  ore  and 
heavy  spar. 

y.  Manifold  modifications  of  the  primary  form. 

In  these  modifications  crystals  are  either,  lit  Situated 
beside  each  other  ^  or,  2*  Placed  the  one  above  the 
other.  ^ 

But  in  describing  a  crystallization,  the  number  <tf  its 
planes  in  general,  and  of  tech  kind  in  particular,  and 
their  figure^  if  determinate,  may  be  noticed,  to  render 
the  description  more  accurate.  As,  for  instance,  cubi- 
cal galena,  with  tmiicated  *angles,  consist  of  6  octan- 
gidar  and  4  triangular  planes. 

And  still  fiurther,  in  explaining  the  form  of  crystal- 
lizations, by  way  of  addition  may  be  mention^d^ 

I.  The  different  modes  of  determination  of  which 
they  are  capable.  Two  different  modes  may  in  sorafe 
cases  be  adopted. 

o.  The  representative^  by  which  is  understood  the 
description  of  a  crystallization  according  to  its  apparent 
form  J  or, 

b.  The  derivative^  which  is  founded  on  the  conside- 
jration  of  its  derivation,  and  its  relation  to  the  other' 
crystals  of  the  same  mineral.     The  prismatic  crystalli- 
zation of  tbe  tourmaline  ib  representatively  an  enneahe- 

S  2  dral 


140 


MINERALOGY. 


iPartl 


dnl  priiai,  and  4erivativ«I  j  %  trihedral  prkniy  with  the 
three  bterml  eidce  bev^ed. 
*  But,  in  general,  the  chief  or  ee<entie1  farm  of  a  cry* 
•tallization  is  determined  hj,  a.  The  lamst  planea^ 
ft.  The  greatest  regularity  $  .e.  The  most  frequent  oc* 
currence  of  the  eiyftallizatieBs;  d.  The  affinity  to  the 
other  prioHury  forms ;  e.  The  suitableness  and  peculia- 
rity of  its  modifications  y  andt^I  The  greatest  simplici- 
ty in  the  mode  of  determination. 

2.  The  transitions  ftom  one  primary  form  into  an^ 
ether.    These  arise, 

a.  From  the  gradoally  increased  extent  of  the  mo- 
fifymg  planes,  and  the  decieased  extent  of  the  primary 
planes}  or^ 

bm  From  a  change  in  the  relative  sine  of  the  planes^ 

c.  From  a  change  in  the  ang^  under  which  the 
planes  are  associate  i  «r, 

dL  From  the  conTexity  of  the  planes  $  or, 

r.  From  the  anregation  of  crystris. 

3*  The  difficnhies  whieh  ere  opposed  to  the  exact  de- 
termination of  crystals.  These  proceed,  a.  From  their 
compression,  some  planes  being  uncommonly  hu^  or 
small  i  or,  i.  From  their  penetrating  each  ewer,  as  in 
lin<«tone  crystals  ^  or,  c.  From  their  partial  conceal* 
ment,  as  in  feldspar,  hemblende,  and  garnet  j  or, 
d*  From  their  being  broken,  as  often  hapnens  in  the 
crystalKratJen  of  pveciona  stones  i  or,  r.  From  their 
extreme  minuteness. 

CL  The  aggregation  of  crystals.  According  to  this, 
crystals  are  either, 

n.  Shtgkf  in  which  case  they  are,  n.  Loose  ot  de- 
tached, as  in  precions  stones,  cubical  iron  pyrites,  Slc; 
0.  Inhering  or  inlaying  in  another  miaeial,.  as  feld- 
spar in  porphyry  i  or,  y.  Adhering,  an  in  qnarta  cry- 
stals; or, 

ft.  Jggmgattd^  which  are  either  regular  or  irregu- 
lar. 

m.  Begnhur  or  determinate ;  snch  are,  J.  Twin  cry- 
stals, as  in  stanroUte  or  cross  stone ;  and,  2.  Triple 
ciystalsyas  iacaloareons  spar  and  ruby :  but  this  is  very 


/I.  Many  aingfy  aggregated  crystaky  are  snch  crystals 
as  are,  i.  Helped  upon  one  another,  as  in  caleareoos 
and  iiior  spars  ;  a.  Adherinc  laterally,  as  in  amethyst 
cryitala  >  and,  3.  Implicated  one  in  the  other,  as.  in 
gray  aniimonial  ore,  slad  in  the  hexahedral  prisma  of 


y.  Bfany  donblr  aggregated  crystals  ara  distribnied 
aecerdiqg  to  the  Mm  th^  assume  ;  snch  as  the  feilew- 


!•  Scop^m$j  iraen  aggregated,  needlMike,  and  ei^ 
pilliferm  erystab  diverge  firom  a  conunon  centre,  as  in 
seolite,  stnaled  red  cohalt  era,  ami  o^illiform  pj- 


a.  Jimrgfbrai,  which  is  e  ompeeid  of  double  scopiferm, 
with  a  remmon  centre,  as  in  caleareons  ^nr,  aenlite, 
nndprehnite. 

3.  Atindar  or  fs/iifeinar.  Elengnted,  e^ nalhr  thick 
priims  adhering  laterally  together,  ara  eif  this  descrip- 
tion, as  in  adcular  bravy  spar,  and  n  variety  of  white 
lead  ere. 

4.  In  a  me,  like  n  string  of  pearis,  as  in  py  t  ■midal 
eryrtals  of  qnartx. 

5.  BMdMe^  ift  simple  pjramids 


nected,  and  whsee  jeiiits  are  firecled  towards  each 
other,  as  in  bnd4ike  drusen  of  quartz. 

6.  Glaitdar^  a  caenal  aggre^tian,  consistittg  meetly 
of  tables  or  cubes,  arranged  in  a  g^bular  form,  as  in 
octahedral  iron  pyrites. 

7.  jtnfgdiMd^  when  the  tables  are  externally  ac- 
cumulated, smaller  upon  smaller,  as  in  heavy  spar. 

8.  Pyramidal^  which  takes  j^ce  chiefly -m  prisom 
nearly  pandkl,  the  sammits  inclining  to  each  others 
the  central  prism  being  the  highest,  as  in  calcareous 
spar. 

9.  BoseUtke^  composed  of  thin  tables,  on  whose  late- 
ral planes  cChm  are  assembled,  and  arrangec^in  a  rase- 
like  appearance. 

D.  th^  m»gnit»l.  rf  ei7.tel..  which  i.  drtou 
mined, 

o.  Accordbg  to  the  greatest  dimension,  as  «.  Of  an 
uncommon  size,  in  erystab  whieh  exceed  two  feet,  as 
in  quartz  and  rock  ciystal ;  /8.  Very  large.  Cram  two 
feet  to  six  inches,  as  in  rock  crystal  and  calcareous 
spar  >  y.  Large,  from  six  to  two  inches,  as  in  iron  py- 
rites, floor  spar,  and  garnet  j  }.  Of  a  middling  size, 
from  two  iii9hes  to  half  an  inch,  which  are  very  com- 
mon 'y  u  Small,  from  half  an  inch  to  one-eigbth  of  an 
inehy  also  very  common  }  {•  Very  small,  from  one-eigiith 
of  an  inch  to*  snch  as  may  be  oistinguUhed  by  the  n^ 
ked  eye,  aa  in  corneous  rilver  ore,  and  very  small  tin 
storie  erystab  ^  %  Minute,  whose  form  cannot  be  di- 
stingniBned  by  the  naked  eye,  as  in  native  goM  and 
green  lead  ore. 

b.  According  to  relative  dimensions,  when  compared 
with  othen  f  and  thte-  b  dtstingmsbed  into  «•  8facti  or 
low,  and  Unm  or  high'}  0,  Broad  and  narrow,  or  len- 
gated }  y.  ^Aick  and  thin,  or  slender ;  }.  Needle-like 
and  caniHiform ;  a  Spicular,  and  {[.  Globular  ortessubr. 

4.  utraneous  external  forms,  or  petrifactions,  which 
are  divided  into  petrifections  of  animals,  and  petrifec- 
tions  of  vegetables. 

A.  Petrifections  of  animals,  or  zeolites,  as 

0.  Of  the  class  mammalia,  the  parts  of  which  com* 
monly  found  ara  the  bones,  the  teeth,  horns,  and  skele- 
tons. Such  ara  the  bones  of  the  elephant  and  the  rhino> 
ceros,  which  ara  found  in  Siberia,  and  the  bones  of  the 
mammoth  from  North  America. 

b.  Of  birds,  petrifectione  of  which  ara  very  rare. 
Some  skeletons  of  aquatic  birds  have  been  met  with  in 
limestone  near  Oening. 

Cm  Of  amphibious  animals,  such  as  thoee  of  the  lor* 
toiee,  found  in  the  same  vidnity  as  the  bones  of  the  ele- 
phant)  of  frogs  and  toads,  in  the  swine  stone  of  Oen> 
Mg }  and  of  an  animi^  resembling  a  crocodile  in  alnm»- 
nons  shale  nenr  Whitby  in  Torkshire. 

d.  Of  fishes^' of  which  whole  feibee,  skeletons,  and  im- 
presrions,  have  been  found  in  different  places. 

#.  Of  insects,  petrifactions  of  which  ara  not  very 
common,  excepting  insects,  sncb  as  crabs,  which  have 
been  frequently  observed. 

y.  Of  vermes,  of  which  nnmerans  petri&ctionsara 
found  belonging  to  the  orden  fntacta^  ermttacra^  and 
tofOmtMo  or  corals. 

B.  Fbtrlfactione  of  vegetrides,  wKeh  ara  fen  nume- 
rans  in  the  mineral  kinfrdom  than  those  of  animals. 
These  ara  distinguished  mto, 

0.  Petrified  tvood',  the  moot  nsoal  of  which  ara  pe- 
trifectteoe  of  the  tnmhi  branches,  or  roots  of  trees,  snd 


I 


M  t  K  £  R 


A.  eoiiiiiHmly  twcoMng  of  iilkeotts  sabstwaeesy  as  wood* 

tlone,  jasper,  horn  stone. 
*^     6.  Imfireasioas  of  leaves  and  plants,  which  are  not 

unconrooa  in  die  strata  of  ooal  coantrtes,  paiticolailjr 

in  the  shale,  sand  stone,  the  argiUaceons  iron  stone,  and 

the  coal  itself. 

IL  Tbe  xztsrnax.  muTACK,  which  is  th«  seeond 
particnlar  genoric  character  of  solid  minerals  ^  and 
this  is, 

1.  Rinwii,  having  irregular  elevations  and  depm* 
saons,  as  in  cakedon  j. 

2.  Oimwr/T,  when  the  elevatisns  are  small,  nrand, 
and  nearly  cqoal,  as  in  stalactttical  hrown  hsematites. 

3.  JDrmr,  having  minnle,  praoioent,  eqoal  cry- 
stals on  the  sor&oe,  as  in  iron  pyrites  and  ^narts 
crystals. 

4*  Bmqtkj  when  Ae  elevations  are  mimite  and  aloMSt 
impereeptihle,  as  in  cellalar  qnartz. 

c.  &niiy,  when  the  snrfaee  is  composed  of  slender 
eplmters  like  scales,  as  in  chrysolite. 

6.  Smooik^  as  in  bsematites  and  fluor  spar. 

7.  SffyeaMf    which    is    either   smgly  or  doubly 


A»  Singly  streaked  soi  laces  are, 

«.  Transversely,  as  In  rock  crystals  ^  b.  Longitudi- 
nally, as  in  topaz  and  prismatic  shorl }  c.  Diagonally,  as 
in  specular  iron  ore  y  mni  d.  Altiematefy,  as  in  iroB 
pyrites^ 

B.  Doubly  streaked,  which  is, 

a.  Phtm^irmfy,  or  like  a  feather,  as  in  native  sSvtr 
and  native  btsmuth ;  and^ 

^.  Retifirmhu  as  in  gray  cobah  ore. 

ft  ^igo$e.  Of  slight  Knear  elevations,  as  in  cidct* 
dony. 

IIL  Ths  sxte&nal  LutTRX,  in  which  are  to  he 
determined, 

I.  The  intensity  of  the  IfasCre,  which  is  dSsdnguished 
inle  different  degrees,  as 

A.  Beapleftdentf  which  is  the  strongest  kind  of  lustr^, 
as  in  native  qnicksilVer,  galena,  and  rock  cr3rstal« 

B.  Skming^  as  in  gray  copper  ore,  heavy  spar,  and 
pitch-stone. 

C.  Weakhf  ikimng^  as  in  iron  pTrites,  fibroin  gypsum, 
and  garnet. 

D.  Gk'mmerin^f  as  in  earthy  falc,  itrtlfe  frMtnre  of 
fint,  and  of  steatites. 

£.  Duiif  as  IB  most  friable  mtnenM,  as  in  earthy 
Isad  ore,  rooontnin-cork,  chalk,  &c. 

a.  The  kind  of  lostre,  which  is  cidier  common  or 
metallic 

A.  The  common  lustre  belongs  chicly  to-earthy  stones 
and  salts.    It  is  distinguished'iato^  , . 

A,  Gkmtf^  as  in  quartz' and  rock  crystal. 

h.  Waxy  or  grtatff^  as  in  opal,  and  in  ydfew  and 
giecA  lead  ores, 
r.  Fearhfy  as  in  zeolite. 
d*  IHmi&md^  as  in  white  lead  ore an^diamond. 
e.  SetmmeUdUc,  as  in  mica  and  hsematitesr 

B.  Meti^c  lostre,  which  is  peculiar  to  metals  «nd 
most  of  their  ores,  as  native  gold  and -native  silver,  cop- 
per pyrites,  and  galena. 

Jljppeamnee  rf  the  fracture.* 
Hcte,  as  b  the  external  appearanee^  three  kinds  of 


A  L  O  G  Y.  141 

characters  present  themselves  j  I.  The  internal  lostre  \  Cbsriiea- 
II.  Tbe  fracture  \  III.  The  form  of  tbe  fragment.  tioa. 

I.  Tke  iniemai  hiHre^  the  characters  of  which  aiw'"    ^      ^ 
to  be  determined  in  the  same  manner  as  the  eztemat 
lustre* 

If.  The^Wieffirr,  which  is  either  compact  or  jointed. 

I.  The  compact  fracture,  which  ts  distinguished  into 
splintery,  conchoidal,  uneven,  earthy,  and  hackly. 

A.  S^Unterfft  which  is  either 

a.  Coarse  splintery,  as  in  quartz,  prase,  and  jade ;  or 
h.  Fine  splintery,  as  in  honistone  and  fine  splintery 

limestone. 

B.  JSore,  which  happens  in  minerals  that  are  usually 
opake,  and  have  only  a  glimmering  lustre,  as  in  coni- 
pact  galena,  calcedony,  and  vellow  canielian. 

€.  QmeMdaif  which  is  distiuffuisbed, 

o.  According  to  the  size,  intoTai^  and  small. 

hi,  According  to  the  appearance,  into  perfect  and' 
imperfect;  ana 

e.  According  to  the  depth,  into  deep  and  flat. 

Flint,  opal,  jasper,  and  obsidian,  aSbrdrezampkk  of  > 
the  conchoidal  fricture. 

D.  Uneven^  which  is  either^- 

«.  Of  a  coat«e  uraiu,  as  in  copper  pyrites. 

b.  Of  a  small  grain,  as  in  gray  copper  ore,  and 
tf.  Of  a  fine  grain,  as  in  arsenical  pvrites. 

E.  Earthy^  which  is  the  common  nracture  in  eartbb  * 
and  stones,  as  in-marl,  chalk,  limestone. 

F.  Hackfyi  iuwhich  the  fracture  exhibits  sharp  points, 
which  *is  pecidiar  to  the  metals,  as  in  native  gold  and 
native  copper. 

2;  The  iointed  fracture,  lliis  is  divided  into  tbe 
fibrous,  striated,  foliated,  and  slaty. 

A.  The- fibrous  fracture,  in  which  are  to  be  ob- 
served, 

a.  The  thickness  of  the  fibres,  as  they  are  coarse,  fine, 
or  delicate,  as  gypsumf  fine  fibrous  malachite,  and  fh 
woodotin-ore. 

b.  The  direction  of  tbe  fibres,  whidr  are  straight,  as  * 
in  red  bsematites,  and  gray  imtiitiottial  ore  ^  or  curved,  . 
as  in  black  biematites,'  and  fibrous  rock  salt; 

c.Tfie  position  of  tfk^  fibres,  which  u  #•  Panllef^  as    - 
in-rock  salt  and'amianlhAs:  /8.  Diverging,  which  is,  x. 
Stelliform,  as  in  bla^l^  biematites,  and  fibrous  zeolite ; 
or,  2L  Scopiform,-  aritt  fibrous  malachite :  or  y/Premis- 


cuous,  as  in  gray  antimonial'ore;- 

d.  The  fengtn'bf  the  fibres,  whi^h  is  «•  Lons,  as  in 
inrpsum  and  amianthus }  or  /S.  Bhort,  as  in  red  bsema- 
tites. 

B.  Striated,  in  which  are  to  be  considend^. 

a.  The  bresidth  of  the  strise,  whicif  arsi  iki  Narrow, 
as  in  aznre  copper  ore  j  /S.- Broad,  As  in  Sctyuplite  and 
hombkhde^  cr^-yery  broad;  vs  in  sapphire  and  aceo- 
lite. 

&.  The  direetioneftfie  strise,  which  is  either, «.  Straight, 
as  m  gray  ore  of  manganese  ;  or,  /S.  Curved,  as  in  zeolite 
and'actyncilite. 

c.  The  position  of  tbe  striae,  which  is  «•  Parallel,  as 
in  asbestns  and  hornblende ;  /S.  Diverging,  which  is  di««- 
tinguished  *  into  stelliform,  as  in  iron  pyrites  and  zeo- 
lite, or  scopiform,  as  in  actjnolite  and  limestone;  or  y« 
Promiscuous,  as  in  gray  antimonial  ore  and  actynolite. 

dL  Length  qfthestruBy  as  being  «.  Long  striated,  sfs  ia 
asbestus  and^gray^  antimonial  ore  $  or  /8.  Short  striated^ 
as  in  actynelile* 

€.rie 


I4B 


*  t 


MINER 

C.  ThtJoHattd fracture^  in  which  are  to  he  deter^ 

mined, 

a.  The  magnitude  of  the  folia,  as  heiog  «•  Large  fo- 
liated, as  in  mica  and  specular  gypsum.  /I.  Scaly  foli> 
ated,  which  is  distinguished  into  i.  Coarse,  2.  Siaall, 
and  3.  Fine  scaly  foliated,  as  in  micaceous  iron  ore 
and  gypsum,  y.  Granularly  foliated,  which  is  distin- 
guished into  I.  Gross,  %.  Gutrse,  3.  Small,  and  4.  Fine 
granularly  foliated,  as  in  sparry  iron  ore^  hlende,  and 
.calcareous  spar. 

b.  The  perfectness  of  the  folia,  as  being  «.  Perfectly 
foliated,  as  in  feldspar ;  /8.  Imperfectly  foliated,  as  in 
topaz ;  or,  y.  Concealed  foliated,  as  in  emerald. 

c.  The  direction  of  the  folia,  which  is  «.  Straight,  as 
in  large  foliated  blende  \  or  /8.  Curved  foliated.  The 
latter  is  distinguished  into  i.  Spherically  curved,  as  in 
heavy  spar ;  2.  Undularly  curved,  as  in  talc ,  3.  Peta- 
loidaily  curved,  as  in  galena  ^  or,  4.  Indeterminately 
curved,  as  in  mica  and  specular  gypsum. 

d.  The  passage  or  cleavage  of  the  folia,  which  is, 

••  According  to  the  angle  which  one  passage  forms 
with  another  \  and  this  is  either,  X.  Bectangular,  or,  a* 
oblique  angular  >  or, 

/9.  According  to  the  number  of  the  cleavages,  and  is 
either, 

I.  A  single  cleavage,  as  in  mica  and  taicj  2.  A 
double  cleavage,  as  in  feldspar  and  hornblende ;  3.  A 
triple  cleavage,  as  in  calcareous  spar  and  sparry  iron 
ore;  4.  A  quadruple  cleavage,  as  in  fluor  spar)  5. 
A  sextuple  cleavage,  as  in  yellow,  brown,  and  black 
blende. 

D.  The  slaty  fracture,  in  which  are  to  be  deter- 
mined the  thickness  and  direction  of  tlie  lamellae. 

a.  The  thickness  of  the  lamellse,  which  is  either, 
«.  Thick,  or  /8.  Thin  slaty. 

h.  The  direction  of  the  lamellte,  as  being  either, 
••  Straight,  or  /8.  Curved  slaty  \  the  latter  being  dis- 
tinguished into  I.  Undularly,  or  2.  Indeterminately 
curved. 

In  some  minerals  which  possess  distinct  parts,  two 
kinds  of  fracture  may  be  observed.     Thus,  in  fibrous 

Epsum,  and  in  red  and  brown  haematites,  both  the 
reus  and  foliated  fracture  appear  \  the  fibres  are  then 
intersected  by  the  folia  under  a  certain  angle.  In  to- 
paz, the  transverse  fracture  is  foliated,  and  the  longitu- 
dinal fracture  is  conchoidal. 

III.  The  form  of  the  fragments,  which  is  either  re- 
gular or  irregular. 

1.  Regular  fragments,  as  when  they  are, 

A.  Cubical,  as  in  galena  and  rock  salt* 

B.  Rhomboidal,  in  which  case  the  fragments  are 
a*  Specular  on  all  the  planes,  as  in  heavy  spar  f 

&.  On  four  planes,  as  in  feldspar  and  hornblende ; 
and, 

r.  On  two  planes,  as  in  specular  gypsum. 

C.  Trapezoidal  fragments,  &c. 

D.  Trihedral  pyramidal  fragments  are  rarely  to  be 
seen  distinctly,  excepting  in  fluor  ^ar« 

D.  Dodecahedral  fragments,  as  in  blende. 

2.  Irregular  fragments,  as  when  they  are, 

a.  Cuneiform,  as  in  wood-tin-ore,  and  malachite. 

B.  Specular,  as  Hi  amianthus. 

C.  Tabular,  as  in  mica  and  talc. 

D.  Indeterminate,  which  are  the  most  Gommoii 
^mong  solid  minerals,  and  are  distinguished  into 

3 


ikn 


A  L  6  G  Y.  Part 

a*  Very  sharp  edged,  as  in  obsidiaa,  eommoQ  opal 
and  rock  crystal. 

b,  Sliarp  edged,  as  in  bomstoae  and  qilartx. 

c.  Moderately  sharp  edged,  as  in  Jimestone. 

</.  Rather  blunt  edged,  as  in  steatites  ;  and 

e.  Blunt  edged,  as  in  chalk  and  fullers  earth. 

3.  The  appearance  of  the  distinct  concretions. 

In  determining  this  character,  the  form  of  the  dis- 
tinct concretions,  the  surface  of  separation,  and  the 
lustre  of  separation,  are  to  be  considered. 

I. 'The  form  of  the  distinct  concretifms,  which  is 
either  granular,  lamellar,  columnar,  or  pyramidal. 
X.  Granular,  distinct  concretions  are  disliAguished, 

A.  With  respect  to  the  form,  into 
a.  Round  granular,  which  is  either  ••  spherically 

•round,  as  in  roe  stone  ^o^  pisillite  \  or  ^.  Leiiticukriy 
granular,  as  in  argillaceous  iron  stone  \  or  y.  Eloogstod 
round  granular,  as  in  quartz :  and, 

6.  Angularly  granular,  which  is  either  «.  Commoo, 
as  in  galena  and  calcareous  spar }  or  /3.  £longate4  sn- 
nularly  granular,  aa  in  hornblende  and  granular  liflM* 
stone. 

B.  With  regard  lo  the  size  of  the  concretions.  These 
are, 

a.  Gross  granular,  as  in  zeolite  and  Ueade. 

b.  Coafse  granular,  as  in  micm  gal^^a,  and  piso- 
lite. 

c.  Small  granular,  as  in  roe  stone  a|Ml  garnet  j  and 

d.  Fine  granular  distinct  concretions,  as  in  granular 
limestone  and  galena. 

2.  Lamellar  distinct  concretions.  The  differences  to 
be  observed  here  are,  with  respect  to  the  direction  or 
form,  and  the  thickness. 

A.  With  respect  to  the  direction  or  form,  they  are 
either, 

a.  Straight  lamellar :  and  again  either  quite  straight, 
as  in  some  galena  and  heavy  spar^  or  fortificatien-like, 
as  in  some  amethyst  and  calcedony. 

b*  Curved  lamellar,  which  is  either  iadfitermiaate,  as' 
in  galena  and  specular  iron  ore  5  renifoim,  as  in  fibrous 
malachite  and  native  arsenic  ^  or  concentric,  which  is 
either  spherical  concentric,  as  in  calcedony  and  piso- 
lite, or  conically  concentric,  as  in  some  stalactites  aad 
haematites. 

.B.  With  regard  to  the  thickness,  as  being 

a.  Very  thick,  the  concretions  exceeding  one-half 
inch,  as  in  amethyst  and  h^avy  snar. 

b.  Thick,  the  concretions  being  between  one-half 
and  one-fourth  inch,  as  in  heavy  spar  and  native  ar- 
senic. 

c^.  Thin,  between  one-fourth  and  one-half  inch,  as  In 
calcedony. 

d.  Very  thin,  from  a  line  to  a  thickness  just  percep- 
tible to  the  naked  eye,  as  in  specular  iron. 

3.  Columnar  distinct  concretions,  which  are  distin- 
guished with  regard  to  the  direction,  thickness,  form, 
and  position. 

A.  The  direction,  which  ia  either, 

a.  Straight  columnar,  as  in  schorl  and  calcareoos  spar, 
and, 

b.  Curved  columnar,  as  in  argillaceous  iron  stone,  and 
specular  iron  ore. 

B.  The  thickness  is  distinguished  into, 
a.  Very  thick,  when  the  diaoMter  exceeds  two  inches, 

as  in  basalt  and  ouartz. 

b.  Thick 


1 


Mineralogy. 


>43 


bm  Thick  colommry  *from  two  inches  to  ooe-foiirth 
inch,  as  in  amethyst  and  calcareons  spar. 
•    e.  Thin^  from  one^fonrth  to  one-half  inch,  as  in  cal- 
careoos  spar  and  argiUaceons  iron  stone. 

1L  Very  thin,  the  thickness  being  less  than  a  line,  as 
in  schorl  and  columnar  argillaeeoos  iron  stone. 

C.  The  form  of  the  concretions  being  either 

a.  Perfectly  colamnar,  as  in  argillaceous  iron  stone. 

b.  Im^rfectlyy  as  in  amethyst. 

c.  Cnneifbrm  colomnary  as  in  calci^reons  spar  and 
anenical  pyrites. 

D.  The  position  of  the  concretionSy  which  is  either 

0.  Parallel  columnar,  as  in  schorlite,  or 

b:  Diverging  or  promiscnous  columnar,  as  in  schorl 
and  arsenical  pyrites. 

4.  Pyramidal  distinct  concretions.  This  form  of  con- 
cretion is  very  rare,  and  has  been  observed  only  in  the 
basalt  of  Iceland,  Faro,  and  Bohemia. 

II.  The  surface  of  separation,  which  is  distinguished 
into 

1.  Smooth,  as  in  wood  tin  ore. 

2.  fiough,  as  in  native  arsenic. 

3.  Uneven,  as  in  galena  and  blende  }  and 

4.  Streaked,  which  la  either, 

A.  Longitudinally  streaked,  as  in  schorl  and  scBorlite. 

B.  Transversely  and  fortification-like,  as  in  amethyst 
and  specular  iron  ore. 

III.  The  lustre  of  separation.  This  character  is  to 
be  determined  in  the  same  manner  as  the  external 
lustre. 

4.  TAtf  Cfeneral  Appearance, 

This  comprehends  three  particular  generic  eharacters^ 
the  transpareccy,  the  streaky  and  the  stain. 

I.  The  transparency,  which  is  distinguished  into  the 
following  five  degrees. 

1.  Transparent,  which  is  either, 

A.  Common,  as  when  objects  appear  single  through 
a  transparent  mineral  ^  or, 

B.  Doubling,  when  objects  appear  double,  as  in  cal- 
careous spar,  or  double  refracting  spar,  jargon,  and 
chrysolite. 

2.  Semitransparent,  as  in  opal  and  calcedony. 

3.  Translucent,  as  in  flint,  cat's  eye,  and  fluor  spu*. 

4.  Translucent  at  the  edges,  as  in  homstone  and  fo- 
listed  gypsum. 

5.  Opake,  which  is  peculiar  to  minerals  of  a  raetayic 
lustre,  as  in  malachite  and  jasper. 

II.  The  streak,  which  is  either, 

1.  Of  the  same  colour,  or, 

2.  Different  fi^m  that  of  the  mineral,  and  whose  lus- 
tre is  the  same  j  or, 

B.  More  or  less  different. 

In  red  silver  ore  tbe  streak  is  a  dark  crimson  red  y 
in  cinnabar,  scarlet  red }  in  green  lead  ore,  greenish- 
white  y  in  red  lead  ore,  clear  lemon  yellow. 

III.  The  stain.  With  respect  to  this  churacter^  mi* 
nerah  are  distinguished  into  such  as, 

1.  Simply  stain,  and  this  either  strongly  or  weakly, 
as  gray  ore  of  manganese,  and  red  scaly  iron  oi*e  y  and 
into  SQch  as  * 

2.  Both  stain  and  mark,>s  chalk  and  plumbago  ^  and 

3.  Such  as  do  not  stain. 

Ckanacier^/or  ike  T<m>k> 

of  tiiifl  descripti^fn-  are,  hardness,  9»li« 


dity,    frangibiiity,   flexibility,    and    adhesion   to  the  Cbnifica. 
tongue.  tioo. 

I.  The  hardfiesSf  which  is  determined  by  the  follow* '-    » 
ing  domes. 

1.  Hard,  as  when  a  mineral  gives  fire  with  steel, 
but  cannot  be  scraped  with  the  knifcr  This  character 
is  distinguished  into, 

A.  Hard,  when  the  file  makes  a  considerable  impress 
sion,  as  in  feldspar  and  schorl. 

B.  Very  hard,  on  which  it  makes  a  weak  impression, 
as  in  rock  crystal  and  topaz. 

C.  Extremely  hard,  on  which  the  file  makes  no  im- 
pression, as  diamond  and  emery. 

2.  Semihard  may  be  slightly  scraped  with  a  knife, 
but  gives  no  fire  with  steel,  as  red  copper  ore,  blende, 
limestone. 

3.  Soft,  easily  scraped  with  the  knife,  as  in  galena, 
mica,  asbestos. 

4.  Very  soft,  which  receives  an  impression  from  tbe 
nail,  as  in  gypsum,  chalk,  talc. 

II.  The  soiiditv^  according  to  which  solid  minerals 
are  distinguished  into, 

1.  Brittle,  when  the  particles  are  in  the  highest  de- 
gree coherent  and  immoveable,  as  in  quartz,  gray  cop- 
per ore,  and  copper  pyrites. 

2.  Sectile,  when  the  particles  are  coherent  hot  not 
perfectly  immoveable  among  one  another,  as  in  plum* 
bago  and  galena. 

3.  Malleable,  when  the  integrant  particles  are  cohe- 
rent and  also  more  or  less  moveable  among  one  another, 
as  in  the  most  of  the  native  metals. 

III«  The  JrangibiHty^  with  regard  to  which  solid 
minerals  are  either, 

1.  Very  difficultly  firangible,  as  native  metals,  and 
massive  common  hornblende. 

2.  Difficultly  firangible,  as  in  prase,  massive  quartz, 
and  asbestus. 

3.  Rather  easily  frangible,  as  iron  pyrites,  vitreous 
copper  ore. 

4.  Easily  frangible,  as  in  galena,  opal,  and  heavy  spar. 
5»  Very  easily  frangible,  as  in  amber  and  pitcoal. 

IV.  The  JUacihilityy  according  to  which  solid  mine- 
rals are, 

1.  Flexible,  which  is  distinguished  into, 

A.  Common,  as  in  malleable  minerals,  amianthus, 
gold  ore. 

B.  Elastic,  as  in  miea^  elastic  mtnoal  pitch  from 
Derbyshire. 

2.  Inflexible,  such  minemls  as  break  when  the  direc- 
tion of  the  fibres  is  changed. 

V.  The  adhesion  Uy  the  tongtte,  according  to  whick  • 
some  minerals  possess  this  property 

i .  Strooglyj  as  in  hydrophanf;. 

2.  Rather  Strongly,  as  in  bole*  and  lithomsi^. . 

3.  Weakly,  as  talc. 

4.  Very  weakly,  as  in  clay. 

5.  No  adhesion. at  all,  as  is  the  case  with  most  mi- 
nerals.  • 

CharocUnJwr  the.  Hearing. 

L  The  sound,  which  is  distinguished  into. 
u  Ringing  or  mounding,  as  in  native  arsenic  and  com- 
mon-slate. 

2.  Creaking,  as  in  native  amalgam  when  pressed  witk 
the  finger. 

3.  Rustling, 


144 


MINERALOGY. 


ClanUctt-      j«  Sostling^  t9  in  passing  the-^Dger  over  nonntain 
^n.      cork  and  fartnace<»us  zeolite. 

^     -*      2*  Particular  generic  characters  of  friaUe  minerals. 
The  diaracters  included  under  this  title  are.  the  ex-» 
temal  Amis,  the  lostre,  tbn  appearance^oTibe  jacticles, 
the  stain  and  tiw  friabiiilj. 

I.  The  external  fomiy  which  is  elWietmassivef  m»  in 
porcelain  narth  >  itUmpertedtta  in  bUck  siWerore^  as 
a  thick  or  thin  crwt^  as  in  black  co|^r  ore  \  tpumu 
firm^  as  in  red  and  brown  scaly  imn  ores  \  dendritic^ 
as  gray  ore  of  manganese)  or  remfonn^  as  pure-day  and 
earthy  tak. 

IL  The  Instre,  which  is  determia\etdas.in  aolid  mine* 
'  rals }  but  here  it  b  distinguished, 
I.  With  regard  to  intensity^as 
^,  A.Glimmermgyasinearthytalcandscalyironore;  and, 

l^  .  B«  Dully  as  in  earthy  lead-one^ and  lithomarga* 

^*  2.  With  regard  to  the  kind,  as  it  is  common  or  mr« 

III.  The  appearance  of  the  particles,  which  is  either^ 

1.  Dusty,  as  in  black  copper^ure,  iron  ochres* 

2.  Scaly,  as  in  earthy  talc 

IV.  Tbs  stain.  iS'distingnished  in  friable  jninemlft  as 
being  either 

1.  Strong,  as  in  scaly  iron.  ore. 

2.  Weak,  as-  in  earthy  lead  ores. 

V.  The  friability,  with  regard  to  which  friable  mi* 
nerals  are  eitbery 

I*  Pulverulent,  as  earthy  lead  ores,  and  blue  martial 
earth. 

2*  Loosely  eoherent,  as  scaly  iron  ore  and  clays. 
.  3«  Ekrticnlar  generic  characters  of  fluid  mmerals. 
Inese  characters  relate  to  the  external  form,  the  lustre, 
'  the  trapipvrnfyy,th<v  Aujdityr^and,  tb«.  w^t^g,  of  the 
,.  fingen. 

rJU'llM  extemal-fonn,  trhich  is  eitjipr, 

I.  In  globules;  and,  2«  Liquifonn}  both  which  cha- 
.  meters  belong  to  native  mercmry. 

II.  The  lustre,  which  is  determined  as  formerly  ex- 
plaaned,  and  is  either,  i-.  Conunon  y  or,  a»  Mietalbc,  as 

.  in  native  mercniy. 

III.  The  transparency,  of  which  threes  degrees  are 
distinguished  in  fluid  minerals:  x.  Transparent,  as  in 
naphtha  \  2.  Turbidt  as.ijkpetaoleum  \  3.  Apakef  asrin 
native  mercury. 

IV.  The  fluidity,  which  is  characterised  by-beingt 
i^  Perfeetly  fluid,  at  miBrpnry».  90oA^ ,  2.  rCohmve,*  as*ia 

'mineral  tar. 

V.  The  wetUng^«f 4Im  fingeiK  x.8oneJaid  minerals 
wet  the  fingers,  as  mineral  tar  j  and,  2*  Some  do  not, 
a«  nativr  mercmy. 

Rtmaimng  pummoilC  Generic  Estemai  Characters^ 

The  i^vMuning  cemmon  generic  charactott  are  the 
mietno|p|j  f  the  coldness  >  the  weighty  the  smell  |  and 
thetMite. 
.IILThe  oaetnosity,  of  which  there  are  four  degress. 
.  1.  Bfeagre,  as  is  the  case  with  most  minerals. 
.   2.  Bather  grsnsy,  aa  pipe  day. 

3*  Giensy,  as  fullers  ettth  and  steatites. 

4.  Venr  gnaty,  as  talk  and. plumbago. 

IV.  Tm  eoMttpBs,  whidi  indndes  three,  degnes. 

I.  Cdd,  having  the  eeldness  of  quartz,  ai  honstonCf 
j^lipnr,'  mafhie  • 

2*  Bathtr  etUf  aseeipenlioe,  gypiBB, 

2 


3.  €li|^tly  cold,  as  amber,  pitconl,  «iid  chalk. 
By  this  character  cut  andpdLihed  stones  may  bedis- 
tipguiijhfid, .where  some  of  the  oth^r  cbaractfrs  aie  lost; 
and  by  it  also  natural  gems  may  be  distinguished  frem 
those  which  are  artificial. 

^  V.  The  weigfat.-^Xhis  character  is  most  aoensntcly 
discovered  hj  taking  the  spediic  graviw  of  a  miMnl 
byjneans  of  a  hydrostatic  balance.  See  Hyorodti|a« 
Mies.  But  when  this  ^cannot  be  faa4  recourse  to,  a  mi- 
jMraLis  examined  by  lifting,  it. in  the  baud,  and  compar- 
ing  its  weight,  thus  estimated  by  the  feeling,  with  its 
vdume,  by  which  means  an  amroxi«pation .  may  he 
made  to  its  specific  gravity.  Five  degrees  of  this 
mode  of  estimating  the  weight  of  mioerus  have  been 
assumed. 

.!• -Supexnatsnt,  such  minerals  as  swim^inwater, as 
i^aphtba,  mountain  cork. 

2.  Light,  such  minerals  as  have  a  spedfic  gravity  be- 
tween iwOOO.and  2.^0,  ^takinjg  water  at  L>ooo)  as  anw 
her,  mineral  pitch,  and  pitcoal. 

3.  Bather  heavy,  are  .such  minends  as  have  a  specific 
gravity  between  2.0Qo..and  .4.000,  which  is  the  case 
with  most  kinds  nf\&tonqi,*a^  amianthus,  rock  crystal^ 
mica,  floor  spar,  diamond. 

^  4.  Heavy,,  when  the  spealfic  gravity  is  from  4.oon  to 
6.000,  as  in  most  metallic  ores,  such  as  .gray  copper  ore, 
red  hseoMitites^.  white  lead  or^  and. in  some  others  as 
heavy  spar. 

5.  Extremely  heavy,  when  (be  fpedfic  gravity  ex- 
ceeds 6.000,  which  includes  the  native  metsis,  as  native 
gold,  native  copper,  and  native  ailver,tand  some  others^ 
as  galena,,  tinstone  crystals,  sulphurated  bismuth|  and  vi« 
treous  silver  nre. 

.VL  The.  smell  is'chsracteristic  of  only  a  small  num- 
'ber  of  minerals.    It  is  observed  either,' 
,  I.  Of  itself  without  addition,,  and  is, 
:  A.  Bituminous,  as-ftiin^ral  pitch  and  naphtha. 

B.  Slightly  sulphureous,  as  in  native  sulphur  and  griy 
antimonial  ore. 

;  C.  Bitterish^  as  in  ochre  kept  .dose  shut  up  for  some 
time. 
*'!}•  CHayey,  as  in  yellow  chalk. 
2*.  Afterbreathing  on  a  mineral^  which  should  be  cold 
and  breathed  upon  strongly  and  quickly,  when  the  smell 
perceived  is, 

..A.  Clayey  hitter,  as  in  hornblende  .and  some  si^ 
nites. 

3.  After,  nibbing  or  striking,,  when  the  smell  emit- 

A.  Urinous,  as  in  swinestone  af^er  rubbing. 

B.  Sulphureous,  as  in  pyrites. 

C.  Garlic,  as  in  arsenical  fgirites  and  ilhSte  cobalt  ore. 

D.  EnspyreuuMitic,  as  in  quarts  and  ^tcoal. 
yiL'TW  taste,  which  is  characteristic  of  one  dass  if 

ininerals,H>nly,  viz;  the  salts  }  and  it  is  dther, 
.1.  Sweetish  saline,  as  rock  salt. 
2.6weeti6h  astringent,  as  native  alum. 
3.  Sonrish  astringent,  as  native  vitriol. 
4*  Bitter  saline,  as  jiatlve  Epsom  salL 
jl  Coding  skline,  as  native  nitre. 
,  6.  Lixivious,  as  native  alkalL 

S  Urinous,  as  native  sd  ammoniac, 
eside  the  characten  which  we  have  now  illostrated, 
some  others  ave-oceasioaallv  and^  successfully  empkiyed 

Sii'tlMi  Ammt  1 1  lit  Mm  nf '"■"^'^'•- 


Part  I, 


These  have 


nfonvK 
ottdcr 


MINERALOGY. 


t.  under  the  deoominatiOD  of  physical,  chemicalt  and  em- 
pirical characters. 

"^  X.  Fkyskak  The  most  common  of  the  physical  cha« 
racters  is  the  property  which  some  minerals  possess  of 
exhibiting  signs  of  electricity  and  magnetism.  Some 
minerals  become  electric  by  being  heated,  and  others 
by  friction ;  and  the  electricity  thus  excited  i«  in  some 
vitreous  or  positive,  and  in  others  resinous  or  negative. 
Some  minerals,  too,  and  particularly  some  varieties  of 
iron  ore,  are  distinguished  by  being  attracted  by  the 
magnet.  Such  are  magnetic  pyrites,  and  magnetic  iron 
sand.  By  filing  a  mineral  so  fine  that  the  particles 
shall  swim  on  water,  and  then  applying  a  magnet,  the 
slightest  degree  of  magnetic  eflfect  may  be  observed. 
Among  the  physical  properties  of  minerals  also,  may  be 
reckoned  the  phosphorescence,  which  is  produced  by 
friction,  as  in  some  varieties  of  blende  ^  or  by  exposure 
to  heat,  as  floor  spar,  and  some  calcareous  spars.  To 
these  characters  also  belongs  the  peculiar  property  of 
Lemnian  earth  and  some  other  boles,  which  being 
thrown  into  water  split  into  pieces  with  a  crackling 
noise  ^  and  the  property  of  some  opals  and  other  stones, 
of  acquiring  a  higher  degree  of  transparency  when  they 
are  immersed  in  water,  hence  called  hydrophanes. 

2.  Chemical  characters, — By  some  simple  experi- 
ments, the  nature  of  many  mineral  substances  may  be 
easily  and  quickly  ascertained,  and  particularly  by 
means  of  acids.  Tfans,  the  nitrous  acid  is  employed  to 
discover  whether  a  mineral  effervesces,  from  which  cha- 
racter the  nature  of  the  mineral  can  be  more  certainly 
known  than  by  any  other.  Ammonia,  or  the  volatile 
alkali,  dissolves  copper,  and  assumes  a  blue  colour.  A- 
cetic  acid  is  successfully  employed  as  a  test  of  lead, 
which  communicates  to  the  acid  a  sweetish  taste.  By 
means  of  heat,  and  particularly  by  the  use  of  the  blow- 
pipe, much  knowledge  may  be  obtained  of  the  nature  of 
minerals.  Some  are  volatilized  ^  in  others  the  colour 
is  changed  j  and  while  some  are  nearly  fused  at  dif- 
ferent temperatures,  others  bum  with  a  flame  of  peca- 
liar  colours. 

3.  Empirical  characters»r^Among  these  characters, 
the  most  common  is  the  peculiar  efflorescence  which 
takes  place  in  some  ores.  In  copper  ores  the  efflores* 
cence  is  green  or  blue ;  in  iron  ores,  brown,  yellow, 
or  red  >  in  cobalt,  peach  blossom  red  ^  and  in  arsensic, 
white. 

Characters  for  the  distinction  of  minerals  may  be  ob« 
tained  from  the  circumstance  of  certain  minerals  being 
found  generally  accompanying  others  ^  as  native  arsenic 
with  orpiment ;  gray  copper  ore  with  copper  pyrites, 


145 


and  gray  silver  ore  ^  red  copper  ore  with  native  copper :  ciassifici 
\9hiie  cobalt  ore  is  rarely  found  without  nickel  ^  and      tton 
by  attending  to  this  circumstance,  it  will  not  be  mis- 
taken for  arsenical  pyrites. 

For  the  sake  of  brevity,  Mr  Kirwan,  and  others 
after  him,  have  adopted  a  method  of  expressing  some  of 
the  characters  by  means  of  numbers.  The  following 
table  exhibits  some  of  these  characters  and  correspond 
ding  numbers. 

Resplendent^  denoted  by  the  number  4. 

Shining  3. 

Weakly  shining  2. 

Glimmering  i. 

Dull  '  o, 

Fragments^  when  the  form  is  indeterminate. 

Very  sharp-edged  4. 

Sharp-edged  3. 

Rather  sharp-edged  2. 

Rather  blunt  1. 

Perfectly  blunt  o. 

Transparency. 

Transparent  4. 

Semitransparent  3. 

Translucent  2. 

Translucent  at  the  edges  2 . 

Opake  o. 

Hardness^ 

Of  chalk,  denoted  by  ^ 

Yielding  to  the  nail  4 

May  be  scraped  with  a  knife  5 
Yields  more  difficultly  to  the  knife      6 

Scarcely  yields  to  the  knife  7 

Does  not  give  fire  with  steel  8 

Gives  feeble  sparks  with  steel  9 

Gives  lively  sparks  10. 

Bot  it  is  obvious  that  this  abridged  mode  of  expres- 
sing these  characters,  by  means  of  numbers,  can  only  be 
advantageously  employed  by  those  who  have  made  them- 
selves quite  familiar  with  the  different  numbers  corres* 
ponding  to  the  difiierent  shades  of  character,  and  who 
can  thus  recollect  them  with  facility  and  precision.  To 
others  this  method  of  description,  by  requiring  constant 
reference  to  the  explanation,  may  prove  rather  embar- 
rassing, so  that  what  is  gained  in  brevity  may  be  lost  in 
perspicuity.  We  propose,  therefore,  still  to  retain  the 
verbal  mode  of  expression  in  preference  to  the  numerical. 


Table  of  Minerals  arranged  in  the  order  of  their  Genera  and  Species,  each  Genus  being 
divided  into  Families  or  Groupes,  the  characters  of  which  latter  are  derived  from  their: 
external  properties  according  to  the  method  of  Werner. 


First  Class. 
£ARTHS  &  STONES. 

I.  Diamond  Genus. 
Diamond. 

II.  ZiRCOK  Genus. 
2ircon. 
Hyacinth. 

Vol.  XIV.  Part  I. 


III.  Siliceous  Genus. 
Chrysolite  Family. 
ClirysoberyL 
Chrysolite. 
Olivine. 
Coccolite. 
Aogite. 
Vesuvian. 

-  i- 


G&met  Family. 
I^ucite. 
Melanite. 
Garnet. 
«.  Precious* 

b.  Common. 

c.  Bohemian  or  Pyrope. 
Grenatite  or  BtauroUte. 

T 


Ruby  Family. 
Ceylanite. 
Spmelle. 
Sapphire. 
Corundnm. 
Adamantine  spar^ 
Emery. 


Schorh 


CUsafioA*  Schorl  Tmilf. 

tion.      Topaz. 

Pyropbjsalite. 

Enclase. 

Emerald. 

Beryl. 

Schorlite. 

Schorl. 

Gm  Common. 
6.  Electric  or  Toorma- 
Une. 
Pistazite. 
Zoisite. 
Azinite  or  ThnmeistoDe. 

Qpart9  Family. 
Quartz* 

a.  Amethyst. 
Common. 
Fibrous. 

b.  Rock  crystal* 

c.  Rose-coloured  or  milk 
quartz. 

d.  Common  quartz. 

e.  Prase. 
/,  Ferroffinous    quartz^ 

or  iron  flint. 
Homstone. 

a.  Splinterr* 
&•  CoDchoidal. 
c,  Licnifonn. 

Flinty  slate. 
4S.  Common. 

b,  Lydian  stone. 
Flint. 
Caloedony. 

a.  Common. 

b,  Camelian. 
Opal. 

o.  Pk«cions, 

b»  Common. 

d»  Lignuoini* 
Menilite. 
Jasper. 

0.  Ef^ptian* 

b.  Ribband. 

c.  Porcelain. 

d.  Common* 
r.  Agate. 

Heliotrope  or  Bloodstone. 

Cbrysoprase. 

Plasma. 

Cats  ere. 

Pttchstone  Family. 
Obsidian. 
Pitchstone. 
Pearlstone. 
Pumice. 

Zeolite  Family. 
Prebnite. 

o.  Fibrous. 

b.  Foliated. 
Zeolite. 


a.  Mealy 

b.  Fibrous 


^Mesotype* 


MINER 

c.  Radiated  1  c*ml»» 

Cuhizite,  Cbabasie  or  A- 

nalcime. 
Cross-stone,  Staurolite. 
Laufflonite. 
Dipyre. 
Natrolite. 
Azorite. 
Lazolite. 
Hydrargillite. 

Feldspar  Family. 
Andalusite. 
Feldspar. 

a.  Adularia. 

b.  Labradore  stone, 
r.  Common  feldspar. 

d.  Compact. 

r.  Hollow  spar,  chiasto^ 
lite. 
Scapolite. 

Arctizite  or  Wemerite. 
Diaspore. 
Spodumene. 
Meionite. 
Sommite. 
Ichtbyopbtbalmlte. 

IV.  A&GILLACEOUS  Geu. 

Clay  Family. 
Native  alumina. 
Porcelain  earth. 
Common  clay. 

a.  Loam. 

bm  Pipe  clay. 

c.  Potters  clay. 

dl  Variegated  day. 

e.  Slaty  clay. 
Claystone. 
Adhesive  state. 
Polishing  slate. 
Tripoli. 
Floatstone. 
Alum  stone. 

Cfiay  SlaU  Family. 
Ahiminoos  sebistus* 
eu  Common* 

b.  Shining. 
Bituminous  schistus. 
Drawing  slate. 
Whetslatt. 

Clay  slate. 

Mka  Family. 
Lepidolite* 
Mica. 
Finite. 
Potstone. 
Chlorite. 

0.  Earthy. 

&.  Common. 

c.  Foliated. 
d*  Schistose. 

Trap  Family. 
Homhlende. 
a.  Common. 
6.  Basaltic. 


A  L  O  G  Y. 

e.  Labradore. 

dm  Schistose. 
Basalt. 
Wacken. 

Phonolite  or  Clinkstone. 
Lava. 

Lithomarga  Family. 
Green  earth. 
Lithomarga. 

o.  Friable. 

6.  Indurated. 
Rock  soap. 
Umber. 
Yellow  earth. 

V.  Magkesfak  Genus. 

Soap  Stone  Family. 
Native  magnesia. 
Bole. 
Sea  froth. 
Fullers  earth. 
Steatites. 
Figure  stone. 

Talc  Family. 
Nephrite. 

a.  Common. 

b.  Axe-stone. 
Serpentine. 

a.  Common. 

b.  Precious. 
Schillerstone. 
Talc. 

a.  Earthy. 
b»  Common. 

c.  Indurated. 
Asbestus. 

a.  Mountain  cork. 
b*  ^jnianthus* 

c.  Common  asbestus. 

d,  Ligniform  asbestus. 
ActywUite  Family. 

Cyanite. 
Actynolite. 

a.  Asbestous. 

&  Common. 

c.  Glassy. 
TWmolite. 

a.  Asbestous. 
A.  Common, 
c.  Glassy. 

Smaragdite. 

Sablite. 

Schalstone. 

VL  Calcaksous  Genus. 

Family  of  Carbonates. 
Agaric  mineral. 
Cbalk. 
Limestone, 
o.  Compact. 
1^.  Common. 
y.  Oolite  or  roe*8tone« 

b.  Foliated. 

ef.  Granular. 
y.  Calcareous  spar, 
r.  Fibrous. 


P&rtl. 


6'.  Common. 

I/,  Calcareous  sinter. 
d.  Pisolite  or  pea-stone. 
Calcareous  tufa. 
Foam  earth. 
Slaty  spar. 
Arragonite. 
Brown  spar. 
Dolomite. 

Rhomb  or  bitter  spar. 
Swinestone. 
Marl. 

0.  Earthy. 

b.  Indurated. 
Bituminous  marl  slate. 

Family  of  Pkosphatet, 
Apatite. 

Asparagus  stone. 
Phosphorite. 

Family  of  Fhsatet. 
Fluor. 

a.  Earthy. 

b*  Compact. 

c.  Floor  spar. 
Family  of  Sulphates* 

Gypsum. 

a.  Earthy. 

bm  Compact. 

c.  Foliated. 

d*  Fibrous. 
Selenite. 
Anhydrite. 
Cube  spar. 

VII.  Barytic  Genus. 

Family  of  Carbomsteu 
"Witberite. 

Family  of  Sulphatee* 
Heavy  spar. 

a.  Earthy. 

&  Compact. 

c.  Granular. 

d*  Foliated. 

f.  Common. 

f.  Columnar. 

f.  Fibrous. 
•  Bolognian. 

VIII.  Strontiak  Genus. 

Family  of  Carbonates, 
Strontites. 

Family  of  Sulphaies* 
Celestine. 

a.  Fibrousu 

b»  Foliated. 

Second  Class. 
SALT& 

1.  Genus  Svlprates. 
Native  vitrioL 
Native  alum. 
Mountain  buttor. 
Capillarr  salt.  * 
Native  Epson  salt. 
Native  Glauber  salt. 


n.  Genns  NrritATits. 
Nrnttve  nitre. 
^   III.  Genus  Moriates. 
Sock  salt. 

a.  Foltateii. 

6m  Fibioas. 
Seasmlt. 

Native  sal  ammoniac. 
IV.  Genus  Carbonates. 
Native  soda. 
Native  magnesia. 

V.  Genus  Borates. 
Boracite. 

VI.  Genus  Fluates. 
Ciyolite. 

Thikd  Class. 

COMBUSTIBLES. 

I.  Genus  SoLPHaR. 
Native  sulphur. 
4Mm  Common. 
h.  Volcanic. 

II.  Bituminous  Genus. 
Petroleamy  or  nuneral  oil. 
Blineral  pitch. 

a.  Elastic. 

b.  Eaithv. 

c.  Slaggy. 
Amber. 

a.  White. 

b.  Yellow. 
Brown  coal. 

<i.  Common. 

6,  Bituminous  wood. 

c.  Earth  coal. 

d.  Alum  earth* 

e.  Moor  coal. 
Black  coal. 

a.  Ktch  coaU 
6,  Columnar  coal. 

c.  Slaty  coal. 

d.  Cannel  coal. 

f.  Foliated  coal. 
/  Coarse  coal. 

Coal  blende. 

a.  Conchoidal. 

b.  Slaty. 

III.  Graphite  Genus. 
Crt^pbtte. 

a.  Scaly. 

b»  Compact. 
Mineral  charcoal. 

Fourth  Class. 

METALLIC  ORES. 

I.  Platina  Genus. 
Native  platina. 

II.  Gold  Genus. 
Native  gold. 

0.  Ckuden  yellow* 

b.  Brass  yellow. 

c.  Grayish  yellow, 
in.  Mercurt  Genus. 

Native  mercury. 
Native  amalgam. 
Corneous  ore  of  meicury. 


MINER 

Liver  ore  of  mercury. 

a.  Compact. 
6.  Slaty. 

Cinnabar. 
0.  Common. 

b.  Fibrous. 

IV.  Silver  Genus. 
Native  silver. 

Cm  Common. 

b.  Auriferous. 
Antimonial  silver  ore. 
Arsenical  silver  ore. 
Corneous  silver  ore. 
Sooty  silver  ore. 
Vitreous  silver  ore. 
Brittle  vitreous  silver  ore. 
Red  silver  ore. 

o.  Dark  red. 

b.  Bright  red. 
White  silver  ore. 
Black  silver  ore. 

V.  Copper  Genus. 
Native  copper, 
yitreous  copper  ore. 

•>a.  Compact. 
b.  Foliated. 
Variegated  copper  ore. 
Copper  pyrites. 
White  copper  ore. 
Gktiy  copper  ore. 
Black  copper  ore. 
Bed  copper  ore. 

a.  Compact. 

b.  Foliated. 

c.  Capillary. 
Brick  red  copper  ore. 

a.  Earthy. 

b.  Indurated. 
Emerald  copper  ore. 
Azure  copper  ore. 

0.  Earthy. 

b.  Indurated. 
Malachite. 

o.  Fibrous. 

b.  Compact. 
Green  copper  ore. 
Ferruginous  green  copper 

ore. 

a.  Earthy.  , 

b.  Slaggy. 
Micaceous  copper  ore. 

0.  Foliated. 

b.  Lenticular. 
Muriate  of  copper. 

VI.  Iron  Genus. 
Native  iron. 
Iron  pyrites. 

0.  Conmion. 

b.  Radiated* 

c.  Capillary.    ^ 
d»  Hepatic. 

Magnetic  pyrites. 
Magnetic  iron  orfe. 

0.  Common. 

b.  Arenaceous. 
Specolar  iron  ore. 


A  L  O  G  Y. 

0.  Common. 

d.  Compact. 

^.  Foliated. 
b.  Micaceous  iron  ore. 
Red  iron  ore. 

0.  Red  iron  froth. 

b.  Compact. 

c.  Red  haematites. 

d.  Red  ochre. 
Brown  iron  ore. 

0.  Brown  iron  froth. 

b.  Compact. 

c.  Brown  hteraatites. 
d»  Brown  ochre. 

Sparry  iron  ore. 
Black  iron  ore. 
0.  Compact. 

b.  Black  heematites. 
Argillaceous  iron  stone. 

a.  Red  chalk. 

6.  Columnar  argillace'- 
oos  iron  stone. 

c.  Granular. 

d.  Common. 

e.  Reniform. 
/,  Pisiform. 

Bog  iron  stone. 

0.  Morassy. 

6.  Swampy. 

r.  Meadow. 
Blue  earthy  iron  stone. 
Green  earthy  iron  stone. 

VII.  Lead  Genus. 
Galena. 

0.  Common. 

b.  Compact. 
Blue  lead  ore. 
Brown  lead  ore. 
Black  lead  ore. 
White  liead  ore. 
Green  lead  ore. 
Red  lead  ore. 
Yellow  lead  ore. 
Native  sulphate  of  lead.  * 
Earthy  lead  ore. 

0.  Friable. 
b.  Indurated. 

VIII.  Tts  Genus. 
Tin  pyrites. 
Common  tinstone. 
Grained  tin  ore. 

IX.  Bismuth  Genus. 
Native  bismuth. 
Vitreous  bismuth. 
Ochre  of  bismuth. 

X.  ZiMC  Genus. 
Blende. 
0.  Yellow. 

b.  Brown. 

c.  Black. 
Calamiue. 

0.  Compact. 
b»  Foliated. 
XI.  AutlMOKY. 
Native  antimony. 
Gray  ore  of  antmiony. 

Ta 


0.  Compael. 

b.  Foliated. 

c.  Radiated. 

d.  Plumose. 

Red  ore  of  antimony. 
White  ore  of  antimony^ 
Ochre  of  antimony. 

XII.  Cobalt  Genus. 
White  cobalt  ore. 
Gray  cobalt  ore. 
Shining  cobalt  ore. 
Black  cobalt  ochre. 

0.  Friable. 

b.  Indurated. 
Brown  cobalt  ochre. 
Yellow  cobalt  ochre.. 
Red  cobalt  ochre. 

0.  Earthy. 

b.  Radiated. 
XIII.  Nickel  Genus. 
Copper-coloured  nickel. 
Nickel  ochre. 
XIV.MANGAKESEGenus. 
Gray  ore  of  manganese, 

0.  Radiated. 

b.  Foliated. 

c,  Compact. 
cZ.  Earthy. 

Black  ore  of  manganese. 
Red  ore  of  manganese. 
XV.  MoLTBDEKA  Genns. 
Sulphuret  of  molybdena. 
XVI.  Arsenic  Genos^ 
.  Native  arsenic. 
Arsenical  pyrites. 

0.  Common. 

6.  Argentiferous. 
Orpiment. 

0.  Yellow. 

6.  Red. 
Native  oxide  of  arsenic. 
XVII.  Tungsten  Genus. 
Wolfram. 
Tungstate  of  lime. 
XVIIL Titanium  Genus* 
Menachanite. 
Octahedrite.     . 
Titanite. 
Niffrine. 
Br^  ore. 
Iserine. 

XIX.  Uranium  Genus^ 
Pitchy  ore. 
Micaceous  uranite. 
Urmnite  ochre. 

XX.  Tellurium  Genusj 
Native  tellurium. 
Graphic  ore.    * 
Yellow  ore. 

Black  or  foliated  ore. 

XXI.  Chromium  Genu^. 
Needle  ore. 

Ochre  of  chromium. 

XXII.  Columbium  Gen. 
XXIILTaNtalium  Gen. 
XXIV.  Cerium  Genus. 

I.  GEIfUS. 


I4S 


MINERALOGY. 


Part  I, 


Diamond 
geuus. 


I.  Genus.    DIAMOND. 

One  Species.    Diamond. 

Id.  Kirwin,  I.  393.     Le  Diamante  Brocbant,  IL  1 53. 
Haiiy.III.  af;.  ^^ 

Essential  cAarac^^r.— Scratches  all  other  minerals. 

External  ckaracters,''^\X&  most  common  colours  are 
grayish  ^vbite  and  yellowish  white;  smoke  gray  and 
yellowish  gray;  clove  brown;  sometimes  asparagus 
green,  passing  to  pistachio  green  and  apple  green ; 
sometimes  a  wine  yellow  and  citron  yellow,  and  also 
blue  and  rose  red. 

When  the  diamond  is  cut,  it  presents  a  splendid  and 
varied  play  of  colours,  which  is  one  of  its  most  striking 
characters. 

It  is  found  sometimes  in  rounded  grains,  which  are 
supposed  to  have  been  crystals  with  the  edges  worn  \ 
but  it  is  most  frequently  met  with  crystallized. 

The  primitive  form  is  a  regular  octahedron,  the  in- 
tegrant molecule  a  regular  tetrahedron ;  but  the  form 
which  it  commonly  assumes  is  the  spheroidal,  with  48 
curvilineal  faces,  six  of  which  correspond  to  the  same 
face  of  the  primitive  octahedron.  Besides  this  form 
there  are  various  others,  as  the  double  three-sided  py- 
ramid, the  dodecahedron,  &c.  All  the  modifications 
of  the  crystals  of  the  diamond,  Haiiy  observes,  seem  to 
be  the  effects  of  its  tendency  to  crystallize  in  a  regular 
figure  of  48  plane  faces,  ivhich,  if  it  ever  has  existed, 
has  not  yet  been  discovered ;  and  it  is  easy  to  conceive 
that  this  form  would  be  produced  by  intermediate  decre- 
ments on  all  the  angles  of  the  nucleus  ;  but  the  devia- 
tions from  this  form  seem  to  have  been  occasioned  by 
its  precipitate  formation. 

The  external  lustre  is  from  four  to  one ;  internal 
four.  The  fracture  is  straight  foliated,  with  a  fourfold 
cleavage,  parallel  to  the  faces  of  the  octahedron ;  trans- 
parency four  to  three ;  hardness  ten ;  brittle ;  specific 
gravity  3.518  to  3.600.  Becomes  positively  electric 
by  friction,  even  before  it  is  polished. 

Chemical  cfiaracter.^-'Vihtu.  exposed  to  a  sufficient 
temperature,  it  is  entirely  consumed.  This  has  been 
fully  ascertained  by  the  experiments  of  modern  che- 
mists, from  which  it  is  concluded,  that  the  diamond  is 
entirely  composed  of  pure  carbone.    See  Chemistrt. 

Mr  Boyle  was  the  first,  according  to  Henckel,  who 
subjected  the  diamond  to  the  action  of  heat,  and  in  his 
experiments  he  found  that  it  exhaled  very  copious  and 
acrid  vapours.  This  was  about  the  year  1673  *,  but 
in  the  year  1694  the  experiment  was  repeated  by  the 
order  of  Cosmo  III.  grand  duke  of  Tuscany.  Diamonds 
were  exposed  to  the  heat  of  the  powerful  burning  glass 
of  Tschimhausen,  the  action  of  which  was  even  aided 
by  means  of  another  burning  glass  ;  and  about  the  end 
of  30  seconds  a  diamond  of  20  grains  lost  its  trans- 
parency, separated  into  small  pieces,  and  was  at  last 
entirely  dissipated.  The  same  experiment  was  repeated 
on  other  diamonds,  always  with  the  same  result,  and 
without  exhibiting  the  least  sijrn  of  fusion.  Newton, 
in  his  treatise  on  Optics,  has  placed  the  diamond  among 
combustibles,  supposing  that  it  is  a  coagulated  unctu- 
ous substance.  He  had  been  led  to  this  by  observing 
its  extraordinary  Refractive  power,  which  in  combusti- 
ble bodies  he  found  to  be  in  a  ratio  considerably  higher 

X 


Uoa. 


than  their  density.  According  to  this  general  law  be  q^i^, 
conclnded,  that  the  diamond  as  well  as  water  contained 
an  inflammable,  principle,  both  of  which  have  sioce 
been  verified.  Newton's  treatise  was  not  pulli&hed 
till  1704 ;  but  it  appears  that  part  of  it  was  composed 
and  read  to  the  Royal  Society  in  the  year  1673,  nearly 
20  years  before  the  Florentine  experiments  were  made. 

But  nearly  70  years  before  this  latter  period,  Boetius 
de  Boodt,  in  bb  History  of  Stones,  appears  to  bare 
been  perfectly  satisfied,  from  an  experiment  which  he 
describes,  that  the  diamond  was  of  an  inflammable  na- 
ture.    This  document,  which  we  presume  will  gratify 
the  curiosity  of  many  of  our  readers,  is  too  singular  to 
be  omitted.     ^  M^tix  deinde  calefieri  parum,  qaemad- 
modum  et  adamas  debet,  idque,  at  impasitus  ac  supra 
positns  mastici  statim  illi  unione  vera  uniatur,  ac  vivos 
undique  radios  a  se  jaeeat.     Hanc  unionem  respount 
alise  omnes  gemmse  diaphanae— cur  vero  legitimus  ada- 
mas solus  tincturam  illam  recipiat,  alise  gemmse  aoo, 
difficile  est  scire.     Existimo  mutuum  ilium  et  amicum 
amplexum  propter  sinUlitudinem  aliquam  quam  habent 
in  materia  et  qualitatibus ;  hoc  est,  tota  utriusque  Da- 
tura fieri,  quod  itaque  mastix  qv^eigne^  natuntest  ada- 
manti  facile  jungi  possit,  signum  est  $  id  propter  mft* 
teriae  similitodinem  fier.',  ac  adamantis  maieriam  ig- 
neam^  et  sitlphureofii  esse^  atque  ipsius  humidum  intrio- 
sicum  et  primogenium  cojus  beneficio  coagulatos  est, 
plane  fuisse  oleosum  et  ignewn^  aliarum  vero  gemmanim 
aqueum.— Non  mirum  itaque  si  pinguis,  oleosa,  et  igpea 
masticis  substantia  illi  absque  visus  termino  adpingi  et 
applicari,  aliis  vero  gemmis  non  possit.''    Boetius  de 
Boodt ^  Gem*  et  Lapid,  Hist.  Hanovise,  1609.  4to.  lib. 

cap.  X. 


u 


For  the  sake  of  the  English  reader  we  shall  translate 
this  curious  document.     "  If  mastich  and  the  diamond 
be  exposed  to  heat,    and  brought  into  contact,  tfaef 
enter  into  perfect  union,  and  emit  a  very  lively  flame, 
which  does  not  take  place  in  any  other  gem.    But  what 
is  the  reason  that  the  diamond  alone  possesses  this  pro- 
perty ?  I  am  of  opinion  that  this  mutual  combination 
arises  from  a  certain  resemblance  which  each  of  tbe 
substances  possesses  in  its  nature  and  properties :  on  this 
account,  therefore,  the  mastich,  which  is  of  a  combusti- 
ble nature,  may  be  united  to  the  diamond  firom  a  simi- 
larity in  their  nature,  which  shows  that  the  diamond  is 
composed  of  combustible  and  sulphureous  matter  *,  and 
that  the  humid  and  original  particles  of  its  compositioo, 
by  means  of  which  it  was  coagulated,  or  assumed  a  so- 
lid form,  have  been  decidedly  of  an  oily  and  inflamma- 
ble nature,  while  those  of  other  gems  have  been  of  an 
aqueous  nature.    It  is  not,  therefore,  surprising  that  the 
fat,  oily,  and  combustible  substance  of  mastich  may 
enter  into  intimate  union  with  the  diamond,  but  cannot 
be  combined  with  other  gems." 

Localities^  &€.— The  diamond  is  found  in  varioos 
places  of  the  East  Indies,  as  in  tbe  provinces  of  Gol- 
conda  and  Visapour,  in  the  peninsula  of  Hither  India; 
and  in  the  kingdoms  of  Pegu  and  Siam,  in  the  penin- 
sula of  Farther  Ind^a,  and  nearly,  it  is  observed,  in  the 
same  degree  of  latitude.  In  1728  tbe  diamond  was 
discovered  in  Brasil,  in  the  district  of  Serro-do-Frio, 
which  is  situated  in  the  same  southern  latitude  as  the 
countries  which  produce  the  diaosond  on  the  north  side 
of  the  equator.  The  native  repository  of  tbe  diamond, 
so  far  as  is  known,  is  a  ferruginous  soil^  but  whether  it 

be 


I. 


MINER 


uu  be  produced  oa  tbe  spot  wbere  it  is  discovered,  or  have 
been  transported  from  the  place  of  its  origin,  has  not 
been  ascertained.  It  is  found  also  in  veins  filled  with 
8ol1  of  a  similar  uatnre.  We  shall  bei^  add  a  short  his- 
tory  of  the  diamond  mines. 
1  The  diamond  mines  are  found  only  in  the  kingdoms 
of  Gelconda,  Visapoar,  Bengal,  the  island  of  Borneo,  and 
Brasil.  There  are  four  or  five  mines,  or  rather  three 
mines  and  two  rivers,  wheuce  diamonds  are  obtained. 
The  mines  are,  i.  That  of  Baolconda,  in  the  province  of 
Camatica,  five  days  journey  from  Golconda,  and  eight 
from  Visapour.  It  has  been  discovered  about  200  years. 
2»  That  of  Gani,  or  Coulour,  seven  days  journey  from 
Golconda  eastward.  It  was  discovered  150  years  ago 
by  a  peasant,  who  digging  in  the  ground  found  a  na- 
tural fragment  of  25  carats.  3.  That  of  Soumelpour, 
a  large  town  in  the  kingdom  of  Bengal,  near  the  Dia- 
mond-mine. This  is  the  most  ancient  of  all :  it  should 
rather  he  called  that  of  Gmmi/,  which  is  the  name  of 
tbe  river,  in  the  sand  whereof  these  stones  are  found. 
4*  Tbe  fourth  mine,  or  rather  the  second  river,  is  that 
of  Succndan,  in  the  island  of  Borneo  ^  and,  5.  That  of 
Serro-do-Frio  in  Brasil. 

Diamond-nUng  of  Raolconda.— In  the  neighbonr- 
bood  of  this  mine  tbe  earth  is  sandy,  and  full  of  rocks 
and  copse- wood.  In  these  rocks  are  found  several  lit- 
tle veins  of  half  and  sometimes  a  whole  inch  broad,  out 
of  which  tbe  miners,  with  a  kind  of  hooked  irons, 
draw  the  sand  or  earth  wherein  the  diamonds  are  \ 
breaking  the  rocks  when  the  vein  terminates,  that  the 
track  may  be  found  again,  and  continued.  When  a 
sufficient  quantity  of  earth  or  sand  is  drawn  forth,  they 
wash  it  two  or  three  times,  to  separate  tbe  stones.  The 
miners  work  quite  naked,  except  a  thin  linen  cloth 
before  them  >  and  besides  this  precaution,  have  likewise 
inspectors,  to  prevent  their  concealing  diamonds,  which, 
however,  they  frequently  find  means  to  do,  by  watching 
opportunities  when  they  are  not  observed,  and  swallow- 
ing them. 

Diamond^mine  of  Gani  or  Conlour.^In  this  mine  are 
found  a  great  number  of  diamonds  from  10  to  40  ca- 
nts, and  even  more.  It  was  here  that  the  famous  dia- 
mond of  tbe  Great  Mogul,  which  before  it  was  cut 
weighed  793  carats,  was  found.  The  diamonds  of  this 
mine  are  not  very  clear :  their  water  is  usually  tinged 
with  tbe  quality  of  the  soil  >  being  black  where  that  is 
marshy,  red  where  it  partakes  of  red,  sometimes  green 
and  yellow,  if  the  ground  happen  to  be  of  those  colours. 
Another  defect  of  some  consequence  is  a  kind  of  greasi- 
oe&s  appearing  on  the  diamond,  when  cot,  which  takes 
off  part  of  its  lustre.— There  are  usually  no  less  than 
'60,000  persons  employed  in  this  mine. 

When  the  miners  have  found  a  place  where  they  in- 
tend to  dig,  they  level  another  somewhat  bigger  in  the 
neighbourhood  thereof,  and  inclose  it  with  walls  about 
two  feet  high,  only  leaving  apertures  from  space  to 
space,  to  give  passage  to  the  water.  AfVer  a  few  su- 
perstitious ceremonies,  and  a  kind  of  feast  which  tbe 
master  of  the. mine  makes  for  the  workmen,  to  encou- 
rage them,  every  one  goes  to  his  business,  the  men 
digging  the  earth  in  tbe  place  first  discovered,  and  tbe 
women  and  children  carrying  it  off*  into  the  other 
walled  round.  They  dig  a  few  feet  deep,  and  till 
such  time  as  they  find  water.  Tlien  they  cease  dig- 
ging j  and  tbe  water  thus  found  serves  to  wash  the 


A  L  O  G  y.  149 

earth  two  or  three  times,  after  which  it  is  let  out  at  Diamond 
an  aperture  reserved  for  that  eijd.     This  earth  being      geuuii. 
well  washed,  and  well  dried,  they  sift  it  in  a  kind  of  *— v^' 
open  sieve,  and  lastly,  search  it  well  with  the  hands  to 
find  the  diamonds.     This  mine  is  in  a  plain  of  about 
one  league  and  a  half  in  extent,  bounded  on  one  side 
by  a  river,  and  on  the  other  by  a  range  of  lofty  moun- 
tains, which  form  a  semicircle.  It  is  said  that  the  nearer 
the  digging  is  carried  to  the  mountains,  the  diamonds 
are  the  larger. 

Didmond'tnine  of  Soumelpour,  or  river  Goual.— 
Sonmelpdur  is  a  considerable  town  near  the  river  Goual, 
which  runs  into  the  Ganges.  It  is  from  this  river  that 
all  our  fine  diamond  points,  or  sparks,  called  natural 
sparks^  are  brought.  They  never  begin  to  seek  for 
diamonds  in  this  river  till  after  the  great  rains  are  over, 
that  is,  after  the  month  of  December  \  and  they  usually 
even  wait  till  the  water  is  grown  clear,  which  is  not  be- 
fore January.  The  season  at  band,  eight  or  ten  thott« 
sand  persons,  of  all  ages  and  sexes,  come  out  of  Soumel- 
pour and  tbe  neighbouring  villages.  The  most  expe- 
rienced among  them  search  and  examine  tbe  sand  of 
the  liver,  and  particularly  where  it  is  mixed  with  py- 
rites, going  from  Soumelpour  to  the  very  mountain 
whence  it  springs.  When  all  the  sand  of  the  river, 
which  at  that  time  is  very  low,  has  been  well  examin- 
ed, they  proceed  to  take  up  that  wherein  they  judge 
diamonds  likely  to  be  found  'j  which  is  done  after  the 
following  manner:  They  dam  the  place  round  with 
stones,  earth,  and  fascines,  and  throwing  out  the  water, 
dig  about  two  feet  deep :  tbe  sand  thus  got  is  carried 
into  a  place  walled  round  on  the  bank  of  the  river. 
The  rest  is  performed  after  tbe  same  manner  as  at  other 
mines. 

Diamond^mintf  in  the  island  of  Borneo,  or  river  of 
Succudan.^-We  are  but  little  acquainted  with  this 
mine  'y  strangers  being  prohibited  from  having  access  to 
it :  though  very  fine  diamonds  have  been  brought  to  Ba- 
tavia  by  stealth.  They  were  formerly  imagined  to  be 
softer  than  those  of  tbe  other  mines  ^  but  experience 
shows  they  are  in  no  respect  inferior. 

Diamond-mine  of  Serro-do-Frio.— A  description  of 
this  mine  was  given  by  D^Andrada  in  1 792,  to  the  Na- 
tural History  Society  of  Paris.  The  mine  is  situated 
to  the  north  of  Villa  Bica,  in  the  i8th  degree  of  soutb 
latitude.  Tbe  whole  country  in  which  the  diamonds 
are  found  abounds  with  ores  of  iron  >  and  tbe  stratum 
of  soil,  immediately  under  the  vegetable  soil,  contains 
diamonds  disseminated  in  it,  and  attached  to  a  gaugue 
or  matrix  which  is  more  or  less  ferruginous  )  but  tbey 
are  never  found  in  veins. 

When  this  mine  was  first  discovered,  the  searching  for 
diamonds  was  so  successful,  that  the  Portuguese  fleet 
which  arrived  from  Bio  de  Janeiro  in  1730  brought  no 
less  than  1146  ounces  of  diamonds.  This  unusual  quan- 
tity introduced  into  the  market  immediately  reduced  tbe 
price  }  and  to  prevent  this  circumstance  recurring,  the  * 

Portuguese  government  determined  to  limit  the  number 
of  men  employed  in  tbe  mines.  ^^ 

As  tbe  diamond  is  tbe  hardest  of  all  substances,  it  Method  of 
can  only  be  cut  and  polished  by  itself.     To  bring  it  catting  and 
to  that  perfection  which  augments  its  price  so  consi- polishing 
derably,  the  lapidaries  begin  by  rubbing  several  against  *^**"°°^** 
each  other,  while  rough  \  after  having  first  glued  them 
to  the  ends  of  two  wooden  blocks,  thick  enough  to  be 

held 


MINERALOGY. 


PartL 


«7. 
Of  eiumat 


in». 


18 

-Celebrated 

diamonds. 


Tielcl  111  tLe  hand.  It  ifl  this  powder  thus  rubbed  off 
the  stones,  and  received  in  a  little  box  for  the  purpose, 
thiit  serves  to  grind  and  polish  them. 

Diamonds  are  cut  and  polished  by  means  of  a  mill, 
which  turns  a  wheel  of  soft  iron  sprinkled  over  with 
diamond-dust  mixed  with  oil  of  olives.  The  same 
dust,  well  gi*oond,  and  diluted  with  water  and  vine- 
gar, is  used  in  the  sawing  of  diamonds }  which  is 
performed  with  an  iron  or  brass  wire,  as  fine  as  a  hair. 
Sometimes,  in  lieu  of  sawing  the  diamonds,  they  cleave 
them,  especially  if  there  be  any  large  shivers  in  tliem. 

The  method  of  cutting  and  polishing  the  diamond 
was  not  discovered  till  the  tjth  century.  The  dia- 
monds which  were  iemployed  as  ornaments  before  that 
period,,  were  in  tfieir  rouch  and  natural  state.  The 
invention  is  ascribed  to  Louis  Berguen,  a  native  of 
Bruges,  who  in  the  year  1476,  cut  the  fine  diamond  of 
Charles  tlie  Bald,  duke  of  Burgundy,  which  he  lost  the 
same  year  at  the  battle  of  Morat.  This  diamond  was 
then  sold  for  a  crown,  but  afterwards  came  into  the 
possession  of  the  duke  of  Florence. 

The  Jlrst  water  in  diamonds  means  the  greatest  po- 
rity  and  perfection  of  their  complexion,  which  ought  to 
be  that  of  the  purest  water.  When  diamonds  &11  short 
of  this  perfection,  they  are  said  to  be  of  the  second  or 
third  water,  &c.  till  the  stone  may  be  properly  called  a 
coloured  one. 

The  value  of  diamonds  is  estimated  by  Mr  Jefferies 
by  the  following  rule.  He  first  supposes  the  value  of 
a  rough  diamond  to  be  settled'  at  2I.  per  carat,  at  a 
medium  ^  then  to  find  the  value  of  diamonds  of 
greater  weights,  multiply  the  square  of  tbeir  weight 
by  2,  and  the  product  is  the  value  required.  E.  g,  to 
find  the  value  f)f  a  rough  diamond  of  two  carats  : 
2X  2=4,  the  square  of  the  weight ;  which,  multiplied 
by  two,  gives  81.  the  true  value  of  a  rough  diamond 
of  two  carats.  For  finding  the  value  of  manufactured 
diamonds,  he  supposes  half  their  weight  to  be  lost  in 
manufacturing  them  y  and  therefore,  to  find  their  value, 
we  must  multiply  the  square  of  double  tbeir  weight 
by  2,  which  will  give  their  true  value  in  pounds.  Thus, 
to  find  the  value  of  a  wrought  diamond  weighing  two 
carats  ^  we  first  find  the  square  of  double  the  weight, 
viz.  4x4=16^  then  16x2=32.  So  that  the  true 
value  of  a  wrooprht  diamond  of  two  carats  is  32].  On 
these  principles  Mr  Jefferies  has  constructed  tables  of 
the  price  of  diamonds  from  i  to  100  carats. 

The  greatest  diamond  ever  known  in  the  world  is 
one  belonging  to  the  king  of  Portugal,  which  was 
{bund  in  Brasil.  It  is  still  uncut :  and  Mr  Magellan 
informs  us,  that  it  was  of  a  larger  size  \  but  a  piece 
was.  cleaved  or  broken  off  by  the  ignorant  countryman, 
who  chanced  to  find  this  great  gem,  and  tried  its  hard- 
ness by  the  stroke  of  a  large  hammer  upon  the  anvil. 

This  prodigious  diamond  weighs  1680  carats  :  and 
although  it  is  uncut,  Mr  Rom6  de  Tlsle  says,  that  it  is 
valued  at  224  millions  sterling ;  which  gives  the  esti- 
mation of  79,36  or  about  80  pounds  sterling  for  each 
carat:  viz.  for  the  multiplicand  of  the  square  of  its 
whole  weight.  But  even  in  case  of  any  error  of  the 
press  in  this  valuation,  if  we  employ  the  general  rule 
above  mentioned,  this  great  gem  must  be  worth  at  least 
5,644,800  pounds  sterling,  which  are  the  product  of 
1680  by  two  pounds,  viz.  mueh   above  five   millions 


and  a  half  sterling.     But  this  gem  is  sopposed  by  some  ciasdlica. 
to  be  a  white  topaz.  tioa 

The  famous  diamond  which  adorns  the  sceptre  of-  y  — ^ 
the  empress  of  Russia  under  the  eagle  at  the  top  of  it 
weighs  779  carats,  and  is  worth  at  least  4,854,728 
pounds  sterling,  although  it  hardly  cost  135,417  gui- 
neas. This  diamond  was  one  of  the  eyes  of  a  aiala* 
barian  idol,  named  Scharingham,  A  French  grenadier, 
who  had  deserted  from  the  Indian  service,  contrived 
so  well  as  to  become  one  of  the  priests  of  that  idol, 
from  which  he  had  the  opportunity  to  steal  its  e3re  :  he. 
run  away  to  the  ^English  at  Trichinopoly,  and  thence 
to  Madras.  A  ship-captmin  bought  it  for  twenty 
thousand  rupees :  afterwards  a  Jew  gave  seventeen  or 
eighteen  thousand  pounds  sterling  for  it :  at  last  a 
Greek  merchant  named  Gregory  Sttffras^  offered  it  to 
sale  at  Amsterdam  in  the  year  1760  :  and  Prince  Or- 
loff  made  this  acquisition  tor  his  sovereign  the  empress 
of  Russia.  This  diamond  is  of  a  flattened  oval  ibnn  and 
of  the  size  of  a  pigeon^s  egg. 

The  diamond  of  the  Great  Mogul  is  cat  in  rose  ; 
weighs  279W  carats,  and  it  is  worth  380,000  guineas. 
This  diamond  has  a  small  flaw  underneath  near  the 
bottom :  and  Tavemier,  page  385^  who  examined  it, 
valued  the  carat  at  150  French  livres.  Before  this 
diamond  was  cot,  it  weighed  793^  carats,  according  to 
Roni6  de  risle :  but  Tavemier,  page  339,  of  his  ae^- 
cond  volume,  says  that  it  weighed  900  carats  before 
it  was  cut.  If  this  be  the  very  same  diamond,  its  loss 
by  being  cut  was  very  extraordinary. 

Another  diamond  of  the  king  of  Portugal,  which 
weighs  215  carats,  is  extremely  fine,  and  is  worth  at 
least  369,800  guineas. 

The  diamond  of  the  grand  duke  of  Tuscany,  now 
of  the  emperor  of  Germany,  weighs  1397  carats  ;  and 
is  worth  at  least  109,520  guineas.  Tavemier  says, 
that  this  diamond  has  a  little  hue  of  a  citron  colour  ; 
and  he  valued  it  at  135  livres  toumoises  the  <:arat. 
Robert  de  Berquen  says,  that  this  diamond  was  cut 
into  two :  that  the  grand  Turk  had  another  of  the 
same  size  :  and  that  there  were  at  Bisnagar  two  large 
diamonds,  one  of  250  and  another  of  140  carats. 

The  diamond  of  the  late  king  of  France,  c»lled  the 
Pitt  or  Begenty  weighs  136^  carats  :  this  gem  is  wortb 
at  least  208,333  guineas,  although  it  did  not  cost  above 
the  half  of  this  sum.  Patrin  says,  that  it  is  believed  to 
be  at  Berlin,  (I.  226.)  and  we  may  add,  that  it  has  pro- 
bably been  carried  back  to  France  among  other  spoils. 
The  other  diamond  of  the  same  monarch,  call- 
ed the  SanrVj  weighs  $$  carats  ^  it  cost  25,000  gui- 
neas :  and  Mr  Duten  says,  that  it  is  worth  much  above 
that  price* 

Briliiant  DiAMOKD^  is  that  cut  in  faces  both  at  top 
and  bottom  ;  and  whose  table,  or  principal  face  at  top, 
is  flat.  To  make  a  complete  square  brilliant,  if  the 
rough  diamond  be  not  found  of  a  square  figure,  it  must 
be  made  so  'y  and  if  the  work  is  perfectly  executed,  the 
length  of  the  axis  will  be  equal  to  the  side  of  the  square 
base  of  the  pyramid.-^ewellcr8  then  form  the  table 
and  collet  by  dividing  the  block,  or  length  of  the  axis, 
into  18  parts.  They  take  VV  firom  the  upper  part,  and 
tV  froni  the  lower.  This  gives  a  plane  at  vV  distance 
firom  the  girdle  fiir  the  table ;  and  a  smaller  plane  at 
T^  distance  from  the  collet  ^  the  breadth  of  which  will 

be 


[• 


».  be  X  0^  tbe  breadth  of  the  table.  lo  this  sUte  the  stdDe 
b  said  to  be  a  complete  gquare  table  diamond.— The 

^  brilliant  is  an  improvement  on  the  table-diamond,  and 
was  introduced  within  the  17th  century  according  to 
Mr  Jefferies. 


MINERALOGY. 

has  been  found  in  Norway,  in  a  rock  composed  of  feld- 
spar and  hornblende. 

C/fff«.— The  zircon  is  employed  as  a  precious  stone, 
and  particularly  as  an  ornament  in  mourning. 


II.  Genus.  ZIKCON. 

I.  Species.     ZiRCOK. 

Jargoftf  Kirw.  L  257.     Ztfvon,  Haiiy.  II*  465.     LL 
firochant,  L  159. 

Essen,  CAor.— Its  specific  gravity  about  4.4 ;  the 
joints  natural,  some  of  which  are  parallel,  and  others 
are  oblique  to  the  axis  of  the  crystals. 

Ester.  C^r.o— 'Colours  reddisb  and  yellowish,  green- 
ish, greenish  yellow,  and  whitish.  The  colour  in  gene- 
ral varies  firom  green  to  gray,  and  is  most  commonly 
pale ;  and  the  polished  stone  exhibits  in  some  degree 
the  play  of  colours  of  the  diamond. 

It  is  found  in  rounded,  aogular,  or  flattened  grains, 
or  in  small  angular  fragments  with  notched  edges,  and 
also  crystallized.  The  primitive  {arm  is  an  octahedron 
with  isosceles  triangles,  and  the  integrant  molecule  is 
an  irregular  tetrahedron.  The  following  are  the  most 
common  forms  of  its  crystals. 

1.  A  prism  with  four  rectangular  faees,  each  base  of 
which  has  a  pyramid  with  four  faces  placed  on  the  four 
lateral  faces,  which  terminates  sometimes  in  a  line,  but 
most  frequently  in  a  point. 

2.  The  preceding  crystal,  in  which  the  opposite  late- 
ral edges  of  the  prism  are  truncated. 

5.  The  crystal  (i.)  in  which  the  edges  of  the  £ices 
of  the  pyramid  are  bevelled. 

4.  The  crystal  (i.)  having  the  Uteral  edges  of 
the  prism,  and  the  summit  of  the  pyramid  trun- 
cated. 

5.  The  crystal  (i.)  in  which  the  angles  between  the 
prism  and  the  pyramid  are  bevelled. 

6.  A  prism  with  four  faces,  having  the  two  opposite 
narrow,  and  the  two  others  broad. 

7.  A  double  pyramid  with  four  faces,  yrith  the  edges 
of  the  common  base  truncated. 

8.  The  perfect  octahedron  with  obtuse  angles.. 

The  crystals  are  commonly  small  \  the  surface  smooth, 
bat  that  of  the  angular  fragments  is  rough.  Lustre,  3 
and  4  'y  internal  lustre  4  and  3  }  somewhat  vitreous,  or 
approaching  to  that  of  the  diamond.  Fracture  imper- 
fect or  flat  conchoidal  ^  fragments,  a.  Transparency,  4, 
3.  Causes  double  refraction.  Hardness,  9  >  brittle. 
Spec.  grav.  4.4x6  to  4.4700. 

Chem,  Char. — Infusible  by  the  blow-pipe  without  ad- 
dition, but  with  borax  it  forms  a  transparent  colourless 
glaw.    The  following  are  its  constituent  parts. 


Zirconia^ 
Silica, 
Iron, 
Loss, 


70 

25 

I 

3 
xoo 


ZM!a&lrt«#.<"-The  zircon  was  first  found  in  Ceylon,  ae- 
companied  with  crystals  of  spinelle  and  tourmaline,  in  a 
river  near  the  middle  of  the  island  \  and  more  lately  it 


2.  Species.  Htacinth. 

Jz/.  Kirw.  1. 257.  Zircwi^  Haiiy,  II.  465.  DHyacintkc^ 
Brochant,  I.  163. 

Essen.  CAor.— The  same  as  the  first  species. 

Ester  CAor.— The  most  common  colour  is  what  is 
called  hyacinth  red,  blood  red,  and  yellowish  brown. 

It  is  found  in  rounded  grains,  and  frequently  in  cry- 
stab,  the  primitive  form  of  which  is  the  same  as  the  first 
species.     The  crystals  are, 

X.  A  prism  with  four  faces. 

2.  The  same  slightly  truncated  on  its  edges. 

3.  The  double  pyramid  with  four  faces,  or  a  very  ob- 
tuse octahedron,  which  is  a  rare  variety. 

4.  A  prism  with  six  faces,  each  base  of  which  is  ter- 
minated by  an  acumination  with  three  faces,,  placed  al- 
ternately on  the  three  lateral  edges,  forming  the  rhom* 
boidal  dodecahedron. 

The  crystals  are  commonly  small,  the  surface  smooth;, 
external  lustre,  3,  4;  internal,  4;  greasy,  fracture 
straight  foliated ;  cleavage  double,  rectangular ;  frag- 
ments, 3  'y  transparency,  4,  2  ^  causes  double  refraction; 
hard  and  brittle;  unctuous  to  the  touch  when  cut; 
spec.  grav.  4.385  to  4.620. 

Chem.  Char.'-^Hy  the  action  of  the  blow-pipe  the 
hyacinth  loses  its  colour,  but  retains  its  transparency. 
It  is  infusible  without  borax,  wliich  converts  it  into  a 
transparent  colourless  glass. 


Constituent  Parts.    * 


Zirconia, 
Silica, 

Oxide  of  iron. 
Loss, 


eylon. 

From  Expoilly. 

7° 

64.5               66 

25 

32                   3» 

O'S 

2                          2 

4-5 

1-5                I 

XOO  Klap.        looVauq.       lOoVaoq^ 

LocaXties.'^li  is  found  in  Ceylon  in  similar  situations 
with  the  former  ;  in  Brazil,  Bohemia,  and  in  the  rivulet 
ExpaiUy,  in  Velay  in  France  ;  and  abo  in  the  neigh- 
bourhd«)d  of  Pisa  in  Italy. 

l^«.— As  it  is  susceptible  ci  a  fine  polish,  the  hya- 
cinth has  been  ranked  among  precious  stones. 

jRemarks^'^^The  analogy  between  the  crystalline 
forms  of  the  zircon  and  hjacinth ;  their  double  refrac-^ 
tion ;  the  similarity  of  their  other  characters,  and  parti- 
cularly the  results  of  chemical  analysis,  have  led  Haiiy 
to  form  them  into  one  species. 

A  variety,  under  the  name  of  ctmnamon  stone^  has 
been  considered  as  a  distinct  species ;  but  the  differences 
are  so  very  slight,  that  it  may  be  included  in  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  preeeding. 

III.  Genus.    SILICEOUS. 

X.  Species.    Chrtsoberyl. 

Id:  Emm.  Wid.  Lenz.  Kirw.     Ckn/sopale^  Lam.     C^- 
mophane,  Hauy. 

Ester.  C4ar.<*-The  colour  is  an  asparagus  green  ; 

passing 


1<3 


MINER 


Sittceonf    passing  sometimes  to  a  greenish  white,  and  sometimes  to 
genus,     an  olive  green  j  sometimes  bright  brown  aad  yellowish 
brown,  passing  to  yellowish  gray  ^    affonis   a  feeble 
change  of  colour  from  bluish  to  milky  white. 

It  is  found  in  angular  or  rounded  trains,  which  ap- 
pear to  have  been  water  worn }  and  id  crystals,  exhi- 
biting, I.  A  table  with  six  faces,  elongated,  of  various 
thickness,  truncated  on  the  terminal  edges.  2.  A  prism 
with  four  rectangular  faces.  3.  A  prism  with  six  faces, 
of  which  four  are  broader  and  two  are  narrower  oppo- 
site to  each  othen 

The  grains  are  slightly  rough,  and  have  a  consider^ 
able  external  lustre.  The  crystals  are  striated  length- 
wise on  their  lateral  faces  j  the  other  faces  are  smooth ; 
lustre  external  very  shining— -internal  the  same,  inter» 
mediate  between  that  of  the  diamond  and  the  vitreous 
lustre. 

The  fracture  is  in  all  directions  perfectly  conchoidal ; 
the  fragments  are  indeterminate  with  sharp  edges.  It 
has  little  transparency,  but  a  considerable  degree  of 
hardness.  Spec.  grav.  3*698  to  3*719  Wern.  3*710 
Klap.  3^796  Hauy. 

Chem.  Char. — It  is  infusible  without  addition  by  the 
action  of  the  blow-pipe.  By  Klaproth's  analysis,  the 
following  are  its  constituent  parts* 


A  L  O  G  Y.  Parti. 

3.  In  another  variety  the  sumtiiit  of  the  pyramid  is  ciasUfica. 
truncated  by  a  convex  cylindrical  plane,  the  convexity     tion. 
of  which  passes  from  one  of  the  small  opposite  lateral 
planes  towards  the  other. 

4.  In  some  instances  the  crystals  are  so  small,  thit 
the  same  lateral  faces  almost  entirely  disappear,  while 
the  two  larger  assume  a  carved  form,  giving  such  crys- 
tals a  tabular  appearance. 

The  external  surface  of  the  angular  fragments  and 
of  the  rounded  crystals  is  scaly,  which  affords  an  essen- 
tial character  to  this  mineral.  The  small  lateral  planes 
are  smooth,  the  broad  ones  are  distinctly  striated  length- 
wise. Externally  the  surface  is  shining  ^  internally 
shining  and  vitreous. 

The  fracture  in  all  directions  is  perfectly  conchoidal  -, 
the  form  of  the  fragments  is  indeterminate,  with  very 
sharp  edges.  It  is  almost  always  transparent,  and  re- 
fracts double  \  it  'is  not  so  hard  as  quartz.  Brittle. 
Spec  grav.  3.340  to  3.420  Wern.     3428  Hauy. 

Ckem.  Char, — By  the  action  of  the  blow-pipe  it  is 
fused  with  borax  without  effervescence,  and  affords  s 
greenish,  transparent  glass. 


Alumina, 

71-5 

Silica, 

18 

Lfme, 

6 

Oxide  of  iron, 

'•5 

Loss, 

3 

100 

Zoco/fYfViff.— Brazil,  Cevlon,  Siberia. 

^^^._The  hardness  01  the  chrysoberyl,  and  change 
*of  colour  which  it  exhibits,  have  procured  it  a  place 
among  precious  stones  of  inferior  value.  It  is  known  in 
commerce  under  the  name  of  changeable  opai  or  oriental 
chrysolite. 

2.  Species.  Chrysolite. 

Id,  Emm.  Wid.  Lenz.  Mus.  Lesk.  Kirw.     Peridot^ 
Daub.  Hauy. 

Exier,  Char.'^The  most  common  colour  is  a  bright 
pistachio  green,  passing  to  an  olive  green  ;  sometimes 
of  a  bright  asparagus  or  clear  meadow  green  }  rarely 
the  green  approaches  to  brown  and  almost  to  a  cherry 
red. 

It  is  found  in  angular  fragments  with  the  edges  a 
little  notched,  or  in  rounded  grains,  or  in  crystals  hav- 
ing the  angles  and  edges  a  little  notched.  The  forms 
of  its  crystals  are,  x.  A  large  rectangular  prism  having 
its  lateral  edges  truncated  and  sometimes  bevelled,  and 
terminated  by  a  six-sided  prism,  of  which  two  opposite 
sides  are  placed  on  the  small  lateral  faces  of  the  prism. 
The  four  others  on  the  lateral  truncated  faces,  the 
latter  forming  a  more  acute  angle  than  the  two  for- 
mer. 

2.  The  next  form  varies  from  the  preceding,  in  hav- 
ing two  additional  terminating  faces,  placed  on  the 
broad  faces  of  the  prism,  each  of  which  is  consequently 
situated  between  two  of  the  planes  corresponding  to  the 
trnncated  planes. 


Constituent  parts. 

Crystallised. 

Cut. 

Ciyiitanised. 

Silica, 

38 

39 

38 

Magnesia, 

39-5 

43-5 

50-5 

Oxide  of  iron,  19. 

19 

9-J 

Loss, 

3-5 

2. 

100  Klap.        100.5  ^^^4-  100  Vauq. 

Localities^  &c«-^-Tbis  Ininera)  id  brought  from  tLe 
Levant,  but  it  is  not  known  whether  it  is  found  in  Asia 
or  Africa.  It  has  been  discovered  in  Bohemia }  and 
crystallised  specimens  included  in  a  kind  of  lava  have 
been  brought  from  the  isle  of  Bourbon.  As  it  is 
usually  found  in  rounded  fragments,  in  the  midst 
of  earthy  substances,  its  relative  situation  is  scarcely 
known. 

Uses.'-^The  chrysolite  has  been  often  employed  for 
various  purposes  as  a  precious  stone,  but  as  it  possesses 
no  great  degree  of  hardness,  it  is  not  much  esteemed. 

Substances  of  a  very  different  nature  have  been,  st 
different  times,  described  under  the  name  of  Chrysolite. 
It  appears  that  the  yellow  chrysolite  of  the  ancients  is 
the  same  with  our  topaz,  and  that  their  green  topaz  is 
our  chrysolite.     Flin.  lib.  xxxvii.  cap.  8. 

3.  Species.  Olivine. 

Id.  Emm.  Wid.  Lenz.  Kirw.  Lameth.      Chrysolite 
en  grains  irreguliers^  De  Bom.     Peridot  GranuU- 
formcj  Hauy.     ChrysoUth  des'  Vokans^  of  many  mi- 
neralogists. 

Exter.  Char.^^The  most  common  colour  is  a  bright 
olive  green,  sometimes  of  an  apple  green,  pistachio,  or 
mountain  green  ^  a  wine,  honey,  or  orange  yellow, 
and  sometimes  also  a  reddish  brown,  and  browuish 
black  'y  but  these  latter  varieties  arc  rare.  It  is  found 
in  rounded  pieces,  from  the  size  of  the  head  to  that 
of  a  grain  of  millet,  most  commonly  included,  and 
disseminated  in  basalt.  It  has  been  found  crystal- 
lized. 

Intrmallvi 


[. 


MINER 


».  ifttenally,  this  mineral  varlee  in  its  lastre  between 
shininff  and  weakly  shining  j  in  the  yellow  varieties  the 
^  lustre  IS  between  vitreoos  and  resinous. 

The  fmoture  is  more  or  less  ooachoidal ;  sometiQes 
nneren  ;  the  shape  of  the  fragments  is  indeterminate, 
with  sharp  edges.  The  rounded  pieces  of  a  certain 
size  are  ^composed  of  distinct  grannlar  .concretiom, 
with  s^iajl  grains. 

It  is^sometimes  transparent,  ^nd  variea  to  semitrans- 
parentAnd  translucent.  It  is  brittle,  and  not  so  hard 
as  quartz.     Spec.  grav.  3.225  to  3.265. 

Chem.  CAar«--»01ivine .  is  iirfusible  by  the  action  of 
the  blowrpipe  \  in  nitric  acid  it  loses  its  colour,  giving 
to  the  liquid  a  pale  yellow  colour. 


Silica, 

Magnesia, 

•liinie. 


Oxide  of  iron. 


C(mstitu€nt  Pi^rts.    Klap^th. 

48  to  52.0 

37     38-5 
00.25   oo«^ 


12.5 

2.25 


X2. 


5* 

37-75 
0.25 

<^o-75 


X00.75 


10C.00—- 102.75 

Localities^  '&c.— Olivine  is  found  in  different  coun- 
vines,  as  in 'Bohemia  and  Saxony,  and  in  Vivarais  in 
France,  and  .most  commonly  in  rounded  piee^  in  the 
cavities  of  basalt.  Brochant  sajs  that  it  has  not  been 
diyrovered  in  the  basalts.of  Ireland,  flngland,  Swedei|, 
Norway,  and  Italy.  We  have,  bowevjer,.  collected 
specimens  of  olivine  among  the  basaltic  rocks  of  the 
-  Ciant's  Causeway  Jiitlfela^d. 

Olivine  and  chrysolite  are  considered  by  Hauy  as 
one^species,  and  described  under  the  name  peridpt. 

4.  Species.  Coccolite. 

Coceoh'the^  Brochan^,  ii«  504.  Haiiy,  iv. .  355.  D^An- 
drada.     Nich..  4to«  Jour.  v.  495. 

£dr<»*.  ^^A0r.-^-Colour,  meadow  gwen,  olive,  or 
blackjsfa  gri^n.  It  »  found  in  masses,  which  are.,  com- 
posed, of  separate  pieces,  granular,  in  sinaH  grains, 
which  may  be  easily  sepsurated  ^  these  grains  are  angu- 
lar, and  discover  some  appearance  of  tendency  to  cry« 
stallization. 
Lustre,  resplendent,   vitreous^    fracture   foliated  $ 

.dcavage  double,  as  examined  by  Hafiy,  but  si(|gle  ac- 
cording to  D^Andradar  it'ishio^,  scratches  glassy  the 
grains  ^are  often  translucent.  Spec.  grav.  3.316- to 
3-373- 

Chan  C4ar.— Coccolite  is  infusible  without  addition 
before  the  blow-pipe.  With  borax  it  melts  into  a  pale 
yellow  tnuisparent  glass,  iknd  with  ^surbonate  of  potash 

M^  an  oUve  green  yesicuUr  glass* 

Constituent  Pcrts. 

Silicii,  50*0 

Lime,  241O 

Magneua,  10.0 

.  Oxide  of  iron,  ^  *7*0 

Oxide  of  manganese,    3.0 
Alumina,  2^5 


A  L  O  G  Y.  153 

Loealiiie9„~^lt  is  found  in  the  iron  mines  of  Hel-  Siliceous 
lesta  and  Atsebo  in  Sudermania,  at  Nerica  in  Sweden,    genus. 
and  near  Arendal  in  Norway. 

5.  Species.    Augite.  • 

Octahedral  Basaitine^  Kirw.  i.  219.     L^Ategite,  Bro- 
chanti  i.  «79.     Pyroxene^  Hatty,  iii.  80. 

Essen.  CAar.— Divisible,  parallel  to  the  sides  of  an 
oblique  rhomboidal  prism,  of  about  92^  and  88^,  which 
is  subdivided  in  the  direction  of  the  great  diagonals  of 
the  bases. 

tExter.  €!4ar— Colour^  dive  green,  black,  white,  an4 
gra^.  It'48  found  soraetiines  in  rounded  pieces,  and  ia 
grains,  but  most  frequently  crystallised.  The  primi- 
tive  form  is  an  oblique-angled  prism,  the  bases  of  which 
are  rhombs  :  the  intemnt  molecule  is  an  oblique  tri- 
an|pular  prism.  .The  form  of  the  crystals  is^nerally  a 
six  and  eight  sided  prism,  which  is  terminated  by  a 
two-sided  summit.  The  crystals  ai*e  commonly  small, 
smooth,  and  brilliant,  sometimes  a  little  shining.  In- 
ternal lustre  shining,  and  almost  resplendent,  resinous. 
Fracture  perfectly  foliated  j  cleavage  double ;  trans- 
lucent at  the  edges  5  harder  than,  olivine  ;  .giijes  lively 
sparks  with  steel,  and  scratches  glass ;  rather  brittle  ; 
spec.  grav.  3.226  to ^.777. 

Chem.  C^«r.— Fusitle  before  tlie  blow-pipe  with  dif- 
ficulty, and  only  in  small  fragments,  .which-melt  into  a 
black  enamel. 

Constituent  Pants. 

From  ^taa.  Vaaqoclin.  From  Arenddl,  Rous. 


Sifica,  « 

Lime, 
Alumina, 
Magnesia, 
Oxide  (ff  iron. 
Oxide  of  manganese*, 
,  Loss, 


52 

13-^0 

3-33 
10 

14.66 

2 
4.81 


100.00 


.45 
30-5 
3 

S 
'5 

100 


Vo^.  XIV.  Part  L 


IQO 


Localities^  &c.— Augite  is  found  in  basalt  alongwith 
olivine  and  hornblende,  in  Bohemia,  Hungary,  and 
Transylvania)  in  the  basalt  of  Arthur^s  seat  oetr 
Edinhnrgh. 

6.  Species.    Vesuvian. 

.  La  Vesuvienne^  Brochant,  i.  184.    Idoerase.  HaQy,  ii. 

574- 

Essen.  CAar.p—Divisible  parallel  to  the  faces  and 
.  diagonals  of  a  recUngular  prism»  with  square  bases : 
*  melts  into  a  yellow  glass. 

Ester.  Ohar^^^Colwa  hrown»  orange,  dark  green, 
•and  yellowish  green. 

This  minena  is  found  massive,  disseminated,  or  cry- 

.stallized.    Primitive  form,.  «  rectangular  prism,  little 

different  from  a  cube  5  integrant  molecule  a  triangular 

prism.    The  forms  of  its  crysUls  are,  a  recUngular 

.pnsm,  with  four  sides,  truncated  on  all  its  edges,  or 

truncated  on  its  lateral  edges)  or  a  six-sided  prism 

•truncated  on  aU  its  edges.    The  crjvtals  are  usuaUy 

smaH,   smgle  sometimes,   and  sometimes  in  groups. 

Lateral  planes  longitudinally  streaked.      Some  are 

^  ,  smooth  > 


154  MINERALOGY. 

SiUeeoDt  smooth  y  lustre  resptendeiity  Titxeoiis  i  internal  lostre 
fgaau.     shining,  resinous.  FFSctoreimperfecdyconcboidal, some- 
times ttocTen,  often  also  foliated.     Fragments  indeter- 
minate,  with  rather  sharp  edges.    Translucent,  and  al- 
it  semitranspaxent  ^  hard,  brittle  >  specific  gravity 


PartL 


rocks  of  Bohemia,  and  also,  it  is  said,  in  a  granitic 
rock  in  the  Pyrenees. 

8.  Species.    Mxx^nits,  or  Black  Garnet, 


3.36  C  to  3420 

ft/Af9IS. 


glass. 


CAar.1— Fusible  without  ad4^tio^into  a  yellow 


Constituent  Parts,    Klaprotb. 

ThMD  Tefninos.        Fnm  Siberia. 
Silica  35.50 

Lime,  33. 

Alumina,  22.25 

Oxide  ei  iron,  7.5 

Oxide  of  manganese,  .25 


42 

16.25 

5-50 
an  atom. 


LoeaiitieSf  &c.-— It  is  found  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Vesuvius,  accompanied  by  limestone  in  small  grains, 
feldspar,  mica,  hornblende,  and  calcareous  spar  \  and  it 
is  supposed  to  have  been  thrown  oot  of  the  volcano  un- 
chan[i^.  In  Siberia  it  is  found  in  steatites,  sometimes 
mixed  with  cnrstals  of  magnetic  iron. 

CTjes.— At  Naples  it  is  employed  as  apieeioQS  stone. 

7*  Specie^.  LsDcrrE. 

LaLeueite^  Brocfaaat,  i.  188.     Vesuvittnf  Kirwan^i. 
285.    Anphigem^  HaOy,  iL  559. 

Essen.  C%ar.— Divisible,  patallel  to  the  faces  of  a 
cube,  and  at  the  same  time  to  those  of  a  riiomboidal 
dodecahedron. 

Exier.  CAor.'-^Cobnr  ^yish  or  yellow  white. 

It  is  rarely  found  massive  or  in  grains,  but  most  fro* , 
fluently  crystallixed.  Theprioutive  form  of  its  crystals  is 
the  cube  >  the  integrant  molecule  an  irregular  tetrahe- 
dron \  the  most  common  form  of  the  crystals  is  a  short 
double  pyramid  with  eight  &ceo  opposed  base  to  base, 
each  summit  of  which  is  snrmoonted  by  an  obtuse  a- 
cumination  with  four  faces,  corresponding  alternately  to 
the  four  lateral  edges  of  the  pyramid,  and  thus  producing 
a  figure  of  twenty-four  trapezoidal  Ihces  ^  the  crystals 
^re  commonly  small,  the  sni&ce  rough  and  dull,  or  at 
most  feebly  ebining.  Internal  lostre  shining,  vitreous. 
Fracture  foliated^  sometimes  conchoidal.  Fragments- 
indeterminate  with  ffharp  edges.  Semitransparent  or 
translucent.     Scarcely  scratches  glass.  Brittle.    Spec. 

grav.  2.455  ^  M90*  . 

Ci&<m.CAar.— -Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe, but  with 
horax  gives  a  Iranspareot  glass. 


Qmstituent  Parts. 

K]api«(h. 

IZaoqaelia. 

SUicai 

54 

5fi 

Alumina^ 

24. 

20 

Potash, 

21 

20 

Lime, 

^ 

2 

^■wM^^^, 

z 

2 

XQQ 


100. 


Localities^  &c.p--^Leocite  is  found  in  the  lavas  of  Ve- 
•uvius»  and  in  tlM^  basalts  of  lufij,  ^  iikhasallaaad  othec 


La  Melam'tCf  Brochant,  i.  191. 

Ester.  CAcr.^-Coloiir  velvet  black,  or  brownish  or 
grayish  black.  It  is  most  commonly  found  crystal- 
lizM,  in  ux-sided  prisms,  tenninaied  at  each  extremity 
by  an  obtuse  acnmtnatioo,  with  three  planes  placed  al- 
temately  on  three  of  the  lateral  edges  j  the  prisms  are 
sometimes  truncated  on  all  the  edges,  and  sometimea 
only  the  lateral  edges.  Thp  surfiice  is  smooth  and 
shining.  Internal  lustre  shining.  Fracture  imperfect, 
flat,conchoidal.  Fragments  indeterminate,  sharp^ged, 
opaque,  hard,  and  rather  brittle.  Spec.  grav.  3.691  t<fe 
3.800. 


Constituent  Parts.    Vauquelin; 

Silica, 

Alumina, 

Lime,  32 

Oxide  of  iio.  and  .f  OMOgueK,  25 

MM,  2 


'I: 


xoo 


Locaiities, 
St  Albano 


It  has  been  found  only  at  Frescati  and* 
Rome* 

9.  Species.     Garket. 


Le  Grenat^  Brochant,  i.  193.  Garnet^  Kirwan,  L  ^8. 
Grenat^  Ha&y,.ii.  540* 

Essen.  CAor.— Specific  gravity  at  least  4.5.  The 
Ibrms  derived  from  the  rhomboidal  dodecahedron. 

The  primitive  form  is  a  rhomboidal  dodecahedron* 
The  inclination  of  each  rhomb  to  the  two  adjacent  is 
X20^,  the  plain  angles  109^  28'  i&*  and  70^  31'  44^. 
The  integrant  molecule  is  the  tetrahedron,  whose  filcea 
are  isosceles  triangles  equal  and  similar. 

The  garnet  is  divided  into  three  subspecies,  the  pre- 
cious, common,,  and  Bohemian  garaet. 

Subspecies  x.    Precious  Garnet. 

Exter.  CAor.-*  Colonr  nsd,  of  which  there  are  seve- 
ral varieties,  as  blood  red,  cherry  red,  hyacinth  red,, 
sometimes  brown  and  even  black. 

The  garnet  is  rarely  found  massive  or  disseminated, 
but  sometimes  in  rounded  grains,  and  most  frequently 
crystallized,  of  which  the  following  are  tli^  forms. 

1.  A  prism  with  six  sides  tenninated  by  a  double 
obtuse  summit  with  three  faces,  corresponding  alternate- 
ly to  the  three  lateral- edges  at  each  end  of  the  prism, 
and  thus  forming  a  rhomboid  of  twelve  faces. 

2.  The  same  crystal  truncated  on  all  ita  edges,  form- 
ing a  figure  of  36  faces.  The  faoes  of  the  truncations 
are  elongated  hexagons. 

3.  A  short  double  pyramid,  with  eight  faces  oppo* 
sed  base  to  base,  the  summits  of  each  01  which  are  sor^ 
mounted  by  an  obtuse  acuroinatioo,  corresponding  aU 
temAely  to  the  four  lateral  edges  of  one  of  the  p?ra* 

mids». 


tl. 


MINERALOGY. 


itoicby  fonrnug  a  Crystal  of  14  ftdesy'wfakh  ire  pretty 
equal  trapezoids. 

4.  The  preceding  ibrai  irith  twelve  troscatloiis } 
etgbt  on  tiie  eight  abate  alternating  angles  of  'the '  two 
summitSy  and  fonr  on  the  ohtose  angles  of  the  common 
'hase  of  the  two  pyramids,  making  in  all  36  faces. 

Hie  sorface  is  a  little  uneqaar  in  the  grains,  smooth 
la  the  crystals,  and  Almost  always  streaked  diagonally. 
The  lostre  varies  from  shining  to  resplendent^  and  is  vi- 
treoos.  Eractnre  moreor  less  perfectly  conchoidal,  some- 
times uneven  or  splintery,  and  sometimes  foliated.  Frag- 
ments indeterminate  with  sharp  edges.  Transparent 
-or  translucent.  Scratches  quartz.  Aefraction  simple. 
Brittle.    Spec.  grav.  4.085  to  4'-352. 

'  CArm  OAar.-^efore'  the  hlow-pipe  it  is  fusible  into 
ia  dark  enamel. 


«^s 


ConsUiuent  farU* 

KlaproUk 

Vanqnelia. 

Silica, 

35-75 

36 

Alumina, 

*7-aj 

31 

Lime, 

3 

Qadde  of  irbn. 

36 

4^^ 

Oxide  of  manganese. 

•25 

Loss, 

•75 

100.00 


101 


Localities^  {cc— The  garnet  is  not  nneomihon  in 
most  countries  of  the  world,  and  it  is  usually  found  in 
^initive  rocks. 

{Zir#d— 'It  is  employed  as  a  precious  stone. 

The  precious  garnet  is  supposed  to  be  the  carbuncle 
oftheanciehts. 

.  Sahspecies  2.'CoMifO)r  Oarket. 

Euen.  Chaty^'The  same  as  the  precious  garnet. 

ExUr.  CAar«— It  is  found  massiVe  and  disseminated, 
and  also  sometimes  crystallized.  The  fDrms  of  the 
crystals  are  the'saroe  as  those  of  precious  garnet.  'The 
Burfiice  of  the  crystals  is  diagonaUy  streidLed. 

Coloar  brown,  green,  greenish  black,  brownUh  red, 
and  orange  yellow.  Lustre  shining,  resinous,  or  vi- 
treous. Fracture  uneven,  sometimes  ^intery.  Frag- 
menU  sharp-edged.  'Rarely  thins^ient,  sometimes 
transtncent,  and  cdmmonly  at  the  edges  \  not  so  hard  as 
the  preciiDus  garnet.    Brittle.     Spec.  grav.  from  3.668 

to  3-757-  ^ 

CAm.  Char* — ^Mfelts  before  the  bl6W-pipe  into  k 

dark  enamel,  and  easier  than  the  former. 

OmstiUunt  Paris*    Vaiiquefin. 

Black  Oumelk    Telkmith  Gtrnct^ 


SiKca, 

43 

38 

Alumina, 

16 

20 

Lime, 

20 

3^ 

Oxide  of  in>a, 

16 

ro 

Water, 

4 

<te 

Loss, 

I 

I 

100  100 

iscaUfieSj  Sec— *The  common  garnet  is  found  in  mi- 


caceous schistas,'  ghen,  terpentine,  and  other  prinutive   Sflkeoiii 
rocks,  in  8ax6ny,l3ohemia,  France,  Sweden.  .g^P^*? 

Uses.-^it  is  rarely  employed  as' a  precious  stope, b'ut^    '  ^'    ■' 
frequently^  a  iliix  for  iron  ores. 

Snbspeeies  3.    PTltorc,  or  BbhsmHan  Cramef, 
PyrcpCf  Brochant,  ii.  498. 

Essen,  C/^.— The  same  as  the  garnet. 

Exter.  CAor.— -This  mineral  is  found  in  small,  round 
angular  fragments :  it  is  never  crystallized. 

Colour  dark  blood  red,  which,'  by  holding  it  between 
the  eye  and  the  light,  becomes  yellow.  Lustre  re- 
splendent, vitreous.  Fracture  cohcboidal.  Fragments 
indeterminate  and  sharp-edged.  Perfectly  transparent* 
Scratches  quartz.     Spec,  grav.  3.718  to  3*94 !• 

Cktnstihient  Parts.    Klaproth. 

Silica,  40 

Alumina,  28.5 

Lime,  3.5 

Af  agnosia^  10 

Oxide  of  iron,  i6.j 
Oxide  of  manganese,        .aj 

Loss,  1.25 

100 

Localities^  Sec-— This  mineral  is  found  in  serpentine  in 
Saxony )  the  most  beautifnl  are  from  Bohemia,  where 
it  is  found  in  alluvial  land. 

Uses*''^lt  is  employed  in  jewellery.  The  smalt 
grains  are  used  is  a  substitute  for  emery  in  polishing. 

This  mineral  is  formed  into  a  separate  species  by 
some,  and  is  distinguished  from  the  garnet  by  its  colour, 
want  of  cryatalliaatioo^  and  transparency  $  but  these 
diflferences  in  the  external  characterff  Hauy  considers  as 
insufficient  to  constitute  a  different  species  of  two  mi* 
nerals  which  agree  in. a  greater  nuqiber ,  of  other  cha- 
racters. Magnesia  indeed  has  been  detected  in  the  lat- 
ter as  one  of  its  c^n^tnents,  no  trace  of  which  has  been 
yet  discovered  in  the  former. 

10.  Species.    GxtKAt'td^C* 

Grenatite,  Brochant,  ii.  491,6.  Id*,  ^aossure,  $  1900* 
StaurotidCf  Hauy,  iiL  93.  Pierre  de  Chtdx^  De  Lisle^ 
ii.  434. 

Essen.  CAar.<^Divisib]e  parallel  to  the  sides  of  a 
rhomboidal  prism,  whose  angles  are  eqoal^to  1^29^ ^30^, 
and  50^  30',  whidi  may  be  subdivided  in  the  direction 
of  ,the  sb(ut  diagpnals  of  the  bases*  ^ 

Exter.  0^r.-**Gfenatite  is  always  found  ciystallized* 
The  primitive  form  is  a  rectangular  prism  with  rhom- 
boidal bases,  having  the  angles  inclined,  as  mentioned 
in  the  essential  chafacter.  The  integrant  molecule  is  a 
triangular  prism.  It  is  frequently  met  with  in  doubly 
tiystals,  crossing  each  other  in  the  form  of  a  cross,  from 
which  the  name  is  derived,  sometimes  at  right  anglesi 
and  sometimes  obliquely ;  sometimes  also  there  are  ob-  . 
liqtAs  triple  crossings.  The  surface  is'smooth  and  shin^^ 
ing,  or  uneven  and  doll. 

The  oolour  is  reddish  or  blackiA  brown-,  internal 
lustre  shiningi  between  vitreous  and  reainoos.    Fracture 

U  2  imperfectly 


156 


MINERALOGY. 


SUiceoiM  imperiecdjr  folUted,  in  the  direction  of  tbe  axis ;  in 
genui.     otber  directions  uneven,  small  grained,  or  sometimes  a 
little  concboidal ;  often  opaqup,  sometimes  translncent. 
Scratches  quartz  feebly  j  specific  gravity  3.2861. 

CAtrn^  CAor.— Bafore  the  blow-pipe  it  becomes  brown 
without  fusion,  and  is  then  converted  into  a  fritty  sub- 
stance. 

Constttuent  Parts, 


I 


Silica 

Alumina, 

Lime, 

Oxide  of  iron. 

Oxide  of  manganese,   f. 

Loss,  yiS 


VanqnelML 

33- 
44. 

384 

»3' 


100 

LocaliHeM^  &e.^It  is  found  is  small  crystals  in  mi- 
caceous schisttts,  at  St  Gothard  in  Switzerland,  in  Brit- 
tany in  France,  and  in  Spain,  in  primitive  rocks. 

iz.  Species.    Cxtlanit£. 

Pkonoittf  Hauy,  iii.  17^    Spinelle  Pkonaste^  Bhmg- 
niart,  i.  438, 

Essen.  CAor.— Scratches  gfass  sirghtly,and  is  divisible 
into  a  regular  octahedron. 

Ester,  CAor.-— This  mineral  is  found  in  rounded  mas- 
ses, and  also  crystallized.  Primitive  form  of  the  crys- 
tals, a  regular  octahedron.  The  integrant  molecule  a 
regular  tetrahedron.  The  edges  of  the  octahedron  are 
sometimes  truncated,  and  form  a  regular  i  a-sided  rhom- 
Md.  The  crystals  are  small  *,-  the  fracture  is  concboi- 
dal;  the  lustre  shining  and  vitreous. 

The  eoiour  is  sometimes  perfectly  black,  brown, 
hrigbt  blue,  purplish  red,  or  dark  green.  It  is  hard', 
but  not  very  brittle.    8|iiec.  grav.  3.76  to  3.79. 

CAeim  CAor.— Lifiksible  l^ore  tbe  blow-pipe. 


ConstihiefU  Parts. 

Alumina, 
Magnesia, 
Silica, 

Oxide  of  inm. 
Loss, 


Descotils. 

68 
12. 

2 

2- 
100 


Zaeo&Vir#,&e.— ThismineraYis  metwith  in  the  11 
of  Ceyloo,  along  with  tourmaline' and  other  crystallized 
subetances,  which  have  been  carried  from  their  native 
repositories  by  means  of  water.  It  has  beeo  found  also  in 
disseminated  crystals  in  the  cavities  of  the  lava  of  Vesn- 
vius  I  and  very  small  hlne  crysUlaef  ceylanite  have  been 
observed  in  the  volcanic  (basaltic)  reels  at  Ciosteila^ 
en  the  badu  of  the  Bhine. 

'i2«  8|pedes«    Spinells. 

S^mei  and  Balas  R^bf^  Kirw.  i.  2  €3.  Le  S^pmei^  Bio» 
chant,  i.  202.     S^tnelle^  Hauy,  iL  4^ 

Essen.  CAor.— Soralches  qnartz  strondy ;  the  primi- 
live  nod  commoa  IbnB,  a  tegular  eelaheteii. 


Ester.  CAar«— Sjpinelle  is  found  in  rounded  grains,  or 
crystallized :  tbe  primitive  form  of  the  crystals  is  a  regu- 
lar octahedron  >  the  integrant  molecule  the  regular  tetra- 
hedron. Its  usual  forms  are  a  double  pyiamid  with 
four  faces  applied  base  to  base,  constituting  a  perfect 
octahedron ;  or  it  is  truncated  on  all  its  edges,  or  only 
on  those  of  the  common  base  of  the  two  pyramids.  U 
is  met  with  also  in  the  form  of  a  double  crystal^  com* 
posed  of  two  ocUbedroDS,  which  are  ofun  flattened. 

Colour  usually  red,  of  various  shades,  from  carmine 
red  to  rose  red  >  sometimes  reddish  white,,  and  orange 
yellow.^  Faces  of  the  octahedron  smooth,,  those  of  tEe 
truncations  longitudinally  streaked  Lustre  resplendent, 
vitreous  >  fracture  concboidal  *,  the  longitudinal  fracture 
is  foliated^  fragments  indeterminate,  sharp-edged  j  se- 
mitransparent,  and  sometimes  transparent,  mntches 
quartz  j  is  scratched  by  sapphire.  Spec.  grav.  3.570  to 
3-<545- 

CA«n.  CAar.^Before  the  blow-pipe  it  is  infusible  i 
but  with  borax  it  melts,  and  without  frothing  up. 


Parti. 


Alumina, 
Silica, 
Magnesia 
Oxide  of  iron, 
Lime, 
Chromic  acid. 


Constituent  Parts. 

, 

KUproth. 
74.50 

8.25 
1,          •  1.50 

82.47 
8.78- 

t    -1' 

6.18 

■^- 

2.57 

100.5 


SCO 


Loealittes^  &c.---Crystals  of  spinelle  are  found  in  Cey- 
lon, in  a  river  which  comes  from  the  high  mountains  in 
the  middle  of  that  island  :  they  are  accompanied  with 
zircon,  tourmaline,  and  different  other  stones.  It  is 
found  also  in  Pegu. 

I7jr#w— Spmelle  is  ranked  among  precious  stones,  and 
is  greatly  esteemed  when  it  is  of  a  certain  size.  It  is 
said  that  a  fine  spinelle  robv,  whose  weight  exceeds  foor 
carats,  is  worth  half  the  pnce  of  a  diamond  of  the  same 
weight* 

13-  Species.    Sapbihrx. 
Ofwite/  Rulm,  Sapphire,  and  Tya»,  Kirwan,  i,  %so. 
i4f&yA«r^Brochant,i.207.   Afew,  Haoy,  ii.  480. 

Essen.  CAar.— Specific  gravity  about  4  j  natural 
joinU  very  distinct,  and  perpendicukr  to  the  axis  of  the 
crystals. 

Ester.  Char. — Sapphire  is  found  in  fragments,  in 
rounded  pieces,  and  also  crysUllized.  The  primitive 
form  of  the  crysUl,  accordmg  to  Hauy,  is  a  regular 
su-sided  prism,  and  the  integrant:  molecule  is  a  triaagu- 
lar,  equilateral  prism  >  but,  according  to  Boumon,  the 
primitive  form  is  a  rhomboid,  whose  angles  are  96*  and 
84*.  The  usual  forms  of  the  crystals  are,  i.  A  smalk 
six-sided  prism.  2.  A  pyramid  with  six  faces,  very  sharp, 
double,  the  two  pyramids  applied  base  to  base.  3.  The 
same  crystal  with  the  summit  truncated.  ^  A  pyramid 
with  six  frees,  double  y  tbe  two  pyramids  applied  base 
to  base,  but  less  sharp  than  the  second  form.  The  sur- 
face of  the  crystaii  is  smooth,  and  often  streaked  trans- 
versely.. 

1U 


[. 


MINERALOGY. 


».  The  priocipftl  colour  is  blue,  Tarjing  beUreeiv  Fn»- 
si&D  sad  indigo  bine }  other  varieties  are  of  a  deep  vio- 

*^  kt  bine.  Sapphires  are  also  found  red,  yellowish,  and 
greenish.  Two  or  three  coloois  appear  in  the  sane 
etystal,  sometimes  in  bands  and  sometimes  in  concentric 
circles.  Externally,  the  lustre  of  the  sapphire  is^bin* 
ing  f  internally^  resplendent  and  vitreous.  Fzactare 
perfectly  conchoidal.  Fragments  sharp-edged  ^  trans- 
parent or  semitnmsparent,  sometimes  only  translucent. 
Scratches  all  other  earthy  substances.  Brittle.  Spec, 
grav.  3.991  to  4.283. 

CAem,  CAor.— Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe.  Melts 
with  borax  without  intumescence.    The  blue  variety^, 
exposed  to  a  strong  heat;  loses  its  coloori  Haiiy. 

GonsttkiefU  Parts. 

Ktaprothl'  Fergmao.* 

Ainmina,  98.5  58. 

Sifica,  *  35. 

Lime,  00.5  5*' 

Oxid^  of  iron.       r.  2. 


ICO 


Sftpphire* 
Alnminai  92* 

Silica,  5^25 

Oxide  of  iron,.       i 
Loss^  1,75 


xt>a 

OriebUl  "Rvihf. 
90 

7 

Xi2^ 

X.8 


100 


xoo 


LocaiitieSj  &c.—- The  finest  sapphires  are  brought 
from  Pegu  Imd  the  island  of  Ceylon.  The  sapphire  is 
also  found  in  Bohemia,  accompanied  with  zircon,. .Bo- 
hemian garnet,  and  magnetic  ironj  and  in  the  river 
Expailly  in  France. 

&<e«<— The  sapphire,  next  to  the  diamond,  is  the 
most  higlily  valued  of  precious  stones. 

14.  Species.    Corundum. 

Cormdon^  Haiiy,  iii.  i.  Adamantine  Spar^  Kirw.  f.'  33^.- 
Le  Spath  A'damantihy  Broch.  i.  356. 

Essen*  CAard-— Scratches  quartx>  divisible  into  a 
rhomboid  somewhat  acute. 

Ester.  CAar^ — ^This  mineral  is  found  massive^  disse- 
minated, and  crystallised  j  i.  In  six-sided  prisms,  ha- 
ving the  extremities  broken,,  and  the  faces  sometimes 
uneqoaL  2.  A  six-sided  prism,  terminated  hy  a  six- 
sided  pyramid.  3.  A  pyramid  with  six  short  faces, 
whose  summit  is  strongly  truncated }  and,  4.  The  pre- 
ceding crystal  terminated  by  a  three-^ided  pyramid. 
From  the  investigations  of  Count  de  Boomon  and  Mr 
Greville,  it  appeaxarthat  the  crystallization  of  corundum 
is  similar  to  that  of  the  sapphire  *•  Lustre,  which  is 
intermediate  between  resinons  and  vitreous,  shining  or 
weakly  shining^  cross  firactttre  uneven,  or  splintery, 
sometimes  foliated}  fragments  rhomboldal,  sometimes 
•harp-edged. 

The  Golonr  is  greenish  white,  greenish  gray,  and  aspa- 
ngus  green,  translucent  at  the  edges ;  refraction  double. 
Extremely  hard.     Spec.  grav.  3.710  to  3.873. 

CAem.  C&ar.— Entirely  infusible  before  the  blow-pipe* 


Silica, 
Alumina, 
Oxide  of  iron, 
Loss, 


Constituent  Parts.    Klaproth. 

From  China.        Tnm  Bengal. 

6-5 


*57 

SiMecoQs 
g«nas. 


84. 

7-5 
2. 

XOO 


S'50 
89.50 

X.25 

XOO 


According  to  Chenevix.  ^ 


Ftom  the  Camatic. 
SiGca,  5 

Alumina,         91 
Oxide  of  iron,    1.5 
Loss^  2.5 


From  Malabar. 

7 

86.5 

4 
2.5 


XOO 


XOO 


£oco/t<M«— Corundum  is  found  in  a  hard  rock  near 
the  river  Cavery,  south  of  Madras  ^  on  the  Malabar 
coast  'y  in  the  island  of  Ceylon  j  in  the  kingdom  of  Avaj 
and  in  China. 

15.  Species.    Adamantine  Spar. 

Ester.  CAor.— -This  minoral,  which  ought*  nndoubt- 
edly  to  be  considered  as  a  variety  of  corundum,  is  found 
massive,  in  rolled  pieces,  and  crystallized  in  six-sided 
prisms,  and  six-sided  acute  pyramids  with  truncated  ex- 
tranities.  Internal  lustre  splendent^  firacture  foliated; 
fragments  rhomboidal. 

Colour  dark  hair  brown ;  very  hard.  Spec  gtuf^ 
3-98x. 

Constituent  Parts.  Klaproth. 


Silica, 
Alumina^ 
Oxide  of  iron, 
Loss^ 


From  Chinas 

6.5 
84.  > 

7-5 
2. 


XOO 


Zdca/tiTM.— -This  mineral  has  be^en  only  met  with  !a 
China. 

x6.  Species*    Emery.  - 

Fer  Osydi  Ofwrtsufire^  Hany,  iv.  x  x  2V  Eniny^  Kirw. 
ii.  X93.     L*Emerilf  Brochs  ii.  292; 

Essen.-  C^orJ— The  powder  scratches  all  bodies  ex« 
oept  the  diamond. 

Exter.  CAar.— This  mineral  is  found  massive  and  dis- 
seminated. The  lustre  is  glimmering  or  weak  shining, 
and  adamantine.  Fracture  fine-grained,  uneven ;  frag- 
ments a  little  blunt-edged. 

Colour  grayish  black,  bliujh,  smoke  or  steel  gray*; 
generally  opaque,  but  sometimes  traaslueent  at  the 
edges :  extremely  hard.     Spec.  grav.  about  4. 

Chem.  CAar.*--£ecomes  black  under  the  blow-pipe,  • 

bat  is  infusible.    Colours  boraX'Of  a  dirty  yellow. 

Constituent' 


•  pmi 


I  Sot. 

IK  400. 


MINERALOOT. 


FkrtL 


XhnstUuefU  Parts. 

Tcnaaat. 
Alanuoa^  86 

Silica^  3 

Oxide  of  itatkf       4 
Losa,  7 

LoeaUtie$^  &c«i— This  mineral  is  'found  in  Saxony^ 
disseminaled  in  a  bed  of  indnrmted  steatites,  mixed  with 
eommoii  talc }  also  in  the  isfamd  of  Naxos  m  the  Ar- 
chipelago \  and  in  Italj«  Spain,  and  Pern. 

Usei,^-^tatTj^  as  well  as  the  two  former  sp^ies,  is 
employed,  when  reduced  to  powder,  in  cutting  and  po- 
'•lishing  hard  stones,  glass,  and  metids. 

Not  only  the  external  characters,  hot  also  the  near 
approach  in  thtf  proportion  of  their  constituent  parts,  of 
the  three  .speoies  last  described,  would  lead  to  consider 
'  tiiem  as  th^  same  species,  or  at  least  as  varieties.  Emery 
nsbyiome  mineralo|^sts  arranged  among  the  ores  ii 
iron* 

17.  Species.    TopaZ. 

Accidental  Topaz^  Kirw*  u  254.    La  TopaHu^  Broch. 
i.  21 2.     lifafu^  Haoy,  ii*  504. 

Eum*  CAor.— Refiractkm  fiouble  \  joints  very  dis' 
tinct ; '  perpendicollff  duly  to  the  axis  of  the  crystals* 

Esier,  diiar«— »Th^  topal  is  tometinies  feund  massivei 
wmietimes  disseminated,  and  sometiows  in  rounded  frng- 
taentaj  but  it  is  most  eonmonly  crystallized.  The 
primitiTe  form  of  its  crystals  is  a  right-anffled.prisnif 
whose  bases  are  rhombs,  and  having  the  urge  angle 
124*  22f )  the- integrant  moleciile  is  the  same.  The 
flMMt  common  forms  of  the  topaz  are| 

I.  A  prism  with  eight  sides,  terminated  at  the  one 
end  by  a  four-sided  summit,  and  at  the  other  (which 
but  rarely  happens),  1^  one  of  a  different  form.  In  a 
varietf  of  the  Bratilian  topaflL,  the  one  summit  presents 
six  sides,  and  the  other  ten  }  and  the  electricity  exhi« 
bited  by  the  latter  by  means  cf  heat,  is  negative,  while 
that  of  the  former  is  positive.  This  difference  in  the 
two  opposite  summits  of  a  crystal,  as^has  been  observed 
by*Hany,  is  a  peculiarity  in  all  crystsds  which  acquire 
by  means  of  heat  two  kinds  of  electricity. 

2*  The  next  common  form  of  the  topaz  is  an  eight- 
bided  prism,  whose  base  is  horizontal,  and  bordered 
with  a  row  of  six  oblique  faces*  This  variety,  which 
is  found  in  the  mines  of  Saxony,  beoones  readily  elec- 
tric bj  friction,  but  not  by  heat. 

The  prevailing  colour  of  the  topaz  is  yellow  of  va- 
rious shades.  Tne  crystals  are  01  middling  size  $  their 
lateral  faces  are  sometimes  convex  and  cylindrical ;  the 
surfiice  of  the  same  lace  is  Kmgitudinaliy  striated,  while 
that  of  the  other  faces  is  smooth.  Lnstre  vitreous) 
firaeturenerfecdy  foliated  >  longitudinal  fracture 
}  fragments  indeteiminate )  transparent ; 
sometimes  semitraasparent  or  translncent;  refraction 
double ',  scratches  rock-crystal.    Spec.  grav.  3.464  to 

35*4- 
CAmn,  CloTd— •InfbsiUe  before  the  blow-pip^,  but 

melts  with  beiajc  without  iatometceace.  The  Brazilian 


topaz  heated  in  a  erucitie  tasttfliM  a  rsie  fod  cobnr, 
when  it  is  called  by  the  jewdlers  rwjy  ofBramH.  The 
Saxon  topaz  becomes  white  when  exposed  to  heat}  and 
thus  deprived  of  colour,  is  sold  for  the  diamond.  A«- 
cofdmg  to  Vauquelin,  all  the  varieties  of  topaz  reduced 
to  powder,  and  added  to  syrup  of  violets,  at  the  end  of 
two  or  three  hours  communicate  a  green  colour. 

Comtituent  Farts, 

According'to  Klaproth  and  Vauquelin. 

Alumina,  47  to  50 

Silica,  28  to  30 

Fluoric  acid,  17  to  20 

Iron,  o  to  4 

lacah'tieSf  &c«— The  topaz  is  found  in  different  parts 
-of  Saxony,  particularly  in  the  mountain  Schneecken- 
stein,  which  is  denominated  tt^az  ^oc^,  and  ts  arranged 
wiUi  the  primitive  mountains.  In  this  rock  the  topaz 
is  mixed  with  quairtz,  schorl,  mica,  and  lithomarga. 
Near  Zinnwald  it  is  found  in  p;ranite.  It  is  also  found 
ndxed  with  ores  of  tin.  In  Siberia  the  topaz  is  found 
in  graphic  granite,  accompanied  with  beryl,  quartz, 
and  garnet.  Topaz  is  also  met  with  in  Brazil  and  Asia 
Minor. 

Uses^-^Tht  topaz  is  employed^  for  the  purposes  of 
jewellery  as  a  precious  stone,  but  it  is  not  considered  of 
very  great  value. 

z&  Species.    Pyrophtsalxti:. 

This  mineral  which  was  described  and  analysed,  by 
Hisenger  and  BerzeUns,  is  of  a  greenish  white  colour. 
When  thrown  on  hot  coals  it  becomes  pbosphoren^ent, 
Imd  gives  out  a  greenish  flame.  When '  it  is  strongly 
heated  by  the  action  of  the  blow-pipe,  the  surface  is 
covered  with  smsfll  vesicles  which  elplode.  These  phe- 
nomena are  ascribed  to  the  fluitte  of  Kme  which  ferms 
one  of  its  constituent  parts,  and  which  sometimes  ap- 
•  pears  surrounding  it  with  a  crust. 

Locaiities^  &c«— Gahn  found  this  stone  at  Finbo  near 
Fablun  in  Sweden,  in  nodules  imbedded  in  a  granite, 
composed  of  white  quartz,  feldspar,  and  silvery  miea. 
The  nodales  are  separated  from  the  rock  by  a  greenish 
yellow  talc  f  •  f 

ig.  Species.    EucUkSC. 

Id.  tttoy,  ii.  531.     Id,  Brochant,  ii.  508. 

Essen,  Tilar.-^Divisible  by  two  longitudinal  lines 
perpendicular  to  each  other. 

Ester,  rAor.— «This  mineral  has  only  been  found  cry- 
stallized. The  primitive  form  of  the  crystals  is  a  icct- 
angnlar  prism  with  square  bases,  and  that  of  the  inte* 
grant  molecule  is  the  salne.  The  most  common  form 
under  which  it  appears  is  an  oblique  four-sided  prism, 
with  the  edges  truncated  in  various  ways.  The  cry<- 
stals  ate  streaked  longitudinally.  The  lustre  is  resplcn- 
deot  and  vitreous.  iMgitudinal  firactore  foliated  j  cross 
fracture  conchoidal. 

Colour,  bright  sea  green.  Transparent,  and  refracts 
double.  Scratches  quartz«  Vaj  frangible ;  hence  itd 
name  signifying  easily  broken,    opec.  grav.  3.o62» 

Chem,  Chor4 — Loses  its  transparency  iNcfore   the 

Uow-pipe|  ud  melts  into  a  lAitt  emuntl. 


MINERALOGY. 


Conttiiuent  Parts*    Vauqnelin. 


Silkft, 

35     to 

36 

Alamiofty 

i8 

>9 

Gtacina, 

»4 

^S 

Irmif 

2 

3 

Lon, 

31 

27 

100 


xoo 


£oca/k1r»rf.— This  mineral  was  brought  from  Peru, 
md  has  never  been  found  any  where  else.  It  was  in 
iiogle  crystals,  so  that  its  repository  is  nnknown.  It  is 
yf  some  mineralogists  arranged  among  the  ores  of  iron. 

"    •  20.  Species.    Emerald. 

Id^  Kirw.  i.  247.     VEmtremde^  Brochant,  i.  217. 
£meraude^  Hiuiy.  ii^  516. 

£MrjK.CAar^—ScratcKea glass  easily  $.  divisible, paral- 
lel to  the  fiices,  and  t»  the  bases  of  a  regular  hexahe- 
dral  prism. 

Exter.  C&iir.— The  emerald  is  only  found  crystal- 
lized,  and  the  primitive  form  of  its  crystals  is  a  regular 
six-sided  prism ;  the  integrant  molecule  is  a  triangular 
prism,  the  sides  square,  and  the  bases  equilateral  tri- 
ingles.  The  usual  forms  are,  i.  A  perfect  six-sided, 
prism  \  2-  Truncated  on  its  lateral  edges  \  3.  Trun- 
cated on  its  terminal  edges  \  4.  Truncated  on  its  tep- 
ninal  angles  \  and,  5.  Having  the  terminal  edges  be- 
vdled*  The  crystals  are  seldom  large*  Their  surface 
is  smooth  and  shining  \  internal  lustre  shining  and  re- 
Bplendent^  vitreous;  fracture  conchoidal  or  unequal,, 
lonetimes  transversely  foliated  \.  fragments  indetermi- 
nate, sharp  edged. 

Colour  emeiidd  green  of  aH  shades  \  most  commonly 
transfaient,  sometimes  only  translucent:  refraction- dou- 
ble^ with  difficidty  scratcbea  quartz.  Spec  grav.  2.600 
to  2.775. 

Chemm  CAor.— Fosible  before  the  blow-pipe,  but  with 
difficulty  \  meHs- readily  with  borax. 


Silica, 

Alumina^ 

Glncina, 

Oxide  of  chmnion^ 

Lime, 

Oxide  of  iron. 

Water, 


Comtituent  PariSi 

YaiquelfaL 

Klaptoth. 

tf4«S0 

68.50 

16. 

'5-75 

»3- 

12.50 

"f            3-*5 

•30 

1.60 

.25 

• 

I*. 

2. 

100.35 


98-3 


JCiM»Mic»,^&04—ThefineBt emeralds  are  brought  from 
Pern,  where  they  are  fennd  in  veins  or  cavities  of  the 
granite  momitains.  They  are  also  found  in  Upper 
Egypt,  Ethiopia,  and  in  the^  island  of  Ceylon.  The 
emerald  ie  accompanied'  by  calcareous  substances,  as 
carbonate  of  Kme  and  gypsam4 

£/iPM>— The  rioh  green  of  the  emerald-  has  obtain(e4 
fer  it  a  high  rank  among  procious  stones,  abd  it  is  em- 
|l«ped  fbr<6i«ibff  povposce. 


21.  Species.     Bcrtl. 

Aqua  Marwa  et  Samaragdus^  Berylius^  Waller!  us,  L 

254.  Atgue  Man'fte  de  Siberie^  Ilom6  de  Lisle,  ii. 

252.  Id.  De  Bom,  i.  71.     Beryl^   Kirw.  i.  248. 

Le  Beril  Noile^  Brochant,  i.  220.    Emeraude  Litn- 

pide^  vert'bkuatrrfjaunc'verdatrff  &c.  Hauy,  ii.  521 . 

E$sen^  C^ir.-— The  sanfe  as  the  emerald. 

Exter.  Char, — ^The  beryl  is  sometimes  found  in  round- 
ed fragments,  but  most  commonly  crystallized,  and  the 
forms  of  its  crystal  are  the  same  as  the  emerald..  The 
lateral  faces  of  the  crystals  are  deeply  striated^ 

The  colours  of  the  beryl  are  usually  a  pale  or  yel- 
lowish green  i  external  lustre  shining  ^  internal  resplen- 
dent, vitreous  \  longitudinal  fracture  conchoidal,  or  fo- 
liated. Cleavage  fourfold.  Fragments  indeteroHnafca 
and  sharp-edged;  often  transparent,  sometimes  semi- 
transparent,  and  translucent.  The  latter  variety  is  di- 
stinguished by  transverse  rents.  Befraction  in  a  slight 
degree  double  \  nearly  as  hard  as  topaz  \  brittle  \  spec, 
grav.  2.65  to  2.75i.    Becomes  electric  by  friction. 

CAem.  CAor.— Before  the  blow-pipe  it  is  fusible,  bot- 
with  difikulty,  and  yields  a  white,  scarcely  translucent 


Gmsiitueni  Parts* 


Silica, 
Alumina, 
Glucina, 
Lime, 
Oxide  of  iron. 


Vaaqvelin. 

68 
'5 

2 

X 

100 


Rote. 

69 

»4 


98 


LocalitieSy  &c«— -The  beryl  is  brou^t  from  the  East 
Indies,  and  from  Brazil ;  but  the  finest  and  purest  are 
found  in  Diaouria,  on  the  frontiers  of  China,  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Nertschink  \  and  the  matrix  of  th«M 
beryls  is  said  to  be  an  indurated  clay«  resembling  jas- 
per. The  beryl  is  also  found  in  Siberia,  where  it  is 
usually  accompanied  withquartz,  feldspar,  garnets,  tour- 
maline, mica,  and  flnor  spar,  in  the  .veina  of  primitive 
mountains*  The  bervls  from  Siberia  ace  almost  alL 
found  m  graphic  gramte»  Beryl  is  also  foond  in  Saxony, . 
and  lately  in  France,  in  a  large  vein  of  qoartZr  traversing 
graphic  granite*  Dolomieo  found  the  baryl  perfeetly 
transparent  and  colourless,  in  the  granite  of  the  island 
of  Elba. 

Uiff^.— The  beryl  ia  employed  as  a  preclons  stone,  but 
is  not  gready  esteemed.. 

jR^morA:^.— The  emerald  and  the  precions  beryl  ap-- 
proach  so  nearly  to  each  other,  not  only  in  the  forms 
of  their  crystals,  wbkb  are  nlmost  the.samft  and  in 
their  constituent  parts,  which  afford  but  slight  varia* 
tioas,  but  abo  in  their  other  cbaraaters,  that  Ahey.oodit . 
to  be  conndered,  as  has  been  done  by  Hany^asosariHies 
of  the  same  species.  .  The.  only  .ditfereoces  which  exist 
between  them  seem  to  be  accidental-  Th^  are  chiefly 
in  the  colour,  and  .in  the  crystallization ;  the  fimoe^  of - 
which  is  a  finer  green,  aod  the  latter  is  more,  perfect  ip  * 
the  en^erald  than  in  the  beryl.    Th^  colouring  matter  of 
the  emeraU  is  oxide  of  chrominm,  while  that  of  the  b^* 


i6o 


MINER 


SUieeoQt  ryl  is  oxide  of  iron.     In  all  the  other  characters  they 
S^'*"    arc  pearly  the  sam^. 

22.  Species.     ScHORLlTE,  or  Sc/iorlotis  BeyrL 

Schorliitf  Kirw.  L  286.     LrBeril  SehoHiforme^  Bro- 
•chant  L    224*    Lemdiie  and  P^cnite^  Hauy,  iii. 
,  236. 

Essen,  C/^r.-— Infusible.  Original  form  of  tlie-crfs* 
tals  a  regnlar  hexabedral  prism. 

'Ester,  CAor.— -This  minei«l  is  tisaally  found  orys^ 
tallized,  in  longuh^maases,  mixed  with  other  suhstances, 
and  generally  imbedded  in  granite ;  the  form  of'  the 
crystatei*  when  they  are  regular,  is  a  6ix-«ided  pnsro, 
which  is  Bometimes  truncated  on  its  termiwrf  ^dges,  abd 
sfjmctitnes  the  form  disappears  from  its  being  deeply 
and  longitudinally  striated.  The  crystals  are  geneialjy 
large. 

Colour  white,  straw  yellow,  or  reddiebv  Translucent 
o^  nearly  opaque.  External  lustre  shining  between  vi- 
treous and  resinous.  Cross  factare  imperfectly  foliated^ 
longitudinal,  imperfectly  conchoidal.  Scratehti^-quartx 
slightly.     Brittle.     Spec,  grav;  3.514  to  3.530. 

>CAm.  <CAar.— -Infusible'  with  the  •  UowTpipe  y  with 
borax  yields  a  tran^arent  glass. 


Csmtttuent  Parts. 

VanqQcUn, 

JCiaproth. 

VanqHelin. 

aoQtUr  aaul  jtif. 

Silica^                  50 

368 

30 

Alumina,            50 

5a^ 

,.  60 

Lime,               — 

3-3 

2 

Water,              — 

,1.5 

V   X 

Fluoric  acid,      — 

•^ 

6 

Loss,              .  — 

si 

I 

too 


too 


>  rOo 


'■Localities^  &c«— This  minera)' it -generally  found  im- 
bedded in  granite  j  sometimes  it  is  met  with  in  gneis, 
accompanied  with  lepidolite.  ^^  It  etaters  into  the  com- 
position of  a  rock  formed  bf'foarts  and  grav  mica  at 
Altenberg  in  Saxony.  "  A  red  variety  of  this  mineral 
was  fonnerly  considered  *by.  mineralogists  as  a  crystal- 
liaed  lepidQuto-  Schorlous -beryl  has  been  arranged  as-a 
snbapeeies  of  beryl  >  but  its  -apecific  gravity,  diferent 
degree  of  hardness,  and  especially  its  composition,  are 
chanmtera  su^ciently  distanot  to  constitute  a  separate 


25.*  Species.    Schori^ 


tion. 


lUs  species  is  diyided  into  two  subspecies  \  x.  Black 
«    or  common  schorl,  and  2.  Tourmaline. 

Sub^eciei  i.    Black  Schorl. 

&A0r^Kirw*  L  265.  Le  SckoriNoirf  Brochant,  i.  226.  * 
IbMrwiattsr,  Hany,  iii.  31. 

Essen*  CAor.^-Electj'ic-  by  heat  in  the  two  opposite 
extremities }  {bnna  -  of  the   crystals  derived   from  a   . 
rhomboid. 

Ester.  CAor.*— This  mineral  is  found  in  masses,  and 
disseminated,  but  most  frequently  crystallized.  The 
primitive  form  of  its  trjitsSA  i»  an  wtuse  rhomboid } 


A  L  O  G  Y.  Parti. 

the  integrant  molecule  is  a  tetrahedron.  Its  usual  forms  Ctanilct. 
are,  i.  A  three-sided  prism,  with  the  lateral  edges 
cither  truncated  or  bevelled  *,  2.  The  same  prism  having 
a  three-sided  obtuse  sumdfiit,  the  sides  coruespondSog  to 
the  lateral  edges.  The  truncations  and  be^'elments  of 
the  laterai  edges  vary  in  the  size  of  the  faces,  thus  pro« 
ducing  nriftms  of  alx  and  nine  sides.  The  lateral  faces 
of  the  three-sided  j>rism  are.often  convex.  The  lateral 
surfaces  are  Jongitudinally.  and  deeply  striated.  The 
lustre,  both  external  aod  internal,  which  is  vitreous, 
varies  Jbetween  shining  and  weakly  shining.  The  Crac- 
ture  is  jn)perfectly  conchoidal  or  uneven  ^  cross  frac- 
ture l»  sometimes  convex  on  the  one  side  and  concave 
oU  the  other.  When  black  schorl  is  massive,  it  is  fou^d 
in  separate  pieces,  thin,  and  apparently  fibrous,  parallel, 
or  interwoven  and  ilivei^eot.  .  The  ^ces  of  these  se- 
parate pieces  are  striated  lengthwise.  The  fragments 
ajp^  indeterminate.  ^ 

Colour  velvet  bkick  of  various  chades.  Commonly 
opaque,  ranely  translucent,  except  in  small  crystals. 
Stvsak  gray.  Inferior  {tf-quartr  in  hardness.  Specific 
gravity  3.092  to  3.2x2. 

Chan.  CAor.— Under  the  blow-pipe,  it  friths  op,  and 
maUs  into  a  grayish  white  enamel. 

Gottstitu^ni  Parts*    Wiegleb. 
"Alinnina,  40.8^ 

•   CI* 

^"'ca»  33-33 

Iron,  20^j 

Manganese,  3.33 

Physical  Char. — ^Black  ochorl  t  becomea  electric  by 
beat  >  and  the  electricity  of  one  extremity  of  the  crysUl 
is  positive,  while  that  of  the  other  is  negative  }  but 
when  it  cools,  it  is  said,; that  the  nature  of  the  electri- 
city b  reversed  >  the  positive  extremity  becomes  nega- 
tive, and  the  negative  beoomes  positive. 

JLocaUties^  &c.— -Black  schorl  is  usually  found  in  gm- 
nite^  gneis,  and  the  other  primitive  rocks ;  in  veins  of  tin 
and  or^  of  iron  \  in  the  topaz  rock  of  Schneeckeittteia 
in  JSaxAqr,  of  which  it  constitutes  a  fart.  It  is  also  met 
with  in  Switzerland,  Spain,  Hungary,  and  Briuin. 

Subspecies  2.    TourmaUne. 

Id.  Kirw.  i.  271.    Le  Sthorl  Eiectrioufy  Brochant,  i. 
229.    'TotfrwMiAiir  Vertex  Hauy,  iii.  41. 

Essen., Char. — The  same  aa  black  schorl. 
Ester.  CAor— The  tourmaline  is  found  son^Cimee  in 
masses  and  grains,  but  most  commonly  crystallizetL 
The  form  of  its  ciystals  is  a  regular  three-aiMd  prism, 
with  the  edges,  i.  Either  truncated  or  bevelled.  2.  A 
regular  three-sided  prism  with  the  lateral  faces  convex, 
and  terminating  in  an  obtusei  threcTsided  prism,  the 
sides  of  which  correspond  to  the  lateral  faces  at  one 
extnemity,  and  to  the  lateral  edges  at.  the  other.  3.  An 
obtuse,  double,  three-aided  pynuud,  the  hets  of  the 
one  corresponding  to  the  edges  of  the  other.    4*  A 

.six-sided  prism  witb.«qual  angles.  5.  A  tix-aidad 
prism,  the  sides  meeting  two  and  two  alternately  under 

.three  obtuse  angles.  6.  A  nine-sided  prism,  having 
three  lateral  angles  acute,  and  sis  obtuse  alternately. 
7.  The  same  crystal  .having  the  three  acute  laleial 

.edges  truncated,  and  thus  fonning  a  twelve-sided  priam. 

'^         *         "   "  »th,  but 


The.  surface  of  the  ciystals  is  Bometiaies  smool 


most 


MINERALOGY. 


i6i 


most  IreqiieDtly  striated  loDeitudtnally.  Lustre  sliining 
snd  ▼itreous.  Longitadinal  fnciare  coDcfaoidal  >  cross 
fhtctare  foliated.  The  direction  of  the  plates  is  inclia- 
ed  to  the  axis  of  the  prism.  Fragments  indeterminate  j 
the  crystals  are  usually  opaque,  when  seen  laterally. 

The  colour  of  the  tourmaline  is  greenish,  of  various 
shades,  yellowish  brown,  and  very  rarely  indigo  blue. 
The  colours  are  usually  very  deep,  and  at  iirst  sight  ap- 
pear btack.  It  is  usually  translucent,  and  sometimes 
approaching  to  transparent,  particularly  when  it  is  seen 
in  a  direction  perpendicular  to  the  axis  of  the  prism  ^ 
but  it  appears  opaque  when  it  is  seen  in  a  direction  per* 
pendicolar  to  the  basis  of  the  prism,  even  when  the 
height  of  the  prism  is  less  than  its  thickness.  It  is 
harder  than  quartz.     Brittle.     Spec.  grav.  3.086  to 

Chem,  CAor.— With  the  blow-pipe  the  tourmaline 
melts  into  a  grayish  white,  porous  enamel. 


Constituent  Parts* 


Silica, 
Alumina,, 
Lime, 

Oxide  of  iron, 
-*— —  manganese. 


BcrjnnaiL 

37 

39 

15 

9 


100 


V«oqncUii« 
40. 

3-84 
12.50 

2. 

97-34 


Bergman's  analysis  is  of  the  tourmaline  of  Ceylon. 
Vaoquelin's  is  that  of  the  green  tourmaline  of  Brazil. 

FhfSical  CAor.— The  property  of  the  tourmaline,  of 
becoming  electric  by  beat,  has  been  already  noticed  as 
one  of  its  distinctive  characters.  This  physical  proper- 
ty has  occupied  the  attention  of  philosophers  for  a  long 
time.  It  was  observed  by  Lemery  in  1719,  and  exa- 
mined by  Epinns  in  1770.  Fliny  indeed  mentions  a 
reddish  or  purple-coloured  stone;  which  being  heated  or 
rubbed,  attracts  light  bodies.  This  is  supposed  to  have 
been  the  tourmaline.  This  property  is  susceptible  of 
TarioDS  modifications.  The  electricity  of  the  tourma- 
line may  be  conveniently  exhibited  by  lieatiog  two 
crystals,  suspending  the  one  by  a  thread,  and  present* 
ing  successively  to  its  extremities  the  extremities  of  the 
other  crystal.  The  extremities  which  possess  the  same 
kind  of  electricity  will  be  repelled,  while  those  which 
possess  a  different  kind  will  be  attracted.  If  a  crystal 
of  tonrmaline  be  broken  while  it  is  electrified,  the  frae- 
ments  immediately  present  electrical  poles,  situated  in 
the  same  direction  as  those  of  the  entire  crystal. 

The  extremity  of  the  crystals  of  tourmaline  which  has 
the  greatest  number  of  faces,  exhibits  positive  electrici- 
ty, while  the  extremity  havine  the  smaller  number  of 
fines  exhibits  negative  electricity.  The  proper  degree 
sf  heat  for  exciting  the  electricity  of  tourmaline  is  from 
ioqP  to  the  boiling  point  of  Fahrenheit.  When  heat- 
ed beyond  this  point,  it  is  deprived  of  its  electricity, 
and  recovers  it  only  in  cooling ;  but  if  the  temperature 
be  increased  still  more,  the  crystal  becomes  again  elec- 
tric, but  the  poles  are  reversed.  The  electric  poles 
may  be  also  reversed,  by  heating  a  crystal  of  tourma- 
line unequally,  by  means  of  a  homing  glass. 

Localities^  &c— The  tourmaline  is  found  in  almost 
ill  primitive  mountains  \  the  finest  crystals  are  brought 
from  Ceylota,  Madagascar,  Saxony,  the  Tyrol,  Spain, 

yoj.  XIV.  Part  L  t 


and  Brazil.  The  tourmaline  of  the  Tyrol  is  found  in  Siliceout 
a  talcky  rock,  mixed  with  chlorite,  mica,  and  horn-  genus. 
blende.  Those  of  Saxony  and  Spain  are  found  imbed- 
ed  in  gneis,  but  those  of  Brazil  and  Ceylon  are  in  se- 
parate crystals.  In  Bohemia  they  are  found  in  mines, 
rhe  tourmaline  is  also  a  native  of  France,  Sweden, 
Norway,  and  Britain. 

24.  Species.     PiSTAZITC. 

Glassy  actynoHte^  Kirwan,  i.  1 68.  Delphinitey  Saussure 
Voyages,  N^  1918.  Acanticane^  Arendalite^Jy An- 
drada,  Nich.  Jour.  4to.  v.  193.  La  Bayontiante  Vi- 
treuse^  Brochant,  i.  310.     Epidote^  Hauy,  iii.  102. 

Essen.  (7^ir.— -Divisible  parallel  to  the  faces  of  a 
rbomboidal  prism  of  114'}-*,  and  65  v°. 

Exter,  Char, — ^Pistaxite  is  foond  massive  or  crystal- 
lized in  flattened  four-sided  prisms,  terminated  by  four- 
sided  pyramids,  and  also  sometimes  in  regular  six-sided 
prisms  'y  the  summit  of  the  pyramid  almost  always  trun- 
cated, as  well  as  the  lateral  edges.  The  crystals  are 
sometimes  acicular  and  streaked  longitudinally.  Inter- 
nal lustre  shining.  Fracture  foliated  or  radiated.  Frag- 
ments wedge-shaped  and  splintery. 

Colour  deep  green,  olive  green,  or  greenish  yellow. 
Translucent,  sometimes  transparent.  Hard,  easily 
scratches  glass,  and  is  brittle.  Spec.  grav.  3.45. 
Powder  greenish  yellow  or  whitish. 

CAem  ^Aor.— Fusible  by  the  blow-pipe,  and  is  con- 
verted into  a  brown  slag,  which  blackens  by  continuing 
the  heat. 


Silica, 
Alumina, 
Lime, 
Oxide  of  iron, 

— — — —  manganese. 
Loss, 


Constituent  Parts. 
Van^Qclin. 

37 


21 
x-5 


Descotilii. 

37 
27 
M 
»7 

3'S 


100.0 


1 00.0 


Localities^  &c.— Pistazite  is  foond  in  Daupbiny,  on 
the  surface  and  in  the  fissures  of  an  argillaceous  rock,« 
accompanied  by  quartz,  amianthus,  and  feldspar,  and 
in  the  Pyrenees  in  limestone ;  near  Arendal  in  Nor- 
way^ and  in  argillaceous  schistus,  nortli  end  of  the 
island  of  Arran  in  Scotland. 

25.  Species.    Zotsite. 

This  mineral,  which  was  discovered  by  Baron  de 
Zoys,  and  therefore  bears  his  name^  is  considered  by 
Hauy  as  a  variety  of  Epidote. 

It  appears  in  prisms  which  are  deeply  furrowed  or 
rhomboidal,  and  very  much  flattened.  They  are  of  a 
gray  colour,  or  grayish  yellow,  with  a  peariy  lustre. 

Localities.— Loyhitt  is  fi>und  particularly  in  Carin- 

thia,  and  also  in  the  Tyrol  and  in  the  Valais*.  *  BrongnU 

art,  iL  400. 

26.  Species.    AxiNiTE,  or  Thumerstome. 

Id,  Kirw.  i.  273.     La  Pierre  de  Thum^  Brochant,  i. 
236.     Axinitef  Hauy,  iii.  22. 

Essen.  T^ir.— Divisible  parallel  to  the  faces  of  a 
rhomboidal  prism  of  2  01?°,  and  78^°. 

X  Exter* 


i62  M  I  N  E  K 

SiUceofUf  Exten  (7i^ar.— ^Tbumerstone  18  foond  in  masses,  dis- 
geaus.  seminated  aad  crystallized.  The  primitive  form  of  its 
crystals  is  a  right-angled  prism,  ivhose  bases  are  ob- 
lique-angled parallelogramt y  having  their  angles  of  101° 
32',  and  78°  28'.  The  integrant  molecule  is  an  ob- 
lique triangular  orism.  The  roost  common  form  of  its 
crystals  is  a  quaarangular  prism,  so  oblique  and  flatten- 
ed, that  its  andes  become  as  sharp  as  the  cutting  part 
of  a  hatchet.  The  faces  of  the  crystals  are  longitudi- 
nally striated,  but  the  truncated  faces  are  smooth.  Ex- 
ternally lustre  splendent  >  internal  shining  and  vitre- 
ous. Fracture  vitreous,  sometimes  rough  and  splintery. 
Fragments  indeterminate,  sharp  edged.  Massive  thu- 
merstone  is  composed  of  separate  testaceous,  thin,  and 
slightly  curved  concretions,  with  a  smooth  surface^ 
which  is  somewhat  irregularly  striated. 

The  colour  is  clove  brown,  varying  to  violet  blue, 
yellowish,  and  greenish  gray.  Massive  thumerstone  is 
only  translucent.  The  crystals  are  semitransparent,. 
and  sometimes  transparent.  It  is  harder  than  feldspar, 
but  less  80  than  quartz  ^  gives  fire  with  steel,  and^ dif- 
fuses an  odour  similar  to  what  is  produced  by  flint. 
Brittle.     Spec.  grav.  3.213  to  3.30c. 

Chem.  Char, — Thumerstone  froths  up  under  the  blow- 
pipe, and  is  converted  into  a  grayish  enamel,  and  with 
borax  into  a  fine  olive  green  enamel. 


Constituent  Parts, 


Silica, 
Alumina, 
Lime, 

Oxide  of  iron, 
mangaaese, 

IfOSS, 


Klaproth. 
52.70 

25-79 

9-39 
8.6^ 

I. 

2.49 

lOO/DO 


VanqneliD. 

44 
18 

^9 

14 

4 

I 


100 


A  L  O  G  Y.  PartL 

Exter.  Char»'^1\yt  ametliyst  is  found  frequently  cry-  ciani^ 
stalllzed,  but  it  is  also  found  massive  and  in  rounded  uoa. 
pieces,  i .  The  form  of  its  crystals  is  a  regular  six-sided 
prism,  terminated  by  a  six-sided  pyramid,  the  sides  of 
which  correspond  to  those  of  the  prism.  2.  A  double 
six-sided  pyramid.  Fracture  conchoidal,  -  rarely  splin- 
tery or  fibrous.  Fraements  indeterminate,  sometimes 
wedge-shaped.  Massive  amethyst  is  composed  of  sepa- 
rate pieces,  which  are  sometimes  granulated,  sometimes 
scopiform  when  the  crystals  are  combined  together. 

The  colour  is  commonly  violet  blue  of  various  shades, 
blackish  brown  and  greenish  white.  External  lustre 
resplendent  \  internal  resplendent  and  shining  vitreous. 
It  varies  between  transparent  and  translucent.  Scratches 
glass.     Brittle.     Spec.  grav.  2.653  ^  2.750. 

Chem,  £'Aar.— -Entirely  infusible  under  the  action  of 
the  blow-pipe. 

Constituent  Parts,     Rose. 

Silica,  97*50 

Alumina,  ,25 

Oxide  of  iron  and  manganese,  .50 


Localities^  &c.-*Thumerstone,  which  is  hitherto  a 
rare  mineral,  has  been  only  found  in  veins  and  fissures 
of  primitive  rocks,  and  chiefly  in  rocks  with  a  base  of 
serpentine.  It  is  usually  accompanied  with  asbestus,. 
rock  crystal,  and  sometimes  calcareous  spar.  It  was 
first  discovered  at  Thum  in  Saxony,  from  which  it  de- 
rives its  name  }  but  has  been  since  found  in  the  Pyre- 
nees, in  France,  at  Mount  Atlas  in  Africa,  in  Nor- 
way, and  in  Cornwall  in  Britain. 

27.  Species.  Quartz. 

Essen,  Char. — Divisible  into  a  rhomboid,  which  is 
slightly  obtuse. 

Quartz,  which  is  found,  either  massive,  crystallized, 
«T  in  rounded  pieces,  is  one  of  the  most  abundant  mi- 
neral substances.  The  primitive  form  of  its  crystals 
is  a  slightly  obtuse  rhomboid,  of  94^  4',  and  85^  56'. 
The  integrant  molecule  is  a  regular  tetrahedron. 

On  account  of  the  variety  of  forms  and  appearances, 
^artz  has  been  divided  into  subspecies ;  luto  five  by 
Werner;  by  others  only  into  two,  viz.  rock-crystal 
and  common  quartz.  We  shaH  nearly  follow  the  for- 
mer subdivisions,  which  are,  amethyst,  rock-crystal, 
milk-quartz,  common  quartz,  and  prase,  including  al- 
so femiginoua  quartz. 

Subspecies  i.  AxirrHTST, 

Id,   Kirw.    i.    264.       VAmethyste^    Qjuartst-hyalin 
Violet f  Haoy,  ii.  417. 


98.25 


Localities^  &c.-.— Amethyst  is  found  in  Bohemisy 
Saxony,  Siberia,  very  abundant  in  the  Uralian  moun- 
tains, Hungary,  and  Auvergne  in  France.  It  is  usual- 
ly met  with  in  the  veins  of  metalliferous  mountains, 
very  rarely  in  granitic  mountains.  It  is  frequently  met 
with  crystallized,  lining  the  cavities  of  balls  of  agate  > 
in  amygdaloid  and  porphyry  rocks. 

Vses,''^'When  the  ametliyst  is  cut  and  polished,  it 
assumes  an  agreeable  colour  and  lustre,  so  that  it  is 
employed  in  jewellery. 

tVemer  has  divided  the  amethyst  into  two  varieties, 
die  common  and  fibrous  ^  the  latter  being  chiefly  cha« 
racterized  by  its  fibrous  fracture  and  resinous  lustre. 
This  latter  variety  too,  is  only  found  massive. 

Subspecies  2.  Rock  Crystal. 

Mountain  Crystal^  Kirw.  i.  241.  Le  Cristal  de  rochcy 
Brochant.  i.  243.  QuartTi-hyalin  Limpide,  Hauy,. 
ii.  417. 

Ester,  r^iTd— -Bock  crystal  is  usually  found  crystal- 
lized, sometimes  in  rounded  pieces,  but  rarely  massive. 
The  JForm  of  its  crystals  is,  i.  A  six-sided  prison,  having 
one  of  its  bases  or  both  surmounted  by  a  sharp  pointed 
pyramid }  the  sides  of  the  pyramid  and  prism  corres- 
ponding.    This  is  its  most  usual  form ;  but  it  exhibits 
many  apparent  varieties,  arising  firom  modifications  in 
the  magnitude  of  one  or  several  of  the  faces  at  the  ex- 
pence  of  the  others,     2.  A  double  six-sided  pyramid, 
which  is  sometimes  perfect,  and  sometimes  truncated 
on  the  edges  of  the  common  base ;  and  sometimes  too, 
three  alternating  faces  on  each  pyramid  are  larger  than 
the  others,  giving  to  the  crystal  the  appearance  of  a 
cube.     3.  A  simple,  very  acute  pyramid  with  six  sides, 
having  its  summit,  and  often  also  its  base,  acumioatc^d 
with  six  faces :  but  this  is  rather  an  irregularity  in  the 
crystallization  than  a  new  form. 

The  crystals  of  this  mineral  are  sometimes  very  large, 
and  they  are  also  found  very  small,  (n  the  rounded 
pieces-  the  external  sur&ce  is  rough,  but  in  the  perfect 

crystals 


MINER 

Drystak  llie  fiees  of  die  prism  are  Btriated  transttiraely  'y 
liQt  those  of  the  pynunids  and  acuminatiens  are  smooth. 
The  lostre  is  resf^endeDt  and  vitreous ;  fracture  perfect- 
ly conchoid al,  sometimes,  however,  foliated }  fragments 
indetemiinate,  very  sharp  edged. 

Coloars  of  rock-crystals  are  grayish  wfaite^  yellowish 
white,  pearl  gray,  yellowish  and  blackish  brown.  In* 
temalty  it  is  sometimes  iridescent.  It  is  transparent, 
sooetines  semitraBSparent.  By  looking  across  one  of 
the  faces  of  the  pyramid,  and  the  opposite  face  of  the 
prism,  double  refraction  is  prodoced.  Scratches  glass, 
and  gives  sparks  with  steel.  Somewhat  frangible } 
spec  grav.  2.650  to  2.888. 

Ci»m.  Cilar.-«£ntirely  infosible  before  the  blow- 
pipe- 

Comtttuent  Parts,    Bergmati. 


Silica, 

Alumina, 

Lime, 


H 


103 


Physical CA0r.«*It  is  sometimes  phosphorescent^  two 
crystals,  by  being  rubbed  together,  exhibit  a  little  light 
ia  the  dark,  and  give  out  a  peculiar  odour,  which  is 
somewhat  empyreumatic. 

LtkDalitie$f  Scch— Rock-crystal  is  most  commonly  found 
ia  veins  of  primitive  rocks,  and  particnlarly  in  granite  j 
ia  druses  lining  the  cavities  of  these  rocks.  The  finest 
crystals  are  now  brought  from  Madagascar,  but  it  is  a 
very  frequent  mineral  in  most  countries,  as  in  the 
mountaina  of  Switzerland,  where  it  was  formerly  dug 
out  of  the  faces  of  lofty  precipices  by  the  inhabitants. 
It  is  also  found  in  Bohemia,  Saxony,  Hungary,  and  in 
Cornwall  in  England,  and  difierent  parts  of  Scotland, 
as  in  the  island  of  Arran,  in  the  caw ities  of  the  granite 
roouotalns,  and  in  Cairngorm  in  Aberdeenshire,  the 
two  latter,  which  are  well  known  by  the  name  of  Ar- 
ran stones  and  Cairngorms,  are  usually  of  a  smoky  co- 
kmr,  owing,  it  is  supposed,  to  iron  or  manganese  \  pro- 
bably to  the  latter,  for  from  some  experiments  which 
we  have  made,  the  colour  entirely  disappears  by  exp9- 
sing  the  crystal  to  a  strong  heat,  and  from  other  obser- 
vations it  appears  that  the  colouring  matter  is  also  de- 
stroyed by  the  action  of  light. 

Bock  crystal  sometimes  contains  schorl,  amianthus, 
actynolite,  mica,  and  titanium.  Crystals  are  also  some* 
times  met  with  in  cavities  containing  a  drop  of  water, 
and  a  small  quantity  of  air. 

£rjMf.w.Rock  crystal,  00  account  of  its  lustre  and 
transparency,  is  employed  in  jewellery,  and  particularly 
when  it  is  coloured,  as  those  from  Cairngorm  in  the 
north  of  Scotland,  many  of  which  are  held  in  high  esti- 
mation. 

Subspecies  3.  Rosy  Red  or  Milkt  Quartz. 

Rogy  Red  Q^ioriXf  Kirw.  i.  24 j;.    QiMirto,  Utiteux^  Bro« 
dbabt,  i.  246.  Qfiarl»-^a/M  kdteusy  Hany,  ii.  426. 

Ester.  C^r..*This  mineral  is  always  found  massive. 
It  is  indeed  said  by  Emmerling,  that  it  has  been  found 
crystallized,  in  small  six-sided  prisms,  terminated  by  a 
six-sided  pyramid,  atRabenstein  in  Bavaria.  Internally, 
its  Ittstre  is  shining,  rarely  resplendent ;  resinous  ^  frac- 


A  L  O  G  Y.  163 

ture  perfectly  conchoidal,  and  fragments  indeterminate.  Siliceons 
It  varies  between  semitransparent  and  translucent.  rcnus. 

The  colour  is  sometimes  milk  white  ^  but  its  principal 
colour,  it  is  said,  is  pale  rose  red.  In  its  other  charac'- 
ters  it  agrees  with  rock  crystal. 

It  is  suspected  that  this  mineral  is  composed  of  silica 
and  oxide  of  manganese,  to  the  latter  of  which  the  co- 
lour is  owing. 

Localities^  &c.— Milk  quartz  forms  beds  in  primitive 
mountains  \  at  Rabenstein  in  Bavaria  it  is  met  with  in 
a  large  grained  granite.  It  is  also  found  in  Finland, 
Greenland,  Saxony,  Siberia,  and  the  western  part  of 
Inverness-shire  in  Scotland. 

Uses,^»The  semitransparence,  the  fine  colour,  and  the 
polish  of  which  it  is  susceptible,  have  introduced  this 
mineral  to  be  employed  in  jewellery. 

Subspecies  4.  Common  Qoart«b. 

Qe/arfiS,  ELirw.  i.  242.   Le  Quartis  commune^  Brochaut, 
i.  248.     Q,tuxrt%  hyalin  amorphe^  Hauy,  ii.  425. 

Exter.  CAor.—- Common  quartz  is  found  in  various 
forms,  massive,  disseminated,  in  grains,  and  rounded 
pieces;  It  is  sometimes  stalactitical,  globular,  kidney- 
form,  tuberculated,  cellular,  perforated,  and  corroded  \ 
sometimes  also  it  is  crystallized,  and  the  cr)'stals  are 
either  true  or  supposititious.  The  true  crystals  are 
grouped  together  in  reniform,  rounded,  or  radiated 
masses  ^  the  form  is  the  same  as  that  of  rock  crystal. 
The  pseudo  crystals  derive  their  figure  from  the  substan- 
ces on  which  they  are  formed,  as  the  cube  from  floor 
spar,  the  octahedron  from  the  same,  the  six-sided  table 
from  barytes,  the  aonte  six-sided  pyramid  from  icalca- 
reous  spar.  The  snrface  of  the  true  crystals  is  similar 
to  that  of  rock  crystal,  but  that  of  the  pseudo  crystals 
is  rough,  and  the  lustre  is  dull.  Fracture  of  common 
quartz  is  small,  conchoidal  \  sometimes  large,  splintery, 
and  sometimes  imperfectly  foliated,  or  fibrous,  with 
large  parallel  fibres.  Fragments  indeterminate,  with 
sharp  edges,  very  rarely  rhomboidal.  It  is  commonly 
translucent,  rarely  semitransparent.  The  colour  is  milk 
white,  snow  white,  reddish  white,  and  blood  and  flesh 
ted,  with  many  shades  of  these  colours.  Scratches 
glass.     Spec.  grav.  2.040  to  2.654. 

Chem,  C^or.— Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe.  Silica 
forms  the  principal  constituent  part ;  but  among  the 
numerous  varieties  of  common  quartz,  there  are  no 
doubt  slight  differences  in  the  nature  and  quantity  of 
the  materials  which  enter  into  its  composition.  The 
different  shades  of  colour  are  owing  to  different  portions 
and  different  states  of  metallic  substances. 

Localities^  &c.<-»Common  quartz  is  one  of  the  sub- 
stances of  most  frequent  occurrence  in  all  kinds  of  rocks, 
forming  one  of  the  chief  component  parts  of  primitive 
mountains,  sometimes  in  entire  beds,  or  whole  moun- 
tains, as  in  the  islands  of  Isla  and  Jura  in  Scotland.  It 
is  also  frequent  in  veins,  very  common  in  stratiform 
rocks,  where  it  constitutes  the  base  of  sandstone :  in 
alhavial  rocks  it  is  met  with  in  rounded  pieces,  or  in  the 
form  of  sand. 

Vses.^-^-ComxoQfk  quartz  is  employed  ib  the  manufac- 
ture of  glass  instead  of  sand  ^  in  the  fabrication  of  smalt, 
and  as  a  flux  for  calcareous  ores  of  iroiK 

A  variety  of  this,  called  aventurine,  is  sometimes  held 
in  considerable  estfltiation.     It  is  the  .quartz  hyalin 

X  2  aventurine 


i64 


MINERALOGY. 


Parti. 


Siliceoua  aveoturlne  of  Hauy,  and  the  natural  aventarln6  of 
(;eniis.  De  Lisle.  It  is  of  a  deep  red,  gray,  green,  or  blackish 
colour,  marked  with  spots  sometimes  of  a  yellowish, 
and  sometimes  of  a  silvery  appearance,  which  proceed 
from  very  thin  pieces  of  pure  quartz  disseminated  in  the 
mass.  It  ought  not  to  be  confounded  with  quartz  mix- 
ed with  mica,  or  micaceous  quartz,  which  is  a  com- 
pound rock.  On  the  contrary,  the  diversity  of  colours 
seems  to  be  owing  to  numerous  fissures  which  are  arran- 
ged nearly  in  the  same  direction. 

Aventurine  is  found  near  Vasles,  in  the  department 
of  Deux  Sevres  in  France,  in  the  form  of  rounded  stones, 
which  are  reddish  ^  at  Cape  de  Gates  in  Spain,  of  a 
whitish  colour,  with  silvery  spots  ^  in  Arragon,  which 
affords  several  varieties  ;  near  Madrid,  among  rounded 
fragments  of  granite;  at  Facebay  in  Transylvania,  where 
it  is  of  a  black  colour,  with  very  small  golden  spots ; 
and  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Catharineburg  in  Siberia. 

The  name  aventurine  is  derived  from  the  following 
circumstance.  A  workman  having  dropped  by  chance, 
par  axyenture^  some  brass  filings  into  a  vitreous  matter  in 
the  state  of  fusion,  gave  the  mixture  this  name,  of  which 
was  afterwards  made  vases  and  other  ornamental  objects. 
Mineralogists  gave  the  same  name  to  natural  substances 
which  have  a  striking  resembhince  to  this  artificial 
production.     Hauy,  ii.  422. 

Subspecies  5.  Prase. 

JPrasium^  Kirw.  i.  249.  La  Prase ^  Brochant,  i.  252. 
Quartis  Hyalin  Vert  obscure^  ii.  4 1  p.  Qjuart%  Prase ^ 
Brongniart,  i.  280. 

Exter,  CAar.— This  mineral  possesses  all  the  charac- 
ters of  quartz  in  genei*al.  It  is  most  commonly  found 
massive,  and  very  rarely  crystallized.  The  crystals, 
which  are  usually  small,  have  the  form  of  rock  crystal. 

The  colour  is  usually  leek  green;  the  external  surface 
is  rough  and  glistening;  the  internal  shining  and  vitreous; 
it  is  translucent ;  the  fracture  imperfectly  conchoidal, 
and  sometimes  coarse  splintery;  fragments  sharp-edged.* 
When  it  is  massive,  it  is  composed  of  distinct  concre- 
tions, which  are  granulated  prismatic,  or  cuneiform,  the 
surface  of  which  is  rough  and  transversely  striated. 

LocaiitieSy  &c.— Prase  is  found  at  Brictenbmnn  near 
Schwartzenberg  in  Saxony,  in  a  metallic  vein,  accom- 
panied with  magnetic  pyrites,  galena,  blende,  calca- 
reous spar,  and  actynolite.  It  is  also  found  in  Bohemia, 
in  Finland,  near  lake  Onega,  and  in  Siberia. 

Uses.'^As  it  is  susceptible  of  a  fine  polish,  prase  is 
employed  in  jewellery. 

This  mineral  ought  not  to  be  confounded  with  quartz 
coloured  by  means  of  chlorite,  which  latter  is  of  a 
brighter  green,  but  opaque. 

Subspecies  6.   FERRUGINOUS  Quartz,  or  Iron  FlinU 

Le  CaiUou  Ferrugtnevx^  Brochant,  i.  248.  Quarts 
Rubigtneux,  Brongniart,  i.  281.  Quartz  Hyalin  he^ 
matoide^  Hauy,  ii.  420.    Eisenkiesel  of  the  Germans. 

Exter.  (7Aar.-»The  peculiar  character  of  this  mineral 
seems  to  be  owing  to  a  large  proportion  of  oxide  of 
^ron,  which  renders  it  opaque.  It  is  usually  found 
massive,  but  it  sometimes  also  assumes  a  crystalline  form, 
which  is  a  prism  with  six  equal  sides,  acuminated  at 
(^ach  extremity  with  three  planes.    The  colour  is  of  a 


yellowish  brown,  sometimes  of  a  brownish  red,  and  of  cimsiln. 
a  bright  blood  red.  It  is  usually  opaque,  or  only  trans-  u«a. 
parent  at  the  edges.  External  lustre  resplendent;  inter- 
nal shining  and  vitreous.  Fracture  imperfectly  conchoi- 
dal ;  fragments  angular,  but  not  very  sharp-edged. 
Concretions  small  grained  and  distinct.  It  is  harder 
than  common  jasper.     Not  very  brittle. 

Zoca/fVfV^.— This  mineral  is  found  in  veins  of  iron- 
stone in  Saxony,  and  in  England,  where  it  is  accom- 
panied with  sulphate  of  barytes. 

Ferruginous  quartz  is  distinguished  from  jaaper,  to 
the  red  variety  of  which  it  has  a  striking  resemblance, 
by  its  shining  fracture,  which  is  also  vitreous  and  con- 
choidal ;  its  property  of  crystallizing ;  and  according 
to  Brongniart,  by  having  no  alumina  in  its  composi- 
tion, which  he  properly  considers  as  an  essential  charac- 
teristic. 

28.  Species.  Hornstone. 

Homstoney  Kirw.  i.  303.     La  Pierre  de  Comc^  Bro- 
chant, i.  254.     Petrosikxy  Hauy,  iv.  385. 

This  mineral  is  met  with  in  masses  and  also  in  rounded 
balls.  The  colour  is  usually  gray  ;  it  is  translucent  at 
the  edges,  the  fracture  splintery  or  conchoidal ;  it  has 
little  lustre;  is  so  hard  as  to  scratch  glass,  and  give  fire 
with  steel ;  and  its  spec.  grav.  is  from  2.699  ^^  2.708. 

The  diversity  of  fracture  which  has  been  observed  m 
hornstone,  has  led  to  the  subdivision  of  this  species  into 
three  subspecies,  viz.  splintery  hornstone,  conchoidal 
hornstone,  and  woodstone. 

Subspecies  i.  Spliktert  Horkstoke. 

Hornstone  EcaiUeux^  Brochant,  i.   255.     PetrosUcx 
Squamosus^  Wallerius,  i.  280. 

Exter*  Char.'-^This  mineral  is  found  massive,  or  in 
rounded  pieces.  It  has  scarcely  any  lustre  ;  the  frac- 
ture is  fine,  splintery ;  fragments  sharp-edged ;  trans- 
lucent at  the  edges.  It  is  scarcely  so  hard  as  quartz ; 
it  is  brittle. 

The  colour  is  bhiish  gray,  smoke  and  pearl  gray, 
sometimes  greenish  and  yellowish  gray,  more  rarely 
olive  and  mountain  green.  Sometimes  there  is  a  mix- 
ture of  these  colours,  arranged  in  spots  and  stripes. 
Spec.  grav.  2.654.  Kirw. 

CAem,  CAar.— According  to  some  mineralogists,  this 
variety  of  hornstone  is  fusible  before  the  blow-pipe,  but 
according  to  others  it  is  infusible  without  the  addition  of 
borax. 

The  following  are  the  constituent  parts  of  a  horn- 
stone analyzed  by  Kirwan. 

Silica,  72 

Alumina,  22 

Carbonate  of  Lime,      6 

100 

Localities^  Slc-^This  variety  of  hornstone  is  chiefly 
found  in  veius  in  primitive  mountains.  It  is  also  found  id 
rounded  pieces  in  alluvial  rocks,  and  it  constitutes  the 
chief  basis  of  hornstone  porphyry,  as  at  Dannemora  and 
Garpenberg  in  Sweden.  It  is  met  with  in  tebs  at 
Freyberg,  Schneeberg,  Johann-Georgenstadt,  and  Gers- 
dorf  in  Saxony. 

Subspecies 


:.  MINER 

H  Subspecies  2,  Cokchoidal  Horkstokk. 

^  TctrosHex  Equabilis^  Wallcrius,  i.  281,   Le  Homstein 
Conchoide^  Brochant,  u  258. 

Exter.  Char. — ^This  mineral  is  always  found  massive, 
and  seems  to  approach  in  its  characters  very  nearly  to 
the  preceding  variety  or  subspecies,  excepting  in  the 
fracture,  which  is  perfectly  conchoidal. 

Loca/itieSj  &c. — This  subspecies  is  found  in  beds  and 
▼eius,  when  it  is  sometimes  accompanied  with  agate. 
It  has  been  found  accompanying  gneis  at  Goldberg  in 
Saxony,  and  fine  specimens  of  both  subspecies  are  met 
with  in  the  island  of  Rona  near  Sky  in  Scotland,  where 
it  seems  to  form  a  considerable  vein,  traversing  a  gneis 
rock. 

Subspecies  3.  Woodstone,  or  Petrified  Wood, 

WoodsUme^  Kirw.  i.  215.     Le  Hoh&stein^  Brochant,  i. 
259.     Qi«ir/2S  AgatAe  Hyioide,  Hauy,  ii.  439. 

This  subspecies  possesses  more  distinctive  characters 
than  the  former  ;  and  as  it  seems  to  be  wood,  retaining 
its  origioal  texture,  converted  into  hornstone  by  some 
petrifying  process,  it  is  usually  found  in  insulated  masses, 
or  in  rounded  pieces.  It  has  the  external  appearance 
of  wtx>d,  for  the  surface  is  rough  and  uneven,  or  longi- 
tadinally  striated  ^  internally  it  is  glistening,  but  some- 
times dull,  havine  a  vitreous  lustre.  The  fracture  most 
frequently  exhibits  the  fibrous  texture  of  the  wood. 
The  cross  fracture  is  sometimes  splintery  or  imperfectly 
conchoidal.  The  fragments  are  indeterminate,  andslight- 
ly  sharp-edged.  The  most  common  colour  is  dark  gray, 
ash  gray,  grayish  white,  and  sometimes  cochineal  and 
blood  red.  Different  colours  appear  in  the  same  mine- 
ral, forming  spots,  clouds,  or  stripes.  It  is  commonly 
translucent  at  the  edges,  sometimes  entirely  translucent, 
and  sometimes  opaque.     It  is  hard  and  brittle. 

£oco/riri«9.-»Woodstone  is  met  with  iu  Bohemia, 
Saxony,  and  Siberia,  and  on  the  banks  of  Loch  Neagh 
in  the  north  of  Ireland,  particularly,  as  we  have  been 
informed,  near  places  where  some  of  the  rivers  dis- 
charge their  waters  bto  the  lake. 

Uses^'^Thia  mineral  is  generally  susceptible  of  a  fine 
polish,  and  is  therefore  employed  in  jewellery. 

29.  Species.  Flinty  Slate,  or  Sihceous  Sckistus. 

This  species  is  divided  into  two  subspecies  or  varieties, 
viz.  common  siliceous  schistus,  and  Lydian  stone. 

Subspecies  I.  Common  Siliceous  Schistus. 

Silirews  schistus^  Kirw.  i.  306.     Schistc  silicieux  com- 
mun^  Brochant,  i.  283. 

Exter.  C^tfr.— This  mineral  is  found  in  masses  or 
rounded  pieces,  and  it  is  frequently  transversed  by  veins 
of  qnartz  of  a  grayish  white,  or  coloured  red  by  means 
of  iron.  This,  it  is  said,  is  a  distinguishing  charac- 
teristic of  siliceous  schistus  which  it  rarely  wants  (Bro- 
chant). Internally  it  is  dull,  very  rarely  a  little  glim- 
mering. The  fracture  in  the  small  is  compact,  some- 
times splintery,  and  sometimes  imperfectly  conchoidal  \ 
but  in  the  great  or  large  masses  it  is  slaty,  a  character 
which  almost  always  disappears  in  the  small  fragments. 
The  fragments  are  sharp  edged.  The  colour  is  black- 
id,  greenish,  or  smoke  gray.  It  is  commonly  opaque, 
rarely  translucent  at  the  edges.     It  is  hard  and  brittle. 


A  L  O  G  Y.  165 

*    Chem,  C/(ar.-»-Befo1*c  the  blow-pipe,  gray  siliceous   Siliceoui 
schistus  becomes  white  and  friable  ;  the  black  assumes  ,  genua, 
a  darker  colour,  and  is  a  little  vitrified  at  the  edges. 

CoTiStituent  Parts,    Wieirleb. 

Silica,  75 

Magnesia,  4.58 

Lime,  10. 

Iron,  3.54 

Inflammable  matters,  5.02 

Loss,  1.86 


X  00.00 


Localities^  &c.— -Siliceous  schistus  is  met  with  in  Bo- 
hemia, Saxony,  Switzerland,  and  Siberia  ^  at  Leadbills 
in  Scotland,  and  also  at  Carlops  near  the  termination  of, 
the  great  coal  field  to  the  south  of  Edinburgh. 

The  geolo^CAl  position  of  this  stone  is  not  pre- 
cisely determmed.  In  Scotland  it  is  connected  with 
those  rocks  which  come  under  the  denomination  of  tran- 
sition rocks  \  but  according  to  different  descriptions  it 
seems  to  have  been  confounded  with  argillaceous  schis- 
tus, with  which  indeed  it  possesses  some  common  pro- 
perties \  and  some  mineralogists  regard  it  as  an  argil- 
laceous schistus,  having  a  larger  proportion  of  siliceous 
earth.  In  snpport  of  this  opinion,  siliceous  schistus  has 
been  found  in  situations  where  it  is  subordinate  to  ar- 
gillaceous schistus. 

Subspecies  2.  Lydian  Stone.    * 

Basanitey  Kirw.  i.  307.     La  Pierre  de  Lydie^  Bro- 
chant, i.  286.     Roche  Comeenne^  Hauy,  iv.  434. 

This  stone,  which  is  of  a  grayish,  bluish,  or  velvet 
black,  is  found  in  masses,  and  in  rounded  pieces  of  a 
trapezoidal  form,  which  aro  also  traversed  with  veins  of 
whitish  quartz.  The  external  surface  is  smooth  and 
weakly  shining  \  the  internal  is  glimmering.  The  frac- 
ture is  even,  sometimes  slightly  conchoidid  or  uneven, 
rarely  splintery  j  in  large  masses  it  is  slaty.  The  frag- 
ments are  sharp-edged,  and  sometimes  assume  a  cubical 
form.  It  is  commonly  opaque,  and  rarely  translucent 
at  the  edges.  It  is  scratched  by  quartz  \  brittle.  Spec, 
grav.  2.415  to  2.880. 

Localities, — ^Lydian  stone  is  found  in  similar  places 
with  the  former  variety. 

C/^f.— This  stone  has  been  long  known  under  the 
name  of  touchstone^  because  it  is  employed  to  ascertain 
the  purity  of  gold.  From  this  use  it  obtained  the  name 
of  Awr»fi  or  the  trier^  and  it  was  called  Lydian  stone, 
because  it  was  found  in  Lydia.  When  it  is  employed 
as  a  touchstone,  the  gold  to  be  tried  is  rubbed  on  its 
polished  surface  *,  on  the  metallic  trace  which  remains 
nitric  acid  is  poured,,  and  the  quantity  of  alloy  is  judged 
of  by  the  degree  of  change  which  takes  place,  this 
being  comphi*ed  with  traces  made  and  treated  in  the 
same  way  with  needles  differently  alloyed  and  prepared 
for  the  purpose.  This  test,  it  is  to  be  observed,  is  not 
perfectly  accurate,  but  is  sufficiently  so  for  those  who 
are  much  empbyed  in  the  use  of  it.  The  property 
which  renders  this  mineral  fit  for  the  above  purpose  de- 
pends on  its  degree  of  hardness,  ivhile  it  presents  at  the 
same  time  a  smooth  and  even  fracture  without  being  per- 
fectly smooth.    Other  stones  possessing  similar  proper* 

tie^. 


1 


1 66 


MINERALOGY. 


Parti. 


< 


t>i1iccoin    ties,  8ucb  as  several  Tarieties  of  basalt,  are  cooTCoienU 
genui.      ]y  employed  for  the  same  purpose. 

30.  Species.     Flikt. 

FiinU  Kim.  i.  301.     Pierre  ^Jimi^  Broehant,  i.  263. 
^   Quart^'AgatAe  Pyrtjmaque^  Hauy,  ii.  427. 

Exter.  CAor.— Flint  is  found  massive,  disseminated, 
in  angular  fragments,  in  globular  masses,  tuberculated, 
and  perforated.  The  surface  is  sometimes  rough, 
sometimes  uneven,  and  sometimes  smooth.  The  white 
crust  with  which  it  is  oflen  covered,  is  considered  by 
some  mineralogists  as  an  inoipient  decomposition.  The 
external  lustre  is  dull  or  a  little  glimmering  \  the  inter- 
nal is  weakly  shining  *,  the  fracture  b  perfectly  conchoi- 
dal,  the  fragments  sharp  edged.  The  colour  b  usually 
gray,  smoke  gray,  sometimes  perfectly  black.  Various 
colours  appear  in  the  same  mineral,  presenting  spots, 
stripes,  and  clouds.  Commonly  translucent  at  the 
edges  \  scratches  qnartE :  spec.  grav.  2.58  to  2.99. 

Chem.  Char. — ^Entirely  infusible  before  the    blow- 


pipe. 


Cofutiktent  Paris. 


'Klaproth. 

Vanqaelii 

Silica, 

98. 

97 

Lime, 

.50 

Alumina, 

2Sl 

I 

Oxide  of  iron, 

99.00 


98 


Physical  TAar.— Two  pieces  of  flint  rubbed  together 
in  the  ^rk,  give  out,  like  quartz,  a  phosphoric  light. 

Locaiitiea^  &c. — Flint  is  never  found  in  primitive 
mountains,  excepting  in  very  small  quantity,  and  very 
rarely,  in  some  veins;  in  alluvial  rocksi  it  is  sometimes 
met  with  in  rounded  pieces ;  but  it  is  most  abundant  in 
stratified  mountains,  particularly  in  beds' of  limestone, 
marl  and  chalk,  in  which  it  is  disposed  in  parallel  layers. 
It  is  met  with  in  Saxony,  Denmark,  Sweden,  Poland, 
and  Spain,  and  is  very  abundant  in  chalk  beds  in  the 
north  of  France,  and  also  in  different  parts  of  England. 
It  is  also  met  with  distributed  in  layers  in  the  white 
limestone  rocks,  on  the  north  coast  of  Ireland.  In  the 
department  of  Jura  in  France,  globular  masses  of  flint 
have  been  found  with  cavities  containing  sulphur. 

The  singular  geological  relations  of  this  mineral  have 
greatly  puzzled  naturalists,  who  are  fond  of  such  spe- 
culations, and  are  never  satisfied  till  they  have  accounted 
-7  for  every  thing,  however  scanty  and  defective  the  data 
Formation  ^^y  ^^  ^^^  which  their  hypotheses  arc  formed.  It  is 
offrats  on  this  account  that  the  theories  which  have  been  pro- 
posed, to  explain  the  formation  of  flint,  oiFer  nothing 
more  than  the  silliest  and  most  groundless  conjectures  \ 
and  indeed  the  same  remark  is  equally  applicable  to 
theories  of  the  earth  in  general.  It  has  been  already 
observed  that  flint  is  regularly  disposed  in  layers,  in  the 
beds  of  chalk  or  limestone  in  %Thich  it  is  found.  In 
an  insulated  mass  of  white  limestone  near  Port  Rush  on 
the  north  coast  of  Ireland,  which  we  bad  an  opportunity 
of  examining,  the  balls  of  flint  were  disposed  in  this 
-way  with  greut  regularity.  When  the  bed  of  lime- 
stone i(»  of  no  great  thickness,  it  contains  only  one  layer 
of  flints,  but  in  thicker  beds  there  are  two  layers  of 


»9 


ti 


flinta,  the  one  near  the  top,  and  the  other  near  the  hot-  risiriifi 
torn  of  the  bed.     Those  layers  of  flint,  too,  it  b  to  be      tko. 
observed,  have  exactly  the  same  inclination  as  the  strata  '■     ¥  ■*' 
of  limebtone.     According  to  one  set  of  theorists,  the.    J^ 
flint  being  in  a  state  of  fuMon,  was  ejected  from  the  ^      * 
bowels  of  the  earti.,  and  deposited  in  the  places  where 
it  is  now  found.     This  opinion  carries  along  with  it  ita  . 
own  absurdity  \  for  admitting  that  the  flint3r  matter  baa 
been  in  a  state  of  fusion,  it  is  impossible  to  suppoM:  that 
it  could  be  deposited  with  so  much  unifonnity  and  re- 
gularity, by  being  projected  according  to  the  conjee* 
ture  of   the  philosophers   who   maintain  this  opinion* 
Had  this  been  the  mode  of  its  formation,  masses  of  flint 
would  have  been  found  thioughout  every  part  of  the 
chalk  or  limestone  beds,  and  not  in  regular  layers,  as  u 
really  the  case. 

According  to  another  opinion,  by  which  the  forma*  bj 
tion  of  fliut  is  proposed  to  be  accounted  for,  cavitiea 
were  produced,  while  the  chalk  and  limebtone  were 
yet  in  a  soft  state,  in  consequence  of  the  air  extricated 
during  the  evaporation  of  the  water  \  and  the  flinty  mat- 
ter in  solution  was  introduced  into  these  cavitiea  by  »- 
littration  hrom  above.  But  the  same  argument  iseqmdly 
forcible  against  thb  opinion.  It  is  impossible  to  con^ 
^eive  that  the  cavities  could  be  so  regularly  and  uni- 
formly produced  by  the  extrication  of  the  air/  They 
^ould  Imvo  been  found  through  every  part  of  the  be<ia 
^f  chalk  and  limestone  where  flint  is  met  with.  And 
besides,  even  allowing  that  this  flinty  matter  was  held 
in  solution  by  water,  it  might  naturally  be  asked,  why 
the  greatest  proportion  of  it  was  not  depobited  near  tha 
aurface,  when  it  first  came  in  contact  with  the  chalk 
or  limestone,  rather  than  to  have  continued  to  paaa 
through  the  diflerent  beds,  and  form  masses  of  solid 
flints  at  the  greatest  depths,  in  as  great  qqantity  as  near 
the  surface. 

A  third  opinion,  which  some  imagine  to  be  less  im-  by  maiisc 
probable  tlian  either  of  the  former,  supposes  that  flints  *a>aula 
have  been  entirely  produced  by  marine  animals  deposited 
during  the  formation  of  the  strata  in  which  they  are 
contained.  This  opinion  seems  to  derive  some  support 
from  the  remains  of  marine  animals,  which  are  not  ua- 
frequently  found  included  in  nodules  of  flint.  It  b  no 
rare  occuirence  to  meet  with  shelU  thus  attached  to 
these  nodules,  and  converted  into  flinty  matter,  but  at 
the  same  time  retaining  their  original  form  and  appear- 
ance in  the  moiit  perfect  manner. 

C/if^iT.— The  extensive  use  of  thb  mineral,  in  conse- 
quence of  its  property  of  striking  fire  with  steel,  as 
gun  flints,  is  well  known.  Flints  are  employed  also 
as  a  substitute  for  quartz  in  the  manufacture  of  glass 
and  porcelain,  and  in  the  fabrication  of  smalt.  The 
coarser  kinds,  or  such  as  are  perforated  and  carious,  are 
applied  to  the  purposes  of  building  and  millstones. 
Sometimes  the  colours  and  the  polibh  of  flint  are  so 
fine  as  to  have  brought  it  into  use  in  jewellery.  ,. 

As  flints  arc  found  in  greatest  abundance  in  France  Maasfa 
and  England,  the  principal  manufactures  of  gun  flints  tare  of 
are  carried  on  in  these  countries.  A  particular  account ' 
of  this  manufacture  in  France  has  been  given  by  Do- 
lomieu  and  Salivet,  Jour,  dis  Mincs^  W^  33,  pp.  693 
and  713.     The  whole  process,  which  according  to  the 
description  of  Dolomieu  is  divided  into  four  stages,  b 
very  simple. 

I.    After  having  fixed  upon   a  mass  of  stone   fit 

for 


s« 


MINER 

.  for  the  purpose,  the  first  part  of  the  operation  is  to  hreak 
the  stcme  ioto  pieces  of  coavenient  size.  With  this 
view  the  woriunaiiy  seated  on  the  ground,  places  the 
stooe  on  his  left  thigh,  and  strikes  it  with  small  strokes, 
to  divide  it  into  pieces  of  a  pound  or  a  pound  and  a  half 
weight,  having  large  surfaces  and  smooth  fractures,  and 
at  the  same  time  he  avoids  splitting  or  shaking  the  stone 
by  too  feeble  or  too  violent  strokes. 

2.  In  the  next  part  of  the  operation  the  nicest 
management  and  dexterity  of  hand  are  required  ^  for 
by  repeated  strokes  splinters  of  the  proper  size  to  form 

fun  flints  are  detached^  one  is  separated  at  every  stroke* 
>uring  this  operation  he  holds  the  mass  of  stone  in  his 
left  hand.  The  splinters  are  about  i-f-  inch  broad, 
2w  long,  and  two  lines  thick  in  the  middle.  They  are 
slightly  convex  above,  and  concave  below  ^  thick  at 
one  edge,  and  thin  at  the  opposite  edge. 

3.  The  fiiot  is  brought  to  a  regular  shape  during  this 
part  of  the  ofieration ;  and, 

4.  The  edge  of  the  gun  flint  which  strikes  fire,  is 
brought  to  a  straight  line  by  placing  it  on  a  sharp  iron 
instrnmenty  and  giving  it  five  or  six  small  strokes  with 
a  circular  hammer  (roulette).  This  finishes  the  opera- 
tion, and  the  whole  time  of  making  a  flint  is  not  equal- 
to  a  minute.  With  masses  of  stone  that  work  easily,  an 
expert  vrorkman  will  prepare  1000  good  splinters  in  a 
day.  It  requires  another  day  to  bring  to  the  proper 
shape  500  'y  so  that  in  three  days  he  can  split  off  from 
the  mass  and  completely  finish  lodo  gun  flints. 

31.  Species.  Calcedont. 

This  species  has  been  divided  into  two  subspecies  or 
varieties ;  common  calcedony  and  eamelian. 

Sobspecies  i«  Common  Calcedoitt. 

Id,  Kirw.  i.  298.    La  Calcedotne  Commune^  Brochant^ 
i.  268.  Qtiartx  AgcUhe  Calcedotne^  Hauy,  ii.  425. 

Exter  Ciior.— 'This  mineral  is  found  massive,  in 
rounded  pieces,  which  are  globular,  reniform,  botryoi^ 
dai,  stalactittcal,  cellular ;  and  sometimes  also  it  is  cry-, 
stallized  in  the  form  of  a  cube,  rhomboid,  a  simple  py- 
ramid with  three  and  six  faces ;  but  these  are  supposed 
to  be  pseodo  crystals,  or  merely  a  cmst  of  calcedony  on 
the  crystals  of  other  snbstances.  The  external  surface 
18  most  commonly  oneven,  sometimes  rough,  and  rarely 
smooth.  External  lustre  is  accidental ;  internal  glim- 
mering,  rarely  a  little  shining  5  fractnre  even,  some- 
times imperfectly  concfaoidal  or  splintery^  fragments 
sharp  edged. 

Colour  white,  grayish  or  bluish  white,  yellowish  or 
Uackish:  various  colours  appear  in  spots,  clouds,  stripes, 
and  veins.  Sometimes  when  it  is  cut  it  is  iridescent ; 
commonly  translucent,  rarely  semitransparent.  Harder 
than  flint.     Brittle.     Spec  grav.  2.600  to  a.  700. 

Chem.  Cilor.— Before  the  blow-pipe  it  is  infusible. 

Constitueni  Parts^ 

Bei|f[inaii. 
Silica,  84 

Alumina,  16 

A  trace  of  iron,      — 


A  L  O  G  Y.  167 

LoealtHeSj  &c.— Calcedony  is  most  usually  met  with  Siliceous 
in  globular  masses  in  amygdaloid,  as  at  Obrrstein,  in  genu. 
the  duchy  of  Deux  Fonts.  It  is  found  also  in  Saxony, 
Silesia,  and' Siberia,  in  Iceland  and  the  Faro  islands  ; 
in  the  north  of  Ireland  j  and  in  several  of  the  western 
islands  of  Scotland.  The  cavities  of  the  balls  of  calce- 
dony are  of^en  lined  with  crystals  of  quartz  and  ame- 
thyst. 

^^«f ••— Calcedony  takes  a  fine  polish,  and  is  therefore 
employed  in  jewellery. 

2.  Subspecies.    Carneliav. 

Id.  Kirw.  i.  300.     La  Comalwey  Brochant,  i.  272*. 
QuartZ'AgatAe  Comaiine^  Hauy,  ii.  425. 

This  mineral  is  found  in  masses,  or  disseminated,  but 
most  frequently  in  rounded  pieces  of  a  globular,  kidney 
form,  or  stalactitical  shape.  External  surface  rough  and 
uneven}  internal  lustre  glimniering,  or  slightly  shining  ^ 
fracture  perfectly  conchoidal  ^  fragments  y^rj  sharp- 
edged  *y  most  common  colour  Uood  red  of  various  shades,, 
and  sometimes  reddish  brown  or  wax  and-  honey  yel- 
low y  semitransparent,  hard,  and  brittle.  Spec.  grav. 
2.59  to  2.73. 

Chem,  6*Aar.— Carnelian  is  infusible  before  the  blow- 
pipe, but  loses  its  colour,  and  becomes  white< 

Localiiie^f  &c.«^Carnelian  is  found  in  similar  cir- 
cumstances, and  in  similar  places  with  common  calce- 
dony, but  is  of  less  frequent  occurrence.  The  finest 
carnelians  are  brought  from  the  east,  and  thence  they 
are  denominated  oriental. 

Uses.^^The  carnelian  is  employed  for  the  same  pur- 
poses as  common  calcedony. 

Observations  on  Agate.-^^As  common  calcedony  and 
carnelian,  along  with  jasper,  constitute  the  base  of  tho 
greater  number  of  agates,,  it  may  be  here  proper  to  in- 
troduce a  few  remarks  on  the  mineral  substances  which 
are  included  under  this  name,  and  on  the  theories  of 
their  formation. 

The  term  agate  is  of  very  general  application,  com-  Varieties 
prehending  numerous  varieties,  which  are  chiefly  distin-  of  agatq. 
guished  by  the  arrangement  and  disposition  of  the  co- 
lours with  which  they  are  marked,  and  from  which 
they  have  derived  particular  names.  The  following  are 
some  of  the  principal  varieties  of  agate,  x .  Fortification 
agate,  in  which  the  different  coloured  stripes  are  ar- 
ranged in  a  zigzag  manner,  presenting  something  of 
the  appearance  of  a  fortified  town.  2.  Landscape  agate,, 
in  which  the  colonrs  and  shades  are  so  arranged  as  to 
exhibit  the  appearance  of  a  landscape.  3.  jSand  or 
ribbon  agate,  in  which  the  various  colours  are  disposed 
in  stripes  or  zones,  which  are  usually  in  straight  lines,. 


M 


100 


but  sometimes  concentric.  To  this  variety  of  agate, 
when  the  zones  or  stripes  are  arranged  parallel  to  each 
other,  and  distinctly  marked,  the  name  of  onyx  was  gi- 
ven by  the  ancients.  The  name  onyx^  which  signifies 
the  nail  of  the  finger,  is  derived  from  the  whitish  co- 
lour resembling  that  pait  of  the  body.  They  also  gave 
the  name  of  sarde  to  a  variety  of  the  same  stone,  of  a 
flesh  colour,  and  afterwards  the  compound  name  sardo' 
nyx  was  given  to  another  variety,  in  which  a  whitish 
layer  of  the  onyx,  having  some  degree  of  transparency, 
covered  another  layer  of  a  flesh  red,  the  colour  of  which 
latter  appeared  through  the  former  in  the  same  manner 
as  the  colour  of  the  flesh  appears  through  the  nail.  But 

in 


Tormation 
^f  agAte, 


i68  MINERAL 

SiUceooi  in  the  end,  the  name  of  onyx  seems  to  have  been  ap- 
{^not  plied  Co  all  stones  formed  of  layers  of  diiferent  colours. 
4.  Mass  agate.  In  some  varieties  of  agate  filaments  of 
a  greenish  or  other  colour,  havin?  the  appearance  of 
some  species  of  conferva  or  mnsci,  are  observed,  and 
these  have  been  denominated  mass  agates.  Some  have 
supposed  that  these  filaments  have  been  real  mosses  or 
confervse,  enveloped  by  the  siliceous  matter.  In  some 
also  delineations  of  a  brown  or  black -colour,  exhibit 
the  appearance  of  trees  or  shrubs.  This  dendritical  ap- 
pearance is  ascribed  by  some  to  the  infiltration  of  iron 
or  manganese  into  the  natural  fissures  of  the  stone.  Tlie 
finest  agates  of  this  variety,  it  is  said,  are  brought  from 
Arabia,  by  the  way  of  Mocha,  oh  the  coast  of  the  Red 
sea  'y  and  hence  they  are  known  by  the  name  of  Mocha 
stones.  Besides  these  varieties,  there  are  several  oth^s, 
as  tubular  agate,  when  it  is  composed  .of  calcedony, 
which  seems  to  have  been  in  the  form  of  stalactites,  and 
afterwards  filled  up  with  a  different  mineral  substance, 
or  at  least  of  a  diflGn^ent  colour  ^  clouded  agate,  pre- 
senting the  appearance  of  clouds ;  radtated  or  stetlatedf 
when  the  different  colours  are  arranged  in  rays;  breccia 
agate f  composed  of  fragments  t>f  different  kinds  of  agate, 
and  cemented  together  by  siliceous  matter,  and  consti- 
tuting a  real  breccia  ^  spotted  agate^  when  the  colours 
are.  disposed  in  points  or  spots  \  petrified  agate^  which 
seems  to  have  been  wood  penetrated  with  the  matter  of 
agate  ^  coral  agatc^  having  the  appearance  of  coralloid; 
jasper  agate^  in  which  the  predominant  part  of  its  com- 
^  position  is  jasper* 

The  formation  of  agate  has  been  the  subiect  of  muc^ 
controversy  among  contending  theorists  ^  for  while  one 
party  conceives  that  it  affords  the  strongest  proofs  of 
being  produced  by  means  of  beat,  or  from  a  state  of  fu- 
sion, another  party  seems  to  be  equally  convinced  that 
it  supplies  them  with  the  most  certain  evidence  of  hav- 
incbeen  formed  from  an  aqueous  solution. 

Besides  other  strong  objections  that  might  be  urged  a- 
gainst  the  opinion  of  agnte  being  formed  from  a  state  of 
fusion,  the  uniformity  and  regularity  in  the  arrangement 
of  the  different  kinds  of  matter  of  which  it  is  composed, 
seem  quite  hostile  to  it,  and,  excepting  to  those  who  are 
previously  prepossessed  with  such  an  opinion,  will,  we 
presume,  appear  altogpther  insurmountable;  for  it  is 
inconceivable,  that  a  mass  of  melted  matter,  whether 
it  have  been  in  a  state  of  fusion  in  tbe  place  where  it  is 
now  found,  or  projected  fi'om  tbe  bowels  of  the  earth 
into  the  strata  which  are  now  its  repository,  while  in  a 
soft  state,  could  arrange  itself  into  layers,  some  of  them 
often  extremely  thin,  and  disposed  in  stripes,  concentric 
circles,  spots,  while  these  various  kinds  of  matter  exhi- 
bit very  slight  shades  of  difference  in  their  constituent 
parts.     It  cannot  even  be  imagined  that  all  this  could 
have  been  effected,  even  by  tbe  slowest  and  most  gra- 
dual  process  of  cooling. 
•by  aqacorn       In  accounting  for  the  formation  of  agate  by  solution 
infiltration,  in  water,  it  is  said  that  the  cavities  in  the  rocks  which 
contain  agate,  were  formed  in  consequence  of  th;"  evo- 
lution and  extrication  of  air,  while  those  rocks  were  in 
a  state  of  softness  ;  and  that  the  matter  of  which  agate 
is  composed,  was  introdnced  in  the  state  of  an  aqueous 
solution  by  means  of  infiltration.    But  objections,  equal- 
ly insurmountable,  might  easily  be  adduced  against  thi^ 
theory  :  and  one  of  the  first  that  presents  itself  is  de- 
jcired  from  the  diversity  of  matter  deposited  in  masses  of 

J 


O  G  Y. 


Parti. 


ticn. 


26 
.  by  fusion, 


agate.  This  objection,  indeed,  is  attempted  to  be  ob-  cUssiiica. 
viated  by  supposing  that  the  agate  composed  of  different 
kinds  of  matter  was  derived  from  different  kinds  of  sue-' 
cessive  solutions  :  but  this  is  only  removing  the  diffi- 
culty a  step  farther ;  for,  can  it  easily  be  conceived,  that 
a  very  thin  layer  of  one  kind  of  nmtter  being  deposited, 
and  this,  let  it  be  supposed,  of  a  white  colour,  tbe  solu- 
tion was  changed,  from  which  proceeded  another  thin 
Is^er^  that  the  solution  was  again  changed,  and  depo- 
sited a  third  kind  -of  matter ',  and  after  anodier  change, 
a  fourth  kind,  or  perhaps  that  the  deposition -of  the  first 
kind  of  matter  again  commenced.  But  if  infiltration 
from  an  aqueous  solution  have  really  been  the  mode  of 
formation  of  this  mineral,  how  comes  it,  it  may  be  fairly 
asked,  that  the  depositions  from  the  different  kinds  of 
solution  have  not  been  arranged,  at  least  in  the  larger 
cavities,  in  strata  or  zones  parallel  to  the  horizon  ;  be- 
cause it  seems  natural  to  suppose  that  the  deposition  of 
stony  matter,  from  a  state  of  solution  in  water,  would 
be  influenced  by  gravitation,  and  thus  be  horizootally 
arranged  ?  We  are  aware,  indeed,  of  an  objection 
which  may  be  made  to  this  observation.  It  will  be 
said  that  tbe  influence  of  gravity  has  in  this  case  been 
counteracted  by  the  action  of  affinity  between  the  stooy 
matter  in  solution,  and  the  sides  of  the  cavity  in  which 
the  agate  is  formed  j  but  whatever  effect  this  might 
have  in  the  smaller  cavities,  its  influence  would  be  di- 
minished in  those  of  larger  capacity. 

To  what  we  have  now  said  on  this  subject,  which,  it 
must  be  acknowledged,  is  more  curious  than  useful,  wc 
shall  only  add  a  circumstance  which,  so  far  as  we  know, 
has  not  been  noticed  by  geologists  }  but  it  seems  to  be 
of  considerable  importance  to  the  establishment  or  sob- 
version  of  the  theory  of  the  formation  of  agate  by  means 
of  infiltration  in  the  state  of  aqueons  solution.  It  will 
be  allowed,  we  presume,  that  all  agates  found  in  the 
same  horizontal  position,  or  at  the  same  depth  from 
the  surface,  from  which  the  aqueous  solution  is  under- 
stood to  have  proceeded,  were  formed  from  the  same  so- 
lutions 'f  at  least  those  agates  which  are  contiguous  to 
each  other,  that  is,  within  the  space  of  a  few  yards,  or 
even  of  a  single  yard.  Now,  if  this  be  admitted,  all 
the  agates  which  have  derived  their  materials  firom  the 
same  solutions,  ought  to  be  exactly  of  the  same  kind, 
because  their  origin  is  cotemporaneous,  and  it  is  derived 
from  the  same  solutions.  To  ascertain  this  point  with 
precision,  it  will  be  necessary  to  examine  agates  in  their 
native  repositories  ^  and  although  we  shall  not  pretend 
confidently  to  decide  the  question,  because  our  observa- 
tions with  this  view  have  not  been  sufficiently  varied 
and  extensive,  yet  we  stronffly  suspect,  that  it  will  ap^ 
pear,  from  future  investigations,  that  agates,  and  even 
such  as  are  almost  contiguous  to  each  other,  have  been 
formed  of  very  different  materials,  or  of  similar  mate- 
rials arranged  in  a  very  different  manner.  To  those 
who  are  fond  of  such  speculations  we  reccNnmend  this 
as  a  subject  of  investigation. 

Zoca/fVf4p#.— -Agates  are  found  in  great  abundance  in 
different  parts  of  the  world.  They  are  sometimes  di- 
stributed indiscriminately  with  tbe  rocks  which  contain 
them,  sometimes  in  beds  or  layers,  in  interrupted  masses, 
and  sometimes  in  thin  beds,  where  there  is  scarcely  any 
interruption  of  continuity.  This  last  mode  of  arrange- 
ment, however  is  rare.  Agates  are  sometimes  found 
in  metallic  veins,  or  are  mixed  with  metallic  substances. 


ai& 


MINER 

■  as  the  si]1j»liiii^ts  of  bad  muA  silver.     It  would  appear, 
too,  that  agates  also  exist  in  primitive  rock.8.     Saus- 

*  sure  has  6l)servcd  theh^  in  granite^  containing  no- 
dules of  the  same  graffite,  and  penetrated  with  iron  py- 
rites. He  has  observed  also  at  the  same  place,  near 
Vienne,  in  the  department  of  Isere,  thin  layers  of  cal- 
cedony  alternating  with  gneis ;  hut  porphyries  and 
similar  rocks  are  the  usual  repositories  of  agate»  These 
stones  are  foand  in  great  variety  and  abundance  at 
Oberdtein,  in  the  department  of  Mont'-Tonerre,  in 
France,  in  a  rock  of  amygdaloid  of  a  ^culiar  nature, 
and  full  of  cavities  of  all  sizes.  This  rock  is  considered 
by  Dolomieu  as  a  volcanic  tufa  ^  but  according  to  other 
mineralogists,  and  particularly  Faujas  de  St  r  ond,  who 
has  given  a  minute  description  of  it*,  it  is  considered 
as  a  porphyry  or  amygdaloid,  with  a  .basis  of  trap, 
which  ia  very  subject  to  decompositien*  The  globular 
masses  of  agate  are  disposed  in  this  rock  withoat  any  or- 
der, and  are  usually  enveloped  with  a  peculiar  greenish 
earth,  but  which  contains  no  copper.  In  the  geodes  of 
agate  found  at  Oberstein^  j^per,  amethyst,  carbonate  of 
lime  in  crystals,  chabasie,  a  species  of  zeolite,  and  some 
portion,  of  titanium,  have  been  observed  ;  but  not  the 
least  trace  of  any  organized  body.  Digging,  poliahiog, 
and  forming  into  a  great  variety  of  ornamental  objects^ 
constitute  the  chief  employment  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Oberstein. 

Agates  are  t&nnd  in  abundance  in  different  parts  of 
ScotUuid :  but  Che  largest  and  finest  are  met  with  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Montrose  and  Stonehaven^  in  the 
rocks  near  Dunbar  on  the  east  const,  and  in  the  racks 
about  Dunure,  on  the  shore  of  Carrick  in  A^yrshire. 

32.  Species.  HyaiOTE. 

Id.  Kirw.  L  296.   MuUer*s  glass  of  the  Germans.  Xa- 
CO  glass  of  many. 

Ester*  CAar.*i-This  substance  is -found  in  grains  or 
masses,  -or  in  thin  layers  on  ether  minerals.  'It  has 
mech  the  apfearaoce  of  gnm,  and  is  usnally  cracked. 
The  lustre  as  shining  and  vitreons^  fraeturs  ooncboidal, 
sometimes  foliated  \  fragmeBts  sharp-edged. 

Colour  grayish  white  or  yellowish;  and,  according 
to  Kirwan,  pure  white.  Translucent,  sometimes  •semi- 
transparent  ;  has  considerable  hardness,  and  is  brittle. 
Spec.  grav.  2.1  la 

Gkm*  Cter^^— lafiisible  at  1 50^  Wedgwood,  but  melts 
with  soda. 


Constitueni  Parts. 

Silica, 

Alumina, 

Lime,  15 

With  some  traoes  of  iron. 


3 


tocaistus^  &c.«^Hyalite  bibnnd  in  rocks  of  amyg- 
daloid, or  wacken,  near  Franckfort  on  the  Maine. 

33.  Species*  Ofal. 

^  Hiis  species  is  divided  into  four  sdbspecies  or  varie- 
ties. 

Subspecies  i.  Pascious  Opal. 

Opal^  Kirw.  i.  289.    VOpak  Noile^  Brochant,  i. 
341.     Quartte-Tesimie  Opaiin^  Hauy,  ii.  434. 
Vol.  XIV.  Part  L  t 


A  L  O  G  ¥•  i6g 

Ester.  CAor.— This  mineral  id  found  massive  or  dinse- ^SHicrous 
minated,  and  sometimes  in  veins  \  internal  lustre  splen-     genaK- 
dent  and  vitreous ;  fracture  perfectly  conchoidal  3  frag- 
ments sharp-edged. 

Colour  milk-white, clear  or  pale,  and  sometimes  bluish 
gray  \  and  by  holding  it  ill  different  lights,  a  very  briglit 
and  varied  play  of  colours,  the  principal  of  which  are 
golden  yellow,  scarlet  red,  bri^t  blue,  green  and  gray, 
IS  seen.  It  is  commonly  translucent,  rarely  semitrans- 
parenlj  pretty  hard  and  brittle.     Spec.  grav.  2.1 14 

Chem.  C*Aar.^— The  precious  opal  treated  with  the* 
blow-pipe  splits  and  cracks,  and  loses  its  transparency, 
but  is  not  melted. 

Constituent  Parts.    Klaproth. 

Silica,  90 

Water,  lo 

100 

Zocalities^'^Tike  finest  opals  are.found  at  Czerwenitza 
not  far  from  Casehau  in  Upper  Hungary^  in  an  argilla- 
ceous .decomposed  po^yi^,  which  acootdiMT  to  some 
mineralogists  is  a  gray  stone  (^puistein  of  the  Germans), 
and  are  ^poaed  in  veins,  nests,  and  mins.  When 
the  opal  adheres  in  small  particles  cbsely  together 
in  the  stone,  it  forms  what  is  called  mother  of  opal.  It 
is  found  in  the  same  manner  in  a  kind  of  breccia  of 
this  decomposed  porphyry.  (Townson's  Travels  in  Hna- 

Skry,  p.  307.).  it  is  bund  also  at  Eibenstock,  Johann- 
eorgenstadt)  and  Freiberg  in  Saxony.  At  this  latter 
place  the  repository  of  the  opal  is  porphyry.  The  opal 
also  is  met  with  in  Iceland. 

The  opal  mines  described  by  Dr  Townson  are  situat- 
ed in  a  hill  of  some  miles  m  extent  not  far  from  the 
village  of  Czerwenitza.  This  hill  has  been  opened  in 
several  places,  but  in  three  with  the  greatest  success. 
Guards  are  placed  upon  it  to  prevent  any  person  from 
digging  this  prccieos  stone ;  for  as  it  is  situated  ^n  part 
of  the  royal  domain, 'the  peasants  who  were  formerly 
permitted  to  search  for  it  on  their  own  account  are  now 
prohibited  by  the  emperor*  -But  even  at  the  time  Dr 
Townson  visited  the 'mines  the  work  had  been  disconti- 
nued for  three  or^four  years  as  unprofitable.  The  usual 
mode  of  conducting  the  operations  in  searching  for  the 
opal 'is  by  quarrying  to  the  depth  of  three  or  four  yards, 
rarely  deeper.  The  rock  is  tbus  thrown  out,  broken 
to  pieces,  and  afterwards  examined.  In  one  place  the 
search  had  been  made  by  mining-^  but  the  gallery  was 
only  a  «few  yards  in  length.  From  this  acconnt  it  ap- 
pears that  the  rock  containing  the  opal  lies  near  the 
surface,  and  seldom,  it  is  said,  extends  deeper  than  a 
few  iaUioma.  The  opals. denominated  oriental  by  the 
lapidaries,  a  term-expressive  of  their  value  rather  than 
of  their  origin,  are  supposed  to  be  from  these  mines,  in 
which,  according,  to  reeords  still  in  existence,  300  men 
were  emplojed  not  less  than  400  years  ago« 

Uses.'^Vn  account  of  the  fine  play  of  colours,  the 
opal  is  held  in  great  estimation  for  the  purposes  of 
jewellery,  and  the  opals  which  reflect  green  colours  in 
most  abundance  are  most  highly  valued.  The  finest 
opals  are  called  oriental )  but  this  epithet  is  given  by 
the  lapidaries  to  the  more  perfect  precious  stones,  and 
is  not  to  be  understood  as  denoting  that  they  have  been 
brought  from  eastern  countries. 

Y  The 


MINEHALOGY. 

The  ancients,  it  would  appear  from  tlie  account  of 
Pliny,  attached  an  imoiense  value  to  this  stone  ^  for  he 
informs  us  that  a  senator  called  Nonius  rather  submit- 
ted to  banishment  than  give  up  an  opal  "tvhich  he  had 
in  bis  possession  to  Mark  Anthony.  This  opal  was  ea» 
timatcd  at  20,coo  sesterces.     Lib.  xxxvii.  cap.  6. 


Parti. 


Subspecies  2.     CoMMOK  Opal. 

Scnn-opaiy  "Kirvrskn^  i.  290.  DOpale  Commune^  Bro- 
chant,  i.  344.  Qi/arftB  resinite  Hydrophone  et 
QuartTi  resinite  Girasoly  Hauy,  ii.  433. 

Exter.  Char. — ^Common  opal  is  found  in  masses,  or 
disseminated^  sometimes,  in  rounded  or  angular  pieces, 
and  sometimes  kidney-shaped  or  botryoidal.  Internal 
lustre  splendent,  and  intermediate  between  vitreous  and 
resinous.  Fracture  conchoidal,  but  aometimes  uneven. 
Fragments  sharp-edged. 

Colour  milk-white,  and  varieties,  of  this  colour  held 
in  certain  directions  appear  of  a  wine  yellow.  The  other 
siiades  of  colour  are  yellowish  or  reddish  white,  and  wax 
or  honey  yellow.  Semitransparent  and  sometimes  trans- 
parent. Specific  gravity  from  1.958  to  2.0x5.  In  other 
characters  the  same  as  the  precious  opal. 

Chem,  Char. — Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe,  but 
melts  with  borax,  and  without  swelling  up* 


Constituent  Ptirts. 

Tram  Kozemnu. 
Silica,                    9^*75 
Alumina*               o.io 
Oxide  of  iron,         o.io 
Loss,                       1.05 

Klaproth. 

From  I'clkobanya. 
SfliCa,                      93*50 
Oxidfe  of  iron,         1.00 
Water                     5.00 
Loss 

100.00 

X  00.00 

Localities f  &c— The  common  opal  is  foued  in  veins,,., 
chiefly  in  amygdaloid  rocks,  and  sometitnes  also,  it  is 
said,  in  granites  and  porphyries.  It  is  of  most  frequent 
occurrence  in  Bohemia;  in  Saxony,  aa  at  Freyberg^ 
Eibenstock,  &c.  ^  in  Hungary,  in  Polandy  in^.  Scotland, 
and  the  Ts£toe  islands.  The  amygdaloid  rocks  in  tbe 
vicinity  of  tbe  Giants  Causeway  m  the  north  of  Ireland 
also  afford  a  repository,  for  this  mineral* 

Uses.^lt  is  employed  as  well  as  tbe  former  for 
the  purposes  of  jewellery,  but  is  eatcepied  of  inferior 
vulue. 

It  has  been  observed  of  some  varieties  of^  common 
opal  that  they  are  hydrophanous,  that  is,  they  possess 
the  property  of  becoming  transparent  when  immersed 
in  water,  a  |iFoperty  which  it  is  supposed  depends  on 
the  absorption  of  the  lirater^in  the  pores  of  the  opal. 
When  similar  varieties  of  opal  are  dipped  in  melted 
wax,  tiiey  ace  impregnated  with  it,  and  become  in  like 
manner  transparent,  but  on  cooling  resume  their  opaci- 
ty. To  such  varieties  De  Born  has  given  th^  name  of 
Pyrophane* 

Subspecies  3.     Semi-opal. 

Id.  Kirwan,  i.  290.  La  'Demi-opdU^  Brochant,  i. 
347.  ^wtH%  Resinite  CommiATtCy  et  Menilite^  Hauy, 
"•  433- 

-Bxter,  Char, — This  mineral  is,  found  in  masses  oy. 
9tsseminated,  in  angular  fragments,  stalactitical,  botry-* 


oidal,  or  in. superficial  layers.     Lustre  glimmering  or  Claidicft. 
shining,  and  intetmediate  between  vitreous  and  resi-     tioo. 
nous.    Fraoture  conchoidal,  tfnd  fireqnently  even.  Frag- 
ments sbarp-edged. 

Colours  extremely  various,  but  in  general  duller  and 
less  vivid  than  common  opal.  The  most  predominant 
are  yellowish,  grayish  and  reddish  white,  more  rarely 
milk  white.  Various  colours  are  sometimes  disposed  in 
6pot8,  stripes,  and  clouds.  Translucent  at  the  edges,  and 
sometimes,  but  rarely,  semitransparent.  Pretty  bard 
)ind  brittle.     Spec.  grav.  2.540. 

Chem,  Char. — Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe,  but 
melts  with  borax  and  without  firothing  up. 


Constituent  Parts. 

Silica, 

Oxide  of  iron. 
Water, 
Loss, 


Klaprotfi. 

43-50 
47.00 

7.50 

2.00 


100.00 


Localities^  &c.— -The  semi-opal  is  found  in  tbe  same 
^ces  and  in  similar  rocks  with  the  common  opal,  as 
in  basalt  and  amygdaloid,  bat  chiefly  in  granite  and 
^rphyry,  and  praticulsorly  in  the.  veins  of  such  roclcs 
containing  silver. 

Some  varieliee  of  pitch  stone  have  been  ranked  with 
semi-opal  by  mineralogists  \  and  menilite,  a  mineral  is 
be  afterwards  described,  has  been  also  considered  mere- 
ly as  a  Irttriety  of  it. . 

Subspecies  4.    Wood  Opal. 

Lignijbrm  Opal^  Kirwan,  i.  295.     Opale  Ligmforme^ 
Brochant,  i.  3  50*    ^uart%  resinite  Xyhide,  Hauy,  ii. 

439- 

Exter.  CAor.— -This  variety  of  opal  is  found  in  masses . 
of  different  sizes,  retaining  the  form  and  tenure  of  the 
wood  which  is  supposed  to  be  penetratod  with  the  stony 
op^ine  matter.  Lustre  interally  wetckly  shinibg,  be- 
tween vitreoQs  Mid  resinons.  Transverse  fracture  con- 
choidal, longitudinal  fhictnre  shows  the  woody  textare. 
Fbigmeats  sharp-edged. 

Colours  grayish  and  yellowish  white,  yeUowvsh  brown 
ftl^d  ochre  yellow.  Different  colours  are  sometimes  ar- 
ranged in  concentric  circles,  in  spots,  aild  stripes.  Of- 
ten opake,  but  rarely  translacent  except  at  the  edges. 
Intermediate  between  hard  and  semi-hard.  Brittle. 
Spec.  grav.  2.600. 

localities^  &c. — ^The  wood  opal  is  fonnd  at  Pomick' 
near  Sehemnit^  in  Hungary,  and  at  Tclkobanya  in  the 
same  country. 

34.  Species.    Mknilitc. 

Pitchstoncy  Kirwan,  i.  292.    Variety,  of  ^if<  of  some, 
and  Semi-opal  of  Klaproth* 

lixter.  CAar.-^This  mineral  is  found  in  tuberose  mas- 
ses, which  have  a  smooth  ribbed  surface,  and  are  some- 
times covered  with  a  whitish  crust.  Internal  lustreweak- 
ly  shining.  Transverse  fracture  flat,  conchoidal ',  lon- 
gitudinal, coarse,  splintery.     Fragments  sharp-edgfcd. 

Chesnut  brown  colour,  and  marked  with  alternating 
Aripes  of  p^arl  gray  .and  reddish  brown.  Transioccnt. 
Pretty  hard  and  brittle,     l^pec..  grav.  2.185. 

thnsbtscat 


MINERALOGY. 


171 


Cofuittfieni  Pari^.  Klaprotb.  ' 

Silica,  85.50 

Alumina,  i* 

Oxide  of  iron,  .50 

Lime,  -50 
Water  and  carbooaceous  matter,  11*50 

Loss,  !• 


100.00 


Localities^  &c.-.Thi8  mineral  is  foand  at  Menil- 
Montant,  from  which  it  derives  its  name,  near  Paris, 
in  nodules  disposed  in  interrupted  strata,  in  the  middle 
of  a  foliated,  argillaceous  schistns,  which  is  interposed 
between  the  beds  of  g}rpsum, 

35*  Species.    Jasfee* 

Jasper  has  been  divided  into  six  snbspecies,  i.  Egyp- 
tian ;  2.  Striped >  3.  Porcelain^  4.  Common^  5.  Agate  ^ 
and,  6.  Opal. 

Subspecies  i.    EcTirriAN  Jasper. 

JSgmium  Pebble^  Kirwan,  i.  3 1 2.    LeJaspe  EgypHen^ 
firocbant,  i.  332. 

Extcr»  Char, — ^This  variety  of  jasper  is  found  in 
rounded  pieces,  which  are  generally  spherical,  and 
have  a  rough  surface.  External  lustre  glimmering  or 
weakly  shining  ^  internal  weakly  shining.  Fracture  per- 
fect conchoidsd  ^  fragments  sharp-edged. 

The  colours  of  this  variety  are  disposed  in  zones  or 
irregular  stripes,  which  are  nearly  concentric.  Thesf 
ooloors  are  yellowish  brown  on  a  ground  of  chesnut 
brown  }  usually  opaque,  or  slightly  translucent  at  the 
edges.     Spec.  grav.  2.56  to  2.0. 

Chem.  Char. — ^Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe. 

LoeaUtieSf  &c. — This  mineral,  as  its  name  imports, 
IS  brongfat  from  Egypt,  where,  as  was  observed  by  Cor- 
dier,  it  constitutes  part  of  a  breccia  which  is  entirely 
composed  of  fragments  of  siliceous  stone«,  immense  stra^ 
ta  of  which  abound  in  that  country,  and  the  deserts 
of  Africa  in  the  vicinity.  The  masses  of  jasper  are 
found  among  the  sand  which  has  been  derived  from  the 
decomposition  of  this  breccia,  and  particularly  near 
Suez. 

t/«f^.-.This  variety,  on  account  of  its  hardness  and 
beautiful  colours,  is  in  considerable  estimation  for  orna- 
mental purposes. 

Subspecies  2.    Striped  Jasper. 

Id.  Kirw.  !•  312.      Le  Jaspe  Rubim/^  Broch.  i.  334. 
Q^t$art%-Jaspe  Onyx^  Hauy,  ii.  436. 

Djrt^.CAor.—Tliis  variety  of  jasper  is  found  massive, 
and  sometimes  forms  entire  beds.  It  has  no  lui<tre,  ex- 
cept from  the  mixture  of  extraneous  substances.  Frac- 
ture conchoidal,  sometimes  splintery  or  earthy.  Frag- 
jments  sharp-edged. 

To  tbe  variety  of  colours  of  this  mineral  it  owes  its 
name.  These  are  pearl  gray,  yellowish  and  greenish 
gray,  with  shades  of  red  and  blue,  and  these  different 
colours  are  arranged  in  straight  or  curved  lines  j  gene- 
rally opaque,  translucent  only  at  the  edges. 


LocaiitieSf  &c.— This  variety  of  jasper  abounds  in  SI-   snieeoos 
beria  :  it  b  found  also  in  Saxony,  in  the  Hartz,  where  ^    genus. 
it  reposes  on  gray  wacken  ;  in  Sicily  }  and  in  the  hills ' 
in  the  vicinity  of  Edinburgh. 

Subspecies  3*    Porcelain  Jasper. 

PcrceUanite^  Kirw*  i.  313.  Z^  Jaspe  Porcelaine^  Broch» 
i.  336.     Thertnantide  Porcellanitey  Hauy,  iv.  510. 

Exter,  (7Aar.— Usually  found  in  masses  or  angular 
pieces,  in  which  rents  or  Assures  are  often  observed,  and 
also  in  whole  beds.  Internal  lustre  glimmering  or 
weakly  shining  \  resinous.  Fracture  imperfect  conchoi- 
dal or  uneven.     Fragments  sharp-edged. 

The  colour  exhibits  great  variety )  pearl,  as)i,  yeL* 
lowisb  and  bluish  gray,  with  shades  of  yellow,  red,  and 
rarely  green.  The  colour  is  generally  upiformly  the 
same,  but  sometimes  it  is  striped  and  dotted,  flamed  and 
clouded  'j  impressions  of  vegetables  of  a  red  colour  are 
observed  oa  the  blue  varieties,  and  the  rents  or  fissures 
are  of  a  red  colour  in  the  grayish  specimens  \  is  entire- 
ly opaque  ;  pretty  hard,  and  easily  frangible. 

Chem.  CXor.— 'Melts  before  the  blow-pipe  into  a 
black  slag. 

ConaiitsietU  Ports.    B4we» 

Silica,  ^^•75 

Alumina,  27.27 

Magnesia,  3. 

Potash,  3.66 

Oxide  of  iron,  2.50 


Loss, 


97.18 
2.82 

■■■■MMM* 
100.00 


Zoca/iVt#^,  &a—Thb  mineral  is  lAnndaat  in  daflerent 
parts  of  Sobemia  ^  it  is  met  with  also  in  Saxony,  in  the 
rocks  in  the  vicinity  of  Edinburgh,  and  on  tbe  coast  of 
Fife  near  Dysart  in  Scotland. 

This  jasper  derives  its  name  from  its  fracture,  which 
resembles  that  of  porcelain  ^  and  as^it  is  frequently 
found  in  places  where  subterraneous  fires  have  existed, 
such  as  beds  of  coal  which  have  been  kindled  by  ao- 
cident,  it  is  asoribed  to  their  action  \  and  according  to 
Werner,  it  is  nothing  more  than  a  slaty  clay  altered  by 
fire. 

Subspecies  4.    Common  Jasper, 
/k/.  Kin7.  i.  310.     Jaspe  Commun^  Broch.  i.  338. 

Ex  tor.  Char.'^This  variety  is  usually  found  massive, 
sometimes  disseminated,  or  alternating  in  thin  layers 
with  other  stones.  Lustre  glimmering  or  shining,  be- 
tween vitreous  and  resinous.  Fracture  more  or  less  per- 
fectly concboidal,  sometimes  splintery  or  earthy.  Fiag- 
ments  sharp-edged. 

Colours  extcomely  various,  exhibiting  different  shaded 
of  red,  yellow,  and  black ;  and  several  of  these  are 
united  together,  presenting  cloads,  spots,  and  stripes. 
Usually  opaque,  or  slightly  translucent  at  tbe  edges. 
Is  scratched  by  quartz.  Easily  frangible.  Spec,  gravi 
2.3  to  2.7. 

CAem.  (7Aar.— Entirely  infcsiible  before  the  blow^ 

Y  2  pipe. 


172 


MINER 


Sificeons   pip^  Its  coDstitoent  parts  are  extremely  variable.  The 
(CDOR.     following  were  obtained  by  the  analysis  of  Kirwan. 

Silica,  75 

Alamina,  20 

Oxide  of  iron,  5 

100 

LocalitieSj  &c.— This  jasper  is  very  common  in  diffe- 
rent parts  of  the  world ;  in  Saxony,  Bohemia,  Hungary, 
France,  Spain,  Italy,  Siberia,  and  also  in  Scotland,  as 
among  the  basaltic  rocks  in  the  vicinity  of  Edinburgh, 
and  at  Dunbar.  It  is  usually  found  in  veins,  especially 
such  as  contain  ores  of  iron.  It  is  often  traversed  with 
veins  of  quartz,  or  mixed  with  pyrites,  lithomarga,  semi- 
opal,  brown  spar,  native  and  vitreous  silver.  It  has 
been  taken  for  the  basis  of  some  porphyries,  but  these 
torn  out  to  be  indurated  clay,  pitch  stone,  and  horn  stone* 

Sabspecies  5.  Jasper  Agatc. 

Exter,  CAar.«— This  variety  seems  to  be  the  same  as 
that  already  mentioned  under  the  name  of  agate  Jasper^ 
in  speaking  of  agates  at  the  end  of  the  description  of 
calcedony.  It  is  found  massive,  and  possesses  no  lustre. 
Fracture  conchoidal,  generally  opaque,  pretty  hard, 
and  sometimes  adheres  to  the  tongue.  The  colours  are 
yellowish  or  reddish  white,  which  are  disposed  in  stripes 
and  circles. 

LocaltticSf  &c.— -It  is  met  with  in  many  places  in 
agate  balls,  in  amygdaloid  rocks. 

Subspecies  6.  Ofal  Jasp£R. 

Ester,  CAar^-^This  variety  of  jasper  seems  to  possess 
many  common  characters  with  some  varieties  of  opal. 
It  is  found  massive.  Ihtemal  lustre  between  vitreous 
and  resinous,  is  shining  or  resplendent.  Fracture  con- 
choidal.   Fragments  very  sharp-edged. 

Gilomrs  scarlet  red,  blood  red,  brownish  red,  more 
rarelv  yellow.    Colours  disposed  in  veins,  spots,  and 
clonal.    Opaque,  or  translnoent  at  the  edges.     Brittle, 
.    Attd  easily  frangible. 

LocaUiieSf  &c.«->This  mineral  is  foand  in  Hnngainr, 
in  Siberia,  and  other  places,  and  is  usually  in  nests  m 
porpfajrry. 

Beside  the  localities  of  the  different  varieties  of  jasper 
already  mentioned,  we  may  notice  that  it  is  met  with 
in  Siberia  of  a  white  and  bluish  colour.  The  hill  on 
which  the  fortress  of  Orskaia  stands  on  the  left  bank  of 
the  river  Jaik,  in  the  government  of  Orembourg,  is  en- 
tirely composed  of  a  j^e  green  and  deep  red  jasper, 
disposed  in  inclined  beds  ^  and  on  the  most  elevated 
yarts  of  the  Altaian  mountains,  near  the  source  of  the 
«iver  Korgooi  a  jasper  has  been  discovered  of  an  ivory 
white  iwioiir,  which  is  remarkable  for  being  penetrated 
with  black  dieudrites. 

U*e3  ^  Jo^pw.— It  is  valued  according  to  its  hard- 
ness, the  degree  of  polish  of  which  it  is  susceptible,  and 
the  beauty  and  variety  of  its  colours  ;  and  it  is  employ- 
<«d  in  forming  vases,  handles  for  swords  and  knives,  and 
tlhtg  iunaller  ornamental  purposes. 

36.  Species.  Heliotrope,  or  Bloodstone. 

Heiwtropwm^  Kirw.  i.  314.    L* Heliotrope^  Biocbi  L 
276*     Q;uitrt»/aspe  Songuin^  Hauy,  ii  436, 


A  L  O  G  Y.  Parti. 

Ester,  CAor.— Hdiotrope  is  found  massive  or  in  an-  cimki. 
gular  pieces;  external  lustre  glimmering  sr  shining,    tioa 
and  resinous;  firacture  conchoidal,  sometimes  uneven.' 
FragmenU  very  sharp-edged. 

Colour  chiefly  deep  green,  but  of  various  shades,  with 
spots  of  olive  and  yellow,  but  most  frequently  scarlet  or 
blood  red :  translucent  at  the  edges  :  hard,  easily  fraa- 
gible.     Spec.  grav..  2.62  to  2.7. 

Chem,  (7Aar.— Entirely  infusible  before  the  blow-pipe. 

Localities^  &c.— This  mineral  was  originally  hroaght 
from  the  east,  hut  it  has  since  been  found  in  Siberia, 
in  Bohemia,  where  it  is  met  with  in  a  vein,  and  in  Ice- 
land. 

17jk>«.— It  is  employed  for  similar  purposes  with  jasper 
or  agate. 

By  many  mineralogists  this  mineral  is  considerecl  as 
a  variety  of  jasper ;  hence  it  has  been  called  oriental 
jasper ;  and  it  is  supposed  by  some  to  be  a  calcedony 
penetrated  with  green  earth. 

37.  Species.    Chrtsoprase. 

Chrysoprasium^  Kirw.  i.  284.    La  Ckrysqprase,  Broc^ 
i.  280.     Quarts  Agathe  Prase^  Hauy,  ii.  426. 

Ester.  CAar.— This  mineral  is  found  massive,  or  in 
angular  fragments  :  internal  lustre  rarely  glimmering ', 
fracture  even,  sometimes  splintery;  fragments  sharp- 
edged. 

G>lour  apple-green,  greenish  gray,  or  leek-green; 
translucent,  sometimes  semitransparent ;  less  bard  than 
calcedony  and  flint.     Spec.  grav.  2.25. 

Chem,  CAor.— -Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe,  hot 
loses  its  transparency,  and  becomes  white. 

Constituent  Parts,    Klaproth. 

Silica,.  96.16 

Alumina,  .08 

'  Lime,  .82 

Oxide  of  iron,  .08 

Oxide  of  nickel,  i.oo 

Loss,  1.86 


100.00 


Localities^  &c<-— Chiysoprase  is  found  at  Kosemofz, 
in  Upper  Silesia,  in  a  mountain  composed  of  serpentine, 
asbestns,  indurated  talc,  and  lithomarga. 

£/«f#.— It  is  employed  for  similar  purposes  as  jasper, 
and  it  is  greatly  esteemed  when  it  is  of  a  fine  apple- 
green  colour.  It  is  said  that  some  varieties  of  this  mi- 
neral lose  their  colour  by  being  exposed  to  moisture,  so 
that  the  jewellers,'  befisre  using  them,  put  them  to  tk 
test,  by  keeping  them  for  some  time  in  a  moist  place. 

38.  Species.    Plasma. 

Id,  Broch.  i.  278.     SHex  Plasms^  Broagniart,  u.  398* 

Eseter  Char. — ^This  mineral  is  found  disseminated, 
in  rounded  pieces,  and  also  in  angular  pieces.  Intec^ 
lustre  glimmering  or  weakly  shining ;  resinous.  Fracture 
conchoidal,  even,  and  sometimes  splintery.  Translu- 
cent, and  sometimes  even  transparent  in  thin  pieces. 

Colour  various  shades  of  green  j  and  sometimes  dif- 
ferent colours  are  disposed  in  spots,  stripes,  and  points. 

Nearlj 


MINER 

^  Nearly  equally  hard  i? hh  calcedony.   Brittle,  and  easily 
frangible. 

"^      Chenu  CAor.— It  is  infusible  before  the  blow-pipe, 
but  beccmies  white. 

IjxaUtie$^  &c. — It  is  said  by  some,  that  this  mineral 
has  only  been  found  among  the  rains  of  Rome,  bat  ac- 
cording to  Brongniart  and  others,  it  has  been  found  in 
the  Levant,  in  Upper  Hungary,  and  in  Moravia,  in  a 
mountain  of  serpentine,  where  it  is  accompanied  with 
flint. 

C/sif«.— It  appears  that  this  mineral  was  much  em- 
ployed by  the  ancients  for  ornamental  purposes. 

39*  Species.     Cat^s  £te. 

Id.  Kirw.  i.  30T.     VOeil  de  Chat^  Brochant,  i.  292* 
^%i€xrt%''Agath€  Chatoyant^  Hauy,  ii.  427. 

Exter.  ^^lr^-'Thb  mineral,  as  it  is  brought  from  its 
Bative  country,  is  usually  cut  and  polished,  so  that  its 
oatural  form  is  unknown  >  but  it  i»  supposed  that  it  is 
met  with  in  grains  or  rounded  pieces.  A  mass  describ- 
ed by  Klaproth,  which  seemed  to  be  in  its  natural  state, 
bad  a  quadrangular  form,  a  rough  surface,  and  consider* 
able  bnlliancy.  The  lustre  is  resplendent  and  resinous. 
The  cross  fracture  is  uneven,  the  longitudinal  fracture 
imperfectly  fbliftted.  Fragments  more  or  less  sharp- 
edffed* 

Tlw  colour  is  greenish  yellow  and  smoke  gray,  of 
various  shades,  and  sometimes,  bat  rarely,  grayish  or 
silvery  white.  It  is  translucent,  rarely  semitransparent. 
When  it  is  cut,  it  reflects  different  rays  of  light  by 
changing  its  position,  a  character  by  which  it  is  easily 
known.  This  is  ascribed  to  small  parallel  fibres  which 
appear  in  tlie  interior  of  the  stone.  It  is  hard,  easily 
fruigible.     Spec.  grav.  2.625  ^^  2.66o. 

Chem.  Char.'^lt  melts  with  great  difficulty  by  the 
acdon  of  the  blow-pipe.  Klaproth  subjected  it  to  the 
beat  ef  a  porcelain  furnace,  but  it  was  not  melted  \  ii 
only  lost  its  hardness^  lustre,  and  transpu«ncy,  and  the 
colour  became  of  a  pale  gray. 

ConsiiCwent  Parts*    Klaproth. 


Silica, 

95*oo 

9450 

Alumioa, 

1.75 

2.00 

Lime,. 

1.50 

1.50 

Oxide  of  tvon. 

o»25 

0.25 

Loss, 

1.5a 

»-75 

100.00 


100.00 


Xora/rlw».— Cat's  eye  is  brought  from  Ceylon  and 
tlie  Bfalabar  coast,  and  also,  it  is  said,  from  Sgyp^  ^nd 
Arabia  \  but  always  in  the  polished  state.  Toe  only 
one  known  in  its  natural  state  was  that  above  mention- 
ed, which  was  presented  to  Klaproth  by  Mr  Greville  of 
London. 

C7jff«.— This  mineral  is  in  great  estimation  as  a  pre- 
cious stone,  and  it  is  usually  cot  for  ring-stones. 

The  name  is  derived  from  its  possessing  the  property 
of  reflecting  the  light  similar  to  the  eye  of  the  cat,  and 
hence  the  term  chatoyant  among  jewellers,  which  is  ex- 
pressive of  that  eflTect. 

49.>  Species^    Obsidiak. 
XiKirwan,i»265.  Iceimd  agate  sxi\go.  VObsidienne^ 


A  L  O  G  Y.  173 

Brochant,  i.  288.   Lave  vttreuse  Ohstdienne^  Hauy,  SHrceoui 

iv.  594.  genua. 

Exter.  C^ar.—- This  mineral  is  found  in  masses,  and 
sometimes  in  rounded  pieces.  Lustre  resplendent,  vi- 
treous 'y  fracture  perfectly  conchoidal  \  fragments  very 
sharp-edged. 

The  most  common  colour  of  obsidian  is  perfectly 
black,  sometimes  greenisfa  and  grayish,  black,  bluelsh, 
ffreenish  and  smoke  gray,  and  yellow  and  red,  accord- 
ing to  Humboldt :  most  commonly  opaque,  but  some- 
times translucent  on  the  edges.  It  is  hard  and  easily 
franffible.     Spec,  ffrav.  2.348. 

Chetn*  rAor;— Before  the  blow-pipe  obsidian  melts 
into  an  opaque  porous  glass,  of  a  grayish  white  co» 
lour. 

Constituent  Farts* 
fieiigman.         Abilgaard> 


Silica,.                 69 

74 

Alumina,             22 

12 

Oxide  of  iron,       9 

14 

loa 

100 

Dctcotils. 

Brappier. 

Silica,                     72.0 

74.              71.0 

Alumina,                12.5 

14.              X3.4 

Lime, 

K2             u6 

Oxide  of  iron     7 
and  manganese,  y 

3-0           A^o 

Potash  and  sod^,     10.O 

3-3           4-0 
4.5            6.0 

Loss,                         3.5 

100.0 


106.0 


X00.0 


Localities^  &c^-»This  mineral  is  found  id  Iceland, 
in  Siberia,  in  the  Lipari  islands,  in  Hungary,  in  Ma- 
dagascar, the  island  of  Tenerific,  in  Mexico,  Tern,  and 
some  of  the  South  sea  islands.  Humboldt  discovered'a 
variety  of  obsidian  in  New  Spain,  which  was  chatoyant 
in  a  considerable  degree.  The  obsidian  from  Hungary 
is  found  in  insulated  pieces  among  detached  masses  of 
granite,  gneiss,  and  decomposed  porphvry.  Obsidian 
was  long  supposed  to  have  a  volcanic  origin  \  but  it  a^ 
pears,  from  the  accounts  of  those  wh^  have  visited  Ice- 
land, that  it  is  not  only  found  in' the  vicinity'  of  Rccla, 
but  everywhere,  distributed  like  quartz  and  flint  ^  and 
besides  it  is  not  unfrequent  in  countries  where  volcanoes 
were  never  known  tor  exist.- 

£^j^j._Tbe  iihe  colour  and  hardness  of  this  stone 
have  brought  it  into  use  for  ornamental  purposes. 
Among  the  ancient  Mexicans  andPernvians  it  was  em- 
plbyed  as  mirrors,  some  of  which,  it  is  said  aire' some* 
times  still  fonnd  in  the  tombs  of  their  ancient  sovereigns 
(^Faujas  Miner,  des  Vo/cans^  p.  308.)  ^  and  also  for  cut- 
ting instruments  as  knives  and  even  razors.  Hernan- 
dez saw  the  Mexican  cutlers  make  a  hundred  knives  of 
obsidian  in  the  course  of  an  hour.  Obsidian,  it  is  said,., 
has  also  been  used  as  mirrors  for  telescopes. 

41.  Species.    Fitchstone. 

Id,  Kirwan,  L  292.     La  pierre  depoir*    Brochant,  L- 
353.    PetrosHex  resintfarme^  Hauy,  iv.  386. 

£xter»  (ZSor.— *Pitchstone,  which  has  receiTed  its* 


174  MINER 

SDiocoM   Bttne  firom  its  rMembboee  to  pitcli,  is  found  nMSsiTe 
g«»fc     socDetimes  io  extensiTe  beds  and  veins,  and  also  foraiing 
*      ^      ■'  entire  mountains.     Internal  lustre  shining  and  resin- 
ous.   Fragments  sharp-edged.    In  coarse  and  frequentv 
ly  small  granular  distinct  concretions  which  have  a 
smooth  surface. 

The  colours  are  various  shades  of  black,  green, 
brown,  red,  and  mj.  Translucent,  but  commonly  at 
the  edges  onhr.  Brittle,  and  rather  easily  frangible. 
Spec.  grav.  of  pitchstone  from  Saxony,  2.3 14}  of  black 
pitchstone  from  Arran,  2.338  j  of  pitchstone  from  Meis- 
^^°  1-^459  Klaproth. 

Ckem.  (7Aar.— Fusible  by  the  Uow-pipe,  and  is  con- 
verted into  a  white  porous  enamel. 

Cofutituent  Parts  of  pitchstone  frwn  Meissen  of  an 
oUve  green  colour.    Klaproth,  Transl.  ii.  207. 


Silica, 

73 

Alumina, 

14.50 

Lime, 

X 

Oxide  of  iron. 

X 

Oxide  of  manganese, 

0.10 

Soda, 

^•75 

Water, 

8.50 

Loss, 

1-5 

X  00.00 

LocaHiieSf  &c.«->Pitchstone  is  found  in  great  abun- 
"-dance  in  Saxony,  in  Hungary,  and  also  in  oiberia.  It 
abounds  also  in  Scotland,  particularly  in  the  island  of 
Arran,  where  it  is  met  with  in  beds,  but  chiefly  in  veins 
traversing  the  strata  ip  the  less  elevated  parts  of  the 
island.     Pitchstope  also  forms  the  basis  of  a  porphyry. 

42.  Species.  Pearlsjone. 

Ohsidienne  PerUe^  Brongniart,  ii.  340.  Lave  Vitreuse 
Ptrl/e^  Hauy,  iv.  495.  Volcanic  Zeolite^  Fichtel. 
ZeoliUc  PitchsUme  of  others.  See  Klaproth,  Transl. 
ii.  263. 

Exter,  Char, — ^Pearlstone  almost  always  forms  the 
ground  or  basis  of  a  species  of  porphyry  which  contains 
roundish  or  longish  vesicular  cavities.  Lustre  pearly. 
Fracture  seems  imperfectly  conchoidal  j  but  is  not  very 
perceptible.     Fragments  blunt-edged. 

Colour  bluish,  ash,  greenish  gray.  Translucent  at 
the  edges.  When  breathed  upon,  gives  out  the  argilla- 
ceous odour.  Not  brittle,  but  easily  frangible*  Soft. 
Spec.  grav.  2.340  to  2.548. 

Chem.  Char, — Before  the  blow-pipe  froths  up  like 
zeolite,  but  is  not  fused. 

Constituent  Parts.    Klaproth,  ii.  267. 


Silica, 

75-^5 

Alumina, 

12. 

Oxide  of  iron. 

1.60 

Liane, 

.50 

Potash, 

4-50 

Water, 

4.50 

Loss, 

1.6$ 

A  LOGY.  Parti 

Localities^  Scc^-Pearl'stone  is  foond  near  Toka^  in  n^^i,^ 
Hungary,  in  strata  alternating  with  those  of  argilla^ 
ceous  porphyrv,  and  containing  in  its  vesicles  nodules 
of  obsidian  )  it  is  also  met  with  in  Iceland,  and  in  the 
nortli  of  Ireland. 

43*  Species.  PuicicE. 

Id.  Kirwan,  i.  415.  La  Pierre  ponce^  Brochant,  i« 
443.  PoncCy  Brongniart,  i.  332.  Lave  vitreus$ 
pulmcSey  Hauy,  iv.  495. 

jEjir(er«.CAor.<— This  mineral  is  found  massive  or  dis- 
seminated, and  it  is  always  of  a  porous  or  vesicular 
texture. 

Lustre  glimmering,  or  a  little  shining  and  silky. 
Fracture  fibrous  \  fragments  blunt-edged. 

Colour  grayish  white,  bluish,  or  yellowish  gray. 
Opaque,  rarely  translucent  at  the  edges,  sometimes  se- 
mihard, but  generally  sof^,  very  brittle,  and  veiy 
easily  frangible.     Spec.  grav.  0.914. 

Chem,  Tiftar.— -Fusible  before  the  blow-pipe,  and  it 
converted  into  a  white  glass. 

Constituent  Parts.    Klaproth,  ii.  208. 


Silica, 
Alnmina, 
Oxide  of  iron. 

77.50 
17.50 

1-75 

Soda  of  potash. 
Loss, 

3- 
•^5 

X00.00 

100.00 


Localities^  &c.^— Pnmicestone  has  been  supposed  to 
be  a  volcanic  production,  because  it  is  found  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  volcanoes  ^  the  Lipari  islands  are  almost  en- 
tirely composed  of  it,  and  there  it  is  accompanied  with 
obsidian.  It  is  also  foond  in  Iceland  and  Teneriffe^ 
in  Hungary  ^  and  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine  between 
Anderaach  and  Coblentz. 

{^«r«.— Pumice  is  very  much  employed  in  polishing 
stones,  metals,  gbus,  ivory,  and  in  the  preparation  of 
parchment. 

A  rare  variety  of  pumice  is  described  by  Brongniart 
in  the  form  of  vitreous  filaments  as  fine  as  hair  ^  the 
colour  is  a  deep  bottle  green,  and  it  melts  by  heat  into 
a  white  enamel.  This  pumice  is  supposed  to  be  pro- 
jected from  the  volcano  io  the  isle  of  Bourbon. 

44.  Species.  Prehkite. 

Id.  Kirwan,  i.  274.    La  Prehnite^  Brochant,  i.  295. 
Prehnite^  Hauy,  iii.  67.  * 

Essen.  CAor.— Divisible  by  one  distinct  line  only, 
and  pretty  clean  *,  electric  bj  heat. 

Ester.  CAar.— -Prehnite  is  foond  either  massive  or 
crystallized.  The  principal  form  of  its  ciystals  is  a 
four-sided  rhomboidal  table,  which  is  either  perfect 
or  truncated  on  all  its  edges,  or  a  table  with  six  frees, 
and  an  e^ual  angle,  or  a  Targe  rectangular  prism  termi- 
nated by  a  beveunent  which  is  somewhat  obtuse.  The 
crystals  are  usually  grouped  together,  and  united  by 
their  lateral  frees  ^  face  of  the  crysuls  smooth }  exter- 
nal lustre  shining  j  internal  weakly  shining  and  pearly  ^ 
principal  fracture  foliated,  cross  firactore  fine-grained 
uneven  ^  fragments  but  little  sharp-edged. 

Odoor 


MINERALOGY. 


»75 


I.      Colour  green,  olive  green,   monntain  green,  and 
greenish  white ;  seniitransparent,  and  sometimes  trans- 

"^  parent.     Scratches  glass  slightly. '  Brittle,  and  easily 
iiangiUe.     Spec,  grav-  2.609  to  2.696. 

€hem.  (7Aiir.-»Fasilble  hefore  the  blow-pipe,  into  a 
white  porous  enamel. 


Constituent  Parftr« 

HasienfrBtz. 

Klaprotb. 

Silica, 

50- 

43-83 

Alumina, 

20.4 

30-33 

Lime, 

233 

J  8-33 

Oxide  of  iron,       4.9 

5.66 

Water, 

•9 

1.83 

Magnesia, 

•5 

— 

Loss, 

— 

0.02 

1 00.0 

loo.oa 

ZixraAhVf .— -Prefanite  was  brought  first  from  the  Cape 
of  Good  Hope,  by  Colonel  PrehH.  whose  name  it  now 
bears.  It  is  also  found  in  France,  as  in  Dauphiny, 
where  it  exists  in  veins.  It  is  liot  unfrequent  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  Scotland,  as  among  the  porphyry  rocks 
six  miles  to  the  south  of  Paisley ;  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Dnnbarton  j  and  in  the  rocks  round  Edinburgh. 

45.  Species.     ZeolitB. 
This  species  has  been  di'vided  into  four  subspecies. 

Subspecies  i.    Mealt  Zeolite. 

Zet^ite^  Kirwan„  i.  278.     La  Zeolite  Farineuse^  Bro- 
cfaant,  i.  298.     Mesotype^  Hauy,  iii.  151. 

Rrter.  ^Atfr.— This  variety  is  found  massive  or  dis- 
seminated, and  sometimes  it  is  branched  or  coralloidal, 
and  sometimes  also  it  envelopes  other  zeolites  with  a 
thin  crust.  It  is  dull  \  fractoare  earthy  \  fragmettls 
hi  ant-edged. 

Colour  nsttaJly  reddish  or  yellowish  white,  or  iesh 
red,  opaque,  very  brittle ;  does  not  adhere  to  ^ 
tmgi^.  WImai  scratched  with  the  finger^yiaii  it  gives 
ant  a  daR'sottfid. 


Chnstitmen*  Pdrts. 

Silica, 
Alumina,  . 
Lime, 
Water, 


Peiletier. 

50 

20 

» 

22 


100 


Localities^  &c.— This  variety  of  zeolite  is  found  in 
Ireland,  the  Faro  islands,  and  oweden.  It  is  frequent 
in  difTerent  parts  of  Scotland,  as  at  Dunbar,  and  seve- 
ral of  the  Western  islands. 

Stfdispecies  2.    FiBRoUs  Zeolite. 

Zeoh'tAe  FAreuse^  Brochant,  i.  299.    Mes^ype^  Hauy, 
i.  151. 

Ekter,  ^ar.'-^-Thb  Variety  is  found  tansdvc,  and 
lometimes  in  rounded  pieces,  ooAvposed'of  oa(n4kry  etyz 
ttds^  dtvetsgent  and  radiating  \  internal  lustre  glimmer- 

5 


ing,  or  weakly  shining;,  pearly  or  silky ;  fracture  fi«  fidieeou 
brons  \  fibres  divergent  ^  firagments  wedge-shaped.  ^         genvs. 

Colour  yellowish  white,  yellowish  brown,  snow  white, 
and  sometimes  honey  yellow,  thinslucent^  semihard^ 
brittle,  and  easily  frangible.     Light. 


Constituent  Parts, 

Mcy 

Silica, 

41 

Alumina, 

3» 

Lime, 

II 

Water, 

15 

Loss, 

2 

100 

Subspecies  3.  Radiated  Zeolite. 

Zeolithe  RayonnSe^  Brochant,  i.  301 »   Mesotype,  Hauy, 
iii.  151. 

Essen,  Char, — Divisible  parallel  to  the  faces  of  a 
rectangular  prism  ^  electric  by  heat  in  two  opposite 
points. 

Exter,  (7/iar.— This  variety  is  found  massive,  but 
most  frequently  crystallized :  the  primitive  form  is  a 
rectangular  prism  with  square  bases  \  its  common  forms 
are  a  rectangular  prism,  truncated  at  each  extremity  by 
a  four-sided  pyramid,  correqiondtng  to  the  kvtera]  faces ; 
a  four-Sided  rectangular  prism  wid  two  broad  and  two 
narrow  sides,  an^  also  termintfted  -by  fbor-sided  pyra- 
mids, or  a  four-sided  prism,  iiear)y  rhomboidal,  the 
two  sharp  lateral  edges  of  which,  as  well  as  the  two  ob- 
tuse terminal  angles,  are  truncated.  The  crystals  are 
united  together  in  bundles  \  so  that  the  acuminiitions 
only  can  be  seen ;  the  l^tals  are  cdmmonly  smooth 
and  shining  >  the  internal  lustre  is  weakly  shining  and 
pearly  \  fracture  radiated  :  the  rays  bread  or  nairoW  ^ 
fragments  wedge-shaped. 

Colour  yellowisb,  gfayish,  reddish,  and  snow-white  \ 
tvaaskicent, sometimes  transparent  \  semihard  ^  scratches 
calcareous  spar  \  brittle,  and  easily  frangible.  Spec, 
grav.  2.0833. 

Chem.  Cykir.-^Ref(rire  the  btow-pipe  it  troths  up, 
gives  out  a  phosphorescent  light,  and  is  converted  kito 
a  poreus  enamel.  With  acids  ft  fsmma  gelatinons  Mb- 
stance. 


Constituent  Parts. 

Vauqueli 

SsUoa, 

AldmiMa, 

Lime, 

Water^ 

Loss, 

50.04 

29.30 

9^6 

lO* 

i» 

100.00 
subspecies  4.    Foliated  Zeolite. 

Zeolithe  LameUeuse^  Brbebant,  L  302.    Stilbite,  Hauy, 
lib  loi. 

Eisen.  C^lnr.^^^-Fusihle  into  a'spOsgy  eftamel,  hut  vot 
•electric  by  beat* 

Ester,  ChAr.^^ThiB  va^ty  of  zeoHteisusuiNy  fbutid 
in  ailk3^4lstdal  or  g^ilbular  f^cfes,  and  wfeo  ctyMaUiz- 
ed ;  primitive  form  of  its  crystals  is  a  «ectaag«tar  prisni 
with  rectangular  bases :  the  usual  forms  of  its  crystals 

are. 


MINERALOGY. 


PartL 


atVi  a  short  eqaiangular  six-sided  prism  with  two  brond, 
two  Darrowtrr,  and  two  very  narrow  fac«8  ^  a  table  with 
nHc  equal  faces,  and  a  rhomboidal  prism.  Surface  of  the 
crystal  smooth  and  shining  >  internal  lustre  shining  and 
pearly ;  fracture  foliated ;  the  plates  most  fregnently 
curved  with  a  simple  cleavage* 

G)lour  similar  to  the  former ;  it  is  translucent  or 
semitransparent ;  semihard,  and  easily  frangible.  Spec, 
grav.  2.5. 

Chem,  C*Aar.— Froths  up  and  phosphoresces,  under 
the  blow-ptpe ;  placed  on  hot  coaU,  it  becomes  white  and 
J9  easily  reduced  to  powder.  It  is  not  converted  into  a 
jelly  by  acids. 


ConstituenrParts. 

Vauqu 

Silica, 

5a 

Alumina, 

'7'5 

Lime, 

Water, 

18.5 

Loss, 

■ 

3 

100 

LocaiitieSf  8cc«— *The  different  variaties-of  zeolite  are 
usually  found  in  amygdaloid  rocksf  basalts,  porphyry, 
aiate,  wacken,  and  green-  stone.  '  .They  often  line  the 
sides  of  fissures  passing  throngh  these  rocks,  and  are 
accompanied  with  calcareoua  spar,  calcedony,  some- 
times with  native  copper  and  native  silver,  as  in  Ice- 
land. The  finest  zeolites  «re  brought  from  ihe  islands 
of  Faroe,  Iceland,  ^delfors  in  Sweden.  The  difier* 
•nt  varieties  .are  not  •  nnfrequent  in  Scotland.  The 
fibrous  aud.  cadiated  kinds  are  met  with  extremely 
beautiful  in^  4he  islands  of  Cannay  and  Skve  *,  the  foli- 
ated or  stilbite  in  the  island  of  Staffa,  .in  Skye,  and  in 
the  leaA  wns  at  Strontiao. 

46. 'Species.  CuBizrri:. 

La  ZeoUthe  Cuhique^  Brochant,  1.  304.     AnalcimCf  Sf 
Chabasic^  Hauy.  iii.  180. 

,•  E$9etu  CAor^— Original  fonns  of  the  cube,  fosible 
into  a  glass. 

Ester.  CAor.*— This  mincra]  is  found  massive  or  cry- 
stallized >  the  form  of  the  crystals  is  a  ^rfect  cube, 
which  is  its  primitive  form.  This  is  sometimes  truncat- 
ed 00  all  its  angles  by  three  small  triangular  faces,  or 
with  twenty-four  equal  and  similar  trapezoids  like  the 
gmmet.  The  external  lustre  is  rei^lendent,  vitreous,  or 
pearly.  Internal  shining  or  weakly  shining.  Fracture 
imperfectlv  foliated,  almost  uneven*  Fragments  im- 
perfect cubes. 

Colour  white,  yellowish,  grayish,  or  reddish  white. 
It  is  translucent  or  opaque.  Semihard.  Spec.  grav. 
about  2  (Hauy).  Difficult  to  produce  amr  signs  of 
electricily )  hence  the  name  anaktme^  sigmfying  want 
of  power,  jriven  to  it  by  HauT' 

Ckem.  £har4 — ^Froths  up  before  the  Uow-pipe^  and 
mehs  into  a  porous  idMs* 

LocQlitm^  &C.— ^bizite  is  found  b  Skye,  in  Staflh, 
and  in  the  Salisbury  rocks  near  Edinborgh.  Fine  spe- 
ctmena  of  cubizite  are  abundant  at  the  Giants  cause- 
way in  the  north  of  Ireland.  Chabasie  is  found  also 
At  Oberstein  in  Gemaoy. 

2 


Bj  many  mineralogists  chabasie  and  anakinle  are  C!a<«iic». 
considered  as  one  species ;  but  mor^  nearly  investigated, 
as  has  been  done  by  Hauy  and  others,  they  most  ap- 
pear very  different.  The  preceding  description  refers 
chiefly  to  analcime.  We  shall  shortly  state  the  princi- 
pal characters  of  chabasie  from  Hauy,  iii.  176* 

Essen.  Char. — Divisible  into  a  rhomboid  slightly  ob- 
tuse, and  easily  fusible  1>y  heat. 

Exter.  £har. — Chabasie  is  commonly  crystallized. 
Primitive  ibrm  of  the  crystals  is  a  slightly  obtuse  rhom- 
boid, whose  plane  aogle  at  the  Rummit  is  about  937^* 
so  that  it  approaches  nearly  to  the  cube  *,  integrant  mo- 
lecule is  the  same.  Six  of  the  edges  are  truncated,  the 
truncations  uniting  three  and  three  at  the  two  opposite 
angles,  and  the  remaining  six  angles  are  also  truncated. 
It  appears  also  in  the  form  of  double  six-sided  pvramids 
applied  base  to  base,  having  the  six  angles  at  the  base, 
and  the  three  jxute  edges  of  each  pyramid  truncated. 

Colour  whitish,  sometimes  reddish,  but  this  seems  to 
he  owing  to  -a  superficial  crust.  Lustre. shining  .or  re- 
splendent and  vitreous.    Transparent  or  translucent. 

Chem.  r^r.-— Is  easily  fiisible  before  the  blow-pipe;^ 
and  mcUs  into  a  whitish  spongy  mass. 

47.  Species.  Caoss-STOK£. 

StauroIiUy  Kirwan,  i.  282.     Pierre  Crucifirfne^  Bro^ 
chant,  i«  311.     Ilarmotinne^  Hauy,  iii.  19 1. 

Essen.  rAor.— Divisible  into  a  rectangular  octahe- 
dron, which  may  be  subdivided  on  the  angles  contiguoos 
to  the  summits. 

Exter.  C4or.«-This  mineral-  -is  always  crystallized. 
Its  usual  forms  arc;,,  a^double  crystal  composed  of  twe 
broad  prisms,  with  four  rectangular  faces,  and  terminat- 
ed at  each  extremity  by  a  four-sided  obtuse  pyramid 
placed  on  the  lateral  edges.  These  two  prisms  crose 
each*  other  by  their  broader  faces,  so  that  the  &ces  of 
the  acumination  meet  together,  and  the  double  crystal 
thus  formed  having  four  nght-angled  re-entering  angieti 
resembles  a  cross.  The  crystals  are  obliquely  streaked* 
External  lustre  Shining  and  resplendent,  vitreous:  In- 
ternal weakly  shining.     Fracture  foliated. 

Colour  grayish  or  milky  white,  translucent,  seme- 
times  semi-transparent.  Semi-hard,  scratches  glase 
slightly.     Spec.  ff[av.  2.333  to  3.61. 

Chetn.  Char^^^ReUxt  the  blow-pipe  it  is  fusible,  and 
firoths  up.  The.  powder  thrown  on  hot  coals  is  plioa« 
phorescent,  giving  out  a  greenish  yelkwr  light. 


Constituent  Parts. 

Klaproth. 

TuMCfl 

SUica, 

n 

415 

Barytes, 

16 

16 

19.5 

Water, 

15 

»M 

IjOSS, 

» 

3-5 

100 


xoo 


£orali'<Ar#.*— This  mineral  has  been  found  in  veins  at 
Andreasberg  in  the  Hartz,  accompanied  hr  carbonate 
of  lime,  fix>m  which  ^it  is  sometimes  called  andreokte* 
It  is  also  found  in  the  lead  veins  at  Strootian  In  Scot- 
land, and  in  bsdls  of  agate  at  Oberstein*  In  the  latter 
placcy  cryttals  are  single. 

48.  Species 


MINERALOGY. 


,  48.  Spates.  Laumokite. 

Zeo/iihc  EffiarescetOCj  Haiiy,  ir.  410.     Id.  Brochant^ 
ii.  530* 

Exfcr.  Ckar.^Thia  rainenl  is  foand  in  masses  wliich 
are  composed  of  irregQlar  groups  of  crystals  crossing 
each  other  in  all  directions.  Form  of  the  crystals  is  a 
four-sided  prism,  nearly  rectangular,  and  terminated  by 
a  base  inclined  to  one  of  the  lateral  edges  under  an 
angle  of  133°^  frequently  the  acute  angle  is  truncated, 
and  thus  terminating  in  a  bevel ment  placed  on  the  acute 
lateral  edges.  The  lateral  faces  are  longitudinally  streak- 
ed, and  the  lustre  Is  shining.  The  faces  of  the  summit 
-luie  also  shining,  but  smooth.  Fracture  foliated,^  and 
|iarallel  to  the  lateral  laces. 

Colour  grayish  white,  somewhat  pearly.  Is  translu- 
cent>  ratlier  soft ;  sectile,  and  easily  frangible. 

But  all  these  characters  are  considerably  different  by 
the  action  of  the  air.  The  whole  mass  is  gradually  se- 
parated, and  the  crystals  become  opaque,  falling  into 
friable  folia,  which  are  in  a  short  time  reduced  to  a 
snow-white  powder,  from  which  it  derives  the  name 
giwn  to  it  by  Hauy. 

CAem,  ^Aar«— Fusible  before  the  blow-pipe,  without 
frothing  up,  into  a  white  enamel^  and  forms  a  jelly 
with  acids. 

Locatiiies^^'Thw  mineral  was  found  in  1788  by 
GUlet  Laumont,  in  the  lead  mines  of  Huelgoet  in 
Brittany  in  France,  and  from  him  it  derives  its  name. 
It  forms  a  small  vein  contiguous  to  the  vein  of  galena. 
We  have  collected  specimens  of  a  mineral,  whose  cha- 
racters correspond  with  laumonite,  in  a  vein  traversing  a 
basaltic  rock  in  the  island  of  Skye*  After  being  kept 
for  some  years  it  appeared  equally  liable  to  disintegra- 
tion by  exposure  to  the  air. 

49.  Species.  DipyrE. 
Id,  Brocbant^  ii.  508.     Id.  Hauy,  iii.  242* 

Essen,  r^or.— -Divisible  parallel  to  the  faces  of  a  re- 
gular 6-sided  prism.     Fusible  ^ith  intumescence. 

Exter.  C^ir.-— This  mineral  is  found  in  small  fasci- 
cular masses  or  crystals.  Lustre  shining,  vitreous. 
Jjoogitudinal  fracture  foliated. 

Colour  grayish  or  reddish  white,  and  sometimes  pale 
rose  red.  Semi-hard  \  scraitcbes  glass,  and  is  easily 
frangible.     Spec.  grav.  2.630. 

Cnmn.  ^<ft<^>— Fusible.  The  powder  thrown  on  hot 
coals  produces  phosphorescence. 

Constituent  Parts,    Vauquelin. 

Silica,  60 

Alumina,  24 

Lime,  lo 

Water,  2 

Loss,  4 

100 

Localities^  &c.-^This  mineral  has  only  been  found 
At  Mauleon,  in  the  Pyrenees,  in  a  rock  of  steatites.  It 
was  discovered  by  Lelievre  and  Gillet  Laumont,  in 
J  786. 

Vol.  XIV.TPart  I.  f 


50.  Species.  Natrolite. 

JJ.  Klaproth.    Id,  Brongniart,  L  370. 

E^ter,  CAnr.—- This  mineral  is  found  in  masses^  in  a 
rock  of  amygdaloid.  External  surface  somewhat  roughs 
internal  lustre  glimmering  \  fracture  fibrous  and  radia- 
ted. 

Colour  brownish  yellow,  inclining  to  olive,  and  dif- 
ferent colours  appear  in' parallel  and  waved  zones;  is 
translucent  at  the  edges  ;  scarcely  scratches  glass  ^  is 
easily  frangible.    Sp.  grav.  2.16. 

Chem,  Char. — Is  reduced  by  the  blow-pipe  to  a  white 
glass.  Nitric  acid  produces  no  efiervescence,  but  con- 
verts it  in  a  few  hours  to  a  thick  jelly. 

Constituent  Parts.    Klaproth. 

Silica,  46 

Alumina,  24 

Soda,  16 
Water,  9 

Oxide  of  iron,  i  .75 

Loss,  1.75 

100.00 

LocatitieSf  &c.-— Natrolite  has  been  found  nnly  at 
Boegao,  near  the  lake  of  Constance  in  Switzerland,  in 
the  cavities  of  an  amygdaloid  rock.  The  name  is  de- 
rived from  natron  or  soda,  of  wliich  it  contains  so  large 
a  proportion. 

51.  Species.  AzuritEs 

Zazuhte^  Klaproth,  Analyt.  Essays,  i.  1 70.    Le  Lazu- 
iithe^  Broch.  !•  315. 

Exter,  (7^r.— This  mineral  has  been  found  disscmi'* 
nated,  massive,  and  crystallized  in  rectangular  four- 
sided  prisms^  Lustre  glimmering  and  shining.  Frac- 
ture iraperfedtly  conchoidai. 

Colour  indigo,  Prussian,  or  deep  smalt  blue ;  streak 
lighter  blue  j  nearly  opaque,  or  translucent  at  the 
edfres;  hardness,  nearly  that  cf  quartz.  Brittle  and 
easilv  frangible. 

Chcm.  CAor.— infusible  l)efore  the  blow-pipe,  but 
loses  its  colour,  becomes  earthy,  and  of  a  clear  gray. 
WiCh  borax  it  produces  a  bright  yellow  glass.  Acids 
have  a  very  feeble  action  upon  it.  Klaproth  ascertained 
that  It  is  composed  of  silica,  alumina,  and  oxide  of  iron) 
hot  the  quantity  which  he  operated  on  was  too  small  to 
ascertain  the  proportions. 

Locctlities^  &c. — This  mineral  has  been  found  at 
Vorau  in  Styria,  in  a  rock  of  micaceous  schistus,  where 
it  forms,  along  with  gravish  quartz  and  silvery  white 
mica,  a  vein  of  about  half  an  intib  thick. 

52.  Species.  Lazulite. 

Lapis  Lajuii^  Kirvr.  i.  .283.     La  Pierre  d^Asutrs^ 
Broch.  i.  31-3.     La%ulite^  Hauy.  iii.  145. 

Extcr.Char.^'-^Thi'A  mineral  Is  found  massive,  dissemi- 
nated, and  in  rounded  fragments  )  internally  dull,  anil 
rarely  glimmering.  Fracture  earthy,  or  nnc-grained 
uneven  \  fragments  sharp-edged.  ' 

Z  Ctilottr 


178  MIKER 

^nSocooi       Colour  azure  Blue }   opaqne^  or  translocent  on  the 
gcnxa.     edges  j  hard,  or  semihard ;  brittle  and  easily  frangible. 
Spec.  grav.  2.76  to  2»94* 

C^^.  CAor.— It  retains  its  colour  at  the  temperature 
of  zcx>^  Wedge  wood  ^  but  with  a  stronger  heat  frt>ths 
up  into  a  yellowish  hard  coloured  mass.  By  increasing 
the  heat,  it  changes  to  a  white  enamel  j  with  acids 
after  calciaatioa,  forms  a  jelly. 

Constituent  Parts. 


A  L  O  G  Y. 

(ktistituerU  Pwrts. 


Parti. 


Silica, 
Alumina, 
Carbonate  of  lime, 
Sulphate  of  lime» 
Oxide  of  iron, 
Water, 


Klaproth.  Analtft^EM  i.  i6^, 
A6 
14.5 
28 
6.5 

3 

2 


xoo.o 


Localities^  &c.— This  mineral  is  found  in  Persia, 
Natolia,  and  China,  and  it  is  supposed  that  its  re- 
positoiy  is  among  granite.  It  has  been  found  also  in 
(Liberia,  near  the  lake  Baikal,  where  it  forms  a  vein 
along  with  garnets,  feldspar,  and  pyrites.  It  is  fre- 
quently imxed  with  pyrites,  and  a  grayish  white  feld« 
^ar. 

Uses*-^^I\xis  stone,  when  it  is  of  a  fine  blue  colour, 
and  free  from  white  spots,  is  held  in  great  estimation 
for  various  ornamental  purpbses  \  but  it  derives  its 
greatest  value  from  its  use  in  painting.  Tbe  colour 
which  it  furnishes  is  called  ultramanne.  To  prepare 
it,  the  stone  is  first  caleined,  and  then  reduced  to  aa 
impalpable  powder,  which  is  mixed  with  a  paste  com- 
posed of  resinous  matters,  of  wax  and  linseed  oil. 
From  this  mixture  a  powder  is  obtained  by  washing, 
which  being  dried  affords  the  colouring  matter.  This 
colour,  when  used  in  painting,  is  not  susceptible  of 
change. 

53,  Species.  HrBKARGILLlTE. 

WaveUite  of  Dr  Babmgton  and  other8« 

Exter.  CAar.— This  mineral  is  found .  crystallized. 
The  crystals  are  very  minute,  and  are  attached  to 
quartz,  in  tufts  or  bundles,  which  diverge  from  a  com- 
mon' centre.  It  is  also  found  closely  compacted  to- 
gether, in  the  fonn  of  mammiUary  protuberances  of  tbe 
size  of  small  peas,  and  adhering  to  each  other.  Tbe 
crystals,  when  magnified,  appear  to  be  four-sided,  and, 
when  broken,  the  section  se^ms  to  be  rbomboidal. 
The  crystals  have  sometimes  the  appearance  of  fine 
down,  and  sometimes  are  of  the  size  of  a  hair.  Lustre 
silky* 

The  colour  is  white,  with  a  shade  of  gray  or 
green)  usually  opaque,  and  sometimes  semitraaspa- 
rent.  The  texture  is  loose ;  bat  the  small  fragments 
are  so  hard  as  to  scratch  agate.  Spec  grav.  2.25  to 
2.70. 

CAem,  CAor.— Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe  >  but 
the  crystals,  exposed  suddenly  to  strong  heat,  decrepi- 
tate. 


Davy,  Nich.  J«r.  zL  x  53.        Gicgor.  ihii  xm.  247. ' 

Alumina,                        70.  58.70 

Silica,                              -^  6.12 

Lime,                                1.4  .37 

Oxide  of  iron,                  —  .19 

Water,                             26.2  30.75 
A  portion  of  fluoric  acid. 


97.6 


96.13 


Localities^  &c. — ^This  mineral  was  first  discovered 
by  Dr  Wavell,  in  a  quarry  near  BamstajJe.  Mr 
Hatcbett  found  it,  in  1790,  filling  tbe  cavities  and 
veins  of  a  soft  argillaceous  schistus.  It  has  since  bees 
found  in  Stenna-Gwyn  mine,  in  the  parish  of  St  Ste- 
phen's, Cornwall,  where  it  is  accompanied  with  sulfhu- 
ret  of  tin,  copper,  and  iron. 

54.  Species.  Avdalusite. 

Adamotttine  Spar^  Kirwao,  i*  337*  t^atA  AdawMMimj 
Boumon»  Jour,  de  Phys.  1789.  Fcld^patk  -^^lyref 
Hauy,  iv.  362. 

'  Ester,  r^ar.— -This  mineral  is  found  massive,  sod 
crystallized  in  rectangular  four-sided  prisms,  the  sum- 
mits of  which  are  obliterated.  Lustre  weakly  sbinisg 
and  resinous.  Longitudinal  fracture  foliated.  Crosx 
fracture  a  little  ^  splintery.  Colour  reddish  browD  or 
violet)  translucent  at  the  edges.  Very  hard  ^  scratches 
quartz,  and  sometimes  even  sptnelle.  Difficnltly  fran- 
gible.    Spec.  gtav.  3' 165. 

C/iem,  £7<ar.«— Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe. 

Localities^  &c.— -This  mineral  was  first  diseoveredby 
Boumon  in  the  granitic  rocks  of  Forez,  where  it  occu- 
pies a  vein  of  common  feldspar.  It  has  been  found  al- 
so in  Spain,  where  it  enters  into  the  composition  of  a 
granite.  It  is  abo  met  with  in  Aberdeenshire,  ^'hea 
first  discovered  it  was  supposed  to  be  a  variety  of  ada- 
mantine spar,  or  corundum  ^  but  its  inferior  spec.  grav. 
and  the  difference  in  the  structure  of  its  crystals,  afford 
sufficient  characteristic  differences. 

^^,  Species.  Feldspar. 

This  species  is  divided  into  the  tve  following  subspe- 
cies :  X.  Adularia.  2.  Labhidore  stone.  3.  Coobbob 
feldspar.     4.  Compact  feldspar.     5.  Hollow  spar. 

Subspecies  i.  Adularia. 

Moonstone^  Kirwan,  i.  322.     L^Adulasre^  Brochsnt,  u 
371.     Feldspath  NacrS^  Hauy,  ii.  6o6. 

Exter.  (TAor.— This  mineral  b  found  massive  or  cry- 
stallized. The  forms  of  its  crystals  ase,  i.  A  four-sided 
I'homboidal  prism.  2.  A  perfect  rhoiob,  more  or  let>s 
oblique.  3.  A  rectangular  four-sided  table,  with  ob- 
lique terminal  faces.  4.  A  tfix-sided  prism.  5.  A  six- 
sided  table.  Surface  of  the  crystals  smooth  or  longito* 
dinally  streaked.  Lustre  shining  or  resplendent.  Inter- 
md  lustre  resplendent,  vitreous,  or  pearly.  Fracture 
foliated.     Cleavage  double.     Fragments  ritomboidal* 

Colour  yellowish,  greenish,  or  milk- white :  is  some- 

tiaies 


MINEHALOGY. 


times  dmtaynt.  I0  alvrays  translueeot  j  spmetim^  le- 
miiranspareot.  Hard  ;  scratches  common  feldspar. 
Brittle,  and  easily  frangible.    Spec.  grav.  2.500  to 

2.561. 

Ckem*  Char.^A.dn\zn3,  before  the  blow-pipe  cracks 
and  spKts,  end  tlien  melts  into  a  white  glass. 


CbnsHtneni  Parts. 

Yauquelin. 

WcstramK 

SUica, 

64 

62.50 

Alrnnina, 

20 

17.50 

Lime, 

2 

0.50 

Potash, 

14 

_ 

Magnesia, 

6. 

Oxide  of  irosy 

— 

1.40 

Sulphate  of  barytes. 

- 

2. 

Water, 

— 

•«5 

I^ 

— 

3-85 

100 


z  00.00 


LooaiitieSf  &c^— This  mineral  was  first  found  by  Pi- 
nt in  one  of  the  summits  of  St  Gothard  in  Switzerland  ; 
tbb  summit  is  called  Adnia,  and  from  this  it  takes  its 
name.  It  is  said  that  it  forms  particular  beds,  inter- 
posed between  micaceous  schistus  and  gneis.  It  is  ac- 
Gompanied  with  quartx,  mica,  and  common  feldspar* 

Subspecies  a*    Labkabore  SxoK£. 

Id.  Kirwan,  i.  324.     La  Pierre  de  Labrador^  Bro- 
chant,  i.  369.    FeUbpath  Opatin^  Hauy,  ii.  607. 

Exier.  r/br-^TIiis  mineraV-is  found  massive,  and  In 
rounded  pieces.  Interoal  lustre  shining,  sometimes  re- 
splendent ;  pearly,  or  vitreous.  Fi;^ture  perfectly  fa- 
Hated,  with  a  double  cleavage. 

Colour  roost  commonly  dark  or  deep  ash  gray }  but 
by  varying  its  position  it  reflects  different  colours,  as 
b]ae,-ffreen,  yellow,  brown,  and  red  ^  and  these  colours 
exhibit  stripes,  spots,  and  dots.  It  is  strongly  translu- 
cenL     Spec  grav.  2.6  to  2.7. 

C^em,  CAor.— Before  the  blow-pipe  fusible  into  a 
white  enamel. 

Constituent  Parts*    Kndbeim. 


Silica, 

S95 

Alumina, 

13:6 

Sulphate  of  lime. 

12. 

Ozide  of  copper, 

•7 

Oxida  of  iron, 

•3 

Loss, 

390 

100.00 

Localities^  &c.««^Tbis  stone  was  first  brought  from  the 
island  of  St  Paul,  near  the  coast  of  Labradore,  whence 
its  name.  It  has  been  since  found  in  Bohemia,  and 
near  the  lake  Baikal  in  Siberia.  It  is  rarely  found  in 
its  native  repository,  bat  it  is  supposed  to  belong  to  pri* 
roitive  rock  j  for  it  is  aceompanwd  with  schorl,  mica, 
and  hornblende. 

£^<r«..— The  briUiaacy  of  its  colours,  and  particularly 
Its  chatoyant  property,  have  brougfit  it  into  use  io  jewel- 
lery. 


Snbspacies  3,    Common  Fixdspar. 

Ji.  Kirwan,  i.  316.  Le  Feldspath  Commune  Brochant, 
i.  362.     feidqtathf  Hauy,  ii.  590. 

JExter,  ir&ir.^-»Feldspar  is  found  massive,  dissemiaat- 
ed,  in  rounded  pieces,  or  crystallized.  Its  forms  are, 
I.  A  broad  six-sided  prism  with  unequal  angles,  termi- 
nated at  each  extremity  by  an  obtuse  bevelment,  whose 
faces  are  placed  on  the  two  lateral  edges.  2.  A  four- 
sided  tfaomboidal  prism.  3.  A  four-sided  rectangular 
prism,  having  the  lateral  edges  sometimes  truncated  y 
and,  4*  A  six-sided  table.  Double  crystals  are  some- 
times met  with.  Lustre  shining^  internal  ^lustre  also 
shining  >  sometimes  resplendent,  vitreous  or  pear)y. 
Fracture  perfectlj  fob'ated  }  fragnients  rboroboidal. 

Colours  milk-white,  yellowish,  grayish,  reddish,  and 
greenish.  Translucent  j  scratches  glass ;  brittle,  and 
easily  frangible.     Spec.  grav.  2.437  ^^  2.704. 

Ciemm  Ciar.<— -Before  the  blow-pipe  melts  into  a 
white  ^ass. 


Sili 


tea, 


Alumina, 

Lime, 

Oxide  of  iron, 

Potash, 

Barytes, 

Magnesia, 

Loss, 


Constituent  Parts. 

Yaaquelta. 

62,83 
17.2 

3- 
I. 

Klrwan. 

«7 

»4 

Cbcnevix. 
64. 

24- 
6.25 

2. 

»3- 

- 

— 

II  ' 
8 

^ 

3»J 

JOO 

3-75 

100.00 

lOCOO 

Localities^  &c.— Feldspar  is  one  of  the  most  common 
substances,  and  the  most  universally  distributed  in  na- 
tui-e.  It  does  not  exist,  however,  in  large  masses.  It 
forms  one  of  the  component  parts  of  granite,  gneis,  sye- 
nite and  porphyry. 

When  exposed  to  the  action  of  the  air,  it  is  vei*y  li- 
able to  decomposition,  and  then  it  is  converted  into  a 
white  eaKby  mass,  which  is  employed  in  tbe  manu- 
facture of  porcelain.     This  is  the  kaolin  of  the  Chi- 


nese. 


Subspecies  4.  Compact  Feldspar. 

Continuous  Feldspar.  KirW.  i.  323.  Le  Feldspath  Com- 
pacted Broch.  i.  367.  Feldtpath  Compacte  Biev^ 
Hany,  ii.  605. 

tester.  Char^-^Thia  variety  is  found  massive,  and  al- 
so in  rounded  pieces.  Lustre  weakly  shining,  or  only 
glimmering.  Fracture  imperfectly  foliated,  sometimes 
splintery.     Fragments  not  very  shaip  edged. 

Colour  bluish  white,  greenish  br  yellowish  }  translu- 
cent, but  sometimes  only  at  tbe  edges.  Streak  white  ', 
is  scratched  by  qnartK. 

Ckem.  r/^or.'A-Fosible  before  the  blow-pipe. 

Localities^  &c.— Compact  feldspar  is  found  in  Sax- 
ony, and  ia  the  Tyrol.  It  is  not  uncommon  in  Scot- 
land, as  in  the  Grampian  mountains,  and  on  tbe  Pent- 
land  bills  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Edinburgh.  The 
crystals  of  feldspar  observed  in  antique  green  porphyry, 
are  supposed  to  belong  to  this  Variety. 

Z^  Subspeoifss^ 


i8o 


MINERALOGY. 


SiliceoTit 
genus. 


Subspecies  5.    Hollow  Spar,  or  Chiastolite. 
Macle^  Brocb.  11.  514.     Id*  Hauy,  iii.  267. 

Essen,  Char. — Divisions  parallel  to  the  faces  of  a 
prism,  sUgbtly  rhomboidal.  A  black  substance  sur- 
rounded by  another  of  a  whitisb  colour. 

Hxter.  CAar.— This  roincral  has  been  found  only  cry* 
stall ized  in  four-sided,  nearly  rectangular  prisms.  The 
summit  is  always  broken,  by  i?vhich  the  arrangement  of 
the  two  substances  is  observed.  Tlie  white  part  is  the 
outermost ;  the  black  matter  forms  in  the  centre  a  small 
prism,  whose  sides  correspond  with  those  of  the  outer 
crystal.  From  the  angles  of  the  central  prism  proceed 
four  narrow  lines,  which  extend  to  each  of  the  angles 
of  the  outer  prism  j  and  sometimes  this  black  substance 
forms  at  the  extremity  of  these  linen,  or  in  the  angles 
of  the  large  prism,  a  similar  small  prism  of  black  mat- 
ter. The  black  matter  is  an  argillaceous  schistus,  simi- 
lar to  the  repository  of  the  crystals.  The  white  part 
is  sometimes  weakly  shiniog  j  inteiiul  lustre  glimmer- 
ing, resinous.  The  black  part  is  nearly  dull.  Fracture 
foliated  J  the  black  part  earthy. 

The  colour  of  the  white  part,  yellowish,  or  grayish 
white  J  that  of  the  black  part,  grayish,  or  bluish  black. 
Opaque,  or  translucent.  Semihard:  scratching  fflass 
when  foliated.  Streak  white.  Brittle^  not  very  frau^ 
^ble.  Spec  grav..  2.944.  Commanicatea  to  sealing 
wax,  negative  electricity  by  friction. 

Ckem.  C*iAar.— Before  the  blow-pipe,  the  white  part 
melts  into  a  whiter  glass  }  the  bhtck  part  into  a  black 
glass. 

LocaUtieSj  &c. — This  mineral  has  been  found  in 
Brittany  in  France,  imbedded  in  argillaceous  schistus  \ 
in  the  ryrenees,  in  a  similar  rock,  lying  immediately 
OB  granite,,  near  St  Jacques  de  Compostella  in  Spain  \ 
and  in  the  mountains  of  Cumberland,  also  imbedded  in 
argillaceous  schistus. 

The  name  ckiasioiiie  is  derived  from  the  appearance 
of  the  section  of  the  crystal,  which  is  supposed  to  have 
some  resemblance  to  the  Greek  letter  ^^ 

5^.  Species.    ScAPOLlTE. 

Scapolithe^  Brochant,  ii.  526.  Id.  Hauy,  iv.  493.  Bitpi^ 
dolttkey  Abitgaard. 

Exter.  Char, — This  mineral  has  been  found  massive, 
but  most  frequently  crystallized  in  rectangular,'  four- 
sided  prisms,  having  the  lateral  edges  truncated.*  The 
crystals  are  small,,  sometimes  acicular«  commonly  elon- 
gated and  aggregated.  Their  surface  is  longitudinally 
streaked  and  glimmering.  Interna]  lustre  weakly  shin- 
ing, vitreous  or  resinous.     Fracture  foliated. 

Colour  grayish  white  \  translucent,  or  rarely  transpa- 
rent. Scratches  glass,  and  is  brittle..  Spec.  grav.  3.68 
to  3.70. 

Chem,  Char, — Froths  up  before  the  blow-pipe,  and 
melts  into  a  white  enamel. 

Localities^  &c.-^This  mineral  has  been  (bund  in  the 
inines  of  iron  ore  near  Arendal  in  Norway.-  The  cry- 
stals are  mixed  with  mica  and  calcaceous  spar. 


57.  Species.    Arctizite. 
JFernerite^  Hauy,  iii.  1 19.  .  Id,  Brochant,  ii.  529. 

Essen,  Char^^^pec,  gravp  3.6.  Fhosphoresceot  by 
heat,  but  not  by  percussion. 

Exter,  Char. — This  mineral  is  found  massive,  or  cry- 
stall  ized  in  foui-sidcd  rectangular  prisms,  terminated  by 
an  obtuse  four-sided  pyramid.  The"  lateral  edges  are 
truncated,  so  that  the  prism  appears  to  be  eight-sided. 
Crystals  small }  lustre  resplendent,  sometimes  weakly 
sliining,  and  pearly  or  resinous.  Fracture  foliated.  Fo- 
lia curved  in  two  directions. 

Colour  between  pistachio  green  and  isabella  vellow. 
Tranfilucent.  Scratches  glass,  and  strikes  fire  wito  steel. 
^  The  powder  thrown  on  hot  coals  phosphoresces  in  the 
dark. 

Chem,  CAar.-— Before  the  blow-pipe  it  froths  np,  and 
easily  melts  into  an  imperfect  white,  and  opaque  ena- 
mel.    Insoluble  in  nitric  acid. 

Localities^  &c.— -This  mineraL  is  found  in  the  iron 
mines  of  Northo  and  Ulrica  in  Sweden.  Bouoen 
near  Arendal  in  Nonvay,  and.  at  Campo  Longo  ill 
Swit^rland. 

58.  Species.    DiASPORr. 
Id.  Brochant,  ii.  507.     Id.  Hauy,  iy.  358. 

Exter.  Ctor.— This  mineral  is  of  a  gray  colour* 
Lustre  shining)  pearly.  Fracture  foliated,  with  the 
folia  a  little  curved  ^  separates  into  liiomboids,  vilh 
angles  about  130^  and  50°^  scratches  glass.  Spec 
grav.  3.432. 

Chem.  Char.^^A  fragment  of  this  stone  heated  for  a 
little  in  the  flame  of  a  candle  decrepitates  and  disper- 
aes  in  all  directions  j.  from  this  property  is  obtained  its 
name,  which  signifies  to  disperse.  Heated  in  a  close 
crucible  to  pmvent  the  fragments  from  flying  off',  they 
were  reduced  to  white  shining  partides,  somewhat  re* 
8«mbling  boracic  acid. 


Constituent  Parts. 

Alumina, 
Oxide  <^  irony 
Water, 


Parti 

CUiiia. 
tioa 


ZOQ 


Localities^  &c.— The  repository  of  this  mineral  is 
unknown.  It  was  connected  with  an  afgillaceons 
ochrey  rock.. 

This  mineral- approaches  nearly  to  bydrargillite  or 
wavellite,  described  above,  in  its  constituent  parts  \  but 
the  proportions  and  some  of  the  external .  characters 
are  different. 

r 

59.'  Species.    Spodumzme. 

Id.  B^Andrada,  Jour,  de  Fhys.  an  3.  p.  240.  Triphane^ 
Hauy,  iv.  407.     Id.  Brochant,  ii.  528. 

Ester.  Char. — ^This  mineral  is  found  in  small  masses, 
which  present  some  appearances  of  crystallization.  Lus- 
ter shining,  pearly.     Fracture  in  the  mass  radiated,  of 

single 


MINERALOGY. 


i8i 


ingle  ciystals  foliated  and  dtvisible  in  three  directions, 
rhich  sometimes  afford  ah  oblique  angled  prism  of 
iboQt  loo^  and  8o^.  Cross  fracture  dull,  rough,  and 
iplintery^  In  larger  masses  the  fracture  is  radiated. 
Lustre  shining  pearlj.     Scratches  glass. 

Colour  greenish  white  or  leek  green.  Translucent  at 
Ihe  edgres.     Brittle.     Spec.  grav.  3.192  to  3.218. 

Chenu  ^Aar.^-Before  the  blow-pipe  it  separates  at 
Brst  into  small  yellowish  plates,  and  then  melts  into  » 
B;rajish  white  transparent  glass. 


sHtuent  Parts* 

Vauquelin. 

Silica, 
Alumina^ 
Lime, 
Oxide  of  iron. 

5 
5^ 

Loss, 

9S 

100.0 

Locaiittes^  &c.— This  mineral  has  been  found  in  tlie 
mines  of  Utoe  near  Dalero  in  Sweden.  Its  repository 
seems  to  be  a  vein,  where  it  is  accompanied  with  quartz. 
and  black  mica. 

The  name  triphane  has  been  given  to.  this  mineral 
bj  Haoy  from  its  peculiar  three^fold^^natttral  divisions. 
It  received  the  name  spodumene,  which  signifies  cowered 
wilkasJies  from  D'Andrada. 

60.  Species.  Meioxitb. 
IB,  Haay,  ii.  586.     Id,  Brochant,  ii.  519. 

Essen.  C'Aor.-^Divisible  parallel  tn  the  &ce8  of  a 
prism  with  square  bases*  Easily  fusible  into  a  spongy 
white  glass* 

ExUr,  CAar.^^It  is  found  crystallised  in  four^ided 
rectangular  prisms  whose  lateral  edges«ar&  alwaystrun* 
cated.  It  is  terminated  by  an  obtuse  four-sided  pyramid 
6«tin  the  lateral  edees.  Sometimes  the  lateral  edges 
are  doubly  truncated,  thus  forming  a  sixteen>sided 
prism.  The  crystals  are  small,^dheriag  laterally'  and 
arranged  in  rows  to  the  matrix.  Lustr&shim'ng,  vitreous* 
Longitudinal  fracture  foliated,  and  parallel  to  the  four 
faces  of  the  prism.     Cross  fracture  slightly  conchoidal. 

Colour  grayish  white.  Semi-transparent  Scratches 
glass. 

Chem.  TAar.-— Melts  very  easily  before  the  blow-pipe 
with  considerable  intumescence  accompanied  with  a 
Ussmg  noise* 

lacfdiHes^  &c.p— This  mineral  has  only  been  found  on 
Vesuvius  near  Mount  Somma.  The  crystals  are  usual- 
ly attached  to  fragments  of  foliated  limestone* 

61.  Species*    Sommite* 

l^epheUhe^  Hauy,  iii.  186.     Id.  Brochant,  ii.  522. , 

Essen.  £i^r.— Divisible  parallel  to  the  sides  and  bases 
of  a  regokr  six-sided  prism.  With  diflSiculty  scratches 
glass. 

Exter.  CAar,-'-^Ti)fiB  mineral  is -found  disseminated  in 
grains  or  in  small  crystals,  which  are  commonly  ^lerfect 
stx-sided  prisms,  llie  lateral  faces  are  smooth  and 
shinmg  with  a  vitreous  lustre.  Longitudinal  fracture 
foliated.  Cross  fracture  conchoidal  and  shining.  Co- 
lour grayish  white.    Translucent,  rarely  semitranspa- 


rent*     The  sharp  points  scratch  glass,-  the  othen  leave   Siliceous 
only  a  white  trace.     Easily  frangible.     Specific  gravi-    gennf 
ty  3.2441. 

CAem.  (7&ir.-* Fusible  into  a  glass  by  long  continued 
heat.  Becomes  opake  in  nitric  acid,  hence  the  name 
nepheitne,  signifying  .cloudy^  given  to  it  by  Hauy. 

Canstttttent  Parts.    Vanquelln. 

Silica,  46 

Alumina,  49 

Lime,  2 

Oxide  of  iron,  x 

Loss,  2 

100 

Localities^  &c,— -This  mineral  is  found  lining  the. 
•avities  of  rocks  on  Mount  Somma,  from  whence  its 
name  sommite.  It  is  accompanied  with  vesuvian  and 
black  schorl,  all  which  are  supposed  by  some  to  be  ejec* 
^d  matters  from  Vesuvius. 

62.  Species.    Ichthtophthalmite* 

Id.  D*Andrada.    Ichthyophtkaime^  Brochant,  ii.  552* 
Apophyilite^  Hauy.     Id.  Brongniart,  i.  385. 

Exter.  C^ir.— This  mineral  is  found  massive,  and 
crystallized  in  rhomboids  which  approach  nearly  to 
tlie  cube  ^  in  thick  six-sided  tables,  and  in  rectangular 
four-sided  tables,  with  truncated  edges.  Lustre  shin- 
ing, pearly.  Fracture  foliated ',  cleavage  single  ^  erosa 
fracture  fine  grained  uneven,  and  weakly  shining* 

Colour  yellowish  or  greenish  white ;  translucent  or 
semitransparent.  Scratches  glass  5  not  easily  frangible. 
Spec.  grav.  2.46. 

CJum.  TAar.— Exposed  to  the  blow-pipe,  is  with 
difficulty  reduced  to  a  white  enamel.  la  nitric  and 
muriatic  acids  it  forms  a  jelly. 

Constituent  Parts.       Fnurcroy  and  .V«U4|Delin. 


Silica, 
Lime, 
PoUsh, 
Water, 


5r 
28 

4 
100 


LocaliheSf  &c«— This  mineral  is  found  in  the  iron 
mine  of  Utoe  in  Sweden,  imbedded  in  a  violet-colour- 
ed limestone,  and  accompanied  with  greenish  hornblende 
and  oxide  of  iron* 

V 

IV.  ARGILLACEOUS  Genus* 

I.  Species*    Native  Alumina. 

Native  Argily  Kinv.  i.  175.     VAhmine  P««r^  Bro- 
chant, i.  318. 

Ext€r,  CAar.-— This  mineral  is  found  in  kidney-form 
masses  ;  it  has  no  lustre  \  fracture  earthy  >  fragments 
blunt  edged. 

Colours  snow  or  yellowish  white  j  opaque  j  stains  a 
Kttle  s  tender  or  friable  j  adheres  a  little  to  the  tongue, 
feels  meagre  >  gives  out  an  earthy  smell  when  bnathed 
on.    Spec.  grav.  x.305  to.x.66.  . 

Qhetn% 


iS< 


MINEBALOGY. 


AnplUw       £loR.  Cior.— B«fora  die  Uow-f^o  »  aitaolately  ia* 
omgeaiii.  fiMtUe,  bnt  dissolve*  abMMt  entirely  in  acidt. 

Qmstittient  Parts^    Foarcrojr. 


P»rtr 


Alumina, 
Salphate  of  lime^ 
Water, 
Lime  aod  sQica, 


4J 

H 
27 

4 
xoo 


But  accordiDg  (0  Um  aoalysU  of  odiert,  it  is  composed 
almost  entirely  of  pure  alomina,  mixed  only  with  a 
small  proportion  of  lime  and  silica. 

Localities^  &c.— It  is  found  at  Halle  in  Saxony,  in 
-part  of  the  garden  helonging  to  the  college,  immemate- 
ly  under  the  soil ;  hot  heing  only  in  small  quantity,  and 
tn  the  neighbouiliQod  of  alargr  laboratory,  has  led  to 
the  supposition  that  it  is  an  artificial  pralaction.  It 
is  said  that  it  has  been  also  found  at  Magdeburg 
in  Lower  Saxony,  in  Silesia,  near  Verona,  and  in 
England. 

a*  Species.    PmiCELAiv  Earth. 

Porcelain  Ckty^  Kirw.  L  178.  La  Terra  Porcelaine^ 
Brochant,  1.  320.  ArgOe  Kaolin^  et  FeldspaihAr^ 
gSUformej  Hany,  ii.  6i6« 

Exter.  Ckar^^^Shin  mineral  is  fisond  massive,  or  dts- 
semisated ;  has  no  lustre ;  stains  strongly ;  hasiktle  00- 
herenoe  ^  adhfrcs  a  Uttle  to  the  tongue. 

Colear  neddish,  yellowish,  or  grayish  white. 

Chmm.  Cibr.— Infusible  in  tbis  strongest  heat  of  a 
furnace. 

Constituent  Parts.    Vauquelin. 


Silica,  55. 

Alumina,  27* 

Lime,  2. 

Dxide  of  iron,  .5 

Water  14. 

lioss,  1*5 


X00.0 


71.15 

15.86 

1.92 

6-73 
4-34 

100.C0 


LocaliiieSf  &c.««This  mineral  is  found  in  coosider- 
abte  abundance  in  beds  and  veins,  in  granite  and  gneis, 
especially  when  the  proportion  of  feldspar  is  consider* 
able.  It  abounds  in  China  and  Japan,  where  it  is 
known  by  the  name  of  kaolin )  in  Bohemia,  Saxony, 
Denmark,  and  particularly  in  many  places  of  France, 
as  at  Limoges  aiid  Bayosne,  and  in  Cornwall  in  Eng- 
land. In  nuiny  cases  it  seems  to  be  owing  to  the  de- 
composition of  granite. 

C/jr#d— Porcelain  earth,  as  its  name  imports,  is  em- 
ployed either  as  it  is  found  native,  or  mixed  in  certain 
proportions  with  other  earths,  in  the  manufacture  of  por- 
celain. That  from  Limoges  kk  Franoe  is  employed 
without  any  addition. 

3.  Species.   ComfOM  Clat. 

This  species  is  divided  into  five  subspecies  :  1.  loam; 
(t>  pipe  Clay  >  3.  potters  clay  j  4.  variegated  clay }  and, 
;.  sU^  clay. 

4 


Subspecies  X.    Loam. 

Ester  Char^^^Thh  mineral  is  found  massive  and  in 
great  abundance)  has  no  lustre ;  fracture  uneven  or 
fine  earthy  ^  fragments  very  blont^edged  ;  has  little 
eoherenoe;  stains. 

Colour  Tellowisfa-gray,  or  spotted  with  ydlow  and 
brown,  fbels  somewhat  greasy,  and  adheres  strongly  to 
the  tongue. 

Localities^  &c.— -Loam  is  found  in  great  abundance 
every  where,  and  perhaps  it  ought  to  be  considered  as 
a  mixture  of  diflerent  substances,  rather  than  as  a  sinw 
pie  mineral. 

Subspecies  2.    Pipe  Clay. 

Exter,  CAar.— This  variety  b found  in  great  masses; 
has  scarcely  any  lustre }  fracture  fine  earthy,  or  fine 
grained  uneven  ^  ikagments  sharp-edged }  has  some  ce> 
herence. 

Colour  grayish  or  yellowish  white ;  streak  shining ; 
feds  gneasy,  adfaerea  strongly  to  the  teogue,  and  is  easily 
frangiUe. 

Looahiiei^cLc^^ltiB  very  abundant  an  meat  countms, 
«nd  is  usually  found  in  alluvial  land. 

Subspecies  3.   Pottxm  CLAr« 

ItL  Kirw.  i.  180.    Argile  i  Potter^  Brochant,  L  322. 

Exter.  CAor.— 'This  varietv  is  also  found  massive,  and 
in  great  abundaooe.  It  is  intemediate  between  solid 
and  friable ;  has  no  lustre  j  fracture  fine  grained  ear- 
thy, sometimes  coarse  grained  uneven  ^  fragments  blunt- 
edged. 

Coloiv  yellowisb,  greenish,  or  myish  white  $  some* 
times  reddish  or  ochrey  yellow  m  various  shades.  It 
is  opaque,  stains  a  little  ;  streak  a  little  ehininff  ;  venr 
brittle,  and  easily  frangible  *,  is  somewhat  ductile  }  ad- 
heres a  little  to  the  tonsue,  and  feels  greasy. 

Ckcm,  Ckar^^h  differently  affected  li^  the  bK»w* 
pipe,  aeeording  to  the  proportion  of  the  diflerent  sub- 
stan<!^s  of  which  it  is  composed }  but  in  general  is  diffi- 
cult of  fusion.  Efiervesees  with  acids  when  the  pro- 
portion of  lime  is  considerable. 


Constituent  Parts. 

Vaoquelin. 

Silica, 

43-5 

Alumina, 

33-a 

Lime, 

3-5 

Oxide  of  iron. 

I. 

Water, 

18. 

Loss, 

.8 

100.0 

The  proportions  ef  silica  and  lime  vary  oonsidcr* 
ably  ;  the  silica  is  very  of^en  the  predominant  ingredi- 
ent. Kirwin  examined  a  potters  clay,  in  which  he 
found  63  parts  of  silica. 

Localities^  &c.p— Potters  clay  is  found  in  great  aban« 
dance  in  most  countries,  and  in  shnitar  situations  with 
the  former.  It  often  forms  thick  beds  in  alluvial  land, 
alternating  with  beds  of  sand. 


Subspecies  4.   VariecaTED  Clat. 
Exter.  CAor.-i-This  mineral  is  fcund  massive. 


tioB. 


Bu 

•a 


MINERALOGY. 


M  €«rdiy  fivctoTBy  a  •liimsg  stceU^  ui  is  ttft  or  fii- 
iUe. 

The  coloor  it  white,  red,  or  yeliew,  and  these  dif- 
ferent colours  are  sometimes  in  stripes,  veins  and  spots. 
Adheres  a  little  to  the  toogne,  and  feels  somewhat 
^zeasy.     It  is  sectlle  and  ligot. 

As  this  vanetj  of  clay  forms  with  water  a  less  tena- 
cious mass  than  some  of  the  other  Tarieties,  it  probaUy 
contains  a  greater  proportion  of  siticeons  earth. 

Locaiities^  &C.'— This  mineral  Is  found  in  Upper  Lu* 
satia. 

Sohspecies  5.  Slaty  Clay* 

Slaie  r/oy,  Shaie^  Kirtvan,  i.  182.  VArgUe  Schts^ 
teuse^  Brochant,  i.  327.  Argile  Schisteuse  Impres* 
sionee^  Hauy,  iv.  448. 

Esier  CAar.— This  subspecies  is  found  massive }  in* 
temaily  dnll,  when  free  from  mka }  firactttre  slaty  or 
earthy ;  figments  in  tables* 

Gikmr  grayish^  yeUowiisby  or  bisckish,  sometimes 
reddish  or  brownish  y  opaque  ^  soft,  secttle,  and  easily 
fraagible.  Adheres  to  the  tongue  ^  ieels  meagre*  Sp.. 
grav.  2.6  till  2^8. 

LotaUtigs^  dbc.^-4JsuaUy  accompanies  coal,  so  that 
it  aboends  ia  all  eoal  conntries.  It  is  sometiBies  mix-» 
ed  with  sand,  mica,  and  iron  prvrites.  'It  is  known  in 
this  coaatry  under  the  name  of  ^ktUe^  and  in  Seatiand 
particularly  by  that  of  tiU^  or  described  under  the  more 
general  denomination  of  one  of  the  coal  metals.  Slaty 
clay  is  still  farther  distinguished  by  impressions  of  ferns, 
reeds,  or  grasses.  When  it  Is  of  a  black  colour,  it  seeros- 
to  be  owing  to  a  greater  proportion  of  coaly  amtter*. 

4.  Species.  Clay  Stoke,  or  Indurated  Clay. 

Imkirated  Clay^  Kirwan,  L  i8l.  L* Argile  Endupcte^ 
Brochant,  i.  325. 

• 

Exter.  CAor.-— Indurated  clay  is  always  found  mas- 
sive j  it  is  dull  'f  fracture  compact,  or  fine  earthy ;  but 
sometimes  splintery  olr  even^  and  also  sometimes  slaty. 
Fragments  more  or  less  sharp  edged,  and  sometinKS  ia 
tables. 

Colour  usually  bluish,  yellowifiih,  or  gveenisk  gray,, 
and  sometimes  pearl  gray,  grayish  red,  whitish,  and 
brownish*  These  colours  are  often  miaAd,  and  are  ar- 
ranged in  spots  and  stripes.  Opaque,  soft,  rather 
brittle  y  easily  frangible ;  adheres  slightly  to  the  tongue  ^ 
feels  greasy*  Spec*  grav.  ioconsiderable*  Gradually 
falls  to  pieces  in  the  water,  or  crumbles  into  powder. 
Has  but  little  ductility* 

LocaliiieSf  &c.— Indurated  clay  is  very  common.  It 
is  fiound  in  veins,  and  sometimes  in  very  extensive  beds.. 
It  constitutes  the  basis  of  many  porphyries,  especially  in 
Saxony,  where  it  is  abundant.  It  is  found  in  many 
parts  of  Scotland,  as  on  the  Pentland  hills  ia  the  neigbh* 
bonrhood  of  £dinbnrg^. 

Stourbridge  ^y*  according  to  Mr  Kirwan,  may  bo 
included  under  this  variety.  It  is  of  a  gray  colour  ^ 
does  not  adhere  to  the  tongue  j  part  Is  soon  diffused  in 
water,  and  another  part  falls  into  powder.  Mr  Kir- 
wan found  it  to  contain  12.5  of  moisture^  i2  of  a 
coarse  white  sand,  30  of  a  hue  brownish  sand,  and 
even  the  remaining  or  argiUaceous  part  was  not  entire- 
Jy  Creed  from  sand  but  by  boiling  in  acids. 


183 


5.  Species*  Admssive  Slate* 

JLe  Schiatei  PoUr^  Brochant  i*  J76.  Sehute  d  Poiir^ 
Hany,  iv.  449.  Poiuhing  Jwtr,  Kiaproth,  i.  455*. 
Analyt  Ess.  Transl. 

Exter.  f  Air."— This  mineral  is  found  massive  ^  is  al- 
ways intemalTy  dull  \  has  a  slaty  or  fine  earthy  frac-^ 
ture  'y  fragments  slaty  or  in  tables. 

Colour  clear  gray,  whitish  or  reddish  \  opaque  or 
slightly  translucent  at  the  edges  j  gives  a  sbialng^ 
streak  $  is  sectlle,  soft,  and  very  easily  frangible  \  ad- 
heres strongly  to  the  tongue :  teels  iheogre*  Specific 
gravity  2.0S. 

Chem.  CAw*.— ^Immersed  In  water,  adhesive  slate  ab- 
4mrbs  it  greedily,  air  bubbles  being  rapidly  disengaged 
and  with  noise  ^  but  does  not  become  tenacious.  Whea 
reduced  to  powder  and  calcined,  it  loses  about  one^fifth 
of  Its  weight.  Exposed  to  strong  heat,  it  is  converted  iur 
to  a  dark  gray  or  yellowish  and  porous  slag.  (Brochant); 

QonstituetU  Parts*    Klaproth. 


Aigittaee. 
tuiftaiif. 


SUka, 

66.S 

6  2*5 

Alumina,. 

I. 

•7 

Magnesia,. 

1.5 

ft. 

Lime, 

1.^5 

•3 

Oxide  of  iron. 

2.5 

4- 

Carbone, 

22. 

.7 

Water  and  air,. 

19- 

22* 

Loss, 

2'2S 

1.8 

ioo*oa 


100.0 


Localities^  &c.— *Afttiesive  slate  forms  considerable 
beds  at  Menll-Montant  near  Paris.  In  these  beds  me- 
nilite  already  described  is  found. 

6.  Species*    Polishing  Slate. 

£e  PolierscAiefeTy  Brochant,  i.  376. 

Exter.  ^i^.^— This  mineral  is  found  nmosivey  inter- 
nally it  Is  dull.  Fracture  slaty,  but  in  some  direetiona 
earthy.     Fragments  slaty  or  in  tables. 

Colour  y^owish  gray  or  white  ^  and  different  co- 
lours appear  disposed  in  stripes ;  is  soft }  adheres  to 
the  tongue  ^  feels  meagre,  and  is  rather  light. 

Localities^  &c.— This  mineral  has  been  found  only,  it 
is  said,  In  Bohemia,  near  pseudo  volcanoes,  and  It  is  sup* 
posed,  that  it  is  nothing  more  than  indurated  coaUashes*. 
It  approaches  so  near  in  the  characters  that  are  given 
of  It  to  the  following,  that  it  might  be  included  unde^ 
the  same  species,  or  considered  as  a  variety  of  it. 

7.  Species.    Tripoli 

Jt/.  Kirw.  IL  20X    Le  Tr^foHj  Broch.  i.  379.  Qjuartvt 
Akunimfsre  TripoUen,  Hauy,  iv.  467. 

Exter.  CAor^P— This  mineral  is  found  massive }  is 
dull  internally ',  has  a  coarse  earthy  fracture,  sometimes 
slaty }  fragments  blunt-edged. 

Colour  yellowish  gra^,  and  sometimes  brownish  red. 
Is  soft  and  somewhat  friable  >  meagre  to  the  feel,  but 
does  not  adhere  to  the  tongue. 

Ckem,  CAar.—- It  Is  almost  Infusible  before  the  blow- 
pipe. 


i84  MINER 

AitOkee.  pipe*     tt  melts  with  borax  irithont  frothing  up.     It 
owijgcww.  does  not  form  a  paste  with  water. 

'  Constituent  Parts*   llaasSe. 


tm 


Silica, 
Alamioa^ 
Oxide  of  iron, 


90 

7 
3 

xoo 


ilfir#,&c.— This  substance  was  formerly  brought 

*to  Earope  from  Tripoli ;  bence  the  name-}  but  it  htA 
since  been  found  in  manj  other  places,  as'in  Bavaria, 

'Saxonj,  and  Bohemia ;  in  Russia  and  in  England.  It 
is  found  in  the  neidiboorhood  of  basalts,  sometimes 
forming  veins ;  at  Potschappel  it  is  disposed  in  beds 

«moog  the  strata  of  coal,  and  near  thooe  places  whei% 

strata  of  coal  have  been  on  fire. 

C^jrt.—- Tripoli  is  employed  iti  polishing  metals,  pre«- 

'tious  stones,  and  glasses  for  optical  instruments. 

8.  Species.    Floatstokk. 

Exter»  Tiftar.— This  mineral  has  been  found  in  tu- 
berose porous  masses ;  it  Is  dull,  has  an  earthy  fracture, 
and  blunt-edged  fragments. 

The  cok>or  is  yellowish  grav  or  grayish' ^tte.  It  is 
soft  and  brittle  $  rough  to  the  feel,  and  gives  out  a 
creaking  sound.  It  is  very  light,  from^bicfa  It  has  its 
it  name. 

LocaHHes^  &c— -Has  been  only  tamtA  at  8t  Omers 


9.  Species.    Alum  Stone. 
^La  Pterre  Aiumincuse^  Broch.  i.  381. 

Ester*  C^.-^Tbis  stone  is  found  massive  ;  is  ^ 
nerally  dull,  rarely  a  little  jfflimmerjng }  fracture  on- 
even,  sometimes  splintery ',  nagmeots  not  very  sharp- 
edffed. 

ik>lour  grayish  or  yellowish  white :  it  is  soft,  and 
sometimes  semihard ;  stains  a  little,  and  adheres  to  the 
4onffne. 

Chem,  Char.'^ThiM  mineral  does  not  effervesce  with 
acids  ;  but  after  being  heated  and  dissolved  in  water,  it 
•affords -alum.  According  to  Bergman  it  contains  43 
of  sulphur,  35  of  alumina,  and  22  of  silica  ^  but  the  fol- 
iowing  is  the  result  of  Vauqnelin's  analysis. 

Constituent  Parts. 

Alumina,  43*92 

Silica,  24. 

Sulphureous  acid,  25. 
Sulphate  of  potash,  3.08 

iVatcr,  4 


I00/>0 


Localities^  &c.«»11iis  mineral  has  been  long  known 
under  the  name  of  the  stone  of  Tolfa^  from  the  name  of 
the  place  where  it  is  found  near  Rome,  and  where  it  forms 
a  mountain  which  is  traversed  by  veins  of  whitish  gray 
quartz.  It  is  from  this  stone  that  the  Bom  an  alum,  so 
cdehrated  in  commerce,  is  manufactured  5   and  it  has 

3 


A  L  O  G  Y.  Parti 

b^n  supposed  that  the  excellettbe  of  the  alitai  k  owing  CImsIoi. 
to  the  mineral  containing  within  itself  all  the  ingredients 
necessary  in  the  formation  of  that  triple  salt. 

10.  Species.     Axumikous  Schistus. 

This  is  divided  into  two  varieties  or  subspecies)  i. 
common  \  and,  2.  shining. 

Subspecies  x.   Common  Aluminous  Schistus. 

Le  Schists  Alumineux,  Broch.  i.  386. 

Ester,  C^r.«—Tliis  mineral  is  found  in  masses,  which 
often  contain  pieces  of  a  globular  form*  It  is  some- 
times glimmering,  amd  sometimes  dull ;  fracture  com- 
monHr  slaty,  and  sometimes  a  little  earthy  ^  fragments 
in  tables  }^  streak  the  same  as  the  colour  of  the  mmeral, 
a-  little  shining* 

Colour  grayish  black  or  brownish ;  is  soft  ^  meagre 
to  the  feel,  and  easily  frangible. 

CAem.  Char^^^\9hcn  exposed  to  the  air  for  some  tame 
it  separates  and  yields  alum  by  lisiviation. 

LocaKtieSj  &c.— -Aluminous  scbistus  is  abundant  in 
Saxony,  Bohemia,  France,  England,  and  some  parts  of 
Scotland.  It  is  disposed  in  beds  among  stratiform  rocks, 
and  in  transition  rocks,  and  it  is  often  traversed  by 
veins  of  quartx.  Being  mixed  with  pyrites,  the  decom- 
position is  tbos  promoted  when  exposed  to  the  air. 

£^Mv.«— This  mineral  is  dugout  for  the  purpose  of  ex- 
tracting alum,  first  by  exposing  it  to  the  air  or  heat, 
and  then  by  lixiviation. 

Subspecies,  i.  Shining  Aluminous  Schistus. 
Le  Schiste  Alumineus  EckUant^  Broch.  i.  3  88. 

Ester,  (%ar.-— This  mineral  approaches  very  nearly 
to  the  former  in  most  of  its  characters,  but  in  the  di- 
rection of  its  princi^  fracture  the  external  surface  is 
smooth ',  lustre  sbimng,  or  resplendent,  resinous,  and 
even  somewhat  metallic ;  in  the  opposite  directions  it  is 
dull.  Fracture  commonly  slaty,  and  somewhat  curved  ) 
fragments  in  tables. 

Colour  intermediate  between  bluish  and  grayish 
black,  and  sometimes  iron  bbick.  Colours  in  the  rents 
iridescent. 

In  other  characters  and  circumstances  it  resembles 
the  formers 

11.  Species.    Bituminous  Schistus. 

Le  Schiste  Bitumineux^  Broch*  i.  289.    Bdumimous 
Shaity  Kirw.  183* 

Efct^,  rAar.— This  mineral  is  found  massive }  lustre 
gllmmeriltg  *,  fracture  most  commonly  thin,  rartrly 
thick  ^  fragments  in  the  form  of  tables,  sometimes  tra- 
pezoidal. 

Colour  brownish  black,  sometimes  gray  or  blackish 
brown  y  soft  and  easily  frangible ;  adheres  slightly  to 
the  todgue )  streak  shining  ^  feels  greasy. 

Chem.  CAar.— -Mlien  placed  on  butnin^  coals  it  gives 
out  a  pale  'flame  with  a  sulphureous  odour,  becomes 
white,  and  loses  a  good  deal  of  its  weight. 

Localities^  &c.-»This  mineral  is  peculiar  to  coal 
countries,  which  it  always  accompanies,  and  alternates 

with 


MINERALOGY.  185 

witii  riatv  clay  and  eosd.   It  is  not 'imfre^uent  in  Bolie«     instrnmeiits ;  and,  redaced  to  powder,  is  employed  in  Argillace. 
mia,  Poland,  England,  and  Scotland.  .  polishing  steel.  '      oofigtoBt. 


12.  Species.    Drawing  Slate* 

Slack  CAalkf  Kirwan,  i.  195.  Le  SckisU  ^  Dessiaer^ 
Brocb.  L  39 1»  ArgUe  Sehisttutc  GrapAique^  Haay, 
iv.  447. 

Hxter,  C7/ar.-*Tbi8  mineral  is  found  massive,  usually 
doU  y  but  in  tbe  directioo  of  the  principal  fracture  a 
little  glimmerings  fracture  in  certain  directions  curved 
slaty )  in  others  fine  grained  earthy  ^  fragments  splin- 
tery or  tabular. 

Colour  grayish  or  bluish  blacky  opaque  j  stains  black , 
soft  )  meagre  to  the  feel. 

Chem.  C/«ir.— >Before  the  blow-pipe  it  becomes  co- 
vered with  a  kind  of  varnish. 


Quutituent  FarU. 

Wicgleb. 

Silica, 

64.50 

Alumina, 

11.35 

Carbone, 

11 

Oxide  of  iron, 

2-75 

Water, 

7.50 

Loss, 

3 

100.00 

Localities^  &c.-— Drawing  slate  frequently  accompa* 
niea  alnmifious  schbtos.  It  forms  along  with  it  beds 
which  are  subordinate  to  clay  slate*  It  is  found  in  Ita* 
iy,  where  it  is  an  object  of  commerce.  It  is  also  found 
in  Spain,  France,  and  some  parts  of  Scotland. 

C4«9.— -As  its  name  indicates,  it  is  employed  like 
black  chalk  in  drawing. 

13.  Species.    Whet  Slate. 

Navacuiite^  Kirw.  i.  238.  Le  Sckiste  i  AiguiseTf  Bro- 
chant,  i.  393.  Argile  Sckisteuie  Novaculairc^  Hauy, 
iv.  448. 

ExUr*  Char, — ^This  mineral  is  found  massive  \  is 
scazoely  gUnunering  \  finactnre  in  large  masses  slaty,  in 
small  pieces  splintery  \  fragments  tabular. 

Colour  commonly  greenish  gray,'  or  smoke  gray. 
Sometimes  mountain  green :  translucent  at  the  edges ; 
semihard,  but  varying  between  hard  and. soft ^  rather 
easily  frangible )  streak  grayish  white  \  feels  greasy  j 
does   not  adhere   to    the    tongue.      Specific    gravity 

X7a2. 

Chem.  C^or.— Does  not  efiarvesoe  with  acids,  and  is 
infusible  before  the  blow-pipe. 

LocaHiteSf  &c.->-'Whet  slate  is  found  in  primitive 
nMnmtains,  where  it  forms  beds  which  are  subordinate 
to  clay  slate.  It  was  originally  brought  from  the  Le* 
vant  'f  but  has  since  been  discovered  in  Bohemia,  Saxo- 
ny, in  Ba3rreuth,  where  it  is  wrought,  and  in  Siberia. 
An  efflorescence  has  been  observed  on  the  surface, 
which  is  fi>ond  to  be  sulphate  of  magnesia ;  from  which 
it  is  natttntlly  supposed  that  the  base  of  that  silt  fonai 
one  of  its  constitoent  parts. 

£^jr«.— Whet  slate,  as  its  name  imports,  is  cut  and 
polished  for  the  purpose  nf  sharpening  knives^  and  other 

Vol.  XIV.  Part  L  *     •  -  f 


14.  Species.    Clay  Slate. 

Argillite^  or  Argiliaceous  Schistus^  or  Siate^  Kirwan,  i. 
234.  Le  Schiste  ArgiUeus^  Brochant,  i.  395.  Ar- 
gtie  Schistcuse  Ttgulaire^  Hauy,  iv.  447. 

Exter,  Char. — Clay  slate  is  found  massive,  or  disse- 
minated, or  in  rounded  pieces  ;  internally  it  is  a  little 
shining  or  glimmering  'y  rarely  dull ;  the  more  the  struc- 
ture Is  foliated,  the  greater  is  its  lustre.  Lustre  some- 
times silky,  pearly,  or  semimetallic  Fracture  more  or 
less  slaty,  sometimes  curved  and  waved,  sometimes  ear- 
thy or  splintery  ^  fragments  tabular,  rarely  splintery  j 
sometimes  cubic  or  rhomboidal. 

Colour  chiefly  gray  of  various  shades  ;  but  sometimes 
it  is  reddish,  brownish,  or  yellowish,  or  reddish  brown. 
Different  colours  are  so  disposed  as  to  appear  striped, 
waved,  spotted,  or  dendritic.  It  is  in  general  soft  j 
sometimes  semihard,  sectile,  and  easily  frangible.  Gives 
a  grayish  white  streak  ^  feels  greasy.  Spec.  grav.  2.67 
to  2.88. 

According  to  Kirwan,  clay  slate  is  composed  of  silica, 
alumina,  lime,  magnesia,  and  iron,  with  some  bitnmi* 
nous  particles. 

Localities^  &c.-^Clay  slate  belongs  equally  to  the 
primitive,  transition,  and  stratiform  rocks,  and  frequent- 
ly forms  entire  mountains.  Primitive  clay  slate  is  some* 
tiroes  mixed  with  quartz,  mica,  hornblende,  garnets, 
limestone,  pyrites,  cinnabar  as  at  Idria;  in  general 
it  abounds  with  metallic  ores,  either  in  veins  or  in 
beds. 

Clay  ^te  is  very  abundant  in  most  countries; 
it  is  not  unfirequent  in  many  parts  of  Scotland; 
bat  the  slatfS  of  Easdaie,  and  the  contiguous  islands 
on  the  west  coast,  has  long  maiiHained  a  decided 
superiority  and  prefevenoe  to  all  others  in  this  coon- 

.  2/sirtf«— Clay  slate  is  in  extensive  uso  for  covering 
houses,  and  then  it  is  known  in  this  country  by  tbe 
single  word  slate.  It  is  also  employed  in  large  plates 
for  writing  oo^  or  tracing  characteirs  that  are  afterwards 
to  beefiaoed* 

15.  Species.     Lepidolite. 

Id,  Kirwan,  i.  208.     Id*  Hauy,  iv*  Jf75-     La  Lepido- 
lithcy  Brochant,  i..  399. 

Exter,  CAor .^—Lepidolite  is  found  massive,  aid  disse- 
minated iu  small  plates,  which  might  be  taken  for  mi- 
ca. It  is  usually  glimmering,  rarely  shining.  Lustre 
semimetallic.  Fracture  fine  grained  uneven,  rarely  fo- 
liated.    Fragments  blmit  edged. 

Colour  lilac  blue,  grayish  and  reddish  brown  \  trans- 
lucent. Semihard ;  sometimes  soft  \  easily  frangible  > 
and  feels  meagre.  It  is  easily  scraped  with  the  knife ; 
but  is  with  difficulty  reduced  to  powder  by  trituration. 
The  powder  rubbed  between  the  fingers  has  a  greasy 
feel.     Spec.  grav.  2.816  to  2.854. 

Chem.  (7Aar.— Froths  up  under  the  blow-pipe, 
and  melts  into  a  transparent  colourless  globule;  but 
with  the  addition  of  a  little  nitre  it  becomes  vio- 
let.    ' 

'    ^  *    '  A  a  *        Constituent 


1 86 

outfcnuf. 


MINERALOGY. 


Partr. 


Coasiituettt  Pofis. 


54-5 
38.25 

4- 


Silica^ 
Alaminay 

Fluate  of  lime. 

Ox  ide  of  iron  and  manganesey     . 7  5 

Water  and  loss,  2.5 

lOO.CO 


100 


Localities^  Scc^—TliU  mineral  was  first  discovered  in 
the  moantain  Gradinko  near  Rosena  in  Moravia,  where 
it  is  found  in  considermlde  masses  included  ia  blocks  of 
granite.  It  is  found  also  in  Sweden,  Sometimes  it  is 
disseminated  in  quart^  rock. 

The  name,  from  iamHf  **  a  scale,^  b  derived  from  its 
scalv  structure.  LepUkslite  was  at  first  taken  for  fluate 
of  lune  or  zeolite.  A  led  coloured  variety  of  schorlite 
was  also  supposed  to  be  crystallized  lepidolite. 

x6.  Species.    Mica. 

U  Kirw.  i.  21.     Id,  Brocb,  i.  402.     Id.  Hany,  iiu 

2b8. 

Ester.  CAor.— Mica  is  most  commonly  disseminated 
in  thin  tables,  rarely  massive  or  crystallized.  The  pri- 
mitive form  of  its  crystals  is  a  rectangular  prism, 
whose  bases  are  rhombs  with  angles  of  1 20^  and  60^ } 
the  integrant  molecule  is  the  same.  The  usual  forms 
•f  its  cr3rstals  are,  a  six-sided  table  with  equal  angles, 
sometimes  very  thick,  which  produces  a  six-sided  prismy 
and  the  want  of  tw;o  of  the  faces  produces  the  table 
with  four  ibomboidal  faces  \  but  the  most  common 
form  of  mica  is  in  thin  plates  or  scales  of  no  determi- 
nate figure.  1^  latertd  faces  of  the  basis  of  the  ta- 
bles are  smooth  and  resplendent  \  lustre  metallic ;  frac- 
ture foliated,  sometimes  curved  or  waved,  and  sometimes 
radiated ;  fragments  in  the  form  of  plates. 

Gdour  nsnalhrgray,  ash,  yellowish,  greenish,  and 
blackish  gray ;  in  thin  plates  semitransparent,  or  even 
transparent  \  otherwise,  only  translucent  on  tbo  edges  \ 
isemibard,  very  easily  frangible  >  flexible  and  elastic. 
Spec.  grav.  2.79  to  2.93. 

~  CA^.— Mica  rubbed  on  Spanish  wax  cobh 


municates  to  it  negative  electricity. 

Chem*  CAar.— Before  the  blow-prpe  it  is  with  dif- 
ficulty fusible  into  a  whitish  gray  or  green  enamel. 
Black  mica  yields  a  bladL  enamel,  whidi  b  attracted 
by  the  magnet. 


Silica, 
Alominty 
jjime, 
Hagnesia, 


CtmUhMeni  Pmit, 

Bcrgauk 

Ufwaa. 

TakqacKa. 

MuCMjrGlMi^ 

CriMilMtMiM. 

ja 

4» 

^ 

35- 

45 

a8 

1.33 

«-35 

5 

ao 

»      7- 

9 

»4 

5.3a 

'ities^  &c.— Mica  is  one  of  the  most  eommon 
minersils,  forming  one  of  the  constituent  parts  of  gra- 
nite, gneis,  micaceous  schistus,  and  other  primitive  rocks, 
and  in  some  of  them  sometimes  forms  particular  small 
veins.  Mica  also  enters  into  the  composition  of  strati- 
form rocks,  as  green  stone,  basalt,  wacken. 

Cat  gold  and  cat  silver  are  varieties  of  mica  ef  a  gold 
or  silver  colour,  which  haVe  a  considerable  lustre,  but 
inferior  to  that  of  these  metals.  It  may  be  easily  di- 
stinguished by  the  streak,  which  in  the  mica  affords  a 
whitish  powder  without  any  lustre. 

C^JTf.— When  mica  is  obtained  in  large  and  thin 
plates,  it  is  employed  as  a  substitute  for  glass,  and  for 
this  purpose  it  has  been  used  for  windows  of  men  of 
war,  as  on  account  of  its  elasticity  it  is  less  subject 
to  be  broken  firom  the  concussion  produced  by  the  firing 
of  cannon. 

17.  Species.    PiKiTX. 
Mkartlk^  Kirw.  i.  212.     La  PamV^,.  Broch.  i.  456. 

Ester.  CAor.— This  mineral  has  been  usually  found 
crystallized  in  six-sided  prisms,  having  all  the  lateral 
edges  truncated,  cur  only  three  alternating  edges,  or  in 
four-sided  rhombeidal  prisms.  The  surfaces  of  the  cry- 
stals smooth  and  a  little  glimmeiing ;  internally  it  is 
dull,  sometimes  a  little  shining  in  the  cross  fracture  ^ 
the  fracture  is  fine  grained,  uneven,  or  small  conchoidal ; 
fragments  blunt-edged. 

Colour  reddish  or  blackish  brown  \  opaque  \  tha 
brown  variety  is  slightly  transparent  \  so  soft  as  to  be 
cut  with  a  knife,  when  it  becomes  of  a  bluish  black  j 
powder  bright  gray ;  adheres  a  little  to  the  tongue  \ 
foels  greasy  j  sp.  grav.  2.98. 

Constituent  Farts.     Klaproth. 


Alumina, 
Silica, 
Oxide  of  iron, 


63-15 
29.50 

6.75 

100.00 


Localities^  &c.— >Pinite  is  found  only  near  Schnee- 
bergin  Saxony,  in  the  mine  called  Pim'i  hence  its  name. 
It  is  accompanied  by  quartz,  feldspar  and  mica,  which 
constitute  a  small  grained  granite. 

18.  Species.    PonrsTOKX. 


100.00 


JOO 


«00 


Jd.  Kirw.  i.  155.     La  Pierre  Oihtre^  Broch.  i.  405. 
Tak  OUatre^  Haoy,  iii.  257. 

Ester.  CiAar.^-Pot8toBe  is  found  massive  j  internally 
it  is  dnU,  sometimes  glimmering  or  a  little  shiniag, 
pearly  &  fracture  curved  slat)^  larely  foliated  or  wa- 
ved 'f  fragments  blunt  edged,  ia  the  form  of  tables  « 
scales. 

Colour  greenish  gray,  sometimes  reddish  or  yelloiv- 
iah  ^  opaque,  rarely  translucent  on  the  edges  ^  soft,  sec- 
tile,  and  mild  ^  feels  greasy  ^  by  being  bieatbod  ayos 
it  emits  the  argillaceous  smell.  Spec.  grav.  2.76  to 
2.86. 

Ciem*  Cftar.^-Infuaible  before  the  blow-pipe  ^  tooM 
YMicties  absorb  a  little  water.     . 

Cottetit^eiti 


MINERALOGY. 


187 


Conatituent  ParU. 

Silic^ 
Magnesia, 
AlamiJiay 
Limey 

Oxide  of  iron, 
.Fluoric  acid  P 

:LoM, 


Wiegleb* 

38.12 

38.54 

.41 

15.02 

.41 

.84 

xoo.oo 


JjKaiitie$^  &c— Potstone  is  found  at  ChiaTenna,  io 
^the  Valtelioe,  from  which  the  specimen  above  analyzed 
was  obtained  \  at  Como,  in  Switzerland^  hence  called 
CbiRo  ttone*  It  is  also  found  in  S^ony,  Hungary,  and 
.on  the  banks  of  Loch  Fine  opposite  to  Inverary  in  Scot- 
land. Potstone  forms  entire  beds,  and  is  usually  ac- 
companied by  serpentine,  or  it  is  in  nests  \  it  is  rarely 
pore,  but  mixed  with  chlorite,  talc,  asbestus,  <Jcc. 

Kk^^.— On  account  of  the  refractory  nature  of  this 
stone,  it  is  employed  in  the  construction  of  furnaces 
where,  great  heat  is  required  \  and  as  it  may  be  cut  or 
turned  on  the  lathe,  it  has  been  formed  into  utensils  for 
the- kitchen,  and' hence  the  name  jvolMpiir. 

19.  Species/   Chlo&itz. 

Id.  Kirw.  i.  147.    La  Chlorite^  Broch.  i..4Q8.     Tak 
Chlorite^  Hauy,  ilL  257. 

Chlorite  is  divided  into  four  siibspecies  :  i.  eartiiy  > 
2.  coounon ;  3.  foliated  3  4.  schistose  or  slaty. 

% 

'^Subspecies  i.    Eartht  Chlorite. 

Ester.  CAor.— This  mineral  is  composed  of  .small^ 
scaly,  thin,  and  slightly  glimmering  particles,  .cohering 
together,  rarely  in  the  form  of  powd^. 

Colour  iutennedi^te  hfttireen  mountain  green  «and 
dark  leek  green ;  sbmetimes  brownish 3  does  n|>t  staiii^ 
feels  greasy,  but  does  <nQt  adhere  t«  the  tongue;  gives 
/m  eartliy.  smell  by.  breathing  on  it. 

Chem.  CAnr.-— Melts  before  the  blow-pipe  into  a  gn|y 
or  black  enamel. 


Constituent  Parts. 

VauQjieliij, 

Silica, 

26. 

Alumina, 

»8.co 

Magnesia, 

8. 

Muriate,  of  8$>da, 

?• 

•  Oxide  of  irouy 

43- 

•Water, 

9* 

Loss, 

•5P 

100.00 

Localities^  Scc^i-^Eorthy  chlorite  is  always  found  in 
^primitive  mountains,  forming  beds  which  are  subordi- 
nate to  clay  slate.  It  is  found  in  Saxony,  Switzerland, 
^Toy,  and  in  Scotland. 

^Suhspecies  2.  -CoMMOK  Cai,oRiTE. 

,Exter.  CAor.*— This  is  foundmassive  and  disseminated, 
iir  in  thin  ^perficial  layers  .on  other  stpnesj  internal 
lustre  ^lighdy  glknmering,.re9inQU8  3  Iracture  earthy^  or 


foliated  (  fragments  bliint-edg«;d  1  soft,  sometimes  semi-  Aigillace- 
hard.  o««  «««««• 

Colour  similar  to  ^e  former,  and  sometimes  grayish 
white  \  is  opaque,  easily  frangible  \  givjes  a  light  g^en 
streak  without  lustre. 


Constituent  Parts, 

Hoepj 

Silica, 

4» 

Mifgnesia, 

39 

Alumina, 

6 

Lime, 

X 

Oxide  of  iron. 

ip 

Lossj 

3 

100 

JCocak'tieSf  &c.T-Common' chlorite  is  found  in  the 
«|UBe  places  with  the  former,  and  indeed  it  is  supposed 
to  be  earthy  chlorite  indurated.  At  Altenberg  in 
Saxony,  it  is  mixed  with  pyrites  of  copper  and  arsenic, 
^nd  common  |ioniblende* 

Subspecies  3.  .Fquated  .Chlorite. 

J^xter,  C^ir.-— This  variety  is  found  massive,  dissemi- 
nated, and  crystallized  in  the  form  of  a  six-sided  table 
somewhat  elongated  >  several  of  these  tables  b^ing  uni- 
ted together,  fn^uentbr  form  globular,  kidn^-foxm, 
or  b^tryoidal  groups.  External  lust^  j^imm^ring  or 
we^ldy  shining ',  internal  shining,  resinous,  or  pei^rly ; 
fracture  fqliat^d  j  folia  curved  }  cleavage  pimple  >  .frag- 
ments in  tables. 

Co)onr  intermediiite  betiveen  leek  and  dark  ^green  \ 
opaque,  or  translucent  at  the  odges  ^  streak  light  gceen  j 
is  soft,  sectile,  easily  frangible,  and  feels  a  little  greasy. 


Constituent.Parts, 

Lampad 

jSillca, 

35- 

'Magnesia, 

^.9 

Alumina, 

18. 

Oxide  of  iron, 

9-7 

-AVater, 

2.7 

Loss, 

1 

4-7 

100.0 

,Xoca//<iVj,  &c.— This  mineral  has  been />n|y  foond 
on  St  Gothard  in  Switzerland^  it  lines  the  sides  of  a 
yein  which  traverses  micaceous  scbistus.  It  is  accom- 
panied by  crystals  of  ^reen  mica,  adularia,  and  quartz. 
Brocbant  suggests  that  foliated  chlorite  may  perhaps 
be  nothing  else  than  a  crystallized  mic^ 

Subspecies  4.   Schistose  Chlorite. 

Ester.  ^Aor.— This  variety  is  found  massive ;  inter- 
nal lustre  weakly  shining,  sometimes  shining,  resinous  y 
fracture  curved  slaty,  sometimes  waved,  or  n  little 
splintery }  fragments  tabular. 

Colour  green. >  is  .90!^,  sectile,  and  easily  frangible  ) 
streak  light  green  >  feels  a. little  greasy  }  gives  the  earthy 
smell  by  breathii^g. 

LctcalitieSf  8;e.<r-31aty  chlorite  is  found  in  Norway^ 
Sweden,  Switzerland,  in  different  parts  of  Scotland,  as 
on  the  banks  of  Loch  Lomond,  and  in  the  islands  of 

A  a  2  Bote 


i88  MINERALOGY. 

Afisillace-  Bate  and  Arran.  Sometimes  it  forms  very  ektensive 
ous  t^am  beds  in  mountains  of  clay  slate,  to  which  it  is  subordi- 
Bate  5  and  it  is  frequently  accompanied  by  garnets  and 
magnetic  iron,  crystallized  in  octahedrons.  The  name 
is  derived  firom  the  Greek,  word  which  signifies  green. 


Parti. 


20.  Species.   Horkblekde. 

This  is  divided  into  four  subspecies  j  I.  common^ 
2.  basaltic  ]  j.labradore^  and,  4.  schistose. 

Subspecies  x.  Common  Hornblende. 

Hornblende^  Kirw.   i.  163.     Hornblende  Commune^ 
Broch.  i.  415.  Ampkibole^  Hauy,  iit.  58. 

Exter,  CAor.— Homblelide  is  found  massive  or  disse- 
minated, and  sometimes  crystallized.  The  forms  are  a 
four-sided  prism,  of  which  the  acute  opposite  lateral 
edges  are  strongly  truncated^  a  six-sided  prism  with 
four  broad  and  two  narrow  iaces,  slightly  truncated  on 
the  lateral  edges  ;  a  simitar  six-sided  prism,  short,  and 
having  the  extremities  bevelled ;  an  eight-sided  prism^ 
having  at  its  extremities,  a  convex  bevelment.  Some- 
times the  crystals  are  acicular  and  in  groups  j  internal 
lustre  shining,  vitreous,  or  pearly  \  fracture  foliated, 
sometimes  radiated,  and  sometimes  fibrous  \  surface  of 
the  fracture  longitudinally  streaked  \  fragments  sharp- 
ed^red,  sometimes  rhoniboidal. 

Colour  deep  black,  greenish  black,  or  greenish  gray  \ 
usually  opaque.  The  green  varieties  translucent  at  the 
edges.  Soft  or  semihard  \  not  easily  frangible  \  streak 
greenish  gray  \  gives  an  earthy  smell  by  breathing  on 
it :  sp.  grav.  3.0  to  3.88. 

Chem,  CAor.— Before  the  blow-ptpe  it  melts  easily 
into  a  grayish  black  glass. 

Constituent  Parts. 


KJfWftQ. 

HcTiDftnnt 

SUica, 

37 

37 

Alumina, 

22 

27 

Magnesia, 

16 

3 

Lime, 

2 

5 

Oxide  of  iron 

If    23 

25 

Loss, 

3 

100 


100 


Localities^  6:c.-->Homb]ende  is  one  of  the  constitu- 
ent parts  of  primitive  rocks,  as  in  sienite  \  and  it  seems 
also  to  be  an  accidental  sobstance,  as  in  gneiss,  primi- 
tive limestone,  porphyries,  and  micaceous  scbistus.  It 
is  found  also  in  masses  or  entire  beds,  as  in  Saxony  \ 
and  is  very  common  in  most  countries,  as  in  Norway, 
Hungary,  and  Britain. 

C/«ei.^-8ometimes  employed  as  a  flux  for  ores  of  iron. 

Subspecies  2.  Basaltic  Hornblende. 

BiiAi/^M,  Kirw.  i.  219*  HombUnde  Bamitoquey  Bocli« 
L  424. 

Exter.  CAar.— This  mineral  is  most  firequently  found 
eryitallized  in  equal  six-sided  prisms,  variously  modified 
or  with  equal  aides  -,  having  two  narrow  and  four  broad ; 
or  four  narrow  and  two  broad  *,  or  three  broad  and 
three  narrow  altemately.  The  crystals  are  imbedded, 
insaKted,  or  grouped.  Stnface  smooth,  shining^  in- 
ternal lustre  resplendent,  in  the  aroo  fracture  weakly 


shining,  vitreous j  fracture  foliated^  crose  fracture 
small  grainedi  vneven,  or  ooncboidal.  Fragments  near- 
ly rhomboidal. 

Colour  velvet  black,  and  sometimes  with  a  shade 
of  green  ;  opaque  j  streak  grayish  white  ;  iteniihaitl ; 
earthy  smell  by  expiration.     Spec.  grav.  3.22  to  3*33* 

Chem.  CAar.-^Before  the  blow-pipe  melts  less  easily 
than  the  preceding,  into  a  black  glaiis. 


Constituent  Parts. 

Bergman. 

Silica, 

58 

Alumina, 

27 

Lime, 

4 

Magnesia, 

I 

Oxide  of  iron. 

9 

Loss, 

I 

100 

Localities^  &c.— -Tliis  mineral,  as  its  name  imports, 
is  usually  fi>und  in  basalL  It  is  also  met  with  in 
wacken,  and  in  the  lava  of  Vesuvius.  It  is  not  ua- 
common  in  the  basaltic  rocks  of  Silesia,  Saxony,  and 
Bohemia,  as  well  as  in  those  of  this  oountiy.  Aa  it  is 
less  liable  to  decomposition  than  the  rocks  which  con- 
tain it,  detached  crystals  are  frequently  found  among 
decayed  basalt. 

Subspecies  3.  Labradore  Hornblende. 

La  Hornblende  du  Labrador ^  Broch.  i.  419. 

Exter,  Cior.— This  nuneral  is  found  massive,  disse- 
minated, in  rounded  pieces,  and  very  rarely  crystallized 
in  four-sided  rectangular  prisms.  Internal  lustre  shin- 
ing, somewhat  metallic  y  fracture  foliated,  sometimes 
curved. 

Colour  blaekisfa  green,  or  greenish  Made ;  sometimes 
bronze  yellow  \  scarcely  translucent  at  the  edges  \  se- 
mihard ;  not  difficultly  frangible;  streak  greenish. 
Spec.  gray.  3.38. 

LocalHies^  &c.-^Tbis  mineral  is  found  in  the  island 
of  St  Paul  on  the  Labradore  coast,  but  nothing  is  known 
of  the  nature  of  its  repository. 

Subspecies  4.  Schistose  Hornblende. 

Id.  Kirw.  i.  222.  La  Hi&mUende  Sekisteuu^  Brocb.  L 

428. 

Exter.  Char.^^hiB  variety  is  found  massive  >  inter- 
nal lustre  weakly  shining  ;  fracture  in  masses  slaty  ;  in 
small  pieces  radiated,  sometimes  fibrous  ;  fragments  in 
plates. 

Colour  greenish,  or  grayish  black  j  opaque ;  semi- 
hard 'y  Streak  greenish  gray ;  rather  difficultly  fran- 
gible ;  breathed  on,  gives  the  earthv  smell. 

Loealitiesy  &c. — Schistose  hornblende  forms  ezten* 
sive  beds  in  primitive  mountains,  to  which  it  is  suboidif- 
nate.  It  seeass  to  be  common  hornblende  more  or  ka 
mixed  with  quartx.  It  is  found  in  Bohemia,  Norway, 
Sweden,  in  the  isle  of  Skye,  and  other  places  of  Scol» 
land. 

21.  Species.     Basalt. 

Figurate  Trap,  Trap^  fThinstone^  &c.  Kirw.  i.  22C. 
—233.  Le  Basaite^  Brock  i.  430.  La  LithsHs 
PriimatiqtiCf  Ilaoy,  iv.  474. 

EMter. 


MINERALOGY. 


ETigTw  fi&or.-wBaaak  forms  entire  iiioaiitaii»i  In  the 
neighboarliood  of  wiiich  it  is  ieund  in  nranded  pieces, 
or  in  large  globular  masses^  internally  it  is  dull^  some- 
times glimmering  from  a  mixture  of  bomblcnde  ^  frac- 
ture aoeveny  sometimes  fine  splintery  or  concboidal ) 
fragments  not  very  sharp-edged.  It  is  most  frequently 
in  distinct  concretions,  which  arc  prismatic  or  columnar, 
more  or  less  regular  j  sometimes  also  in  globular  distinct 
concretions. 

Colour  grayish  or  bluish  black,  sometimes  brownish 
on  (he  surface }  opaque  j  semihard  ^  brittle,'  and  very 
difficultly  frangible ;  streak  light  ash  gray ;  gives  a 
ringing  sound  under  the  hammen  Spec.  grav.  2.86 
to  3. 

Chem.  C*Aor.-— Melts  very  easily  before  the  blow- 
pipe into  an  opaque  black  glass  which  acts  on  the 
Doagnet. 

Fhyskal  C^r.— Many  basalts  affect  the  magnetic 
needle,  reversing  the  poles  when  it  is  brought  near 
them.  This  is  ascribed  to  the  great  proportion  of  iron 
which  enters  into  their  composition. 

Localities^  &c.  Basalt  is  not  uncommon  in  every 
part  of  the  globe,  and  in  many  places  it  is  very  abun- 
dant. It  is  found  in  regular  columns  in  several  of  the 
Hebrides  on  the  west  coast  of  Scotland,  as  in  Can  nay, 
Eigg,  the  Scbant  isles,  but  particularly  beautiful  in  Staf- 
fa.^Pretty  regular  columns  are  observed  also  at  Dunbar, 
and  on  the  south-west  side  of  Arthnr^s  seat  near  Edin- 
burgh 'j  but  the  Giant^s  causeway  and  the  rocks  about 
Fairhead  on  the  north  coast  of  Ireland,  exhibit  the 
finest  and  most  extensive  ranges  of  columnar  basalt  in 
the  world. 

Basalt,  besides  being  in  the  colnmnar  form,  is  of- 
ten disposed  in  beds  and  veins ;  both  of  which  are  very 
common  in  different  places  in  Scotland,  particularly  on 
the  western  coast,  and  in  the  western  islands.  See  Dr 
Millar's  edition  of  WiUianu*s  Mineral  Kingdom, 

No  subject,  in  geological  speculation,  has  produced 
more  controversial  dbcussion  than  the  origin  of  basalt  \ 
one  party  asserting  that  it  is  the  effect  of  fusion,  while 
another  contends  that  it  must  have  been  deposited  firom 
an  aqueous  solution.  Oiir  limits  preclude  us  even  from 
barely  stating  the  arguments  which  have  been  proposed 
by  naturalists  in  support  of  the  theories  which  different 
parties  have  embraced.  For  an  account  of  some  of 
them,  see  Geology  Index;  and  for  the  constituent 
patts  of  basalt,  and  some  other  fibcts  oonnected  with  its 
natural  history,  see  Basalt. 

Cfjef.<-*-Banlt  is  tometimes  employed  as  a  touchstone, 
as  a  flux  for  ores  of  iron,  and  in  the  mann&ctnre  of 
common  bottles.  It  is  also  eopleyed  for  mtilatones. 
The  ancients  employed  it  in  sculpture,  fae  it  would  ap- 
pear that  some  of  their  vases  and  statues  were  fdnoed ' 
of  it. 

22.  Species.  Wacken. 
Id.  Kirw.  i.  223.     La  IFakke^  Broch.  i.  434. 

Esier.  C/ior.— -Wackcn  is  fonod  massive  ;  it  is  fre» 
qaently  vesieolar,  and  the  cavities  are  ofitea  filled  with 
other  minerals^  internal  appearance  dull;  firacture  even 
or  earthy }  firmgnients  ralber  bbint-edged. 

Colour  grayisb  green,  grajrish  blads:,  reddiffa,  or 
hfownisk  >  i^aqn*  j  streak  a  little  shining }  soft  or  se- 


189 


mihard  ;  easily  frangible  j  feels  a  little  greasy.    Spec.  Aq^tUaee. 
grav.  2.35  to  2.89.  ons  genaa. 

CAem,  Cift(7r.— .Fusible  like  basalt. 

Localities^  &c.— Wacken  belongs  to  the  stratiform 
rocks,  it  contains  sometimes  petrified  wood,  and  the 
bones  of  animals.  It  constitutes  beds  sometimes  in  the 
middle  of  basalt,  but  is  oftener  in  the  form  of  veins, 
and  is  the  basis  of  amygdaloid,  the  cavities  of  which 
are  filled  with  men  eailh,  calcareous  spar,  &c.  Wack- 
en  is-  met  with  m  Saxony,  Bohemia,  Sweden,  and  many 
places  of  Scotland. 

23.  Specl\;s.  PhoNOLITE,  or  Clinkstone. 

Id.  Daubuisson,  Jour,  de  Phys.  Ix.  74.  La  Fierre  Son- 
nante,  Broch.  i.  437.  Klingstein  and  Porpkyrsckie" 
fer  of  the  Germans. 

Exter.  Ci^^zr.-— This  mineral  is  always  fonnd  massive  ^ 
internal  lustre  glimmerings  fracture  slaty,  sometimes 
uneven  or  conchoidal  \  fragments  sharp-edged ;  compo- 
sed of  distinct  concretions,  which  are  either  in  the  form 
of  tables,  or  are  columnar,  and  somewhat  regularly 
grouped  together. 

Colour  gray,  ash,  greenish,  or  bluish  gray  j  the  co- 
lours sometimes  have  a  dendritical  appearance  (  opaque, 
or  translucent  at  the  edges  \  semifaArd,  or  hard ;  not 
difficultly  frangible  )  in  thin  plates  it  _emits  a  sound 
when  struck  with  a  hammer,  and  hence  its  name. 
Spec.  grav.  2.575. 

Chem.  Char. — ^Melts  before  the  blow-pipe  into  a  co- 
lourless glass. 


Constituent  Parts. 

Klaprotfa. 

Silica,  57.25 

Alumina,  23.5 

Lime,  2.75 

Oxide  of  iron,  3.25 
■  ■  I    ■       manganese,     .25 

Soda,  0.1 

Water,  3. 

Loss,  1.9 


fiergiDan. 

58. 
24.5 

3-5 
4-5 

6. 

2. 

J -5 


100.00 


100.0 


The  stone  analyzed  above  by  Bergman,  was  from 
Pay  in  Velay,  in  France,  and  is  considered  by  Dolo- 
mieu  as  voloanic.  The  other  by  Klaproth,  is  firom 
Bohemia.  Excepting  the  small  pro|K)rtion  of  manga- 
jiese  detected  in  the  latter,  the  coincidence  of  the  two 
analyses  is  very  striking. 

Localities^  &c. — Phonolite  is  not  uncommon  in  many 
parte  of  the  world.  It  is  met  with  in  Scotland,  in  the 
island  of  Lamlash  near  Arran  ;  and  it  constitutes  the 
greater  part  of  Traprene  Law  in  East  Lothian  j  in  both 
places  it  is  oc^mnar. 

24*  Species.  Lava* 

i/.  Kirw.  i.  400.    Za  Xflw,  Broch.  i.  440.    La&ori^ 
fiee^  Hauy,  iv*  497. 

EiUer.  CV&or.'— This  mineral  is  ^erally  of  a  porous 
texture,  with  cavities  of  different  sizes  3  lustre  glimmer- 
ing 


190  MINERALOGY. 

Afpll^ee.  ing  or  a  little  shining,  vitreous ;  fracture  imperfectlj 
oofi  gtnixs^  conchoid al  ^  fragments  not  very  sharp-edged. 

'  Colour  blackish  gray,  perfect  black,  or  brownish 
black,  sometimes  greenish,  and  rarely  white  j  opaque  ^ 
«emihard  ^  brittle ;  not  dificultly  frangible ;  light. 

Chem,  C^r.— -Lava  is  very  fusible,  and  yields  a  com- 
.pact  black  glass. 


PartH 


Colour  yellowish  white,  snow  white,  sonetimes  ted-  ciarak^ 
dish  'j  the  particles  have  very  little  cohesion.  tioi 


ConHiiuent  Farts.    Bergman. 


Silica, 
Alumina, 
Lime, 
Oxide  of  iron. 


49 

35 

4 

12 
lOO 


Localities^  &c.«»Lava  being  a  volcanic  product,  is 
only  found  in  the  vicinity  of  volcanoes. 

Uses,^^\»zy%A  are  employed  for  the  purposes  of  build* 
ing  'y  their  lightness,  arising  from  the  numerous  cavities. 
If  nders  them  proper  for  the  construction  of  vaults. 

2$*  Species.    GrC£N  Earth. 

Id,  Kirw.  i.  196.     La  Terre  Verte^  Brochanf,~i.  445. 
Tak  Chlorite  Zographifue^^  Hauy,  iii.  257. 

.,  Ester',  CAar^i^-Green  earth  is  found  maasive^  or^Jis- 
seminated,  or  in  superficial. crusts  on  balls  of  agate  j 
internally  it  Lb  dull )  firacture  earthy ;  fragments  blunt- 
edced. 

Colour  celadon  green,  or  blackish  green ;  opaque  ^ 
soft )  feels  slightly  greasy  ^  adheres  a  little  to  the  tongue ; 
streaks  weakly  shining. 

Chem.  CAor.— >Before  the  blow-pipe  it  becomes  black, 
but  is  infusible.  It  is  not  acted  on  by  acids,  and  ab^ 
sorbs  water. 

Constituent  Parts*    Klaproth. 

Silica, 

Alumina, 

•liime, 


Magnesia, 
Oxide  of  iron, 
Water, 
Loss, 


i3- 

.13. 

:3-5 

13. 
I. 


IOO.OO 

Localities^  &Cd— Green  earth  is  found  at  Verona, 
where  it  is  wrought,  and  constitutes  an  article  t>f  com- 
merce \  and  it  is  met  with  in  all  amygdaloid  rocks. 

Uses. — Green  earth  is  employed  as  •^colouring  mat* 
ter  in  painting. 

26.  Species.    LithOmarga. 

Id.  Kirw.  i.  187.     La  MoeUe  de  Pierre^  Brochant,  i. 
447.    ArgHe  Lithomarge^  Hauy,  iv.  444. 

This  is  divided  into  two  subspecies,  chiefly  distin- 
guished by  their  cohesion.  These  are,  i.  friable  ^  2. 
indurated. 

Subspecies  l.      F&IABLE  LriHOMARGA. 

JBMter*  Char^^'This  is  found  massive  or  disseminata 
ed;  is  slightly  glimmerings  -adheres  strongly  to  the 
tongue  >  fieejis  fSteBsy. 


Subspeciea  2.    Indurated  Lithomarga. 

Exter.  CAar.— This  is  also  found  massive  or  disse- 
minated y  IS  dull  \  has  a  fine  grained  earthy  fracture, 
sometinies  concboidal ;  blunt-edged. 

Colour  white,  yellowish,  or  reddish  white }  broirnisb 
red,  and  several  shades  of  yellow.  Different  colours 
are  disposed  in  spots,  veins,  dots,  stripes  \  or  clouds ; 
opaque  \  veiy  soil  \  streak  shining  \  adheres  to  the 
tongue  \  feels  greasy. 

Chem,  CA^zr.^^— Infusible  before  die  blow-pipe  *,  falls 
to  pieces  in  water  without  forming  a  paste.  Accord- 
ing to  some  analyses,  it  contains  a  large  proportion  of 
magnesja. 

Physical  C^ar.— Some  varieties  when  rubbed  with  s 
feather  in  the  dark,^ive  a  little  light. 

Localities^  &c.-— Lithomarga  or  stone  marrow,  de- 
rives Its  name  from  its  being  found  in  nodules  in  amjg- 
daloid  rocks  \  it  occupies  veins  or  small  fissureii  in  por- 
phyry, gneis,  and  serpentine.  It  is  fcund  in  Bohemia, 
Saxony,  France,  England,  and  at  the  Giant's  causeway 
In  Ireland.  A  variety  of  lithomarga,  which  exhibits 
many  fine  colours,  particularly  violet  or  lavender  blue, 
is  found  in  beds  reposing  on  coal  at  Planitz,  near 
Zwickau  in  Saxony.  It  has  been  called,  from  ita 
beautiful  appearance,  wonder  earth  of  Saxony  (Terra 
miraculosa). 

27.  Species.    Mountaik  or  ftqcK  Soaf. 
Le  Siavon  de  Montagne^  ^Brochant,  i.  453. 

Exter.  CAar.-— This  mineral  is  found  massive  j  is.  dull 
internally  ^  has  an  earthy,  and  sometimes  an  imper- 
fectly concboidal  fracture  ^  fragments  blunt-edg^d. 

Colour  brownish  black,  spotted  odirey  yellow.  .  0- 
paque ;  very  sofl  ^  easily  jrangible  ^  streak  shining, 
and  resinous  ^  stains  and  writes  on  paper }  feels  greasy, 
and  adheres  strongly  to  the  tongue. 

Localities^  &c.— ^This  mineral  is  rare ;  iias  beea 
found  at  Oikutsch  in  Poland,  and  also,  it  is  said,  in 
England. 

28.  Species.     Umber. 

Exteru  CAar.*-This  mineral  is  found  massive  j  frac- 
ture concboidal  j  fragments  blunt-edged. 

Colour  brownish,  of  various  shades  j  soft  j  adherss  a 
little ^o  the  tongue,  and  has  a  meagre  feel. 

Localities^  &c.— Umber  is  found  disposed  in  beds, 
in  the  isknd  of  Cyprua^.-and  it  is  employed  as  a  pig- 
ment. 

29.  Species,    Yellow  Earth. 

Id.  Kirw.'i.  194.    "La  Terre  Jatiiie,  Broch.  i.  455. 

% 

Exter.  'CAor.— •YelTow  earth  is  found  massive ;  it  is 
dull,  -  or  in  the  principal'fracture,  which  is  slaty,  glim- 
mering \  xroes  iracture  earthy  \  fragments  very  blunt- 
edged. 

Colour  ochrey  yellowy  v<ery  soft*,  streak  shining; 
feels  greasy,  and  adheres  a  little  to  the  tongue. 

Loc^itieSf  &c.^It  has.  only .  been  found  in  smaU 
beds  in  stratified  mountains,  at  Wehraw  in  Upper  Lu- 

satia, 


Artl.  MIRER 

fMK-  Mtiiif  «nd  it  19  emidf  in  tbe  cavities  oF  gray  wacken,  and 
(MIL    10  the  fisBiiret  of  a  sandstone  rock. 

Uie$,^^li  is  en^loyed  in  tlie  aits  as  a  pigmentt 

V.  MAGNESIAN  Genus. 

I.  Specie^    Native  Magnesia^ 

Magnesie  Native^  Brochant,  ii.  449. 

Exter,  CAar,F^iiiX\vt  magnesia  is  found  massive,  tu*- 
kroos  or  carious.  Surface  uneven  and  dull.  Fracture 
Hat,  coochoidal,  splintery  or  earthy.  Fragdients  sharp- 
edged. 

Coloar  yellowish  gray,  mtb  spots  and  dendritic  deli- 
sestioitt  of  black  or  blackish  brovnt.  Opaque^  soft  and 
euily  frangible.  Feels  greasy .}  adheres  to  the  tongue, 
sod  is  nther  light. 

Constituent  Parts^ 

Carbonic  acid,  Jl. 

Magnesia,  47.4 
A  trace  of  iron, 

Loss,  x.d^ 


100.0 


LocaHtdeSj  &c«— This  mtncral  was  discovered  by  Dr 
Mitchell  in  a  serpentine  rock  at  Roubschitz  in  Mora- 
via. 
^Jm.Jt     A  mineral   in  many  respects  similar  to  this  has 
^  '*■   beea  analyzed  by  Giobert*.     It  was  long  known  un- 
^        dcr  tbe  name  otpgrcelatn  earthy  and  was  successfully 
employed  in  that  manufiacture.     Giobert  supposes  that 
tbe  external  'characters,  and  particularly  the  colours,  of 
tie  mineral  found  in  Moravia,  seem  to  indicate  the  ex- 
istence of  other  substances  beside  those  detected  by  Dr 
HitcbeQ^s  analysis. 

Exter.  CAiir.— The  mineral  described  by  Giobert  is 
fonnd  massive  or  in  mammillary  fragments,  some  of 
w&fch  are  toberculated.  Surface  dull.  Fracture  con- 
dioidal  or  uneven. 

Colour  pore  white.  Opaque.  Spec.  srav.  variable. 
Hard,  sometimes  soft.  Feels  greasy  j  adheres  slightly 
to  the  tongue.  The  softer  varieties  absorb  water  greedi- 
ly and  with  a  hissing  noise. 

Chem,  CAar«-— Inftttible  before  tbe  blow-^pe. 


Constituent  Parts. 


Mairnesia, 
Carbonic  acid| 
Silica, 

Sulphate  of  lime, 
Wates»^ 


68. 

15.6 

.  1.6 


100.2 


LoeaHtiegf  dbc.— -This  mineral  is-fouad  at  Baudissero, 
in  a  vein  which  traverses  a  steatitic  rock  of  which  the 
momtain  is>compooed» 

2.  Species.    Bole. 

Id.  Kirw.  i.  190.    Le  Boly  Broch.  L  459.    Argiic 
OcAreusefHaxijf  445. 

Exter.  GAar.*— *-Foond  massive  and  disseminated ; 
sor&ce  dull,  sometimes  a  little  glimmering  >  iracture 
cooehoidal  -y  fragments  sharp-edged* 

2 


A  L  O  G  ¥•  191 

Colour  yellowish  brown  or  reddish,  with  spots  aailMagRtaaa 
dendritical  figures  of  black )  opaque,  rarely  translucent    genus, 
at  tbe  edges;  very  soft  j  rjisily  frangible 5  adheres  to' 
the  tongue  j  feels  greasy ;  streak  shining :  sp.  grav. 
1.4  to  2. 

Chem.  C^ir.«— Before  the  blow-pipe  it  becomes 
black  or  ^ay,  and  melts  into  a  greenish  gray  slag. 
Falls  to  pieces  in  water  with  a  crackling  noise,  and 
without  forming  a  paste. 

Constituent  Parts.     Bergman. 

Silica, 

Alumina, 

Magnesia, 


Lime, 
Oxide  of  iron. 
Water, 


47- 
19. 

6.2 

5-4 
5-4 
17- 


100.0 


Localities^  &c.— -The  chief  places  which  yield  bole 
are  the  island  of  Lemnos,  hence  called  Lemnian  earth  ;- 
Sienna  in  Italy,  and  Strigau  in  Silesia,  in  which  latter 
place  it  is  deposited  on  indurated  clay ;  in  Uppsr  La* 
satia  it  forms  nests  in  basalt. 

£^My.-— Bole  and  similar  earths  were  formerly  em- 
ployed in  medicine  \  \t  is  now  only  used  in  the  prepara- 
tion of  colours. 

CiMOLITE. 

This  is  a  mineral  which  in  many  of  its  characters  la 
closely  connected  with  the  preceding. 

Ejpter,  CAor.-— It  is  found  massive  y  fracture  earthy , 
uneven,  or  slaty ;  colour  grayish  white,  pearl  gray,  and 
exposed  for  some  time  to  the  air,  reddub ;  opaque  ; 
does  not  stain ;  adheres  strongly  to  tbe  tongue  j  is  soft, 
and  difficultly  frangible  :  sp.  grav.  2. 

Chem.  Caot.— -Before  the  blow-pipe  it  becomes  at 
first  of  a  deep  gray  colour,  but  aflervnurds  white. 

ConsHtuent  Parts.    Klaprotb. 


Sifica, 

65. 

Alumina,. 

2S^' 

Oxide  of  iron. 

1.25, 

Water, 

J  2. 

Loss, 

•75 

100.00 

Localities^  &c.— This  mineral  was'^  brought  by  BIr 
Hawkins  from  the  island  of  Argentiers,  formerly  Ci- 
molo,  from  whence  it  has  its  name.  Olivier  found  a 
similar  substance  in  tbe  island  of  Milo,  but  which  was 
ytrj  friable. 

^^«,.— This  substance  is  employed  in  whitening* 
wpcdlen  stufi.  It  is  described  by  Pliny  under  tbe 
name  Cimolia,  as  being  applied  to  the  same  purpose, 
and  also  as  a  medicine  in  bis  time. 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  cimoHte  contains;  according' 
to  tbe  above  analysis,  aa  magnesia. 

3.  Species.    Sea  Froth. 

KeffekiU^l^h^.  i.  144*  L^Eeume  de  Mer,  Broch.  ii 
462.  Argik  glttiscf  Hauy^  iv.  433.  Meerschaum 
of  the  Germans. 

ixter,- 


192-  MINERALOGY. 

Miigatmai   -  Exter*  Ci^.-^This  mineral  is  foond  manive,  diase- 
geaiu.     minated,  or  in  soperiiciid  layers.  Surface  dull.  Fracture 
fine  earthy,  sometimes  slaty.    Fragments  sharp  edged. 
Colour  yellowish  white.  Opaque.  Very  soft.    Easily 
frangible.    Streak  shining.    Feels  greasy }  and  adheres 
to  the  tongue.    Sp.  gr.  1.6. 

Chem*  2!^ar.— Infusible  before  the  bloir-pipe. 


Parti. 


Uon. 


Constituent  Parts.     Klaproth. 


Silica, 

so^s 

4K 

Magnesia, 

17.25 

18.25 

Lime, 

•5 

.5 

Water, 
-Carbonic  acid, 

1:} 

39- 

Loss, 

1-75 

1.25 

100.00 

J  00.00 

Localities^  &c«— Sea  froth  is  found  in  Natolia,  in  the 
Crimea*  in  Spain  and  some  other  places.  It  appears  to 
be  dtstrihuted  in  low  grounds  in  thin  beds }  and  it  is 
•said  to  be  in  the  state  of  soft  paste  which  hardens  in 
the  air. 

Uses^'-^li  is  employed  in  Turkey,  in  the  manofactnre 
of  the  heads  of  tobacco  pipes  ^  and  as  a  detersive  sub- 
stance, like  fuUers  earth,  by  the  Tartars. 

4.  Species.    FuzxERS  Earth. 

Id.  Kirw.  i.  184.     La  Terre  k  Foulan^  Broch.  i.  464* 
Argik  Smectsque^  ILuiy,  iv.  443* 

Etcter,  C%ar.*— Fonnd  massive*  Surface  dull.  Frac- 
ture fine  grained  earthy,  conchoidal  or  slaty.  Frag- 
ments blunt  edged. 

Colour  olive  green,  yellowish  or  reddish.  Colours 
sometimes  mixed  and  disposed  in  spots  or  stripes  ^  opake ; 
soft  or  friable*  Streak  somewhat  shining.  Sometimes 
adheres  to  the  tongue  ^  feek  fi;rea8y. 

C?iienu  Char.'^^iyQes  not  e&rvesce  with  acids  ;  melts 
Into  a  brown  spongy  clay  >  falls  to  pieceB  in  water  with- 
out forming  a  paste,  and  does  not  froth  up  like  soap. 

Constituent  Parts.  Bergman. 


Silicai 

51.8 

Alumina, 

25. 

Lime, 

3-3 

Magnesia, 

.7 

Oxide  of  iron, 

3-7 

Water, 

15-5 

100.00 

Zocalities^  &c.— -Fullers  earth  is  found  In  Sweden, 
Saxony,  and  Franee,  forming  beds  ^  but  the  best  fullers 
earth  is  fisund  between  strata  of  sandstone  in  Hampshire 
and  some  other  places  of  England* 

Uses, — Fullers  earth  is  of  ^at  importance  in  woollen 
manu&ctnres,  on  account  of  its  detersive  pn^rties.  It 
is  extensively  employed  in  the  process  of  fulling  or  clean- 
sing woollen  8tu£&  from  greasy  matters. 

5.  Species.   Stxatites. 

La  Pierre  de  Lard^  ou  Steatite^  Broch.  i.  474.  Semi- 
indurated  and  Foliated  Steatites^  Kirvr,  i.  151,  and 
J54.     Taic  Steatite^  Hauy,  iii.  256. 

z 


£stter,  C^r.-'—Stcatttes  is  found  massive,  dissemioa-  ciatjict. 
ted,  aud  crystallised.  Forms  of  the  crystals,  t  six-sided 
prism  terminated  by  a  six-sided  pyramid  ^  t  rectjuigular 
and  rhomboidal  four-sided  prism ',  aud  a  double  six-sided 
pyramid.  The  crystals  are  small,  generally  imbedded 
in  the  massive  variety  }  but  tbey  are  very  rare  -,  and  it 
is  supposed,  with  some  probability,  that  the?  are  pseudo- 
crystals.  Surface  of  the  crystals  smooth  and  sbioiDg. 
Internally  dull  \  fracture  coarse  splintery,  rarely  earthy 
or  slaty*     Fragments  blunt^edged. 

Colour  greenish,  yellowish,  reddish  or  grayiab.  Co- 
lours sometimes  mixed,  and  spotted  or  dendriticsl. 
Translucent  at  the  edges.  Soft,  sometimes  friable. 
Streak  shining.     Feeb  greasy.     Sp.  gr.  2.614. 

Chentm  £7Aar.p— Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe  \  boi 
becomes  white  and  very  hard. 


Constituent  Parts. 

Klaprotb. 

From  CorawaU. 

From  Bayreuth 

Silica, 

48. 

59-5 

Magnesia, 

20.5 

30-5 

Alumina, 

14. 

Oxide  of  iron 

f             1- 

2.5 

Water, 

^S'S 

S'S 

Loss, 

1. 

2. 

lOO.O 


100.0 


Localities^  &c.— -Steatites  is  found  in  primitive  moan- 
tains,  forroiug  beds  and  veins  in  serpentine  rocks ;  some- 
times in  metallic  veins,  as  in  the  tin  mines  near  Frey- 
berg.  It  is  also  imbedded  in  wacken,  as  in  the  island 
of  Skye,  and  in  veins  of  serpentine  at  Portsoy  in  Scot- 
land. Steatites  is  also  found  in  Cornwall  in  Englaod, 
and  in  Sweden,  Norway,  Saxony,  and  France. 

C/je5.— Steatites  is  sometimes  employed  in  the  mano- 
facture  of  porcelain,  and -some  varieties  of  it  answeifor 
the  same  purpose  as  fullers  earth. 

6.  Species.    Figure  Stoke. 

La  Pierre  k  Sculpture^  Broch.  i*  451.    LeBildstein  of 
the  Germans* 

Exter.  CAor.— -This  mineral  is  found  massive.  Inte^ 
nal  lustre  sometimes  glimmering,  sometimeadnllf  greasy. 
Fracture  slaty  \  cross  fracture  splintery. 

Colour  olive  green,  greenish  gray,  yellowish  brown, 
sometimes  reddish,  and  veined.  SeoaitranepareDt,  or 
translucent  at  the  edges,  and  sometimes  opake.  Soft  > 
sectile  >  feels  greasy.     Sp.  gr.  2.78  to  2.81* 


Constituent  Parts.    Klaprath. 

TranslncenL      Opaque  Figure  Stone 

Silica, 

54.                               62. 

Alumina, 

3<5.                        24. 

Lime, 

—                          1. 

Oxide  of . 

u'<m,         .75                          .5 

Water, 

5  5                       IP- 

Loss, 

3-75                       2-5 

100.00                   100.0 

Localities^  &c.— -This  mineral  is  brought  from  Chi- 
na, and  is  always  cot  into  various,  often  singular,  figures; 
and  hence  the  name  hildsteiu^  or  sculpture  stone, 

7.  Species. 


7*  Species.    Nephrite^  or  Jadtm 

lades  Klrw.  <•  i?!-  Le  Nephrite^  Brocb.  i.  467.    Jade^ 
Hauy,  iv.  360. 

This  species  is  divided  into  two  sobspecies. 
Sabspecies  i.    Common  Nefhrite. 

Exter.  CAar.— This  variety  is  foaod  massive,  disse** 
minatedy  or  in  rounded  pieces.  The  surface  is  smooth, 
glimmering,  and  unctuous }  intemallv  it  is  dull  j  frac- 
ture slaty  or  coarse  splintery,  rarely  fibrous  ;  fragments 
sbarp-^ged. 

Colour  leek  green,  sometimes  inclining  to  blue,  green- 
ish or  yellowish  white ;  translucent,  sometimes  only  at 
the  edges  J  hard^  very  difficultly  firangible  j  feels  grea* 
sy.     Sp.  grav.  2.07  to  4-38. 

Chem,  U&or.— •Fusible  before  the  blow-pipe, and  melts 
into  a  semitransparent  white  glass. 

CongUtuefU  Paris,    Hoepfioer. 


MINERALOGY.  193 

cutting  inatmments  by  the  natives  of  those  countries  Magneihui 


Silica, 
Magnesia, 
Alumina, 
Lime, 
Oxide  of  iron^ 


4 
2 

9 


xoo 


LoeaUHeSy  &c.— The  repository  of  nephrite  is  un- 
known. It  was  originally  brought  firom  the  Levant, 
East  Indies,  and  China.  It  is  found  also  in  the  Alps, 
in  Switzeriand,  and  in  Piedmont.  The  water-worn 
pebbles  which  are  collected  on  the  banks  of  the  lake 
of  Geneva  often  contain  this  mineral.  It  is  found  also 
in  a  similar  form  at  a  particular  place  on  the  shores  of 
tona,  one  of  the  Hebrides,  in  Scotland. 

rZsf^.— Oriental  nephrite,  long  known  under  the 
name  of  Jade^  is  held  in  considerable  estimation  on  ac- 
count of  its  hardness  and  tenacity.  It  is  employed 
by  the  Turks  for  the  handles  of  knives  and  sabres, 
and  frequently  by  others  for  various  ornamental  pur- 
poses. 

The  property  of  curing  diseases  of  the  kidneys  is  as- 
cribed to  this  mineral  by  ancient  authors,  and  hence  the 
name  nephritic  stone^  or  nephrite* 

Subspecies  2.    AxE  Stone. 

La  Pierre  de  hache^  BrochcUit,  i.  470.    Beiiatein  of  the 
Germans. 

Exter  CAdr.— This  is  also  found  massive,  but  most 
Frequently  in  rounded  pieces ;  lustre  glimmering,  or 
weakly  shining  ^  fracture  in  large  masses,  slaty  ^  in 
small,  splinteiy )  fragments  in  the  form  of  plates. 

Colour  deep  meadow-green,  sometimes  olive  green  ^ 
translucent  \  semihard,  and  sometimes  hard  \  not  very 
brittle ;  more  difficultly  frangible  than  the  preceding 
variety. 

Localities^  &c.—- This  mineral  is  found  in  China, 
the  East  Indies,  and  South  America,  on  the  banks  of 
the  river  Amazons.  It  is  found  also  in  some  of  the 
ishuds  in  the  South  Sea,  as  well  as  in  Corsica,  Switzer- 
land and  Saxony. 

C^«r«.— Axe  stone  is  employed  as  hatchets  and  other 
Vol.  XIV.  Part  L  t 


where  iron  is  little  known. 

8.  Species.     SsR^EKTIKE. 

Id.  Kirw.  i.  156.     La  Serpentine^  Brochant,  i.  481. 
Roche  Serpentineuscj  Hauy,  iv.  436. 

•  This  species  is  divided  into  two  subspecies. 

Subspecies  x.    Common  Serpentine. 

Exter.  CAor.— This  mineral  is  found  massive,  very 
rarely  disseminated  \  internal  lustre  slightly  glimmering, 
or  only  dull  \  fracture  splintery,  or  fine  grained  uneven, 
rarely  conchoidal  ^  fragments  sharp-edged. 

Colour  blackish  green,  leek  green,  grayish,  greenish, 
or  bluish  gray ;  in  some  varieties,  red  of  various  shades. 
These  colours  are  mixed  and  disposed  in  spots,  stripes, 
veins,  and  dots.  Translucent  at  the  edges,  or  opaque  'y 
semihard  ^  not  difficultly  frangible  j  feels  greasy.  Spec* 
grav.  2.57  to  2.7. 

Chem.  C^r.— Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe* 

Constiktewt  Parts.    Kirwao. 


geaas. 


Silica, 

a 

Alumina, 

Magnesia, 

22 

Oxide  of  iron^ 

3 

Water, 

12 

100 

I/Kolities^  &c.— 'Serpentine  belongs  to  the  class  of 

frimitive  rocks,  and  it  constitutes  entire  mountains, 
t  is  found  in  Saxony,  Bohemia,  Italy,  Corsica,  and 
Siberia ;  in  Cornwall  in  England,  where  it  contains 
native  copper,  and  at  Portsoy  in  the  north  of  Scotland, 
where  it  is  known  by  the  name  of  Portsoy  marble. 
Common  serpentine  is  frequently  mixed  with  steatites,, 
talc,  asbestus,  garnets,  and  magnetic  iron,  but  never 
contains  limestone.  Tliis  variety,  in  the  language  of 
Werner,  is  of  a  newer  formation  than  the  following  sob- 
species. 

{/iff  ;..-L$erpentine  is  susceptible  of  a  fine  polish  ^  on 
account  of  which,  and  its  beautiful  colours,  it  is  em- 
ployed for  various  ornamental  purposes. 

Subspecies  2.    Precious  Serpentine. 

Exler,  C^r.-— This  also  is  found  massive  or  disse- 
minated J  internal  lustre  glimmering,  rarely  weakly 
shining,  resinous }  fracture  conchoidal,  even  or  splintery  j 
fragments  sharp-edged. 

Colour  dark  leek  green  of  various  shades }  trans- 
lucent ',  semi-h&rd }  easily  frangible  j  feels  slightly 
greasy. 

Localities^  &c.— This  subspecies  is  found  in  similar 
places  with  the  preceding.  It  is  distinguished  from  it 
by  being  always  connected  with  limestone.  The  stones 
known  in  Italy  by  the  name  of  verde  di  Prato  verde 
AnficOf  verde  de  Swza^  which  are  very  often  accompa* 
nied  by  limestone,  may  be  included  under  precious  ser- 
pentine. 

9.  Species.    Scriller  Stone. 

SchUlerspatk,  or  Spath  Chatoyant ^  Brochant,  i.  421. 
Schiiler  Spar^  Kirw.  221. 

B  b  Exter. 


194 


MINERALOGY- 


Parti 


MfijtiHwn     S^^'  £40r.— This  mineral  ta  found  diaseminated  in 

gcavf.     tbin  plates,  which  assome  a  crystallized  fornif  as  in  that 

*     V       '  of  a  table  with  six  sidt^SyOr  a  short  six-sided  prism ;  lustre 

shining,  sometimes  resplendent,  and  semi-metallic ;  firac* 

ture  foliated. 

Colour  olive  green,  bronze  yellow,  or  silvery  white  i 
sod  }  easily  frangible }  somewhat  elastic  ;  feels  greasy. 
Chem.  CAar«-— Before  the  blow-pipe  it  melts  with 
borax,  into  a  glass  which  becomes  opaque  on  cooling. 

Constituent  Parts,     Heyer. 

Silica,  5a 

Alumina,  ^3*33 

MagncMs,.  6 

Lime,  7 

Oxide  of  iron,  luSj 

100.00 

Locaiities^  &c.<— -8chiller  stone  is  found  at  Basta  in 
the  Hartz,  in  Moravia,  the  Tyrol,  in  Corsica,  and  in 
Cornwall.  It  is  usually  imbedded  in  serpentine,  and  is 
accompanied  by  quartz^  mica,  and  copper  pyrites.  It  is 
supposed  by  some  to  be  crystallized  serpentine. 

10.  Species.    Tajlc. 

This  species  is  divided  into  three  subspecies  j  i .  earthy, 
3.  common,,  and  3.  indurated  talc. 

Subspecies  i.    Eajrtht  Talc. 

Takite^  Kirw.  i.  149.  Le  Tak  Terreus^  Broch.  u  486. 
Talc  GranvkuT^  Hauy,  iiL  255. 

Exttr.  CAir.— Earthy  talc  is  Bound  disseminated  in 
kidney-form  masses,  or  in  superficial  layers;  lustre  glimr 
roering,  pearly  ^  friable  ;  the  particles  scaly,  pnlveru* 
lent,  or  dightly  cohering. 

Colour  greenish^  reddish,  or  silvery  white ;  stains  ; 
feels  greasy,  and  is  light. 

Locak'tics^  &04— This  mineral  is  found  in  Piedrooat, 
Saxony,  Bohemia,  and  in  the  western  .parts  of  Inverness- 
shire  in  Scotland,  where  it  exists  in  veins  or  cavities  o£ 
primitive  rocks* 

Subspecies  2.    Common  Talc. 

Id,  or  Venetian  Talc^  Kirw.  i.  150.   Le  Talc  Commun^ 
Broch.  i.  487.     Talc  Lamsnaire^  Hauy,  iii.  255* 

Exter.  rAor.—- This  mineral  is  found  massive,  dis- 
seminated, and  rarely  crystallized  in  very  small  six-sid- 
ed tables ;  lustre  shining  or  resplendent,  pearly  or  me- 
taUic  *,  fracture  straight  or  cnnred  foliated ',  firagments 
wedge*shaped. 

Colour  greenish  white,  pale  apple  green,  reddish  or 
yellowish  white  )  translnoent  orsemitransparent,  in  thin- 
plates  transparent,  soft,  flexible,  but  not  elastic  ^  feels 
greasy.     Spec.  grav.  2.7  to  3.8. 

^  CAem.  CAar.— >Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe,  which 
distinguishes  it  from  chlorite  $  docs  not  eflTervesce  with 
acids. 

Constituent  Parts*    Hoepfner. 

Silica,  50 

Magnesia,  44 

Alumina,  6 


xoo 


Localities^  &c.— Common  tale  is  always  found  in 
serpentine  rocks,  where  it  accompanies  actynolite,  stea- 
tites, and  indurated  talc.  What  is  called  Venetian  talc 
is  brought  from  the  mountains  of  Saltzburg  and  the 
Tyrol. 

Uses^^^Tslc  is  sometimes  employed  as  a  substitute  f<Mr 
chalk,  enters  into  the  composition  of  crayons,  and  is 
mixed  with  some  kinds  of  paint. 

Subspecies  3.    Ikduratsd  Talc 
Le  Talc  Endura'j  Brocb.  i.  489. 

Exter,  CAar.— This  is  found  massive,  and  sometimes, 
it  is  said,  crystallised  ^  lustre  shining  and  resplendent, 
resinous  or  pearly  ;  fracture  cnisved  foliated,  or  slaty  ^ 
fragments  blunt-edged,  tabulaiu 

Colour  greenish  white,  snow  white,  or  apple  green  ^ 
translucent }  in  thin  plates  semitranspaxent^  very  soft  -, 
smooth,  and  greasy  to  the  feel. 

jLocalitieSj  &c.— Indurated  talc  forms  beds  in  moon- 
tains  of  arnllaoeoos  schistos,  gneia,  and  serpentine,  in 
tlie  Tyrol,  Italy,  and  Switzerland,  and  also  in  the  wes- 
tern parts  of  Scotland. 

Uses, — ^It  is  aj^lied  to  the  same  purposes  as  the  pre- 
ceding. 

XI.  Species.    AaBsarus. 

This  is  divided  into  four  subspecies :  t.  monntaia 
cork  'f  2.  amianthus  ^  3.  common  asbestus  ^  and,  4.  lig- 
niform  asbestus* 

Subspecies  I.    MouirrAiK  Cork. 

Suber  Montanum^  Kirw.  i.  X63.    Le  Luge  de  Mam' 
tagne^  Broch.  i.  492.  Asbeste  7rrM/,Hauy,  iii.  247.. 

Exter,  C^ir.^— This  mineral  is  found  mabsive,  often 
in  small  plates,  which  are  sometimes  thin,  and  are  then 
denominated  mineral  paper  ;  sometimes  thick,  and  then 
called  mineral  leather  ;  more  rarely  in  porous  or  cellular 
pieces,  when  they  are  denominated  mineral  flesh  ;  some- 
times it  is  marked  with  impressions  5  the  lustre  is  weak- 
ly fflimmering  or  dnll ;  fracture  to  appearance  compact 
and  uneven,  but  it  is  (brous,  and  the  fibres  are  some- 
times parallel,  and  sometimes  interwoven^  fragments 
very  blont-edsed. 

Colour  yellowish  or  grayish  white >  opaque^  ven^ 
sof^,  extremely  difficult  to  break  \  in  thin  plates  flexi- 
ble and  elastic  \  creaks  when  handled }  ftels  meagre. 
Spec.  grav.  0.68  to  0.993. 

Chem.  Cto*.— Melts  hefere  the  hlow-pipo  with  di& 
ficulty. 


Constituent  Parts,. 

Silica^ 
Magnesia, 
Alumina, 
Lime, 
Oxide  of  iron. 


Bergman; 

56.2 
26.1 

2 
12.7 

3 

100.0 


Localities^  &c«-^This  mineral  is  found  in  thin  veins 
in  serpentine  rocks j  it  is  often  mixed  with^naitz,  tale, 
and  silver  ores,  as  in  Saxony.  It  is  also  found  in  Swe* 
den,  Norway,  Siberia,  Hungary,  and  in  the  lead  veins 
at  LeadhiUs  in  Scotland. 

SubsfccMS 


Subspecies  2.  Amianthus. 

UL  Kirw.  i.  1 61.  VAmtanthcj  Broch.  L  494.    AsbesU 
FkxMe^  Haufy  ui.  247. 


M  I  N  E  B  A  L  O  G  Y.  155 

Locah'ties,^^It  is  fonnd  in  similar  sitaations  with  the  AfAf^edan 
preceding,  in  Saxooy,  Sussia,  SwedeOi  and  in  the  west- 
ern parts  of  ^Scotland. 


genus. 
•V ' 


Exter,  Chm*, — ^This  variety  is  also  foond  massive, 
more  rarely  dissemioatedy  and  in  smaH  deti|cfaed  Vnndles  j 
hstre  g^tmmertDgy  or  a  Kttle  shining  and  silky  \  fractnro 
fibroos  straight  or  parallel. 

Gilonr  greenish  or  silvery  white,  yeDowish  white,  or 
greenish  gray  ^  opaqne ;  rarely  translatent  at  tlie  edges  \ 
veiy  flexible,  and  even  elastic  m  thin  fibres;  feels  greasy. 

Chem,  rAor.-— Melts  with  difficulty  before  the  blow* 
pipe,  into  a  white,  gray,  yellow,  and  sometimes  black 
enamel. 

Ctmttihteni  Parts,    Bergman.     Chenevix. 


SiUca, 

64 

64^ 

59- 

Magaeaai 

»7-a 

18.6 

»S' 

Alumina, 

a-7 

3-3 

3- 

Lime, 

13-9 

6.9 

9.2s 

Barytes, 

6. 

Oxide  of  iroa. 

2.2 

1.2 

2.25 

I«s 

1.50 

100.0 


1 00.0 


100.00 


Localities^  &c.— Amianthus  is  usually  foond  in  pri- 
mitive rocks,  but  particularly  those  of  serpentine.  It 
is  found  in  Saxony,  Bohemia,  Italy,  Spain,  France, 
Sweden,  and  in  the  western  parts  of  Scotland  %  but  the 
finest  specimens  of  amianthus  are  brought  from  the 
idand  of  Corsica. 

Vses^^^Otk  account  of  the  flexibility  of  this  substance 
it  is  spun  into  threads  \  for  this  purpose  it  is  mixed  with 
lint,  to  render  the  threads  less  brittle  in  working  tbem 
into  cloth,  which  is  afterwards  passed  through  the  fire 
tlut  the  vegetable  matter  may  be  consumed,  and  the 
amianthus,  which  is  infusible,  remains  \  and  thus  an 
incombustible  cloth  is  obtained.  The  ancients  manu- 
factured this  cloth  for  the  purpose  of  wrapping  round 
tbeir  dead  bodies,  that  their  ashes  might  be  preserved 
unmixed  with  the  wood  employed  in  burning  them. 

Subspecies  5.    CoMMOK  Asbestus. 

Asbestus^  Kirw.  i •  1 59*   L^Asheste  Commune^  Brochan t, 
i.  497.    Ashcste  Juuff  Hauy,  iit.  247.- 

Ester,  TAar.— This  &lso  is  found  massive  ;  lustre 
shining  and  weakly  shinihg,  silky  or  resinous  ;  surface 
fibrous,  the  fibres  being  parallel,  straight,  or  curved  ) 
the  fibres  are  niore  stronsly. united  than  in  amianthus, 
and  hence  sometimes  a  splintery  fracture. 

Colour  leek  green,  greenish,  or  yellowish  gray ;  trans- 
lucent at  the  edges  ^  soft,  or  semihard ;  rather  easily 
irangible  ^  little  flexible ',  feels  greasy  \  spec.  grav.  2.54 
to  2.99. 

Chem.  CAar.— Melts  with  difficulty  before  the  blow- 
pipe, into  a  dark. gray  slag. 

Constituent  Parts, 

Silica, 
Magnesia, 
Oxide  of  iron, 

liOSS. 


Wiegleb. 

46.66 
48.45 

4-79 
.1 


Subspecies  4.  XigkiItgrm  Asbestus. 


Id,  Kirw.  i.  16 1.     Le  Bats  de  Momtagne^  Brochant  i. 
499.    AsbesU  Ligntforme^  Hauy,  iii.  248. 

Exter.  CA8r.-!-This  also  is  found  massive  ^  lustre 
glimmering,  silky }  fracture  in  large  masses,  curved 
slaty  ^  in  small  pieces  fibrous,  and  having  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  woody  texture  \  fragments  iu  elongated 
plates. 

Colour  yellowish  brown  of  different  shades  \  opaque  \ 
soft ;  not  difflcoUly  frangible  \,  in  thin  fragments  a  little 
flexible,  but  not  elastic  \  feels  meagre  \  adheres  to  the 
tongue  'y  streak  shining. 

Chem,  CAar.— Before  the  blow-pipe  is  only  fusible 
at  the  edges. 

Localities^  &c.— This  variety  is.  foond  in  the  Tyrol, 
where  it  b  accompanied  by  galena,  black  blende,  and 
ft  grayish  white  quartz. 

12.  Species.    Cyanite. 

LL  Kirw.  i.  209.  La  Cyanite^  Broch.  i.  501.  Sappare^ 
Saussm  $  1900.     Disthene^  Hauy,  iii.  220. 

Exter,  CAor.— -This  mineral  is  found  massive,  disse- 
minated, or  crystallized,  in  four-sided  prisms,  of  which 
two  are  broad  and  two  narrow,  and  having  the  four  la- 
teral edges,  or  only  the  two  opposite  edges,  truncated. 
This  prism  is  often  so  flattened,  as  to  have  the  j^pear-^ 
ance  of  a  table.  The  broad  faces  of  the  crystals  are 
smooth  and  shining,  the  narrow  faces  streaked  and  only 
glimmering,  almost  doU.  Internal  lustre  shining  and 
pearly  \  fracture  curved  radiated  \  that  of  the  crystals 
foliated  -,  fragments  tabular,  sometimes  splintery^  or  im- 
perfectly rhoraboidal. 

Colour  blue  of  various  shades,  sometimes  Uuish  and 
pearl  gray  \  and  diflerent  colours  are  arranged  in  stripes, 
spots,  or  clouds  \  translucent,  or  when  crystallized  se^ 
mttransparent,  or  transparent  j  semihard,  and  some- 
times soft,}  easily  firangible  \  feels  greasy.  Spec.  grav. 
3.51  to  3.62. 

Chefn,  C^or.— Entirely  infusible  before  the  blow-pipe, 
on  which  account  this  mineral  was  employed  by  Saussure 
as  a  support  for  other  substances  in  experiments  whli 
that  instrument. 


Con^ituent  Parts. 

Saussure. 

Silica, 

29.2 

Alumina, 

55* 

Lime, 

2.25 

Magnesia, 

2. 

Oxide  of  iron. 

6.65 

Water  and  loss, 

4.9 

100.00 


X  00.09 

Xdc0&jCf0C,  fea4w  Cyanite  is  fi>und  on  St  Gothard  in 
Switzerland,  in  crystals  mixed  with  qmutl,  garnets^  and 
granite,  and  imbedded  in  indurated  talc.  It  is  also 
found  in  Spain,  France,  Carinthia,  Bavaria,  Siberia, 
and  in  the  north  of  Scotland,  and  i^ways  in  primitive 
mountains. 

J3  b  2  13.  Specie;'. 


\g6 


MngncuA 
genuB. 


13.  Species.  ACTTKOLITE. 

This  is  divided   into   three   species }    J.  asbestouSi 
2.  common,  and  3.  glassy. 

Subspecies  i.  AsBESTOUs  Acttnolite. 

Amianthinite^  Kirw.  i.  164.  and  MetaUifarm  Asbestoid^ 
ibid.  167.     La  Rayonnante  Asbestiprme^  Broch.  i. 


504,     Actinote  Acicukure^  Hany,  iii.  75. 

Exter.  CAar.—- This  mineral  is  found  massive,  and 
rarely  crystallized  in  rborohoidal  six-sided  prisms,  two 
of  which  are  about  124®  50',  and  four  about  117^  4^^ 
lustre  glimmering  ^  internal  lustre  weakly  shining,  some- 
times shining,  pearly  ^  fracture  radiated  ^  fragments 
wedge-shaped. 

Colour  white,  or  greenish,  reddish,  or  yellowish 
gray  ;  commonly  opaque  ^  sometimes  translucent  at  the 
edges  'y  streak  greenish  white  ^  soft,  rarely  semi-hard  ) 
rather  difficultly  frangible.     Specific  gravity  2.5^.10 

3-33- 

C/iem  Char, — Fusible  before  tfae  blow-pipe  into  a 

black  slag,  or  grayish  white  enamel. 

Localities^  &c. — Found    in    the    neighbourhood    of 

Bayreoth  and  the  Banoat,  in  beds  ofserpentkie  and 

steatites. . 

Subspecies  2.  Common  Acttnolite. 

AshestiniU^  Common^  AsbesUdd^  and  Schorlaceous  Actyno- 
iitef  Kirw.  i.  i6$-^i6Si  La  Rayonnante  Commune^ 
Broch*  i.  507*     Actinote  Hexaedre^  Hauy.  iii.  74. 

Exter.  CAi?r.<— 'Massive,  disseminated,  crystallized 
in  elongated,  very  oblique,  six-sided  prisms,  having  the 
acute  lateral  edges  truncated.  The  crystals  ar^  acicu- 
lar,  and  longitudinally  streaked  >  lustre  shining  and 
vitreous  \  fracture  radiated,  parallel  or  divergent,  stet 
lated  ^  fragments  rather  blunt-edged.  ^ 

Colour  olive  green,  pistachio  green,  reddish  brown  % 
crystals  translocentjor  semi^transpareot  \  semihard  \  difr 
ficultly  frangible  j  rarely  feels  greasy.  Spec.  grav.  3. 
103.31.  • 

Chem,  Char, — Fusible  before  the  blow-^ipe  into  a 
black  slag,  a  white  transparent  'glass,  or  a  grayish  white 
enamel. 


M.I  N  E  R  A  L  O  G  Y.  Partll 

510.  TkalHtef  Lamethertei  ii,  319.  Eftdote,  Hauj,  ru^tA 
iii.  102%  ti«r1 

Exter,  CAar.— -Found  massive  or  crystallized  in  tbin  I 

six-sided  prisms,  whose  surface  is  smooth  and  it- 
splendent  J  internal  lustre  shining,  vitreous  ^  fractoxa 
radiated  or  wedge-shaped,  fibrous^  fragments  Bpli&« 
tery. 

Colour  olive  green,  leek  green,  and  asparagus  green  *, 
translucent,  or  semi  transparent  j  semihard,  or  bard^  very^ 
brittle,  and  very  easily  frangible.     Spec  grav»  2.95  to 


Constituent  Barts^ 

Bergman. 

Silica, 

64. 

Magnesia, 

20 

Alumina, 

2.7 

Lime, 

9^ 

Oxide  of  iron. 

4 

IQO.O 


Localities^  &cc.-r-It  is  found  in  Saxony,  Switzerland, 
Norway,  aqd  west  side  of  Invemess-shire  in  Scotland. 
Its  repository  is  in  primitive  mountains,  where  it  is  ac- 
companied with  ores  of  lead  and  iron,,  as  well  -as  with 
quartz  and  brown  blende. 


id. 


Subspecies  3.  Glassy  Acttnolite. 

.  L  268.  La  Rayonnante  VitretssCf  Broch.  i. 


3*49* 
Localities^  &c.— This  variety  is  found  in  similar  re^ 

positories,  and  in  similar  places  with  the  preceding. 

14.  Species.  Tremolite. 

This  is  also  divided  into  three  subspecies  >  l.  asbes- 
tons,.  2.  common,  and  3.  glassy* 

Subspecies- 2.  AsBESTOUS  Tremolite. 

La  Tremolithe  Asbestijt>nne^  Brodi.  i.  514.   Grommo, 
tite.  Hauy,  227. 

Exter.  CAar.— Found  massive,  disseminated,  and 
crystallized  ^  and  the  crystals  are  capillary  or  aclcn- 
lar  'f  lustre  we-akly  shining,  silky  or  pearly  ^  fractait 
radiated  or  fibrous  ^  fragments  splintery  and  wedge- 
shaped. 

Colour  yellowish  white,  reddidfa,  greenish,  or  grtj* 
isb^  opaque.^  translucent  at.  the  edges)  very  soft', 
easily  frangible.  . 

Subspecies  2.  Common  Ttt.EMOLiTE. 
L0  TtemoUtke  Commune^  Broch.  i.  515. 

Exter.  CAar.— Massive,  or  crystallized  in  rbomboidal 
prisms,  with  angles  of  126**  52'  12",  and  53^  7' 4^* 
The  crystals  are  deeply  striated  loogitudinaUy ;  exter- 
nal lustre  resplendent  >  internal  shining,  pearly }  frac* 
ture  radiated,. either  parallel,  divergent,  orpromisco- 
ous  'j  surfaces  of  the  fracture  lon^tudinally  streaked ; 
fragments  splintery.- 

Colour  greenish  white,  reddish,  or  ydlowisfa  \  rarelf 
pearl  gray  \  always  translucent  \  in  crystals  semitrans- 
parent;  semihard)  brittle)  easily  frangible)  meagr^ 
to  the  feel, 

Subspecies  3.  .Glassy  Tremolitz.  . 

La  Tremolithe,  Vitreuse^  Broch^  i,  516.. 

Exter.  CAor.— Massive,  or  oystallized  in  long  needle 
or  awl-shaped .  prisms  )  internal  lustre  shining,  and 
sometimes  resplendent )  vitreous  or  pearly )  fractor? 
radiated  )  cross  fracture  even,  and  a  little  oblique ; 
fragments  splintery. 

Colour  gree^iish  or  yellowish  white  )  translucent } 
crystals  sometimes,  transparent)  semihard)  brittle; 
easily  frangible )  feels  meagre.  Spec*  grav.  2.90  tA 
3.2,  Hauy. 

CAem.  C^ir,— Before  the  hlow-pipe  it  melts  into  a 

porous  white  slag.- 

Omstituent 


MINER 

Constituent  Parts, 

Klaproth. 

Laogier. 

Silica, 
Lime, 

White.      Giay  TremoUte. 

3S'5               50 

26.  J                   18 

Magnesia, 
Oxide  of  iron, 

10.33 
.16 

16.5                   25 

Carbonic  acid.*)       ^ 
and  water,   ^         '^ 

23-                    S 

Loss, 

.01 

—                     2 

100.00 

101.  c              100 

Physical  CAor.^By  percussion  or  friction  in  the 
ark,  a  reddish  phosphorescent  light  appears }  and  the 
lowder  throivn  on  bimiing  eoals  yields  .a  greenish 
ight. 

LoealMts^  &c.— TremoUte  is  found  imbedded  in 
Imestone,  in  primitive  mountains.  It  was  first  discover- 
d  in  the  viWej  of  Tremola  by  Pini,  and  hence  its 
iame>  It  is  also  found  in  Hungary,  Bohemia,  and  Ca- 
iothia,  and  in  the  mountains  six  miles  south  of  Pais- 
py  in  ScoUand,  where  it  is  accompanied  with-]^eh-t 
lile. 

15.  Species.   Smaragdite. 

U.  Sausaure  Voy.  {  I3I3>    Dtallage^  Hauy,  iii.  125*, 
Id.  Brochant,  i.  423.  and  li.  506. 

Ester.  CAor.— Smaragdite  hat  been  found  massive 
md  disseminated.  Internal  instre  shining.  ^  Fracture 
olisted.  Cleavage  single.  .  Fragment3  rather  sharf^ 
;dged. 

Colour,,  grass  or  emerald  green.  Slightly  translu^ 
:ent.     Semi-hard  or  soft.     Brittle*     Spec  grav.  3. 

Chem.  Char, — Before  the  blow-pipe  melts  into  a  gray 
>p  greenish  enamel* 

Constituent  Parts. . .  Vauqnelih. 


Silica, 
Alumina, 
Lime, 
Magnesia, 
Onide  of  iron. 

so- 
il. 

'3- 

6. 

5-5 

Loss, 

7*5 
J- J 

100.0 

Localities,  &c.— Tliis  mineral  was  found  by  Saus- 
sure  in  the  vicinity  of  Turin,  imbedded  in  nephrite 
cUoded  white  and  bine.*  It  has  also  been  found  near 
the  lake  of  .Geneva  among  the  rounded  pebbles,  and  in 
Corsica  in  primitive  rocks.  In  Italy, .  tables  and  oraa- 
mental  pieces  of  furniture  are  made  of  smaragdite  ^  and 
the  Italian  marble-cutters  call  it  verde  di  Corsica. 

1 6*.  Species.     Sablite; 

Jd-D^Andrada,  Jour,  de  Phys.  An.  8.  p.  241.  ,Mala* 
coHthSf  Hauy,  iv.  379.-    id.  Brochant,  ii.  518. 

JExf<fr..CAai*.«—Found  massive  or  crystallized  in  six" 
sided  prisms,  having  two  opposite  lateral  edges  truncate 


A  L  O  G  Y.  197 

ed.     Lustre  slightly  glimmering,  resinous.     Fracture  Calcareous, 
foliated.     Cleavage  threefold.     Fragments  sometimes     genus. 
rhomhoidal. 

Colour  grayish  green  or  bluish  gray.  In  thin  plates 
translucent.  Scarcely  scratches  glass.  Very  soft  to  th^ 
touch,  from  which  it  has  the  name  malacoHte.  Spec, 
gfav.  3.2307  to  3.2368. 

Chem.  C/^or.— Fusible  before  the  blow-pipe  into  a 
porous  glass. 

Constituent  Parts.     Vauquclin. 

Silica,  53 

Lime,  20 

Magnesia,  jp 

Alumina,  3 

Iron  and  manganese,  4 

Loss,  I 

100 

Localities^  &c.— This  mineral  was  discovered  by 
D.' Andrada  in  the  silver  mines  of  Sahla  in  Sweden,  and 
hence  it  derived  its  name.  It  was  found  by  the  same 
naturalist  at  Busen  in  Norway.  It  appears  from  the 
observations  of  Hauy  that  sahlite  and  augite  are  very 
closely  allied,  not  only  in  structure  and  external  cha- 
racters in  general,  but  als^in  their  constituent  princi- 
ples 'f  the  only  difference  in  their  composition  is  in  the 
proportions  of  the  lime  and  magnesia,  which  are  small- 
er in  augite  than  in  sahlite ;  but  the  proportion  of  iron 
in  the  former  is  considerably  greater  than  in  the  lat- 
ter. . 

17.  Species.  ScBalstone,  or  Tabular  Spar. 

Exter*  CAor.— -This  mineral  it  found  massive  \  Instre  t 
shining  and  pearly  ;  fracture  foliated  or  splintery,  and- 
coarse  fibrous  ^  consists  of  separate  large-grained  pieces 
implicated  in  each  other  j  and  according  to  Karsten, 
are  very  regular. 

Colour  milk  white,  yellowish,  or  reddisb  white; 
translucent  5  semi-Jiard)  brittle*  • 

Constituent  Parts. 
Silica,  50   ".. 

I-imCf  45 

Water,  5 

loa    . 

Localities  J  &c.-*This  mineral  was  first'  noticed  by 
Stutz.  It  is  found  in  the  bannat  of  Temeswar,  and 
is  accompanied  by  crystallized' garnets  and  calcareous 
spar. 

VI.  CALCAREOUS  Genus. 

I.  Speoiea.  Agaric  Mineral,  or  Mousttait^  MUk. 

J</..Kirwan,  i.  76.  Id.  Brochant,  L  J19.  .Chaux  Car'- 
bonatS  Spongieuse^  Hauy,  ii.  167.  . 

Exter.  C4ar.—*This' mineral  is  composed  of  fine  pul- 
verulent particles,  slightly  united  tdgether,  and  nearly 
friable. 

Cclottryellowisbwhite^orBnow  white;  stains  strong- 

hi 


1^8 


Calcareous  ly  ^  feels  meagre  'y  does  not  adhere  to  the  tongue }  sear- 
genus.     ]y  floats  on  water. 

Chem.  CAar.— EfFervesces  with  acids,  and  is  entirely 
dissolved,  so  that  it  is  chiefly  composed  of  lime  and  car- 
bonic acid. 

Localities^  &c.<*-This  mineral  is  found  in  the  fis- 
sures and  cavities  of  calcareous  mountains,  and  it  is 
supposed  that  it  originates  from  the  destruction  of  the 
rocks,  the  particles  of  which  are  carried  down  to  the' 
fissures  and  cavities  by  rain  water.  Abundant  in  Swit- 
zerland. 

2.  Species.    Chalk* 

Xd'  Kirwan,  i.  71.  La  Craie^  Brocfaant^  i.  521.  Chaux 
Carbonati  Crayeuse^  Hauy,  ii.  166. 

Exter,  Char. — Found  massive  \  has  a  doll  appear- 
ance >  fracture  earthy,  and  fragments  blunt-edged. 

Colour  usually  snow  or  yellowish  white,  sometimes 
gray  or  brown  \  opaque  ^  stains  and  writes  j  very  soft, 
and  easily  frangible  \  feeis  meagre  \  adheres  a  little  to 
the  tongue*     Spec*  grav.  2*31  to  2^5. 

Chem.  CAor.-— Effervesces  with  acids  \  before  the 
Uow-pipe  is  calcined^  and  converted  to  quicklime.  It 
is  almost  entirely  composed  of  lime  and  carbonic  acid, 
with  a  mixture  of  a  little  oxide  of  iron  and  some  other 
substances. 

Localities^  &c.— -ChAlk  forms  peculiar  stratiform 
mountains  which  contain  many  petrifactions,  the  mat- 
ter of  which  is  almost  always  siUceons.  They  contain 
also  flints  arranged  in  regular  strata.  No  metallic  sub- 
stances are  found  in  chalk.  A  great  body  of  chalk 
traverses  France  from  south  to  north,  extending  from 
Champagny  to  Calais,  and  continued  to  England,  in 
the  south  of  which  it  forms  extensive  beds.  Chalk  is 
also  found  in  the  island  of  Zealand,  in  the  Baltic,  in 
Fciand  and  many  other  places. 

3.  Species.    Limestokz. 

This  is  divided  into  four  subspecies,  which  are, 
I.  compact,  2.  foliated,  3.  fibrous,  a»d  4.  pea  stone. 

Subspecies  i.    Compact  Limestone. 

This  subspecies  is  again  divided  into  two  sections ; 
the  first  including  common  compact  limestone,  and  the 
second  roe-stone* 

A.  Common  Compact  Limestone, 

Id.  Kirw.  i*  82.   LL  Broch.  i.  523.   Chaux  Carbonate 
CompactCf  &LC.  Hauy,  ii.  164. 

Exter,  CAar.«*>Fonnd  taassive^  external  form  fre- 
quently figured  from  the  numerous  petrifactions  which 
it  contains  ^  internally  dull  ^  rarely  glimmering  j  frac- 
ture compact,  splintery,  uneven  or  earthy  ^  fragments 
not  very  sharp-edged. 

Colour  usually  gray,  irndBttmee  reddish  er  yellowish  ^ 
different  colours  exhibit  spots,  stripes,  veins,  and  den- 
dritital  figures  j  translucent  at  the  edges ;  semihard } 
brittle  j  easily  frangible  ^  feels  meagre^  gives  a  grayish 
fvhite  streak.     Spec.  grav.  2.6  to  2.7. 

Chem.  CAar.— Dissolves  in  acids  with  efiervesceoce. 

The  constituents  of  limestone  are  carbonate  of  lime, 
-with  variable  pnnportions  of.  other  earths,  and  particu- 


MINERALOGY.  p^tl. 

Jarly  alumina  and  silica.    The  following  are  the  consti-  CbsScv 
tuent  parts  of  magnesian  limestone  examined  by  Mr    tion. 
Tennant* 


Magnesia, 

Carbonic  acid. 

Alumina  and  oxide  of  iron, 

Xoss, 


29.5 

20.3 

47.2 

.8 

2»a 


100.0 


Localities^  Ac— -Forms  very  extensive  stratifons 
mountains,  and  is  usually  met  with  along  with  coal  ani 
sandstone.  It  is  very  abundant  in  Saxony,  Bohemia, 
Sweden,  France,  Switzerland,  and  Britain.  The  mag- 
nesian limestone  is  abundant  in  Yorkshiie  and  Notting* 
hamshire. 

{/^^..-The  uses  of  limestone  for  the  purposes  of 
building,  and  when  reduced  to  the  state  of  qniddime, 
to  form  the  basia  of  mortar,  as  well  as  in  varioas  arts, 
are  well  known. 

This  variety  of  limestone,  when  sesocytible  of  a  po* 
lish,  funusbes  marbles  i  which  name,  although  it  be  ap- 
plied to  very  different  stones  which  are  susceptible  of  a 
polish,  and  are  fit  for  sculpture,  or  ornamental  arcki- 
teclure,  is  frtrquently  applied  to  limestone  of  this  d^ 
scription. 

B.  OouTSf  or  Rob  Stone. 

Id.  Brochant,  i.  529.  Ovifhrm  Limestone^  Kirw.Lpl* 
Chaux  CarbonatS  Globul^ormCf  Hauy,  ii.  171. 

Exter,  CAor.— ^This  is  found  massive;  intenallj 
dull  'y  fracture  compact ;  firagments  blunt-edged. 

Colour  yellowish,  smoke  gray,  hair,  or  reddish  brown*} 
opaque }  rarely  translucent  at  the  edges;  semihard; 
consists  of  small  globular,  distinct  concretions:  the 
size  of  the  concretions  are  very  various.  Spec.  grav. 
2.4  to  2.5* 

Localities^  &c. — Roe  stone  is  found  in  Sweden,  Sirit- 
zerland.  Saxony,  and  in  the  south  of  England. 

The  ketton  stone  of  England,  and  the  celebrated 
Portland  stone,  belong  to  this  variety.  Of  the  latter 
some  of  the  principal  public  buildinga  in  England  aod 
Ireland  are  constructed. 

Uses. — It  is  employed  as  a  building  %tone ;  and  wbea 
nf  a  fine  grain,  it  is  polished  and  employed  as  marble. 

Subspecies  2.    Foliated  Limestone. 

t)f  this  there  are  two  varieties,  granularly  foliated, 
and  calcareous  spar. 

A.  GrANVLABLY  FotlATSO  LiMBSTONE. 

jpierre  Cakaire  Grenue^  Broch*  i.  531*    -Chaux  Carho' 
natS  SacchanUde^  Hauy,  ii*  164. 

Exter.  rAor.—- Found  only  massive  \  lustre  sEiniog, 
nr  strongly  glimmering  ^  between  pearly  and  vitreoos't 
firacture  straight  foliated^  fragments  rather  blunt- 
edged^  in  granular,  distinct  concretions,  small  or  fine 
grained. 

Colour  usually  snow  white,  grayish,  yellowish,  green- 
ish, and  rarely  rcddiib  white,  and  seoMtimes  it  is  spot- 
ted, veined,  or  striped  ;  usually  tranalueent^  semthwrd*! 
feels  meagre  ^  brittle,  and  easily  firai^ihle.  Spec,  giavi 
2.7  to  a*8. 

Chetf^' 


MINEHALOGY. 


199 


Chem*  CAar.-*£8brve6C«8  with  acUs,  »nd  is  almost 
(otirely  dissolved.  Some  Tarieties,  however,  from  an 
tdmixtare  of  other  subBtancea,  are  very  slowly  acted  on 
»y  acids. 

Loeaiitiesj  &c.— -Granolariy  foliated  limestone  be* 
ongs  almost  exclusively  to  the  primitive  and  transiticm 
DomitatttSy  reposing  on  gneis,  micaceoua  schistus^  and 
Jay  slate,  containing,  beside  other  mineral  sufastanoes^ 
rarioos  metallic  oi«s. 

It  is  fbond  in  Italy,  Saxony,  Bohenna,  Sweden, 
Norway,  France,  and  Britain. 

Uses, — This  variety  of  limestone  is  applied  to  the 
ame  purposes  as  the  former. 

Of  MA1LBI£S4^«-In  the  language  of  the  architect 
md  statoKvy,  all  stones  come  under  the  name  of  marble 
ivbteh  are  harder  than  gypsum,  are  found  in  large  masses, 
tnd  are  susceptible  of  a  good  polish. 

On  this  principle  many  varieties  of  limestone,  granite 
siso  and  porphyry,  serpentine,  and  even  fine-grained 
[Msalts,  are  denominated  marbles.  But  the  word  among 
nineralogists  is  taken  in  a  more  restricted  sense,  and 
iMNifined  to  such  varieties  of  dolomite,  swinstone,  and 
sompact  and  grannlarly  foliated  limestone,  as  are  capable 
»f  receivii^  a  good  polish*  The  most  valuable  of  the 
:aleai«ou8  marbles,  for  hardness,  durability  and  colour, 
une  brought  from  Italy,  the  Greek  islands,  and  from 
^ia.  When  the  ancient  Romans  were  at  the  height 
)f  thotr  civtlified  luxury,  they  obtained  some  varieties  of 
narble  firoa  Numidia  and  other  countries,  which  were 
rery  mudi  esteemed. 

The  sculptors  of  ancient  Greece  and  modern  Europe 
bave  always  held  the  white  grannlarly  foliated  limestone 
in  the  highest  estimation,  both  on  account  of  its  pnre 
cotoar,  delicate  translncence,  and  granular  texture, 
iviiich  make  it  much  easier  to  work  than  compact 
limeatone.  The  species  called  dolomite  is  softer  and 
of  a  finer  grain,  so  that  it  is  even  more  manageable 
under  the  chiseel,  and  therefore  many  of  the  smaller 
wmka  of  the  Greek  sculptors  are  of  this  stone  *,  but 
Paros  and  Carrara  furnish  Europe  with  the  greatest 
i|uaotity  of  statuary  marble.  The  Parian  marble,  which 
Donsista  alnxist  entirely  of  carbonate  of  lime,  is  the 
purest,  softest,  and  has  some  degree  of  transparency  \ 
that  of  Carrara  is  often  mixed  with  granular  quartz  in 
considerable  proportion.  -  The  folbwing  are  the  archi- 
tectural marbles  which  are  held  in  greatest  estimation. 

1.  The  marble  called  bardiglio^  from  Carrara,  is  of 
^  deep  hipe  colour, .  and  seems  to  be  the  same  with  the 
irbite  statuary  marble  of  tbat  place,  witb  the  ajddition 
of  some  colouring  matter. 

2.  That  variety  of  marble  called  cipdin^  is  statuary 
narble  traversed  by  veins  of  mica. 

3.  Lutnaehella  marble.  This  is  a  compact  limestone  of 
%  brownish  gray  colour,  containing  shells  whidi  often 
retain  the  original  pearly  lustre*  To  this  variety  belong? 
the  fire  marhle  of  Bleyberg  in  Cartnthia,  in  which  the 
imbedded  sh^ls  are  beautifully  iridescent. 

4.  Florentine  marble.  This  is  a  grayish,  compact, 
argillaceous  limestone,  exhibiting  designsof  a  yellowish 
brown  colour,  and  resembling  the  ruins  of  houses  :  hence 
it  is  called  rum  marble. 

5»  The  marbles  of  S3rria,  Sienna,  and  Arragon,  are 
of  a  3Fellow  colour,  and  are  in  considerable  estimation. 

6.  Broeatello  marble.  This  is  a  breccia  limestone, 
composed  of  fragments  of  a  yellowish  red  aod  purple 


colour  which  are  cemented  by  semitransparent,  white  Calcareous 
calcareous  spar.  genot. 

7.  The  marhles  known  by  the  names  of  verde  antiche^ 
verde  dt  Corska^  are  composed' of  limestone,  calcareous 
spar,  serpentine,  and  asbestus. 

8«  The  British  isUmds  afford  many  fine  marbles,  of 
which  that  of  Tiree  is  the  finest  and  most  beautiful.  It 
has  often  a  delicate  flesh-colonred  ground,  spotted  with 
green  }  but  its  colours,  it  is  said,  are  apt  to  &de* 
Marbles  have  also  been  found  in  the  islaud  of  Skye^ 
and  in  the  counties  of  Rots  and  Sutherland.  For  a. 
particular  account  of  these,  see  Williams^s  Mineral 
Kingdom,  Marble  is  not  uncommon  in  different  parts 
of  England ;  and  in  particular  Devonshire  and  Derby- 
shire afford  varieties  which  are  held  in  considerable  es- 
timation on  account  of  their  beauty. 

Elastic  marble.  Some  varieties  of  granular  limestone, 
when  cut  into  thin  plates,  possess  a  certain  degree  of 
elasticity.  The  marble  in  which  this  property  was 
observed,  was  in  the  Borghe^e  palace  at  Borne.  It  was 
got  from  an  ancient  building.  Dolomieu  supposed  that 
marble  acquired  this  property  by  being  deprived  of 
moisture,  and  Fleuriau  de  Bellcvue  confirmed  this 
opinion,  by  subjecting  certain  marbles  to  heat.  Ho 
found  also  a  natural  elastic  marble  in  Mount  St  Got- 
hardk 

B.  Calcareous  Spar. 

Common  Spar^  Kirw.  i.  86«   Le  Spath  Caleaire^  Broch* 
j«  536..    Chaux  CarbonatSe^  Hauy^  ii.  127. 

Essen.  CAor.— Divisible  into  a  rhomboid  of  lOli** 
and  78}^:  soluble  with  effervescence  iu  nitric  acid. 

Ester.  CAor.— -Calcareous  spar  is  found  massive,  or 
disseminated  in  various  forms,  as  ^obular,  kidney  form, 
eellnlar,  and  stalactitical  \  but  it  is  most  firequently  cry- 
stallized. The  primitive  form  of  its  crystals  is  an  obtuse 
rhomboid,  whose  angles  are  loi*^  32'  13,'  and  78**  27' 
47''^  integrant  molecule  the  same.  The  variety  of 
forms  of  calcareous  spar  is  very  great.  Werner  reduces 
them  to  three  principal  or  prevailing  forms,  and  from 
these  be  deduces  the  variations  and  modifications  which 
take  place.  His  principal  forms  are,  i.  The  six-sided 
pyramid  5  2.  The  six-sided  prism  \  and,  3.  Tlie  three- 
sided  pyramid.  But  according  to  others  following  the 
same  method,  the  principal  forms  are  the  fi\'e  follow- 
ing :  I.  The  six-sided  pyramid  *,  2.  The  six-sided  prism ;: 
3.  The  six-sided  table;  4.  The  three-sided  pyramid  \  and, 
5.  The  hexahedron,  including  tho  rhomboid  and  cube. 

1.  The  six-sided  pyramid  is  either  simple  or  double. 
A*  Simple.     Simple  pyramids  are  the  summits  of 

other  pyramids,  or  of  pnsBfis,  and  tiKy  wa  variously 
modified  in  being  equal  sided,  acute,  or  obtuSe,  having 
the  angles-  at  the  base  tmncated,  or  having  an  obtuse 
three-sided  summit  slightly  convex. 

B.  Double  \  in  which  two  pyramids*  are  obliquely 
united,  and  variously  modified,  by  having  the  angles  at 
the  base  truncated,  or  the  faces  of  the  summit  a  little 
convex. 

2.  The  six-sided  prism,  is  also  variously  modified,  by 
having  at  each  extremity  a  six-sided  acute  summit,  or  a 
second  obtuse  summit  01  three  sides,  placed  alternately 
on  three  edges  of  the  first. 

3.  A  six-sided  table,  which  is  either  perfect  with 
equal  or  unequal  sides,  or  rounded,  or  lenticular. 

4.  The 


200 

Calcareoot      4«  Tl^e  three-sUed  pynunid,  which  is  either  aimfle 
geniu.     or  doable,  and  is  also  Tarioosly  modified. 

5*  The  hexahedroDy  which  includes  the  rhomboid, 
and  this  is  either  perfect,  or  has  convex  faces,  or  has  six 
obtuse  edges  truncated ;  and  the  cube,  which  is  some- 
-what  rhomboidal.  But  for  a  full  account  of  all  the  va- 
rieties and  modifications  in  the  crystallization  of  calca- 
reous spar,  tbe  reader  is  referred  to  the  treatises  of 
^auy  and  Brochant. 

The  crystals  of  calcareous  spar  exhibit  also  a  simi- 
larity of  arrangement.  The  simple  six-sided  pyramids 
-are  frequently  disposed  in  a  globular,  fascicular,  or 
stellated  form.  The  six-sided  pyramids  are  disposed  in 
rows  'f  the  six-sided  prisms  are  often  disposed  like  steps 
of  stairs,  or  are  fascicular,  or  kidney-form  ^  some  acute 
three-sided  pyramids  of  calcareous  spar  have  been  found 
hollow,  and  in  some  prisms  the  centre  has  been  observ- 
ed of  another  colour.  The  surface  of  the  crystals  com- 
monly smooth }  lustre  shining  or  resplendent }  internal 
lustre  resplendent  or  shining,  vitreous,  and  sometimes 
pearly  \  tracture  foliated  y  cleavage  threefold  >  frag- 
ments always  rhomboidal. 

Colour  usually  white,  grayish,  reddish^  greenish,  or 
yellowish,  white,  rarely  violet  blue,  or  yellowish  brown* 
Various  degrees  of  transparency  j  when  perfectly  trans* 
parent,  refraction  is  double.  It  was  in  this  substance 
that  the  property  of  double  refraction  was  first  observed, 
and  hence  it  was  called  double  spar*  This  singular  pro- 
perty engaged  the  attention  and  mathematical  skill  of 
Newton,  Huygens,  Buffbn,  and  more  lately  the  cele- 
hrated  Hauy.  Calcareous  spar  is  semihard,  brittle,  and 
casilv  frangible.     Sp«  grav.  about  2.7. 

Chem,  c^or.—- Soluble  with  effervescence  in  nitric 
acid,  and  reduced  by  calcination  to  quicklime. 


MINERALOGY. 


Constituent  Parts. 


•  no. 

Mag,  lir. 


'Lime, 

Carbonic  acid, 
Water, 


'100 


Pllillip9«. 

55-5 
44. 

•5 
100.0 


Physical  C^ir.— Some  varieties  of  calcareous  spar, 
and  particularly  those  from  Derbyshire,  give  out,  when 
heated,  a  phosphorescent  light. 

Localities^  &c.— Calcareous  spar  is  verv  common  in 
all  kinds  of  rocks,  in  veins  and*  cavities,  ana  particularly 
in  mineral  veins,  accompanied  with  quartz,  fluor  spar, 
heavy  spar,  and  metallic  ore.  The  finest  spectroens  of 
rhomboidal  spar  are  brought  from  Iceland,  Derbyshire, 
the  Hartz,  as  well  as  Saxony,  France,  and  Spain. 

The  crystallized  sandstones  of  Fontainebleau  are  real 
rhomboidal  crystals  of  calcareous  spar,  which,  during 
the  process  of  crystallization,  hate  b^n  penetrated  with 
particles  of  sand. 

Subspecies  3.   FiBROUS  LIMESTONE. 

Id.  Kirw.  i.  88.  La  Pierre  Calctnre  Fibreuse^  ou  la 
Stalaetite  Cakaire^  Broch.  i.  549.  Chaux  CarbonatSe 
CvnerttnnnSey  Hauy,  11.  168. 

Of  this  subspecies  two  varieties  have  been  formed, 
common  fibrous,  and  calcareous  sinter. 

3 


A.  CoMMOs  Fibrous  Limbstosx, 

fixier.-  CjAar.<— Found  massive  ^  lu<it re  weakly  shiniiig 
and  pearly  ^  fracture  fibrou.^,  sometimes  coarse  and  deli- 
cate, straight  oi  parallel,  and  sometimes  radiated  ^  frag- 
ments  bplintcry. 

Colour  usually  grayish,  rieddish,  and  yellowiah  white; 
generally  transluceut  \  rarely  semitransparent. 

Localitiesy  Sec— This  variety  Ls  fuund  in  veins  \  and 
some  of  it  is  susce|>tiUe  of  a  fine  polish,  and  was  known 
to  tbe  ancients  under  the  name  of  calcareous  alahastetf 
to  distidguish  it  from  gypM^ous  alabaster. 

Sattin  xpar^  a  beautiful  mineral,  which  is  also  tna- 
ceptibie  of  a  fine  polish,  and  has  a  sickly  lustre,  from 
which  it  derives  its  name,  belongs  to  this  variety.  It 
was  firdt  discovered  in  Cumberland,  and  is  but  rarely 
met  with  in  other  places. 

B.  Calcareous  Sister. 

This  variety  is  usnall  v  found  stalactitical  or  tnberoM^ 
and  also  sometimes  kidney-shaped,  botryoidal,  tabalar, 
and  coralloidal.  Surfaoe  usually  rough,  or  drosy,  rare- 
ly smooth }  internal  lustre  glimmering,  sometimes  weak- 
ly shining,  silky,  or  peariy  ^  fracture  fibrous,  which  is 
either  straight,  scopiform,  or  stellular  $  firagmeoU 
wedge-shaped  and  splintery. 

'  Colour  snow  white,  grayish  green,  or  yellowish  white, 
'and  these  are  sometimes  arranged  in  stripes  or  veins  > 
translucent,  sometimes  only  at  the  edges  ^  rarely  semi^ 
transparent^  between  semihard  and  soft;  brittle  and 
easily  frangible.     Sp.  grav.  2.728. 

-  Locak'tisSf  &c— This  mineral  seems  to  he  a  depo- 
sition of  calcareous  particles,  formed  by  the  gradual  in« 
filtration  of  water  into  the  cavities  and  fissures  of  lime- 
stone mountains*  They  are  either  deposited  in  layers 
on  the  floor,  or  suspended  from  the  roof  of  those  grottoes, 
and  in  this  latter  case  they  assume  a  ^at  variety  of 
imitative  forms.  It  is  found  therefore  in  the  celebrat- 
ed grottoes  of  Auxelles,  Arcy,  and  Antiparos,  and  in 
the  cavitieff  of  mineral  veins  at  Leadhills. 

The  singular  mineral  substance,  known  by  the  name 
ofjlos  Jerrt\  belongs  to  this  variety.  This  u  found  in 
the  cavities  of  veins  of  spathose  iron  ore,  from  which  it 
has  derived  its  name.  It  is  of  a  branched  or  coralloidal 
form. 

Subspecies  4.  Pisolite  or  Pca^stone. 

Oviform  Limestone^  var.  Kirw.  i.  01 .  La  Pierre  dePois, 
Broch.  i.  SSS*  Chausc  Carbonatie  Globukforme^ 
Hauy,  ii.  171. 

tlxter.  Char. — This  mineral  is  found  massive,  and  in 
tbe  carities  in  which  it  is  formed,  the  surface  is  kidney- 
.  shaped  >  internally  dull  ^  fracture  difficult  to  detemiine, 
but  appears  even  }  frugments  rather  sharp-edsed. 

Colour  white,  snow  white,  grayish,  reddish  or  yel- 
lowish white  'j  opaque  y  rarely  translucent  at  the  edges  ^ 
soft,  and  brittle. 

Localities^  &c«— Pisolite  u  found  at  Carisbad  in 
Bohemia,  where  it  has  been  long  known,  and  where 
an  entire  bed  was  discovered  in  digging  the  foundatioBa 
for  a  church.  Each  of  the  grains  of  pisolito  contains 
for  a  nucleus  a  particle  of  sand.  These  have  been  in* 
crusted  with  the  carbonate  of  lime  held  in  solution  by 

watcv» 


MINER 

Iter,  and  ptitieiilirijr  Vy  tbe  warn  springs  of  Carla- 
^.  New  GODcentric  lajen  Wing  deporited,  they  at 
5t  fall  to  the  bottom,  and  are  there  united  into  larger 
asses  by  new  depositions  of  tbe  same  calcareons  matter, 
isolites  are  also  found  in  Hungary  and  in  Silesia. 

4.  Species*  Cai.carc6us  Tufa. 

Exter.  r^ar^-^Tfais  mineral  has  usually  the  form  of 
le  substance  on  which  the  calcareous  matter  has 
;en  deposited,  as  that  of  moss  which  is  most  com- 
on,  grass  or  leaves  \  internally  dull,  or  weakly  glim- 
ering  ^  fracture  uneven  or  earthy  \  fragments  blunt- 
Iged. 

Colour  yellowish  gray  of  various  shades  \  opaque,  or 
mnslocent  at  the  edges  j  8oft,.sectile,  and  easily  fran- 
ible  \  light  j  almost  swims  on  water. 

LoaMks^  &c.— This  subsUnce  is  found  in  all  lime- 
tone  countries,  through  the  strata  of  which  water  passes, 
bus  forming  springs  impregnated  with  carbonate  of 
me,  which  is  afterwards  deposited  on  plants  or  other 
nbstances.  This  mineral,  therefore,  is  found  in  alluvial 
mdy  and  the  process  of  its  formation  is  constantly  go- 
igon. 

5.  Species.  Foam  Earth. 
at)ery  Chalk,  Kirw.  L  78.  VEcumc  de  T^rre,  Broch. 

Exter,  ^Aar.— >Thts  mineral  is  found  massive,  dis- 
sminated,  or  in  scaly  particles,  which  are  somewhat 
riaJ>le^  internal  lustre  shining  or  semimetalltc ;  the 
olid  varieties  have  a  curved  foliated  fracture  3  frag* 
lents  blnot-edged. 

Colour  yellowish  or  greenish  white,  sometimes  silvery 
ritite  'y  opaque  ;  stains  ;  very  sofl  or  friable  ^  feels  a 
ittle  greasy  or  silky. 

€hem,  CAar.— Effervesces  and  dissolves  in  acids. 


A  L  O  G  Y. 

Chtm.  Ciar^^EttureiceB 


254 


With  acida. 


Constiiucnt  Parts. 


Lime, 

Carbonic  acid 
Silica, 

Oxide  of  iron, 
Water, 


39- 

5-7 

I. 


1C0.5 


Localities^  &c.-^Tbis  mineral  has  been  found  in 
fountains  of  stratified  limestone  at  Jena  in  Misnia,  and 
t  Eisleben  in  Thuringia. 

Tbis  is  considered  by  some  as  belonging  to  the  fol- 
iwing  cipecies,  and  by  Others  as  merely  a  variety  of.  a- 
mric  mineral. 

6.  Species.  Siatt  Spar. 

Irgentim^  Kirw.  i.  105.  Le  Spathe  Sckistetix^  Broch. 
i.  558.  Schiefer  Spath  of  the  Germans,  Zi.  Phillips, 
PhiU  Mag.  xiv.  289.  and  293. 

Exter,  CAnr.— -Found  massive  or  dtBseroinated ;  in- 
amal  lustre  shining,  pearly ;  fracture  curved  foliated  *, 
ngments  wedge-shaped,  or  blunt-edged. 

Colour  grayish,  reddish,  or  yellowish  white }  translu- 
thtj  soft*,  brittle;  feels  greasy.     Spec. 'grav.  2.72^. 

Vol.  xiv.  Part  !•  -  t 


Galcwreovt 
genoi. 


Constituent  Parts. 


Carbonate  of  lime. 
Silica, 

Oxide  of  iron. 
Loss, 


98.11 


1.04 
100.00 


Localities^  &c.<*-This  mineral  is  found  in  Saxony,  ia 
a  bed  of  limestone,  where  it  is  accompamed  with  ga^ 
lena)  in  Norway;  and  in  Cornwall  in  England. 

7.  Species.  Arragomite. 

Arragon  Spar,  Kirw.  i.  87.  VArrttgonite^  Broch.  L 
576.     Id.  HaQy,  iv.  337. 

Exter.  ^iAar.— This  mineral  is  always  found  crystal- 
lized in  six-sided  equiangular  prisms,  or  with  two.  op* 
posite  faces  broader,  to  which  oonrespond  the  two  faces 
of  an  acute  bevelment,  which  terminates  the  prism.* 
The  edges  of  the  bevelment  are  also  truncatod.  The 
crystals  are  variously  grouped,  and  commonly  in  tbe 
form  of  a  cross  \  crystals  streaked  longitudinally  \  lustre 
shining  or  resplendent,  vitreous  \  fracture  foliated. 

Colour  grayish  or  greenish  white  \  translucent  and 
semitransparent  \  refraction  double  \  hard,  scratches 
calcareous  spar  y  brittle,  and  easily  frangible.  Speci- 
fic era  vity  2.946. 

Vhem.  Char. — Effervesces  with  acids,  and  is  entire* 
ly  dissolved.  The  constituent  parts,  according  to  nu- 
merous and  accurate  analysis,  are  the  same  as  those 
of  calcareous  sparj  but  its  superior  hardness,  diver- 
sity of  form,  and  other  external  characters,  have  long 
puzzled  chemical  philosophers  ^  and  it  stiil  rfjnains  un- 
detenkiiaed  to  what  that  diversity  is  owing  in  this  mi- 
neral. 

Localities^  &c«— Arragonite  was  fint  foond  imbed- 
ded in  foliated  and  fifafons  gypaom,  in  the  province  of 
Arragon  in  Spam,  froai  wUch  it  derives  its  name. 
It  has  been  also  found  in  France,  the  Pyrenees,  in 
Saltzburg,  sometimes  in  an  argillaceons  schistns,  and 
sometimes  in  quartz,  accompanied  by  calcareons  spar 
and  pjrites. 

8.  Species.  Brown  Spar. 

Sidero-Calcite^  Kirw.  i.  105.  Le  Spath  Brunissant, 
Broch.  i.  563.  Chaux  Carbona'Js  Ferrifhe  Ferlie, 
Hauy,  ii.  179. 

Extcr.  CAnr.-^Found  massive  or  disseminated,  or  in 
kidney-shaped,  globular,  or  carious  pieces  ^  very  often 
crystallized.  Tbe  forms  are  lenses  or  rhomboids,  which 
latter  have  either  convex  or  concave  faces  ^  double 
pyramids  composed  of  two  pyramids  with  three  obtuse 
faces :  simple  three-sided  pyramids,  and  oblique  six- 
sided  pyramids.  The  surface  of  ibe  crystals  drusy, 
rarely  smooth ;  lustre  weakly  shining  or  shining  y  in- 
ternal lustre  shining,  pearly,  or  vitreous^  fracture  fo- 
liated y  fragments  rbomboidal. 

Colour  milk-white,  grayish,  yellowish,  or  reddish 
white  J  bright  or  brownish  rcd>    translucent  at  the 

•  Go  edges  ^ 


»^?  ^  I  NERALOGY. 

CalcAMM  ^^  r  mtUiMi  |  btlMfef  emUfttwapbH^  streak  gnyish 
gesiu.  ^  white.     Spec.  gmv.  2.83. 

CA^m.  CAor.— Becomes  black  and  hard  before  the 
blow-pipe,  and  unless  redaced  to  powder,  effervesces 
slowly  with  acids. 


Uow-pipe  witliMt  apUMMlp  m6  kmatk    Sfineios 
Iktle  witlt  acids* 


Pwtl 


UflA. 


Constituent  Parts*    Beigraaa* 

Carboaate  of  lime^ 
o^iroD, 
of  manganese,. 


50 

23 
28 


100 


ff  SlC'— Brawn  spar  is  foand  in  Bohemia^ 
Saxon;^  France,  Sweden,  and  Britain.  It  is  usually 
£[>und  in  metallic  veins. 

9*  Species*  Dolomite. 

Id*  Kirw.  i.  ii^i.    Dohmte^  Brochant,  i.  354.   Chau» 
CarbonatSe  Aksmimfere^  Hany,  ii.  X  73* 

Exter*  C6ar.««-JPoond  massive  *,  firacture  appears  to 
be  foUatad  >  fragments  biaat-edged. 

Colour  grayisli  or  yellowish  white  f  translucent  on  the 
ed|ges ;  seniiuurd  y  rather  difficultly  firangihle  y  feels 
■usa^De.     Spec.  grav.  ai^ftj. 


Constituent  Parte^    Saassorei 

Lime, 
Alumina, 

ignesiai 
Oxiae  of  iron. 
Carbonic  acid,  45. 

Loss,  1.7 1 


44.29 
5.86 
Magnesia^  1.4 

74 


100.00 

CItem,  C^r.-»»£ffemesaes  skmly  in  nitric  acid.- 
Phys.  CAar.— i-Phosphoresces  in  the  dark  by  the  per- 
cussion of  a  bard  bo^. 

Lsoaiitiesj  &o.<**Tlna  stone  was  first  observed  by 
Doloroiea,  among  the  ancient  nonaments  of  Rome  \  and 
afterwards  he  dmovered  similar  stones  in  the  raoootains 
of  the  Tyrol  and  the  Alps.  It  ia  foond  abundantly  on 
St  Gotlutfd  and  other  primitive  mountains.  Dolo- 
mieu^s  attention  was  first  attracted  to  it  by  its  supe- 
rior hardness  and  slow  effervescence  in-  acids,  and  ana- 
lysis sh^ws  that  it  is  difitrent  firoi^  limestone  in  its  com- 
position. 

JO.  Species.  Rhomb  or  Bitter-Spar. 

CrystallK&ed  Muricaiate^  Kirw.  i.  92.  Le  S^th  Mag- 
nesieriy  Brochant,  i.  560.  Chaux  CarbonatSe  Mag* 
nesifire^  Hauy,  ii.  187. 

Exter,  dor.-— Found  massive  or  disseminated  in 
j^omboidal  pieces,  which  have  a  crystallized  appear- 
ance ',  k&stre  shining  or  resplendent,  and  vitreous  or 
pearly  \  firacture  fc4iated  \  cleavage  threefold  \  firag- 
ments  rhomboida). 

Colour  grayish  white,  ydlowish  or  reddish  brown  \ 
translucent  'at  the  edges  ^  semihard  \  brittle  \  stseak 
snow-white.     Spec.  grav.  2^8. 

Ckem.  CAor.^^Becomes  gray  or  brown  before  the 


Constituent  Parts.     Klaproth. 

Carbonate  of  lime,     «            ^a  tj^ 

— — —  magnesia,          45  25 

Oxide  of  iron  and  manganese,  3  2 


100 


100 


Localities^  &c.-*Fonnd  in  the  Tyrol  and  Saltzburg, 
and  in  Sweden.  It  is  always  accompanied  with  asbesUu, 
talc,  and  tremoUte,  and  imbedded  in  chlorite  schistas, 
serpentine,  and  indurated  talc. 

II.  Species.    SwiNE  Stone. 

Id,  Kirw.  i.  89.    La  Pierre  Pwmte^  Brochant,  i.  567. 
Chaux  CarbonatSe  FaOide^  Hauy,  ii.  288. 

Exter,  Char, — Found  massive  \  Internal  lustre  glim- 
mering or  dull  \  fracture  splintery,  sometimes  earthy  or 
foliated  \  fragments  splintery. 

Colour  grayish  black,  or  blackish  brown  *,  opaque, 
rarely  translucent  at  the  edges  \  streak  grayish  white  *, 
semihard,  sometimes  soft  ^  easily  fimngible.  Spec,  gnn 
2.71. 

Pkys*  CAor.— -When  nibbed  with  a  hard  body,  It 
gives  out  a  very  foetid  odour  of  rotten  eggs. 

Chem.  C^r.— -Soluble  with  effervescence  in  nitric 
acid  >  before  the  blow-pipe  is  deprived  of  its  odour, 
which  is  supposed  to  be  owing  to  sulphurated  hydro* 

localities^  &c.— -Forms  entire  beds  in  stratifBrm 
limestone  rocks,,  as  in  France,  Saxony,,  and  Swedes. 

12.^  Species.    Marx.. 

This  is  divided  into  two  subspecies  \  1  earthy ;  and, 
2  indurated. 

Subspecies  i.    Earthy  AIarl. 

Id.  Kirw.  i«  74*     La  Mame  Terreuse^  Brochant,  j* 
569.     Argtk  Cakariferef  Hauy,  iv.  455. 

Exter.  CAar.— This  variety  is  compoeed  of  loose  or 
slightly  coherent  particles  ^  stains  a  little  j  feels  meagre 
and  rough  ^  is  lifl^t  >  almost  swims  on  water. 

Colour  yellowish  gray,  or  grayish  white. 

Localities^  &c.— r  ound  in  many  places  of  France 
and  Germany,  as  well  as  in  different  places  of  England 
and  Scotland,  forming  beds  in  limestone  countries,  snd 
of^en  immediately  under  the  soil. 

Uses.^-'lt  is  sometimes  employed  in  the  mann&cture 
of  pottery,  but  its  principal  use  is  for  the  purposes  of 
agriculture. 

Subspecies  2.  Indurated  Marl. 
Id.  Kirw.  i.  95*  La  Mame  Endurde^  Brochant,  L  571* 

Exter.  CAor.— Found  massive,  doU,  or  slightly  glim- 
mering }  fracture  earthy,  splintery,  or  alaty^>  fri^meats 
blunt-edged. 

Colour  yellowish,  or  smoke  gray;  opaque j  streak 

grayish  wmte  y  soft  \  not  very  hnttfe  y  ^oAj  frangible* 

Spec.  gray.  1.6  to  2.8. 

Chetn* 


M  I  H  B  R 

Ciem.  Clar«p«jy[dl8  bdoM  A%  Uow-^pe  into  a 
pmyiah  Uaok  ^lag)  olerseiBef  bmkljr  with  »oids.  , 

uavrl  is  ooBMdciniA  as  a  aaizture  4)f  carbooate  of  lime 
j»d  alaoDoa  ^  and  accorcUng  to  tbe  di&eEent  ptoportiaBS 
f  tbese  iagndients,  it  is  denominated  calcaicoiD  marl 
ir  day  aarl,  and  jsomctimas  it  is  known  in  agcicnltui e 
ly  tbe  names  of  soft  and  Imm^  marl. 

Locahtiu,  &€^— f  oond  in  fiobenmiy  Saxon^r,  Swe^* 
ten,  Italy,  France,  and  Britain,  in  etratifonn  moiiiitainSy 
iwietimra  in  extensive  beds,  firfiquently  accompanying 
imnstone,  oeal,  and  basalt. 

CrjMtt.— It  is  emplojred  in  affrlcultore  &r  improving 
he  soil,  sometimes  fior  buildu^gy  and  sometimes  as  a 
imeetone*  It  serres  ako  as  aflux  for  some  oresof  iron. 

X3«  Species.^  Bixuuxirovs  Marl  Slate. 


A  L  0  G  Y.  20S 

CAem.  rAar««*Thrown  on  hot  eoals  it  gives  out  ajCtlcvco^f 
greenish  phosphofeseentiigbt  >  jniiisiUebfvfore  the  blow-    gcosi- 
pipe,  but  loses  its  colour.    It  is  almost  entirely  soloUa '      ^      ^ 


Mamo^MumineuXfBTothsLnt/%,S^^  Chaux  Carhonaitte 
SittwttMipnXf  xzanyy  ii«  i8p. 

Exter.  rA«r.-- *Found  massive  >  surface  rough,  dull, 
arely  glimmering  f  or  when  divided  into  curved  plates, 
mooih  and  shining  ^fracture  slaty  >  straight  or  waved  $ 
ragments  tabular. 

Colonr  grayish  or  brownish  black  ;  opaque  j  streak 
hining  ^  soft  ;  easily  frangible;  feels  rather  meagre. 

CAem»  CAor.— -Effervesces  with  acids  ^  inflames  be* 
ore  the  blow*pipe  y  gives  out  a  bituminous  odour,  and 
hen  melts  into  a  blao^  slag. 

Zoe«i/HPiir«,.&c»— -Found  in  different  places  of  Thu« 
ingia,  in  mountains  of  stratiform  limestone,  forming 
articular  beds,  which  repose  frequently  on  a  species  of 
aadstone.  It  is  fiDequeatly  mixed  with  diffiBrent  ores  of 
i^per,  so  that  it  is  sometimes  wrought  as  a  copper  ore. 
[n  this  bituoinoos  sohistus,  petrified  fishes  and  marine 
ilants  are  frequently  found,  disposed  in  regular  order, 
ram  which  some  have  conjectured  that  they  roust  have 
lied  a  violent  death;  or,  according  to  others,  that 
hey  have  been  poisoned  by  the  copper  with  which  it 
ibounds. 

14.  Species.    AtATtrt, 

Pioipholitej  Kirw.  i.  128.    L'^4po^i^^  CommunCy  Bro* 
chant,  i.  580.    Ckaux  "PhoBphaUe^  Hauy,  ii.  234. 

J^jpteTiCAaTi^^Fonttd  almost  alwayaerystalliied,  rave- 
y  disseminated.  The  forms  of  its  crystals  are,  J.  A 
egular  six-sided  prism ;  2.  The  same  prism  truncated  on 
ts  lateral  edges ;  3.  Also  on  its  angles  and  terminal 
idges ;  4.  Bevelled  on  each  of  the  lateral  edges  ;  5. 
(^ith  an  obtuse  and  regular  six-sided  pyramid,  and  one 
ir  both  extremities,  the  summit  being  slightly  truncated ; 
>•  A  three^sided  prism  with  Uie  late]:ul  edges  bevelled, 
uid  the  terminal  edges  truncated ;  7.  A  six-sided  table, 
»ving  its  terminal  edges  strooglj,  and  the  lateral  edges 
iHgfatly  truncated.  Lateral  faces  of  the  prisms  longitu- 
iinally  streaked ;  faces  of  the  pyramid  smooth ;  lustre 
(hioiog  and  resplendent;  internal  lustre  shining,  be- 
nreen  resimms  and  i^treoos.  Cross  fracture  foliated ;  in 
Mbcr  directions  fine  grained,  uneven,  or  conchoidal. 
Fragments  rather  sharp-edged. 

Colour  green  of  various  shades,  blue,  sometimes 
pearl  gray,  and  j^enisb  gray ;  semkransparent,  some- 
tiflies  transparent,  or  only  transluoent ;  semihard ;  is 
icfatched  li^  finer  spar ;  brittle,  and  easily  frangible. 
Spec  grav.  2.8  to  3.2. 


m  nitric  acid. 

ccmsfistkiM^  jPnrfr.    iUaproth* 

liime,  5j 

Phosphoric  acid^        45 

zoo 

PAyjT.  rAar.— tfiecomes  electrib  bj  friction,  but  noH 
by  heat. 

JjacdHtmf  &e.-«nApatite  is  fonadan  diflEorent  phices 
of  Gemaajr,  ehiefly  in  tin  mines,  nrhete  it  i$  iMcoin- 
panied  by  floor  spar,  qiiartt,  and  flidtallao  OSes.  liis 
aho  fiutttd  in  Cecovsiittiin  aioDdlar  «irQnmstaimo» 

25.  Species.    AsfARAGUS^SinME. 

LaPierre  tPAsperffs^  Broch. «.  580.  ChatOe  Phosphat/e^ 
Hauy,  ii.  234. 

Ester.  Char^'^bk  minoHd  bftt  jieeo  only  found 
crystaliited  in  equiangular  six-sided  prisms,  terminated 
by  a  slightly  obtuse  six-sided  pyramid ;  lateral  edges 
joraetimes  truncated ;  lateral  faces  longitudinally  streaki- 
edy  tbe  others  smooth ;  exteroai  lustre  shiniDg  or  re- 
splendent; internal,  resplendent  and  resinous;  fracture 
foliated,  cross  fracture  imperfectly  conchoidal;  frag'- 
ments  not  very  sharp-edged. 

Colour  asparagus  green,  greenish  white;  commonly 
tnmsparent,  often  only  semitransparent,  or  even  trans* 
locent ;  semihard.    Spec.  grav.  3.o9» 

Chem,  CAor.-— Infitsible  before  the  Ucfw-ptpe ;  selu* 
hie  with  eflfervescence  in  nitric  acid,  but  thrown  on  hot 
coals  does  not  phosphoresce. 

Constituent  Parts.     Vau5[uelin. 


Lime, 
Phosphoric  acid. 


53-3» 

45.74 

.96 


ioqlOo 

LocalitieSj  &c. — ^This  stone  has  been  found  at  Ca« 
prera,  near  Cape  de  Gates  in  Spain,  and  also,  it  is  said, 
near  Arendal  in  Norway. 

16.  Species.    PHospuoritc. 

V Apatite  Terreuse^  Broch.  i.  584.   CAaus  Phosphatle 
Terreuse^  Hauy,  ii.  239. 

Emter.  (7Aar.-»Found  massive,  and  having  little  co- 
herence ;  dull ;  fracture  earthy,  or  fine  grained  uneven ; 
fragments  blunt-edged,  sometimes  wedge  shaped. 

Colour  yellowish  or  gmyiiAi  white-;  opaque)  semi- 
hard ;  often  friable ;  easily  frangible  j^  feels  meagre. 
Spec.  grav.  2.82. 

Chem.  ^Aor.— Before  the  blow-pipe  it  phosphoresces, 
and  according  to  some,  melts  into  a  white  glass,  but 
according  to  others,  infasible.  Soluble  in  acids,  and 
with  sulphuric  acid  gives  out  white  vapours. 

C  c  2  C^netituent 


204 

/ 

Ml  N  E  B 

CalcarfOQt 

^ 

- 

genus. 

ConHituent  Parts* 

Pelletier. 

' 

Lime, 

59^ 

Silica, 

2. 

Fbosj^horic  acid^ 

34- 

Fluoric  acid, 

«i 

Carbonic  acid. 

X. 

Muriatic  acid, 

•5 

Oxule  of  iron, 

J. 

A  L  O  G  Y. 


Part  I. 


'      >       •  lOO.O 

Localities^  &G.-*-This  mineral  is  found  in  the  north 
of  Scotland,  and  in  the  province  of  Estremadura  in 
*  Spain,  where  it  forms  an  entire  mountain.  It  is  mixed 
with  quartz  ^  has  been  long  ko^iro  by  the  inhabitants 
of  the  country  for  its  property  of  phosphorescing  when 
thrown  on  hot  coals. 

17.  Species.    Fluor. 

This  has  been  divided  into  three  subspecies  &  i. 
earthy  j  2.  eompaat  ^  and,  3*  flaor  spar. 

Subspecies  x.    Earthy  Fluor. 

* 

Sandy  or  Earthy  Fluor^  Kirw.  i.  126.  Le  Fluor  Ter» 
rtux^  Broeh.  i.  593.  Chaux  Fktatei  Amorphe^  Hauy, 
ii.  260^ 

Ester.  Char.^'1%  composed  of  particles  which  ace 
slightly  cohering  \  dull,  or  scarcely  glimmering. 

Colour  creenish  white,  sometimes  bluish  green  \  stains 
a  little^  feels  rough.. 

Chenu  CAor.-^Thrown  on  hot  coals,  it  gives  out  a 
bluish  green  lisht. 

Localities^  occ.—- Has  been  found  ia  Hungary,  in.  a 
vein  accompanied  with  quartz. 

•  

Subspecies  2.     Compact  Flu<mi. 
Id,  Kirw.  127.    Id,  Broch.  i.  594. 

Exter  CAor.—- Is  found  massive  ^  dull,  lustre  some- 
times glimmeiing,  vitreons  \  fracture  even,  conchoidal, 
and  rarely  splintery  \  fragments  sharp-edged. 

Colour  gieenish  gray,  or  greenish  white  \  sometimes 
different  colours  are  disposed  in  spots ^  translucent} 
streak  shining  ^  hard,  and  brittle. 

Chem,  CA^.— Phosphoresces  on  hot  coals. 

Localities^, Sic — This  mineral  is  found  in  the  Hartz, 
in  Sweden,  and  Siberia,  always  accompanying  fluor 
spar. 

Subspecies  3.    Fluor  Spar. 

Foliated  or  Sparry  Fluor ^  Kirwi  i.  1 27.  Le  Spath 
Fluor  J  Broch.  i.  595.  Chattx  FluaiSe^  Hauy,  \w  247. 

Essen*  Char,- — ^Insoluble  ia  water,  and  divisible  into 
a  regular  octahedron. 

Exter.  CAar.— Floor  spar  is  found  massive  or  dissemir 
nated,  but  most  frequently  crystallized.  Primitive  form 
a  regular  octahedron,  which'  is  easily  obtained  by  me- 
chanical division  \  integrant  molecule  a  regular  tetra- 
hedron. The  usual  forms  are,  i.  The  cube,  which  is 
either  perfect,  or  with  truncated  edges  or  truncated 
angles,  or  with  tho  edges  bevelled,  having  on  each  of 


its  aifgles  a  three-sided  pyramid,  oorrespoiiding  to  the  Ou^c^ 
faces  of  the  cube.  2.  The  octahedron,  which  it  eitber  tioa. 
perfect,  or  has  its  angles  or  its  edges,  or  both,  tnoct* 
ted.  Surface  of  the  crystals  smooth,  shiniog  or  r^ 
splendent,  sometimes  drasy^  internal  lustre  shining,  re- 
splendent,  and  vitreous  or  pearly  ^  fracture  foliated, 
straight  or  curved  \  cleavage  fourfold,  in  the  directioa 
of  the  faces  of  the  regular  octahedron  \  fragmmts  te- 
trahedral,  or  rhomboidia]. 

Colours  of  flpor  spar  extremely  various  and  beautiful. 
The  principal  are,  greenish  white,  grayish,  or  yellow- 
ish \  blue,  green,  brown,  and  red,  of  various  shades  \ 
and  different  colours  are  sometimes  arranged  io  stripes 
and  spots.  Most  commonly  translucent,  sometimes 
transparent,  or  onlv  translucent  at  the  edges.  Semi- 
hard 'j  brittle  \  easily  frangible.     Speo^  grav.  3.09  to 

Chem.  CAor.— Fusible  before  the  blow-pipe  iato  a 
transparent  glass  -y  decrepitates  when  heated.  The  pow- 
der thrown  on  hot  coals  gives  ont  a  bluish  or  greenish 
phosphorescent  light  \  and  two  pieces  rubbed  against 
each  other,  shine  in  the  dark. 


Constituent  Parts, 

Lime, 

Fluoric  acid, 
Water, 


Scheele. 

57 
16 

27 
100 


LocalitieSj  Scc.-»Ftnor  spar  is  sometimes  foond  In 
beds,  but  most  frequently  in  mineral  veins.  It  is  very 
eommon  in  many  places  of  the  world,  particularly  ia 
Cornwall  and  Derbyshire,  and  also  in  the  counties  of 
Durham  and  Cumberland  in  England  ^  at  Chameani  ia 
Savoy,  the  octahedral  variety  of  a  rose  red'coloorb 
found.  Floor  spar  is  found  also  in  the  interior  part  of 
Aberdeenshire  in  Scotland. 

Uses, — This  mineral'  is  successfully  employed  as  a 
flux  for  different  metallic  ores.  *  As  it  is  susceptible  of 
a  fine  polish,  it  is  cot  and  formed  into  a  great  variety  o( 
ornan&entar  objects,  as  pyramids,  vases,  &c.  which,  on 
account  of  the  heanty  of  the  colours,  are  greatly  es- 
teemed. 

\  8)  Speeies.     Gtpsum. 

This  species  is  divided  into  four  subspecies:  t« 
earthy  \  2*. compact^  3.  foliated  \  and,  4.  fibrous. 

Subspecies  i..    Earthy  Gypsum. 

Farifkoceous  Gypsunty  Kirw«  i.  1 20.  Le  Gwse  Ter* 
reuxj  Brooh.  i.  6oi.  Chaux  Sulphatie  Temuse^ 
Hauy,  ii.  27 8^ 

Extern  C^or.-^This  is  composed  of  particles  which 
are  more  or  less  cohering  >  dull,  in  some  places  weakly 
glimmering  ^  feels  meagre  and  rough. 

Colour  white,  gray,  or  yellowish. 

Localities^  &c.— -This  substance  is  rare  ^  it  is  ool^ 
found  in  the  fissures  and  cavities  of  gypsum  rocks,  ao^ 
is  supposed  to  be  a  deposition  o£.  loose  particles  of  gyp- 
sum, carried  along  by  water.     Found  in. Saxony,  ani 

Monte  Martre  near  Faris. 

Subspecies 


MINERALOGY. 


ao5 


Snbspeeies  2,    Compact  Oypsuii. 

L  Xirw.  L  121*    Id.  Brocb.  i.  602.     Id,  Haoy,  ii« 

278. 

Exier.  rAor.— >Foaod  massive  $  lustre  weakly  glim* 
eriog,  almost  dall  ^  fracture  oompaGti  eveD,  or  splin* 
rj  'j  fragments  blant-edgej. 

Colour  yellowish  and  grayish  wbite,  sometimes  red- 
sb  ^  and  different  colours  exhibit  stripes ;  translucent 
the  ed^s  ^  soft,  and  easily  frangible.     Spec*  grav. 
N>ai  2.3. 

LiMxdtties^  &c.— Fuund.in  Italy,  Germany,  France, 
pain,  and  England. 

Subspecies  3.    Foliated  Gtpsum. 

rramtlarly  FoUaUd  Gi^paum^  Kirw.  i.  123.  Id,  Brocb. 
i.  606. 

Exter,  ^Aar.-— Found  massive  or  disseminated,  and 
>metimes,  it  is  said,  crystallized  in  six-sided  prisms, 
btusely  bevelled  at  each  extremity ;  lustre  glimmering 
r  shining,  between  vitreous  and  pearly  ^  fracture  fo- 
aled, sometimes  radiated  ^  fragments  blunt-edged. 

Colour  usually  snow  white,  grayish,  yellowish,  or 
eddish  white  ^  and  several  colours  are  arranged  in  spots, 
tripes,  and  veins.  Translucent,  rarely  semi  transparent } 
eFraction  double  ;  very  soft ;  easily  frangible.  Spec. 
rav.  2.27  to  2.31. 

Foliated  gypsum  has  some  resemblance  to  granular 
innestone,  but  may  be  readily  distinguished  from  it  by 
is  softness. 

Sabspecies  4*    FiBROUS  GrpsuAf. 

TdL  ILirw.  i.  X22.     Id,  Brocb;  r.  604.     Id.  Hauy,  li. 

278. 

Ester.  CAar.— -This  is  found  massive,  but  in  thin 
ayers  y  losire  shining,  or  weakly  shining,  pearly  ^  frac- 
»re  fibrous  j  in  some  varieties  the  longitudinal  fracture 
\a  foliated.}  cross  fracture  fibrous;  fragments  long, 
iplintery. 

Colour  snow  white,  grayish,  yellowish,  or  reddbh 
vrhite  'y  translucent  \  very  soft  \  easily  frangible. 

Chm,  (7Aar.— The  different  varieties  of  gypsum  pos- 
;e3s  nearly  the  same  chemical  characters.  When  pure, 
here  is  no  effervescence  witU  acids.  Before  the  blow- 
pipe gypsum  immediately  becomes  white,  is  concerted 
oto  a  white  enamel,  which,  at  the  end  of  24  hours^ 
TsHls  into  powder. 

Localities^  &c.— 'Gypsum,  in .  general,  constitutes 
nountains  or  beds,  which  are  subordinate  to  sandstone, 
)r  limestone.  It  is  found  in  all  kinds  of  rocks.  Gyp^ 
mm  is  found  in  great  abundance  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Paris,  in  several  parts  of  England,  but  sparingly  in 
Scotland* 

CTm.— Gypsum  is  employed  along  with  lime  as  a. ce- 
ment; It  is  also  very  extensively  employed  under  the 
name  of  plasterof  Paris,  for  making  casts  and  models. 
With  this  view  it  is  exposed  to  a  strong  heat,  to  drive 
sff  the  water  of  crystallization*  It  is  then  in  the  State 
of  powder,  wbicB  being  again  mixed  witb  water,  is  put 
iato  the*  mould,  in  the.  form  of  paste  *j  and,  from  its 
itroDg  affinity  for  watery  it  taoon  bepomes  soUd.^ 


rp.  Species.    Selenite. 

Broad  Foiiated  Gypsum^  Kirw.  i.  123.     La  Sclefdte^ 
Brocb.  i.  609.     Chaux  Sidfat^e^  Hauy,  ii.  266. 

Essen,  C'A^tt.— -Divisible  into  smooth  plates,  wbich 
break  under  angles  of  113°  and  67°. 

Exter.Char. — Selenite  is  found  massive  ^  andfrequent- 
ly  also  crystallized.     The  primitive  form  of  its  crystals 
is  a  four-sided  prism,  whose  bases  are  obliquely  parallelo- 
grams 'f  the  integrant  molecule  is  the  same.     The  usual 
forms  are,  a  six-sided  prism,  having  two  broad  and  two 
narrow  faces,  and  terminated  by  an  oblique  bevel ment, 
whose  sides  torrespond  to  the  broad  sides  of  the  pnsm  ; 
a  similar  prism  terminated  by  a  four-sided  pyramid  ^ 
double  crystals  composed  of  two  of  the  former  united 
by  their  smaller  lateral  faces,  so  that  the  summits  united 
form  on  one  side  a  salient  angle,  and  on  the  other  a  re- 
entering angle  ^  another  form  is  a  spheroidal  or  conic 
lens.     These  crystals  are  often  grouped,  divergent,  fas- 
cicular, or  stellated )  and  of  the  six  sides  of  the  prism, 
the  two  opposite  are  smooth,  and  the  four  others  longi- 
tudinally streaked  ;   lustre  resplendent  or  shining,  be-* 
tween  vitreous  and  pearly  ;  fracture  foliated,  straight 
or  curved  j  cleavage  threefold  ^  fragments  rhomboidal, 
with  two  faces  smooth  and  shining,   and  two  others 
streaked. 

Colour  usually  white,  grayish,  yellowish,  or  snow 
white,  sometimes  iridescent  ^  transparent,  sometimes 
only  translucent^  very  soft^  in  thin  plates,  flexible, 
but  not  elastic  j  easily  frangible.     Spec.  grav.  2.32. 

CAem,  CAor.-— Before  the  blow-pipe  more  easily  fusi* 
ble  than  gypsum,  and  splits  into  thin  plates. 

Constituent  Parts.     Bergman. 


CalcaRoas 
gernis. 


J 


Lime, 

Sulphuric  acid, 
Water, 


3a 
46 

22 
loa 


LocaiitteSf  &c....Selenite  is  found  among  beds  of 
gypsum,  and  particularly  among  those  which  alternate 
with  clay  and  sand-stone.  It  is  also  found  in  nests  in 
clay.  It  is  not  uncommon  in  many  places,  as  among 
the  gypsum  rocks  near  Paris,  in  different  parts  of  Eng- 
land, and  at  Lord  Glasgow^s  coal  works  in  Scotland, 
where  it  is  fdund  among  clay,  and  in  the  cavities  or 
on  the  surface  of  the  limestone  which  reposes  on  the 
strata  of  coal. 

{/^ef... Selenite  also,,  after  calcination,  is  employed 
in  modelling  ^  but  it  is  said  that  it  possesses  less  solidity 
than  what,  is  obtained  from  gypsum. 

20.  Species.    Anhydrite. 
Chaux  SulfatSe  AnJnjdrcj  Hauy,  iv.  348. 

Exter,  CJutr. — ^This  mineral  is  found  massive  \  lustre 
shining  or  weakly  shining,  and  pearly  \  fracture  curved 
foliated,  sometimes  radiated,  and  fine  splintery  :  frag- 
ments sharp-edged*,  translucent;  semihard;  not  very 
brittle,  rather  easily  frangible.     Spec.  grav.  2.964. 

Chem.  C^or.—- Before  the  blow-pipe  it  neiUier  exfoli- 
ates nor  becomes  wkitc,  like  selenite. 

Constituent 


M  I  N  £  B 

Constituent  Parts* 

Sulpborie  ftckl, 
Oxule  of  iron. 
Silica, 
Zjoss, 

Vaoqaeliii. 

Klaproth. 
42. 

57- 
.1 

.25 

.45 

xoo 

IOO.CO 

LKmk'ticSf  fitc— >Thi8  iranenJ  Jias  been  found  in 
SwitEeriMid,  in  the  salt  pits  in  the  canton  ef -Berne. 

2X.  Species.   Cube  Spar.  * 

Cimm  St^iafeAnkmirt^  Hany,  i¥.  348.   Stmde  Ahm* 
ate/  Gffi^ere^  Id.  xi.  365*     Mmnactief  Klaproth. 

Ester.  CAar.«— This  mineral  is  found  massive,  and  al- 
so crystallized,  in  foor^sided  prisms,  which  are  nearly 
cohical ;  two  of  the  opposite  lateral  faces  are  broader 
than  the  other  two.  The  lateral  edges  are  sometimes 
troncated,  and  hence  arises  an  eight-sided  prism :  some- 
times also  the  truncations  are  so  great  as  to  destroy  the 
narrow  lateral  faces,  and  form  again  a  six-sided  prism. 
External  lustre  of  the  hroad  faces  resplendent  and  pear- 
ly j  of  the  narrow,  shining.  Internal  lustre  shining 
and  pearly  ^  fracture  foliated  ;  cleavage  threefold  j 
fragmenU  cubical. 

Colour  milk-white,  grayish,  yellowish,  and  reddish 
trhite  ;  stfknetimes  pearl  gray  ;  translucent  j  semihard. 
Spec.  grav.  2.92  to  2.96. 


Qmsdttient  Parts, 

Sulphate  of  lime. 
Carbonate  of  lime. 
Muriate  of  soda, 


Klaproth. 

57.8 

IX. 

3X.2 

100.0 


Localities^  &c.-~Ponnd  in  the  salt  pits  at  Halle  in 
the  Tyrol,  where  it  is  called  splintery  gypsum, 

22.  Species.    Datholits. 

£AauM D^hoUu^BrochMnif  il  39J.  Chaux BoraUe Si- 
UceusSf  Haiiy. 

Exter.  CAoTw^This  mineral  has  only  been  found 
crystallized  y  the  primitive  form  is  a  rectangular  pcism, 
with  rhomboidal  bases,  whose  angles  are  109^  18'  and 
fcP  42' }  lostre  shining,  vitreous  ;  fragments  conchoi* 
dal.  , 

Colour  grayish  or  greenish  white  ^  translucent  j 
scratches  floor  spar.     Spec.  grav.  2.98. 

Chem,  CAar.— In  the  flame  of  a  candle  it  becomes 
dull  white,  and  is  easilv  reduced  to  powder.  Before 
the  blow-pipe  it  melts  mto  a  glass  of  a  pale  rose-red 
colour. 

Constituent  Parts,   Klaproth. 

lime,  35.5 

Silica,^  36.5 

Boracicacid,  14. 

WatCK,  4* 

XOO.O 


A  L  O  G  Y.  Rartl. 

LoealttieSf  &c.— Foimd  near  Arendal  In  Norway,  ClaMttei. 

and  some  speokaens  fi#  aooompaniod  by  fseenish-co-  ^ tion. 

Jonred,  foliated  talc  ~ 

VIL  BARYnC  Genus. 
z.  Species.    WiXBUZTS,  «r  Carbomis  ^Basyt0s. 

Sarolite^  or  Aerated  Barytes^  Kirw.  i.  X34|'  La  Wt- 
therite^  Brochant,  1.  613.  Baryte  Carbonat/e^  Haiiy^ 
n.  308. 

^  Essen.  CAor.— Forming  a  white  precipitate  in.wwV 
-iittctc  acid  haliHe  solotmn. 

Exter, C^nr  Fmind msniJTn, ni  ^bwsiiiii itud,  imulf 
crystallized  ^  forms  of  iu  crystals  are,  a  six-sided  pritn, 
mith  a  suMided  pynuaid  set  on  the  btnral  &ces ;  the 
«ame  prism  having  all  the  angles  truncated  >  a  double 
eix-sidod  pyramid.  The  crysMs,  which  are  ana]],  aic 
usually  imbedded  in  the  mineral  itself}  sometimet  g**"^ 
ed  in  bundles,  or  crossing  each  other.  Snifiice  sm— tfa^ 
lustre  of  the  principal  fracture  shining,  or  weakly  shining, 
resinous ;  fracture  between  radiated  and  Ibliated ;  cross 
fracture  fine  grained  uneven ;  fragments  wedge-ahaped. 

Colour  yellowish  gray,  grayish,  or  yellowish  white  ; 
translucent,  or  semitransparent ;  semihard,  or  sof^  ^ 
brittle  ^  easily  frangible.     Spec.  grav.  4.3  to  4.33. 

Chem,  CAor.-— Infusible  according  to  Hany  before 
the  blow-pipe ;  but  according  to  Broi^ant,  melts  be£Bre 
the  blow-pipe  to  a  white  enamd. 


Constituent  Parts, 


Pelletier. 
Barytes,  62 

Carbonic  acid,       22 


Watei 


16 


xoo 


VaaqncUn. 

74-5 


X00.0 


Constituent  Parts  according  to  Kkgtroth* 
Carbonate  of  barytes,  5^346 

Carbonate  of  strootites,  <*7oj 

Alttmina  iron,  .043 

Carbonate  of  copper,  .ooq 

lOOuOOO 

Localities^  &c.-— This  mineral  was  discovered  by  Dr 
Withering  at  Anglesark  in  Lancashire,  in  lead  veins, 
which  traverse  the  coal  strata,  and  it  is  accoropaniM 
with  heavy  'spar  and  blende. 

Vs€s.'^^9TjXes  acts  as  a  strong  poison  on  the  animal 
economy.  It  has  been  long  employed  at  An^lesaik 
far  the  purpose  of  destroying  rats.  It  has  also  been 
tried  as  a  medicine  in  scrofula,  but  seemingly  with  little 
eiFect  \  and  it  ought  to  be  had  recourse  to  with  extreme 
caution. 

2.  Species.     Heavy  Spar,  or  Sulphate  of  Barytes. 

This  species  has  been  divided  into  eight  sidispecies} 
earthy,  compact,  granular,  ibliated,  cnmmon,  colomaar, 
prismatic,  and  bolognian* 

Sobspecies  x.    Earthy  Heavy  S^asu 

Earthy Barosekmite^Kirvnnt  i.  138.  LeS^hPesmU 
TerreuMt  Bfoobaat,  i.  6x7. 

4  Exter, 


MINER 

Exter,  CAor.*— 'FmwIiiuim^  toBtre  scarcely  glim- 
leriiigy  or  dull  \  cgaMStt  of  earthy  particles,  if  bicfa  are 
tghtly  cohering ;  staiaa  a  little  ^  feels  neagve. 

Coloor  snow  whtte^  grayish,  yelbWisli^  or  reddish 
hite* 

tocfl/f/tlrt,  &C— Thia  a  rare  mineral.  It  has  been 
Mind  in  Sax^y,  eovenog  masses  of  heavy  spar,  and  al- 
»  in  J>erbyshire  and  Staffordshire  in  England. 

Subspecies  2.  Compact  H£avy  Spar. 

*ompacte  Barosclenite^  Kirw.  i.  138.     Baryte  Sulfaii^' 
Compacted  Hany,  ii.  303.     Id.  Brocb.  i.  618. 

Exter.  Char. — Found  massive,  sometimes  in  kidney* 
>rm  or  globnlar  pieces,  with  cubical  impressions  j  lustre 
iimmenng,  sometimes  doll,  and  sometimes  weakly 
hining  \  fracture  coarse  earthy,  sometimes  nneven  \ 
ragments  not  very  sharp^ged. 

Coloor  yellowish,  grayish  white,  sometimes  pale  fliesh 
ed  'f  opaque,  or  translucent  at  the  edges  \  soft ,  not 
ery  brittle  ^  easily  frangible  ^  feels  meagre. 

LoeoHtwSy^Cm^^YwktkA  in  mineral  veins  in  Saxony,, 
nd  in  England  ;  in  clay  slate,  in  Savoy  ^  and  we  have 
i>nttd  it  in  sand  stone  in  Northnmberiand. 

Subspecies  3..  GnAirnLAR  H£avt  Spar. 

Ester.  Chan. — ^This  also,  is  found  massive  y  lustre 
rlimmering,  nearly  shining,  and  pearly  \  fracture  foli- 
ited,  or  splintery;  fragments  blunt* edged. 

Coloor  snow-white,  milk-white,  yellowish,  or  red- 
Bsh  \  translucent  \  soft ;  not  very  brittle }  easily  fran- 
fible.     Spec.  grav.  3.8. 

Constituent  Parti.    Klaprotfa. 

Barytes,  60. 

Solpbnric  acid^  30 

Silica,.  x6 


100 


LocaUtieSy  &c.-*Fonnd  in  mineral  veins  in  Saxony,, 
dong  with  galena,  and  in  Siberia,  accompanied  by  cop- 
ier and  silver  ores. 

Subspecies  4«  Foxiaxed  Heavy  Sfar-. 

Exter.  Ciiar.— Found  massive,  and'in  kidner-shaped, 
^bnlar,  and  cellular  pieces,  composed  of  ronr-sided 
tables,  or  lenses,  with  a  dnisy  surface;  lustre  glimmer- 
LDg  or  shining,  between  pearly  and  vitreous  \  fracture 
cm^ed  foliated,  sometimes  s]dintery;  fragments  not 
very  sharp-edged,  sometimes  wedge-shaped. 

Coloor  yellowish,  reddish,  or  grayish  whitr,  some- 
times flesh  or  brownish  red;  tranalnceiit ;  soft;  not 
very  brittle ;  easily  frangible. 

LocaHttes,  &c.— -Is  not  uncommon  in  mineral  veins  ; 
sooMtimcs  also  in  bode,  iftOMHuy  complies.  It  is  also 
found  in  Btitaink 

Subspecies  5.  Common  Heavy  Sfjr. 

Foliated  BaroeelenUe^  Kirw*  x.  140.     Brocb.  i.  624. 

Exter.  Chafi.^^Thii  mineral  is  found  in  masses,  o^ 
iisseminated,  and  very  often  crystallized.  Its  princi- 
pal forms  are,  i.  A  double  four^sided  pyramid ;  2«  A 


A  L  O  G  Y.  207 

fbur-sided  prism,  rectangular  or  obliqtie ;  3,  A  fimr-  Buytic 
sided  table,  rectangular  or  oblique;  4.  A  Bix-dided  genus, 
prism ;  jr  A  six-sided  table ;  and,  6.  A  long  eight- 
sided  table.  These  forms  are  variously  modified  hj 
truncations  and  bevelments,  and  they^  are  differently 
grouped  together ;  the  prisms  cross  one  another ;  the 
tables  arc  attached  by  their  lateral  faces,  and  form  glo- 
bular or  kidney-shaped  groups ;  surfaces  smooth,  some- 
times rough  and  drusy.  Luetk«  reeplandent,  shining^ 
glimmering,  or  only  dull :  interoal  lustra  shifeisff  or  re- 
splendent, between  pearly  and  resinous:  mctnra 
straight  foliated  ;  cleavage  threefold;  fragments  some* 
what  rliomboidal. 

Colour  commonly,  white,  snow-white,  milk-white^ 
prayish,  vellowish,  or  reddish  ;  in  masses  translucent ; 
m  cnrstals  transparent  or  semitransparent ;  refraction 
double;  soft;  brittle.    Spea  grav.  4,29  to  4*47i  and 

4-5- 

Chem,  (TAar.^Fusible  before  the  blow-pipe  into  a 

solid  white  enamel,  which  being  moistened,  gives  out 

the  odour  of  sulphurated  hydrogen.     Does  not  eSer-» 

vesce  with  acids. 


Constituent  Parts. 


Barytes, 
Sulphuric  acid. 
Water, 


Mrithering. 
67.3 
32.8 


100.0 


fidi^En. 

3 
100 


Localities^  &c.«— This  is  a  very  common   mineral,^ 
and  particularly  in  metallic  veins  that  traverse  primi- 
tive mountains.     It  accompanies  ores  of  silver,  copper,, 
lead^  and  cobalt,  as  well  as  fiuor  spar,  calcareous  spar, . 
and /quartz. 

Subspeeies  6.  Columkar  Heavy  Sfaa. 

Le  Spath  Pesant  en  BarreSy  Broch.  i.  631.     Baryie 
Suiphat/e  Baciliaire^  Hauy,  ii.  302. 

Exter.  rAw%<^Foutid  always  crystallized :  i.  In  ob- 
lique four-sided  prisms ;  2.  The  same  prism  terminated . 
by  an  acute  bevdment ;  3.  The  same  prism  terminated 
by  a  four-sided  pyramid  placed  on  the  lateral  edges ; 
and,  4.  A  six-sided  prism  bevelled  at  the  extremity.  The 
crystals  are  acicular^  and  are  grouped  together  in  bun- 
dles; surface  shining,  or  weakly  shining ;  internal  lustre 
shining ;-  loogitudiuij  fracture  radiated ;  cross  fractato- 
even.     Fragments  rhomboidal. 

Colour  siWery,  grayish  or  grtenish  white ;  tnmtln* 
oent ;  soft,  and  lu*ittle. 

Locaktiesj  &o.— Found  in  Saxony*  and-Derbysbife 
in  England^  accompanied  by  other  varieties  o£  heavy 
^ar,  quartz,'  and  floor  spar. 

Subspecies  7;  Prismatic  Hxatt  Spar. 

Exter.  CAar.— Found  massive,  and  frequently  cry- 
stallized. The  usual  forms  are,  i.  An  oblique  four-si* 
ded  prism,. bevelled  at  the  extremities;  a.  Ah  oblique 
four-sided  prism,  terminated  by  a  four-sided  pyramid 
placed  on  the  lateral  edges ;  3.  An  elongated  octah6* 
dron  ;  and,  4.  A  six-sided  prism.  Lustre  shining  or  re- 
splendent, between  resinous  and  pearly ;  fracture  folia- 
ted >  cleavage  threefold. 

Celonr  * 


2o8  MINERALOGY. 

Stxtwtitti      Colour  jMomAf  greenish,  or  pearl  gny,  sometimes 
genot.     ptle  blae.  Mid  rarely  flesh  red ;  transluceDt )  when  cry- 
'■     V   ■•'  sUllized,  transparent  j  soft,  and  not  very  brittle  \  very 
easily  frangible. 

Localities^  &c.— Sometimes  found  in  mineral  veins* 
as  in  Saxony* 


Strontites, 
Carbonic  acid. 
Water, 


GmHiistcni  Parts. 
Klaproth. 

SO- 
•5 


Subspecies  8.    BoLOGViAN  Heavy  Spar. 

Le  Spaih  de  Bokgne,  Brochant,  i.  633.     Striated  or 
yi&roM  A«ovy  ^Mtr,  Kirwan,  L  141.    Baryte  sulfaiSe 
radik^  Hauy,  iL  302. 

'Exter.  Char.'^ThtB  is  found  in  rounded  pieces ;  ex- 
ternal surface  uneven,  doll,  or  glimmering ;  internal 
lustre  shining,  or  weakly  shilling,  between  adamantine 
and  pearly  >  fracture  radiated,  parallel,  diverging,  or 
fibrous,  sometimes  foliated  j  fragments  splintery,  some- 
times rhomboidal. 

Colour,  smoke  or  yellowish  gray  ;  trmnslucent,  sof^ 
venr  brittle,  and  easily  frangible. 

C^sm,  £%ar.— This  mineral  has  been  long  known 
by  its  property  of  shining  in  the  dark,  after  heing 
ieated.  Other  heavy  spars,  indeed,  have  a  similar  pro- 
perty. 

Constituent  Parts*    Arvidson. 

Sulphate  of  harytes,  tSi. 

Silica,  !$• 

Alumina,  '4*75 
Gypsum,  6. 

Oxide  of  iron,  .25 

Water,  ». 

100.00 

Localities^  &c.— *This  mineral  la  found  at  Monte 
Patemo  near  Bologna  in  Italy,  in  rounded  masses, 
which  have  an  uneven  surface  :  they  are  imbedded  in 
an  argillaceous  or  marly  rock^  which  is  a  kind  of  amyg- 
daloic^  and  from  which  >they  Are  detached  by  the  action 
^f  the  waten. 

VIII.  STBONtlAN  Genus. 

2.  Speciest  STROirriTES,  Carbonate^ 

La  StrontianitCf  Brochant,  i.  637.    Id*  Kirw.  i.  332. 
Strontiane  Carhonatie^  Hauy,  ii.  327. 

Essen*  CAiir.^-Soluble  in  nitric  acid  with  efferves* 
cence  \  paper  dipped  in  the  solution,  and  dried,  bums 
with  a  purple  flame. 

Eteter.  CAir.— Found  massive,  and  sometimes  cry- 
stallized in  needles,  which  are  grouped  together )  form 
of  the  crystals  a  regular  six-sided  prism  ^  lustre  weak* 
ly  shining,  or  only  glimmering ;  internal  lustre  shin- 
ing, and  weakly  shinmg,  between  rennous  and  pearly  } 
fracture  radiated,  straight,  diverging,  or  fibrous  ^  cross 
fracture  fine  grained,  uneven,  or  spltntery  >  fragments 
wedge-shaped,  or  sharp-edged. 

Colour  asparagus  green,  greenish,  whittsb,  or  yel- 
lowish gray  ^  translucent  >  semihard,  brittle  and  easily 
frangible ;  feels  a  little  greasy.  Spec  grav.  3.4  to 
367. 

Chem*  C!&ar.«— Before  the  bloW-pipa  whitens  without 
fusion,  and  afterwards  exposed  to  the  air,  falls  to 
powder. 

3 


IOO.O 


Pellctier. 
62 

J! 

too 


Localities^  &c.— This  mineral  has  been  hitherto 
found  only  at  Strontian  in  Scotland,  in  a  lead  vein 
which  traverses  a  gneiss  rock.  It  is  said  abo  to  have 
been  found  at  Leadhtll^. 

2.  Species.    Celestike,  Sulphate  of  Strontitcs. 

La  CelestinCf  Brochant,  i.  640.     Strontiane  sulfiat/fj 
Hauy,  ii.  313. 

-Essen*  Cto*^— Divisible  into  a  rhomboidal  prikm, 
with  angles  of.  about  105°  and  75^  \  gives  a  light  red 
colour  to  the  blue  part  of  the  flame  produced  by  the 
blow-pipe. 

Exter*  r^or.-— Fk'imitive  form  of  its  crystals  a  rect- 
angular prism,  whose  bases  are  rhombs )  integrant  nsole- 
cule  a  triangular  prism  with  square  bases.  The  forms 
under  which  it  generally  appears  are  (bur  or  six-sided 
prisms,  which  are  terminated  by  a  two-sided  bevelment, 
a  four-sided,  or  an  eight-sided  pyramid. 

This  species  has  been  divided  into  two  subspecies  : 
I. 'fibrous $  and,  2.  foliated. 

Subspecies  I.   FiBRotrs  Celestine. 

Exter*  CAor.^-Found  massive  or  crystallized  y  lustre 
of  the  longitudinal  fracture  shining  ^  that  of  the  crosn 
fracture,  weakly  shining  between  pearly  and  resinous. 
Longitudinal  fracture  foliated  y  cross  fracture  fibrous, 
curved  ^  fragments  splintery  ^  rather  blunt-edged. 

Colour  indigo  blue,  bluish  mray,  and  sometimes  with 
whitish  bands,  or  with  yellowish  brown  spots  ;  translu- 
cent }  soft,  and  easily  frangible.     Spec  grav.  3.83« 

Constituent  Parts.    Klaproth. 

Strontites,  58 

Sulphuric  acid  and  oxide  of  iron,  42 

100 

Localities^  &c.— Has  been  found  in  Pennsylvania  in 
America,,  and  near  Toul  in  France. 

Subspecies  2.   Foliated  Celestike. 

Exter*  Char j^-ThiB  is  also  found  massive  and  crystal- 
lized ^  lustre  weakly  shining,  or  shining }  that  of  the 
crystab  resplendent  ^  fracture  foliated,  straight,  or  radi- 
ated >  cleavage  threefold. 

Colour  milk-white,  grayish,  and  bluish-white :  semi- 
transparent,  or  translucent)  semi-hard  ^  very  easily  fran- 
gible. 

The  following  are  the  oonstitoent  parts  of  a  variety 
of  sulphate  of  strontites,  which  is  found  at  Mont  Har- 
tre  near  Paris. 


Sulphate  of  strontites. 
Carbonate  of  lime. 
Oxide  of  iron, 


91.42 

8.33 
•35 


10O.0O*  I5*  s> 

LocaUtks,^  355 


MINEHALOGY. 


LocuUHes^  &c.^Fhi8  viurietyis  f<Mind  in  great  abuD- 
Ace  near  Bristol  in  England,  where  the  sulphate  of 
rontites  was  first  discovered  by  Mr  Clayfield.  It  has 
en  since  found  in  Sicily,  where  it  is  accompanied 
ith  fibrous  gypsom  and  native  sulphur. 

SECOND  CLASS.    SALTS. 

1.  Genus.    SULPHATES. 

X.  Species.  Natiye  Vitriol. 

Cmrm/  vitriol^  or  sulphate  of  iron^  copper  and  vdnc* 
Kirwan,  ii.  24.     Vitriol  ifatif^  Brochant,  ii.  2. 

Esier*  Ci^or.— This  mineral  is  fo«iid  massive  or  dis- 
ndnatedy  and  also  in  a  stalactitical,  cylindrical,  and 
ipiUary  form  \  internal  lustre  shining,  or  weakly  shin- 
ig,  between  silky  and  vitreous  ^  external  surface  rough 
id  uneven  \  fracture  usually  fibrous,  sometimes  foliat- 
1. 

Colour  grayish,  or  yellowish  white,  sometimes  differ- 
It  shades  of  sky  blue  %  the  colour  varies  by  exposure  to 
e  air.  Soft  \  semi-tran^arent  or  translucent  \  taste 
*nr  and  astringent. 

Chem,  CAor.— These  are  different,  according  to  the 
oportiotts  of  the  constitoent  parts.  Before  the  blow- 
pe^  sulphurated  hydrogen  gas  is  given  out  ^  the  iron 
detected  by  giving  a  black  colour  to  the  solution  of 
It  galls  'y  the  copper,  by  immersing  a  plate  of  iron  \ 
id  the  zinc,  by  a  white  efflorescence,  which  appears 
ben  the  native  salt  is  exposed  to  the  air. 
This  substance  is  a  mixed  salt,  composed  of  the  sul- 
lates  of  iron,  zinc  and  copper,  in  variable  propor- 
BBS,  so  that  its  appearance  and  characters  most  also  be 
iriable. 

LocaUtiee^  &c.-^Native  vitriol  is  not  uncommon  in 
ountains  of  day  slate  which  contaih  metallic  ores,  and 
kfticnlarly  those  of  copper  and  iron  pyriteSf  and 
ende;  bv  the  decomposition  of  which  it  is  formed, 
is  found  in  Bohemia,  Saxony,  and  Hungary,  as  well 
in  the  mines  of  Britain,  where  such  metallic  ores 
Mrand. 

The  native  sulphate  of  imn  is  common  in  coal  mines 
liicb  contain  iron  pyrites,  as  in  many  of  the  coal 
uses  of  Britain*  Toe  substance  is  very  abundant 
the  earl  of  Glasgow^i  coal  mines  near  Paisley, 
sere  the  manufacture  of  copperas^  by  purifying 
A  crystallizing  the  native  salt,  has  been  long  car- 
ed on. 

Vtee^^^Th^  mixed  substance,  native  vitriol,  can  only 

employed  to  any  useful  purpose,  by  obtaining  the 

ferent  salts  in  a  separate  form.     The  uses  of  these 

Its  are  well  known  in  various  arts,  but  particularly  in 

eing,  and  some  of  them  in  medicine. 

2.  Species.  Nativk  Alum. 

kum^  Kirwan,  ii.  13.  VAlun  -No^^  Brochant,  ii.  6. 
Alumine  SulfaUe  alkaline^  Hauy,  li.  387,  388. 

Exter.  CKor.— Native  alum  is  usually  found  in  small 
piUary  crystals,  sometimes  adhering  to  other  minerals, 
id  very  rarely  in  stabctitical  masses.  The  form  of 
e  crystal  of  alum  is  the  regular  octahedron,  which  is 
oally  obtained  avtificiaUy.  Externally  it  is  dull,  or 
gbtfy  glimmering,  hot  infeenMUy  shining,  with  a 
Vol- XIV.  Part  L  t 


silky  or  vitreous  lustre ,  fimcture  fibrous  \  very  soft  j 
taste  astringent. 

Chem.  ^Aar.«— Before  the  blow-pipe  melts  easily  in 
its  water  of  crystallization,  then  froths  up,  and  becomes 
a  white  spongy  mass. 

Alum  is  a  triple  salt,  a  sulphate  of  alumina  and  pot- 
ash. It  rarely  happens  that  all  the  three  ingredients 
exist  together  in  nature.  TTie  potash  is  usually  added 
during  the  preparation  of  artificial  alum. 

According  to  the  examination  of  native  alum  by 
EJaproth,  from  the  alum  cavern  at  Cape  Miseno  near 
Naples,  it  appears  that  from  looo  lbs.  of  the  material 
furnished  by  nature,  470  lbs.  may  be  obtained,  having 
the  requisite  quantity  of  potash }  and  by  an  addition  of 
potash  to  promote  the  crystallization,  290  lbs.  ir.ore  may 
be  obtained.  Jfiafyt,  £ss.  i.  268.  The  following  is 
the  analysts  of  the  aluminous  schistusfrom  Freyenwalde 
by  the  same  chemist. 

Alumina,  ^5»^S 

Oxide  of  iron,  7.50 

Potash,  .25 

Sulphuric  acid  and  water  of  crystallization,  77. 


100.00 

Localities^  Sec— Native  alum  is  fonnd  in  ^ose  pla- 
ces where  the  aluminous  stones,  already  described,  a- 
bound,  as  in  the  neighbourhood  of  volcanoes,  and  in 
coal  mines.  An  extensive  alum  manufactory  has  been 
carried  on  for  several  years  with  great  skill  and  success^ 
at  Lord  Glasgow^s  coal  work  near  Paisley,  mentioned 
above.  The  materials  are  obtained  from  the  rubbish  in 
the  old  wastes,  which  consists  of  the  aluminous  schistos 
from  the  roof  and  pavement  of  the  coal.  These  mines 
also  abound  with  iron  pyrites ;  and  from  the  decompo- 
rition  of  all  these  substances  the  native  vitriol  and  na« 
tive  alum  are  obtained* 

Vses.^^The  uses  of  alum  in  various  arts  are  too  well 
known  to  require  any  enumeration. 

3.  Species.  Mouktaik  Botter. 

La  Beurre  de  Momiagne^  Brooh.  ii.  10. 

Exier,  Ci^r.— -Found  massive  9  internal  lustre  strong- 
ly glimmering,  waxy  j  fracture  foliated ;  fragments 
blunt-edged. 

Colour  grayish  white,  sulphur  yellow,  or  yellowish 
brown  ^  translucent  at  the  edges  ^  feels  greasy  j  taste 
astringent. 

Localities,  &c.*-This  species  is  found  in  similar  situ- 
ations with  th^  former.  In  its  native  repository  it  is 
nearly  as  soft  as  butter,  and  has  something  of  the  ap- 
pearance, from  which  it  has  its  name.  Perhaps  it  ouffht 
to  be  considered  merely  as  a  variety  of  the  former.  1  he 
same  remark  may  be  applied  to  another  variety  called 
plumose  ahtm. 

4.  Species.  Capillary  Salt.   StUphate  of  Magnesia* 

Le  Sel  CapiUaire^  Broch.  ii.  8.     Hoar  Sahf  or  Hair. 
Sali^  of  the  Genmna. 

Exier.  CAar.— -Tlis  salt  is  always  found  in  fine  capil- 
lary crystals,  so  closely  united  together  as  to  form  9k 
compact  mass  j  lustre  shining,  or  weakly  shining,  silky  ;* 
firacture  fibrous. 

D  d  Colota 


•  « 


Km.  ii  78^ 


Colour  wliiteitometimas  greenUhy  grayish,  or  yellow- 
isb  ;  translucent,  friable  ;  taste  astringent. 

Constituent  Parts,^^Th\B  salt  was  supposed  to  be  a 
plumose  or  native  alum  ;  but  it  appears  from  tbe  analjsb 
of  Klaproth,  to  be  a  sulphate  of  magnesia,  with  a  small 
proportion  of  iron.  We  have  examined  a  similar  ca- 
pillary salt  from  the  coal  mines  near  Paisley,  which  also 
appeared  to  be  a  sulphate  of  magnesia,  but  with  a 
greater  proportion  of  sulphate  of  iron. 

Localities^  &c.— This  native  salt  is  found  in  similar 
situations  with  the  former  species. 

5.  Species.   Native  Epsom  Salt,  or  Stdphate  of 

Magnesia, 

LeSei'amer Notify  Broch.  ii.  i  t.  Epsom  Salt^  Kir.  ii.  1 2. 

Enter,  C^ir.*— The  characters  already  given  of  the 
former  species  are  equally  applicable  to  this,  except* 
ing  that  it  is  said  to  exist  sometimes  in  an  earthy  form, 
when  it  has  a  dull  appearance. 

Localities^  &c.<^-Found  in  a  state  of  efflorescence  on 
limestone,  porphyry,  sandstones  \  and  it  exists  in  solu- 
tion in  many  nuneral  waters,  as  in  that  of  Epsom  in 
England,  from  which  it  has  its  name.  This  salt  aUo 
constitutes  part  of  the  efflorescence  which  is  observed 
on  walls  buUt  with  lime» 

6»  Species.  Native  Glauber  Salt,  or  Sufykate 

of  Soda. 

Glamter  SaU,  Kirw.  ii.  9.     Le  Sel  de  Glauber  Naiif, 
Brocht  ii.  14. 

Exter,  CAor.^— This  salt  is  sometimes  foond  massive 
or  earthy,rarelysta1actitical  or  crystallized.  The  crystals 
are  often  adoular,  or  in  irregnlar,  six-sided  prisms,  tsr- 
minatcd  by  a  three-sided  pyramid,  placed  on  the  lateral 
edges  or  sides.  Lustre  shining,  vitreous  \  but  exposed 
to  the  air  becomes  dull.  Fractore  uneven  \  that  of  the 
crystals  conchoidal.     Fragments  blunt-edged. 

Colour  yellowish  or  grayish  white  >  opaqua  or  trans- 
parent \  brittle  ^  taste  cooling  or  bitter. 

Localities^  &c.— -This  salt  is  nsnally  found  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  mineral  springs  which  hold  common 
salt  in  solution,  from  the  dec^omposition  of  which,  and 
the  combination  of  its  base  with  sulphuric  acid,  it  is  ob- 
tained. It  is  not  unfreqoent  on  the  banks  of  salt  lakes, 
and  in  a  state  of  efflorescence  on  sandstope,  marl,  some- 
times on  the  surface  of  the  ground,  and  sometimes  on 
walls  built  with  stone  and  mortar.  It  is  foond  in  most 
coantries  in  the  world. 

II.  Genus.  NITRATES. 

i»  Species.  Native  Nitre,  or  NitraU  of  Potash. 

Nitre f  Kirw.  ii.  25.  Le  Nitre  Natif  Broch.  ii.  17.  Po- 
iasu  Nitratie^  Hany,  iL  346.     Saltpetre, 

Essen,  C^or.— Does  not  deliquesce,  and  detonates 
a  combnstible  body. 

Exter,  Char*  — ThisMlt  is  commonly  fbnnd  superficial, 
in  acicular  crystals,  rarely  massive,  and  more  rarely  cry* 
•tsllized  in  six-sided  prisms  ^  lustre  shining,  vitreous  ^ 
fracture  conchoidal  ^  fragments  sharp-edged. 

Giloar  snow  white,  grayish  or  yellowish  white  ^  trans* 


MINERALOGY.  f^artl 

lucent  'y  soft^  easily  frangible  or  friaUe  \  taste  saline,  n -^ 
cooling. 


Constituent  Parts, 

Nitrate  of  potash. 
Muriate  of  potash. 
Sulphate  of  lime. 
Carbonate  of  lime. 
Loss, 


KUproth. 

42.55 

.20 

25-45 
30.40 

1.40 
1 00.00  • 


Aml^ 


Exter,  Char,  &c.— Native  nitre  is  found  in  Italy  ''^* 
near  Molfetta,  in  Naples,  from  which  that  analyzed 
by  Klaproth  was  obtained,  and  which  is  disposed  in 
small  beds,  or  more  rarely  in  veins,  on  limestoac.  Na- 
tive nitre  is  also  not  uncommon  in  Hungary,  Spain^ 
France,,  and  Peru,  in  which  latter  country,  and  in  the 
East  Indies,  where  it  is  very  abundant,  it  is  found  ef- 
florescent on  the  surface  of  the  ground  at  certain  seasons 
of  the  year. 

{7f^f.«»The  uses  of  nitre  for  some  economical  por* 
poses,  in  various  arts,  in  medicine,  hot  particulariy  in 
the  manufacture  of  gunpowder,  are  well  known* 

III.  G£Nus.   MUBIAT£S. 

J.  Species*    Rock  Salt. 

Common  Salt,  Sal  Gem,  Kirw.  ii.  31.     Le  Sel  de  Cui- 
sine, Broch.  ii.  20.    Soude  Muriate,  Haoy,  ii.  356. 

Essen.  CAor.— Soluble  in  water,  and  divisible  into 
cubes. 

This  species  is  divided  iate  two  subspecies :  i.  Colis- 
ted,  and  2.  fibrous  rock  salt. 

Subspecies  i.  Foliated  Bock  Salt. 

Le  Sel  Gemme  LameUettx,  Broch.  ii.  ai .  Lamellar  Sal 
Gem,  Kirw.  ii.  32.  Soude  Muriatic ^  Amorphe, 
Hauy,  II.  359. 

Exter.  rAor.— Usually  found  massive  in  considerable 
beds,  sometimes  disseminated  in  large  masses,  or  kidney- 
form,  stalactitical,  or  crystallixed  in  perfect  cubes  \  sur- 
face of  the  crystals  smooth  \  lustre  shining,  vitreous ; 
firacture  foliated ;  cleavage  threefold  and  rectangular ; 
firagnents  cnbiu 

Colour  grayish,  yellowish,  or  reddish  white,  flesh  or 
brownish  red  \  transparent  or  translucent ;  soft  *,  streak 
grayish  white  \  taste  saline. 

Chem.  CAoTw— This  salt  decrepitates  violently  wheft 
thrown  en  homing  coals* 


Constituent  Parts, 


Soda, 

Mvriatic  acid, 
Water, 


35 

40 

25 
xoo 


4a 

100 


The  above  are  the  analyses  of  pore  salt ;  for  as  it  is 
fimnd  in  nature,  it  contains  several  other  ingredients. 

Localities,  &c. — Foliated  rock  salt  ooosUtotes  a  pe* 
collar  kind  of  stratilona  monntaiot  in  which  it  nso* 


MINER 

illy  alternates  with  becis  of  clay,  which  are  more  or 
ess  penetrated  with  salt.  It  is  also  accompanied  with 
rypsnm,  sandstone^  limestone.  It  is  sometimes  also  fbnnd 
n  veins. 

Rock  salt  IS  found  in  most  countries  of  the  world  i 
he  most  celebrated  mines  are  those  of  Wiliczkay  which 
lare  been  wrotu^ht  for  500  years.  There  are  mines  of 
his  mineral  in  Poland|  Silesia^  and  in  Bavaria  and  Si- 
beria j  at  Cordova  in  Spain  it  constitutes  an  entire 
nountain,  four  or  five  hundred  feet  high.  Rock  salt  is 
Jso  found  in  aboodanoe  in  Cheshire  in  England.  It 
9  found  also  in  Africa,  Asia,  as  well  as  in  North  and 
loath  America* 

Subspecies  2.  Fibrous  Rock  Salt. 

Fibrous  Sai  Gem^  Kirw.  ii.  32.  Le  Sel  Gemme  Fu 
breux^  Broch.  ii.  25*  Soude  MuriatSe  Fibrcuse^ 
Hauy,  li.  379. 

Exterm  C^^TT.— This  variety  is  found  massive,  in  small 
redee-shaped  veins  \  lustre  glimmerings  rarely  weakly 
hinragj  fracture  fibrous,  curved  parallel  or  divergent  j 
ragments  wedge-shaped,  with  sharp  edges. 

Colour  grayish  white,  yellowish  or  pearl  gray,  la- 
vender blue,  violet  blue,  or  flesh  red  \  varies  between 
raaslucent  and  semitransparent.  The  other  characters 
f  fibrous  rock  salt  correspond  with  those  of  the  pre- 
eding  subspecies,  and  it  is  found  in  similar  sHuatfons 
jocompanying  it. 

2.  Species.  Sea  Salt. 

This  salt  can  perhaps  scarcely  be  considered  as  a  se* 
larate  species.  It  \s  found  on  the  shores  of  the  ocean, 
»r  of  salt  lakes  during  the  dry  seasons  of  the  year,  in 
4)aseqttence  of  the  evaporation  and  diminution  of  the 
rater  which  holds  it  in  solution. 

1/m.— The  various  uses  of  salt  in  domestic  economy 
Lud  many  of  the  arts  are  well  known. 

3.  Species.  Native  Sal  Ammoniac. 

^Ammomacj,^  Kirw.  ii.  33.  Le  Sel  Ammoniac  Na- 
Hf,  Broch.  ii.  27.  Ammomaque  Muriaide^  Hauy,  ii. 
380. 

Essen.  CAor.— Entirely  volatile  by  the  application  of 
leat. 

Exter.  CAar.«-Most  commonly  found  in  superficial 
lyers,  or  efflorescent  ^  sometimes  also  massive  or  sta- 
ictitical,  and  rarely  crystallized.  Primitive  form  of 
ts  crystals  a  regular  octahedron  j  integrant  molecule  a 
egular  tetrahe&on.  The  crystals  are  described  to  be  in 
be  form  of  cubes,  six^^ided  pyramids,  and  dodecabedral  i 
nstre  shining,  often  only  glimmering  or  dull  and  vitre- 
us.    Fractioe  evea^  m^ents  sharp-edged. 

Colour  white,  grayish,  or  yellowish  ^  soA,  and  often 
riable  ^  taste  saline,  pungent,  and  bitter. 

Cfcwi.  £*Aar.— Very  soluble  in  water,  producing  a 
^Dsiderable  degree  of  cold  ^  rubbed  with  lime,  gives 
uta  pungent  odour  of  ammonia. 

CoMtiHteni  Parts.    Klaproth. 


Muriate  of  ammonia, 
Sulphate  of  ammonia, 


77-5 
2.5 

1 00.0 


A  L  O  G  Y. 

Localities^  &c.— This  salt  is  a  volcanic  production, 
and  /ound  deposited  in  the  cavities  of  lava,  as  on  Ve* 
suvius  and  ^tna,  and  in  the  Lipari  islands.  It  is  also 
met  with  in  Iceland,  in  Persia,  and  difierent  places  of 
Asia.  The  substance  analyzed  hy  Klaproth  was  from 
Tartary.  This  salt  has  also  been  discovered  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  coal  mines  in  Britain,  which  have 
been  accidentally  on  fire.  Sal  ammoniac  from  Egypt 
may  be  considered  rather  as  an  artificial  production. 

IV.  Genus.  CARBONATES. 

z.  Species.  Native  Sotda,  or  Carbonate  ^ Soda. 

Natron^  Kirw.  ii.  6.    L^ Alkali  Mineral,  Broch.  ii.  3a, 
Soude  Carbonate,  Hauy,  ii.  373. 

Essen.  C&ir.-^-Solnble  in  wat^,  and  eflervesces  with 
nitric  acid. 

Exter.  CAnr.— Found  in  small  particles,  which  are 
usually  in  the  state  of  powder }  is  dull  and  meagre  t# 
the  touch. 

Colour  grayish  white,  or  yellowish  gray  j  taste  sharp 
alkaline. 

CAcm.  Cftor.'^Very  fusible  before  the  blow-pipe^  the 
solution  renders  vegetable  blues  green. 

The  following  are  the  constituent  parts  of  Egyptian 
nation 'or  soda,  analysed  by  Klaproth. 


Carbonate  of  soda, 
Sulphate  of  soda. 
Muriate  of  soda, 
Watee, 


32.1s 
20.8 

31.6 

IOO.O 


Localities^  &c— Native  soda  is  found  on  the  surface 
of  the  soil,  or  on  the  borders  of  lakes  which  evaporate 
during  the  summer,  in  Egypt,  where  it  has  been  long 
collected,  and  known  under  the  name  of  natron.  In  the 
neighbourhood  of  Dcbrecwn  in  Hungary,  it  is  found 
efflorescent  on  a  heathy  soil  j  in  Bohemia,  in  decom- 
posed gneiss  Tock,  where  it  is  annually  collected  in  con- 
siderable quantity  in  the  spring  of  the  year.  Natron 
is  also  found  near  Naples,  in  Persia,  Bengal,  and 
China.  It  exists  also  in  solution  in  many  mineral 
waters. 

Uses. — ^This  salt  is  very  extensively  employed  in 
many  arts. 

Another  variety  of  native  soda  has  been  described. 
This  is  in  the  form  of  radiated  masses,  which  are  com- 
posed of  acicular  crysUls.  It  seems  to  be  a  purer  car. 
bonate  of  soda.  The  following  are  the  constituent  parts 
according  to  the  analysis  of  iQaproth. 


Soda, 

Carbonic  acid- 
Water, 
Sulphate  of  soda, 


37- 
38. 
22.5 
2.5 

Z0O.O 


^.  Speoies.  Nai^IVE  MAGMpiA,  or  Carbonate  of 

Magnesia. 

A^rfttty  pure  carbonate  of  magnesia,  cliscovereS  by 
Dr  Mitchell  j  Hud  another  which  contains  an  admixture 

Dd  2  of 


212  MINERALOGY. 

Suits.     ^^  siUca*  discovered  by  Giobert,  fcas  been  already  de- 
scribed under  the  magoesian  gennsy  speciea  i»  vhich 


Parti 


see. 


V.  Genos.    borates. 

I.  Species.    Borax. 

Id.  Kirw.  ii.  37.    Borax  Notify  Brocb.  ii.  33.     Sonde 
BoralSe^  Haay,  ii.  366. 

Essen.  C^r.<— Taste  sweetish  j  fusible  with  consider- 
able intumescence  into  a  vitreous  globule. 

Easter.  C^zr.— This  salt  is  found  massive  and  disse- 
minated, but  most  frequently  crystallized  ;  the  forms  are 
a  six-sided  prism  with  the  two  opposite  fiices  broader ; 
the  same  prism  having  its  lateral  edges  truncated,  or 
having  its  too  narrow  terminal  edges  truncated  j  the 
crystals  are  usually  imbedded  in  an  earthy  mass  ^  sur- 
face a  little  rough,  sometimes  smooth,  and  usually  co- 
vered with  a  white  earthy  crust  ^  lustre  shioing,  waxy  > 
fracture  foliated. 

Colour  grayish  white,  yellowish  or  greenish ;  semi- 
transparent,  or  only  translucent  ^  refraction  double  ^  sofl| 
brittle  ^  greasy  to  the  feel*     Spec.  grav.  1.740. 

Constituent  Par^^.-— When  borax  is  purified,  it  is  a 
compound  of  ^oda  and  boracic  acid^  but  in  its  na- 
tive state  it  is  always  contaminated  with  earthy  mat- 
ters. 

LocdlitieSj  &c.— ^orax  is  brought  from  Persia  and 
Thibet.  According  to  some  travellers,  it  is  got  from 
the  waters  of  a  lake  by  evaporation  in  the  open  air  j 
but  according  to  others  it  is  ready  formed  oa  the 
borders  of  the  lake,  where  common  salt  is  also  col- 
lected. 

Uses.'^^ortix  is  still  farther  purified  after  it  is 
brought  to  Europe,  for  the  purposes  of  employing  it  in 
the  arts,  particularly  as  a  flux  in.  metallurgical  opera- 
tions. 

2.  Species.  BoRAClTK,  or  Borate  of  Magnesia. 
Boracitej  Kirw.  L  17a.    Id.  Brochant,  i.  589* 

Exter.  Char Always  (bund  crystallized:    i.  In 

cubes,  having  the  edges  and  four  of  the  angles  trunca- 
ted ^  2.  The  cube,  having  all  the  edges  and  angles 
truncated.  When  these  truncations  are  increased  on 
the  edges,  a  dodecahedron  is  nearly  formed,  or  when 
they  increase  on  the  angles,  the  resulting  form  is  an  oc- 
tahedron. Surface  of  the  crystals  smooth,  sometimes 
rough  'y  lustre  shining  or  resplendent  j  internal  lustre 
shining,  resinous  \  fracture  conchoidal  j  fragments  sharp- 
edged. 

Colour  ash  or  yellowish  gray,  grayish  or  greenish 
white  \  semltransparent  or  translucent,  oftener  opaque  y 
semihard  \  i*ather  easily  frangible.     Spec.  grav.  2.56. 

Chem  Char. — Melts  before  the  blow-pipe,  froths  up,, 
and  yields  a  yellowish  enamel,  on  which  small  rough 
points  appear,  and  are  thrown  off  like  sparks  by  conti- 
nuing the  heat. 


Constituent  Parts.    T 

ITestnio 

Magnesia^ 

>3-5 

Lime, 

11. 

Siliea^ 

2. 

Alumina, 

I. 

Oxide  of  iron. 

.7 

Boracic  acid. 

68. 

Loss, 

3-8 

lOOX) 

Phys,  C^r.— Boracitehasthe  property  of  becomlog 
electric  by  heat,  and  exhibiting  both  kinds  of  electri- 
city by  opposite  points.  These  electric  poles  are  the 
extremities  of  the  axes  of  the  cube,  each  axis  giving 
out  at  one  extremity  positive,  and  at  the  other  negative 
electricity. 

Localities^  &c.— This  mineral  has  been  only  fbuod 
at  Lunebourg  in  Lower  Saxony,  in  a  mountain  compo- 
sed almost  entirely  of  foliated  gypsum,  in  which  the  de- 
tached crystals  are  imbedded.  ^ 

VI.  Genus.    FLUATES. 

I.  Species.  Ckyoiaij^^w  FituUerf Soda  and  Mimuuu 

Id.  Brochant,  ii.  505.  Aiumine  Fiuat^  Alkaline^  Haoy, 
ii.  398. 

Enter.  TAafw-Found  massive  \  lustre  shimng,  vitre- 
ous 'y  fracture  foliated  >  fragments  cubical. 

Colour  grayish  white  ^  translucent  \  immersed  in  wa- 
ter, transparent  j  semihard  \  streak  snow-white.  Spec 
grav.  2.94. 

Chem.  C^ir.— Melts  in  the  fiane  of  a  candle,  and 
bom  its  easy  fosibility  it  derives  its  name.  It  then  be- 
comes hard,  and  is  changed  into  a  slag,  which  is  some- 
what elastic.  S<^uble  with  effervescence  in  siUphonc 
acid,  and  gives  out  white  vapours  that  corrode  glass. 

Constituent  Parts. 


Kliq^th. 

Soda,  36. 

Aiumina,  23.5 

Fluoric  acid  and  water,  40.5 


100.0 


Yanqoeluu 
2Z 

47 

xoo 


Localities^  &C'— Cryolite  was  broagfat  to  Copenha- 
gen from  Greenland^  bat  nothing  is  known  of  its  re- 
pository (b). 

THIRD  CLASS.    COMBUSTIBLES. 

L  Gkkds.    sulphur. 

I.  Species.    Native  Sui^PHini. 
Id.  Kirwan,  iL  69.   Le  Simfre  Natif^  Broohant,  iL  37. 

This  species  is  divided  into  two  subspecies  j  i.  Com- 
mon 'y  2.  Volcanic  native  sulphur. 

Subspecies 


(b)  Boracite  and  cryolite  do  not  certainly  possess  all  the  characters  that  entitle  them  to  a  place  amoni^  the 
salts;  but  as  magnesia  is  the  predominant  base  of  the  one  and  soda  of  the  other,,  it  was  thought  better  to  intro- 
duce theco  here  dhan  to  multiply  divisions. 


MINERALOGY. 


^'3 


Subspecteft  i.    Common  Native  Sdlfhur. 

Essem.  CAar.^^The  sulphwoua  odour  when  heated } 
colooT  yellow. 

Exier.  CAor.— Sulphur  is  fetifid  iitta»ive,dLi8eiiunated 
In  raperfictal  layers,  or  crystaUized.  Primitive  form  of 
its  crystals  is  an  octahedron,  whoso  sides  are  scalene  trip 
mgles  'y  the  integrant  molecule  is  an  irregular  tetrahe- 
dron. The  usual  forms  of  the  crystals  are,  i.  That  of 
the  primitive  form,  in  which  two  four^sided  obli^ue- 
ingled  pyramids  are  joined  base  to  base,  of  which  the 
common  base  is  a  rhomb,  wliose  two  diagonals  are  as 
;  to  4 ;  a.  The  same  form  having  its  soounits  truncat- 
ed;  3.  The  first  form  havine  its  snroroit  surmounted  by 
m  obtuse  four-sided  acumination,  set  on  the  lateral 
laces  I  4«  Or,  having  the  common  case  truncated  ^  or, 
^.  Having  its  obtuse  lateral  edges  truncated  ^  or,  6. 
Elaving  the  obtuse  angles  of  the  common  base  truncat* 
id.  The  crystals  are  of  various  sizes,  most  frequently 
Frenped :  surface  smooth  ^  lustre  resplendent ',  internal 
ustie  shining,  or  weakly  shining,  between  resinous  and 
idamantine }  fracture  bne  grained,  uneven,  sometimes 
»ncbeidal  or  splintery  >  fragments  sharp-edged. 

Colour  yellow,  groenish,  or  grayish  yellow }  trans! u* 
«Dt  or  seroitransparent ;  refraction  double  j  soil ;  brit- 
le,  and  very  easily  frangible  ^  gives-  out  by  rubbing  a 
nlphnreous  smell.     Spec.  grav.  19.9  to  2.03. 

Chem^  CA«r«-— Bums  with  a  peculiar  blue  flame,  and 
;ives  out  a  pungent  odour,  which  is  well  known. 

Native  sulphur  is  not  always  pure  ^  it  is  often  conta- 
ninated  with  earthy  matters. 

PhyB.  CAar.— Sulphur  becomes  electric  by  friction, 
md  its  electricity  is  negative. 

Localities^  &c.— Native  sulphur  is  most  commonly 
bond  in  stratiform  mountains,  chiefly  in  those  of  gyp- 
um,  marl,  and  compact  limestone,  and  there  it  exists 
n  the  form  of  nodules.  Found  also,  but  rarely,  and 
n  small  quantity,  in  the  veins  of  primitive  moun- 
ains.  Sulphur  is  found  in  many  countries  of  the 
forid,  as  in  Poland,  Hungary,  Switzerland,  Spain, 
nd  Sicily,  where  thye  finest  crystals  yet  known  are 
ound. 

Subspecies  2.  Native  Volcanic  Sulphur. 

Exter,  CAor.— Found  massive,  in  rounded  pieces, 
talactitical,  cellular,  or  in  thin  sublimed  layers,  some- 
imes  also  crystallized  in  confused  groups;  internal 
ostre  weakly  shining  or  shining  ^  fracture  uneven  ; 
iragmenis  blunt-edged. 

Colour  the  same  as  the  former,  but  inclining  sometimes 
i  little  towards  gray  \  translucent ;  in  other  characters 
t  resembles  the  preceding. 

Localities^  Sec— As  its  name  imports,  this  variety  is 
bund  near  volcanoes,  where  it  is  sublimed  among  the 
ava.  The  sulphur  of  ^tna  and  Vesuvius  chiefly,  aud 
ilao  that  of  Iceland,  and  of  some  of  the  islands  in  the 
(Vest  Indies,  is  collected,  and  forms  a  very  important 
irticle  in  commerce. 

C7«ej.— Sulphur  is  one  of  the  most  valuable  substances 
n  various  arts.  It  is  employed  in  the  bleaching  of 
roollen  stuffs  and  silks  ^  it  forms  an  essential  ingredient 
n  gunpowder,  and  it  is  the  base  of  sulphureous  and  sul- 
phuric acid,  which  are  so  extensively  employed  in  ton- 
ing, hat-makiog,  dyeing,  and  other  arts  and'  mann«> 
sctures. 


n.  BITUMINOUS  Genus. 

I.  Species.  Petroleum,  or  Mineral  Oil.  . 

Le  NaphtCf  and  L'^Huile  Minerale  Commune^  Broch. 
ii.  $^,  and  6o.  Naphtha  and  Petrole^  Kirwan,  ii. 
42  and  43.  Bitume  Liquide  Brune^  ou  Noiratre^ 
Hauy,  iii.  312. 

Ester,  CAor.— Found  fluid  and  somewhat  viscid. 

Colour  blackish  or  reddish  brown  )  almost  opaque  > 
feels  very  greasy  ;  exhales  a  strong  bituminous  odour  ', 
taste  pungent,  acid.     Spec.  grav.  0.708  to  0.854. 

Chem,  Char^^^^Burns  easily  with  a  dense  smoke,  and 
leaves  some  earthy  residue.  When  exposed  to  the  air 
it  becomes  thicker  and  less  fluid. 

Its  constituent  parts  are  carbone,  hydrogen,  and  a 
small  portion  of  oxygen. 

Localities^  &c.— Petroleum  is  generally  found  in  the 
vicinity  of  coal,  rising  to  the  surface  of  the  water  which 
flows  from  coal  strata.  It  is  not  uncommon  in  difi*erent 
parts  of  the  world.  It  is  found  in  Lancashire  in  Eng* 
land,  and  at  St  Catharine's  well  near  Libberton,  in  the 
vicinity  of  Edinburgh. 

Naptlia,  which  is  considered  merelv  as  a  purer  kind^ 
of  mineral  oil,  is  found  in  considerable  abundance  in 
different  parts  of  Persia,  on  the  shmres  of  the  Caspiao 
sea,  in  Calabria,  Sicily,  and  America.  In  1802,  a 
spring  of  naphtha  of  a  topaz  yellow  colour,  burning 
easily,  and  leaving  little  residue,  with  a  specific  gravity 
of  0.83,  was  discovered  in  the  state  of  Parma  in  Italy, 
and  aflforded  such  a  quantity  as  to  bo  sufficient  to  illu- 
minate the  streets  ai  Genoa. 

Uses.'^^i^ufhthvk  has  been  sometimes  employed  in  the 
composition  of  varnish,  in  that  of  fire-works,  for  the 
purpose  of  heating  rooms,  when  it  is  mixed  with  a  smaR 
quantity  of  earth  ^  and  in  Persia  and  other  countries  it 
is  burnt  in  lamps  as  a  substitute  for  oil.  Formerly  it. 
was  ea^loyed  in  medicine  as  a  vermifuge* 

2.  Species.    MiNZfiAL  Pitch. 

This  is  divided  into  three  subspecies  y  i.  elastic  y 
2.  earthy ;  and,  3.  slaggy.  • 

Subspecies  i.  Elastic  Mineral  Pitch. 

Mineral  Caoutchouc^  Kirw.  ii.  48.  La  Poiv  Minerale 
Eiastiqutj  Broch.  ii.  64.  Bitume  Elastique^  Hauy, 
iii.  3*3- 

Ester,  C&r<r.~Foond  in  masses  of  liferent  sizes,  dis- 
seminated, sometimes  superficial,  or  stalactitical  j  Instre 
dull,  rarely  glimmering  \  internal  lustre  shining,  resin* 
ous. 

Colour  brownish  black,  hair-brown,^  often  veined  yel- 
low ;  translucent  at  the  edges  \  soft  eoottstoiDce  like 
elastic  gum,  and  also  elastic.  It  gives  qut  the  smell' of 
leather.     Spec.  grav.  0.90  2.  to  1.23. 

Localities^  &c.-*This  mineral  was  >  ^scovered  in 
1785  in  the  mine  of  Odin  in  Derbyshire  in  England, 
where  it  is  accompanied  with  galena,  calcareous  spar, 
heavy  ^ar,  fluor  spar,  and  Uende. 

This  substance  i^aces  the  marks  of  blaok  lead  on 
paper,  like  elastic  gum>  but  stains  the  paper. 

Subspecies 


Combus- 

tiblcK. 


214 


SuUpecies  2.   Earth T  Mineral  Pitck. 

Semicompact  Mineral  Pitch,  or  Maltha^  Kirw.  li.  46* 
La  Poir  Mincrale  TerreuKj  Broch.  ii.  65. 

Exter,  CAor.-— Found  massive  \  internally  dnll  \  frae- 
tore  earthy,  sometimes  uneven  \  fragments  blont'^dged. 

Colour  blackish  brown,  sometimes  clove  brown  ^ 
streak  shining,  and  darker  coloured  \  very  soft ',  feels 
greasy ;  smell  bituminous. 

Ckem.  C/iar.—- Bums  with  much  flame  and  smoke ; 
exhales  a  strong  odour,  and  leaves  carbonaceous  and 
earthy  matter. 

LocoHticSj  &c.— Found  in  the  principality  of  Neuf- 
diatel  in  Switzerland. 

Subspecies  3   Slaggt  MiKERAL  Pitch. 

'Compact  Mineral  Pitchy  Kirw.  ii.  46.  La  Poix  Minerale 
ScoriacSv^  Broch.  ii.  66,  Bitume  Solidcy  Hauy  iii. 
313.    A.<pkaltum^  or  Jews  Pitchy  of  others. 

Exter,  CAor.— 'Found  massive  and  disseminated,  sn- 
'perficial  or  stalactttical  j  lustre  resplendent,  resinous ) 
fracture  coochoidal }  fragments  sharp-edged. 

Colour  perfectly  black,  sometimes  brownish  black  ^ 
opaque,  rarely  translucent  at  the  edges ;  lustre  remains 
in  the  streak  j  soft  ^  feels  greasy  \  by  robbing  gives  out 
a  bitominoos  odour.    Spec  grav.  1.07  to  1.0. 

Localities^   &c.— >This  variety  frequently   acoom- 

?Miea  the  preceding.  It  is  found  at  Moisfeld  in  the 
alatinate,  at  Neofchatel  in  Switzerland.  It  is  found 
floating  on  the  sorfaoe  of  the  lake  Asphaltum  in  Jodea, 
from  which  it  derives  its  name  of  Jtws  pitch.  It  is 
there  collected  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  country  as  an 
object  of  commerce,  and  at  the  tame  time,  it  is  said  to 
diminish  the  quantity  of  noxious  vapours  which  it  ex* 
hales  ■■  so  noxious  that  birds  flying  over  it  drop  down 
dead,  "whence  it  has  the  name  of  X)ead  sea.  This  va» 
fiety  of  mineral  pitch  is  found  in  other  places,  some- 
times connected  with  coal  and  limestone  strata,  and 
sometimes  with  mineral  veins*  But  the  island  of  Tri* 
nidad  furnishes  the  greatest  quantity  of  this  substance. 
In  that  island  there  is  a  pitch  lake  of  about  four  miles 
in  ciicumference  \  but  it  appesrs  from  the  infonnadon 
of  Mr  Spon,  in  a  letter  to  Mr  Tobin  of  Bristol,  by 
whom  this  infbnnation  was  communicated,  along  with 
a  number  of  specimens  to  Mr  Hatchett,  that  the  sub- 
stance formerly  supposed  to  be  mineral  pitch,  is  nothing 
more  than  a  porous  stone  impregnated  with  that  sub- 
stance ;  so  that  what  was  supposed  to  be  an  immense 
lake  of  mineral  pitch  or  asphaltum,  is  only  the  stone  of 
the  country  impregnated  with  bitumen.  Mr  Hatchett 
thinks  this  stone  may  be  arranged  in  the  argillaceous 

*  Lin,        genus  *• 

Tram,  tSL 

351.  3.  Specief*  •  Amber. 

Itl,  Kirw.  ii.  6$*    Le  Suea'fff  Broch.  ii.  69.   Id,  Hauy, 
ii.  327. 

This  is  divided  into  two  subspecies. 

Subspecies  i.  Whitc  Ambcr. 

Exter,  CAor.<— Found  massive,  and  in  rounded  pieces  \ 
lustre  shining  or  weakly  shining  >  fracture  coochoidal ; 
/ragmenU  sharp-edg^d. 

4 


MINERALOGY. 

Colour  yellowish  white,  or  straw-yeUow ;  sKghtly 
translucent  j  soft )  easily  frangible ;  by  fridioo,  or  re- 
dndng  to  powder,  it  gifves  eut  an  agreeable  odour. 
Spec.  grav.  1.07  to  i«o8« 

Chern,  Cfair.— JSums  with  a  yellow  flame,  without 
melting,  giving  out  sX  the  same  time  a  peculiar  odour) 
leaves  .very  iitUe  residoe. 


Parti 


Subspecies  2.  Yellow  Amber. 

Ester,  CAor.*>Also  found  in  rounded  pieces  of  vari- 
ous sizes  \  sur&ce  rough  and  uneven  \  dull,  sometimes 
glimmerings  internal  lustre  rrnplmdent,  resinous)  some- 
times transparent.  In  its  other  external  and  chemical 
characters,  it  resembles  the  preceding* 

Pkys,  rAer.-— Amber  becomes  strongly  electric  by 
friction,  a  property  known  to  the  ancients.  From  the 
Greek  and  Latin  word  etectrum,  the  term  electricity  is 
derived* 

Constituent  Porir.— Amber  is  composed  of  a  large 
proportion  of  oil,  and  of  a  pecidiar  acid,  the  soccinic, 
which  is  obtained  by  distillation. 

Loca/itieSf  &Ci«— Amber  is  found  in  the  vicinibr  of 
bituminous  wood,  but  most  commonly  in  the  sand  on 
the  shores  of  the  ocean,  and  chiefly  on  the  shores  of  the 
Baltic.  It  is  found  also  in  Sweden,  France,  Italy,  and 
on  the  east  coast  of  England*  Amber  frequently  con- 
tains snuUl  parts  of  vegetables,  and  entire  insects.  Of 
the  origin  of  this  substance  nothing  certain  is  yet  known. 

{^«r#.— The  uses  of  amber  for  ornamental  porpooMi 
are  well  known*  In  this  country  it  was  foruMrly  in 
higher  estimation  than  at  present*  It  still  forms  an  im- 
portant article  of  commerce  in  eastern  countrice* 

4.  Species.    Melute,  or  Honet  Stoms* 

Id.  Hauy,  iii.  335.     La  Pierre  de  Miei^  Broch*  ii.  73. 
MeOUite^  Kirw*  ii.  68. 

Exter.  CAor.— Found  usually  crystallized,  in  double 
four-sided  pyramids  \  the  surface  smooth  and  shining  \ 
internal  lustre  resplendent,  between  resinous  and  vitre- 
ous }  fracture  conchoidal  \  fragments  rather  sharp- 
edged. 

Colour  honey  yellow,  sometimes  hyacinth  red  \  trans- 
parent or  translucent  \  refraction  double ;  soft  \  brittle. 
Spec.  grav.  1.58  to  1.66. 

Chem.  CAor.— Becomes  white  before  the  blow-pipe, 
and  is  reduced  to  ashes,  without  flame. 

Omstitment  Parts*    Klaproth* 

Alumina,  16 

Mellitic  acid,  46 

Water,  38 

xoo 

PAjfs.  CAar.^Becomes  slightly  electric  by  friction. 

Localities^  &c.«*T1us  mineral  is  hitherto  rare*  It 
lias  been  found  only  in  Switzerland,  accompanied 
with  mineral  pitch,  and  at  Arten  in  Tliuringia,  attach- 
ed to  bituminous  wood. 

5.  Species.    Browk  Coal. 

This  is  divided  into  five  subspecies }  i.  common ; 
a.  bituminous  wood  \  J.  earthy  coal )  4*  alum  earth ; 
5.  moor  coaL 

Subspecies 


MINERALOGY. 


Subspecies  x.  CoMMOK  BaowN  Coal. 

I  HouSIt  Bruntj  Brocb«  ii.  47. 

£jr#rr.  CAar.^Foand  massive  ^  lustre  shining,  resin- 

i }  fracture  conchoidal  ^  longitudinal  firacture  slaty  ^ 

gments  ratber  sharp-edged. 

Colour  brownish  blacky  or  blackish  brown  ^  streak 

ning  :  soft  j  not  very  brittle. 

CAem.  CAor.— Burns  with  a  blue-coloured  flame,  and 

res  out  an  odour  like  that  of  bituminous  wood. 

Ckmstttuent  Parts.    Hatchett  *. 

Graini. 
ater  which  so«n  came  ever  acid,,  and  afterwards 
torbid  by  the  mixture  of  bitumen,  60 

lick  brown,  oily  bitumen,  2i 

larcoal,  90 

vdrogen^  carbonated  hydrogen,  and  carbonic  acid 

29 

200 

Tbe  above  is  the  analysis  of  aoo  gvains  of  Bowy 

■i  by  distillation. 

LocaiiHeSj  &c.— -This  variety  is  net  uoconunon  in 

any  places  of  Germany.     It  is  found  also  at  Bovcy 

ar  Exeter  in  England,  from  which  it  is  called  Bwey 

al. 

Subspecies  i.  Bituminous  Wood» 

irbonated  Wood^  Kirw.  ii.  6o.     Le  Bois  Bitumiheux^ 
Broch.  iL  44. 

Exter.  C^ar.«~Has  a  ligneevs  form,  and  even  seme- 
mes the  appearance  of  branches  and  roots  of  trees ; 
limmerinff  in  the  principal  fracture,  in  the  cross  firac- 
ire,  conchoidal  J  fragments  splintery,  wedge-shaped, 
r  tabnlar. 

Colour  commonly  light  blackish  brown,  sometimes 
ood  brown }  opaque ;  streak  shining  ^  soft,  and  easily 
angible. 

CAem.  CAtfr.— Boms  with  a  bright  flame,  and  gives 
Dt  a  sweetbh,  bituminous  smell. 

LocalHieM^  &c.— -This  variety  is  found  in  the  same 
laces  with  the  other  varieties  of  coal,  and  also  in  places 
here  the  noore  common  kinds  of  coal  are  rase,,  or  in 
nail  quantity,  as  in  the  island  of  Iceland,  where  it  is 
DOWA  by  the  name  of  suriurbrand;  and.  in  the  island 
rSkye  m  Scotland.  It  is  found  also  in. the  coal  fields 
mad  Edinburgh,  and  also  at  Bovey  near  Exeter,  and 
I  various  places  oa  the  continent. 

Subspecies  3.  Earthy  Coal. 
loii  Bitwmn€U99  TerretiXf  Brocbant,  ii.  45. 

Exter,  CAar^^mJThe  consistence  of  this  variety  is  in- 
Brmediate  between  s<did  and  friable  ^  dull,  rarely 
limmering  >  firacture  earthy. 

Colour  blackish- brown,  or  liver  bsown  y  streak  shin- 
!ig ;  stains  j  very  sofL 

LocaHius^  Scc-^This  is  found  in  Saxony,  Bohemia, 
Traoce,  and  particuhurljr  in  the  vicinity  of  Cologne, 
rhere  it  is  known  by  the  name  of  unAer  or  Cologne 
artAp  which  is  employed  in  the  fabrication  of  colours  3, 


2ii 

and  from  certain  varieties  which  contain  pyrites,  alum  Combos- 
is  extracted.  tibles. 

Sub^cies  4.  Alum  Earth. 

This  has  been  already  described  under  the  name  of 
aluminous  schisHu^  in  the  argillaceous  genus. 

Subspecies  5.  Moor  Coal. 
La  Houiiie  Lwumeuse^  Brocbant,  ii.  48. 

Exter,  Cftor.— This  variety  is  found  massive,  and  in 
extensive  beds  ^  internally  glimmering  y  cross  fracture 
even,  sometimes  flat  conchoida]  ^  longitudinal  fracture 
slaty  \  fragments  trapezoidal  or  rhomboidal. 

Colour  blackish  brown,  and  brownish  Mack  \  streak 
shining  }  soft,  very  easily  frangible. 

ZATo/f/fV^, &C.— ^Rfoor coal  is  abundant' in  Bohemia;' 
it  is  found  also  in  Transylvania,  and  chiefly  among  sand- 
stone, limestone,  and  trap  rooks.  It  seems  to  approach 
nearly  to  earth  coal. 

6.  Species.  Black  C6al. 

This  species  is  divided  into  six  subspecies^  pitch,  co-f 
Inmnar,  slaty,  cannel,  foliated,  and  coarse  coal. 

Subspecies  i.  Pitch  Coal. 
ia^HoiuHie  Pteiformej  Brocbant,  ii.  49. 

Exter.  CAar.^-Found  massive  or  disseminated  j  andT 
sometimes  parts  of  vegetables,  such  as  the  branches  of 
trees,  are  observed.  Lustre  shining,  resplendent,  resi- 
nous \  fracture  conchoidal ;  fragments  sharp-edffed. 

Colour  perfect  black,  and  tbe  longitudinal  fracture 
sometimes  brownish  j  soft  \  easily  frangible.     Specific 

graTityi.3. 

Locah'tieSf  Sic^This  is  one  of  the  most  common 
varieties  of  coal,  and  therefore  is  found  in  all  coal 
countries. 

Uses.^^Aa  it  is  susceptible  of  a  fine  polish,  it  is  em-< 
ployed  for  various <  ornamental  purposes.     The  sub- 
stance known  by  the  name  oijet^  belongs  to  this  va- 
'  riety. 

Subspecies  2.  Columnar  Coal. 

La  HoutUe  Scaptforme^ 'BroohtLnt^  ii.  15. 

Exter.  CAar.— Found  massive  ^  in  its  fracture  shin- 
ing or  weakly  shining,  resinous  *,  fracture  more  or  less 
perfectly  conchoidal ;  fragments  indeterminate. 

Colour  perfect  black,  or  brownish  black.  It  is  com- 
posed of  distinct  concretions,  which  are  columnar,  pa- 
rallel, slightly  curved,  whose  surfaces  are  smooth  and 
shining ;  is  soft,  and  easily  frangible. 

Localities^  &c.— This  is  a  very  rare  variety^  of  coal. 
It  is  found  in  the  Meisner,  near  Almerode,  in  Hessia, 
in  a  basaltic  mountain. 

Subspecies  3.  Slatt  CoaL. 

La  Houille  Schisteuscy  Brocbant,  ii.  52. 

Exter.  (7Aar«— Found  massive  in  entire  beds  ^  lustra 
shining,  sometimes  only  weakly  shining  or  glimmering, 
resinous;  principal  fracture  slaty  $  cross  fracture  imper- 
fect conchoidal  \  fragments  in  the  &nn  of  tables  ^  not 
very  sharp-edged. 

Colons 


2l6 


Cornbos- 
tiblet.* 


MINERALOGY. 

Colour  perfect  Uacky  often  also  grayish,  rarelj  brown- 
ish black  ',  streak  shining  ^  soft,  or  seni-hard  ',  easily 
frangible.     Specific  mtvity  1.25  to  1.37* 

LocaHtiei^  &c.— -Tliis  is  the  prevailing  coal  in  Bri- 
tain, as  at  Newcastle  and  Whitehaven  in  England,  and 
in  the  coal  ceimtry  both  in  the  east  and  west  of  Scot- 
land. 


Pbrtl 


Subspecies  4.   Canhel  Coal. 

La  HouUkde  Kilkenny^  Brochant,  ii.  ^^,  Id,  Kirwan, 
ii.  52. 

Exter,  (7A0r.— Fonnd  massive  j  lustre  weakly  shin- 
ing, resinous ;  fracture  commonly  conchoidal,  sometimes 
even  and  foliated  >  fragments  sometimes  rhomboidal  or 
cubical. 

Colonr  grayish  black  j  streak  shining ',  soft  'j  easily 
frangible.     Spec.  grav.  1.23  to  l.27» 

Localities^  &c.-*Tbis  coal  accompanies  the  former 
in  many  places  of  Entrland  and  Scotland,  as  at  White- 
haven and  Wigan  in  liancashire  in  England  \  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Edinbui^  \  and  at  Moirkirk,  and 
other  places  in  Ayrshire  in  Scotland.  The  coal  at 
Kilkenny  in  Ireland  belongs  also  to  this  variety  *,  and 
from  the  places  where  it  is  found,  is  called  Wigan  or 
Kilkenny  coal. 

t/ii^#._Beside  being  employed  as  fuel  with  other 
kinds  of  coal,  this  variety,  being  susceptible  of  a  fine 
polish,  is  cut  and  formed  into  various  useful  and  orna- 
mental purposes.  It  is  said  that  the  choir  of  the  cathe- 
dral church  of  Litchfield  is  covered  with  plates  of  this 
eoal  alternating  with  black  marble. 

Subspecies  $,    FoLtATZD  Coal* 

"Le  Charhan  LameUeux^  Brochant,  ii.  54. 

Ester,  Char. — ^Foond  massive^  principal  fracture 
resplendent  \  cross  fracture  shining  \  principal  fracture 
more  or  less  foliated  \  cross  fracture  somewhat  uneven  \ 
fragments  rhomboidal. 

Colour  perfect  black,  and  on  the  sides  of  the  fis- 
sures superficial  colours  appear,  like  the  colours  of 
tempered  steel,  or  those  of  the  peacoek^s  tail  j  easily 
frangible. 

LoeaHtiet^  Stc.-— This  coal  is  found  at  Liege,  in 
Saxony,  near  Dresden,  and  in  some  parts  of  France. 

Stthspecies  6.   Coarsx  Coal. 
La  HomUe  Oroesieref  Brochant,  ii.  ^5* 

Ester.  £Aar.p— Found  massive  j  is  weakly  shilling^ 
resinous  f  fracture  uneven,  or  more  or  less  slaty }  frag, 
ments  blunt^dged. 

Colour  grayish  black,  sometimes  brownish  black  ^ 
streak  shimng  i  soft  ^  easily  firangible. 

Locah'tieSf  6Cc.-*Accompanies  the  other  kinds  of 
coal,  whose  localities  have  been  abready  mentioned.     . 

7.  Species.    Coal  Blskde* 

This  is  divided  into  two  subspecies,  conchoidal  and 

slaty. 

Subspecies  i.  Conchoidal  Coal  Blxkdi. 

iU  SmnUe  Eelatante^  Brochant,  iL  50.     GloM^kMe 
4f  the  Germaos. 


Exter.  (7Aar.— -Found  massive,  rarely  dissemittated  \  Cbniici. 
lustre  shining  or  resplendent,  approaching  to  metallic  \ 
firactnre  perfectly  conchoidal  \  fragments  not  very  sharp- 
edged 

Colour  iron  black,  inclining  to  brown,  or  exhibiting 
the  superficial  colours  like  tempered  steel  j  soft  ^  easily 
franinble. 

Cncm,  ^j^or.— Bums  without  any  flame,  leaving  a 
white  ash. 

Localities,  &c. — ^This  variety  of  coal  is  venr  rare. 
It  is  found  at  Newcastle,  and  at  Meissiner  in  Hcesisy 
along  with  the  other  varieties  of  coal. 

Subupecies  2.    Slatt  Coal  BiiENDE. 


Native  Mineral  Carhane^  Kirw.  ii.  49.     La  Biemde 
Charbonnettse^  Brochant,  ii.  57.    Anthracite^  Haoy^ 

ii-  307-  I- 

Ester,  CAar.^— Found  massive  and  disseminated  >  in- 
ternal lustre  shining,  or  resplendent,  and  between  me- 
tallic and  vitreous  \  fracture  more  or  less  perfectly 
slaty  ;  cross  fracture  flat  conchoidal  \  fragments  some* 
times  cubic,  and  sometimes  in  tables. 

Colour  perfect  black,  approaching  more  or  less  to 
iron  black,  or  grajrish  or  bluish  black  %  opaque  \  stainsip 
but  does  not  write  \  soft  \  rather  brittle  ^  very  easily 
frangible.     Spec  grav.  1.3  to  1.8. 

Chem,  C4ar.**Keduced  to  powder,  and  heated  m  a 
crucible,  this  coal  gives  neither  a  sulphureous  nor  hiln- 
minous  smell,  and  neither  sulphur  nor  bitumen  can  be 
obtained  from  it  Af^  being  long  exposed  to  heat,  it 
consumes  slowly  without  flame,  and  loses  during  the 
process  about  two-thirds  of  its  weight.  The  residue  is 
of  a  blackish  gray  colour,  which  shows  that  the  combus- 
tion has  not  been  compfete. 


I^ure  carbone, 
Silica, 
Alumina, 
Oxide  of  iroiiy 
Loss, 


ConstituefU  Parts. 
Paascobeiy. 

a 

5 
3 


200 


72.05 

*3»9 
3-29 

100.00 


Localities^  &c.—- This  variety  has  been  found  tn  % 
vein  at  Schemnitx  in  Hungary,  in  Pais  de  Vand,  in  a 
transported  rock,  which  seems  to  be  intermediate  b^ 
tween  mnite  and  breccia  \  at  Konigsberg  in  Norway, 
where  it  is  accompanied  with  native  silver ;  in  Sazonj 
it  forms  an  entire  bed  in  a  mountain  of  clay  slate  ^  also 
found  in  the  island  of  Arran,  and  near  Kumamock  in 
Scotland. 

IlL  GRAPHITE  Gekps. 

I.  Species.  Graphiti:,  or  Black  Lead. 

Fhmhag^  Kirw.  ii.  58.    Z«  Gn^pMlr,  Broch.  iL  76. 
Fer  CarburSf  Hauy,  iv.  5^. 

This  species  is  divided  into  two  subspecies,  scaly  aad 
compact. 

Subspecies  x.  Scalt  GnAPiUTC. 

£«frr.CAan^Foundmassiveaaddisiemtnate^$  hiilrv 
gUmmering  or  shining,  metallic}  fracture  fUiatcd,  eon- 

cboidaly 


ii4aU  Boraetimes  lyievoQ  or  slaty  ;  fragments  blunt- 
ped,  sometimes  trapezoidal ;  commonly  appears  in 
rinct  granular  concretions,  wjiich  are  small  or  fine 
ined,  with  a  splintery  a^ect* 
Colour  intermediate  between  bluish  black  and  light 
Q  black  ;  sometimes  steel  gray,  or  brownish  black  ; 
iqoe  ;  streak  shining  j  stains  and  writes  ^  soft  }  easily 
ngible  >  feels  greasy. 

Subspecies  2*  Compact  Graphite. 

Exier,  £!%iir.— This  subspecies  approaches  so  near 
the  former  in  its  tharacters,  that  it  seems  dlffi- 
It  to  distingnbh  it^  The  following  characters  and 
cumstances  connected  with  the  natural  history  of 
iphite,   refer  to  both.     Specific  gravity  1.987  to 

Chem.  C^Aor.— -When  exposed  to  heat  in  a  furnace, 
^ves  out,  during  combustion,  a  great  proportion  of 
rbonic  acid,  leaving  a  residuum  of  red  oxide  of 


MINERALOGY. 

FOURTH  CLASS.    METALLIC  ORES. 
L  PLATINA  GxNus. 


217 


Metallic 
Orev. 


ConHAuent  Parts. 

BeithoUeL 

Scbeelc 

Yanqiicliii. 

irbone. 

90.9 

90 

23* 

m. 

9-^ 

10 

2 

ica. 

- 

38 

omina. 

■* 

■• 

37 

100.0 


100 


100 


Of  the  above  analysis  it  must  be  observed,  that  the 
o  first  by  BerthoUet  and  Scheele  must  have  been 
ry  pure  specimens  of  graphite  ^  and,  on  the  contrary, 
s  specimens  analyzed  by  Vauquelin  must  have  been 
ry  impure,  containing  so  large  a  proportion  of  earthy 
liters,  and  so  small  a  proportion  of  the  proper  ingre- 
rats  of  that  mineral. 

Localities,  &c. — This  mineral,  which  is  not  very 
mipoo,  is  found  chiefly  in  primitive  mountains.  It 
met  with  in  Spain,  France,  Bavaria,  and  Hungry. 
England  at  Borrowdale  near  Keswick  in  Cum- 
rland  \  and  at  Craigman,  near  New  Cumnock,  in 
^rshire  in  Scotland,  where  it  is  found  in  detached 
isses  among  rocks  nearly  similar  to  those  which  ac- 
mpany  coal. 

Uses, — ^Graphite  or  black  lead  is  employed  for  ma- 
ng  pencils.  The  coarser  parts  are  employed  in  ma' 
ng  crucibles.  It  is  also  employed  for  covering  cast 
m,  such  as  grates,  to  defend  them  from  rust ;  and  on 
count  of  its  unctuous  property,  it  is  applied  to  those 
jts  of  machines  which  are  subject  to  friction,  for  the 
irpose  of  diminishing  it. 

2.  Species.  Mineral  Charcoal* 

This  substance,  which  accompanies  the  other  varie- 
*»  of  coal  already  described,  is  of  a  woody  texture, 
id  has  therefore  a  fibrous  fracture,  with  somewhat  of 
shining  and  silky  lustre.  It  is  usually  found  in  thin 
vers  with  the  other  varieties  of  coal,  and  perhaps  it 
igbt  be  considered  as  coal  less  perfectly  formed) 
at  in  its  characters  it  agrees  so  much  with  the  va- 
eties  of  coal  blende,  that  it  seems  quite  unnecessary 
)  make  it  a  separate  species* 
Vou  XIV.  Part  I.  t 


Species.  Native  Pijitina. 

Id.  Kirw.  ii.  103.     Le  Platine  NaHf,  Broch.  ii.  86. 
Platine  Natif  Ferriferc^  Hauy,  iii.  368. 

Essen,  Char.-^OftL  silver  white  colour,  and  infusible* 

Exter,  CAar.-^Platina  is  found  in  the  form  of  smidl 
flat  or  rounded  grains  ^  surface  smooth,  with  shining 
metallic  lustre  }  streak  resplendent. 

Colour  light  steel  gray,  or  silver  white ;  semi-hard  > 
ductile }  flexible  in  thin  plates.  Spec.  grav.  15,601 
to  17.7  y  but  when  purified,  and  hammered,  23,  and 
according  to  some,  24. 

Chem.  (7Aar.— Is  almost  infusible  without  addition, 
in  the  focus  of  a  burning  glass,  or  exposed  to  the  action 
of  oxygen  gas.  It  does  not  amalgamate  with  mercury, 
and  is  only  soluble  in  nitro-muriatic  acid. 

Localities^  &c.— Platina  was  first  brought  to  Europe 
by  Don  Ulloa  in  1748.  The  repository  of  this  metal 
is  not  known,  and  it  has  been  found  only  in  South  Ame- 
rica, till  lately  that  it  was  disoovered  in  grav  silver  ore 
from  the  mine  of  Guadalcanal  in  Spain,  in  the  ana- 
lysis of  this  6re,  Vanqnelin  found  the  phitina  to  be  in 
die  proportion  of  -r^. 

C^f^.— >Platina  is  one  of  the  most  valuable  mineral 
substances,  as,  on  account  of  its  hardness  and  infosibi- 
litv,  it  may  be  applied  to  many  of  the  purposes,  of 
^Id  and  iron  J  and  from  its  properties  of  being  less 
liable  to  change  when  exposed  to  the  air^  or  to  the  ac- 
tion of  other  chemical  agents,  it  answers  those  purposes 
in  a  superior  degree. 

Platina  in  its  crude  state  is  alloyed  with  other  me- 
tallic substances.  It  has  been  long  known  that  it  is 
accompanied  with  particles  of  iron,  gold,  and  some 
other  substances.  It  col^tains  also  an  ore  of  one  of  the 
new  metals.  This  is  iridium,  which  is  alloyed  with 
osmium,  another  new  metal,  both  which  were  discover- 
ed by  Mr  Tennant.  This  ore  is  composed  of  plates^  it 
is  not  malleable  *,  its  specific  gravity  is  19.5,  and  it  is 
not  acted  on  by  nitro-muriatic  acid,  which  dissolves  pla- 
tina. Rhodium  and  palladium,  two  other  new  metals, 
are  alloyed  with  platina. 

II.  GOLD  Gekos. 

Species.  Native  Gold. 

This  species  is  divided  into  three  subspecies;  i.  gol- 
den yellow  \  2.  brass  yellow  >  and,  3.  grayish  yellow. 

Subspecies  i.  Golden-yellow  Gold. 

VOr  Nattf,  Jaune  <POr,  Broch.  ii.  89.     NaHve  GM^ 
Kirw.  i<  93* 

Exter.  Char, — Gold  is  found  most  frequently  disse- 
minated, superficial,  or  in  grains  \  reticulated,  dendri- 
tical,  capillary,  or  cellular,  often  in  small  {dates,  more 
rarely  crystallized.  The  forms  of  its  crysUls  which 
have  been  observed,  are  small  perfect  cubes,  regular 
octahedrons,  dodecahedrons,  double  eight-sided  pyra- 
mids, terminated  by  four-sided  summits,  plAced  on  the 

£  e  four 


2l8 


MINERALOGY. 


PiirtL 


Mciallic  fouc  lateral  edges  of  t^  pyramids  altemately  }    bat 
Ores,      tlie  crystals  are  small  and  ill  defined  ^   the  surface  is 

-  »  '  -  smooth  and  respleadent  y  that  of  the  small  plates  dnisy 
and  shining  y  that  of  the  grains  only  strongly  glimmer- 
ing 'f  internal  lustre  weakly  ttbining,  metallic  y  fracture 
hackly. 

This  variety  presents  the  perfect  colour  of  gold.  It 
is  soft  y  perfectly  ductile,  flexible,  but  not  elastic  ^ 
streak  resplendent.  Spec.  grav.  of  pure  gold  19.25  to 
19*64. 

Subspecies'  2.  Brass-tellow  Gold. 

L'Or  Nat^iPunjaune  de  laiion^  Broch.  ii.  91. 

i?jr<fr.'CA<ir.— This- variety  is  almost  always  found 
disseminated  in  small  particles,  or  superficial  \  some- 
times also  capillary,  in  small  plates,  or  crystallized  in 
thin  six-sided  tables. 

The  colour  is  that  of  brass  of  various  shades,  accord- 
ing to  the  proportion  of  alloy.  In  other  characters  it 
resembles  the  former,  excepting  in  the  specific  gravity, 
which  is  inferior,  owing  to  the  greater  proportion  of 
other  metals  with  which  it  is  alloyed. 

Subspecies  3.  Gratish- YELLOW  Gold. 

VOr  NatiffPunjautngruatre^  Broch.  ii.  92. 

Exter,  C/Mrr.-*This  variety  is  also  found  disseminated 
in  small  flattened  grains  \  surface  is  not  very  smooth  \ 
almost  uneven,  and  weakly  shining. 

Colour  steel  gray,  approaching  to  that  of  brass  : 
spec.  grav.  of  this  variety  is  greater  than  the  last,  but 
inftsrior  to  the  first.  In  other  external  characters  they 
are  the  same. 

Chem*  CAor.— Native  gold  is  only  soluble  in  nitro- 
muriatic  acid  ,  platina  is  also  soluble  in  the  same  acid, 
but  it  is  ttot,  like  gold,  precipitated  from  its  solution  by 
aulpbate  of  iron. 

Constituent  Par<^.— Native  gold  is  not  always  found 
pure.  It  is  frequently  alloyed  with  silver  or  copper,  or 
witli  both,  and  sometimes  also,  it  is  said,  with  platina. 
To  these  alloys  the  difference  of  colour,  which  is  the 
foundation  of  the  division  into  three  varieties,  is  owing. 
The  first  variety  is  the  purest,  containing  only  a  small 
proportion  of  silver  or  copper  ^  the  second  has  a  greater 
proportion  of  these  metals  \  and  the  third,  it  is  supposed, 
is  alloyed  with  a  small  portion  of  platina. 

U.fes. — Gold  (on  account  of  its  indestructible  nature, 
and  its  remarkable  malleabDity  and  ductility),  is  one 
of  the  most  important  and  valuable  of  the  metals  for 
many  purposes  \  but  its  uses,  whether  as  money,  or  ar- 
ticles of  luxury,  are  too  well  known  to  require  enume- 
ration. As  ppre  gold  has  no  great  degree  of  hardness, 
it  is  necessary  to  alloy  it  with  a  portion  of  copper.  This 
is  not  less  than  -g^  and  never  more  than  7. 

Localities^  &c.-— Gold  is  chiefly  found  in  primitive 
mountains,  and  there  it  is  usually  in  veins,  sometimes 
disseminated  in  the  rock  itself.  The  accompanying 
substances  are  quarts,  feldspar,  limestone,  heavy  spar, 
pyrites,  red  silver,  vitreous  silver,  and  galena.  Gold 
is  also  mixed  with  manganese,  gray  cobalt,  nrckel,  and 
malachite.  Gold  has  also  been  found,  it  is  said,  in 
fossil  substances,  as  in  petrified  wood,  penetrated  with 
siliceous  eartli,  a  mass  of  which  was  dug  out  at  the 
4^pth  of  53  fathoms,  in  an  argillaceous  breccia,  or,  as 

4 


is  supposed  by  some,  a  porphyry  with  an  argillaccmu  cIimSo. 
basis,  in  Transylvania.  This  is  considered  as  a  proof  tion 
of  the  more  recent  formation  of  gold,  as  well  as  the  dis- 
covery of  Patrin,  who  found  native  gold  surrounded  by 
muriate  of  silver,  in  the  mine  of  Zmeof  in  Siberia. 
Muriate  of  silver  is  supposed  to  be  comparatively  a  lite 
production. 

But  gold  is  perhaps  more  common  to  allurial  toil; 
there  it  is  disseminated  in  grains,  along  with  siliceous, 
arffillaceotts,  and  fenruginous  sand,  of  which  certain 
soils  are  composed  j  and  also  in  the  sand  of  many  riveis: 
and  it  is  observed  that  the  gold  is  most  abundant  ivhen 
the  waters  are  at  the  lowest,  and  especially  soon  after 
floods,  which  shews  that  the  gold  is  carried  down  along 
with  the  earthy  matters  which  are  swept  away  by  the 
violence  of  the  current.    It  has  been  supposed  too,  that 
the  gold  found  in  the  bed  of  rivers,  has  been  detached, 
by  the  force  of  tht  waters,  from  the  veins  and  primitive 
rocks  traversed  by  these  currents^  and  according  to  this 
opinion,  attempts  have  been  made  to  trace  the  source 
of  these  auriferous  sands,  in  the  hope  of  discovering  the 
native  repository  of  this  precious  metal  \   but  these  at- 
tempts have  usually  fkiled,  for  it  has  been  found  thai 
the  gold  is  peculiar  to  the  alluvial  soil  through  which 
the  stream  is  carried,  and  in  which  the  gold  is  collected. 
This  point  seems  to  be  established  by  the  obsenrations 
of  naturalists,     i.  The  soil  of  those  plains  frequently 
contains,  to  a  certain  depth,. and  in  particular  places, 
particles  of  gold,  which  may  be  separated  by  washing. 
2.  The  bed  of  the  rivers  and  auriferous  streams  yields 
a  greater  proportion  of  gold,  after  the  plains  which  are 
traversed  by  those  rivers  have  been  flooded,  than  ia 
any  other  circumstances.     3..  It  has  always  been  obser- 
ved, that  gold  is  found  in  the  sand  of  rivers  in  a  very 
limited  space.     By  examining  the  sand  of  these,  rivers 
higher  up,  and  nearer  to  their  source,  no  gold  is  found  \ 
so  that  if  this  metal  were  derived  from  the  rocks,  which 
are  swept  by  the  currents,  the  quantity  would  be  great- 
est nearest  to  their  sources  \  but  observation  has  proved 
the  contrary.     Thus  the  river  Oreo  contains  no  gold, 
but  from  Pont  to  the  place  where  it  joins  the  Po.    Ti  e 
Tesln  afibrds  no  gold  till  it  has  traversed  Lilke  Major, 
where  its  coarse  must  have  been  retarded,  and  where 
all  the  heavy  particles  of  matter  which  it  carried  along 
with  it  from  the  primitive  mountains,  must  have  been 
deposited.     The  quantity  of  the  gold  collected  on  the 
Bhiue  near  Strasburg,  is  greater  than  what  is  found 
near  Basle,  which  is  more  in  the  vicinity  of  the  moun- 
tains.    No  gold  has  been  discovered  in  the  sands  of  the 
Danube  during  the  first  part  of  its  course.   Those  sands 
become  only  auriferous  below  Efierding.      The  same 
remark  may  be  applied  to  the  £ms.     The  sands  of  the 
upper  part  of  this  river,  which  traverses  the  mountains 
of  Stiria,  contain  no  gold  \   but  from  the  place  where 
it  enters  the  plain  at  Steyer,  till  it  joins  the  Danube, 
its  sands  are  auriferous,  and  sufficiently  rich  to  be  wash- 
ed with  advantage. 

The  most  of  the  anriferens  sand»  in  all  parts  of  the 
world,  are  of  a  black  or.reddish  colour,  and  consequeBt*^ 
ly  ferruginous.  From  this  circumstance,  connected  with 
the  gold  of  alluvial  land,  some  naturalists  have  inferred, 
that  it  is  owing  to  the  decomposition  -  of  auriferous 
pyrites.  It  was  observed  by  Reaumur,  that  the  sand 
which  accompanies  gold  in  most  of  the  rivers,  and  par^ 
ticularly  in  the  Bhone  and  the  Blun»,  is  like  that  of 

Ceylon 


MINERALOGY. 


:ylon  and  Expailly,  composed  of  iron  and  small  grains 
rubies,  corundum,  hyacinth.  Titaninm  also  has  been 
icovered.  It  has  been  observed  besides,  that  the  gold 
alluvial  soil  is  purer  than  that  which  is  immediately 
tained  from  rocks,  from  which  it  is  supposed  Ihat 
has  a  different  origin.  It  does  not  appear  to  be 
rtainly  ascertained,  that  gold  is  found  in  volcanic 
IL 

Such  are  the  general  facts  relative  to  the  repositoriM 
gold.  We  shall  now  briefly  mention  the  more  re- 
krkable  places  where  gold  has  been  found  and  coUec- 
f  beginning  with  those  of  Europe. 
Spain  formerly  had  mines  of  gold ;  the  richest  was 
the  province  of  Asturias,  where  it  was  dug  out  from 
^lar  veins.  These  mines,  according  to  ancient  histo- 
ins,  were  wrought  by  the  Phoenicians,  and  afterwards 
the  Romans  ^  but  they  have  been  totalljr  abandoned 
tee  the  discovery  of  America,  and  the  nuneral  riches 
that  country.  The  rivers  of  Spain,  as  well  as  the 
igas  in  Portugal,  contain  auriferous  sand. 
The  fm\y  mine  of  gold  which  in  modem  times  has 
en  wrought  in  France,  was  discovered  in  178 1,  at 
ndette,  in  the  valley  of  Oysans,  department  of  Isere. 
lis  was  a  regular  vein  of  quartz,  traversing  a  moun- 
n  of  gneiss,  and  containing  auriferous  sulphuret  of 
in,  and  some  fine  specimens  of  native  gold  ^  but  it  was 
t  sufficiently  rich  to  defray  the  expence  of  the  opera- 
OS.  Many  of  the  rivers  of  that  country  contain  au- 
ierous  sand,  as  the  Rhone,  the  Rhine,  the  Garonne, 
d  others  of  smaller  note  }  and  it  is  said  that  gold  is 
10  ibond  among  the  black  sand,  and  particles  of  mo- 
Wf  iron  ore,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Paris. 
In  Piedmont  there  are'some  mines  of  gold.  At  the 
jt  of  Mount  Rosa,  veins  of  auriferous  sulphuret  of 
mliave  been  discovered,  traversing  gneiss ^  and  al- 
ougb  these  pyrites  do  not  yield  .more  than  10  or  1 1 
ains  of  gold  in  the  quintsJ,  it  has  been  found  worth 
lilc  to  continue  the  operations.  On  the  south  side  of 
e  Apennine  mountains,  there  are  several  auriferous 
rere  and  soils. 

Some  of  the  rivers  of  Switzerland  also  contain  auri« 
rous  sands.     Such  are  those  of  the  Reuss  and  the 


219 


sr. 


In  Germany  the  only  gold  mine  which  is  wrought  is 
Saltsburg,  in  the  chain  of  mountains  which  traverses 
at  country  from  east  to  west,  and  which  separates  it 
mi  the  Tyrol  and  Carinthia. 

But  Schemnitz  and  Cremnitz  are  the  most  remark- 
lie  places. in  Europe  for  mines  of  gold  and  auriferous 
nds.  The  gold  of  Schemnitz  is  accompanied  by  sil- 
r,  lead,  and  iron  pyrites,  and  the  matrix  is  quartz, 
uriferoos  sand  is  round .  not  only  in  the  bed  of  the 
fer  Neva^  but  this  sand  is  still  richer  in  the  plain 
rough  which  the  river  flows.  According  to  De  Bom, 
is  is  a  ferruginous  sand,  lying  belpw  a  bed  of  chalk. 
In  Transylvania  the  celebrated  cold  mine  of  Nagyag 
remarkable  for  having  the  gold  combined  with  na- 
re  tellurium.  There  is  also  another  mine  at  Felso- 
mja,  the  ore  of  which  is  an  auriferous  sulphuret  of 
Iver,  in  a  vein  of  a  kind  of  jasper.  The  rivers  of  this 
»untry  also  contain  gold.  The  plain  on  the  "baaks  of 
e  river  Moros  contains  an  auriferous  sa^d,  'which  is 
{posited  between  two  beds,  neither  of  ivhich  yields  a 
trticle  of  gold.  The  upper  stratum  ts' vegetable  ^oil, 
id thelower is coBipooed  ef  schistus. 


The  mines  of  Hungary  are  the  only  gold  mines  in   Metallic 
Europe  which  are  of  any  importance.  Ores. 

In  Sweden  gold  is  obtained  from  tlie  mine  of  Edel-        » 
fors  in  the  province  of  Smoland.    This  mine  yields  na-  g^^^Q 
tive  gold,  and  auriferous  iron  pyrites.     Th,e  veins  are 
composed  of  brown  quartz,  traversing  a  mountain  of 
schistose  homstone.  The  gold  is  sometimes  disseminated 
in  the  rock  itself.  .  ^ 

In  Greece,  the  island  of  Thasos  in  the  Archipelago  Greece, 
was  celebrated  in  antiquity  for  its  rich  mines  of  gold. 
The  ancients  also,  it  is  said,  found  abundance  of  gold 
in  Thrace  and  Macedonia. 

llie  alluvial  soil  in  several  places  of  the  British  |pf|,tn^ 
islands,  have  also  furnished  gold.  Not  many  years  ago, 
a  considerable  quantity  of  gold  was  collected  m  a  sandy  . 
soil,  on  the  mountains  of  Wicklow  in  Ireland.  Several 
masses  of  native  gold,  exceeding  an  ounce  in  weighty 
were  found  in  that  soil  i  one  weighing  22  ounces  was 
found,  which  is  said  to  be  the  largest  specimen  of  native 
gold  found  in  Europe. 

It  i^ould  appear  that  gold  was  collected  at  a  very  Scotland 
early  period  in  Scotland,  and  particularly  in  the  mine 
field  of  Leadbills  ^  but  the  most  extensive  operations 
were   carried  on  by  Buhner  an  EngUsbman,  in  the 
time  of  Queen  Elizabeth,     llie  trenches,  heaps  of  soil 
that  had  been  turned  up,  and  other  marks  of  these  ope- 
rations, yet  visible  between  Leadbills  and  Elvanfoot, 
still  retain  the  nnMneoi  Bulmer^s  //^of'^iig«,aDdtheplace 
where  the  gold  was  washed,  is  still  called  die  ffoid  scour. 
At  that  time,  it  is  said,  an  immense  quantity  of  sold 
was  collected.    Not  many  years  ago,  similar  operations 
were  resumed  by  the  advice  ef  a  Germany  but  so  far 
as  we  understand,  the  quantity  of  gold  collected  was 
scarcely  equal  to  the-  expence.     The  operations  during 
the  last  al  tempt -were  carried  on  under  the  superinteu- 
dance  of  the  late  Mr.  John  Taylor,  manager  of  the  mines 
at  Wanlockhead  5  a  man  of  no  common  sagacity,  by 
nvhich  he  •!% as  enabled  to  collect  many  curious  facts  witii 
regard  to  the  natural  history  of  gold.     The  gold  was 
found  in  that  countiy  immediately  under  the  vegetable 
soil ;  and  the  method  of  conducting  the  operation  was, 
to  direct  a  small  stream  of  water  so  as  to  carry  this 
soil  along  with  it,  to  basons  or  hollow  jplaces,  where 
the  water  might  deposit  the  matters  which  had  been 
carried  along  by  its  current.     The  matter  deposited 
was  repeatedly  washed,  tHl  the  whole  of  the  earthy 
substances  were  carried  off.     The  gold  being  heaviest, 
sunk  to  the  bottom,  and  remained   behind.     Among 
other,  facts  which  Mr  Taylor  communicated  to  us,  and 
whicb  he  observed  during  the  progress  of  these  opera- 
tions he  found,  that  the  gold  was  always  most  abundant 
near  the  top  of  the  lead  veins  which  traverse  ihat  coun- 
try.    He  was  so  satisfied  of  this  fact,  that  he  could  tell, 
merely  by  the  quantity  of  gold  increasing,  when  they 
approached  to  a  vein  ^  and  on  the  other  hand  the  quan- 
tity diminishing  as  tbey  receded  from  the  vein.     This  • 
fact  shows  that  there  is  some  connection  between  me- 
tallic veins  and  the  formation  or  deposition  of  gold. 

Gold  is  still  found  in  the  soil  of  that  country  ^  but 
whether  the  quantity  be  less  than  formerly,  or  the  ex- 
,  pence  of  collecting  it,  from  the  difference  in  the  price 
of  labour,  greater,  the  produce  is  by  no  means  equal 
to  the  expences,  and  therefore  searching  fpr  gold  is  now 
only  tho  employment  of  the  letsufc  hours  of  some  of  the 


mmers. 


Ec2 


Th# 


220 

Ores. 


Afia. 


3^ 


.37 
Aihca. 


3» 


The  whole  extent  of  the  continent  of  Asia  furnishes 
gold,  in  greater  or  smaller  quantity.  Gold  is  found  in 
several  of  the  mines  of  Siberia,  and  particularly  in  that 
of  Beresof,  which  yields  auriferous  pyrites  partially  de- 
composed, and  disseminated  in  a  vein  of  quartz.  In 
the  southern  parts  of  Asia,  many  mines,  and  particu- 
larly the  sands  of  the  rivers,  contain  gold.  The  Fac- 
to) us,  a  small  river  of  Lydia,  was  celebrated  in  anti- 
quity for  the  quantity  of  gold  which  it  yielded,  and  it 
was  supposed  to  be  the  source  of  the  riches  of  Croesus. 

Japan,  Formoso,  Ceylon,  Java,  Sumatra,  Borneo,  the 
Philippines,  and  other  islands  of  the  Indian  Archipe- 
lago, are  supposed  to  be  rich  in  gold  at  this  day. 

The  greatest  quantity  of  gold  which  the  ancients 
possessed,  beside  wiiat  was  obtained  from  Spain,  was 
brought  from  Africa.  The  gold  of  Africa,  which  still 
forms  an  important  article  of  commerce,  is  always  in  the 
state  of  gold  dust  ^  a  circumstance  which  shews  that  it 
is  chiefly  extracted  from  alluvial  soil  by  washing.  Lit- 
tle gold  is  found  in  the  northern  parts  of  Africa  j  three 
or  four  places  are  remarkable  for  the  quantity  of  gold 
which  they  yield.  The  first  is  that  part  of  the  country 
between  Darfour  and  Abyssinia.  The  gold  collected 
there  is  brought  by  the  Negroes  for  sale  in  quills  of  the 
ostrich  and  of  the  vulture.  It  would  appear  that  this 
country  was  Iluowo  to  the  ancients,  who  regarded 
Ethiopia  as  a  country  rich  in  gold}  and  Herodotus 
mentions  that  the  king  of  that  country  exhibited  to  the 
ambassadors  of  Carobyses,  all  the  prisoners  bound  with 
chains  of  gold. 

The  second  great  source  of  gold  dust  in  Africa  is  to 
the  south  of  the  great  desert  Zara,  in  the  western  part 
of  that  country.  The  gold  is  collected  in  that  exten- 
sive flat  which  stretches  along  the  foot  of  the  lofty 
mountains,  among  which  the  rivers  Senegal,  Gambia, 
and  Niger,  have  their  origin.  Gold  is  found  in  the 
sands  of  all  these  rivers.  Bambouk,  which  lies  to  the 
north-west  of  these  mountains,  supplies  the  greatest 
part  of  the  gold  which  is  sold  on  the  western  coast 
of  Africa  j  at  Morocco,  Fez,  and  Algiers,  as  well 
83  that  which  is  brought  to  Cairo  and  Alexandria  in 

Eff^pt-, 

A  third  region  of  Africa  where  sold  h  abandnnt,  m 

on  the  south-east  coast,  opposite  to  Madagascar  \  and  it 

is  said  that  the  gold  brought  from  Ophir,  in  the  time  of 

Solomon,  was  from  that  part  of  Africa. 

America  is  the  richebt  country  of  the  world,  in  mo- 
dern times,  in  this  precious  metal.  There  it  is  cdleet- 
ed  in  the  alluvial  soil,  and  in  the  beds  of  rivers,  and 
sometimes,  but  more  rarely,  in  veins.  In  Mexico, 
gold  is  cbiefTy  found  in  the  numerous  silver  veins  of  that 
country.  All  the  riven  in  the  province  of  the  Carac^ 
cati,  about  lo^  north  of  the  equator,  furnish  gold.  In 
the  Spanish  part  of  America,  Chili  fornisbes  gold  from 
the  alluvial  soil,  as  well  as  the  province  of  Choco, 
where  it  is  more  abundant  5  while  that  of  Peru  is  ob- 
tained from  veins  of  qnartz,  marked  with  fermginous 
•pots. 

But  the  greatest  quantity  of  gold  of  commerce  oomes 
from  Brazil,  where  it  in  collected  in  the  alluvial  soil, 
and  in  the  sand  of  rivers,  and  extracted  by  washing. 
'Gold  is  found  almost  everywhere  in  that  country,  at 
the  foot  of  the  immense  chain  of  mountains  which  is 
aearly  parallel  with  the  coast,  and  which  stretches  from 
the  5^  to  the  30®  of  8.  Lat. 


MINERALOGY. 

III.  MERCURY  Gekus. 


Parti 


1.  Species.    Native  Mercury. 

Mercury^  Kirw.  ii.  223.     iUrcure  Nattf^  Broch.  iL 
241.     Id,  Hauy,  iii.  423. 

Essen.  Char. — ^Remains  liquid  till  the  temperature  be 
feduced  to  40^  below  o  Fahrenheit. 

Exter,  CAarw— >Nati  ve  mercnry  ex  ists  disseminated,  m 
globules  of  different  sizes,  in  small  cavities  of  otbermcs 
«f  mercury  3  lustre  resplendent,  metallic. 

Colour  shining  white,  or  tin  white  3  opaque  ^  perfect- 
ly fluid  J  does  not  wet  the  finger  ^  feels  very  cold*  8p. 
gr.  13.568  to  13.J81. 

Chem.  CAar«-— Volatile  before  the  blow-pipe,  without 
diffusing  any  perceptible  odour. 

Native  mercury  is  understood  to  be  pore,  and  hRving 
all  the  properties  of  that  metal  \  but  it  is  soinetiiDes 
amalgamated  with  a  little  silver,  which  destroys  its  flui- 
dity in  a  slight  degree,  and  renders  it  somewhat  vis- 
cous. 

Locaiities^  Scc.^Native  roercnry  is  usnally  fmnid 
along  with  the  other  ores  of  that  metal,  as  at  Idria,  in 
Friouli,  and  at  Almaden  in  Spain ;  but  the  great  pro- 
portion of  tbe  mereory  of  commerce  is  obtained  by  dis- 
tillation from  native  cinnabar.  There  is  also  it  is  said, 
a  rich  mine  of  native  mereuiy  near  Guan^a  VeliA  in 
Peru. 

r^«ef .— For  many  purposes  mercary  is  one  of  the  most 
important  of  metallic  substances.  It  is  extensively  em- 
ployed in  metallnrgy,  in  extracting  gold  and  silver 
from  their  ores,  by  the  process  to  be  afterwards  descri- 
bed, called  amafgamatian.  The  uses  of  aiercury  in  gild- 
ing, in  silvering  the  backs  of  mirrors,  and  in  medieiiic, 
are  well  known. 

2.  Species.    Native  Amalgam. 

Natural  Amalgam^  Kirw.  ii.  223.    DAmaigam  Nut^^ 
Broch*  ii.  99.     Mercure  Argenlai^  Hany,  iiL  432* 

Essen.  ^i^r.<— Communicating  to  copper  a  silvery 
colour  by  friction. 

Exter.  (7Aar.— >This  species  is  rarely  found  nsassive* 
but  usually  disseminated,  or  superficial,  sometimes  im- 
perfectly crystallized.  The  form  of  its  crystals  is  the 
octahedron,  dodecahedron,  but  it  is  usually  found  in 
thin  plates  or  leaves  j  lustre  resplendent,  or  shining  ^ 
fracture  conchoidal. 

Colour  between  shining  or  tin  white,  and  silvery 
white,  according  to  the  predominance  of  the  mercary 
or  silver  \  soft,  and  partially  fluid ;  brittle,  and  easily 
franffible. 

Chem.  rAor.— ^Exposed  to  heat  the  mercury  is  driven 
off|  and  the  silver  remains  behind. 


Mercury^ 

Silver, 


Constituent  Parts. 

Hejcr*  Cordicr. 

75  73 


100 


100 


100 


Localities^  &c<— This  mineral  is  rare,  and  is  mtt 
with,  according  to  De  Bon,  in  the  mines  of 


bo6e  ¥ein8  9!tm  crossed  by  veins  of  silver  ores*  It  is 
und  chiefly  at  Bosenaa  in  Hungary,  in  Moersfeldy 
id  MoscfacHansbergy  in  the  dnchy  of  Oeax  Fonts,  and 
Sahlberg  in  Sweden.  It  is  osualiy  found  in  a  yel- 
wbb  or  reddish  ferruginous  chiy,  and  accompanied  by 
her  ores  of  mercury. 

3.  Species.  CoiIneous  Ore  of  Mercury. 

lercury  mineralised  by  the  vitriolic  and  marine  ocids^ 
Kirw.  ii.  229.  Le  Mine  de  Mercure  comSe^  Broch. 
ii.  loi.     Mercure  muriaU^  Hany,  iii.  447. 

Elssen,  Char.^^Coioar  pearl  gray,  volatilized  by  the 
ow-]Bpe» 

Exterm  C6ar.-*-Rarelj  found  massive  or  disseminated, 
It  usually  in  thin  crusts,  or  in.  small  globules,  com- 
ased  of  an  assemblage  of  smaQ  crystals,  which  are 
ither  -perfect  cubes,  or  aix-aided  prisms,  terminated  by 
four-sided  pyranid  ;  a  six-sided  prism  bevelled  at  the 
KtreoMty  ;  or  au  eight-sided  prism  with  four  broad  aud 
mr  narrow  alternating  faces.  Crystals  shining,  some- 
imes  Kespiendeat  v  internal  lustre  shining  and  adaman- 
me;  fracture  foliated. 

Gdoar  smoke  gray,  ash  gray^  or  grayiith  white  ^ 
ranslueeat  \  tendar,  and  easily  fnmgible* 

Chem,  C!^ar.— -Entirely  volatilised  before  the  blow- 
ipe,  without  leaving  any  residuum,  and  without  decom- 


MINERALOGY.  221 

mereury  »  Idria,  where  it  forms  considerable  beds,  Ifetallic 
and  yields  abtfut  60  per  cent  of  mercury.     It  is  found      Org*- 
also,  along  with  other  ores  of  mercury,  in  Spain  and        " 
Siberia. 

X«iver  ore  of  mercury  consists  of  cinnabai',  or  the 
sulphuret  of  mercary,  mixed  with  a  portion  of  indona- 
ted  bituminous  clay.^  At  Idria  ii  is  called  hnmdem^ 
or  coaly  earth,  on  account  of  the  predominance  of  tke 
bitumen. 


The  constituent  parts  are  about  70  of  mercury,  29 
f  muriatic  acid,  and  a  small  portion  of  sulphuric  acid. 

Loeaiitiesy  &c.*— This  mineral  ha^  only  been  known 
J)out  13  years,  and  it  is  hitherto  but  rarew  It  was  dis- 
»vered  in  the  mercury  mines  of  the  duchy  of  Deux 
Ponts  by  Woulfe,  and  has  been  since  found  at  Almaden 
u  Spain,  and  at  Horsowitz  in  Bohemia.  TEe  repo- 
•itory  is  in  the  cavities  of  a  ferruginous  clay,  which  is 
nixed  with  malachite  and  gray  copper  ore. 

\.  Species.    Liver  or  Hepatic  Ore  of  Mercury. 

Mine  de  Mercure  hepatiauej  Broch.  iL  104.  Hepatic 
mercurial  ore^  Kirw.  ii.  224.  Mercure  sulfuri  bitu- 
minifere^  Hauy,  iii.  446. 

This  is  divided  into  hro  subspecies^  i.  compact,  and 

L  slaty. 

Subspecies  x.  Compact  Liver  Ore  of  Mercury. 

Exter.  rAar.«—Foond  massive  or  disseminated  y  lus- 
le  glimmering,  metallic  ^  fracture  even,  sometimes 
ine-grained  uneven ;  fragnwnts  blunt-edged. 

Colour  between  lead  gray,  and  cochineal  red  ;  cdoDr 
41  the  streak  deep  cochmml  red,  and  shining  5.  tender, 
md  easily  frangible.     Sp.  gr.  7.18  to  7«93. 

Subspecies  2.  Sztaty  Liver  Ore  of  Mercury. 

Exter.  rAor.— Tound  massive^  lustto  shining,  and 
icsplendent ;  in  the  cross  fraoture  glimmerings  lustre 
n  general  metallic,  but  sometimes  vitreous  \  principal 
liracture  slaty,  in  curved  thick  leaves ;  cross  ftacture 
iompact  and  even  ;  fragments  in  plates. 

Colour  of  the  preceding,  but  somewhat  darker,  and 
ipproacfaing  to  that  of  iron  \  opaque  ^  streak  shining  \ 
powder  between  cochineal  and  scarlet  red  \  tender,  and 
rerv  easily  frangible. 

Localities*  &c.p— This  is  the  most  common  ore  of 


5.  Species.     Cikkabar. 

This  species  is  also  divided  into  two  subspecies,  coh- 
mon  and  filumns. 

Subspecies  i.  Common  Ciknabak» 

Lc  Ctnnabre  Commun^  Broch.  ii.  107.  Dark  Bed  Cm- 
nabar^  Kirw.  ii.  223.     Mercure  Sulfure  compacU^ 
.  Hauy,  iii.  440. 

Extcr,  (7i^ar.— Found  massive  or  disseminated,  or  in 
superficial  layers,  or  cellular  and  kidney-form,  and  alsa 
crystallized.  Forms  of  the  crystals  are,  a  double  four- 
sided  pyramid  with  truncated  summits  ^  a  cube  having 
its  opposite  diagonal  angles  truncated ;  a  rhomboidal 
prism  'y  a  three-sided  prism  terminated  by  a  three-sided 
pyramid,  which  also  is  truncated.  The  crystals,  which 
are  usually  small,  are  confusedly  grouped  together  : 
surface  of  the  rhomboidal  prism  transversely  streaked, 
of  the  others  smooth  ^  external  lustre  shining  or  resplen- 
dent 'y  internal  the  same,  or  only  glimmering,  vitreous, 
or  adamantine^  fracture  foliated,  uneven,  or  rarely 
splintery  \  fragments  sharp-edged. 

Colour  cochineal  red,  carmine  red,  and  in  some  va- 
rieties lead-gray  \  opaque,  rarely  translucent  at  the 
^^f^^  \  crystals  transluceiit,  or  semitransparent  j  streak 
shming,  scarlet  red  \  tender,  and  easily  frangible.  Spec, 
grav.  6.902  to  7.86. 

Chem.  CAar.— Before  tfae  blow-pipe  common  cinna- 
bar is  entirely  volatilized  with  a  blue  flame,  and  a  suU 
phureous  odour. 


Constituent  Parts* 

Mercury, 

Sulphur, 

Iron, 


100 


LocaHtieSj  &c.— -This  is  the '  most  common  ore  of 
mercury,  and  may  be  considered  as  the  gangue  or  ma- 
trix cf  the  other  ores.  Found  not  only  in  primitive 
mountains,  where  it  forms  beds  in  clay  and  chlorite 
slate,  but  also  in  stratiform  mountains,  and  even  in  al- 
luvial rocks.  The  mines  of  Almaden  in  Spain,  of  Idria 
in  Friouli,  and  those  of  the  duchy  of  Deux  Fonts,  have 
furnished  the  greatest  quantity  of  common  cinnabar. 
It  is  also  found  in  Bohemia,  Saxony,  and  Hungary,  and 
in  small  quantity  in  France. 

Subspecies  2.    Fibrous  Cinnabar. 

Le  Cinnabre  d*un  Rouge  vify  Brochant,  ii.  11 1.  Bright 
red.  Cinnabar^  Kirwan,  ii.  229.  Mercure  9ulfur4fi- 
breusy  Hauy,  iii.  440. 

Exter*  CA»*.— Found  massive^ disseminated,  or  super- 
ficial } 


<    / 


222 


MINER 

Meulfic  ficial  *,  lustre  gltmrnering,  silky,  often  alao  eatirdy  duU : 
Ores,  fractare  fine  grained  earthy,  or  fibrous }  fragment&  blunt- 
—V—-' edged. 

Colour  bright  scarlet  red,  sometimes  crimson  or  au- 
•tora  re^  }  opaque  j  streak  sbioing  scmrlet  red ;  stains  ; 
very  tender  or  friable,  and  very  easily  frangible. 

Localtties^  &.c. — ^This  variety  is  very  rare  in  a  state 
-^f  purity.  According  to  Hauy,  most  of  the  specimens 
owe  their  texture  to  an  admixture  of  radiated  sulphuret 
of  iron.  It  has  been  found  chiefly  at  Wolfstein  in  the 
Palatinate,  where  it  is  accompanied  by  brown  iron  ore 
«nd  hematites. 

Uses.~^Clnn9.hBT  is  dug  out  chiefly  for  the  purpose  of 
extracting  the  metallic  mercury.  It  is  employed  also 
as  a  colouring  matter  in  painting;  but  the  cinnabar  used 
for  this  purpose  is  chiefly  artificial. 

Some  other  varieties  of  cinnabar,  or  sulphuret  of  mer- 
cury, have  been  noticed  by  mineralogists,  as  a  native 
ethiops  mineral.  This  is  of  a  black  colour,  a  Joose 
consistence,  and  it  stains  the  fingers.  It  appears  to  be 
some  bituminous  substance  penetrated  with  cinnabar.  It 
is  found  at  Idria* 

Alkaline  cinnabar  of  De  Bom  is  found  at  the  same 
place  ;  is  of  a  bright  red  colour,  foliated  fracture,  with 
rhoroboidal  fragments ;  and  supposed  to  be  cinnabar 
penetrated  with  an  alkaline  Sulphuret,  the  odour  of 
which  it  gives  out  by  friction.  Another  variety  of 
cinnabar,  usually  called  native  vermilion,  is  in  the 
form  of  powder.  This  snbstance  is  very  rare,  but  is 
also  sometimes  found  at  Idria.  - 


IV.  SILVER  Genus. 
I.  Species.    Native  Silver. 

Id,  Kirwan,  ii.  io8.  Id.  Brochant,  ii.  114.  Id,  Hauy, 
iii.  3  84. 

This  is  divided  into  two  subspecies,  common  and 
nuriferous. 

Subspecies  i.  Common  Native  Silver. 

JSxter,  CAar.— Common  native  silver  is  usually  found 
disseminated  or  superficial,  under  different  imitative 
forms,  as  dentiform,  filiform,  capillary,  dendritic,  reti- 
culated, veined,  or  in  thin  plates  ^  and  sometimes  crys- 
tallized, in  cubes,  octohe^ns^  rectangular  four-sided 
prisms,  double  six-sided  pyramids  with  truncated  extre- 
mities, double  three-sided  pyramids  with  truncated 
angles,  and  hollow  four-sided  pyramids.  The  crystals 
are  small  and  grouped  together  in  vows,  or  dendritical, 
or  reticulated  ^  surface  smooth  y  that  of  the  plates  drusy, 
that  of  dentiform,  filiform,  and  capillary  silver  j  longi- 
tudinally streaked  ;  externa)  lustre  glimmering  or  re- 
splendent', internal  always  glimmering,  metallic.^  frac- 
ture hackly  ^  fragments  rather  sharp-edged. 

'  Colour  silvery  white,  but  sometimes  on  ^le  surface 
yellowish  brown,  or  grayish  black  ^  opaque  ysoh  j  per- 
fectly ductile  ',  flexible,  but  not  elastic^  streak  shining, 
metallic.     Spec.  grav.  10  to  10.47. 

C/iern.  Char. — Native  silver  is  soluble  in  nitric  acid,  and 
may  be  precipitated  by  muriatic  acid,  the  muriate  of 
silver  being  insoluble)  or  by  immeFsing  a  pkte  of  cop- 


A  L  O  G  Y.  Partf. 

per  in  the  solution  of  nitrate  of  stiver,  the  silver  b  re-  ciaaifict. 
duced,  and  appears  in  the  metallic  state.  tion 

Localities,  &c.— -Native  silver  is  not  nncommoa  in 
most  of  the  mines  which  furnish  the  other  ores  of  tbat 
metal.  The  accompanying  substances  are  usually  heavy 
spar,  quartz,  calcareous  spar,  floor  spar,  pyrites,  blende, 
cobalt,  and  |ralena.  Native  silver  is  very  abnndant  in 
Mexico  and  Peru,  and  it  is  also  not  uncommon  in  Si- 
beria, in  Germany,  France,  and  was  lately  discovered 
in  the  Hefland  mine  in  Cornwall. 

Subspecies  2.    Auriferous  Silver. 

Exter.  Char. — ^This  variety  is  rarely  found  massiref 
but  is  usually  disseminated  in  small  particles,  or  sopei^- 
cial,  or  reticulated,  or  in  thin  plates  y  lustre  shiniog  or 
resplendent  \  fracture  hackly. 

Colour  between  silver  white  and  brass  yellow,  some- 
times approaching  to  gold  yellow  }  it  is  soft,  perfectly 
ductile  \  flexible  without  being  elastic,  and  its  specific 
gravity  is  greater  than  common  native  silver  io  pro- 
portion to  the  quantity  of  gold  with  which  it  is  al- 
loyed. 

Constituent  Port^.-^ Auriferous  silver  is  a  oompoond 
of  silver  alloyed  with  gold,  the  latter  sometimes  in  very 
considerable  proportion. 

LociUitieSf  &c.— This  mineral  is  very  rare.  It  is 
found  at  Konigsberg  in  Norway,  disseminated  in  massive 
^calcareous  spar,  floor  spar,  and  rock  crystal,  accompa- 
nied by  blende^  galena,  and  pyrites,  in  a  vein  which 
traverses  a  rock  of  slaty  hornblende.  It  is  also  foond  in 
Siberia,  in  granular  heavy  spar  accompanied  by  vitreous 
silver  4>re,  vitreous  copper  ore,  and  pyrites. 

2.  Species.    Aktimokial  Silver  Ore. 

Argent  Antimonial, 'Brochtint^  ii.  119.     /</.  Hauy,  iii. 
391.    Antimoniated  Native  Siha\  Kinvan,  ii.  no* 

Essen.  (T^ar.^-^Colour  silvery  white  \  brittle. 

Exter.  C^ar.— -Found  massive  or  disseminated,  kidney- 
form  \  or  crystallized  in  four-sided  oblique  prisms,  m 
six-sided  prisms,  sometimes  with  the  lateral  edges  tnin* 
cated,  in  six-sided  tables,  and  in  cubes,  having  sonoc 
of  the  angles  truncated.  Surface  of  the  ciystals  longi- 
tudinally streaked;  lustre  weakly  shining,  or  only  glim- 
mering \  internal  lustre  shining  or  resplendent  >  fractare 
foliated. 

Colour  silvery  white,  sometimes  a  superficial  colour 
between  yellow,  black,  and  gray,^  or  the  colour  of  tem- 
pered steel ;  streak  shining  >  semihard.  Spec  grav. 
9.44. 

Chem.  C^or.— Before  the  blow-pipe  it  is  easily  re- 
duced ;  the  antimony  is  driven  oflF  and  gives  out  its  pe- 
culiar odour,  while  the  pure  silver  remains  behind  in- 
crusted  with  a  brown  slag,  which  communicates  to  bo- 
rax a  green  colour. 

Wlien  antimonial  silver  is  dissolved  in  nitric  acid,  a 
whitish  crust,  which  is  the  oxide  of  antimony,  soon  ap- 
pears on  the  surface. 

This  mineral,  as  its  name  imports,  is  an  alloy  of  sil- 
ver and  antimony,  in  which  sometimes  a  small  portion 
of  iron  is  obselved*  The  proportions  of  the  two  metals 
seem  to  be  very  variable. 

Constituent 


MINERALOGY. 


323. 


Constituent  Parts* 
Klaproth. 

.1  I      A      , 


Silver, 
AntimoDy, 


76 
24 

100 


84 
16 

100 


Vanqnelin. 

78 
22 

100 


Localities^  &c*— This  ore  of  silver  is  accompanied  by 
careous  spar,  heavy  spi^,  native  silver,  galena,  and 
LTtz,  in  a. vein  near  tbe  ducby  of  Furstenbuirg  in 
abia.  It  has  also  been  fonnd  in  carbonate  of  lime 
I  heavy  spar  near  Guadalcanal  in  Spain. 

3«  Species.    A&senical  SixVcr  Ore. 

Kirw.  ii.  III.     Argent  Antimonial  Arsenifere^  et 
ferrifere^  Hany,  iii.  398. 

Exter,  C^ir.-— Fonnd  massive  or  disseminated,  kid- 
r-form  or  globular,  and  also  crystallized  in  perfect 
-sided  prisms )  in  similar  prisms  a  little  flattened,  and 
ring  the  lateral  edges  rounded  'y  and  in  acute  six-sided 
pamids  with  truncated  summits.  Lustre  weakly  shin- 
;,  sometimes  shining ;  internal  lustre  shining  or  te- 
endent ;  fracture  foliated  ;  fragments  sharp-edged. 
Colour  tin- white,  or  lead  gray,  but  exposed  to  the 
yellowish,  or  steel  gray  ^  streak  shining  j  soft  y 
ttie. 

Chem,  C/&ar.-^Before  the  blow*pipe  the  arsenic  is 
ven  oS  in  fumes,  diffusing  the  smell  of  garlic  ^^  there 
oains  behind  an  impure  globule  of  silver. 

Constituent  Parts.     EUaproth. 


Silver, 

12.75 

Arsenic, 

35- 

Iron, 

44-2J 

Antimony, 

4- ' 

Loss,. 

4- 

100.00 

Localities^  &c.-*-This  is  a  rare  miacsral,  which  has 
en  found  at  Andreasberg  in  the  Hartz,  accompanied: 
native  arsenic,  red  silver  ore,  galena,  brown  blende, 
d  calcareous  spar«. 

4.  Specfes.  CbRNEocrs  Silver  Ore; 

I  Kirwan,  ii.  113.     La  Mine  CornJ^  Brocfa.  ii.  127.. 
Argent  Muriatij  Hauy,  iii.  4x8v 

Essen,  CAor.—- The  colour  of  horn  j  fusible  like  wax. . 
Exter,  CAar.— Rarely  found  massive;- sometimes  dis- 
minated  in  globular  pieces,  often  in  superficial  layers, 
id  very  often  crystallized.     Tbe  forms  are,^  the  per- 
ct  eube,  capillary  or  needle-formed  crystals  ^  •  the  ery- 
ds  are  always  small,  and  commonly  grouped  together., 
irface  smooth,  shining  or  weakly  shining;  internal 
stre  the  same;  resinous ;  fracture- one ven^  or  fiat  con- 
koidal ;  fragments  blunt  edged. 
G>loor  light  pearl  gray,  violet*  bltie,  or  lead  gray;- 
icomes  brovrn  or  blackish  in  the  air;  transltioent ; * 
metimes  only  at  the 'edges;  very  sof^;  receives  the 
ipreitsbo  of  the  nail ;  dnctile,  and  in  thin  plates,  flex^- 
e»    Spec.  gray.  4.748  to  4.804^ 


Chem*  CAor.— Corneous  siver  ore  melts  ^ry  easily  Metallic 
before  the  blow-pipe,  giving  out  a  ^agreeable  smell, .    ^^^ 
and  the  globule  of  silver  remains. 

Const^ttent  Parts,    Klaproth*. 

Silver,  67*75 

Muriatic  acid,  21.. 
Sulphuric  acid,  .25 

Oxide  of  iron,.         6. 
Alumina,  J  .75. 

X  Lime,  .  25 

Loss,.  3. 

100.00 

Localities^  &c;«-Muriate  of  silver  is  always  found  at 
the  upper  part  of  the  vein,  and  it  is  said  that  it  some- 
times accompanies  organized  substances.  Leaves  of  na- 
tive silver  have  been  found  attached  to  petrifactions,  at 
Frankenburg  in  Hessia;.  it  is  supposed  that  this  metallic, 
silver  is  the  rtsnlfe'  of  the  decomposition  of  the  muriate, 
of  silver.  Corneous  silver  ore  is  almost  always  accom- 
panied by  vitreous  silver,  sooty  silver,  brown  iron  ore ;. 
more  rarely  by  native  silver,  red  silver,  galena,  quartz, 
and  heavy  spar.  It  is  fonnd  in  Peru  ai^d  Mexico,  in. 
the  mines  of  Freyberg  in  Saxony,  at  Allemont  in  France, 
and  in  Siberia. 

Another  variety  of  muriate  of  silver  has  been  de- 
seribed  by  some  mineralogists  under  the  name  of  earthy, 
corneous  silver  ore ;-  or,  according  to  the  fanciful  Ger- 
man name,  butter-milk  earth.  This  variety  has  aa- 
earthy  fracture,  owing  to  a  portion  of  alumina  which  Is 
combmed  with  it.  It  is  almost  friable  ;  the  lustre  of> 
the  streak  is  resinous,  and  it  feels  somewhat  greasy. 

CAem,  (7A^.p— Before  the  blow-pipe  it  is  slightly, 
agglutinated  without  melting,  and  small  globules  of: 
suver  exude -from  the  mass.. 

Constituent  Parts,     Klaproth. 

Silver,  25 

Muriatic  acid,  8 

Alumina,  67 

With  a  trace  of  copper,  — 

100 

This  variety  is  found  at  Andreasberg-  in  the  Hartz* 
Another  variety  .has  been  described  under  the  name  off 
alkaline  silver  ore,  which  is  nothing  more  than  the  mun 
riate  of  silver  combined  with  carbonate  of  lime. 

5..Species.  Soot T  Silver  Ore. 
Li»  Kirw.  ii.  117.     D Argent  Noir^  Broch.  ii.  132. 

Exter  C^or.^—- Found  massive  or  disseminated,  perfo- 
rated or  corroded  ;  in  superficial  layers  upon  other  mi^ 
nerals,  or  in  rounded^pieces,  covered  by.  muriate  of  siU 
ver;  consistence  intermediate  between  solid  andfnable; 
dull ;  firaeture  fine  grained  earthy.;  fragments  blnn^<« 
edged. 

Colour  bluish  black,  or  blackish  gray ;  streak  .shin- 
ing, metallic  ;  stains  a  Ihtle ;  easily  frangible. . 

Chem,  CAar.— Melts  easily  before  the  blow-pipe  inta 
a  slaggy  mass,  which,  by  continuing  the  heat,  is  par- 
tially.  volatilized^  and  the  globule  of  silver  remains. 

Its 


224- 

Metallic 
Orel. 


MINER 

Its  coDsiitfieiit  patta  j»e  still  unknown ;  as  it  is  nsoal- 
ly  Hccompanied  by  vitareoMiSy  coineons,  and  some  other 
silver  ores,  it  is  supposed  to  be  a  mixture  of  those  ores 
in  different  proportions. 

Localities^  ficc'^-Found  in  Saxony,  in  France,  and 
in  Hungary. 

6.  Species.  Vmucous  Silver  Ore. 

Suip'kurated  Silver  Ore^  Khrvr.  ii.  115.  V Argent  Ft- 
/m^:,  Brochant,  ii.  134.  Af*gmt  Sulphur/^  Hauy, 
ill.  398.  * 

Exter,  rAor.-— Commonly  found  massive,  dissemina- 
ted, or  superficial  ^  sometimes  dentiform,  filiform,  ca- 
pillary, dendritic,  or  reticulated,  with  other  forms  and 
impressions.  It  is  also  crystallized  in  cubes,  which  are 
either  perfect  or  truncated  on  the  angles  or  edges  \  in 
octahedrons,  which  are  either  perfect,  or  truncated  on 
the  angles ;  in  flat,  double,  three-sided  pyramids,  the 
edges  of  the  one  corresponding  to  the  faces  of  the 
other  \  in  rectangidar  four-sided  prisms,  terannated  by 
a  four-sided  pyramid^  in  e^ntangniar  six-sided  prisms, 
terminated  at  tlie  two  extremities  by  a  three-sided  py- 
ramid \  corresponding  alternately  to  three  of  the  lateral 
edges,  forming  the  garnet  dodecahedron,  of  which  all 
the  lateral  edges  are  sometimes  slightly  truncated  \  in 
broad  and  flat  six-sided  prisms  bevelled  at  the  extremity, 
and  having  the  angles  at  the  acute  lateral  edges  trun- 
cated. The  crystals  are  commonly  small,  and  grouped 
together  in  rows,  «r  in  knots,  like  the  steps  of  a  stair  j 
the  cube  and  the  octahedron  are  the  most  common, 
and  the  cube  is  sometimes  hollow.  The  sorfiue  of  the 
crystal  is  nsually  smooth,  sometimes  rough  or  dmsy ; 
lustre  between  shining  and  weakly  glimmering ;  internal 
Instre  shining,  metallic  j  fracture  conchoidal,  sometimes 
foliated  \  fragments  blunt-edged. 

Colonr  dark  lead-gray,  steel*gray,  or  hlackish  gray, 
varying  by  exposure  to  the  air ;  streak  shining  ^  soft  \ 
ductile  \  may  be  cut  with  a  knife  \  flexible  without  be- 
ing elastic.     Spec.  grav.  6.909  to  7*2i5. 

Chem,  Char. — Before  the  blow-pipe  vitreouS  silver  is 
reduced  to  the  metallic  state,  and  the  sulphur  is  driven 
off.  By  gradually  heating  it  in  a  furnace,  the  sulphur 
may  be  dissipated  without  fusion,  and  the  silver  is  redu- 
ced to  the  metallic  state  in  a  dendritical  or  capillary 
form,  exactly  resembling  native  silver. 


Constihiimt  Parts, 

Silver 
Sulphur, 

• 

BcrgmaiL        Sage. 

15           84 
25            16 

Kluroth. 

100 


100 


xoo 


LacaUtieSj  &G.-— Vitreous  silver  is  one  of  the  most 
common  silver  ores.  It  is  usually  accompanied  by 
heavy  spar,  calcareous  spar,  and  fluor  spar  ^  alons  witn 
the  other  ores  of  silver  and  lead,  cobalt  and  Uende. 
It  is  found  in  Bohemia,  Saxony,  Norway,  Siberia,  and 
South  America. 

7.  Species.  Brittle  Vitreous  Silver  Ore. 
V Argent  Vitreux  Aigre^  Brochant,  ii.  138. 
JE7«lfr.C%ar.-«-Fonnd  massive,  disseminated,  sopexfi-. 


A  L  O  G  Y.  Pjrtl 

eial,  or  crvstalliz.ed  in  equiangular  six-sided  prisms,  he  ciaiaia. 
terminal  faces  being  sometimes  plane,  and  sometimes  tin, 
convex  or  concave  \  the  same  prism  truncated  on  its 
terminal  edges,  or  terminated  by  a  six-sided  pyramid  set 
on  the  lateral  faces,  and  having  its  summit  truncated  \ 
in  equiangular  six-sided  tables,  or  in  very  flat  rhom- 
boids. Crystals  small  J  and  grouped  together  j  surfsos 
smooth,  sometimes  drusy  ^  prisms  longitudinally  streak- 
ed ;  lustre  shining  or  resplendent  \  internal  lostre  shin- 
ing, or  weakly  shining  j  fractare  conchoidal,  sometinieB 
uneven  \  fragments  rather  sharp-edged. 

Colour  iron-black,  or  steel  or  lead  gray  \  mSt  \  brit- 
tle.    Spec.  grav.  7.208. 

Chem,  CAor .-^Before  the  Uow^pipe  it  meks  with  dif- 
ficulty ;  sulphur,  antimony,  and  arsenic,  are  partially 
driven  off,  and  there  remains  a  button  of  metallic  sil* 
ver,  which  is  not  very  ductile,  accompanied  by  a  brown 
slag« 

OmsUUient  Parts.     Klapiroth. 


Silver, 

66.5 

Sulphur, 

12. 

Antimony, 

10. 

Iron, 

5- 

Copper  and  arsenic, 

•5 

EsLithy  matters. 

I. 

Loss, 

5- 

lOO.O 

Localities f  &c.— -This  is  one  of  the  richest  silver  ores  > 
and  it  is  usually  accompanied  by  red  silver  ore,  vitreous 
silver  ore,  some  other  metallic  ores,  and  various  earthy 
spars.  It  is  pretty  common  in  Saxony  and  Hoogary, 
but  less  abundant  than  vitreous  silver  ore.  It  is  also 
occasionally  met  with  in  most  other  silver  mines. 

8.  Species.    Bed  Silver  Ore. 

Id*  Kirw.  ii.  il2.     Id,' Broth,  ii.  143.     Argetii  Anti- 
mom/  Sulphurs y  Hauy,  iii.  402. 

This  is  divided  into  two  subspecies ;  dark  red,  and 
bright  red  silver  ore. 

Subspecies  x.  Dark  Bed  Silver  Ore. 

Exter,  Ci^or.-— Found  massive  or  disseminated,  ssper- 
ficial,  dendritical,  or  crystallized  in  equiangularsix-sided 
prisms,  which  is  either  terminated  by  a  three-sided  pyra- 
mid set  on  the  lateral  edges,  or  has  its  terminal  edges 
truncated,  or  is  terminated  by  an  obtuse  six-sided  pyra- 
mid set  on  the  lateral  faces,  and  having  the  snromit  and 
lateral  edges  of  the  pyramid  truncated  j  sometimes  the 
summit  of  the  pyramid  is  terminated  by  a  second  three- 
sided  pyramid,  and  sometimes  the  lateral  edges  of  the 
prism  are  bevelled.  The  crystals  are  small,  and  vari- 
ously grouped  together,  commonly  smooth  and  resplend- 
ent, rarely  streaked  y  internal  lustre  weakly  shining,  or 
only  glimmering,  adamantine,  often  semimetallic  j  nac- 
ture  usually  uneven,  sometimes  conchoidal  \  fragments 
rather  Uunt^dged. 

Colour  between  cochineal  red  and  iead-grayi  and 

sometimes  iron  black  ^  crystals  translucait ;  in  masses 

opaque  ^  streak  but  weakly  ^hilling,  between  cocki  neal 

red 


MINER 

1  and  crimson  red  5  soft ;  brittle,  and  easily  fran-. 

lie.     Spec.  grav.  ^.^6  to  5.58. 

Ckenu  C&ir.«-Before  the  blow-pipe  it  decrepitates 

d  flies  off  before  becoming  red,  and  then  melts  with 

»thing  up  \  part  is  volatihzed  and  sublimes  in  the 

m  of  a  yellowish  white  powder,  and  leaves  a  button 

metallic  silver. 

Its  constituent  parts  are  supposed  to  be  nearly  the 

ne  as  the  following. 

LocaHties^  &c.— Fonnd  in  almost  all  silver  mines, 

]  is  usually  accompanied  by  other  silver  ores,  as  well 

different  metallic  ores. 

Sabspecies  2.  Bright  Rc]>  Silver  Ore. 

Exier,  ^T'^ar.-^Found  massive,  disseminatecl,  or  su- 
rficial,  and  very  often  crystallized.  The  forms  of 
crystab  resegible  some  of  those  of  the  former,  or  are 
aple  six-sided  pjrramids,  or  acute  six-sided  pyramids, 
viog  the  lateral  angles  alternately  acute  and  obtuse, 
th  the  summit  surmounted  by  a  three-sided  pyramid 
loed  on  the  obtuse  edges  of  the  first  \  or  surmounted 
a  six-sided  i^rramid  set  on  the  lateral  faces.  The 
FStals  are  sometimes  acicular,  and  are  Combined  to- 
ther  in  a  fascicular  or  reticulated  form.  Surface  of 
;  crystals  sometimes  smooth,  sometimes  drosy ;  streak- 
longitudinally,  but  tlie  pyramids  are  streaked  trans- 
rsely  or  obliquely  ^  lustre  resplendent  or  shining  ^  in- 
nal  In^^  shining  or  weakly  shining  and  adaman- 
e  ;  fracture  conchoidal,  or  fine  grained  uneven  ^  firag- 
mts  rather  blont-edgedL 

Colour  blood  red,  or  light  cochineal  red,  sometimes 
lish  on  the  surface ; .  crystals  semitransparent  ^  in 
isses  translucent,  often  opaque  ^  streak  aurora  red  } 
ht  easily  frangible.  Spec  grav.  5.44  to  5.50- 
Ckem,  £Aar.-— 'Melts  before  the  blow-pipe  \  blackens, 
d  bums  with  a  bluish  flame,  giving  out  white  fnmes 
th  the  odour  of  garlic  A  button  of  nearly  pure 
ver  remains  behind. 


Constituent  Parts. 

Klaproth. 

VaaqneKn. 

Iver,                                    62. 

56.67 

Dtimooy,                             18.5 

16.13 

ilphur,                                zi. 

1507 

dphuric  acid  and  water,      8.5 

xygen. 

12.13 

100.0 


100.00 


The  garlic  smell,  which  was  formerly  supposed  to  be 
ring  to  arsenic,  arises  from  the  antimony,  which  is 
>latilized  by  the  action  of.  the  blow-pipe  j  althouffh, 
;cording  to  Proust,  there  are  ores  of  red  silver  which 
intain  sometimes  arsenic  and  sometimes  antimony  ae* 
urately,  and  sometimes  the  two  metals  combined*  The 
d  colour  of  this  ore  is  by  Thenaid  ascribed  to  the  an* 
mouy  in  the  state  of  purple  oxide. 

Localities^  &c«-Red  silver  ore  is  usually  accompa- 
led  by  native  arsenic,  other  ores  of  silver,  as  well  as 
thee  metallic  ores  ;  and  it  is  feimd  ip  Bohemia,  Sax- 
ay,  France,  Spain,  and  Hungary. 

g.  Species.    White  Sii^ver  Ore. 

id.  Broch.  ii*  1 50.     Light  Gray  Silver  Ore^  Kirw. 
ii.  no. 
Vol-  XIV.  Part  I.  t 


A  L  O  O  Y. 

Ester.  CAor.— -Found  massive  and  disseminated  \ 
lustre  strongly  glimmering  ^  fracture  even  \  fragments 
bluot-edged. 

Colour  bright  lead-gray,  or  steel-gray^  soft ;  streak 
shining.     Spec.  grav.  5.322. 

Constituent  PorT^.— According  to  some,  this  mineral 
is  composed  of  silver,  antimony,  and  sulphur ;  but  ac- 
cording to  others,  minerals  which  have  b^n  reckoned 
white  silver  ores,  contain  a  very  considerable  proper* 
tion  of  lead,  and  therefore  ought  to  be  arranged  among 
the  ores  of  that  metal.  Such  are  the  following  analy- 
ses by  Klaproth. 


225 


MetaUiQ 
Orea 


Silver, 

Lead, 

Antimony, 

Iron, 

Sulphur, 

Alumina,  • 

Silica, 

Loss, 


Localities^  &Cd-*' 
chieflv  found  in  the 
berg  in  Saxony,  in 
nied  by  galena,  red 


Light  colonred. 
20.40 
48.06 

7.88 

2.25 
12.25 

.25 
Z.9I 


Dark  coloured. 

9.25 
.     41. 
21.5 

22. 

'•75 

2.25 


100.00 


loaoo 


The  real  white  silver  ore  has  beeit 
mine  of  Himmelfurst,  near  Frey«> 
a  ganguf  of  quartz,  and  accompa* 
silver,  and  blende. 


I  Ok  Species.  Black  Silver  Ore. 

Exter.  CAar.— This  ore  of  silver  is  of  a  cellular  tex- 
ture 'y  the  streak  is  shining  and  metallic  ;  it  is  brittle, 
and  of  a  black  colour  ;  but  it  can  only  be  known  to  be  v 
a  silver  ore  by  obtaining  globules  of  silver  under  the 
blow-pipe.  It  is  usually  accompanied  by  vitreous 
red  silver  ores.  It  is  supposed  that  it  is  some  of  the 
other  species  of  silver  ores  that  may  have  undergone 
some  change  from  chemical  agents.  The  silver  it  con- 
tains is  in  very  variable  proportions. 

LocahHes,  &c.— Found  in  sense  of  the  silver  mines 
at  Freyberg  in  Saxony,  and  Allemont  in  France.  It 
is  common  in  Peru  and  Mexico,  and  it  is  called  by  the 
Spaniards,  negriilok 

Beside  the  silver  ores  already  described,  other  species 
have  been  mentioned  by  mineralogists,  the  existence  of 
which  has  not  been  distinctly  ascertained  ;  as  the  car* 
bonate  of  silver  of  Widenmann  and  Kirwan,  composed 
oK  72.5  parte  of  silver,  12  of  carbonic  acid,  and  15.J 
of  carbonate  of  antimony  and  oxide  of  copper*  :  the^.jj^  ,.* 
reddish  and  ^preenish  black  silver  ore,  also  described  by 
Kirwan,  which  is  supposed  to  be  a  mixture  of  native 
and  sulphurated  silver  t.     Light  lamellar  silver  ore  J,  f  iind,  n^, 
composed  of  alumina,  sulphuret  of  silver,  oxide  of  irwi  t  -f^.  xx^« 
and  manganescb 

V.  COPPER  Genus. 

■s. 

I.  Species.    Native  Copper. 

Id.  Kirw.  ii.  128.    Id.  Broch.  ii.  158.    Id.  Haiiy,  iii. 
518. 

Essen.  CAar.-*-Co]our  reddish  yellow,  and  malleable. 

Extdr.  CAar.— Native  copper  is  found  massive,  dis- 
seminated, superficial,  or  in  rounded  pieces  ;  also  den- 
dritical  and  capillary,  and  very  ofiteo  crystallized  in  per* 

F  f  feet 


226 


MINEBALQGY. 


McuUio  feet  oiilita,  or  vick  trimcaied  e4|f[e»  or  angles  ^  double 
foQivaided  pynunids  ^  simple  and  acote  three-sided  pyra- 
mids. Crystals  small,  and  grouped  in  a  dendrkical  or 
botryoidal  fori^  ;  lustre  sliiniag  or  weakly  sfaining ;  in- 
ternal lustre  glimmering  or  weakly  shiaing  v  fi'acture 
haekly  j  fragments  bluDt*edged. 

Colour  light  copper-red,  but  exposed  to  the  air,  jeU 
\omlahf  blackish,  or  greenish :  streak  shining }  soft,  or 
semihard  ^  ductile,  aad  flexible,  but  not  elastic  Spec, 
grav*  7.72  to  8.58. 

Chem*  C^zr.->v-Cc^per  immersed  for  some  time  ia  a 
solution  of  ammonia,  or  volatile  alkali,  changes  it  to  a 
beautiful  blue  colour. 

Localities^  &c.— Native  copper  is  not  a  %'ery  rare 
mineral  \  it  is  found  in  many  copper  mines  accom- 
panied by  the  other  ores  of  copper,  as  in  the  copper 
mines  of  Siberia,  Saxony,  Hungary,  Sweden,  and  Corn- 
wall in  England. 

2.  Species.  Vitreous  Copper  Ore. 

Id.  Kirw.  ii.  144.  Id.  Broch.  ii.  162.  Cuivre  Sulfuric 
Hany,  iii.  551. 

This  is  divided  into  two  subspecies  ^  compact  and  fo- 
liated. 

Subspecies  i.  Compact  Vftreous  Copper  Ore. 

.  £rtfr.  CAar.— Found  massive  or  disseminated,  some- 
times superficial,  and  rarely  crystallized  in  perfect  cubes 
with  convex  faces  ;  in  perfect  octahedrons,  or  in  six  sid- 
ed prisms,  terminated  bv  a  three-sided  pyramid,  set  on 
three  of  the  lateral  edges.  Crystals  small;  surface 
smooth  and  sfaining }  internal  lustre  strongly  glimmer- 
ing or  shining ;  fracture  rhomboidal  or  even,  fragments 
rather  sharp-edged. 

Colour  lead-gray,  iron  gray,  or  yellowish,  but  some- 
times the  colour  of  tempered  steel  when  tarnished  j  streak 
sbtning  or  resplendent ;  soft,  and  easily  frangible.  Spec. 
grav.  4.81  to  5.338. 

C6tutitue$ti  Paris.    Klaprotk 

Copper,  78^,5 

xSolpiror,  18.5 

Iron,  2.1$ 

Silica,  .75 


Rut  I. 


100.00 


Subspecies  2.  Fouated  VrrREous  Copper  Ore. 

Exter.  C/iar.^^A\wvLji  found  massive  or  disssmtoat* 
ed,rarcly.  superficial)  fracture  foliated}  fragments  bluat 
edged. 

Colour  similar  to  the  fonasTf  appma^hiog  a  little 
more  to  fawn  or  yellowish  brown. 

Constituent  Parts.   KJaproth. 


Copper, 
Sulphur, 
Iron, 
Loss» 


50 
20 

5 
100 


C/iem.  C//<fr.— Vitreous  copper  ore  is  often  fusible 
in  Xbt  flame  of  a  candle,  and  it  melts  easily  before  the 


Uow*pipe,  aad  yiebk  a  button  of  eopptr  enveloped  10  '^^j^^i 
a  blackish  slag ;  heated  with  borax,  gives  it  a  gfeen  co-     tus. 
lour,  and  digested  in  a  solution  of  ammonia,  changes  it 
to  a  fine  blucu 

LocfiiilieSf  &c.--r* Vitreous  copper  ore  is  accompsnied 
by  qnarta,  cakareo^s  spar,  heavy  spar,  and  the  other 
ores  of  copper ;  and  is  common  in  Siberia,  Hui^ary, 
Norway^  Germany^  and  Cornwall  in  England. 

3*  Species.  Variegated  Copper  Ore. 

Purple  Copper  Or<',Kirwan,  ii.  142.  La  Mine  de  Cuivre 
Panac/itef  Brochaot,  ii.  166.  Cuivre  Pyriteux  He 
patique^  Hauy,  iii.  536* 

Exter.  Ciftar.*— Found  massive,  disseminated,  or  saper- 
ficial,  and  sometimes,  it  is  said,  crystallized  in  octahe- 
drons ;  internal  lustre  shining  \  fracture  conchoidal,  or 
somewhat  uneven  \  fragments  rather  sharp-edged. 

Colour  reddish  yellow,  violet  blue,  azure  blue,  and 
greenish  \  several  colours  exist  on  the  same  specimen, 
giving  it  a  variegated  appearance^  from  which  it  Ims 
tite  name  -y  streak  shining  \  powder  reddish  \  soft,  and 
easily  frangible. 


Qmstituent  Parts.    Klaprotb. 


Copper, 

Iron, 

Sulphur 

Oxygen, 

Loss, 


63-7 
12.7 

19. 
4-5 


.1 


100.0 


58 
18 

5 


100 


^  LocaHties^  &c.«— Variegated  copper  ore  is  accempa* 
nied  by  quartz,  calcareous  spar,  bituminous  marly  scbis- 
tus,  and  other  copper  ores  5  and  is  found  in  Saxony, 
Hungary,  Sweden,  Siberia,  and  England. 

4.  Species.  Copper  Pyrites. 

Id.  Kirwasi  ii.  140.  Id.  Brocbant.  ii.  169.  /</.Hauy, 
iii.  529. 

Exter.  CAar— Found  massive,  disseminated,  some- 
times  superficial,  more  rarely  in  imitative  farms,  as  den* 
dritical,  &c.  but  often  crystallized.  Forms  are,  the  te- 
trahedron, which  is  either  perfect,  or  with  its  four  angles 
truncated,  giving  it  the  appearance  of  a  six-sided  table; 
the  perfect  octaliedron,  the  summit  terminated  by  a 
line }  a  double  crystal  formed  of  two  tetrabodrons  base 
to  base,  the  angles  of  the  bases  being  slightly  truncated, 
produce  three  re-enteiing  angles,  and  the  lateral  facet 
three  salient  angles.  Crystals  are  small  \  surfaeesmooth, 
shining  \  internal  lustre  shining  or  resplendent;  fmctvrs 
often  uneven,  sonetiraea  conchoidal,  fragmenU  rather 
sharp-edged. 

Colour  in  the  fresh  fraetuse,  htass  yellow,  sometimes 
gold  yellow,  and  steel  grayj  sometimes  with  varie- 
gated colours.)  soft  or  semi-hard ;  brittle.  Spee.  grav. 
4.08  to  4.3. 

^  Chem.  £*Aor.— Before  the  blow*pipe  it  decrepitates; 
gives  out  a  sulphureous  odour ;  fuses  into  a  black  glo- 
bule,  and  the  beat  being  continued,  metallic  copper  ap- 
pears. Borax  heated  with  it  acquires  a  green  Mp- 
lour. 

TbU 


MINER 

This  ore  of  copper  is  compoBed  of  sulphury  copper, 
d  iron  in  variable  'proportions,  and  sometimes  also  a 
lall  admixture  of  gold  or  silver. 
LocaKtie»,  &c. — ^Tbisis  a  verj  eommon  copper  ore« 
IS  equally  found  in  primitive  and  stratiform  moun- 
Ins,  either  in  veins  or  in  beds,  and  sometimes  in 
eat  abundance  j  in  Saxony,  Hungary,  Sweden, 
ranee,  and  Elngland. 

5.  Species.    White  Copper  Ore. 
f.  Ktrwati,  ii.  152.     Id.  Brochant,  ii.  173. 

Exter.  Char, — ^Found  massive  or  disseminated  j  in- 
mal  lustre  weakly  shining*,  fracture  fine-grained, 
leven  ;  fragments  rather  sharp-edged. 

Colour  between  silver  white  and  brass  yellow  5  semi- 
ird  •,  brittle.     Spec.  grav.  4.5. 

Chem.  CAor.— Before  the  blow-pipe  it  gives  out  a 
hite  fume,  with  the  smell  of  arsenic,  and  melts  into 
grayish  black  slag. 

This  ore  is  said  to  be  composedtof  copper,  iron,  ar- 
nic,  and  snlpbuf . 

6.  Species.  Ur at  Copper  Ore. 

L  Kirwan,  ii.  146.  M  Brachant,  ii.  175-  Id.  Hauy, 
i"-  537- 

Krtcr,  Char. — .Fomid  massive  or  disseminated,  super- 
:miI,  and  often  crystallized  in  regular  tetrahedrons, 
hich  are  rare  ^  or  having  all  the  edges  truncated,  or 
svelled,  sometimes  slightly,  and  sometimes  strongly ; 
•  having  f:ach  of  its  angles  surmounted  by  a  three-SMl* 
1  pyramid,  set  on  the  lateral  faces,  with  some  other 
odifications.  Crystals  of  various  tiz«s  *,  surface 
nooth,  shining;  internal  lustre  between  glimmering 
id  resplendent ;  fracture  uneven,  or  conchoidal ;  frag- 
icnts  rather  sbwp-edged. 

Colour  steel  |^y  of  various  shades,  load  gray,  and 
le  tarnished  colours  are  often  variegated ;  streak  black 
r  brown  ;  semi-hard  ^  brittle.      Specific  gravity  4.44 

►  4.86. 

CArm.  Char. — Before  the  blow-pipe  it  decrepitates, 
■d  meks  into  a  brittle  metallic  globule  of  a  'grayish 
i)0V|  gmng  vat  a  wlste  finme,  and  eonnttiucetiiig  ta 
anK  a  yellowish  i>ed  colonr. 

Conatkmnt  Partn.    Klaproili. 


-Coppw, 

16-25 

3^-3« 

Solpfaor, 

10. 

"•5 

Aatimoay, 

1^ 

3409 

SMver, 

2*25 

i4»77 

^ifim. 

•X3-75 

•  3-3 

Lad, 

34-5 

Silica, 

2.5 

Alumina, 

- 

0-3 

Los^^ 

4-75 

4.68 

100.00 

100.00 

Localities^  &c. — This  mineral  is  most  frequently 
ound  in  veins  in  primitive  moonrains,  accompanied 
>y  other  ores  of  copper,  as  in  .Germany,  France, 
Sweden,  Siberia,  and  in  England. 


A  L  O  G  Y. 

7.  Species.    Black  Copper  Ore. 
Id.  Kirwan,  ii.  143.     Id.  Brochant,  ii.  180. 

Ester.  CArtr.— Found  in  the  state  of  powder,  with  a 
dull  appearance,  and  little  coherence,  sometimes  in- 
crusting  other  ores  of  copper  \  usually  friable  \  ctains  ; 
feels  meagre. 

Colour  brotvnish  black,  sometimes  deep  brown. 

Chem.  Char, — >Gives  out  before  the  blow  pipe  a  sul- 
phureous smell,  and  melts  with  borax  into  a  greenish 
slag. 

It  is  supposed  to  arise  from  the  decomposition  of  vi- 
treous copper  ore  and  copper  pyrites,  and  contains 
sometimes  from  40  to  50  per  cent,  of  copper. 

8.  Species.    Bed  Coppeh  Ore. 

JiE2.-Kirwan,  ii.  135.    Id.  BrocfaaUt,  ii«  i8r. 

This  is  divided  into  three  subspecieB  \  compact,  folia- 
.  led  and  capilhiry. 

Subspecies  i.    Compact  Bed  CofTtSi  Ore. 

Exter.  CAdr,-i*-Found  massive,  disseminated,  or  su* 
perBcial.;  lustre  glimmering,  semi-metallic;  fracture 
even,  or  slightly  coochoidal  \  fragments  rather  sharp* 
-edged. 

Colour  cochineal  zed,  or  lead  gray ;  opaque  \  streak 
shining,  of  a  brick  red  colour  \  semi-hard,  and  brittle. 

Subspecies  2.    Foliated  Bed  Copper  Ore. 

Exter.  (7Aar-— -Found  massive,  disseminated,  <or  su- 
perficial, ofVen  crystallized  in  octahedrons,  which  are 
either  truilcated  on  the  angles  or  edges ;  in  perfect 
cubes,  which  are  sometimes  truncated  on  the  angles, 
and  sometimes  on  the  edges.  Crystals  small,  usasiliy 
aggregated  *,  surface  smooth,  shining  \  internally  shin, 
ing,  or  weakly  shining,  between  metallic  and  adaman- 
tine *,  fracture  imperfectly  foliated  \  ftagments  xtkthcr 
sharp-edged. 

Colour  similar  to  the  fof mer  *,  opaque,  translucent  nkt 
the  edges  >  crystals  semi- transparent. 

Subspecies  3.    Capiixart  Bed  Copper  Orx. 

Fibrous  Bed  Copper  Orr,  Kirwafi,  iu  137.   Ze  Cuitre 
Osid/  Rouge  Capillaire,  Brochant,  ii.  184. 

Exter.  Oion— Found  In  small  capillarjr  crystals, 
which  are  disseminated  in  small  bandies,  ^r  sometimes 
form  a  superficial  incrustation  \  lustre  shiniag  aiid  ada« 
mantine. 

Colour  ca^inine  red,  cochineal  or  scarlet  red  3  x^rys- 
tals  translueevt. 

Chem.  (7Atfr.-^Bed  copper  ore  is  easily  reduced  be< 
fore  the  blow-pipe  without  any  odour. j  entirely  soluble 
in  muriatic  acid  without  efiiervescence^  but  effervesces 
in  nitric  acid  \  by  which  meand  it  may  be  distinguished 
from  cinnabar,  which  is  insoluble,  and  from  red  silver 
ore,  which  dissolves  with  effervescence. 

The  constituent  pslrts  of  red  copper  ore  are  supposed 
to  be  copper  and  bicygen.  and  not  1^  carbonate  of  cop- 
per, as  was  formerly  conjectured* 

Localities^  &c. — Bed  copper  ore  is  found  in  various 
places  accompanying  the  other  ores  of  the  same  metal, 

F  f  2  and 


227 


MttniHe 
Ores. 


228 


MINEJRALOGY. 


MetaUic  and  particularly  native  copper.   The  crystallized  varie- 
Ores,      ties  are  rare. 

9.  Species.  Brick-r£D  Copper  Ore. 

Id.  Kirwan,  ii.  127.     Id.  Brochanty  ii.  187. 

Of  this  also  there  are  two  subspecies,  earthy  and  in- 
durated. 

Subspecies  1.  Eartht  Brick-R£d  Copper  Ore. 

ExUr,  Cliar. — Found  massive  or  disseminated,  or  su- 
perficial, in  the  fissures  of  other  copper  ores,  composed 
of  fine  earthy  particles  slightly  cohering  j  dull,  friable, 
and  staining. 

Colour  hyacinth  red,  reddish  brown,  brownish  red, 
or  yellow. 

Subspecies  2.  Indurated  Brick-red  Copper  Ore. 

Ester.  CAar.— Found  massive,  disseminated,  or  su- 
perficial \  lustre  glimmering,  or  weakly  shining  \  frac- 
ture imperfectly  conchoidal,  even  or  earthy  \  fragments 
rather  sharp-edged. 

Colour  deep  hyacinth  red,  brownish  red,  or  deep 
brown ',  streak  shining  *,  soft,  or  semihard  \  brittle. 

Chem,  CAar.— -Before  the  blow-pipe  it  is  infusible 
and  blackens. 

The  constituent  parts  of  this  ore  are  supposed  to  be  a 
mixture  of  red  copper  ore,  or  oxide  of  copper,  and 
brown  oxide  of  iron,  in  variable  proportions. 

LocaliUes^  &c. — ^This  ore  is  usually  found  accompa- 
nying red  copper  ore. 

10.  Species.  Emerald  Copper  Ore. 
DioptasCf  Hauy,  iii.  136.     Id.  Brochant,  ii.  511. 

Essen.  C/ior. — ^Di visible  into  an  obtuse  rhomboid, 
whose  plain  angles  are  1 1 1^  and  69^. 

Ester.  (7^r.-^Found  crystallized  in  six-  sided  prisms, 
terminated  by  a  three-sided  summit,  placed  on  the  three 
alternate  lateral  edges  \  lustre  shining,  vitreous  *,  frac- 
ture foliated  \  cleavage  threefold,  parallel  to  the  lateral 
edges  of  the  summit. 

Colour  emerald  green  \  translucent,  or  semi-transpa- 
rent ;  semi-hard.     Spec.  grav.  3.3. 

Chem.  CAor.— Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe,  but 
becomes  brown,  and  tinges  the  flame  of  a  candle  yel- 
lowish green. 

Con^tuent  Parts.      Vauquelin. 

Oxide  of  copper,  ^^'57 

Silica,  28.57 

Carbonate  of  lime,  42.85 

Loss,  .01 


100.00 

Localities^  &c.-— This  mineral  is  found  in  Siberia,  in 
a  matrix  covered  with  malachite. 

II.  Species.  Azure  Copper  Ore,  or  Carbonate  of 

Copper. 

JBhse  Cakifirm  Copper  Ore^  Kirwan,  ii.  129.  VA- 
%ur  de  Cuivre^  Brochant,  ii.  190.  Cuivre  (Jarbonat^ 
Bieu^  Hauy,  iii.  562* 


This  species  is  divided  into  two  subspecies,  eartbj 
and  indurated. 

Subspecies  x.  Eartht  Azure  Copper  Ore. 

Ester.  C^^r.— Rarely  found  massive,  usually  dissenu- 
hated  or  superficial  ^  composed  of  fine  particles  which 
are  dull  and  somewhat  coherent ;  fracture  earthy. 

Colour  smalt  blue,  sometimes  skv  blue  ^opaque; 
stains  a  little ;  soft  or  friable. 

Subspecies  2.  Indurated  or  Radiated  Azure  Cop- 
per Ore. 

Ester,  (7i^ar.— Rarely  found  massive,  sometimes  dis- 
seminated, often  superficial,  or  in  imitative  forms, 
as  stalactitical,  botryoidal,  &c.  and.also  crystallized  ia 
rectangular  four-sided  prisms,  terminated  by  four-sided 
acute  pyramids  set  on  the  lateral  edges ;  in  oblique 
four-sided  prisms,  with  two  broad  and  two  narrow  facts, 
with  a  four-sided  pyramid  set  on  the  lateral  faces ^  some- 
times the  lateral  edges  are  truncated,  and  the  termina- 
tion is  by  a  six-sided  pyramid.  Crystals  usually  small, 
and  variously  aggregated ',  broad  faces  of  the  prisms 
transversely  streaked;  narrow  faces  longitudioally j 
lustre  shining  or  resplendent,  vitreous  ;  fracture  ndial- 
ed  'y  fragments  blunt-edged,  or  wedge-shaped. 

Colour  light  azure  blue,  Prussian  or  indigo  bloe  *, 
translucent  or  semi-transparent ;  streak  sky  blue }  soft) 
brittle.     Spec.  grav.  3.4  to  3.608. 

Chem.  C<4ar.— Soluble  with  effervescence  in  nitric 
acid ;  nearly  infusible  before  the  blow-pipe,  but  is  ea- 
sily reduced  with  borax,  which  assumes  a  fine  green  co- 
lour. 


Parti 


ba 


Constituent  Parts. 

Copper, 
Carbonic  acid. 
Oxygen, 
Water, 
Loss, 


Pelletier. 

66 

18 

8 

2 

6 

100 


Localities^  &c.— This  variety  of  copper  ore  is  not 
very  abundant  \  but  it  accompanies  the  other  ores  of 
copper,  and  other  metallic  ores,  as  those  of  lead,  zinc, 
and  iron.  It  is  found  in  Bohemia,  Norway,  Siberis, 
and  in  the  different  mines  of  lead  and  copper  in  Bri- 
tain. 

The  earthy  variety  is  found  in  superficial  layers  on  a 
slaty  marl  in  Hessia,  and  it  is  also  found  superficial  on 
sandstone  in  Thuringia.  Sometimes,  the  whole  of  tbe 
sandstone  is  impregnated  with  this  earthy  carbonate  of 
copper,  there  called  copper  sand  earthy  or  copper  sand- 
stone. A'  siniilar  sandstone,  at  Goorock  near  Green- 
ock in  Scotland,  was  a  few  years  ago  dug  out  for  tbe 
purpose  of  extracting  copper.j 

X2.  Species.  Malachite. 

Id.  Kirwan,  ii.  131.     Id.  Brochant,  ii.  197. 

This  species  is  divided  into  two  subspecies,  fibrona 
and  compact. 

Subspecies 


MINER 

Subspecies  i.  Fibrous  Malachite. 
'mure  Carbonate  Vert  Soyeux,    Haay,  iii.  573. 

Ester.  C^ir.— Rarely  massWei  sometimes  disseminat* 
i,  bat  often  soperficial,  and  in  tbe  form  of  small  ca- 
lUaiy  or  acicnlar  crystals  grouped  together  in  different 
inns;  lustre  shining,  or  when  massive  glimmering; 
itemal  lustre  weaklj  shining,  silky  ;  fracture  fibrous, 
raigbt,  or  radiated  ;  fragments  blunt-edged. 

Colour,  emerald  or  apple  green  ;  opaque ;  streak  of 
lighter  colour ;  soft;  brittle. 

Subspecies  2.  Compact  Malachite. 

Hxter,  TAnr.— Sometimes  found  massive,  dissemi- 
ated  or  superficial,  but  most  frequently  globular,  bo- 
ryoidal,  stalactitical,  &c. ;  surfiice  rough  or  drusy, 
ometimes  smooth,  almost  always  dull,  and  rarely  shin- 
ig ;  iatemal  lustre  dull  or  weakly  shining  ;  fracture 
onchoidal ;  fragments  rather  sharp-edged  or  wedge- 
oapcd* 

Colour  emerald  green,  apple  green,  and  blackish 
reen ;  opaque ;  soft ;  brittle.     Spec.  grav.  3.57  to 

C*Afm.CAar.— Decrepitates  before  the  blow-pipe,  anfl 
lackeils  witlioot  fusion;  eflServesces  with  acids;  co- 
rars  borax  green,  and  communicates  a  blue  colour  to 
be  solution  of  ammonia. 

Constituent  Parts.    Klaprotb* 

Compact  Malachite. 
Oopper,  58 

Carbonic  acid,  18 

Oxygen,  1 2.5 

Water,  11.5 

1 00.0 

Localities^  &c.— Both  the  fibrous  and  compact  ma- 
schites  are  usually  found  in  the  same  repository,  and  ae- 
rompanied  with  other  ores  of  copper.  They  are  fouud 
n  Germamr,  but  the  finest  specimens  are  brought  fi-om 
Siberia.  Scotland  affords  fibrous  malachite  in  small 
|uantity,  as  at  Leadhills  and  in  Shetland.  Mala- 
chite is  also  met  with  in  Cornwall  and  Derbyshire  in 
Bnglaad. 

&MV.— Malachite,  when  pure,  is  sometimes  employ- 
^  as  a  pigment.  The  compact  variety  is  susceptible 
>f  a  fine  polish ;  which,  with  its  beautiful  and  delicate 
colours,  has  brought  it  into  much  estimation  for  various 
ornamental  purposes. 

The  largest  and  finest  specimen  of  compact  malachite 
known,  is  in  the  cabinet  of  Dr  Guthrie  at  Fetersburgh. 
It  is  32  indies  long,  17  broad,  and  two  inches  thick. 
it  is  estimated,  according  to  the  account  of  Patrin,  who 
describes  it,  at  20,000  francs,  above  800I.  sterling.  If 
we  are  rightly  informed,  this  splendid  mass  of  malachite 
was  once  offered  to  sale  in  Britain,  but,  having  found 
no  purchaser,  was  carried  back  to  Russia. 

13.  Species.    Greek  Copper  Ore. 
Mountain  Green^  Kirw.  ii.  134.     Id.  Broch.  ii.  203. 
Exter,  C^or.— Found  massiy«  or  disseminated,  but 


a  L  O  G  Y. 

usually  superficial  on  otjier  ores ;  dull ;  fracture  con- 
choidal  or  uneven  ;  fragments  blunt-edged. 

Colour  verdigris  green,  emerald  green,  sometimes 
sky  blue,  opaque,  or  tranaluc^t  at  the  edges  ;  soft,  or 
friable ;  brittle. 

CAem.  CAur.— Becomes  black  before  the  blow-pipe 
without  fusion.     Colours  borax  green. 

Constituent  PortJ.— ^apposed  to  be  a  mixture  of  oxide 
uf  copper,  or  according  to  others,  a  carbonate,  with  alu- 
mina and  lime. 

Localities^  &c— -It  is  usually  accompanied  by  gray 
copper  ore,  and  some  other  copper  ores,  particular* 
ly  with  malachite,  and  sometimes  with  iroii  ochre, 
alumina,  and  quartz.  Found  in  Saxony,  Hungary, 
and  Siberia. 

14.  Species.  Ferruginous  Greek  Copper  Ore. 

This  is  divided  into  two  subspecies ;  2.  earthy ;  and^ 
2.  slaggy. 

Subspecies  i.  Eartht  Ferruginous  Greek  Copper 

Ore. 

Iron^shot  Mountain  Green^  Kirw.  ii.  155.    Id.  Broch. 
ii.  205. 

Exter,  (7Aar.— Found  massive,  but  most  frequently 
disseminated ;  dull,  with  an  earthy  fracture ;  fragments 
blunt-edged. 

Colour  light  olive  green ;  soft,  friable ;  brittle ;  mea* 
gre  to  the  feel. 

Subspecies  2.  Slaggt  Ferruginous  Green  Copper 

Ore. 

Glassy  Iron^hat  Mountain  Green^  Kirw.  il.  152. 

Exter,  C^^r.— Massive,  or  disseminated  ;  lustre  shin- 
ing, vitreous ;  fracture  conchoidal ;  fragments  sharp- 
edged. 

Colour  deep  olive  green,  sometimes  black  ;  soft  ^ 
brittle. 

Constituent  Parf«.*-Seems  to  be  a  mixture  of  oxide 
of  copper  with  iron  ochre,  in  variable  proportions. 

Localities^  &c.— -Found  along  wiUi  other  copper 
ores,  and  is  accompanied  by  iron  ochre,  heavy  spar  and 
quartz.  It  is  a  rare  mineral.  Has  been  found  in  Sax* 
ony,  and  it  is  said  in  the  Hartz. 

15.  Species.  Micaceous  Copper  Ore,  or  Arseniate  of 

Copper*^ 

Olive  Copper  Ore^  Kirw.  ii.  x  ji .  Le  Cuivre  Arsenical^ 
Broch.  ii.  208.  Cuivre  ArseniatSy  Hauy,  iii.  575.  Ar* 
seniate  of  Copper^  Boutnon,  Phi).  Trazflix  1 8oi«  p.  193. 

This  species  is  divided  into  two  subspecies,  foliated 
and  lenticular. 

Subspecies  x.  Foliated  Micaceous  Copper  Ore. 

Exter.  ^Aur.— Found  massive,  disseminated,  or  cry* 
stallized  in  oblique  four-sided  prisms,  in  six-sided  prisms, 
in  acute  rhomboids,  or  in  very  small  cubes.  These  cry- 
stals are  also  variously  modified ;  lateral  faces  streaked 
longitudinally ;  lustre  resplendent,  pearly,  or  adaman- 
tine ;  fracture  foliated,  sometimes  conchoidal. 

Colour  olive  green,  sometimes  emeral .  green,  or  ver- 

digns 


229 


STctiiUio 
orcik 


339 


M  i  N  E  H 


Metallic  digris  green  ^   translucent ;  crystals  semitransparent  ^ 
Ores.     soft.     Spec*  grav.  2,54* 

Sal)species  2.  LrNTicuLAR  Micaceous  Copper  Dre. 

Exter.  C^ir.-^This  variety  is  found  crystallized  in 
octahedronsy  composed  of  two  four-sided  pyramids,  vitli 
isosceles  triangular  faees  \  cryst&b  small  \  external 
Instre  shining ;  fracture  foliat^ 

Colour  sky  blue,  or  verdigris  men  \  scratches  calca- 
reous spar  \  brittle  ^  easily  frangrible.   Spec.  gntv.  2.8& 

CAem.  'CAar.<— The  crystals  of  these  varieties  decre- 
pitate be&re  the  blow-pipe,  and  give  out  the  odour  of 
arsenic.  They  melt  into  a>grayish  globule,  which,  being 
treated  with  berax«  yields  a  button  of  copper. 

.  Constituent  Parts,     Vauqnelin. 


Oxide  of  copper, 

39 

Arsenic  acid. 

43 

Water, 

n 

Loss, 

I 

100 

Looattties^  &c.— *>Thesn  varieties  of  copper  ^ores  are 
very  rare  \  and  have  been  hitherto  discovered  only  in 
the  Carrarach  mine,  Cornwall,  accompanied  by  brown 
iron  ore  and  other  copper  ores. 

.  Other  arseniates  of  copper  have  been  described  by 
Boumon.  In  many  respects  they,  resemble' the  prece- 
ding varieties.  The  spec.  grav.  which  is  4.28,  b  consi- 
derably greater,  and  yet  the  proportions  of  the  constitu- 
ent parts  approach  very^  near. 

Constituent  Parts,     Chenevix. 

Hnmatitifom.  CapiHuy.  FoliattcL 

•  Oxide  of  copper,         50  51  .54 

Arsenic  acid,  29  ^9  30 

Water,  .21  18  16 

'  LosSy  —    -  2  -^ 


JOG 


100 


100 


Count  de  Boamon  has  described  another,  under  the 
nane  of  cupromattial  arseniate,  which  is  alsa  crystal- 
lized, has  a  spec  grav.  5.3,  and  the  following  are  its 
constituent  parts. 


Oxide  of  iron, 

■  copper, 
Arsenic  acid, 
Silica, 
J^al«r, 
I40SS, 


Cbeneyix. 

22.5 

33*5 
3- 

12. 

1-5 


0*t 


I  60.0 


16.  i9peeie8.  Muriate  of  CoppEtt,  or  Gtrem  Sand^ 

Peru* 

Id.  Broch.  li.  149.     Id,  Broch*  ii.  545. 

Char*  JS;i?ter*— Found  massive,  or  crystallized  in  very 
small  six-sided  prisms,  bevelled  at  the  extremities,  or  in 
small  oblique  tour-sided  prisms,  also  bevelled  at  the 
extremities,  but  -the  sides  conrespoading  to  iha  obtuse 

..a 


A  L  O  G  Y.  PartJ 

lateral  edges  ;  surface  of  the  crystals  smooth  ftnd  re-  ciaijb. 
splendent ;  lustre  adamaotiae  ^  fracture  fohated;  ing-   hd 
ments  rather  sharp-edged. 

Colour  between  emerald  and  leek  green ;  opit|Qe ; 
crystals  a  iitUe  transparent;  softf  streak  pale  apple 
green.     Spec.  grav.  3.57  to  4.43. 

Chem.  Char, — ^Thrown  on  burning  coah,  it  comnm- 
nicates  a  green  colour  to  the  flame  y  soluble  in  nitric 
acid  withput  effervescence. 


Constituent  Parts* 
JP)roo)it> 


Oxide  of  copper,  76.6 
Muriatic  acid,  10.6 
Water,  12.8 


70.6 
11*4 
i8.t 


lOO.O 


100.0 


SJaprau. 

73- 
10.1 

100.0 


Localities  J  &c.-— This  mineral  has  heeQ  found  in  tin 
sand  of  rivers,  accompanied  by  quartz.,  schorl,  coppn 
.^and  iron  ores,  near  Remolinos  in  Chili.     It  baa  alM 
been  found  in  a  similar  situation  in  Pern. 

Phosphate  of  Copper.— This  mineral  has  been 

.  found  massive,  or  crystallized  in  oblique  six-sided  prisau, 

with  convex  fiaces,  lining  cavities  ;  lustre  resplendent, 

between  vitrooos  and  adamantine  ^  internal  lustre  aiiky, 

fracture  fibrous. 

Colour  grayish  black,  but  internally  emenld  green} 
.  opaque  \  streak  apple  green  }  sof^  or  semihard. 

-  Constituent  Parts,    K.laproth. 


Oxide  of  copper, 
Phosphoric  acid, 
Xoss, 


68.13 

30-95 
.92 

100.00 


Localities f  &c.— This  •4nineral  lias  been  foun^ 
near  Bologne,  along  with  malachite,  in  a  white  dmsy 
quartz. 

Copper  MiyES.-^In  addition  <o  tbe  history  of  copper 
ores  now  given,  we  shall  just  name  aome  of  the  more 
.celebrated  copper  mines  in  the  world.  The  copper 
mines  of  Spain  are  situated  on  the  frontiers  of  Portugal, 
and  yield  from  veins  of  considerable  thickness,  yellow 
pyrites.  France  possesses  copper  mines  in  the  Pyrenees, 
near  Lyons,  in  Vosges,  and  in  the  neigbbourbood  of 
Savoy,  in  the  department  of  Mont  Blanc.  There  are 
extensive  copper  mines  in  Piedmont^  which  have  bees 
wrought  to  a  very  considerable  deptb. 

The  copper  mines  of  Cornwall  in  England,  vbid 
.  are  in  primitive  rooks,  have  been  long  celebrated.  The 
roost  abundant  ores  are  copper  pyrilea,  accompanied  bf 
native  copper,  which  latter,  it  is  observed,  is  m^t  usu- 
ally  found  near  the  surface.  Tbe  same  mines  yield  ali 
the  varieties  of  araeniate  of  copper.  The  Acton  copper 
mines  on  the  borders  of  the  counties  of  Derby  and  Suf- 
ford  are  situated  in  limestone*  in  very  dedioing  or  netf* 
ly  perpendicuUr  beds  ^  but  the  richest  copper  miaes  in 
£ng1and  are  those  of  the  island  of  Anglesea,  where  is 
a  mass  of  pyritous  copper  are  of  immense  thickness, 
yielding  from  1 6  to  40  per  cent,  of  copper.  Nsti^ 
copper  is  also  found  nearr  (he  solffece,  and  inmiediateij 

under  the  turf.  _^ 

Tbe 


MINER 

Tlie  niact  nf  dfenebttWy  in  tht  ewmtf  of  WicUow 
;  Inkund,  are  Terj  otaBidenble.     '^'^cy  an  Mlaaled 

a  primkive  roonistain,  oooipiiaed  •!  iiintji  alata  and. 
gillaceoQs  scbistaSy  which  alternate  with  beds  of  stea- 


Id  Germany*  Hnngaryv  SweileOy  Norway^  and  Sibe* 
a,  their  are  many  ei^tenswe  and  valuables  oopper  nines.. 
1  the  eastern  fourts  of  the  Asu^tic  continent,  in  the  island 

Japan,  in  China,  and  in  some  of  the  islands,  of  the 
idiao  ocean,  rich  copper  ores  are  abundant. 
Africa,  in  various  places  of  that  extensive  region, 
oand»  ^ith  ores  of  copper,  as  in  the  moontains  to 
e  north  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope*-  On  tbo  western 
ast  of  Africa,  the  natives  dig  out  copper  ore,  and  are 
quainted  with  the  mode  of  eibtracting  it; 
In  North  America  masses  of  native  copper  have  been 
and,  near  Hndson^s  Bay  ;  but  the  richest  copper  mines 

the  world  are  those  of  South  Amerioa,  and  particu- 
rly  in  Chili,  from  which  masses  of  native  copper  of 
iDiense  magnitude  have  been  obtained.  The  copr 
r  mines  of  jPeru  and  Mexico  are  also  wrought  to  great 
iTantage*  » 

YL  IKON  Genus. 

I.  Species*    Native  Irok. 
.  Xirw.*  iL  155.     Id.  Brocbant,  ii.  215.    Id,  Bauy, 

IV.  I.  • 

JSlrfer.  ^Aor.— Found  massive  or  bnmefaed ;  surlisMe- 
looth,  shining^  internal  lustre  shining, metallic 5  frae- 
se  hackly  ^  tragments  rather  sharp^edged. 
Oour   light  steel    gray,  or  silvery   white  ^    semi* 
ord  ;  streak  shining  ^  perfectly  ductile  ^  flexible  'y  bet 
rt  ela^ic. 

LocaUiusj  &cw — The  existence  of  native  iron  as-  ar 
rrestrial  production  still  remains  doubtful.  It  is  said 
at  it  has  been  fonnd  along  with  other  ores  of  iron,  in 
txm^and  in'Fiaace.  Tbeonly instances  fniiy  establish- 
I  of  the  discovery  of  native  iron,  are  those  of  the  im- 
mse  mess  found  by  Pallas  in  Siberia,  which  amounted 
no  less  than  i68oib.  or  15  cwt.  and  another  of  5  ewt* 
bich-was  discovered  by  Robin  de  Celis  in  Soatfa  Ame- 
[ra^  but  these  masses  correspond  so  nearly  with  the* 
bstances  which  are  certainly  known  to  have  fallen 
3m  the  atmosphere,  in  their  constituent  parts,  that 
seems  extremely  probable  they  have  had  a  similar  ori* 
n.     But.  for  a  fnU  account  of  this  curions  subject^  see 

!rr£OROLIT£. 

2.  Species.    Iron  Pyrites. 

Partial  Pyrites^  Kirwan  ii.  76.  Id.  Brocbant,  ii.  221. 
Fer  9ulfur4^  Hauv^  iv.  ^^. 

Subspecies  I.  Common  Iron  Pyrites. 

Exler,  Cifcnr.^—Found  massive  or  disseminated,  super- 
;ial,  or  in  imitative  fonns,  and  frequently  crystallized. 
he  forms  aie,  a.  perfect  cube  with  plane  or  convex- 
ces^  or  with  truncated  angles,  or  edges  5  or  having  a 
MKsidcd  pyramid  on  each  angle  -,  the  peifeet  octa- 
lOffon,  (ur  trancated  on  all  its  angles^  the  dodecafae- 
-on  with  penUgonal  faces^  or^ith  six  opposite  and  pa- 
ilei  edges  truncated,  or  truaeated  on  eight  of  its  an* 
cs  'y  or  the  perfect  icosaheibron,  which  is  rare. 


A  I*  O  G  Y.  a^t 

Ojrslals  soiaD,  txceptiiig  the  eobc,  and  grouped  (•-  MeuUic 
getber }  surface  smooth  or  streaked ;  lustre  shiofftg,  le-      Ores, 
spleadent;  internal  histre  shining,  metallic  j  fraoture 
uneven^  sometimes  conchoidal  j  fragments  rather  ^larpi* 
edged. 

Colour  broBEe  ydlew^  golden  yellow^  sometimes  stee^- 
gray  y  opaque  'y  hard  ^  hnfetle  >  rather  easily  fmngtbic. 
Spec,  gnv*  4^6  to  4.83. 

Ckm*  ^A0r«^-«Bef«pe  the  Uow-pipe  it  gives  out  a 
strong  sulphureous  smell, 4Hid  bnnM  with  a  bTuieli  flame  j 
a  hrewnisb  globule  is  then  obtained,  which  is  attnwled 
by  the«magnet. 


Comtittaent  Parts,  Hatchett* 


Sulphur,. 
Iron, 


47.85 

100.00 


47-5. 


lOO.O 


SiSme  varieties  of  Gomnen  iron  pvritescentain  a  aux^ 
ture  of  gold,  which  is  supposed  to  be  a4^cidental»  ae  tk^ . 
external  characters  are  1^  a^eted  by  it»  and  it  is  only 
recognized  by  ohemioal  ai^lysis^     These  VMii^ties  are 
called  auriferous  pyrites. 

Subspecies  2;    Radiated  Irox  Fyritbs, 

Exter,  l7A0r.— Found  massive,  op  in  different  imita- 
tive forms,  and  also  crystallized  in  small  cubes  or  oc- 
tahedrons ;  sovfaee  smooth  or  drusy ;  lustre  shining 
or  resplendent  J  fr^^ure  radiated  ^ .  ^gments  wedge- 
shaped. 

Colour  bronze  yellow,,  lighter  than  the  former ;  some^ 
times  steel  gray,  and  sometimes  tarnished  j  hard  5  brit- 
tle, and  easily  frangible.  - 

Subspecies  3.^  Capillary  Iron  Ptrtxes, 

Exter,  CAdr.— Found  in  smaUf  espillaiy,  or  acicu)ar 
crystals,  having  the  appearance  of  fiocks  of  wool  >  some- 
times the-  crystals 'are  acieolar  or  in  a  stellated  form  ^ 
lustre  shining  or  weakly  shining,  metallic. 

Colonr*  bronze  yellow,  approaching  to  steel  gray. 

Subspecies  4%    IiK9ATic  Iron  Pyrites. 

Eicter.  C4fir.— Massive  or  disseminated,  or.  in  diffe^ 
rent  imitative  forms,  as  stalactitical, cellular,  &c.;  some- 
times crystallized  in  perfect  six-sided  prisms  or  in  six- 
sided  tables,  which  are  either  perfect  or  bevelled  on  the 
terminal  faces*  Crystals  small  ^  sometimes  smooth  y 
sometimes  drusy  \  internal  lustre  glimmering,  or  weakly 
shining  ^  fracture  even,  or  imperfectly  conchoidal  >  frag- 
ments sbarp>edged. 

Colour  bronze^yellow,  steel-gray,  sometimes  brownish^ 
ot  tarnished  ^  streak  shining  ^  hard  y  brittle. 

Fhy steal  C^lor.— -By  rubbing  gives  out  a  sulphureous 
odour,  and,  aceording  to  some,  the  smell  of  arsenic. 

Constituent  Parts, — According  to  some  mineralogists 
this  variety  is  composed  of  sulphur  and  iron,  with  a  por- 
tion of  arsenic. 

LocalitteSy  &c,— The  first  variety  is  universally  dif- 
fused j  it  is  feund  in  evei7  kind'of  rock,,  and  often  in 
gi^at  abundance. 

The  second  is  rarer;  but  is  not  uncommon  in  veins 
of  lead  and  silver,  and  sometimes  in  nests  in  indurated.' 
marL    It  is  found  in  Saxony  and  Bohemia,  in  Derby- 
shire 


33« 


MINERALOGY. 


MeuUic  aUreinCugbond,  and  at  LeadhiUs  and  the  iskad  of 
^^'^      hlisy  in  Scotland. 

Tbitt  variety  is  more  subject  than  the  first  to  decom- 
position* 

Capillary  pyrites  is  only  found  in  small  quantity,  as 
in  Saxony,  and  Andreasbers  in  the  Harts. 

Hepatic  pyrites  is  only  round  in  veins,  particularly 
those  of  silver  and  lead,  accompanied  with  quartz,  cal- 
careous spar,  and  heavy  spar,  as  in  Germany  and  Sibe- 
ria, and  at  Wanlockbead  in  Scotland. 

Exposed  to  the  air,  this  variety  is  extremely  liable 
to  decomposition. 

3.  Species.  BfAGNETic  Pyrites. 

Id,  Kirwan^  ii.  79.     Id,  Brochant,  ii.  232* 

Exter,  CAnr.— Massive  or  disseminated^  internal  lus- 
tre shininff  or  weakly  shining^  fracture  uneven,  rarely 
conchoidaJ ;  fragments  rather  sharp-edged. 

"Colour  between  copper  red  and  bronze  yellow  \  when 
exposed  to  the  air  it  becomes  brownish  or  tarnished  ^ 
hard,  or  semihard  *,  brittle.     Spec.  grav.  4.51. 

Pkys,  (?Aiir.-»This  variety  of  pyrites  acts  on  the 
maffnetic  needle,  but  not  very  powerfully. 

Lhem,  rAor.— -Before  the  blow-pipe  it  gives  out  a 
slight  odour  of  sulphur,  and  melts  easily  into  a  grayish 
black  globule,  which  is  attracted  by  the  magnet. 

Constituent  Parts*  Hatchett. 


Parti 


IroQ, 
Sulphur, 


^3-5 
36-5 


lOOtO 


'  Localities^  &c.— Magnetic  pyrites  has  been  only 
found  in  primitive  rocks,  as  in  micaceous  schistus  \  and 
is  usually  disposed  in  beds,  along  with  other  ores  of 
iron,  and  accompanied  by  quartz,  hornblende,  and  gar- 
nets. It  is  found  in  Saxony,  Bavaria,  Bohemia,  and 
in  Caernarvonshire  in  Wales. 

Uses^'^TLh^  as  well  as  the  former  species,  is  em- 
ployed for  the  purpose  of  extracting  sulphur,  or  of  ma- 
nuUiCtttring  copperas,  or  sulphate  of  iron. 

4.  Species.  ^Iagnetic  Iron  Ore. 

Magnetic  Ironstone^  Kirwan,  ii.  158.     Id*  Brochant, 
ii.  235.     Fer  Oxidui/f  Ha&y,  iv.  10. 

This  is  divided  into  two  subspecies,  common  and  are- 
naceous. 

Subspecies  i.  Common  Magnetic  Iron  Ore. 

Exter,  ^Aar.-^Massive  or  disseminated,  and  often 
also  crystallized  in  six-sided  prisms,  having  a  three-sided 
pyramid  at,  each  extremity,  set  on  three  alternate  late- 
ral edges  \  an  oblique  four-sided  prism  y  a  double  four- 
sided  pyramid,  or  perfect  octahedron,  which  is  some- 
times truncated  on  all  its  edges.  Crystals  of  various 
sizes ',  faces  sometimes  smooth  \  those  of  the  four-sided 
prism  streaked  transversely  \  lustre  shining  y  internal 
lustre  resplendent,  or  weakly  glimmering  \  fracture  un- 
even, sometimes  conchoidal  or  foliated  >  fragments  ra- 
ther blunt-edged. 

X 


Colour  iron-black,  perfect  black,  or  Aeel-gity;  stnsk  cUi. 
brownish  black  y  semihard,  or  hard  \  brittle ;  tuxt  or 
less  easily  firangible.    Spec.  grav.  4.2  to  4.93. 

Subspecies  2.  ARENACEOUS  Magnetic  Iron  Orz. 

Exter,  £%ar.-— Found  in  ronnded  grains,  froin  tbe 
size  of  millet  to  that  of  a  nut,  and  sometimes  in  small 
octahedral  crystals  \  external  surface  rough  or  weiklj 
glimmering ;  internal  shining  or  resplendent  \  firactnie 
conchoidal }  fragments  sharp-edged. 

Colour  dbep  iron  black,  sometimes  ash-gray. 

Fhys,  CAor.— -Magnetic  iron  ore,  as  the  nune  im- 
ports,  strongly  attracts  tbe  magnetic  needle,  and  iron 
filings  \  to  the  compact  varieties  of  this  ore,  in  which 
this  property  was  &rst  discovered,  the  name  of  natnnl 
magnet  is  given. 

Chem.  C^ftor.— Magnetic  iron  ore  becomes  brown  k< 
fore  the  blow-pipe,  and  colours  borax  dark  green. 

Constituent  Par<«.— This  is  supposed  to  be  an  oxide 
of  iron  in  considerable  purity,  as  it  yields  firDm  80  to 
90  per  cent,  of  metallic  iron. 

*  Localities^  &c.p— Common  magnetic  iron  ore  is  Tm 
common  in  primitive  mountains,  particularly  in  thoK  of 
gneiss  and  micaceous  schistus,  where  it  forms  very 
powerful  beds,  and  even  entire  mountains.  It  is  dis- 
seminated in  crystals  in  chlorite  schistus,  as  in  Corsica, 
and  in  basalt  and  greenstone,  at  Taberg  in  SwedeD. 
Founff  in  Saxony,  Bohemia,  and  Italy,  #nd  particular- 
ly in  the  island  of  Elba  in  the  Mediterranean ;  and  in- 
deed is  very  universally  distributed  over  every  ptit  of 
the  globe. 

The  second  variety,  or  magnetic  sand,  is  found  b 
the  beds  of  rivers,  in  a  loose  state,  and  sometimes  im- 
bedded in  basalt  and  wacken.  It  is  found  in  those 
countries  where  the  other  ores  of  iron  abound;  lod 
also  in  the  sand  of  many  of  the  rivers  within  the  tarrid 
zone,  as  in  Jamaica,  St  Domingo,  &c. 

^^^....Magnetic  iron  is  wrought  for  the  purpose  of 
obtaining  metallic  iron.  Most  of  the  Swedish  iron  ores 
belong  to  this  variety,  and  furnish  the  iron  which  is  so 
celebrated  on  account  of  its  superior  qualities,  through- 
out Europe. 

Magnetic  sand,  where  ii  is  abundant,  is  also  smelted 
as  an  iron  ore. 

5.  Species.  Specular  Iron  Ore. 

Id,  Broch.  ii.  242.    Id,  Kirw.  ii.  162.    Micaceous  Iron 
Ore,  ibid.  284.     Fer  Oligiste,  Hauy,  iv.  38. 

This  species  is  divided  into  two  subspecies,  conunoo 
and  micaceous. 

Subspecies  i.  Common  Specujlar  Iron  Orx. 

Exter,  CAar.— Massive  or  disseminated,  but  most 
frequently  crystallized  in  double  three-sided  pyramids, 
flattened,  and  the  lateral  faces  of  the  one  set  on  the  la- 
teral edges  of  the  other  ^  the  same  pyramid  with  the 
angles  at  the  common  base  truncated  j  in  perfect  cubesf 
having  the  angles  truncated  ^  or  tbe  cube  considered  is 
a  double  three-sided  pyramid  ^  or  as  a  rhomboid,  10 
which  the  summits  are  surmounted  by  an  obtuse  three- 
sided  pyramid,  set  on  the  lateral  faces ;  the  same  cube 
bevelled  at  each  of  the  angles  of  the  common  base} 
in  six-sided  tables  variously  modified,  or  in  perfect  lessee* 

^  Surla« 


fc  • 


*33 


"\ 


,  qoiqetiiiies  coachoidal  ox  foU«te4  ^  fragments  sharp- 

3lonr  steel-gray*  bluisJi  or  red^b  ^  aometim^  with 
abed  colours  >  which  are  iridesceot )  streak  dark 
ry-zed  ^  hard  5  ojptaque  ^  brittle.     Spec.  grav.  4.79 

knn»  CAor.— Before  the  blow-pipe  it  is  infusible } 
leated  on  charcoal  becomes  white,  and  melts  with 
c  into  a  iirty  yellow  slag. 

kys.  CAiir.-— Affects  the  magnetic,  needle,  but  does 
tkract  iron  filings. 

mstituetU  Parts, — ^This  variety  is  supposed  to  be 
*tty  pure  oxide  of  iron,  yielding  from  60  to  80  per 
of  iron. 

f  this  snb^cies  'two  varieties  have  been  formed, 
pact  and  foliated,  depending  probably  on  the  ap- 
aaoeof  tiie  fractoseb 

Subspecies  2.  MxcacjuOus  Iron  Ore. 

Tier.  Char. — Massive  or  disseminated,  or  in  thin 
ided  tables,  so  grouped  together  as  to  appear  cellu- 
snrface  smooth,  resplendent  \  internal  lustre  re* 
dent  'y  fracture  foliated  \  fragments  in  tables. 
dour  iron-black,  steel-gray,  or  dark  red  \  in  thin 
8  slightly  translucent  \  streak  dark  cherry-red  \  se- 
rd  \  brittle.  Spec.  grav.  4.5  to  5. 
icaHties^  &c.*— These  varieties  are  found  in  primi- 
mountains,  in  beds  or  Veins,  accompanied  by  other 
of  iron,  and  in  such  quantity  in  many  places  as  to 
Qg  out  for  the  purpose  of  manufacture,  as  in  Ger- 
l^  France,  Russia,  Sweden,  Siberia,  and  particularly 
e  islands  of  Corsica  and  Elba,  which  furnish  the 
t  specimens  of  specular  iron  ore  for  the  cabinet, 
be  latter  variety  is  found  in  England,  and  some 
\  qf  Scotland. 

6.  Species.    Bed  Iron  Ore. 

his  is  divided  into  foii^r  subspecies^  I.  red  irofi 
I  %  2.  compm^  >  3*  red  hematites  >  and,  4.  red 
e. 

Subspecies  i.  Red  Iron  Froth. 

Broch.  ii.  249.  Red  Scaly  Iron  Ore^  Sorw*  ii.  171. 

!jr/£r.  CAor.— Sometimes  missive,  and  frequently 

r£cial  ^  lustre  glimmering  or  sliining,  usually  com- 

d  of  scaly  friable  particles  which  stain  strongly  \ 

igreasv. 

olour  dark  cberry-red,  blood-red,  brownish-red^  or 

l-gray.  ' 

'hem*  C4ar.— Blackens  before  the  blow-pipe. 


Constituent  Parts. 
Iron, 

Silica, 
Alnminay 


Hauy. 

.     66. 

28.5 

4-^5 
1.25 

100.00^ 


I 


^jocaktks^  ^q.— 4-  f3M*e  siinendy  -.usually  ijicrustiog 
er  ores  of  iron.    Found  in  Germany,  and  ixi^  Com- 
land  at  UWerstone  in  Lancashire  in  England, 
iToL.  XIV.  Part  L  t 


Subspecies  %.  Co^^I^1  Red  IroK  Oas. 

« 

Id.  Broch.  ii.  251.     Id.  Kirw.  ii.  170. 

Exter.  CAof.— Massive  or  d|6»?i|iia^ted,  in  imitat&v|B 
forms,  as  cellular,  &c.  or  crystallized  in  perfect  cube#f 
or  four-side^  pyramids  with  truncated  suminiu*  Sur- 
faces of  the  cube  smooth ;  that  of  the  pyramids  foi^ 
apd  dull  'y  internal  li^tre  glimmering }  fracture  eyen, 
sometimes  uneven  or  conchoidal  >  ffago^epts  raitb^ 
bhint-edged. 

Colour  browniah-i«d,  dark  steel-gray^  sometimes 
blood-red  j  semihard  }  brittle,  streak  blood-red  5  stains. 
Spec.  grav.  3.4  to  3.8. 

Chem,  CS^r.— Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe. 

QmstiHtent  Paris.  Lampadius. 

Oxide  of  iron,  65.4 

Silica,  20.7 
Alumina,  9.3  , 

Oxide  of  manganese,  2. 7 

Loss,  1*9 


100^ 


Locah'tieSy  &c. — ^Found  along  with  other  iron  ores, 
abundant  in  Cumberland  and  Lancashire,  and  varioas 
places  of  the  world. 

Subspecies  3.    Red  ILematites. 
Id.  Kirw.  ii.  168.     Id,  Broch.  ii.  254. 

Ester.  CAor.— -Massive,  and  in  varions  imitative 
forms  \  surface  smooth  or  drusy  \  internal  lostre  shining, 
or  only  glimmering  j  fracture  fibrous ;  fragments  wedge- 
shaped. 

Colour  brownish-red,  steel-gray,  or  blood-red  \  streak 
light  blood-red  ;  hard  or  semihard ;  brittle  \  stains. 
Spec.  grav.  4.7  to  5. 

Constituent  Parts.»--lt  yields  from  60  to  70  per  cent. 
of  iron,  and  contains,  it  is  supposed,  a  portion  of  alu- 
mina, silica,  and  manganese. 

Locatkiesy  &c.— Tliis  ore  of  iron  is  sot  very  com- 
mon, although  in  some  places  it  is  very  abundant,  as  in 
the  west  «f  England.  It  is  disposed  in  veins  and  beds, 
accompanied  by  the  former  variety. 

Subspecies  4.  Red  Ocbre. 
Id.  Kirw.  ii.  171.     Id,  Broch.  ii.  256. 

ExttT,  Char.~^Tound  massive,  disseminated,  or  su- 
perficial 5  dull }  fracture  earthy. 

Colour  between  blood-red  and  brownish-red  }  stains 
much  'y  soft  ^  often  friable. 

Locah'tieSf  &Cw— This  variety  tigually  accompanies 
the  former,  and  is  a  very  fusible  iron  ore.^ 

7.  Species.  Brown  Iron  Ore, 

This  is  divided  into  four  snbepecies  j  u  brown  iron 
froth  *y  2.  compact  ^  3.  brown  hmatites  3  and,  4.  brown 
ochre.  •   •      •      .    •. 

Subspecies  I. '*fiROWN»IllfjNFRftXH. 

Brown  Scaly  Iron  Ore^  Kirw*  ii.  166.  Le  Elsenmhm 
bruny  Broch.  ii.  258. 

G  g  Exte^^ 


lietallnv 
Qi!cs. 


1 


234 


MINER 

Bxier.  Cior,— BflasnTecr  ilittcniiuitod,  often  raper- 
ficial|  or  spamifonii  j  strongly  gUmmeriDg  or  shilling  % 
firaetore  fdiatcd  or  compnot. 

Coloor  between  brown  and  doll  gimj  ^  very  soft ;  al- 
most friable;  stains  $  feeb  greasy;  neurly  swims  on 
water. 

Chem.  CAar.«-Blackens  before  tbe  blow-pipe  with- 
out fiision. 

LooakiieSf  &c.^Acconpanieo  other  iron  ores,  as  in 
Sazooy,  but  is  rare. 

Subspecies  2.    Compact  Beowk  Inov  Ore* 

£jr/^.CAar.— Massive  or  disseminated,  sometimes  in 
different  imitative  forms  j  dull,  or  rarely  glimmering } 
fracture  smooth,  earthy,  or  oonchoidal. 

Colour  clove  brown,,  or  brownish  yellow  ^  streak  yel- 
lowish brown ;  semihwrd  ;  brittle.    Spec.  grav.  3.07  to 

LocaKiiet^  &c.«-^In  veins  or  beds,  accompanied  by 
•Kher  iron  ores,  in  various  parts  of  the  wodd. 

Subspecies  3.    Brown  Hjkmatitcs. 
•  it.  163.    Id*  Brocb.  iL  261. 


A  L  O  G  Y.  Pa 

Chem.  CAar.«*Beibre  the  blow-pSpe  it  UsikeM  nitii. 
out  fusion.  ^ 

Ctuutituint  Parfr.«— According  to  Bergmaa,  tUs  mi- 
neral  contains  equal  parts  of  carbonate  of  lime  and  of 
iron,  with  about  one-tborth  of  manganese. 

£ocaft]ra»,  &c.---Found  equally  in  prioiitiTe  and  stiv 
tiform  rocks,  and  always  accompanied  by  cakmow 
spar,  and  odier  ores  of  iron,  as  in  Saxony,  £  ranee,  Bn« 
tain  and  Ireland. 

9.  Species.    Black  Iron  Ork. 

Id.  Kirw.  iL  167.     Id.  Brocb.  iL  268. 

This  speoies  is  divided  into  two  subspecies :  I.  con* 
pact}  and  2.  black hsematites. 

Subspecies  i.    Comtact  Black  Iron  Ore. 
Exter.  CAar>— Massive,  or  in  varioosinu 


Id. 

Exter.  C'Aor.— Massive,  but  most  frequently  in  dif- 
ferent imitative  forms  j  surface  smooth,  granulated, 
rouffh  or  drusy  \  lustre  sGning  \  internal  lustre  glim- 
mermg  or  weaikly  shining  %  fracture  fibrous  ^  fragments 
splintery  or  wedge-shaped. 

Colour  clove  brown  \  blackish  brown,  sometimes  yel- 
low, and  sometimes  with  tarnished  colours ;  opaque  j 
strtfak  yellowish  brown }.  semihard  >  britUe.  Spec  grav. 
3.78  to  ^oa. 

Localiti€§f  &e.— Always  aeoompanies  the  preceding 
variety,  but  in  smaller  quantity. 

Subspecies  4.    Browk  Ochrs. 
Id.  Kirw.  iL  167.     Id.  Brocb.  iL  263. 

Emter.  CAor^— >Massive  or  disseminated  ^dull  ^  fra«^ 
ture  earthy  \  fragments  blont^god. 

Colour  ]^lowish  brown,  ov  ochre  yellowy  soft^ 
sometimeo  friable  \  stains  more  or  less. 

LoeaHHei^  &c^— Alwajrs  accompanies  eompact  brown 
iron  ore,  and  is  therefore  found  in  similar  places. 

8.  Species.    SrAUiT  Iron  Ore. 
Id.  Brochant,  iL  264.    Id,  Kirw.  ii.  15^. 

£drlfr.  C^Aor.— Massive,  disseminated,  sometimes  with 
impressions,  and  ofVen  crystallized^  Its  forms  are, 
tbe  rhomboid  with  plane  or  convex  faces,  or  having  two 
opposite  angles  strongly  truncated  \  and  tbe  lens,  tbe 
f  quiangolar  six-sided  prism,  or  the  simple  or  doubte 
four-sided  pyramid.  Crystals  small}  surface  smooth, 
sometimes  drusy,  sonlifrtimes  a  little  rough  >  lustre  shin- 
ing and  somewlmt  metalltc ;  internal  lustre  shining,  rare- 
ly resplendent,  between  pearly  and  vitreous  \  fracture 
ioliated)  fiRcmenls  rhomhoidal.. 

Colour  veHowish  gny,  graylsli  white,  and  exposed  to 
tibe  air,  blackish  brown,  or  with  tarnished  colours^ 
oonetimea  translncent  at  t|ie  edges  \  those  of  a  dark  co- 
lofir,  opaque  ^  semihard,  or  soft  \  brittle.  Spec.  grav. 
9*6  to  4. 


surface  rough  or  dull  \  internal  lustre  glimmering  *,  inn- 
ture  flat  conchoidal ;  fn^pnents  sharp^dged. 

Colour  between  steel  gray  and  Uuish-bUck ;  seou- 
hard}  brittle. 

Subspecies  2.    Black  Haematites. 

Exter.  Cftor.'— Massive  or  kidney-form  }  ioternal 
lustre  glimmering  and  shining ;  fracture  fibrous,  soom- 
times  even  }  fragments  wedge-shaped. 

Colour  steel  gray. 

Cbnstituent  Parts^'^Thison  i&  supposed  to  contiiot 
larger  proportion  of  manganese,  with  alumina  and  Uim, 
than  other  ores  of  iron. 

Localities^  &c.— Found  in  veins  in  primitive  oMin* 
tains,  and'  sometimes  also  in  stratiform  moontjuos,  ac- 
companied by  brown  and  sparry  iron  ore. 

10.  Species.    Argillaceous  Iron  Sroin. 

This  is  divided  into  six  subspecies:  i.redcUkj 
2.  columnar  argillaceous  iron  stone;:  3^  giaonlirj-4. 
eonunon }  5.  reniform  j  and'^  6.  pisiform. 

Subspecies  i.  Red  Chalk. 
Id.  Broch.  iL  271. 

Exter.  CAor.— Massive  $  fracture  shUy  j  lustre  glin* 
meriuff ;  cross  fracture  earthy,  dull  ^  fragmente  in  pble^ 
or  splintery. 

C<dour  brownish  red,  Uack  or  blood  red;  sdctk 
blood  red ;  writes  and  stains ;  9oh  ^  aAieres  to  tbe 
tongue  >  feels  meagre.     Spec.  grav.  3.13  to  3.93* 

CArmbCiAar^-— Decrepitates,  and  becomes  black  wbco 
exposed  to  a  red  heat. 

Localities^  &c.— Usually  accompanies  clay  slste,  ei- 
ther in  thin  beds,  or  in  masses,  as  at  Thalitter  is  Hcs- 
sia,  where  it  is  dug  oat  in  considerahle  quantity.  Iti* 
also  found  in  Bohemia  and  Saxony. 

ITsrf.— Employed  as  crayons  in  dranriog,  spd  Itf 
this  purpoee  it  i»  dug  out,  rather  than  as  an  ore  «■ 
iron. 

Bed  chalk,  on  acconnt  of  die  quantity  of  t^Msm 
and  other  earths  which  it  conftainsi  was  fcflneiiy  snss* 
ged  in  the  argillaceous  genas»  ^ 


Sobsptcies  2,    Columnar  Iron  Ston£« 


Oref. 


r.  ii.  176.    Id»  Broch.  iL  273. 

^xicr.  CAor.— Foond  in  angular  or  rounded  jJecesi 
face  rough  and  dull  j  fracture  duU  and  eavthj  ^  corn- 
ed of  columnar  distinct  concretions,  whicli  are  often 
tie  curved,  sometimes  straight  and  articulated,  and 
f  easily  separated  ;  snrfiice  of  the  concretions  rough 
dull. 

lolour  cherry  red,  Uood  or  bronnusli  «'ed  ^  streak 
d  red,  sometimes  yellowish  brown  ^  soft }  adheres 
lie  tongue  >  feels  meagre,  and  is  a  little  rough. 
ocahiMf  &c.-- -Usually  met  with  in  beds  of  clay, 
tratiform  mountains,  and  paiticolarly  in  the  neigfa- 
rhood  of  subtoFranean  fires,  hythe  efects  of  whkh, 
t  is  supposed,  it  may  have  Jbeen  produced.  It  is 
id  in  Bohemia  and  some^ther  plaiaes,  where  it  is 
oght  as  an  ore  of  iron. 

Subspecies  3*    Granular  IroK  Stone. 
Brodi.  11.  274*    Acinose  Iron  Ore^  Kirw.  ii.  177. 

irt«r.  CiaTd-^Massive,  or  constituting  Che  base  of 
[factions  ;  strongl  v  glimmering  or  wc^ly  shining  ; 
ure  uneven,  sometimes  slaty ^  mgments  blunt^g^ 
k»lour  reddish  and  yellowish  •bfovro,  or  grayish 
c ;  streak  Uood  red,  or  varying  accoording  to  th^ 
ir  of  the  ore,  usually  soft  or  semiluwrd*  Specific 
ity  2.673. 

favis.    Idimpadius. 

of  iroQ,  64* 

Alnmina,  23. 
^Klica,  7.5 

Water,  5. 

Loss,  .5 

XOO.O 

f^  &C.— Is  fiwnd  only  in  stratiform  moun- 
,  as  in  Bohemia,  Bavaria,  and  Switzerland. 


MINERALOGY.  235 

brittle  ^  adheres  to  the  iongue ;  feels  meagre.    Specific  Metallic 
gravity  2.57. 

LocalttieSjf  &c.-p-E€Hind  in  Bohemia,  Saxony,  Silesia, 
and  Poland,  and  in  the  coal  countries  of  £ngland  and 
Scotland,  and  almost  alfvays  in  clay  beds,  sometimes 
accompanied  with  bituminous  wood,  in  stratiform  moun- 
tains. 

This  vailety  was  formerly  called  igtiies  or  eagh'Sione^ 
as  it  was  supposed  that  the  eagle  carried  it  to  its  nest. 


Subspecies  4.    Common  Iron  Stonh. 
Zirw.  ii.  173.     !fc/.  Broch.  ii.  276. 

rfrr.  C4or.— Massive  or  disseminated,  sometimes 
lar  or  botryoidal;  dull^  fncture  earthy^  firag- 
8  rather  sharp-edged. 

door  yellowiBh  or  bluish  gray  \  yellowish  brown,  or 
nish  red;  streak  varies  with  the  colour j  soft; 
e  \  flidberes  to  the  tongue  \  feels -meagre. 
tatMes^  &c.— A  common  ore  of  iron  in  •  many 
8:  of  Saxony  and  Bohemia,  in  Norway,  and  in 
and*  It  is  connected  with  stratiform 'mountains, 
lating  with  beds  of  clay  i»late. 

Sobapecies  5.    Beniform  &lon  Stonz. 

roch.  ii*.278»    Nodular  IfXinOrejKirw,  ii.  178. 

Her.  CAor.^— Found  in  roarided  or  tuberculated 
I,  of  a  kidney-form  figure ;  surfiice  roug^,  covered 
earthy  particles  ;  internal  lustre  glimmemg ;  frac- 
nnooth  or  earthy  ;  firagments  rather  sbarp>c»dged ; 
Dsed  of  lamellar  and  concentric  distinct  concretions, 
ling  a  nodnle  wiiich  is  usually  moveable.' 
lonr ;  yellowish  brown  >  streak  the  same  >  soft ; 


Subspecies  6.    Pisiform  Iron  Stone. 
Id.  Kirw.  ii.  178.     Id.  Broch.  i|.  28o« 

Exier*  CAoTii— In  spheiical  or  flattened  particles, 
which  are  geneially«mall}  mrface  rou^,  dqll>  internal 
lustre  glimmering  or  weakly  shining ;  fracture  smooth. 

Colour  between  brown  and  red^  streak  yellowish- 
brown  3  semihard  ^  brittle.     Spec  gcav.  5.2. 

Constitueta  Parts.    Van^uelin. 

Iron, 
Oxygen, 

Alumina, 

Silica, 

Water, 


30 
18 

6 


JOO 

XoaalAieSf  SlC/'^Thk  variety  is  fi^ond  in  consider-* 
able  beds  in  stratiform  mountains.  It  is. abundant  in. 
France,  Switzerland,  and  some  parts  of  Germany. 

II.  Speeies.    Boo  Iron  Ore. 

This  is- divided,  into  three  subspecies:  .j.  mon^^y; 
2.  swampy  >  and  |.  metdow. 

Subspeeies  i«  'Hora^st'^Bog'Iron  Ore- 
Id.  Earw.  iii  183.    Id.  Broch.  ii.  283. 

£xter  £%ar.«— ^me^mes  eaithy,  sometimes  in  amoiiN 
phous,  tnbeiculated,or  conoded  masses  j  fracture  earthy. 

Colour  yellowish-brown.  >  stains  j  soft  >  friable }  feels 
meagre. 

Subspecies  2.    -SwAMPT  Iron  Ore» 

Id.  Kirw.'ii.  138. 

Exter.  C^r.— -In  amoiphous  masses,  ^Uch  are  tu- 
berose or  corroded  ;  <  didl  or  slightly  glimmering  \  £rac- 
ture  earthy ;  Jragments  blunt-edged. 

Colour  .dark  yellowish-brown,  blackish  browp,  or 
steel-gray  3  ^redk  light  yellowish  brown  ^  verysQft.^ 
brittle  \  heavier  than  the  fonner. 

.  Subspecies  3.    Meadow  Iron  Qr^. 
Id.  Kirw.  ii.  .1 82.    Id:  Broch.  iL  284. 

Exter*  Char.^-la  kidney-^fimn,  tuberose,  often  cor- 
roded masses  \  externally  dull  or  rough.  \  internal  lustre 
shining,  resinous  \  fracture  concholdal,  or  earthy  when 
ifris  dull }  fragments  vaAer  bkint^dged. 

Colour  dark  blatkish-hrswn,  or  yelkwish^-brown ; 
streak  yeliowish-browa^  soft  and  brittle. 

Vonsttttient  Purt^.— Bog  iron  ore  is  an  oxide  of  iron, 
combined  with  the  phosphate  of  iroO|  with  some  earthy, 
matters,  as  ahuuina  and  silica. 

G  g  2  Localities^ 


i5<5 


MINERALOGY. 


Part 


Metallic 
.  Ores 


Laciitties^  &c.— Dog  iron  Are  is  more  abotidant  in 
the  northern  than  in  the  southern  parts  of  Europe.  It 
id  itbt  uncommon  in  Poland,  Prussia,  Sweden,  and  m 
the  Western  islands  of  Scotland,  as  Jura  and  Islay.  It 
is  sometimes  found  in  extensive  beds,  alternating  with 
sandstone  and  clay. 

12.  Species.  Blue  Earthy  Ore. 

Id,  Broch.ii.  288.  Bine  Martial  Earthy  Kirw.  ii.  185. 
Native  Prussiate  of  Iron^  of  others. 

Exter.  C^or.— Usually  foond  slightly  cohering^  or 
loose,  or  friable  3  particles  dull  ^  stains,  and  feels 
meagre. 

Colour  grayish-white,  indigo  blae,  rarely  smalt-bloe. 

Chem,  ^^r.-~Becom«8  reddish-brown  before  ^the 
blow-pipe  \  melts  into  a  black  globule  \  easily  soluble 
in  acids. 

Constituent  Parf;.— It  was  suspected  by  Bergman, 
that  this  was  a  native  Frusian  bTue  ^  but  according  to 
Klaprotb,  it  is  composed  of  iron  and  phosphoric  acid, 
with  a  mixture  of  alumina. 

Localities^  &c.—- Found  in  small  nests  in  beds  of  clay, 
or  bog  iron  ore,  as  in  Saxony,  Russia,  and  Siberia. 

13.  Species.  Green  Earthy  Iron  Ore. 
Green  Martial  Earthy  Kirw.  ii.  188. 

Exter,  (7i4ar.->-*Fonnd  friable  and  8uperficiai|  rarely 
massive  ^  internally  dull  ^  fracture  earthy. 

Colour  yellowish  or  olive-green }  stains ;  soft  >  feelt 
meagre. 

C^fi».CAaf\-«>Beoome8  red  before  the  Uow-pipe,  and 
then  dark-brown,  but  without  fusion. 

Constituent  Parf^.— It  is  conjectured  to  lie  a  com- 
pound similar  to  the  former,  but  in  different  proportions. 

Localities^  &c.-— Found  in  Saxony,  in  veins,  and  ac- 
companied with  quartz  and  pyrites. 

14..  Species.  Phosphate  of  Iron. 
Id*  Jour,  de  Physiqne,  Iviii.  259.  Ann.  de  Chim.  K  200» 

Exter.  C^or.-^Found  in  rounded  pieces,  composed 
of  capillary  crystals,  which  seem  to  be  four-sided  prisms  > 
fincture  radiated  and  divergent. 

Colour  blue,  from  a  blue  powder  coating  the  cry- 
stals, which  are  otherwise  colourless  ^  semitransparent. 
Spec  grav.  2.5  to  2.6« 

Constituent  Parts. 


* 

Cadet 

Tangier. 

Oxide  of  iron, 

42.1 

41.25 

Phosphoric 

acid,. 

26.9 

19.25 

Silica, 

3- 

1.25 

Alumina^ 

5-8 

5- 

Lime, 

, 

9.1 

Water, 

' 

»3i 

31-25 

Loss^ 

2. 

100.0 


100.00 


Localities^  &c.<— This  mineral  is  fonnd  imbedded  in 
day  in  the  isle  of  France,  and  in  Brazil. 

15.  Species*  Pitchy  Iron  Ore,  or  PAosphate  of  Iron 

and  Manganese, 

Id.  Broch.  ii.  533.    Jour,  de  Mines,  N^  64.  p.  295. 

3 


Ester,  Char, — ^Massive ;  surface  earthy  asd  dull  -,  b-  Clntt 
temal  lustre  weakly  shining,  resinous  ^  fracture  compact  tia 
or  foliated.  ^ 

Colour  dark  reddish-brown,  or  black  \  opaque  \  se- 
mihard \  brittle ;  streak  dark  red.    Spec.  grav.  3.9561 

Chem,  Char. — Melts  before  the  blow-pipe  into  a 

Black  enamel* 

« 
Constituent  Parts.     Vauqaelin. 

Oxide  of  iron,  31 

Oxide  of  manganese,  42 

Phosphoric  acid,  27 

100 
Localities^  &c.— Found  near  Limoges. 

16.  Species.  Cube  Ore,  or  Arsemate  of  Iron, 

Id,  Phil.  Trans.  1 801.  p.  190. 

Exter.  CAor.— -Found  crystallized  in  small  cobei, 
grouped  together  in  a  drusy  form  ;  crystals  sometimes 
truncated  on  their  angles^  snrikce  smooth,  sliiniog; 
histre  between  resinons  and  adamantine  j  fracture  coo- 
cboidal. 

Colour  olive-green,  yellow,  or  brown  i  transluecDt^ 
semihard  ;  powder  yellow.     Spec.  grav.  3. 

C4e0i.  CAor.-— Before  the  blow-pipe  froths  op  with 
the  smell  of  arsenic,  and  melts  into  a  yellowish-gny  me- 
tal lie  globule. 

Constituent  Parts. 


Vauqoelin, 

Chenefu. 

Oxide  of  iron, 

48 

45-5 

Oxide  of  copper, 

9- 

Arsenic  acid, 

18 

3^* 

Silica, 

M 

4* 

Lime, 

2 

■ 

Water, 

32 

10.5 

100 


IOC.0 


Localities^  &c.«^Fonnd  in  the  copper  mines  in  Con- 
wall. 

17.  Species.  Akszkiate  of  irok  akd  Cor?£S* 
Id.  PhiL  Trans.  iSoi.  p.  219. 

Exter,  C/Mir.— Crystallized  in  four-sided  rhomboid 
prisms,  with  two  edges  very  obtuse,  and  two  very  acate, 
terminated  by  an  acute  four-sided  pyramid  ^  edges  ef 
the  prism  are  sometimes  truncated. 

Colour  bluish- white  j  crystals  semitraosparont  9  seou' 
hard.     Spec.  grav.  3.4. 

Constituent  Parts. 

Oxide  of  iron,  ^7.5 

Oxide  of  copper,  22.5. 

Arsenic  acid,  53.5 


siii 


ica. 


Water, 

Loss, 


3- 

12. 

X00.0 


Loeatitieh 


MINER 

lasoKckSf  &e.«i^oand  iu  Coni^all,  in  Siberia,  %ud 
oin. 

r8.  Species.  Chromatc  of  Iroi?. 
\  Broch.  ii.  534.    Id.  Haayt  iy.  109. 

Exeter,  Char, — ^Massive;  glimmering  or  weakly  shin- 

r  -y  firaetare  coi^pact  and  uneven,  or  imperfectly  fo- 

ted« 

Colour  grayish  or  Uackish.  brom ;  opaque  ;  streak 

i-gray  ;  smell  earthy  when  breathed  on^  hard.    Spec. 

IV.  4.032. 

^kem.  CAor.— -Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe  ^  melta 

h  boraacy  and  colours  it  of  a  beautiful  green. 


Constituent  Parts. 


Oxide  of  iron» 
Chromic  acid, 
Alumina, 
Silica, 


35 

43 

20 

2 

100 


Localities^  &c.^-Disc6vered  by  Pontier  iti  France, 
the  department  of  Var,  and  found  in  eoosiderable 
indance  in  veins  and  nodules^  ia  beds  of  serpentine  ^ 
ad  also  in  Siberia* 

Vn.  LEAD  Oekus. 

I.  Species.  Galena. 

rhis  is  divided  into  two  subspecies  }  common  and 
ipact  *galena. 

Subspecies  i.  Commov  Galen a« 

Kirw.  ii.  216.  Id.  Broch.  ii.  294.  Piomb  Suifur^f 
laoy,  iii.  456. 

Zrter.  C^tJr.— -Massive,  disseminated^  soperficia],  in 
tative  forms,  or  crystallized  in  cubes,  octahedrons, 
sided  prisms,  and  six-sided  tables;  all  which  are  va« 
isly  modified  by  truncations  and  bevel  ments  on  the 
es  and  angles.'  'Crystals  grouped  or  imbedded  ;  snr- 
i  smooth,  or  dfusy ;  lustre  from  glimmering  to  re- 
ndent  ^  internal  the  same  ^  fracture  foliated  ^  finig- 
its  cubic,  excepting  the  fine-grained  galena. 
Colour  lead-gray,  sometimes  tarnished,  or  iridesceht  ^ 
5  easily  frangible )  stains  a  little.    Spec.  grav.  7.22 

^Aem.  C!^r.— Decrepitates  before  the  blow^pipe,  and 

ts,  giving  out  a  sulphureous  odour. 

hnaiituent  Par^w— Composed  of  sulphur  and  lead  in 

[able  proportions,  and  generally  a  little  silver,  some- 

n  antimony.     The  proportion  of  lead  ia  firom  50  to 

per  cent. 

Locah'ties^  &c.— This  is  the  most  common  ore   of 

l,-«nd  exists  in  all  kinds  of  rocks,  either  in  beds  or 

ss.     In  many  countries  this  lead  ore  is  dug  out  to  a 

at  extent,  as  in  Germany,  France,  and  pritdin. 

Subspecies  2.  Compact  Galena. 

Kiiw.  ii.  21 S*     Id.  Broch.  ii.  301. 

Exter.  CAor.— Massive,  disseminated,  kidney-form, 
ipecsnlar  'y  lustie  of  the  specular  variety  resplendent  $ 


A  L  O  G  Y.  237 

the  others  only  glimmering}  indemal  lutfoe  glimmer-  Mktanio 
ing  \  fracture  even  or  conchoidal  ^  firagments  rather     Orct. 
sharp-edged. 

Colour  lead  or  steel  gray  ^  streak  shining ;  stains  y 
soft.     Spec.  grav.  7.44. 

Localities^  &c.—- This  is  a  rare  mineral.  It  is  found 
along  with  common  galena,  in  Saxony,  and  other 
parts  of  Germany  \  in  Derbyshire,  where  it  is  known 
by  the  name  of  slickensidej  and  in  the  county  of  Dur- 
ham, where  it  is  known  by  the  name  of  hoking-glass 
ore. 

2.  Species.  Blue  Lead  Ore. 
Id,  Kirw.  ii*  220.     Id,  Broch.  ii.  203* 

Ester.  (?AKtr.-~Rarely  massive,  most  commonly  cry- 
stallized in  regular  six-sided  prisms,  which  are  cdPten  a 
little  curved,  and  sometimes  fascicularly  grouped  ^  sur- 
face nmgh^  longitadinally  streaked;  lustre  glimmerings 
fracture  even. 

Colour  between  lead-gray  and  indigo  blue ;  opaque  ; 
streak  shining ;  soft,  easily  frangible.  Specific  gravity 
5.46. 

CAem.  Char,^^M.e\ia  easily  before  the  blow-pipe} 
bums  with  a  bluisli  flame,  and  a  sulphureous  odour, 
leaving  a  globule  of  lead. 

Its  constituent  parts  have  not  been  exactly  ascertain- 
ed. Supposed  to  be  a  green  lead  ore,  which  has  under- 
gone some  change,  but  retaining  its  original  form. 

Localities^  6cc.— This  ore  has  only  been  fiivnd  ia 
Sas^ony,  and  also,  it  is  said,  in  France  and  Hungary. 

3.  Species.  Browk  Lead  Ore. 
Id.  Kirw.  ii.  222.    LL  Broch.  ii.  305«. 

£^er.€%ar.— -Rarely  massive,  commonly  crystallized 
in  equal  six-sided  prisms,  or  the  crystals  are  acicular  or 
capillary;  lustre  glimmering j  internal  shining j  frac- 
ture uneven. 

Colour  reddish  or  clove-brown;  translucent  at  the 
edges  ;  streak  white  ;  soft ;  brittle.  Spec.  grav.  6.6 
to  6.97. 

Chem.  CAnr.— -No  effervescence  with  acids;  fuses 
readily  before  the  blow-pi  pa,  -hot  is  not  reduced  ;  cry-* 
stallizes  in  small  needles  on  cooling. 

Constituent  Parts*    Klaproth'. 

Oxide  of  lead,  7S«58 

Fh'osphorie  acid,  ^9*73* 

Muriatic  acid,  1,65 

X>oss.  .04 

100.00 

Localities^  &G«~-Fouttd  along  with  white  lead^ore, 
quartz,  and  heavy  ipar,  in'I^nce  and  QanMittyt. 

4b  Species.  Bla/gk  Lead  Orb.. 

Id.  Kirw.  ii.  221.     Id.  Broch.  ii.  307. 

Ewter.  £%ar..vJVf assive,  dissemiiiated,  -^eDolar^  hnt 
moat  frequently  crystallized  ta  8tx<4id^d  peibnis,  wiih 
equal  or  unequal  aides,  «r  bevelled  at  the  extremity. 
Crystals  small,  iiregularly  ^oped;  smooth,  and  some* 
times  longitttdinaUy  streaked  ^  lustre  dbaning^  Iraotvre 

uneven. 

Colovr 


238 


MINERALOGY. 


M«Ul]io 
Orat. 


G>loiar  gnyish  bkek  *y*  opaque  ^  streak  grayish  black  j 
soft ;  brittle.    Spec.  grav.  5.7. 

CArm.CAar*— Decrepitates  before  the  blow^pipe^  and 
is  th'en  reduced  to  the  mcUiUic  state. 


Partii 


Comtkuent  Parts. 

Oxide  of  lead; 
Carbonic  acid, 
CarbooCy 
Water, 


Lampadius* 

78.5 
18. 

2. 


100.0 


LncaiitieSj  &o-*-Found  in  Saxony,  England^  and 
Scotland,  frequently  accompanying  ivbite  lead  ore. 

5.  Species.  White  Lead  Ore,  or  Carhonate  of  Lead. 

Id,  Kirw.  ii.  203.     Id.  Broch.'  ii.  309.    Phmk  Car* 
SonaUf  Hauy,  iiL  475. 

'Exter,  {T^ftor.— -Barely  massive,  commonly  dissemi- 
Aatedy  superficial,  or  crystalliaed  in  six-sided  prisms }  in 
four- sided  prisms  y  in  double  crystals,  composed  of  two 
four*«ided  prisms  ^  in  oblique  four-aided  prisms,  and  in 
doable  six-sided  praymids.  These  are  variously  modi* 
fied  by  truncations  and  acuminations  on  the  edges  and 
angles.  They  are  also  of  various  sia^s,  and  variously 
grouped  together :  surface  usually  smooth,  resplendent, 
sometimes  rough  or  streaked ;  lustre  shining,  adaman* 
tine  ^  fragments  conchoidal,  splintery,  or  fibrous. 

-Colaor  white,  yellowish,  or  grayish  white ;  transpa- 
rent or  transluoant  ^  icfiraction  double.  Specific  gravity 
6.48  to  7.23. 

CAem^  Mar.^Decrepitate8  before  the  blow-pipe,  be- 
comes yellowish  or  reddish,  and  melts  into  a  metflUic 
globule ',  effervesces  strongly  with  acids. 


Constituent  Parts. 


O^de  of  lead, 
Cnbonic  acid, 
Watery 


'  Klsprotk 

16 

% 

too 


Macqoart. 

73 

3 
100 


Some  carbooatea  of  lead^are  alse'Oombfaied  with' a 
small  portion  of  iron  and  earthy  onattars.  • 

Localitieff  Sec— Foond  in  veins,  accompanied  by 
nleoa  and  other  lead  ores,  in  Oaaoany,  France,  and 
Aiitaiok 

6.  Species.  Grxek  Lead  Ore,  or  Fhoiphate  of  Lead. 

Tbmb  PAotpiai/f  Havr,  iii.  ^go.  'Id.  Broob.iL  3I4. 
Phosphorated  Letui  Ore^  Kirw.  ti.  007. 

Exter.  CAor^— >Massi  ve  dr  disseminated,  botryoidal  or 
reniforro,  and  often  crystallized  in  six-sided  prisms,  tntn* 
cated  on  all  the  edges,  or  00  the  terminal  edges,  or 
terminated  by  a  six-aided  pyramid  \  in  six-sided  prisma 
with  the  lateral  iaoes  converging  towards  one  of  tho 
extremities )  and  in  six-sided  pyramids  ^  but  this  last  is 
rafe.'<>8nrfaoe  smooth,  shining  \  internal  lustre  weakly 
shinbff  and  resinous  J  fractnre  uneven. 

Gnout   olive    green,    emerald    green,   yellow  or 
brown)  grayish,  greenish,  or  yellowish  white)  translu- 

2 


cent,  or  only  at  the  edges )  stioak  greenish  white  \  ch^et 
brittle.     Spec.  grav.  6.909  to  6.941.  tkt. 

Chem.  C&0r^k— Melts  easily  beSue  the  blow-pipe,  into 
a  grayish  polyhedral  globule,  but  without  being  rsda- 
ocnI  )  soluble  in  acids,  without  efiervoscence,  but  sooie* 
limes  with  difficulty. 


Constituent  Parts.         KlapctA. 

Oxide  of  lead,          77.10           80. 
Phosphoric  acid,       19.               x8. 
Muriatic  acid,             1.54             x.62 
Oxide  of  iroo,               .lO              * 
Loss,                           2.26               .38 

100.00 

100.00 

Zoca/tViVt, '&c.«-Found  in  reins  along  with  otber 
lead  ores,  and  generally  ncfar  the  top  of  the  vein,  la 
Germany,  France,  and  Leadhills  in  Scotlaod. 

7.  Species.  Bed  Lead  Ore,  or  Chromate  of  Lead. 


Id.  Broch.  ii.  318.     Bed  Lead  Spar^  Kirw.  ii.  214* 

Exter.  CAor.— Barely  massive,  sometinsesdissenHDst- 
^d  or  soperfieial,  but  most  frequently  crystallized  ta 
oblique  four-sided  prisms  with  the  extremity  bevelled, 
or  the  lateral  edges  truncated )  and  in  six-sided  prismi, 
with  two  broad  and  two  nanow. faces)  lateral  faces 
longitudinally  streaked )  external  surface  smooth,  shin* 
ing)  fracture  even. 

.Colour  aurora  red»  or  hyacinth  red )  tnoslucent  or 
semitransparent )  streak  orange  yellow )  soft )  brittle. 
Spec  grav.  5.75  to  6.02. 

Chan.  CAar.— No  effervescence  with  acids )  decrepit 
tates  a  little  before  4he  bbw*pipe,  and  melts  into  a 
black  slag. 

'  Constituent  Parts.      '  Vooqnelin. 


Oxide  of  lead. 
Chromic  acid. 


% 


100 


Localities^  &C.— -Found  in  veins  at  Beresof  in  Sibe> 
ria,  accompanied  by  Other  ores  of  lead,  some  ores  of 
iron,  and  native  gold. 

A  similar  ore  of  lead,  but  of  a  brown  colour,  was 
brought  from  Mexico  by  Humboldt. 

.8.. Species.  Yellow  Lead  OKt^otHoiyhdate  of 

Lead. 

Id.  Brochl  ii.  322.    teUow  Lead  Spar^  Kinr.iL  212. 
Hauy,  iiL  4j^. 

Exter.  CAor«— Barely  massive,  usually  crystallized 
^in  sect^gular  four-aideu  tables  )  in  perfect  cubes,  with 
plane  or  convex,  faces,  or  truncated  on  the  tenniul 
laoes,  in  obtuse  octahedrons,  truncated  on  the  summit, 
the  lateral  onl|[ie8,  or  lateral  e^es.  Ciystab  snwU ) 
surface  smooth  and  shbing  )  iotctnally  sUnbg)  lustre 
waxy )  fracture  conchoidu. 

•  Colour  wax  yellow,  or  honey  yellow)  tranilneait, 
or  onfy  at  the  edges )  sofk)  brittle.    Spec.  gnv.  5^8 


MINERALOGY. 

Ckem.  Chat.^-^B^an  tbe  blow-ptpe  it  decrephates 
ODgly*  and  tlKn  indts  into  a  blackisb-gray  globalei 
which  ai«  seen  particles  of  lead.  Solnblo  in  nitric 
hI,  and  in  fixed  alkalies. 


23^ 


be  a  mixture  of  oxide  of  leady  with  a  little  oxide  of  Mcullio 
iron,  and  some  earthv  matters.  ^  Orct. 

Loca^Ues^  &c.— Found  on  tbe  surface,  or  in  tbe  ca- 
vities of  other  lead  ores,  in  Saxony,  France,  Siberia, 
and  at  Leadhills  and  Wanlockhead  in  Scotland. 


^^%00w999w^U'^WwW    A   aVv  w9^ 

Macqnart 

Batchett 

Oxide  of  lead. 

tv 

584 

MiJybdic  acid. 
Oxide  of  iron. 

38. 

« 

2.x 

BiUca, 

4- 

.28 

Carbonate  of  iime, 

45 

«. 

Loss, 

1.22 

XOO.O 


XOO.OO 


LocMties^  Scc-^llis  ore  of  lead  was  first  discoiper' 
at  Bleybeig  in  Carinthia }  it  has  been  since  fi>aod 
Saxony  and  France. 

9«  Species.  Native  Sulthats  of  Lkad. 

(/•  Kirw.  ii.  211.    Broch.  ii.  325.    Hany,  iii.  503. 

Exter.  CAar.-<-CrystalUzed  in  iir^polar  octahedrons, 

lich  are  variously  truncated  and  bevelled..    Crystals 

ooth  and  shining }  lustre  shining  and  vitreous  >  firao- 

re  compact. 

Colour  snow  white^.  myish  or  yellowisk  white  j 

msluoent  ^  semihard.     Spec  grav.  6.3. 

CXem.  C!^.— Reduced  even  in  the  flame  of  a  can^ 

i  ^vinsolublean  nitric  acid. 

Constituent  Parts*        Klaprotk 


Oxide  of  lead. 
Sulphuric  acid^ 
Water^ 
Loss, 


70.5 

25-75 
2.25 

»-5 
100.00 


LoealitieSf  &6^— Fonnd  on  brown  iron  ore  in  thd 
snd  of  Anglesea,  and  on  galena  in  the  vein?  at  Lead* 
lb  and  Wanlockhead  in  Scetlaod^ 


la  Species.  Eartht  Lxad  Oiu. 

I  Broch.  iL  327.     It/.  Kiirwan^  ii.  105. 

This  is  divided  intd  two  subspecies:  X. 
indurated. 


>aDd,^ 


Suhspeciea  x.  Friable  Lead  Qrx. 

Bxter.  C&or.«-*This  is  eompoeed  of  fine  earthy  par* 
sles,  vrfiich  are  dull,  and  have  little  coherence* 
Colour  sulphur  or  ochre  yellow,  yellowish  or  smoke 
sy  \  stains  ^  fecit  mcagse. 

Subepeeice  2.  Imdijratxd  Lsao  Ore. 

Exier,  CAar«— Massive  4»r  disseminated  \  dulTj;  fiac- 
re uneven  or  earthy. 

Colour  of  the  former }  opaque  \  streak  lighter  co- 
ir }  very  soft  and  friable. 

Ch€m.  £Xar.^-£asily  reduced  befiire  Htue  blow-pipe, 
to  a  black  slag;  eflervesces  a  little  with  acids. 
<%MAMi<JParCt.^£arthykad  ore  is  supposed  to 


XI.  Species.  Muriate  of  Lead. 

£xter.  CAor.— Massive,  or  crystallized  in  cubes,  or 
flat  six-sided  prisms  ;  external  surface  shining  y  inter- 
nal lustre  resplendent,  adamantine  ;  fracture  loiiBted. 

Colour  between  asparagus  green  and  wine  yellow  ; 
semitransparent }  soft  ^  not  bnttle  f  streak  dull,  white* 

Constituent  Farts*    Klaproth. 

Oxide  of  lead,  55 

Muriatic  acid,  ^  45 

100 

ZocaBtus^  &Cd— Found  in  Derbyshire,  and  also,  it 
is-said^  in  the  mountains  of  Bavaria,  but  not  crystal* 
lixed. 

X2.  Species.  Morio-Carbonate  of  Lead. 

ItL  Boomoa^attd  Chenevix,  Nieh.^  Jour.  4to.  p.  2x9.  - 

Exter.  rAar.^-Crystallized  in  cubes,  which  are  va- 
riously modified  ^  lustre  shining,^  adamantine  ;  firacture 
fdiated  j  cross  fracture  conchoidal. ' 

Colour  straw  velIow»  or  clear  white  ^  semitranspa- 
rent; streak  dbl^  snow  white;  easily  scratched  by 
carbonate  of  lead.    Spec  grav.  6.065. 

Constituent  Parts.    Chenevix* 
Loss^  X  I 


100 


100 


Localities^  &c.^Found  in  Derbysbfie. 
13.  Species.  ArseniatE  df  Lead. 

Id.  Broch.  iir  54&^ 

Exttr,  CAor.-— Disseminated  sometimes  In  an  earthy 
state,  sometimes  in*  silky  filaments,  and  crystallited  in 
small,  double,  six-stded  pyramids.  ■  DnU,  or  wesdily 
gliromering  ;  lustre  silky. 

Coiour  citron  or'greenish  yeilow ;  very  soft ;  friable; 

Chem.  CAor.— Before  the  blow-^ipe  is  melts  easily 
into  a  riobule  of  lead,  and  gives  out  the  smell  of  gar* 
Kc. 

Const.  Parts.^^^ComfOif^  of  oodde  of  lead  and  of  a»i 
senic,  with  some  oxide  of  iron  and  earthy  matters*  • 


f.  TIN  Gemus*. 

X.  Species.  Tin  Pyrites. 

Id.  Kirw.  ii.  200.    Id.  Brbcfa.  ii.  532. 

Exter.  CXnr.'—Found  massive  tx  disseminated;  lustre 

shining; 


.^* 


340-  MINER 

MeuUie  ^liniag  «r  weakly  shixung ;  fractute  uneven  j  {ngmenta 
Orel.    ^  rather  blnnt-edged. 

Colour  steel  gray,  sometunes  braia  or  bcoasie  yeUovr  > 
aeroihard  ^  brittle.     Spec  grav.  4.3  to  4.7. 

Chenu  CAor,— Before  the  blow-pipe  it  melts  easily 
into  a  black  slag,  but  without  being  reduced,  and  gives 
out  a  sulphureous  smelU 

Gmm fntene  VarU.    Klapratk 

Tb,  34 

Copper,  36 

Iront  3 

Sulphur,  25 

Earthy  substances,       2 

100 

Localities^  Ac-^This  is  a  rare  mineral,  found  on- 
ly in  Cornwall,  in  a  vein  along  with  copper  pyrites. 

2.  Spe«)les.  Common  Tinstoni;,  or  Hxide  <^Tin. 

§ 

LL  Ksw.  ti.  X97«    iA  Brooh»  ii.  3}4.  Haayi  iv.  137* 

Exter.  (7Aiir.— Massive,  disseminated,  in  rounded 
pieces  or  giains,  and  often  crysti^zed  in  rectangular 
four-sided  prisms,  which  are  ^variously  modified  by  trun- 
catitus  And  beveknents*,  in  ootahaikrona^  which  ase 
rare  ^  in  eight-sided  prisms,  or  in  double  octahedrons, 
tdiich  are  so  united  by  one  of  their  summits  as  to  form 
A  re-entering  angle.  Crystals  of  various  sizes,  always 
grouped. together  ^  surface  smooth^  lustre  shining  or 
resplendent)  internal  lustre  shining,  between  vitreous 
and  resinous  ^  fracture  uneven. 

Colour  brownish  black,  blackish  1)rown,  yellowisli 
gray,  or  grayish  white  ^  opaque,  or  semitransparent ; 
atresk  light  gray  ^  bard  ^  brittle.  Specific  gravity  6.3 
to  6.9. 

€%em,  £%€ifki— Before  the  blow-pipe  it  decnpitales, 
loses  its  colour,  and  is  paifially  reduced  to  the  metaJ« 
lie  state* 

Consiiluent  Parts.      Kiaproth* 

Tin,  77.5 
Iron,  .25 

Oxygen,  21.5 
Silica,  .75 


100.00 


Localities^  &c.«-*>Foand  in  Germany,  in  the  East 
indies,  and  partif:ularly  in  Cornwall  in  En^^d,  It 
is  not  very  universally  distributed  ^  but  where  it  exists, 
it  is  deposited  in  granite,  gnaisa,  micaceous  scUstMs, 
and  porphyry  \  and  either  m  massea,  veins,  or  disse- 
minated in  the  rocks. 

3.  Species.  Grained  Tin  Ore,  or  Wood  Tin, 
id.  Broch.  ii.  340.     Id.  Kirw.  ii.  298. 

Exter.  Cliar. — Found  only  in  small  pieces,  rounded 
or  angular )  surfaoe  foa^;  weakly  shining)  internal 
lustre  glimmering;  a  little  silky;  fracture  fibrous; 
fragments  wedge-shaped. 

Colour  hair  brown  of  various  ^ades ;  streak  yellow* 
ish  gray ;  hard  and  brittle.    Spec.  grav.  5.8  to  6.4. 


A  L  O  G  Y.  Parti 

Chem*  CAar.— BecotiM  bvomiiab  red  befim  the  1^4^% 
blow-pipe,  then  decrepitates  strongly,  but  is  infosible.      tioi. 

Cbfl»l«  P«irte.*^Aecordiog  to  j^laprsth,  it  is  coofM^' 
sed  of  63  of  tin  in  the  lOO,  vitli  a  little  inn  tod 
arsenic. 

Localities^  &c. — Fomd  in  Cornwall,  in  alluvial-lsnd, 
where  it  seems  to  have  been  deposited  in  a  stalactiticil 
form,  accompanied  by  common  tin. 

IX.  BISMUTH  Gekus. 

I.  Species.  Native  Bismuth. 

Id.  Kirw^  iL  264.  Id.  Broch.  ii*  343.    Id.  Hauy,  ir. 
184. 

Exier.  CAor.-— Harely  massive,  bnt  usually  dissemi- 
nated in  a  plumose  or  reticulated  form,  and  rarely  crys- 
tallized, in  small  four-sided  tables  or  cubes  ;  lustre  sbio- 
ing  or  resplendent ;  fracture  foliated. 

Coloitf  silvenr  white,  inclining  to  red  ;  coloms  com- 
monly tarnished  5  soft;  almost  ductile.  Specific  gnTiti 
9.02  to  9.82. 

Ckffn.  ^Atfr.— -Fusible  almost  in  the  flame  of  a 
candle ;  by  increasing  the  heat  it  is  volatilized ;  solu- 
bfe  with  eflervescenoe  in  nitric  acid,  and  precipitated 
by  water  in  the  form  of  a  white  powder. 

Localities^  &c.—- Bismuth  is  a  rare  metal,  found  Id 
veins  in  primitive  mountains,  accompanied  by  calcart- 
ous  spar,  heavy  Rpar,  and  quartz,  and  commonly  with 
gray  cobalt,  sometimes  also  with  black  blende  and  Da- 
tive silver.  Found  in  Saxonj,  Bohemia,  France,  and 
Sweden. 

2.  Species.  Vitreous  Bismuth  Ore. 

Sulphurated  Bismuth^  Kirwan,  ii.  266.   idL  Brochut^ 
ii.  346. 

Ester.  C%tfr.-^Massive  or  disseminated,  rarely  crys- 
t;dlized  in  snail  imbedded  capiilaiy  prisms;  luKtrr 
sbining  or  xesplepdent ;  frai:ture  radiated  or  foliated. 

Colour  between  lead  gmr  and  tin  white ;  stains  • 
little;  soft;  easily  frangible.  Specifie  gravity  6.13 
to  6^6. 

Chem.  l7Aar.— Easily  fusible  before  the  bldw-pipe, 
with  a  sulphuseous  odour. 

Const.  Parts^'^Comfotied  of  bisiputh  about  60  pci 
cent,  and  sulphur  with  a  little  iron. 

Localities^  &c.-— Found  in  Bohemia,  Saxony,  and 
Sweden,  and  is  usually  accompanied  by  native  bis^ 
muth. 

3.  Species.  OcRRE  OF  BiSMtrm. 
Id.  Kirwan,  ii.  265.     /</. -Brochant,  ii.  348. 


Exter.  Ckar^'^BMnlf  massivei'  coainonly  flissemi- 
nated  on  the  surface  of  other  minerals  ^  inteinally  gHm* 
mering  ;  fracture  uneven  or  earthy. 

Colour  yellowish  gray,  ash  gray»  or  straw  yelisw, 
opaque ;  soft ;    sometimes  even   friable.     Spec  gnx* 

4.37- 

Vkem,  Char. — ^Very  easily  reduced  before  the  bloir- 

pipe  to  the  metallic  state  ^  effervesces  with  acids. 

Cbnstitttcni 


MINEKALOGY. 


241 


Comtituent  Parts.    Luinpadias. 

Oxide  of  bismuth, 
«  '^  iroto, 

Carbonio  acid, 
Water, 
Loss, 


86.3 

4.1 

3-4 

I 


X00.0 


LocaHHes^  be— This  mineral  is  very  rare,  and  chief- 
fbunif  near  Schoeeb^rp  in  Saxony,  along  with  oative 
matli  'j  and  also  in  Bohemia  and  Suabia. 

X.  ZINC  Genus. 

X.  Species.     Blekde. 

.  Brochant,  ii.  350.  Id.  Kirwan,  it.  237*  Ztinc 
SuyUr/f  Hauy,  iv.  167. 

nis  species  ts  divided  into  three  subspecies ;  yellow, 
>wn,  and  black. 

Subspecies  i.    Yellow  Blende.' 

Exter,  C^^ir.— Massive  or  disseminated,  or  sometimes 
rstallized  in  cubes  or  octahedrons,  but  they  are  so 
ifused  as  to  prevent  the  form  being  easily  discovered, 
rface  smooth,  resplendent  j  internal  lustre  resplen- 
it,  between  adamantine  and  vitreous }  fracture  foli- 
•d  ;  cleavage  six-fold ;  fn^fments  rather  sharp-edged, 
assame  sometimes  a  dodecabedral  form,  which  is  the 
tult  of  the  complete  cleavage; 
Colour  dark  sulphur  yellow,  olive  green,  or  brown- 
red  ;  translucent,  sometimes  semitransparent ;  streak 
ilowish  gray }  semi-bard ;  brittle.  Spec.  grav.  4.04 
4.16. 

Chetn,  (7Aar.—- Decrepitates  before  the  blow-pipe, 
i  becomes  gray,  but  is  infusible. 


Constituent  Parts. 

Bergman. 

Zinc, 

64 

Sulphur, 

20 

Iron, 

s 

Fluoric  acid, 

4 

VVater, 

6 

Silica, 

X 

100 


Physical  Char. — Most  of  the  varieties  of  yellAW 
Slide  become  phospboreecent  by  friction  in  the  dark. 
Locab'ties^  &c.— -Found  in  Saxonft  Bohemia,  Hun- 
ry  and  Norway,  accompanied  by  lead,  copper,  and 
m  ores.    It  is  rather  »  rare  nineraL 

Subspecies  2.  Brown  Blende. 

Ester,  ^i^r.— Massive,  disseminated,  and  sometimes 
ystalHzed  in  simple  three-sided  pyramids,  octahe- 
nms,  and  four-sided  prisms,  which  are  variously  modi- 
:d.  External  lustre  shining  or  resplendent  ^  surface 
imetimes  dmsy ;  internal  lustre  shining,  between  vi- 
nous and  resinous  I  fracture  foliated  ^  cleavage  six- 
i)d.  * 

Colour  reddish,  or  yellowish  brown  *,  colour  some- 
DIM  tamisht  d ;  translucent,  or  opaque ;  crystals  tran»- 

VoL.  XIV.  Part  I. 


parent (   streak  yellowish  gnjy   semi-hard)    brittle.  MetalKo 
Spec.  grav.  4.  ^"* 

Constituent  Parts.    Bergman. 


Zinc, 

Sulphur, 

Iron, 

Silica, 

Alumina, 

Water, 


44 

«7 

5 
24 

5 
S 

100 


Localities^  Ac^— Very  common  in  veins  of  lead  ore, 
in  moat  parts  of  the  world. 

Subspecies  3.    Blags  Blende. 

Extern  CAor.— Massive,  or  disseminated,  or  crystal- 
lized like  the  former,  whidh  it  reseqibles  in  most  of  its 
characters. 

Colour  perfect  black,  brownish  bbfik,  or  blood  red^ 
often  iridescent. 

Constitueni  Paris.    Bergman. 


Zinc, 

Sulphur, 

Iron, 

Lead, 

Silica, 

Water, 

Arsenic, 


45 
29 

9 
6 

4 
6 


100 


Localities^  &c.-«-Found  in  the  same  places  with  the 
former. 

2.  Species.  Calamine* 

This  is  divided  into  two  subspecies,  compact  and  fo- 
liated. 

Subspecies  i.    Compact  Calamine. 
Id.  Kirwao,  ii.  234.     Id.  Brochant,  it.  361. 

Exter,  Char, — Massive  or  disseminated,  cellular,  or 
stalactltical ;  dull  \  fracture  compact  or  earthy. 

Colour  grayish  white,  yellowish,  or  reddish,  or  milk' 
white*,  opaque)  semi-bard  or  friable^  brittle)  stains 
sometimes.     Spec.  grav.  3.52,  to  4.1. 

Chem,  r^ar.— ^Decrepitates  before  the  blow-pipe 
when  suddenly  heated )  is  infusible.  Forms  a  jelly 
with  acids,  and  sometimes  effervesces. 


Constituent  Parts, 

» 

1 

BoQCinaii. 

Teanut. 

Oxide  of : 

Ltoc,                  .  84 

68.3 

Silica, 

xa 

^5 

Iron, 

3 

Alumina, 

I 

•• 

Water, 

« 

4.4 

Los», 

xoo 

2.3 

xoo.o 

■ 

Hh 

Oxllc 

242 


MetaUlo 
Ores. 


Tenaant. 


Oxide  of  sine, 
Carbonic  acid. 


64.8 

lOO.O 


65.2 
34-8 

100.0 


Anotber  Tariety  exunined  by  the  same  chemist  con* 
tainedy 


Oxide  of  xinc, 
Carbonic  acid. 
Water, 


71.4 
'3-5 


X0O.O 


From  these  analyses  it  appears,  that  calamines  are 
very  different  in  their  composition,  consisting  sometimes 
of  oxide  of  zinc,  silica,  and  water,  and  this  variety 
forms  a  jelly  with  acids  j  others  are  composed  of  car- 
bonic acid  and  oxide  of  zinc,  which  effervesce  in  sal- 
pharic  acid,  but  do  not  form  a  jelly  \  a  third  variety  is 
composed  of  oxide  of  zinc,  carbonic  acid,  and  water, 
constituting  a  hydro-carbonate  of  zinc,  which  is  soluble 
with  effervescence  in  sulphuric  acid. 

LocalitieSf  &c.«— 'Usually  accompanied  with  iron 
ochre,  and  very  often  with  galena,  white  lead,  and 
other  metallic  ores.  Found  in  Bohemia,  Bavaria, 
France,  and  Britain,  in  some  places  in  considerable  a- 
bundance. 

Subspecies  2.  Foliated  Calamine. 

Id»  Brochant,  ii.  364.     Kirwan,  ii«  236.     Hauy,  iv. 
161. 

Ester,  CAar.-— >Found  massive  or  disseminated,  sta- 
lactitical,  incrusted,  or  crystallized,  in  small  four-sided 
tables,  or  in  very  small  cubes  with  plane  or  convex 
faces,  shining,  or  glimmering;  lustre  between  pearly 
and  vitreous  ;  fracture  radiated. 

Colour  yellowish,  or  smoke  gray ;  grayish,  or  yel- 
lowish white ;  translucent  or  semitransparent ;  semi- 
hard; brittle.     Specific  gravity  3.52. 

CAem,  (7Aar.-— Becomes  white  before  the  blow-pipe, 
but  is  infusible,  and  doea  not  effervesce  with  acids. 

Phys,  CAar.— Becomes  electric  by  heat. 

Localities^  &c.— ^Tbis  variety  accompanies  the  for- 
mer, lining  its  cavities,  but  is  less  common.  It  is  found 
in  the  same  places. 

XI.  ANTIMONY  Genus. 

I.  Species.  Native  Antimony. 

Id.  Brochant,  ii.  369.    Id.  Kirwan,  ii.  245.  Id.  Hauy, 
iv.  252. 

IdXter.  CAar.— Found  massive,  disseminated,  or  reni- 
iurm  j  resplendent ;  fracture  foliated. 

Colour  tin  white  ;  but  exposed  to  the  air,  grayish  or 
ydlowish  *,  soft ;  easily  frangible.     Spec.  grAv.  0.7. 

Chem.  CAar.— Before  the  blow-pipe  it  is  very  easily 
fusible  into  a  metallic  globule,  which  gives  out  fumes 
with  the  odour  of  garlic 

Cbnst»  Partf.— -Native  antimony  sometimes  contains 
a  small  proportion  of  arsenic. 

Loeah'tieSf  &c.— Has  only  been  found  in  two  places : 
»i  Sahlberg  in  Sweden,  where  it  was  discovered  in 

I 


MINERALOGY.  Part 

1748,  in  limestone ;  and  at  Alleroont  in  Frsnce,  wberei 
it  is  accompanied  by  other  ores  of  antimony  and  co- 
balt. 

2.  Species.  Gray  Ore  of  Aktiicoky. 

Id.  Brochant,  ii.  371.     Kirwan,  ii.  246.    Hauy,  it. 
64. 

This  is  divided  into  four  subspecies  ^  compact,  fi- 
liated, radiated,  and  plumose. 

Subspecies  x.  Compact  Gray  Ore  of  AimifONr. 

Ester.  CAor.— -Massive  or  disseminated^  shining*^ 
fracture  uneven. 

Colour  lead  gray,  or  steel  gray }  soft  *,  not  toj 
brittle  ^  stains  a  little  }  streak  shining.  Spec  gnr. 
4.36. 

Localities^  &c.— This  variety  is  rarer  than  tbf 
others,  but  is  met  with  in  Saxony,  Hungaiy,  tod 
France. 

Subspecies  2.  Foliated  Ore  of  Aktihont. 

Ester.  (7Aar.— >Massive  or  disseminated^  fracture  fo- 
liated. In  other  characters  it  resembles  the  other  n- 
rieties,  and  is  usually  accompanied  by  the  following. 

Subspecies  3.  Radiated  Ore  of  Antimokt. 

Exter.  CAor.— 'Massive,  disseminated,  and  very  often 
crystallized  in  aciculax,  often  in  capillary  crystals,  tad 
in  six  and  four-sided  prisms  variously  modified ;  sui^ 
streaked  longitudinally)  internal  lustre  resplen^t; 
fracture  radiated,  straight,  parallel,  or  divergent 

Coloor  similar  to  the  preceding  i  soft  *,  not  Ttry 
brittle  .  Spec.  grav.  4.1  to  4.5.  ■ 

Constituent  Parts.    Bergman. 

Antimony,  74 

Suitor, '  26 

100 

Localities^  &c.-^Tbis  is  the  most  common  ore  of  to* 
timony,  and  is  found  in  Germany,  France,  and  Sire- 
den.  There  is  only  one  mine  ot  antimony  in  Britais, 
which  is  in  the  south  of  Scotland,  near  'WeoteihaU,  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Langholm. 

Subspecies  4.  Plumose  Ore  of  Antimokt. 

Estter.  CAor.-— Usually  found  in  axillary  crystals, 
so  interwoven,  that  they  form  a  superficial  covering  to 
other  minerals:  these  groups  are  externally  wealdy 
shining ;  internal  lustre  glimmering  ^  firaeture  fibrous* 

Colour  similar  to  the  farmer,  and  sometimes  tamisb' 
ed  brown  or  like  tempered  stee^j  opaque  ;  soft  \  sooe- 
times  almost  friable  \  brittle. 

Const.  Par/J.— Plumose  antimony  is  composed  of  rol- 
phuret  of  antimony  combined  with  arsenic,  iron,  aaj 
accidentally  a  little  silver. 

Chem.  Char. — Before  the  blow»pipe  this  and  the 
other  varieties  of  gray  antimony  give  ont  white  fiunes, 
with  a  salpbureoos  smell,  and  are  almost  entirely  vols- 
tilized,  or  changed  into  a  black  slag. 

Localities^  &c.-*Plumo8e  antimony  is  found  at 
Freyberg  in  Saxony,  in  the  Hartz,  and  in  Uonniy. 

3.  Specie?, 


MINER 

3.  Species.  BuiCK  O&E  of  Antimoky. 

Exter.  CAor.-— FooimI  crystallized  in  rectangular 
Ar*sided  tables,  truncated  on  the  edges  or  angles} 
^tals  smooth  ^  lustre  shining  \  (racture  conchoidal. 
Colour  iron  black  \  soft. 

Localities^  &c.-— This  species,  which  is  also  » snl- 
uret  of  antimonj,  combined  phibablj  with  some 
ber  ingredients,  is  found  in  Cornwall. 

4.  Species.  Sed  Ore  of  AmriMONT. 

•  Kirwan,  ii.  250.  Id,  Brochant|  ii.  379.  Antimotne 
Hydrow^ur^j  iv.  276. 

Exter,  CAor.— Massive  or  disseminated,  but  most 
mmonly  in  capillary  crystals }  lustre  weakly  shining, 
Teous }  fracture  fibrous. 

Colour  cherry  red,  brown,  reddish,  or  bluish ;  soft, 
Bost  friable  $  brittle.     Specific  gravity  3.7  to  4. 
CArm.  CAoTw-Before  the  blow-pipe  it  melts  easily, 
d  in  nitric  acid  a  ^vdiite  powder  is  deposited. 

Constituent  Parts.    Klaproth. 

Oxide  of  antimony,  78.3 

Sulphur,  19.7 

Loss,  2. 


X00.0 


Locaiiiies^  &c.— Found  in  Saxony  and  France,  usur 
y  accompanying  gray  or  native  antimony. 

5.  Species.  White  Ore  jOF  Antimoky. 

uriaied  AnimonjffKinmnfU.  151.  Antinwine  OxidS^ 
Haiiy,  iv.  273* 

Exter.  CAor.— Barely  massive,  usually  superficial,  in 
rergent  fibres,  or  crystallized  in  rectangular  four- 
led  tables,  cubes,  or  four-sided  prisms.  Crystab  ag- 
egated }  smooth  ;  strei^ked  longitudinally  j  resplen- 
i^t )  internal  lustre  shining,  between  adamantine  and 
ariy  \  fracture  foliated. 

Colour  snow  white,  yellowish  white,  or  grayish  j 
inslucent;  soft^  brittle. 

Ckem.  CAflr.-.*Cry8tals  decrepitate  before  the  blow- 
pe,  but  in  powder  is  easily  fusible. 
Const.  Parts.f'^WtLS  formerly  supposed  to  be  a  mu- 
site  of  antimony,  but  according  to  Klaproth,  it  is  a 
ire  oxide.  The  white  ore  of  France,  according  to 
auquelin,  .contains, 

Oxide  of  antimony,  86 

/            ■    lead,  a 

Silica,  8 

I-oss,  3 


100 


6.  Species.  Odnic  of  Antimokt. 

f.  Brochant,  ii.  383.     Id,  Kirwan,ii.  252. 

Exter.  CAiKT.'— Massive,  disseminated,  or  in  superjB- 
ftl  crusta,  on-  gray  antimony  \  dull  \  firsusture  earthy. 
Colour  straw  yellow,  or  yellowish  gray  j  soft  \  friable. 
Chem.  £Aar.— -Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe  $  he- 
mes white,  and  emits  white  fumes.  Ito  constituents 
e  unknown. 

LocaiitieSf  &c.<— In  Saxony  and  Hungary,  accom- 
Aying  gray  and  red  antimony,  and  in  the  antimony 
ioe  near  Westerhall,  in  ^he  south  of  Scotland. 


A  L  O  G  Y. 

XII.  COBALT  Gekus. 
X.  Species.  White  Cobalt  Ore. 
Id,  Kirw.  ii.  382.     Id.  Brocb*  ii«  386* 

Exter.  CAor.— -Massive,  disseminated,  reniform,  and 
rarely  crystallized  in  small  four-sided  taUes,  or  in  small 
cubes  or  octahedrons.  Lustre  weakly  shining,  or  shin- 
ing ^  fracture  uneven. 

Colour  tin  white,  but  on  the  surface  variable,  and 
tarnished  ^  streak  shining  j  hard  ;  brittle.  ' 

C^en^  CAffr.-^-Easily  fosibie  before  the  blow-pipe, 
emitting  a  dense  vapour,  with  a  smell  of  arsenic,  and 
leaves  a  white  metallic  globule  y  colours  borax-blpe. 

Locaiitiesj  &c.— Found  in  Norway,  Sweden,  and 
Saxony,  in  beds  of  micaceous  schistus,  along  with  red 
cobalt  ore,  quartz,  and  hornblende.  Its  composition  is 
not  known,  but  supposed  to  be  alloyed  with  some  other 
metals. 

2.  Species.  Gray  Cobalt  Ore. 
Id.  Kirw.  ii.  271.     Id.  Broch.  ii.  388. 

Hxter.  CAor.— Massive,  disseminatad,  reniform,  and 
botryoidal  j  lustre  shining  j  fracture  even. 

Colour  light  steel  gray,  or  tin  white ;  surface  steel 
tarnished  *,  streak  shining ;  semi-hard  4  brittle. 

Chem.  (7Aor.— Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe  3  emitr 
ting  fumes  and  the  smell  of  arsenic. 

Constituent  Parts,    Klaproth. 

Cobalt,  20 

Arsenic,  33 

Iron,  24 

Loss,  23 

100 

It  contains  also  sometimes  nickel  and  silver. 
Localities^  &c.— Found  in  Saxony,  France,  Norway, 
and  Cornwdl  in  England,  with  other  ores  of  cobalt. 

3.  Species.  Shikikg  Cobalt  Ore. 
Id.  Broch.  ii.  390.    Kirw.  ii.  273. 

Exter.  (7Aor.—- Massive,  disseminated,  superficial,  in 
▼arious  imitative  forms,  and  crystallized  in  cubes  and 
octahedrons,  which  are  variously  modified  ;  crystals 
small,  smooth,  and  resplendent,  rarely  drusy}  lustre 
shining ;  fracture  uneven,  radiated,  or  fibrous. 

•  Colour  tin  white,  commonly  grayish,  or  yellowish 
tarnished  \  hard }  brittle.     Spec.  grav.  6.3  to  64. 

Chem.  CAiir.-— Before  the  blow-pipe  it  bums  with  a 
small  white  flame,  and  a  white  vapour,  smelling  strong- 
ly  of  garlic  5  then  blackens,  and  is  almost  infusible  > 
soluble  in  nitric  acid. 

Constituent  Parts  of  crystallized  shining  cobalt  from  ' 
Tunaberg  in  Sweden. 


343 


Metallic 
Orec. 


KlafirgUi. 

TMIMTk 

Cobalt, 

44. 

36.6$ 

Arsenic, 

SS'S 

49. 

Sulphur, 

5 

6.S 

Iron, 

5J66 

Loss, 

3.18 

» 

J00.0 

• 

soo.po 

Hh2 

£ 

Localities'^  " 


344  MINER 

MeuOic        LocaltiieSf  &c«— -ThU  is  the  most  common  ore  of 

Qrra.     cobalt ;  and  it  is  usually  accompanied  by  the   other 

»     -'  ores,  and  sometimes  also  by  vitreous,  red,  and  native 

silver.     It  is  found  in  Bohemia,  Saxony,  Sweden,  and 

Comwall  in  Efigland,  and  usually  in  beds  in  primitive 

mountains. 

I/^rJ^^-This  ore  of  cobalt  is  commonly  wrought  for 
the  purpose  of  employing  it  in  the  preparation  of  the 
fine  blue  colour  known  by  the  name  of  smaiij  which  is 
used  in  the  manufacture  of  porcelain,  glass,  and  u  a 
pigment. 

4.  Species.    Black  Cobalt  Ochrs.  # 

Id,  Broch.  ii.  396.   Kirw.  it.  275.     Hauy,  iv.  214. 

This  is  divided  into  two  subspecies,  friable  and  indu- 
lated. 

Subspecies  I.  Friable  Cobalt  Ochre. 

Exter,  CAor.*«->Composed  of  particles  'which  are 
more  or  less  cohering  ^  stains  a  little. 

Colour  brownish,  bluish,  or  grayish  black  ^  streak 
shining^  feels  meagre.  In  other  characters  it  agrees 
with  the  following* 

Subspeoies  2.    Indurated  Cobalt  Ochre. 

Extcr,  CAar.— -Massive,  disseminated,  in  imitative 
forms,,  or  marked  with  impressions ;  dull,  or  weakly 
glimmering  ^ '  fracture  earthy* 

Colour  bluish  black  ;  streak  shining,  resinous  \  soft ) 
semihard  \  rather  brittle.     Spec.  grav.  2.01  to  2.42. 

Chem.  CAar.-— Before  the  blow-pipe  it  gives  out  an 
arsenical  odour,  but  is  infusible. 

Its  constituent  parts  are  supposed  to  be  oxide  of  co- 
balt, with  some  iron  and  arsenic. 

Localities^  &c.— Both  varieties  are  found  together, 
and  accompanied  by  ores  of  silver,  copper,  iron,  in 
Saxony,  Suabia,  and  the  Tyrol,  as  well  as  in  France 
and  Spain. 

5.  Species.    Brown  Cobalt  Ochre. 

Id,  Broch.  ii.  400. 

£sUr,  £!^ar.— Massive,  or  disseminated  j  always 
doll  \  fracture  earthy ;  streak  shining,  resinous. 

Colour  light  or  «terk  liver  brown  ^  soft,  almost  fri- 
able \  very  easily  frangible. 

Constituent  Porlt.—*  Supposed  to  be  composed  of 
oxide  of  cobalt  and  iron. 

LocaHiies^  &c«^ Found  at  Saalfeld  in  Thuringia, 
in  stratiform  moimtains,  nod  in  Wirtemberg^  in  pri- 
mitive mountains,  accompanied  by  other  varieties  of 
robalt  ochre. 

6.  Species.    Yellow  Cobalt  Ochr£« 
/</•  Kirw.  ii.  277.     Broch*  ii.  401. 

Exter.  C!^r.— Massive,  or  disseminated,  or  adhering 
to  the  surfaces  of  other  minerab  ;  dull }  fracture  earthy  j 
streak  shining,  resinous. 

Colour  dirty  straw  yellow,  or  yellowish  gray  ^  very 
soft  or  friable* 

Ckem,  CAor.— Before  the  blow-pipe  it  gives  out  an 
•dour  of  arsenic,  and  is  infusible*  ^ 

4 


A  LOGY.  Parti 

Its  constituents  are  supposed  to  be  oxide  of  cobalt,  n-nttu 
and  a  little  arsenic. 

Localities^  &c,-*Found  in  the  same  places  with  the 
former,  but  is  rare. 

7*  Species*  Bed  Cobalt  Ochre,  or  Arsemote  of  Oh 

bait.  -^ 

Id.  Kirw.  ii.  278.   Broch.  ii.  Cobalt  ArsetmtS,  ^^yt 
iv.  216. 

This  is  divided  into  two  subspecies  \  earthy  and  ra- 
diated. 

Subspecies  i.  Eartht  Red  Cobalt  Ochre. 

Exter.  Char, — In  thin  superficial  layers,  or  crusts  j 
dull,  or  weakly  glimmering  j  fracture  earthy. 

Colour  peach-blossom  red,  rose  red,  or  reddish  white ; 
streak  a  little  shining  ^  very  soft,  friable* 

Localities^  &c. — Found  in  Bohemia,  Saxony,  France, 
and  Norway. 

Subspecies  2.    Radiated  Red  Cobalt  Ochre,  or 
Cobalt  Bloom f  or  Flowers  of  Cobalt. 

Exter.  CAar.— Massive,  or  disseminated,  rarely  bo« 
tryoidal  or  reniform  ^  often  superficial,  and  in  small  dru- 
sy  cr^rstals,  whose  forms  are  rectangular  four-sided  ta- 
bles, four-sided  prisms,  double  six-sided  pyramids,  with 
different  modifications.  Crystals  small  and  variously 
^g&'^S^^^t  smooth  and  shming,  sometimes  resplen- 
dent 'f  fracture  radiated  j  fragments  wedge-shaped,  or 
splintery. 

Colour  peach  blossom  red,  crimson  red,  or,  Exposed 
to  the  air,  brownish,  grayish,  or  whitish  j  translucent  j 
crystals  semitransparent  y  soft }  brittle. 

Chem.  C^r.— Before  the  blow-pipe  becomes  black- 
ish gray,  giving  out  a  feeble  odour  of  arsenic,  with- 
out any  fumes,  but  is  infusible.  Colours  borax  a  fine 
blue. 

This  species  has  not  been  particularly  analysed^ 
but  is  considered  as  a  compound  of  cobalt  and  arsenic 
acid. 

Localities^  &c.— The  same  as  the  former,  and  alsoia 
Cornwall  in  England,  and  along  with  copper  ores  at 
Alva  in  Scotland. 

8.  Species.    Sulphate  of  Cobalt. 

A  saline  substance  in  astalactitical  form,  of  a  psie 
rose  red  colour  and  translucent,  is  found  at  Herren- 
grund  near  Newsohl  in  Hungary,  which  was  at  first  sop* 
posed  to  be  a  sulphate  of  manganese,  and  afterwards  a 
sulphate  of  cobalt. 

This  substance  has  been  examined  by  Klaproth,  who 
dissolved  it  in  water,  added  an  alkali,  and  obtained  a 
bluish  precipitate,  which  coloured  borax  of  a  beautiful 
sapphire  blue  \  and  with  muriatic  acid  he  obtained  froQk 
it  a  sympathetic  ink. 

XIII.  NICKEL  Gekus. 

I.  Species.  Cofpxrcoloursd  Nickhi. 

Id.  Brochant,  ii.  408.  Stdphurated  Nickel^  Kirw.  ii* 
286.  Nickel  Arsenicalylismy J  iii.  518.  Kupfir* 
nic-A:^/ of  the  Germans. 

Exter.  CAar.— Massive  or  disseminated^rarely  rctico- 

hrtedj 


MINERALOGY. 


ed  $  sbioiogy  or  Weakly  shining  j  fracture  uneven, 
oetimea  iconcheidal  >  fragments  rather  sharp-edged. 
Colour  pale  copper  red,  whitish,  or  grayish }  semi- 
d  ;  brittle.  Spec.  grav.  6.64  to  7*56. 
CAem.  C^or.— Before  the  blow-pipe  it  gives  oat  the 
les  and  odour  of  arsenic  ^  melts  with  difficulty  into  a 
^y  mixed  with  metallic  particles.     Solution  in  acids^ 


»45 


en. 


Consh'tueni  Forts*  Sags* 

Nickel,  75 

Arsenic,  22 

Sulphur,  2 

LosS^  I 


100 


Localities^  &c.— Found  in  veins,  in  primitive  and 
atiform  mountains,  almost  always  accompanied  with 
s  of  cobalt,  and  ofiten  with  rich  silver  ores.  It  is 
nd  in  Bohemia,  Saxonj,  France,  Spain^  and  Corn- 
11  in  England. 

;.  Species.     Nxck£L  Ochr£,  or  Oside  <^  Nickel. 

IGrw.  ii.  283.     Broch.  ii.  411.     Hauy,  iii.  516; 

Exter.  CAcyr.-.^Usua11y  disseminated  and  efflorescent 

ather  minerals  ^  composed  of  friable,  loose,  and  slight- 

igglutinated  particles. 

Colour  apple-green  of  different  shades  ;  stains }  feels 

agre. 

Cnem,  Cilor.— Remains  unchanged  before  the  blow* 

« 'y  colours  borax  yellowish  red,  and  is  insoluble  in 

ric  acid. 

CSmsiituent  Parts.    Lampadlus. 


Oxide  of  nickel, 

"  iron, 
Water, 
Loss, 


67. 
23.2 

_J.3 

100.0 


Localities^  Ac—Found  in  similar  situations  with  the 
^ceding  species. 

XIV.  MANGANESE  Genus. 

Species.  Gray  Ore  of  Manganese,  or  Oxide  of 

Manganese. , 

\  Brochant,  ii.  414.  Id.  Kirwan,  ii.  291.  Id.  Hauy, 
iv.  243. 

This  species  is  divided  into  four  subspecies :  i.  radi« 
;d  ^  2.  foliated  \  3.  compact  \  and,  4.  earthy. 

bspecies  i  Radiated  Grat  Ore  of  Manganese. 

Essen.  ^Aar.-«-G>lours  borax  violet 
Exter.  C^ar..^Mas8ive  or  disseminated,  or  cry8ta)>li-> 
d  in  oblique  four-sided  prisms,  or  in  acicular  prisms 
icicularlygrouped  together ;  the  crystals  are  variously 
>di[ied.  Faces  streaked  longitudinally  \  shining  or  re- 
leodent  \  fracture  radiated  3  fragments  wedge-shapedt 


Colour  steel  gray,  or  iron  black  \  streak  black,  with-   Meul|ic 
out  lustre  ^  stains  ^  soft }  brittle.     Specific  gravity  3.7      Orei. 

to  4.7.  T     -'' 

Constituent  Parts.    Cordier  and  Beaunier*.         •Jour.d^ 

M Mi,  ^ 
Front  France.    Gemany.  Piedmont,  ^o.  Iviii. 


Oxide  of  manganese. 

'83-5 

82. 

86.    . 

Brown  oxide  of  iron. 

2. 

— 

3* 

Carbone, 

.» 

mm 

'•5 

Carbonate  of  lime. 

mm 

7-5 

•# 

Barytes, 

1-5 

3- 

«. 

Silica, 

7-5 

7- 

5- 

Loss, 

S'S 

5 

4.5 

X00.0 

100.0 

209.» 

Of  purw  specimens  1 

>y  Klaproth. 

' 

Oxide  of  manganese. 

99.25 

9^75 

Water, 

•25 

7- 

Loss, 

] 

•5 

] 

.25 

1 00.0 

[  00.00 

Subspecies  2.  Foliated  Gray  Ore  of  Manganese.. 

Exter,  rior.— Found  massive,  disseminated,  or  cry- 
stallized' in  small,  rectangular,  four-sided  tables,  fasci- 
cuiarly  grouped  j  lustre  shining  ^  fracture  foliated. 

Colour  similar  to  the  former  ^  streak  black  and  dull  ^ 
stains  \  soft,  and  brittle.     Spec.  grav.  3.74. 

Subspecies  3.  Compact  Gray  Ore  of  Manganese^ 

Exter.  Char.'-^Maasive  or  disseminated,  in  angular,, 
or  boti^oidal,  or  dendriticiH  forms  ^  lustre  glimmering} 
fracture  uneven,  sometimes  even  or  conchoidal. 

Colour  steel  gray,  or  bluish  black  ^  stains )  semihard,, 
or  soft  y  brittle. 

Const.  Parts — approach  pretty  nearly  to  those  of  the 
radiated  variety. 

Subspecies  4.  Eartht  Grat  Ore  of  Manganese. 

Exter.  C^ir. —-Found  massive,  disseminated,  some^ 
times  superikial  and  dendritical ;  dull ;  sometimes  a 
little  glimmering  ^  fracture  earthy. 
.  Colour  between  jsteel  gray  and  bluish  black  }  stains, 
yery  much  j  very  soft,  often  even  friable  ^  feela 
meagre.    ' 

Constituent  Piirte— supposed  to  be  the  same  as  the 
former,  but  with  a  larger  proportion  of  oxide  of  iron. 

Ckem.  CAar.— Gray  ore  of  manganese  is  infusibln- 
before  the  blow- pipe,  but  becomes  of  a  blackish  brown 
colour ;  gives  a  blue  colour  to  borax. 

Localities^  &c. — All  the  varieties  of  this  species  are 
usually  found  together,  and  chiefly  in  primitive  moun- 
tains. The  earthy  ore  of  manganese  almost  always  ac- 
companies sparry  iron  ore,  and  other  oreK  of  iron.  Man- 
ganese is  found  in  considerable  abundance  in  Saxony,, 
Bohemia,  France,  near  Exeter  in  England,  and  in  A- 
berdeenshire  in  Scotland. 

2.  Species.  Black  Ore  of  Manganese. 

Exter^  (2Aar.— Found  massive^  disseminated,  or  cry- 
stallized 10  small  four-sided  double  pyramids,  arranged 

itt 


Ont, 


2a6  mineralogy. 

MculUo  u)  rows  'y  surface  sbining ;  internal  lustre  weakly  gUm- 
mering ',  fracture  imperfectly  foliated. 

Colour  grajish  black,  and  brownL^h  black ',  streik 
dully  brownish  red  ',  soft  j  brittle. 

LocaiiiieSf  &c«— This  species  is  of  rare  occurrence. 
It  has  been  found  in  Thuringia,  forming  a  crust  on 
gray  ore  of  manganese,  and  dso,  it  is  said,  in  Pied« 
mont. 


found  in  B<rfiemia,  Stxony,  Sweden,  France,  Mid£ag. 
land. 

XVI.  ABSENIC  Genus. 

I.  Species.  Native  Arsenic. 
Id.  Brocb.  ii.  435.    Id.  Kirw.  ii.  255.    Id.  Hany,  ir> 


Parti 


3.  Species.  Bed  Ore  of  Manganese,  or  Carbonate  t/ 

Manganese. 

Exter,  fAar«— 'Massive,  disseminated,  botryoidal,  &c. 
or  crystallized  in  flat  rhomboids,  or  in  very  sroaU  pyra- 
mids or  lenses.  Surface  of  the  crystals  smooth  \  duH, 
jKt  weakly  glimmering  \  fracture  uneven  or  splintery. 

G>]«ur  rose  red,  or  brownish  white  \  translucent  at 
the  edges  *,  semihard  \  brittle.     Spec.  grav.  3.23. 

Chem.  Cibr.— Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe  \  be- 
comes graybh  black,  ;uid  colours  boras  violet  blue,  or 
crimson  red. 


Constituent  farts.    Lampadius. 

48 

2J[ 

49 
•9 


Oxide  of  manganese, 
— — «*  iron, 
.Carbonic. acid. 
Silica, 


100.0 


Localities^  fiic^^This  speoies^  of  mannnese,  which 
is  rare,  is  found  in  Tnuurylvania  at  Ottenbanya,  and 
particularly  at  Nagyag,  where  it  constitutes  part  of  the 
masses  of  an  auriferous  vein,  from  which  the  gold  ore  of 
Nagyag  is  obtained. 

XV.  MOLYBDENA  Genus. 
J.  Species.  Sulphuret  of  Moltbdena. 

Id*  Brocbant,  ii.  432*   Id.  Kirwan,  ii.  322.  Id.  Hauy, 
iv.  289. 

Exter.  CXar«<«-Massive  or  disseminated,  sometimes  in 
plates,  and  rarely  crystallized  in  equal  six-sided  tables  \ 
crystals  small,  imbedded,  the*  lateral  faces  shining  \  in- 
ternal lustre  shining  \  firactore  Ibliated  \  fragments  ra- 
ther blunt-edged,  sometimes  in  plates. 

.  Cdour  lead  gray ;  opaque ;  stains,  and  writes  \  ytrj 
soft,  and  easily  mngible  \  flexible  '.in  ihin  plates,  but 
not  elastic  \  feels  greasy.     Spec  graT*  4*56  to  4.73** 

Chem,.  CAar.^Infusible  before  the  blow*pipe  \  gives 
out  a  sulphureous  smell  >  nitric  acid  eonverts  it  to  a 
white  oj(ide,  which  is  the  molybdic  acid. 


Constituent  Parts. 


Molybdic  acid, 
Balphur, 


100 


Klapfoth. 
60 

40 


100 


Localities^  &c.<^Always  found  in  primitive  moun- 
tains, in  nests  or  nodules,  and  very  commonly  in  the 
neiriibouriiood  of  tin  ores.  It  is  also  accompanied  by 
wolnam,  quartz,  native  arsenic,  andflvor  spar.    It  is 


220. 

Exter.  CAnr.— ^Massive,  disseminated,  in  imitative 
forms,  or  with  impressions.^  surface  roug^  or  granula- 
ted j  dull,  or  weakly  glimmering;  internal  lustre  weak- 
ly sfaininff ;  fracture  uneven,  sometimes  imperfectly  fo* 
hated  ^  fragments  rather  blunt-edged  in  plates. 

Colour  Ught  lead  graVt  tin-white  or  grayish  black 
when  taniished-j  streak  shining  \  semibani ;  very  essily 
frangible.    Spec.  grav.  5.72  to  5.76. 

C^em>  (7Aar.— Melts  readily  ^before  the  blow-pipe, 
riving  out  white  vapour,  with  the.  smell  of  garlic }  tin 
Ibums  with  a*  bluish  flame,  and  is  dissipated,  leaving  cq^ 
4y  a  whitish  powder,  which  is  the  oxide  of  arsenic 

Constituent  Par<«.— Native  arsenic  is  usually  alloyel 
with  a  small  portion  of  iron,  and  sometimes  .also  wito  a 
little  gold  or  silver. 

Localities^  &c— rFound  in  veins  in  primitive  qiood- 
tains,  accompanied  by  ores  of  silver,  lead,  copper,  quartz, 
Ai|d  earthy  spars,  in  Bohemia*  Saxony,  and  Fnmce. 

2.  Species.  Arsenical  Ptrites, 

Id.  Brocb.  ii.  438.     Id.  E^irw.  ii.  256.     Fer  Arteni- 
calf  Hauy,  iv.  $6. 

This  is  divided  into  two  subspecies,  common  .and  ar- 
gentiferous. 

'Subspecies  i.  Common  Arsenkal  Ptrites. 

Exter.  rAor.— Massive,  disseminated,  often  crystsl- 
lized  in  oblique  four-sided  prisms,  acute  octahedroos, 
and  lenses }  the  prisms  being  variously  modified  on  their 
angles,  faces,  and  extremities.  Crystals  small  y  latersl 
faces  smooth,  shinmg }  bevelled  faces  streaked  trsos- 
versely  j  lustre  shining  j  fracture  uneven. 

Colour  silvery  white,  but  usually  tarnished  yellow,  or 
bluish,  and  iridescent  j  hard ;  brittle.      Specific  gmri- 


ty  C-75  ^^  ^'5^* 
Phvs.  Char.—. 

lie. 


By  firiction  gives  out  the  odour  of  gs^ 


Chem.  C&or.— Before  the  blow-pipe  gives  out  a  whiU 
vapour  with  the  odour  of  arsenic,  the  fumes  depositing 
a  white  powder  on  cold  bodies }  a  reddish  brown  mst- 
ter,  whi<$h  is  infusible,  remains. 

Constituent  Parts.i^'Comjooti  of  arsenic,  iron,  sod 
snlphur. 

Subspecies  2*  Argentiferous  Arsenical  PTRirzSi 

Exter.  CAor.— Rarely  massive,  often  dissemiosted, 
and  crystallized  in  small,  acicular,  four-sided  prisstfi 
lustre  shining,  or  weakly  shining  ^  firactore  uneveo. 

Colour  tin-white,  or  silvenr-wbite,  usually  tarnishrd. 

Localities^  Scc^-Arsenicsi  pyrites  is  found  in  Bo- 
hemia,  Saxony,  and  Silesia,  in  veins  of  primitive  Doaa- 
tains,  or  disseminated  in  the  rocks.  ^ 

The  second  variety  is  found  in  similar  plao^,  sod  dil* 
fers  only  finom  the  first,  in  being  combined  with  a  sissl! 
quantity  of  silver,  «which  varies  firom  i  to  10  peroep** 

3.  Spew*^ 


J 


MINERALOGY. 


247 


3.  Species.    Orpimekt. 
1  Kit*  ii.  260.  Id*  Broch.  ii.  444.    Hauy,  iv.  234. 

This  species  is  divided  into  two  subspecies,  yellow  and 
I. 

Subspecies  i.    Yellow  Orpiment. 

Enter  *  CAor.— Massive,  disseminated,  superficial,  and 
rstallized  in  oblique  four^ided  prisms,  bevelled  at 
I  extremity,  or  terminated  by  a  four-sided  pyramid, 
in  acute  octahedrons.  Crystals  small,  and  confusedly 
^regaled ^  surface  smooth;  that  of  the  bevelment 
i  pyramids  finely  streaked  ^  internal  lustre  resplend- 
,  between  resinous  and  adamantine  j  fracture  foliate 
'y  fragments  in  plates. 

Colour  citron-yellow,  golden -yellow,  or  aurora-red ; 
inalocent  j  in  thin  plates,  semitransparent  j  soft  5  flex- 
e  in  thin  plates.  Spec.  grav.  3.31  to  3.45. 
Chem*  (7Aar.F— Gives  out  a  blue  flame  before  the 
>w-pipe,  with  white  vapour,  and  the  smell  of  arsenio 
i  sulphur. 


Sulfur, 


ConHituent  Parts, 

Kirwuu 

84 
16 

100 


Westnunb. 

80 

20 

100 


r,  &c.— Usually  found  in  stratiform  moult- 
ns,  accompanied  by  clay,  quartz,  and  sometimes  by 
1  orpiment,  in  Transylvania,  Hungary,  and  other 


ices. 


Subspecies  2.  Bed  Orpiment. 

Erter.  (7Aar.^BaTely  massive,  usually  disseminated, 
superficial,  and  often  crystallized  in  oblique  four- 
led  prisms,  with  obtuse  lateral  edges,  truncated,  or 
relied  :  crystals  small,  streaked  longitudinally ;  shin- 
l  or  resplendent  j  internal  lustre-shining  between  vi- 
lons  and  resinous  j  fracture  uneven,  or  conchoidal. 
Colour  light  aurora-red,  scarlet-red,  orange  yellow ; 
inslncent  or  semitransparent,  often  opaque;  streak 
mge,  or  citron-yellow ;  very  soft :  Somewhat  brittle. 
ec.  grav.  3.2. 

Chem.  Ti^.— Similar  to  the  former. 
Constituent  Por^f.— According  to  some,  the  same  as 
I  preceding,  but  with  the  addition  of  iron  and  silica, 
th  a  smaller  proportion  of  sulphur. 
Localities^  &c.— Chiefly  found  in  primitive  moun« 
ns,  as  in  Saxony,  Hungary,  France,  and  in  the  neigh- 
Drhood  of  iEtna  and  Vesuvius., 

4.  Species.  Native  Oxide  of  Arsenic. 

'•  Kirw.  ii.  258.    Id.  Broch.  ii.  450.    Id.  Hauy,  iv. 
225. 

Exter,  CAar.— Found  superficial  in  an  earthy  form, 
d  friable,  on  other  minerals  ;  rarely  indurated,  some- 
Bes  botryoidal,  or  crystallized  in  capillary  crystals, 
ry  small  octahedrons,  or  four-sided  tables  j  lustre 
mmering  or  dull  ^  fracture  earthy  or  fibrous. 
Colour    snow-white,    yellowish    white,   reddish    or 


greenish  white  ;  opaque  ^  crystals  translucent  5  soft,  or   MetalUo 
friable.     Spec.  grav.  3.706.  Orei. 

CAem,  CAor.-— Before  the  blow-pipe  it  gives  out  a 
white  fume  and  a  garlic  odour  ^  burns  with  a  blubh 
flame,  and  is  entirely  dissipated  j  soluble  in  water  and 
acids. 

Constituent  Par(#.— This  is  a  pure  oxide  of  arsenic, 
with  an  accidental  mixture  of  earth. 

Localities^  &c.<— A  rare  mineral,  but  is  found  in  small 
quantity,  along  with  native  arsenic,  and  ores  of  cobalt, 
in  Bohemia  and  Hungary.  ■■•^ 

5.  Species.    Pharmacol  ite,  or  Arseniate  of  Lime, 
Id,  Broch.  ii.  523.     Chaux  Arseniatf^  Hauy,  ii.  293. 

Exter,  CAor.^— Found  in  small  capillary  crystals ; 
lustre  glimmering,  silky  \  fracture  fibrous  or  radiated. 

Colour  snow-white  \  translucent  \  yetj  soft.  Specific 
gravity  2.53  to  2.64. 

Chem,  ^Aor. --Soluble  in  nitric  acid  ffith  efferves- 
cence, and  gives  out  the  odour  of  arsenic  before  the 
blow-pipei^ 

Constituent  Parts,    Klaproth. 


Arsenic  acid, 

Lime, 

Water, 


50.54 

25- 
24.46 

IOO.OO* 


Localities^  &c.— Found  in  a  vein  in  primitive  rocks, 
accompanied  by  heavy  spar  and  gypsum,  near  liVittichen 
in  Suabia.     It  has  also  been  found  in  France. 

XVn.  TUNGSTEN  Genus. 

I.  Species.    Wolfram. 

Id.  Kirw.  ii.  316.  Id,  Broch.  ii.  456.    ScAeelin  Per- 
ruginS^  Hauy,  iv.  314.     « 

Exter,  CAor.— Found  massive,  disseminated,  or  cry- 
stallized in  six-sided  prisms,  and  in  rectangular  four- 
sided  tables,  which  are  variously  modified.  Crystals 
not  very  small,  usually  grouped  >  internal  lustre  shin* 
ing  or  resplendent  \  longitudinal  fracture  foliated  }  cross 
fracture  uneven. 

Colour  brownish  black,  or  perfect  blacky  sometimes 
tarnished*,  opaque)  streak  dark  reddish  brown  >  soft> 
brittle.     Spec.  grav.  7.1 1  to  7.33. 

Chem,  CAar."— Before  the  blow-pipe  it  decrepitates, 
but  is  Infusible. 

Constituent  Parts, 
Belhayart.  Wiegleb.  Klaproth.  Vaoquelin. 

Tungstic  acid,  65  35.75  46.9  67. 

Oxide  of  manganese,  22  .    32.  -  6.25 

Oxide  of  iron,  13  ii,  31.2  18. 

Silica,  -  -                 -  i.j 

Loss,  -  21,25  21.9  7.25 


100    100.60      100.00     loo.oa 

Localities^  &c.— -Wolfram,  which  is  a  rare  mineral, 

is  found  in  primitive  mountains,  accompanied  by  quarta, 

and 


Ores 


248  MINER 

BfctaiUo   and  tin  ores,  in  Bohemlaf  France,  and  Cornwall  in 
England. 

2.  Species.      TuNGSTATE  OF  LiME. 

Tungsten^  Kirw.  ii.  314.   I<L  Brock,  iL  453.  Schedm 
Caicaire^  Hauy,  iv.  320. 

Exter.  CAar.— Massive,  dissemimited,  sometimes  cry- 
stallized in  regular  octahedrons,  which  are  sometimes 
slightly  bevelled  on  the  edges  of  the  common  base. 
Crystals  usually  small ;  surface  smooth,  resplendent ; 
bevelled  surface  streaked  transversely ;  internal  lustre 
shining  or  resplendent,  resinous  or  adamantine  j  fractnre 

foliated. 

Colour  grayish  or  yellowish  white  ^  translucent  ^  semi- 
hard ^  brittle.     Spec.  grav.  6.06. 

CAem.  Char, — Before  the  blow-pipe  decrepitates,  and 
loses  its  transparency,  but  ia  infusible.  Reduced  to 
powder,  and  digested  with  nitric  or  muriatic  acid,  it 
leaves  a  citron  yellow  residunm,  which  is  tongstic 
acid. 


A  L  O  G  Y. 


Parti 


"  Constituent  Parts,     Klaproth. 


Oxide  of  tungsten, 
■    iron. 


Lime, 
Silica, 
Loss, 


i-  manganese, 


77-75 

17.6 

3- 
1.65 

100.00 


75-^5 
1.25 

•75 
18,7 

'•5 

100.00 


Localities^  &c.-«This  is  a  rare  mineral,  usually 
found  in  primitive  mountains,  accompanied  by  ores  of 
tin,  some  iron  ores,  quartz,  fluor  spar,  &c.  in  Sweden, 
Saxony,  and  Cornwall  in  England. 

XVIII.  TITANIUM  Genus. 
I.  Species.     Mekachakite. 

Id,  Brochant,  ii.  468.  Id.  Kirwao,  ii.  326.  Hauy,  iv. 

305- 

Exter*  C^ir.— >Found  in  small,  detached,  rounded 
grains;  surface  rough,  or  weakly  glimmering;  lustre 
shining,  semi-metallic ;  fracture  imperfectly  foliated. 

Colour  grayish  or  iron  black;  soft  or  semi-hard; 
brittle.     Spec.  grav.  4.4. 

C^iem,  CAar..— Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe ;  co* 
lours  borax  greenish  brown. 


Constituent  Parts. 

Chencvix. 
Oxide  of  titanioffii  45-25 

m  iron,  51. 


Sili 


ica. 


Oxide  of  manganese, 


3'S 
2.5 


100.00 


Klaproth. 
40 

49 
II 


100 


Lnraiities^  Scc^This  mineral  was  first  discovered  by 
Mr  Gregor,  among  sand,  in  the  bed  of  a  rivulet,  in 
the  valley  of  Menachan  in  Cornwall ;  hence  its  name. 
It  baa  since  been  found  in  the  island  of  Providence,  one 
of  the  Bahamas,  and  at  Botany  Bay  in  New  Hol- 
iaod. 


2.  Species.    Octaheoritc. 

Anatase^  Hauy,  iii.  1 29.    Id.  Brochant,  ii.  548.    Oc 
tahedrite^  Saussure,  Voyages,  j  1901. 

Exter.  £VW.-— Found  only  crystallized,  in  elongated 
octahedrons  with  square  bases,  and  tiiincated  or  sco- 
minated ;  crystals  small  and  imbedded  ;  lateral  faces 
streaked  transversely  ;  lustre  resplendent,  vitreous ; 
fracture  foliated. 

'  Colour  steel  i^ray,  sometimes  light  indigo  blue ;  trans- 
lucent ;  semi-bard  ;  brittle.     Spec.  gr^v.  3.^5. 

Chem.  £!^<ir.— Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe,  hot 
melts  with  borax,  which  it  colours  green,  and  in  cool- 
ing, crystallizes  in  needles. 

Const.  Parts,^^lt  is  chiefly  composed  of  oxide  of  ti« 
tanium. 

Localities^  &c..— Has  been  found  lining  the  cavities 
of  a  vein,  accompanied  by  quartz  and  feldspar,  ia  a 
primitive  rock,  in  Dauphin^  in  France* 

3.  Species.     TiTANITE. 

Id.  Kirwan,  ii.  329.    Le  Ruthile^  Brochant,  ii.  470. 
Titane  OxidS^  luuy,  iv.  2961    Red  Schorl  of  many. 

Exter*  Titer.— -Found  crystallized  in  oblique  foor- 
sided  prisms,  the  lateral  edges  truncated ;  sometimes 
these  crystals  are  double,  being  united  obliquely ;  also 
in  acicular  and  capillary  crystals,  imbedded  and  gronp- 
ed  together  ;  surface  longitudinally  streaked,  shuiog ; 
internal  lustre  shining,  adamantine  ;  fracture  foliated. 

Colour  blood-red  or  reddish  brown  ;  opaque,  or  traos- 
lucent ;  hard ;  brittle.    Spec.  mv.  4.1  to  4.2^. 

Cheni.  (7i^ar.— Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe,  bat 
loses  its  transparency,  and  becomes  gray. 

Const.  Parts*'^Cmnf09eA  chiefly  of  oxide  of  tita- 
nium. 

Localities^  &c.— Found  in  Hungary,  in  gneiss,  and 
imbedded  in  quartz.  It  has  been  found  also  in  Switzer 
land,  Spain,  and  France. 

4.  Species,     NiGRlNE. 

Kirwan,  ii*  331.     Brochant,  ii.  474.     Hauy,  iv.  307. 

Exter.  C7uir.— Disseminated,  sometimes  amorphous, 
often  crystallized  in  oblique  four-sided  prisms,  variously 
modified  by  truncations  and  bevelroents.  Surface  smooth; 
lustre  shining,  or  resplendent,  between  resinous  and  vi- 
treous ;  fracture  foliated. 

Colour  dark  brownish  black,  yellowish  white  or  vio- 
let brown  ;  opaque,  or  translucent ;  semi-hard.  Spec, 
grav.  3.51  to  4.6. 

Chtni,  (rAar,.»Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe* 


Constituent  Parts. 

Klaproth. 


Abilipwrl 


Oxide  of  titanium. 

Silica, 

Lime, 


33 
35 
3a 

100 


58 

22 

20 

100 


'I 

18 

100 


Localities^  &c.— Found  in  Bavaria,  and  at  Arendal 

in  Norway. 

5.  Species. 


MINERALOGY. 

5.  Sjwcles.    BaowN  Ore  or  Titanidu. 


H9 


TUb  species  in  its  cburmcten  so  netriy  resembles  tbe 
eeediDg,  that  it  maj  be  considered  merely  as  a  varie- 
f  as  has  been  dkme  bjr  Brochant  and  Hauy. 


6. 


ISERIKE. 


JEf.  Brocbanty  iL  478. 

Exitr,  £%ar.—- Found  in  rmmded  or  angnlar  grains, 
ring  a  rough  and  fHimmering  surface;  internally 
taing;  fiseture  condoidal. 
Colour  iron  black,  or  brownish )  hard;  brittle.  Spec* 

Ckm.  CAoTii-^Mclts  before  tbe  Uo w-pipe  into  a  dark 
iwnslag. 


ComtUuaU  ParU.    Klaprolb* 

Oxide  of  titanium, 
■  iron, 

-uraniom, 


59-1 

X0.1 

.6 


IOO.O 


Locaiitits^  &o«— Found  in  the  sand  of  a  river  in  Bo« 
nia,  called  JseTf  whence  the  name  is  deriTcd* 

XIX.    URANIUM  Genus. 

1/ Species.    PrrcHT  Ore  of  Uranium. 

.  Brochant,  ii.  460.    Kirw.  ii.  305.     Hauy,  ir. 
x8o. 

Exter.  rAfwv-^&KassiTe,  disseminated,  sometimea 

Inlar  \  shining  or  glimmering }  fracture  imperfectly 

lehoidai  j  fragments  rather  sharp-edged. 

Colour  velvet  black,  iron  black,  or  bluish,  some- 

les  steel-tarnished;    streak  black;   opaque;    semi^ 

rd ;  brittle.     Spec.  grav.  6.^  to  ^.j, 

Chem,  CAor.*— Infusible  before  the  blow-pipe  ;  soln- 

le  in  nitric  acid. 

ConftUuent  ParU.    Klaprotb. 


Uranium  a  little  oxidated. 

86.5 

Solpburet  of  lead, 

6. 

Oxide  of  iron, 

2-5 

Silica,. 

5- 

100.0 

localities^  &c»— >Fonnd  in  Bohemia  and  Saxony,  ac- 
npanying  galena,  copper  pyrites,  iron  ochre,  and  some 
«  of  silver  and  cobalt. 

2.  Species.    Micaceous  Uranite. 

.  Brochant,  ii.  463.     Kirwan,  ii.  304. 

Exter,  CAar.— -Sometimes  in  Uiin  layers,  but  often 
stallized  in  rectangular  four-sided  tallies  ;  in  oubes, 
1  six-sided  prisms  variously  modified.  Crystals  small, 
I  grouped  together ;  lustre  shining^  yearly ;  fracture 

ated. 

Vot.  XIV.  Part  L  f 


Colour  emerald  or  grass  green  (nf  various  shades,  lllk^ullie 
rarely  wax  yellow ;  translucent ;  streak  greenish  white  ;     Onrt. 
soft;  not  very  brittle.     Spec.  grav.  3.12.  ,      ^ 

Chefh.  CAor.— &luble,  without  effervescence,  in  nt* 
trie  acid,  which  it  colours  citron  yellow. 

ConsU  ParU^^Thla  species  is  an  oxide  ^fuxanluil^ 
with  a  small  portion  of  copper. 

Zoe06V»v,&o.<»Fonndin  Saxony,  Fraote,  and  Cora- 
wall  in  England,  accompanied  by  aome  -oiFes  of  iron, 
aometinies  1^  cobalt. 

3.  Species.    Uravite  Ochrx. 
Id.  Broch.  ii.  4(6.    ItL  Kirw.  li.  303. 

Exter.  CAar.^-»Found  massive,  but  usually  dissemi- 
nated, or  Mpcr6cial;  is  dull,  or  rarely  shinrag  ;  fimc- 
ture  earthy,  or  foliated ;  fragmenCs  bkiiit-edged. 

Colour  citron  yellow,  anrora  nod, -or  sulphur  yellowy 
opaque ;  soft  and  friaUo ;  brittle 5  stains  a  little^  feels 
meagre.    Spec.  ^rav.  3.15  to  3.24. 

Ctmttituent  Par/».— Composed  of  oxide  of  uranium, 
with  a  portion  of  iron. 

LocaiMes^  &c.— Found  in  similar  places  with  tlie 
former. 

XX.  TELLUSIUM  Gekvs. 

z.  Species.    Nativs  Teixueium. 

Id.  Broch.  iL  480.    Sylvafdtef  Kirw.  ii.  314.    Hauy, 
iv.325, 

Exter.  Cftar.— Massive  or  <dissemias(ted  ;  shining^ 
firacture  foliated. 

Colour  between  tin  and  silvery  whiter  soft  5  not  very 
brittle.    Spec.  grav.  5.7  to  6.)r. 

Chan.  £!6ar.— Melts  easily  before  <the  Uow-pipo. 

CongUhtsHt  Parts.    Klaprotb. 

Tellurium,  92.6 

7.* 


Iron, 
Cold, 


.a 


S00.0 


Localities^  &C.— Has  been  only  found  at  Fatzebi^ 
in  Transylvania,  where  it  exists  in  veins,  in  mountains 
of  gray  wacken  and  transition  limestone.  The  ore  is 
duff  out  for  the  purpose  of  extracting  the  gold. 

It  was  called  auntm  paradoxum^  and  aurumprohlcy 
moHeum^  because  its  external  appearance  did  not  indl* 
cate  that  it  contained  gold. 

2.  Speeies.    Graphic  Oitz  of  Tellurium. 
Id.  Brock,  ii.  462.    Hauy.  iv.  327. 

Exter*  G&ar.— Massive  and  crystallized  in  4at  four 
er  six-sided  prisms,  which  are  arranged  in  rows,  ex- 
hibiting something  of  the  appearance  of  written  diai>» 
racters,  and  iience  the  name  graphic  ore.  Surfaced 
smooth,  shining  i  iotigitndinal  fimture  foliated  and  re- 
splendent 5  cross  ficactnre  uneven* 

Cdonr  tn  vrffile,  yelkmisht  or  lead  gray ;  soft  and 
brittle.    Spec,  grav,  5.72. 

Chan*  £%ar«— Bums  with  a  greenish  flame  before 
tie  bl<m-j»ipe. 

14  -Comttluent 


450 


Metallic 

ores. 


(hnstiHtent  Parts, 
Tellurium, 
Gold, 
Silvcr,^ 


M  I  N  E  B 

Klaprotb. 
60 

10 

100 


A  L  O  G  Y. 


Part  I 


LoeaiiUeSf  &c--^Has  only  Veen  found  at  Ofienbanya 
in  Transylvania,  in  veins  traversing  por^yry  and  gra- 
nular limestone  accompanied  by  iron  pyrites  and  copper 
ore.     It  is  wrought  for  the  sake  of  the  gold. 

3.  Species.  Yellow  Ore  of  Tellurium. 
Id.  Broch»'ii.  484.     Hauy,.  iv.  327. 

Exter.  C4ar.— -Disseminated,  and  crystallized  in  small 
four-sided  prisms ;  shining,  or  weakly  shining ;  fracture 
foliated  y  cross  fracture  uneven. 

Colour  silver  white,  brass  yellow,  or  gray. 

C/iem,  CAor.— Soluble  in  nitric  acid. 


Constituent  Parts, 

Klaprot 

Tellurium, 
Gold, 
Lead, 
Silver, 

44-75 
26.75 

19.5 

8.5 

Sulphur, 

•5 

100.00 

.    Localities^  &c.— ^oond  only  at  Nagyag  in  Transyl- 
vania. 

4.  Species.  Black  or  Foli atep  Or£  of  Tellurium* 
Id,  Broch.  iL  486.     Hauy,^iv.  327. 

Exter.  Ci^.«^Found  in  plates,  wbich  are  united  in- 
to masses,  or  disseminated,  rarely  Aystallized  in  six- 
sided  tables  \  surface  smooth,  -  shining  \  external  lustre 
resplendent  ^  fracture  foliated. 

Colour  between  lead  g/ay  and  iron  black  ^  stains  5 
soft  'j  flexible  in  thin  plates.     Spec.  grav.  8.91. 

Chem,  C^or.r— Before  the  blow.-pipe  the  sulphur  and 
tellurium  are  dissipated  in  white  fumes,  and  a  metallic 
globule  remains,  surrounded  by  a  blacklslag. 

C(utstituent  Parts.    Kbiproth* 

Tellurium,  55. 

Lead,  50. 
Gold,  8.5  • 

Siver  and  copper^  i. 

Sulphur,  7^5 


100.0 


LocaiitieSf  &€.<— Found  only  in  the  sapse  place  with 
the  preceding. . 

XXL    CHROMIUM  G£Kus. 

I.  Species.  N|xdl£  Ore  of  Chromium. 

Exter,  CAar.-— Found  ia  small  crystals,  which  are 
imbedded  i  lustre  shining  *,  fracture  uneven  or  concboi- 
dal. 


Colour  steel  gray,  and  usually  covered  with  a  greeush  tUcs. 
efflorescence  y  soft,  or  semihara  5  not  very  brittle.  doi. 

Constituent  Parts.^^Tbk  is  supposed  to  be  an  sUoy  of 
chromiuin. 

Exter,  Char.  &c.^-Found  in  the  gold  mine  of  Ru4< 
nick  near  Schlangenberg  in  Suabia,  ina  matrix  of  white 
quartz,  containing  gold  and  j;alena. 

2.  Species.   OcHRX  OF  CHROMnm. 

txter,  CAar.-^Massive,  disseminated,  and  in  diio 
plates  \  dull  \  fracture  uneven  or  earthy. 

Colour  verdigris  green,  or  yellowish  ;  8of^. 

Localities^  &c.— Found  only  in  the  same  place,  ac- 
6ompanyiog  the  former. 

Tlie  chromates  of  lead  and  iron  have  been  abeadj 
described  among  the  ores  of  those  metals. 

XXII.  COLUMBIUM  Genus. 

Exter,  (?^ir.— -Massive  \  fracture  vneveii,  or  foliated  > 
lustre  shining. 

Colour  dark  gray  y  opaque  y  not  very  hard  \  brittle. 
Spec.  grav.  5.918. 

Constituent  Parts. 
Oxide  of  columbium,     78 


Loss, 


iron,  21 

X 

100 


Localities^  &cr— This  nuneral,  of  which  the  (miy 
specimen  known  is  in  the  British  Museum,  was  broaglit 
from  Massachussets  in  Ameqca ;  it  was  analyzed  bj 
Mr  Hatchett,  and  found  to  contain  a  new  metid,  vbich 
lie  denominated  cokfmbium* 

XXIII.  TANTALIUM  Gekus. 

Two  species  of  this  mineral  have  been  diacoveR^) 
tantalite,  and  yttrio-tantalite. 

It  Species.   Tantaute. 

Ester,  (TAffr.— -Crystallized  in  octahedrons  i  swdt^ 
smooth  y  fracture  compact. 

Colour  bluish  gray,  or  blac^k.     Spec.  gra^>  7*95* 

Constituent  Porto.— ^Composed  of  tantsdiuro,  iron,aD^ 
manganese. 

Localities^  &c.— Found  in  Finland,  in  globular  pieces, 
in  a  vein  of  red  feldspar,  traversing  a  gneiss  rock. 

2.  Species.  Yttiuo-Tantalite. 

Exter,  CAar.—rDisseminated,  in  pieces  of  the  sizcoi 
a  nut  y  fracture  even  ^  lustre  metallic. 

Colour  dark  gray  ; .  may  be  scratched  with  a  kmie ; 
powder  gray»     Spec.  grav.  5.13. 

Constituent  Parto.^— Composed  of  iron,  maogaoes^ 
tantalium,  and  the  new  earth  yttria. . 

Localities^  &c. — Found  at  Ytterby  in  Sweden,  in  w 
same  place  with  gadolinite. 

These  minerals  were  analyzed  by  £ckeberg»  who  As- 
covered  in  them  the  new  metal  tantalium,  which  ^ 
now  supposed  to  be  the  same  with  columbiam.      ^^. 


XXIV.  CESIUM  Gekus. 

I.  Species.    Cerite. 

!jr#er.  C%ar««^Found  maBsive  or  dissemiiMited }  lustre 
ilj  glimdwriDg }  fmcfcnre  fine  gnaned,  even, 
oloor   pale  Tose  red  ^  opaque ;  powder  grayiah } 
tches  glaM.    Spec  grav.  4.5  to  4.9. 
ftevn.  Ckan^^hkfoaSie  before   the  blow-pipOi  and 
not  colour  borax. 


MINERALOGY.  251 

Exier.  CkaTk'^FwmA  massiTe  ^  sliimng,  Titreous  5  Metallic 
fracture  oonchoidal.  Oret. 

Colour  velvet  black,  or  brownish   black  j   opaqfue  5         »    -^ 
faatd^  scratches  quartz  $  brittle.     Spec,  gra v.  4.04. 

Cktm,  ^.Aor.— Reduced  to  powder,  and  heated  in 
diluted  nitric  acid,  it  is  converted  into  a  thick  yel- 
lowish gray  jelly.  Before  the  blow-pipe  it  decrepit 
tates  and  biscooies  whitish  red,  but  remains  infusible.  ' 


Constituent  Parts» 


ter  and  carbonic  acid, 


▼anqaelin. 

67. 

•01 

.0% 

.12 

15.84 

XOO.OO 


Klaprolb. 

54-5 
4- 
34- 

5- 

IOO.O 


sGcatitieSf  &c— This  mineral  has  been  found  in  the 
per  mines  of  Bastnaes,  at  Biddarhytta,  in  Sweden, 
>mpanied   by  copper,  molybdena,   bismuth,   mica, 
hornblende. 

'he  new  metal  contained  in  this  mineral  was  dis- 
3red  by  Hisinger  and  Berzelius,  chemists  at  Stock- 


tu 


APPENDIX. 


•     IX.  YTTBIAN  Genus. 
ToJbUow  Shrmium  Crenus^  p.  209* 

Species.  GADoLiNtrE. 

Brochant,  ii.  512.    Id*  Hauy,  iii.  141. 


Constituent  Parts* 


Eckeberg. 

47-5 
25.. 

4-i 
18. 


Vaaqnelin. 
35- 

2. 

25. 
2. 
10.5 


Yttrla, 

Silica, 

Lime, 

Alumina, 

Oxide  of  iron, 

■     ■   -         manganese. 

Water  and  carbonic  acid. 

Loss,  5. 

100.0 

Loca&'ttes,  &o.— -This  mineHtl  was  examined  by  Pro- 
fessor Gadolin  of  Sweden,  whose  name  it  bears,  and 
found  to  contain  a  peculiar  earth.  It  was  found  neai" 
Ytterby  in  Sweden,  and  hence  the  neW  earth  was  call- 
ed Yttfid. 


IOO.O 


Klaprot^ 

59-7i 

2I.2J 

•5 

»7-5 

•5 
•5 

100.00 


The 
treatise 

render 
part  of 
readers 
stones 
duction 


unavoidable  length  to  which  the  first  part  of  this 
has  extended,  and  some  other  circumstances^ 

it  necessary  for  us  to  introduce  in  a  different 
the  work,  what  we  propose  to  lay  before  our 
in  the  second  part  relative  to  the  analysis  of 

and  metallurgical  operations.  See  Ores,  Rc" 
ofy  and  Stones,  Analysts  of. 


EXPLANATION  of  the  PLATES. 


Plate  CCCLL 

ig.  X.  Represents  the  goniometer  or  graphodieter, 
nstrument  invented  by  Carangeau  for  measuring  the 
ies  of  crystals.  MTN  is  a  graduated  semicirde  of 
»  or  silver,  furnished  with  tWo  arms  or  rulers  AB, 
,  one  of  which,  FG,  has  a  slit  from  a  to  R,  except** 
the  cross  bar  at  K,  which  strengthens  the  instru- 
it.  This  arm  is  fixed  to  a  brass  ruler  at  R  and  « 
%d  behind,  and  which  makes  part  of  the  semicircle. . 
t  arm'FG  is  connected  with  the  ruler  behind  by  nails 
ch  enter  the  slit  and  are  furnished  with  nuts.  The 
sr  arm  has  also  a  slit  or  opening  &om  x  to  c,  where 
s  fixed  to  the  first  by  the  screw  nail  which  passes 
Dugfa  both.  By  slackening  the  screws,  the  two  parts 
r  and  c  B  may  be  shortened  at  pleasure.  The  arm 
I  being  only  fixed  at  c,  which  is  the  centre  of  the 
ile,  moves  round  this  centre,  while  the  arm  GF  re- 
ins constantly  fixed  in  the  direction  of  the  diameter 
ch  passes  through  the  points  o  and  180^.  The  np- 
part  of  the  arm  AB  should  be  brought  to  a  thin 
e  from  ss  to  «,  and  the  line  of  this  fdge  should  pass 
lagh  the  centre  c;  because  it  is  by  this  edge  that  the  ' 


measure  of  the  angle  on  the  graduated  circumference  is 
indicated. 

To  discover  the  measure  of  any  angle  of  a  crystal^ 
the  two  arras  c  B,  c  G  are  brought  into  contact  with  the 
sides  containing  the  angle,  and  the  degree  indicated  by 
the  line  %s  on  the  circumference  denotes  the  measure 
of  that  angle.     The  instrument  is  so  contrived  that  the 
arms  -may  be  shortened  for  the  convenience  of  applying 
it  in  difierent  cases.    But  it  might  happen  that  it  could 
not  be  applied  in  cases  where  the  crystals  are  aggregat- 
ed or  attached  to  the  matrix.    This  difficulty  is  obviated 
hj  another  contrivance.     The  semicircle  is  furnished 
with  a  hinge  at  90**,  by  which  means  it  may  be  dimi- 
nished at  pleasure  to  a  quadrant,  by  folding  back  one 
half.     There  is  a  small  bar  of  steel,  one  end  of  which 
is  fixed  behind  the  immoveable  arm  FG,  and  the  othef 
is  attached  by  a  notch  and  screw  nail  at  O.     When 
this  nail  is  unscrewed,  the  bar  tf  O  falls  behind  the  ruler 
which  supports  FG,  and  thus  one  half  of  the  semicircle 
folds  back,  and  any  angle  not  exceeding  90®  may  be 
measured  J  but  when  the  angle  is  greater,  it  must  be  re- 
pljiced. 

Fig4  2.  is  an  apparatus^by  which  small  degrees  of 

I  i  2  electricity 


l^5.*  MINER 

F^xpUum-  f'^dciviciiy  may  tie  oUcrvetl-irr  minerals.  A  is  «  small 
tiap  of  the  Lra99  needle  with  knobs  a  b^  and  nioveaUe  cm  the  pivot 
^^^^**-  .  at  the  middle..  Tlla  miner^  ivliose  electrieitj  is  to  be 
triedf  is  rublied.on'Siik  or  wooUeD,  and  then  presented 
|p  one  o£-  tbe  knobs  \  andi  b j  tbe  distance  at  which  the 
koob  begins  to  be  attracted,  the  strength  of  the  electri* 
«ity  may  be,  in  some  degree,  estimated.  In  the  same 
tvay  substanees  which  become  electric  bj  heat,  such  as 
tbe  tourmaline^  are  to  be  tried  j  the  same  apparatus  may 
be  employed.  To  ascertain  in  what  part  of  the  mi- 
neral tlie  different  electricities  exist,  take  a  sdck  of 
sealing  wax,  at  the  extremity  of  which  a  silk  thread  haa 
been,  attached,  and  having  rubbed  the  wax,  bring  alter- 
nately the  opposite  extremities  of  the  substance,  for  ex- 
ample, each  of  the  summits  of  a  tourmaline,  within  a 
email  distance  of  the  silk  thread.  If  the  extremity  which 
IS  brought  near  the  thread  possess  negative  electricity^ 
the  thread  will  be  repelled  ^  on  the  contrary,  it  will  be 
attracted.  Or  the  experiment  may  be  made  in  another 
way,  particularly  when  the  electrical  body  is  small,  or 
its  electricity  feeble.  At  B,  fig.  2.  the  tourmaline  t  if 
i^  held  by  a  pair  of  pincers  in  such  a  wuy  that  the  pole 
f  if  at  a  smsll  distance  from  the  knob  a  of  the  needle. 
C  r  is  the  stick  of  wax,  one  of  whose  extremities  is  placed 
on  a  tube  of  glass  Ui<,  and  wliich  acts  by  its  extremity  C, 
oQ  the  knob  a,  to  excite  in  it  positive  electricity.  In 
tjiis  case  Uie  wax,  after  the  extremity  which  has  been 
rubbed  is  placed  in  the  position  described,  communi- 
cates to  tbe  knob  of  tbe  needle  to  which  it  is  present- 
ed, an  electricity  contrary  to  its  own  \  so  that  the  ex- 
tremity of  tbe  tourmaline  acted  on  by  positive  electri- 
city^ repels  the  needle  to  which  it  is  presented,  and  the 
other  extremity^  possessing  negative  electricity,  attracts 
tbe  needle* 

Fig*  3*  is  a  spirit  of  wine  blow-pipe,  nearly  oo  the 
g||an  of  Uiat  invented  by  Mr  Paul.  It  is  made  of  brass, 
aiUd  consists  oC.thc  following  parts. 

a  Is  a  hollow  oval  frame  about  five  inches  in  its 
longest  dimension,  which  supports  the  pillar  d  and  the 
two  lamps  &r,  which  may  bum  either  oil  or  alcohol, 
but  the  latter  is  the  best^  llie  rim  ee  slips  upon  the 
pillar  d  as  low  as  the  shoulder  of  the  latter  will  permit, 
but  the  rim  may  be  raised  at  pleasure  and  kept  fast  by 
the  screw  peg^  Tbe  rim  supports  the  boiler  ^,  which 
is  a  single  hollow  piece  of  thick  brass  containing 
about  an  ounce  of  alcohol,  and  has  four  openings,  viz. 
three  at  top  h^  t,  A:,  and  one  at  bottom  to  receive  the 
tube  0.  This  latter  is  Ions  enough  to  reach  the  level 
of  the  outside  of  the  top  of  the  boiler,  and  consequent- 
ly the  alcohol  within  the  boiler  cannot  readily  boil 
over  iuCb  the  tube,  and  the  opening  k  which  corres- 
ponds with  it,  is  closely  shut  by  a  screw  stopper,  hol- 
lowed out  a  little  beneath,  to  allow  the  free  passage  of 
the  vapour  down  the  tnbe.  Here  tbe  vaporized  alcohol 
is  preveoted  from  condensing  at  the  point  o  by  the  con- 
tiguity of  the  flame  of  the  lamp  &,  and  as  it  passes  on 
through  the  hollow  pq  into  the  jet  tube  r,  it  is  imme- 
4iately  kindled  by  the  flame  of  the  lamp  c,  and  the 
united  flames  are  compelled  sideways  with  such  vio- 
lence as  to  form  a  long  pencil  of  blue  flame,  attended 
with  a  considerable  roaring  noise.  This  continues  as 
long  as  any  alcohol  is.  left  in  the  boiler,  which  allows 
^mple  time  for  most  blow-pipe  operations.  The  boiler 
iftJUed  at  th?  opening  h.    The  centre  hole  t  19  mcely 


A  L  O  G  Y.  Parti 

fitted  with  a  small  brass  plug  kept  down  Ly  s  tlitn  slip  x^ 
of  iron  /,  the  other  end  ra  which  slips  over  the  top  of  tMrfili 
the  upright  pillar  </,  and  is  confined  between  tuo  flat  JJ^ 
screw-plates  m  n.  The  use  of  this  is  as  a  n&tj  nWe^**^ 
to  take  away  all  danger  of  the  loiler  bsvstiog by  tlie 
confined  vapour  not  being  able  to  escape  fiut  enn^ 
throngh  the  jet-pipe  r,  for  when  the  intenal  pressme  is 
great,  the  elasticity  of  the.  iron  spring  /  aBsws  tbenlw 
t  to  rise  sofllciently  to  let  out  part  of  the  eodsied  n- 
poor.  Tbe  screw  stoppers  A  and  k  are  made  still  tigkt- 
er  by  collars  of  leather,  as  is  the  part  where  tbe  tabe » 
joins  the  boiler.  The  jet-pipe  r  has  a  complete  rots- 
tory  motion,  so  that  the  flame  may  be  impelWd  m  uy 
direction.  This  is  efiected  by  taming  in  tbe  Ibnn  of  s 
ball  that  part  of  the  pipe  which  is  inclosed  in  tbe  bal* 

Bnt  this  blow-pipe, .  althoogh  an  elegant  pbihwiiilil- 
cal  apparatus,  will  not  be  fomid  to  answer  where  a  mat 
deeree  of  heat  is  required  to  be  kept  up  for  a  conu^- 
abb  time«  Other  contrivances,  therefore,  of  a  simpler 
nature,  haVe  been  proposed  \  and  perhaps  tbe  best  «f 
these  is  the  blow-pipe  which  ia  osed  by  the  movtli. 
The  following  ia  a  description  of  s  blow-pipe  of  tliii 
kind. 

Fig.  4.  represents  this  blow-pipe,  a  Is  a'brtsi  tnlie, 
having  a  circular  enlargement  c,  for  the  purpose  of  ccb> 
densing  the  ntbisture  which  is  blown  from  tbeliW) 
the  smaller  end  d  is  moveable  round  the  centre  r,  so  tut 
any  degree  of  obliquihr  may  be  given  to  tbe  fUsK. 
Fig.  5.  is  a  separate  jet-pipe  with  a  small  opening, 
which  is  screwed  on  the  blow-pipe  at  ^;  and  it  may  be 
convenient  to  have  two  or  three  jet-pipes  of  diffemt 
sizes,  according  as  a  larger  and  more  moderate,  or  » 
smaller  and  more  intense  flame  is  wanted,  i  Is  a  piece 
of  ivory  which  slips  on  the  larger  end,  lor  the  porpose 
of  being  applied  to  the  mouth,  as  being  more  agTc^ 
able. 

The  best  kind  of  flame  for  blowing  through  witb  tbe 
common  blow-pipe  is  a  wax  or  tallow  candle  witb  » 
very  large  wick,  which  should  be  kept  snofled  mo^ 
rately  low,  and  the  wick  turned  a  little  aside  from  tbe 
pipe.  A  spirit  lamp  is  sometimes  used,  which  makes  s 
perfectly  clear  flame  without  smoke,  hot  weakwfaes 
used  in,  this  way.  There  is  a  kind  of  knack  in  bbmisg 
with  the  month,  which  is  not  easily  described,  and  I^ 
quires  a  little  practice  to  be  perfonned  with  ease,  it 
the  flame  must  often  be  kept  for  several  minutes,  the  set 
of  respiration  most  be  carried  on  tbroa|^  the  oostnb 
without  interruption,  and  tbe^tress  of  blowing  mwt  be 
performed  merely  by  compression  of  the  cheeks  upoo  tbe 
air  in  the  mouth. 

The  substance  to  be  heated  ia  placed  eitheroa  s  piece 
of  charcoal  or  a  metallic  support  When  the  fvner 
is  used,  a  laige  close  well-burnt  piece  of  dmrcoslwist 
he  chosen,  a  small  shallow  hole  scooped  out  with  a  ksife, 
and  the  substance  laid  npon  it.  The  charcoal  itself 
kindles  all  round  the  hole,  and  the  hole  is  thus  giadsal* 
ly  enlarged  \  and  the  heat  too  is  kept  np  rooad  the  sob- 
stance  much  more  uniformly  than  when  a  metal  soppsit 
is  used.  At  the  same  time  however  the  chemical  efttt 
produced  by  heated  charcoal  should  not  be  fcrgottes, 
particularly  tbe  reduction  of  metallic  oxides,  aad  tbe 
deoxyeenation  of  the  fixed  acids  %  so  that,  fv  eisoipl^ 
a^small  heap  of  intniom  or  litharge  heated  red-botoa 


MINER 

fal  hy  tfte  tifow-pipp,  is  SfMcdUy  r^ce^to  ti  gib- 
^melallic  lead  j  the  phoBpbates  are  partiaUy  re* 
to  phosphuretfl,  &c. 

ta  leetttllic  aopport,  platina  is  id  geikenti  by  fa^ 
(t  materia).     A  small  spoott  of  thia  metaf^  the 
It  of  which  may  be  stuck  in  a  cork  when  held,  and 
|dl  silver  cop,  the  shank  of  which  is  fixed  into  a 
fen  handle,  may  be  Used  in  fusion^  with  borax  or 
Ine  flaxes.    A  small  forceps  lately  brought  into  use, 
made  entirely  of  two  thin  pieces  of  platina  joined 
tvets,  and  bent,  will  be  useful  itt  holdiaig  any  small 
sabsUnco  in  the  blow<pipe  flame  for  any  hngih  of 
^  without  danger  of  the  points  of  the  Ibrceps  melt- 
and  it  is  also  found  tlmt  this  metal  is  so  mnch 
0  a  coodnctor  of  heat  than  any  other,  that  the  for- 
never  gets  too  hot  fer  the  naked  fingers  to  tonch  at 
bend*. 

ig,  6.  represents  a  portable  pocket  blow^pipe,  in- 

ed  by  Dr  \Vollaston,  and  of  its  actnal  size. .   The 

*ior  tube  is  longer  thsn  the  exterior,  that  it  may  be 

ily  withdrawn;  and  the  upper  edge  of  the  large 

is  tamed  outward,  to  duninish  the  effort  of  the  lips 

isite  for  retaining  it  in  the  month. 

ig.  7.  represents  the  whole  apparatns,  one  half  of 

eal  dimensions,  and  connected  for  use.     The  small 

emity  a  is  placed  obliqnely  at  an  angle  of  about 

\  that  the  flame  impelled  by  it  may  be  carried  to  a 

B  convenient  distance  fi'om  the  eye,  and  thus  an- 

ring  t|ye  purpose  of  a  longer  blow-pipe.    This  oblique 

e  a  is  composed  of  three  parts,  the  largest  of  which 

lade  stronger,  that  it  may  not  be  injured  by  use. 

t  end  is  closed,  and  into  the  other  is  inserted  a  small 

of  wood,  perforated  so  as  to  receive  the  tip  which 

Atended  to  be  occasionally  separated,  for  the  piir- 

I  of  passing  a  fine  needle  into  it,  to  remove  obstmc- 

Plates  CCCLII.  and  CCCLIII. 

*ig.  I.  Diomoju/,— spheroidal,  with  48  convex  fiices.. 
Ig.  2>  Zirron^'^-4he  primitive  form  an  octahedron* 
I  isosoeles  triangles. 

Ig.  3.  Zfrctm,   -rectangular  four-sided  prism  tormL' 
rd  by  a  fouiwsidei  pyramid  set  on  the  lateral  fiuaes. 
*ig.  4.  HvactntA^''^tL  dodecahedron  formed  from  a 
an|pilar  nmr  aided  prism  terminated  by  a  fomvoidcA. 
imid  set  on  the  lateral  edges. 
*ig.  5.  Cftr^A<f^/,*-donble  six-sided  pyramid  flat- 
id,  havinff  the  summits  truncated* 
tg.  6»  ClipyM&ifo,— a  compressed  eight-sided  pcism^. 
linated  by  an  eight-sided  pyramid,  whose  sideis  car- 
ond  to  those  of  the  prism,  and  whose  summit  is 
icated  by  a  convex  surface, 
ig.  f,  Jjtii/^f^'Ae  iprimitive  fonn,  an  oblique  fonr-. 
d  pnsm  with  rhomboidal  bases. 
Ig.  8.  Commonjbrm  ofmigUe^'^tL  short,  eight-sided^ 
psessed  prism,  temunated  by  two  oblique  &ees. 
Iff.  9.  UrtamUe^^m^z  sixrsided  prism  with  two  broad 
mar  narrow  faces^  and"  bevelled. at  the  extreml*- 
» 

ig.  10.  and  If.  otbcr.fiirms  in  which  the  prisms  are 
nnated  byaeveral  obliqoe  faces  with  a  truncated 
rait. 

Ig.  I  xj^esumatif  a  fbor-sided  prism  with  the  edges 
cated,  and  tmninateii  by  finir  obliqae  and  cne  So- 


A  L  O  G  Y.  253 

Fig.  13»-Giirftef,— ^priinitivtf'form,  alrhomboidal  do-  Explsnn- 
dccahcdi  on.  tion  of  the 

Fig.  14.  rrgj>fgo<<Ay/>fgnig^— composed  of  24  faces, .  ^'"te*. 
which  are  equal  and  similar  trapexoids. 

Fig.  15.  Grtngiittf^  six-sided  prism  \Tith  the 
greater  angles  at  each  base  truncated. 

Fig.  16.  Two  crystals  of  the  same  crossing  each  otiiex 
obliquely.    Stamroiitkf  obUtpie  angle^  o{.  Haoy. 

Fig.  17.  £brtfiuft/i9i,-«-twQ  six-sided  pyramids  united 
by  the  bases,  with  the  summits  and  angles  truncated. 

Fig.   l8.  A  six-sided  prism,. having  tlic  alternate- 
angles  at  each  baso  truncated. 

Fig.  19.  7o/Mf!»,r— an  eight-sided  prism  terminated  by. 
an  obtuse  finir-sided  pyramid  at  onn  extremity,  and  by 
a  different  one  at  the  other^ 

Fig*  20.  A  similar  prism  with  six  of  the  terminal 
edges  tmncated.. 

Fig.  22.  Totfn»aZK]mr,<-*>primitive  fiirm,  which  is  an* 
obtuse  rhomboid. 

Fig.  33.  A  nine-sided  prism,  terminated  at  one  ex-> 
tremit^  by  a  six-sided  sumniit,.  and'  by*  a  three-sided 
summit  at  the  other.. 

Fi^.  24i  Same  prism,  with  .a  thneeimd.ai  seven-sided  i 
summit  at  the  extremities. 

Fig.  25.  Axifuie  or  7iiaNn«rslonc,<-*primitive  form, 
which  is  a  rectangular  four-sided  prism,  whose  bases  are 
oblique-angled  parallelograms. 

Fig.  26*  A  secondary  form,  same  prism,  having  the 
alternate  lateral  and  terminal  edscs  truncated. 

Fig.  27.  Rock-crusiai*'    A  dooble  six-sided  pyramid* 
Fig.  28*  A  six-sided  prism,  terminated  at  each  extre- 
mity by  a  six-sided  pyramid,  having  the'  alteniate  an^^- 
gles  at  the  opposite  basea  slightly  truncated* 

Fig.  29.  /V/d!f;p«r,-*thc  primitive  form,  which  is  an . 
obliqne-ani^ed  parallelopipedi) 
^  ^g*.3P.  An.  oblique  ftur-sided  prism. 

Figw  31*  A.  sixrsided.  prism  with  four  of  the  angles 
truncated,  and  the  two  extremitiea  bevelled. 

Fig.  32.  The  same  priam,  with  four. of  the  terminal 
edges  truncated. 

Fig.  33.  An  oblique  fmir-nded  prism,  bevelled  and 
truncated 'at  the- extremities* 

Fig.  34.  CMasioiite^r^ibe  onCer  rhomboid  marked 
with  black  lin^  parallel  to  the  sides  of  the  black  inter- 
nal rhomboid.  ^ 

Fic[.  35,  FolkUed  ZeolUe^  or  AfaAf,)— compressed 
fbur-stded  prism,  terminated  by  a  fonr-eidedsummitjet . 
on  the  lateral  ed^a. 

Fig.,36.  A  six-sided  priJtai  with  two  solid  angles  at« 
each  extremity,  truncated. 

Fig.  37.  CMe  ZeoUte^  or  ilnaikMif,«-the  cabe  with 
all  tlve  solid  angles  tmncated. 

Fig*  38-  CMc  Zeoktfy  or  rAoteitr^-— composed  of  ^ 
three  rhomboids. 

F'S'  39*  Croi9-«40ii^,«-«  double  crystal  compjosed  of .~ 
two  dode^hedrons  crossing  each  other  at  right  angles.. 
Fig.  40.  ^(prnMmdlr,-— primitive  form,  an  obuque  * 
ftur-sided  prism,  whose  base  is  a  rhomboid. 

Fig.  4 1 .  BdsaUieHomBltmde^^-'^  six-sided  prism  ter-  - 
minated  at  one  extremity,  by  foor  trapexoidal  planes ) 
and  at  the  other  by  a  bevelment,  the  planes  of  whicb; 
are  ^tagons. 

Fig.  42.  IVmno&lfir,— an  oblique  four-sided  prism, . 
having  the  acute  angles,  tmncated  and  tezminated  by  a^ 
dihedral  sununit. . 


254 


MINERALOGY. 


Parti 


Tif.  43.  Caleareoas  Spar,  or  Carbonate  tf  Lime^-^ 
tioB  of  the  primitive  form  a  riiomboid. 
Plates.        Yvg^  44.  A  very  obtose  riiomboid. 

Fig.  45.  An  acute  rhomboid. 

Fig.  46.  Ap[iroachiDg  to  the  cube. 

Fig.  47.  DouUe  six-sided  prism,  known  by  the  nam^ 
of  JJog'tooth  9par. 

Fig.  48.  A  six-sided  prism,  terminated  at  each  extre- 
mity by  a  trihedral  summit  whose  hces  are  pentagons. 

Fig.  49.  Alsoa  six-sided  prism  with  trihedral  summits  j 
but  the  bases  of  the  terminal  pentagons  are  enlarged  in 
consequence  of  the  inclination  of  the  lateral  faces. 

Fig"*  5O9  5I9  52.  Other  forms  of  calcareous  spar. 

Fig*  S3'  Sulphaie  ^Ztm^,— primitive  form. 

Figs.  54,  ss*  Common  forms. 

Fig.  56.  &dphaie  ofBarytes^^    primitive  form. 

Figs*  57,  58,  59.  Common  forms  of  sulphate  of  ba* 
rytcs. 

Fig.  60.  Suiphate  (A  StronttteSf~~jinBa&re  form. 

Fig.  6f.  Common  lorm* 

Fig.  6l.  Borate  of  Soda^^  primitive  form. 

Fig.  63.  One  of  tJbe  common  forms. 

Big.  64.  Carbonate  of  iSbd!ti,-*primitive  form,  aH  a- 
cute  octahedron. 

Fig*  ^5*  One  of  the  common  forms,  having  two 
angles  at  the  base  tnmcated. 


Fig.  66.  M/m^^Pota«^«-primitive  forai,  a  icct-  Ciphii. 
angular  octahedron.  ^'^  ^^ 

Figs.  67,  68.  Common  forms.  ^^*^ 

Fig.  69.  Sulphate  of  Magnesia^  -the  common  foim. 

Fig.  70.  Borate  of  Mattneeia. 

Fig.  71.  iS'tt(pAfii^,-^pnmitive  form. 

Fig.  72.  Common  form. 

Fig.  73.  Mercuryj  Native  Amalgam^ 

Fig.  74*  Cinnabar, 

Figs.  75,  76,  27.  Bed  saver  Ore. 

Figs.  78,  79,  00,  81,  82.  Crystals  of  Copper  Ore. 

Figs.  83,  84,  85,  86,  87,  88,  90,  91,  92,  93.  Cri^ 
stale  of  the  Ores  of  Iron. 

Fig.  94.  CarbtrntUe  cfLead* 

Fig.  95.  Sulphate  oj  Lead* 

Figs.  96,  97*  Mdybdateof  Lead, 

Figs.  98,  j^,  lOQ.  Crystals  of  Tin. 

Fig.  xoi.  OMeofZinc. 

Fig.  102.  Sulphuret  of  Zinc* 

Fig.  103.  Sulphuret  of  Antimony. 

Figs.  104,  105.  Crystals  of  Cobalt. 

Fig.  X06.  Manganese. 

Fig.  lo^*  Sulphuret  of  Arsenic. 

Fig.  108.  Td!ft<rfivii»,— ^primitive  fornix 

Fig*  109.  Common  form. 

Figs.  110,  III,  112,  113.  Cry^aUo^ 


INDEX. 


ACAIJTICONE.  See  Pistazite,  p. 
ActynoHte^ 
Adamantine  spar. 
Adhesive  slate, 
Adularia. 
Agaric  mineral, 
AgatCf  varieties  of, 
formation  of, 
AUtm  stone, 
Ahtmuuif  native, 
Ahndnous  schistus, 
ifmofT, 
Amethyst^ 
Amianthus^ 

Analcime.    See  Cubimte^ 
Andahuite^ 
Anhydrite^ 
Antmony^  ores  of^ 
Apatite^ 
ArragonttCf 
Arcifzitef 

ArendaUte.    See  Pistazite, 
Argillaceous  genus, 
Arsenic^  ores  of, 
^sbeetus^ 
Asparagus  stone^ 
AugUe, 
Ase*sUine^ 
Axinite, 
Aasurite^ 

B 
BaryteSf  carbouate  of, 


61 

96 

u 

84 


62 

95 
76 

78 
205 

242,243 

203 

201 

180 

z6i 

181 

246 

194 

203 

^53 

»93 
161 

J  77 
206 


SaryteSf  sulphate  of, 

Barytic  genus, 

Basalt^ 

Beryl, 

Bismuth,  ores  o( 

Bitter  spar. 

Bituminous  marl  slate. 

Black  lead.    See  Gn^Mte* 

Slack  schorl. 

Blende, 

Bole, 

Bolognian  spar, 

Boracite, 

Borax, 

Brown  spar, 

C. 
Calamine, 
Calcareous  genus, 
spar, 
sinter, 
tufi^ 

Calcedony, 

Capillary  salt. 

Camelian, 

Ca(*s  eye, 

Celestine, 

Cerite, 

Cerium,  ores  of, 

Chobasie.    See  CutizitCf 

Chalk, 

Chiastolite.    See  Hollow  spar, 

Chlorite, 

Chromate  of  iron, 


206 

ib. 

188 

240 
202 
203 
216 
s6o 
241 

208 

2X2 

ib. 

20Z 

241 
197 
199 
200 
201 
167 
209 
167 

173 

208 

lb. 
178 
X98 
180 
187 

237 


Chromtum,  ores  of, 

Chrysoberyl, 

Chrysolite, 

Chrysoprase, 

dmoUte, 

Cinnabar.    See  Mercury, 

^%.--«>. 

pipe, 
potters, 

variegated, 

slaty, 

indurated, 

slate, 
Clinkstone.    SeePhonoOe, 
Coal, 

Cobalt,  ores  of, 
Columbium,  ores  of, 
Combustibles,  class  of. 
Copper,  ores  of, 

mines  of. 
Corundum, 
Cross-stone, 
Cryolite, 
Cube  spar, 
Cubisiite, 
Cyanite, 


DathoUte, 
Diamond, 


B. 


mhiM  of, 

metliod  of  Taloiagi 
Diamondt,  oelebnte^^ 
Dgt/re, 

3 


«5« 

191 

2»,ta 
181 

ib. 

i»» 
in 

3431*44 
ap 
ill 

111 
106 

149 

•I 


MlNKRALOGY.  FLATJi  rCC/./ . 


^.l/,/o*«?/™^' ' 


MINKRALOGY. 

Fig.s. 


PLdTE  CCCLH. 

^  tf-  Fig.6. 


MINERALOGV:  P/^TB  CrCLm. 

^g.e^.  Fiff.66.  Fie-6j.  Fig.Sa.  ■    Fiff.6, 


te, 


E. 


F. 


imoD, 
ipacty 


tion  of, 
esof, 
aanafactare  of, 


G, 

ipendiZy 


QSy 

lian. 


p.  202 

185 

»S7 
aio 

158 
178 

ib. 
192 
166 

ib. 

ib. 

lb. 
165 
184 

004 

ib. 

201 

192 

251 

154 

ib. 

lb. 


1J4. 

naiire^ 

210 

ai7 

•f, 

aipi  220 

316 

190 

»J5 

anafiictoxe  of. 

166 

204 

H. 

See  Iron  ores, 

233>  234 

206 

180 

188 

164 

inteiy, 

ib. 

icboidal. 

16s 

I5» 

160 

► 

118 

I. 

171 

ian. 

ib. 

\ 

ib. 

auiy 

ib. 

no. 

ib. 

t 

17a 

ib. 

fmiUf 

181 

of.    See  Pkttim, 

217 

t 

231 

L. 


MINERALOGY. 

Lavot  P'i89 

Laestdite^  177 

Lead^  ores  of,  .  ^37-^^39 


Lepuhlite^ 
Leucite^ 
Limestone^ 
JUthomarga^ 

Lydum  stone. 


M. 


«45i 


Magnenoy  native, 

Magnesum  genus, 

Magnetic  iron  ores, 

Malachite  ore  of  copper. 

Manganese^  ores  of, 

MarbleSf  varieties  of, 

Marl, 

Meoinite, 

Meiamte, 

MeUite^ 

Menachanite^ 

Menilite, 

Mercury,  ores  of, 

Mesotype*     See  Fibrous  ZeoHte, 

Mica, 

Mineral  oil.     See  Petrokum, 

pitch, 

Mineralogy,  history  of,  X  29—- x  3[2 

Minerals,  classification  of,  132 

external  characters  of,  133 

145— M7 
209 

194 

190 

228 


X85 

X98 
100 
182 
X65 

232 
228 
246 
199 

202 

]8i 

154 
2x4 

248 

170 

220,  22X 


186 

213 

ib. 


N. 


table  ofy 
Mountain  hotter, 

cork, 

soap. 
Muriate  of  copper, 

Native  vitrol, . 

alunr, 

Glauber  salt^ 

nitre, 
Natrdite, 
Nephrite, 
Nickel,  ores  of, 
Nigrine, 

Obsidian^ 
Olivine, 
Oolite, 
Opal, 

mines  of, . 

common^ 

wood, 
Orpiment, . 

Osmium,     See  Platina^ 

P. 


2441 


»ne, 


179 

'27 


palladium. 

Pearl^tonef 

Peastone, 

Petroleum^ 

Phonolite, 

Phosphorite, 

Pinite, 

Pisolite, 

Pistazite, 

PitthrStone^ 


See  PktUna^ 


209 
ib. 

210 
ib. 

X77 

'93 

248 

'73 

198 
109 

ib. 
170 

ib. 

247 
217 

217 

*74 

200 

213 
189 
203 
186 
200 
161 
X73 


Plasma, 

Platina,  ore  of, 

Plumbago,     See  Graphite, 

Polishing  slate, 

Porcelain'earth, 

Pot-stone, 

Prase, 

Prehnite, 

Pumice, 

Pyrites,  copper, 

iron, 
Pyrope, 
Pyrophysalite, 


QjuartXf 


Q. 


common, 
rosy  red, 
ferruginous, 

R. 

Rhodium.    See  Platina, 
Rhomb  spar. 
Rock  crystal, 
salt, 

S. 
SahHte, 
Sal  ammoniac. 
Salts,  class  of. 
Sapphire, 
ScapoUte,^ 
SchiUer-stone, 
Schorl, 
Schorlite, 
Schorlous  beryl. 
Sea-froth, 
SelenitCy 
Semi'Opal, 
Serpentine, 
Siliceous  genus, 
Siliceous  schistus. 
Silver  ores. 
Sinter,  calcareous^ 
Slaty  spar, 
Smaragdite, 
Soda, 
Sommtte, 

Specular  iron  ore, 
SpineUe, 
Spodumene, 
Steatites, 
Strontian  genus, 
Strontites,  carbonate  of^ 

sulphate  of, 
Stilbite.     See  Foliated  ZeoUti, 
Sulphur, 
Swine-stone, 

T. 
Talc, 

Tantalium,  ores  of,. 
Tellurium,  ores  of, 
Thumer-stone,    See  Ajpinite, 
Tin,  ores  of. 
Titanium,  ores  of. 
Topaz, 
Ihurmaline^ 


255 

^172 

217 

216 

182 

x86 
164 

»74 
ib. 

226 

231 

^SS 
X58 

X62 
163 

ib. 

ib. 


2x7 

202 
16% 
2x0 

197 

2XZ 


156 

t8o 
»93 

XQO 
ib. 
ib. 

191 

205 
170 

'93 

'65 
222—225 

200 

20Z 

197 

2X1 

i8x 

x8o 
X92 
208 

ib. 

ib 

'75 

.2X2 
202 

194 
250 
249 

i6z 

a39»248 

248 

158 

x6o 

TremolUe^ 


25-6 

.  M I  N  : 

E  R  A  L  0  G  Y. 

Tripoii^ 

•i8j 

WavdHu.    See  Hydntr^iie^ 
Wemeriie.     See  JrctiziU^ 

Ni; 

ZM»r, 

'  Tungsten f  mcB  of, 

347 

Whet%h^^ 

185 

neu^f 

U. 

mtkn^te. 

206 

fibroM8» 

Umber f 

190 

fToffram, 

• 

847 

ndiateid. 

'Vrtoaumf  ores  of. 

249 

Fbm/opal, 

»70 

foluited. 

V. 

WoodsUmBt 

165 

Zmc^  ores  of| 

'Vesimnan. 

''S3 

Y. 

Z^voii, 

W. 

•^•^ 

Fd^Hv  earthy 

190 

ZcysiUf 

■7/iirit^/r, 

\ 

• 

^89 

Yttritm  geans, 

afpcadUz, 

a^i 

» 

M 

I    N 

M    I    N 

Index, 

ft. 
ik 

ik 
k 
241 

"5 
1(1 


l^Iinerm  MINERVA,  or  pALLAS,  In  Pagan  worsbip,  tbe 
J..  U  goddess  of  sciences  and  of  wisdom,  sprung  compltstely 
>  armed  from  Jqpiter^s  brain  :  and  on  the  dij  of  her  na« 

tivitj  it  rained  gold  at  Rhodes.  She  disputed  with 
Neptune  the  honour  of  giving  a  name  to  the  city  of 
Athens ;  when  thej  agreed  that  whosoever  of  them 
should  produce  wliat  was  most  useful  to  mankind, 
should  have  that  advantage.  Neptune,  with  a  stroke 
•of  his  trident,  formed  a  horse  ^  and  Minerva  caused  an 
olive  to  spring  from  the  groond,  which  was  judged  to 
'he  most  useful,  from  its  being  the  s3rmbo]  of  peace. 
Minerva  changed  Arachne  into  a  spidet*,  for  pretend- 
ing to  excel  her  in  making  tapestry.  She  fought  the 
.i^iants ;  favoured  Cadmus,  ill jsses,  and  other  heroes  } 
-and  refused  to  marry  Vulcan,  choosing  rather  to  live 
in  a  state  of  celibacy.  She  also  deprived  Tiresias  of 
sight,  turned  Medosa^s  locks  into  snakes,  and  perform- 
ted  several  other  exploits. 

Minerva  is  usually  represented  by  the  poets,  paint- 
ers atld  sculptors,  completely  armed,  with  a  composed 
but  agreeable  countenance,  bcnuing  a  golden  breastplate, 
a  spear  in  her  right  hand,  an4  her  aegis  or  shield  in  the 
•lefC  on  which  is  represented  Medusa^s  head  encircled 
'with  snakes,  and  her  helmet  was  usually  entwined  with 
•olives. 

Minerva  had  several  temples  both  in  Greece  and 
Italy.  The  usual  victim  offered  her  was  a  white  hei- 
•fer,  never  yoked.  The  animals  sacred  to  her  were  the 
icock,  the  owl,  and  the  basilisk. 

MufERVjB  Castrum^  Ars  Minerva^  Minervium^  or 

Tempium  MinervtPf  in  Ancient  Geography^  a  citadel, 

Item  pie,  and  town  on  the  Ionian  sea,  beyond  Hydrus  \ 

*6een  a  great  way  out  at  sea.     Now  CaHrb^  a  town  of 

Otranto  in  Naples.     £.  Long.  10.  25.  N.  Lat.  46.  8. 

MiNERVM  Pronumiortum^  in  Ancient  Geography^  the 
seat  of  the  Sirens,  a  promontory  in  the  Sinus  Paestanns, 
'the  south  boimdary  of  Campania  on  the  Tuscan  coast ; 
so  called  from  a  temple  of  Minerva  on  it ;  situated  to 
{he  south  of  Surrentum,  add  therefore  called  Surrentivmm 
Now  Capo  del/a  Minerva^  on  the  west  coast  of  Naples, 
«ver  against  tbe  island  Capri. 

MINERVALIA,  in  Roman  antiquity,  festivals  ce* 

kbrated  in  honour  of  MinervA,  in  the  month  of  March  ; 

.   at  which  tiroclhe  scholars  had  a  vacation,  and  usually 

jnade  a  present  to  their  masters,  called  from  this  festival 

Minerval, 

MINGRELIA,  anciently  Colchis,  a  part  of 
Western  Georgia,  in  Asia  5  bounded  on  the  east  by 
Ibttda^  or  Georgia  properly  so  called  |  on  the  west,  by 


the  Eoxine  Sea ;  on  the  south,  by  Armenia,  and  part  y^pA, 
of  Pontus  ^  and  on  the  north,  by  Mount  Caucasoi.      u 

Colchis,  or  Mingrelia,  is  watered  by  a  great  tuuj 
rivers }  as  the  Corax,  the  Hippus,  the  Cyaneus,  the 
Cbaristus,  the  Phasis,' where  the  Aigonants  landed,  the 
Absams,  tbe  Cissa,  and  the  Ophis,  all  emptying  them- 
selves into  the  Euxine  sea.  The  Pbasis  does  not  spxing 
from  the  mountains  in  Armenia,  near  the  sources  of  the 
Euphrates,  the  Araxes,  and  the  Tigris,  as  Strabo,  FIIdjf, 
Ptolemy,  Dionysius,  and  after  them  Arrian,  ReUa^ 
Calmet,  and  Sanson,  have  falsely  asserted  }  but  rises  it 
Mount  Caucasus ;  and  flows  not  from  south  to  north, 
but  from  north  to  south,  as  appears  from  the  ittpof  Cot* 
chis  or  Mingrelia  in  Thevenot*s  collection,  and  the  sc« 
count  which  Sir  John  Chardin  gives  of  that  country. 
This  rirer  forms  in  its  course  a  small  island  called  also 
Ptosis :  whence  the  pheasants,  if  Isidoms  is  to  be  cre- 
dited, were  first  brought  to  Europe,  and  thence  called 
by  tbe  Greeks  PhoiianL  The  other  rivers  of  Colchis 
are  considerable. 

Tbe  whole  kingdom  of  Colchis  was  in  ancient  ttmes 
▼ery  pleasant  and  fruitful,  as  it  is  still  where  duly  col* 
tivated  ;  abounded  in  all  necessaries  of  life  j  and  was 
enriched  with  many  mines  of  gold,  which  gave  occasion 
to  the  fable  of  the  Golden  Fleece  and  the  Argonantic 
expedition,  so  much  celebrated  by  the  ancients. 

Sir  John  Chardin  tells  us,  that  this  country  extends 
above  ioo  miles  in  length  and  60  in  breadth  \  beiag 
not  near  so  extensive  as  the  ancient  Colchis,  which 
reached  from  the  frontiers-  of  Iberia  or  Georgia  Pro- 
per, westward  to  the  Pains  Mseotis :  that  it  is  bean- 
tifully  diversified  with  hills,  mountains,  valleys,  woodi, 
and  plains,  but  badly  cultivated :  that  there  are  all 
the  kinds  of  fruits  which  are  found  in  England,  groa- 
ing  wild,  but  tasteless  and  insipid  for  want  of  cal- 
ture :  that,  if  the  natives  understood  the  art  of  ma- 
king wines,  those  of  this  country  would  be  the  finest 
in  the  world  :  that  there  are  many  rivers  which  have 
their  source  in  Mount  Caucasus,  particulariy  the  Fha- 
sis,  now  called  the  JRione:  that  the  country  abounds 
in  beeves,  hogs,  wild  boars,  stags,  and  other  venison ; 
and  in  paitridges,  pheasants,  and  quails :  that  falcons, 
eagles,  pelicans,  lions,  leopards,  tygers,  wolves,  aod 
jackafs,  breed  on  Mount  Caucasus,  and  sometimes 
greatly  annoy  the  country  :  that  the  people  are  gene- 
rally handsome,  the  men  strong  and  well  made,  and  the 
women  very  beautiful }  ^but  both  sexes  very  vicious  aod 
debauched :  that  they  marry  their  nieces,  aunts,  or 
other  relations^  indifferently  5  and  take  two  or  three 

wives 


M    I    N 


I    257    ] 


M    I    N 


es  if  they  plemse,  and  as  many  concubines  as  they 
I :  that  they  not  only  make  a  common  practice  of 
ing  their  children,  but  even  murder  them,  or  bury 
u  aUve,  when  they  find  it  difEcult  to  bring  them 

tliat  the  common  people  use  a  sort  of  paste,  made 
.  plant  called  gom^  instead  of  bread  \  but  that  of  the 
:er  sort  consists  of  wheat,  barley,  or  rice  :  that  the 
try  have  an  absolute  power  over  their  vassals,  which 
;nds  to  life,  liberty,  and  estate :  that  their  arms  are 

bow  and  arrow,  the  lance,  the  sabre  or  broad- 
rd,  add  the  buckler :  that  they  are  very  nasty,  and 
Hitting  cross-legged  upon  a  carpet,  like  the  Persians^ 
the  poorer  sort  upon  a  mat  or  bench,  in  the  same 
,ure  :  that  the  country  is  tery  thin  of  inhabitants, 
ess  than  1 2,000  being  supposed  to  be  sold  yearly  to 
Turks  and  Persians :  that  the  principal  commodities 
orted  from  it  are,  honey,  wax,  hides,  castor,  martens 
IS,  flax  seed,  thread,  silk,  and  linen  cloth  ^  but  that 
■e  are  no  gold  or  silver  mines  now,  and  very  little 
ley:  that  the  revenue  of  the  prince  or  viceroy 
»anta  to  about  20,000  crowns  per  annum :  that  tho 
ibitants  calls  themselves  Christians ;  but  that  both 
r  and  their  priests  are  altogether  illiterate,  and  igno- 
:  of  the  doctrines  and  precepts  of  Christianity :  that 


their  bishops  are  rich,  have  a  great  number  of  vassals,  Mbgrelk 
and  are  clothed  in  scarlet  and  velvet  \  and  that  their     ,   li 
service  is  according  to  the  rites  of  the  Greek  church,  Mlnl^^'"^^ 
with  a  mixture  of  Judaism  and  Paganism. 

The  cijties  of  most  note  in  this  country  in  ancient 
times  were  Pityus  \  Dioscurias,  or  Dioscorias,  which 
was  so  called  from  Castor  and  Pollux,  two  of  the  Ar- 
gonauts, by  whom  it  is  supposed  to  have  been  found- 
ed, and  who  in  Greek  are  styled  Dioscur(n\  at  present 
known  bj  the  name  of  Savatapoh';  Aea  on  the  Phasis, 
supposed  to  be  the  same  as  Hupolis ;  Phasis^  so  called 
from  the  river  on  which  it  stood  \  Cjta,  at  the  mouth 
of  the  river  Cyaneus,  the  birth  place  of  the  famous 
Medea,  called  from  thence,  by  the  poets,  Cyttets;  Sa- 
racse,  Zadris,  Surium,  Madia,  and  Zolissa.  As  for 
modem  cities,  it  does  not  appear  that  there  are  any 
here  considerable  enough  to  merit  a  description  ^  or^ 
if  there  are,  they  seem  to  be  little,  if  at  all,  known  to 
Europeans. 

MINHO,  a  great  river  in  Spain,  which  taking  its 
rise  in  Galicia,  divides  that  province  from  Portugal^ 
and  falls  into  the  Atlantic  at  Caroinha. 

MINIATURE,  in  a  general  sense,  signifies  repre- 
sentation in  a  small  compass,  or  less  than  the  reality. 


MINIATURE  PAINTJNG, 


DELICATE   kind   of   painting,   consisting   of 

'   little  points  or  dots  j  tisually  done  on  vellum,  ivo- 

or  paper,  with  very  thin,  simple,  water  colours.— 

word  comes  from  the  Latin  niinium^  *'  red  lead  'y* 

beiog  a  colour  much  used  in  this  kind  of  painting* 

French  frequently  call  it  mtgnature^  from  migtion^ 

le,  pretty,*^  on  account  of  its  smallness  and  deli- 

r :  and  it  may  be  ultimately  derived  from  fM«#«f, 

iiall.'' 

liniature  is  distinguished  from  other  kinds  of  paint- 
by  the  smallness  and  delicacy  of  its  figures  and 
tness  of  the  colouring;  on  which  account  it  re« 
tss  to  he  viewed  veiy  near. 

SfeCT»  I.  Of  Drawing  and  Designing. 

0  succeed  in  this  art,  a  man  should  be  perfectly 
led  in  the  art  of  designing  or  drawing :  but  as  most 
pie  who  affect  the  one,  know  little  or  nothing  of 

other,  and  would  have  the  pleasure  of  painting 
wut  giving  themselves  the  trouble  of  learning  to 
go  (which  is  indeed  an  art  that  is  not  acquired 
toot  a  great  deal  of  time,  and  continual  applica- 
X  inventions  have  been  found  out  to  supply  the 
»  of  it ;  by  means  of  which  a  man  designs  or  draws 
lout  knowing  how  to  design, 
.^he  first  is  chalking :  that  is,  if  you  have  a  mind  to 

1  prist  or  design  in  mmialure,  the  backside  of  it, 
mother  paper,  must  be  blackened'  with  small  coal, 

then  robbed  very  hard  with  the  finger  wrapped  in 
»nen  cloth :  afterwards  the  cloth  must  be  lightly 
wn  over  the  side  so  blackened  that  no  black  grains 
f  remain  upon  it  to  soil  the  velhmi  you  would  paint 
n  \  and  tlie  print  or  draught  most  be  fastened  upon 

vellum  with  four  rais,  to  keep  it  from  shiflnig* 
^•L.  XIV.  Part  L  t 


And  if  it  be  another  paper  that  is  blackened,  it  mu>t 
be  pot  between  the  vellum  and  the  print,  or  draught, 
with  the  blackened  side  upon  the  vellum.  Tlien,  with 
a  blunted  pin  or  needle,  you  must  pass  over  the  princi- 
pal lines  or  strokes  of  the  print,  or  draught,  the  con* 
tours,  the  plaits  of  the  drapery,  and  over  every  thing 
else  that  must  be  distinguished  ;  pressing  so  hard,  that 
the  strokes  may  be  fairiy  marked  upon  the  vellum  un- 
derneath. 

Copying  .by  squares  is  another  convenient  method 
for  such  as  are  but  little  skilled  in  the  art  of  designing, 
and  would  copy  pictures,  or  other  things,  that  cannot. 
be  chalkedk  The  method  is  this :  The  piece  must  be 
divided  into  many  equal  parts  by  little  squares,  mark- 
ed ottt  with  charcoal,  if  the  piece  be  clear  and  whitish, 
and  the  black  can  be  fairly  seen  upon  it ;  or  with  white' 
chalk,  if  it  be  too  brown  and  dusky.  After  which,  as 
many  squares  of  equal  dimensions  most  be  made  on 
white  paper,  upon  which  the  piece  must  be  designed ; 
because,  if  tliis  be  done  immediately  upon  vellum,  (as 
one  is  apt  to  miscarry  in  the  first  attempt),  the  vellum 
may  be  soiled  with  false  touches.  But  when  it  is  neatly 
done  upon  paper,  it  must  be  chalked  upon  the  vellum 
in  the  manner  before  described.  TVhen  the  original  and 
the  paper  are  thus  ordered,  observe  what  is  in  each 
square  of  the  piece  to  be  designed  ;  as  a  head,  an  arm, 
a  hand,  and  so  foKh  *,  and  place  it  in  the  correspond- 
ing part  H>f  the  paper.  And  thus  finding  where  to 
place  all  the  parts  of  the  piece,  yon  have  nothing  to 
do  but  to  form  them  'well,  and  to  join  them  toffether. 
By  this  method  you  may  reduce  or  enlarge  a  piece  to 
what  compass  yon  please,  making  the  squares  of  your 
paper  greater  or  less  than  those  of  the  original }  but 
they  must  always  be  of  an  equal  number. 

To  copy  a  picture,  or  other  thing,  in  the  sama  sixe* 

JC  k  ,  and 


2^8 


MINIATURE   PAINTING. 


Sect.  n. 


Drawing  and  proportion,  anotlier  meU^d  is;  to  make  me  of 
A&d  varni^d  paper,  or  of  the  skin  of  a  bog's  bladder,  very 
ycajgning.  tnuisparent,  sucb  as  is  to  be  had  at  tbe  gold-beaters. 
Talc  or  isinglass  will  likewise  do  as  well.  Jjkj  any  one 
of  those  things  upon  your  piece ;  throngfa  it  yon  will 
see  all  the  strokes  and  touches,  which  are  to  be  drawn 
upon  it  with  a  crayon  or  penciL  Then  take  it  off; 
and  fastening  it  under  paper  or  vellum,  set  up  both 
against  the  light  in  the  manner  of  a  window  ;  and  with 
a  crayon,  or  a  silver  needle,  mark  out  upon  the  paper 
or  veilttm  you  have  put  uppermost,  all  tbe  lines  and 
touches  you  shall  see  drawn  upon  the  varnished  paper, 
bladder,  talc,  or  isingbus,  you  have  made  use  of,  and 
which  will  plainly  appear  through  Uus  window. 

After  this  manner,  making  use  of  the  window,  or  of 
gjass  exposed  to  the  light,  you  may  copy  all  sorts  of 

Crints,  0681018,  and  other  pieces  on  paper  or  vellom  ; 
yang  and  uistening  them  under  the  paper  or  veUnm 
upon  which  you  would  draw  them.  And  it  is  a  very 
good  and  a  very  easy  contrivance  for  doing  pieces  of 
the  same  size  and  proportion. 

If  you  have  a  mind  to  make  pieces  look  another  way,, 
there  is  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  turn  them ;  laying 
tbe  printed  or  drawn  side  upon  the  glass,  and  fastening 
tbe  paper  or  vellum  upon  tbe  back  of  it  3  remembering 
to  let  your  lights  fall  on  the  left  side. 

A  good  method  likewise  to  take  a  true  copy  of  a 
picture  in  oil,  is  to  give  a  touch  of  tbe  pencil  upon  all 
tbe  principal  strokes,  with  lake  tempered  with  oil ;  and 
to  clap  upon  tbe  whole  a  paper  of  tbe  same  size :  then 
passing  the  hand  over  it,  tbe  touches  of  the  lake  will 
stick  and  leave  the  design  of  your  piece  expressed  upon 
the  paper,  which  may  be  dialked  like  other  things* 
But  you  must  remember  to  take  off  with  tbe  crumb  of 
bread  what  remains  of  tbe  lake  upon  the  picture  be* 
fore  it  be  dry. 

You  must  likewise  nsake  use  of  pounce,  made  of 
powdered  charcoal  put  in  a  linen  rag ;  with  which  the 
piece  you  would  copy  must  be  rubbed|  after  yon  have 
pricked  all  the  ]^ncipal  strokes  or  touches,  and  fasten- 
ed white  paper  or  vellum  underneath. 

When  tbe  piece  is  marked  out  upon  the  vellam, 
you  most  pass  with  a  pencil  of  very  clear  carmine  over 
all  the  traces,  that  tfiey  may  not  be  effaced  as  yoo 
work :  then  clean  your  vellum  with  the  crumb  of  bread, 
that  no  black  may  remain  upon  it 

The  vellum  must  be  pasted  upon  a  plate  of  brass  or 
wood,  of  tbe  size  yoo  would  make  your  piece,  to  keep  it 
^rm  and  tight.  But  this  pasting  must  be  on  the  edges 
^  your  vellom  only,  and  behind  the  plate,  for  which 
purpose  your  vellum  must  exceed  your  plate  above  an 
inch  on  every  side  }  for  tbe  part  you  paint  upon  must 
never  be  pasted  ^  because  it  would  not  only  give  it  an 
ill  look,  but  yoo  eould  not  take  it  off  if  you  would. 
Cut  off  tUe  little  shags  and  iocks  of  tbe  vellum  ;  and 
wetting  tbe  fair  side  with  a  linen  cloth  dipped  in  water, 
dap  the  other  upon  the  plate  with  a  clean  paper  be- 
tween them :  so  mnch  as  hangs  over  must  be  pasted 
upon  the  back  of  the  plate,  dnjiwing  it  equally  on  all 
sides,  and  hard  enough  to  stretch  it  well. 

Sect.  IL    Of  Id^Unalu 

The  chief  colours  made  use  of  iSnr  painting  in  minia* 
lure  are, 


Venice  and  FkireBoe  lake. 

Rose  pink* 

Vermilion. 

Bed  lead. 

Brown  red. 

Bedorpiment. 

Ultramarine. 

Verditer. 

Indigo. 

Gallstone. 

Yellow  ochie* 

Dutch  pink* 

Oamboge. 

Naples  yellow. 

Pale  mastifxit. 

Deep  yellow  masticot* 

Ivory  black. 

Lamp  black. 

True  Indian  ink. 

Bistre,  or  wood  soot. 

Baw  umber. 

Burnt  nmber. 

Sap  green. 

Verdigris. 

Flake  white. 

Crayons  of  all  colours. 

Gold  and  silver  shells. 

Leaf  gold  and  leaf  silver. 

Tbe  seven  transparent  colours,  which  are  used  where 
writing  is  seen  throu^^  tbe  colour. 

Lake. 
Blue. 
Yellow. 
Liquid  \  Grass-green. 
Dark-green. 
Purple  colour. 
Brown. 

Most  of  these  cokmrs  necessary  for  miniatore  psiot- 
ing  may  easily  be  prepared  by  attending  to  tbe  direc- 
tions given  under  tbe  article  Coloum* Making, 

As  colours  taken  from  earth  and  other  heavy  mat- 
ter are  always  too  coarse  be  they  never  so  well  gronod, 
especially  for  delicate  work,  because  of  a  certain  ssod 
remaining  in  them  \  the  finest  parts  may  be  drawn  oot 
by  diluting  them  with  the  fingier  in  a  cup  of  water. 
When  they  are  weU  steeped,  let  them  settle  a  while : 
then  pour  out  tbe  clearest,  which  will  be  at  t<^  into 
another  vessel.  This  will  bo  the  finest,  and  must  be 
let  Arj  \  and  when  it  is  used,  must  be  dilated  with  gum 
water. 

.  If  you  mix  a  little  of  the  gall  of  an  ox,  a  carp,  w 
an  eel,  particularly  of  the  la^,  in  green,  black,  grajr, 
yellow,  and  brown,  croloars,  it  will  not  only  take  away 
their  greasy  nature,  but  also  give  tbem  a  lustre  andbrigbt- 
ness  they  have  not  of  themselves.  The  gall  of  eels  niiMt 
be  taken  out  wlien  they  are  dcinned,  and  hung  upon  a 
nail  to  dry ;  and  when  you  would  use  it,  it  must  be  di- 
luted with  brandy  \  add  a  little  of  it  mixed  with  the 
colour  yon  have  diluted  already.  This  likewise  makes 
the  colour  stick  better  to  tbe  vellum,  which  it  hardly 
does  when  it  is  greasy ;  meseovei^  this  gall  hiaders  it 
firras  scaling. 

Some 


MINIATURE 

Some  edours  are  made  clearer  by  fire  $  as  yellow, 
ire,  brown  red,  ultranarine,  and  umber :  aU  olberti 
I  darkened  by  it.  Bat  if  yon  beat  tbe  taid  coloiiM 
th  a  sbarp  fire,  tbey  cbange  j  for  the  brown  red  be- 
nee  yellow }  jeflow  oobre  beconee  red  ;  umber  red- 
is  also.  CerosB  by  fire  takes  the  colour  of  citron, 
I  is  often  oalJed  mofliror.  Obscrre,  that  yellow  ochre 
tted,  beeooes  uMire  tender  than  it  was,  and  softer 
A  brown  red.  Likewise  brown  red  beated  becomes 
tor  than  fine  yeHow  oehre.  Both  are  very  proper, 
e  finest  and  truest  ultramarine,  beated  upon  a  red- 
iron,  becomes  more  glittering ;  but  it  wastes,  and 
ioarser  and  harder  to  work  with  in  miniature. 
Ill  these  eoloors  are  diluted  in  little  cups  of  ivory^ 
de  on  purpose,  or  in  sea  shells,  with  water  in  which 
n  arable  and  sugar  candy  are  pot.  For  instance, 
s  gkss  of  water  pot  a  piece  of  gum  as  big  as  a  wal- 
;,  and  half  that  quantity  of  sugarcandy.  This  last 
ders  the  colours  from  scaling  when  they  are  laid  on, 
ick  they  generally  do  when  they  want  it,  or  the  vel- 
1  is  greasy. 

rhis  gum  water  must  be  kept  in  a  neat  bottle  cork- 
',  and  you  never  must  take  any  out  of  it  with  a  pen* 
that  Ins  colour  upon  it,  but  with  a  quill  or  some 
h  thing. 

Some  of  this  water  is  put  in  the  sheH  with  the  co- 
r  you  would  temper,  and  diluted  with  the  finger 
it  be  very  fine.  If  it  be  too  hard,  you  must  let  it 
ten  in  the  shell  with  the  said  water  before  you  dilute 
Afterwards  let  it  dry ;  and  do  thus  with  every  co- 
r,  except  lily-green,  sap-green,  and  gamboge,  which 
5t  be  tempered  with  fiiir  water  only.  But  ultrama* 
s,  lake,  Aid  bistre,  are  to  be  more  gummed  than 
er  eolonrs. 

[f  you  make  use  of  sea  shells,  yon  must  let  them 
fp  two  or  three  days  befonshsnd  in  water:  then 
iose  them  in  boiling  hot  water,  mixed  with  vinegar, 
>rdef  to  carry  off  a  certain  salt,  whieb  otherwise 
:k8  to  them,  and  spoils  the  colours  that  are  put  to 
m. 

Po  know  whether  colours  are  sufficiently  gummed, 
t  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  give  a  sth>ke  of  the  pen- 
upon  your  hand  when  they  are  diluted,  which  dries 
nediately :  if  they  chap  and  scale,  there  is  too  much 
n ;  if  they  rab  out  by  passing  tbe  finger  over  tbera, 
re  is  too  little.  It  may  be  seen  likewise  when  the 
von  are  laid  on  the  vellum,  by  passing  the  finger 
ir  tbem.  If  they  stick  to  it  like  a  powder,  it  is  a 
D  there  is  not  gum  enough,  and  more  most  be  put 
tbe  water  with  which  yon  temper  them :  but  take 
«  yon  do  not  put  too  much ;  for  that  makes  the  co- 
r  extremely  hard  and  dry.  It  may  be  known  Kke- 
ie  by  their  gloeiness  and  brightness :  so  the  more 
y  are  gummed,  the  darker  they  paint ;  and  when 
I  have  a  mind  to  give  a  greater  strength  to  a  colour 
.n  it  has  of  itself,  you  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  give 
I  great  deal  of  gum. 

Provide  yourself  with  an  ivory  pallet,  very  smooth, 
big  as  your  hand  ;  on  one  side  of  which  the  colours 
the  carnation,  or  naked  parts  of  a  picture,  are  to 
ranged  in  the  following  manner.  In  the  middle  put 
rreat  deal  of  white,  pretty  largely  spread  ^  because 
M  the  colour  most  made  use  of:  and  upon  tbe  edge, 
m  the  left  to  the  right,  place  the  following  colours  at 
ittle  distance  from^  tbe  white. 


PAINTING. 

Masticot. 

Dutch  pink. 

Orpiroentto 

Yellow  ochre. 

Green  }  composed  of  verditer,  Dutch  pink,  and 

white,  in  equal  quantities. 
Bhic^  made  of  ultramarine,  indigo,  and  white, 

to  a  great  degree  of  paleness. 
Vermilion. 
Carmine. 
Bistre,  and 
Bla^k. 

On  the  other  side  of  tbe  pallet,  spread  some  white 
in  the  same  manner  as  for  the  carnation.  And  when 
you  have  a  mind  to  paint  draperies,  or  other  things, 
place  near  the  white  the  colour  you  would  make  them 
of,  in  order  to  work,  as  shall  be  shown  hereafter. 

The  use  of  good  pencils  is  a  great  matter.  In  or- 
der to  make  a  good  choice,  wet  them  a  little ;  and  if 
the  hairs  keep  clo3e  together  as  you  turn  them  upon 
the  finger,  and  make  bat  one  point,  they  are  good : 
but  if  they  close  not  together,  but  make  several  points, 
snd  some  are  longer  than  others,  they  are  good  for 
nothing.  When  they  are  too  sharp  pointed,  with  only 
four  or  five  hairs  longer  than  the  rest,  yet  closing  all 
together,  they  are,  notwithstanding,  good^  but  they 
must  be  blunted  with  a  pair  of  scissars,  taking  care  at 
the  same  time  you  do  not  clip  away  too  much.  It  is 
proper  to  have  two  or  three  sorts  of  them  $  tbe  largest 
for  laying  the  grounds  and  dead  colouring,  and  tbe 
smallest  for  finishing. 

To  bring  the  hairs  of  your  pencil  to  join  close  to- 
gether and  make  a  good  point,  you  must  often  put  the 
pencil  just  between  your  lips  when  you  are  at  work  ^ 
moistening  and  pressing  it  close  with  the  tongae,  even 
when  there  is  colour  upon  it }  for  if  there  be  too  much, 
some  of  it  is  taken  off  by  this  means,  and  enough  left 
for  giving  fine  and  equal  touches.  You  need  not  ap- 
prehend tltis  will  do  yon  any  harm.  None  of  the  eo- 
lonrs for  miniature,  except  orpiment,  when  they  are 
prepared,  have  either  ill  taste  or  ill  quality.  This  ex- 
pedient must  especially  be  used  for  dotting,  and  for  fi- 
nishing, particularly  the  naked  parts  of  a  picture,  that 
the  touches  may  be  neat  and  fair,  and  not  too  much 
charged  with  colour.  As  for  draperies  and  other 
things,  as  well  in  dead  colouring  as  m  finishing,  it  is 
sufficient,  in  order  to  make  the  hairs  of  your  pencil 
join  well,  and  to  unload  it  when  it  has  too  much  co- 
lour, to  draw  it  upon  the  edge  of  the  shell,  or  upon 
the  paper  you  must  put  upon  your  work  to  rest  your 
hand  on,  giving  some  strokes  upon  it  before  you  work 
upon  your  piece. 

To  work  well  in  miniature,  you  must  do  it  in  a  room 
that  has  but  one  window,  and  nx  yourself  very  near  it, 
with  a  table  and  desk  almost  as  high  as  tbe  window  ; 
placing  yourself  in  such  a  manner,  that  tbe  light  may 
always  come  in  on  the  left  side,  and  never  forward  or 
on  the  right. 

When  you  would  lay  a  colour  on  all  parts  equally 
strong,  as  for  a  ground,  you  must  make  your  mixtures 
in  shells,  and  pat  in  enough  for  die  thing  you  design 
to  paint;  for  if  there  be  not  enough,  it  is  a  great  chance 
but  the  colour  you  mix  afterwards  is  too  dark  or  too 
light. 

K  k  a  Sect.. 


^59 


Coloars, 


26o 


Of 

Workins 


MINIATURE 

Sect.  III.    Of  Warling. 

m 

After  having  spoke  of  vellumy  peucils,  and  eolours, 
let  as  now  show  bow  tbey  are  to  be  employed.  In  the 
lint  place,  then,  when  you  would  paint  a  piece,  be  it 
carnation,  drapery,  or  any  thing  else*  you  most  begin 
by  dead-colouring  j  that  is  to  say,  by  laying  your  co- 
lours on  with  liberal  strokes  of  tbe  pencil,  in  the 
smoothest  naanner  you  can,  as  tbe  painters  do  in  oil  j 
not  giving  it  all  the  force  it  is  to  have  for  a  finishing  ^ 
that  is,  make  the  lights  a  little  brighter,  and  the  shades 
less  dark,  than  they  ought  to  be  ^  because  in  dotting 
upon  them,  as  you  must  do  after  dead- colouring,  the 
colour  is  always  fortified^  and  would  at  last  be  too 
dark. 

There  are  several  ways  of  dotting  -y  and  every  paiuter 
has  his  own.  Some  make  their  dots  perfectly  round  ^ 
others  make  them  a  little  longish  ;  athers  hatch  by 
little  strokes  that  cross  each  other  every  way,  till  tlict 
work  appears  as  if  it  had  been  wrought  with  dot3. 
This  last  method  is  the  best,  the  boldest^  and.  the  soon- 
i^st  done  :  wherefore  such  as  would  paint  in  miniature 
ought  to  use  it,  and  to  iauce  themselves  from  tlie  first 
to  dot  in  tbe  plump  and  the  soft  way )  that  is  to  say, 
where  the  dots  are  lost,  in  a  manner,  in  the  ground 
upon  which  yon  work,  and.  only  so  much  appears  as  is 
sufficient  to  make  the  work  seem  dotted.  The  hard 
and  the  diry  way  is  quite  tbe  reverse,  and  always  to  be 
avoided.  This  is  done  by  dotting  vdth  a  colour  much 
darker  than  your  ground,  and  when  the  pencil  is  not 
moistened  enoueh  with  the  colour,  which  makes  the 
work  seem  roagn  and  uneven. 

Study  likewise  carefully  to  lose  and  drown  your  co* 
lours  one  in  another,  so  that  it  may  not  appear  where 
they  disjoin^  and  to  this  end,  soften  or  allay  your 
touches  with  colours  that  partake  of  both,  in  such  sort 
that  it  may  not  appear  to  be  your  touches  which  cut 
nod  disjoin  them.  By  the  word  cut^  we  are  to  under- 
stand what  manifestly  separates  and  divides,  and  does 
Dot  run'  in  and  blend  itself  with  the  neighbouring  co- 
lours \  wiiich  is  rarely  practised  but  upon  the  bordezsof 
drapery. 

tVl^en  your  pieces  are  finished,  to  heighten  them  a 
little,  give  them. a  fine  air  ^  that  is  to  say,  give,,  upon 
tbe  extremity  of  the  lights,,  small  touchea  with  a  co- 
lour yet  lighter,,  which  must  be  lost  and  drowned  with 
the  rest. 

When  the  colours  are  dry  upoa  your  pallet  or  in 
your  shells,  in  order  to  use  them  they  must  be  diluted 
with  water*  And  when  you  perceive  they  want  gum,, 
which  is  seen  when  they  easily  rub  off  the  hand  or  the 
vellum  if  you  give  a  tooch  with  them  upon  either,  tbey 
must  be  tempest  with  ffom  water  instead  of  pure  wa- 
ter, till  tbey  are  in  condition. 

There  are  several  sorts  of  grounds  for  pictures  and 
portraitures.  Some  are  wholly  dark,  composed  of 
bistre,  umbce,  and  Cologn  earth,  with,  a  little  black 
and  white  ^  others  more  yellow,  in  which  is  mixed  a 
great  deal  of  ochre  y  others  grayer,  which  partake  of 
indigo.  In  order  to  paint  a  ground,  make  a  wash  of 
tbe  colour  or  mixture  you  would  have  it,  or  according 
to  that  of  the  picture  or  portraiture  you  would  copY.>- 
that  if  to  say,  a  very  light  lay,  in  which  there  is  liardly 
any  thing  but'  water,   in  order  to  soak   the  vellum. 


PAINTING.  Sectm. 

Then  pass  another  lay  over  that,  somewhat  thicker,  and      or 
strike  it  on  .very  smoothly  with  lai^  slrokea  as  qmck /Workiii^. 
AS  you  can,  not  touching  twice  io  the  same  plaoe  belm ' 
it  be  di7  'y  because  the  second  stroke  carries  off  what 
ht»  been  laid  on  at  the  first,  especially  when  you  Iraa 
a  little  too  light  upon  the  pencil. 

Other  dark  grounds  are  likewise  made  of  a  coloor 
a  little  greenish  ',  and  those  are  most  in  use,  and  the  pro* 
perest  to  lay  under  all  sorts  of  figures  and  portraitures) 
because  tliey  make  the  carnation,  or  naked  parts  of  a 
picturt*,  appear  very  fine  'y  are  laid  on  very  easily,  aod 
there  is  no  occasion  to  dot  them,  as  one  is  often  obliged 
to  do  tlie  others,  which  are  rarely  made  smooth  and 
even  at  the  first ',  whereas  in  these  one  seldom  fails  of  ■ 
success  at  tbe  first  bout.  To  make  them,  you  must 
mix  black,  Dutch  pink,  and  white,  all  together :  more 
or  less  of  each  colour,  according  as  you  would  havs 
them  darker  or  lighter.  You  are  to  make  one  lay  rtry 
light,  and  then  a  thicker,  as  of  tbe  first  grounds.  Yon 
may  also  make  them  of  other  colours,  if  you  please } 
but  these  "are  the  most  common. 

When  yon  paint  a  holy,  person  npon  one  of  these 
grounds,  and  would  paint  a  small  glory  rooad  the 
head  of  your  figure,  you  must  not  lay  the  coloor  too 
thick  in  that  part,  or  you  may  even  lay  none  at  all, 
especially  where  this  glory  is  ta  be.  very  bright  ^  but 
lay  for  the  first  time  with  white  and  a  litUe  ochre 
mixed  together,  of  a  sufficient  thickness  ^  and  in  pro- 
portion as  you  go  from  the  place  of  the  bead,  put  a 
little  more  ochre  ^  and  to  make  it  lose  itself,  and  die 
away,  with  the  coloor  of  the  ground,  hatch  with  a  free 
stroke  of  the  pencil,  following  the  round  of  the  glory 
sometimes  with,  the  colour  of  which  it  h  made,  and 
sometimes  with  that  of  the  'ground,  mixiug  a  little 
white  or  ochre  with  the  last  when  it-paintA  too  dark  to 
work  with :  and  do  this  till  one  be  insensibly-  lost  hk 
another,  and  nothing  can  be  seen  to  disjoin  them. 

To  fill  an  entire  ground  with  a  glory,  the  brigfatesi 
part  is  laid  on  with  a  little  oohre  aod  while,  addiog 
more  of  the  first  in  proportion  as  you  come  nearer  tli6 
edges  of  the  picture :  and  when  the  ochre  is  not  strong 
enough  .(fix*  you  must  always  paint  darker  and  darker), 
add  gall  stone,  afterwards  a  little  carmine,  and  lastly, 
bistre.  This  first  laying,  or  dead  colouring,  is  to  be 
made  as  soft  as  possible  'y  that  is  to  say,  let  these,  sha- 
dowings  lose  tliemselves  in  one  another  without  gsp  or 
intersection.  Then  the  way  is  to  dot  upon  them  with 
the  same  colours,  in  order  t^  .drown  the  whole  toge- 
ther^.  which  is  pretty  tedious,  and  a  little  difficult, 
especially  wiien  there  are  doods  of  glory  on  the 
ground.  Their  lights  must  be  fortified  in  proportion, 
as  you  remove  from  tbe  figure,  and  finished  as  the 
rest,  by  dotting  and  rounding  the  clouds }  the  bright 
andtobscore  parts  of  which  must  ran  insensibly  into  one 
aoothen 

For  a  day  sky,  take  ultramarine  and  a  good  deal  of 
white,  and  mix  them  together.  With  this  make  a  lay,, 
as  smooth  as  you  can,  with  a  large  pencil  and  libenl 
strokes,  as  for  grounds  ^  >^pplyiog  it  paler  and  paler* 
as  you  desoend  towards  the  horizon  }  which  must  be 
done  with  vermilion  or  red  lead,  and  with  white  of 
the  same  strength  with  that  where  the  sky  ends,  or 
sometluog  less  ^  making  this  blue  lose  itself  m  the  red, 
which  you  bring  down  to  the  skirts  of  the  earth,  or: 
tops  of  houses  -y  mixing  towards  tbe  end  gall  stsne  aadr 


MINIATURE   PAINTING. 


261 


good  deal  of  wbite,  in  such  a  manner  that  the  mix- 
ire  be  still  paler  thaia  the  forraer«  without  any  visible 
itersectioQ  or  parting  between  all  these  coJours  of  the 

vHnen  there  are  cloods  in  the  sky,  you  may  spare 
le  places  where  they  are  to  be ;  that  is  to  say,  yoa 
eed  not  lay  on  any  blue  there,  bat  form  tbern^  if  they 
re  reddishy  with  vermilion  gall  stone  and  white,  with 
little  indigo  5  and  if  they  are  more  upon  the  black, 
at  la  a  good  deal  of  the  last ;  painting  the  lights 
f  one  and  the  other  with  masticot,  vermilion,  and 
'hite,  more  or  less  ot  any  of  these  colours,  according 

>  the  strength  you  would  give  them,  or  according  to 
lat  of  the  original  you  copy  ^  rounding  tlie  whole  as 
ou  dot }  for  it  is  a  difficult  matter  to  lay  them  very 
nooth  at  the  first  painting :  and  if  the  sky  is  not  even 
nough,  you  must  dot  it  also. 

It  is  at  your  pleasui*e  to  exempt  the  places  of  the 
toDda,  for  you  may  lay  them  upon  the  ground  of  the 
cy ;  heightening  the  bright  parts  by  putting  a  good 
eal  of  white,  and  fortifying  the  shadows  by  using  less* 
*his  is  the  shortest  way. 

A  night  or  stormy  sky,  is  done  with  indigo,  blacky 
od  white,  mixed  together )  which  is  laid«  as  for  a 
ay  sky.  To  this  mixture  must  be  added  ochre,  vermi-^ 
on,  or  brown  red,  for  the  clouds  ^  the  lights  of  which 
re  to  be  of  masticot  or  red .  lead,  and  a  little  white, 
ow  redder,  now  yelloiver,  at  diserotion.  And  when 
.  is  a  tempestuous  sky,  and  lightning  appears  in 
nme  places,  be  it  blue  or  red,  it  is  to  be  done  as  in 

day  sky,  drowning  and  losing  the  whole  togethen 
t  the  first  fonning  or  dead  cc^ouring,  and-  at  the 
aishing. . 

Sect.  IV.  Of  Drapiriei, 

To  paint  a  blue  drapery,  put  ultramarine  near  tho 
'bite  upon  your  pallet  \  and  mix  a  pavt  of  the  one 
ith  the  other,  till  it  makes  a  fine  pale,  and  has  a  body* 
Vitfa  this  mixture  you  must  form  the  brightest  parts  \ 
ad  then  adding  more  ultramarine,  form  such. as  are 
arker  \  and  go  on  after  this  manner  till  you  come  to 
le  deepest  plaits  and.the  thickest  shades, .  where  you 
lost  lay  pure  ultramarine  :  and  all  this  must  be  done 
I  for  a  first  forming  or  dead.colouring  ;.  that  is  to  say^ 
lying  the  colour  on  with  free  strokes  of  the  pencil^ 
et  as  smooth  as  you  can  \  losing  the  lights  in  the  sha-* 
Dws  with. a. colour  neither  so  pale  as  the  light  nor« 

>  dark  as  the  shades.  Then  dot  with,  the  same  colour 
9  in  the  first  forming,  but  a  small  matter  deeper^ 
lat  the  dots  may  be  fairly  seen.  All  the  pasts  must 
e  drowned  one  in  anothop^  and  the  plaits  appear  widi- 
at  intersection*     When  .the  ultraourine  is  not  dark 


There  is  likewise  made  another  red  drapery,  which  Or 
Is  first  drawn  with  vermilion,  mixing  white  with  it  Prapgngi. 
to  dead  colour  the  bright  places,  laying  it  pure  and 
unmixed  for  those  that  are  darker,  aud  adding  car- 
mine for  the  grand  shades.  It  is  finished  afterwards, 
like  other  draperies,  with  the  same  colours.  And  when 
the  carmine  with  the  vermilion  do  not  darken  enough, 
work  with  the  first  alone,  but  only  in  the  deepest  of  the 
shades. 

A  drapery  of  lake  is  made  in  the  same  manner  with 
that  of  carmine  \  mixing  a  good  deal  of  white  with  it 
for  the  bright  places,  and  very  little  for  those  that  are 
dark.  It  is  finished  likewise  with  dotting  >  but  you 
have  nothing  to  do  with  vermilion  in  it. 

Violet  draperies  are  likewise  done  after  this  manner ', 
after  making  &  mixture  of  carmine  and  ultramarine, 
putting  always  white  for  the  bright  parts.  If  yoa 
would  have  your  violet  be  columbine  or  dove  colour, 
there  must  be  more  carmine  than  ultramarine  :  but  i£ 
you  would  have  it  blurr  and  deeper,  put  more  u]tra> 
marine  than  carmine. 

A  drapery  is  made  of  a.  flesh  colour,  beginning 
with  a  lay  made  of  wiiite,  vermilion,  and  very  pale 
lake ;  and  making  the  shades  with  the  same  colours, 
using  less  white-  in  them  This  drapery  must  be  venr 
pale  and-  tender,  because  the  stuff  of  this  colour  is 
thin  and  light  \  and  evea  the  shades  of  it  ought  not  to 
he  deep* 

To  make  a  yellow  drapery,  put  a  lay  of  masticot 
ever  all*,  then  one  of  .gamboge  upon  that, , excepting 
the  brightest  places,,  where  the  masticot  must  be  left, 
entire  *,  the  dead,  colour  with  ochie, .  mixed  with  a 
little  gamboge  and  masticot,  putting  more  or  less  of 
the  last  according  to  the  strength  of  the  shades.  And  ' 
when  these  colours  do  not  darken  enough,  add  gall 
stone*  And  gall  stone  pure  and  unmixed  is  used  fox 
the  tliickest  shades  \  mixing  a  little  bistre  with  it,  i£ 
there  be^  occasion  to  make  them  still  darker.  You 
finish  by  dotting  with  the  same  colours  you  dead-co*. 
loured,  with,  and  losing  the  lights  and  the  shades  in  one, 
another.. 

If  you  put  Naples  yellow,  or  Dutch  pink,  in  lien  of 
masticot  and  gamboge,  you  will  make  another  sort  of  < 
yellow. 

The  green  drapery  is  made  by  a  general  lay  of  ver-- 
diter  \  with  which,  if  you  find  it.  too  blue,  mix  masti- 
cot for  the  lights,  and  gamboge  for  the  shades.  Aflter-t 
wards  add  to  this  mixture  lily-green  or  sap-green,  to. 
shadow  with  \  and  as  the  shadqs  are  thicker,  put  more 
of  these  last  greens,  and  even  work  with  them  pure  and 
unmixed  where  they  are  to  be  extremely  dark.  You 
finish  with  tho-same  colours,  a  little  darker.^ 

By  putting  more^  yellow,  or  more  blue,  in  these  co- 


ooogfa  to  make  the  deeper  shadows,  how  well  soever*    lours,  you  may  make  different  sorts  of  green  as  you 

please* 

To  make  a.  black  drapery,  you  dead  colour  with 
black  and  white,  and  finish  with. the  same  colour,  put- 
ting more  black  as  the  shades  are  thicker  ^  and  for 
the  darkest,  mix  indigo  with  it,,  especially  when  you 
would  have  the  drapery  appear  likevelvet*  You  may 
always  give  some  touches  with  a  brig)iter  colour,  to 
heighten  the  lights  of  any  drapery  whatsoever* 

A  white  woollen  drapery  is  made  by  a  lay  of  white, 
in  which  there  must  be  a  very  small  matter,  of  ochre, 
orpiment,  or  gall  stone,  that  it  may  look  a  little  yel- 
lowish. 


be  gummed,  mix  .a  little  indigo-  with  it  to  finish 
lem.  And  when  the  extremities  of  the  lights  are  not 
right  enough,  heighten  them  with  white  and  a  very 
ttle  ultramarine. 

A  drapery  of  carmine  is  done  in  the  same  manner 
9  the  blue^  except  that  in  the  darkest  places  there 
I  to  be  a  lay  of  pore,  vermilion,  before  you  dead 
olour  with  carmine,  which,  must  be  applied  at  top  ^ 
od  in  the  strongest  shades,  it  must  be  gummed  very 
lucb.    Tiv  deepen  it  the.  more,  mix  a  little  bistre  with 


45^  MINIATURE 

Of  lowuh.  Then  dead-ooloor^  wad  fiobh  the  shaiei  with 
Dnpcilft.  blacy  ft  little  black,  wbtte,  mud  bistre  }  fQttiog  ft  greftt 
'       •  '      deal  of  fbe  last  in  the  darkest. 

The  Ugbt  gray  is  begun  with  black  and  white,  and 
finished  with  the  sftine  celoor  deeper. 

For  ft  blown  drapery,  make  n  lay  of  bistre,  while, 
ftnd  a  little  brown  red  ;  and  shadow  with  this  mixtore, 
made  a  little  darken 

There  ftre  other  draperies  called  variaNe^  becattse 
\he  light)  are  of  a  difllerent  eoloor  from  the  shades. 
These  arc  mostly  used  for  the  vestments  of  angek,  for 
yoong  and  gay  people,  for  scarfs  and  other  airy  attire, 
ftAmitttng  of  a  great  many  folds,  nnd  flowing  at  the 
pleasure  of  the  wind.  The  most  common  are  the 
violets :  of  which  they  make  two  sorts  ^  one,  where 
the  lights  are  blue }  and  the  other,  where  they  are 
yelloiv. 

For  the  first,  put  a  lay  of  oltrai^arine  and  very  pale 
white  upon  the  lights  ^  and  shadow  with  carmine,  ol- 
tramarine,  knd  white,  as  for  a  dra^ry  wholly  violet; 
so  that  only  the  mnd  lights  appear  blue,  i  et  they 
most  be  dotted  with  violet,  in  which  there  is  n  great 
deaf  of  white,  and  lost  insensibly  in  the  shades. 

Tlie  other  is  done  by  putting  upon  the  lights  only, 
instead  of  blue,  a  lav  of  masticot  \  working  the  rest 
as  in  the  draperv  all  violet,  excepting  that  it  must 
be  dotted,  and.  the  light  parts  blended  with  the  sh»» 
dowv,  that  is,  the  yellow  with  the  violet,  with  ft  little 
tfainboge* 

The  catmine  red  is  done  like  the  last ;  that  is,  let 
the  lights  be  done  with  masticot,  and  the  shades  with 
Carmine ;  and  to  lose  the  one  in  the  other,  make  use  of 
^mbog[e* 

The  lake  red  is  done  like  that  of  carmine. 

The  green  is  done  as  the  lake :  always  mixing  -ver* 
diter  with  lily  or  sap  green,  to  make  tbe  shades ;  which 
are  not  very  dark. 

Several  other  sorts  of  draperies  may  be  made  at  dis« 
cretion,  always  taking  care  to  preserve  the  union  of 
the  colours,  not  only  in  one  sort  of  cloth  or  so,  but 
also  in  a  group  of  several  figures  ;  avoiding,  as  much 
as  the  subject  will  allow,  the  potting  of  blue  near  the 
.colour  of  fire,  of  green  against  black  *,  and  so  of  ether 
colours  which  cut  and  disjoin,  and  whose  union  is  not 
kind  enough. 

Several  other  draperies  are  made  of  foul  colours,  as 
brown  red,  bistre,  indigo,  &c.  and  all  in  the  same 
manner.  Likewise  of  other  colours,  simple  and  com- 
pound )  the  agreement  between  which  is  always  to  be 
minded,  that  tbe  mixture  may  produce  nothing  harsh 
and  disagreeable  to  the  eye.  No  certain  rule  can  be 
laid  down  for  this.  The  force  and  effect  of  your  co- 
lours are  only  to  be  known  from*  use  and  experience, 
and  you  must  work  according  to  that  knowledge. 

Lmen  cloths  are  done  thus  :  After  drawing  the 
plaits  or  folds,  as  is  done  in  a  drapery,  put  a  lay 
of  white  over  all  \  then  dead  colour,  and  finish  the 
shades  with  a  mixture  of  ultramarine,  black,  and 
white,  using  more  or  less  of  the  last,  according  to 
their  strength  or  tendemebs  ;  and  in  the  greatest 
deepenings  put  bistre,  mixed  with  a  little  white  ^ 
giving  only  some  touches  of  thin  mixture,  and  even 
^f  pure  bistre,  upon  the  extremities  of  the  greatest 
ahadows,  where  the  folds  must  be  drawn,  and  lost  with 
the  rest. 


PAINTING. 


Sect.  IV. 


They  mny  he  done  in  aaoAer  manner,  by  making  of 
a  general  lay  of  thia  nixtBre  of  nltramftriae,  black,  Dnperin 
and  very  paw  white  $  and  dead  ookmr  (fts  has  been  said 
before)  with  tbe  aame  colour,  but  a  little  deeper.  And 
when  the  shades  nre  dotted  ftsd  finished,  heighten  die 
lights  with  pore  while,  ftad  kwe  them  with  the  deep- 
enings of  the  linen.  Bnt  of  whatever  sort  you  nske 
them,  when  they  are  finished,  you  must  give  a  yellowish 
teint  of  orpimeot  and  white  to  certain  pbices ;  laying  it 
lightly  en,  and  as  it  were  in  water  \  so  tint  what  is 
nnderaeath  may,  notwithstanding,  plainly  appear,  as 
well  the  shadows  as  the  dotting. 

Yellow  linen  doth  is  done  Inr  pntting  a  lay  of  white, 
nixed  with  a  little  oehre.  Then  fimn  and  finish  tbe 
shades  with  bistre*^ mixed  with  white  and  ochre;  and 
in  the  thiokest  shades  nSe  pure  bistre ;  and  before  yo« 
finish,  give  some  teints  here  and  there  of  ochre  and 
white,  and  others  of  white  and  ultramarine,  as  weU 
upon  the  shades  as  the  lights ;  but  let  them  be  very 
bright :  and  drown  the  whole  together  in  dotting,  and 
it  will  look  finely.  As  you  finish,  heighten  the  extre- 
mities of  the  lights  with  masticot  and  white.  You  may 
add  to  this  sort  of  linen,  as  well  as  to  the  white,  cer- 
tain bars  fimm  space  to  space,  as  in  Turkey  mantuas; 
that  is,  small  stripes  blue  and  red  with  ultramarine  and 
earmine  ;  one  of  red  between  two  of  Uue,  very  brisfat 
and  clear  upon  the  lights,  and  deeper  upon  the  shades. 
Virgins  are  pretty  omn  dressed  with  veils  of  thb  sort 
(by  Popish  painters),  and  scarfs  of  this  kind  are  pot 
about  necks  that  are  bare  j  because  they  become  the 
teint  mighty  well. 

If  you  would  have  both  these  sorts  of  linen  transpa- 
rent, and  the  stuff  or  other  thing  that  is  beneath  sp^ 
pear  through  them,  make  the  first  lay  for  them  very 
light  and  clear,  and  mix  in  tbe  colour  to  shadow  with, 
a  little  of  that  which  is  underneath,  especially  towards 
the  end  of  the  shades ;  and  only  do  the  extrrmities  of 
the  lights,  for  tbe  yellow,  with  masticot  and  white; 
and  for  the  white,  with  pore  white. 

They  may  be  done  in  another  manner,  especially 
when  you  would  have  them  altogether  as  clear  as  nni»- 
Kn,  lawn,  or  gauxe.  To  this  end  form  and  finish  what 
is  to  be  beneath,  as  if  nothing  was  to  be  put  over  it 
Then  mark  out  tlie  light  and  clear  folds  with  white  or 
masticot ;  and  a  shadowy  with  bistre  and  white,  or  with 
1)lack,  blue,  and  white,  according  to  the  colour  you 
would  make  them  off ;  making  the  rest  somewhat  faint- 
er :  yet  this  is  not  necessary  but  for  tbe  parts  that  are 
not  to  be  so  clear. 

Crape  is  done  tbe  same  way  3  excepting  that  the 
fdlds  of  the  shades  and  the  lights,  and  the  bordeis  too, 
are  to  be  marked  out  with  little  filaments  of  black  up- 
on what  is  underneath ;  which  is  likewise  to  be  finished 
beforehand. 

When  you  would  make  a  stuff  like  a  watered 
tabby,  make  the  waves  upon  it  with  a  colour  a  lit- 
tle lighter,  or  a  little  darker,  in  the  lights  and  the 
shades. 

Tliere  is  a  manner  of  touching  draperies  which  di- 
stinguishes the  silken  iinom  the  woollen.  The  last  are 
more  terrestrial  and  sensible ;  the  others  more  light 
and  fading.  But  it  must  be  ob^rved,  that  this  is  an 
effect  which  depends  partly  upon  the  stuff  and  partly 
upon  tbe  colour  ^  and  for  the  employing  these  in  a 
manner  suitable  to  the  subjects  and  the  deepenings  of 

paintiagf 


1 


\ 


MINIATURE   PAINTING.- 


ottog,  we  AM  bere  touch  upon  tlioir  diflbient  qoaU* 


I. 


(¥e  bavo  no  colour  which  partakes  more  of  light, 
'  vrhwh  comes  nearer  the  air,  than  white  j  wuch 
ws  it  to  be  fickle  and  fleeting.  It  may,  neverthelese, 
held  and  brought  to  by  some  netgbbouring  co* 
r,  more  heavy  and  sensible,  or  by  mixing  them  toge^ 


r. 


Sloe  18  a  most  fleeting  colour :  and  so  we  see,  that 
sky  and  the  remotest  Tiews  of  a  picture  are  of  this 
»or  }  but  it  will  become  lighter  and  fickler  in  proper- 
1  as  it  is  mixed  with  white. 

Pure  black  is  the  heaviest  and  most  terrestrial  of  all 
MiTS ;  and  the  more  of  it  you  mix  with  others,  the 
irer  you  bring  them  to  the  eye. 
STevertheless,  the  different  dispositions  of  black  and 
ite  make  also  their  effects  different:  for  white  often 
kes  black  disappear,  and  black  brings  white  more 
I  view ;  as  in  the  reflection  of  globes,  or  other  fi- 
■es  to  be  made  round,  where  there  are  always  parts 
C  fly  as  it  were  from  the  eye,  and  deceive  it  by  the 
ft  of  art :  and  under  the  white  are  here  comprehend- 
all  the  light  colours }  as  under  the  black,  all  the 
▼y  colours. 

JItramarine  is  then  soft  and  light* 
!>chre  is  not  so  much  so. 
(f  asticot  is  very  light }  and  so  is  verditer. 
^^ermilion  and  carmine  come  near  this  quality. 
>rptment  and  gamboge  not  so  near. 
Liake  holds  a  certain  mean,  rather  soft  than  rougli. 
[>utch  pink  is  an  indifferent  colour,  easily  taking 
quality  of  others.     So  it  is  made  terrestrial   by 
cing  it  with  colours  that  are  so  ^  and,  on  the  con- 
ry,  the  most  light  and  fleeting  by  joining  il  with 
tc  or  blue. 

3rown  red,  umber,  dark  greens,  and  bistre,  arellte 
viest  and  most  terrestrial,  next  to  black. 
Skilful  painters,  who  understand  perspective,  and 
harmony  of  colours,  always  observe  to  place  the 
k  and  sensible  colours  on '  the  fore  parts  of  their 
turea  ^  and  the  most  light  and  fleeting  they  use  for 
distances  and  remote  views.  And  as  for  the  union 
^oIour^,  the  different  mixtures  that  may  bo  made  of 
m  will  learn  you  the  friendship  or  antipathy  they 
'e  to  one  another.  And  upon  this  you  must  take 
ir  measures  for  placing  them  with  such  agreement 
diall  please  the  eye. 

Por  the  doing  of  lace,  French  points,  or  other  things 
that  nature,  put  over  all  a  lay  of  blue,  black,  and 
ite,  as  for  linen ;  then  heighten  the  flowerwork  with 
'e  white :  afterwards  make  the*  shades  above  with  the 
t  colour,  and  finish  them  with  the  same.  When  they 
!  upon  the  carnation  or  naked  parts  of  a  picture,  or 
>n  any  thing  else  that  you  would  show  through  an^ 
ler,  finish  what  is  beneath,  as  if  nothing  Was  to  be 
t  over  it :  and  mt  top,  make  the  points  or  lace  with 
re  white,  shadowing  and  finishing  them  with  the  other 
xture. 

If  you  would  paint  a  fur,  you  must  begin  with  a  kind 
drapery,  done,  if  it  be  dark,  with  bistre  and  white^ 
iking  the  shadowings  of  the  same  colour,  with  less 
lite.  If  the  for  be  white,  do  it  with  blue,  white, 
d  a  Httle  bistre.  And  when  this  beginning  or  first 
inlng,  is  done,  instead  of  dotting,  draw  smalt  strokes, 
ruing,  now  in  one  nianner,  now  in.  another,  accord* 

4 


iag  to  the  course  and  flatting  of  Che  hair. '  Ueii^teo 
the  lights  of  dark  furs  with  ochre  and  white,  and  of  the 
other  with  white  and  a  little  blue. 
,^  For  doing  a  building,  if  it  be  of  stone,  take  indigo^ 
bistre  and  white,  with  which  make  the  beginning  or 
first  form  of  it  j  and  fiir  shadowing  it,  put  less  of  this 
last  \  and  men  bistre  than  indigo,  according  to  tho  co-> 
lour  of  the  stone  yon  would  paint.  To  these  yon  may 
likewise  add  a  little  ochre,  both  for  the  forming  and 
the  finishing.  But  to  make  it  finer,  you  must  give^ 
here  and  there,  especially  for  old  fabrics,  blue  and 
yellow  teiiits,  some  with  ochre,  others  witii  ultraaaiine, 
mixing  always  white  with  them,  whether  before  the  first 
finrming,  provided  they  appear  through  the  draught,  or 
whether  upon  it,  losing  or  drowning  them  with  the  rest 
when  you  finidi. 

When  the  building  is  of  wood,  as  there  are  many 
sorts,  it  is  done  at  discretion  \  hut  the  most  ordSaarv 
way  is  to  begin  or  first  form  with  ochre,  bietrt,  BOtr 
white,  and  finish  without  white,  or  with  very  little  ; 
and  if  the  shades  are  deep,  with  pore  bistre*  In  the 
other  they  add  sometimes  vermilion,  sometimes  greeik 
or  black  ^  in  a  word,  just  according  to  the  colour  thef^ 
would  give  it  ^  and  they  finish  with  dotting,  as  in  dla^ 
peries  and  every  thing  else* 

Sect;  V.  Of  CarmOknsi  or  the  naked  parts  cf  a. 

Fainting. 

There  are  in  carnation  so  many  diflSKrent  colour^ 
ings,  that  it  would  be  a  diflicnk  thing  to  give  gtneralx 
rules  upoa  so  variable  a  subject.  Nor  are  they  mind^ 
ed,  when  one  has  got,  by  eustom  and  pactaes,  some 
habit  of  working  easily :  and  sueh  as  are  arrived  te 
this  degree,  employ  themselves  in  oqiying  their  ori* 
ginals,.  or  else  they  work  upon  their  ideas,  withent. 
knowing  how:  insomuch  that  the  most  f>kUful,  who 
do  it  with  less  reflection  and  pains  than  ethers,  wonU. 
likewise  he  more  put  to  it  to  give  an  aecount  of  tlleir 
maxims  and  knowledge  in  the  matter  of  paintMig,  if 
they  were  le  be  asked  what  colours  they  made  use  of 
for  sueh  and'  sueh  a  eokooring,  a  teint  here,  and  mothrr. 
there. 

Nevertheless,  as  beghmers  want  seme  instnietion  at 
the  fint,  we  wiU  shew  in  general  after  what  manner  se* 
veral  camationa  are  to  be  done. 

In  the  first  place,  Aiter  having  diswn  yonr  figure 
with  carmine,  and  ordered  your  pieee,  e]^y  fer  wo^ 
men  and  chtldren,  end  ^eneratiy  4or  all  tender  celeur- 
ings,  a  lay  of  white,  nuxed  with  a.  verv  little  of  tiie 
blue  made  for  ihoes,.  of  which  we  have  told  the  €0090* 
sition  \  bat  let  it  hardly  be  seen. 

And  for  men,  instead  of  bine,  they  pat  in  this  first 
lay  a  little  vermilioa  ;  and  when  they  are  oU,  a.  little 
ochre  is  mixed  with  it. 

AfterwMpde  follow  all  the  traces  with  veimBioD^ 
carmine,  and  white,  mixed  together ;  and  begin.  tdL 
the  shades  with  this  mixture,  adding  white  in  pioper- 
tion  as  they  are  weaker  ^  and  pntting  but  little  in  the 
darkest,  and  none,  in  a  manner,  in  certain  places, 
wlore  strong  tenches  are  te  be  given :  for  instanee,  in 
the  comer  w  the  eye  ^  under  the  nose  ;  at  the  eass  ^ 
under  the  ehin  ^  ia  the  separations  of  the  fingces  5  in 
aH  joints  ^  at  the  comers  of  the  nails  *,  and.  generafly 
in  every  part  irhero  yon  would  mack  osit  separatxns 


26$ 
or 


264 


MINIATURE 


O^  in  shmditt  that  mire  ot>8cnre«  Neither  need  joa  fev  Iq 
OitBliiit.  give  to  thew  places  all  the  Ibree  aad  attcngth  thef 
'  '  tmght  to  have  at  soon  as  y  oa  hegin  or  first  form  theniy 

hecftwe  in  working  at  top  with  green,  the  red  you  have 
put  there  is  always  Weakened. 

After  having  begun,  or  fint  formed,  or  dead-ooloor- 
ed»  with  red,  make  blue  teints  with  oltnunarine  and  a 
great  deal  of  white,  upon  the  parts  which  fly  from  the 
eye ;  that  is  to  say,  upon  the  temples  ^  nnder  and  in 
the  comers  of  the  eyes  ^  on  both  sides  the  mouth,  above 
ttttd  below  -f  a  little  upon  the  middle  of  the  forehead^ 
between  the  nose  and  the  eyes }  on  the  side  of  the 
'Ufaeeks  'f  on  the  neck  and  other  places  where  the  flesh 
mssomes  «  bloish  cast.  Yellowish  teints  are  likewtBO 
made  with  ochre  or  orpiment,  and  a  little  rennilion 
mixed  with  white,  under  the  eyebrows,  on  the  sides  of 
the  nose  towards  the  bottom,  a  little  nndemeath  the 
cheeks,  and  npon  the  other  part&  which  rise  and  coow 
«earer  the  eye.  It  is  especially  from  these  teints  that 
the  natural  complexion  is  to  be  observed,  in  order  to 
■xatch  it) 'for  painting  being  an  imitation  of  nature^ 
the  perfection  of  the  art  consists  in  the  justness  and 
simplicity  of  the  representationy-especially  in  face  paint- 

-in^. 

when,  therefore,  yon  have  done  your  first  lay,  your 
dead-colouring,  and  your  teints,  you  must  woik.  upon 
the  shades,  Mtfing  with  green  mr  the  carnations  or 
naked  parts,  mixing,  accinrding  to  the  role  we  have 
ffiven  for  the  teints,  a  little  blue  for  the  parts  which 
if  firom  the  eye  }  and,  on  the  other  -hand,  making  it 
'a  little  yellower  for  those  that  are  more  sensible  >  that 
is  to  say,  which  rise,  and  come  nearer  the  eye :  and 
at  the  end  of  the -shades,  on  the  side  of  the  light,  you 
must  blend  «ud  lose  your  colour  insensibly  in  the 
ground  of  the  -  camatiott  with  blue,  and  then  with  red, 
according  to  the  plaices  where  you  'paint*  If  this  mix- 
ture  of  gix'en  does  not  work  dari^  enough  at  first,  pass 
over  tlie*shades  several  times,  now  with  red,  and  now 
with  green)  alwi^s  dotting :  and  this  do  till  they  are 
as  they  should  be. 

And- if  you  cannot  with  these  colours  rive  the  shades 
ull  the  force  they  ought  to  have,  finish,  m  the  darkest, 
with  biitre  mixed  with  orpiment,  ochre,  or  vermilion, 
uid  sometimes  with  pure  bistre,  according  to  the  co- 
4onring  yon  would  make,  but  lightly,  laying  on  your 
colour  very  clear* 

You  must  dot  upon  the  clear  and  bright  places  with 
•a  little  vermilion  or  carmine,  mixed  with  much  white, 
and  a  very  small*matter  of  ochre,  in  order  to  lose  them 
with  the  ^dowy,  and  to  make  the  teints  die  away  in- 
sensibly into  one  another )  takhis  care,  as  you  dot,  or 
hatch,  to  make  your  strokes  follow  the  turnings  and 
windings  of  the  fleshy  parts.  For  though  the  rule  be 
to  cross  always,  this  dotting  or  hatching  ought  to  ap- 
pear a  little  more  here,  because  it  rounds  the  parts. 
And  as  thb  mixture  might  make  a  colouring  too  red, 
if  it  was  always  to  be  used,  they  work  likewise  in 
every  part,  to  blend  the  teints  and  the  shades  with 
^blue  and  a  little  green,  and  much  white,  so  mixed  as 
to  be  very  pale)  excepting,  nevertheless,  that  this 
colour  must  not  be  pot  upon  the  cheeks,  nor  upon  the 
extremities  of  the  clear  parts,  no  more  than  the  other 
mixture  upon  these  last,  which  must  be  left  with  all 
their  light )  as  certain  places  of  the  chin,  of  the  nose, 
jind  of  the  forehead,  and  upon  the  cheeks )  which,  and 


PAINTING.  SectV. 

the  cheeks,  oogbi  nevertheless  to  be  redder  than  die      or 
rest,  as  well  as  the  feet,  the  hollows  of  the  bands,  and  C«naiMt 
the  fingers  of  both. 

Observe,  that  these  two  last  mixtures  ought  to  be  se 
pale,  that  the  work  ahall  hardly  be  visible )  for  tbej 
serve  only  to  soften  it  4  to  unite  the  teints  with  one 
another,  and  the  shades  with  the  lights,  and  to  drown 
the  traces.  Care  most  likewise  be  taken  that  yon  work 
not  too  mach  with  the  red  mixture  upon  the  blue 
teints,  nor  with  the  blue  upon  the  others)  but 
change  the  colour  from  time  to  time,  when  you  per- 
ceive it  works  too  bhie  or  too  red,  till  the  work  be  fi- 
nished. 

The  white  of  the  eyes  must  be  shadowed  with  tbii 
same  blue,  and  a  little  flesh  colour )  and  the  comeis,  00 
the  side  of  the  nose,  with  vermilion  and  white )  giving 
them  a  little  touch  of  carmine.  The  whole  is  softened 
with  this  mixture  of  vermilion,  carmine,  white,  and  a 
Very  small  matter  of  ochre. 

The  apples  or  balls  of  the  eyes  are  done  with  tLe 
mixture  of  ultramarine  and  white  )  the  last  prevailing 
a  little  )  adding  a  little  bistrs,  if  they  are  yellowish  )  or 
a  little  black,  if  they  are  gray«  Make  the  little  black 
circle  in  the  middle,  called  the  crystal  of  the  eye  ;  and 
shadow  the  balls  with  indigo,  bistre,  or  black,  accord- 
ing to  the  colour  they  are  of )  giving  to  each  a  small 
touch  of  pore  vermilion  round  the  crystal )  which  most 
be  lost  with  the  rest  at  the  finishing.  This  gives  vita- 
city  to  the  eye. 

The  round  or  circumference  of  the  eye  is  done  with 
bistre  and  carmine  )  that  is  to  say,  the  slits  or  partings, 
and  the  eyelids,  when  tbey  are  large  and  bold  )  espe- 
cially tne  upper  ones )  which  must  afteiwards  be  sofi- 
ened  with  the  red  or  blue  mixtures  we  have  mention- 
ed before,  to  the  end  they  may  be  lost  in  one  another, 
and  nothing  seem  intersected.  Wlien  this' is  done,  give 
a  little  touch  of  pure  white  upon  the  crystal,  on  the  side 
of  the  lights*  This  makes  the  eye  shine,  and  gives  life 
to  it. 

The  mouth  is  dead  coloured  with  vermilion,  mixed 
with  white )  and  finished  with  carmine,  which  is  soft- 
ened as  the  rest.  And  when  tlie  carmine  does  not  work 
dark  enough,  mix  a  little  bistre  with  it.  This  ia  to  be 
understood  of  the  comers  in  the  separation  of  the  lips 
and  particularly,  of  certain  mouths  half  open. 

The  hands,  and  all  the  other  parts  of  carnation,  arc 
done  in  the  same  manner  as  the  faces  )  observing,  that 
the  ends  of  the  fingers  be  a  little  redder  than  tlie  rest. 
When  your  whole  work  IB  formed  and  dotted,  mark 
the  separations  of  all  the  parte  with  little  touches  of 
carmine  and  orpiment  mixed  together,  as  well  in  the 
shadowy  as  the  light  places )  but  a  little  deeper  and 
stronger  in  the  first,  and  lose  them  in  the  rest  of  the 
carnation. 

The  eyebrows  and  the  beard  are  dead-coloured,  as 
are  the  shades  of  carnations )  and  finished  with  bistre, 
ochre,  or  black,  according  to  the  colour  they  are  of, 
drawing  them  by  little  strokes  the  way  they  ought  to 
go )  that  is  to  say,  give  them  all  the  nature  of  hair. 
The  lighte  of  them  must  be  heightened  with  ochre  and 
bistre,  a  little  vermilion,  and  moch  white. 

For  the  hair  of  the  head,  make  a  lay  of  bistre,  ochre, 
and  white,  and  a  little  vermilion.  When  it  is  very 
dark  coloured,  use  black  instead  of  ochre.  Afterwards 
form  the  shadowy  parts  with  the  same  colours,  putting 

less 


MINIATURE  PAINTING. 


I  ^liite  in  them^  and  finisli  vrkh  pare  biatre,  or  mix- 
wkh  ochrt  or  U«ck,  hj  small  stakes  very  iiney  and 
!e  to  each  otber,  waving  nod  bookling  tbem  aooord- 

to  the  eorling  of  the  bair.  The  light  parts  nrast 
»  be  heightened  by  little  strokes  with  ochre  or  or- 
ient, white,  and  a  little  vermilion.    A^t»  which,  lose 

ligbts  and  the  shades  in  each  other,  by  working 

tetimes  with  a  dark  and  sometimes  with  a  light  co- 

• 
■ 

Lnd  for  the  hair  about  die  forehead,  through  wliJcK 
skin  is  seen,  it  mast  be  first  formed  with  the  co«* 
therrof,  and  that  of  the  carnation,  working  and 
lowing  with  one  and  the.  other,  as  if  ^u  designed 
>aint  none.  Then  form  it,*  and  fimsb  witb  bistre. 
!  lights  are  to  be  betghtened  as  4he  ether.  Gray 
'  is  dead^^onred  imtb  wbite,  black,  ttnd  bistre, 
finished  with  the  same  celoar,  bvt  deeper  $  heigbt^ 
ig  the  bright  «nd  clear  parts  of  the  bair,  as  well  as 
e  of  the  eyebrows  and  4he  beard,  wkh  white  and 
'  pale  bine,  after  having  formed  them  as  the  ethers^ 
I  tbe  colour  of  tbe  desh  or  tkdn  ^  ttod- finish  with 
re. 

•nt  the  most  important  tl^ng  is  to  sofiten  one*s 
L ;  to  blend  the  teints  in  one  another,  as  well  as  the 
"d  and  the -hair  about  the  forehead,  with  tbe  other 
and  tbe  carnation  j  taking  especial  care  not  to 
L  rough  and  drys  and  that  the  traces,  turnings, 
windings  of  the  carnation  or  -naked  parts,  be  not 
■sected.  You  must  likewise  accustom  yourself  to 
white  in  your  colours  only  in  proportion  as  you 
I  lighter  or  darker^  for  tbe  colour  yon  use  the  se* 
I  time  must  be  always  a  little  stronger  and  deeper 
tbe  first,  unless  it  be  for  softening, 
liffsrent  colourings  are  easily  made,  by  putting 
i  or  less  of  red,  or  blue,  or  yellow,  or  bhtre,  wfae«> 
for  tbe  dead-colomng,  or  for  the  finishing.-^ 
t  for  women  ought  to  be  bluish;  that  for  child- 
a  little  red  >  and  both  fresh  and  florid.  That 
nen  ought  to  be  yellower^  especially  when  they 
dd. 

»  make  a  colouring  of  death,  there  must  be  a  first 
if  white  and  orpiment,  or  a  very  pale  ochre :  dead- 
IT  with  vermilion,  and  lake,  instead  of  carmine, 
n  good  deal  of  white }  and  afterwards  work  over 
ith  a  green  mixture,  in  which  there  is  more  blue 
any  other  colour,  to  tbe  end  the  flesh  may  be  li- 
\nd  of  a  purple  colour.  The  tints  are  done  the 
I  way  as  in  another  coloaring ;  but  there  must  be 
eat  many  more  blue  than  yellow  ones,  especially 
the  parts  which  fly  irom  the  sight,  and  about  the 
'y  and  tbe  last  are  only  to  be  upon  the  parts  which 
and  come  nearer  the  eye.  l^ey  are  made  to  die 
r  in  one  another,  according  to  the  onlinary  man- 
sometimes  with  very  pale  blue,  and  sometimes 
ochre  and  white,  and  a  little  vermilion^  soil- 
r  the  whole  together.  The  parts  and  contours 
be  rounded  with  the  same  colours.  Tbe  mouth 
I  be,  in  a  manner,  of  a  quite  %'iolet.  It  is  dead- 
ired,  however,  with  a  little  vermilioo,  ochre,  and 
r  ;  but  finished  with  lake  and  blue ;  and  to  give 
te  deep  strokes,  they  take  bistre  and  lake,  with 
h  they  likewise  do  the  same  to  the  eyes,  the  nose, 
the  ears.  If  it  be  a  crucifix,  or  some  martyr,  up- 
born blood  is  to  be  seen,  after  the  finishing  the 
01.  XIV.  Part  I.  + 


26< 


carnation,  form  it  with  veinnlion,  and  finish, it  miih  Of  Lnnd 
^armine^  making  in  tbe  drops  of  blood  a  little  bright    scapes, 
reflecting  spark,  to  round  tbem.      For  the  crown  of*      v 
thorns,  make  a  lay  of  sea-green  and  masticet  j  shadow 
it  with  bistre  and  green }  and  heighten  the  clear  and 
light  parts  with  masticot. 

Iron  is  formed,  or  first  laid,  wkh  indico,  a  little 
blaek  and  white ;  and  finished  witb  puie  indigo,  height- 
ening it  with  white. 

For  painting  fire  and  flames,  the  ligbts  are  dene  with 
masticot  and  orptmeot }  and  for  the  shades,  they  mix 
vermilion  and  carmine. 

A  smoke  is  done  with  black,  indigo,  and  white,  and 
sometimes  witb  bistre  3  one  may  likewise  add  vermilion 
or  ochre,  according  to  the  colour  it  is  to  be  of. 

Pearls  «re  painted  by  putting  a  lay  of  white,  and  a 
little  blue :  ihey  are  shadowed  and  rounded  with  the 
same  colour,  deeper ;  a  small  white  dot  is  made  almoit 
in  the  middle  on  the  side  of  the  light  ^  and  on  the  other 
side,  between  tbe  shadow  and  the  edge  of  tlie  pearl, 
tber  give  a  touch  witb  masticot,  to  make  the  reflection ; 
and  under  tbe  pearls  is  made  a  little  shadow  of  the  co- 
lour of  the  ground  they  are  upon. 

Diamonds  are  made  with  pure  black  j  then  they 
heighten  them  with  little  touches  of  white  on  the  side 
of  the  light.  It  is  tbe  same  thing  for  any  other  jewels 
yon  have  a  mind  to  paint :  there  is  nothing  to  be  done 
but  to  change  the  colour. 

For  making  a  figure  of  gold,  put  a  lay  of  shell-gold, 
and  shadow  it  with  gallstone.  Silver  is  done  tbe 
same  way  $  excepting  that  it  most  be  shadowed  with 
indigo. 

One  great  means  of  acquirinea  perfection  in  the  art, 
is  to  copy  excellent  originals.  We  enjoy  witb  pleasure 
and  tranquillity  the  labour  and  pains  of  others.  But  a 
man  must  copy  a  great  nnmber  before  he  is  able  to  pro* 
dnce  as  fine  effects  5  audit  is -better  to  be  a  good  copier 
than  a  bad  author. 

Sect.  VI.  Of  Landscapes. 

Ik  the  first  place.  After  having  ordered  the  economy 
of  your  landscape  as  of  your  ether  pieces,  you  must  form 
tbe  nearest  gn)ond8  or  lands^  when  they  are  to  appear 
dark,  with  sap  or  Hly^i^reen,  bistre,  and  a  little-Verditer, 
to  give  a  body  to  your  colour  \  then  dot  with  this  mix* 
t6re,  but  a  Httle  darker,  adding  sometimes  a  little  black 
to  it. 

For  such  pieces  of  ground  as  tbe  light  foils 'Opon,  and 
which  are  therefore  clear  and '  bright,  make  a  lay  of 
echre  and  white,  then  shadow  and  finish  with  birtre* 
In  some  they  mix  a  little 'green,  particularly  for  sha* 
dowing  and  finishing. 

There  are  sometimes  upon  the  fore  part  Certain  red* 
dish  lands  ^  which  are  dead^oloured  with  brown-red, 
white,  and  a  little  green  ^  and  fisislied  with  thesamei 
potting  a  little  more  green  in  them. 
"  For  the  making  of  grass  and  leaves  upon  the  fore* 
ground,  yon  must,  when  that  is  finished,  form  with  sea^ 
green,  or  verditer,  and  «  little  white :  and  finr  those 
that  are  yellowish,  mix  maotioot  .  A^rwards  shadow 
tbem  with  lily-green,  or  bistre  and  gallstone,  if  yon 
would  have  tfiem  appear  withered. 

The  groundii  or  lands  at  a  tiUlo  distttMSn  ate  fenaed 

LI  with 


266  MINIATURE 

or  Land-  With  verditer,  and  sbadowed  «iil  finislied  with  sap- 
greeo,  addiog  bistre  for  some  of  tbe  toaches  here  and 
there. 

Bach  as  ate  at  a  greater  distance,  are  done  with 
sea-green  and  a  little  bine  >  and  shadowed  with  ver- 
diter. 

In  a  word,  the  farther  they  go»  the  more  bluish  thej 
are  to  be  made  ;  and  tbe  farthest  distance  ought  to  be 
of  altramarine  and  white  >  mixing  in  some  places  small 
tenches  of  vermilion. 

Water  is  painted  with  indigo  and  white,  and  shadow* 
ed  with  the  same  colonr,  but  deeper  ;  and  to  finish  it, 
instead  of  dotting,  they  do  nothing  but  make  strokes 
and  traces  without  crossing  ;  giving  them  the  same  turn 
with  the  waves,  when  there  are  any.  Sometimes  a  little 
green  most  be  mixed  in  certain  places,  and  the  light 
and  clear  parts  heightened  with  pure  whitCi  particularly 
where  the  water  foams. 

Rocks  are  dead-coloured  like  buildings  of  stone  \ 
excepting  that  a  little  green  is  mixed  for  forming  and 
shadowing  them.  Blue  and  yellow  teinls  are  made 
'  upon  them,  and  lost  with  the  rest  in  finishing.  And 
when  there  are  small  branches^  with  leaves,  moss,  or 
grass,  when  all  is  finished,  they  are  to  be  raised  at 
top  with,  green  and  masticot.  They  may  be  made  yel- 
low, green,  and  reddish,  for  appearing  dry  in  the  same 
mamier  as  on  the  ground.  Rocks  are  dotted  as  tbe 
rest ;  and  the  farther  they  are  off  the  more  grayish  they 
are  made. 

Castles,  old  houses,  and  other  buildings  of  stone  and 
wood,  are  done  in  the  manner  above  mentioned  ^  speak- 
ing of  those  things,  when  they  are  upon  the  first  lines. 
But  when  you  would  have  them  appear  at  a  distance, 
yon  most  mix  brown -red  and  vermilion,  with  much 
white ;  and  shadow  very  tenderly  with  this  mixture ) 
and  the  fkrther  they  are  off,  the  weaker  are^he  strokes 
to  be  for  the  separations.  If  they  are  covered  wkh 
slate,  it  is  to  be  made  bluer  than  the  rest. 

Trees  are  not  done  till  the  sky  be  finished ;  one  may, 
nevertheless,  spare  the  places  of  them  when  they  con- 
tain a  good  number ;  and  however  it  be,  such  as  come 
■ear  the  eye,  are  to-  be  dead<olonred  with  verditer, 
mixing  sometimes  ochre  ^  and  shadowed  with  the  same 
colours,  addioff  lily-green.  Afterwards  you  most  work 
)«tvee  upon  uem  by  dotting  without  crossing :  for 
this  mutt  be  done  with  small  tongish  dots,  of  a  darker 
colour,  and  pretty  full  of  it,  which  ssust  be  conducted 
on  the  side  tbe  branches  go,  by  little  tufts  of  a  little 
darker  cdoun  Then  heighten  the  lights  with  verditer 
or  sea-green,  and  maiticot,  making  leaves  in  the  same 
manner }  and  when  theve  are  dry  branches  or  leaves, 
thejr  are  dead-coloured  with  brown-red  ot  gallstone, 
witn  white  ^  and  finished  with  gallstone,  without  white, 
or  with  bistre* 

The  trunks  of  trees  ave  to  be  dead-coloured  with 
ochroi,  white,  and  a  little  green,  for  the  light  and 
dear  parts  ^  and  for  the  dark  they  mix  black,  adding 
bistre  and  green  for  shadowing  one  and  the  others— 
Bli|e  and  yellow  tints  are  likewise  made  upon  them, 
and  little  touches  given  hctfe  and  there  with  white  and 
masticot  i  such  as  you  ordinarily  see  upon  the  bark  of 


The  branches  whiek  appear  among  the  leavee  are 
dene  witk  oehs^  veidilf  r«  and  white  ^  or  with  bistre 


PAINTING.  SectVn. 

and  white  ^  according  to  the  light  ther  aie  placed  in. 
Thepr  must  be  shadowed  with  bistre  and  lily-greeu. 

Irees,  which  are  at  a  little  distance,  are  dead-c^ 
loured  with  verditer  and  sea-green  }  and  are  shadowed 
and  finished  with  the  same  colours,  mixed  with  lily- 
green.  When  there  are  some  which  appear  yellowi»h, 
lay  with  ochre  and  white,  and  finish  with  gallstone. 

For  such  as  are  in  the  distances  and  remote  views, 
you  must  dead-colour  with  sea-green  ^  with  which,  for 
finishing,  you  must  mix  ultramarine.  Heighten  the 
lights  of  one  and  the  other  with  masticot,  by  small  dis- 
joined leaves. 

It  is  the  most  difficult  part  of  landscape,  in  manner 
of  miniature,  to  leaf  a  tree  well.  To  leam^  and  break 
one*s  hand  to  it  a  little,  the  way  is  to  copy  gw»d  ones ; 
for  the  manner  of  touching  them  is  singular,  and  can- 
not be  acquired  but  by  woiking  upon  trees  themselves  ^ 
about  which  you  most  observe  to  make  little  boughs, 
which  most  be  leafed,  especially  such  as  are  below  and 
towaid  the  sky* 

And  generally,  let  your  landscapes  be  coloured  in  a 
handsome  manner,  and  full  of  nature  and  troth  ^  fur  it 
is  that  which  gives  them  all  their  beauty. 

Sect.  VII*   OfFhmrs. 


It  is  an  agreeable  thing  to  paint  flowers,  not  only 
on  account  of  tbe  splendour  of  tbeir  different  colour*, 
but  also  by  reason  of  the  little  time  and  pains  that  axe 
bestowed  in  trimming  them.  There  is  nothing  but  de- 
light in  it  \  and,  in  a  manner,  no  application.  You 
maim  and  bungle  a  face,  if  you  make  one  eye  higher 
than  another  ^  a  small  nose  with  a  large  mouth  ;  and  so 
of  other  parts.  But  the  fears  of  these  disproportioiKi 
constrain  not  the  mind  at  all  in  flower  painting ;  for 
unless  they  be  very  remarkable,  they  spoil  Dolhiog. 
For  thi:i  reason,  most  persons  of  quality,  who  dived 
themselves  with  painting,  keep  to  flowers.  Neverthe- 
less, you  must  apply  yourself  to  copy  justly ;  and  (or 
this  part  of  miniature,  as  for  the  rest,  we  refer  yon  to 
nature,  for  she  is  your  best  model.  Work,  then,  after 
natural  flowers ;  and  look  for  the  tints  and  diflferrnt 
colours  of  them  upon  your  pallet :  a  little  use  will 
make  you  find  them  easily^  and  to  fiicilltate  this  to 
yon  at  tbe  first,  we  shall,  in  the  continuance  of  our 
design,  show  the  numner  of  painting  some  ^  for  natu- 
ral flowers  are  not  always  to  be  had  ;  and  one  is  often 
obliged  to  work  after  prints,  where  nothing  is  seen  boC 
graving. 

It  is  a  general  rule,  that  flowers  are  designed  and 
laid  like  other  figures;  but  the  manner  of  forming 
and  finishing  them  Is  different :  for  they  are  first  formed 
only  by  large  strokes  and  traces,  which  you  must  turn 
at  the  first  the  way  the  small  ones  are  to  go,  with  which 
you  finish:  this  turning  aiding  much  thereto.  And 
for  finishing  them,  instead  of  hatching  or  dotting,  you 
draw  small  strokes  very  fine,  and  very  cIo2»e  to  one  an- 
other, without  crossings  repassing  several  tiroes,  till 
your  dark  and  your  clear  parts  have  all  the  force  yoo 
would  give  them* 

Of  KosES.— After  making  your  first  sketch,  draw 
with  carmine  tbe  red  rose,  and  apply  a  reiy  pale  lay 
of  carmine  and  white.  Then  form  the  shades  with  the 
same  colour,  putting  less  white  in  it ;  and  lastly,  with 

pare 


r. 


MINIATURE    PAINTING. 


•c  carmine,  l)ut  v^ry  Wight  and  clear  at  the  first  y 
tifyiDg  it  more  and  more  as  you  proceed  in  yoor 
'ky    and  according  to  the  darkness  of  the  8hadt;9. 
is  IS  done  by  large  strokes.     Then  finish ;  working 
tn  it  with  the  same  colour  by  little  strokes,  which 
I  nituit  make  go  the  same  way  with  tlioee  of  the 
ving,  if  it  be  a  print  you   copy  \   or  the  way  the 
ces  of  the  rose  turn,  if  yon  copy  after  a  paintings 
after  oatnre;   losing  the  dark  in  the  clear  parts, 
I  heigbteoing'the  greatest  lights,  and  the  brightest 
ai«8t  lightsome  leaves,  with  white  and  a  little  ear- 
le.     You  must  always  make  the  hearts  of  roses,  and 
side  of  the  shadow  darker  than  the  rest  3  and  mix  a 
le  indigo  for  shadowing  the  first  leaves,   partica- 
y  when  the  roses  are  blown,  to  make  them  seem 
^.      The   seed  is   deadtcoloured   with   gamboge  *} 
ii  which  a  little  sap-green  is  mixed  for  shadowing. 
ic9  streaked  with  several  colours,  ought  to  be  paler 
a  others,  that  the  mixture  of  coioors  may  be  better 
n  'f  which  are  done  with  carmine  *,  a  little  darker  in 
shades,  and  very  clear  in  the  lights  5  always  hatch- 
by  strokes.     For  white  roses  yon  must  pat  a  lay  of 
te,  and  form  and  finish  them  as  the  red  )  bat  with 
:k,  white,  and  a  little  bistre  j  and  make  the  seed  a 
e  yellower.     Yellow  roses  are  done  by  putting  in 
-y  part  a  lay  of  masttcot,  and  shadowing  them  with 
ibnge,  gallstone,  and  bistre  3  heightening  the  clear 
light  places  wkii  raasticot  and  white, 
lie  sttics,  the  leaves,  and  the  bods  of  all  sorts  of 
s  are  formed  with  verditer,  with  which  is  mixed  a 
e  masticot  and  gambofle  3  and  for  shadowing  them, 
f  add  sap  green,  putting  less  of  the  other  colours 
n  the  shades  are  deep.    The  outside  of  the  leaves 
^t  to  be  blner  than  the  inside  *,  wherefore  it  must 
lead-coloured  with  sea  green,  and  sap  green  mixed 
I  that  for  shadowing,  making  the  mns  or  fibres  on 
side  clearer  than  the  ground,  and  those  on  the 
r  side  darker.     The  prickles  which  are  upon  the 
a  and  *buds  of  roses,  are  done  with  little  touches  of 
sine,  which  are  made  to  go  every  way  ^  and  for 
e  that  are  upon  the  stalks,  th«y  are  formed  with 
liter  and  carmine,  and  shadowed  with  carmine  mnd 
re :  making  the  bottom  of  the  stalks  more  reddish 
I  the  top,  i.  e.  you  mudt  mix  with  the  green  car- 
s'and  pare  bistre. 

^f  Tulips.— -As  there  is  an  infinity  of  tulips,  dif* 
Dt  from  one  another,  one  cannot  pretend  to  men- 
tbe  coioors  with  which  they  are  all  -done.  We 
only  tonch  upon  the  handsomest,  called  streaked  i 
these  streaks  are  dead-coloared  with  very  clear  car- 
i  in  some  places,  and  with  darker .  in  others  3  fi- 
ing  with  the  same  colonr  by  little  strokes,  which 
L  be  carried  the  same  way  with  the  streaks*  And 
tbers  -h  pnt  -first  a  lay  of  vermilion.  Then*  they 
I  them  by  mixing  cannine,4md  finish  them  with 
{  carmine.  In  some  they  put  Slorence  lake  over 
vermilion  instead  of  caimioe.  Some  «re  done 
I  lake  and  carmine  mixed  together,  and- with  lake 
e,' or- with -white  and  lake  m  tlie  first  forminir} 
tber  it  be  rosepink  or  Florenoe-lake.  There  are 
&  of  a- purple  colour,  which  are  formed  with  ultra^ 
ine,  carmme,  or  lake,  sometimes  bluer  and  some- 
»  redder.  The  manner  of  doing  both  one  and 
other  is  the  same;  there  is  no  difference  but  in 
coloars.    You  must,  in  certain  places,  as  between 


the  streaks  o£  vermilion,  carmine,  or  lake,  sonutimes 
put  blue  made  of  ultramarine  and  white,  and  some- 
times a  very  bright  purple,  which  is  finished  by  strokes 
as  the  rest,  and  lost  with  the  streaks.     There  are  some 
likewise  that  have  sallow  tints,    that   are  made  with 
lake,  bistre,  and  ochre,  according  as  llicy   are  :    Imt 
this  is  only  in  fine  and  rare  tulips,    and   not  in  (i.u 
common  ones.      For  shadowing  the  bottom   of  tlum, 
they  ordinarily  take  indigo  and  white  for  such  u-liohe 
streaks  are  of  carmine.     For  such  as  are  of  lake,  they 
take  black  and  white  j  with  which,  in  some,  bibtre  is 
mixed,  and  in  others  green.     Some  are  likewise  to  be 
shadowed  with  gambogn  and  umber,    and  always  by 
strokes  and  traces,  that  turn  as  the  leaves  turn.    Other 
tnlips  are  likewise  done,  called  bordered ;  that  is  to  say, 
the  tnlip  is  not  streaked  but  on  the  edges  of  the  leavei<, 
^   where  there  is  a  border.     It  is  white  in  the  puiple  ; 
red  in  the  yellow }  yellow  in  the  red  ;  and  red  in  the 
white.     The  purple  is  laid  with  ultramarine,  carmine, 
and  white  5  shadowing  and  finishing  it  with  this  mix- 
ture.    The  border  is  spared ;  that  is  to  say,  let  only  a 
light  lay  of  white  be  put  there,  and  let  it  be  shadowed 
with  very  bright  indigo.     TJie  yellow  is  feiiued  with 
gamboge,  and  shadow^  with  the  same  colour,  mixing 
ochre  and  nmbef  «r  bistre  with  it.      The  border   is 
laid  with  vermilion,   and  finished  witli  a  very  small 
matter  of  carmine.     The  red  is  formed  with  vermi* 
lion,  and  finished  with  the  same  .colour,  mixing  car- 
mine or  lake  with  it.      The   bottom  and  the  bonWr 
are  done  with  gamboge-.^  and  for  finishing,  they  add 
gallstone  and  -umber,  or  bistre.     The  white  is  sha- 
dowed with  .black,   blue,  and  while.     Indian  ink   is 
very  proper  for  this*     The  shadowingS  of  it  are  very 
tender.       It  produces  alone   the  effect  of  blue   and 
.white,    mixed  with  the  other  black.     The  border  of 
this  white  tnlip  is  done  with  carmine.    In  all  these 
oorts  of  tnlips,  they  leave  a  nerve  .or  sinew  in  the 
middle  of  the  leaves  that  .are  brighter  than  the  rest  ^ 
and  die  borders  are  drowned  at  the  bottom  by  small 
traces,   turning  crosswise  ^   for  they  must  not  appear 
cut  and  separated,  as  the  streaked  or  party-coloured. 
They  make  them  likewise   of  several  other  colours. 
When  they  happen  to  be  snch  whose  bottoms  on  the  in- 
side are  black,  as  it  were,  they  form  and  finish  them 
avith  indigo,  as  also  the  seed  about  the  noz9:le  or  stalk. 
And  -if  the  bottom  is  yellow,  it  is  formed  with  gam* 
boge,  and  finished  by  adding  timber  or  bistre.     The 
leaves  and  the  stalks  of  tulips  are  ordinarily  formed 
with  sea  green,  and  shadowed  and  finished  with  lily 
green,  by  4afge  traces  all  along  the  leaves.    Some  may 
likewise  be  done  with  verditer,  mixing  masticot  with 
it,  and  shadowed  with  sap  green,  that  the  green  of  tlie 
shades  may  be  yellosver. 

The  Anemout,  or  ^W^/Zouwr.-^Tbere  are  several 
oorts  of  thorn,  as  well  double  as  single.  The  last  are 
ixrdinarily^itliout  streaks.  Some  are  made  of  a  purple 
oolour,  with  purple  and  white,  shadowine  them  witb 
the  same  colour  $  some  redder,  others  bluer  ^  some- 
limes  very  pale,  and  sometimes  very  dark.  Others 
are  formed  with  lake  and  white,  and  finished  with 
the  same,  putting  less  white  5  some  without  any  white 
at  ail.  Others  are  formed  with  vermilion,  and  sfaa- 
.dowed  with  the  same  colour  >  adding  carmine.  We 
see  likewise  white  ones,  and  some  of  a  citron  colour. 
The  last  are  laid  with  masticot  j  and  one  and  the  other 

L  1  2  shadowed 


268 


MINIATURE  PAINTING. 


Of 

I'lowers. 


shadowed  and  finished  sometimes  iritb  vermiUon,  and 
sometimes  with  very  brown  lake,  especiallj  near  the 
seed,  at  the  bottom  \   which  is  often   likewise   of  a 
blackish  colour,  that  is  done  with  indigo,  or  black  and 
blue,   mixing  for  some   a   little  bistre  \   and  always 
working  by  very  fine  strokes  and  traces,  and  losing 
the  lights  in  the  shades.     There  are  others  that  are 
brighter  and  clearer   at   the  bottom  than   anywhere 
else  'f   and  sometimes  they  are  perfectly  white  there, 
though  the  rest  of  the  flower  be  dark.     I1ie  seed  of 
all  these  anemonies  is  done  with  indigo  and  black,  with 
a  very  little  %vbite,  and  shadowed  with  indigo ;   and 
in  some  it  is  raised  with  masticot.     The  double  ane- 
monies are  of  several  colours.     The  handsomest  have 
their  large  leaves  streaked.     Some  are  done,  that  is, 
the  streaked  or  party  coloured,  .with   vermilion,  to 
which  carmine  is  added  for  the  finishing  ^  shadowing 
the  rest  of  the  leaves  with  indigo  ^  and  for  the  small 
leaves  within,  a  lay  is   put  of  vermilion  and  white, 
and  they  are  shadowed  with  vermilion   mixed  with 
carmine,  mixing  here  and  there  some  stronger  touches, 
especially  in  the  heart  of  the  flower,  next  the  great 
leaves  on  the  side  of  the  shadow.     They  finish  with 
carmine,  by  little  strokes  and  traces,  turning  the  same 
way  with  the  mixed  or  party  colours,  and  the  leaves. 
They  form  and  finish  the  streaks  or  party  colours  of 
some  others,  as  well  as  the  email  leaves,  with  pure 
carmine ;  leaving,  nevertheless,  in  the  mtddie  of  the 
last,  a  little  circle,  in  which  is  laid  dark  purple^  which 
is  lost  with  the  rest.     And  when  all  is  finished,  they 
give  some  touches  with  this  same  colour  round  about 
the  small  leaves,  especially  on  the  side  of  the  shadow, 
drowning  themVith  the  large  ones,  the  remainder  (»f 
which  is  shadowed  either  with  indigo  or  black.     In 
some,  the  small  leaves  are  done  with  lake  or  purple, 
though  the  party  colours  of  the  large  ones  be   done 
with  carmine.     There  are  others,  whose  mixed  colours 
are  done  with  carmine,  in  the  middle  of  most  of  the 
large  leaves ;  putting  in  some  places  vermilion  under- 
neath, and  losing  these  cdours  with  the  shadows  of 
the  bottom  ^  which  are  done  with  indigo  and  white* 
The  small  leaves  are  laid  with  masticot,  and  shadowed 
with  very  dark  carmine  on  the  side  of  the  shade,  and 
with  very  clear  on  the  side  of  the  light,  leaving  there 
in  a  manner  pure  masticot,  and  giving  only  some  little 
touches  with  orpiment  and  carmine,  to  separate  the 
leaves,  which  may  be  shadowed  sometimes  with  a  very 
little  pale  green.     There  are  double  anemonies  painted 
all  red,  and  all  purple.     Tbe  first  are  formed  with  ver* 
floilion  and  carmine,  in  a  manner  without  white,  and 
shadowed  with  pure  carmine,  well  gummed,  that  they 
may  be  very  dark.    Purple  anemonies  are  laid  with 
purple,  and  white,  and  finished  with  white.    In  a  word, 
there  are  double  anennmies  as  there  are  single  ones,  of 
all  colours  ^  and  they  are  done  in  the  same  manners 
The  gtten  of  one  amd  the  other  is  verditer*,  with  which 
masticot  is  mixed  for  forming.     It  is  shadowed  and  fi- 
nished with  sap  men.     The  stales  of  them  are  a  little 
reddish  -,  wItfereKnre  they  are  shadowed  with  carmine 
mixed  with  bistre,  and  somntimes  with  green,  after  ha* 
Ting  laid  them  with  masticot. 

The  CaKKATIOK  and  tbe  FiKK»«^It  is  with. pinks 
and  eamatioos  as  with-  anemonies  and  tnltps )  that  is, 
there  ate  some  mixt^coloored,  and  others  of  one  single 
coIoUt.     Th^  to^t'Wr^  streaked  and  diversified  some- 


Sect.  vn. 

tiroes  with  vermilion  and  carmine  >  sometimes  v^lth     of 
pure  lake,  or  with  white  ;  some  streaiks  very  dark,  and  Flowm 
others  very  pale  j  sometimes  by  little  streaks  and  dl- 
versifieations,  and  sometimes  by   large  ones.    Their 
bottoms  are  ordinarily  shadowed  with  indigo  and  irhite. 
There  are  pinks  of  a  very  pale  flesh  colour,  and  streaked 
and  diversified  with  anoUier,  a  little  deeper,  made  with 
vermilion  and  lake.     Others,  which  are  of  lake  and 
white,  are  shadowed  and  streaked  without  white.  Othera 
all  red,  which  are  done  with  vermilion  and  cai-mioe  as 
dark  as  possible.    Others  all  of  lake.    And,  lastly,  there 
are  others,  wherein  nature  or  fancy  is  the  rule.    The 
green  of  one  and  the  other  is  sea  green,  shadowed  with 
lily  green  or  sap  green. 

The  Red  Lily— It  is  laid  with  red  lead,  fomed 
with  vermilion,  and  in  the  deepest  of  the  shades  with 
carmine  ^  and  finished  with  the  same  colour  by  strokes 
and  traces,  turning  as  the  leaves  torn.  The  clear  and 
light  parts  are  heigh tene.d  with  red  lead  and  white. 
The  seed  is  done  with  vermilion  and  carmine.  Tbe 
green  parts  are  done  with  verditer,  shadowed  with  lily 
or  sap  green. 

The  Day  Lilt.— There  are  three  soits  of  them : 

1.  The  gridelin,  a  little  red ; 

2.  The  gridelin,  very  pale  ^  and, 

3.  Tbe  white. 
For  the  first  they  put  a  lay  of  lake  and  white,  aod 

shadow  and  finish  with  the  same  colour  deeper  *,  mix- 
ing A  little  black  to  deaden  it,  especially  in  the  darkest 
places. 

The  second  are  laid  with  white,  mixed  with  a  very 
little  lake  and  vermilion,  in  such  a  manner  that  these 
two  last  colours  are  hardly  seen.  Afterrrards  they 
shadow  with  black  and  a  little  lake,  working  redder 
in  the  middle  of  the  leaves,  next  the  stalks  ^  which 
ought  to  be,  as  also  the- seed,  of  the  same  colour,  parti- 
cularly towards  the  top}  and  at  the  bottom  a  little 
greener. 

Tlie  stile  of  the  seed  is  laid  with  masticot,  and  sha- 
dowed with  sap  green. 

The  other  day  lilies  are  done  by  putting  a  lay  of 
pure  white,  and  shadowing  and  finishing  with  black  and 
white. 

The  stalks  of  these  last,  and  the  greens  of  then 
all,  are  done  with  sea  green,  and  shadowed  with  saf 
green. 

The  Htaginth^  or  Pfii^;/Zot4>tfr.—- There  are  four 
sorts  of  them : 

The  Une,  a  littk  dark  > 
Others  paler  ^ 
The  gridelin  j 
And  tbe  white. 
The  first  are  laid  with  ultramarine  and  white  >  aad 
shadowed  and  finished  with  less  white.     Otbem  srs 
laid  and  shadowed  with  pale  blue.     The  gridelines 
are  formed  with  lake  and  white,  and  a  very  small  matr 
ter  of  ukramarine }  and  finished  with  the  same  coloor 
a  little  deeper.     For  the  last  they  put  a  lay  of  white  ^ 
then  they  shadow  them  with  black,  with  a  little  white , 
and  finish  them  all  by  strokes  and  traces,  followiii§ 
the  turnings  and  windings  of  the  leaves*     The  green 
and  tlie  stalks  of  such  as  are  blue,  are  done  with  ses 
and  lily  green  very  dark:   and  in  the  stalks  of  tbe 
first  may  be  mixed  a  little  carmine,  to  make  them  red- 
dish*    The  stalks  of  the  two  others,  as  also  the  green, 

are 


MINIATURE    PAINTING. 


formed  with  ▼erdiUr  and  mastlcot,  and  shadowed 
1  sap  green. 

'be  FiONT.— -A  lay  of  Venice  lake  and  white  must 
»at  on  all  parts,  prettj  strong :  then  shadow  with 
white,  and  with  none  at  all  in  the  darkest  places : 
r  which  finish  with  the  same  colour  hf  traces, 
ing  them  aa  for  the  rose  ^  gumming  it  very  much 
le  deepest  of  the  shades  \  and  raising  the  lights  and 
edges  of  the  most  li^tsome  leaves  with  white  and 
ttle  lake.  Little  veins  are  likewise  made,  which 
ike  tlie  strokes  in  hatching,  but.  are  more  visible, 
green  of  this  flower  is  done  with  sea  green,  and 
owed  with  sap  green, 

OWSLIPS.— They  are  of  four  or  five  colonra. 
re  are  some  of  a  very  pale  purple. 

The  gridelia.  The  white  and  the  yellow. 
he  purple  is  done  with  ultramarine,  carmine,  and 
e  ;  putting  less  white  for  shadowing.  Tlie  gnde- 
i  laid  with  Venice  lake,  and  a  very  small  matter 
itramarine,  with  much  white  ^  and  shadowed  with 
same  colour  deeper.  For  the  white  a  lay  oi 
e  must  be  pot ;  and  they  most  be  shadowed  with 
z,  and  white  j  and  finishexft,  as  the  others,  by  traces 
Tokes.  The  heart  of  these  cowslips  is  done  with 
ieot  in  the  shape  of  a  star,  which  is  shadowed  with 
»oge,  making  a  little  circle  in  the  middle  with  sap 
1.  iTfaeyellow  are  laid  with  roasticot,  and  shadow- 
rith  gamboge  and  maober.  The  stiles,  the  leaves, 
the  bads,  are  formed  with  verditer,  mixed  with  a 

masticot,  and  finished  with  sap  green  (  making 
ibrcs  or  veins,  which  appear  upon  the  leaves,  with 
same  colonr^  and  heightening  the  lights  of  the 
»t  with  masticot. 

be  Ranunculus,  or  (7row^/oof.— -There  are  se- 
I  sorts  of  them :  the  finest  are  the  orange^coloured. 
the  first,  they  put  a  lay  of  vermilion,  with  a  veiy 
I  matter  of  gamboge }  and  add  carmine  for  shi^ 
ng  ^  finishing  it  ¥nth  this  last  colour,  and  a  little 
tone.  In  the, others  may  be  put  Venice  lake  in- 
I  of  carmine,  espeeiaUy  in  the  heart  of  the  flower. 
orange^ooloiired  are  laid  with  gamboge,  and  finisb> 
ith  gallstone,  vermilion,  and  a  little  carmine  ^  leav- 
lome  little  yellow  streaks.  The  green  of  the  stalks 
»ne  with  verditer  aad  very  pale  nwEistieot  ^  mixing 
^rees  to  shadow  them.  That  of  the  leaves  is  a 
\  darker. 

he  Crocus.-— These  are  of  two  colours  : 
elkiw  and  purple.  The  yellow  are  formed  with 
ieot  and  gallstone,  and  shadowed  with  gamboge 
saUstrae:  after  which,  upon  each  leaf,  on  the 
Ide,  are  made  three  streaks,  separate  from  one 
her,  with  bistre  and  pore  lake^  which  are  lost, 
ittle  traces,  in  the  bottom.  The  outside  of  the 
BS  is  left  all  yellow.-— The  pnrpie  is  laid  with  car- 
9,  mixed  with  a  little  oltramarine,  and  very  pale 
e.  They  are"  formed  and  finished  with  less  white ; 
ing  likewise,  in-  some,  purple  stripes  or  streaks, 
'  dark,  as  in  the  yellow  j  and  in  others-  only  small 
s.  The  seed  of  both  is  yellow,  and  is  done  with 
meat  and  gallstone.  For  the  stiles,  tbey*  put  a 
of  white,  and  shadow  vrith  black,  mixed  with  a 
K  green.  The  green  of  this  flower  is  formed  with 
'  pale  verditer,  and  shadowed  with  sap-green, 
'he  Iris.— -The  Persian  iris  is  done  by  putting, 
the  inside  leaves,  a  lay  of  ndbite^  and  shadowing 


269 


tbero  with  indigo  and  green  together,  leaving  a  little  Of 
white  separation  in  the  middle  of  each  leaf}  and  for  ^<'^*c*' 
those  on  the  outside,  they  put  in  the  same  place  a  lay 
of  masticot,  which  is  shadowed  with  gallstone  and 
orpiment  ^  making  little  dark  and  longish  dots  over  all 
the  leaf,  at  a  small  distance  from  one  another.  And 
at  the  end  of  each  are  made  large  stains,  with  bistre 
and  lake  in  some,  and  in  others  with  pure  indigo,  but 
very  black.  The  rest,  and  the  outside  of  the  leaves^ 
are  shadowed  with  black.  The  green  is  formed  with 
sea  green,  and  very  pale  masticot,  and  shadowed  with 
sap  green.  The  Sosian  iris  is  laid  with  purple  and 
white,  putting  a  little  more  carmine  than  ultramarine  j 
and  for  the  shades,  especially  in  the  middle  leaves, 
they  put  less  white  ^  and,  on  the  contrary,  more 
ultramarine  than  carmine ;  making  the  veins  of  this 
very  colour,  and  leaving  in  the  middle  of  the  inside 
leaves  a  little  yellow  sinew.  There  are ,  others  which 
have  this  very  sinew  in  the  first  leaves  ^  the  end  of 
which  only  is  bluer  than  the  rest.  Others  are  sha- 
dowed and  finished  with  the'  same  purple,  redder : 
They  have  also  the  middle  sinew  on  the  ontside  leaves  ^ 
but  white  and  shadowed  with  indigo.  There  are  like- 
wise yellow  ones ;  which  are  done  by  putting  a  lay  of 
roasticot  and  orpiment  ^  shadowing  them  with  gallstone, 
and  making  the  veins  upon  the  leaves  with  bistre.  The 
green  of  one  and  the  other  is  done  with  sea  green,  mix- 
ing a  little  masticot  for  the  stiles.  They  are  shadowed 
with  sap  green. 

The  Jasmine.— It  is  done  with  a  lay  of  white,  and 
shadowed  with  black  and  white }  and  for  the  outside 
of  the  leaves,  they  mix  a  little  bistre  \  nmking  the  half 
•  of  each,  on  this  side,  a  little  reddish  with  carmine. 

The  Tuberose.—- For  the  doing  of  this,  they  make 
a  lay  of  white,  and  shadow  with  black,  with  a  little 
bistre  in  some  j^aces  ^  and  for  the  outside  of  the  leaves 
they  mix  a  little  carmine,  to  give  them  a  reddish  teint, 
particularly  upon  the  extremities.  The  seed  is  done  with 
masticot,  and  shadowed  with  sap  green*  The  green  of 
it  is  laid  with  verditer,  and  shadowed  mih  sap  £|Teen. 

The  Hellebore.— The  flower  of  hellebore  is  done 
almost  in  the  same  manner  ^  that  is,'  let  it  he  laid  with 
white,  aad  shadowed  with  black  and  bistre,  making 
the  outside  of  the  leaves  a  little  reddish  here  and  there. 
The  seed  is  laid  with  dark  green,  and  raised  with 
masticot.  The  green  of  it  is  fonl  and  rnsty,  and  h 
formed  with  verditer,  roasticot,  and  bistre  }  and  fiaish- 
ed  with  sap  green  and  bistre. 

The  White  Lilt.-— It  is  laid  with  white,  and  sha- 
dowed with  black  and  white.  The  seed  is  done  with 
orpiment  and  gallstone.  .  And  the  green  is  done  as  in 
the  tuberose. 

The  Snow^orof.— It  is  formed  and  finished  as  the 
white  lily.  The  seed  is  laid  with  masticot,  and  sha- 
dowed with  gallstone.  And  the  green  is  done  with  sea 
and  sap  green. 

The  Jonquil. — ^It  is  laid  with  masticot  and  gall- 
stone, and  finished  with  gamboge  and  gallstone.  The 
green  is  formed  with  sea  green,  and  shadowed  with  sap 
green. 

The  Daffodil. — ^AU  daflfodils,  the  yellaw,  the 
double,  and  the  single,  are  done  by  putting  a  lay  of 
masticot :  they  are  formed  with  gamboge,  and  finished 
by  adding  umber  and  bistre  $  exeepthug  the  bell  in-  the 
middle,  which  is  done  with  orpiment  and  gallstone, 

bordered 


270 


MINIATURE 

Of       bordered  or  edged  with  vermilion  and  carmine.     The 

Tlowers.   Tvhite  are  iud  ivith  white,  and  shadowed  with  black 

Jw       ' and  white  *,  excepting  the  cup  or  bell,  which  is  done 

with  masticot  and  gamboge.     Th^  green  ia  sea  green, 

shadowed  with  sap  green. 

'The  MARiGOLD«-^It  k  done  by  putting  a  laj  of    . 

--mast loot, 'and  then  one  of  gamboge  }  shadowing  it  with 

this  very  colour,  afler  verniilion  is.mtxed.with  it :  and 

for  finishing,  they  add  gallstone  and  a  little  carmine. 

■  The  green  is  done  with  verditer^  shadowed  with  sap 

•  green. 

The  Austrian  Rose.— >For  making  the  Austrian    . 
«Tose,  they  put  a  lay  of  masticot,  and  another  of  gam- 
boge.   Then  they  form  it,  mixing  gallstone ;  and  finish 
it  with  the  last  colour,  adding  bistre  and  a  very  small 
matter  of  carmine  in  the  deepest  shades. 

The  Indian  Pink,  or  French  Marigoid,^^Ji  is  done 
by  putting  a  lay  of  gamboge  y  shadowing  it  with  this 
colonr,  after  you  have  mixed  a  good  deal  of  carmine 
and  gallstone  with  it ;  and  leaving,  about  the  leaves  a 
little  yellow  border  of  gamboge,  very  dear  Jn  tlie 
lights,  and  darker  in  the  shades.  Thp  seed  is  shadow- 
ed with  bistre.  The  green,  as  well  of  the  rose  as  the 
pink,  is  formed  with  verditer,  and  finished  with  sap- 
green. 

The  SuN-Fi^vvER. — It  is  formed  with  masticot  and 
gamboge,  and  finished  with  gallstone  and  bistre.  The 
green  is  laid  with  verditer  and  masticot,  and  shadowed 
with  sap  green. 

I1ie  Passion  flower.— It  is  done  as  the  rose,  and 
the  green  of  the  leaves  likewise  \  but  the  veins  are  done 
with  a  darker  green. 

Poetical  Finks  and  SweetAVilliam.— Theyrare 
done  by  putting  a  lay  of  lake  and  white ;  shadowing 
them  with  pure  lake,,  with  a  little  carmine  for  the  last  ^ 
which  are  afterwards  dotted  Mn  all  parts  with  little 
round  dots,  separate  fi-om  one  another  ^  and  the  threads 
in  the  middle  are  raised  with,  white.  The  green  of 
them  is  sea  green,  which  is,  finished  with  sap  green. 

The  ScABious.'-^pThere  ^lor  two  sorts  of  scabious, 
the  red  and  the. purple.  The  leaves  of  the  first  are  laid 
with  Florentine  lake  in?  which  there  is  a  little  white } 
and  shadowed  without  white }  and  for  the  middle, 
which  is  a  great  boss  or  husk  in  which  the  seed  lies,  it 
is  formed  and  ^nisbed  ^ with  pure  .lake,  with  a  little 
ultramarine  or  indigo  to  make  it  darker.  Then  they 
make  little  white  longish  dots  over  it,  at  .a  pretty 
distance  from  one  another,  clearer  in  the  light  than  in 
the  shade,  making  them  go  every  way.  The  other  is 
done  by  putting  a  lay  of  very  pale  purple,  as  wicll  npon 
the  leaves  as  the  boss  in  the  middle  ^  shadowing  both 
with  the  same  colour,  a  little  deeper :  and  instead  of 
little  white  touches  for  the  seed,  they  make  them  pur- 
ple 'y  and  about  each  grain  they  make  out  a  little  circle, 
•  and  this  over  the  whole  boss  or  husk  in  the  middle. 
The  green  is  formed  with  verditer  and  masticot,  and 
shadowed  with  sap  green. 

The  Sword  or  Day  Xt^.— It  is  laid  with  Florence 
lake  and  very  pale  white  \  formed  and  finished  with 
pure  lake,  very  clear  and  bright  in  some  places,  and 
very  dark  in  others  \  mixing  even  bistre  in  the  thickest 
of  the  shades.  The  green  is.  verditer,  shadowed  with 
sap  green. 

Hepatica,  or  £tt;frtifoW.-— There  is  red  and  blue. 
The  last  is  done  by  putting  on  all  parts  a  lay  of  uUra- 

2 


PAINTING.  SectVn. 

marine,  white,  and  a  little  carmine  or  lake :  diadoir-      of 
ing  the  inside    of  the    leaves  with  the  mixture,  lut  Fon 
deeper  ^  excepting  those  of  the  first  rank  *,  for  vrhlch/ 
.and  for  the  outside  of  every  one  of  them,  they  add  irdi* 
go  and  white,  that  the  colour  may  be  paler,  and  oot  so 
.fine.     .The. red  is  laid. with  lake  columbine  sod  very 
pale  white  y  and  finished  .with  less  white.     The  green 
is  done  with  verditer,  masticot,.  and  a  little  bistre  ^  and 
.shadowed  with  sap  greeo^  and  a  little  bistre,  especitiiy 
.on  the. outside  of  the  leaves. 

llie  PoMEGRANATF..-— The  flowcT  of  the  pomrgrv 

:.oate  is  laid  with  red  lead  ;    shadowed  with  vermilion 

and  carmine  y  find  finished  with  this  last  colour.    The 

.green  is  laid  with  verditer  and  masticot,  and  shadoiM'd 

with  sap  green. 

The  Bower  of  the  Indian  B£AK.<-*It  is  done  nlth 
a  lay  of  Levant  lake  and  white  *,  shadowing  the  niiddie 
•leaves  with  pure  lake  ;  and  adding  a  little  ultratnaritie 
for  the  others.  The  green  is  verditer,  shadowed  with 
iSnp  green. 

The  Columbine.^— There  are  columbines  of  scverd 
*colours :  Uie  most  common  are  the  purple,  the  gridelin, 
.and  the  red.  *  For  the  purple,  they  lay  with  nltraiDt«> 
d-ine,  carmine,  and  white}  and  shadow  with  this  itiix- 
ture  deeper.  1  he  gridelin  are  done  the  same  way, 
.putting  a  great  deal  less  ultramarine  than  carmine. 
-The  red  are  done  with  lake  and  white,  finishiDg  irith 
Jessrwliite.  .There  are  some  mixed  flowers  of  this  kind, 
4)f  sefseraLcolours  >  which  must  be  formed  and  finished 
:as  the  4>therB,  but  paler,  making  the  mixtures  of  a  fittk 
.darker  colour. 

^.The  Lark's  Heel. — These  are  of  different  colours, 
and  of  mixed  colours  :  the  most  common  are  the  pur* 
pie,  the  gridelin,  and  the  red  'y  which  are  done  as  tbe 
jooInmbineB. 

Violets  and  Pansies,— Violets  and .  pansies  aie 
done  the  same.^ifay  y  excepting  that  in  the  last  the  twa 
middle  leaves  are  bluer  than  the  others  ^  that  is,  tbe 
borders  or  edges  ^  for  the  inside  of  them  is  yellow :  and 
there  little  hack  veins  are  made,  which  take  their  be- 
ginning from  the  heart  of  the  flower,  and  die  away  to- 
wards the  middle. 

The  MusciFULA,  or .  Gite^;/fy^-— There  are  two 
sorts  of  it,  the  white  and  the  red  ;  the  last  is  kid  with 
lake  and  .white, .  with  a  little  vermilion,  and  finisbed 
with  pure  lake.  As  for  the  knot  or  noszle  of  the 
leaves,  it  is  formed  with  white  and  a  very  small  matter 
:6f  vermilion,  mixing  bistre  or  gallstone  to  finisb  it. 
The  leaves  of  the  white  are  laid  with  white  >  adding 
bistre  and  masticot  upon  the  knots  which  are  shadowed 
with  pnre  bistre,  and  the  leaves. ivith  black  and  white. 
The  green  of  all  these  flowers  is  done  with  verditer  and 
masticot,  and  shadowed  with  sap  green. 

The  Crown  Imperial, — ^which^is  of  two  colours, 
the  yellow  and  the  red.  The  first  is  done  by  putting 
a  lay  of  orpiment,  and  shadowing  it  with  gallstone  and 
orpiment  with  a  little  vermilion.  The  other  is  laid 
with  orpiment  and  vermilion,  and  shadowed  with 
gallstone  and  vermilion  ^  making  the  beginning  of 
tbe  leaves  next  the  stile,,  with  lake  and  bistre,  very 
dark;  and  veins  with  this  mixture  both  in  one  aad 
the  other,  all  along  the  leaves.  The  green  is  done -with 
verditer  and  masticot,  shadowed  with  sap  green  and 
gamboge. 

The  Ctclam£K»  or  iSotr^rrai/^^— The  red  is  laid 

with 


Sect.  VII. 


MINIATURE   PAINTING. 


Of  with  carmine,  a  little  nltnimarine,  and  much  wbite ; 
Fioven.  aod  finisheil  with  the  same  colour,  deeper  j  putting,  in 
a  manner,  only  carmine  in  the  middle  of  the  leaves, 
next  the  heart,  and  in  the  rest  add  a  little  more  ultra- 
marine. Tbe  other  is  laid  with  white,  and  shadowed 
with  black.  The  stalks  of  one  and  the  other  ought  to 
be  a  little  reddish }  and  the  green,  verditer  and  sap  green. 
Tbe  GiixiFLOWER.— -There  are  several  sorts  of  giU 
liflowers  \  the  white,  the  jellow,  the  purple,  the  red, 
and  the  mixed  of  various  colours.  The  white  are  laid 
with  wbite,  and  shadowed  with  black,  and  with  a  littla 
indigo  in  tbe  heart  of  the  leaves.  The  yellow,  with  * 
masticet,  gamboge,  aod  gallstone.  Tbe  purple  are  form-, 
ed  with  purple  and  white }  and  finished  with  less  white  \ 
making  the  colour  brighter  in  the  heart«  and  even  a  lit- 
tle yeUowisb.  The  red  with  lake  and  white ;  finishing 
them  with  white.  The  mixed  coloured  are  laid  with 
white,  and  the  mixtures  are  sometimes  made  with  pur- 
ple, in  which  there  is  much  ultramarine  ^  others  again, 
in  which  there  is  more  carmine.  Sometimes  they  are 
of  lake,  and  sometimes  of  carmine.  Some  are  done 
with  white,  and  others  without  white  ^  shadowing  the 
nest  of  the  leaves  with  indigo.  The  seed  of  all  is  form- 
ed with  verditer  and  masticot,  and  finished  with  sap 
green.  The  leaves  and  stiles  are  laid  with  the  same 
green,  mixing  sap  green  to  finish  them. 

Frctits,  fishes,  serpents,  and  all  sorts  of  reptiles,  are 
to  be  touched  in  the  same  manner  as  the  figures  of  men 
are ;  that  is,  hatched  or  dotted. 

Birds  and  all  other  animals  are  done  like  flowers,.by 
strokes  or  traces. 

Never  make  use,  for  any  of  these  things,  of  white 
lead.  It  is  only  proper  in  oil.  It  Uackens  like  ink 
when  only  tempered  with  gum  ;  especially  if  you  set 
your  work  in  a  moist  place,  or  where  perfumes  are. 
Cemsfr  of  Venice  is  as  fine,  and  of  as  pure  a  white, 
fie  not  sparing  in  the  use  of  this,  especially  in  forming 
or  dead-odounng )  and  let  it  enter  into  all  your  mix- 
tures, in  order  to  give  them  a  certain  body,  which  will 


render  your  work  ginbb,  and   make   it  appear  soft, 
plump,  and  strong. 

Tbe  taste  of  painters  is,  nevertheless,  different  in  this 
point.  Some  use  a  little  of  it,  and  others  none  at  all. 
But  tbe  manner  of  the  last  is  meagre  and  dry.  Others 
use  a  great  deal  ^  and  doubtless  it  is  the  best  method^ 
and  most  followed  among  skilful  persons  ^  for  besides  that 
it  is  speedy,  one  may  by  the  use  of  it  copy  all  sorts  of 
pictures  ^  which  would  be  almost  impossible  otlierwise  y 
notwithstanding  tbe  contrary  opinion  of  some,  who  say, 
that  in  miniature  we  cannot  give  tbe  force  and  all  the 
different  teints  we  see  in  pieces  in  oil.  But  this  is  not 
true,  at  least  of  good  painters  ^  and  effects  prove  it  pretty 
plainly:  for  we  see  figures,  landscapes,  pictures,  and  every 
thing  else  in  miniatnre,  touched  in  as  grand,  as  true,. 
aod  as  noble  a  manner  (though  more  tender  and  deli- 
cate), as  they  are  in  oil. 

However,  painting  in  oil  has  its  advantages;  were- 
they  only  these,  that  it  exhibits  more  work,  and  takes 
up  less  time.   It  is  better  defended  likewise  against  the* 
injuries  of  time;  and  the  right  of  birth  must  be  granted 
it,  and  the  glory  of  antiquity. 

But  miniature  likewise  has  its  advantages  j  aud  with- 
out repeating  such  as  have  been  mentioned  already,  it ' 
is  neater  and  more  commodious.  You  may  easily  carry 
all  your  implements  in  your  pockets,  and  work  when 
and  wherever  you  please,  without  such  a  number  of 
preparations,  xoa  may  quit  and  resume  it  when  and 
as  often  as  you  will ;  which  is  not  done  in  the  other  $ 
in  which  one  is  rarely*  to  work  dry. 

To  conclude :  In  the  art  of  painting,  excellence 
does  not  depend  npnn  the  greatness  of  the  subject,  but 
upon  the  manner  in  which  it  is  handled.  Some  catch 
the  airs  of  a  face  well ;  others  succeed  better  in  land- 
scapes :  some  work  in  little,  who  cannot  do  it  in  large : 
some  are  skilled  in  colours,  who  know  little  of  design : 
others,  lastly,  have  only  a  genius  for  flowers :  and  even . 
the  Bassans  got  themselves  a  fame  for  animals  ^  which 
they  touched  in  a  very  fine  manner,  and^better  than  any . 
thing.else. 


271 


M    I     N 

iiiiiB       MINIM,  in  Musicy  a  note  equal  to  two  crotchets,. 
1)      or  half  a  semibreve.     See  Music. 
^''      MINIMS,  a  religious  order  in  tbe  church  of  Bome, 
founded  by  St  Francis  de  Paula,  towards  the  end  of 
the  1 5th  century.     Their  habit  is  a*  coarse  black  wool- 
len stuff,  with  a  woollen  girdle,  of  the  same  colour, 
tied  in  five  knots.      They  are  not  permitted  to  quit 
their  babit  and  girdle  night  nor  day.-    Formerly  they  ' 
went  barefooted,  but  are  now   allowed    tbe  use  of 
shoes. 

MINIMUM,   in   the   higher  geometry,  the  leasts 
quantity  attainable  in  a  given  case. 

MINISTER,  a  person  who  preaches,  performs  re- 
ligions worship  in  public,  admuiisters  tbe  sacraments, . 
&c. 

MimsTEB  ofStatCf  a  person  to  whom  the  prince  in- 
trusts the  administration  of  government.  See  Coun- 
cil. 


M    I    N 

Foreign  MiNJSTEJtf  is  a  person  sent  into  a  foreign   Minister 
country,  to  manage  the  affairs  of  his  province  or  of        H  . 
the  state  to  which  he  belongs.     Of  these  there  are  two       ''°^'"' 
kinds  :  those  of  the  first  rank  are  ambassadors  and  en- 
voys extraordinary,  who  represent  tbe  persons  of  tlieir 
sovereigns^  the  mmisters  of  the  second  rank  are  tbe  or- 
dinary residents. 

MINIUM,  er  Bed-lead.    See  Chemistry  In» 
deat, 

MINNIN,  a  stringed  instrument  of  music  among 
the  ancient  Hebrews,  having  three  or  fiiur  chords  to> 
it,  although  there  is  reason  to  question  tbe  antiquity  of 
this  instrument }  both  because  it  requires  a  hair  bow, 
which  was  a  kind  of  plectrum  not  known  to  tbe  an- 
cients, and  because  it  so  much  resembles  tbe  modern, 
viol.     Kircher  took  the  figures  of  this,  the  macbiil- 
ohinnor,  and  psaltery,  from  an  old  book  in  the  Vatic? ' 
library. 

MIN    . 


M    I    N 


[    272    ] 


M    I    N 


Minor,  MINOR,  a  Latia  term,  UteraUy  denoting  ie9s  s 
Bfio«rca.  used  in  opposition  to  major^  greater. 
"  »  - '  Minor,  in  Law^  denotes  a  person  under  age  \  or 
»rho,  by  the  laws  of  the  country,  is  not  yet  arrived 
at  the  power  of  administering  bis  ovra  aiFairs,  or  the 
posession  of  his  estate.  Among  us,  a  person  is  a  mi- 
nor till  the  aee  of  twenlj-one,  before  ft bich  time  his 
acts  are  invalid.     See  AoE,  and  Infant. 

It  is  a  maxim  in  the  common  law,  that  in  Uie  king 
there  is  no  minority,  and  therefore  be  hath  no  legal 
guardian ;  and  his  royal  grants  and  assents  to  acts  of 
parliament  are  good,  though  he  has  not  in  his  natural 
capacity  attained  the  legal  age  of  twenty*one.  It  is 
-also  provided  by  the  custom  and  law  of  parliament, 
that  no  one  shall  sit  or  vote  in  either  house  unless  he 
be  twenty-one  years  of  ace.  This  is  likewise  expressly 
declared  by  stat.  7  and  o  WilL  UL  cap.  25.  with  re- 
gard to  the  house  of  commons. 

Minor  in  Logie^  is  the  second  proposition  of  a  fior- 
mal  or  regular  syllogism,  called  also  the  assumpiim* 

Minor,  in  Mudc^  is  applied  to  certain  concords, 
which  differ  from  or  sre  lower  than  others  of  the  same 
denomination  by  a  lesser  semitone  or  four  commas.— 
Thus  we  say,  a  third  minor,  or  lesser  third,  or  a  sixth 
jnajor  and  minor.  Concords  that  admit  of  major  and 
minor,  i.  e.  greater  and  less,  are  said  to  be  imperfect 
concords. 

MINORCA,  an  island  of  the  Mediterranean,  si- 
tuated between  39  and  40  degrees  of  north  latitude, 
and  near  four  degrees  of  east  longitude.  It  is  about 
33  miles  in  length  from  north-west  to  south-east,  in 
breadth  from  eight  to  twelve,  but  in  general  about  ten 
miles  \  so  that  in  size  it  may  nearly  equal  tbe  county  of 
Huntingdon  or  Bedibrdsbire.  Tbe  form  is  very  irregu- 
lar;  and  tbe  coasts  are  much  indented  by  the  sea,  which 
forms  a  great  number  of  little  creeks  and  inlets,  some 
of  which  might  be  very  advantageous. 

This  islsnd  is  one  of  those  called  by  the  ancient  Ro- 
mans BaJeares^  which  arose  from  the  dexterity  of  the 
inhabitants  in  using  the  sling.  It  fell  under  the  power 
of  the  Romans,  and  afterwards  of  the  northern  barba- 
rians. From  them  it  was  taken  by  the  Arabs  *,  who 
were  subdued  by  the  king  of  Majorca,  and  he  by  the 
king  of  Spain.  The  English  subdued  it  in  1708^  it 
was  afterwards  retaken  by  the  French  in  1756,  but 
restored  to  Britain  by  tbe  treaty  of  Paris  in  1 763.  The 
Spaniardn  took  it  in  1782  \  tbe  British  regained  it  in 
17983  bat  it  was  given  up  in  1802,  and  continues  in  the 
possession  of  Spain. 

The  air  of  this  island  is  much  more  clear  and  pure 
than  in  Britain ;  being  seldom  darkened  with  thick  fogs ; 
yet  the  low  valleys  mre  not  free  from  mists  and  on- 
wholesome  vapours ;  and  in  windy  weather  the  spray  of 
the  sea  is  driven  over  the  whole  bland.  Hence  it  hap- 
pens that  utensils  of  brass  or  iron  are  extremely  suscep- 
tible of  rust,  in  spite  of  all  endeavours  to  preserve  them  ^ 
and  household  fbrniture  becomes  mouldy.  The  sum- 
mers are  dry,  clear,  calm,  and  excessively  hot ;  the  au- 
tumns moist,  warm,  and  unequal  3  at  one  time  perfectly 
serene,  at  another  cloudy  and  tempestuous.  During  the 
winter  there  are  sometimes  violent  storms,  though  nei- 
ther frequent  nor  of  long  continuance;  and  whenever 
they  cease,  the  weather  returns  to  its  usual  serenity, 
'fhe  spring  is  always  variable,  but  resembles  tbe  winter 
^aorc  than  the  summer.     The  changes  of  heat  and  cold 

I 


are  neither  so  great  nor  to  sudden  in  this  dimate  as  in  M^p, 
many  others.  In  the  eompass  of  a  year,  the  thermo- 
meter seldom  rises  much  above  the  8otb,  or  £sUs  be« 
low  the  48th  degree.  In  summer  there  is  scarcely  ever 
a  difference  of  toiur  or  five  degrees  between  the  heat  of 
the  air  at  noon  and  at  night ;  and  in  winter  the  vaiia- 
tioo  is  fttill  less  considerable.  But  this  must  be  tmder- 
stood  of  a  thermometer  shaded  from  the  induence  of 
the  solar  beams :  for  if  exposed  to  them  it  will  often 
rise  12,  14,  or  16  degrees  higher  than  what  we  have 
nsentionod ;  and  in  other  seasons  the  difference  between 
the  heat  of  the  air  in  the  sua  and  the  shade  is  mnch 
greater.  Yet  even  in  the  do^-days^  tbe  heat  of  the 
atmosphere,  at  least  in  open  places,  seldom  surpasses  that 
of  human  blood*  The  winds  are  very  boisterous  about 
the  equinoxes,  and  sometimes  during  the  wiacer.  At 
other  times  they  are  generally  moderate,  and,  according 
to  the  observations  of  seamen,  they  rarefy  blow  in  the 
same  direction  near  the  islands  adjacent  to  the  gulf  ff 
Lyons  as  in  the  open  sea.  During  the  summer  there  is 
commonly  a  perfect  calm  in  the  meniiogs  and  even- 
ings i  but  the  middle  of  the  day  is  cooled  by  reireshiag 
bRezes  iv4ic1i  come  from  the  east,  and  following  the 
coarse  of  the  sun,  increase  gradnally  till  two  or  three 
in  the  afternoon,  after  which  they  iasenaibly  die  away 
as  night  approaches.  This  rendm  the  beat  of  the  sm 
less  dangerous  and  inconvenient }  and  if  these  breezes 
intermit  for  a  day  or  two,  the  nattveo  grow  laqgnid 
and  inactive  from  the  beat.  Tbe  northerly  winds  in 
general  are  clear  and  healdiy^  dispel  the  mists,  and 
make  a  clear  blue  sky  ^  whilst  those  which  blow  from 
the  opposite  quarter,  render  the  air  warmi  moist,  and 
unhealthy.  The  north  wind  is  superior  in  power  to  all 
the  rest  (  which  appears  from  hence,  that  the  tops  of  all 
the  trees  incline  to  the  south,  and  the  branches  on  the 
north  side  are  bare  and  blasted,  JThe  next  to  it  ia 
force  is  the  north-west.  Both  are  frequcsil  towards  the 
close  of  winter  and  in  the  spring ;  and,  being  diy  and 
cold,  thev  shrivel  up  the  leaves  of  the  vegetables,  .de- 
stroy their  tender  shoots,  and  are  often  excessively  de- 
trimental to  the  vineyards  and  rising  corn.  The  piei^ 
cing  blasts  at  that  season  from  the  north-east,  as  thev 
are  more  moist,  and  more  frequently  attended  witk 
rain,  are  less  prejudicial.  The  south  and  south-east 
winds  are  by  much  the  most  unhealthy.  In  whatever 
seasons  they  blow,  tbe  air  is  foggy,  and  affects  the 
breathing ;  but  in  the  summer  season  they  are  sultry 
and  suffocating.  An  excessive  dejection  of  spirits  is 
then  a  universal  complaint  j  and  on  exposing  the  ther- 
mometer to  the  rays  of  the  sun,  the  mercury  has  fre- 
quently risen  above  the  looth  degree.  The  west  wind 
is  usually  drier  than  the  south  :  the  cast  is  cold  and 
blustering  in  the  spring,  and  sultry  in  the  summer. 

The  weather  in  Minorca  is  generally  fair  and  dry ; 
hot  when  it  rains,  the  showers  are  heavy,  though  of 
short  continuance,  and  they  fall  most  commonly  in  the 
night.  The  sky  in  summer  is  clear,  and  of  a  beautiful 
azure,  without  clmids  or  rain  )  hot  moderate  dews  de- 
scend regularly  after  sunset.  In  autumn  the  weather 
becomes  less  serene ;  whirlwinds  and  thunder  become 
frequent  ^  and  in  the  night  time  lightning,  and  those 
meteors  called yffi/iVtg'  stars^  are  very  common.  Watrr 
spouts  also  are  often  seen  at  that  season,  and  frequently 
break  open  the  shore.  A  sodden  alteration  in  the  wea- 
ther takes  place  about  the  autumnal  equinox  ^  the  skies- 

SfC 


M    I    N 


C    273    3 


M    I    N 


iftikened  with  clouds,  and  the  rams  fall  in  snch 
ittties,  that  the  torrents  tliereby  occasioned,  pour- 
Jovrn  from  the  bills,  tear  up  trees  by  tl^e  root,  car- 
sray  cattle,  break  down  fences,  and  do  considerable 
bief  to  the  gardens  and  vineyards.  But  these  anni- 
iry  rains  are  mnch  more  violent  than  lasting ;  al- 
i  falling  in  sudden  and  heavy  showers,  with  inter- 

of  fair  weather.  They  are  accompanied  with 
der,  lightning,  and  squalls  of  wind,  most  common- 
>m  the  north.  Hail  and  snow  are  often  intermix- 
ith  the  rains  which  fall  in  winter  an^  in  spring  *y 
he  snow,  for  the  most  part,  dissolves  immediately  9 
ice  is  here  an  uncommon  appearance. 
le  whole  coast  of  Minorc%  lies  low }  and  there  are 
a  few  hills  near  the  centre,  of  which  the  most  con- 
able,  named  Tora  by  tlie  inhabitants,  may  *.e  seen 
e  distance  of  12  or  14  leagues  from  the  land.-  The 
ce  of  the  island  is  rough  and  unequal }  and  in  many 
8  divided  by  long  narrow  vales  of  a  considerable 
I,  called  harancoes  by  the  natives.  They  begin 
rds  the  middle  of  the  island,  and  after  several 
ings  terminate  at  the  sea.     The  south  west  side  is 

plain  and  regular  than  towards  the  north-east  j 
B  the  bills  are  higher,  with  low  marshy  valleys  be- 

them,  the  soil  less  fruitful,  and  the  whole  tract 
ilthy  to  man  and  beast.     Near  the  towns  and  vil- 

tbe  fields  are  well  cultivated,  and  enclosed  with 

walls  \  but  the  rest  for  the  most  part  are  rocky, 
irered  with  woods  and  thickets.     There  are  some 

of  standing  water,  but  very  few  rivulets,  which 
s  greatest  defect  about  the  island,  as  the  inhabi- 

have  scarcely  any  wholesome  water  excepting 
is  saved  from  the  clouds. 

e  soil  is  light,  thin,  and  very  stony,  with  a  good 
>f  sea  salt,  and,  in  some  places,  of  calcareous  nitre 
nixed.  In  most  places  there  is  so  little  earth,  that 
land  appears  to  be  but  one  large  irregular  rock,  co- 
.  here  and  there  with  mould,  and  an  infinite  variety 
roes.  Notwithstanding  this,  however,  it  is  not 
extremely  proper  for  vineyards,  but  produces  more 
t  and  barley  than  could  at  first  sight  be  imagined  \ 
I  the  peasants  may  be  credited,  it  would  always 
a  quantity  of  com  and  wine  sufficient  for  the  na- 

did  not  the  violence  of  the  winds,  and  the  exces- 
IroQght  of  the  weather,  fireqoently  spoil  their  crops, 
fields  commonly  lie  fallow  for  two  years,  and  are 
the  third.  About  the  latter  end  of  winter,  or  the 
ning  of  spring,  they  are  first  broke  up  :  and  next 
iin,  as  soon  as  the  rains  fall,  they  are  again  plough- 
id  prepared  for  receiving  the  proper  seeds.  The 
e  is  very  easily  performed  ^  for  a  plough  so  light 
he  transported  from  place  to  place  on  the  ploogh- 
1  shoulder,  and  to  be  drawn  by  a  heifer,  or  an  %ss 
times  assisted  by  an  bog,  is  sufficient  for  opening 
in  a  soil.  The  later  the  harvest  happens,  the  more 
iful  it  proves.  The  barley  is  usually  cut  down 
;  the  20th  of  May  and  the  wheat  is  reaped  io 
y  so  that  the  whole  harvest  is  commonly  got  in 
[idsammer  day.  The  grain  is  not  thrashed  with 
as  in  this  country,  but  trodden  out  on  a  smooth 
!  of  rock  by  Oxen  and  asses,  according  to  the  cus- 
sf  the  eastern  nations. 

le  natives  of  Minorca  are  commonly  lean,  thin, 
well-built,  of  a  middle  stature,  and  olive  com- 
or.  XIV.  Part  I.  t 


plexion  j  but  their  character  is  by  no  means  agree-  Minorca. 
able.  Such  isthc  natural  impetuosity  of  their  temper, 
that  the  slightest  cause  provokes  them  to  anger,  and 
they  seem  to  be  incapable  of  forgiving  or  forgetting 
any  injury.  Hence  quarrels  break  out  daily,  even  among 
neighbours  and  relations :  and  family  disputes  are  trans- 
mitted from  father  to  son ;  and  thus,  though  lawyers 
and  pettifoggers  are  very  numerous  in  this  country, 
there  are  still  too  few  for  the  clients.  Both  sexes  are, 
by  constitution,  exti'emely  amorous :  they  are  often  be- 
trothed to  each  other  while  children,  and  marry  at  the 
age  of  14.  The  women  have  easy  labours,  and  com- 
monly return  in  a  few  days  to  their  usual  domestic  bu- 
siness ^  but,  lest  the  family  should  become  too  numer- 
ous for  their  income,  it  is  a  practice  among  the  poorer 
sort  to  keep  their  children  at  the  breast  for  two  or 
three  years,  that  bjr  this  means  the  mothers  may  be 
hindered  from  breeding. 

Bread  of  the  finest  wheat  flour,  well  fermented  and 
well  baked,  is  more  than  half  the  diet  of  people  of  all 
ranks.  Rice,  pulse,  vermicelli,  herbs  and  roots  from 
tlie  garden,  summer  fruits,  pickled  olives  and  pods  of 
the  Guinea  pepper,  make  up  almost  all:  the  other  half, 
so  that  scarce  a  fifth  of  their  whole  food  is  furnished 
from  the  animal  kingdom,  and  of  this  fish  makes 
by  much  the  most  considerable  portion.  On  Fridays, 
and  other  fast  days,  they  abstain  entirely  from  flesh  j 
and  during  Lent  they  live  altogether  on  vegetables  and 
fish,  excepting  Sundays,  when  they  are  permitted  the 
use  of  eggs,  cheese,  and  milk.  Most  of  their  dishes 
arc  high-seasoned  with  pepper,  cloves,  cinnamon,  and 
other  spices  ^  and  garlic,  onions,  or  leeks,  are  almost' 
constant  ingredients.  They  eat  a  great  deal  of  oil, 
and  that  none  of  the  sweetest  or  best  flavoured  ^  using 
it  not  only  with  salads,  but  also  with  boiled  and  fried 
fish,  greens,  pulse,  &c.  instead  of  butter.  A  slice  of 
bread  soaked  in  boiled  water,  with  a  little  oil  and  salt, 
is  the  common  breakfaat  of  the  peasants,  well  known 
by  the  name  of  okagua.  Their  ordinary  meals  are 
very  frugal,  and  consist  of  very  little  variety  ',  but  on 
festivals  and'other  solemn  occasions  their  entertainments' 
are  to  the  last  degree  profuse  and  extravagant,  inso- 
much that  the  bill  of  fare  of  a  country  fnrmer^s  wedding 
dinner  would  scarce  be  credited. 

With  regard  to  other  matters,  the  Minorqnins  are 
accused  of  prodigious  indolence  in  the  way  of  business, 
and  neglect  of  the  natural  advantages  they  possess.   In' 
the  bowels  of  the  earth  are  iron,  copper,  and  lead  ores,^ 
of  none  of  which  any  nse  has  been  made  except  the 
last.   A  lead  mine  was  worked  to  advantage  some  time ' 
ago,  and  the  ore  sent  into  France  and  Spain  for  the 
use  of  the  potteries  in  those  countries.     The  proprie-- 
tor  discontinued  his  work  00  some   small  discourage- 
ment 'y  and  indeed  it  is  said,  that  these  people  are  of 
a)l  mankind  the  roost  easily  put  out  of  conceit  with  an 
undertaking  that  does  not  bring  them  in  mountains  of 
present  gain,  or  that  admits  of  the  slightest  probabili-^ 
ty  of  disappointing  their  most  sanguine  expectations :' 
nor  will  their  purse  admit  of  many  disappointments  )• 
and  thus  their  poverty  co-operating  with  their  natural' 
despondence  and  love  of  ease,  is  the  principal  cause  of* 
their  backwardness  to  engage  in  projects^'  though  ever^ 
so  promising  for  the  improvement  of  their  private  foiv  • 
tune,  and   the    advantage  of  the  commerce  of  their 

M  m  country* 


X. 


M    I    N 


[    274    ] 


M    I    N 


MiAOKA.  eomitrf .  Tbis  lead  ore  went  nnder  tbe  name  ef  vemii 
among  the  natives,  as  it  was  whollj  used  by  die  potters 
in  varnishing  and  gla^ng  their  earthen  vessels. 

There  are  few  exports  of  any  account,  and  they 
are  obliged  to  their  neighbours  for  near  one^third  of 
their  com,  all  their  oil,  and  such  a  variety  of  articles 
of  less  consideration,  that  nothing  could  preserve  them 
from  a  total  bankruptcy,  but  the  English  money  circu- 
lated by  the  troops,  which  is  exchanged  for  the  daily 
supplies  of  prQvision3,  increased  by  the  multiplication  ef 
vineyards,  the  breeding  of  poultry,  and  the  production 
of  vegetables,  in  a  proportion  of  at  least  five  to  one 
sipce  the  island  has  been  in  our  possession.  It  will  not 
require  many  words  to  enumerate  their  exports :  they 
make  a  sort  of  cheese,  little  liked  by  the  English,  which 
sells  in  Italy  at  a  very  great  priee  j  this,  perhaps,  to 
the  amount  of  8ool.  per  annum^-^The  wool  they  send 
abroad  may  produce  900I.  more.— Some  wine  is  expor^ 
led  >  and,  if  we  add  to  its  value  that  of  the  home  con- 
sumption, which  J  has  every  merit  of  an  export,  being 
nine  parts  in  tea  taken  off  by  the  troops  for  ready 
money,  it  may  well  be  estimated  at  1 6,oooL  a-year.  In 
hooey,  wax,  and  salt,  their  yearly  exports  may  be 
about  4Coh  and  this  comes  pretty  near  the  sum  of  their 
fxpqrts,  which  we  estimate  together  at  iS^lOoL  sterling 
per  antmfiu 

A  vast  halance  lies  against  them,  if  we  consider  the 
Tariety  and  importance  of  the  articles  they  fetch  from 
other  countries,  for  which  they  must  pay  ready  cash. 
Here  it  may  be  necessary  to  withdraw  some  things 
from  the  heap,  such  as  tli^ir  cattle,  sheep,  and  fowls, 
no.  which  they  get  a  profit^  for  the  country  does  not 
produce  them  in  a  sumcient  abundance  to  supply  them, 
especially  when  we  have  a  fleet  of  men  of  war  stationed 
there. 

Their  imports  are,  com,  cattle,  sheep,,  fowls,  to- 
hacco^  oil,  cice,  sugar,  spices,  bsjdware,  and  tools 
pf  all  kinds ;  gold  and  silver  lace ;  chocolate,  or  co.^ 
coa  to  make  it  \  tobacco,  timber,  plank,  boards,  milU 
stonea,  tobacco  ^pes,  playing  cards,  turnery  ware, 
eeeds,  soap^  saddles  j  all  manner  of  cabinetmakers 
work,  iron  spikes,  nails,  fine  earthen  ware,  glass 
lamps,  brasiery ;.  paper,  and  other  stationary  wares  \ 
copperas,  galls,  djre  stofls,  painters  brushes  and  co- 
lours) musical  iastwMnents,  music,  and  strings}  watches, 
wane,  fruit,  all  manner  of  fine  and  printed  linens, 
q^oslios,  cambrics,  and  laqes^  bottles,  corks,  starch, 
ipdigo,  fiuns,  trinketa,  toys,  ribbands,  tape,  needles, 
|4ns,  silk,  mohair,  iantboms,  cordage,  tar,  pitoh,  ro- 
aia,  dmg^  gloves,  fire-arms,  gunpowder,  shot,  and 
kiad }  h^ts,  caps,  velvety  cotton  stuffs,  woollen  cloths, 
atoaki^,  capes,  madals,  vestments,  lustees,  pictures, 
images,  agnus  iii\  hooka^  pandoas,  buUa»  relieka,  and' 
ifldulgencies. 

The  island,  ia  divided  into  what  they  atyle  lemMor, 
4^  nkick  there  wens  aneiently  fiae^  now  leduted- to  four, 
Md  resemble  our  eounties.  The  termine  of  CiudadeNa^ 
^  the  north-westom  exirsmity  of  the  islaad,  is  so  styled> 
^om  this  plaeaf  vrhiob  wae  onoe  a  eily,  and  the  eapiul 
(|^M» norea.  It  makea  a.  vanawshle  and  mi^astio  Igure^ 
^^n  in  iu  present  stain  of  daoap,  having  in  it  a.  Targe 
<«Miio  calhednil,  same  ether  ehurohes  and*  convoits,. 
the  gavemorV  pahpe,  and  a»  euhanga,  whinh  ia  no 
oflMnmptible.pile^-f^Th«re  are  in  it  600  heusea,  which^ 
^fiom  Ike  seat  of  govemoMnl  and  the  courts  of  justice 


were  removed  to  Mahon,  were  {uUy  inhabited  \  and  m 
there  are  still  more  gentlemen's  (amiliea  here  than  in 
all  the  rest  of  the  island.  It  hath  a  port  commodious 
enough  for  the  vessels  employed  in  the  trade  ef  this 
country,  which,  though  in  the  possession  of  a^^naritime 
power,  is  less  than  it  formerly  was.  It  is  still,  in  the 
style  of  our  officers,  the  best  quarters  (and  there  are 
none  bad)  in  the  country  \  and  if  there  was  a  civil  go- 
vernment, and  tbe  place  made  a  free  port,  the  best  jud- 
ges are  of  opinion  it  would  very  soon  become  a  flourish- 
ing place  again  ^  and  tbe  fortifications,  if  it  should  be 
found  necessary,  might  then  also  be  easily  restored  and 
improved. 

Tbe  termino  of  Fererias  is  the  next,  a  narrow  sltp 
reaching  cross  from  sea  to  sea,  and  the  country  "littlb 
cultivf  ;9d  \  it  is  therefore  united  to  Mercnndal.  In  this 
last  termino  stands  Mont*toro  in  the  very  centre  of  the 
isle,  and  the  highest  ground,  some  say  the  only  mona- 
tain  in  it  \  on  the  summit  of  which  there  is  a  convent^ 
where  even  in  the  hottest  months  the  monks  enjoy  a. 
cool  air,  and  at  all  times  a  most  deligbtfyl  prosprc t. 
About  six  miles  norths  from  Mont-toro- stands  the  castJe 
that  covers  Fort-Fomelfes,  which  is  a  very  spacioaa 
harbour  00  the  east  side  of  tbe  island.  There  are  in  it 
shoals  and  foul  ground,  which,  to  those  who  are  unac- 
quainted with  tliem,  render  it  difficult^and  dangerous  ;- 
yet  the  packets  bound  from  Mahon  to  Marseilles  fre- 
quently take  shelter  therein  y  and  while  the  Spaniards 
were  in  possession  of  the  isle,  large  ships  and  men  of  war 
frequented  it.  At  a  small  dintanoe  from  this  lies  an- 
other harbour  called  Adia^  which  runs  far  into  the  land  \ 
but  being  reputed  unsafe,  and  being  so  near  Fomellei, 
is  at  present  useless.  Tbe  country  about  it  is,  howevei^ 
said  to  be  the  pleasantest  and  wbolesomest  spot  in  the 
isUnd,  and  almost  the  only  one  plentifully  supplied  with 
exeellent  spring  water  %  so  that  the  gardens  are  wall 
laid  out,  and  the-  richest  and  finest  fruits  grow  here  in 
the  highest  perfection.  Alaior  is  the  next  termino^  in 
which  there  is  nothing  remarkable  but  tbe  capital  of 
the  same  name,  well  situated  on  an  eminence,  ia  a  plea- 
sant and  tolerably  cultivated  country. 

The  termino  of  Mahon,  at  the  sooth-east  end  of  the 
island,  is  at  present  the  most  considerable  of  them  all, 
contnining  about  60,000  English  acres^  and  nearly  oar- 
half  of  the  inhabitants  in  Minorca,  Tbe  towo  ef 
Mulion  derives  its  name  firom  the  Carthaginian  gencial 
Mago,  who  is  universally  allowed  to  be  its  founder.-- 
It  stands  on  an  eminence  on  the  west  side  of  tbe  har- 
bour, the  ascent  pietty  steep.  There  are  in  it  a  \v^ 
ohorch,  three  convents,  the  govemor^s  palace,  and 
some  other  public.' edifices.  It  is  large,  but  the  streets 
are  winding,  narrow,  and  ill  paved.  The  fortress  <  t 
St  Philip  stands  near  the  entrance  of  the  harbonr,  which 
it  covers }  is  very  spacious,  of  great  strength,  with  sab- 
terranean  wmrks  to  protect  the  garrison  firom  bombs, 
large  magaxinei),and  whatever  else  b  necessary  to  reader 
it  a  complete  fixrtification,  and  hath  a  'numerous  and 
well  disposed  artillery.  Port  Mahon  is  allowed  to  be 
the  finest  harbour  in  the  Mediterranean,  about  JK)  fa» 
thorns  wide  at  its  entrance,  but  witliin  very  large  and 
safe,  stretching  a  league  or  more  into  tbe  land.  Bentslh 
tbe  town  of  Mahon  there  is  a  very  fine  quart  <">*  ^ 
of  which  is  reserved  for  the  ships  of  war,  and  fumishfd 
with  all  the  accomaM>datiQns  necessary  for  cartem*g 
afid  refitting  them  $  the  other  servea  far  nMEdumtincn. 

On 


M    1    N  [2 

tke  oUier  »t<le  of  the  harbour  is  Cape  Mol»,  where 
»  generally  agreed  a  fortreaa  might  be  constructed 
cb  wadd  be  in^egoablei  as  the  etaih  of  St  PhiKp 
.esteemed  before  we  took  it,  and  bestowed'  so  imacb 
icy  upon  it,  that  thoi^gh  some  wArks  were  erected 
!^ape  Mola,  it  was  not  judged  propter  to  proceed  ifi 
fortifications  there  at  a  frei^Kexpence  ^  at  least  thts 
le  odIt  reafoB  that  hath  been  asngned.  Minorca 
taken  by  the  SjHMiiards  during  the  American, war, 
is  now  in  their  possession. 

flNORSy  or  Friars  Minor,  an  appellation  which 
Fp^aeiscans  assume,  oat  of  show  of  hmnDity  ^  calling 
Rselves  Jrotres  minores^  i.  e.  lesser  brothers,  and 
etimes  mtnorttes.  There  is*  also  an  order  of  regular 
9^8  at  Naples,  >which  was  establisbed  in  the  year 

8,  and  confirmed  ]>y  Sixtns  .V. 

[IN08,  in  Fabuibus  History^  a  king  of  Crete,  son 
fopiter  and  Snropa.  He  floarished  about  1432 
rs  befbre  the  Christian  era.  He  gave  laws  to  his 
ects,  which  still  remained  in  full  force  in  the  age  of 
philoaopher  Plato,  about  1000  years  after  the  death 
le  legislatpr.  His  justice  and  moderation  procured 
.the  appellatioa,.Qf  the  favourite  of  the  gods,  the 
idant  of  Jupiter,  and  the  wise  legislator,  in.  every 
of  Greece  j  and,  according  to  the  poets,  he  was 
irded  (or  his  equity  after  death  with  the  office  of 
«me  and  absollite  judge  in  the  infernal  regions.  In 
C4ipaeity  he  is  represented  sitting  in  the  middle  of 
shades,  and  holding  a  sceptre  in  his  hand.     The 

1  plead  their  different  causes  before  him  ^  and  the 
irttal  judge  shakes  the  fatal  urn,  which  is  filled 
V  the  destinies  of  mankind.  He  married  Ithona, 
whom  he  had  Lycastes,  who  was  the  fiither  ^of 
OS  II, 

fivroB  IL  was  a  sonr  of  Lycastes,  the  son  of  Mi- 
I.  and  king  of  Crete.  He  married  Fasiph^e,  the 
rhter  of  Sol  and  Perseis,  and  by  her  he  had  many 
Iredd  Be  increased  his  paternal  dominions  by  the 
[nest  of  the  neighbouring  islands  ;  but  showed  him- 
cm&l  in  the  war  wlikh  he  carried  ^on  against  t^e 
dttittns,  who  bad  put  to  death  his  son  Androgens. 
took  Megara  by  th<3  treachei^  of  Scylla  *,  and  not 
;fi«d  with  victory,  he  pbliged  the  vanqnished  to 
g  him  y^early  to  Crete  seven  cliosen  boys  and  the 

2  number  of  virgins  to  be  devoured  by  the  MlNO- 
R.  This  bloody  tribute  was  at  last  abolished  when 
BCirs  had  destroyed  the  monster.  TVhen  D.auE)alus, 
se  industry  and  invention  had  'fabricated  the  laby- 

9,  and  whose  impmdeace  in  assisting  Pasiphae  in 
grafciFfication  of  her  unnatural  desires,  had  offended 
los,  ffed  from  tbe  place  of  bis  confinement  with 
rSf  and  arrived  safb  in  Sicily  \  the  incensed  monarch 
lUed.  the  offender,  resolved  to  punish  his  infidelity. 
ilns,-  king"  of  Sicily,  who  had  hospitably  received 
Mus,  entertained  his  royal  gnest  with  dissembled 
>dship;  and,  that  he  might  not  deliver  to  him  a 

who^e  ingenoity  and  abilities  he  so  weH  knew,  be 
Minos  to  death.  Mrnos  died  aboot  35  years  before 
Trojan  war.     He  was  father  of  Androgeus,  Glaii- 

»fid  Deucalion ;  and  two  daughters  Phxdra,  and 
idne«  Many  authors  have  cdn founded  the  two 
HiMSf  ibe  grandfather  and  the  grandson  y  but  Homer, 
bltfch,^;,aiMl  Diodorus,  prove  plainly  that  they  were 
dMhuMt  pei^ns. 
IINOTAUR,  itf  Faimhus  History,  a  celebrated 


75    ]  M    I    N 

monster,  half  a  m^n  and  half  a  bull,  according  to  this  j^notanr 
verse  of  Ovid,  |1 

Semtbovemque  virum^  semivirumque  hovetn. 

It  was  tbe  fruit  of  Pasipbae^s  amour  with  a  bull.  Mi- 
nos refused  to  sacrifice  a  white  bull  to  Neptmie,  ?n 
animal  which  he  had  received  from  the  god  for  th:it 
purpose.  This  offended  Neptune,  and  he  made  P^r- 
siphae  the  wife  of  Minos  enamoured  of  this  fine  bull, 
which  liad  been  refused  to.  his  altars.  Dasdalns  prosti* 
tuted  his  talents  in  being  subservient  to  tt^e  queen ^s 
ni[^nat0ral  desires;  and  by  his  means,  Pasipbae*s  hor- 
rible passions  were-  gratified,  and  the  Minotaur  came 
into  the  world.  Minos  confined  in  the  labyrinth  this 
monster,  which  convinced  the  world  of  hii  wife^  las- 
ciyiousness,  and  reflected  disgrace  upon  his  family. 
The  Minptaur  usually  devoured  the  chosen  yeung  men 
and  maidens  which  the  tyrannyof  JMinos  yeariy. ex- 
acted fi-om  the  Athenians.  Thescns  delivered  his 
country  from  this  tribute,  when  it  had  fallen. to  hjs 
lot  to  be  sacrificed  to  the  voracity  of  the  Minotaur  i 
and  by  means. of  Ariadne,  the  king*s  daughter,  be  ,de- 
stroyed  the  monster,  and  made  his  escape  fuytA  th^ 
windings  of  the  labyrinth. — The  fabulous  tradition  of 
the  Minotaur,  and  of  the  infamous  comiberce  of  Pasi- 
phae. with  a  favoari^te  bull,  has  been. often  explained. 
•Some  suppose  that  Pasiphae  was  enamoured  of  one  of 
her  hnsband^s  courtiers  called  Taurus ;  and  that  Die- 
dalus  favoured  the  passions  of  the  queen,  by  suffering 
his  house  to  become  tbe  retreat  of  the  two  lovers. 
Pasiphae  some  (ime  after  brought  twins  into  the  world, 
one  of  whom  greatly  resembled  Minos  and  the  otiier 
Taurus  ;  and  in  the  natural  resemblance  of  their  coun- 
tenance with  that  of  their  supposed  fathers,  originated 
their  name,  and  consequently  tbe  fable  of  the  Mino- 
taur. 

MINOW,  a  very  small  species  of  cyprinus.  See 
Ichthyology  Index. 

MINSTER,  (Saxon,  Mynstcr  or  Mynsfre),  ancient- 
Jy  siffnified  the  church  of  a  monastery  or  convent. 

MINSTREL,  an  ancient  term  for.  a  singer  and  in- 
strumental perfbrmer. 

The  word  iwiTMfre/ is, derived  from  the  French  ment' 
strier,  and  was  not  ia  use  here  before  the  Normati  con- 
quest. It  is  remarkable  that  otir  old  monkish  histo- 
rians do  not  nse  the.  words  citharadus^  cantatar  or  tbe- 
]ike,  to  express  a  wmstrel  in  'Latin  9  ^mH  cither  rnimus, 
kistrio^joculafor^  or.some  otherword  that  implies ^^^/crir* 
Hence  it  should  seem  that  the  minstrels  set  off  their 
singing  by  mimicry  or  action^  or,  according  to  Dr 
Brown^s  hypothesis,  united  the  powers  of  melody,  poem, 
and  dance. 

The- Saxons  as  well  as  the.  ancieioit  Danes,  h<id  been 
accustomed  to  hold  men  of  this  profession  in  the  high- 
est reverence.  'Their  skill,  was  coasidercd  as  something 
divine,  their  persons  were  deein^d  sacred,  their  atten- 
dance Avas  solicited  by  kings,  and  they  were  every- 
where loaded  with  honours  and  rewards.  In  short, 
po^ts  and  their  art  were  held  among -them  in  that  rude 
admiration  which  is  ever  shown  by  an  ignorant  people 
to  such  as  excel  them  in  intellectual  accomplishments. 
When  the  Saxons  were  converted  to  Christianity,  in 
proportion  as  letters  prevailed  among  them  this  rude 
admiration  began  to  abate,  and  poetry  was  no  longer 
si  peculiar  prO&ssion.     The  poet  and  the  minstrel  bie- 

•M  m  2  came 


M    I    N 


[     276    ] 


M     I    N 


MinttreL  came  two  pencmfl*  Poetnr  was  cultivated  by  men  of 
'■  M  letters  indiscriminatelyy  ana  many  of  the  most  popular 
rhymes  were  composed  amidst  the  leisure  and  retire- 
ment of  monasteries.  But  the  minstrels  continued  a 
distinct  order  of  men,  and  got  their  livelihood  by  sing- 
ing verses  to  the  harp  at  the  bouses  of  the  -  great. 
There  they  were  still  hospitably  and  respectfully  re- 
ceived, and  retained  many  of  the  honours  shown  to 
their  predecessors  the  Bards  and  Scalds.  And  in- 
deed, though  some  of  them  only  recited  the  composi- 
tions of  others,  many  of  them  still  composed  songs 
themselves  :  and  all  of  them  could  probably  invent  a 
few  stanzas  on  occasion.  There  is  no  doubt  but  most 
of  the  old  heroic  ballads  wei^e  produced  by  this  order 
of  men.  For  although  some  of  the  larger  metrical 
romances  might  come  from  the  pen  of  the  monks  or 
others,  yet  the  smaller  narratives  were  probably  com- 
posed by  the  minstrels  who  sung  them.  From  the 
amazing  variations  which  occur  in  different  copies  of 
thrse  old  pieces,  it  is  evident  they  made  no  scruple  to 
alter  each  other^s  productions,  and  the  reciter  added 
or  omitted  whole  stanzas  according  to  his  own  fancy  or 
convenience. 

In  the  early  ages,  as  is  hinted  above,  this  profession 
was  held  in  great  reverence  among  the  Saxon  tribes, 
as  well  as  among  their  Danish  brethren.  This  appears 
from  two  remarkable  facts  in  history,  which  show  that 
the  same  arts  of  music  and  song  were  equally  admired 
among  both  nations,  and  that  the  privileges  and  honours 
conferred  upon  the  professors  of  them  were  common 
to  botli ;  as  it  is  well  known  their  customs,  manners, 
and  even  language,  were  not  in  those  times  very  dis- 
similar. 

When  King  Alfred  the  Great  was  desirous  to  learn 
the  true  situation  of  the  Danish  army,  which  had  in- 
vaded his  realm,  he  assumed  the  dress  and  character  of 
a  minstrel  j  and  taking  his  harp,  and  only  one  attend- 
ant (for  in  the  earliest  times  it  was  not  unusual  for  a 
minstrel  to  have  a  servant  to  carry  his  harp),  he  went 
with  the  utmost  security  into  the  Danish  camp.  And 
though  he  could  not  but  be  known  to  be  a  Saxon,  the 
character  he  had  assumed  procured  him  an  hospitable 
reception  \  he  was  admitted  to  entertain  the  king  at 
table,  and  staid  among  them  long  enough  to  contrive 
that  assault  which  afterwards  destroyed  them.  This 
was  in  the  year  878. 

About  00  years  after,  a  Danish  kfng  made  use  of 
the  same  disguise  to  explore  the  camp  of  King  Athel- 
stan.  With  his  harp  in  his  hand,  and  dressed  like  a 
minstrel,  AnlaiF  kin^  of  the  Danes  went  among  the 
Saxon  tents,  and  taking  his  stand  near  the  king^s  pa- 
vilion, began  to  play,  and  was  immediately  admitted. 
There  he  entertained  Athelstan  and  bis  lords  with  his 
singing  and  his  music  ^  and  was  at  length  dismissed 
with  an  honourable  reward,  though  his  songs  must 
have  discovered  him  to  have  been  a  Dane.  Athel- 
stan was  saved  from  the  consequences  of  this  stratagem 
by  a  soldier,  who  had  observed  Anlaff  bury  the  money 
which  had  been  given  him,  from  some  scruple  of  ho- 
nour or  motive  of  superstition.  This  occasioned  a  dis- 
covery. 

From  the  uniform  procedure  of  both  these  kings,  it 
is  plain  that  the  same  mode  of  entertainment  prevailed 
.among  both  peoples,  and  that  the  minstrel  was  a  pri- 
vileged character  among  both.     Even  as  late  us  the 


reign  of  Edward  II.  the  minstrels  were  easily  admitted  MiBstrcl 
into  the  royal  presence,  as  appears  firom  a  passage  in 
Stow,  which  also  shows  the  splendour  of  their  appear- 
ance. 

*^  In  the  year  13 16,  Edward  II.  did  solemnize  hu 
feast  of  Pentecost  at  Westminster,  in  the  great  hall  \ 
where  sitting  royally  at  the  table  with  his  peers  about 
bim,  there  entered  a  woman  adorned  like  a  minstrel, 
sitting  on  a  great  horse  trapped,  as  minstrab  then  osed^ 
who  rode  round  about  the  tables,  showing  pastime ;  and 
at  length  came  up  to  the  king's  taUe  and  laid  before 
him  a  letter,  and  forthwith  turning  her  horse,  saluted 
every  one,  and  departed.''— -The  subject  of  this  letter 
was  a  remonstrance  to  the  king  on  the  favouis  heaped 
by  him  on  his  minions,  to  the  neglect  of  his  knights  and 
faithful  servants. 

The  messenger  was  sent  in  a  miiystfel's  habit,  as  what 
would  gain  an  easy  admission ;  and  waa  a  woman  con* 
cealed  under  that  habit,  piobably  to  disarm  the  kiog^s 
resentment  ^  for  we  do  not  find  that  any  of  the  real 
minstrels  were  of  the  female  sex  ^  and  therefore  con- 
clude this  was  only  an  artful  contrivance  peculiar  to 
that  occasion. 

In  the  4th  year  of  Richard  II.  John  of  Gaunt 
erected  at  Tetbury  in  Staffordshire  a  court  of  minstrels, 
with  a  full  power  to  receive  suit  and  service  firom  the 
men  of  that  profession  within  five  neighbouring  coon- 
ties,  to  enact  laws,  and  determine  their  controveisies ; 
and  to  apprehend  and  arrest  such  of  them  as  should  re- 
fuse to  appear  at  the  said  court,  anniuUy  held  on  the 
1 6th  of  August.  For  this  they  had  a  charter,  by  which 
they  were  empowered  to  appoint  a  king  of  the  min- 
strels with  four  officers  to  preside  over  them.  These 
were  every  year  elected  with  great  ceremonj^  the 
whole  form  of  which  is  described  by  Dr  PJott^  in 
whose  time,  however,  they  seem  to  have  become  mere 
musicians. 

Even  so  late  as  the  reign  of  King  Henry  VIIL  Uie 
reciters  of  verses  or  moral  speeches  learnt  by  heart,  in- 
truded without  ceremony  into  all  companies  }  not  only 
in  taverns,  but  in  the  houses  of  the  nobility  themselves. 
This  we  learn  from  Erasmus,  whose  argument  led  him 
only  to  describe  a  species  of  these  men  who  did  nqtsing 
their  compositions  ^  but  the  others  that  did,  enjoyed 
without  doubt  the  same  privileges. 

We  find  that  the  minstrels  continued  down  to  the 
reign  of  Elizabeth  ^  in  whose  time  they  had  lost  much 
of  their  dignity,  and  were  sinking  into  contempt  and 
neglect.  Yet  still  they  sustained  a  character  far  superior 
to  any  thing  we  can  conceive  at  present  of  the  singers 
of  old  ballads. 

When  Queen  Elizabeth  was  entertamed  at  Killing- 
worth  castle  by  the  earl  of  Leicester  in  1575,  among 
the  many  devices  and  pageants  which  were  exhibited 
for  h€^r  entertainment,  one  of  the  personages  introduced 
was  that  of  an  ancient  minstrel,  whose  appearance  and 
dress  are  so  minutely  described  by  a  writer  there  pre- 
sent, and  gives  us  sa  distinct  an  idea  of  the  character, 
that  we  shall  quote  the  passage  at  large. 

'*  A  person  very  meet  seemed  he  for  the  purpose^ 
of  a  xlv.  years  old,  apparelled  partly  as  he  would 
himself.  His  cap  off:  his  head  seemingly  rounded 
tonsterwise  :  fair  kembed,  that,  with  a  sponge  daintiy 
dipt  in  a  little  capon's  grease,  was  finely  smoothed,  to 
make  it  shine  like  a  mallard's  wing.     His  beard  snogly 

sbaven ; 


M    I    N 


[    277    j 


M    I    N 


%Tes :  and  yet  his  Bhlrt  aftertbe  new  trink,  with  raffs 
It  starched,  sleeked,  and  gUsteriiig  like  a  jiair  of  new 
MS,  marshalled  in  good  order  'with  a  settins  stick, 
d  strot,  *  that*  every  ruJBF  stood  up  like  a  water.  A 
le  [i.  e.  long]  gown  of  Kendale  green,  after  the  fresh- 
Bs  of  the  year  now,  gathered  at  the  neck  with  a  nar* 
w  gorget,  fastened  afore  with  a  white  clasp  and  a 
eper  close  up  to  the  chin  >  but  easily,  for  heat,  to 
do  when  be  list.  Seemingly  begirt  in  a  red  caddis 
die :  from  that  a  pair  of  capped  Sheffield  knives 
aging  A*  two  sides.  Out  of  bis  bosom  drawn  from 
lappet  of  his  napkin  edged  with  a  blue  lace,  and 
jked  with  a  D  for  Damian  j  for  he  was  but  a  bache- 

yet. 

^'  His  gown  bad  side  [i.  e.  long]  sleeves  down  to 
dieg,  slit  from  the  shoulder  to  the  hand,  and  lined 
th  white  cotton.  His  doublet  sleeves  of  black  wor- 
d :  upon  them  a  pair  of  points  of  tawny  chamlet 
ed  along  the  wrist  with  blue  threaden  pointes.  A 
alt  towards  the  hands  of  fustian-a-napes.  A  pair 
red  neather  stocks.  A  pair  of  pumps  on  his  feet, 
:h  a  cross  cut  at  his  toes  for  corns  ;  not  new  indeed, 
cleanly  blackt  with  soot,  and  shining  a^  a  sboing 
n. 

"*  About  his  neck  a  red  ribband  suitable  to  his  girdle. 
5  harp  in  good  grace  dependent  before  him.  His 
ist  tyed  to  a  green  lace  and  hangine  by  :  uuder  the 
get  of  his  gown  a  fair  flaggon  chain  (pewter  for) 
er,  as  a  Squure  Minstrel  of  Middlesex,  that  travelled 
country  this  summer  season,  unto  fair  and  worship- 
men*s  nouses.  From  his  chain  hung  a  scutcheon, 
h  metal  and  colour,  resplendent  upon  his  breast,  of 
ancient. arms  of  Islington.*' 

—This  minstrel  is  described  as  belonging  to  that 
ige*  We  suppose  such  as  were  retained  by  noble 
lilies  wore  their  arms  hanging  down  by  a  silver  chain 
a  kind  of  badge.  From  the  expression  of  Squire 
Dstrel  above,  we  may  conclude  there  were  other  in- 
or  orders,  as  Yeomen  Minstrels  or  the  like. 
Phis  minstrel,  the  author  tells  us  a  little  below, 
fter  three  lowly  courtesies,  cleared  his  voice  with  a 
I . . .  and  wiped  his  lips  with  the  hollow  of  his  hand 
'filing  bb  napkin  ^  tempered  a  string  or  two  with 
wrist ',  and,  after  a  little  warbling  on  his  harp  for 
relude,  came  forth  with  a  solemn  song,  warranted 
story  out  of  King  Arthur's  acts,  &c." 
Towards  the  end  of  the  16th  century,  this  ckss  of 
1  had  lost  all  credit,  and  were  sunk  so  low  in  the 
lie  opinion,  that  in  the  39th  year  of  Elizabeth  a 
ate  was  passed  by  which  '*  minstrels,''  wandering 
oad,  were  included  among  '^  rogues,  vagabonds,  and 
■dy  beggars,"  add  were  adjudged  to  be  punished  as 
b.  This  act  seems  to  have  put  an  end  to  the  pro- 
ion,  for  after  this  time  they  are  no  longer  mentioned. 
iflNT,  the  place  in  which  the  king's  money  is 
led.     See  Coinage. 

rhere  were  anciently  mints  in  almost  every  connty 
England  ^  but  the  only  mint  at  present  in  the  Bri- 
1  dominions  is  that  in  the  Tower  of  London.  The 
cers  of  the  mint  are,  i.  The  warden  of  the  mint, 
)  is  the  chief;  he  oversees  the  other  officers,  and 
eives  the  bullion.  2.  The  master  worker,  who  re- 
res  bullion  from  the  wardens,  causes  it  to  be  melted, 
[vers  it  to  the  moneyers,  and,  when  it  is  coined, 
elves  it  again.     3.  The  comptroller,  who  is  the 


overseer  of  all  the  inferior  officers,  and  sees  that  all  the 
money  is  made  to  the  just  assize.  4.  The  assay  master, 
who  weighs  the  gold  and  silver,  and  sees  that  it  is 
according  to  the  standard.  5.  The  two  auditors  who 
take  the  accounts*  6.  The  surveyor  of  the  melting } 
who,  after  the  assay  master  has  made  trial  of  tha  baU 
lion,  sees  that  it  is  cast  out,  and  not  altered  after  it  is 
delivered  to  the  melter.  7.  The  engraver ;  who  en- 
graves the  stamps  and  dies  for  the  coinage  of  the  mo- 
ney. 8.  The  clerk  of  the  irons ;  who  sees  that  the 
irons  are  clean  and  fit  to  work  with.  9.  The  melter, 
who  melts  the  bullion  before  it  be  coined.  10.  The 
provost  of  the  mint ;  who  provides  for  and  oversees 
all  the  moneyers.  11.  The  blancbers,  who  anneal 
and  cleanse  the  money.  1 2.  The  moneyers ;  some  of 
whom  forge  the  money,  some  share  it,  some  round  and 
mill  it,  and  some  stamp  and  coin  it.  13.  The  porters 
itho  keep  the  gate  of  the  mint. 

MiKT  was  also  a  pretended  place  of  privilege,  in 
Southwark,  near  the  King's  Bench,  pot  down  by 
statute.  If  any  persons,  within  the  limits  of  the  mint, 
shall  obstruct  any  officer  in  the  serving  of  any  writ  or 
process,  &c.  or  assault  any  person  therein,  so  as  he 
receive  any  bodily  hurt,  the  offender  shall  be  guilty 
of  felony,  and  be  transported  to  the  plantations,  &c. 
Stat.  9.  Geo.  I. 

AIisT  Marks.  It  hath  been  usual,  from  old  time, 
to  oblige  the  masters  and  workers  of  the  mint,  in  the 
indentures  made  with  them,  '*  to  make  a  privy  mark 
in  all  the  money  that  they  made,  as  well  of  gold  as  of 
silver,  so  that  another  time  they  mi^ht  know,  if  need 
were,  and  witte  which  moneys  of  gold  and  silver 
among  other  of  the  same  moneys,  were  of  their  own 
making,  and  which  not."  And  whereas,  after  every 
trial  of  the  pix  at  Westminster,  the  masters  and  work- 
ers of  the  mint,  having  there  proved  their  moneys  to 
be  lawful  and  good,  were  immediately  entitled  to  re- 
ceive their  quietus  under  the  great  seal,  and  to  be  dis- 
charged from  all  suits  or  actions  concerning  those 
moneys,  it  was  then  usual  for  the  said  masters  and 
workers  to  change  the  privy  mark  before  nsed  for  ano- 
ther, that  so  the  moneys  from  which  they  were  not  yet 
discharged  might  be  distinguished  from  those  for  wmch 
they  had  already  received  their  quietus:  which  new 
mark  they  then  continued  to  stamp  upon  all  their  mo- 
neys, until  another  trial  of  the  pix  gave  them  also  their 
quietus  concerning  those. 

The  pix  is  a  strong  box  with  three  locks,  whose 
keys  are  respectively  kept  by  the  warden,  master,  and 
comptroller  of  the  mint ;  and  in  which  are  deposited, 
sealed  up  in  several  parcels,  certain  pieces  taken  at 
random  out  of  every  journey  as  it  is  called ;  that  is, 
out  of  every  15  pounds  weight  of  gold,  or  60  pounds 
weight  of  silver,  before  the  same  is  delivered  to  the 
proprietors.  And  this  pix  is,  from  time  to  time,  by 
the  king's  command,  opened  at  Westminster,  in  the 
presence  of  the  lord  chancellor,  the  lords  of  the  coun- 
cil, the  lords  commissioners  of  the  treasury,  the  ju- 
stices of  the  several  benches,  and  the  barons  of  the 
exchequer ;  before  whom  a  trial  is  made,  by  a  jury 
of  goldsmiths  impannelled  and  sworn  for  that  purpose, 
of  the  collective  weights  of  certain  parcels  of  the  se- 
veral pieces  of  gold  and  silver  taken  at  random  from 
those  contained  in  the  pix  j  after  which  those  parcels 
being  severally  melted,  assays  are  then  made  of  the 

bullioa 


Mint. 


M  I  ^f 


t   278  ] 


MIA 


Miaoet 


Blint  ^oHian  of  gold  and  silver  so  produced,  by  the  melt- 
n  iog  certain  small  quantities  of  tbe  same  against  equal 
weights  taken  from  the  respective  trial  pieces  of  gold 
and  silver  that  are  deposited  and  kept  in  the  exchequer 
for  that  use.  This  is  called  tbe  trt(U  of  the  pix ;  the 
report  made  by  the  jury  npon  that  trial  is  called  tbe 
verdict  of  the  pix  for  that  time  4  and  the  indented  trial 
pieces  just  above  mentioned^  are  certain  plates  of  stand- 
ard gold  and  standard  silver,  made  with  the  greatest 
care,  and  delivered  in  npon  oath,  from  time  to  time 
as  there  is  oecasion,  by  a  jury  of  the  most  able  and 
experienced  goldsmiths,  summoned  by  virtue  of  a  war- 
rant from  the  lords  of  the  treasury  to  the  wardens  of 
the  mystery  of  goldsmiths  of  the  city  of  London  for 
that  purpose  j  and  which  plates  being  so  delivered  in, 
are  -divided,  each,  at  this  time,  into  seven  parts  by  in- 
dentures, one  of  which  pau^  is  kept  in  his  majesty^s 
couit  of  exchequer  at  Westminster,  another  by  the 
said  company  of  goldsmiths,  and  two  more  by  the  of- 
ficers of  bis  majesty's  mint  in  tbe  Tower ;  the  remain- 
itig  three  being  for  the  use  of  the  mint,  &c.  in  Scot- 
land. The  pix  has  sometimes  been  tried  ev^ry  year, 
or  even  oflener,  but  sometimes  not  more  than  once 
in  several  years  :  and  from  hence  is  understood  how  it 
comes  to  pass,  that,  among  the  pieces  that  are  dated 
as  well  as  marked,  three  or  more  different  dates  are 
i^metimes  found  upon  pieces  impressed  with  the  same 
mark  :  and  again,  that  different  marks  are  found  upon 
pieces  bearing  the  same  date.  These  marks  are  first 
observable  npon  the  coins  of  King  Edward  III. }  the 
words  above  quoted  concerning  those  marks  are  from 
the  indentures  made  with  the  lord  Hastings,  master 
and  worker  to  King  Edward  IV  j  and  toe  marks 
themselves  continued  to  be  stamped  very  conspicuously 
upon  the  moneys,  till  the  coinage  by  the  mill  aiid 
screw  was  introduced  and  settled  after  the  Restoration, 
in  the  year  1662  ^  since  which  time,  tbe  moneys  being 
made  with  far  greater  reffulai^ity  and  exactness  than 
before,  these  marks  have  either  been  totally  laid  aside, 
or  such  only  have  been  used  as  are  of  a  more  secret 
nature,  and  only  known  to  the  oiBcers  and  engravers 
concerned  in  the  coinage :  and  indeed  the  constant 
practice  that  has  ever  since  prevailed,  of  dating  all  the 
several  pieces,  has  rendered  all  such  marks  of  much  less 
consequence  than  before. 

MiKX.  See  Mentha,  Botakt  and  Materia 
Medica  Index. 

MINTURN^,  a  town  of  Campania,  between  Si- 
nuessa  and  Formiae.  It  was  in  the  marshes  in  this  neigh- 
bourhood that  Marius  concealad  ^mself  in  tbe  mud  to 
avoid  tbe  partizans  of  Sylla.  The  people  condemned 
him  to  death ;  but  when  bis  voice  alone  had  terrified 
the  executioner,  they  showed  themselves  compassionate 
and  favoured  his  escape. 

MINUET,  a  very  graceful  kind  of  dance,  consisting 
of  a  coupee,  a  high  step,  and  «  balaiice :  it  begins  with 
a  beat,  and  its  motion  is  triple. 

The  invention  of  the  minuet  seems  generally  to  be 
ascribed  to  the  French,  and  particularly  to  the  inha- 
bitants of  the  province  of  Poictou.  The  word  is  said 
by  Menage  and  Furetiere  to  .be  derived  from  tbe 
French  menue  or  tnenu^  **  small  or  little  }*^  and  in 
strictness  signi^s  a  small  space.  The  melody  of  this 
dance  consists  of  two  strains,  which,  as  being  repeated, 
are  called  reprises^  each  having  eight  or  more^bars,  but 

a 


never  an  odd  number.  The  veasure  is  three  crofrV t!( 
in  a  bar,  and  is  thos  mark^^d  •},  tbongfi  it  is  cerniboiHf 
performed  in  the  time  -}'•  "WalUier  speaks  of  a  mianet 
in  LttUy^s  open  of  Rohnd,  each  strain  of  which  con* 
tains  ten  ban,  the  sectional  number  being  5  5  which 
renders  it  very  dffficoH  to  dance. 

MINUTE,  in  Geometry^  the  6o<ii  put  of  a  ^gttt 
of  a  circle. 

MisuTB  of  Time^  the  6otfi  part  of  an  hour. 

MiKUTE,  in  Arvhiittttift^  usually  denotes  the  6ctb, 
sometimes  the  30th,  part  of  a  module.  Sea  Archi- 
tecture. 

Minute  is  aha  used  for  a  short  memoir,  or  sketch  of 
a  thing  taken  in  writing. 

MlNUnUS  Felix.    Sec  Felxx. 

MINYiE,  a  name  given  to  tbe  inhabitants  of  Or- 
chomenos  in  Boeotia,  from  Minyas  king  of  the  coun- 
try. Orchomenos  the » son  of  Minyas  gave  h(s  name 
to  the  capital  of  the  country;  and  the  inhabitants 
still  retained  their  original  appellation,  in  contradis- 
tinction to  the  Orchomenians  of  Arcadia.  A  colony 
of  Orchomenians  passed  into  l*bessa1y  and  settled  in 
.lolchos;  from  which  circumstance  the  pe<^le  of  tbe 
place,  and  particularly  the  Argonauts,  were  eailed 
Minyas.  This  name  they  received,  according  to  the 
opinion  of  some,  not  because  a  number  of  Orchomeni- 
ans had  settled  among  them,  but  because  jthe  cMtff 
and  noblest  of  them  were  descended  from  the  daughter! 
of  Minyas.  Part  of  the  Orchomenians  accompanied 
the  sons  of  Codros  when  they  migrated  to  Ionia.  The 
descendants  of  the  Argonauts,  as  well  as  the  Argo- 
nauts themselves,  received  the  name  of  Minyet.  They 
first  inhabited  Lemnos,  where  they  had  been  born  from 
the  Lemnian  women  who^had  murdered  their  husbands. 
They  were  driven  from  Lemnos  by  the  Pelasgr,  about 
1 160  before  the  Christian  era,  and  come  to  settle  in 
Laconia,  from  whence  they  passed  into  Calliste  with  9 
colony  of  Laced semonians. 

MIQUELET8,  a  name  given  to  the  Spaniards  who 
inhabit  tbe  Pyrenean  mountains  on  the  frontiers  of 
Arragon  and  Catalonia,  and  live  by  robbing. 

MIQUELON,  a  small  desert  island  to  tbe  south- 
west of  Cape  May  in  Newfoundland,  ceded  to  the 
French  by  the  peace  of  1763,  for  drying  and  curing 
their  fish.     "W.  Long.  54.  30.  N.  Lat.  47.  22. 

MIRABILIS,  Marvel  or  Peru  ;  a  genus  of 
plants  belonging  to  the  pcntandria  class  \  and  in  t^e 
natural  method  ranking  with  those  of  which  the  order 
is  doubtful.     See  BotanT  Index. 

MIRACLE,  in  its  original  sense,  is  a  word  of  the 
same  import  with  tvonder ;  bnt  in  its  usual  and  more 
Appropriate  signification,  it  denotes  **  an  effect  contrary 
to  the  established  constitution  and  course  of  things,  or  a 
sensible  deviation  from  tbe  known  laws  of  nature.** 

That  the  visible  world  is  governed  by  stated  gene- 
ral rules,  or  that  there  is  an  order  of  causes  and  ef- 
fects estabKshed  in  every  part  of  the  system  of  nature 
which  falls  under  our  observation,  is  a  fact  which 
cannot  be  controverted.  If  the  Supreme  Being,  as 
some  have  supposed,  be  the  only  real  agent  in  the 
universe,  we  have  the  evidence  of  experience,  tirat,  in 
the  particular  system  to  ivhich  we  belong,  *  he  acts  by 
stated  rules.  If  he  employs  inferior  agents  to  con- 
duct the  vapous  motions  from  which  tfie  phenomena 
.  result,  we  have  the  same  evidence  that  be  has  subject- 
ed 


MIR 


[    279    ] 


MIR 


kboie  agents  to  certaio  fijied  la«^  commody  caMed 
>  Amm  ff  mUwv.  On  either  faypotbesis,  effects 
kh  ate  j^rodvieed  by  the  regular  operation  of  tbese 
rs,  or  which  are  Mfllomiable  to  the  established 
irseof  eveiit«»are  jproperl'y  called  natural;  and  every 
(tradietimi  to  this  oonstUutioa  of  the  natural  system, 
I  the  cocTQspoadent  course  of  eveats  in  it,  is  called  a 
rode. 

Lf  this  definition  of  a  miracle  be  just,^  no  event  can 

deemed  miraculous  merely  because  it  is  strange, 

even  to  us  unaccountable  }  since  it  may  be  nothing 

re  than  a  regular  effect  of  some  unknown  law  of 

la  this  country  earthquakes  are  rare  \  and 


are. 


monstrous  births  |ierhaps  no  particular  and  satis- 
tory  account  can  be  given:  yet  an  earthquake  is 
regular  an  effect  of  the  established  laws  of  nature 
any  of  those  with  which  we  are  most  intimately 
uainted^  and  under  circumstances  in  which  there 
lid  always  be  the  same  kind  of  production,  the 
titer  is  nature's  genuine  issue.  It  is  therefore  ne* 
;ary,  before  we  can  pronounce  any  effect  to  be  a  true 
acle,  that  the  ciscumstaoces  under  which  it  is  pro- 
ed  be  known,  and  that  the  comaMHi  course  of  na- 
i  he  in  some  degree  understood  ^  for  in.  all  those 
*s  in  which  we  are  totally  ignorant  of  natnre,  it 
mpoesible  to  determine  what  is,  or  what  is  not,  a 
iation  from  its  course.  .Miracles,  therefore,  are 
,  as  same  have  represented  them,  appeals  to  our  ig- 
They  suppose  some  antecedent  knowledge 


ftuce. 


he  course  of  nature,  without  which  no  proper  judge- 
it  can  be  formed  concerning  them ;  though  with  it 
r  reality  nay  be  so  a^arent  as  to  prevent  all  possi- 
y  of  a  dispute. 

'has,  w^e  a  physician  to  cure  a  blind  man  of  a  ca« 
ct,  .by  anointing  his  eyes  with  a  ohenncal  prepa* 
9n  which  we  had  never  before  seen,  and  to  the  na- 

and  effects  of  which  we  are  absolute  strangers,  the 
\  would  undoubtedly  be  wander/ul;  but  we  could 
prononnce  it  mdraeultmsj  because,  for  any  thing 
wa  to  us,  it  might  be  the  natural  effect  of  the 
atioD  of  the  unguent  on  the  ey€.  But  were  he  to 
▼er  bis  patient  merely  by  eommanding  him  to  see,. 
if  anointing  bis  eyes  with  spittle,  we-  should  with- 
utmost  confidence  pronounce  the  cure  to  bea  mi- 
t  }  because  we  know  perfectly  that  neither  the  hu* 

Toice  nor  human  spitUe  have,  by  the  established 
titutMHi  of  things,  any  such  power  over  the  diseases* 
be  eye.     No  one  is  now  ignorant,  that  persons  apr 
ntly  dead  are  often  restored  to  their  famslieo  and^ 
Ills,  by  being  treated  in  the  manner  recommended' 
he  Humane  Society.     To  the  vulgar,  and  soroe^ 
8  even  to  men  of  science,  these  efeots  appear  very 
Jerful  ^  but  as  they  are  knewn  to  be  produced  bv 
ical   agency,  they  can  .never  be  considered  aa  aiu* 
I0U8  deviations  mm  the  laws  of  nature.     On  the* 
r  band,  no  one  eould  doubt  of  his  having  witnessedr 
ftl  miracle  who  had  seen  a.persovthat  bad-been  four- 
i  dead  eome  alive  out  of  his  grave  at  the  caU  of  a» 
r,  or  who  had  even  beheld  a  person  exhibtting  att' 
symptoms  of  death  instantly  resuscitated  meiely  by; 
g  i/<rMrv</ to  live. 

hua  easy  is  it,  in  all  cases  in  which  the  course  of 
re  is  imderstood,  to  determine  whether  any- parti- 
r  evi6Bt  be  really*  misaele  $  whilst  in  oiroomstancea 
re  we  know  nothisg  o£  nature  and  its  coursei  even 


a  true  aimck^  were  it  performed,  could  not  be  admit*  i^^ele. 
ted  as  such,  or  carry  any  cenvictien  to  the  mind  of  a 
philosopher. 

If  miracles  be  effects  coatrasry  to- the  established  con- 
stitution of  things,  we  are  certain  that  they  will  never 
be  performed  on  trivial  oceasioufc  The  constitoCi^n  of 
things  was  established  by  the  Creator  and  Governor  of 
the  universe,  and  is  undoubtedly  the  ofikpring  of  infinite 
wisdom-  pursaing  a  plan  for  the  best  of  purposes.  From 
this  plan  no  deviation  can  he  made  but.  by  God  himself, 
or  by  some  powerful  being  acting  vrith  his  permission. 
The  plans  devised  by  wisdom  are  steady  in  peoportion 
to  their  perfection,  and  the  plans  of  infinite  wisdem 
must  be  absolutely  perfect.  From  this  consideration,  ^ 
some  men  have  ventured  to  conclude,  that  no  miracle 
was  ever  wrought,  or  can  rationally  be  expected  ^  but 
maturer  reflection  must  soon  satbfy-us  that  all  such  con- 
clusions are  hasty. 

Man  is  unquestionably  the  pviucipai  creature  in  this 
world,  and  apparently  the  only  one  in  it  who  0  ca- 
pable of  being  made  acquainted  with  the  relation  in 
which  he  stands  to  bis  Creator.  We  cannot,  tbeicAirOy 
doubt,  but  that  such  of  the  laws  of  nature  as  extend 
not  their  operation  beyond  the  limits  of  tins-  earth  were 
established  chiefly,  if  not  solely,  ibr  die  good  «f  inm- ' 
kind-;  and  if,  in  any^pavticnlHr  circumstanoes,  that  good 
can  be  mwe  effectually  prtmmted  by' an  otoasional  de- 
viation firom  those  laws,  such  a  deviation  may  be  rea^ 
Bonably  expected.  Were  man,  in  tbe  exerase  of  his 
mental  and  corporeal  powers,  subjected  totbelawaof 
physical  necessity^  the  ctrcvmstttioco  supposed  would  i«^ 
deed  never  occur,  and  of  conrae  no  miracle  ooold  be  ad- 
mitted*    But  such  is  not  tbe  sature  of  man* 

Without  repeating  what  ha^^  been  said  elMsHere 
(See  Metaphysics,  Part  III.  Chap.  V.)  of  necessity 
and  liberty,  we  shall  here  take  it  fur  gntnted,  that  the 
relation  between  motives  and -^  actions  is  dtfibrent  frowk^-^ 
that  between  cause  and  eflfect  in  -  physios  \  and  that^ 
mankind  have  such  command  over  themselves,  as  that 
by  their  vohmtary. conduot,  theycan  make  tlMsselvea- 
in  a  great  degree  either  faafipy  or  miserable.    We  know 
likewise  from  history,  that,  by  some  means  or  dtbCfr,  al- 
most all  mankind  were  onee  sunk  into  the  grossest  igno*- 
ninee  of  the  most  important  truths ;  that  they  knew  not 
the  Being  by  whom^  they  were  created>and  supported  \ 
that  they  paid  divine  adoration  to  stocks,  stones,  and 
the  vilest  reptiles ;- 4nd  that -they  were  ekves  to  the  . 
most  impious,  erne),  and  degrading  superstitiotis. 

From  this  depraved  stat^it  was  surely  not  unworthy 
of  the  common  **- Father  of  tAV*  to  rescue  his  helpless 
creatures,  to  enlighten  their  understandings  that  ih&f 
might  perceive  ti^at  is  right,  and  to  present  to  them%^ 
motives  of  sufficient  fbice  tb  engage  them  in  the  prac-» 
tice  of  it.  But  the  und^retandbgs  of  ignorant  bat^ 
barians  cammt  be  enlightened  by  arguments  *,  because 
of  the  force  of  such  arguments  as  i^r^gBfd  moi^l  -ficiente 
they  are  not  qualified  Co  judge.  The  philosophers  of  ■ 
Athens  and  Rome  inculcated,  indeed,  many  excell^iit 
OMxral  precepts,  and  they  sometinsea  ventured  to  ex- 
pose the  absurdities  of  the  reigning  superstition :  but^ 
their  lectures  had  no  influence  upon  the  multitude  j 
and  they  had'  themselves  imbibed  such  erroneous  no- 
tions respecting  the  attributes  of  tbe  Supreme  'Being, 
aad  the  nature  of  tbe  hMnmi'  son),  and  convened  those 
notions  into  first  principles,  of  winch  they  would  not 

pennit^^ 


M  I  n 


[  280  ] 


MIR 


Minck.  permit  an  examination,  that  even  among  tliem  a  tbo- 
'  M  '  rough  reformation  was  not  to  be  expected  from  the 
powers  of  reasoning.  It  is  likewise  to  be  observed, 
-that  there  are  many  truths  of  the  utmost  importance  to 
•mankind,  which  unassisted  reason  could  never  have  dis- 
covered. Amongst  these  we  may  confidently  reckon 
the  immortality  of  the  soul,  the  terms  upon  which  Qod 
will  be  reconciled  to  sinners,  and  the  manner  in  which 
that  all -perfect  Being  may  be  acceptably  worshipped ; 
about  ail  of  which  philosophers  were  in  such  uncer- 
tainty, that,  according  to  Plato,  **  Whatever  is  set 
jight,  and  as  it  should  be,  in  the  pi^esent  evil  state  of 
itht  world,  can  be  so  only  by  the  particular  interposition 
of  God  (a).  ^ 

An  immediate  revelation  from  Heaven,  therefore, 
<was  the  only  melhod  by  which  infinite  wisdom  and 
•perfect  goodness  could  reform  a  bewildered  and  vicious 
race.  But  this  revelation,  at  whatever  time  we  suppose 
it  given,  must  have  been  made  directly  either  to  some 
chosen  individnals  commissioned  to  instruct  others,  or  to 
every  man  and  woman  for  whose  benefit  it  was  ulti- 
mately intended.  Were  every  person  instructed  in  the 
knowledge  of  his  duty  by  immediate  inspiration,  and 
were  the  motives  to  practise  it  brought  home  to  his 
mind  by  God  himself,  Jraman  nature  would  be  wholly 
changed :  men  would  not  be  masters  of  their  own  ac- 
.tions :  they  would  not  be  moral  agents,  nor  by  con- 
aequence  be  capable  either  of  reward  or  of  punishment. 
•It  remains,  therefore,  that  if  God  has  been  graciously 
pleased  to  enli^ten  and  reform  mankind,  without 
-destroying  that  moral  nature  which  is  essential  to  vir- 
tue, he  can  have  done  it  only  by  revealing  bis  troth  to 
certain  chosen  instruments,  who  were  the  immediate 
instructors  of  their  contemporaries,  and  through  them 
have  been  the  instructors  of  succeeding  ages. 

Let  us  suppose  this  to  have  been  actaally  the  case, 
and  consider  how  those  inspired  teachers  could  commu- 
nicate to  others  every  truth  which  had  been  revealed  to 
themselves.  They  might  easily,  if  it  was  part  of  their 
duty,  deliver  a  sublime  system  of  natural  and  moral 
science,  and  establish  it  upon  the  common  basis  of  ex- 
periment and  demonstration }  but  what  foundation 
could  they  lay  for  those  troths  which  unassisted  reason 
cannot  discover,  and  which,  when  they  are  revealed^ 
appear  to  have  no  necessary  relation  to  any  thing  pre- 
viously known  ?  To  a  bare  affirmation  that  they  had 
been  immediately  received  from  God,  no  rational  be- 
ing could  be  expected  to  assent.  The  teachers  might 
ho  men  of  known  veracity,  whose  simple  assertion 
would  be  admitted  as  sufficient  evidence  for  any  fact 
in  conformity  with  the  laws  of  nature ;  but  as  every 
man  has  the  evidence  of  his  own  fsonsciousnees  and  ex- 
perience that  revelations  from  heaven  are  deviations 
from  these  laws,  an  assertion  so  apparently  extravagant 
would  be  rejected  as  false,  unless  supported  by  some 
better  proof  than  the  mere  affirmation  of  the  teacher. 
In  this  state  of  things,  we  can  conceive  no  evidence 
sufficient  to  make  such  doctrines  be  received  as  the 
truths  of  God,  but  the  power  of  working  miracler 
committed  to  him   who  taught  them.      This  would, 


indeed,  be  fullv  adequate  to  the  purpose.  For  if  theic  Mmck 
were  nothing  in  the  doctrines  themselves  impious,  im-  ^ 
moral,  or  contrary  to  truths  already  known,  the  only 
thing  which  could  render  the  teacher's  assertion  incre^ 
dible,  would  be  its  implying  such  an  intimate  conmra- 
nion  with  God  as  is  contrary  to  the  established  coorse 
of  things,  by  which  men  are  left  to  acquire  all  their 
knowledge  by  the  exercise  of  their  own  faculties*— 
Let  us  now  suppose  one  of  those  inspired  teachers  to 
tell  his  countrymen,  that  he  did  not  desire  them,  on 
his  ipse  dixit^  to  believe  that  he  had  any  preternatural 
communion  with  the  Deity,  but  that  for  the  truth  of 
his  assertion  he  would  give  them  the  evidence  of  their 
own  senses  \  and  after  this  declaration  let  us  suppose 
him  immediately  to  raise  a  person  from  the  dead  in 
their  presence,  merely  by  calling  upon  him  to  come 
out  of  his  grave.  Would  not  the  only  possible  objec- 
tion to  the  man's  veracity  be  removed  by  this  mirade  ? 
and  his  assertions  that  he  had  received  snch  and  sock 
doctrines  from  God  be  as  fully  credited,  as  if  it  rekted 
to  the  most  common  occnrrenoe  P  Undoubtedly  it 
would ;  for  when  so  much  preternatural  power  was  vi- 
sibly communicated  to  this  person,  no  one  conld  hava 
reason  to  question  his  having  received  an  equal  portion 
of  preternatural  knowledge.  A  palpable  deviation  from 
the  known  laws  of  nature,  in  one  instance,  is  a  sensible 
proof  that  such  a  deviation  is  possible  in  another )  and 
in  such  a  case  as  this,  it  is  the  witness  of  God  to  the 
truth  of  a  man. 

Miracles,  then,  under  which  we  include  prophecy, 
are  the  only  direct  eridence  which  can  be  given  of  di- 
vine inspiration.  When  a  religion,  or  any  religious 
truth,  is  to  be  revealed  from  heaven,  they  appear  to  be 
absolntely  necessary  to  enfifrce  its  reception  among  men; 
and  this  is  the  only  case  in  which  we  can  suppose  them 
necessary,  or  believe  for  a  moment  that  they  ever  have 
been  or  will  be  performed. 

The  history  of  almost  every  religion  abonnds  with 
relations  of  prodigies  and  wonders,  and  of  the  inter* 
course  of  men  with  the  gods  \  but  we  know  of  no  re> 
ligious  system,  those  of  the  Jews  and  Christians  ex- 
cepted, which  appealed  to  miracles  as  the  sole  evidence 
of  its  truth  and  divinity.  The  pretended  mirades 
mentioned  by  Pagan  historians  and  poets  are  not  said 
to  have  been  publicly  wrought  to  enforce  the  truth  of 
a  new  religion  contrary  to  the  reigning  idolatry.  Many 
of  them  may  be  clearly  shown  to  have  been  mere  natu- 
ral events;  (see  Magic).  Others  of  them  are  re* 
presented  as  having  been  performed  in  secret  on  the  most 
trivial  occasions,  and  in  obscure  and  fabulous  ages  long 
prior  to  the  era  of  the  writers  by  whom  they  are  r^ 
corded.  And  such  of  them  as  at  first  view  appear  to  be 
best  attested,  are  evidently  tricks  contrived  for  interest- 
ed purposes  \  to  flatter  power,  or  to  promote  the  prr- 
vailing  superstitions.  For  these  reasons,  as  well  as  on 
account  of  the  immoral  character  of  the  divinities  by 
whom  they  are  said  to  have  been  wrought,  they  are  al- 
together unworthy  of  examination,  and  cany  in  the 
very  nature  of  them  the  completest  prooiii  of  falsehood 
and  imposture. 

Bat 


(a)  Es  ys^  XV^  lAMf,  •  ri  sri{  M  wt4n  m  mm  ywOm  Wsp  lif,  «i  vsnmSs  WI#rI«ni  ir«Aiv«i#v.     Omv  fm^  mA* 
De  Rcpub.  lib.  vi.  . 


MIR  [a 

t  tfae  mincles  recorded  of  Moses  and  of  Chrut 
1  very  diffsreBt  charmcter.  None  of  them  is  re» 
ated  uwTOQght  on  trivial  occasions.  The  writers 
lention  them  were  eye  witnesses  of  the  faets ;  which 
iffirm  to  have  been  performed  publicly,  in  attesta- 
f  the  troth  of  their  respective  systems.  They  are 
1  so  incorporated  with  these  systems,  that  the  mi- 
cannot  be  sepanted  from  the  doctrines  \  and  if 
iracles  were  not  really  performed,  the  doctrines 
t  possibly  be  true.  Besides  all  this,  they  were 
ht  in  support  of  revelations  which  opposed  all 
ligioos  systems,  saper&titions,  and  prejudices,  of 
ge  in  which  they  were  given:  a  circumstance 
of  itself  sets  them,  in  point  of  authority,  infiuite- 
»ve  the  Pagan  prodigies,  as  well  as  the  lying 
rs  of  tbe  Romish  church. 

is  indeed,  we  believe,  universally  admitted,  that 
iracles  mentioned  in  the  book  of  Exodus  and  in 
or  Gospehi,  might,  to  those  who  saw  them  per* 
i,  be  sufficient  evidence  of  the  divine  inspiration 
Mes  and  of  Christ ;  but  to  us  it  may  be  thought 
hey  are  no  evidence  whatever,  as  we  must  be- 
D  tbe  miracles  themselves,  if  we  believe  in  them 
,  opoQ  the  bare  authority  of  human  testimony, 
it  has  been  sometimes  asked,  are  not  miracles 
ht  in  mil  ages  and  countries  ?  If  the  religion  of 
was  to  be  of  perpetual  duration,  every  gener»- 
f  men  ought  to  have  complete  evidence  of  its 
md  divinity. 

the  performance  of  miracles  in  every  age  and 
ry  country,  perhaps  the  same  objections  lie  as 
immediate  inspiration  of  every  individual.  Were 
nirades  universally  received  as  such,  men  would 
>verwbelmed  with  the  number  rather  than  with 
rce  of  their  authority,  as  hardly  to  remain  ma- 
f  their  own  conduct  \  and  in  that  case  the  very 
all  miracles  would  be  defeated  by  their  frequen* 
The  troth,  however,  seems  to  be,  that  miracles 
|oentlj  repeated  would  not  be  received  as  snch, 
f  coarse  would  have  00  anthority^  because  it 
be  difficult,  and  in  many  cases  impossible,  to  di- 
Ish  them  from  natural  events.  If  they  recurred 
riy  at  certain  intervals,  we  oould  not  prove  them 
^feviatioos  from  the  known  laws  of  nature,  be- 
ive  should  have  the  same  experience  for  the  one 
of  events  as  for  the  other  \  for  tbe  regular  snc- 
1  of  preternatural  effeets,  as  for  the  established 
otion  and  course  of  things, 
this,  howerer,  as  it  may,  we  shall  take  the  H- 
to  affirm,  that  for  the  reality  of  the  Gospel  mi- 
we  have  evidence  as  convincing  to  the  reflecting 
thoogh  not  so  striking  to  vnlgar  apprehension, 
le  had  who  were  contemperaiy  with  Christ  and 
Mitle^  and  actually  saw  the  mighty  works  which 
rformed.  To  tfae  admirers  of  Mr  Hone*s  phi- 
y  tUs  assertion  will  appear  an  extravagant  para- 
bnt  we  hope  to  demonstrate  its  tnith  from  prin- 
vrfaich,  consistently  with  hionelf,  that  author 
not  have  denied.  He  has  indeed  endeavoured 
rve  *,  that  '*  no  testimony  is  bufficient  to  esta- 
a  miracle  >'*  and  the  reasoning  employed  for  this 
&e  is,  that  **  a  miracle  being  a  violation  of  the 
nf  nature  which  a  firm  and  unalterable  experi- 
las  established,  •  the  proof  apiinst  a  miracle,  from 
rf  nature  of  the  fact,  is  as  entire  as  .any  arni*- 

L*;av:parti.  -f 


81    ] 


MIR 


^liracln. 


ment  from  experience  can  be  ;  whereas  our  experience    Miracle. 
of  human  veracity,  which  (according  to  him)  is  the '       v    ■  - 
sole  foundation   of  the  evidence  of  testimony,  is  far 
from  being  uniform,  and  can  therefore  never  prepon- 
derate against  that  experience  which  admits  of  no  ex- 
ception."     This  boasted  and  plausible  argument  has 
with  equal  candour  and  acuteness  been  examined  by 
Dr  Campbell*,  who  justly  observes,   that   so   far  Is^DtMrrfa. 
experience  from  being  tbe  sole  foundation  of  the  evi-  **^?^, 
dence  of  testimony,   that,  on  the  contrary,  testimony 
is  tbe  sole  foundation  of  by  far  the  greater  part  of  what 
Mr  Hume  calls  firm  and  unalterable  experience  \  and 
that  if  in  certain  circumstances   we  did  not  give  an 
implicit  faith  to  tiestimony,   our  knowledge  of  events 
would  be  confined  to  those  which  had  fallen  under  tbe 
immediate  obseivation  of  our  own  senses.     For  a  short 
view  of  this  celebrated  controversy  in  which  the  Chris- 
tian so  completely  vanquishes  the  philosopher,  see  the 
word  Abridgment. 

But  though  Dr  Campbell  has  exposed  the  sophistry 
of  his  opponent's  reasoning,  and  overturned  the  prin- 
ciples from  which  he  reasons,  we  are  persuaded  that 
he  might  safely  have  joined  issue  with  him  upon  those 
very  principles.  To  us,  at  least,  it  appears  that  the 
testimony  upon  which  we  receive  the  Cjospel  miracles 
b  precisely  of  that  kind  which  Mr  Hume  has  acknow- 
ledged sufficient  to  establish  even  a  miracle.  ^'  No 
testimony  (says  he)  is  sufficient  to  establish  a  miracle, 
unless  the  testimony  be  of  such  a  kind  that  its  false- 
hood  would  be  more  miraculous  than  tbe  fact  which 
it  endeavours  to  establish.  When  one  tells  me  that  ho 
saw  a  dead  man  restored  to  life,  I  immediately  consi- 
der with  myself  whether  it  be  more,  probable  that  this 
person  should  either  deceive  or  be  deceived,  or  that 
the  fact  which  he  relates  should  really  have  happened. 
I  weigh  the  one  miracle  against  the  other;  and  ac- 
cording to  the  superiority  which  I  discover,  I  pronounce 
my  decision,  and  always  reject  the  greater  miracle.*^ 
In  this  passage  everv  reader  may  remark  what  did  not 
escape  the  perspicacious  eye  of  JDr  Campbell,  a  strange 
confusion  of  terms  \  but  as  all  miracles  are  equally  easy 
to  the  Almighty  ;  and  as  Mr  Hume  has  elsewhere  ob- 
served, that  **  the  raising  of  a  feather,  when  the  wind 
wants  ever  so  little  of  a  force  requisite  for  tliat  pur- 
pone,  is  as  real  a  miracle  as  the  raising  of  a  house  or 
a  ship  into  the  air;**  candour  obliges  us  to  suppose, 
that  by  talking  of  greater  and  less  miracles  and  of 
always  rejecting  the  greater^  he  meant  nothing  more^, 
but  that  of  two  deviations  from  the  known  laws  .  of 
nature  he  always  rejects  that  which  in  itself  is  least 
probable. 

If,  then,  we  can  show  that  the  testimony  given  by 
the  apostles  and  other  first  preachers  of  Christianity  to 
the  miracles  of  their  Master  would,  upon  their  supposi- 
tion that  those  miracles  were  not  really  performed,  have 
been  as  great  a  deviation  from  the  known  laws  of  nature 
es  the  miracles  themselves,  the  balance  must  be  const^ 
dered  as  evenly  poised  by  opposite  miracles ;  and  whilst 
it  continues  so,  the  Judgment  must  remain  in  a  state  of 
suspense.  But  if  it  shall  appear,  that  in  this  case  the 
false  testimony  would  have  been  a  deviation  from  the 
laws  of  nature  less  probable  in  itself  than  tbe  miracl^ 
recorded  in  tbe  Gospels,  the  balance  wiR  be  instantly  de- 
stroyed \  and  by  Mr  Hume*s  maxim  we  shall  be  obliged 
40  reject  tbe  supposition  of  falsehood  in  the  testimony 

Nn  of 


MIR 


[    282    ] 


M    I    R 


MiracU.  ^  ^^  apoitks,  aad  admil  tb«  mirackB  of  Ckrist  to 
^'  "^  Lave  been  really  performeii. 

In  this  ar^ment  we  need  not  waate  time  in  proving 
that  those  nuracles,  as  they  are  represented  iu  the  writ* 
logs  of  the  New  Testament,  were  of  such  a  nature,  and 
performed  before  so  many  witnesses,  that  no  imposition 
coald  poaibibly  be  practised  on  the  senses  of  those  who 
affirm  that  they  were  present*  From  every  page  of 
the  Gospels  this  is  so  evident,  that  the  philosophical  ad* 
versaries  of  the  Christian  faith  never  sa^iose  the  apo« 
sties  to  have  been  themselves  deceived,  but  boldly  ac* 
cuse  them  of  bearing  false  witness.  But  if  this  accusa- 
tion be  well  founded,  their  testimony  itself  ia  as  great  a 
miracle  as  any  which  they  record  of  themselves  or  of 
their  Master. 

It  has  been  shown  elsowhere  (see  Metaphysics, 
N^  I38')»  that  by  the  law  of  association,  which  is  one 
of  the  laws  of  nature,  mankind,  in  the  very  process  of 
learning  to  speak,  necessarily  learn  to  speak  the  truth  j 
that  ideas  and  relations  are  in  the  mind  of  every  mam  so 
closely  associated  with  the  words  by  which  they  are  ex* 
pressed  in  his  native  tongue,  and  in  every  other  lan<» 
guage  of  which  he  is  master,  that  the  one  cannot  be  en* 
tirely  separated  from  the  olher  j  that  therefore  no  man 
can  on  any  occasion  speak  falsehood  without  some  ej- 
firi  }  that  by  no  effort  ca;)  a  man  give  consistency  to  an 
unpremeditated  detail  of  f^ils&hood,  if  it  be  of  anv  koglh, 
and  include  a  number  of  particulars  \  and  that  it  is  still 
less  possible  for  several  men  to  agree  in  such  a  detail, 
when  at  a  distance  from  each  other,  and  cross  question- 
ed by  their  enemies. 

This  being  the  case,  it  fellows,  if  the  testimony  of 
the  apostles  to  their  own  and  their  Master^s  miracles 
be  false,  either  that  they  must  have  concerted  a  con* 
aiistent  scheme  of  falsehood,  and  agreed  to  publish  it  at 
every  hazard  %   or  that  God,  or  some  powerful  agent 
appointed  by  him,  must  have  dissolveid  all  the  associa* 
tions  formed  in  their  minds  between  ideas  of  sense  and 
the  words  of  language,  and  arbitrarily  formed  new  as- 
sociations, all  in  exact  conformity  to  each  other,  but  all 
in  direct  contradiction  to  truth.    One  or  other  of  these 
events  mpst  have  taken  place  \  becauM»  upon  the  sup- 
position of  falsehoodi  there  is  no  other  alternative.    But 
such  a  dissolution  and  formaytion  of  associations  as  die 
latter  implies,  most,  to  every  man  who  shall  attentively 
consider  it,  appear  to  be  as  real  a  miracle,  and  to  re- 
quire as  great  an  exertion  of  ]|^wer,  as  the  resurrection 
of  the  dead.     Nor  is  the  supposed  voluntary  agreement 
of  the  apostles  in  a  scheme  of  falsehood  an  event  leas  mi- 
racalous*    When  they  sat  down  to  fabricate  their  pre^ 
tended  revelation,  and  to  contrive  a  series  of  miracles 
to  which  they  wero  unanimously  to  s^peal  for  it»  truth, 
It  is  plain,  since  they  proved  soooossful  in  their  daring 
^enterprise,  that  they  must  have  cleariy  fereseon  everr 
*  <i|pos8ible  cireumstaoco  in  which  they  could  be  pkced, 
and  have  prepared  consistent  aASwers  to  every  questioa 
liiat  could  he  put  to  them  by  their  roost  inveterate  and 
most  enlightened  enemies  i  by  thestaMismmvthe  lawyoTy 
the  philosopher,  and  the  priest    That  such  foreknow- 
lodge  as  this  would  have  heen  miraouWuei  viil  not  sure- 
]Ly  be  denied )  since  it  forms  the  very  attribute  which 
we  find  it  most  difficult  to  allow  even  to  God  himself 
It  is  not,  however,  the  tn^  miracle  which  this  supposi- 
tion would  compel  us  to  swallow.    The  very  re^ohAm 
oCthca§ofiths  topropag^  tho  belief  of  falie  suxaclea 


in  support  of  such  a  religion -as  that  which  is  tsogiit  in  in^^ 
the  New  Testament,  is  as  great  a  miracle  u  kraaa  — ■/  *. 
imagination  can  easily  conceive. 

iVhen  they  formed  this  design,  either  they  must  bave 
hoped  to  succeed,  or  they  most  have  foreseen  tbat  thej 
should  fail  in  their  undertaking  \  and  in  either  csiir, 
they  chose  evil  for  iU  own  sake.    They  could  not,  if 
they  foresaw  that  they  should  fail,  look  Sox  sny  thing 
but  that  contempt,  disgrace,  and  persecution,  which 
were  then  the  inevitable  consequences  of  an  nnsacceu- 
ful  endeavour  to  overthrow  the  established  religion. 
Nor  could  their  prospects  be  brighter  upon  the  supposi* 
tion  of  their  success.    As  they  knew  thensselves  to  be 
false  witnesses  and  impious  deceivers,  they  could  bsve 
no  hopes  beyond  the  grave )  and  by  determining  to  op- 
pose all  the  religions  systems,  superstitions,  and  preju- 
dices of  the  age  io  which  they  lived,  they  wilfaily  ex- 
posed themselves  to  inevitable  misery  in  the  preseai  life, 
to  insult,  and  imprisonment,  to  stripes  and  death.   Nor 
can  it  be  said  that  they  night  look  forward  to  power 
and  affluence  when  they  should,  through  sufferings,  hsve 
converted  their  countrymen  j  for  so  desirous  were  they 
of  obtaining  nothing  but  muvr^y,  as  the  end  of  their 
mission,  that  they  made  their  own  persecution  a  test  of 
the  truth  of  their  doctrines.    I1iey  ilitreduced  the  Ma- 
ster from  whom  they  pretended  to  have  received  these 
doctrines  as  telling  them,  *^  that  they  were  sent  forth ss 
sheep  in  the  midst  of  wolves  ^  that  they  should  be  deii* 
vered  up  to  councils,  and  scourged  in  s3raagogues  y  that 
they  should  be  hated  of  all  men  for  his  name^s  sake ; 
that  the  brother  should  deliver  up  the  brother  to  death, 
and  the  father  tlie  child  ^  and  tbat  he  who  took  not  op 
his  cross  and  followed  after  him  was  not  worthy  of 
him.*^     The  very  system  of  religion,  therefore,  which 
they  invented  and  resolved  to  impose  upon  mankind, 
was  so  contrived,  that  the  worldly  prosperity  of  its  first 
preachers,  and  even  their  exemption  from  petsecotion, 
was  incompatible  with  its  success.    Had  these  clear  pre* 
dictions  of  the  Author  of  that  religion,  under  whon  the 
apostles  acted  only  as  ministers,  not  been  verified,  sll 
mankind  roust  have  instantly  peroaived  that  theii  pre- 
tence to  inspiration  was  false,  and  that  Christianity  vss 
a  scandalous  and  impudent  imposture.      All  thit  the 
apostles  could  not  but  foresee  when  they  forroed  their 
plan  for  deluding  the  world.^  IVhence  it  follows,  that 
when  they  resolved  to  support  their  pretended  revels- 
tion  by  an  appeal  to  forged  miracles^  they  wil&lly,  aed 
with  their  eyes  open,  exposed  themselves  to  inevitahle 
misery,  whether  they  should  succeed  or  fail  in  their  en- 
terprise 3  and  that  they  concerted  their .  measunes  so  as 
not  to  admit  of  a  possibility  of  recompense  to  tbemselfcs, 
either  in  this  life  or  in  that  which  is  to  oooe.    But  if 
there  be  a  law  of  nature,  for  the  reality  of  which  we 
have  better  evidence  than  we  liave  for  others,  it  is,  that 
**  no  man  can  choose  misery  for  its  oufn  sake^**  or  oaks 
the  aoquisition  of  it  the  ultimate  end  of  fats  pmsuit 
The  existence  of  other  laws  of  natnre  wc  know  by  tes- 
timony and  qnr  own  observation  ol  the  regularity  of 
their  effects.     The  existence  of  this  law  is  made  known 
to  us  not  only  by  these  means,  hut  also  by  the  stiU 
clearer  and  fl^re  conclusive  evidence  of  our  om  con- 
sciousness. 

Thus,  then,  do  miracles  force  themselves  upon  osr 
assent  in  every  possible  view  which  wc  can  take  of  this 
interesting  subject.      If  the  testiawny  of  the  fint 


MIR 


[    *83    1 


M.  I    S 


lefs  of  Christianity  wm  troe,  the  miracles  Tvcord«- 
the  Gospel  were  certainly  |ierrornied)  and  the  doc> 
of  onr  religion  are  derived  from  heaven.  On  the 
hand,  if  that  testimony  was  ialse,  either  €Sod  must 
niracolouslr  effiwed  Irom  the  minds  of  those  by 
it  was  given  all  the  associations  formed  between 
k;nsil>le  ideas  and  the  words  of  language,  or  he 
lave  endowed  these  men  with  the  gift  of  ^presci- 
and  have  impelled  them  to  fabricate  a  firetended 
tion  for  the  purpose  of  deceiving  the  world, 
ivolviog  themselves  in  certain  and  foreseen  de- 
ton. 

i  power  necessary  to  perform  the  one  series  of 
miracles  mav,  for  any  thing  known  to  ns,  be  as 
as  that  whicn  wonld  he  requisite  for  the  perform- 
if  the  other  \  and,  considered  merely  as  exertions 
tematoral  power,  they  may  seem  to  balance  each 
and  to  bold  the  mind  in  a  state  of  suspense.  Bnt 
we  take  into  considemtion  the  different  purposes 
lich  these  opposite  and  cmitending  miracles  were 
ht,  the  balanee  is  instantly  destroyed.  The  mi* 
recorded  in  the  Gosnels,  if  real,  were  wrought  in 
t  ef  a  revelation  which,  in  the  opinion  of  all  by 
it  is  received,  has  brought  to  light  many  import* 
iths  which  could  not  otherwise  have  been  made 
I  to  men  ^  and  which,  hj  the  confession  of  its  ad* 
ies,  contains  the  pitrest  moral  precepts  by  which 
ndoct  of  mankind  was  ever  directed.  The  oppo- 
riee  of  miracles,  if  real,  Was  performed  to  enable, 
en  to  compel,  a  company  of  Jews,  of  the  lowest 
^nd  of  the  narrowest  education,  to  fabricate,  v^ith 
ivf  of  inevitable  destruction  to  themselves, «  con* 
scheme  of  falsehood,  and  by  an  appeal  to  forged 
68  to  impeee  it  upon  the  world  as  a  revelation 
'lenven.  The  object  ef  the  former  miracles  is 
r  of  a  Ood  of  infinite  wisdom,  goodness,  and 
The  ob}ectof  the  latter  is  absolutely  incedstst- 
th  wisdom  and  goodness,  which  are  demonstrably 
itea  of  that  Being  by  v^hom  alone  miracles  can  he 
ned.  Whence  it  follows,  flmt  the  supposition  of 
ntles  bearingy2t/W  testimony  to  Ihe  miracles  of 
faster,  implies  a  series  of  deviations  from  the  laws 
are,  infinitely  less  probable  in  themselves  than 
miraclee :  and  therefore  by  Mr  Homers  tnitxim, 
St  neceesarily  reject  the  supposition  of  falsehood  in 
tifnony,  and  admit  the  reality  of  the  miracles. 
e  it  is,  that  for  the  reality  of  the  Gospel  miracles 
re  evidence  as  convincing  <o  the  reflacting  mind, 
le  had  who  were  contemporary  with  Christ  and 
wtles,  and  were  actual  witnesses  to  their  migfaty 

RANDA-de-Ebro,  a  town  of  Spam,  in  Old 
*y  with  a  strong  castle  *,  senled  in  a  country  that 
sea  excellent  wine.  "W.  Long.  3.  lo.  N.  Lat. 
« 

RANDO-D£-Do0RO,.  or  Duero,  a  strong  town 
rtngal,  and  capital  of  the  province  of  Tra-los- 
s,  with  a  bishop^s  see.  It  is  well  fortified,  and 
on  n  rock  near  the  confluence  of  the  rivers  Douro 
resna.  W.  Long.  5.  40.  N.  Lat.  41.  30. 
HANDOLA,  a  town  of  Italy,  and  capital  of  a 
ef  the  same  name,  situated  between  the  dncbiea 
ntna  and  Modend  \  is  well  fortified,  and  has  also 
ig  citadel  and  fort.  It  has  been  Heveral  times  ta« 
id  retaken.    £r  Long.  ii«  5.  N.  Lat.  44.  52* 


tore. 


MIRIAM,  sister  of  Aarea  And  Moses,  makes  two    Miriuai 
or  three  remarkable  appearances  in  Scripture.     It  Was        t 
owing  to  her  that  her  mother  Was  emphsyfd  by  Phk-  ^'^^^'^^ 
raoh's  daughter  as  narse  to  Moses.     She  put  herself       *"* 
at  the  head  of  the  women  ef  Israel  after  their  passage 
through  the  Red  sea,  in  order  to  sing  the  song  which 
the  men  had  sung  before.     She  joined  with  her  bro- 
Uier  Aaron  in  murmuring  against  Moses,  abd  was  se- 
verely chastised  for  that  action  ;  for  she  became  leprou«, 
and  continued  separate  from  the  rest  withdot  the  oatnp 
for  hcven  days.     She  died  before  her  brothers,  though 
in  the  same  year  with  them,  and  was  buried  at  the  pub- 
lic ezpence. 

MIRROR,  a  name  for  a  looking  glass,  or  any  po- 
lished body,  whose  use  is  te  form  the  images  of  distant 
objects,  by  reflection  of  the  rays  df  light.  See  Reflec- 
tion. 

Mirrors  are  either  plane,  conven,  or  concave.  The 
first  leflect  the  rays  of  light  in  a  direetioli  exactly  simt* 
lar  to  that  in  which  they  fall  upon  them,  and  therefore 
represent  bodies  ef  their  natural  maanitude.  The  con* 
vex  ones  make  the  rays  diverge  mucn  more  than  before 
reflection,  and  therefore  greatly  diminish  the  images  of 
those  ebjedts  which  they  show :  while  the  concave  ones, 
by  collectinif  the  rays  into  a  focus,  not  only  magnify 
the  objects  they  show,  bnt  will  bum  very  fiercely  when 
exposed  to  the  rays  of 'the  sun  ;  and  hence  tliey  are 
commonly  known  by  the  name  of  burning  mirrors.  See 
BvRjriNO  Mirrors. 

In  ancient  times  the  mirrors  were  made  of  some  kind 
of  metal ;  and  foom  a  pnssage  of  the  Mosaic  writmgs  we 
learn  that  the  mirrors  used  by  the  Jeirish  women  were 
made  of  brass.  The  Jews  certainly  had  been  taught  to 
use  that  kind  of  mirrors  by  tfie  Egyptians-^  from  whence 
it  is  probable  that  brazen  ndirors  were  the  first  kind 
used  in  the  world.  Any  kind  ef  metal,  indeed,  when 
well  polished,  wiH  reflect  very  powerfoUy  $  hot  of  M 
others  silver  reflects  the  most,  though  it  has  been  in  nil 
cottrttries  too  expensiee  a  material  for  eommon  use. 
Gold  also  is  verr  powecf el  \  and  metab,  or  even  weod^ 
plded  and  polished,  will  act  very  powerfully  as  bnnw 
mg  mirrors.  Even  polished  ivory,  or  straw  nicely  plajt* 
ed  togetlMr,  will  form  mirrors  capable  of  bnrniag,  if  on 
a  large  scale. 

Since  the  invention  ef  glass,  and  the  i^jdioation  of 
quicksilver  to  it,  became  ffonernlly  luiMm,  it  hath  been 
universally  employed  for  these  plane  mimrs  used  as  or* 
naments  to  booses  \  but  in  making  reflecting  telescopes, 
they  have  been  fiirnid  much  inferior  to  metallic  ones. 
It  noes  not  appear  that  the  same  superiority  belongs  to 
the  metalline  burning  mirrors,  considered  merely  as 
hnming  glasses  *y  sinoe  the  minor  with  which  M.  Mao- 
qoer  melted  plstina,  thongh  only  22  inches  diameter,  and 
which  was  made  of  quicksilvered  glass,  prodnced  much 
greater  effects  than  ^L  Vilette^s  metalline  specnlmn, 
whieb  considerably  exceeded  it  in  size.  It  is  very  pro* 
bable,  however,  that  this  mirror  of  M.  Vilette*s  was 
by  no  means  so  well  polished  as  it  onght  to  have  been  y 
as  the  art  of  preparing  the  metal  fur  taking  the  finest 
polish  has  but  lately  been  discovered  and  published  in 
the  PbilosopMcal  Transactions  by  Mr  Mudge.  See 
GtAss-Grinding. 

MIRE-CROW,  Sea-crow,  or  Pewit*  See  Larus, 
Ornithology  Inde».  ' 

MISADVENTURE,  in  common  language,  signi- 

N  n  2  fiw 


Mischna. 


MIS  [    284    ] 

Misadven-  fi^  9ny  unlucky  accident  which  takes  place  without  be- 
ture      ing  foreseen. 

Misadventure,  in  Laiv^  has  an  especial  significa- 
1^  tiou  for  the  killing  a  man  partly  by  negligence,  and 
partly  by  chance.     See  Homicide. 

MISANTHROPY   (from  f««^c,    hatred,  and  af 
i^tf^Hf  a  man)  ;  a  general  dislike  or  aversion  to  roan,      mara. 
and  mankind.     In  which  sense  it  stands  opposed  to  phi" 
lanthropy,  or  the  love  of  mankind. 
MISCARRIAG£.    See  Abortion  and  Midwife- 


RT. 

MIBCHNA,  or  Misna,  (from  mv,  iteravtt),  a  part 
of  the  Jewish  Talmud. 

The  Mischna  contains  the  text  ^  and  the  Gemara, 
which  is  the  second  part  of  the  Talmud,  contains  the 
commentaries :  so  that  the  Gemara  is,  as  it  were,  a 
glossary  on  the  Miscbna. 

The  Mischna  consists  of  various  traditions  of  tlie 
Jews,  and  of  explanations  of  several  passages  of  Scrip- 
tore  :  these  traditions  serving .  as  an  explication  of  the 
written  law,  and  supplement  to  it,  are  said  to  have 
been  delivered  to  Moses  during  the  time  of  his  abode 
on  the  Mount  y  which  he  afterwards  communicated  to 
Aaron,  Eleazar,  and  his  servant  Joshua.  By  these  they 
were  transmitted  to  the  70  elders,  by  them  to  the  pro- 
phets, who  communicated  them  to  the  men  of  the  great 
sanhedrim,  from  whom  the  wise  men  of  Jerusalem  and 
Babylon  received  them.  According  to  Frideaux^s  ac* 
count,  they  passed  from  Jeremiah  to  Barucb,  from  him 
to  Ezra,  and  from  Ezra  to  the  men  of  the  great  syna- 
gognei  the  lant  of  whom  was  Simon  the  Just  j  who  de- 
livered them  to  Antigonus  of  Socho  j  and  from  him . 
they  came  down  in  regular  succession  to  Simeon,  who 
took  our  Saviour  in  his  arms  j  to  Gamaliel,  at  whose 
feet  Paul  .was  educated  ^  and  last  of  all  to  Rabbi  Judah 
the  Holy,  who  committed  them  to  writing  in  the 
Mischna.  But  Dr  Prideaux,  rejecting  this  Jewish  fic- 
tion, observes,  that  after  the  death  of  Simon  the  Just, 
about  299  years  before  Christ,  the  Mischuical  doctors 
arose,  who,  by  their  comments  and  conclusions,  added 
to  the  number  of  those  traditions  which  had  been  re- 
ceived and  allowed  by  Ezra  and  the  men  of  the  great 
synagogue ;  so  that  towards  the  middle  of  the  second 
century  after  Christ,  under  the  empire  of  Antoninus 
Pius,  it  was  found  necessary  to  commit  these  traditions 
to  writing ;  more  especially,  as  their  country  had  con- 
Hiderably  suffered  under  Adrian,  and  many  of  their 
achools  had  been  dissolved,  and  their  learned  men  cut 
off^  and  therefore  the  usual  method  of  preserving  their 
traditions  had  failed.  Rabbi  Judah  on  this  occasion  be- 
ing rector  of  the  school  at  Tiberias,  and  president  of  the 
sanhedrim  in  that  place,  undertook  the  work,  and  com- 
piled it  in  six  books«  each  consisting  of  several  tracts, 
which  altogether  make  up  the  number  of  63.  Prid. 
Connex.  vol.  ii.  p.  468,  &c.  edit.  9.  This  learned  an- 
ther computes,  that  the  Mischna  was  composed  about 
the  1 50th  year  of  our  Lord  ;  but  Dr  Lightfoot  says, 
that  Rabbi  Judah  compiled  the  Mischna  about  the  year 
of  Christ  1 90,  in  the  latter  end  of  the  reign  of  Com- 
modus  'y  or,  as  some  compute,  in  the  year  of  Christ  220. 
Dr  Lardner  is  of  opinion,  that  this  work  could  not 
have  been  finished  before  the  year  190,  or  later.  Col- 
lect, of  Jewish  and  Heathen  Testimonies,  &c.  vol.  i. 
p.  1 78.  Thus' the  book  called  the  Mischna  was  form- 
ed^ a  book  which  the  Jews  have  generally  received 


MIS 

with  the  greatest  veneration.     The  original  has  been   yi^^ 
published  with  a  Latin  translation  by  Suienhusias,  with       (! 
notes  of  his  own,  and  others  from  the  learned  Maimo-  MiKMa 
nides,  &c.  in  6  vol.  foL  Amsterd.  A.  D.  1698—1703.      "  ^ 
(See  Talmud).     It  is  written  in  a  much  purer  style, 
and  is  not  near  so  full  of  dreams  and  visions  as  the  Ge> 


MISDEMEANOUR,  in  Law,  signifies  a  crime. 
Every  crime  is  a  misdemeanour  ^  yet  the  law  has  mule 
a  distinction  between  crimes  of  a  higher  and  a  lower 
nature^  the  latter  being  denominated  miidemeanmart, 
the  former  Je/onies,  &c.  For  the  nnderstanding  of  which 
distinction,  we  shall  give  the  following  definition  from 
Blackstone^s  Conmentaries,  vol.  iv.  5. 

^  A  crime,  or  misdemeanour,  is  an  act  committed 
or  omittcdf  in  violation  of  a  public  law,  either  forbid- 
ding or  commanding  it.  This  general  definition  com- 
prehends both  crimes  and  rmsfkmeanours  ;  which,  prs- 
perly  speaking,  are  mere  synonymous  terms ;  though, 
in  common  usage,  the  word  crime  is  made  to  denote 
such  oflfences  as  are  of  a  deeper  and  more  atrocious  dye ) 
while  smaller  faults,  and  omissions  of  less  consequence, 
are  comprised  under  the  gentler  name  oimisdemeammrs 
onlv." 

MISE,  ill  law  books,  is  used  in  various  senses: 
thus  it  sometimes  signifies  costs  or  expences  ^  in  which 
sense  it  is  commonly  used  in  entering  of  judgments  ia 
actions  personal.  It  is  also  used  for  the  issue  to  be 
tried  on  the  grand  assize  ^  in  which  case,  joining  of  the 
mise  upon  the  mere  right,  is  putting  in  issue  between 
the  tenant  and  demandant.  Who  has  the  best  or  clear- 
est right. 

MiSE,  also  signifies  a  tax  or  tallage,  &c.  An  ho- 
norary gift,  or  customary  present  from  the  people  of 
Wales  to  every  new  king  or  prince  of  Wales,  anciently 
given  in  cattle,  wine,  and  com,  but  now  in  money, 
being  5000I.  or  more,  is  denominated  a  mise:  so  was 
the  usual  tribute  or  fine  of  3000  raerks  paid  by  the  in- 
habitants of  the  county  palatine  of  Chester  at  the  change 
of  every  owner  of  the  said  earldom,  for  enjoying  their 
liberties.  And  at  Chester  they  have  a  mise-book, 
wherein  every  town  and  village  in  the  county  is  rated 
what  to  pay  towards  the  mise.  The  27  Hen.  VHI.  c 
26.  ordains  that  lords  shall  have  all  such  mises  and  pro- 
fits of  their  lands  as  they  had  in  times  past,  &c. 

Mise,  is  sometimes  also  corruptly  used  for  mease,  in 
law  French  mees,  ''  a  messuage  \*^  as  a  mise  place,  in 
some  manors,  is  such  a  messuage  or  tenement  as  an- 
swers the  lord  a  heriot  at  the  death  of  its  owner.— 
2  Inst.  528. 

MISENUM,  or  MiSENUS,  in  Anaent  Geograpkf; 
a  promontory,  port,  and  town  in  Campania,  situated  to 
the  south-west  of  Baiss,  in  the  Sinus  Puteolanus,  on  the 
north  side.  Here  Augustus  had  a  fleet,  called  QassU 
Misenensis,  for  guarding  the  Mare  Infenim  ^  as  he  bad 
another  at  Ravenna  for  the  Superura. 

On  this  peninsula  a  villa  was  built  by  Caios  Maiius, 
with  a  degree  of  elegance  that  gave  great  offence  to  the 
roost  austere  among  the  Romans,  who  thought  it  ill 
suited  to  the  character  of  so  rough  a  soldier.  Upon  the 
same  foundation  Lucullus  the  plunderer  of  the  eastern 
world,  erected  an  edifice,  in  comparison  of  which  the 
former  house  was  a  cottage ;  but  even  his  magnificence 
was  eclipsed  by  the  splendour  of  the  palace  whicb  the 
emperors  raised  upon  the  same  spot.    To  these  proud 

abodes 


MIS 


[    285    3 


MIS 


ies  of  beroes  and  monarchs,  wbioli  bave  long  been 
lied  to  tbe  ground,  a  few  fibbing  buts,  as  Mr  Swin- 
le  informs  us,  and  a  lonely  public  bouse,  bave  suc- 
!ed :  bitber  boatmen  resort  to  tipple  perhaps  on  tlie 
deal  site  wbere  tbe  voluptuous  masters  of  tlie  world 
fed  Chian  and  Faleniian  wines. 
[I3E1B,  a  parsimonious  person  wbo  is  at  tbe  same 

rich }  or  a  wretcb  covetous  to  extremity,  wbom 
ice  has  divested  of  all  the  charities  of  human  na- 

and  made  even  an  enemy  to  himself, 
r  this  most  unaccountable  of  all  characters,  many' 
aces  occur }  some  of  them  so  extraordinary  as  al- 
to surpass  belief.  Tbe  following  are  here  select- 
s  being  of  recent  date,  perfectly  authentic,  and  the 
>f  them  in  particular  exhibiting  an  assemblage  of 
ties  tbe  most  singular  perhaps  that  ever  existed  in 
ame  person.  Too  little  dignified  to  merit  a  place 
gular  biography,  yet  too  curious  a  variety  of  human 
Lcter  to  pass  unnoticed  in  this  work,  tbe  present 
ed  tbe  only  title  under  which  it  could  with  pro« 
f  be  introduced. 

In  December  1790,  died  at  Paris,  literally  of 
t  Mr  Ostervald,  a  well  known  banker.  This  man, 
lally  of  Neofcbate],  felt  tbe  violence  of  the  dis- 
of  avarice  (for  surely  it  is  rather  a  disease  than  a 
>n  of  the  mind)  so  strongly,  that  within  a  few  days 
i  death,  no  importunities  could  induce  him  to  buy 

pounds  of  meat  for  tbe  purpose  of  making  a  little 
for  him.  **  ^is  true  (said  he),  I  should  not  dis- 
iie  soup,  but  I  have  00  appetite  for  the  meat } 
then  is  to  become  of  that  ?*^  At  tbe  time  that  be 
sd  this  nourishment,  for  fear  of  being  obliged  to 
ftway  two  or  three  pounds  of  meat,  there  was  tied 
I  bis  neck  a  silken  bag,  which  contained  800  as- 
ts  of  1000  livres  each*  At  bis  out£et  in  life,  he 
:  a  pint  of  beer  which  served  him  for  supper,  every 

at  a  house  much  frequented,  from  which  he  car- 
home  all  tbe  bottle  corks  be  could  come  at.  Of 
(  in  tbe  course  of  eiglit  years,  be  bad  collected  as 

as  sold  for  1 2  louis  dW,  a  sum  that  had  laid  the 
ation  of  his  future  fortune,  tbe  superstructure  of 
1  was  rapidly  raised  by  bis  uncommon  success  in 
jobbing.  He  died  possessed  of  three  millions  of 
JT 1 25,000!.  sterling.) 

The  late  John  Elwes,  Esq.  was  member  for  Berk- 
in  three  successive  parliaments.  His  family  name 
Meggot;  and  his  father  was  a  brewer  of  great 
nee,  and  distinguished  by  no  peculiarity  of  cha- 
r:  but  bis  mother,  though  she  was  left  nearly 
>ool.  by  her  husband,  starved  herself  to  death ! 
I  early  period  of  life  he  was  sent  to  Westminster 
I,  where  be  remained  for  10  or  12  years.  Dur- 
lat  time  be  certainly  bad  not  misapplied  his  ta- 
'y  for  be  was  a  good  classical  scholar  to  tbe  last : 
t  is  a  circumstance  not  a  little  remarkable,  though 
lutbenticated,  that  be  never  read  afterwards,  nor 
he  ever  any  knowledge  in  accounts  ^  to  which 
in  some  measure  be  attributed  the  tqtal  ignorance 
IS  always  in  as  to  bis  affairs.  From  Westminster 
1  Mr  Meggot  removed  to  Geneva,  where  he  soon 
ed  upon  pursuits  more  agreeable  to  bim  than  study. 
riding  master  of  the  academy  there  had  then  to 

perhaps  of  three  of  the  best  riders  in  Europe,  Mr 
sley,  Mr  Elwes,  and  Sir  Sidney  Meadows.  Of 
bree,  Elwes  was  reckoned  the  most  desperate )  tbe 


young  horses  were  always  put  into  bis  bands,  and  be    MiMfr 
was  the  rough  rider  to  the  other  two. 

On  his  return  to  England,  after  an  absence  of  two 
or  three  years,  he  was  to  be  introduced  to  bis  uncle  the 
late  Sir  Harvey  Elwes,  who  was  then  living  at  Stoke 
in  Suffolk,  perhaps  tbe  most  perfect  picture  of  human 
penury  that  ever  existed.  The  attempts  at  saving  mo- 
ney were  In  him  so  extraordinary,  that  Mr  Elwes  per- 
haps never  quite  reached  them,  even  at  the  last  period 
of  bis  life.— Of  what  temperance  can  do,  Sir  Harvey 
was  an  instance.  At  an  early  period  of  life  he  was  gi- 
ven over  for  a  consumption,  and  he  lived  till  betwixt 
80  and  9c  years  of  age.  On  his  death,  bb  fortune, 
which  was  at  least  250,000!.  fell  to  bis  nephew  Mr 
Maggot,  wbo  by  will  was  ordered  to  assume  the  name 
and  arms  of  Elwes.  To  this  uncle,  and  this  property, 
Mr  Elwes  succeeded  when  he  bad  advanced  beyond 
tbe  40th  year  of  bis  age.  For  15  years  previous  to  this 
period,  be  was  well  known  in  the  more  fashionable  cir- 
cles of  London.  He  bad  always  a  turn  for  play }  and 
it  was  only  late  in  life,  and  from  paying  always  and  not 
always  being  paid,  that  be  conceived  disgust  at  it.  Tbe 
theory  which  he  professed,  *'  that  it  was  impossible  to 
ask  a  gentleman  for  money,''  be  perfectly  confirmed  by 
tbe  practice  5  and  he  never  violated  this  feeling  to  tbe 
latest  hour  of  bis  life. 

The  manners  of  Mr  Elwes  were  such — so  gentle,  so 
attentive,  so  gentlemanly,  and  so  engaging—that  rude- 
ness could  not  ruffle  tbem,  or  strong  ingratitude  break 
their  observance.  He  retained  this  peculiar  feature  of 
the  old  court  to  the  last  ^  but  he  bad  a  praise  beyond 
this :  He  had  tbe  most  gallant  disregard  of  bis  own  per- 
son, and  all  care  about  himself  that  can  be  imagined. 
The  instances  in  younger  life,  in  tbe  most  imminent 
personal  hazard,  are  innumerable ;  but  when  age  bad 
despoiled  him  of  bis  activity,  and  might  have  rendered 
care  and  attention  about  himself  natural,  he  knew  not 
what  they  r.  ere :  He  wished  no  one  to  assist  him : 
^^  He  was  as  young  as  ever  ^  be  could  walk  ^  be  could 
ride,  and  be  could  dance }  and  be  hoped  he  should  not 
give  trouble  even  when  be  was  old :''  He  was  at  that 
lime  ^5, 

It  IS  curious  to  remark  bow  he  contrived  to  mingle 
small  attempts  at  saving  with  objects  of  the  most  un- 
bounded dissipation.  After  sitting  up  a  whole  night 
at  play  for  thousands  with  tbe  most  fashionable  and  pro- 
fligate men  of  the  time,  amidst  splendid  rooms,  gilt  sofas, 
wax  lights,  and  waiters  attendant  on  his  call,  he  would 
walk  out  about  four  in  the  morning,  not  towards  home, 
but  into  Smitbfield,  to  meet  bis  own  cattle,  which  wer€ 
coming  to  market  from  Tbaydonball,  a  farm  of  bis  in 
Essex !  There  would  this  same  man,  forgetful  of  the 
scenes  be  bad  just  left,  stand  in  the  cold  or  rain,  bar- 
tering with  a  carcass  butcher  for  a  shilling !  Sometimes 
when  the  cattle  did  not  arrive  at  tbe  hour  he  expected, 
be  would  walk  on  in  the  mire  to  meet  them  $  and  more 
than  once  has  gone  on  foot  tbe  whole  way  to  his  farm 
without  stopping,  which  was  1 7  miles  from  London, 
after  sitting  up  the  whole  night.  Had  every  man  been 
of  the  mtnd  of  Mr  Elwes,  the  race  of  innkeepers  must 
have  perished,  and  post-chaises  have  been  returned  back 
to  those  wbo  made  them  ^  for  it  was  tbe  business  of  his 
life  to  avoid  both.  He  always  travelled  on  horseback. 
To  see  him  setting  out  on  a  journey,  was  a  matter  truly 
curious  5  bis  first  care  was  to  put  two  or  three  ecgs, 

boiled 


M    I    S 


[     286    ] 


MIS 


Miser,     boiled  hard,  into  bis  gre-At  coat  pocket,  or  any  scraps     iroters  resided.     At  the  different  assembtie^  he  wooM 

dance  among  the  youngest  to  the  last,  after  riding  over 
on  horseback,  and  frequently  in  the  rain,  to  the  place 
of  meeting.  A  gentleman  who  was  one  night  stsnd- 
ing  by,  observed  on  the  extraordinary  agility  of  so  oi4 
a  man.— O !  that  is  nothing  (replied  another)  *,  for 
Mr  Elwes,  to  do  this,  rode  20  miles  in  the  rain,  with 
his  shoes  stuck  into  his  boots  and  his  bag-wijg  in  his 
pocket.^' 

The  honour  of  parliament  made  no  atteraticn  io 

the  dress  of  Mr  Elwes :  on  the  contrary,  it  seemed 

at   this  time  to  have  attained  additional   meanness; 

and  nearly  tb  have  reached  that  bap|iy  climax  of  po- 

,verty,  which  has  more  than  once  drawn  on  hioo  the 

compSHsion  of  those  who  passed  by  him  in  the  street. 

For  the  speaker*s  dinners,  however,  he  bad  one  8ui% 

with  which  tbe  speaker  in  the  course  of  the  sessions 

became  very  fiMniliar.     The  minister  likewise  was  well 

acquainted  with  it ;  and  at  any  dinner  of  oppasition 

still  was  his  appa|«l  the  same.     The  wits  of  the  roiDo- 

rity  used  to  say,  **  that  they  had  full  ..as  much  reasoa 

history  of  servants:  for  in  a  morning,  getting  up.^t  _as  the  minister  to  be  sitisBed  with  MrrElwes,  as  he 

four  o^cIock,  he  milked  the  cows  ^  be  then  jirepared  *'-  had  the  same  habit  with  every  bodr.**    At  this  period 

breakfast  for  Mr  Elwes  or  any  friends  he  might  have     of  bisKfe  Mr  Elwes  more  a  wig.    Much  about  the  time 

with  him :  then  slipping  on  a  green  coat,  he  hurried     when  his  parliamentary  life  ceased,  that  wig  was  worn 

into  the  stable,  saddled  the  horses,  got  the  hounds  out     out ;  so  then,  being  older  and  wiser  as  to  expence,  he 

wore  his  own  hair,  which  like  his  expencea  was  very 
small. 

All  this  tioie  t^e  income,  of  Mr  Elwes  was  increa- 
sing hourly,  and' his  present  expenditure  was  next  to 


boiled  hard,  into  his  great  coat  pocket,  or  any  scraps 
of  bread  which  he  found  ;  baggage  he  never  took  ^  then 
mounting  one  of  his  hunters,  his  next  attention  was  to 
get  out  of  London  into  that  road  where  turnpikes  were 
the  fewest  ^  then  stopping  under  any  hedge  where  grass 
presented  itself  for  his  horse,  and  a  little  water  for  him- 
self, he  would  sit  down  and  refresh  himself  and  his  horse 

together. 

The  chief  residence  of  Mr  Elwes  at  this  period  of  his 
life  was  in  Berkshire,  at  bis  own  seat  at  Marcham.  Here 
it  was  he  had  two  natural  sons  born,  who  inherit  the 
greatest  part  of  his  property  by  a  will  made  about  tl;e 
year  1785.  The  keeping  of  fox  hounds  was  the  only 
instance  in  the  whole  life  of  Mr  Elwes  of  his  ever  sacn- 
licing  money  to  pleasure  ^  and  may  be  selected  as  the 
only  period  when  he  forgot  the  cares,  the  perplexities, 
ana  the  regret,  which  his  wealth  occasioned.  But 
even  here  every  thingwas  done  in  the  most  frugal  man- 
ner. Scrub,  in  the  Beaux  Stratagem,  when  compared 
with  Mr  Elwes^s  liontsman,  had.  an  idle  life  of  it.  This 
famous  huntsman  might  have  .fixed  an  epoch  in  the 


M»»rt 


of  the  kennel,  and  away  they  went  into  the  field.  After 
the  fktigues  of  hunting,  he  refreshed  himself  by  rubbing 
down  two  OP  three  horses  as  quickly  as  he  could )  then 
running  into  the  house  to  lay  the  cloth,  and  wait  at 
dinner^  then  horryine  again  into  the  stable  to  feed  the  ..  tiothing^  for  the  I  title  pleasures  he  had  once  engaged 


horses«-di versified  with  an  interlude  of  the  cows  again 
to  mUk,  the  dogs  to  feed,  and  eight  hunters  to  litter 
down  for  Uie  night. 

In  the  penury  of  Mr  Elwes  there  was  sometbi^ig  that 
seemed  like  a  judgment  from   heaven.     All.. earthly 
comforts  he  voluntarily  denied  Jiimself:  he  woukl  walk 
home  in  the  rain  in  London  rather  than  pay  a  shilling 
for  a  coach  ;  he  would  sit  in  wet  clothes  sooner  than 
have  a  fire  to  dry  them  )  he  would  eat  his  provisions  in 
•    the  last  stage  of  putrefaction  sooner  than  have  a  fresh 
joint  from  the  butchers  ^  and  he  wore  a  wig  for  above 
ham-  from  *  fert''*gh^«  which  his  l^ograpber*  saw  him  pick  up  out 
whose  Life  of  a  mt  in  a  lane  where  they  were  riding.     This  was 
of  John      the  last  extremity  of  laudable  economy  j  for  to  all  ap- 
Ekffe9t  E»q.  pearance  it  was  the  cast-off  wig  of  some  beggar ! 
1]^  ofS?       ^  ^^"^  ^*^  "°^  resided  about  13  years  in  Suffolk, 
article  are  ^l>cn  the  contest  for  Berkshire  presented  itself  on  the 
extracted,    dissolution  of  the  parliament  j  and  when,  to  preserve 
the  peace  of  that  county,  he  was  nominated  by  Lord  Cra- 
ven.    Mr  Elwes,  though  he  had  retired  from  public 
business  for  some  years,  had  still  left  about  him  some  of 
the  seeds  of  more  active  life,  and  be  agreed  to  the  pro- 
posal.    It  came  farther  enhanced  to  him,  by  the  agree- 
ment, that  he  was  to  be  brought  in  by  the  freeholders 
for  nothing.     AH  he  did  on  the  occasion  was  dining  at 
the  ordinary  at  Beading ;  and  he  got  into  parliament 
for  x8  pence! 

Though  a  new  man,  Mr  Elwes  could  not  be  called  a 
young  member)  for  he  was  at  this  time  nearly  60 
years  old  when  he  thus  entered  on  public  life.  But  he 
was  in  possession  of  all  his  activity  j  and,  preparatory 
to  his  appearance  on  the  boards  of  St  Stei^en^s  Chapel, 
he  used  to  attend  constantly  during  £he  races  and 
Dther  public  meetings  all  the  great  towns  where  bis 

.2 


in  be  had  now  given  up.  He  kept  no  house,  and  ooty 
one  old  servant  and  a  couple  of  horses  :  he  resided  with 
his  nephew :  his  two  sons  he  had  stationed  in  Soffolk 
and  Berkshire,  to  look  aflef  his  respective  estates:  sad 
hiri  dresH  certainly  was  no  expence  to  him  ;  for  had  not 
other  people  been  more  careful  than  himself,  he  would 
not  have  bad  it  even  mended. 

When  be  left  London,  he  went  on  horseback  to  his 
country  seats  with  his  couple  of  hard  eggs,  and  with- 
out once  stopping  upon  the  road  at  any  house.  He 
always  took  the  most  unfrequented  road,  and  used 
every  shift  to  avoid  turnpikes.  Marcham  was  the  seat 
he  now  chiefly  visited  ^  wliich  had  some  treason  to  be 
flattered  with  the  preference,  as  his  journey  into  Suf- 
folk cost  him  only  twopence-halfpenny,  while  that  into 
Berkshire  amounted  to  fourpence  ! 

As  Mr  Elwes  came  into  parliament  without  ex- 
pence,  be  performed  his  duty  as  a  member  would  have 
done  in  the  pure  days  of  our  constitution.  TTbst 
he  had  not  bought  he  never  attempted  to  sell ;  and 
he  went  forward  in  that  straight  and  direct  path, 
which  can  alone  satisfy  a  reflecting  mind.  Amoor^ 
the  smaller  memorials  of  the  jiarliamentary  life  of  Mr 
Elwes  may  Jiie  noted,  that  he  did  not  follow  the  cos^ 
torn  of  members  in  general  by  sitting  on  any  particular 
side  of  the  house,  but  sat  as  occasion  presented  itself 
on  either  indiscriminately;  and  he  voted  much  in 
the  same  manner,  but  never  rose  to  speak.  In  his  at- 
tendance- at  the  house,  he  was  always  early  and  late  \ 
and  he  never  left  it  for  dinner,  as  he  had  aecustonied 
himself  to  fasting,  sometimes  for  24  hours  in  contina- 
ance. 

Whea.  he  quitted  parliament,  he  was,  in  the  com- 
mon phrase,  ^  a  fish  out  of  water  !**  The  style  of  Mr 

Elwes*J 


MIS 


[    287    1 


M    I    S 


a8*B  \iSfi  hftd  left  him  oo  domestit  scenes  to  which 
soiild  rettre-«-hi8  home  was  dreary  end  'pooxw4ii8 
18  reoeired  ao  cheerfalness  from  fire  >  aod  while 
Nilside  had  all  the  appearance  of  a  *^  House  to  he 
*'  the  inside  wa^  a  desert  ^  but  he  had  his  penmy 
3  to  thank  for  this,  and  for  the  want  of  all  the 
consolations  which  should  attend  old  age,  and 
tth  the  passage  of  declining  life*  At  the  close  of 
ipiing  of  1785,  he  wished  again  to  vbJt»  which 
lad  not  done  for  some  years,  his  seat  at  Stoke, 
then  the  joiuney  was  a  most  serious  object  to  him* 
famous  old  servant  was  dead  $  ail  the  horses  that 
ined  with  him  were  a  couple  of  worn-out  brood 

8  ^  and  he  himmlf  was  net  in  that  vigoor  of  body 
lich  be  eoald  ride  60  or  70  miles  on  tbe  suste- 
e  of  two  baUed  €gg9.  The  mention  of  a  post  chaise 
d  have  been  a  crime— *^  He  afford  a  post  chaise, 
id !  where  was  he  to  get  the  money  V*   would 

been  his  exclamation*  At  length  he  was  carried 
the  conntry  as  he  was  carried  into  pariiament,  free 
l»eiice,  by  a  gentkmaa  who  was  certainly  not  quite 
ch  as  Mr  Elwes.  When  be  reached  Stoke— the 
of  more  active  scenes,  of  somewhat  reseatdding  hos* 
Lt^,  and  where  his  fox  bemids  bad  sprefHl  somewhat 
Fivacitv  around— he  renmrked,  **  he  bad  expended 
iMi  deal  of  money  once  very  foolishly  $  but  that  a 
grew  wiser  by  time.** 

le  rooam  at  this  seat,  which  were  now  much  out  of 
r,  and  would  have  all  fidlen  in  but  for  his  son  John 
a^  Esq.  who  had  resided  there,  he  thought  too 
isivdr  furnished,  as  worse  things  might  have 
d.  If  a  window  was  broken,  there  was  to  be  no 
r  but  that  of  a  little  brown  paper,  or  that  of 
ig  in  a  bit  of  broken  glass  ^  which  had  at  length 
done  so  fireqoeatly,  and  in  so  many  shapes,  that 
»uld  have  puzzled  a  mathematician  to  say  **  what 

9  they  described.**  To  save  fire,  he  would  walk 
;  tim  resMins  of  an  old  greeakense,  or  sit  with  a 
At  in  the  kitchen.  During  the  harvest  he  would 
B  himself  with  going  into  tbe  fields  to  glean  the 

on  the  grounds  of  bis  own  tenants  ^  and  they 
to  leave  a  littfte  nmre  than  common  to  please  the 
Bfitlemaii,  who  was  aa  eager  aftet  it  aa  any  pa»* 
I  the  parish.  In  the  advance  of  the  season,  his 
ing  employment  was  to  pick  up  any  stray  chip, 
,  or  other  things,  to  carry  to  the  fire,  in  Ins 
!t**aod  he  was  one  day  surprised  by  a  neighbottr-> 
IcBtleman  in  the  act  of  palling  down,  with  seme 
lUy,  a  crofw^  nest  for  this  putpese.  On  the 
rnsaa  wonderinsf  why  he  giave  himself  this  troi»- 
'«  Ob,  Sir,  (ivplied  dd  Elwes),  it  is  really  a  shame 

bese  ctcatares  shenld  do  so.     Do  but  see  wiwt    poumbJ  and,  at  this  period,  be  had  not  made  his  will^ 
the  J  make !  They  don*t  care  how  extravagant 


would  slily  steal  back  into  tbe  stable,  and  take  the 
ha^r  very  carefully  away*  That  very  strong  afq^tite 
which  Mr  Elwes  bad  in  some  measure  restrained  dur« 
ing  the  long  sitting  of  parliament,  he  now  indulged 
most  voraciously,  and  on  every  thing  he  could  find* 
To  save,  as  he  thought,  the  expence  of  going  to  a 
butcher,  he  would  have  a  whole  sheep  killed,  and  so 
eat  mutton  to  tht^^-end  of  th€  chapUr^  When  be  oc« 
easiooally  had  his  river  drawn,  though  sometimes  hm'se 
loads  of  snwll  fish  were  taken,  not  one  would  he  suf- 
fer to  be  thrown  in  again  \  for  he  observed,  *'  He 
should  never  see  them  again  !**  Game  in  the  last  state 
of  putrefaction,  and  meat  that  walked  abou$  hisplate^ 
would  he  continue  to  eat,  rather  than  have  new  things 
killed  before  the  old  provision  was  finished.  With  this 
diet-*tbe  ehamei  himsc  of  Misienanee'^hii  dress  kept 
pace— -equally  in  the  last  stage  of  absolute  diuolutiotu 
Sometimes  he  would  walk  about  in  a  tattered  brown« 
coloured  hat,  and  sometimes  in  a  red  and  white  west*' 
len  cap»  like  a  prisoner  confined  ibr  debt*  H^ 
shoes  he  never  would  sofiier  to  be  cleaned,  lest  they 
should  be  worn  out  the  sooner*  But^- still,  with  JX 
this  etlf-demkd  that  penury  of  life  to  which  ^  the  in* 
habitant  of  an  alm»  houm  ss  not  doomed— still  did* 
he  think  he  was  profuse,  and  frequently  say,  ^*  Ha 
mnst  be  a  little  more  careful  of  his  property •**  His 
disquietude  on  the  subject  of  money  was  now  conti* 
nual*  When  he  went  to  bed,  he  would  put  five  or 
ten  guineas  into  a  bureau  \  and  then,  foil  of  his  mo^ 
nej,  after  he  had  retired  to  rest,  and  son»etimes  in  tbe 
middle  of  the  nig^t,  he  would  come  down^  to  see  if  it 
was  there* 

The  scene  of  mortification  stt  which  Mr  Elwes  was 
now  arrived  was  all  but  a  denial  of  the  common  ne- 
cessaries of  life  y  and*  indeed  it  might  have  admitted  a 
doubt,  whether  or  not;  if  his  ^manors,  his  fish  poads, 
and  some  grounds  in  his  own  hands,  had  not  furnished* 
n  subsistenco,  where  he  had  not  any  thing  actuaily  to 
huy^  he  would  not,,  rather  than  have  bo&ght  amy  things 
have  starved.  Starattgo  as  this  may  appear,  it  is  not  ex* 
aggerated«— He  one  &y,  during  thb  period,  dined  upon 
the  remaining  part  of  a  moor  hen,  wbi^  had  been 
brought' out  oif  the  river  by  a  rat !  and  at  another  ate 
an  undigested  part  of  a  pike  which  a  Ui^per  one  had 
swallowed,  but  had  not  finished,  and  which  were  taken- 
in  this  state  in  a  net*  At  the  time  this  last  cireumstanco 
happened,  he  discovered  a  strange  kind  of  satisfaction  $• 
for  he  said  to  a  friend,  **  Aye  \  this  was  killing  two 
birds  with  one  stone  .^*  In  the  room  of  all  oomment— » 
of  all  moral— let  it  be  remarked,  that  at  this  time  Mr 
Elwes  was  perhaps  worth  nearly  eight  hundred  thousand 


Iff  iter. 


sre 


i«» 


DO  gleam  of  favourite  passion,  or  any  ray  of 
tment,  broke  through  this  gloom  of  pennry,  his 
able  desire  of  saving'  was  now  become  uniform 
f stematic  He  used  still  to  ride  about  tbe  coon* 
I  one  of  these  marcs  but  then  he  rode  her  very 
nsicaliy,  on  the  soft  tor^  adjoining  the  road» 
nt  potting  himself  to  the  expence  of  shoes,  as  he 
fed,  ^  The  turf  was  so  pleasant  to  a  hov8e*s  foot  !*' 
nrben  any  gentleman  called  to  pay  him  a  virit, 
be  hoy  vriio  attended  in  the  stables,  was  profiise 
[h  to  put  a  little  hay  before  his  horse,  old  Ellfst 


of  course  was  not  saving  from  any  sentiment  of  affection 
flir  any  person* 

The  summer  of  1788  Mr  Elwes  passed  at  his  hooso 
in  Wclbeck  street,  London  ^  and  bo  passed  that  sum^ 
mer  without  any  other  societ]^  than  that  of  two  maid 
servants;  for  he  had  now  given  up  the  expence  of 
keeping  any  male  domestic.  His  chief  employment  used' 
to  be  that  of  getting  up  eariy  in  a  morning  to  visit  soma 
of  his  houses  in  Mary-le*bone,  which  during  the  sum* 
mer  were  repairing.  As  he  was  there  generally  at* 
firar  o*clock  in  a  morning,  he  was  of  course  on  tbo 
spot  befiHre  the  workmen  *y  and  he  used  contentedly- 
to  sit  down  on  the  steps  before  the  door^  to  scold 

thec» 


M    I    S 


C    288    j 


M    I    S 


MIfcr.  them  when  tliej  did  come.  The  aeighhoars  who  used 
to  see  him  appear  thus  regttlariT  every  rooming,  and 
tvho  concluded,  finom  bis  apparel,  that  he  was  one  of 
the  workmen,  observed,  **  there  never  was  so  punctual 
m  man  as  the  old  carpenter.**  During  the  whole  morn- 
ing he  would  continue  to  run  up  and  down  stairs  to  see 
the  men  were  not  idle  for  an  instant,  with  the  same  an- 
xiety as  if  his  whole  happiness  in  life  had  been  centered 
in  toe  finishing  of  this  house,  regardless  of  the  greater 
property  he  had  at  stake  in  various  places,  and  for 
ever  employed  in  the  tmnutite  only  of  affairs.  Indeed 
such  was  his  anxiety  about  this  house,  the  rent  of  which 
was  not  above  50I.  a-year,  that  it  brought  on  a  fever 
tvhich  nearly  cost  him  his  life :  but  the  fate  which  drag- 
ged him  on  thus  strangely  to  bury  him  under  the  load 
of  his  own  wealth,  seemed  as  resistless  as  it  was  nnac- 
countable. 

In  the  muscular  and  unencumbered  frame  of  Mr 
£lwes  there  was  every  thing  that  promised  extreme 
length  of  life  \  and  he  lived  to  above  70  years  of  age 
without  any  natural  disorder  attacking  him :  but,  as 
iiord  Bacon  has  well  observed,  *'  the  minds  of  some 
a  lamp  that  is  continually  burning  ;**  and  such 


men 


was  the  mind  of  Mr  Elwes.  Removed  from  those 
occasional  public  avocations  which  had  once  engaged 
hb  attention,  money  was  now  his  only  tliought.  He 
rose  upon  money — upon  money  he  lay  down  to  rest  \ 
and  as  his  capacity  sunk  away  from  him  by  degrees, 
he  dwindled  from  the  real  cares  of  Ibis  property  into 
the  puerile  concealment  of  a  few  guineas.  This  little 
store  he  would  carefully  wrap  up  in  various  papers, 
and  depositing  them  in  different  comers,  would  amuse 
himself  with  running  from  one  to  the  other,  to  see  whe- 
ther they  were  all  safe.  Then  forgetting,  perhaps, 
where  he  had  concealed  some  of  them,  he  would  be- 
come as  seriously  afflicted  as  a  man  might  be  who  had 
lost  all  his  property.  Nor  was  the  day  alone  thus 
spent— he  would  frequently  rise  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  and  be  heard  walking  about  different  parts  of 
the  house,  looking  afler  what  he  had  thus  hidden  and 
ibmtten. 

Durinff  the  winter  of  1789,  the  last  winter  Mr  El- 
wes was  fated  to  see,  his  memory  visibly  weakened  every 
day  ^  and  from  the  unceasing  wish  to  save  money,  he 
now  began  to  fear  he  should  die  in  want  of  it.  Mr 
Gibson  had  been  appointed  his  builder  in  the  room  of 
Mr  Adams  \  and  one  day,  when  this  gentleman  wait- 
ed upon  him,  he  said  with  apparent  concern,  **  Sir, 
pray  consider  in  what  a  wretched  state  I  am  :  you  see 
in  what  a  good  house  I  am  living  \  and  here  are  five 
guineas,  which  is  all  I  have  at  present  \  and  how  I 
shall  go  on  with  such  a  sum  of  money  puzzles  me  to 
death.  I  dare  say  yoa  thought  I  was  rich  )  now  you 
see  how  it  is  !'' 

Mr  George  Elwes  having  now  settled  at  his  seat  at 
Marcham  in  Berkshire,  be  was  naturally  desirous  that, 
in  the  assiduities  of  his  wife,  his  father  might  at  length 
find  a  comfortable  home.  In  London  he  was  certainly 
roost  uncomfortable :  but  still,  with  these  tempta- 
tions before  and  behind  him,  a  joumey  with  any  ex- 
pence  annexed  to  it  was  insurmountable.  This,  bow- 
ever,  was  luckily  obviated  by  an  offer  from  Mr  Partis, 
a  gentleman  of  the  law,  to  take  him  to  his  ancient 
seat  in  Berkshire  with  his  purse  perfectly  whole.  But 
there  was  one  circumstance  still  very  distressing^i-the 

I 


old  gentleman  had  now  nearly  worn  out  his  last  coat,    ^i^ 
and  he  would  not  buy  a  new  one  \  his  son,  therebie,      fl 
with  a  pious  fraud,  contrived  to  get  Mr  Partis  to  boy   ^^ 
him  a  coat  and  make  him  a  present  of  it.    Thus  for- 
merly having  had  a  good  coat,  then  a  bad  one,  and  at 
last  no  coat  at  all,  he  was  kind  enough  to  accept  one 
from  a  neighbour. 

Mr  Elwes  carried  with  him  into  Berkshire  five  gni* 
neas  and  a  half,  and  half  a  crown.  Lest  the  metttaoo 
of  this  sum  may  appear  singular,  it  should  be  stid, 
that  previous  to  his  journey  be  had  carefully  wrapped 
it  up  in  various  folds  of  paper,  that  no  part  of  it 
might  be  lost.  On  the  anrivmi.of  the  old  gentlemui, 
Mr  George  Elwes  and  his  wife  did  every  thing  tbcj 
could  to  make  the  country  a  scene  of  quiet  to  hioi. 
But  ^  he  had  that  within^^  which  baffled  every  effort 
of  this  kind.  Of  his  heart  it  might  be  said,  *'  there 
was  no  peace  in  Israel.^*  His  mind,  cast  away  upon 
the  vast  and  troubled  ocean  of  his  property,  eitend* 
ing  beyond  the  bounds  of  bis  calculation,  returned  to 
amuse  itself  with  fetching  and  carry ine  about  a  few 
guineas,  which  in  that  ocean  was  indeed  a  drop.  Bst 
nature  had  now  carried  on  life  nearly  as  far  as  fibe  was 
able,  and  the  &and  was  almost  run  out.  The  first  symp- 
tom of  nfore  immediate  decay  was  his  inability  to  enjoy 
his  rest  at  night,  frequently  would  he  be  heard  at 
midnight  as  if  struggling  with  some  one  in  his  cham* 
her,  and  crving  out,  ^  I  will  keep  my  money,  1  will ; 
nobody  shall  mb  me  of  my  property.*'  On  any  one 
of  the  family  going  into  his  room,  he  would  start 
from  this  fever  of  anxiety,  and,  as  if  waking  from  » 
troubled  dream,  again  htirry  into  bed,  and  seem  uncoo- 
scions  of  what  had  happened.  At  length,  on  the  26tb 
November  1789,  expired  this  miserably  rich  mao, 
whose  proper!^,  neariy  reaching  to  a  million,  extended 
itself  almost  tnrough  every  county  in  England. 

MISERICORDIA,  in  Law,  is  an  arbitrary  fine 
imposed  on  any  person  for  an  offence  \  thb  »  called 
miaericardia,  because  the  amercement  ought  to  be  hot 
small,  and  less  than  that  required  by  magna  cbarta. 
If  a  person  be  outraffeoosly  amerced  in  a  court  that  is 
not  of  record,  the  wnt  called  moderaia  ndatricordki  lies 
for  moderating  the  ameroement  according  to  the  nature 
of  the  fault. 

MISFORTUNE.    An  unlocky  accident. 

Misfortune,  or  chance,  in  Law,  a  deficiency  of 
the  will  \  or  eonmiitting  of  an  unlawful  act  by  misfor- 
tune or  chance,  and  not  by  design.  In  such  case,  the 
will  observes  a  total  neutrality,  and  does  not  co-opente 
with  the  deed ;  which  therefore  wants  one  main  ingre- 
dient of  a  crime.     See  Crime. 

Of  this,  when  it  affects  the  life  of  another,  we  hate 
spoken  under  the  article  Homicide  ;  and  in  this  place 
have  only  occasion  to  observe,  that  if  any  acctdental 
mischief  bairns  to  follow  from  the  performance  of  a 
lawful  act,  the  party  stands  excused  from  all  guilt :  bst 
if  a  man  be  doing  any  thing  unlawful,  and  a  conse- 
quence ensues  which  be  did  not  foresee  or  intend,  as  the 
death  of  a  man  or  the  like,  his  want  of  foresight  shall 
he  no  excuse  \  fbr,  being  guilty  of  one  offence,  in  doing 
antecedently  what  is  in  itself  unlawful,  he  is  criminally 
guilty  of  whatever  consequence  may  follow  the  fii^ 
mittbehaviour. 

MISFEASANCE,  in  law  books,  signifies  a  ties* 

pass. 

MJSLETOE, 


MIS  [ 

riSLETOE.  See  Viscum,  Botak7  Itukx. 
f  ISNOMER,  in  Law^  a  misnamkig  or  misUking 
arson's  name.  The  Chmtian  name  of  a  person 
[Id  always  be  perfect ;  btffc  the  law  is  not  so  stn'ct  in 
ird  to  surnames^  a  smaM  mistake  in  wbich  wiH  be 
ensed  with  to  make  good  a  contract,  and  suppwt 
ict  of  the  party.  See  Flea  to  Indictment 
[ISPfilSIONS,  (a  term  deri^d  from  the  old 
ich,  mespris^  a  neglect  or  contempt),  are,  in  the 
ptation  of  our  law,  generally  understood  to  be  all 

high  offences  as  are  under  the  degree  of  capital, 
nearly  bordering  thereon :  and  it  is  said,  that  a 
rision  is  contained  in  every  treason  and  felony  what- 
sr^  and  that,  if  the  king  so  please,  the  offender  may 
*oeeeded  against  for  the  misprision  only.  And  upon 
ame  principle,  while  the  jurisdiction  of  the  star- 
iber  subsisted,  it  was  held  that  the  king  might  re- 
i  prosecution  for  treason,  and  cause  the  delinquent 
»  censured  in  that  court,  merely  for  a  high  misde- 
tor  \  as  happened  in  the  case  of  Roger  earl  of  Rut- 
in 43  Eliz.  who  was  concerned  in  the  earl  of 
K*s  rebellion.  Misprisions  are  generally  divided 
two  sorts  \  negative,  which  consist  in  the  conceal- 

of  something  which  ought  to  be  revealed  ^  and 
ive,  which  consist  in  the  Commission  of  something 
b  ou^ht  not  to  be  done. 

Of  the  first,  or  negative  kind,  is  what  is  called 
riston  of  treason;  consisting  in  the  bare  knowledge 
Mmcealment  of  treason,  without  any  degree  of  as- 
thereto^  for  any  assent  makes  the  party  a  prtnci- 
iraitor*,  as  indeed  the  concealment,  which  was 
rued   aiding  and   abetting,   did   at  the  common 

in  like  manner  as  the  knowledge  of  a  plot  against. 
tate,  and  not  revealing  it,  was  a  capital  crime  at 
»nce,  and  other  states  of  Italy.  But  it  is  now  en- 
1  by  the  statute  I  &  2  Ph.  &  Mar.  c.  lo.  that  a 
concealment  of  treason  shall  be  only  held  a  mis* 
>n.  This  concealment  becomes  criminal,  if  the 
'  appnsed  of  the  treason  does  not,  as  soon  as  con- 
ntly  may  be,  reveal  it  to  some  judge  of  assise  or 
:e  of  the  peace.  But  if  there  be  any  probable  cir- 
tances  of  assent,  as  if  one  goes  to  a  treasonable 
Ing,  knowing  beforehand  that  a  conspiracy  is  in- 
id  against  tlie  king ;  or,  being  in  such  company 
by  accident,  and  having  heard  such  treasonable 
iracy,  meets  the  same  company  again,  and  hears 
of  it,  but  conceals  it ;  this  is  an  implied  assent 
r,  and  makes  the  concealer  guilty  of  actual  high 
>n. 

^prision  of  felony  is  also  the  concealment  of  a  fe- 
srhich  a  man  knows,  but  never  a^nted  to  ^  for, 

assented,  this  makes  him  either  principal  or  ac- 
-y.     And  the  punishment  of  this,  in  a  public  of- 

by  the  statute  Westm.  i.  3  Edw.  I.  c.  9.  is  im- 
iment  for  a  year  and  a  day ;  in  a  common  person, 
sonmmt  for  a  less  discretionary  time ;    and,    in 

fine  and  ransom  at  the  king^s  pleasure:  which 
ire  of  the  king  must  be  observed,  once  for  all,  not 
nify  any  extrajudicial  will  of  the  sovereign,  but 
as  is  declared  by  his  representatives,  the  jndges 

courts  of  justice  ^  voluntas  regis  in  curm^  non 
nera. 

Misprisions,  which  are  merely' positive,  are  gene- 
denominated  contempt  or  higk  misdemeano9trs  ;  of 
L.  XIV.  Part  I.  t 


289     ]  MIS 

which  the  principal  is  the  mal-admimstration  of  such  Mifptuiont 
high  officers  as  are  in  public  trust  and  employment.        U 
This  is  usually  punished  by  the  method  of  parhamen-  MitsisJppi. 
tary  impeachment}    wherein  such,  penalties,  short  of        ' 
death,  are  inflicted,  as  to  the  wisdom  of  the  honse  of 
peers  shall  seem  proper  \  consisting  usually  of  banish- 
ment,   imprisonment,    fines,  or  perpetual    disability. 
Hither  also  may  be  referred  the  offence  of  emSe^z/ing 
the  pubHc  numey^  called  among  the  Romans  pectdalus  ; 
which  the  Julian  law  punished  with  death  in  a  magi- 
strate, and  with  deportation,  or  banishment,  in  a  pri- 
vate person.     With  us  it  is  not  a^  capital  crime,  but 
subjects  the  committer  of  it  to  a  discretionary  fine  and 
imprisonment.*— Other  misprisions  are,  in  general,  such 
contempts  of  the  executive  magistrate  as  demonstrate 
themselves  by  some  arrogant  and  undutiful  behaviour 
towards  the   king  and  government :    for  a  detail  of 
which,  tnde  Blackstone's  Comment,  iv.  22. 

MISSAL,  the  Bombb  mass-book,  containing  the 
several  masses  to  be  said  on  particular  days.  It  is  de- 
rived from  the  Latin  word  missdf  which,  jn  the  ancient 
Christian  church,  signified  every  part  of  divine  service. 
MISSEL-BIRD,  a  species  of  Turdus.  See  Tur- 
Dus,  Ornithology  Indejp, 

MISSIO,  among  the  Romans,  was  a  full  discharge 
given  to  a  soldier  after  20  yeafs  service,  and  differed 
from  the  esattctoratio^  which  was  a  discharge  from 
duty  after  17  years  service.  Every  soldier  had  a  right 
to  claim  his  missio  at  the  end  of  20  years. 

MISSION,  in  TAeologyj  denotes  a  power  or  com- 
mission to  preach  the  gospel.  Jesus  Christ  gave  his 
disciples  their  mission  in  these  words,  Go  and  teach  ail 
nations^  &c.  The  Romanists  reproach  the  Protestants, 
that  their  ministers  have  no  mission,  as  not  being  au- 
thorized in  the  exercise  of  their  ministry,  either  by  an 
uninterrupted  succession  from  the  apostles,  or  by.  mira- 
raclee,  or  by  any  extraordinary  proof  of  a  vocation. 
Many  among  us  deny  any  other  mission  necessary  for 
the  ministry  than  the  talents  necessary  to  discharge  it. 

Mission  is  also  used  for  an  establishment  of  people 
zealous  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  salvation  of  souh  ^ 
who  go  and  preach  the  gospel  in  remote  countries  and 
among  infidels. 

MISSIONARY,  an  ecclesiastic  who  devotes  him- 
self  and  his  labours  to  some  mission,  either  for  the  in- 
struction of  the  orthodox,  the  conviction  of  heretics,  or 
the  conversion  of  infidels.     See  Jesuits. 

MISSISSIPPI,  a  river  of  North  America,  and  one 
of  the  largest  in  the  world.  It  rises  in  some  lakes 
about  the  latitude  of  48^,  and  runs  in  a  direction  neat- 
ly south  to  the  gulf  of  Mexico*  Its  course,  includiu<r 
windings,  is  about  25QO  miles  in  length,  and  it  is  nft- 
vigable  from  the  sea  to  the  fiJIs  of  Rt  Anthony  in  lati- 
tude 44®  50^  Its  width  is  from  800  yards  to  a  mite 
and  a  half.-  Its  depth  above  New  Orleans  has  been 
found  to  be  1 50  feet ;  but  there  is  only  from  1 2  to  1 7 
feet  water  on  the  bars  at  its  mouth.  Its  current  Is 
from  three  to  four  miles  an  hour,  but  varies  with  the 
rise  and  fall  of  the  waters.  In  low  Water  a  boat  will 
float  down  at  the  rate  of  45  or  50  miles  a  day,  and  ki 
high  water  at  90  or  100.  Towards  the  mouth  the  cur- 
rent is  much  less  rapid  than  fiirlher  up.  The  usual 
progr^M  of  a  boat  up  the  river  is  about  1 5  miles  a.day ; 
but  the  steam-boats,  of  wbich  there  are  now  great  num- 

\j  0-  bers 


MIS 


MIS 


[    apo    ] 

fMimimMi^  ben  on  this  riTer,  go  ^mtt  tlie  ttream  it  tke  nto  of    this  almost  to  ks  sooroe  at  the  distaoee  of  3096  oiiles 
MiiMori  60  miles  »-day«     This  river  has  an  annual  swell,  which     from  the  Mississippi,  making  the  total  extent  of  navU 
becins  in  November,  and  increases  till  May, 

a  ■     V  •«•.  •  «•*•!  .•11         — 


from 
wQch  period  it  agaki  diminishes  till  October.  The 
greatest  rise  from  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio  to  Natchez  is 
about  50  feet  $  but  at  New  Orleans  is  only  about  1 2 
feet.  During  this  annual  flood  a  part  of  the  waters 
pass  over  the  wdstem  banks,  inundate  the  country  to 
a  considerable  extent,  and  never  return  into  the  bed  of 
the  river,  but  either  forai  marshes,  or  pass  off  to  the 
sea  by  difierent  channels*  In  tbe  lower  part  of  its 
course  the  banks  are  higher  than  the  surrounding 
country }  and,  besides  the  waters  that  overflow  during 
the  floods,  a  part  always  escapes  by  lateral  braocbes, 
which  intersect  tbe  country  towards  its  mouth  in  va- 
rious directions,  and  form  a  deha  about  soo  miles  long 
br  100  broad.  This  tract,  inclosed  within  the  bran- 
ches of  the  river,  is,  for  the  greater  part,  a  morass 
nearly  on  a  level  with  high  water.  It  has  evidently  been 
formed  by  alluvial  matter  brought  down  and  deposited 
by  the  river,  and  it  is  obs^vsNi  to  be  continually  en* 
laraing. 

The  Mtaslssi^  receives  in  its  course  a  great  many 
very  large  rivers  ,  the  Illinois  and  Ohio  00  the  east  'y 
the  Missouri,  Arkansaw,  Bed  River,  &c.  on  the  west. 
Indndittg  all  its  branches,  Mr  Bradbury  compotes 
that  it  waters  a  country  eleven  times  as  large  as  Ureat 
Britain  and  Ireland. 

Mississippi,  one  of  the  United  Sutes  of  North 
America,  is  situated  on  the  east  side  of  the  river  of  the 
same  name,  between  30^  and  35*  N.  Lat.  and  87^  and 

21^  W.  Long.  It  is  about  350  miles  long,  and  150 
road,  and  has  an  area  of  about  45,000  square  miles. 
The  southern  parts  on  the  ffulf  of  Mexico  are  low, 
sandy,  or  marshy,  and  unlieuthy ;  but  the  middle  and 
northern  parts  are  pretty  well  watered,  and  very  fer- 
tile. The  great  articles  of  culture  are  cotton  and  In- 
dian com  'f  rioe  and  sugar,  however,  are  also  raised. 
Lemons  sind  other  fruits  thrive  well.  Homed  cattle 
am  raised  in  great  numbers,  but  are  sometimes  de- 
atvoyed  by  the  wolf  and  cougonar.  Labour  is  gene- 
rally pernvnwd  by  slaves.  Natchez,  the  principal 
town,  and  the  only  place  of  trade,  is  aboat  300  miles 
above  New  Orieans.  There  are  some  tanneries  in  tbe 
state,  and  some  domestic  nianu&otores  of  woollen,  cot-, 
ton,  flax,  and  hemp.  The  principal  rivers  are  the 
Tombtgbee,  Pascagouk,  Pearl,  and  Yaaoo.  This 
state  was  admitted  into  the  Union  in  1817.  Its  po- 
palation  the  year  before  was  44,206,  of  whom  20,567 
were  slaves,  and  191  free  blMks.  The  Chodaws, 
Qierokecs,  and  some  other  of  the  Indian  tribes  who 
have  made  coosidoraMe  advances  in  civilization,  reside 
in  this  stale.  The  legislative. power  of  this  state  is 
vetted  in  a  bouse  of  representatives  and  a  senate,  cho- 
sen by  all  free  while  males  of  zi-  years  of  age. 

MISSOURI,  a  river  in  Lonisania,  which  falls  into 
the  Mississippi  from  the  west,  195  niileo  above  the 
mouth  of  the  Ohio,  and  about  li^  miles  from  the 
Baliae  in  tho  gnlf  of  Mexico.  Though  the  nnited 
rivers  take  the  name  of  the  J^Iisnissippi,  the  Missouri 
is  much  the  largest  branch.  It  was  first  explored  by 
Capuins  Lewis  and  Clerk  in  1804,  1805,  and  1806. 
It  is  navigalile  far  boats  to  the  great  falls  2848  miles 
faom  its  junction  with  tbe  Mimtssippi,  and  even  beyond 

a 


gation  from  the  sea  in  one  line  above  4000  miles.  Its 
width  varies  from  200  yards  to  a  mile.  Its  velocity 
was  found  by  the  log  to  be  about  five  miles  an  hour. 
It  receives  many  large  streams,  the  Yellowstone,  Kan- 
sas,  Platte,  &c.  chiefly  on  its  south  side  >  and  it  is 
computed  that,  including  these  branches,  it  aftirds  an 
inland  navigation  of  15,000  miles.  It  earriea  down 
great  quantities  of  earth,  and  has  aa  annual  swell  like 
the  Mississippi.  Its  sources  in  the  Stony  monntaina 
are  not  far  from  those  of  the  Columbia,  which  flows  in* 
to  the  Pacific  ocean.  The  distance  to  tho  Sosnh  sen 
fitom  the  Mississippi  by  this  route  is  3555  miles. 

Missouri*  a  territory  of  tlie  United  Stntea  of  Noitil 
America,  including  the  |^*eatcr  part  of  tho  country 
formerly  known  under  the  name  of  Liouiriana.  It  ex- 
tends from  tbe  Mississippi  to  the  Hooky  mountains, 
and  firom  the  gulf  of  Mexico  to  Canada.  Ita  Inogth 
firom  north  lo  south  is  about  14PO  miles,  and  its  breadth 
£rom  east  to  west  886,  comprisii^  an  area  of  985,250 
square  miles.  It  It  watered  by  the  Missousi  river  and 
its  numerous  tribotaiy  streams,  and  by  seme  other 
branches  of  the  Mississippi.  The  surface  is  generally 
uneven,  but  not  mountainous.  The  soil  is  rich  and 
well  watered  ^  but,  unlike  that  of  tlie  eastern  porta  of 
America,  it  ^educes  little  natural  wood,  except  on  the 
banks  of  tbe  rivers.  Lime  is  abundant  in  this  vast 
region  ;  coal  and  iron  oro  were  observed  in  many 
places  }  and  salt  is  found  in  great  quantitiea.  Near 
St  Louis  lead  ore  abounds,  aad  is  wrought  to  a  gteat 
extent^  As  tbe  country  extends  through  20  degrees  of 
latitude,  tbe  climate  is  various ',  warm  and  onbeakhy 
in  the  sooth }  colder  and  more  salubrious  towards  the 
north.  There  are  as  yet  but  a  small  number  of  white 
settlers  in  this  coontry,  the  greater  part  of  which  is 
still  occupied  by  savage  tribes. 

MISSUS,  in  the  Circensian  games,  were  the  matches 
in  horse  or  chariot  roces.  Hie  usnal  number  of  mutms 
or  matches  in  one  day  was  24  ^  though  the  emperor 
Domitian  presented  the  people  with  lOO.  llie  last 
match  was  generally  made  at  the  expenoe  of  the  people, 
who  made  a  collection  for  the  purpose  \  hence  it  was 
called  musua  tBToriua^  a  subscription  plate. 

MIST,  or  Fog.    See  Fog. 

MISTAKE,  any  wrong  action  committed,  not 
tbrongh  an  evil  design,  but  through  an  error  of  jn^g* 
meat. 

M ISUSER,  in  Law^  is  an  abuse  of  any  liberty  or 
benefit  ^  as  *^  He  shall  make  fine  far  his  msuSBE.''' 
Old.  Nat.  Br.  149.  By  misuser  a  charter  of  a  corpo* 
ration  may  be  forfeited  ;  so  also  an  oflice,  &c 

MITCHELSTOWN,  a  post  town  of  Irehoid,  in 
the  county  of  Cork  and  province  of  Muaster  in  Ireland, 
where  there  is  a  college  founded  by  tho  earl  of  King- 
ston for  the  support  of  xa  decayed  gentlemen  and  la 
decayed  gentlewomen,  who  have  4ol.  yearly,  and  haadp 
some  apartments. 

MlXE,  a  small  piece  of  money  mentioned  Luke  luk 
59.  and  xxi.  2.  In  tbe  Greek  it  is  x^f^Hm^  i«  e.  f an> 
dranSf  or  a  quarter  of  the  Roman  dtnatmt ;  so  thai  the 
mite  was  worth  about  seven  farthings,  or  twopence  of 
our  money. 

MiTE.    3ec  AcARUs.  Ektomologt  Imdtjt. 

MXTELLl, 


[ITELLA,  Bastard  American  Sanicle;  a 
IS  of  plants  belonging  to  the  decandria  class,  and  in 
latural  method  ranking  under  the  13th  order,  Suc» 
7ta.    See  Botany  Index^ 

[ITHRA,  feasts  of,  in  antiquity,  were  feasts  cele- 
^d  ancmg  tlie  Romans  in  honour  of  Mithras  or  the 

The  most  ancient  instance  of  this  Mithras  among 
iomans  occurs  in  an  inscription  dated  in  the  third 
ilate  of  Trajan,  or  about  the  year  of  Christ  loi. 
is  the  dedication  of  an  altar  to  the  san  under  the 
e  name,  thus  inscribed,  Deo  Soii  Mtthne,  But  the 
hip  of  Mithras  was  not  known  in  Egypt  and  Syria 
le  'time  of  Origen,  who  died  about  the  year  of 
ft  263 }  tbongh  it  was  common  -at  Rome  for  more 
a  •rentnry  before  this  time.  The  worship  of  Mi«* 
was  proscribed  at  Rome  in  the  year  378,  by  or« 
)f  Gracchus,  prefect  of  the  prsetorivm.  According 
.  Freret,  the  feasts  of  Mithras  were  derived  from 
Jea,  where  they  had  been  instituted  for  celebrating 
ntraoce  of  the  sun  into  the  sign  Taurus. 
ITHRAS,  or  MrrHRA,  a  god  of  Persia  and  ChaU 
supposed  to  be  the  sunt  His  worship  was  intro« 
1  at  Rome.  He  is  generally  represented  as  a  young 

whose  head  is  covered  with  a  turban  after  the 
ler  of  the  Persians*  He  supports  his  knee  npoB 
I  that  ties  on  the  ground,  and  one  of  whose  horns 
»Ids  in  ooe  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  plunges 
rgifer  in  his  neck. 

ITHRIDATE,  an  old  term,  in  Pharmacy  t  an 
ote  or  composition,  in  form  of  an  electuary,  sop* 
I  to  serve  either  as  a  remedy  or  a  preservative 
ist  poisons ;  so  named  from  the  inventor,  Mithri^ 
,  king  of  Pontos,  who  is  said  to  have  so  fortified 
ody  against  poisons  with  antidotes  and  preserva- 
,  that  when  be  had  a  mind  to  dispatch  himself  he 
i  not  find  any  poison  that  would  take  efiect. 
ITHRIDATES,  the  name  of  several  kings  of 
09.     See  PoNTUS. 

fTBRlDATES  VII.  sumamed  £t/pator  and  tie 
!f,  succeeded  to  the  throne  at  the  age  of  1 1  years, 
>  1 23  years  before  the  Christian  era.  The  begin* 
of  his  reign  was  marked  by  ambition,  cruelty,  and 
ee.  He  mordtf  ed  his  own  mother,  who  had  been 
If  his  ^tfaer  co-heiress  of  the  kingdom ;  and  he 
ied  his  coastitution  by  drinking  antidotes  against 
i^Hon  with  which  his  enemies  at  court  attempted 
emy  him.  He  eariy  innred  his  body  to  hardship^ 
imployed  himself  in  the  most  manly  exercises,  of- 
emaining  whole  months  in  the  country,  and  mak- 
rosen  snow  and  the  earth  the  place  of  his  repose* 
nraily  ambitious  and  cruel,  he  spared  no  pains  to 
ire  himself  power  and  dominion.  He  murdered 
Mto  sons  whom  his  sister  Laodtce  had  by  Ajia»- 
!S  king.of  Cappadocia,  and  placed  one. of  his  own 
ren,  only  eight  vears  old,  on  the  vacant  throne, 
e  violent  proceedings  alarmed  Nicomedes  king  of 
ynia,  who  had  married  Laodice  the  widow  of  Ari- 
lee,  and  oUimately  involved  Mithridates  in  a  quar^ 
rith  the  Romans.  Mithridates  never  lost  an  0]h 
inity  by  which  he  might  lessen  the  influence  of  >bis 
rsariee  ;  and  the  more  efTectoally  to  destroy  their 
ir  in  Asia,  he  ordered  all  the  Romans  that  were 
s  dominions  to  be  massacred.  This  was  done  in 
nfghtf  and  ao  less  than  150,000,  according  to 
ircbf  or  80,000  pftfnans,  as  Appian  meationsi  wei^ 


I     ]  MIT 

made  the  victims  of  his. cruelty.    This  called  aloud  fur    Mithif. 
vengeance.     Aquilius,  and  soon  after  Sylla,  marched     d&Xi:*, 
against  Mithridates  with  a  large  army.     The  former 
was  made  prisoner  ^  but  Sylla  obtained  a  victory  over 
the  king*s  generals )  and  another  decisive  engagement 
rendered  him  master  of  all  GreecCi  Macedonia,  Ion  in, 
and  Asia  Minor.    This  ill  fortune  was  aggravated  by 
the  loss  of  about  200,000  men,  who  were  killed  in  tin 
several  engagements  that  had  been  fought ;  and  Mi- 
thridates, wotkened  by  repeated  ill  success  by  sea  and 
land,  sued  for  peace  from  the  conqueror,  which  he  ob« 
tained  on  hard  terms.    But  he  soon  took  the  field  again 
with  an  army  of  140,000  infantry,  and  16,000  horse« 
consisting  of  his  own  foroes  and  those  of  his  son-in-law 
Tigranes  king  of  Armenia.     With  this  army  be  made 
himself  master  of  the  Roman  provinces  in  A^ia  ^  none 
dared  to  oppose  his  conquests  ^  and  the  Romans,  rely- 
ing on  his  fidelity,  had  withdrawn  the  greatest  part  of 
their  armies  firom  the  country.    The  news  of  his  war- 
like preparatimis  were  no  sooner  heard,  than  LocuIIuh 
the  consul  marched  into  Asia  -,  and  without  doiay  l»e 
blocked  up  the  camp  of  Mithridates  who  was  then  be- 
sieging Cyzicus.     The  Asiatic  monarch  escapqd  from 
him,  and  fled  into  ibe  heart  of  his  kingdom.     Lucullus 
pursued  biro  with  the  utmost  celerity  \  and  would  have 
taken  him  prisoner  after  a  battle,  had  not  the  avidity 
of  his  soldiers  preferred  the  plundering  of  a  mule  load- 
ed with  gold  to  the  taking  of  a  monarch  who  ;bj^. exer- 
cised such  cruelties  against  their  countrymen.     Th^ 
af^ioiotment  of  Glabrio  to  the  command  or  the  Eomaii 
forces,  instead  of  LucuUus,  was  favourable  to  Mithri- 
dates, who  recovered  the  greatest  part  of  bis  domi- 
nions.    The  sudden  arrival  of  Pompey,  however,  soon 
put  an  end  to  his  victories*     A  battle  in  the  night  whn 
fought  near  the  Enpltrates.     Ah  universal  overthrow 
ensued,  and  Mithridates,  bold  in  his  misfortunes,  rubli^ 
ed  through  the  thick  ranks  of  the  enemy  at  the  head 
of '800  horsemen,  500  of  whom  perished  in  the  at- 
tempt to  follow  him.     He  fled  to  Tigranes.;  but  t^at 
monarch  refused  an  asylum  to  his  father-in-law,  whom 
he  had  before  suppoited  with  all  the  collected  forces  of 
his  "kingdom.     Mithridates  found  a  safe  retreat  among 
the  Scythians  ;  and  though  destitute  of  power,  friends, 
and  resources,  yet  he  meditated  the  overthrow  of  the 
Roman  empire,  by  penet]*atlng  into  the  heart  of  Italy 
by  land.     These  wild  projects  were  injected  by  his  fol- 
lowers, and  he  sued  for  peace.     It  was  denied  to  his 
ambassadors ;  and  the  victorious  Pompey  declared,  that, 
to  obtain  it,  Mithridates  must  ask  it  m  person.     He 
soomed  to  trust  himself  ta  the  hands  of  his  enemy,  and 
resolved  to  conquer  or  to  die.     His  subjects  refused  to 
follow  him  any  longer  ^  and  revolting  uom  him,  made 
his  son  BJiaraaees  king.    The  son  showed  himself  un<* 
grateful  to  'his  father  j  and  even,  according  to  some 
writers,  he  ordered  him  to  be  put  to  death.     This  un« 
natural -treatment  broke  the  heart  of  Mithridates  }  he 
obliged' bis  Wife  to  poison  herself,  and  atten^led  to  do 
the  -same  himself.     It  was  in  vain  :  the  frequent  anti« 
.dotes  he  had  taken  in  the  early  part  of  his  life,  strength- 
ened his  constitution  against  th^  poison  ;  and  when  this 
Was  unavailing,  he   attempted  to  stab  himself.     The 
blow.was  not  mortal ;  and  a  Gaol  who  was  then  pre- 
sent, at  his  own  request,  gave  him  the  fatal  stroke,  a- 
bout  64  years  before  the  Christian  era.     Socb  were  the 
roisfbrtunes,  abilities^  and  miseraUe  wd^  of  n  man,  who 

O  0  2  supported 


MIT 


[     292     1 


M    O    A 


Mithri- 
datrs 

.    II- 
l^littinuis. 


sapported  himself  so  long  agatiwt  the  i^wer  of  Borne, 
and  who,  according  to  the  declarations  of  the  Roman 
authors,  proved  a  more  powerful  and  indefatigable  ad- 
versary to  the  capital  of  Italy  than  the  great  Hannibal, 
Pyrrbus,  Perseus,  or  Antiochas.  It  is  said  that  Mithri* 
dates  conquered  24  nations,  whose  different  languages 
he  knew  and  spoke  with  the  same  ease  and  fluency  as  hi» 
own.  As  a  man  of  letters  he  also  deserves  attention.  He 
was  acquainted  with  the  Greek  language,  and  even  wrote 
in  that  dialect  a  treatise  on  botany.  His  skill  in  physic 
is  well  known  ;  and  even  now  there  is  a  celebrated  an- 
tidote which  licars  his  name,  and  is  called  mtthrtdate, 

MITRA,  was  a  cap  or  covering  for  the  head,  worn 
by  the  Roman  ladies,  and  sometimes  by  the  men  ^  but 
it  was  looked  upon  as  a  mark  of  effeminacy  in  the  last, 
especially  when  it  was  tied  upon  their  beads. 

JVIITRE,  a  sacerdotal  ornament  worn  on  the  bead, 
by  bishops  and  certain  abbots  on  solemn  occasions,^  be- 
ing a  sort  of  cap,  pointed  and  cleft  at  top.  The  high 
priest  among  the  Jews  wore  a  mitre  or  bonnet  on  his 
head.  The  inferior  priests  of  the  same  nation  had  like- 
wise  their  mitres }  but  in  what  respect  they  differed 
from  that  of  the  high  priest,  is  uncertain.  Some  con- 
tend that  the  ancient  bishops  wore  mitres  \  but  this  is 
by  no  means  certain. 

MiTRE^  in  Architecture^  is  the  workmen^s  term  for 
an  angle  that  is  just  45  degrees,  or  half  a  right  on6. 
If  the  angle  be  a  quarter  of  a  right  angle,  they  call  it 
a  half  mitre. 

To  describe  such  angles,  they  have  an  instrument 
called  the  mitre  square ;  with  this  they  strike  mitre 
lines  on  their  quarters  or  battens;  and  for  despatch, 
they  have  a  mitre  box^  as  they  call  it,  which  is  made 
of  two  pitfces  of  wood,  each  about  an  inch  thick,  one 
nailed  upright  on  the  edge  of  the  other  ;  the  upper 
piece  hath  the  mitre  lines  struck  upon  it  on  both  sides, 
and  a  kerf  to  direct  the  saw  in  cutting  the  mitre  joints 
readily,  by  only  applying  the  piece  into  this  box. 

Mitre  is  used  by  the  writers  of  the  Irish  history  for 
a  sort  of  base  money,  which  was  very  common  there 
about  the  year  1 270,  and  for  30  years  before  and  as 
many  after. 

There  were  besides  the  mitre  several  other  pieces, 
tailed,  according  to  the  figures  impressed  upon  them, 
rosaries,  lionades,  eagles,  and  by  the  like  names.  They 
were  imported  from  France  and  other  countries,  and 
were  so  much  below  the  proper  currency  of  the  king- 
dom, that  they  were  not  worth  so  much  as  a  halfpenny 
each.  They  were  at  length  decryed  in  the  year  1 300, 
and  good  coins  struck  io  their  place.  Tliese  were  the 
iirst  Irish  coins  in  which  the  sceptre  was  left  out.  They 
were  struck  in  the  reign  of  Edward,  the  son  of  our 
Henry  HI.  and  are  still  found  among  the  other  anti- 
quities of  that  country.  They  have  the  king's  head  in 
a  triangle  full  faced.  The  penny,  when  well  preserved, 
weighs  22  grains  ;  the  halfpenny  io{^  grains. 

MITTAU,  the  capital  of  the  duchy  of  Ckinrland. 
It  is  strongly  fortified  ;  but  was  taken  by  the  Swedes 
in  1701,  and  by  the  Muscovites  in  1706.  £.  Long. 
2^.  51.  N.  Lat.  ^6,  44. 

MITTIMUS,  as  generally  used,  hath  two  signifi- 
cations. I.  It  signifies  a  writ  for  removing  or  trans- 
ferring of  records  from  one  court  to  another.  2.  It 
signifies  a  precept,  or  command  in  writing,  under  the 
hand  and  seal  of  a  justice  of  the  peace,  directed  to  the 


Uub 


gaoler  or  keeper  of  some  prison,  for  the  receiving  and  *«'iuis« 
safe  keeping  of  an  offender  charged  with  aoycrimei 
until  he  be  deh'vered  by  due  course  of  law. 

MITYLENE,  or  Myt£L£N£,  in  Ancient  Geogra- 
phy^  a  celebrated,  powerful,  and  aiBuent  city,  capital  of 
the  island  of  Lesbo^.  1 1  received  i ta  name  from  Mitylcm , 
the  daughter  of  Macareus,  a  king  of  the  country.  It  is 
greatly  commended  by  the  ancients  for  the  stutelinebi 
of  its  buildings  and  the  fruitfulne&s  of  its  soil,  but 
more  particularly  for  the  great  men  it  produced :  Pit* 
tacns,  Aicseus,  Sappho,  1  erpander,  Theophaues,  HcU 
lanicus,  &c.  were  all  natives  of  Mitylene.  It  wasloDg 
a  seat  of  learning  *,  and,  with  Rhodes  and  Atbeus,  ii 
had  the  honour  of  having  educated  many  of  the  great 
men  of  Rome  and  Greece.  In  the  Peloponnesian  war, 
the  Mitylcnians  suffered  greatly  for  their  revolt  from 
the  power  of  Athens  ;  and  in  the  Mithridatic  wars, 
they  had  the  boldness  to  resist  the  Romans,  and  disdain 
the  treaties  which  had  been  made  between  Mithridates 
and  Sylla.     See  Metelik. 

MIXT,  or  MiXT  Body,  in  Chemistry^  that  which  is 
compounded  of  different  elements  or  principles. 

'MIXTURE,  a  compound  or  assemblage  of  several 
different  bodies  in  the  same  mass.  Chemical  mixture  is 
attended  with  many  phenomena  which  are  never  observ- 
ed in  simple  mixtui^es  \  such  as  heat,  effervescence,  &c. 
To  cliemical  mixture  belong  the  union  of  acids  and 
alkalies,  the  amalgamation  of  metals,  solution  of  guise, 
&c.  and  upon  it  depend  many  of  the  principal  opera- 
tions of  Chemistry.     See  that  article,  passim. 

Mixture,  in  Pharmacy^  a  medicine  which  differs 
from  a  julep  in  this  respect,  that  it  receives  into  its 
composition  not  only  salts,  extracts,  and  other  sab- 
stances  dissoluble  in  water  \  but  also  earths,  powders, 
and  such  substances  as  cannot  be  dissolved. 

MIZEN,  in  the  sea  language,  i»  a  particular  mast 
or  sail.  The  niizen  mast  stands  in  the  stemmost  part 
of  the  ship.  In  some  great  ships  there  are  two  of 
these)  when  that  next  the  main-mast  is  called  the 
main-mizcny  and  that  next  the  poop  the  bonaventttrc 
mi%en, 

MIZRAIM,  or  Misraim,  the  dual  name  of  Egypt, 
used  in  Scripture  to  denote  the  Higher  and  Lower 
Egypt,  which  see.  It  sometimes  occurs  singular,  Mth 
%or :  2  Kin  OS  xix.  Isaiah  xix.  Micah  vii. 

MNEMOSYNE,  in  fabulous  history,  a  daughter  of 
CobIus  and  Terra.  She  married  Jupiter,  by  whom  she 
had  the  nine  Muses.  The  word  mnemosyne  signifies 
**  memory  ^^^  and  therefore  the  poets  have  rightly  call- 
ed Memory  the  mother  of  the  Muses,  because  it  is  to 
that  mental  endowment  that  mankind  are  indebted  for 
their  progress  in  science. 

MNIUM,  Marshmoss  ;  a  genua  of  the  aatural  or- 
der  of  musciy  belonging  to  the  cryptogamia  class  of 
plants.     See  Botany  Index. 

MOAB,  in  Ancient  Geography^  a  country  of  Arabia 
Fetrsea  \  so  called  from  Moab  the  son  of  Lot,  to  whose 
posterity  this  country  was  allotted  by  divine  appoiot- 
ment,  Deut.  xi.  9.  It  was  originally  occupied  by  the 
Emim,  a  race  of  giants  extirpated  by  the  M<»bites,  ti6f d- 
Moab  anciently  lay  to  the  south  of  Ammon,  before 
Sihon  the  Amorite  stripped  both  nations  of  a  part  of 
their  territory,  afterwards  occupied  by  the  Israelites, 
Numb.  xxi. ;  and  then  Moab  was  bounded  by  the  river 
Amoa  to  the  north,  the  Lacus  Asphaltites  to  the  west, 

the 


M    O    C 


C    ^93    ] 


MOD 


brook  Zftred  to  tbe  sooth,  and  the  oountiiins  Abarim 
le  east, 

lOAT,  or  Ditch,  id  Fortt^cattofty  a  deep  trencli 
roand  tbe  rampart  of  a  fortified  place,  to  prevent 
irises. 

he  brink  of  the  moat,  next  the  rampart,  is  called 
9carpe  ;  and  the  opposite  one,  the  cauntcrscarpe, 
.  dry  moat  round  a  large  place,  with  a  strong  gar- 
I,  is  preferable  to  one  full  of  water  ^  b«cau»e  the 
age  may  be  disputed  inch  by  inch,  and  the  be* 
srs,  when  lodged  in  it,  are  continually  exposed  to 
>onibs,  grenades,  and  other  fire  works,  which  are 
wn  incessantly  firom  the  rampart  into  their  works. 
lie  middle  of  dry  moats,  there  is  sometimes  another 
I  one,  called  cunette;  which  is  generally  dug  so 
>  till  tliey  find  water  to  fill  it. 
he  deepest  and  broadest  moats  are  accounted  the 
^  but  a  deep  one  is  preferable  to  a  broad  one  :  the 
iiary  breadth  is  about  20  fathoms,  and  the  depth 
It  16. 

0  drain  a  moat  that  is  full  of  water,  they  dig  a 
cb  deeper  than  the  level  of  the  water,  to  let  it  run 
and  then  throw  hurdles  upon  the  mud  and  slime, 
ring  them  with  earth  or  bundles  of  rushes,  to  make 
re  and  firm  passage. 

[OATAZALITES,  or  Separatists,  a  religious 
among  the  Turks,  who  deny  all  forms  and  quali- 
in  tbe  Divine  Being )  or  who  divest  God  of  his  at- 
ite8« 

here  are  two  opinions  among  the  Turkish  divines 
eming  God.  The  first  admits  metaphysical  forms 
ttribates  >  as,  that  God  has  wisdom,  by  which  he 
ise ;  power,  by  which  he  is  powerful  *,  eternity, 
'hich  he  is  eternal,  &c.  The  second  allows  God 
e  wise,  powerful,  eternal  \  but  will  not  allow  any 
or  quality  in  God,  for  fear  of  admitting  a  mul- 
:ity.  Those  who  follow  this  latter  opinion  are 
d  Moafazaiiies ;  they  who  follow  the  former,  Se- 
rtes. 

bis  sect  is  said  to  have  first  invented  the  scholastic 
tity,  and  is  subdivided  into  no  less  than  20  inferior 
i,   which  mutoally   brand    one   another  with  in- 

lOBILE,  a  town  in  the  United  States,  in  the  ter* 
y  of  Alabama,  sitaated  on  a  bay  of  the  same  name 
e  galf  of  Mexico.  It  has  but  an  indifferent  port, 
popolatioo  in  1817,.  was  from  1000  to  1500  per- 

!oJlir£,  Moveable f   any  thing  susceptible  of  mo* 
or  that  is  disposed  to  be  moved  either  by  itself 
f  some  other  prior  mobiie  or  mover. 
rinutm  Mobile^  in  the  ancient  astronomy,  was  a 

1  heaven  or  sphere,  imagined  above  those  of  the 
sts  and  fixed  stars.  This  was  supposed  to  be  the 
mover,  and  to  carry  all  the  lower  spheres  round 
I  with  it }  by  its  rapidity  communicating  to  them 
tion  whereby  they  revolved  in  24  hours.  But  the 
lal  revolotion  of  the  planets  is  now  accounted  for 
out  tbe  assbtance  of  any  such  prnmim  mobile, 
zrpekium  Mobile*  See  Perpetual  Motion, 
[OCHO,  Moco,  or  Mokha ;  bv  some  supposed  to 
le  Mosa  or  Muza  of  Ptolemy,  is  a  port  and  town 
le  Red  Sea,  of  considerable  trade  ^  contains  about 
00  inhabitants,  Jews,  Armenians,  and  Moham* 
los }  and  it  gives  name  to  a  kingdom  extending 


filong  the  most  southern  coast  of  Arabia  ^  of  which  thai  Mochv 
part  which  lies  next  the  sea  is  a  djy  barren  desert,  in  H 
some  places  10  or  1 2  leagues  over}  bat  bounded  by .  /*^' 
mountains,  which  being  well  watered,  enjoy  an  al- 
most perpetual  spring ;  and  besides  coffee,  the  peculiar 
produce  of  this  country,  yields  com,  grapes,  myrrh, 
frankincense,  cassia,  balm,  gums  of  several  sorts,  man- 
gos, dates,  pomegranates,  &c.  The  weather  here  is  so 
hot  and  sultry  in  summer,  especially  when  the  south 
wind  blows,  that  it  would  be  insupportable,  if  it  was  not 
mitigated  by  the  cool  breezes  that  generally  blow  from 
the  mountains  on  the  north,  or  the  Ucd  and  Arabic  seas 
on  the  west  and  east.  The  heat  in  winter  is  equal  to 
that  of  our  warmest  summers ;  and  it  is  very  seldom 
that  either  clouds  or  nin  are  seen.  The  city  of  Mocho 
is  now  the  emporium  for  the  trade  of  all  India  to  tbe 
Red  sea.  Tbe  trade  was  removed  hither  from  Aden, 
in  consequence  of  the  prophecy  of  a  sheik,  much  rever- 
ed by  the  people,  who  foretold  that  it  would  soon  be- 
come a  place  of  extensive  commerce  notwithstanding  its 
disadvantageous  situation.  The  buildings  here  are  lof- 
ty, and  tolerably  regular,  having  a  pleasant  aspect  from 
Mecca.  Tbe  steeples  of  several  mosques  are  very  high, 
presenting  themselves  to  view  at  a  great  distance.  -Their 
markets  are  well  stored  with  beef,  mutton,  lamb,  kid, 
camels  and  antelopes  fiesh,  common  fowls,  Guinea 
hens,  partridges,  and  pigeons.  The  sea  affords  plenty 
offish^  but  not  savoury;  which  some  think  proceeds 
from  the  extreme  saituess  of  the  water  and  the  nature 
of  their  aliment.  The  markets  are  also  stocked  with 
fruit,  such  as  grapes,  peaches,  apricots,  quinces,  and 
nectarines ;  althongh  neither  shrub  nor  tree  is  to  be 
seen  near  tbe  town,  except  a  few  date  trees.  Frequent- 
ly HO  rain  fiills  here  in  two  or  three  years,  and  seldom 
more  than  a  shower  or  two  in  a  year;  but  in  the 
mountains,  at  the  distance  of  about  20  miles  from 
Mocha^  tbe  earth  is  watered  with  a  gentle  shower 
every  morning,  which  makes  the  valleys  fertile  in  com 
and  the  fruits  natural  to  the  climate.  The  Arab  in- 
habitants, though  remarkably  grave  and  superstitious, 
are  said  to  be  extremely  covetoas  and  hypocritical^ 
robbing,  thieving,  and  committing  piracy,  without  the 
least  scruple  or  remorse.  The  finglish  and  Dut^h  com- 
panies have  handsome  houses  here,  and  carry  on  a 
great  trade  in  coffee,  olibanum,  myrrh,  aloes,  liquid 
storax,  white  and  yellow  arsenic,  gum  arabic,  mum- 
my, balm  of  Gilead,  and  other  drugs.  One  inconve- 
nience, however,  they  sustain  firom  the  violence  and 
exactions  of  the  Arabian  princes ;  hot  tbe  king^s  cu- 
stoms are  easy,  lieing  fixed  at  three  per  cent,  to  Euro- 
peans. Of  the  coins  at  Mocha,  the  most  current  is 
the  camassie,  which  rises  and  falls  in  value  at  the  bank- 
er's discretion  :  they  are  from  50  to  80  for  a  current 
dollar,  which  is  but  an  imaginary  species,  being  always 
reckoned  one  and  a  half  per  cent*  lower  than  Spanish 
dollars. 

MOCKING  Bird.  See  Turdus,  Orhtthologt 
IndejF, 

MOCOCO.     See  L£mur,  Mammalia  Index. 

MOD£,  which  is  a  word  of  the  same  general  im- 
port with  MANNER,  is  used  as  a  technical  term  in  gram- 
mar, metaph3rsics,  and  music.  For  its  import  in  Gram- 
mar, see  that  article,  N^  80. 

Mode,  in  Metaphynes^  meema  properly  to  denote 
the  manner  of  a  thing's  existence  :  but  Locke,  whose 

language 


M    O    D 


[     294    ] 


MOD 


Mode, 
ModeU 


Bifiecent 
kinds  of 
models. 


2 
General 
method  of 
makixig 
moddf. 


language  in  that  science  is  generally  adopted,  uses  the 
word  in  a  sense  somewhat  diflercnt  from  its  ordinary 
and  proper  signification.  '^  Such  complex  ideas,  which, 
howeter  compounded,  contain  not  in  them  the  suppo- 
sition of  subsisting  by  themselves,  but  are  considered  as 
dependencies  on,  or  affections  of,  substances,^'  be  calls 
modes.  Of  these  modes,  there  are, .  according  to  him, 
two  sorts,  which  deserve  distinct  consideration.  Firsts 
There  are  some  "  which  are  only  variations,  or  differ- 
ent combinations  of  the  same  simple  idea,  without  the 
mixture  of  any  other,  as  a  dovteti  or  a  score  ;  which  are 
nothing  but  the  ideas  of  so  many  distinct  units  added 
together  :^'  and  these  be  -calls  simple  modes.  Secondly, 
*^  There  are  others  compounded  of  simple  ideas  of  se- 
veral kinds  put  together  to  make  one  complex  one  $ 
V.  g.  beauty  J  consisting  of  a  certain  composition  of  co* 
lour  and  ftgure,  causing  delight  in  the  beholder;  tAeft^ 
which  being  the  concealed  change  of  the  possession  of 
any  thing  without  the  consent  of  the  proprietor,  con- 
tains, as  is  visible,  a  combination  of  several  ideas  of  se- 
veral kinds  'y'*^  and  these  he  calls  mixed  fnades.  For 
the  just  distinction  betiveen  ideas  tx^A  notions,  as  well  as 
between  ideas  and  the  qualities  of  external  objects, 
which  in  this  account  of  modes  are  all  confounded  to- 
gether, see  Metaphysics. 

Mode,  in  Music,  a  regular  disposition  rf  the  air 
and  accompaniments,  relative  to  certain  principalsounds 
upon  which  a  piece  of  music  is  formed,  and  which  are 
called  the  essential  sounds  of  the  mode. 

Our  modes  are  not,-  like  those  of  the  ancients,  cha- 
racteriicd  by  any  sentiment  which  they  tend  to  excite, 
but  result  irom  our  system  of  harmony  alone*  The 
sounds  essential  to  the  mode  are  in  number  three,  and 
form  together  one  perfect  chord.  l.  The  tonic  or  key, 
which  is  the  fundamental  note  both  of  the  tone  and  of 
the  mode.  2.  The  dominant,  which  Is  a  fifth  from  the 
tonic*  3.  The  mediant,  which  properly  constitutes 
the  mode,  and  which  is  a  third  from  the  same  tonic 
As  this  third  may  be  of  two  kinds,  there  are  of  conse- 
quence two  different  modes*  When  the  mediant  forms 
a  greater  third  with  the  tonic,  the  mode  is  major  \ 
when  the  third  is  lesser,  it  is  minor*    See  Music. 

MODEL,  ifi  a  general  senses  an  original  pattern, 
proposed  £or  any  one  to  copy  or  imitate* 

This  word  is  particularly  used,  in  building,  for  an 
artificial  pattern  nude  in  wood,  stone,  plaster,  or  other 
matter,  with  all  its  parts  and  pDoportiona,  in  order  for 
the  better  conducting  and  executing  some  great  work, 
and  to  give  an  idea  of  the  effect  it  will  have  in  lai;ge* 
In  all  great  buildings,  it  is  much  the  surest  way  to 
make  a  model  in  relievo,  and  not  to  trust  to  a  bare 
design  or  draught.  There  are  also  models  for  the 
bnildinjg  of  ships,  &c«  and  for  extraordinary  staircasesi 
&c. 

They  also  use  models  in  painting  and  sculpture  ^ 
whence,  in  the  academies,  they  give  the  term  model  to 
a  naked  man  or  woman,  disposed  In  several  postnves,  to 
afford  an  opportunity  to  the  scholars  to  design  them  in 
various  views  and  attitudes^ 

Models  in  imitation  of  any  natural  or  artifieial  sub- 
stanoe,  are  most  usually  made  by  means  of  nonlds 
composed  of  piaster  of  Paris.  For  the  purpose  of 
making  these  moulds,  this  kind  of  plaster  is  much 
more  fit  dum  any  other  substance,  on  account  of  the 
power  it  has.  of  absorbiag.  water,  snd  soon  condensiiig 


into  a  hard  snbstance,  even  after  it  has  been  rendered  Mg^d. 
so  thin  as  to  be  of  the  consistence  of  cream*  Thia 
happens  in  a  shorter  or  longer  time  as  the  plaster  is 
of  a  better  or  worse  quality  \  and  its  good  or  bad  pro- 
perties depend  veiy  much  upon  its  age,  to  which, 
Uierefore,  particular  regard  ought  to  be  had.  It  is 
sold  ift  the  shops  at  very  different  prices  \  the  finest  be- 
ing made  use  of  for  casts,  and  the  middling  sort  for 
moulds.  It  may  be  very  easily  coloured  by  means  of 
almost  any  kind  of  powder  excepting  what  contains  aa 
alkaline  salt  \  for  this  would  chemically  decompoee  the 
substance  of  it,  and  render  it  unfit  for  use*  A  very 
considerable  quantity  of  chalk  would  also  reader  it 
soft  and  useless,  but  lime. hardens  it  to  a  great  degree. 
The  addition  of  common  size  will  likewise  render  it 
much  harder  than  if  mere  water  is  made  use  of.  In 
making  either  moulds  or  models,  liowever,  we  mu^t 
be  careful  not  to  make  the  mixture  too  thick  at  finii 
for  if  this  is  done,  and  nx>re  water  added  to  thin  it, 
the  composition  must  always  prove  brittle  and  of  a  bad 
,  quality. 

The  particular  manner  of  making  models  (or  castt, 
as  they  are  also  called)  depends  on  the  form  of  tb« 
subject  to  be  taken.  The  process  is  easy,  where  the 
parts  are  elevateil  only  in  a  slight  degree,  or  where 
they  form  only  a  right  or  obtuse  angle  with  the  prin- 
cipal  surface  from  which  they  project  ^  but  where  the 
parts  project  in  smaller  angles,  or  form  curves  inclined 
towards  the  principal  surface,  the  work  is  more  diffi- 
cult* This  observation,  however,  holds  good  only 
with  regard  to  hard  and  inflexible  bodies  ^  wt  such  as 
are  soft  may  often  be  freed  from  the  raoold,  evea 
though  they  have  the  sliape  last  mentioned.  But 
thoogh  this  be  the  case  with  the  soft  original  suhstanee, 
it  is  not  so  with  the  inflexible  model  when  once  it  is 
cast. 

The  moulds  are  to  be  made  oi  various  decrees  of 
thickness,  according  to  the  size  of  the  model  to  be 
cast  \  and  may  be  from  half  an  inch  to  an  inch,  or,  if 
very  large,  an  inch  and  a  halfi  Where  a  number  el 
models  are  to  be  taken  from  one  mould,  it  will  I'd^e* 
wise,  be  necessary  to  have  it  of  a  stronger  contextore 
than  where  only  a  few  are  required,  for  very  obviooi 
reasons* 

It  is  much  more  easy  to  make. a  mould  for  any  ssftAanort' 
substance  tlian  a  rigid  one,  as  in  any  of  the  viscera  •f""^'^ 
the  animal  body ;  for  the  fluidity  of  the  mixture  makes 
it  easily  accommodate  itself  to  the  projecting  parts  of 
the  substance  \  and  as  it  is  necessary  tc  inflate  these  sub- 
stances, they  may  be  very  readily  extracted  again  by 
letting  out  the  air  which  distended  (hem* 

When  a  model  is  to  be  taken,  the  aiuface  of  the 
original  is  first  to  be  greased,  in  order  to  prevent  tbe 
plaster  from  sticking  to  it  j  but  if  the  substance  itself 
IS  slippery,  as  is  the  case  with  the  internal  parts  of  tbe 
human  bodv,  this  need  not  be  done :  when  necessary, 
it  may  be  laid  over  with  lintseed  oil  by  meaas  of  a 
paiuter^s  brush*  The  original  is  then  to  be  laid  on  a  ^^^ 
-smooth  table,  previously  greased  or  covered  with  t^*''^ 
cloth,  to  prevent  the  plaster  sticking  toit^  then  sor- 
round  the  original  with  a  frame  or  ridge  of  gtatien 
putty,  at  such  a  distance  fttm  it  aa  will  admit  tbe 
plaster  to  rest  upon  the  tab)p  on  all  sides  of  the  sabjcd 
for  about  an  inch,  or  -as  much  as  is  soflicicnt  to  gin 
the  proper  degree  of  strength  to  the  mooU.    A  snffi- 

cient 


MOD 


[    295    J 


MOD 


t  qosatity  of  plaster  is  then  to  be  poared  as  imi- 
ilj  as  possible  over  the  whole  substance,  until  it  be 
ywhere  covered  to  sueh  a  thickness  as  to  give  a 
icr  substance  to  the  mould,  which  may  vary  in 
lortion  to  the  size.  The  whole  must  then  be  saf- 
i  to  remain  in  this  condition  till  the  piaster  has 
inod  its  hardness ;  when  the  frame  is  taken  away, 
mould  may  be  inverted,  and  the  subject  removed 
I  it :  and  when  the  plaster  is  thoroughly  ^ry  let  it 
rell  seasoned, 
[aviog  formed  and  seasoned  the  moulds,  they  must 

be  prepai;ed  for  the  casts  by  greasing  the  inside 
lem  with  a  mixture  of  olive  oil  and  lard  in  equal 
B,  and  then  filled  with  fine  fluid  plaster,  and  the 
e  of  tlie  mould  fiurroed  by  its  resting  on  the  surface 
be  table  covered  to  a  sufficient  thickness  with 
K  plaster,  to  form  a  strong  basis  or  support  for  the 
where  this  support  is  requisite,  as  is  particularly 
:ase'  where  the  thin  and  membranous  parts  of  the 

are  to  be  represented.  After  the  plaster  is  pour- 
ito  the  mould,  it  mui»t  be  su(&red  to  stand  until 
a  acquired  the  greatest  degree  of  hardness  it  will 
ive ;  after  which  the  mould  must  be  removed : 
;his  will  be  attended  with  some  difficulty  when  the 
e  of  the  subject  is  unfavourable ;  and  in  some  cases 
nould  must  be  separated  by  means  of  a  small  mallet 
chissel.  If  by  these  instruments  any  parts  of  the 
;i  should  be  broken  ofi^  they  may  be  cemented  by 
ing  the  two  surfaces  to  be  appUed  to  each  other 
\  wet }  then  interposing  betwixt  them  a  little  li- 

plaster  \  and  lastly,  the  joint  smoothed  aftlT  being 
>ughly  dry.  Any  small  boles  that  may  be  made 
le  mould  can  be  filled  up  with  liquid  plaster,  after 
»ides  of  them  have  been  thoroughly  wetted,  and 
»thed  over  with  the  edge  of  a  knife. 
I  many  cases  it  is  altogether  impracticable  to  pre- 

a  mould  of  one  piece  for  a  whole  subject ;  and 
}fore  it  must  he  considered  how  this  can  be  done 
ich  a  manner  as  to  divide  the  mould  into  the  fewest 
»•  This  may  be  effiectad  by  making  every  piece 
r  as  much  of  the  pattern  as  possible,  without  sur- 
ding  such  projecting  parts,  or  running  into  such 
ws  aa  would  not  admit  a  separation  of  the  mould* 

impossible,  however,  to  give  any  particular  direc- 
1  in  this  matter  which  can  hold  good  in  every  in- 
ze^  the  number  of  pieces  of  which  the  mould  is  to 
let  being  always  determined  from  the  shape  of  the 
sm.  TbuB  the  mould  of  the  human  calculus  will 
ire  no  more  than  three  pieces,  but  that  of  an  09 
ris  could  scarce  have  fewer  than  ten  or  twelve.—^ 
sre  any  internal  pieces  are  required,  they  are  first 
i  made,  and  then  the  outer  pieces  after  the  former 

hecome  hard. 

0  make  a  mould  upon  a  hard  and  dry  substance, 
must,  in  the  first  place,  rub  the  surface  of  it 
ithly  over  with  the  mixture  of  oil  and  lard  above 
tioned*  Such  hollows  as  require  internal  pieces 
then  to  be  filled  up  with  fluid  plaster;  and  whilo 
iitinues  in  this  state^  a  wire  loop  must  be  intro- 
:d  into  it,  by  which,  when  hardened,  it  can  be 
id  off.     The  pkster  should  bc^  somewhat  raised 

p]rramidal  form  around  this  wire,  and  afterwards 
smooth  with  a  knife  wbile  yet  in  its  soft  state  i 
erviug  two  or  three  angular  ridges  from  the  loop 
he  outer  edgOi  that  it  may  fix  the  more  steadily 


in  the  outer  piece  of  the  mould  to  be  afterwards  made 
upon  it*  Let  the  outer  piece  then  be  well  greased, 
to  prevent  the  second  piece  firom  adhering ;  the  loop 
being  enclosed  with  some  glaziers  putty,  both  to  pre- 
vent the  second  piece  from  adhering  and  to  preserve  a 
hollow  place  for  the  cord. 

To  fonn  the  seC'Ond  or  outside  piece,  mix  a  quan- 
tity of  plaster  proportioned  to  the  extent  of  surface 
it  is  to  cover  and  the  intended  thickness  of  the 
mould :  when  it  is  just  beginning  to  thicken,  or  as- 
sumes such  a  consistence  as  not  to  run  off  very  easily, 
spread  it  over  the  internal  piece  or  pieces  as  well  as 
the  pattern,  taking  care  at*  the  same  time  not  to 
go  too  far  lest  it  should  not  deliver  safely ;  and  as  the 
plaster  becomes  more  tenacious,  add  more  upon  the 
pattern  until  it  has  become  sufficiently  thick,  keeping 
the  edges  square  and  smooth  like  the  edge  of  a  board. 
Tbe  plaster  should  be  spread  equally  upon  all  parts, 
which  is  best  done  by  a  painter^s  pallet  knife  or  apothe- 
cary's bolus  knife :  but  for  this  the  instrument  should 
be  somewhat  less  pliable  than  it  is  commonly  made. 

When  the  outside  piece  is  hardened,  the  edges  are 
to  be  pared  smooth,  and  nearly  made  square  with  » 
araall  pointed  knife.  Little  holes  of  a  conical  shape 
are  to  be  made  with  the  point  of  a  knife  about  an  inch 
distant  from  one  another,  according  to  the  size  of  the 
piec£.  These  are  designed  to  receive  the  fluid  pla- 
ster in  fonning  the  adjacent  parts  of  tbe  mould,  and 
occasion  points  corresponding  to  the  hollows  ;  and  are 
intended  to  preserve  the  ed^s  of  the  different  pieces 
steadily  in  their  proper  relative  situations.  The  third 
piece  IS  then  to  be  formed  in  a>  manner  similar  to  the 
second ;  greasing  the  edges  of  the  former  plentifuHj 
with  hog's  lard  and  oil,  to  prevent  the  pieces  from  ad- 
hering to  each  other.  Thus  the  pattern  is  to  be 
wholly  enclosed,'  only  leaving  a*  proper  orifice  for 
pouring  in  the  plaster  to  form  the  model  }  small  holes 
being  also  bored  in  the  mould  opposite  to  the  wire- 
loops  fixed  in  the  inside  pieces,  throu^  which  a  cord 
is  to  be  conveyed  firom  the  loop'  to  co^ne  such  pieces 
during  the  time  of  casting.  In  some  cases,  however, 
it  is  not  necessary  that  the  mould  should  totally  en- 
close the  pattern;  for  instance,  where  a  model  is  to 
be  made  of  a  pedestal,  or  a  bust  of  any  part  of  the  hu- 
man body.  The  bottom  of  such  moulds  being  leib 
open,  there  is  accordingly  ample  room  for  pouring  in 
the  plaster. 

After  the  mould  is  complietely  formed,  it  is  next 
to  be  dried  either  naturally  or  by  a  gentle  artificial 
heat,  and  then  seasoned  in  the  following  manner  :-^ 
Having  been  made  thoroughly  dry,  which,  if  the 
mould  IS  larjfe,  will  require  two  or  three  weeks,  it  is 
to  be  brushed  over  plentifully  with  linseed  oil  boiled 
with  sugar  of  lead,  finely  levigated  litharge,  or  oil  of 
vitriol.  The  inside  and  joints  of  the  mould  should  be 
particularly  well  supplied  with  it.  If  the  mould  be 
large,  it  is  needless  to  nttend  to  tbe  outside  ;  but  when 
the  moulds  are  small,  it  will  not  be  improper  to  boil 
them  in  tbe  oil ;  by  which  means  their  pores  are  more 
exactly  filled  than  could  otherwise  he  done.  After 
the  moulds  have  undergone  this  opoation,  they  are 
again  set  by  to  dry,  when,  being  greased  with  olive 
oil  and  hog's  lard,  they  are  fit  for  use.  If  linseed  oil 
be  used  for  greasing  the  moulds,  it  will  in  a  short  time 
impart  a  disagreeable  yellow  colour  to  the  casts. 

The 


BsodcL 


Moclel. 


Modeli 


MOD  t     2 

The  mould  being  properly  prepared  and  seasoned, 
nothing  more  is  requisite  to  form  the  model  than  to 
pour  tbe  finest  liquid  plaster  of  Paris  into  it.  After  a 
'layer  t>f  this,  about  half  an  inch  in  thickness,  has  been 
'formed  all  round  the  mould,  we  may  use  the  coarser 
•kind  to  fill  it  up  entirely,  or  to  give  to  the  model 
trhat  thickness  We  |»lease. 

Besides  the  models  Which  are  taken  from  inanimate 
Irom  liWng~bodie3,  it  has  been  fireqoently  attempted  to  take  tbe 
nl^ectt.     exact  resemblance  of  people  while  living,  by  using 
their  face  as  the  original  of  a  model,  from  whence  to 
-take  a  mould ;  and  the  operation,  however  disagree- 
able, has  been  submitted  to  by  persons  of  the  highest 
ranks  in  life.     A  considerable  difficulty  occurs  in  this, 
tiowever,  by  reason  of  the  person^s  being  apt  to  shrink 
and  distort  his  features  when  tbe  liquid  is  poured  up- 
dn  him ;  neither  is  he   altogether  without  danger  of 
suffocation,  unless  the  operator  well  understands  bis 
business. 

To  avoid  the  former  inconvenience,  it  will  be  pro- 
per to  mix  the  plaster  with  warm  instead  of  cold  wa- 
ter, by  which  means  the  person  will  be  under  no  temp- 
tation to  shrink ',  and  to  prevent  any  danger  of  a  fA- 
tal  accident,  the  following  method  is  to  be  practised : 
Having  laid  the  person  horizontally  on  his  back,  the 
head  must  first  be  raised  by  means  of  a  pillow  to  the 
exact  position  in  which  it  is  naturally  carried  when 
the  body  is  erect  y  then  the  parts  to  be  represented 
must  be  very  thinly  covered  over  with  fine  oil  of  al- 
monds by  means  of  a  painter^s  brush }  the  face  is  then 
to  be  first  covered  with  fine  fluid  plaster,  beginning  at 
tbe  upper  part  of  the  forehead,  and  spreading  it  over 
the  eyes,  which  are  to  be  kept  close,  that  the  plaster 
may  not  come  in  contact  with  tbe  globe  ;  yet  not  closed 
so  strongly  as  to  cause  any  unnatural  wrinkles.  Cover 
then  the  nose  and  ears,  plugging  first  up  the  meatus 
auditorUf  with  cotton,  and  the  nostrils  with  a  small 
quantity  of  tow  rolled  up,  of  a  proper  size,  to  exclude 
the  plaster.  During  the  time  that  the  nose  is  thus 
stopped,  the  person  is  to  breathe  through  tbe  mouth : 
*]n  this  state  the  fluid  plaster  is  to  be  brought  down  low 
enough  to  cover  the  upper  lip,  observing  to  leave  the 
rolls  of  tow  projecting  out  of  the  plaster.  When  the 
operation  is  thus  far  carried  on,  the  plaster  must  be 
suffered  to  harden  ^  after  which  the  tow  may  be  with- 
-drawn,  and  the  nostrils  left  free  and  open  for  breathing. 
The  mouth  is  then  to  be  closed  in  its  natural  position, 
and  the  plaster  brought  down  to  the  extremity  of  the 
chin.  Begin  then  to  cover  that  part  of  the  breast 
which  is  to  be  represented,  and  spread  the  plaster  to  the 
outsides  of  the  arms  and  upwards,  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  meet  and  join  that  which  is  previously  laid  on  the 
face :  when  the  whole  of  the  mass  has  acquired  its  due 
hardness,  it  is  to  be  cautiously  lifted,  without  breaking, 
or  giving  pain  to  the  person.  Afler  the  mould  is 
constructed,  it  must  be  seasoned  in  the  manner  already 
directed  ^  and  when  the  mould  is  cast,  it  is  to  be  sepa- 
rated from  the  mould  by  means  of  a  small  mallet  and 
chissel.  The  eyes,  which  are  necessarily  shown  closed, 
are  to  be  carved,  so  that  the  e)  el  ids  may  be  rcpresent- 
-ed  in  an  elevated  posture ;  the  nostrils  hollowed  out,  and 
tbe  back  part  of  the  head,  from  which,  on  account  of 
the  hair,  no  mould  can  be  taken,  must  be  finished  ac- 
'Tording  to  the  skill  of  the  artist.     The  edges  of  the 

X 


96    1  MOB 

model  are  then  to  be  neatly  smoothed  off,  and  the  bust  MoJ^ 
fixed  on  its  pedestal.  — >^ 

The  method  of  making  models  in  the  plaster  of  s 
Paris  is  tmdoubtedly  the  most  easy  way  of  obtaining  ^J^J"^ 
them.  When  models,  however,  are  made  of  such ^5." 
large  objects  that  the  model  itself  must  be  of  consi* 
derable  size,  it  is  vain  to  attempt  making  it  in  tbto 
way  above  described.  Such  models  most  be  constmc- 
ted  by  tlte  hand  with  some  soft  substance,  as  wax, 
clay,  putty,  &c.  and  it  being  necef  sary  to  keep  ail  the 
proportions  with  mathematical  exactness,  the  construe  • 
tton  of  a  single  model  of  this  kind  must  be  a  work  of 
great  labour  and  expeoce  as  well  as  of  time.  Of  all 
those  which  have  been  undertaken  by  human  iodostry, 
however,  perhaps  the  most  remarkable  is  that  con- 
structed by  General  Psiffer,  to  represent  the  rooon- 
tainous  parts  of  Switzerland.  It  is  composed  of  142 
compartments,  of  different  sizes  and  forms,  respec- 
tively numbered,  and  so  artfully  pot  together,  that 
they  can  be  separated  and  replaced  with  the  greatest 
ease.  The  model  itself  is  20^^  feet  long  and  ti  broad, 
and  formed  on  a  scale  which  represents  two  English 
miles  and  a  quarter  by  an  English  foot :  comprehend- 
ing part  of  the  cantons  of  Zug,  Zurich,  Scbweitz, 
Underwalden,  Lucem,  Berne,  and  a  small  part  of 
the  mountains  of  Glarus  ;  in  all,  an  extent  of  country  of 
187  leagues  in  length  and  12  in  breadth.  The  highest 
point  of  the  model,  from  the  level  of  tbe  centre  (which 
is  the  lake  of  Lucerne)|  is  about  teu  inches ;  and  as 
the  most  elevated  mountain  represented  therein  rises 
'475  ^<)>^s  or  9440  ^^^  above  the  lake  of  Lucerne,  at 
a  gross  calculation,  the  height  of  an  inch  in  tbe  model 
is  about  900  feet.  The  whole  is  painted  of  difiercnt 
colours,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  represent  objects  as 
they  exist  in  nature ;  and  so  exactly  is  this  done,  that 
not  only  the  woods  of  oak,  beech,  pine,  and  other 
trees^  are  distinguished,  but  even  the  strata  of  the  se- 
veral rocks  are  marked,  each  being  shaped  upon  the 
spot,  and  formed  of  granite,  gravel,  or  such  other  sub- 
stances as  compose  the  natural  mountain.  So  minute 
also  is  the  accuracy  of  the  plan,  that  it  comprises  not 
only  all  the  mountains,  lakes,  rivers,  towns,  villages, 
and  forests,  but  every  cottage,  bridge,  torrent,  road, 
and  even  every  path  is  distinctly  marked. 

The  principal  material  employed  in  tbe  constmc- 
tion  of  this  extraordinary  model,  is  a  mixture  of  char- 
coal, lime,  clay,  a  little  pitch,  wit)i  a  thin  coat  of 
wax  ',  and  is  so  hard  that  it  may  be  trod  upon  without 
any  damage.  It  was  begun  in  the  year  1766,  at 
which  time  the  general  was  about  50  years  of  age, 
and  it  employed  him  till  the  mouth  of  August  1785; 
during  all  which  long  space  of  time  he  was  emplor- 
ed  in  the  most  laborious  and  even  dangerous  tasks.— 
He  raised  the  plans  with  his  own  hands  on  the  spot, 
took  the  elevation  of  mountains,  and  laid  them  down 
in  their  several  proportions.  In  the  prosecution  of 
this  laborious  employment,  he  was  twice  arrested  for 
a  spy ;  and  in  the  popular  cantons  was  frrquently 
forced  to  work  by  moon  light,  in  order  to  avoid  the 
jealousy  of  the  peasants,  who  imagined  that  their  li- 
berty would  be  endangered  should  a  plan  of  their 
country  be  taken  with  such  minnte  exactness.  Be- 
ing obliged  frequently  to  remain  on  the  tops  of  some 
of  the  Alps,  where  no  provisions  could  be  procured, 
>.  be 


MOD 


I    «97    ] 


MOD 


odk  Along  with  faim  a  few  milk  .goats,  idio  sujp- 
I  him  wUh  nourishment.  When  anj  part  was 
bed,  be  sent  for  the  people  residing  near  the  spot, 
desired  them  to  examine  each  mountain  with  ac- 
cy,  whotfaer  it  corresponded,  as  far  as  the  smallness 
e  scale  would  admit,  with  its  natural  appearance  ; 
then,  by  frequently  xetouching,  corrected  the  de- 
ncies.  £ven  after  the  model  was  finished,  he 
inaed  his  Alpine  eKpeditions  with  the  same  fi^dour 
rer,  and  with  a  degree  of  vigour  that  would  fatigue 
ich  younger  person.     AU  his  elevations  were  taken 

the  level  of  the  lake  Lucerne  ^  which,  according 
L  Saossnre,  is  1408  feet  above  the  level  of  the  Me- 
ranean* 

!OD£NA,  »  dnehy  of  Italy,  bounded  on  the 
I  by  Tuscany  and  the  republic  of  Lucca,  on  the 
I  by  the  dnohy  of  Mantna,  on  the  east  by  the 
gnese  and  the  territories  of  the  Church,  and 
le  west  by  the  duchy  of  Parma  j  extending  in 
h  from  south  to  north  about  $6  English  miles, 
in  breadth  between  24  and  36,  and  yielding 
y  of  com,  wine,  and  fruits,  wiUi  mineral  waters, 
me  places  also  petroleum  is  skimmed  off  the  sur- 
of  the  water  of  deep  wells  made  on  purpose  \  and 
hers  is  found  a  kind  of  earth  or  tophus,  which, 

pulverized,  is  said  to  be  an  excellent  remedy 
ist  poison,  fevers,  dysenteries,  and  hypochondriac 
lers.  The  country  of  La  Salsa  affords  several 
.  of  petrifactions.  The  principal  rivers  are  the 
olo,  Seccbia,  and  Panaro.  The  family  of  Esti, 
i  of  Modena,  is  very  ancient.     They  had  their 

from  £8t6,  a  small  city  in  the  district  of  Pa- 

They  retained  the  sovereignty  of  this  duchy  till 
3  conquered  by  the  French  in  1795.  After  this 
med  a  part  of  the  Cisalpine  republic,  and  latterly 
t  kingdom  of  Italy.  But  since  the  peace  of  Paris 
14  it  has  regained  its  independence.  The  duke, 
h  a  vassal  of  the  empire,  has  an  unlimited  power 
a  his  own  dominions. 

>DENA,  an  ancient  city,  in  Latin  Mutina^  which 
name  to  a  dochy  of  Italy,  and  is  its  capital.  It 
3  in  a  rich  rplain  2ft  miles  east  of  Parma,  44  al- 
south  of  Mantna,  and  20  west  of  Bologna  \  and 
retty  large,  but  not  a  handsome  city,  with  a  po- 
00  of  23,000.  It  is  much  celebrated  by  Roman 
rs  for  its  grandeur  and  opulence ;  but  was  a  great 
er  by  the  siege  it  underwent  during  the  troubles 

triumvirate.  Mr  Keysler  says,  that  when  De- 
itrntus  was  besieged  here  by  Mark  Antony,  Hir* 
be  consul  made  use  of  carrier  pigeons  \  and  that, 
at  this  day,  pigeons  are  trained  up  at  Modena  to 

letters  and  bring  back  answers.    This  city  .hath 

birth  toeevend  celebeated  persons,  particularly 
•  the  poet,  Corregio  the  great  painter,  Sigonius 
vilian  and  historian.  Da  Vignola  the  architect, 
Aontecucnii  the  imperial  general.  The  tutelary 
of  it  is  named  Gcfmnkmus*  The  ducal  palace  is 
|r  noble  edifice },  bat  the  coUection  of  pictures  and 
iltiea  it  formerly  contained  is  no  longer  there, 
oly  mannfftcture  for  which  Uiis  city  is  noted,  is 
if  aMsks,  of  which  great  numbers  are  exported, 
vomen  have  a  singular  cotiume;  they  cover  the 
and  body  with  a  large  silk  «loak  or  veil,  wliich 
them  the  appearance  of;  old  women  or  masked 
tos.  Th^  churdies  of  the  Jesuits,  of  the  Thea- 
>L.  XIV.  Part  L 


tines,  and  of  St  Dominic,  are  well  worth  viewing.  Tlie 
university,  now  called  the  Lyceum,  has  produced  seve- 
ral good  scholars  in  the  belles  lettres,  sciences,  and  po- 
litics. There  is  also  a  nelt  theatre  here,  and  an  ex- 
cellent library.  'St  Beatrix,  who  was  of  the  family  of 
Est6,  is  said  to  knock  always  at  the  gate  of  the  palaOB* 
three  days  before  any*  of  the  family  dies.  Before  most 
of  the  houses  are  covered  walks  or  porticoes,  as  at  Bo- 
logna. The  city  is  fortified,  and  on  its  south  side 
stands  the  citadel.     E.  Long.  ii.  O.  N.  Lat.  44.  34. 

MODERATION,  in  Ethics^  is  a  virtue  consist- 
ing in  the  proper  government  of  our  appetites,  pas- 
sions, and  pursuits,  with  respect  to  honours,  riches, 
and  pleasures  \  and  in  this  sense  it  is  synonymous  with 
temperance :  it  is  also  often  used  to  denote  candour. 

MODERATOR,  in  the  schools,  the  person  who 
presides  at  a  dispute,  or  in  a  public  assembly :  thus  the 
president  of  the  anniial  assembly  of  the  church  of  Scot- 
land is  styled  moderator. 

MODERN,  something  new,  or  of  our  time)  in  op- 
position to  what  is  antique  or  4mc9enU 

MoDSRS  Authors  J  according  to  Naude,*are  all  those 
who  have  wrote  since  Boethios.  The  'modem  philo^ 
aopliy  commences  with  Galileo^  the  modem  astronomy 
with  Copernicus. 

MODESTY,  in  Ethics^  is  sometimes  used  to  de- 
note humility  \  and  sometimes  to  express  chastity,  or 
purity  of  sentiments  and  manners.^— -Modesty,  in  this 
last  sense,  and  as  particularly  applied  to  women,  is  de« 
fined  by  the  authors  of  the  EncuckpSdu  Metfiodique^  as 
a  natural,  chary,  and  honest  sfeame.}  a  secret  fear  ^  a 
feeling  on  account  of  what  may  be  aceompanied  with 
disgrace.  Women  who  possess  only  the  remains  of  a 
suspicious  modesty,  make  but  feeble  efforts  to  resist: 
tlioee  who  have  obliterated  every  trace  of  modesty  from 
their  countenance,  soon  extinguiah  it  completely  in  their 
soul,  and  throw  aside  for  ever  the  veil  of  decency.  She, 
on  the  contrary,  who  truly  possesses  modesty,  passes 
over  in  silence  attempts  against  her  honour,  and  forbears 
speaking  of  those  from  whom  she  has  received  an  out- 
rage, when  in  doing  so  she  must  reveal  actions  and  ex- 
pressions that  might  give  alarm  to  virtue. 

The  idea  of  modesty  is  not  a  chimera,  a  popular 
prejndice,  or  an  illasion  arising  from  laws  and  educa- 
tion. Nature,  which  speaks  the  same  language  to  all 
men,  has,  with  the  unanimous  consent  of  nations,  an- 
nexed t^ontempt  to  female  incontinence.  To  resist  an4 
to  attack  are  laws  of  her  appointment :  and  while  she 
bestows  desires  on  both  parties,  they  are  in  the  one 
accompanied  'with  boldness,  in  the  other  with  shamn. 
To  individuals  she  has  allotted  long  spaces  of  time  Cor 
the  purposes  of  self-preservation,  and  hut  moncnts  foir 
the  propagation  of  their  species.  IfVhat  arms  4nore  gen- 
tle than  Modeettf  could  she  have  put  into  the  hands  4jf 
that  sex  which  she  designed  to  make  resistance. 

If  it  were  the  custom  far  both  sexes  to  make  and 
receive  advances  indiscriminately,  vain  importiinitf 
•would  not  be.  prevented  :  tlie  tre  of  passion  would  ne- 
ver be  stirred  up,  but  languish  in  tedious  liberty  \  the 
most  amiable  «f  4iir  feelings  would  scarcely  warm  the 
'hunmm  breast  \  its  object  would  with  difficulty  be  at- 
«tained.  That  obstacle  which  seems  to  remove  this  ob- 
ject to  a  -distance,  in  fact  brings  it  nearer.  The  veil 
•of  shame  only  makes  the  desires  more  attractive.  Mo- 
desty kindles  that  flaine  which  It  endeavours  to  sup- 

Pp  yress: 


Modena 

H 

MeJesty. 


M    O    P 


[    298    ] 


M    O    G 


Modesty    press :   lU  fears,  its  evasions,  its  caution,  its  timid 


avowals,  its  pleasing  and  aflfecting  finesses,  speak  roore 
plainly  what  ii  wishes  to  conceal,  than  passion  can  do 
without  it :  it  is  Mobestt,  in  short,  which  enhances 
the  value  of  a  favour,  and  outigates  the  pain  of  a  re- 
fusal* 

Since  modesty  is  the  secret  fear  of  ignominy  ^  and 
since  ail  nations,  ancient  or  modern,  have  confessed 
the  obligation  of  its  laws  ^  it  must  be  absurd  to  violate 
them  in  the  punishment  of  crimes,  which  should  -al- 
ways have  for  its  object  the  re-establishment  of  order. 
Was  it  the  intention  of  thoKe  m'iental  nations,  who 
exposed  women  to  elephants,  trained  for  an  abominable 
species  of .  punishment,  to  violate  one  law  hy  the  ob- 
servance of  another  P  By  an  ancient  practice  among 
the  Romans  a  girl  could  not  be  put  to  death  before 
she  was  marriageable.  Tiberius  found  means  to  evade 
this  law,  by  ordering  them  to  be  violated  by  the 
executioner  previous  to  the  infliction  of  punishment  ^ 
the  refinement  of  a  cruel  tyrant,  who  sacrificed  the 
morals  to  the  customs  of  his  people !  When  the 
legislature  of  Japan  caused  women  to  be  exposed  nw- 
ked  in  the  market  places,  and  obliged  them  to  walk  on 
all  fours  like  brutes,  modesty  was  shocked  :  but  when 
it  wanted  to  force  a  mot  her*- when  it  wanted  to  com- 
pel a  son-— nature  received  an  outrage. 

Such  is  the  influence  of  climate  in  other  countries, 
that  the  physical  partof  love  possesses  an  almost  irresisl- 
ible  force.  The  resistance  is  fiDoble  ^  the  attack  is  ac- 
companied with  a  certainty  of  success.  This  is  the 
ease  at  Patana,  at  Bantam,  and  in  the  9mall  kingdoms 
on  the  coast  of  Guinea.  When  the  women  in  these 
connlries  (says  Mr  Smith)  meet  with  a  man,  they  lay 
hold  of  him  and  threaten  to  infiirm  their  husbands  if 
he  despises  their  favours.  But  here  the  sexes  seem  to 
have  abolished  the  laws  peculiar  to  each.  •  It  is  fortu- 
nate to  live  in  a  temperate  climate  like  ours,  where  that 
sex  which  possesses  the  most  powerful  charms  exerts 
Ihem  to  embellish  society  >  and  where  modest  women, 
mhile  they  reserve  themselves  for  the  pleasures  of  one, 
•ontribute  to  the  amusement  of  all. 

MODIFICATION,  in  PhUosophy,  that  which  mo- 
difies a  thing,  or  gives  it  this  or  that  manner  of  being. 
Quantity  and  quality  are  accidents  which  modify  adl 
bodies. 

Decree  of  MoDiFiCATJfoyf  in  Scots  Latv^  a  decree 
ascertaining  the  extent  of  a  minister's  stipend,  with- 
out proportioning  it  among  the  persons  liable  in  payment. 

MODILLiONS,  in  ArcAUecture^  ornaments  in  the 
epmicbe  of  the  Ionic,  CorinthiaOf  and  Composite  co- 
lumns. 

MODIUS,  a  Roman  dry  measure  for  all  sorts  of 
grain,  containing  52  heminse,  er  16  sextan  i,*  or  one- 
third  of  the  amphora  ^  amounting  to  an  English  peck. 
See  Measure. 

*  MODULATION,  the  art  of  fi>rming  any  thing  to 
certain  proportion. 

Modulation,  in  rending  or  speaking.    See  Rkab- 

ING. 

Modulation,  in  Mtmc^  derived  from  the  Latin 
modtUan.  This  word,  in  our  language,  is  susceptible 
of  several  different  significations*  It  frequently  means 
no  more  than  an  air,  or  a  number  of  musical  sounds 
properly  connected  and'  arranged.    Thus  it  answers 


to  what  Mr  Malcolm  understands  by  the  word  turn,  m«m^ 
when  he  does  not  expressly  treat  concerning  the  ton- 
ing of  instruments.  Thus  likewise  it  expresses  tbe 
French  word  cAanti  for  which  reason,  in  the  article  !ll^ 
Music,  we  have  frequently  expressed  tbe  one  wcard  by 
the  other.  But  the  precise  and  technical  acceputkn 
to  which  it  ought  to  be  confined,  is  the  art  of  composing 
melody  or  harmony  agreeablv  to  the  laws  prescribeil  by 
any  particular  kev,  tliat  of  changiag  the  key,  or  of  re- 
gularly and  legitimately  passing  from  ene  key  to  ss- 
other.     See  Music. 

MODULE,  in  Architecture,  a  certain  raeasare,  or 
bigness,  taken  at  pleasure,  for  regulating  the  proj^- 
tions  of  columns,  and  the  symmetry  or  disposition  of 
the  whole  building.  Architects  generally  chooee  the 
semidia meter  of  the  bottom  of  the  column  for  their 
module,  and  this  they  subdivide  into  parts  or  mi- 
nutes. 

MOEONIA,  or  Mjeoni a.    See  Maonia  and  Lt- 

DIA. 

MOESIA,  or  Mtsia,  in  Ancient  Geography,  a  coos- 
try  of  Europe,  extending  from  the  confluence  of  the  Ss- 
vus  and  the  Danube  to  the  shores  of  the  Euxioe.  It  wi» 
divided  into  Upper  and  Lower  Moesia.  Lower  Moesiji 
was  on  the  borders  of  the  Euxine,  and  comprehended 
that  tract  of  country  which  received  the  name  of  Postw 
firom  its  vicinity  to  the  sea.  Upper  Moesia  lay  beyond 
the  other  in  the  inland  country. 

MOFFAT,  a  village  of  Scotland,  in  Anaandale,  m 
the  county  of  Dumfries,  50  miles* south-west  of  Edio- 
burgb  ^  famous  for  its  sulphureous  well,  which  has  b(«Q 
in  just  estimation  for  near  1 50  years  as  a  remedy  in  tU 
cutaneous  and  scrofiilous  complaints ;  and  for  its  chaly- 
beate spring,  called  Hartfell  spaw,  which  was  disco- 
vered above  50  years  ago,  and  is  of  a  very  bracing  qos- 
lity.— The  place  is  chiefly  supported  by  the  compsoy 
who  resort  thither  for  the  benefit  of  its  waters  and  sir ; 
but  it  has  also  a  manufacture  of  coarse  woollen  stofis.  It 
is  a  well-built  clean  village  ^  and  contains  many  good 
and  even  elegant  lodgings, 'a  tolerable  assembly  room,  t 
bowling  green  and  walks,  and  a  «M)d  inn.  The  popula- 
tion of  the  parish  in  1811  amounted  to  1834. 

MOFFETTA.    See  Ampsanctu 

MOGODORE,  or  Magaoork,  a  large,  uniforai, 
and  well  built  town  in  the  kingdom  of  Morocco,  situat- 
ed about  350  miles  from  Tangier  on  the  Atlantic  ocean, 
and  surrounded  on  the  land  side  by  deep  and  heavy  sandi. 
The  European  fiiclory  hep  consists  of  about  a  doxen 
mercantile  houses  of  different  nations,  whose  owners, 
from  the  protection  granted  them  by  the  emperor,  live 
in  full  security  from  the  Moors,  whom  indeed  they  keep 
at  a  rigid  distance.  They  export,  to  America,  moles; 
to  Europe,  Morocco  leather,  Hides,  gum  arabic,  goo 
sandaric,  ostrich  feathers,  copper,  wax,  wool,  eiephasts 
teeth,  fine  mats,  beautiful  carpeting,  dates,  figs,  raisiss, 
olives,  almonds,  mi,  &c«  In  return,  they  import  tis* 
her,  artillery  of  all  kinds,  gunpowder,  woollen  clotbs, 
linens,  lead,  iron  in  bars,  all  kinds  of  hardware  sod 
trinkets,  such  as  looking  glasses,  snuff  boxes,  watches, 
small  knives,  &o.  tea,  sugar,  spices,  and  most  of  the  ose- 
ful  articles  which  are  not  otherwise  to  be  |Nrocnred  is 
this  empire.  The  town  is  regularly  fortified  on  tbe 
sea  side  ,  and  on  the  land,  batteries  are  so  placed  as  ts 
prevent  any  incufsion  from  the  soulhem  Arabs,  who 


M    O    G 


i    299    ] 


M    O    G 


'  k  turbulent  dispotition,  and  who,  firom  the  great 
i  frbkh  is  known  to  be  always  in  Mogodore, 
gkdly  avail  themselTes  of  any  opportnnity  that 
1  to  pillage,  the  town.  The  entrance,  both  by 
d  land,  consists  of  elegant  stone  arch-ways,  with 
;  gates.  The  market  place  is  handsomely  bnilt, 
liazzas  of  the  same  materials  ^  and  at  the  wa- 
»rt  there  is  a  costomhouse  and  powder  man* 
both  of  which  are  neat  stone  buildings.  Be- 
hese  pohlic  edifices,  the  emperor  has  a  small  bat 
HBe  pataoe  for  his  occasional  residence.-  The 
I  of  the  town,  though  very  narrow,  are  all  in 
it  lines  J  and  the  houses,  contrary  to  what  we 
fith  in  the  other  towns  of  the  empire,  are  lofty 
gnlar.  The  bay,  which  is  a  little  better  than  a 
and  is  very  much  exposed  when  the  wind  is  at 
treaty  is  formed  by  a  curve  in  the  land,  and  a 
Island  about  a  qoarter  of  a  mile  from  the  shore. 
entrance  is  defended  by  a  fort  well  furnished 
uns. 

<>I}LS,  a  celebrated  nation  of  Asia,  whose 
ists  formerly  were  the  most  rapid  and  extensive 
people  recorded  in  history.  They  themselves 
i  their  origin  from'  Japhet,  <»*,  as  they  call  him, 
f  the  son  of  Noah.  His  son  .Turk,  they  say, 
t  first  king,  or  khan,  of  those  nations  who  are 
!M>WB  by  the  separate  names  of  Turks^  Tartars^ 
yguls;  and  the  Tartars  especially  assert,  that  their 
designation  is  Turks.  To  this  prince  is  attributed 
if  those  inventions  which  barbarous  nations  com- 
ftscribe  to  their  6rst  sovereigns.  He  was  succeed- 
Patmak  ;  in  whose  reign  the  whole  posterity  of 
rere  ^vided  into  four  large  tribes,  denominated 
!aV  of  Eriat,  Gialair,  Kaogin,  Berlas  or  Perlas^ 
h  last  came  the  famous  Timor  Beg,  or  Tamer- 
From  this  time  to  that  of  Alanza  Khan,  we  meet 
otfatiig  remarkable.  In  his  reign  the  Turks 
unmersed  in  all  kinds  of  luxury,  universally 
ized  into  idolatry.  Having  two  sons,  Tartar 
>gal,  he  divided  his  dominions  among  them,  and 
w  rise  to  the  two  empires  of  the  Tartars  and 


}. 


two  nations  had  not  long  existed  before  they 

0  make  war  upon  each  other  \  and  after  long 
ion,  the  event  at  last  was,  that  II  Khan,  empe- 
the  Moguls,  vsM  totally  overthrown  by  Siuntz 
emperor  of  the  Tartars  ^  and  so  great  was  the 

that  the  Mogul  nation  seems  to  have  been  al- 
rterminated.  Only  two  of  II  Khan^s  family  sur- 
his  disaster.  These  were  Kajan  his  youngest 
d  Nagos  his  nephew,  who  were  both  of  an  age, 

1  both  been  married  the  same  year,  lliese  two 
,  with  their  wives,  had  been  taken  prisoners  by 
Khan,  hut  found  means  to  make  their  escape  to 
ivn  country.  Here  they  seized  upon  all  the  cattle 
had  not  been  tarried  off^yy  the  Tartars;  which 
)ily  done,  as  having  none  to  dispute  the  property 
em  \  then  stripping  some  of  the  slain,  they  took 
lotbes,  and  retired  into  the  mountains.  They 
several  mountains  without  much  difBculty ;  but 
advanced  to  the  foot  of  one  exceedingly  high, 
nid  00  way  over  it  but  a  very  small  path  made 
ain  animals,  called  in  the  Tartar  language  or- 

This  path  they  found  themselves  obliged  to 


make  use  of,  though  it  was  so  strait,  that  oidy  tme    Mogoli. 
could  pass  at  a  time,  and  he  was  in  the  most  imminent '       m     ^ 
danger  of  breaking  his  neck  at  the  least  false  step. 
Having  ascended  the  mountain  on  one  side  by  this  .jtii^^^. 
path,  they  descended  by  the  same  on  the  other  side ;  rive  ia  « 
and  )vere  agreeably  surprised  to  find  themselves  in  ade%htfal 
most  delightful  tract,  interspersed  with  rivulets  and^^^?^* 
charming  meadows,  abounding  mth  a  vast  variety  of 
delicious  fmits,  and  enclosed  on  all  sides  by  inaccessible 
mountains,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  shelter  them  from  all 
ftiture  pnrsnits  of  the  Tartars.     Here  they  lived  some 
time,  and  gave  this  beautiful  country  the  name  of  Ir* 
eana-kon^  in  allusion  to  its  situation ',  Irgana  signifying, 
m  the  old  language  of  the  Moguls,  a  *'  valley,*^  and 
Kon  a  ^'  steep  height.'* 

In  process  of  time  these  two  families  very  much  in- 
ereaned.  Kajan,  whose  posterity  was  tiie  most  nume* 
Tous,  called  his  descendants  Kajath;  but  the  people 
springing  firom  Nagos  were  divided  into  two  trib^; 
one  of  which  received  the  appellation  of  Nagoskr^  and 
the  other  that  of  Durhgan. 

These  two  Mogul  princes  and  their  descendants  lived 
in  this  place  for  more  than  400  years  \  but  tho  latter 
then  finding  it  too  narrow  for  them,  meditated  aivtum 
to  the  country'  firom  which  their  fivefathers  had  been 
driven.  For  some'  time,  however,  they  fonnd  this  im« 
practicable,  as  the  path  that  oomhicted  their  ancestors 
bad  been  long  since  destr<^d.  At  last  they  discovered, 
that  one  part  of  the  high  moontam  above  mentioned 
was  not  very  thick  in  a  certain  place  \  and  also,  that 
it  consisted  entirely  of  iron  ore.  To  this,  having  before 
set  fire  to  a  layer  of  wood,  and  another  of  charcoal, 
laid  along  the  toot  of  the  mountain,  they  applied  70 
large  bellows,  and  at  last  mdted  the  mountain  in  such 
a  manner,  that  an  opening  was  made  lai^ge  enoogh  for 
a  loaded  oamel  to  pass  \  and  through  this  passage  they 
all  marched  out  with  great  joy. 

The  Moguls  having  thus  issned  as  it  were  from  a  From 
new  world,  overthrew  die  Tartars  in  their  turn  ;  and  whence 
continued  to  be  a  very  considerable  nation  till  the  time  they  at  hit 
of  their  great  hero  Temujin,  aftei'wards  called  •'<^^?*Jir^ 
Khan^  whom  they  extol  -in  the  most  extrava|;ant  man-ffi^figf,, 
ner.     It  is  difficult,  however,  to  say,  at  the  time  Te- 
mujin made  bis  appearance,  how  far  the  dominions  of 
the  Moguls  extended,  or  in  what  estimation  they  were 
held  by  their  neiglibours.     It  seems  to  be  pretty  cer- 
tain that  great  part  df  the  vast  region,  now  known  by 
the  name  of  Tartary^  was  then  in  a  state  of  consider^ 
able  civilization,  and  likewise  extremely  populoosv  m 
we  find  mention  made  of  many  cities  which  the  Mo« 
guls  destroyed  \  and  the  incredible  multitudes  whom 
they  slaughtered,  abundantly  show  the  populousness  of 
the  country.     On  the  east,  the  country  of  the  Moguls 
and  Tartars  had  the  great  desert  which  divides  Tartary 
from  China  *,  on  the  west,  it  had  the  empire  of  Karazm,  state  of  JL« 
founded  by  Mahmud  Gkzni  ^  and  on  the  south  were  sia  at  the 
the  countries  now  known  by  the  name  of  JiuAif/flfi,  time  of 
&Vw»,  Fegu^  Tonqvin,  and  Cochin  China.   Thus  it  com*  J^gl^*' 
prehendeil  the  eastern  part  of  modem  Tartary,  and      *"' 
all  Siberia.     This  whole   region  was  divided  among   ' 
a  great  number  of  Aymacks^  or  tribes;  who  had  each 
one  or  more  khanv,  according  as  it  was  more  or  less 
nnmerous,  or   divided   into  branches.      Among  these 
that  of  the  Kara-its  was  tlie   most  powerful :    their 

P  p  2  piinc« 


M    O    G 


[     300    ] 


Mao 


Mo^^ntf.    pi'tiice  aasumcd  the  title  of  Grand  Khmty  and  amotog 
the  reU  tke  Moguls  were  tribotary  to  him  ;  bpt,  ac- 
conhng  to  the  Chinese  historians,  both  the  one  and 
the  other  were  tributary  to  the  emperor  of  Kitay  or 
Katay.     China  was  divided  into ,  two  parts :  the  nine 
southern  provinces  were  in  the  hands  of  the  Chinese 
emperors  of  the  Song  dynasty,  who  kept  their  court 
at  Hang-chew>  the  capital  of  the  jirovince  of  Chek- 
yang ;  the  five  northern  provinces,  excepting  part  of 
Shensi,  were  possessed  by  the  Kin,  a  people  of  Eastern 
Tartary,  from  whom  are  descended  the  Manchew  Tar- 
tars, at  present  roasters  of  China.     This  vast  domi- 
nion was  named  Kitay  or  Katay ^  and  was  divided  into 
two  parts  :  that  which  belonged  to  China,  was  proper- 
ly called  Kitay;  and  the  part  which  belonged  to  Tar- 
tary was  called  Karakitay^  in  which  some  even  include 
the  territories  of  the  Moguls,  Karaits,  and  other  tribes 
which  are  the   subject  of  the  present  history.     The 
western  part  of  tlie  empire  of  Kitay  was  possessed  by  a 
Turkish  prince,  who  had  lately  founded  a  new  king- 
dom there  called  Hya ;  whose  capital  city  was  Hya* 
chew,  now  Ninghya  in  Shensi,  from  whence  the  king- 
dom took  its  name.    To  the  west  of  Hya  lay  Tangot ; 
a  country  of  great  extent,  and  formerly  very  powerful } 
but  at  that  time  reduced  to  a  low  state,  and  divided 
among  maay  princes  ^  some  of  whom  were  subject  to 
the  emperor  of  Hya,  and  others  to  the  emperor  of 
China.     All  TarUry  to  the  westward  as  far  as  the 
Caspian  sea,  with  the  greater  part  of  Little  Buckharia, 
which  then  passed  under  the  general  name  of  Turkestan^ 
was  subject  to  Ghurkhan,  iQiurkhao,  or  Kaver  Khan  ^ 
to  whom  even  the  Gazni  monarchs  are  said  to  have 
been  tributary.    This  Ghurkhan  had  been  prince  of  the 
Western  Kitan  or  Lyau ;  who,  driven  out  of  Kitay  by 
the  king,  settled  in  Little  Buckharia,  and  the  country 
to  the  north,  where  they  founded  a  powerful  state  about 
the  year  1 1 24. 

Thus  the  Moguls,  properly  so  called,  had  but  a  very 
and  birth    gnulL  extent  of  empire  which  could  be  called  their  own, 
ef  Temmm.  j^  juJeed  they  had  any,  when  Temujin  made  his  appear- 
ance.   This  hero  is  said  by  the  Tartars  to  have  been  of 
divine  origin,  sinee  his  family  could  be  traced  no  far* 
fher  back  than  ten  generations,  the  mother  of  whom 
was  got  with  child  by  a  spirit.    The  names  and  trans- 
•  actions  of  his  predecessors  are  equally  uncertain  and  un- 
important :  he  himself,  however,  was  bom  in  the  year 
ii63«  and  is  said  to  have  come  into  the  world  with  con- 
gealed blood  in  his  hands  *,  from  whence  it  was  progno- 
sticated that  be  would  be  a  great  warrior,  and  obtain 
the  victory  over  all  his  enemies. 

This  prediction,  if  any  such  there  was,  Temujin 
most  litt  rally  fulfilled.  At  the  time  of  his  father^s  de» 
cease,  his  subjects  amounted  to  between  30,000  and 
40,000  families  >  but  of  these  two-thirds  quickly  de- 
8erted«  and  Temujin  was  left  almost  without  subjects. 
When  only  13  years  of  age,  he  fought  a  bloody  battle 
against  these  revolters;  but  either  was  defeated,  or  gain- 
ed an  indecisive  victory  ^  so  that  he  remained  in  obscu- 
7        rity  for  27  years  longer.     Hit  good  fortune  at  last  he 


6 
Descent 


and  the  khan  was  kept  in  possession  of  his  throne :  sooq  ..^, 
after  which  Temujin  subdued  the  tribes  which  had  ic- 1  .^^, 
volted  from  himself,  treating  them  at  the  same  tiioe 
with  the  utmost  barbarity. 

This  happened  in  the  year  1201  ^  but  Vang  Khau,^^^ 
instead  of  continuing  the  Iriend  of  Temujin,  now  becaaefuvn  j^. 
jealous,  and  resolved  to  destroy  him  by  treachery.  With  Imk,  ni 
this  view  he  proposed  a  marriage  between  Temujin^s  son^^'^ 
Juji  and  his  own  daughter,  and  another  between  Teno*^"  '*'^* 
jin's  daughter  and  his  own  son.    Temujin  was  invited  to 
the  camp  of  Vang  Khan,  in  order  to  celebrate  this  dou- 
ble marriage  ^  but  receiving  intelligence  of  some  evil 
intention   against   him,  he  excused   himself  to  Vaug 
Khan's  messengers,  and  desired  that  the  ceremony  might 
be  put  ofi"  to  some  other  time. 

A  few  days  after  the  departure  of  these  nies6enger% 
Bado  and  Kisblik,  two  brothers,  who  kept  the  horses 
of  one  of  Vang  Khan's  chief  domestics,  came  and  in- 
formed Temujin,  that  the  grand  Khan  finding  be  had 
missed  bis  aim,  was  resolved  to  set  out  instantly,  sod 
surprise  him  next  morning,  before  he  could  suspect  any 
danger.  Temujin,  alarmed  at  this  intelligence,  quit- 
ted his  camp,  in  the  night  time,  and  retired  with  all  bis 
people  to  some  distance.  He  was  scarce  gone  when 
Vang  Khan's  troops  arrived,  and  disdiarged  an  incre- 
diblc'  number  of  an*ows  among  the  empty  tests  ^  but 
finding  nobody  there,  they  pursued  Temujin  in  such 
haste  that  they  fell  into  great  disorder.  In  this  con- 
dition they  were  suddenly  attacked  and  routed  by  Te- 
mujin ^  after  which  an  open  war  with  Vang  Kbsn 
took  place. 

«  By  this  quarrel  almost  all  the  princes  of  Tartary  ^^ 
were  put  in  motion,  some  siding  with  Temujin,  Md^^|^|[^ 
others  with  Vang  Khan.  But  at  last  fortiuie  declared gjnacM. 
in  favour  of  the  former :  Vang  Khan  was  overthrowDi 
in  a  battle,  where  he  lost  40,000  men,  and  obliged  to 
fly  for  refuge  to  a  prince  named  I'ayyan  Khan^  who 
was  Temujin's  father-in-law,  and  his  own  enemy,  and 
by  whom  he  was  ungenerou«}ly  put  to  death.  Temo- 
jin  immediately  began  to  seize  on  his  dominions,  great 
part  of  which  voluntarily  submitted :  but  a  confederacy 
was  formed  against  him  by  a  number  of  Vang  Khan't 
tributaries,  at  the  head  of  whom  was  Jamuka,  a  prince 
who  had  already  distinguished  himself  by  his  enmity  to 
Temujin  \  and  even  Tayyan  Khan  himself  was  drawn 
into  the  plot,  through  jealousy  of  his  son-io-law's  good 
fortune.  But  Temujin  was  well  prepared  ;  and  in  the 
year  1 204  attacked  Tayyan  Khan,  entirely  routed  bis 
army,  killed  himself,  and  took  Jamuka  prisoner,  wboie 
head  he  caused  instantly  to  be  struck  off;  after  which 
he  marched  against  the  other  tribes  who  had  conspired 
against  him.  Them  he  quickly  reduced  ;  took  a  city 
called  KasAin^  where  he  put  all  to  the  sword  who  bad 
borne  arms  against  him  j  and  reduced  all  the  Mognl 
tribes  in  1205. 

Temujin  now,  having  none  to  oppose  him,  called  a 
general  diet,  which  he  appointed  to  be  held  ou  the  fiist 
day  of  the  spring  1 206 ;  that  is,  on  the  day  in  which 
the  sun  entered  Aries.    To  this  diet  wenf  summoned 


^l^^^'owed  to  the  friendship  of  Vang  Khan,  who  ruled  over  .  all  the  great  lords  both  Moguls  and  Tartars  ^  and  ia 

""*  ■'     "  ^''  the  mean  time^  to  establish  good  order  in  the  armyt 

he  divided  his  soldiers  into  bodies  of  10,000,  I000» 
100,  and  10  men,  with  their  respective  officers,  stt 
subordinate  to  the  generals,  or  those  who  commanded 
tbe  bodies  of  10,000^  and  these  were  to  act  onder  bis 


Vang 


fobjccu  by  9l  great  number  of  Tartar  tribes  to  the  north  of  KitaVf 
■icuii  of  and  has  been  heard  of  under  the  name  of  Pre$ter  John 
amonff  the  Enropeaof.  Thia  prince  took  Temujin  un- 
der his  protection  \  and  a  rebellion  being  afterwards 
imiscd  against  himself,  Temujin  was  made  his  general| 

4 


MOO 


[    301    3 


M    O    G 


ions.  On  the  day  of  holding  the  diet,  the  princea 
i  blood  and  great  lords  appeared  dressed  ia  white, 
ijin  dressed  in  the  same  manner,  with  his  crown 
s  heady  sat  down  on  his  throne,  and  was  compli- 
•d  by  the  whole  assembly,  who  wished  him  the 
luance  of  his  health  and  prosperity.  After  this 
confirmed  the  Mogul  empire  Xo  him  and  his 
^ors,  adding  all  those  kingdoms  which  he  had 
ed,  the  descendants  of  whose  vanquished  khans 
deprived  of  all  right  or  title  to  there  ^  and  after 
le  was  proclaimed  emperor  with  much  ceremony, 
ig  this  inauguration,  a  pretended  prophet  declan'd 
e  came  firom  God  to  tell  the  assembly,  that  from 
sforth  Temujin  should  assume  the  name  f>^  Jenghi% 
,  or  the  most  Greqt  Khan  of  khans;  prophesying 
hat  all  his  posterity  should  be  khans  from  genera- 
>  generation.  This  prophecy^  which  was  no  doubt 

to  Temujin  himself,  had  a  surprising  effect  on 
bjects,  who  from  that  time  concluded  that  all  the 
belonged  of  right  to  them,  and  even  thought  it  a 

against  heaven  for  any  body  to  pretend  to  resist 

ighiz.  Khan  having  now  reduced  under  his  subjec- 

ill  the  wandering  tribes  of  Moguls'  and  Tartars, 

to  think  of  reducing  those  countries  to  the  south 

»utb-west  of  his  own,  where  the  inhabitants  were 

more  civilized  than  his  own  subjects :  and  the 

ries  being  full  of  fortified  cities,  he  must  of  course 

t  to  meet  with  more  resistance.     He  began  with 

nperor  of  Hya,  whose  dominions  he  invaded  in 

who  at  last  submitted  to  become  his  tributary. 

1  the  mean  time  Jenghiz  Khan  himself  was  sup*- 

to  be  tributary  to  the  emperor  of  Kitay :  who,  in 

sent  him  an  officer  demanding  the  customary  tri- 

This  was  refused  with  the  utmost  indignation^ 

war  commenoed,  which  ended  not  but  with  the 

Jtion  of  the  empire  of  Kitay,  as  mentioned  under. 

tide  China. 

the  year  1216,  Jenghiz  Khan  resolved  to  carry 
rms  westward,  and  therefore  left  his  general 
ttli  to  pursue  his  conquests  in  Kitay.  In  his 
^y  westward  he  overthrew  an  army  of  300,000 
rs  who  had  revolted  against  him  \  and,  in  121 8, 
;mbassadors  desiring  an  alliance  with  Mohammed 
im  Shah,  emperor  of  Gazna.  His  ambassador 
aoghtily  treated  ;  however,  the  alliance  was  con^ 
]  \  but  soon  after  broken,  through  the  treachery^ 
s  said,  of  the  Karazmian  monarch's  sulijects.  This 
ht  on.  a  war  attended  with  the  most  dreadful  de- 
Jons,,  and.  which  ended  with  the  entire  destruction 
t  empire  of  Karazm  or  Gazna,  as-  related  under* 
rticle  Gazna. 

ter  the  redaction  of  Karazm,  part  of  the  Moguls 
;  into  Iran  or  Persia,  where  also  they  made  large 
tests,  while  others  of  their  armies  invaded  Georgia 
he  countries  to  the  west  \  all  this  time  committing 
enormities,  that  the  Chinese  historians  say  both 
and  spirits  burst  with  indignation..  In  1225^ 
liiz  Khan  returned  to  Hya,  where  he  made  war  on 
mperor  for  having  sheltered  some  of  hia  enemies, 
event  was, .  that  tbs  emperor  was  slain,  and  his 
iom  conquered^ .  or  rather  destroyed  \  which,  how- 
was  the  last  exploit  of  this  most  cruel  conqueror, 
died  in  1 227,  as  he  nMurohed  to  complete  the  de.- 
tion  of  the  Chinese* 


The  Mogul  empire,  at  the  death  of  Jenghiz  Khan,   Moguls, 
extended  over  a  •  prodigious  tract  of  country  5   being '       m       > 
more  than  1800  leagues  in  length  froin  east  to  west,  and    *    '^ 
upwards  of  1000  in  breadth  from  north  to  south.     Its  J^^*^**^* 
princes,  however,  were  still  insatiable,  and  pushed  oUpj^^ 
their  conquests  on  all  sides.     Oktay  was  acknowledged 
emperor  after  Jenghiz  Khan  \  and  had  under  his  imme- 
diate government  Mogulestan  (the  country  of  the  Mo- 
guls properly  so  called),  Kitay,  and  the  countries  eas- 
ward  to  the  Tartarian  sea.    Jagaty  his  brother  govern- 
ed under  him  a  great  part  of  the  western  conquests. 
The  country  of  the  EJpjacks,  and  others  to  the  east 
and  north-east,  north  and  north-west,  were  governed 
by  Batu  or  Patu  the  son  of  Juji,  who  had  been  killed 
in  the  wars  ;  while  Tuli  or  Toley,  another  son  of  Jcn- 

fhiz  Khan,  had  Khorassan,  Persia,  and  what  part  of 
ndia  was  conquered.    On  the  east  side  the  Mogul  arms 
were  still  attended  with  success  \  not  only  the  empire  of 
Kitay,  but  the  southern  part  of  Chika,  was  conquered, 
as  already  related  under  that  article,  N*^  24—42.     On 
the  west  side  matters  continued  much  in  the  same  way 
till  the  year  x  254,  when  Magu,  or  Menkho,  the  fourth 
klian  of  the  Moguls,  (the  same  who  was  afterwards* 
killed  at  the  siege  in  China*),  raised  a  great  army, « See  C%t^ 
which  he  gave  to  his  brother  Hulaku  or  Hulagu,  to  ex-fia,l^^  a'* 
tend  his  domiuions  westward.     In  1255,  he  entered 
Iran,  where  he  suppressed  the  Ismaelians  or  Assassins, 
of  whom  an  account  is  given  under  the  article  Assas- 
sins, and  two  years  afterwards  he  advanced  to  fiagdad, 
which  he  took,  and  cruelly  put  the  caliph  to  death, 
treating  the  city  with  no  more  lenity  than  .the  Moguls-       j^ 
usually  treated  those  which  fell  into  their  hands.    Every  Bagdad  j«»- 
thing  was  put  to  fire  and  sword  j   and.  in, the  city  antl^(>e€d.. 
its   neighbourhood  the   number  of   slain,   it   is   said, 
amounted  to  1,600,000.     The  next  year  he  invaded 
Syria ;  the  city  of  Damascus  was  delivered  up,  and,  as 
it  made  no  resistance,  the  inhabitants  were  spared  \  but 
Aleppo  being  taken  by  storm,  a  greater  slaughter  ensued' 
there  than  had  taken  place  at  Bagdad^  not  even  the 
children  in  their  cradles  being  spared.     Some  cities  of 
diis  country  revolted  the  next  year,  or  the  year  after  j 
but  falling  again  into  the  hantis  of  the  Moguls,  they, 
were  plundered,  and  the  inhabitants  butchered  without 
mercy,  or  carried  into  slavery. 

Hulaku  died  in  1264,  and  at.his  death  we  may  fix. 
the  greatest  extent  of  the  Mogul  empire.    It  now  com^ 
prehended  the  whole  of  the  continent  of  Asia,  except- 
ing part  of  Ihdostan,  Siam,  Pegu,  Cochin  China,  and 
a  few  of  the  countries  of  Lesser  Asia,  which  had  not. 
been  attacked  by  them  \  and  during  all  these  vast  con^ 
quests  no  Mogul  army  had  ever,  been  conquered,  ex« 
cept  one  by  Jaloloddin,  as  mentioned  under. the  article       14 
GaznA»— -Jprom  this  period,  ho^vever,  the  empne  be-'t  begiftito.' 
gan  to  decline.     The  ambition  of '  the  ktians  having  ^••l***' 
prompted  them  to  invade  the  kingdoms  of  Japan  and 
Cochin  China,  they  were  miserably  disappointed  in  their 
attempts,  and  lost  a  great  number  of  men.     The  same    • 
bad  success  attended  them  in  Indostan^  and  in  a  short 
time  this  mighty  empire  broke  into- several  smaller  ones. . 
The  governors  of  Persia  being  of  the  family  of  Jenghiz 
Khan,  owned  no  allegiance  to  any  superior  ^   those  of^ 
Tartary  did   the  same.     The  Chinese  threw  off  the  ^ 

yok&.^.  and  thus  the  continent  of  Asia  wore  much  the 
same  face  that  it  had  done  before  Ji&nghiz  Khan  began 

his  conquests* 

Thfe 


M    O    G 


[    302    ] 


M    O    G 


16 


>Toipi1«.        Hie  successors  of  Hulaku  reigned  in  Persia  till  the 
w        jcar  1335  i   but  that  year  Aliusaid  Khan,  the  eighth 
Iroffl  Hulaku,  djing,  the  aflSiirs  of  that  country  fell 
into  confusion  for  want  of  a  prince  of  the  race  of 
Jenghiz  Khan  to  succeed  to  the  throne.    The  empire, 
therefore,  was  divided  among  a  great  number  of  petty 
princes  who  fought  against  each  other  almost  without 
f^       intermission,  till  in  the  year  1360  Timur  Bck,  or  Ta* 
TUBcriaae  merlane,  one  of  these  princes,  havinf  conquered  a  num- 
crewncd     [^j.  ©f  others,  was  crowned  at  Balkh,  with  the  pom- 
^222^  ^  pous  title  of  SaAeb  Karon  ;  that  is,  "  the  emperor  of 
the  age,  and  the  conqueror  of  the  world.*^     As  he  had 
just  before  taken  that  city,  and  destroyed  one  of  his 
most  formidable  rivals  who  had  shut  himself  up  in  it, 
the  new  emperor  began  his  reign  with  beheading  some 
of  tlie  inhabitants,  imprisoning  others,  burning  their 
houses,  and  selling  the  women  and  children  for  slaves. 
In  1370  he  crossed  the  Sihun,  made  war  on  the  Getes, 
a  and  attacked  Karazm.     Next  year  he  granted  a  peace 
great  con-  to  his  enemies  ^  but  two  years  after,  he  again  invaded 
qoerac        the  country  of  the  Getes,  and  by  the  year  1379  had 
fully  conquered  that  country  as  well  as  Korazan  >  and 
from  that  time  he  continued  to  extend  his  conquests  in 
much  the  same  manner  as  Jenghiz  Khan  had  done, 
though  with  less  cruelty .^In  1387  he  bad  reduced  Ar- 
menia, Georgia,  and  all  Persia  j  the  conquest  of  which 
last  was  completed  by  the  reduction  of  Ispahan,  70,000 
of  the  inhabitants  of  which  were  slau^tered  on  ac- 
count of  a  sedition  raised  by  some  rash  or  evil  disposed 
persons. 

After  the   reduction  of  Persia,  Timor  turned  his 
arms  northward  and  westward,  subduincr  all  the  coun- 
tries to  the  Euphrates.     He  took  the  city  of  Bagdad  ; 
subdued  Syria }  and  having  ravaged  great  part  ot  Bus- 
I  vad'^       ^"^  returned  to  Persia  in  1396,  where  he  splendidly 
and  coa-     f^^^^^^  ^'^  whole  army.     In  1398  he  invaded  Indos- 
qoen  lado-tan,  crossed  the  Indus  bn  the  17th  of  September,  redu- 
tua.  ced  several  fortresses,  and  made  a  vast  number  of  cap- 

tives. However,  as  he  was  afraid  that,  in  case  of  any 
emergency,  these  prisdtoers  might  take  part  with  the 
enemy,  he  gave  orders  to  his  soldiers  to  put  all  their  In- 
dian slaves  to  death  ^  and  in  consequence  of  this  inhu- 
man order,  more  than  100,000  of  these  poor  wretches 
were  slausbtered  in  less  than  an  hour. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  year  1399  Timur  was  met 
by  the  Indian  army  j  whom,  after  a  desperate  battle,  he 
defeated  with  great  slaughter,  and  soon  after  took  the 
city  of  Delbi  the  capital  of  the  country.  Here  he  seat- 
ed himself  on  the  throne  of  the  Indian  emperors,  and 
bere  the  sharifs,  kadis,  the  principal  inhabitants  of  the 
city,  came  to  make  their  submission,  and  begged  for 
•  mercy.     The  tame  elephants  and  rhinoceroses  likewise 

were  brought  to  kneel  before  him  as  they  bad  been  ac- 
customed to  do  to  the  Indian  emperors,  and  made  a 
great  cry  as  if  they  implored  his  clemency.   These  war 
elephants,  1 20  in  number,  were,  at  his  return,  sent  to 
Samarcand,  and  to  the  province  where  his  sons  resided. 
^     After  fhis,  at  the  request  of  the  lords  of  the  court,  Ti- 
mur made  a  great  feast ;  at  which  be  distributed  pre<^ 
iS       Bents  to  the  princes  and  principal  officers. 
ntuTdL^     Delhi  at  this  time  consisted  of  three  cities,  called 
glt^yU,      ^^9^9  ^^  Delhi\  and  Jehm  fenah.    Seyri  was  sur- 
aad  tlM  la-  roonded  with  a  wall  in  forin  of  a  circle.     Old  Delhi 
hsMtiiiti     was  the  same,  but  much  larger,  lying  south-west  of  the 
^**i^'*'^  Other.    These  two  parU  were  joined  on  each  side  by 

3 


a  wall : .  and  the  third,  lying  between  them,  was  called  MociU 
Jehan  Penah^  which  was  larger  than  Old  Delhi.  Pe-  ^ 
nah  bad  ten  gates  \  Seyri  had  seven,  three  of  which 
looked  towards  Jehan  Penah;  this  last  had  13  gates, 
six  to  the  north-west,  and  seven  to  the  south-east.  Eveiy 
thing  seemed  to  be  in  a  quiet  posture.)  when,  on  the 
I2tb  of  January  1399,  the  soldiers  of  Timur  being  as- 
sembled at  one  of  the  gates  of  Delhi,  insulted  the  inha- 
bitants of  the  suburbs.  The  great  emirs  were  ordered 
to  put  a  stop  to  these  disorders  \  but  their  endeavours 
were  not  effectual.  The  sultanas  having  a  curiosity  to 
see  the  rarities  of  Delhi,  and  particularly  a  famous  pa- 
lace adorned  with  looo  pillars,  built  by  an  ancient 
king  of  India,  went  in  with  all  the  court  \  and  the  gate 
being  on  that  occasion  left  open  for  every  body,  above 
15,000  soldiers  got  in  unperceived.  But  there  was  a 
far  greater  number  of  troops  in  a  large  place  between 
Delhi,  Seyri,  and  Jehan  Penah,  who  committed  great 
disorders  m  the  two  last  cities.  This  made  the  inbabi* 
tants  in  despair  fall  on  them  ^  and  many,  setting  fire  to 
their  houses,  burnt  their  wives  and  children.  The  -sol- 
diers seeing  this  conftision,  did  nothing  but  pillage  the 
houses  \  while  the  disorder  was  increased  bv  the  admis- 
sion of  more  troops,  who  seized  the  inhabitants  of  the 
neiglibouring  places  who  had  iled  thither  for  shelttr. 
The  emirs,  to  put  a  stop  to  this  mischief,  caused  the 
gates  to  be  shut:  but  they  were  quickly  opened  by  the 
soldiers  vrithin,  who  rose  in  arms  kgainst  their  officers ; 
so  that  by  the  morning  of  the  1 3th  the  whole  army  was 
entered,  and  this  great  city  was  totally  destroyed.  Some 
soldiers  carried  out  1 50  slaves,  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren *y  nay,  some  of  their  boys  had  20  slaves  a  piece  to 
their  share.  The  other  spoils,  in  jewels,  plate,  and  ma- 
nufactures, were  immense  \  for  the  Indian  women  and 
girls  were  adorned  with  precious  stones,  and  had  brace- 
lets and  rings  on  their  hands,  feet,  and  even  toes,  so 
that  the  soldiers  were  loaded  with  them.  On  the  ijtb, 
in  Old  Delhi,  the  Indians  retired  into  the  creat  mosque 
to  defend  themselves ;  but  being  attacked  by  the  Tar- 
tars they  were  all  slaughtered,  and  towers  erected  with 
their  beads.  A  dreadful  carnage  now  ensued  through- 
out the  whole  city,  and  several  days  were  employed  be- 
fore the  inhabitants  could  be  made  to  quit  it  entirely  f 
and  as  they  went,  the  emirs  took  a  number  of  then  for 
their  service.  The  artisans  were  also  distributed  among 
the  princes  and  commanders  j  all  but  the  masons,  who 
Were  reserved  for  the  emperor,  in  order  to  bnild  him  a 
spacious  stone  mosque  at  Samarcand. 

After  this  terrible  devastation,  Timnr  marched  into 
the  different  provinces  of  Indostan,  everywhere  defeat- 
ing the  Indians  who  opposed  him,  and  slaoghtt-rinff  the 
Gbebrs  or  worshippers  of  fire.  On  the  25th  of  Mardi 
he  set  out  on  his  return,  and  on  th^  9th  of  May  ar- 
rived at  Samarcand.  In  a  feVr  months  alter  his  arrival, 
he  was  obliged  to  undertake  an  expedition  into  Persn, 
where  affairs  were  in  the  utmost  disorder  on  account  of 
the  misconduct  of  his  son,  whom  he  had  appointed  to- 
▼ereign  of  that  empire.  Here  Timur  soon  settled  mat- 
ters ;  after  which  he  again  set  out  on  an  expedition 
westward,  reduced  many  places  in  Georgia  which  hal 
not  submitted  before,  and  invaded  and  conqurndSy 

At  the  same  time  he  quarrelled  with  Bajazel  thc^mKh 


>f 


ria 


Turkish  sultan,  then  busied  in  an  enterprise  agaiost^i'^ 
Gmstantinople,  in  which  he  would  probably  have  soc-**!^ 
ceeded  bad  not  Timur  inteipoted.    The  caoie  of  this 

foand 


M    O    G  C    303 

d  at  first  was,  that  Bajazet  hail  demandeil  tribute 
a  prince  who  was  under  Tironr's  protcctioo,  and 
d  to  have  returned  an  insulting  answer  to  the  Tar> 
obassadors  who  were  sent  to  hiro  on  that  accotint. 
r,  however^  who  was  an  enthosiast  in  the  cause  of 
foetanism,  and  considered  Bajazet  as  engaged  io 
luse  of  heaven  when  besieging  a  Christian  city, 
ery  unwilling  to  disturb  him  in  so  pious  a  work  } 
lerefore  undertook  several  expeditions  against  the 
!S  of  Syria,  and  Georgia,  in  order  to  give  the 
sh  monarch  time  to  cool  and  return  to  reasoik 
^  other  places,  he  again  invested  the  city  of  Bag- 
rhich  had  cast  oflf  its  allegiance  to  him  >  and  hav- 
ken  it  by  storm,  made  anch  a  dreadful  massacre  of 
labitaots,  that  1 20  towers  were  erected  with  the 
of  the  slain.     In  the  mean  time  Bajazet  coati- 

0  give  fresh  provocation,  by  protecting  one  Kara 
a  robber,  who  had  even  insuHed  the  caravan  of 
i ;  so  that  Timur  at  length  resolved  to  make  war 
lim.     The  sultan,  however,  foreseeing  the  dan^ 

bringing  such  a  formidable  enemy  against  him- 
looght  proper  to  ask  pardon,  by  a  letter,  for  what 
ist,  and  promise  obedience  to  Timiir's  will  for  the 
,  This  ombassy  was  graciously  received  ^  and  Ti- 
;tunied  for  answer,  that  he  would  forbear  bostili- 
rovided  Bajazet  would  either  pat  Kara  Yusef  to 
send  him  to  the  Tartar  camp,  or  expel  him  out 
dominions.  Along  with  the  Turkish  ambassadors 
i  one  of  his  own  *,  telling  Bajazet  that  be  would 
into  the  confines  of  Anatolia,  and  there  wait  his 
aswer. 

ugh  Bajazet  had  seemed  at  first  willing  to  come 
kgreement  with  Timor,  and  to  .dread  his  superior 
'j  yet  he  now  behaved  in  snch  an  unsatisfactory 
r,  that  the  Tartar  monarch  desired  him  to  pre- 
»r  wur  'y  upon  which  he  raised  the  siege  of  Con- 
ople,  and  having  met  Timur  with  an  army  griat- 
rior  to  the  Tartars,  was  utterly  defeated  and  ta- 
risoner.     According  to  some  accounts,  he  was 

1  with  great  humanity  and  honour  ^  while  others 
us,  that  he  was  shut  up  in  an  iron  cage,  against 

he  daahed  out  his  brains  the  following  year.  At 
:e,  it  b  certain  that  he  was  not  restored  to  liberty^ 
d  in  confinement. 

I  victory  was  followed  by  the  submission  of  many 
of  the  Lesser  Asia  to  Timor ;  the  Greek  em* 
iwned  himself  his  tributary,  as  did  also  the  sultan 
fpt.  Af^er  this  Timur  once  more  returned  to 
a,  which  he  cruelly  ravaged ;  *  afler  which  he 
(d  to  Samarcand,  where  he  arrived  in  the  year 

Here,  being  now  an  old  man,  this  mighty  con* 
began  to  look  forward  to  that  state  which  at  one 
'  cmer  is  the  dread  of  all  living  creatures ;  and 

in  order  to  quiet  the  remorses  of  his  own  con« 
,  eame  to  the  following  curious  resolution,  which 
monicated  to  his  intimate  friends  j  namely,  that 
e  vast  conquests  he  had  made  were  not  obtained 
;  some,  violence^  which  had  occasioned  the  de« 
m  of  a  great  number  of  God's  creatures,  he  was 
d,  hy  way  of  atonement  for  his  past  crimes,  to 
I  some  good  action ;  namely,  to  make  war  on 
dels,  and  exterminate  the  idolaters  of  China.*' 
ooement,  however,  he  did  not  live  to  accom- 
for  he'  died  the  same  year  of  a  burning  fever,  in 
.t  yoar  of  his  age  and  36th  of  his  reign* . 


S3 


]  M    O    H 

On  the  death  of  Timor,  his  empire  fell  immediatety  Moguls 
into  great  disorder,  and  the  civil  wars  continued  for  0. 
five  or  six  years  j  but  at  last  peace  was  restored,  by  the  Mobilcf. 
settlement  of  Shah  Rukb,  Timur*s  son,  on  the  throne*  '^**'^^ 
He  did  not,  however,  enjoy  the  empire  in  its  full  ex- 
tent, or  indeed  much  above  one  half  of  it ;  having  only 
Karazm,  Khorassan,  Kandahar,  Persia,  and  part  of 
Hindostan.  Neither  was  he  able,  though  a  brave  and 
warlike  prince,  to  extend  his  dominions,  though  he 
transmitted  them  to  his  son  Ulug  Beg.  He  proved  a 
wise  and  learned  monarch  j  and  is  famous  for  the  astro- 
nomical tables  which  he  caused  to  be  composed,  and 
which  are  well  known  at  this  day.  He  was  killed  in 
1448  by  his  son  Abdollatif,  who  six  months  af^er  was 
put  to  death  by  his  own  soldiers.  After  the  death  of 
Abdollatif,  Abdollah,  a  grandson  of  Shah  Rukh,  sei- 
zed the  throne  ^  but,  after  reigning  one  year,  was  ex'> 
pelted  by  Abusaid  Mirza,  the  grandson  of  Kliran  Shah 
the  son  of  Timur.  His  reign  was  one  continued  scene 
of  ward  and  tumults  j  till  at  last  he  was  defeated  and 
taken  prisoner  by  one  Hassan  Beg,  who  put  him  to 
death  in  1468.  From  this  time  we  may  look  upon  the 
empire  of  Timur  as  entirely  dissolved,  though  his  de- 
scendants still  reigned  in  Persia  and  Indostan,  the  lat- 
ter of  which  is  still  known  by  the  name  of  the  Mf^uPs 
empire. 

On  the  death  of  the  above-mentioned  monarch,  his  Hittorf  of 
son  Babr  or  Babor  succeeded  him,  but  was  soon  driven  HindottaAi^ 
out  by  the  Usbeck  Tartars  3  after  wliicfa  he  resided  some 
time  m  Gazna,  whence  he  made  incursions  into  Hindo- 
stan, and  at  length  became  master  of  the  whole  empire, 
excepting  the  kingdoms  of  Dekan,  Guzerat,  and  Ben- 
gal.— For  the  transactions  subsequent  to  this  period,  see 
HiNDosTAK  and  India. 

MOHAIR,  in  commerce,  the  hair  of  a  kind  of  goat 
frequent  about  Angora  in  Turkey  \  the  inhabitants  of  ^ 
which  eity  are  all  employed  in  the  manufacture  of  cam- 
blets  made  of  this  hair. 

Some  give  the  name  mohair  to*  the  camblets  or  stuffs 
made  of  this  hair  \  of  these  there  are  two  kinds ;  the 
one  smooth  and  plain,  the  other  watered  like  tabbies  : 
the  difference  between  the  two  only  consists  in  this,  that 
the  latter  is  callendered,  the  other  not.  There  are  also 
mohairs  both  plain  and  watered,  whose  woof  is  of  wool, . 
cotton,  or  thread. 

MomiiB  Sheii^  in  Conchologyy  a  name  given  to  a 
species  of  voluta,  which  seems  of  a  closely  and  finely 
reticulated  texture-,  and  resembles  on  the  surface  a  piece 
of  mohair  or  a  very  close  silkworm?s  web. 

MOHAWK,  a  river  of  North  America,  which  rises 
near  lake  Oneida,  and  runs  a  sooth-east  course  of  about 
130  miles  to  its  junction  with  the  Hudson,  8  miles  above 
Abany,  in  the  state  of  New  York*.  *« 

MoHAWKSr    See  Muck. 

MOHILA;  or  Moelia,  one  of  the  Comora  islands 
in  the  Indian  sea,  between  the  north  end  of  Madagascar  - 
and  the  continent  of  Africa.  The  inland  parts  are 
monntaioous  and  woodyv  but  the  lands'  adjoining  to  the 
sea  are  watered  -by  several  fine  streams.  The  island 
abounds  with  provisions  of  all  kinds;  and  the  East  In- 
dia ships  of  different  nation*  sometimes  touch  here  for 
refreshmentii 

MOHILOF, .  a  large  and  strong  city  of  Russian  . ' 
Poland,  in  the  province  of  Lithuania.    It  is  well  built, 
populous,  and  has  a  considerable  trade.    Near  this 

place 


M    O    I 


C    304    ] 


M    O    L 


j^l^flgf   pltce  die  Swedes  obtaioed  m  great  Tjctoiy  over  the 
Russians  io  1 707.     Lat.  53.  50.  Long.  30.  14. 

MOIDOR£y  a  Portuguese  gold  coin,  value  xl.  7s* 
sterling. 

MOIETY  {Medietas)^  the  half  of  any  thing. 

MOIRAy  a  town  of  Ireland,  in  the  county  of  Down 
and  province  of  Ulster,  69  niiJes  from  Dublin  'y  noted 
for  la  liuen  manufacture.  It  gives  title  of  earl  to  the 
family  of  Rawdon. 

MOISTURE.    See  Humidity.  ^ 

The  moisture  of  the  air  has  considerable  effects  on 
the  human  body.  For  the  quantity  and  quality  of  the 
food,  and  the  proportion  of  the  meat  to  the  drink,  be* 
ing  given,  the  weight  of  a  human  body  is  less,  and  con- 
sequently its  discharges  greater  in  dry  weather  than  in 
wet  weather  'y  which  may  be  thus  accounted  for :  the 
moisture  of  the  air  moistens  the  fibres  of  the  skin  and 
lessens  perspiratioq  by  lessening  their  vibratory  motion. 
When  perspiration  is  thus  lessened  by  the  moiisture  of 
the  air,  urine  indeed  is  by  degrees  increased,  but  not 
equally.  Hence,  according  to  Dr  Bryan  Robinson, 
we  learn,  that  to  keep  a  body  of  the  same  weight  in 
wet  weather  as  in  dry,  either  the  qiumtity  of  food 
must  be  lessened,  or  the  proportion  of  the  meat  to  the 
^rink  increased  ^  and  both  these  may  be  done  by  les* 
sening  the  drink  without  making  any  change  in  the 
meat* 

The  instrument  osed  for  determining  the  degree  of 
moisture  in  the  air,  is  called  an  hygrometer.  See  Hy- 
grometer. 

MOIVRE,  Abraham,  a  learned  mathematician, 
was  bom  at  Vitri  in  Champagne,  in  France,  1667, 
where  his  father  was  a  surgeon.  At  the  revocation 
of  the  edict  of  Nantes,  he  came  to  England.  Before 
be  left  France,  he  had  begun  the  study  of  mathema- 
tics 'y  and  having  perfected  himself  in  that  science  in 
Loudon,  he  was  obliged,  by  necessity,  to  teach  it.  New- 
ton^s  PrtnctptOy  which  accidentally  fell  in|o  his  hands, 
showed  him  how  little  progress  he  had  made  in  a  science 
of  which  he  thought  himself  master.  From  this  work 
be  acquired  a  ki^owledge  of  the  geometry  of  infinites 
with  as  great  facility  as  he  had  learned  the.  elementary 
geometry  ^  and  in  a  short  time  he  was  fit  to  be  ranked 
with  the  most  celebrated  matbenuUicians.  'His  success 
in  these  studies  procured  him  a  seat  in  the  Royal  Society 
of  London  and  in  the  Academy  of  Sciences  at  Paris. 
His  merit  was  so  well  unilerstood  in  the  former,  that  he 
was  thought  capable  of  deciding  in  the  famous  dispute 
between  Leibnitz  and  Newton  concerning  the  differen- 
tial calculus. — He  published  a  Treatise  on  Chances  in 
1738,  and  another  on  Annuities  in  1752}  both  ex- 
tremely accurate.  The  Philosophical  Tiansacttons  con- 
tain many  interesting  memoirs  of  ^his  composition*— 
Some  of  them  treat  of  the  method  of  fluxions ;  others 
are  on  the  lunula  of  Hippocrates  ;  others  on  physical 
astronomy,  in  which  he  resolved  many  important  pro* 
blems}  and  others,  in  nbort,  on  the  analysis  of  the 
games  of  chance,  in  -which  he  followed  a  different 
course  from  that  of  Montmert.  Towards  the  close  of 
his  life  he  lost  his  sight  and  hearing  j  and  ihe  demand 
for  sleep  became  so  great  that  he  required  20  hours  of 
it  in  a  day.  He  died  at  London,  1754,  aged  87. 
His  knowledge-was  not  confined  to  roatnematics  j  but 
ht  retained  to  the  last  a  taste  for  polite  literature.  He 
was  intimately  acquainted  with  the  best  authors  of  anti- 


quity }  and  he  was  firequently  consulted  about  dtfficoU  M^m 
passages  in  their  works.  Rabelais  and  Moliere  were  | 
his  favourite  French  authors :  he  had  them  by  heart )  ^'-^^ 
and  he  one  day  observed  to  one  of  his  acquaintance, 
**  that  he  would  rather  have  been  Moliere  than  New- 
ton.*^  He  recited  whole  scenes  of  the  Misanthrope^  with 
that  delicacy  and  force  with  which  he  rensembered  to 
have  heard  them  recited  at  Paris  70  years  before,  by 
Moliere's  own  company.  The  character  indeed  was 
somewhat  similar  to  his  own.  He  judged  severely  of 
mankind  \  and  could  never  conceal  his  dbgust  at  the 
conversation  of  a.fbol,  or  his  aversion  to  cunning  aql" 
dissimulation.  He  was  free  from  the  afiectatioD  of  sci* 
ence,  and  no  one  could  know  him  to  be  a  matbemati* 
eian  hot  from  the  accuracy  of  his  thoughts.  Hi&  coo« 
versation  was  general  and  instructive.  Whatever  he 
said  was  well  digested  and  clearly  expressed.  His  i»ty]e 
possessed  more  strength  and  solidity  than  ornament  and 
animation  \  but  he  was  always  correct,  and  he  bestowed 
as  much  pains  on  his  sentences,  as  .on  his  calculations. 
He  could  never  endure  any  bold  assertions  or  indecent 
witticisms  against  religion. 

MOLA,  an  ancient  town  of  Italy,  in  the  kingdom 
of  Naples,  and  in  the  Terra  di  Lavoro,  where  they  ]■«• 
tend  to  show  the  ruins  of  Cicero^s  house«  It  is  seated 
on  the  gulf  of  Venice,  in  £•  Long.  17.  50.  N.  LaL 

MoLA  Salsa  (Salt  Cake),  in  antiquity,  was  barley 
parched,  and  afterwards  ground  to  meal  or  floor,  then 
mixed  with  salt  and  frankincense,  with  the  addition  of 
a  little  water.  Thus  prepared,  it  was  sprinkled  be- 
tween the  horns  of  the  victim  before  it  was  killed  in 
sacrifice.  This  act  was  called  immoiatioy  and  was  com- 
mon to  the  Greeks  as  well  as  Romans  \  with  this  dif> 
ference,  that  the  mola  of  the  Romans  was  of  wheat 
The  Greeks  called  it  vAs  or  tfA«xv7«. 

MOLARES,  or  Dektes  Mouires,  in  Jnatomf^ 
the  large  teeth,  called  in  English  the  grinders.  S« 
Anatomy  Index. 

MOLASSES,  or  Molosses.    See  Molosses. 

MOLDAVIA,  a  province  of  Turkey  in  Europe, 
bounded  on  the  north-east  by  the  river  Niester,  which 
divides  it  from  Russia  \  on  the  east,  by  Bessarabia  > 
on  the  south,  bv  Walacbia  \  and  on  the  west,  by  Tran- 
sylvania. It  is  240  miles  in  length,  and  150  in  breadth. 
It  has  a  good  air  and  fruitful  soil,  producing  com,  winc^ 
rich  pastures,  a  good  breed  of  horses,  oxen,  sheep,  plen- 
ty of  game,  fish,  fowl,  honey,  wax,  end  all  Eoropesa 
fruits.  Its  principal  rivers  are  the  Danube,  Nieiiter, 
Pruth,  Bairdalach,  and  Sereth.  The  inhabitanU  are 
Christians  of  the  Greek  church,  and  Jassy  is  the  prie- 
cipal  town.  It  has  been  tributary  to  the  Turks  since 
the  year  1574  ^  who  appoint  a  pnnce  who  is  a  native 
of  the  country,  but  have  no  regard  to  his  being  of  the 
principal  families.  Tlie  prince  is  called  Hospodar* 
The  province  pays  a  large,  yearly  tribute  to  the  Turk- 
ish government  >  besides  raising  a  great  body  of  horw 
at  its  own  ex  pence. 

MOLE,  a  river  b  Snrry,  which  has  taken  its  nams 

from  running  under  ground.  It  first  disappears  at  fioz- 

hill,  near  Darking,  m  the  county  of  Sorry,  and  emerges 

again  near  Leatherhead. 

-  Mei.E.    See  Talpa,  Mammalia  Indes;  and  fsr 

methods  of  destroying,  see  Vermin,  Destructiom  ^. 

Mole,  in  -Mtdvitferyy  a  mass  of  flcsby  matter,  of  a 

spherical 


M    O    L 


[    305    ] 


M    O    L 


cal  figure,  generated  iu  the  oteras,  and  sometimes 
:en  for  a  cCild.     See  Midwifxrt. 
L£,  or  Mark.    See  Navus. 
LEy  in  Arckitectvre^  a  massive  work  formed  of 
itones  laid  in  the  sea  by  means  of  coffer  dams,  ex- 
t  either  in  a  right  line  or  an  arch  of  a  circle,  bo- 
port,  which  it  serves  to  close  \  to  defend  the  ves- 
it  from  the  impetuosity  of  the  waves,  and  to  pre- 
le  passage  of  ships  without  leave.     Thos  we  say 
le  of  the  harbour  of  Messina,  &c. 
UE  is  sometimes  also  used  to  signify  the  harbour 

L£,  (jnoles)^  among  the  Romans,  was  also  used 
Lind  of  mausoleum,  built  in  manner  of  a  round 
on  a  square  base,  insulate,  encompassed  with 
s,  and  covered  with  a  dome.— The  mole  of  the 
■r  Adrian,  now  the  castle  of  St  Angelo,  was  the 
)t  and  most  stately  of  all  the  moles.  It  was 
d*  with  a  brazen  pine  apple,  wherein  was  a  gold- 
containing  the  ashes  of  the  emperor. 
,t  Cricket^  See  Gryllotalpa,  Entomology 

.E  Hills.  These  little  hillocks  of  earth  are  a  very 
rejudice  to  the  pasture  lands,  not  only  in  wasting 
b  of  the  land  as  they  cover,  but  in  obstructing 
the  in  mowing.  In  the  west  of  England  they 
ecttiiar  instrument  for  the  breaking  up  of  these, 
fiat  board,  very  thick,  and  of  about  eight  inches 
leter,  into  which  there  is  fastened  a  perpendico- 
dle  of  three  or  four  feet  long.  It  has  four  broad 
arp  iron  teeth  at  the  front,  which  readily  cut 
I  the  hill,  and  spread  the  earth  it  conststsi  of  j 
lind  there  is  a  large  knob,  proper  for  breaking 
Is  with,  if  there  are  any.  Some  use  a  spade,  or 
ommon  instrument,  in  the  place  of  this,  but  not 
•  There  is,  however,  a  much  better  instrument 
an  this,  for  destroying  these  hills,  where  they 
^ery  great  numbers.  This  is  a  kind  of  horse  ma- 
it  has  a  sharp  iron  about  three  feet  over,  and 
strong  back.— It  is  about  four  or  five  inches 
and  has  two  long  handles  for  a  liorse  to  be  bar- 
to,  and  a  cross  bar  of  iron  to  strengthen  it  at  the 
of  the  handles^  reaching  from  the  one  handle  to 
er.  The  middle  of  this  cross  bar  is  furnished 
le,  two,  or  more  sharp  pieces  of  iron  like  small 
ihares,  to  cut  the  mole  hitls  into  two,  three,  or 
»rts.  The  iron  behind  is  of  a  semicircular  fi- 
A  single  horse  ii  harnessed  to  this  machine,  and 
mist  be  employed  to  drive  it,  and  a  man  to  hold 
tde  it  \  the  sharp  irons  or  shares  are  the  first 
that  meet  the  hill,  they  run  through  it,  break 
ore,  and  cot  it  into  several  parts  -,  aud  the  circu- 
following  immediately  behind  them,  cuts  op  the 
tj  the  roots,  and  leaves  the  land  level.  This 
lent  will  destroy  as  many  mole  hills  in  one  day 
nmon  labourer  can  do  in  ^ight,  and  would  be  of 
leat  advantage  io  the  kingdom  if  brought  into 
use. 

LIERE,  John  Baptist,  a  celebrated  French 
m  atid  dramatic  ^writer,  whose  true  name  was 
^m,  which  for  some  reason  he  chiinged  to  that  of 
*.  He' was  the  son  of  a  valet  de  cbambre,  and  was 
Paris  about  the  year  1620.  He  went  through 
)y  of  the  classics  under  the  Jesuits  in  the  college 
mont,  and  was  ^designed  for  the  bat;  but.  at  his 
;  the  law  schools^  he  made  choice  of  the  actor^s 
XIV.  Part  I. 


Srofession.     From  a  strong  attachment  to  the  drama,  ^olicrc 
is  whole  study  and  application  were  directed  to  the        || 
stage,  and  he  continued  till  his  death  to  exhibit  plays,  MoUugd. 
which  were  greatly  applauded.     It  is  said  the  first  mo- 
tive of  his  going  upon  the  stage  was  to  enjoy  the  com- 
pany of  an  actress  for  whom  he  had  contracted  a  vio- 
lent fondness.  His  comedies  are  highly  esteemed.    And 
it  is  no  wonder  he  so  justly  represented  domestic  feuds, 
and  the  torments  of  jealous  husbands,  or  of  those  who 
have  reason  to  be  so  9  for  it  is  asserted  that  no  man  ever 
experienced  this  more  than  Moliere.     His  last  comedy 
was  Le  Malade  Imaginaire^  which  was  brought  on  'the 
stage  in  1673  >  ^^^  iVloliere  died  on  the  fourth  night 
of  its  representation  \  some  say  in  acting  the  very  part 
of  the  pretended  dead  man,  which  gave  some  exercise 
for  the  wits  of  the   time  *,  but  according  to  others  he 
died  in  his  bed  that  night,  from  the  bursting  of  a  vein* 
in  bis  lungs  by  coughing.     The  king,  as  a  last  mark 
of  hks  favour,  prevailed  with  the  archbishop  of  Paris  to 
suffer  him  to  be  buried  in  consecrated  ground  j  though 
he  had  irritated  the  clergy  by  his  Tartuff,     The  most 
esteemed  editions  of  his  works  are  that  of  Amsterdam, 
5  vols.  i2mo,  1699  'y  and  that  of  Paris,  6  vols*  4to,  1734. 
MOLINISTS,  in  ecclesiastical  history,  a  sect  in  the 
Komish  church,  who  follow  the  doctrine  and  sentiments 
of  the  Jesuit  Molina,  relating  to  sufficient  and  efficaci- 
ous grace.     He  taught  that  the  operations  of  divine 
grace  were  entirely  consistent  with  the  freedom  of  hu- 
man will  'j  and  he  introduced  a  new  kind  of  hypothesis 
to  remove  the  difficulties  attending  the  doctrines  of 
predestination  and  Uherty,  and  to  reconcile  the  jarring 
opinions  of  Augustines,  Thomists,  Semi-Pelagians,  au4 
other  contentious  divines.    -He  affirmed  that  the  de- 
cree of  predestination  to  eternal  glory  was  founded  up- 
on a  previous  knowledge  and  consideration  of  the  merits 
of  the  elect )  that  the  grace,  from  whose  operations  these 
merits  are  derived,  is  not  efficacious  by  itSH)wn  intrinsic 
power  only,  but  also  by  the  consent  of  our  own  will,  and 
because  it  is  administered  in  those  circumstances,  in  which 
the  Deity,  by  that  branch  of  his  knowledge  which  is 
called  scientia  media^  foresees  ttiat  it  will  be  efficacious. 
The  kind  of  prescience,  denominated  in  the  schools  aci- 
eniia  medioy  is  that  foreknowledge  of  future  contingents 
that  arises  from  an  acquaintance  with  the  nature  and 
(acuities  of  rational  beings,  of 'the  circumstances  in 
which  they  shall  be  placed,  of  the  objects   that  shall 
be  presented    to   them,  «.nd  of  the   influence  which 
their  ciccumstanccs  and  objects  must  have  on  their  ac- 
tions. 

M OLINOSISTS,  a  sect  among  the  Romanists,  who 
adhere  to  the  doctrine  of  Molinos.  These  are  the  same 
with  what  are  otherwise  called  QuteUsts^  whose  chief 
principle  was,  that  men  ought  to  annihilate  themselves 
in  order  to  be  united  to  Cod,  and  afterwards  remain  in 
quietness  of  mind,  withoot  being  troubled  for  what 
shall  happen  to  the  body.  Molinos,  the  author  of  those 
opinions,  was  a  Spanish  priest,  and  was  bom  in  1627. 
His  68  propositions  were  examined  in  1687  by  the 
pope  and  inquisitors^  who  decreed  that  his  doctrine  was 
fiUse  and  pernicious,  and  that  his  books  should  be  burn- 
ed. He  was  forced  to  recant  his  errors  publicly  in  tke« 
Dominican  church,  and  was  condemned  to  perpetu^ 
imprisonment.  He  was  then  60  years  old,  and  had 
been  spreading  hi^  doctrine  22  years  before.  He  died 
iu'prisoo  in  169^.         ^  .. 

MOLLUGOy  African  Cqickweed  j  a  genus  of 
t  Q  ^  .  plants 


M    O    L 


[    306    ] 


M    O    L 


MoHogo  plants  belonging  to  the  triandria  class,  and  in  the  na- 
il       tural  method  ranking  under  the  22cl  order,  Caryopkyllei, 
Molnsser.  3^^  BoTANY  Index, 

MOLLUSCAy  in  the  Linnsean  system,  one  of  the 
orders  of  vermes  or  worms.  These  are  simple  naked 
animals,  not  included  in  a  shell,  but  furnished  with 
limbs.     See  H^LMiKTHOLOGY  Index. 

MOLOCH,  a  false  god  of  the  Ammonites,  who  de- 
dicated their  children  to  biro,  by  making  them  **  pass 
through  tbe  fire,^*  as  the  Scriptures  express  it.  There 
are  various  opinions  concerning  this  method  of  conse- 
cration. Some  think,  the  children  leaped  over  a  fire 
sacred  to  Moloch  \  others,  that  they  passed  between 
two  fires  \  and  others,  that  they  were  really  burnt  in 
tbe  fire,  by  way  of  sacrifice  to  this  god..  There  is  foun- 
dation for  each  of  these  opinions.  For,  first,  it  was  usual 
among  the  pagans  to  lustrate  or  purify  with  fire  \  and, 
in  the  next  place,  it  is  expressly  said,  that  tbe  inha- 
bitants of  Sepharvaim  burnt  their  children  in  the  fire 
to  Anamelech  and  Adraraelech  ^  much  such  deities  as 
Moloch  of  the  Ammonites. 

Moses,  in  several  places,  forbids  the  Israelites  to  de- 
dicate their  children  to  this  god  as  the.  Ammonites  did, 
and  threatens  death  and  utter  extirpation  to  such  per- 
sons as  were  guilty  •f  this  abominable  idolatry  And 
there  is  great  probability  that  the  Hebrews  were  much 
addicted  to  tbe  worship  of  this  deity :  since  Amos,  and 
after  him  St  Stephen,  reproaches  them  with  having 
carried  along  with  them  into  the  wilderness  tbe  taber- 
nacle of  their  god  Moloch. 

Solomon  built  a  temple  to  Moloch  upon  tbe  mount 
of  Olives  \  and  Manasseh,  a  long  time  after,  imitated 
bis  impiety,  by  making  bis  son  pass  through  tbe  fire 
in  honour  of  Moloch.  It  was  chiefly  in  the  valley  of 
Topbet  and  Hinnom,  to  tbe  east  of  Jerusalem,  that  the 
Israelites  paid  their  idolatrous  worship  to  this  false  god 
of  the  Ammonites. 

There  are  various  sentiments  concerning  the  relatiim 
which  Molocfa  had  to  the  other  pagan  divinities.  Some 
believe  he  was  tbe  same  with  Saturn,  to  whom  it  is 
well  known  that  human  sacrifices  were  offered.  Others 
suppose  him  to  be  Mercury  \  others.  Mars ;  others,  Mi- 
thras \  and  others,  Venns.  Lastly,  Others  take  Moloch 
to  be  the  sun,  or  the  king  of  heaven.  Moloch  was 
likewise  caHed  Mikom  ;  as  appears  from  what  is  said 
of  Solomon,  that  be  went  after  Asbtarotb  the  abominar 
tion  of  die  Zidonians,  and  Milcom  the  abomination  of 
tbe  Ammonites. 

MOLOSSES,  Molasses,  or  Mektsses^  that  gross 
fluid  matter  remaining  of  sugar  after  refining,  and  which 
DO  boiling  will  bring  to  a  consistence  more  solid  than 
that  of  syrup  \  hence  also  called  syrup  ofsugar^ 

Properly,  niolosses  are  only  the  sediment  of  one- kind 
of  sugar  called  ckypre^  or  brown  sugar,  which  is  jthe  re- 
fuse of  other  sugars  not  to  be  whitened  or  reduced  into 
loaves. 

Molosses  are  much  qsed^  in  Holland  for  the  prepar»- 
tion  of  tobacco,  and  also  among  poor  people  instead  of 
sugar.  There  is  a  kind  of  brandy  or  spirit  made  of 
molosses  \  but  by.  some  held  exceedingly  unwholesome. 
See  below. 

Artificial  MoLOSSBS.  There  has  beei>  found  a  me- 
thod of  making  molosses  from,  apples  without  the  ad- 
dition of  sugar*  The  apple  that  succeeds  best  in  this 
•jpeta.tion  is  a  summer  sweeting  of  a.  middle  size,  plea* 


sant  to  the  taste,  and  so  full  of  juice  that  seven  bosleb 
will  yield  a  barrel  of  cyder. 

The  manner  of  making  it  is  this :  tbe  apples  are  to 
be^ound  and  pressed,  then  the  juice  is  to  be  boiled  v 
in  a  large  copper,  till  three  quarters  of  it  be  evapon- 
ted :  this  will  be  done  with  a  moderate  fire  in  about  six 
hours,  with  the  quantity  of  juice  above  mentiooed*,  by 
this  time  it  will  be  of  the  consistence  and  taste  as  well 
as  of  the  colour  of  molosses. 

This  new  molosses  serves  all  the  purposes  of  tbe  com- 
mon kind,  and  is  of  great  use  in  preserving  cyder.  Two 
quarts  of  it  put  into  a  barrel  of  racked  cjder,  will  pre- 
serve it,  and  give  it  an  agreeable  colour. 

The  invention  of  this  kind  of  molosses  was  owing  to 
Mr  Chandler  of  Woodstock  in  New  England,  who  liv- 
ing at  a  distance  from  the  sea,  and  where  the  com- 
mon molosaes  was  very  dear  and  scarce,  provided  thi> 
for  the  supply  of  his  own  family,  and  introduced  tbt 
practice  among  people  of  the  neighbourhood.  It  is 
to  be  observed,  that  this  sort  of  apple,  the  sweeting,  is 
of  great  use  in  making  cyder }  one  of  the  very  best 
kinds  we  know  being  made  of  it.  The  people  in  Nev 
England  also  feed  their  hogs  with  the  fallings  of  their 
orchards  of  tbese  apples  5  and  tbe  consequence  of  tbU 
is,  that  their  pork  is  tbe  finest  in  tbe  world. 

Molosses  Spirit ;  a  very  clean  and  pure  spirit,  mucb 
used  in  England,  and  made  from  molosses  or  common 
treacle  dissolved  in  water,  and  fermented  in  tbe  same 
manner  as  malt  or  tbe  common  malt  spirit.  See  Di- 
stillation. 

MOLOSSI,  a  people  of  Epirus,  who  inhabited 
that  part  of  tbe  country  which  was  called  Moitmia^  or 
MoiossuSf  from  King  Molossus,  a  son  of  Pyrrbus  and 
Andromache.  This  country  had  the  bay  of  Ambracia 
on  tbe  south,  and  tbe  country  of  the  Perrhaebeans  on 
the  east.  The  dogs  of  the  place  were  famous,  and  re- 
ceived tbe  name  of  Molossi  among  the  Romans.  Do- 
dona  was  the  capital  of  the  country,  according  to  some 
writers.  Others,  however,  reckon  it  as  the  chief  cit j 
of  Thesprotia. 

MOLOSSUS,  in  the  Greek  and  Latin  poetiy,  t 
foot  consisting  of  three  long  syllables*.  As  audirij  can- 
tahant^  virtu  tern. 

It  takes  its  name  either  from  a  dance  in  use  among 
the  people  called  Molossi  or  Epirota;  or  from  the  temple 
of  Jupiter  Molossus,  where  odes  were  rang,  in  which 
this  foot  bad  a  greats  share  ',  or  else  because  the  march 
of  the  Molossi,  when  they  went  to  tbe  combat,  was 
composed  of  these  feet,  ur  had  the  cadence  thereof. 
The  same  foot  was  also  called  among  tbe  ancients, 
Vertumnus^  txtensipes^  hippiuSy  et  canmus, 

MOLUCILLA,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the 
didynamia  class,  and  in  the  natural  method  ranking 
under  the  4  2d  order,  Verticillatte.   See  Botakt  Indtx. 

MOLTEN-GREASE.     See  Farriery,  N**  499. 

MOLUCCA  IsLAKDS,  lie  in  the  East  Indian  sea 
under  the  line;  of  which  there  are  five  principal,  n&me- 
ly,  Ternate,  Tydor,  Machian,  Motyr,  and  Bacbiao. 
The  largest  of  them  is  hardly  30  miles  in  circumfe- 
rence. They  produce  neither  com,  rice,  nor  cattle, 
except  goats  :  but  they  have  oranges,  lemons,  and 
other  fruits ;  and  are  most  remarkable  for  spices,  espe- 
cially cloves.  They  have  large  snakes,  which  are  not 
venomous,  and  very  dangerous  land  crocodiles.  At 
present  they  have  three  kings)  aad  the  Dutch,  vba 


n 

I 

IsltBdi 


MOM 


[    307     ] 


M    O    N 


ry  strong  here,  keep  oat  all  other  European  na- 
being  jealous  of  their  spice  trade.  The  religion 
stry^  but  there' are  many  Mahometans.  They 
[iscovered  by  the  Portuguese  in  1511,  who  settled 
be  coast ;  but  the  Dutch  drove  them  away,  and 
nr  the  masters  of  all  these  islands. 
>LWITZy  a  town  of  Silesia/ in  the  province  of 
.a,  remarkable  for  a  battle  gained  by  the  Prus- 
)ver  the  Austrians  in  1741.  £.  Long.  16.  45. 
t.  50*  26.  ^ 

'LY.  The  name  of  this  plant  is  rendered  fa- 
•y  Homer :  and  hence  has  been  much  inquired 
s  to  its  true  sense,  by  the  botanists  of  almost  all 
The  old  interpreters  of  Homer  explain  this 
by  the  **  wild  roe  ;^'  and  the  only  reason  for 
t  that  at  some  time,  probably  long  after  the 
f  Homer,  the  people  of  Cappadocia  called  the 
le  moiy.  But  this  plant  is  wholly  different  from 
oly  of  Homer,  which  Theophrastus  affirms 
1  his  time  in  Arcadia  in  great  plenty,  and  had 
id  bulbous  root  like  an  onion,  and  long  and 
leaves  like  the  squill.  On  the  whole,  the  moly 
ner  seems  to  have  been'  a  species  of  allium  or 

LTBDENA,  a  metal.    See  Chemistry  and 
:alogy  Index. 

J^IBAZA,  or  MoNBAZA,  a  to¥m  of  Africa,  in 
id  of  the  same  name,  with  a  castle  and  a  fort; 
on  the  eastern  coast,  opposite  to  the  country  of 
Lza  in  Zanguebar,  75  miles  south  of  Melinda,  and 
to  Portugal.     £•  Long.  39.  30.  S.  Lat.  3.  15. 
IBAZA,  a  country  of  Afri9&  in  Zanguebar,  sub- 
the  Portugese,  from  whence  they  export  slaves, 
vory,  rice,   flesh,    and  other  provisions,  with 
Jiey  supply  the  settlements  in  Brasil.    The  king 
country  being  a  Christian,  had  a  quarrel  with  the 
iiese  governor,  took  the  castle  by  assault  in  163 1, 
^lahometan,  and  murdered  all  the  Christians*,  bat 
}  they  became  masters  of  the  territory  again. 
^£NT,  in  the  doctrine  of  time,  an  instant,  or 
It  minute  and  indivisible  part  of  duration. 
MENTUM,  in  Mechanics^  signifies  the  same 
ipetns,  or  the  quantity  of  motion  in  a  moving 
which  is  always  equal  to  the  quantity  of  matter 
ied  into  the  velocity;   or,  which  is  the   same 
it  may  be  considered  as  a  rectangle  under  the 
y  of  matter  and  velocity.     See  Mechanics. 
MORDICA,  Male  Balsam  Apple  ;  a  genus 
ts  belonging  to  the  moncecia  class  \  and  in  the 

method  ranking  under  the  34th  order,  Cucurbi' 

See  Botany  Index. 
^fUS,  in  fabulous  history,  the  god  of  raillery, 
jester  of  the  celestral  assembly,  and  who  ridi- 
loth  gods  and  men.  Being  chosen  by  Vulcan, 
le,  and  Minerva,  to  give  his  judgment  concem- 
ir  works,  he  blamed  them  all :  Neptune  for  not 
;  his  bull  witli  horns  before  his  eyes,  in  order 
might  give  a  surer  blow ;  Minerva  for  building 
e  that  could  not  be  removed  in  case  of  bad 
mrs  \  and  Vulcan,  for  making  a  man  without 
>w  in  his  breast,  that  his  treacheries  might  be 
For  bis  free  reflections  upon  the  gods,  Momus 
kven  from  heaven.  He  is  generally  represented 
a  mask  from  his  face,  and  holding  a  small  figure 
land. 


^  MONA,  in  Ancient  Geogn^Ay,  two  islands  of  this     Mona 
name  in  the  sea  lying  between  Britain  and  Ireland.        |) 
The  one  described  by  Caesar,  as  situated  in  the  middle  Monarchy^ 
passage  between  both  islands,  called  Montueda  (Ptole*        » 
my)  'j  Monapioj  or  Monabia  (Pliny),  is  supposed  to  be 
the  isle  of  Man.-» Another  Mona  (Tacitus)  \  an  island 
more  to  the  south,  separated  from  the  coast  of  the  Or- 
dovices  by  a  narrow  strait.     The  ancient  seat  of  the 
.Druids.    Now  called  Anglesey^  the  island  of  the  An* 
gles  or  English. 

Mona,  an  island  of  the  Baltic  sea,  south-west  of  the 
island  of  Zealand,  subject  to  Denmark.  £.  Long.  I2. 
30.  N.  Lat.  $y  20. 

Mona.    See  Inchcolm. 

MONACA,  a  smi^U  but  handsome  and  strong  town 
of  Italy,  in  the  territory  of  Genoa,  with  a  castle,  cita- 
del, and  a  good  harbour.  It  is  seated  on  a  eraggy  rock, 
and  had  its  own  prince,  under  the  protection  of  France » 
It  was  united  to  France  early  in  the  Bevolution,  hut 
its  independence  was  restored  by  the  peace  of  Paris  in 
1814.     £.  Long.  7.  33.  N.  Lat.  43.  48. 

MONAD.    See  Lkibnitzian  PMhacphy, 

MONADFLPHIA,  (from  fuut,  aUme,  and  ^pm, 
a  brotherhood;)  a  ^  single  brotherhood:**  The  name 
of  the  i6th  class  in  Linnseiis's  sexual  system, consisting  of 
plants  with  hermaphrodite  flowers  j  in  which  all  the  sta- 
mina are  united  below  into  one  body  or  cylinder,  through 
which  passes  the  pistillum.    See  Botany  Index. 

MONAGHAN,  a  county  of  Ireland,  situated  in 
the  province  of  Ulster,  is  bounded  by  Tyrone  on  the 
north,  Armagh  on  the  east,  Cavan  and  Louth  on  the 
south,  and  Fermanagh  on  the  west.  '  It  is  a  mountain- 
ous tract,  but  in  some  places  is  well  improved.  It  con- 
tains 1 70,090  Iri^h  plantation  acres,  and  is  about  30 
miles  long  and  22  broad.  ^  It  has  a  considerable  linen 
trade,  and  sends  two  members  to  parliament. 

Monaghan,  the  capital  town  of  the  county  of  that 
name,  is  distant  62  miles  from  Dublin,  and  gives  title 
of  baron  to  the  family  of  Blayney.  It  was  anciently 
called  Muinechan.  An  abbey  was  founded  here  in  a 
very  early  age,  of  which  Moelodius  the  son  of  Aodh 
was  abbot.  In  1462,  a  monastery  for  conventual  Fran- 
ciscans was  erected  on  the  site  of  this  abbey,  which  was 
granted  on  the  general  suppression  of  monasteries  to 
Edward  Withe,  and  a  castle  has  been  since  erected  on 
the!  site  by  Edward  Lord  Blayney. 
.  MONANDRIA,  (from  fn^fH^  ahne^  and  an^  a  man 
or  husband)^  the  name  of  the  first  class  in  Linnceus^s 
sexual  system  \  consisting  of  plants  with  hermaphrodite 
flowers,  which  have  only  one  stamen. 

MONARCHY,  a  large  state  governed  by  one  \  or 
a  state  where  the  supreme  power  is  lodged  in  the  hands 
of  a  single  person.  The  word  comes  from  the  Greek 
f**^^*VCMi  *'  ^^^^  ^^<>  governs  alone  'j^  formed  of  fUfH^ 
soius^  and  «{;^,  imperium^  '^  government.'*  Of  the  three 
forms  of  government,  viz.  democracy,  aristocracy,  and 
monarchy,  the  last  is  the  most  powerful,  all  the 
sinews  of  government  being  knit  together,  and  united 
in  the  hand  of  the  prince  \  but  then  there  is  imminent 
danger  of  his  employing  that  strength  to  improvident 
or  oppressive  purposes.  As  a  democracy  is  the  best  cal<- 
culated  to  direct  the  end  of  a  law^  and  an  aristocracy  to 
invent  the  means  by  which  that  end  shall  be  obtained, 
a  monarchy  is  most  fit  for  carrying  those  means  into  exe- 
cution. 

Q  q  a  The 


M    Q    N  [308 

Monarchy.  The  most  anoient  monftrcky  m9M  that  of  the  Assy. 
riaas,  wliicb  was  foonded  soon  after  the  deloge.  We 
usually  reckon  four  grand  or  universal  monarchies ;  the 
Assyriani  Persian,  Grecian,  and  Roman  ^  though  St 
Augastine  makes  them  but  two  ^  viz.  those  of  Baby- 
lon and  Borne.  Bclus  is  placed  at  tlie  head  of  the 
series  of  Ai'syrian  kings  who  reigned  at  Babylon,  and 
is  by  profane  anthors  esteemed  the  founder  of  it,  and 
by  some  the  same  whom  the  Scriptures  call  Nimrod. 
xbe  principal  Assyrian  kings  afler  Belus  ivere  Nious, 
irho  built  Nineveh,  and  removed  the  seat  of  empire  to 
it^  Semiramis,  who  disgoising  her  sex,  took  posses* 
sion  of  the  kingdom  instead  of  her  son,  and  was  killed 
and  succeeded  by  her  son  Ninyas  ^  and  Sardanapalns, 
the  last  of  the  Assyjrian  monarchs^  and  more  effeminate 
than  a  woman.  After  his  death  the  Assyrian  empire 
was  split  into  three  separate  kingdoms,  viz.  the  Median, 
Assyrian,  and  Babylonian.  The  first  king  of  the  Me- 
dian kingdom  was  Arbaces ;  and  this  kingdom  lasted 
till  the  time  of  Astyages,  who  was  subdued  and  divested 
of  his  kingdom  by  Cyrus. 

In  the  time  of  Gyms  there  arose  a  new  and  second 
monarchy  called  the  Persian,  which  stood  upwards  of 
203  years  from  Cyrus,  whose  reign  began  A.  M.  3468, 
to  Darius  Codomannus,  who  was  conquered  by  AJex- 
andcr,"*  and  the  empire  translated  to  the  Greeks  A.  M. 
3674.-^X110  first  monarch  was  Cyrus,  founder  of  the 
empire.  2.  Cambyses,  the  son  of  Cyrus.  3.  Smer- 
dis.  4.  Darius,  the  son  of  Hystaspis,  who  reigned 
521  years  before  Christ*  5.  Xerxes,  who  reigned  485 
years  before  Christ.  6.  Artaxerxes  Longimanns,  who 
reigned  464  years  before  Christ.  7.  Xerxes,  the  se- 
cond. 8;  Ochus,  or  Darius,  called  Notiius,  424 
years  before  Christ.  9.  Artaxerxes  Mnemon,  405 
years  before  Christ,  to.  Artaxerxes  Ochus,  359  years 
before  Christ.  Si.  Arses,  338  years  before  Christ* 
1 2.  Darius  Codomannus,  336  years  before  Christ,  who 
vrsLS  defeated  by  Alexander  the  Great,  and  deprived 
of  his  kingdom  and  life  about  331  years  before  Christ: 
the  dominion  of  Persia  after  his  death  was  translated  to 
the  Greeks. 

The  third  monarchy  was  the  Grecian.  As  Alex- 
ander, when  he  died,  did  not  declare  who  should  suc- 
ceed him,  there  started  up  as  many  kings  as  there  were 
commanders.  At  first  they  governed  the  provinces 
that  were  divided  amdng  them  under  the  title  of  vice- 
roys^ but  when  the  family  of  Alexander  the  Great 
was  extinct,  they  took  upon  them  the  name  of  kings* 
Hence,  in  process  of  time,  the  whole  empire  of  Alex- 
ander produced  four  distinct  kingdoms,  viz.  i.  The 
Macedonian  ^  the  kings  of  which,  after  Alexander, 
were  Antipater,  Cassander,  Demotrtus  Poliorcetes,  Se« 
leucus  Nicanor,  Meleager,  Antigonus  Doson,  Philip, 
and  Perseus,  under  whom  tira  Macedonian  kingdom 
was  reduced  to  the  form  of  a  Boman  province.  2.  The 
Asiatic  kingdom,  which  upon  the  death  of  Alexander 
fell  to  Antigonus, .  comprehending  that  country  now 
called  Natolia,  together  with  some  other  regions  be- 
yond Mount  Taurus.  From  this  kingdom  proceeded 
two  lesser  ones,  viz.  that  of  Pergamus,  wliose  last  king. 
Attains,  appointed 'the  Roman  people  to  be  his  heir^ 
and  Pontos,  reduced  by  the  Romans  into  the  form  of  a 
province,  when  they  had  subdued  the  last  king,  Mith- 
ridates.  3.  The  Syrian,  of  whose  twenty-two  kings  the 
most  celebrated  were,  Seleueus  Nicanor,  founder  of 

4 


TJO. 


3  M.  O    N 

kin^^dom*,    Aatiochus  Deus^    Antiochus  the  Great;  ^tfloi.Rb 
Antiochus  £piphanes  ^  and  Tigranes,  who  was  coo-      |i 
quered  by  the  Romans  under  Pompey,  and  Syria  re-  ^'O^ttR 
duced  into  the  form  of  a  Reman  province.    4.  The 
Egyptian,  which  was  formed  by  the  Greeks  ia  Egypt, 
and  flourished  near  240  years  under  1 2  kings,  the  prin- 
cipal of  whom  wero,  Ptolemy  Lagus,  its  founder  ^  Pto- 
lemy Philadelphus,  founder  of  the  Alexandrian  Ubrarr; 
and  Queen  Cleopatra,  who  was  overcome  by  Augustus, 
in  consequence  of  which  Egypt  was  added  to  the  domi- 
nion of  the  Romans. 

The  fourth  monarchy  was  tlie  Roman,  which  lasted 
244  years,  from  the  building  of  the  city  until  the  time 
when  the  royid  power  was  abrogated.  The  kings  of 
Rome  were  Romulus,  its  founder  \  Numa  Pompilius  ^ 
Tnllus  Hostilius  ^  Ancus  Martius  \  Taiquinius  Tris- 
cus^  Servius  Tullius^  and  Tarquin.  the  Proud,  who 
wa|i  banished,  and  with  whom  terminated  the  regal 
power. 

There  seems  in  reality  no  necessity  to  make  the 
Medes,  Persians,  and  Greeks,  succeed  to  the  \Thole 
power  of  the  Assyrians,  to  multiply  the  number  of 
tlie  monarchies.  It  was  the  same  empire^  still  j  aod 
the  several  changes  that  happened  in  it  did  not  coosti- 
t.uto.  diflerent  monarch ies.  Thus  tho  Roman  empmr 
was  successively  governed  by  princes  of  different  na- 
tions, yet  without  any  new  monarchy  being  formed 
thereby.  Rome,  therefore,  may  be  said  to  have  inuoe- 
diately  succeeded  Rabylon  in  the  empire  of  the  world. 
See  Empire. 

Of  monarchies  some  are  absolute  and  despotic,  where 
the  will  of  the  monarch  is  uncontroulable  \  otiiers  are 
limited,  whero  the  princess  authority  is  restrained  by 
laws,  and  part  of  the  supreme  power  lodged  in  other 
hands,  as  in  Britain.    See  Government. 

Some  monarchies  again  are  hereditary,  where  the 
succession  devolves  immediately  from  father  to  sod  ; 
and  others  are  elective^  where,  on  the  death  of  tbe 
monarch,  his  successor  is  appointed  by  election,  a&  iu 
Poland. 

Ftfth^MoHAiiCHY  Men^  in  the  ecclesiastical  history 
of  England,  were  a  set  of  wronged-beaded  and  turbu- 
lent enthusiasts  who  arose  in  the  time  of  Cromwell,  and 
who  expected  Christ's  sudden  appearance  upon  earth  to 
establish  a  new  kingdom  ^  aod,  acting  in  consequeace 
of  this  illusion,  aimed  at  the  subversion  of  all  human 
government. 

MONARDA,  Indian  Horehound,  a  gepus  of 
plants  belonging  to  the  diandria  class  j  and  in  the  nato* 
ral  method  ranking  under  the  42d  order,  Veriidllatg, 
See  Botany  Index, 

MONASTEREVAN,  a  post  town  of  Inland,  is 
the  county  of  Kildare  and  province  of  Leinster,  36 
miles  from  Dublin,  so  called  from  a  magnificent  abb^y 
which  was  founded  here,  in  which  St  Evan  in  the  be- 
ginning of  the  7th  century  placed  a  number  of  owok^ 
&om  South  Monster,  and  which  had  the  privilege  of 
being  a  sanctuary.  The  consecrated  bell,  which  be* 
longed  to  this  saint,  was  on  solemn  trials  swoixi  apoa 
by  the  whole  tribe  of  the  EoganachtF,  and  was  alwajs 
committed  to  the  care  of  the  Mac  Evans,  heieditar; 
chief  justices  of  Munster.  The  abbot  of  this  house  sat  as 
a  baron  in  parliament.— -At  the  general  sappressioQ  oi 
monasteries,  this  abbey  was  gxauQted  to  Lord  Aodlej, 

who  assigned  it  to  Yiscottnt  Ely.    tt  afiterwards  cava 

icto 


M    O  N 


C    309    3 


M    O    N 


the  family  of  Moor,  earls  of  Ditu^beda,  and  has 
beantifuliy  repaired  by  the  present  Lord  Drogheda^ 
wearing  the  venerable  appearance  of  au  abbey. 
s  is  a  nursery  at  Monasterevan  for  the  charter 
Is  of  the  province  of  Lelnster  \  and  the  grand  ca* 
is  been  carried  up  to  this  town  from  Dublin^  since 
I  it  has  been  much  improved  and  enlarged  with 
a1  new  buildings. 

^NASTERYy  a  convent  or  house  built  for  the- 
tion  of  religious  ^  whether  it  be  abbey,  priory ,, 
^ry,  or  Uia  like. 

)N ASTER Y- is  only  properly  applied  to  the  houses 
>nk8,  mendicant  friarsy  and  nuns.  The  rest  are 
properly  called  religious  houses.  For  the  osigin 
nasteries,  see  Monastic  and  MoKK. 
e  houses  belonging  to  the  several  religious  orders 
I  obtained  in  England  and  Wales  were,  cathe- 

colleges,  abbeys,  priories,  preceptories,  com- 
rie^,  hospitals,  frianes,  hermitages,  chantries, 
ree  chapels*  These  were  under  the  direction  and 
gement  of  various  officers.  The.  dissolution  of 
s  of  this  kind  began  so  early  as  the  year  131 2, 
the  Templars  were  suppressed^  and  in  1323  their 
,  cbarches,  advowsons,  and  liberties,  here  in  £ng- 

were  given  by  17  Ed.  II.  st.  3.  to  the  prior  and 
ren  of  the  hospital  of  St  John  at  Jerusalem.  In  the 

«39^>  '437i  »44>»  M59i  »497»  ijojf  "5^8,  and 
,  several  other  houses  were  dissolved,  and  their 
ucs  settled  on  different  colleges  in  Oxford  and 
ridge.  Soon  after  the  last  period,  Cardinal  Wol- 
by.  license  of*  the  king  and  pope,  obtained  a  dis- 
on  of  above  30  religious  houses  for  the  founding 
endowing  his.  colleges  at  Oxford  and  Ipswich, 
t  the  same  time  a  bull  was  granted  by  the  same 
to  Cardinal  Wolsey  to  suppress  monasteries,  where 
w^re  not  above  six  monks,  to  tbe  value  of  8000 
5  a^year,  for  endowing  Windsor  and  King^s  Col- 
n  Cambridge  ;  and  twp  other  bulls  were  granted 
rdioals  Wolsey  and  Campeius,  where  there  wer0 
hstn  twelve  monks,  and  to  annex  them  to  the 
^r  monasteries  ^  and  another  boll  to  the  same  car* 
(  to  inquire  abont  abbeys  to  be  suppressed  in  or- 

0  be   made  cathedrals.     Although  nothing  •.p- 
to  have  been  done  in  consequence  of  these  bulls, 

loiives  which  induced  Wolsey  and  many  other» 
ppfiess  these  booses  was  the  desire  of  promoting 
>{ig  ^  and  Archbishop  Cranmer  engaged  in  it  with 
ir  of  carrying  on  the  Reformation.  There  were 
causes  that  concurred  to  bring  on  their  ruin : 

of  the  religioua  were  loose  and  vicious;  tbe 
s  were  generally  thought  to  be  in  their  hearts 
M^d  to.  the  pope's  supremacy ;  their  revenues 
not  employed  according  to  the  intent  of  tbe  do- 

many  clieats  in  images,  feigned  miracles,  and 
erfeit  relicks,  had  been  discovered,  which  brought 
looks  into  disgrace  ^  the. Observant  friars  had  op- 

1  tbe  king's  divorce  from  Queen  Catharine  ;  and 
cirdUDstances  operated,  in  concurrence  with  the 

s  want  of  a  supply  and  the  people's  desire  to  save 
money^  to  forwaid  a  molion  in  parliament,  that 
der  to  support  the  kingV  statfi  and  supply  his 
B,  al^  the*  religions  houses .  migtit  be  comfenred  4]p- 
e  crown 'Whicb  were  .not  able  to  spend  above  20ol« 


it 


and  an  act  ww  pswed  fofr.  that  pvrpote  27  *  ooa  houses. 


Hen.  VIII.  c.  28.  By  this  act  ^bout  380  houses  were  Monutcrf; 
dissolved,  and  a  revenue  of  30,0001.  or  32,000!.  a-year 
came  to  the  crown  >  besides  about  ioo,oooi.  in  plate 
and  jewels.  Tbe  suppression  of  these  houses  occasion- 
ed discontent,  and  at  length  an  open  rebellion :  when 
this  was  appeased,  the  king  resolved  to  suppress  the 
rest  of  the  monasteries,  and  appointed  a  new  visita- 
tion :  which  caused  tbe  greater  abbeys  to  be  surren- 
dered apace;  and  it  was  enacted  by  31  Henry  VIII. 
c*  13.  that  all  monasteries,  &c.  which. have  been  sur- 
rendered since  the  4th  of  February,  in  the  27th  year 
of  his  majesty's  reign,  and  which  hereafter  shall  be  sur- 
rendered, shall  be  vested  in  the  king.  Tlie  knights  of 
St  John  of  Jerusalem  were  also  suppressed  by  the  32 
Henry  VIII.  c.  24.  The  suppression  of  these  greater 
houses  by  these  two  acts  produced  a  revenue  to  the 
king  of  above  ioo,oool.  a- year,  besides  a  large  sum  in 
plate  and  jcweb.  The  last  act  of  dissolution  in  this 
king's  reign  was  tbe  act  of  37  Heiu*y  VIII.  c.  4- 
for  dissolving  colleges,  free  chapels,  chantries,  &c. 
which  act  was  farther  enforced  by  i  £dw.  VI.  c.  14. 
By  this  act  were  suppressed  90  colleges,  no  hospitals, 
and  2374  chantries  and  free  chapels.  The  number  of 
houses  and  places  suppressed  from  fii'st  to  last,  so  far  as 
any  calculations  appear  to  have  been  made,  seems  to  boL 
as  follow : 

Of  lesser  monasteries,  of  which  we  have  tbe  va- 
luation, 
Of  greater  monasteries, 
Belonging  to  tbe  hospitallers. 
Colleges, 
Hospitals, 
Chantries-  and  free  chapels, 

Total  3182 
Besides  the  friars  houses  and  those  suppressed  by  Wol- 
sey, and  many  small  houses  of  which  wc  have  no  p£u:ti* 
cular  accounL 

The  sum  total  of  tbe  clear  yearly  revenue  of  the 
several  houses  at  the  time  of  their  dissolution,  of  whicif 
we  have  any  account,  seems  to  be  as  follow  : 
Of  the  greater  monasteries,  L.  1 04,9  x 9 

Of  all  those  of  the  lesser  monasteries 

of  which  we  have  the  valuation, 
Knights  hospitallers  head  house  in 

London, 
We  have  the  valuation  of  only  28*  of 

their  houses  in  the  country. 
Friars  houses  of  which  we  have  the 

valuation. 

Total  L.140,784  19  3^ 
If  proper  allowances  are  made  for  the  lesser  monaste- 
ries and  houses  not  included  in  this  estimate,  and  for 
tbe  plate,  &c.  which  came  into  the  bands  of  the  king, 
by  the  dissolution^  and  for  the  value  of  money  at  that 
time,  which  was  at  least  six  times  as  much  as  at  pre- 
sent, and  also  consider-  that  tbe  estimate  of  the  lands 
was  generally  supposed  to  be  much  under  the  real  worth, 
we  must  conclude  their  whole  revenues  to  have  been, 
inunense^.. 

It  does  not  appear  that  any  computation  hath  been 
made  of  the  number  of  persons  contained  in. the  religif 


^3     Si 


29,702 

I  lof 

2385 

12      S 

3026 

9    5 

751 

a  .oi: 

TjiQse 


M    O    N 


[    310 


10,000 


5347 


Monastery,  Those  of  the  lesser  monasteries  dissolved  by  27 
Monastic.       Hen.  VIII.  were  reckoned  at  about 

If  we  suppose  the  colleges  and  hospitals  to  have 
conlalned  a  proportionable  number,  these  will 
make  about  ... 

'  If  we  reckon  the  number  in  the  greater  mona- 
steries, according  to  the  proportion  of  their 
*  revenues,  they  will  be  about  35,000  ^  but 
as  probably  they  had  larger  allowances  in 
proportion  to  their  number  than  those  of 
the  lesser  monasteries,  if  we  abate  upon  that 
account  5000,  they  will  then  be  -         30,000 

One  for  each  chantry  and  free  chapel,  -         2374 


Total,  47,721 
But  as  there  were  probably  more  than  one  person  to 
officiate  in  several  of  the  free  chapels,  and  there  were 
other  houses  which  are  not  included  within  this  calcu- 
lation, perhaps  they  may  be  computed  in  one  general 
estimate  at  about  50,000.  As  there  were  pensions 
paid  to  almost  all  those  of  the  greater  monasteries,  the 
king  did  not  immediately  come  into  the  fiiU  enjoy- 
ment of  their  whole  revenues :  however,  by  means  of 
what  he  did  receive,  he  founded  six  new  bishoprics, 
viz.  those  of  Westminster  (which  was  changed  by 
Queen  Elizabeth  into  a  deanery,  with  twelve  prebends 
and  a  school),  Peterborough,  Chester,  Gloucester, 
Bristol,  and  Oxford.  And  in  eight  other  sees  he 
founded  deaneries  and  chapters,  by  converting  the 
priors  and  monks  into  deans  and  prebendaries,  viz. 
Canterbury,  Winchester,  Durham,  Worcester,  Roche- 
ster, Norwich,  Ely,  and  Carlisle.  He  founded  also  the 
colleges  of  Christ-church  in  Oxford  and  Trinity  in 
Cambridge,  and  finished  King^s  college  there.  He 
likewise  founded  professorships  of  divinity,  law,  physic, 
and  of  the  Hebrew  and  Greek  tongues,  in  both  the 
said  universities.  He  gave  the  house  of  Greyfriars  and 
St  Bartholomew's  hospital  to  the  city  of  London,  and  a 
perpetual  pension  to  the  poor  knights  of  Windsor,  and 
laid  out  great  sums  in  building  and  fortifying  many 
ports  ill  the  channel.  It  is  observable,  upon  the  whole, 
that  the  dissolution  of  these  houses  was  an  act,  not  of 
the  church,  but  of  the  state  ^  in  the  period  preceding 
the  Reformation,  by  a  king  and  parliament  of  the 
Roman  catholic  communion  in  all  points  except  the 
king's  supremacy  ^  to  which  the  pope  himself,  by  his 
bulls  and  licenses,  had  led  the  way. 

MONASTIC,  something  belonging  to  monks,  or 
the  monkish  life.  The  monastic  profession  is  a  kind 
of  civil  death,  which  in  all  worldly  matters  has  the 
same  eflfect  with  the  natural  death.  The  council  of 
Trent,  Sec.  fix  sixteen  years  for  the  age  at  which  a 
person  may  be  admitted  into  the  monastical  state. 

St  Anthony  is  the  person  who,  in  the  fourth  century, 
first  instituted  ,  the  monastic  life  ^  as  St  Pacbomius, 
in  the  same  century,  is  said  to  have  first  set  on  foot  the 
coenobitic  life,  i'.  e.  regular  communities  of  religious. 
In  a  short  time  the  deserts  of  Egypt  became  inhabited 
with  a  set  of  solitaries,  who  took  upon  them  the  monastic 
profession.  St  Basil  carried  the  monkish  humonr  into 
the  east,  where  he  composed  a  rule  which  afterwards 
obtained  through  a  great  part  of  the  west. 

In  the  nth  century  the  monastic  discipline  was 
grown  very  remiss.     St  Odo  first  began  to  retrieve  it 

3 


]  M    O    N 

in  the  monastery  pf  Cluny  j  that  monastery,  by  the  Moniu 
conditions  of  its  erection,  was  put  under  the  immediate       i| 
protection  of  the  holy  see ,  with  a  prohibition  to  all  ^o[>(t^ 
powers,  both  secular  and  ecclesiastical,  to  distarb  the  y    ^ 
monkH  in  the  possession  of  their  efiects  or  the  election  of 
their  abbot.     In  virtue  hereof  they  pleaded  an  exemp- 
tion from  the  jurisdiction  of  the  bishop,  and  extended 
this  privilege  to  all  the  houses  dependent  on  Cluoj. 
This  made  the  first  congregation  of  several  houses, 
under  one  chiei  immediately  subject  to  the  pope,  so 
as  to  constitute  one  body,  or,  as  they  now  call  it,  one 
reiigiou.^  order.     Till  then,  each  monastery  was  inde 
pendent  and  subject  to  the  bishop.     See  Monk. 

MONDA,  or  Munda,  in  Ancient  Geography ,  a 
river  of  Lusitania,  running  mid-way  from  east  to  ^est 
into  the  Atlantic,  between  the  Durius  and  Tagus,  and 
washing  Conimbrica.  Now  the  Mondego^  a  river  of 
Portugal,  which  running  bj  Coimbra,  falb  into  the 
AtliMitic,  30  miles  below  it. 

MONDAY,  the  second  day  of  the  week,  so  called 
as  being  anciently  sacred  to  the  moon  ^  q,  d,  moon-day. 

MONDOVI,  a  considerable  town  of  Italy,  la 
Piedmont ;  with  a  citadel,  university,  and  bi^bop^s 
see.  It  belongs  to  the  king  of  Sai*dinia,  is  largt*  and 
populous,  and  is  seated  in  £.  Long.  7.  40.  N.   Lat. 

44- 33- 

MONEMUGI,  an  empire  in  the  south  of  Africa, 

has  Zanguebar  on  the  east,  Monomotapa  on  the  sooth, 

Motamba  and  IVf  akoko  on  the  west,  and  Abyssinia  on 

the  north  and  partly  to  the  east,  though  its  boundaries 

that  way  cannot  be  ascertained.     It  is  divided  into  the 

kingdoms  of  Mujaco,  Makoko   or   Ansiko,    Gingiro, 

Cambate,  Alaba,  and  Monemugi  Proper.      This  last 

lies  in  the  middle  of  the  torrid  zone,  and  about  the 

equinoctial  line,  south  of  Makoko,  west  of  Zanguebar, 

north  of  Monomotapa,  and  east  of  Congo  and  of  the 

northern  parts  of  Monomotapa.     The  country  known, 

abounds  with  gold,  silver,  copper  mines,  and  elephants. 

The  natives  clothe  themselves  in  silks  and  cottons,  which 

they  buy  of  strangers,  and  wear  collars  of  transparent 

amber  beads,  brouglit  them  from  Cambaya  :  which  beads 

serve  also  instead  of  money  \  gold  and  silver  being  too 

common,  and  of  little  value  among  them. 

Their  monarch  always  endeavours  to  be  at  peace 
with  the  princes  round  about  him,  and  to  keep  an 
open  trade  with  Quitoa,  Melinda,  and  Mombaza,  on 
the  east,  and  with  Congo  on  the  west :  from  all  which 
places  the  black  merchants  resort  thither  for  gold. 
The  Portuguese  merchants  report,  that  on  the  east 
side  of  Monemugi  there  is  a  great  lake  full  of  small 
islands,  abounding  with  all  sorts  of  fowl  and  cattle,  and 
inhabited  by  negroes.  They  relate  also,  that  on  the 
main  land  eastward  they  heard  sometimes  the  ringing  of 
bells,  and  that  one  could  observe  buildings  very  much 
like  churches  \  and  that  from  these  parts  came  men  of 
a  brown  and  tawney  complexion,  who  traded  with  those 
islanders,  and  with  the  people  of  MonemugL  This 
country  abounds  in  palm  wine,  oil,  and  honey. 

MONETARIUS,  or  Moneter,  a  name  which 
antiquaries  and  medallists  give  to  those  who  struck  the 
ancient  coins  or  moneys. 

Many  of  the  old  Koman,  &c.  coins  have  the  name 
of  the  monetariusy  either  written  at  length,  or  at  least 
the  initial  letters  of  it*    See  Medal* 

MONEY. 


[    3'i     ] 


MONEY. 


rONEY,.  A  piece  of  matter,  commonly  metal,  to 
^  wbichpoblic  authority  has  affixed  a  certain  value 
weight  to  serve  as  a  medium  in  commerce.  See 
N,  Commerce,  Medals,  and  Bank  ^  also  the  ar- 
!s  Banking,  Coinage,  and  Exchange,  in  the 

PLEMENT. 

loney  is  usually  divided  into  real  or  effective^  and 
jinary  or  money  of  account ^ 
.  Real  Money » 

.  History  of  real  money.  Real  money  includes  all 
9,  or  species  of  gold,  silver,  copper,  and  the  like ; 
;h  have  course  in  common,  and  do  really  exist. 
1  are  guineas,  pistoles,  pieces  of  eight,  ducats,  8cc.. 
eal  money,  civilians  obser\'e,  has  three  essential 
ities,  viz.  matter,  form,  and  weight  or  value, 
or  the  matter,  copper  is  that  thought  to  have  been 
coined  ^  afterwards  silver  j  and  lastly  gold,  as  be- 
the  most  beautiful,  scarce,  cleanly,  divisible,  and 
'■  of  all  metals.  * 

be  degrees  of  goodness  are  expressed  in  gold  by 
ts  ;  and  in  silver  by  pennyweights,  &c.  For  there 
several  reasons  for  not  coining  them  pure  and  with- 
&lloy,  viz.  the  great  loss  and  expence  in  refining 
I,  the  necessity  of  hardening  them  to  make  them 
^  durable,  and  the  scarcity  of  gold  and  silver  in 
L  C9uiitries.     See  Allot. 

mong  the  ancient  Britons,  iron  rings,  or,  as  some 
iron  plates,  were  used  for  money  ;  among  the  Lace- 
onians,  iron  bars  quenched  with  vinegar,  that  tbey 
It  not  serve  for  any  other  use.  Seneca  observes, 
there  was  anciently  stamped  money  of  leather,  cort- 
^ormu  publico  impressum.  And  the  same  thing  was 
n  practice  by  Frederic  II.  at  the  siege  of  Milan  \  to 
nothing  of  an  old  tradition  among  ourselves,  that  in 
confused  times  of  the  barons  wars  the  like  was 
in  England :  but  tbe  Hollanders,  we  know,  coined 
t  quantities  of  pasteboard  in  the  year  1574* 
s  to  the  form  of  money,  it  has  been  more  various 

the  matter.  Under  this  are  comprehended  the 
bt,  figure,  impression,  and  value. 
It  the  impression,  the  Jews,  though  they  detested 
:es,  yet  stamped  on  the  one  side  of  their  shekel  the 
?n  pot  which  held  the  mslnna,  and  on  the  other 
)n^s  rod.     The  Dardans  stamped  two  cocks  fight- 

The  Athenians  stamped  their  coins  with  an  owl, 
1  ox  ^  whence  the  proverb  on  bribed  lawyers,  B09 
igua.  They  of  J£gina,  with  a  tortoise  \  whence, 
other. saying,  Viriutem  et  sapientiam  vincunt  testu- 
^  Among  the  Romans,  the  monetarii  sometimes 
essed  the  images  of  men  that,  had  been  eminent  in 
'  families  on  the  coins  :  but  no  living  man^s  head 
ever  stamped  on  a  Roman  coin  till  afler  the  fall  of 
commonwealth.  From  that  time  they  bore  the  em- 
r's  head  on  one  side.  From  this  time  the  practice 
amping  the  princess  image  oa  coins  has  obtained 
ig  all  civilized  nations  \  the  Turks  and  other  Ma* 
'tans  alone  excepted,  who,  in  detestation  of  images, 
ibe  only  the  prince's  name,  wkb  the  year  of  the 
{migration  of  their  prophet. 

s  to  the.  figure,  it  is  either  round  as  in  Britain  \ 
angular  or  iriregulai:,  as  in  Spain)  square,  as  in 


some  parts  of  the  Indies  j  or  nearly  globular,  as   ^n    Money, 
most  of  the  rest.  ^       v     ■' 

After  the  arrival  of  the  Romans  in  this  island,  the 
Britons  imitated  them;  coining  both  gold  and  silver 
with  the  images  of  their  kings  stamped  on  them.  When 
the  Romans  had  subdued  the  kings  of  the  Britons,  they 
also  suppressed  their  coins,  and  brought  in  their  own  j 
which  were  current  here  from  the  time  of  Claudius  to 
that  of  Valentinian  the  Younger,  about  the  space  of 
500  years. 

Mr  Camden  observes,  that  the  most  ancient  English 
coin  he  had  known  was  that  of  Ethelbert  king  of  Kent, 
the  first  Christian  king  in  the  island  \  in  whose  time  all 
money  accounts  begin  to  pass  by  the  names  of  pounds y 
shillings y  pence y  and  mancuses.    Pence  seems  borrowed 
from  the  Latin  pecunia^  or  rather  from  pendoy  on  account 
of  its  just  weight,   which  was  about  threepence  of  our 
money.     These  were  coarsely  stamped  with  the  kiug^s 
image  on  the  one  side,  and  either  the  mint  master's,  or 
the  city's  where  it  was  coined,  on  the  other.     Five  of 
these  pence  made  their  schilling,  probably  so  called 
from  scilinguSy  which  the  Romans  used  for  the  fourtli 
part  of  an  ounce.     Forty  of  these  schillings  made  their 
pound  'f  and  400  of  these  pounds  were  a  legacy,  or  por- 
tion for  a  king's  daughter,  as  appears  by  the  last  will 
of  King  Alfred.     By  these  names  they  translated  all 
sums  of  money  in  their  Old  English  testament ;  talents  by 
pundes;  Judas's  thirty  pieces  of  silver  by  thirtig  scillin- 
ga;  tribute  mopey,  hjpennining;  the  mite  hyjeort/iling. 
But  it  must  be  observed,  they  had  no  other  real  mo- 
ney, hut  pence  only  ^  the  rest  being  imaginary  moneys,  i.    . 
e.  names  of  numbers  or  weights.     Thirty  of  these  pence 
made  a  mancus,  which  some  take  to  be  the  same  with  a 
mark:  manca,  as  appears  by  an  old  MS.  was  quinta 
pars  uncice.  These  mancas  or  mancuses  were  reckoned 
both  in  gold  and  silver.     For  in  tbe  year  680  we  read 
that  Ina  king  of  the  West  Saxons  obliged  the  Kentish- 
men  to  buy  their  peace  at  the  price  of  30,000  mancas  of 
gold.     In  the  notes  on  King  Canute's  laws,  we  find  this 
distinction,  Xkt'aXntancusa  was  as  much  as  a  mark  of  silver, 
and  mancOy  a  square  piece  of  gold,  valued  at  30  pence. 
The  Danes  introduced  a  way  of  reckoning  money  by 
ores,  per  oraSy  mentioned  in  Domesday  book  j  but  whe- 
ther they  were  a  several  coin,  or  a  certain  sum,  does  not 
plainly  appear.     This,  however,  may  be  gathered  from 
the  Abbey  book  of  Burton,  that  20  ored  were  equival- 
ent to  two  marks.  They  had  also  a  gold  coin  called  by- 
zantincy  or  bivsanty  as  being  coined  at  Constantinople, 
then  called  Byxantium.  The  value  of  which  coin  is  not 
only  now  lost,  but  was  so  entirely  forgot  even  in  tlie 
time  of  King  Edward  III.  that  whereas  the  bishop  of 
Norwich  was  fined  a  byzantlne  of  gojd  to  be  paid  the 
abbot  of  St  Edmund's  Bury  for  •  infringing  bis  liberties 
(as  it  had  been  enacted  by  parliament  in  the  time  of  the 
Conqueror),  no  man  then  living  could  tell  how  much  it 
was  'y  so  it  was  referred  to  the  king  to  rate  how  much 
he  should  pay.     Which  is  the  more  unaccountable,  be- 
cause but  100  years  before,  200,000  bezants  were  ex- 
acted  by  the  soldan  for  the  ransom  of  St  Louis  of 
France :  which  were  then  valued  at  100,000  livres. 
Though  tbe  coining  of  money  be  a  special  prero^- 

live 


312  M    O    N 

Money.  ^^^^  ^^  ^^^^  ^'i^PTv  J^^  the  ancient  Saxon  princes  com- 
*  ^  inunicated  it  to  their  subjects  j  insomuch  that  in  every 
prood  town  there  was  at  least  one  mint  ^  but  at  Lon- 
don eight  'f  at  Canterbury  four  for  the  king,^  two  for 
the  archbishop,  one  for  the  abbot  at  Winchester,  six  at 
Rochester,  at  Hastings  two,  &c. 

The  Norman  kings  continued  the  same  custom  of 
coining  only  pence,  with  tlie  princess  image  on  one 
side,  and  on  the  other  the  name  of  the  city  where  it 
was  coined,  with  a  cross  so  deeply  Impressed,  that  it 
might  be  easily  pai-ted  and  broke  into  two  halves,  which, 
so  broken,  they  called  halfpence ;  or  into  four  parts, 
which  they  called /wr#//iV?^^  or  Jarthings, 

In  the  time  of  King  Richard  I.  money  coined  in  the 
east  parts  of  Germany  came  in  special  request  in  Eng- 
land on  account  of  its  purity,  and  wa^  called  easteriing 
money,  as  all  the  inhabitants  of  those  parts  were  called 
Easterlings.  And  shortly  after,  some  of  those  people 
skilled  in  coining  were  sent  for  hither,  to  bring  the  coin 
to  perfection  ;  which  since  has  been  called  sterling  for 
Easteriing,     Sec  Sterj^ing. 

King  Edward  1.  who  lirst  adjusted  the  measure  of 
an  ell  by  the  length  of  his  arm,  herein  imitating  Charles 
the  Great,  was  the  first  also  who  established  a  certain 
standard  for  the  coin,  which  is  expressed  to  this  effect 
by  Greg.  Rockley,  mayor  of  London,  and  mint  ma- 
ster.—" A  pound  of  money  containeth  twelve  ounces  : 
in  a  pound  there  ought  to  be  eleven  ounces,  two  east- 
erlings, and  one  farthings  the  rest  alloy.  The  said 
pound  ought  to  weigh  twenty  shillings  and  three  pence 
in  account  and  weight.  The  ounce  ought  to  weigh 
twenty  pence,  and  a  penny  twenty-four  grains  and  a 
half.  Note,  That  eleven  ounces  two  pence  sterling 
ought  to  be  of  pure  silver,  called  leaf  silver  j  and  the 
minter  must  add  of  other  weight  seventeen  pence  lialf- 
.  penny  farthing,  if  the  silver  be  so  pure.'* 

About  the  year  1320,  the  states  of  Europe  first  began 
to  coin  gold  ;  and  among  the  rest,  our  King  Edward 
IIL  The  first  pieces  he  coined  were  called  /?orefice-j, 
as  being  coined  by  Florentines  :  afterwards  be  coined 
nobles  J  then  rose-nobles,  current  at  6s.  8d.  half  nobles 
called  halfpennies,  at  33.  4d.  of  gold  j  and  quarters  at 
2od.  called  farthings  if  gold.  The  succeeding  kings 
coined  rose-nobles,  and  double  rose-nobles,  great  so- 
vereigns, and  half  Henry  nobles,  angels,  and  shillings. 

King  James  I.  coined  units,  double  crowns,  Britain 
crowns  :  then  crowns,  half-crowns,  &c. 

2.  Comparative  value  of  Money  and  Commodities  at 
different  periods.  The  English  money,  though  the  same 
names  do  by  no  means  correspond  with  the  same  quan- 
tity of  precious  nietal  as  formerly,  has  not  changed  so 
much  as  the  money  of  most  other  countries.  From  the 
time  of  William  the  Conqueror,  the  proportion  between 
the  pound,  the  shilling,  and  the  penny,  seems  to  have 
been  uniformly  the  same  as  at  present. 

Edward  III.  as  already  mentioned,  was  the  first  of 
our  kings  that  coined  any  gold  ^  and  no  copper  was 
coined  by  authority  before  James  L  These  pieces 
were  not  called  farthings,  hut  farthing  tokens,  and  all 
people  were  at  liberty  to  take' or  refuse  them.  Before 
,  the  time  of  Edwaid  III.  gold  i^as  exchanged,  like 
any  other  commodity,  by  its  weight  y  and  l^foce  the 
time  of  James  I.  copper  was  stamped  by  anyone  person 
jwho  chose  to  do  it. 

In  the  years  712  and  727,  a  ewe  and  lamb  were 


E    Y- 

rated  at  is.  Saxon  money  till  a  fortnight  afler  Easter,  ^i^j^. 
Between  the  years  900  and  1 000,  two  hydcs  of  land,  >  ■  ^  ,1 
each  containing  about  120  acres,  were  sold  for  100 
shillings.  In  1 000,  by  King  Ethelred^s  laws,  a  horae  was 
rated  at  30s.  a  mare  or  a  colt  of  a  year  old,  at  20s.  a 
mule  or  yoimg  ass,  at  1 2s.  an  ox  at  30s.  a  cow  at  24s.  a 
swine  at  8d.  a  sheep  at  is.  In  1043,  ^  quarter  of 
wheat  wa^  sold  for  60A..  Hence  it  is  computed,  that 
in  the  Saxon  times  there  was  ten  tiroes  less  money, 
in  proportion  to  commodities,  than  at  present.  Tbeir 
nominal  specie,  therefore,  being  about  three  times  higfi- 
er  than  ours,  the  price  of  every  thing,  according  to  our 
present  language,  mu.it  be  reckoned  thirty  times  cheap- 
er than  it  is  now. 

In  the  reign  of  William  the  Conqueror,  commodi- 
ties were  ten  times  cheaper  than  they  are  at  present ; 
&om  which  we  cannot  help  forming  a  very  high  idea 
of  the  wealth  and  power  of  that  king  :  for  his  revenoe 
was  400,000!.  per  annum,  every  poimd  being  equal 
to  that  weight  of  silver,  consequently  the  whole  may 
be  estimated  at  i,200,oool.  of  the  present  computa- 
tion ;  a  sum  which,  considering  the  different  value  of 
money  between  that  period  and  the  present,  was  equi- 
valent to  1 2,ooo,oool.  of  modem  estimation. 

The  most  necessary  commodities  do  not  seem  to 
have  advanced  their  price  from  William  the  Conqueror 
to  Richard  I. 

The  price  of  com  inTthe  reign  of  Henry  III.  was 
near  half  the  mean  price  in  our  times.  Bishop  Fleet- 
wood has  shown,  that  in  the  year  1 240,  which  was  m 
this  reign,  4!.  13s.  9d.  was  worth  about  5ol.  of  our  pre- 
sent money.  About  the  latter  end  of  this  reign,  Robert 
de  Hay,  rector  of  Souldem,  agreed  to  receive  iocs,  to 
purchase  to  himself  and  succes'sor  the  annual  rents  of 
js.  in  full  compensation  of  an  acre  of  com. 

Butchers  meat.  In  the  time  of  the  great  scarcity  io 
the  reign  of  Edward  II.  was,  by  a  parliamentary  or- 
dinance, sold  three  times  cheaper  than  our  mean  price 
at  present  \  poultry  somewhat  lower,  because  being  now 
considered  as  a  delicacy,  it  has  risen  beyond  its  propor- 
tion. The  mean  price  of  com  at  this  period  was  half  the 
present  value,  and  the  mean  price  of  cattle  one-eighth. 

In  the  next  reign,  which  was  that  of  Edward  III. 
the  most  necessary  commodities  were  in  general  about 
three  or  four  times  cheaper  than  tliey  are  at  present. 

In  these  times,  knights,  who  served  on  horseback  in 
the  army,  had  2s.  a-day,  and  a  foot  archer  6d.  which 
last  would  now  be  equal  to  a  crown  a-day.  Thir  pay 
has  continued  nearly  the  same  nominally  (only  that  in 
the  time  of  the  commonwealth  the  pay  of  the  horse 
was  advanced  to  2s.  6d.  and  that  of  the  foot  is.  thougb 
it  was  reduced  again  at  the  Restoration),  but  soldiers 
were  proportionably  of  a  better  rank  formerly. 

In  the  time  of  Henry  VI.  com  was  about  half  its 
present  value,  other  commodities  much  cheaper.  Bi- 
shop Fleetwood  has  determined^  from  a  most  accurate 
consideration  of  every  circumstance,  that  3L  in  this 
reign  was  equivalent  to  28 1.  or  30I.  now. 

In  the  time  of  Henry  VII.  many  comrooditi^ 
were  three  times  as  cheap  here,  and  in  all  Europe, 
as  they  are  ait  present,  there  having  beea  a  great  in- 
crease of  gold  and  silver  in  Europe  since  his  time  oc- 
casioned by  the  discovery  of  America. 

The  commodities  whose  price  has  risen  the  mo^ 
since  before  the  time  of  Henry  VII.  are  butchers  meat, 

fowb, 


MONEY. 


;,  and  fish,  etpecially  the  latter.  And  the  reason 
com  was  always  much  dearer  in  proportion  to 
'  eatables,  according  to  their  prices  at  present,  is, 
in  ear]y  tiroes  agriculture  was  little  understood^ 
quired  more  labour  and  ezpence,  and  was  more 
rious  than  it  is  at  present.  Indeed,  notwith- 
ing  the  high  price  of  com  in  the  times  we  are 
ing  of,  the  raising  of  it  so  little  answered  the  ex- 
!,  that  agriculture  was  almost  universally  quitted 
vzing ;  which  was  more  profitable,  notwithstand^ 
le  low  price  of  butchers  meat.  So  that  there  was 
mt  occasion  for  statutes  to  restrain  grazing,  and  to 
»te  agriculture^  and  no  effectual  remedy  was  found 
le  b^inty  upon  the  exportation  of  com  j  since 
,  above  ten  tiroes  more  corn  has  been  raised  in 
Duntry  than  before* 

B  price  of  com  in  the  time  of  James  I.  and  con- 
atiy  that  of  other  necessaries  of  life,  was  not 
,  but  rather  bicher,  than  at  present :  wool  is  not 
urdd  of  the  vuue  it  was  then  ',  the  finer  manu- 
es  haviqg  sunk  in  price  by  the  progress  of  art 
idintry,  notwithstanding  the  increase  of  money« 
sn  meat  was  higher  than  at  present.  Prince 
f  made  an  allowance  of  near  4d.  per  pound  for 
t  beef  and  mntton  used  in  bis  family.  This  may 
le  with  respect  to  London  ^  but  the  price  of 
irs  meat  in  the  country*  which  does  not  even 
mch  exceed  this  price  at  a  medium,  has  certainly 
Y  increased  of  late  years,  and  particularly  in  tfa« 
iin  counties. 

i  prices  of  commodities  are  higher  in  England 
D  France  ^  besides  that  the  poor  people  of  France 
pon  much  less  Chan  the  poor  in  England,  and 
armies  are  maintained  at  less  expence.  It  is 
ited  by  Mr  Hume,  that  a  Briti^  army  ^of  20, coo 
Is  maintained  at  near  as  great  an  expence  as 
3  in  France,  and  that  the  English  fleet,  in  the 
f  1 74 1,  required  as  much  money  to  support  it 
the  Roman  legions  in  the  time  of  the  emperors, 
ver,  all  that  we  can  conclude  from  this  is,  that 
'  is  much  more  plentiful  in  Europe  at  present 
t  was  in  the  Jloman  empire. 
Jie  13th  century,  the  common  interest  which  the 
had  tor  their  money,  Voltaire  says,  was  20  per 
Bat  with  regard  to  this,  we  must  consider  the 
contempt  that  nation  was  always  held  in,  the 
contributions  they  were  frequently  obliged  to 
he  risk  they  ran  of  never  receiving  the  princi- 
le  frequent  confiscations  of  all  their  effects,  and 
olent  persectftions  to  which  they  were  exposed } 
ich  circunstmces  it  was  impossible  for  them  to 
looey  at  all,  unless  for  most  extravagaiit  interest, 
inch  disproportioned  to  its  real  value.  Before 
iscovery  of  America,  and  the  plantation  of  oor 
BA,  the  interest  of  nroney  was  generally  12  per 
ill  over  Europe  $  and  it  has  been  growing  gra* 
less  since  that  time,  till  it  is  now  generally  alMut 
r  five* 

ten  sums  of  money  are  said  to  be  raised  by  a 
people,  in  order  to  form  a  just  estimate  of  it, 
ist  take  into  consideration  not  only  the  quantity 
precioas  metal  according  to  the  standard  of  the 
and  the  proportion  of  the  quantity  of  coin  to 
Nnmodities,  bat  also  the  number  and  riches  of 
ople  who  raise  it }  for  populous  and  rich  coun- 
u  XIV.  Pmt  L  t 


3^3 


tries  will  much  more  easily  raise  any  certain  sum  of  Money, 
money  than  one  that  is  thinly  inhabited,  and  chiefly ' 
by  poor  people.  This  circumstance  greatly  adds  to 
our  surprise  at  the  vast  sums  of  money  raised  by  Wil- 
liam the  Conqueror,  who  had  a  revenue  nearly  in  value 
equal  to  i2,ooo,oool.  of  our  money  (allowance  being 
made  for  the  standard  of  coin  and  the  proportion  it 
bore  to  the  commodities),  firom  a  country  not  near  so 
populous  or  rich  as  England  is  at  present.  Indeed, 
the  accounts  historians  give  us  of  the  revenues  of  thia 
prince,  and  the  treasure  he  left  behind  him,  are  barely 
credible. 

II.  luAQiVARY  Money  ^  or  Money  of  Account  ^  is  that 
which  has  never  existed,  or  at  least  which  does  not 
exist  in  real  specie,  but  is  a  denomination  invented  or 
retained  to  facilitate  the  stating  of  accounts,  by  keep- 
ing them  still  on  a  fixed  footing,  not  to  be  changed, 
like  current  coins,  which  the  authority  of  the  sovereign 
raises  or  lowers  according  to  the  exigencies  of  the  state. 
Of  which  kind  are  pounds,  livres,  marks,  maravedies, 
&c«  See  the  annexed  Table,  where  the  fictitious  mo^ 
ney  is  distinfluished  by  a  dagger  (t). 

Moneys  ^Account  among  the  Ancients.^^The  Ore" 
dans  reckoned  their  sums  of  money  by  drachma,  minee^ 
and  taienta.  The  drachma  was  equal  to  7^.  sterling  ^ 
100  drachmse  made  the  mina,  equal  to  3I.  48.  7d.  ster- 
ling;  60  roinsc  made  the  talent,  equal  to  I93l*  15s. 
sterlinif )  hence  100  talents  amounted  to  I9>375l*  ster- 
ling. The  mina  and  talentum,  indeed,  were  different  in 
4ifierent  provinces :  their  proportions  in  Attic  drachms 
are  as  follow :  The  Syrian  mina  contained  25  Attic 
drachms ;  the  Ptolemaic  33f  ^  the  Antiochic  and  £u- 
boean  100  ^  the  Babylonic  116^  the  greater  Attic  and 
Tyrian  I33f  >  the  ^gineanaiid  Rhodian  166-}.  The 
Syrian  talent  contained  15  Attic  minae  j  the  Ptolemaic 
20 ;  the  Antiochic  60  f  the  Euboeao  60  ^  the  Babylo* 
nic  70  i  the  greater  Attic  and  Tyrian  80 ;  the  ^gi- 
nean  and  Rhodian  100. 

2.  Roman  moneys  of  account  were  the  sestertius  and 
sestertutm.  The  sestertius  was  equal  to  id.  3^q.  ster- 
ling. One  thousand  of  these  made  the  sestertium, 
equal  to  81.  is.  jd.  2q.  sterling.  One  thousand  of 
these  sestertia  made  the  decies  sestertium  (the  adverb 
centies  being  always  understood)  equal  to  807 2I.  1 8s.  4d. 
sterling.  The  decies  sestertium  they  also  called  dectes 
centena  miilia  nummum.  Centies  sestertium,  or  centies 
HS,  were  equal  to  80,7291.  3s.  4d.  Millies  HS  to 
8o7,29iL  13s.  4d.  Millies  centies  HS  to  888,o2ol. 
i6s.  8d. 

Tbeort  or  Money. 

I.  Of  Artificial  or  Material  Money, 

I.  As  far  back  as  our  accounts  of  the  transactioni 
of  mankind  reach,  we  find  they  had  adopted  the  pre* 
cious  metals,,  that  is,  silver  and  gold,  as  the  common 
measure  of  value,  and  as  the  adequate  equivalent  fo^ 
every  thing  alienable. 

The  meUds  are  admirably  adapted  for  this  purpose  : 
they  are  perfectly  homogeneous  :  when  pure,  their 
masses,  or  hulks,  are  exactly  in  proportion  to  their 
weights  \  no  physical  difference  can  be  found  between 
two  pounda  of  gold,  or  silver,  let  them  be  the  produc- 
tion of  the  mines  of  Europe,  Asia,  Africa,  or  Ame- 
rica :  they  are  perfectly  mallq^ble,  fusible,  and  suffer 

Br  the 


MONEY. 


tbe  m06t  exact  diTialon  which  hrnimn  art  is  capable  to 
give  them :  they  are  capable  of  being  mixed  with  one 
another,  as  well  as  with  metals  of  a  baser,  that  is,  of 
a  less  homogeneoos  nature,  such  as  copper:  by  this 
mixture  they  spread  themselves  nniformly  through 
the  whole  mass  of  the  composed  lump,  so  that  every 
atom  of  it  becomes  proportionally  possessed  of  a  share 
of  this  noble  mixture ;  by  which  means  the  subdi* 
▼ision  of  the  precious  metals  is  rendered  very  extea« 


81  ve. 


Their  physical  qualities  are  invariable :  they  lose  no* 
thing  by  keeping  *,  they  are  solid  and  durable  j  and 
though  their  parts  are  separated  by  friction,  like  every, 
other  thing,  yet  still  they  are  of  the  number  of  those 
which  sumr  least  by  it. 

If  money,  therefore,  can  be  made  of  any  thing,  that 
is,  if  the  proportional  value  of  things  vendible  can  be 
measured  by  any  thing  material,  it  may  be  measured  by 
the  metals. 

II.  The  two  metals  bein^  pitched  upon  as  the  roost 
proper  substances  for  realixmg  the  ideal  scale  of  money, 
those  who  undertake  the  operation  of  adjusting  a  stand- 
ard, must  constantly  keep  in  their  eye  the  nature  and 
qualities  of  a  scale,  as  well  as  the  principles  upon  which 
it  is  formed.  / 

The  unit  of  the  scale  must  constantly  be  the  same, 
although  realized  in  the  metals,  or  the  whole  operation 
Ikils  in  the  most  essential  part.  This  realizing  tbe  uilit 
is  like  adjusting  a  pair  of  compasses  to  a  geometrical 
scale,  where  the  smallest  deviation  Irsm  the  exact  open- 
ing once  given  must  occasion  an  incorrect  measure*  The 
roetols,  therefore,  are  to  money  what  a  pair  of  oompas- 
ses  is  to  a  geometrical  scale. 

This  operation  of  adjusting  the  metals  to  the  money 
of  account  implies  an  exact  and  determinate  propor- 
tion of  both  metals  to  the  money  unit,  realized  in  all 
the  species  and  denominatioQS  of  coin,  adjusted  to  that 
standard. 

The  smallest  particle  of  either  metal  added  to,  or 
taken  away  from,  any  coins,  which  represent  certain 
determinate  parts  of  the  scale,  overturns  the  whole 
system  of  material  money.  And  if,  notwithstanding 
such  variation,  these  coins  continue  to  hear  the  same 
denominations  as  before,  this  will  as  effectually  de- 
stroy their  usefulness  in  measuring  the  value  of  things, 
as  it  would  overturn  the  usefulness  of  a  pair  of  com- 
passes, to  soifer  the  opening  to  vary,  after  it  is  adjust- 
ed to  the  scale  representing  feet,  toises,  miles,  or  leagnce, 
by  which  the  distances  upon  the  plan  are  to  be  BMa- 
sured. 

III.  Debasing  the  standard  is  a  good  term,  be- 
eause  it  conveys  a  dear  and  distinct  idea.  It  is  dimi- 
nishing the  weight  of  the  pure  metal  contained  in 
Sliat  ^nomination  by  which  a  nation  reckons,  and 
which  we  have  called  the  money  muL  Raising  the 
standard  requires  no  foither  deAnttion,  being  the  diteot 
contrary. 

IV.  Altering  the  standard  (that  ia,  raising  or  debaa> 
ing  the  value  of  tbe  SMocy  nnit)  is  like  altering  the 
national  measures  or  weighls.  Tliis  is  best  discovered 
^  comparing  the  thing  altered  with  things  of  tbe 
same  nature  which  have  sofered  no  alteration.  Tkos^ 
if  the  foot  of  measure  was  altered  at  once  ever  all  En|^ 
tknd,  by  adding  to  it,  or  taking  from  it,  $mj  proper* 

4 


tional  part  of  its  standard  lengtht  the  alteration  woiM  ^^^ 
be  best  discovered  by  comparing  the  new  foot  with^"  i  ^ 
that  of  Paris,  or  of  any  other  coontrf;|  which  had  suf* 
fered  «no  alteration.  Just  so^  if  the  pound  sterling, 
which  is  the  English  unit,  shall  be  found  anyhow 
changed,  and  if  the  variation  it  has  met  with  be  diffi- 
cult to  ascertain  because  of  a  complication  of  circum- 
stances, the  best  way  to  discover  it,  will  be  to  compare 
tbe  former  and  tbe  {urescnt  value  of  it  with  the  money 
of  other  nations  which  has  soflfered  no  variation.  This 
the  course  of  exchange  will  perform  with  the  greatest 
exactness. 

V.  Artists  pretend,  that  the  precious  metals,  when 
absolutely  pure  from  any  mixture,  are  not  of  suffcieat 
hardness  to  constitute  a  solid  and  lasting  coin.  They 
are  found  also  in  the  mines  mixed  with  other  metals  of 
a  baser  nature ;  and  the  bringing  them  to  a  state  of 
perfect  purity  occasions  an  unnecessary  expence.  To 
avoid,  therefore,  the  inconvenience  of  employing  them 
in  all  their  purity,  people  have  adopted  the  expedient 
of  mixmg  them  with  a  determinate  proportion  of  other 
metals,  which  hurts  neither  their  fusibility,  malleabili- 
ty, beauty,  nor  lustre.  This  metal  is  called  alioy :  and, 
being  considered  only  as  a  support  to  the  principal  me- 
tal, is  accounted  of  no  value  in  itself.  80  that  eleten 
ounces  of  gold,  when  mixed  with  one  ounce  of  silver, 
acquires  by  that  addition  no  augmentation  of  valoe 
wluttever. 

This  being  the  case,  we  shall,  as  much  as  possible, 
overlook  the  existence  of  alloy,  in  speaking  of  money, 
In  order  to  render  language  less  subject  to  ambiguitj. 

>2«  Incapacities  of  the  metaU  to  perform  thtpj/ice  of  an 
invariable  Measure  of  Value. 

L  Were  there  but  one  species  of  such  a  snbstanbe  u 
we  have  represented  gold  and  silver  to  be  $  were  there 
but  one  metal  possessmg  the  qualities  of  purity,  divisi- 
bility, and  durability  j  the  inconveniences  in  the  one  of 
it  for  money  would  be  fewer  by  far  than  they  are  foaad 
to  be  as  nsatters  stand. 

8ueh  a  metal  might  then,  by  an  unlimited  division 
into  parts  exactly  equal,  be  made  to  serve  as  a  toler- 
ably steady  and  universal  measure.  But  the  rivalshi^ 
between  the  metals,  and  the  perfect  equality  which  is 
found  between  all  their  physical  qualities,  so  for  ss 
regards  purity  and  divisibility,  render  them  so  equally 
well  adapted  to  serve  as  the  comnon  measure  of  valae, 
that  they  are  universally  admitted  10  pass  cuirent  ss 
money. 

What  is  the  eonseqoence  of  this  f  that  the  one  mes- 
snres  the  value  of  the  other,  as  well  as  that  of  efery 
other  thing.  Now  tbe  moment  any  me  asm  t  begins  to 
be  measured  by  another,  whose  proportion  to  it  is  net 
physically,  perpetually,  and  invariably  thesmne,  all  the 
usefulness  of  such  a  measure  is  lost.  An  example  will 
make  this  plain. 

A  foot  of  measore  is  a  determinate  length,  km 
English  foot  may  be  compared  with  the  Paris  feet,  sr 
with  that  of  the  Rhine  i  that  is  to  say,  it  may  he  inf«- 
sored  by  them :  and  the  proportion  between  their 
lengths  mav  be  eapressed  in  nnmhers,  vHuch  pfo* 
portion  will  be  the  same  perpetuallv.  The  meaMifw 
ing  the  one  by  the  other  will  oocasioo  no  unoertaia* 
ty  ^  and  we  may  speak  of  lengUi  by  Phm  foct,  mi 


M    O 

tfoQey.  Ke  perfectly  well  fradentood  hy  others  -who  we  used 
to  measure  bj  tk»  English  foot,  or  hj  the  foot  of  the 
Rhine. 

Bat  suppose  that  m  youth  of  12  years  M  takes  it 
into  his  head  to  measure  from  time  to  time,  as  he  ad- 
visees in  age^  hy  the  length  of  his  awn  fbot^  and  that 
be  divides  Ms  growing  foot  into  inches  and  decimals  & 
what  can  be  learned  from  his  account  of  measures  f  As 
be  increases  in  years,  his  foot,  inches,  and  snbdiTisions, 
trill  be  gradually  lengthening  ^  and  were  every  man  to 
follow  his  example,  and  measure  by  his  own  foot,  then 
the  foot  of  a  oKasure  now  established  would  totally  cease 
to  be  of  any  utility. 

This  is  just  the  case  with  the  two  metals.  There  b 
no  determiaate  invariable  proportion  between  their  va^ 
hie  'f  sad  the  consequenee  of  this  is,  that  when  they  are 
both  taken  for  measuring  the  value  of  other  things,  the 
thiflgs  to  be  measured,  like  lengths  to  be  measured  by 
the  young  man's  foot,  without  changing  their  relative 
proportioo  between  tbemsrives,  change^  however,  with 
respeet  to  the'  denominations  of  both  their  measufes. 
An  exanpLs  will  make  this  plain. 

Let  us  suppose  an  ox  to  be  worth  3000  pounds 
weight  of  wheat,  and  the  one  and  the  other  to  be  worth 
an  ooBce  of  gold,  and  an  ounce  of  goM  to  be  worth  ex- 
actly 15  ounces  of  silver:'  if  the  case  should  happen, 
that  the  preportienal  value  between  geld  and  silver 
should  cense  to  be  as  14  is  to  1,  would  net  the  ox,  and 
consequently  the  wheat,  be  estimated  at  less  In  silver, 
and  more  in  geld,  than  formerly  ?  Faither,  Would  it  he 
in  the  power  of  any  alate  to  prevent  this  variation  in 
the  measure  of  the  value  of  oxen  and  wheat,  without 
patting  into  the  unit  of  their  money  less  silver  and  more 
gold  than  formerly  ? 

If  theiefore  any  particular  state  should  fix  the  stand- 
ard of  the  unit  of  their  money  to  one  ^ecies  of  the 
metals,  while  in  foot  both  the  one  and  the  other  are 
actaally  employed  in  measuring  value  >  dees  not  suoli 
a  state  resemble  the  young  man  who  measures  all  by 
his  growing  foot  ?  For  if  silver,  for  example,  be  re- 
tained as  the  standard,  while  it  is  gaining  upon  gold 
oae^fifteenth  additional  value :  and  if  gold  continue 
all  the  while  to  determine  the  value  of  things  as  well 
as  silver  ^  it  is  plain,  that,  to  all  intents  and  purposes, 
this  silver  measure  is  lengthening  daily  like  the  young 
man's  foot,  since  th^  same  weight  of  it  must  becoov 
every  day  equivalent  to  more  and  more  of  the  same 
eemmodily  ^  notwithstanding  that  we  suppose  the  same 
propoition  to  snbsist,  without  the  least  variation,  be- 
tween that  commodity  end  every  ether  species  of  things 
alienable. 

Buying  and  selling  are  purely  conventional,  and  no 
man  is  obliged  to  give  his  meichandise  at  what  may  be 
soppoted  to  be  the  pn^Mirtion  of  its  worth.  The  use, 
therefore,  of  an  universal  measure,  is  to  mark,  not  only 
the  relative  value  of  the  things  to  which  it  is«pplied 
^  a  measure,  but  to  discover  ia  an  instant  the  propor- 
tion between  the  value  of  those,  and  of  every  other 
commodity  valued  by  a  determinate  measure  in  all  the 
countries  of  the  werid. 

Were  pounds  sterling,  livres,  florins,  piastees,  &e. 
which  are  all  moqey  of  acoount,  invanaUc  in  their 
valaes,  wlmt  a  facility  would  it  produce  in  all  coi»- 
veniona !  w^at  aai  assisUnoe  to  trade !  Bet  as  they  are 
sll  limited  or  fixedte  coins,  and  consequently  vary  tnm 


N    E    t. 

time  to  time,  this  eznn^  shews  the  utility  of  the  in- 
variable measure  which  we  have  described. 

There  is  another  circuoMtanee  which  incapacitates 
the  metals  from  performing  the  office  of  money ;  the 
substance  of  which  the  coin  is  made,  is  a  commodity 
which  rises  and  sinks  in  its  value  with  respeot  to  other 
commodities,  according^  to  the  wants,  competition,  and 
caprices  of  mankind.  ^  The  advantage,  therefore,  found 
in  puttiug  an  intrinsic  value  into  that  substanoe  which 
performs  the  functioD  o(  nMMiey  of  account,  is  compen- 
sated by  tbe  instability  of  that  intrinsic  value  ^  and  the 
advantage  obtained  by  tbe  stability  of  paper,  or  sym^ 
bolieal  money,  is  eompeoaated  by  tne  defect  it  cenmioiK 
ly  has  of  net  being  at  ail  times  susceptible  of  realia^ion 
into  soUd  property  or  intriosie  vnlue. 

In  order,  iherefmre,  to  render  mstcrial  money  naore 
perfect,  this  quality  .of  nsetal,  that  is,  of  a  commodity, 
should  be  taken  from  it  ^  and  in  order  to  render  paper 
money  more  perfect,  it  ought  to  be  ttmde  to  circulate 
upon  metallic  or  land  security. 

IL  There  are  several  smaller  inconveatenees  aoeoni- 
panying  the  use  of  the  metab,  which  we  shaU  here 
shortly  enumerate. 

tmo^  No  money  made  of  gold  or  silver  can  circulate 
long,  without  losing  its  weight,  although  it  all  along 
preserves  the  same  denomination.  This  represents  tbe 
contracting  a  pair  of  compesses  which  had  been  rightly 
adjusted  to  the  scale. 

%do^  Another  inconvenience  preneeds  foom  the  &• 
bricatien  of  money.  Supposing  the  foith  of  prinens 
who  coin  money  to  he  inviolawe,  and  the  prohicy  as 
well  as  capacity  of  those  to  whom  they  eemmit  the  in- 
spection of  the  business  of  the  metals  to  he  su^sient^at 
is  hardly  possible  for  woikmen  to  render  every  piece 
exactly  of  a  proper  weight,  or  to  preserve  the  due  ^to- 
portion  between  pieces  of  different  denominations,  tbnt 
is  to  say,  to  make  eveiy  Ion  eixpences  exectty  of  the 
same  weight  with  every  crown  pleoe  and  every  five 

shillings  struck  in  a  coinage*  lu/ proportion  to  suiqh in- 
accuracies, the  parts  of  the  scale  become  unequal. 

3ifby  Another  inconvenience,  and  for  from  being 
inconsiderable,  flows  firom  the  expence  requisite  for 
the  coining  of  money.  TtiB  expenpe  adds  to  its  ve* 
lue  as  a  nunufocture,  without  adding  any  thing  to  its 
weight. 

4to,  The  last  inconvenience  is,  tfcet  by  fixing  the 
money  of  apconnt  entirely  to  die  coin,  without  having 
l^ny  independent  common  meastiee,  (to  mvk  and  con- 
trottl  these  deviations,  firom  matbeaMilic#l  eynctness^ 
which  are  either  inseparable  from  the  metals  them- 
idves^  or  fnom  the  fobricntioo  of  tbefn)«  the  ^ht>|^ 
Pleasure  of  valne,  and  all  the  cdittivfl  infeereslts  of  deblr 
ors  and  creditors,  become  at  the  disposal  not  only  nf 
workmen  in  the  mint,  of  Jews  who  ieal  in  money,  ot 
elippers  and  washers  in  coin  y  hut  they  are  also  entire- 
ly at  the  mercy  of  princes  who  h*ve  the  right  qf 
^coinage,  and  who'  hive  freq^ntly  ^Isq  the  right  of 
raising  or  debasing  the  standaird  of  the  coin,  according 
as  they  find  it  esolt  for  their  prmmt  4n4  t^mpuosry  in- 
terest. 

3.  Methods  wjuch'may  bt proposed Jift  lessening  the  sr- 
veral  Inc&nvemences  to  which  ffuterifU  Money  is  ^- 
able. 

I'he  inconveliienoes  firom  the  vmrtation  in  the  relative « 

R  t  3  value 


M    ON    E    Y. 


value  of  the  metals  to  one  another,  may  in  ionse  mea" 
rare  be  obviated  bj  the  following  expedients. 

I  mo,'  By  coosidering  one  only  to  the  standard^  and 
lea^ring  the  other  to  seek  its  own  value  like  any  other 
eommodity. 

'  idOf  By  considering  one  only  as  the  standard,  and 
fixing  the  value  of  the  other  from  time  to  time  by  au- 
thority, according  as  the  market  price  of  the  metals 
shall  vary. 

3^,  bj  fixing  the  standard  of  the  unit  according 
to  the  mean  proportion  of  the  metals,  attaching  it  to 
neither  ^  regulating  the  coin  accordingly ;  and  upon 
every  considerable  variation  in  the  proportion  between 
them,  either  to  make  a  new  coinage,  or  to  raise  the 
denomination  of  one  of  the  species,  and  lower  it  in  the 
other  in  order  to  preserve  the  unit  exactly  in  the  mean 
proportion  between  the  gold  and  silver. 

4^,  To  have  two  units  and  two  standards,  one  of 
gold  and  one  of  silver,  and  to  allow  every  body  to  sti- 
pulate in  either. 

jto.  Or  last  of  all,  To  oblige  all  debtors  to  pay  one 
half  in  gold,  and  one  half  in  the  silver  standard. 

4.  Variations  to  which  the  Value  of  the  Money  unit  is 
exposedjrom  every  Disorder  in  the  Coin, 

Let  us  suppose,  at  present,  the  onljr  disorder  to  con- 
ast  in  a  want  of  the  doe  proportion  between  the  gold 
and  silver  in  the  coin. 

This  proportion  can  only  be  established  by  the  mar- 
ket price  of  the  metals  ^  because  an  augmentation  and 
rise  m  the  demand  for  gold  or  silver  has  the  eflPect  of 
aogmenting  the  value  of  the  metal  demanded.  Let  as 
suppose,  that  to-day  one  pound  of  gold  may  buy  fif- 
teen pounds  of  silver:  if  to-morrrow  there  be  a  high 
demand  for  silver,  a  competition  among  merchants  to 
have  silver  for  gold  will  ensue  :  they  will  contend  who 
shall  get  the  silver  at  the  rate  of  15  pounds  for  one  of 
gold :  this  will  raise  the  price  of  it }  and  in  proper* 
don  to  their  views  of  profit,  some  will  accept  of  less 
than  the  15  pounds.  This  is  plainly  a  rise  in  the 
silver,  more  properly  than  a  fall  in  the  gold ;  because 
it  is  the  competition  for  the  silver  which  has  occasion- 
ed the  variation  in  the  finrmer  proportion  between  the 
metals. 

Let  us  now  suppose,  that  a  state,  having  with  great 
exactness  examined  the  proportion  of  the  metals  in  the 
market,  and  having  determined  the  precise  quantity  of 
each  for  realizing  or  representing  the  money  unit, 
shall  execute  a  most  exact  coinage  of  gold  and  silver 
coin.  As  long  as  that  proportion  continues' unvaried 
in  the  market,  no  inconvenience  can  result  from  that 
quarter  in  making  use  of  metals  for  money  of  ac- 
<countr 

But  let  OS  suppose  the  proportion  to  change  ^  that  the 
silver,  for  example,  shall  rise  in  its  value  with  regard  to 
gold :  will  it  not  follow,  from  that  moment,  that  the 
'unit  realized  in  the  silver,  will  become  of  more  value 
than  the  unit  realized  in  the  gold  coin  ?. 

■  But  as  the  law  has  o^rdered  them  to  pass  as  equiva- 
lents for  one  another,  and  as  debtors  have  always  the 
option  of  paying  in  what  legal  coin  they  think  fit, 
will  they  not  all  choose  to  pay  in  gold ',  and  will  not 
then  the  silver  coin  be  melted  down  and  exported.  In 
order  to  be  sold  as  bullion,  above  the  value  it  bears 
when  it  circnlates  in  coin  f  Will  not  this  paying  in 


gold  also  reaUy  diminiijb  the  valne  of  the  money  ant<,  mm^ 
since  upon  thafi  variation  every  thing  must  sell  fiir  more' 
gold  than  before,  as  we  have  already  observed. 

Conseqoently,  merclNindises,  which  have  not  varied 
in  their  relative  value  to  any  other  thing  but  to  gold 
and  silver,  must  be  measured  by  the  mean  proportioii 
of  the  metals :  and  the  application  of  any  other  measure 
to  them  is  altering  the  standard.  If  they  are  measured 
by  the  gold,  the  standard  is  debased  ^  if  by  silver,  it  is 
raised. 

If,  to  prevent  the  inconvenience  of  melting  down 
the  silver,  the  state  shall  give  up  affixing  the  value  of 
their  unit  to  both  species  at  once,  and  shall  fix  it  to 
one,  leaving  the  other  to  seek  its  price  as  any  other 
commodity )  in  that  case,  no  doubt,  the  melting  down 
of  the  coin  will  be  prevented  :  but  will  this  ever  re* 
store  the  value  of  the  money  unit  to  its  former  stand- 
ard f    Would  it,  for  example,   in  the  foregoing  sup- 
position, raise  the  debased  value  of  the  money  unit  in 
the  gold  coin,  if  that  species  were  declared  to  be  tlie 
standard  ?  It  would,  indeed,  render  silver  coin  purely  a 
merchandise,  and,  by  allowing  it  to  seek  its  value, 
would  certainly  prevent  it  from  being  melted  down  as 
before  ;  because  the  pieces  would  rise  conventionally  in 
their  denomination  j  or  an  agio^  as  it  is  called,  woold 
be  taken  in  payments  made  in  silvery  hot  the  gold 
would  not,  on  that  account,  rise  in  its  value,  or  be- 
gin to  purchase  any  more  merchandise  than  before. 
Were  therefore  the  standard  fij:ed  to  the  gold,  wouUl 
not  this  be  an  arbitrary  and  a  violent  revolution  in  the 
value  of- the  money  unit,  and  a  debasement  of  the  stand- 
ard ? 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  state  should  fix  the  stand- 
ard to  the  silver,  which  we  suppose  to  have  neen  in  its 
valne,  would  that  ever  sink  the  advanced  value  which 
the  silver  coin  had  gained  above  the  worth  of  the  fivm- 
er  standard  unit  ?  and  woold  not  this  be  a  violent  and 
an  arbitrary  revolution  in  the  value  of  the  money  unit, 
and  a  raising  of  the  standard  ? 

The  only  expedient,  therefore,  is,  in  such  a  case,  to 
fix  the  numerary  unit  to  neither  of  the  metala,  bnt  to 
contrive  a  way  to  make  it  fluctuate  in  a  mean  propor- 
tion between  them ;  which  is  in  eiect  the  Intiodoctioa 
of  a  pure  ideal  money  of  account. 

The  regulation  of  fixing  the  unit  by  the  neaa  pro- 
portion, ought  to  take  place  at  the  instant  the  stand- 
ard unit  is  fixed  with  exactness  both  to  the  gold  and 
silver.  If  it  be  introduced  long  after  the  market  pro- 
portion between  the  metals  has  deviated  firom  the  pro- 
portion estabUshed  in  the  coin  ;  and  if  the  new  regula- 
tion is  made  to  have  a  retrospect,  with  regard  to  the 
acquitting  of  permanent  contracts  entered  into  while 
the  value  of  the  money  unit  had  attached  itself  to  the 
lowest  currency  in  consequence  of  the  principle  above 
laid  down  :  then  the  restoring  the  riioney  unit  to  that 
standard  where  it  ought  to  have  remained  (to  wit,  to 
the  mean  proportion)  is  an  injury  to  all  debtors,  who 
'  have  contracted  since  the  time  that  the  proportiott  of 
the  metals  began  to  var}*. 

This  is  clear  firom  the  former  reasoning.  The  mo- 
ment the  market  price  of  the  metals  difiers  firom  that 
in  the  coin,  every  one  who  has  pajrments  to  make, 
pavs  in  that  species  which  is  the  highest  rated  in  the 
com-}  consequently,  he  who  lends,  lends  in  that  spe- 
cies. If  after  the  contract,  therelore)  the  onit  is  ear- 
ned 


M    O    N 

Umj-  ned  up  to  the  meao  pn^rtioDi  Ibii  most  be  a  lois  to 
him  who  had  bocrowed. 

From  this  we  may  perceivei  why  there  is  less  incoo- 
veoieoce  from  the  varying  of  the  proportion  of  the 
metals,  where  the  standard  is  fixed  to  one  of  them, 
than  when  it  is  fixed  to  both*  In  the  first  case,  it  is  at 
least  uncertain  whether  the  standard  or  the  merchant 
diae  species  is  to  rise^  conseqnently,  it  is  uncertain 
whether  the  debtors  or  the  creditovs  are  to  gain  by  a 
variation.  If  the  standard  species  should  rise,  the 
creditors  will  gain }  if  the  merchandise  species  rises, 
the  debtors  will  gain  ^  but  when  the  unit  is  attached 
to  both  species,  then  the  creditors  never  can  gain,  let 
the  metals  vary  as  they  will  i  if  silver  rises,,  then 
debtors  will  pay  in  gold}  if  gold  rises,  the  debtors 
will  pay  in  silver.  But  whether  the  unit  be  attached 
to  one  or  to  both  species,  the  infallible  conseqaence  of 
a  variation  is,  that  one  half  of  the  differenee  is  either 
gained  or  lost  by  debtors  and  creditors.  The  invari« 
able  unit  is  constantly  the  mean  proportional  between 
the  two  measores. 

5.  How  the  Variations  of  ike  intrinsic  value  of  the 
Unit  of  Money  mmst  affect  ail  the  domestic  Interests 
of  a  Sfation^ 

If  the  changing  the  content  of  the  bushel  by  which 
grain  is  measur^,  would  affect  the  interest  of  those 
who  are  obliged  to  pay,  or  who  are  entitled  to  receive, 
a  certain  number  of  bushels  of  grain  for  the  rent  of 
lands }  in  the  same  manner  must  every  variation  in  the 
value  of  the  unit  of  account  affect  all  persons  who,  in- 
permanent  contracts,  are  obliged  to  make  payments, 
or  who  are  obliged  to  receive  sums  of  money  sti- 
polated  in  multiples  or  in  fractions  of  that  money 
unit 

Every  variation,  therefore,  nnpon  the  intrinsic  value 
of  the  money  noit,  has  the  effect  of  benefiting  the 
class  of  creditors  at  the  expence  of  debtors,  or  vice 
vcrsa^ 

This  conseqaence  is  deduced  from  an  obvious  prin- 
ciple. Money  is  more  or  less  valuable  in  proportion 
as  it  can  purchase  more  or  less  of  every  kind  of 
merchandise.  Now,  without  entering  anew  into  the 
causes  of  the  rise  and  fall  of  prices,  it  is  agreed  upon 
all  hands,  that  whether  an  augmentation  of  the  gene- 
ral mass  of  money  in  circulation  has  the  effect  of  raising 
prices  in  general  or  not,  any  aagmentation  of  the  quan- 
tity of  the  metals  appointed  to  be  put  into  the  money 
unit,  roust  at  least  affect  the  valne  of  that  money  unit, 
and  make  it  purchase  more  of  any  commodity  than  be- 
fore :  that  is  to  say,  113  grains  ei  fine  gold,  tbe  present 
weight  of  a  pound  sterling  in  gold,  can  boy  113  pounds 
of  floor  'j  were  the  pound  sterling  raised  to  1 14  grains 
of  the  same  metal,  it  would  buy  114  pounds  of  flour  \ 
consequently,  were  the  pound  sterling  augmented  by 
one  grain  of  gold,  every  miller  who  paid  a  rent  of  ten 
pounds  a>year,  would-be  obliged  to  sell  1140  pounds  of 
his  flour,  in  order  to  procure  ten  pounds  to  pay  his  rent, 
in  place  of  11 30  pounds  of  flour,  which  he  sold  former- 
ly to  procure  the  same  sum  \  consequently,  by  this  in- 
novation, the  miller  most  lose  yearly  ten  pounds  of 
flour,  which  lus  master  consequently  must  gain.  From 
this  example,  it  b  plain,  that  every  augmentation  of 


E    Y. 


3»7 


metals  pot  into  the  pound  sterling,  either  of  silver  or    Money, 
gold,  must  imply  an  advantage  to  the  whole  class  of 
creditors  i^ho  are  paid  in  pounds  sterling,  and  conse- 
quently must  be  a  proportional  loss  to  all  debtors  who 
most  pay  by  the  same  denomination. 

6.  Of  the  Dieordet  in  the  British  CoiUf  sojbr  as  it  o^ 
casions  the  melting  down  or  the  exforiing  tf  the 
Specie* 

The  defects  in  the  British  coin  are  three. 

imo.  The  proportion  between  the  gold  and  silver  in 
it  is  found  to  be  as  i  to  15^,  whereas  the  niai:ket  price 
may  be  supposed  to  be  nearly  as  i  to  i4-r« 

24^,  Great  part  of  the  current  money  is  worn  and 
light. 

3^fb,  From  the  second  defect  proceeds  the  third,  to 
wit,  that  there  are  several  currencies  in  circulation* 
which  pass  for  the  same  value,  without  being  of  the 
same  weight. 

4to,  From  all  these  defects  results  the  last  and  greatest 
inconvenience,  to  wit,  that  some  innovation  must  be 
made,  in  order  to  set  matters  on  a  right  footing. 

The  English,  besides  the  unit  of  their  money  whicb 
they  call  (he  pound  sterling,  have  also  the  unit  of  their 
weight  for  weighing  the  precioos  metals. 

This  is  called  the  pound  troy^  and  consists  of  12 
ounces,  every  ounce  of  20  pennyweights,  and  every 
pennjy weight  of  24  grains.  The  pound  troy,  therefore, 
consists  of  240  pennyweights  and  5760  grains. 

The  fineness  of  the  silver  is  reckoned  by  the  number 
of  ounces  and  pennyweights  of  the  pure  metal  in  the 
pound  troy  of  the  composed  mass  \  of,  in  other  words, 
the  pound  troy,  which  contains  5760  grains  of  standard 
silver,  contains  5328  grains  of  fine  silver,  and  43a 
grains  of  copper,  called  aUoy. 

Thus  standard  silver  is  xi  ounces  2  pennyweights  of 
fine  silver  in  the  pound  troy  to  18  pennyweights  copper,  • 
or  II I  parts  fine  silver  to  nine  parts  alloy. 

Standard  gold  is  1 1  ounces  fine  to- 1  ounce  silver  or 
copper  employed  for  alloy,  which  together  make  the. 
pound  troy  \  consequently,  the  pound  troy  of  standard 
gold  contains  5280  grains  fine,  and  480  grains  alloy, 
which  alloy  is  reckoned  ef  no  value. 

This  pound  of  standard  silver  is  ordered,  by  statute 
of  the  43d  of  Elixabetb,  to  be  coined  into  62  shillings, 
20  of  which  make  the  pound  sterling  \  consequently, 
the  20  shillings  contain  1718.7  grains  of  fine  silver,  and 
1858.06  standard  silver. 

The  pound  troy  of  standard  gold,  W  fine,  is  order- 
ed, by  an  act  of  King  Charles  II.  to  be  cot  into  44-j' 
guineas :  that  is  to  say,  every  guinea  contains  1 29.43 
grains  of  standard  goli,  and  1 18.644  of  fine  gold  ^  and 
the  pound  sterling,  which  is  4t  of  the  guinea,  con- 
tains 112.994,  wucb  we  may  state  at  1.13. grains  oi 
fine  gold. 

The  coinage  in  England  is  entirely  defrayed  at  the 
expence  of  the  state.  The  mint  price  for  the  metals  is 
the  very  same  with  the  price  of  the  coin.  liVboever 
carries  to  the  mint  an  ounce  of  standard  silver,  receives 
for  it  in  silver  coin  55.  2d.  or  6 ad. :  whoever  carries  an 
ounce  of  standard  gold  receives  in  gold  coin  3!.  1 7s.  lo^d. 
the  one  and  the  other  making  exactly  an  ounce  of  the 
same  fineness  with  the  bullion.     Coin,  therefore,  can 

have 


M    O    N 

\vto  abdve  ^.  He  tben  tells  the  malted  shillings  at 
66d*  the  ounce,  and  buys  buUton  with  the  light  ones  at 
the  same  price. 

-This  is  tbexonseqnence  of  ever  permitting  any  spe* 
eies  of  coin  to  pass  by  the  authority  of  the  stamp,  with* 
out  conteuUing  it  at  the  same  time  by  the  weight :  and 
this  is  the  manner  in  which  money-jobbers  gam  by  the 
currency  of  light  money. 

It  is  no  argument  against  this  exposition  of  the  matter 
tb  say,  that  silver  bullion  is  seldom  bought  with  silver 
coin  i  because  the  pence  in  new  guineas  are  woith  no 
more  than  the  pence  of  shillings  of  6  c  in  the  pound  troy : 
that  is  to  say,  that  240  pence  contained  in  4r  of  a  new 
guinea,  and  24O  pence  contained  in  28  shillinss  of  65 
to  the  pound  troy,  differ  no  more  in  the  intrinsic  value 
than  0.83  of  a  grain  of  fine  silver  upon  the  whole,  which 
is  a  mere  trifle. 

Whenever,  therefore,  shillings  come  beiew  the 
weight  of  ^  of  a  pound  troy,  then  there  is  as  advan- 
tage in  changing  them  for  new  giMieas  ^  and  when  that 
is  the  case,  the  new  guineas  will  be  melted  down,  and 
profit  will  be  found  in  selling  tbem  for  bullion,  upon 
the  principled  we  have  just  been  explaining. 

We  have  already  given  a  specimen  t>f  the  domestie 
operations  of  the  money-jobbers  ^  but  these  are  not  the 
most  prejifdicial  to  national  concerns.  The  jobbers  may 
be  supposed  to  be  Englishmen ;  and  in  that  case  the 
profit  they  make  remains  at  home :  but  whenever  there 
is  a  call  ror  bullion  to  pay  the  balance  of  trade,  it  is 
evident  that  this  will  be  paid  in  silver  coin  ;  never  in 
gold,  if  heavy  silver  can  be  got  >  and  this  again  carries 
away  the  silvef  coin,  and  renders  it  at  home  so  rare, 
that  great  inconveniences  are  found  for  want  of  the  les- 
ser denoilmnations  of  it.  The  loss,  however,  here  is 
confined  to  an  inconvenience  ^  because  the  balance  of 
trade  being  a  debt  which  must  be  paid,  we  do  not  con- 
sider the  exportation  of  the  silver  for  that  purpose  as 
any  consequence  of  the  disorder  of  the  coin.  But  be- 
sides this  exportation  which  is  necessary,  there  are  others 
which  are  arbitrary,  and  which  are  made  only  with  a 
view  to  profit  of  the  wrong  proportion. 

When  the  money-jobbers  find  difficulty  in  carrying 
on  the  traffic  we  have  described,  in  the  English  market, 
because  of  the  competition  among  themselves,  they 
carry  the  silver  coin  of  the  country,  and  sell  it  a- 
broad  for  gold,  upon  the  same  prinejples  that  the  East 
India  Company  send,  silver  to  China  in  order  to  pur- 
chase gold. 

It  may  be  demanded.  What  hurt  this  trade  can  do 
to  Britain,  since  those  who  export  silver  bring  back  the 
same  value  in  gold  ?  Were  this  trade  carried  on  by  na- 
tives, there  would  be  no  loss ;  because  they  would  bring 
home  gold  for  the  whole  intrinsic  value  of  the  silver. 
But  if  we  suppose  foreigners  sending  over  gold  to  be 
coined  at  the  £n|^lish  mint,  and  changing  the  gold  in« 
to  English  silver  coin,  and  then  carrying  ofi"  this  coin, 
it  is  pTain  that  they  must  gain  the  difference,  as  well  as 
the  moneyojobbers.  But  it  may  be  answered,  That 
having  given  gold  for  silver  at  the  rate  of  the  mint, 
they  have  given  value  for  what  they  have  received. 
Very  right ;  but  so  did  Sir  Hans  Sloane^  when  he  paid 
five  guineas  for  an  overgrown  toad :  he  got  value  for 
his  money ;  but  it  was  value  only  to  himself.  Just  so, 
whenever  the  English  government  shall  be  obliged  to 
xestore  the  proportion  of  the  metals  (as  they  must  do), 


E    Y. 

this  operation  will  annihitate  that  imaginary  value  irbidi  M«q 
they  have  hitherto  set  upon  gold }  which  imagination  is ' 
the  only  thing  which  renders  the  exchange  of  their  sil- 
ver against  the  foreign  gold  equal. 

But  it  is  farther  objected,  that  foreigners  canoot 
carry  off  the  heavy  silver)  because  there  is  oooeto 
cary  off.  Very  true ;  but  then  they  have  carried  off 
a  great  quantity  already :  or  if  the  English  Jews  have 
been  too  sharp  to  allow  such  a  profit  to  fall  to  strangers, 
(which  may  or  may  not  have  been  the  case),  then  this 
disorder  is  an  effifictnal  stop  to  any  more  coinage  of  sil- 
ver for  circulation* 

7.  Of  the  Disorder  in  theBritigh  Coin^  sojar  as  it  affects 
the  Value  of  the  Pound  Sterling  Currency, 

From  what  has  been  said,  it  is  evident,  that  tlieit 
Uiust  be  found  in  England  two  legal  pounds  steriing, 
of  different  values  ^  the  one  worth  113  grains  of  fine 
gold,  the  other  worth  1718.7  grains  of  fine  ailTer. 
We  call  them  different :  because  these  two  portioos  of 
the  precious  metals  are  of  diSferent  values  all  over 
Europe* 

But  besides  these  two  different  pounds  steriing,  wUdi 
the  change  in  the  proportion  of  the  metals  has  created, 
the  other  defects  of  the  circulating  coin  produce  similtr 
effects.  The  ffuineas  coined  by  all  the  princes  since 
King  Charles  11.  have  been  of  the  same  standard  weight 
and  fineness,  44^  in  a  pound  troy  of  standard  gold  {? 
fine  :  these  have  been  constantly  wearing  ever  since  tbej 
have  been  coined  ^  and  in  proportion  to  their  wearing 
they  are  of  less  value. 

If,  therefore*  the  new  guineas  are  below  the  valar 
of  a  pound  sterling  in  silver,  standard  weight,  the  old 
must  be  of  less  value  still.  Here  then  is  another  cur- 
rency, that  is,  another  pound  sterling ;  or  indeed,  nrare 
properly  speaking,  there  are  as  many  different  pounds 
sterling  as  there  are  guineas  of  different  weights.  This 
is  not  all ;  the  money-jobbers  having  carried  off  all  the 
weighty  silver,  that  which  is  worn  with  use,  and  redu- 
ced even  below  the  standard  of  gold,  forms  one  correQ- 
cy  more,  and  totally  destroys  all  determinate  proportion 
between  the  money  unit  and  the  currencies  which  are 
supposed  to  represent  it. 

It  may  be  asked,  how,  at  this  rate,  any  silver  has 
remained  in  England  ?  It  is  answered,  that  the  few 
weighty  shillings  which  still  remain  in  circulation,  have 
marvellously  escaped  the  hands  of  the  money-jobbers : 
send  as  to  the  rest,  the  rubbing  and  wearing  of  these 
pieces  has  done  what  the  state  might  have  dona }  that 
is  to  say,  it  has  reduced  them  to  their  due  proportion 
with  the  lightest  gold. 

The  disorder,  therefore,  of  the  English  coin  baa  ren- 
dered the  standard  of  a  pound  steriing  quite  uncertain. 
To  say  that  it  is  1718.7  grains  of  fine  silver,  is  quite 
ideal.  Who  are  paid  in  such  pounds  P  To  say  that  it 
is  X13  grains  of  pure  gold,  may  also  not  be  true;  be- 
cause there  are  many  currencies  worse  than  the  new 
guineas. 

What  then  is  the  consequence  of  all  this  disorder  ? 
What  efiect  has  it  upon  the  current  value  of  a  pound 
sterling  ?  And  which  way  can  the  value  of  that  be  de- 
termined ? 

The  operations  of  trade  bring  value  to  an  equation, 
notwithstanding  the  greatest  irregularities  possible  j  and 


MO 

]^foQ(y.  value  over  all  the  world  by  the  means  of  foreign  ex- 
'  change.   This  is  a  kind  6f  ideal  scale  for  measunng  the 
British  coioy  although  it  has  not  all  the  properties  of 
that  described  above. 

Exchange  considers  the  pound  sterling  as  a  value 
determined  according  to  the  combination  of  the  va- 
lues of  all  the  different  currencies,  in  proportion  as 
pajments  are  made  in  the  one  or  -the  other  ^  and  as 
debtors  generally  take  care  to  pay  in  the  worst  species 
they  can,  it  consequently  follows,  that  the  value  of 
the  pound  sterling  should  fall  to  that  of  the  lowest  cur- 
rency. 

Were  there  a  sufficient  quantity  of  worn  gold  and 
silver  to  acquit  all  bills  of  exchange,  the  pound  sterling 
would  come  down  to  the  value  of  them }  but  if  the  new 
gold  be  also  necessary  for  that  purpose,  the  value  of  it 
must  be  proportionably  greater. 

All  these  combinations  are  liquidated  and  compen- 
sated with  one  another,  by  the  operations  of  trade  and 
exchange  ^  and  the  pound  sterling,  which  is  so  different 
in  itself,  becomes  thereby,  in  the  eyes  of  commerce,  a 
determinate  unit }  subjeet,  however  to  variations,  from 
which  it  never  can  he  exempted. 

Exchange,  therefore,  is  one  of  the  best  measures  for 
valuing  a  pound  steHing,  present  currency.  Here  oc- 
curs a  question : 

Does  the  great  quantity  of  paper  money  in  England 
tend  to  diminish  the  value  of  the  pound  sterling  ? 

We  answer  in  the  negative.    Paper  money  isjust  as 
good  as  gold  or  silver  money,  and  no  better.     The  va- 
riation of  the  standard,  as  we  have  already  said,  must 
influence  the  interest  of  debtors  and  creditors  propor- 
tionally everywhere.    From  this  it  follows,  that  all  aug- 
mentation of  the  value  o£  the  money  unit  in  the  specie 
must,  hurt  the  debtors  in  the  paper  money  5  and  all 
diminutions,  on  the  other  hand,  must  hurt  the  creditors 
in  the  paper  money  as  well  as  everywhere  else.     The 
payments,  therefore,  made  in  paper  money,  never  can 
contribute  to   the  regulation   of  the  standard   of  the 
pound  steriing ;  it  is  the  specie  received  in  liquidation 
of  that  paper  money  which  alone   can   contribute  to 
mark  the  value  of  the  British  unit  ^  because  it  is  affixed 
to  nothing  else. 

From  this  we  may  draw  a  principle,  **  That  in 
countries  where  the  money  unit  is  entirely  affixed  to 
the  coin,  the  actual  value  of  it  is  not  according  to  the 
legal  standard  of  that  coin,  but  according  to  the  mean 
proportion  of  the  actual  worth  of  those  currencies  in 
which  debts  are  paid. 

From  this  we  see  the  reason  why  the  exchange  be- 
tween England  and  all  other  trading  towns  in  Europe 
has  long  appeared  so  unfavourable.  People  calculate 
the  real  par,  upon  the  supposition  that  a  pound  ster- 
ling is  worth  1 7 18.7  grains  troy  of  fine  silver,  when  in 
fact  the  currency  is  not  perhaps  worth  1638,  the  va- 
lue of  a  new  gumea  in  silver,  at  the  market  proportioii 
of  I  to  14.5  ;  that  is  to  say,  the  currency  is  but  95.3 
per  cent,  of  the  silver  standard  of  the  43d  of  Elizabeth. 
No  wonder  then  if  the  exchange  be  thought  unfavour- 
able. 

From  the  principle  we  have  just  laid  down,  we  may 
^ther  a  confirmation  of  what  we  advanced  concerning 
the  cause  of  the  advanced  price  of  bullion  in  the  English 
market. 

When  people  buy  bullion  with  current  money  at  a 
Vol.  XIV.  Part  I.  t 


N    E    Y-  -   '32t 

determinate  price,  that  operation,  in  conjuoetion  with    Money 
the  course  of  exchange,  ought  naturally  to  mark  the 
actual  value  of  the  pound  sterling  with  great  exact- 


ness. 


If  therefore  the  price  of  standard  bullion  in  the  Eng-* 
lish  market,  when  no  demand  is  found  for  the  exporta- 
tion of  the  metals,  that  is  to  say,  when  paper  is 
found  for  paper  upon  exchange,  and  when  merchants 
versed  in  these  matters  judge  exchange  (that  is  re- 
mittances)  to  be  at  par,  if  then  silver  bnllion  can- 
not be  bought  at  a  lower  price  than  6^  pence  the 
ounce,  it  is  evident  that  this  bullion  might  be  bought 
with  6^  pence  in  shillings,  of  which  6$  might  be  coin- 
ed out  ot  the  pound  troy  English  standard  silver ;  since 
6$  per  ounce  implies  6§  shillings  for  the  1 2  ounces  or 
pound  troy. 

This  plainly  shows  how  standard  silver  bullion  should 
sell  fi>r  65  pence  the  ounce,  in  a  country  where  'the 
onnce  of  standard  silver  in  the  coin  is  worth  no  more 
than  62  >  and  were  the  market  prioe  of  bullion  to 
stand  uniformly  at  6^  pence  per  oofice,  that  would 
show  the  value  of  the  pound  sterling  to  be  tolerably 
fixed.  All  the  heavy  silver  coin  is  now  carried  off;  be- 
cause it  was  intrinsically  worth  more  than  the  gold  it 
passed  for  in  currency.  The  silver  therefore  which  re- 
mains  is  worn  down  to  the  market  proportion  of  the 
metals,  as  has  been  said  j  that  is  to  say,  20  shillings 
in  silver  currency  are  worth  113  grains  of  fine  gold, 
at  the  proportion  of  i  to  14.5  between  gold  and  silver* 
Now, 

as  I  is  to  14.5,  so  is  113  to  1638 : 
80  the  20  shillings  cmTent  weigh  but  1638  grains' fine 
silver,  instead  of  17x8.7,  "Ivhich  they  ought  to  do  ac- 
cording to  the  standard. 

Now  let  us  speak  of  standard  silver,  since  we  are 
examining  how  far  the  English  coin  must  be  worn  by 
use. 

The  pound'  troy  contains  5760  grains.  This,  ac- 
cording to  the  standard,  is  coined  into  62  shillings;  ' 
consequently,  every  shilling  onght  to  weigh  92.9  grains* 
Of  such  shiUings  it  is  impossible  that  ever  standard 
bullion  should  sell  at  above  62  pence  per  ounce. 
If  therefore  such  bullion  sells  for  6^  pence,  the  shil* 
lings  with  which  it  is  bought  must  weigh  no  more 
than  88.64  gi^ins  standard  silver;  that  is,  they  must 
lose  4.29  grains,  and  are  reduced  to  -^  of  a  pound 
troy. 

but  it  is  not  necessary  that  bullion  be  bought  with 
shillings  :  no  stipulation  of  price  is  ever  made  farther, 
than  at  so  many  pence  sterling  per  ounce.  Does  not 
this  virtually  determine  the  value  of  such  currency 
with  regard  to  all  the  currencies  in  Europe  ?  Did  a 
Spaniard,  a  Frenchman,  or  a  Dutchman,  know  the 
exact  quantity  of  silver  bullion ^hich  can  be  bought 
in  the  London  market  for  a  pound  sterling,  would  he 
inform  himself  any  farther  as  to  the  intrinsic  value  of 
that  money  unit  ?  would  he  not  understand  the  value 
of  it  far  better  from,  that  circumstance  than  by  the 
course  of  any  exchange,  since  exchange  does  not 
mark  the  intnnsic  value  of  money,  but  only  the  va- 
lue of  that  money  transported  from  one  place  to  an^ 
other  ? 

The  price  of  bullion,  therefore,  when  it  is  not  in^* 
fluenced  by  extraordinarv  demand,  (such  as  for  the 
payment  of  a  balance  of  trade,  or  for  making  an  ex' 

S  s  ^traordinary 


322 

Honey* 


M    O 

tnuxrdlnary  provision  of  pbUe),  bot  when  it  Btands  at 
^  what  every  body  knows  to  be  meant  by  the  common 
market  price^  is  a  very  tolerable  measure  of  the  value 
of  the  actaal  money  standard  in  any  country. 

If  it  be  therefore  troe,  that  a  pound  sterling  cannot 
porchase  above  1638  grains  of  fine  silver  bullion,  it 
will  require  not  a  little  logic  to  prove  that  it  is  really^ 
or  has  been  for  these  many  years,  worth  any  more  \ 
notwithstanding  that  the  standard  weight  of  it  in  Eng- 
land is  regulated  by  the  laws  of  the  kingdom  at  17x8.7 
grains  of  fine  silver. 

If  to  this  valuation  of  the  pound  sterling  drawn 
from  the  price  of  bullion,  we  add  the  other  drawn 
from  the  coune  of  exchange  ^  and  by  this  we  find 
tliat  when  paper  is  found  for  paper  upon  exchange,  a 
pound  sterling  cannot  purchase  above  1638  grains  of 
fine  silver  in  any  country  in  Europe  :  upon  these  two 
authorities  we  may  very  safely  conclude  (as  to  the  mat- 
ter of  fact  at  least)  that  the  pound  sterling  is  not  worth 
more,  either  in  liondon  or  in  any  other  trading  city  ; 
and  if  this  be  the  case,  it  is  just  worth  20  shillings  of 
65  to  the  pound  troy. 

If  therefore  the  mint  were  to  coin  shillings  at  that 
rate,  and  pay  for  silver  bullion  at  the  market  .price, 
that  is,  at  the  rate  of  6$  pence  per  ounce  in  those  new 
coined  shillings,  they  would  be  in  proportion  to  the 
gold  \  silver  would  be  carried  to  the  mint  equally  with 
gold,  and  would  be  as  little  subject  to  be  exported  or 
melted  down* 

It  may  be  inquired  in  this  place,  how  far  the  coining 
the  pound  troy  into  65  shillings  is  contrary  to  the  laws 
.of  England  ? 

The  moment  a  state  pronounces  a  certain  quantity 
of  gold  to  be  worth  a  certain  quantity  of  silver,  and 
orders  these  respective  quantities  of  each  metal  to  be 
received  as  equivalents  of  each  other,  and  as  lawful 
money  in  payments,  that  moment  gold  is  made  a  stand- 
ard as  orach  as  silver.  If  therefore  too  small  a  qoan- 
•  tity  of  gold  be  ordered  or  permitted  to  be  considered 
as  an  equivalent  for  the  unit,  the  silver  standard  is  from 
that  moment  debased  \  or  indeed,  more  properly  speak- 
ing, all  silver  money  is  from  that  moment  proscnbed  \ 
for  who,  from  that  time,  will  ever  pay  in  silver,  when 
he  can  pay  cheaper  in  gold  ?  Gold,  therefore,  by  such 
a  law,  b  made  the  standard,  and  all  declarations  to  the 
contrary  are  against  the  matter  of  fact. 

Were  the  king,  therefore,  to  coin  silver  at  d^  shil- 
llngt  in  the  pound,  it  is  demonstration,  that  by  such  an 
act  he  would  commit  no  adulteration  npon  the  stand- 
ard :  the  adulteration  is  already  conunitted.  The 
standard  has  descended  to  where  it  is  by  slow  de- 
grees, and  by  the  operation  of  political  causes  only  \ 
and  nothing  prevents  it  firom  fiilling  lower  but  tne 
standard  or  the  gold  coin.  Let  guineas  be  now  left 
to  seek  their  value  as  they  did  formerly,  and  let  light 
•ilver  continue  to  go  by  tale,  we  shall  see  the  guineas 
up  at  30  shillings  in  20  years  time,  as  was  the  case  in 
1695. 

It  is  as  abswd  to  say  that  the  standard  of  Queen 
Elizabeth  has  not  been  debased  by  enacting  that  the 
English  unit  shall  be  acquitted  with  113  grains  of  fine 
gold,  as  it  would  be  to  affirm  that  it  would  not  be  de- 
based firom  what  it  is  at  present  by  enacting  that  a 
poood  of  butter  should  everfwhere  be  received  in  pay- 


N    E    Y. 

ment  for  a  pound  sterling  \  although  the  pound  ster- 
ling should  continue  to  consist  of  three  ounces,  1 7  pen- 
ny-weigbts,  and  10  grains  of  standard  silver,  according 
to  the  statute  of  the  43d  of  Elizabeth.  In  that  case, 
most  debtors  would  pay  in  butter  \  and  silver  would,  at 
at  present,  acquire  a  conventional  value  as  a  metal,  bat 
would  be  looked  upon  no  longer  as  a  standard,  or  as 
money. 

If  therefore,  by  the  law  of  England,  a  pound  sterling 
roust  consist  of  17x8.7  grains  troy  of  fine  silver  ^  by  the 
law  of  England  also,  113  grains  of  gold  must  be  of  the 
same  value :  but  no  law  can  establish  that  proportion ; 
consequently,  in  which  ever  way  a  reformation  be 
brought  about,  some  law  must  be  reversed  \  consequent- 
ly, expedienoy,  and  not  compliance  with  law,  must  be 
the  motive  in  reforming  the  abuse. 

From  what  has  been  said,  it  is  not  at  all  surprising 
that  the  pound  sterling  should  in  fact  be  reduced  near- 
ly to  the  value  of  the  gold.  Whether  it  ought  to  be 
kept  at  that  value  is  another  question.  All  that  ire 
here  decide  b,  that  coining  the  pound  troy  Into  65 
shillings  would  restore  the  proportion  of  the  metaU, 
and  render  both  species  common  in  circulation.  But 
restoring  the  weight  and  proportion  of  the  coin  is  not 
the  difficulty  which  prevents  a  reformation  of  the  Eng- 
lish coinage. 

8.  Cifxumstances  to  be  attended  to  in  a  Nno  Begulation 

oftAe  Britiifh  Coin, 

To  people  who  do  not  understand  the  nature  of  such 
operations,  it  may  have  an  air  of  justice  to  sup|K»it 
the  unit  at  what  is  commonly  believed  to  be  the  stand- 
ard of  Queen  Elizabeth,  viz*  at  171 8.7  grains  of  fine 
silver. 

The  regulating  the  standard  of  both  silver  and  goM 
to  \i  fine,  and  the  pound  sterling  to  four  ounces 
standard  silver,  as  it  stood  during  the  reigu  of  Queen 
Mary  I.  has  also  its  advantages,  as  IVIr  Harris  has  ob- 
served. It  makes  the  crown-piece  to  weigh  just  one 
ounce,  the  shilling  four  pennyweights,  and  the  penny 
eight  grains:  consequently,  were  the  new  statute  to 
bear,  that  the  weight  of  the  coin  should  regulate  its 
currency  upon  certain  occasions,  the  having  the  pieces 
adjusted  to  certain  aliquot  parts  of  weight  would  make 
weighing  easy,  and  would  accustom  the  common  people 
to  judge  of  the  value  of  money  by  its  weight,  and  not 
by  the  stamp. 

In  that  case,  there  might  be  a  convenience  in  strik- 
ing the  gold  coins  of  the  same  weight  with  the  silver  ) 
because  the  proportion  of  their  values  would  then  coo* 
stantly  be  ihe  same  with  the  proportion  of  the  metals* 
The  gold  crowns  would  be  worth  at  present,  3I.  12s. 
6d.  the  half-crowns  il.  i6s.  3d.  the  gold  shillings  i4Si 
6d.  and  the  half  7s.  3d.  This  was  anciently  the  prac- 
tice in  tbe  Spanish  mints. 

The  interests  within  tbe  state  can  be  nowise  perfed- 


}j  protected,  but  by  permitting  conversions  of  value 
from  the  old  to  tbe  new  standard,  whatever  it  be,  and 
by  regulating  the  footing  of  such  conversions  by  act  of 
parliament,  according  to  circumstances. 

For  this  purpose,  we  shall  examine  those  interests 
which  will  chiefly  merit  the  attention  of  government, 
when  they  form  a  regulation  for  the  future  of  acquit- 

liBf 


M    O 

kfonff.  ling  permanent  contracts  tilrea  Jy  entered  into.  Such 
as  may  be  contracted  afterwards  will  naturallj  follow 
the  ncir  standard. 

The  landed  interest  Is  no  doubt  the  moat  consider- 
able In  tbe  nation.  Let  us  therefore  examine,  in  the 
Jir^t  place,  what  regulations  it  may  be  proper  to  make, 
in  order  to  do  justice  to  this  great  class,  with  respect  to 
Ihe  land  tax  on  one  hand,  and  with  respect  to  their  les- 
fcees  on  the  other. 

Tbe  valuation  of  the  lands  of  England  was  made 
many  years  ago,  and  reasonably  ought  to  be  supported 
at  the  real  value  of  the  pound  sterling  at  that  time, 
according  to  the  principles  already  laid  down.  The 
general  valuation,  therefore,  of  the  whole  kingdom 
will  rise  according  to  this  scheme.  This  will  he  con- 
sidered as  an  injustice  i  and  no  douht  it  would  be  so,  if 
for  the  futare,  the  laud  tax  be  imposed  as  heretofore, 
witbout  attending  to  this  circumstance ;  but  as  that  im- 
position is  annual,  as  it  is  laid  on  by  the  landed  interest 
Itself,  who  compose  the  parliament,  it  is  to  he  supposed 
that  this  great  class  will  at  least  take  care  of  their  owa 
interest. 

Were  the  valuation  of  the  lands  to  be  stated  accord- 
ing to  the  valuation  of  the  pound  sterling  of  171 8.7 
grains  of  silver,  which  is  commonly  supposed  to  be  the 
standard  of  Elizabeth,  there  would  be  no  great  injury 
done ;  this  would  raise  tbe  valuation  only  5  per  cent* 
and  the  land  tax  in  proportion. 

There  is  no  class  of  inhabitants  in  all  England  so 
much  at  their  ease,  and  so  free  from  taxes,  as  the  class 
of  farmers.  By  living  in  the  country,  and  bv  consnm- 
iogthe  fruits  of  tbe  earth  without  their  sumring  any 
alienation,  tiiey  avoid  the  effect  of  many  excises, 
which,  by  those  who  live  in  corporations,  are  felt  upom 
many  articles  of  their  consumption,  as  well  as  on  those 
which  are  immediately  loaded  with  these  impositions. 
For  this  reason  it  will  not,  perhaps,  appear  unreason- 
able, if  the  additional  5  per  cent,  on  the  land  tax 
were  thrown  upon  this  class,  and  not  upon  the  land* 
lords. 

With  respect  to  leases,  it  may  be  observed,  that  we 
have  gone  upon  the  supposition  that  the  pound  sterling 
in  the  year  1728  was  worth  I7i8.7grain8  of  fine  silver, 
and  1x3  grains  of  fine  gold. 

There  'would  he  no  injustice  done  the  lessees  of  all  the 
Itnds  in  the  kingdom,  were  their  rents  to  be  fixed  at 
the  mean  proportion  of  these  values.  We  have  observed 
how  the  pound  sterling  has  been  gradually  diminishing 
10  its  worth  from  that  time  by  the  gradual  rise  of  the 
fcilver.  This  mean  proportion,  therefore,  will  nearly 
answer  to  what  the  value  >of  the  pound  stevling  was  in 
1743  y  "apposing  the  rise  ofthe^verto'have.been uni^ 
form. 

It  may  be  farther  Alleged  in  favour  6f  the  landlords, 
that  the  gradual  debasement  of  the  standard  'has  been 
more  prejudicial  to  their  interest  in  letting  their  lands, 
than  to  the  farmers  in  disposing  .of  :the  fruits  of  them. 
Proprietors  cannot  so  easily  raise  their  rents  upon  new 
leases,  as  farmers  can  raise  the  prices  of  their  grain 
according  to  the  debaseoMBt  of  the  value  of  the  cur- 
rency. 

The  pound  sterling,  thus  regulated  at  the  mean  pro- 
portion of  its  worth,  as  it  stands  at  present,  and  as  it 
stood  in  1728,  maybe  realised  in  i6}8.6  grains  of  fine 
tilver,  aod  1x5176  grains  fine  gold  j  which  is  ^  per 


N    E    Y. 

cent,  above  the  value  of  the  present  currency*  No  in- 
jury, therefore,  would  be  done  to  lebsees,  and  no  un- 
reasonable gain  would  accrue  to  the  landed  interest,  in 
appointing  conversions  of  all  land  rents  at  2i  per  cent, 
above  tbe  value  of  the  present  currency. 

Without  a  thorough  knowledge  of  every  circumstance 
relating  to  Great  Britain,  it  is  impossible  to  lay  down 
any  plan.  It  is  sufficient  here  briefly  to  point  out  the 
principles  upon  which  it  roust  be  regulated. 

The  next  interest  to  be  considered  is  that  of  the  na- 
tion's creditors.  Tbe  right  regulation  of  their  concerns 
will  have  a  considerable  influence  in  establishing  public 
credit  upon  a  solid  basis,  by  making  it  appear  to  all  the 
world,  that  no  political  operation  upon  the  money  of 
Great  Britain  can  in  any  respect  either  benefit  or  pre- 
judice the  interest  of  those  who  lend  their  money  upon 
the  faith  of  the  nation.  The  regulating  also  the  inte- 
rest of  so  great  a  body,  will  serve  as  a  rule  for  all  cre- 
ditors wlio  are  in  the  same  circumstances,  and  will  upon 
other  accounts  be  productive  of  grr ater  i^dvantages  to 
the  nation  in  time  ooming. 

In  1749,  ^  ^^^  regulation  was  made  with  the  pub- 
lic creditors,  when  the  interest  of  the  whole  redeemable 
national  debt  was  reduced  to  3  per  cent.  This  cir- 
cumstance infinitely  facilitates  the  matter  with  respect 
to  this  class,  since  by  this  innovation  of  all  former  con- 
tracts, the  whole  national  debt  may  be  considered  as 
contracted  at,  or  posterior  to,  the   25th  fijecembej 

1743- 
Were  the  state,  by  an  arbitrary  operation   upoa 

money  (which  every  reformation  must  be),  to  diminish 
'  the  value  of  the  pound  sterling  in  which  the  parlia- 
meat  at  that  time  bound  the  nation  to  acquit  those 
capitals  and  the  interest  upon  them,  would  not  all  £11- 
rope  say,  That  the  British  parliament  had  defrauded 
their  creditors  ?  If  therefore  the  operation  .proposed  to 
be  performed  should  have  a  contrary  tendency,  viz.  to 
augment  the  value  of  tbe  pound  sterling  with  which 
the  parliament  at  that  time  bound  the  nation  to  ac- 
quit those  capitals  and  iaterests,  must  not  all  Europe 
also  agree,  that  the  British  parliament  had .  defirauded 
the  nation  ? 

The  convention  with  the  ancient  creditors  of  the 
state,  who,  in  consequence  of  the  debasement  of  the 
standard,  might  have  justly  clain^d  an  indemnification 
for  the  loss  upon  their  capitals,  Jent  at  a  time  when 
the  pound  sterling  was  at  the  value  of  the  heavy  sil- 
ver, removes  all  canses  of  complaint  from  that  quarter. 
There  was  in  the  year  1749  an  innovation  in  all 
their  contracts;  ,and  they  are  now  to  be  considered 
as  creditors  only irom  the  ajth.of  December  pf  that 
year. 

Let- the  value  •«£  the  pound  sterling  be  inquired  in- 
to during  one  vear  preceding  and  one  posterior  to  the 
transaction  of  the  month  of  December  1749.  The 
great  sums  borrowed  and  paid  back^by  the  nation  dqr- 
ing  that  period,  will  furnish  data  auflicient  for  that 
calculation.  Let  this  value  of  the  pouud  be  specified 
in  troy  grains. of  fine  silver  and  fine  go]d  bullion,  with- 
out mentioning  any  denomination  of  money  according 
to  the  exact  .proportion  of  the  metals  at  that  time. 
And  let  this  pound  be  called  the  pound  of  nationai 
credit* 

This  first  operation  being  determined,  let  it  be  enact- 
ed, that  t|ie  pound  sterling,  by  which  the  state  is  to 

S  s  2  boiTow 


.>  —  ^ 


Monev. 


M    O 

borrow  for  the  future,  and  that  in  vrhicb  the  creditors 
are  to  be  paid,  shall  be  the  exact  mean  proportion  be- 
tween the  quantities  of  gold  and  silver  above  specified, 
according  to  the  actual  proportion  of  the  metals  at  the 
time  such  payments  shall  be  made :  or  that  the  sums 
shall  be  borrowed  or  acquitted,  one  half  in  gold  and 
one  half  in  silver,  at  the  respective  requisitions  of  the 
cr^ditoi*s  or  of  the  state,  when  borrowing.  All  debts 
contracted  posterior  to  1749  may  be  made  liable  to 
conversions. 

•  The  consequence  of  this  regulation  will  be  the  insen* 
bible  establishment  of  a  bank  money.  Nothing  would 
be  more  difficult  to  establish,  by  a  positive  revolution, 
than  such  an  invariable  measure ;  and  nothing  will  be 
found  so  easy  as  to  let  it  establish  itself  by  its  own  ad<* 
vantages.  This  bank  money  will  be  liable  to  much 
fewer  inconveniences  than  that  of  Amsterdam.  There 
the  persons  transacting  must  be  upon  the  spot ;  here, 
the  sterling  currency  may,  every  quarter  of  a  year, 
be  adjusted  by  the  exchequer  to  this  invariable  stand- 
ard, for  the  benefit  of  all  debtors  and  creditors  who 
incline  to  profit  of  the  stability  of  this  meltf  ure  of  va- 
lue. 

This  scheme  is  liable  to  no  inconvenience  from 
the  variation  of  the  metals,  let  them  be  ever  so  fre- 
quent or  hard  to  be  determined ;  because  upon  every 
occasion  where  there  is  the  smallest  doubt  as  to  the 
actual  proportion,  the  option  competent  to  credi- 
tors to  be  paid  h4lf  in  silver  and  half  in  gold  will 
remove. 

Such  a  regulation  will  also  have  this  good  effect^ 
that  it  will  give  the  nation  more  ju«t  ideas  of  the  na- 
ture of  money,  and  consequently  of  the  influence  it 
ought  to  have  upon  prices. 

If  the  value  of  the  pound  sterling  shall  be  found 
to  have  been  by  accident  Jess  in  December  1749  ^*^ 
it  is  at  present  ^  or  if  at  present  the  currency  be  found 
below  what  it  has  commonly  been  since  17499  injus- 
tice to  the  creditors^  and  to  prbvent  all  complaints,  the 
nation  may  grant  them  the  mean  proportion  of  the 
value  of  the. pound  sterling  from  1749  to  1760,  or 
any  other  which  may  to  parliament  appear  reason- 
able. 

This  regulation  must^  appear  equitable  in  the  eyes 
of  all  Europe  y  and  the  strongest  proof  of  it  will  be, 
that  it  will  not  produce  the  smallest  efieot  prejudicial 
to  the  interest  of  the.  foreign  creditors.  The  course 
of  exchange  with  regard  to  them  will  stand  ^ecisely 
as  before. 

A  Dutch,  French,  or  German  creditor^  will  receive 
the  same  value  for  his  interest  in  the  English  stocks  as 
heretofore.  This  must  silence  all  clamours  at  home, 
being  the  most  convincing  proof,  that  the  new  regu- 
lation of  the  coin  will  have  made  no  alteration  upon 
the  real  value  of  any  man^s  property,  let  him  be  debtor 
or  creditor. 

The  interest  of  every  other  denomination  of  credi- 
tors, whose  contracts  are  of  a  fresh  date,  may  be  regu- 
lated upon  the  san^e  principles.  But  where  debts  are 
of  an  old  standing,  justice  demands,  that  attention  be 
had  to  the  value  of  money  at  the  time  of  contracting. 
Nothing  but  the  stability  of  the  English  coin,  when 
compared  .with  that  of  other  nations,  can  make  such  a 
proposal  appear  extraordinary.  Nothing  is  better 
known  in  France  than  this  stipulation  added  to  obli- 


N.    E    Y. 

gations,  Argent  an  cours  de  cejimr  ;  that  is  to  sty,  Tbst  Man, 
the  sum  shall  be  paid  in  coin  of  the  same  intrinsic  Talne* 
with  what  has  been  lent.  Why  should  such  a  clause 
be  thought  reasonable  for  guardmg  people  against  u- 
bitrary  operations  upon  the  numerary  value  of  the  coin, 
and  not  be  found  just  upon  every  occasion  where  the 
numerary  value  of  it  is  found  to  be  changed,  let  the 
cause  be  what  it  will  P 

The  next  interest  we  shall  examine  is  that  of  (r&de. 
When  men  have  attained  the  age  of  ax,  they  have  no 
more  occasion  for  guardians.  This  may  be  applied  to 
traders ;  they  can  parry  with  their  pen  every  incon?e- 
nience  which  may  result  to  other  people  from  the 
changes  upon  money, .  provided  only  the  laws  permit 
them  to  do  themselves  justice  with  respect  to  their  en- 
gagements. This  class  demands  no  more  than  a  right 
to  convert  all  reciprocal  obligations  into  denornioatioos 
of  coin  of  the  same  intrinsic  valne  with  those  they  have 
contracted  in. 

The  next  interest  is  that  of  buyers  and  sellers ',  that 
is,  of  manufacturers  with  regard  to  consumers,  and  of 
servants  with  respect  to  those  who  hire  their  personal 
service. 

The  interest  of  this  class  requires  a  most  particolar 
attention.  They  must,  literally  speaking,  be  put  to 
school,  and  taught  the  first  principles  of  their  trade, 
which  is  buying  and  selling.  They  must  learn  to  judge 
of  price  by  the  grains  of  silver  and  gold  they  receive : 
they  are  children  of  a  mercantile  mother,  however  war- 
like the  father^s  disposition.  If  it  be  the  interest  of  the 
state  that  their  bodies  be  rendered  robust  and  active, 
it  is  no  less  the  interest  of  the  state  that  their  mimb  he 
instructed  in  the  first  principles  of  the  trade  they  exer- 
cise. 

For  this  purpose,  tables  of  conversion  from  Uie  old 
standard  to  the  new  must  be  made,  and  ordered  to  be 
put  up  in  every  market,  in  every  shop.  All  duties,  all 
excises,  must  be  converted  in  the  same  manner.  Uni- 
formity must  be  made  to  appear  everywhere.  The 
smallest  deviation  from  this  will  be  a  stumbling  block 
to  the  multitude. 

Not  only  the  interest  of  the  individuals  of  the  class 
we  are  at  present  considering,  demands  the  nation^^ 
care  and  attention  in  this  particular  ^  but  the  prospe- 
rity of  trade,  and  the  wellbeing  of  the  nation,  are  ako 
deeply  interested  in  the  execution. 

The  whole  delicacy  of  the  intricate  combinatiooa  of 
commerce  depends  upon  a.  just  and  equable  vibration 
of  prices,  ae^rding  as  circumstances  demand  k.  The 
more,  therefore,  the  industrious  classes  are  instructed  in 
the  principles  which  influence  prices,  the  more  easily 
will  the  machine  move.  A  workman  then  learns  to 
sink  his  price  without  regret,  and  can  r^ise  it  without 
avidity.  When  principles  are  not  understood,  prices 
eannot  gently fall«  they  must  be  pulled  down :  and  mer- 
chants dare  not  suffer  them  to  rise,  for  fear  of  abuse, 
even  although  the  perfection  of  an  infant  manufacture 
should  require  it. 

The  last  interest  is  that  of  the  bank  of  England, 
which  naturally  must  regulate  that  of  every  other. 

Had  this  great  company  followed  the  example  of 
other  banks,  and  established  a  bank-money  of  an  ifl^a* 
riable  standard  as  the  measure  of  all  their  debts  aod 
credits,  they  wou|d  not  have  been  liable  to  any  incoa- 
veni^nce.upon  a  variation  of  the  standard. 


M    O 


Mm(J' 


'Hie  btnk  of  England  vras  projected  about  the  jear 
1694,  at  a  time  when  the  current  money  of  the  nation 
was  in  tbe  greatest  disorder,  and  government  in  the 
greatest  distress  both  for  money  and  for  credit.  Cora- 
meite  was  then  at  a  veiy  low  ebb  ^  and  the  only,  or 
at  least  tbe  most  profitable,  trade  of  any,  was  jobbing 
is  coio,  and  carrying  backwards  and  forwards  the  pre- 
cious metals  from  Holland  to  England.  Merchants 
profited  also  greatly  from  the  eflFects  which  tbe  utter 
disorder  of  tbe  coin  produced  upon  the  price  of  mer- 
cbaodise. 

At  such  a  juncture  the  resolution  was  taken  to  make 
a  new  comage  j  and  upon  the  prospect  of  this,  a  com- 
pany was  found,  who,  for  an  exclusive  charter  to  hold 
a  bank  for  13  years,  willingly  lent  the  government 
upwards  of  a  nullion  sterling  at  8  per  cent,  (in  light 
money  we  suppose),  with  a  prospect  of  being  repaid 
both  interest  and  capital  in  heavy.  This  was  not  all : 
part  of  the  money  lent  was  to  be  applied  for  the  esta- 
blishment of  the  bank  ^  and  no  less  than  4000I.  a-year 
was  allowed  to  the  company,  above  the  full  interest^ 
for  defraying  the  charge  of  the  management. 

Under  such  circumstances  tbe  introduction  of  bank- 
money  was  very  superfluous,  and  would  have  been  very 
impolitic.  That  invention  is  calculated  against  the 
raising  of  the  standard  :  but  here  the  bank  profited  of 
that  rise  in  its  quality  of  creditor  for  ntoney  lent ;  and 
took  care  not  to  commence  debtor  by  circulating  their 
paper  until  the  effect  of  the  new  regulation  took  place 
in  1695  'j  tbat  is,  s^*ter  the  genen^  re-coinage  of  all 
the  clipped  silver. 

From  that  time  till  now,  the  bank  of  England  has 
been  tbe  basLs  of  the  nation^s  credit,  and  with  great 
reason  has  been  constantly  under  the  most  intimate  pro- 
tection of  every  minister. 

The  value  of  the  pound  sterling,  as  we  have  seen,  has 
been  declining  ever  since  the  year  1601,  the  standard 
being  fixed  to  silver  during  all  that  century,  while  the 
gold  was  constantly  rifting.  No  sooner  had  tbe  pro- 
portion taken  another  turn,  and  silver  begun  to  rise, 
tfaan  the  government  of  England  threw  the  standard 
virtually  upon  the  gold,  by  regulating  the  value  of  the 
guineas  at  the  exact  proportion  of  the  market.  By 
these  operations,  however,  tbe  bank  has  constantly 
been  a  gainer  (in  its  quality  of  debtor)  upon  all  tbe 
paper  in  circulation  ^  and  therefore  has  lost  nothing  by 
not  having  established  a  bank-money. 

The  interest  of  this  great  company  being  established, 
upon  the  principles  we  have  endeavoured  to  explain,  it 
is  very  evident,  that  the  government  of  England  never 
will  take  any  step  in  the  reformation  of  the  coin  which 
in  its  consequences  can  prove  hurtful  to  the  bank* 
Such  a  step  would  be  contrary  both  to  justice  and  to 
common  sense.  To  make  a  regulation  which,  by  rais- 
ing the  standard,  would  prove  beneficial  to  the  public 
creditors,  to  the  prejudice  of  the  bank  (which  we  may 
call  the  public  debtor)^  would  be*  an  operation  upon 
public  credit  like  that  of  a  person  who  is  at  great  pains 
to  support  his  house  by  props  on  all  sides,  and  who  at 
the  same  time  blows  up  the  foundation  of  it  with  gun- 
powder. 

We  may  therefore  conclude,  that  with  regard  to  the 
hank  of  England,  as  well  as  every  other  private  hank- 
er, the  notes  which  are  constantly  payable  upon  de- 
oand  must  be  oiade  liable  to  a  conversion  at  the  actual 

5/ 


N    E    Y,  32s 

value  of  the  pound  sterling  at  the  time  of  the  new  re-    Money. 


gulation. 

*  That  the  bank  will  gain  by  this,  is  very  certain  ;  bnt 
the  circulation  of  their  notes  is  so  swift,  that  it  would 
be  absurd  to  allow  to  the  then  ^  possessors  of  them  that 
indemnification  which  naturally  should  be  shared  by  all 
those  through  whose  hands  they  have  passed,  in  pro- 
portion to  the  debasement  of  the  standard  during  the 
time  of  their  respective  possession. 

Besides  these  considerations,  which  are  in  cqmmon  to 
all  states,  the  government  of  Great  Britain  has  one  pe- 
culiar to  itself.  The  interest  of  the  bank,  and  tl\at  of 
tbe  creditors,  are  diametrically  opposite ;  every  thing 
which  raises  the  standard  hurts  the  bank ;  every  thing 
which  can  sink  it  hurts  the  creditors  :  and  upon  the 
right  management  of  the  one  and  the  other,  depends 
the  solidity  of  public  credit.  For  these  reasons,  with- 
out the  most  certain  prospect  of  conducting  a  restitution 
of  the  standard  to  the  general  advantage  as  well  as  ap- 
probation of  the  nation,  no  minister  wtU  probably  ever 
undertake  so  dangerous  an  operation. 

We  shall  now  propose  an  expedient  which  may  re- 
move at  least  some  of  the  inconveniences  which  wonld 
result  from  so  extensive  an  undertaking  as  that  of  regu- 
lating the  respective  interests  in  Great  Britain  by  a  po- 
sitive law,  upon  a  change  in  the  value  of  -their  money 
of  account. 

Suppose  then,  that,  before  any  change  is  made  in  the 
coin,  government  should  enter  into  a  transaction  with 
the  public  credttcnrs,  and  ascertain  a  permanent  value 
for  the  pound  sterling  for  the  future,  specified  in  a  de- 
termined proportion  of  the  fine  metals  in  common  bul- 
lion, without  any  regard  to  money  of  account,  or  to  any 
coin  whatever.  « 

This  preliminary  step  being  taken,  let  the  intended 
alteration  of  the  standard  be  proclaimed  a  certain  time 
before  it  is  to  commence.  Let  the  nature  of  the 
change  be  clearly  explained,  and  let  all  sach  as  are  en- 
gaged in  contracts  which  are  dissolvable  at  will  upon 
the  prestations  stipulated,  be  acquitted  between  the 
parties,  or  innovated  as  they  shall  think  proper  j  with 
certification,  that,  posterior  to  a  certain  day,  the  stipu- 
lations formerly  entered  into  shall  be  binding  according 
to  the  denominations  of  the  money  of  account  in  the 
new  standard. 

As  to  permanent  contracts,  which  cannot  at  once 
be  fulfilled  and  dissolved,  such  as  leases,  the  parliament 
may  either  prescribe  the  methods  and  terms  of  conver- 
sion )  or  a  liberty  may  be  given  to  the  parties  to  annul 
the  contract,  upon  the  debtor^s  refusing  to  perform  his 
agreement  according  to  the  new  standard.  Contracts, 
on  the  other  hand,  might  remain  stable,  with  respect  to 
creditors  who  would  he' satisfied  with  payments  made 
on  the  footing  of  the  old  standard.  If  the  rise  intended 
should  not  be  very  considerable,  no  great  injustice  c&n 
follow  such  a  regulation. 

Annuities  are  now  thoroughly  understood,  and  the 
value  of  them  is  brought  to  so  nice  a  calculation, 
that  nothing  will  be  easier  than  to  regulate  these 
upon  the  fitting  of  the  value  paid  for  them,  or  of 
the  subject  affected  by  them.  If  by  the  regulation, 
land  rents  are  made  to  rise  in  denomination,  the  an- 
nuities charged  upon  them  ought  to  rise  in  propor- 
tion J  if  in  intrinsic  value,  the  annuity  should  remain 
a»  it  was. 

9*  RegUMtiona 


^. 


MONEY. 


9.  Regulations  which  the  Principles  of  this  Inquiry 
point  out  as  expedient  to  be  made  by  a  new  Sta- 
tute fir  regulating  the  British  Coin, 

\jet  tis  now  examtoe  wbat  regulations  it  may  be 
proper  to  make  by  a  new  statute  concerning  tbe  coin 
of  Great  Britain,  in  order  to  preserve  always  the  same 
exact  value  of  the  pound  sterling  realized  in  gold  and 
in  silver,  in  spite  bf  all  the  incapacities  inherent  in 
tbe  metals  to  perform  tbe  functions  of  an  invariable 
scale  or  measure  of  value. 

i.*Tbe  first  point  is  to  determine  tbe.  exact  number 
of  grains  o£  fine  gold  and  fine  silver  which  are  to  com- 
pose it,  according  to  the  then  proportion  of  tbe  metals 
in  the  London  market. 

2*  To  determine  tbe  proportion  of  these  metals 
with  the  pound  troy  )  and  in  regard  that  the  standard  of 
gold  and  silver  is  different,  let  tbe  mint,  price  of  both 
metals  be  regulated  according  to  the  pound  troy.  fine. 

3.  To  fix  tbe  mint  price  within  certain  limits  ^  that 
is  to  say,  to  leave  to  tbe  king  and  council,  by  procla- 
mation, to  carry  the  mint  price  of  buUion  up  to  the  va* 
lue  of  the  coin,  as  is  the  present  regulation,  er  to  sink 
it  to  per  cent,  below  that  price,  according  as  go- 
vernment shall  incline  to  impose  a  duty  upon  ooinage. 

4.  To  order,  that  silver  and  gold  coin  sbkll  be  struck 
of  suck  denominations  as  the  king  shall  think  fit  to  ap- 
point} in  which  tbe  proportion  of  the  metals  above 
determined  shall  be  constantly  observed  through  every 
denomination  of  the  coin,  until  necessity  shall  make  a 
new  general  coinage  unavoidable* 

5.  To  have  the  number  of  ^^tains  of  tbe  fine  metal 
in  every  piece  marked  upon  the  exergue,  or  upon  tbe 
legend  of  the  coin,  in  place  of  some  initial  letters  of 
titles,  which  not  one  peAon  in  a  thousand  can  decy- 
pber-}  and  to  make  tbe  coin  of  as  compact  a  form  as 
possible,  .diminishing  tbe  surfiice  of  it  as  much  as  is 
consistent  with  beauty. 

6.  That  it  shall  be  lawfiil  for  all  cmitracting  parties 
to  stipulate  their  paysMnts  either  in  gold  or  silver 
€oin,  or  to .  leave  tbe  option  of  the  species  to  one  of 
tbe  parties. 

7.  That  where  no  particular  stipulation  is  made,  cre- 
ditors shall  have  power  to  demand  payment,  half  in  one 
species,  half  in  the  other ;  and  when  tbe  sum  cannot 
fall  equally  into  gold  and  silver  coins,  the  fractions  td 
be  paid  in  silver. 

8.^  That  in  buying  and  selling,  when  no  particular 
species  has  been  stipulated,  and  when  no  act  in  writing 
has  intervened,  the  option  of  tbe  species  shall  be  com- 
petent to  the  buyer. 

p.  That  aU  sums  paid  rur  received  by  tbe  king^s  re- 
ceivers, or  by  bankers,  shall  be  delivered  by  weighty 
i£  demanded* 

10.  That  all  money  which  shall  be  foond  under  the 
legal  weight,  from  whatever  cause  it  may  proceed,  may 
be  rejected  in  every  payment  whatsoever  ^  or  if  o&red 
in  payment  of  a  debt  above  a  certain  sum,  may  be  ta- 
ken according  to  its  weight,  at  the  then  mint  price,  in 
the  option  of  the  creditor. 

ii.  That  no  penaltv  shall  be  incurred  by  those  who 
melt  down  or  export  the  nation's  coin  \  but  that  wash- 
ing, clipping,  or  diminishing  the  weight  of  any  part 

2  ' 


of  it  shall  be  deemed  felony,  as  mndi  as  an?  o&er  )f«^ 
theft,  if  tbe  person  so  degrading  the  coin  shall  after- 
wards make  it  circulate  for  lawful  money. 

To  prevent  the  inconveniences  proceeding  from  the 
variation  in  the  pcopoition  between  the  metals,  it  may 
be  provided, 

1 2.  That  upon  every  variation  of  proportion  in  the 
market  price  of  the  metals,  the  price  of  liotfa  shall  be 
changed,  according  to  the  following  rule  : 

Let  the  price  of  the  pound  troy  fine  gdd  in  the  coia 
be  called  G. 

Let  the  price  of  ditto  in  tbe  silver  be  called  S. 

Let  tbe  new  proportion  between  tlie  market  price  of 
tlie  metals  be  called  P. 

Then  state  this  formula  : 

G       S 

-n  4-  — =  to  a  pound  troy  fine  silver,  iii  sterling  cor- 

rency. 

5  G 
|-P-*{ =:  to  a  pound  troy  fine  gold,  in  sterling 

2  2 

currency. 

This  will  be  a  rule  for  the  mint  to  keep  the  price 
of  tbe  metals  constantly  at  par  with  tbe  price  of  tbe 
market^  and  coinage  may  be  imposed,  as  has  been 
described,  by  fixing  the  mint  price  of  them  at  a 
certain  rate  below  the  value  of  tbe  fine  metals  in  the 
eoin. 

13.  As  long  as  tbe  variation  of  the  market  price  of 
tbe  metals  shall  not  carry  tbe  price  of  the  rising  metal 
so  high-  as  the  advanced .  price  of  tbe  coin  above  the 
bullion,  no  alteration  need  be  made  on  the  denomina- 
tion of  either  species. 

•  14.  So  soon  as  tbe  variation  of  the  market  price  of 
the  metals  shall  give  a  value  to  tbe  rising  species,  above 
tbe  difference  between  the  coin  and  the  bullion  j  then 
the  king  shall  alter  the  denominations  of  all  tbe  coin^ 
silver  and  gold,  adding  to  tbe  coins  of  the  rising  metal 
exactly  what  is  taken  from  those  of  the  other.  An  ex- 
ample will  make  this  plain  : 

Let  us  suppose  that  tbe  coinage  has  been  made  ac- 
cording to  tbe  proportion  of  14.5  to  i ;  that  20  shil- 
lings, or  4  rrown-pieces,  shall  -  contain,  in  fine  silver, 
14.5  times  as  many  grains  as  tbe  guinea,  or  tbe  gold 
pound,  shall  contam  grains  of  fine  gold.  Let  the  new 
proportion  of  the  metals  be  supposed  to  be  14  to  i. 
Li  that  case,  tbe  20  shillings,  or  the  4  crowns,  will 
contain  ^  more  value  than  tbe  guinea.  Now  since 
there  is  no  question  of  making  a  new  general  coinage 
Qpon  every  variation,  in  order  to  adjust  the  proportion 
of  the  metals  in  the  weight  of  tbe  coins,  that  propor- 
tion might  be  adjusted  by  changing  their  respective  de- 
nominations according  to  this  formula : 

Let  tbe  20  shillings,  or  4  crowns,  in  coin,  be  called 

6  Let  the  guinea  be  called  G.  Let  the  difference 
between  the  old  |»t>portion  and  the  new,  which  is  -/^ 
be  called  P.    Then  say. 

P  *  P 

8—=;  a  poond  sterling,  and  G-f-  —  =  a  poud 

sterling. 

By  this  it  appears  that  all  tbe  silver  coin  nmst  be 

raised  in  ito  deaomination  ^,  and  all  the  gold  coia 

must  be  lowered  in  its  denomination  /|>  ^  yet  rail  8«f  G 

will  be  equal  to  two  pounds  sterling,  as  befiife,  whs- 

4bcr 


M    O 


M«KT   ^^  ^^  ^  considered  according  to  the  old  or  ac- 
■J  cording  to  the  new  denointnation8« 

But  it  may  be  observed,  that  the  imposition  of  coin- 
age  rendering  the  value  of  the*  coin  greater  than  the 
value  of  the  bulliony  that  circumstance  gives  a  certain 
latitude  in  fixing  the  new  denominations  of  the  coin, 
so  as  to  avoid  mipute  fractions.  For,  providing  the 
deviation  ivom  the  exact  proportion  shall  fall  within 
the  advanced  price  of  the  coin,  no  advantage  can  be 
taken  by  meltmg  down  one  species  preferably  to  an- 
other) since,  in  either  case,  the  loss  incurred  by  melting 
the  coin  must  be  greater  than  the  profit  made  upon 
seiliog  the  bullion.  The  mint  ^irice-  of  the  metaU, 
however,  may  be  fixed  exactly,  that  is,  within  the  value 
of  a  farthing  upon  a  pound  of  fine  silver  or  gold.  Thia 
is  easily  reckoned  at  the  mint }  although  upon  every 
piece  in  common  circulation  the  fractions  of  larthinga 
vottld  be  inconvenient. 

15.  That  notwithstanding  of  the  temporary  varia- 
trons  made  upon  the  denomination  of  the  gold  and 
silver  coins,  all  contracts  formerly  entered  into,  and  all 
stipulations' in  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence,  may  con- 
ttoue  to  be  acquitted  according  to  the  old  denomina- 
tions of  the  coins,  paying  one  half  in  gold  and  one- 
half  in  silver  : '  unless  in  the  case  where  a  particnlar 
species  has  been  stipulated }  in  which  case,  the  sums 
must  be  paid  according  to  the  new  regulation  made 
upon  the  denomination  of  that  species,  to  the  end 
that  neither  profit  or  loss  may  result  to  any  of  the 
pjulies. 

16.  That  notwithstanding  the  alterations  on   the 
mint  price  of  the  metals,  and  in  the  denomination  of 
the  coins,  no  change  shall  be  made  upon  the  weight 
of  the  particular  pieces  of  the  latter,  except  in  thr 
case  of  a  general  re-coinage  of  one  denomination  at 
least :  that  is  to  say,  the  mint  must  not  coin  new  gui- 
neas, crovnis,  &c.  of  a  different  weight  fiom  those  aU 
readj  in  currency,  although  by  so  doing  the  firactiona 
Blight  be  avoided.      This  would  occasion  confbsion, 
and  the  remedy  would  cease  to  be  of  any  U9e  upon  a 
new  change  in  the  'proportion  of  the  metals.     But  it 
inay  be  found  convenient,  for  removing  the  $mall  frac-' 
tions  in  shillings  and  sixpences,  to  recoin  such  deno- 
minations altogether,   and   to  put  them   to  their  in- 
teger numbers  of  twelve  and  of  six  pence,  without 
cminging  in  any  respect  their  proportion  of  value  to  * 
all  other  denominations  of  the  coin :    this  will  be  no 
great  expence,  when  the  bulk  of  the  silver  coin  is  put 
into  5  shilling  pieces. 

By  this  method  of  changing  the*  denomination  of 
the  coin,  there  never  can  result  any  alteration  in  the< 
value  of  the  pound  sterling  ^  and  although  fraotiona 


N    E    Y,  '  327 

of  value  may  now  and  then  Uls  introduced,  in  order  to»  Money. 
prevent  the  abuses  to  which  the  coin  would  otherwise' 
be  exposed  by  the  artifice  of  those  who  melt  it  down, 
yet  still  the  inconvenience  of  such   fractions  may  be 
avoided  in  paying,   according   to   the   old  denomina- 
tions,  in   both   species,   by   equal  parts.     This   wilt, 
also  prove  demonstratively,  that  no  change  is  there- 
by made  in  the  true  value  of  the  national  unit  of^ 
money. 

17.  That  it  be  ordered,  that  shillings  and  sixpences 
shall  only  be  current  for  20  years  ^  and  all  other  eoinsi: 
both  gold  and  silver,  for  40  years,  or  more.     For  as- 
certaining which  term,  there  may  be  marked,  upon 
the  exergue  of  the  coin,  the  last  year  of  their  cur- 
rency, in  place  of  the  date  of  their  fabrication.     This*    . 
term  elapsed,  or  the  date  effaced,  thatth^y  shall  have'   * 
no  more  currency  whatsoever)  and,  when  offered  ia 
payment,   may  be  received   as  bullion  at  the  actual 
price  of  the  mint,  or  refused,  at  the  option  of  the  ere* 
ditor. 

1 8.  That  no  foreicn  coin  shall  have  any  legal  cur- 
rency, except  as  bullion  at  the  mint  price. 

By  these  and  the  like  regulations  may  be  pre- 
vented, imo.  The  melting  or^xpofrtitig  of  Uie  coin  in* 
^neral.     21/0,  The  melting  or  exporting  one  'speciesf 
in  order  to  sell  it  as  bullion  at  an  advaneed  price. 
^tiOf  The  profit  in   acquitting  obligations  preferably 
m  one  species  to  another.     4/0,  The  degradation  of  the « 
standard,  by  the  wearing^  of  the  coin,  or  by  a  change 
in  the  proportion  between  the  metals.     5/0,.  The  circu- 
lation of  the  coin  below  the  legal  weight.     6to,  The 
profit  that  other  nations  reap  by  paying  their  debta  - 
more  cheaply  to  Great  Britain  than  Great  Britain  can  . 
pay  ber's  to  them. 

And  the  great  advantage^  of  it  Is,  thM  it  is  an  nni*-/ 
form  plan,  and  may  serve  as  a  perpetual  regulation,  - 
compatible  with  all  kinds  of  denominations  of  coins, 
variations  in  the  proportion  of  the  4netitls,  and  with  tha- 
imposition  of  a  dul^  'uponr^coinage,  or- with  the  pre-- 
serving  it  firee  j  and  further,  that  it  may  in  time  be 
adopted  by  other  nations^  who  will  find  the  advantage 
of  having  their  nronev  of -account  preserved  perpetually.  • 
at  the  same-^alue,  with  respect  to  the  denominations  of ' 
all  foreign  money  of  account  established  on  the  same 
principles.-*— But  for  a  fuller  discussion  of  this  subject 
we  must  refer  our  readers  to  the  articles  Bankiko  and. 
£xcHAKG£  in  the  Suppi^ment,  and  to  Mr  Wheatley's  ' 
Essay  on  the  Theory  of  Money  and  Principles  of  Com- 
merce, London  1807  j  and  to  a  Treatise  on  the  Coins 
of  the  Bealro,  in  a  letter  to  the  kingi  by  the  Earl  oC  ^ 
Liverpool,  London  1805^ 


ATABLIL 


328 

Dutch  Cotns.  Gennaii  Coins. 


M    O 


n 


^i 


1 1 


i  I 


•4  ONOi 
►  >-► 

S3  W 

*   •«   o 

•  ••  5r 


oao3 

g  s  ^  s 

o  o  _ 

I  1^1 


3. 


II 


French  Coiiis. 


2,S,S,g: 


N    E    Y. 

English  Coins. 


M  U>    M     M    O  VO    OO^sI    0\<rf^  ^  CM    N'  M 


00^ 

**»*<•  o 


2  a 


k.^  tH   O  <i  e*  M  ^  **•  •** 


o 


OQ  OQ  \L«'9 


Mil 


3  J^Rs-^ 


D      ^  B  a  e  *s 


it 


g|i'" 


n  ri  1 1 1 


"    S'S: 
5  A 


I  I  I  I  I 


•a 

iH^llir^riii 

"SlI  5.    e-aoS= 


M  U 


ill  1 1 1 


II  i  I  I  I  M 


B*  S".  ►n  ? 


o 


B    M   S 


^ 


II     II     I  I  I  I     I  I  M  I  II  I    I  I  I  1^    ;i I  I  I  I  I 


-<- 


^.^^^'^.^.^.{►^^^^i^t^         s, 


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o 

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1  >S*oo  11114^ 

1  CM   OOi      1     1     1  ^ 

*as  1   1    1  J!  oDcS  1  u>  1    1    1   00 
?                Cti  *         *                  .OS 

111^     1    1  1  r 

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#aa#000                       ■•• 

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M 


r 


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f 
UNIVEBSAL 


[329    ] 


UNIVERSAL  TABLE 

■ 

Of  the  present  State  of  the  Rsal  and  Imaginary  Mon£ys  of  the  World. 

f  Tiib  nark  19  prefixed  to  the  Imaginary  Money^  or  Money  of  Account. 
All  Fractions  in  the  Value  English  are  Parts  of  a  Penny* 


This  mark  signifies  !>,  make^  or  tgual  to. 


ENGLAND  and  SCOTLAND. 

London^  Bristol^  Liverpool^  &c. 

Ediftburgh^  Glasgow^  Aberdeeuy  &c« 


X*      Sm       dm 


FLAND£fiS  AND  BRABANT. 

Ghenty  Ostend^  ^p.  Antwerp^  Brussels^  &c 

A  Pening              -            -  -  00 

4  Peningens  =z  an  Urcbe  -  00 

8  Penln^ns       f  a  Grpte  -  0     0 

%  Peta^  •  00 

f  a  ScaUn  -  00 

a  Scalin  -  00 

f  a  Florin  -  01 

a  Ducat  -  09 

f  a  Pound  Flem.  o     9 


2Grotes 

6  Petards 

7  Petards 
\o  Grotes 
fi  Scalins 
(0  Grotes 


O577 

6 


3 
o 


HOLLAND  AND  ZEALAND. 

imtfrdam^  Rotterdam^  Aliddieburg^  Flushings  &c, 


A.  Pening 

8  Peaingens  =fa  Grote 

2  Gfotes  .  a  Stiver 
6  Stivers  a  Sealin 

0  Stivers   -  a  Guilder 

3  Stivers  a  RixdoUar 
Vol.  XIV.  Part  L 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 


o 
o 
o 
o 
•I 

4 


9 1 


OT.V 
61V 

9 

4i 
t 


i  Farthing 

•           •            • 

0 

0 

oi 

2  Farthings 

=:     a  Halfpenny 

0 

0 

-oj 

2  HalfjieDce 

A  Penny 

0 

0 

I 

4  Pence 

a  Groat 

0 

0 

4 

6  Pence 

a  Half  ShilUng 

0 

0 

6 

12  Pence 

a  Shilling 

0 

I 

0 

5  Shillings 

a  Crown 

0 

5 

0 

20  Shillings 

f  a  Pound  Sterling 

I 

0 

0 

. 

21  Shillinga 

a  Guinea 

X 

I 

0 

IHEI.AND. 

Dublin^  Corkf  Londonderry^ 

&c. 

V  Farthing 

•         . 

p 

Q 

2  Farthings 

=r     a  Hflffenay 

0 

0 

1 

2  Halfpen$;« 

a  Penny 

Q 

0 

oil 

(^}  Pence 

aHalfShiUtne 
f  a  Shilling  Irish 

0 

0 

6 

.P< 

2  Pence 

0 

0 

11^ 

g 

3  Pence 

a  Shilling 

0 

I 

0 

1 

15  Pence 

a  Crown 

0 

A. 

0 

1 

0  Shiillngs 

•f-  a  Pound  Irish 

D 

Si 

,.»i 

3^  Shillings 

a  Guinea 

I 

I 

0 

^ 

s 

^ 

M 


60  Stivers 
105  Stivers 
6  Guilders 


HOLLAND,  &c. 


=    a  Dry  Guilder 
a  Ducat 
f  a  Pound  Flem. 


Z.   s,    d. 


o    5 

o    9 

O   10 


3 

I 


< 


o. 


HAMBURG.  Aitonoj  Lubec^  Bremen^  $cc. 


f  A  Tryljng 

2  Trylings 

2  Sexlings 

12  Fenings 

16  Shillings 

2  Marcs 

3  Marcs 
6^  Marcs 

120  Shillings 


f  a  Sexling 

a  Fening 

a  Shilling  Lub. 
fa  Marc 

a  Slel  Dollar 

a  Ri^dollar 

a  Ducat 
f  a  Pound  Flem. 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 


o 

0 
0 

p 
t 

3 

4 

9 
li 


6 
o 
6 
4f 


HANOVfUjL     JUinenbtirg^^eU.^c. 


f  A  Fening 

3  Feniags 
8  Fenings 

12  Fenings 
8  Groshen 
16  Groshen 
24  Groshen 
32  Groshen 

4  Guldens 


=  -  -  -  0 

a  Daeyer         -  o 

a  Marien  •  o 

a  Grosh  -  o 

a  Half  Gtdden  o 

a  Gulden  -  o 

t  a  Rixdollar        -  o 

a  Double  Gulden  o 

a  Ducat  -  o 


0 
0 
0 
6 

% 
2 

3 

4 

9 


H 

% 

4 
$ 

8 

a 


SAXOiNY  AND  HOLSTEIN. 

Dresden^ 

LeipsiCf  &c«  Wumar^  KeH^  &c. 

t  An  HeUer 

=        -        .-op 

P/v 

2  Hellers 

>  Fening         •         0^    0 

o^V 

6  HeUers 

.a  Dreyer         -           op 

OtV 

16  Hellers 

a  Marien          -         0     0 

iv 

12  Fenings 

a  Grosh           -          op 

li 

16  Groshen 

a  Gould          -          0    "2 

% 

24  Groshen, 

f  a  Rixdollar        -        0^3 

32  Groshen 

a^ecie  Dothir          0    4 
a  Ducat          -          ^9 

8 

4  Goulds 

4 

BRANDENBURG  akdPOMERANIA. 

Berlin^  Potsdam^  &c.  Stetihf  &c. 

t  A  Denier        =;        -         .  • .        00 

fDeniers             a  Polchea  •         00 

Deniers             a  Grosh  -CO 

.  an  Abrass  -        00 

fa  Marc  -           o 
Tt 


3  Polchens 
20  Groshen 


9    o    9t 
30  GroBoeii 


MONEY. 


BRANDENBURG,  &c. 

I.    *.    d. 

30  Oroshen         «  Florin 

012 

90  CroBhen       H  Blidollar 

0    3    6 

108  GnMben        m  AlUrtiu 

042 

SFloriiu          »Dac>t        - 

094 

COLOGN.  itfcnfts,  Tf-icTB,  Litgc,  Munich,  Muntter. 

Padcrboum,  lie. 

A  Dute 

0    0    0^ 

3  Dotes     =     t>  Cruitwr , 

000^ 

2  Cruitien       an  Albus 

0    0    og 

8  Dates             a  Stiver 

0      0      Ot^ 

3  Stivers             a  Plapert 

0      0       2t!j 

4  Plaperts          a  Copsluck 

0    0    af 

40  Stivers            a  Guilder 

024 

1  Guilders          a  Hard  Dollar      '  - 

0    4    8 

4  Guilders         a  Ducat 

094 

BOHEMIA,  SILESIA,  akd  HUNGARY. 

Pragut,  Breilaw,  Presiarg, 

kc. 

AFeniDg 

0      0      Oj'o- 

3  Feniugs     =     a  Dreyer 

0     0     oV^ 

3  Fenings             a  Grwh 

0    0    o,V 

4  Feniugs             a  Crutlzer 

0      0      OtV 

2  Cruitzers           a  Wliite  Grosh 

0     0     OjJ 

6a  Cruitzers           a  Gould 

024 

90  Cruitzers         -f*  Rixdollar 

036 

2  Goulds               a  Hard  Dollar 

0    4    8 

4  Goalds               a  Ducat 

094 

AUSTRIA  AND  8WABIA 

Fifnna,  Trieste,  &c  Augtbuiyr,  Blenheim,  &c  , 

A  Fening         .... 

000^ 

2  Feuiogs    ^    a  Dreyer 

0     0     Ot^ 

4  Fenipgs           a  Cn»tz«r 

0     0     DtV 

14  Fenbgs           a  Grosh 

0    0    0^ 

4  Cniitzers         a  Batsen 

0     0      III' 

liBatzen            a  Gould 

024 

90  Cniitzen       ts  RizdoUar 

036 

30  BaizeA           »  Specie  Dollar      - 

0    4    8 

60  Balzen             a  Ducat 

094 

FRANCONIA.  Frxiiufort,Nurtmhurg,DfUingen,iiCc 

AFenijig 

°      0      Obtt 

4  Fenings         a  Cniitzer 

0    0    og 

3  Crailzers      a.Kejser  Groali 

0  0   If 

4  Cruitzers       a  Batzen 

0     0      Iff 

15  CiuitzeTB      ao  Ort  Gould  .      - 

007 

16  Cruitzers      a  Gauld 

024 

90  Cruitzers    fa  Rixdollar 

0    3    1 

2  Goulds         a  Hani  Dollar        - 

0    4    8 

1 240  Cniilzers      a  Ducat 

094 

POLAND  AKD  PRUSSIA. 
Cracow;  Wartaw,  &c.  Dantvic,  Koningiherg,  &c. 
A  Shclon         -         -         •         _  00     OjT 

3  Sbelons     —     a  Grosh  .  00     O^V 

5  Groshen  a  Coustic         -  o     o     2f 


3  Cooslics 


POLAND,  fitc. 

I.  ,.  i. 

18  Grosben    =    an  Oit 

0    0    gf 

30  Grosben           a  Florid 

90  Grosben         ta  Rixdollar 

0    9   fi 

8  Florins             a  Ducat 

0    9   4 

5  Rixdollan        a  Frederic  d'Or 

o.n 

LIVONIA. 

Riga,  Revet,  Narva,  file 

A  Blacken           .... 

0  0  Ob 

0  0  Vf 

6  Btacluns  =z  a  Grosh 

9  Blackens         a  Vording 

0     0    0|^ 

2  Grwben          a  Whiten 

0    0  On 

6  Groslien            a  Marc 

0    0   jj 

30  Grosben          a  Florin 

0    1   1 

90  G™sl«n        +a  Rixdollar 

0    3   fi     ■ 

108  Grobhen           an  Albertus 

0    4    ^*f 

64  Whitens          a  Copperplate  D©Uar 

0    i   0 

DENMARK,  ZEALAND,  and  NORWAY, 

C^n/mgen,  Sound,  &c.  Bergen,  Dnmtheim,  tu. 

% 

A  Skilling 

0.0  c;, 

fiSkillings   =.aDuggen 

0   0  3i 

fc 

16  Skillings       fa  Mure 

009 

E 

aoSkilllngs          ajtixmarc 

0  0  n; 

1 

24  Skillings          a  Rixort 

0    I    ti 

4  Marca             a  Crown 

010 

K 

6  Marcs             a  RixdoUar 

0    1   6 

uf 

11  Mam             aDncat 

0  i  , 

1 

14  Mares             a  Halt  Dncat 

0  10    ti 

g 

SWEDEN  AND  LAPLAND.              1 

M 

SlockMm,  Vimi,.et<,.  Thorn,  &c              | 

fARunslick 

0.   0    On 

2Ruosticks    =z    a  Stiver 

0    0    Oil 

8  Runsticks            a  Copper  Marc 

0    0    il 

3  Copper  Marcs     a  Silver  Marc 

0   0  4t 

4  Copper  Marcs     a  Copper  DoUv 

0   0  6^ 

3  Copper  Marcs     a  Caroline 

0    1   1 

3  Copper  Dolbirs  a  Silver  Dollar 

0    I   i\ 

3  Silver  Dollars     a  Rixdollar 

0   4  ? 

2  Rixdollars           a  Ducat 

0    9  4 

RUSSIA  AKD  MUSCOVY.                 1 

Petersburg,  Anhangei,  &c.  JIm«w,  &c.         | 

AFoI^sca 

0    9    OnV 

1  Poluscas    =    a  Denusca 

0    0    Onf 

3  Denusca*        fa  Co^c 

0    0   o» 

3  Copecs              an  Aitin 

0   0   ijj 

10  Copecs              a  Grievener 

0  0  ii 

25  Copecs              a  Polpotin 

0  I  If 

50  Copecs              a  PoltiQ 

oil 

100  Copecs              a  Ruble 

0.4  i 

3  Rubles              a  Xervonitz 

050 

f                BASIL.    Zmruh,Zug,8u.                \ 

A  Rap        -         .         .        ^ 

0   0  Cn 

3  B»pen    =    a  Fenipg 

0   0  i 

4l'cnings        aCniiUer. 

0    0   oi 

12  Fenings      t«  Sol 

0   0   .i 

MONEY. 


< 

w 
s 


ll 


15  fenings 
18  Fenings 
20  Sols 
60  Cmitzers 
108  Croltzers 


BASH,  &c. 

a  Coarse  Batzen 
a  Good  Batzen 
t  a  Livre 
a  Gulden 
a  Rixdollar 


331 


o  o 

o  o 

O  2 

o  a 

o  4 


d. 

6 
6 
6 


St  gall.    Apensal^  &c. 


A  Heller 

3  Hellers 

4  fenings 
12  Fenings 

4  Cmitzers 

'5  Cruttzers 

20  Sols 

60  Cruitzers 

102  Cmitzers 


a  Fening 

a  Cmilcer 
fa  Sol 

a  Coarse  Batzen 

a  Good  Batzen 
f  a  Livre 

a  Gould 

a  Rixdollar 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 

2 
2 

4 


oi 

2 

6 
3 


BERN. 

A  Denier 

4  Deniers      = 

3  Cruitzers 

4  Cmitzers 

5  Cmitzers 

6  Cmitzers 
20  Sols 

75  Cmitzers 
135  Cruitzers 


^-•i 


Lmcem^  Neufchatel^  &c. 


a  Croitzer 

fa  Sol 
a  Plapert 
a  Gros 
a  Batzen 

t  a  Livre 
a  Gulden 
a  Crown 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 


o 
o 

o 
o 

o 

2 
2 

4 


I 


GENEVA. 

A  Denier 

2  Deniers       s  a 

12  Deniers  a 
1 2  Deniers  current    a 

1 2  Small  Sob  f  a 

20  Sois  current  t  a 

loi  Florins  a 

i£\  Florins  a 

24  Florins  a 


Pekay^  Bonne^  &c. 


Denier  current 
Small  Sol 
Sol  current 
Floriii 

Livre  current 
Patacon 
Croisade 
Ducat 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 


o 
o 
o 

o 
o 

I 

3 
5 
9 


of 
»f 

If 

2 

o 
6 
6 


Oi 
Oi 

3 
Hi 

loi 

o 


Xfj/r,  Cambray^  Valenciennes^  &c. 

f  A  Denier 
1 2  Deniers'      =r       a  Sol 


15  Deniers 
15  PatJirds 
20  Sols 
20  Patards 
60  Sols 
10^  Livrcs 
24.  Iiivres 


t  a  Patard 
f  a  Pietle 

a  Livre  Tournois 

a  Florin 

an  Ecu  of  Ex. 

a  Ducat 

a  Louis  d^Or 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
I 


o 
o 
o 
o 

0 

I 

9 
o 


oi 

o| 

9i 

10 

oi 
6 

3 

o 


• 


Dunkirk^  St  Omers^  St  Qutntin^  &o. 

A  Denier 

1 2  Deniers      =       a  Sol 
1 5  Deniers  f  a  Patard 

f  a  Piette 
•  •  a  Livre  Tournois 
an  Etu  of  Ex. 
a  Jxniis  d'Or 
a  Guinea 
a  Moeda 


^5 


Sols 

Sola 
3  Xiirres 
2^  Ifivres 
2.^-f-  Livres 
3  2j-  Livers 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
I 
I 
I 


o 

o 
o 
o 
o 

2 

o 
I 

7 


OtV 

of 
o* 
7i 

10 

6 

o 
o 

0 


e 

■3 


o 


W 


o 

a 


>4 


PariSfLyans^  Marseiiles^SLc,  Bourdeaux^  Bayonne^&c. 

L,   8,  d. 


A  Denier 
3  Deniers 
2  Liards 

12  Deniers 

20  Sols 

60  Sols 
6  Livres 

10  Livres 
1,24  Livres 


00    Ovj 

a  Liard  -  000^ 

a  Dardene         -  o     o     oj^ 

a  Sol  -  000^ 

f  a  Livre  Tournois  o     o  10 

an  Ecu  of  Ex.  026 

an  Ecu  -  050 

t  a  Pistole  -  084 

a  Louis  d^Or  100 


PORTUGAL.    Lisbon,  Oporto,  &c. 


iARe 
10  Rez 

lo  Hez 
5  Vintins 
4  Testoous 
24  Vintins 
10  Testoons 
48  Testoons 
04  Testoons 


o 

a  Half  Vintin  o 

a  Vintin          -  o 

a  Testoon        -  o 

a  Crusade  of  Ex.  o 

a  New  Crusade  o 

t  a  MiJre         -  o 

a  Moeda          -  i 

a  Joanese         -  i  16 


o 
o 
o 
o 

2 
2 

S 

7 


or 


3 

8f 

74 
o 


Madrid,  Cadiz,  Seville,  &c.  New  Plate. 


A  Maravedie 

2  Maravedies 
34  Maravedies 

2  Rials 

8  Rials 

10  Rials 

375  Maravedies 

32  Rials 

36  Rials 


:    a  Qaartil 

a  Rial 

a  Pistarine 
t  a  Piastre  of  Ex. 

a  Dollar 
t  a  Ducat  of  Ex. 
t  a  Pistole  of  Ex. 

a  Pistole 


O  0     o/tV 

o  o     o^ 

o  o     5| 

o  o  xo^ 

037 

046 
o    4  ixi 
o  14    4 
o  26    9 


Gibraltar,  Malaga,  Denia,  &c.  Vclon. 

t.A  Maravedie  -              -  00 

2  Maravedies  =  an  Ocbavo         -00 

4  Maravedies  t  a  Quartil         -  00 

34  Maravedies  t  a  Rial  Velon  o     o 

1 5  Ri^ls  a  Piastre  of  Ex.  o     3 

512  Matravedies  t  a  Piastre  o     3 

60  Rials  t  a  Pistole  of  Ex.  o  14 

2048  Maravedies  a  Pistole  of  Ex.  o  16 

78  Rials  a  Pistole         •  o  16 


OtVV 
OitV 
oj* 

^ 

7 

7 

4 

9^ 

9 


Barcelona,  Saragossa,  Valencia,  &c.   Old  Plate. 

A  Maravedie 

16  Maravedies    rr    a  Soldo 
2  Soldos  a  Rial  Old  Plate 


20  Soldos 
24  Soldos 
16  Soldos 
22  Soldos 

21  Soldos 
.60  Soldos 


i  a  Libra 
t  a  Ducat 
t  a  Dollar 
f  a  Ducat 
t  a  Ducat 
a  Pistole 


o 

D 
O 
O 
O 

o 
o 
o 
b 


o 
o 
o 

4 

6 


I 


GENOA.  Novi,  &c    CORSICA.  Basiia,  &c 

A  Denari 

1 2  Denari  =       %  Soldi 
4  Soldi  a  Chevalet 

20  Soldi  f  s  Lice 

30  Soldi  a  Teetoon 

Tt2 


O 

O 

O 

O 

»0 


o 
o 
o 
o 
I 


O^ 

H 

OrV 

S  lires 


32a 


M    O    N    £ 


5  Lires 
SI5  Soldi 

6  Testoons 
-  20  Lires 


GENOA,  &c. 

a  Croisade 
f  a  Pezzo  of  Ex. 

a  Gesouine 
a  Pistole 


JLm  $•    d* 

037 

042 
062 
o  14    4 


I 


J 

I 


53 


PIEDMONT,  SAVOY,  and  SARDINIA. 

TtfTfVv,  Chamberry^  Cagliari^  &c. 

A  Denari  ... 


3  Denari 
12  Denari 

12  Soldi 
20  Soldi 

6  Florins 

7  Florins 

13  Lires 
x6  Lires 


a  Quatrini 

a  Soldi 
f  a  Florin 
i  a  Lire 

a  Scndi 

a  Docatoon 

a  Pistole 

a  Louis  d*Or 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 

0 

X 


o 

o 
o 
o 

X 

4 

5 
16 

o 


9 

3 
6 

3 

3 

o 


M3an^  Modcna^  Parma^  Pavta^ 

A  Denari  ... 

sr      a  Qnatrioi 
a  Soldi 
•f  a  Lire 

a  Scudi  current 
f  a  Scudi  of  Ex. 
a  Philip 
a  Pistole 
a  Spanish  Pistole 


12  Denari 
20  Soldi 
115  Soldi 
117  Soldi 
6  Lires 

22  Lires 

23  Lires 


&c. 

o  o 
o  o 
o  o 
o  o 
o  4 
o  4 
o  4 
o  x6 
o  16 


A  Denari 
4  Denari 

12  Denari 
c  Quatrini 
8  Cracas 

20  Soldi 
6  Lires 
7^Lires 

22"' 


Leghorn^  Florence^  &c. 

o 

1=        a  Quatrini        -  o 

a  Soldi         •  o 

a  Craca             -  o 

a  Qailo         -  o 

f  a  Lire             -  o 

a  Piastre  of  Ek.  o 

a  Ducat          -  o 

a  Pistole  ^  ^5 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 

4 
5 


ROME.     Ctvita  Vecchia^  Ancona. 


A  Qoatrini 
c  Quatrini 
8  Bayocs 
10  Bayocs 
24  Bayocs 
10  JnUos 
X  2  Jolios 
x8  Julios 
31  Julios 


o    o 

a3a^oe          -  00 

a  Julio        -  00 

a  Stampt  Julio  o    o 

aTestoon        -  ox 

a  Crown  current  o    5 

f  a  Crown  stampt  o    6 

a  Che^uin        -  ^9 

a  Pistole        •  015 


NAPLES.     Gorto,  Capua^  &c. 

Quatrini 

a  Grain 


A    ^ 

3  Quatrini 
10  Grains 
40  Quatrini 
20  Grains 
40  Grains 
100  Grains 
23  Tarins 
25Tarin8 


a  Carlin 

a  Paolo 

a  Tarin 

a  Testoon 

a  Docat  of  Ex. 

a  Pistole 

a  Spinish  Pistole 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 

X 

3 


o/j 

24 

3 

4i 
o 

9 


o 

^ 

6 


o 

oi 
6 

74 

6 

o 

o 

o 

6 


0  15 

1  x6 


0^ 

of 
4 

4 

4 
9 


g 

D 

o 


Y. 

SICILY  AND  MALTA.    PaUrmo^  Meuma,  t&c 


A  Pichillt 

6  Pichili 

8  Pichili 

10  Grains 

20  Grains 

6  Tarins 

13  Tarins 

60  Carlins 

2  Ounces 


a  Grain 

a  Ponti 

a  Carlin 

a  Tarin 
t  a  Florin  of  £x. 

a  Dooatof  Ex. 
t  an  Ounce 

a  Pistole 


000^ 
0  0 
0  0 
0  0 
o  0 
0    X 

o    3 
0    7 

o  15 


?n 

4 

4 


A  Quatrini 

6  Quatrini 

10  Bayocs 

20  Bayocs 

3  Jalios 

oO  Bayocs 

105  Bayocs 

100  Bayocs 

31  JuHos 


Bo/cgnOf  Batefnuif  &c« 

*        *        •> 

=:      a  Bayoc 
t  a  JnKo 
a  Lire 
a  Testoon 
a  Ovbudi  of  Ex* 
a  Dodatoon 
a  Crown 
a  Pistole 


0 

0 

o 

0 

o 

0 
0 
0 


0 
0 
0 

I 
I 

4 
5  3 

0  15   6 


A  Picoli 
1 2  Picoli 

61  Soldi 
18  Soldi 
20  Soldi 

3  Jules 

124  Soldi 

24  Gros 

ij  Lires 


TURKEY. 

A  Mangar 

4  Mangars  ; 
3  Aspers 

5  Aspers 
10  Aspers 
20  Aspers 
80  Aspers 

100  Aspers 
10  Solotas 

ARABIA. 

A  Carret 

si  Carrets         s 

7  Carrets 
80  Carrets 
]8  Comasbees 
60  Comasbees 
80  Caveers 
100  Comasbees 
80  Larins 


Moreoj  Camiut^  Cyprtu^  tbc* 


iun  Asper 

a  Parac 

a  Bestic 

an  Obtic 

a  Solota 
t  a  Piastre 

a  Caraffrooch 

aXeriff 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 

0 

o 


0 
0 
0 
0 
0 
X 

4 
5 


0  10 


Medinm^  Mtcca^  Moeha^  8tc. 


a  Career 

a  Comasbee 
a  Larin 
an  Abyss 

t  a  Piastre 
aD^lar 
a  Sequin 

i  a  Tomond 


o 

0 

o 

o 

0 

o 
o 
o 

3 


0 
0 
0 
0 
I 

4 

4 
1 
7 


01V 

oi 
6 

0 

6 

3 


VENICE.     Bergham^  bL,^. 

0    0  CtV 
=      a  SoMi  •        000^ 

f  a  Grbs  -  0    0    xi 

a  Jufo  -  006 

t  a  Lire         -  006^ 

a  Testoon         -  016 

a  Ducat  current  o    3   5^ 

t  a  Ducat  of  Ex.  0    4   4 

t  a  Chequin  092 


«4 

i 

0 
0 
0 
0 


oitf 
oA 

4f 
6 

6 

i 


PERSU. 

A  Coz 
4  Coz 

10  Coz 
20  Coz 
25  Coz 
4  Sbabeea 


lipdhttny  OfnHtSf  GcmbrooH^  fcc 


aBisti 
a  Shabee 
a  Mamooda 
a  Larin 
an  Abasbce 


0 
o 

o 
o 
o 

•      0 


0  ej 

0  If 

o 
o 

0  M 

1  4 


i 


MONEY. 


5  Abashees 
12  Abasbees 
50  Abashees 


=r     an  Or 
a  Bovello 
t  a  Tomond 


086 

0x60 
3    6    8 


^  J 
o  < 

o 


GUZZERAT.    Surat^  Camhay^  &g. 


A  Pecka 

2  Peckas  ; 

4Picea 

5  Pices 
10  Pices 

4  Anas 

2  Rupees 
14  Ams 

4  Pagodas 


a  Pice 

a  Fanam 

a  Viz 

an  Ana 

a  Rupee 

an:  English  Crown 

%  Pagoda 

a  Gold  Rupee 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 

I  »5 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 

% 

5 
8 


6 

o 

9 

o 


Bombay, 

t  A  Budgrook 
Bvdgroekss:  ^ 


W 


5  Ro£ 
x6  Pices 

20  Pices 
240  Rez' 

4  Quarters 
•  14  Quarters 

60  Quiii'lers 


a  Pice 
a  Laree 
a  Quarter 
a  Xerapkhn 
a  Rupee 
a  Pagoda 
"a  'Oind  'Rupee 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
I 

2 

8 


T  r5 


on 

si 

6i 

4f 

3 

o 

o 


t  ARe 

2  Rez  = 

2  Bazaracos 
20  Rez 

4  Vintins 

3  Larees 
42  Vintins 

4  Tan  j(us 
STangus 


z^      a  Bazaraco 
a  Pecka 
a  Vintin 
a  Laree 
a  Xerapbim 
a  Tangu 
a  Paru 
a  Gold  Rupee 


o  ,  o 
o  o 
o  o 
o  o 
o    o 

O      X 

o  4 
o  18 

I  15 


1  T 


1 

Si 

4f 
6 

o 

o 


COfiOMANDEL.  Madrass^  Pondtcherry^  &Cr 


A  Cask 

cCoMi 

2  Viz 

6  Pices 

8  Pices 
ID  Ffloams 

2  Rvpees 
36  Fanaim 

4  Pagodas 


a  Viz 

«Pice 

a  Pical 

a  Fanam 

a  Rupee 

an  Engtish  Crdwn 

a  Pagoda 

a  Gold  Rupee 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 

« 15 


0 

o 
o 
o 
o 

2 


i 


3 

< 

o 

9 

o 


■M«^M 


BENGAL.    Cattkuty  Calcutta^  8cc. 


( 


A  Pice 

4  Pices 

6  Pices 

12  Pices 

xo  Anas 

16  Anas 

2  Rupees 

2  Rupees 

^6  Anai 


aPi 

a  Viz 

an  Ana 

a  Fiaao 

a  Rupee 

a  French  Eeu 

an  Eng^Uah  Cxown 

a  Pagoda 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 


o 

o 
o 
o 

x 

2 

5 


H 

6 
o 
o 

9 


CO 


Pi 


333 

SIAM,    Pr^i  Malacoaf  Cambodia^  Sumatra^  Java, 

Borneo^  &  c 


A  Cori 
SooCori 
X  25  Fettees 
250  Fettees 
500  Fettees 
900  Fettees 
2  Ticals 
4  Soocos 
8  Sateleers 


aFette 
a  Sateleer 
a  Sooco 
a  Tical 
a  Dollar 
a  Rial 
an  Ecu 
a  Crown 


s,    d. 

o    o    d^V 

o    o    7I 

013 

026 

046 

05© 

05^ 

05© 


CHINA.     Pekin^  Canton^  &c 


A  Caxa 
xo  Caxa         = 
10  Candereens 
35  Candereens 

2  Rupees 
70  v^HMiereetts 

7  Maces 

2  Rupees 
-xo  Maees 


a  Candereen 
a  Mace 
a  Riqiee 
a  Dollar 
a  RixdoHar 
an  Ecu 
a  Crown 
fa  Tale 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
t> 
o 

0 

o 


o 

D 

a 

4 


of 
8 

6 

6 


4    45 


•5 
5 


o 
0 
8 


JAPAN.    Jeddoy  Meaco^  &c. 


A  PiU 

20  Pitis         = 

15  Maces 

20  Maces 

30  Maces 

13  Ounces  Silver 
2  Ounces  Gold 
2  Japaneses 
i  2X  Ounces  Gold 


a  Mace 

an  Ounce  Silver 
a  Tale 
an  Ingot 
an  Ounce  Gold 
a  Japanese 
a  Double 
t  a  Cattee 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 


o    of 

o    14 

4  iPf 
6    B 


9 

3 
6 

X2   12 

66    3 


3 
6 


«4 
o 

o 

o 

o 


k«*i*i« 


EGYPT.     OU  4Md  New  Cdiroy  Akxandrm,  Sayde,  kc. 

An  Asper 
3  Aspers         =: 
24  Medins 
80  Aspers 
30  Medins 
96  Aspers 
32  Medins 
200  Aspers 
70  Medins 


a  Medin 
an  Italian  Ducat 
fa  Piastre 
a  Dollar 
an  Ecu 
a  Crown 
a  Sultanin 
a  Pargo  Dollar 


O 
O 
O 
o 
O 
o 
o 


o 
o 

3 
4 
4 
S 
S 


o  xo 
o  xo 


^i 

4 
o- 

6 

o 
o 
o 
o 


BARBARY. 

An  Asper 

3  Aspers 
xo  Aspers 

2  Ittals 

4  Doubles 
24  Medins 
30  Medins 

loo  Aspers 
13  Doubles 


AJgierSf  Tunisj  TripoU^  Utm^  &c. 


a  Medin 

a  Rial  old  Plate 

a  Double 

a  Dollar 

a  Sliver  Chequin 

a  Dollar 

a  Zequin 

a  Pistole 


oj 


o  o 

0  o 

o  o 

O  X 

o  4 

o  3 

o  4 

o  8  xo 

o  x6    9 


3 

6 

4 
6 


MOROCCO. 

AFlnoe 
24  Fluces 


Santa  Crux^  Mequtnez^  Fex^  Tangien^. 
SaileCf  &c. 

00    OiV 

:^        a  Blanquin  •        !o    o    2 

4  Blanquila* 


4  BUnquiU 

j  BlanqoHa 

14  Blanquils 

2  Quartos 

28  Blanquils 

54  Blanquils 

xoo  Blanquins 


M    O    N 

MOROCCO,  &c. 

:=         an  Ounce 
an  Octavo 
a  Quarto 
a  Medio 
a  Dollar 
a  Xequin 
a  Pistole 


[    334    ] 


008 

I 

2 

4 
4 
9 


0 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o  16 


2 

4 
8 

6 

o 

9 


ENGLISH.  Jamaica^  Barbadoesy  &c. 


^ 
Q 

s 

M 


^1 


t  Halfpenny 

2  Halqience    =  f  a  Penny 
7}  Pence 
12  Pence 
75  Pence 

7  Shillings 
20  Shillings 
24  Shillings 
30  Shillings 


Bit 

t  a  ShUling 
a  Dollar 
a  Crown 

f  a  Pound 
a  Pistole 
a  Guinea 


o 
o 
o 
o 
o 
o 


o 
o 
o 
o 

A 
5 


o  14 
o  16 

X       I 


oU 

5l 

8« 

6 

o 

3 

9 

o 


FRENCH.     St  DomingOy  Martinko^  &c. 

t  A  Half  Sol 

2  Half  Sols  =     t  a  Sol 


rJJJL 


74  Sols 
15  Sols 
20  Sols 

7  Livres 

8  Livres 
26  Livres 

^32  Livres 


Half  Scaltn 
a  Scalin 
t  a  Livrc 
a  Dollar 
an  Ecu 
a  Pistole 
'  a  Louis  d*Or 


o    o 

6     O 

o  o 
o  o 
o  o 
o  4 
b  4  lof 
o  16  9 
100 


6 


Money, 

BConk. 


Aficieni  Mosey.    See  Coins  and  Medals. 

Paper  Money.    See  the  article  Bank. 

MONK  ancientlj  denote4»  **  a  person  who  retired 
from  the  world  to  give  himself  up  wholly  to  tSod,  and 
to  live  in  solitude  and  abstinence.^*  The  word  is  de- 
rived from  the  Latin  tnonachus^  and  tliat  from  the  Greek 
^mxHt  ^  solitary  }**  of  ^fH»  soiuSf  *'  alone.^* 

The  origin  of  monks  seems  to  have  been  this  :  The 
persecutions  whidh  attended  the  first  ages  of  the  Gospel 
forced  some  Christians  to  retire  froin  the  world,  and 
live  in  deserts  and  places  most  private  and  unfrequent- 
ed, in  hopes  of  finding  that  peace  and  comfort  among 
beasts  which  were  denied  them  among  men.  And  this 
being  the  case  of  some  very  extraordinary  persons,  their 
example  gave  so  much  reputation  to  retirement,  that 
the  practice  was  continued  when  the  reason  of  its  com- 
mencement ceased.  After  th^  empire  became  Christian, 
instances  of  this  kind  were  numerous  ^  and  those  whose 
security  had  obliced  them  to  live  separately  and  apart, 
became  afterwards  united  into  societies.  We  may  also 
add,  that  the  mystic  theology,  which  gained  ground 
towards  the  close  of  the  third  century,  contributed  to 
produce  the  same  effect,  and  to  drive  men  into  solitude 
for  the  purposes  of  enthusiastic  devotion. 

The  monks,  at  least  the  ancient  ones,  were  distin- 
guished into  solittincs^  cctTtobites^  and  sarabaites. 

The  ioUtary  are  those  who  live  alone,  in  places  re- 
mote from  all  towns  and  habitations  of  men^  as  do  still 

3 


H 
M 


a 


M    O    N 

ENGLISfif.  Nova  Scotia,  Virgima^iTev) EnghmA;ift, 


t  A"  Penny 
1 2  Pence 
20  Shillings 

2  Pounds 

3  Pounds 

4  Pounds 

5  Pounds 

6  Pouudd 

7  Pounds 

8  Pounds 

9  Puunds 
10  Pounds 


£. 

1. 

I 

0 

0 

1 

0 

I 

0 

I 

0 

3 

t  a  Shilling 
t  a  Pound 


The  value  of  the  Conescj  ti- 
ters according  to  the  Pleotj  m 
Scarcity  of  Gold  and  Silver  Cm 
that  a^e  imported. 


i^^M 


K  ■■* 


Canada,  Florida,  Cayenne,  &c. 
t  A  Denier 

t  a  Sol. 
t  a  Livre. 


12  Deniers       =s 
20  Sols 

2  Livres 

3  Livres 

4  Livres 

5  Livres 

6  Livres 

7  Livres 

8  Livres 

9  Livres 
10  Livree 


The  value  of  the  CoReMjil* 
ters  according  to  the  PIcb^  « 
Scarcity  of  Gold  and  SilTcrCda 
that  are  imported. 


Note,  For  all  the  Spanish,  Portuguese,  Dutch,  andDoni 
Dominions,  either  on  the  Continent  or  in  the  West  India,  at 
the  Moneys  of  the  respective  nations. 


some  of  the  hermits.     The  cotnohites  ate  those  who  live .  K^^ 
in  community  with  several  others  in  the  same  boose, 
and  under  the  same  superiors.     The  sarabaites  were 
strolling  monks,  having  no  fixed  rule  or  residence* 

The  houses  of  monks  again  were  of  two  kinds,  vix* 
monasteries  and  lauret.   See  Monastery  and  Laura* 

Those  we  call  inonks  now  a-days  are  coenobites,  nbo 
-live  together  in  a  convent  or  monastery,  who  make 
vows  of  living  according  to  a  certain  rule  established 
by  the  founder,  and  wear  a  habit  which  distinguishes 
their  order. 

Those  that  are  endowed,  or  have  a  fixed  revenue,  an 
n^ost  properly  called  monks,  monachi;  as  the  Cbartrenx, 
Benedictines,  Bemardines,  &c.  The  Mendicants,  or 
those  that  beg,  as  the  Capuchins  and  Franciscans,  are 
more  properly  called  religious  Ktid/riarsi  though  the 
names  are  firequently  confounded. 

The  first  monks  were  those  of  St  Anthony ',  who,  to- 
wards the  close  of  the  fourth  century,  formed  them 
into  a  reffular  body,  engaged  them  to  live  in  society 
with  each  other,  and  prescribed  to  them  fixed  rules  for 
the  direction  of  their  conduct*  These  regulations,  which 
Anthony  had  made  in  Egyi^t,  were  soon  introduced  into 
Palestine  and  Syria  by  his  disciple  Hilarion.  Almost 
about  the  same  time,  Aones  or  Euffcnius,  with  (heir 
companions  Gaddanas  and  Asyzas,  instituted  the  do- 
nastic  order  in  Mesopotamia  and  the  adjacent  countries } 
a«d  their  example  was  followed  witu  sucn  rapid  soccesi, 

Ihst 


M    O    N 


I    335     ] 


M    O    N 


jtdofc.  that  in  a  sbort  time  the  whole  east  was  filled  mth  a  lazy 
set  of  mortals,  who,  abandoning  all  human  connexions, 
advantages,  pleasures,  and  concerns,  wore  out  a  lan- 
gttishiaganil  miserable  life  amidst  the  hardships  of  want, 
and  various  kinds  of  suffer Ing,  in  order  to  arrive  at  a 
more  close  and  rapturous  communication  with  God  and 
angels. 

From  the  east  this  gloomy  institution  passed  Into  the 
west,  and  fir^t  into  Italy  and  its  neighbouring  islands  ^ 
though  it  is  uncertain  who  transplanted  it  thither. 
St  Martin,  the  celebrated  bishop  of  Tours,  erected  the 
first  monasteries  in  Gaul,  and  recommended  this  religi- 
ous solitude  with  such  power  and  efficacy,  both  by  his 
instructions  and  bis  example,  that  his  funeral  is  said  to 
have  been  attended  by  no  less  than  2000  monks.  From 
hence  the  monastic  dLscipline  extended  gradually  its 
progress  tlirough  the  other  provinces  and  countries  of 
Europe.  There  were  besides  the  monks  of  St  Basil 
(called  in  the  East  Calogeri^  from  ttdkn  v^^n^  *'  good  old 
mao^O  and  those  of  St  Jerome,  the  hermits  of  St  Aa- 
gostine,  and'  afterwards  those  of  St  Benedict  and  St 
Bernard  \  at  length  came  those  of  St  Francis  and  St 
Dominic,  with  a  le^on  of  others  \  all  which  sec  under 
their  proper  heads,  BENEDICTINES,  &c. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  fifth  century,  the  monks, 
who  had  formerly  lived  only  foi;  themselves  in  solitary 
retreats,  and  had  never  thought  of  assuming  any  rank 
among  the  aacerdotal  order,  were  now  gradually  dl* 
stingulshed  from  the  populace,  and  endowed  with  such 
opulence  and  honourable   privileges    that  they  found 
themselves  in  a  condition  to  claim  an  eminent  station 
among  the  supports  and  pillars  of  the  Christiata  com- 
munity.   The  fame  of  their  piety  and  sanctity  was  so 
great,  that  bishops  and  presbyters  were  often  chosen 
out  of  their  order  ^  and  the  passion  of  erecting  edifices 
and  convents,   in  which  the  monks  and  holy  virgins 
might  serve  God  in  the  most  commodious  manner,  was 
at  this  time  carried  beyond  all  bounds.    However  their 
licentioosness,  even  in  this  century,  was  become  a  pro- 
verb^  and   they  are  said  to  have   excited   the  most 
dreadful  tumults  and  seditions  in  various  places.     The 
monastic  orders  were,  at  first  under  the  immediate  juris- 
diction of  the  bishops,  from  which  they  were  exempted 
hy  the  Roman  pgntiflf.  about  the  end  of  the  7th  century  \ 
and  the  monks,, in  return,  defected  themselves  wholly  to 
advance  the. interests  and  to  maintain  thejdignity  of  the 
bishop  of  Rome.  ^  This  immunity  which  they  obtain? 
ed,  was  a  fruitful  sourots  of  licentiousness,  and  disorder, 
and  occasioned  the  greatest  part  of  the  vices  witJi  which 
they  were  afterwards  so  justly  charged..   In  the  8th 
century  the  monastic  discipline  was  extremely  xelaxed 
hoth  in  the  eastern  and  western  provinces,  and.  all 
efforts  to  restore  it  were  Ineffectual .    Nevertheless,  this, 
kind  of  institution  wa3  in  the  .highest  esteem,  and  no-, 
thing  could  equal  the  veneration  that  was  paid,  about, 
the  close  of  the  9th  century  to  such  as  devoted  them- 
selves to  the  sacred  gloom  and  indolence  of.  a.  con  vent. 
This  veneration  induced  several  kings  and  emperors  to. 
call  them  to  their  courts,  and  to  employ  ihem  In  civil 
affairs  of  the  greatest  moment.    Their  reformation  was. 
attempted  by  Louis  the  Meek,  but  the  effect  was  of 
short  duration.    In  the  11  th  century  they  were  exempt-. 
ed  by  the  popes  from  the  authority  of  their  sovereigns, 
and  ne\v  orders  of  monks  were  continually  established  \ 
iilioisuch  that  in  the  council  of  liatexfto  that  .weM9  held 


in  the  year  1215,  a  decree  was  passed,  by  the  advice 
of  Innocent  III.  to  prevent  any  new  monastic  institu- 
tions ^  and  several  were  entirely  suppressed.  In  the 
15th  and  1 6th  centuries,  it  appeal's,  from  the  teKtimonies 
of  the  best  )yriters,  that  the  monks  were  generally  lazy, 
illiterate,  profligate,  and  licentious  epicures,  whose 
views  in  life  were  confined  to  opulence,  idleness,  and 
pleasure.  However,  the  Reformation  had  a  manifest 
influence  in  restraining  their  excesses,  and  rendering 
them  more  circumspect  and  cautions  in  their  external 
conduct. 

Monks  are  distinguished  by  the  colour  of  their  ha- 
bits into  blacky  white^  g^^V^  &c.  Among  the  monks, 
some  arc  called  monks  of  the  choir^  others  professed 
monks^  and  others  lay  monks ;  which  last  are  destined 
for  the  service  of  the  convent,  and  have  neither  cleri- 
cate  nor  literature. 

Cloistered  MoNKSy  are  those  who  actually  reside  in 
the  house  :  in  opposition  to  extra-mooksy  who  have 
benefices  depending  on  the  roauasteiy. 

Monks  are  also  distinguished  into  rejomiedy  whom 
the  civil  and  ecclesiastical  authority  have  made  masteis 
of  ancient  convents,  and  put  in  their  power  to  retrieve 
the  ancient  discipline,  which  had  been  relaxed  y  and 
ancient y  who  remain  in  the  convent,  to  llv^  in  it  ac- 
cording to  Its  establishment  at  the  time  when  they 
made  their  vows,  without  obliging,  themselves  to  any 
new  reform. 

Anciently  the  monks  were  all  laymen,  and  were  only 
distinguished  from  the  rest  of  the  people  by  a  particular 
habit  and  an  extraordinary  devotion.  Not  only  the 
monks  were  prohibited  the  priesthood,  but  even  priests 
were  expressly  prohibited  from  becoming  monks,  as  ap- 
pears from  the  letters  of  St  Gregory.  Pope  Syricius 
was  the  first  who  called  them  to  the  clericate,  on  oc- 
casion of  some  great  scarcity  of  priests,  that  the  church 
was  then  supposed  to  labour  under :  and  since  that, 
time,  the  priesthood  has  been  usually  united  to  the 
monastical  profession. 

Monk,  George^  a  personage  memorable  for  having 
been  the  principal  agent  in  restoring  Cjharles  II.  to  his 
crown,  was  descended  from  a  very  ancient  family,  and 
bom  In  Devonshire  In  i6o3.      Being  an  unprovided 
younger  son^  he  dedicated  himself  to  aims  from  his 
youth,  and  obtained  a  pair  of  colours  in  the  expedition 
to.  the  Isle  of  Rh^e :  he  served  after^vards  in  the  Low 
Countries  with  reputation,  in  both  King  Charleses  nor- 
thern expeditions  ^  and  did  such  service  in  ■quelling  the 
Irish  ^  rebellion,   that  l^e  i^as   appointed  •governor   of 
Dublin,  but  was  superseded  by  parliamentary  authority. 
Being  made  major-general  of  the.  Irish  brigade  employ-, 
ed  in  the  siege  of  Nantwich  in  Cheshire,  he  was  taken 
prisoner  by  Sir  Thomas  Fairfax,  and  remained  confined 
in  the  Tower  of  London  until  the  year  1646;  when, 
as  the  means  of  obtaining  liberty,  he  took  the  covenant, 
and  accepted'  a  command  in. the  Irish  service  under  the. 
parliament.     He  obtained  the  command  in  chief  of  all 
the  parliamentary  forces- in  the  north  of  Ireland,  where 
he  did  signal  services,  until  he  was  called  ta  account 
for  a  treaty  made  with  tlie  Irish  rebels  y  a  circumstance 
which  waa  only  obliterated  by  his  future  good  fortune. 
He  served  in  Scotland  under  Oliver  Cromwell  with 
such  success,  that  he  was  lefl  there  as  commander  in 
chiefs  and  he  was  one  of  the  commissioners  for  uniting 
thftt  kingdom  with  the  new  erected  commonwealth. 


Monk. 


M    O    N 


C    336    1 


M    O    N 


Monk  He  served  at  sea  also  against  the  Datch ;  and  was  treat- 
I)  ed  so  kiodiy  on  bis  return,  that  Oliver  is  said  to  have 
Monmouth,  gro^n  jealous  of  him.  He  was,  however,  again  sent  to 
Scotland  as  commander  in  chief,  and  continued  there 
five  years  \  when  he  dissembled  so  well,  and  improved 
circumstances  so  dexterously,  that  he  aided  the  desires 
of  a  wearied  people,  and  restored  the  king  without  any 
disturbance :  for  which  he  was  immediately  rewarded 
both  with  honours  and  profit :  (See  Britain,  N°  194, 
&c.)«  He  was  created  duke  of  Albemarle,  with  a 
grant  of  70001.  per  annum  estate,  beside  other  emo- 
luments -,  and  enjoyed  the  confidence  of  his  master 
without  forfeiting  that  of  the  people.  After  his  death 
in  1670,  there  was  published  a  treatise  composed  by 
him  while  he  remained  prisoner  in  the  Tower,  en- 
titled, **  Observations  on  Military  and  Political  Af- 
fairs,*' a  small  folio. 

MosK-FisA.    See  SauALUs,  Ichthyology  Index, 

MoNK^s  Heady  or  fTo/J^s  bane.  See  AcoNiTUM,  Bo- 
tany Index, 

MONKEY.    See  Simia,  Mammalia  ItuJex. 

MONMOUTH,  James,  Duke  of,  son  to  Charles 
I[.  by  Mrs  Lucy  Walters,  was  born  at  Rotterdam  in 
1649.  Upon  the  Restoration,  be  was  called  over  to 
England,  where  the  king  received  him  with  all  ima- 
ginable joy,  created  bim  earl  of  Orkney  (which  was 
changed  into  that  of  Monmouth),  and  he  took  his  seat 
in  the  house  of  peers  in  the  ensuing  session  of  parliament. 
He  married  Anne,  the  heiress  of  Francis  earl  of  Buc- 
cleugh ;  and  hence  it  came  to  pass  that  he  had  also  the 
title  of  Buccleughy  and  took  the  surname  of  Scot^  ac- 
cording to  the  custom  of  Scotland.  In  1668  his  father 
made  him  captain  of  his  life-guard  of  horse  ;  and  in 
1672  he  attended  the  French  king  in  the  Netherlands, 
and  gave  proofs  of  bravery  and  conduct.  In  167^  the 
king  of  France  made  him  lieutenant-general  01  his 
army,  with  which  be  came  before  Maestricht,  and  be- 
haved himself  'with  inciedible  gallantry,  bein^  the  first 
who  entered  it  himself.  He  returned  to  England,  was 
received  with  all  possible  respect,  and  was  received 
chancellor  of  the  university  of  Cambridge.  After  this 
be  went  to  assist  the  prince  of  Orange  to  raise  the  siege 
of  Mons,  and  did  not  a  little  contribute  towards  it. 
He  returned  to  England  \  and  was  sent  in  quality  of 
his  father^s  general,  to  quell  an  insurrection  in  Scot- 
land, which  ne  effected  ;  but  soon  aller  he  fell  into 
disgrace ;  for,  being  a  Protestant,  be  was  deluded  into 
ambitious  schemes,  upon  the  hopes  of  the  exclusion  of 
the  duke  of  York  :  he  conspired  against  his  father  and 
the  duke ;  and  when  the  latter  came  to  the  throne  by 
the  title  of  James  IL  he  openly  appeared  in  arms,  en- 
couraged by  the  Protestant  army  ^  but  coming  to  a  de- 
cisive battle  before  be  had  sufficient  forces  to  oppose  the 
royal  army,  he  was  defeated,  taken  soon  after  concealed 
in  a  ditch,  tried  for  high  treason,  condemned,  and  be- 
headed in  1685,  aged  36.  See  Britain,  N*  242,  249 
—265. 

Monmouth,  the  capital  of  the  coanty  of  Monmouth- 
shire in  England,  1 29  miles  from  London,  and  33  miles 
from  Bristol.  It  has  its  name  from  its  situation  at  the 
conflux  of  the  Monow  or  Mynwy,  and  th^  Wye,  over 
each  of  which  it  has  a  bridge,  and  a  third  over  the 
Frothy.  Here  was  a  castle  ia  \Villiam  the  Conqueror^s 
time  which  Henry  HL  took  from  John  baron  of  Mon- 
mouth.    It  afterwards  came  to  the  bouse  of  Lan- 


caster, who  bestowed  many  privileges  upon  the  towo.  MMiamA 
Here  Henry  V.  sumamed  of  Monmouth ^  was  bom.       Q 
The  famous  historian  Geoffrey  was  also  bom  at  tbu^M^M^r- 
place.     Formerly  it  gave  the  title  of  cari  to  the  fa« 
mlly  of  Carey,  and  of  duke  to  King  Charles  the  Se- 
cond's eldest  natural  son  }   but  now  of  earl  to  the 
Mordaunts,  who  are  also  earls  of  Peterborooeh.    It 
contained  3503  inhabitants  in  1811,  is  well  buflt,  car- 
ries on  a  considerable  trade  with  Bristol  by  means  of 
the  Wve,  and  has  a  weekly  market,  and  three  fairs. 

MO^'MOUl  H8HIRE,  a  county  of  England  •,  an- 
ciently  reckoned  a  part  of  Wales,  but  in  Charles  II.*s 
time  taken  into  the  Oxford  circuit,  and  made  an  English 
county;  It  is  bounded  on  the  north  by  Herefordshire, 
on  the  east  by  Glouccsterbbire,  on  the  south  by  the  river 
Severn,  and  on  the  west  by  the  Welsh  counties  of 
Brecknock  and  Glamorgan.  Its  extent  from  north  to 
south  is  about  30  miles,  from  east  to  west  26,  and  in 
circumference  no.  It  is  subdivided  into  six  hundreds, 
and  127  parishes.  In  18 if,  this  county  contained 
12,127  houses,  and  62,127  inhabitants.  It  sends  only 
three  members  to  parliament,  that  is,  one  for  Mon- 
mouth, and  two  for  the  county.  The  air  is  tempente 
and  healthy  ^  and  the  soil  fruitful,  though  mountain- 
ous and  woody  on  the  western  side.  The  hills  feed 
sheep,  goats,  and  .horned  cattle  ',  and  the  valleys  pro- 
duce plenty  of  grass  and  com.  This  county  is  ex- 
tremely well  watered  by  several  fine  rivers  y  for,  be- 
sides the  Wye,  which  parts  it  from  Gloucestersbirr, 
the  Mynow,  which  runs  between  it  and  Herefbrdsbiie, 
and  the  Rumney,  which  divides  it  from  Glamorgan- 
shire, it  has,  peculiar  to  itself,  the  Usk,  which  eolais 
this  county  a  little  above  Abergavenny,  nins  mostly 
southward,  and  falls  into  the  Severn  by  the  mouth  of 
the  Ebwith  i  which  last  river  runs  from  north  to  sooth, 
in  the  western  side  of  the  connty.  All  these  rivers,  es- 
pecially the  Wye  and  Usk,  abound  with  fish,  parttcn- 
lariy  salmon  and  trout. 

MONOCEROS,  Unicorn,  in  Astromm^j «  sontb- 
em  constellation  formed  by  Hevelius,  containing  in  his 
catalogue  19  stars,  and  in  the  Britannic  Cataloffoe  31* 

MoNOCEROS.     See  Monodon,  Cetologt  JbuUx. 

MONOCHORD ;  an  instmment  by  which  the  le- 
veral  proportions  of  musical  sounds  and  internals,  9* 
well  in  the  natural  as  in  tempered  scales  are  tried. 
Originally  it  had,  as  its  name  implies,  only  one  string ; 
but  it  is  better  constructed  with  two  ^  for,  by  means  ojf 
this  additional  string,  we  have  an  opportunity  of  judg- 
ing of  the  harmony  of  two  tempered  notes  in  every  pos- 
sible variety  of  temperament. 

The  reader  who  may  wish  for  further  information  re* 
specttng  the  construction  and  use  of  monochords,  may 
consult  the  appendix  to  Mr  Atwood^s  Treatise  on  Rec- 
tilinear Motion,  and  Mr  Jones's  observations  on  the 
scale  of  nMisic,  moaochord,  &c.  in  his  Physiological 
Disquisitions. 

MoKOCHORD  is  also  used  for  any  musical  instro- 
Qient  that  consists  of  only  one  string  or  chord  ;  in  this 
sense  the  trampet  marine  may  properly  be  called  a  no- 
nockord, 

MONOCULUS,  a  genus  of  insects  of  the  order  of 
apiera.    See  Entomology  Index. 

MONODON,  a  genus  of  fishes  belooging  to  the  or- 
der o£cete.    See  Cetology  Index. 

MONODY,  in  ancient  poetry,  a  moonifol  kind  of 


M    O    N 


f 


gion 


Nonopby 


oif  soog,  song  hy  a  person  all  alone,  to  give  vent  to  bis 
'      grief.    Tiie  word  is  derived  from  ^riK,  ^'  alone/^  and 


I 


iing 


MONOECIAv  from  futf^  ahnc,  and  •Mtf,  a  house  j 
the  name  of  tbe  21  at  class  in  Linnseus's  sexual  method. 
Sec  Botany. 

MONOGAMY,  compounded  of  fMftf  solus^  and 
i^fUif  *'  marriage/'  the  state  or  condition  of  those  who 
have  only  married  once,  or  are  xestraiiied  to  a  single 
wife.    See  PoLi^GAMY. 

MONOGLOSSUM,  in  Ancient  Geography,  a  mart 
town  of  tbe  Hither  India,  situated  on  the  Sinus  Canthi, 
into  irhirb  the  Indus  empties  itself.  Said  to  be  Man- 
galor  on  tbe  coast  of  Malabar.  £.  Long.  74%. N.  Lat. 

'3'. 
MONOGRAM,  a  character  or  cypher,  coniposed  of 

one,  two,  or  more  letters  interwoven  ^  being  a  kind  of 
abbreviation  of  a  name,  anciently  used  as  a  seal,  badge, 
amis,  &c. 

MOXOGYNIA,  from  {^^•u  alone,  and  yvm,  a  wo- 
nan;  the  name  ol*.  the  Brst  order  or  subdivision  in  the 
first  13  classes  of  Liiinseus's  sexual  method  \  consisting 
of  plants  which,  besides  their  agreement  in  their  classic 
character,  generally  derived  from  tbe  number  of  their 
sl^mina,  have  only  one  style. 

MONO  MOT  AP  A,  a  country  of  Southern  Africa, 
1|  141!/  norllioca-stward  of  xhe  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  The 
airaf  .tliis  country  ii  very  temperate  \  tlie  land  fertile 
is  fa^stures  and  all  the  necessaries  of  life,  being  water- 
ed by  !icvcral  rivers.  The  inhabitants  are  rich  in  black 
cattle,  which  they  value  more  than  gold.  They  have 
a  vast  number  of  elephants,  as  appears  from  tbe  great 
quantity  of  ivory  that  is  exported.  There  is  also  a 
considerable  trade  in  gold  dust.  Tbi!>  country  is  divid- 
ed into  seven  provinces  or  .petty  kingdoms,  vassals  to 
the  king  ^  viz..  Monoraotapa  Proper,  Quiteve,  Manica, 
Inhambana,  Inhemior,  Sabia,  and  Sofala. 

MONONGAHELA,  a  river  of  North  America, 
tyhich  rises  in  tlie  Laurel  mountains  in  Virginia,  and 
after  a^course  of  about  200  miles,  joii^s  the  All^hany 
at  Pittsburg.  The  two  rivers  united  then  form  the 
Ohio.  The  Monongabela  is  navigable  for  boats  about 
ico  miles. 

xMONOPETALOUS,  in  Botany^  a  term  applied  to 
iiowcrs  that  have  onlv  one  petal  or  flower-leaf. 

MONOPIIYSITES,  (from  f^fK,  solus,  and  ^««^, 
naitiia),  a  general  name  given  to  all  those  sectaries  in 
the  Levant  who  only  own  one  nature  in  Jesus  Christ  j 
and  wlio  maintain,  .that  the  divine  and  human  natures 
<>1  (  hrist  were  so  united  asto  form  only  one  nature,  yet« 
^'itlioiit  any  change,  confusion,  or  mixture  of  the  two 
natures. 

Tbe  MonophysHes,  however,  properly  so  called,  are 
the  followers  of  Severus,  a  learned  monk  of  Palestine, 
kIio  was  created  patriarch  of  Autioch  in  513,  and  Pe- 
tru>  FuUeosis. 

The  Mono|diysites  were  encouraged  Ixy  the  emperor 
Anastasius,  but  depressed  by  Justin  and  succeeding^em* 
perors.  However,  this  sect  was  restored  by  Jacob  Ba^ 
rada^us  an  obscure  monk,  insomuch  that  when  lie  died 
bishop  of  Edessa,  A.  I>.  588,  he  left  it  in  a  nlost  flou- 
ribbing  state  in  Syria,  Mesopotamia,  Armenia^  J^gvpt, 
Niibia,  Abyssinia,  and  other  countries.  The  laborious 
efforts  of  Jacob  were  secondcd.in  E^pt.and  the  adja- 
cent countries,  by  Theodosius  bishop  of  Alexandria ; 
Vol.  XIV.  Part  I.  f 


357    ].  M    O    N 

and  be  brcame  so  famous  that  all  the  Monophy^ites  of  fronnph}'. 
the  east  considered  him  as  their  second  parent  and  foujid-  ^it<s. 
erj  and  are  to  this  day  called  Jacobites,  in  honour  pf  ^J^^iopo  y. 
their  new  chief.  The  Monopbysitcs  are  divided  into 
two  sects  or  pailies,  the  one  African,  the  other  Afiia- 
tic  j  at  the  head  of  the  latter  is  the  patriarch  of  An- 
tioch,  who  resides  for  the  most  part  in  the  monastery  of 
8t  Ananias,  near  the  city  of  Merdtn  :  the  former  arc 
under  the  jurisdiction  of  the  patriarch  of  Alexandria^ 
who  generally  resides  at  Grand  Cairo,  and  are  subdi- 
vided into  Cophts  and  Abyssinians.  From  the  15th 
century  downwards,  all  the  patriarchs  of  the  Monopby- 
sitcs 1iave  taken  the  name  of  Ignatiux,  in  order  to  show 
that  they  are  the  lineal  successors  of  Ignatius,  who  was 
bishop  of  Antioch  in  the  first  centuiy,  and  conseqoent<- 
ly  the  lawful  patriarch  of  Antioch.  In  the  i^th  cen- 
tury, a  small  body  of  the  Monophysites  in  Asia  aban- 
doned for  some  time  the  doctrine  and  institution  of  their 
ancestors,  and  embraced  the  communion  of  Rome :  but 
the  African  Monophysites,  notwifhstanding  that  pover- 
ty and  ignorance  which  exposed  them  to  the  seduction« 
of  sophistry  and  gain,  stoocLfirm  in  their  principles,  and 
made  an  obstinate  resistance  to  the  promises,  presents, 
and  attempts  emj>loyed  by  the  papal  missionaries  to 
bring  them  nnder  the  Roman  yoke  :  and  in  the  iStli 
century,  those  of  Asia  and  Africa  have  persi:iited  in  their 
refusal  to  enter  into  the  communion  of  the  Jlomisli 
ohurch,  notwitstauding  the  earnest  entreaties  and  allu- 
ring ofiers  that  have  been  made  from  time  to  time  by 
the  pope's  legates,  to  conquer  their  inflexible  constancy. 
The  Monophysites  propagate  their  doctrine  in  Asiawith 
zeal  and  assiduity,  and  have  not  long  ago  gained  over 
to  their  communion  a^art  of  tlie  NcStorians^  itho  inha- 
bit the  maritime  coast  of  India. 

MONOPOJjY,  one  or  more  persons  itiakirtg  (lir m- 
aelves.the  sole  mastei-s  of  the  whole  of  a  commodity, 
manufacture,  and  tlie  like,  in  order  to  make  private  ad- 
vantage of  it,  by  selling  it  again  at  a  very  advanced 
price.     Or  it  is  a  license  or  privilege  allowed  by  tbe 
king  for  the  sole  buying  and  selling,  making,  working, 
or  using  any  thing  whatsoever.«— Alonopolies  had  lieen 
carried   to  an  enormous  height    during  the    reign  of 
Queen  Elizabeth  ;  and  were  heavily. complained  of  by 
Sir  Edward  Coke,  in  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of 
King  James  I. :  but  were  in  great  measure  remedied 
by  statute  21  Jac.  I.e.  3.  which  dedares  such  monopo-* 
lies  to  be  contrary  to  law,  and  void  ;  (except  as  to  pa- 
tents, not  exceeding  the^rant  of  14  years,  to  the  au- 
thors of  new  inventions 4  and  except  also  patents  con- 
corning  printing,  saltpetre,  gunpowder,  great  ordnance^ 
and  shot)  ;  and  monopolists  are  punished  with. the  for- 
feiture of  treble  damages  and  double  costs,  to  those 
whom  they  attempt  to  disturb  \  and  if  they  procure  any 
action,  brought  against  .them  for  these  damages,  to  be 
stayed  by  any  extrajudicial  order,  other  than  of  the 
court  wherein  it  is  brought,  they  incur  the  penalties  of 
pranwnirc.  Combinations  also  among  victuallers  or  ar- 
titicers,  to  raise  th^  price  of  provisions,  or  any  commo- 
dities, or  the  rate  of  labour,  are  in  many  cases  severely 
punished  by  particular  statutes  \  and,  in  s^eneral,  by  sta- 
tute a  and  3  Edward  VI.  c.  15.  with  the  forfeiture  of 
i.ol.  or  20  days  imprisonment,  with  an  allowance  of  on- 
ly bread  and  water,  for  the  first  offence  \  2cl.  or  tbe 
pillory  for  the  second  \  and  40I.  for  the  third,  or  else 
the  pillory,  loss  of   one    ear,  and  perpetual  infamy. 

Uii  By 


M  a  N 


[ 


AfMapoly  By  a  coDstitution  of  the  emperor  Zeno,  all  monopolies 
jl        and  combinations  to  keep  up  the  price  of  merchandise, 
Monro,    provisions,  or  ^vorkmansbip,  were  prohibited,  upon  pain 
of  forfeiture  of  goods  and  perpetual  banishment.     See 
Commerce  and  Cork  Laws,  Supplement. 

MONOSYLLABLE,  in  Grammar,  a  \?ord  that 
consists  only  of  one  syllable,  and  is  composed  either  of 
one  or  more  letters  pronounced  at  the  same  time. 
The  too  firequent  use  of  monosyllables  has  a  very  bad 
effect  in  EneUsh  poetry,  as  Mr  Pope  both  intimates  and 
exemplifies  m  the  same  verse,  viz. 


**  And  ten  slow  words  oft  creep  ia  one  doll  line.^^ 

MONOTHELITES,  (compounded  of  ^.p*;,  «•  sin- 
gle,»,  and  B^fn^  «<  will,"  of  i»fAj#,  volo,  «  I  will,") 
an  ancient  sect,  which  sprung  out  of  the  Eutychians  ^ 
thus  called,  as  only  allowing  of  one  will  in  Jesus 
Christ. 

The  opinion  of  the  Monotlielites  had  its  rise  in  630, 
and  had  the  emperor  Heraclius  for  an  adherent :  it  was 
the  same  with  that  of  the  Acephalous  Severians.  They 
allowed  of  two  wills  in  Christ,  considered  with  regard 
to  the  two  natores)  but  reduced  them  to  one,  by 
reason  of  the  union  of  the  two  natures  ^  thinking  it  ab- 
surd there  should  be  two  free  wills  in  one  and  the  same 
person.  They  were  condemned  by  the  sixth  general 
council  in  600,  as  being  supposed  to  destrov  the  per- 
fection of  the  humanity  of  Jesus  Christ,  depriving  it  of 
will  and  operation.  Their  sentiments  were  afterwards 
embraced  by  the  Maronites. 

MONOTONY,  an  uniformity  of  sound,  or  a  fault 
in  pronunciation,  when  a  long  series  of  words  is  de- 
livered in  one  unvaried  tone.     See  Reading. 

MONOTROPA,  BiRD*s-NEST  j  a  genus  of  plante 
belonging  to  the  monandria  class  ;  and  in  the  natural 
method  ranking  with  those  of  which  the  order  is  doubt- 
ful.    See  Botany  Index. 

MONREAL.    See  Montreal. 

MONRO,  Dr  Alexander,  senior,  a  celebrated 
physician  and  anatomist,  was  the  son  of  Mr  John  Monro, 
who  was  for  some  years  a  surgeon  in  the  army  under 
King  William  in  Flanders,  and  who  aflerwards  settled 
as  a  surgeon  in  Edinburgh.  The  subject  of  this  bio- 
graphical sketch  was  bom  in  London  in  1697. 

He  showed  an  early  inclination  to  the  study  of  phy- 
sic 'y  and  the  father,  after  giving  him  the  best  educa- 
tion that  Edinburgh  then  afforded,  sent  him  successive- 
ly to  London,  Paris,  and  Leyden,  to  improve  himself 
further  in  his  profession.  At  London,  he  attended  the 
lectures  of  Messrs  Hawksbee  and  HVhiston  on  experi- 
mental philosophy,  and  the  anatomical  demonstrations 
of  Mr  Cheselden.  At  Paris  he  attended  the  hospitals, 
and  the  lectures  on  the  different  branches  of  pliysic  and 
surgery;  and  towards  the  end  of  autumn  17 18,  he 
went  to  Leyden,  and  studied  under  the  great  Boer- 
haave. 

On  his  return  to  Edinburgh  in  .autumn  1719, 
Messrs  Druromond  and  MacgilT,  who  were  then  con^ 
junct  nominal  professors  and  demonstrators  of  anatomy 
t9  the  Surgeons  Company,  having  resigned  in  his  fa- 
vour, his  father  prevailed  on  him  to  read  some  public 
lectures  on  anatomy,,  and  to  Illustrate  them  by.  showing 
the  curious  anatomical  preparations  which  he  had  made 
and  sent  heme  when  abroad*.  He  at  the  same  time  per- 
suaded Dr  Alston,,  then  a  joung  man,  to  give  some 

4 


338     ]  M     O     N 

public  lectures  on  botany.  Accordtogly,  in'  the  begin-  Hqq,^ 
ning  of  the  winter  1 7  20,  these  two  young  professors  be- 
gan to  give  regular  courses  of  lectures,  the  one  on  the 
materia  medica  and  botany,  the  other  on  anatomy  tnd 
surgery }  which  were  the  first  regular  conrses  of  ketores 
on  any  of  the  branches  of  medicine  that  had  ever  been 
read  at  Edinburgh,  and  may  be  looked  upon  as  the 
opening  of  that  medical  school  which  has  since  aoqoifed 
such  great  reputation  all  over  Europe. 

In  summer  17  21  and  J  722,  Dr  Monro,  by  the  per- 
suasion of  his  father,  read  some  lectures  on  chiruigicai 
sabjects,  particularly  on  wounds  and  tomours,  which  he 
never  would  publish,  having  written  them  in  a  bnrry 
and  before  he  had  much  experience }  but  inserted  from 
time  to  tinoe  the  improvements  he  thought  might  be 
made  in  surgery,  in  the  volumes  of  Medical  Essays  and 
Observations  to  be  hereafter  mentioned. 

A  boot  the  year  1720,  his  father  communicated  to 
the  pbysicians  and  surgeons  at  Edinburgh,  a  plan  which 
he  had  long  formed  in  his  own  mind,  of  having  tbe  dif- 
ferent branches  of  physic  and  surgery  regularly  taogbt 
at  Edinburgh  ;  which  was  highly  approved  of  by  them, 
and  by  their  interest  regular  prbfessorships  of  anatomy 
and  Uiedicine  were  instituted  in  the  university.  His  son, 
Dr  Monro,  was  first  made  university  professor  of  am- 
lomy }  and  two  or  three  years  afterwards,  Drs  Sinclair, 
Rutherford,  Innes,  and  Plummer,  were  made  professors 
of  medicine ;  the  professorship  of  materia  medica  and 
botany,  which  Dr  Alston  then  held,  having  been  added 
to  the  university  many  years  before.  Immediately  after 
these  gentlemen  were  elected  professors,  they  began  to 
deliver  regular  courses  of  lectures  on  tbe  difiereut 
branches  of  medicine,  and  they  and  their  successors  have 
uniformly  continued  so  to  do  every  winter. 

The  plan  for  a  medical  education  at  Edinburgh  ms 
still  incomplete  without  an  hospital,  where  students  coold 
see  the  practice  of  physic  and  surgery,  as  well  as  bear 
the  lectures  of  the  professors.  A  scheme  was  therefore 
proposed  by  Dr  Monroes  father,  and  others,  partictiUr- 
ly  the  members  of  the  Boyal  College  of  Physicians  and 
Board  of  Surgeons,  for  raising  by  subscription  a  fund 
for  building  and  supporting  an  hospital  for  the  reception 
of  diseased  poor ;  and  our  author  published  a  pamphlet 
setting  forth  the  advantages  that^  would  attend  snch  an 
institution.  In  a  short  time  a  considerable  sum  of  money 
was  raised,  a  small  house  was  fitted  up,  and  patients 
were  admitted  into  it,  and  regularly  attended  by  many 
of  the  physicians  and  surgeons  in  town.  The  fund  for 
this  charity  increasing  very  considerably,  in  a  great 
measure  from  the  activity  and  influence  of  that  venr 
worthy  citizen  and  magistrate  George  Drtinmond,  £s^ 
the  foundation  was  laid  of  the  present  large,  commodi- 
ous, and  useful  hospital,  the  Royai  Infimutry;  in  tbe 
planning  of  which  Dr  Monro  suggested  many  nsefbl 
bints,  and  in  particular  the  elegant  room  for  chimi^gical 
operations  was  designed  and  executed  under  his  dire<^ 
tfon.  Provost  Drumroond  and  he  were  nominated  the 
bnilding  committee  \  and  the  fabric  was  entirely  tmt 
pleted  in  a  short  space  of  time.  It  has  aince  been  » 
largely  endowed,  as  to  be  capable  of  receiving  a  girit 
number  of  diseased  poor,  whose  cases  the  students  ef 
physic  and  surgery  have  an  opportunity  ef  seeing  daily 
treated  with  the  greatest  attention  and  care  by  physici- 
aas  and  surgeons  eminent  in  their  pcufesaion ;  aiid  a  re* 
psltes  of  the  partioolars  of  aUihe  cases  wbkli  have  been 

recetwd 


M    O    N  C    339    3  M    O    N 

tfflON    reecivsil  into  the  Iiopae  since  its  first  opening  luu  been     ood  enjoyed  tbe  'uospeakaUe  pleasure  of  belioldrog  a    Monuv 
ktftf  in  books  appropriated  for  tbat  parposci  for  the     sou,  .esteemed  and  regarded  liy  mankind,  tbe  principal 
ose  of  tbe  stadents.  actor  in  the  execution  of  his  tavourite  plan,  the  great 

In  order  to  make  tbe  hospital  of  still  farther  use  to  '  object  of  his  life,  tlie  founding  a  seminary  of  medical 
the  studeatSy  Ur  Monro  frequently,  while  he  coatinued     education  in  his  native  country :  The  son,  who  surviv- 
ed him  near  30  ^ears,  bad  the  satisfaction  to  behold  thi^ 


profeffor  of  anatomy*  gave  lectures  on  tbe  ciururgical 
cases}  aad  Dr  Butberford»  then  professor  of  the  pTac* 
ttce  of  physic,  began,  in  the  year  1748,  to  deliver  cli- 
nical lectures,  to  be  continued  every  winter,  on  the 
me^t  remarkable  cases  in  the  hospital. 

Dr  Monro,  though  be  was  elected  professor  of  anatomy 
in  tbe  year  1721,  was  not  received  into  tbe  university 
till  the  year  1725,  when  he  was  inducted  along  with 
tbat  great  omthematician  the  late  Mr  CoUn  MaclauriOf 
with  whom  he  ever  lived  in  the  strictest  friendship. 
From  this  time  he  regularly  every  winter  gave  a  cmirsa 
of  lectures  on  anatomy  and  surgery,  from  October  to 
May,  upon  a  mo^t  judu;ious  and  comprehensive  plan  : 
A  task  in  which  he  persevered  ^ith  the  greatest  assidu- 
ity, and  without  tlie  least  interruption,  for  near  40 
jears ;  and  so  great  was  tbe  reputation  he  had  acquired, 
that  students  flocked  to  him  from  the  most  4istant  cor- 
ners of  his  majeAty^s  dominions. 

In  1759,  our  professor  entirely  relinquished  the  bu- 
siness of  the  anatomical  theatre  to  his  son  Dr  Alexan- 
der, who  had  returned  from  abroad,  and  bad  assisted  him 
in  the  course  of  lectures  the  preceding  year.    But  after 
this  reaignation,  he  still  endeavoured  to  render  his  la- 
bours useful  to  makind,  by  reading  clinical  lectures  at 
tbe  hospital  for  tbe  improvement  of  the  students  ^  of 
which  Dr  Duncan,  who  was  one  of  his  pupils,  has  gi- 
ven the  following  account.     '*  There  <I  had  myself  the 
happmess  of  being  a  pupil,  who  profited  by  the  judici- 
ous conduct  of  bis  practice,  and  was  improved  by  the 
Hisdom  aod  acuteness  of  bis  remarlu.   I  have  indeed  to 
regret  that  I  attended  only  tbe  last  course  of  lectures  in 
trhicb  he  had  ever  a  share,  and  at  a  time  when  he  was 
subjected  to  a  disease  which  proved  at  length  fatal. 
Still,  however,   from  what  I  saw  and  from   what  I 
beard,  I  can  venture  to  assert,  that  it  is  hardly  possible 
to  conceive  a  physician  more  attentive  to  p-mctice,  or  a 
preceptor  more  anxious  to  communicate  instructions. 
His  bumiuHty,  in  the  former  of  these  characters,  led 
him  to  bestow  the  most  anxious  care  on  his  patients 
while  they  were  alive  ;  and  his  zeal  in  the  latter  indu- 
ced him  to  make  them  the  subject  of  useful  lessons 
when  they  happened  to  die.»-In  the  different  stations 
of  physician,  of  lectiiFer,  and  of  manager  in  tbe  hospital, 
be  took  every  measure  for  inquiring  into  the  causes 
of  diseases  by  dissection.— He  personally  attended  the 
opening  of  every  body ;  and  he  not  only  dictated  to  the 
students  an  accurate  report  of  the  dissection,  but  with 
nice  discrimination  contrasted  the  diseased  and  sound 
state  of  every  organ.     Urns,  in  his  own  person  he  af- 
forded to  tbe  oftudeats  a  conspicuous  example  of  tbe  ad- 
vantages of  early  anatomical  pursuits,  as  the  happiest 
foundation  for  a  medical  superstructure.     His  being  at 
once  engaged  in  two  departments,  the  anatomical  thea- 
tre and  cUnicail  duiir,  furnished  /him  with  oj^ortuni- 
ties  both  on  the  dead  and  living  body,  and  placed 
bim  in  tbe  most  favourable  situation  for  tbe  improve- 
ment of  medicine }  and  from  these  opportunities  he 
derived  every  poosiUe  advantage  which  they  could  af- 
ford.;» 

His  father,  old  Mr  Monro,  lived  to  an  advanced  age ; 


seminary  of  medical  education  frequented  yearly  by  30c 
or  400  students,  many  of  whom  came  from  the  most 
distant  corners  of  his  majesty^s  dominions,  and  to  see  it 
arrive  to  a  degree  of  reputation  far  beyond  his  roost  san- 
guine hopes,  being  equalled  by  few,  and  inferior  to  none, 
in  Europe. 

Dr  Monro  was  not  only  very  active  in  the  line  of  hi^ 
own  profession,  but  as  a  citizen  and  general  member  of 
the  conununity  ^  for,  after  he  had  resigned  tbe  ana  to  • 
mical  chair  to  his  sou,  he  executed  with  the  strictest 
punctuality  the  duties  of  several  engagements  both  of  a 
civil  and  political  nature :  He  was  a  director  of  tlu.* 
Bank  of  ScotUnd,  a  justice  of  the  peaee,  a  commission- 
er of  high  roads,  &c.  At  length,  after  a  life  spent  in 
tbe  most  active  industry,  he  became  afflicted  with  a  tc- 
dious  and  painful  disease,  which  he  bore  with  .equtfi 
courage  and  resignation  till  his  death,  which  happened 
on  July  10.  1 767,  in  the  70tb  year  of  his  age. 

Of  bis  works,  the  first  in  order  is  his  Osteology, 
which  was  written  for  the  use  of  students,  but  is  capa- 
ble also  of  affording  instruction  to  the  oldest  and  mo3t 
experienced  practitioner ;  as,  besides  a  minute  descrip- 
tion of  the  parts  copied  trora  nature,  it  everywhere  a- 
bounds  with  new  and  important  observations  immedi- 
ately applicable  to  practice.  It  has  been  translated  in^ 
to  many  different  languages }  has  passed  throogli  nume- 
rous editions )  and  has  been  reprinted  in  foreign  coon- 
tries  in  the  most  superb  manner,  accompanied  with  ele- 
gant and  masterly  engravings.  His  description  of  the 
Lacteal  Sac  and  Thoracic  fiuct  contains  the  most  accu- 
rate account  of  that  important  part  of  the  body  which 
has  been  yet  published ;  and  his  Anatomy  of  the  Nerves 
will  transmit  to  posterity  an  excellent  example  of  accu- 
rate dissection,  faithful  description,  and  ingenious  res)- 
soning.  The  six  volumes  of  Medical  Essays  and  Obser- 
vations, published  by  a  society  in  Edinburgh,  are  uni- 
versally known  and  esteemed.  To  that  society  he  was 
appointed  secretary ;  but,  after  the  publication  of  the 
first  volume,  to  which  he  had  largely  contributed,  the 
members  growing  remiss  in  their  attendance,  he  be- 
came the  sole  collector  and  publisher  of  the  work  :  To 
him  wc  are  thereibrc  in  a  great  measure  indebted  for 
those  numerous  and  important  discoveries  with  which 
this  publication  has  enridied  every  department  of  medi- 
cal knowledge.  In  the  two  first  volumes  of  the  Physi- 
cal and  Literary  Essays,  published  by  the  physical  so- 
ciety of  Edinburgh,  in  which  he  had  the  rank  of  one 
of  the  presidents,  we  find  several.papers  written  by  him, 
which  are  not  the  least  ornaments  of  that  collection. 
His  account  of  the  Success  of  Inoculation  in  Scotland 
may  be  considered  as  his  last  publication  :  It  demon- 
atrates  bis  extensive  correspondence  and  indefatigable 
industry,  and  has  had  great  influenccin  promoting  that 
salutary  practice.  Besides  these,  he  was  also  the  author 
of  several  other  elegant  and  masterly  productions,  which 
were  either  never  published,  or  were  published  without 
his  knowledge  and  from  incorrect  copies.  A  collec- 
tion of  all  his  works,  properly  arranged,  corrected,  and 
illuBtmtod  With  copperplates,  has  been  published  by  Dr 

U  u  2  Alexand<rr 


M    O    N 


[    340    ] 


M-   O    N 


mines. 


Monro  Alexander  Monro,  bis  son  and  successor  in  the  anato- 
II  mical  chair,  in  a  splendid  quarto  volume,  printed  for 
^^JJ?«j«-  £lliot,  Edinburgh,  17815  to  which  is  prefixed  a  life 
of  the  author,  by  another  of  his  sons,  Dr  Donald,  phy- 
sician in  London.  The  observation  of  an  excellent 
judge,  the  illustrious  Haller,  concerning  our  author's 
Medical  Essays  and  Observations,  which  now  form  a 
part  of  this  collection,  may  with  no  less  justice  be  ap- 
plied to  the  whole  :  '*  It  is  a  book  which  ought  to  be 
in  the  possession  of  every  medical  practitioner/' 

MONS,  an  ancient,  large,  handsome,  rich,  and  very 
strong  city  of  the  Netherlands.  It  is  situated  on  an  un- 
even and  marshy  soil  on  the  river  Trouille.  In  the 
neighbourhood  are  extensive  coal  mines  which  are 
worked*  It  has  several  manufactures,  and  a  good 
trade.  It  was  taken  by  the  allies  in  1709,  and  by 
the  French  in  July  1746  >  but  rendered  back  by  the 
treaty  of  Aix-la-Chapelle,  after  the  fortifications  were 
demolished.  It  was  taken  by  the  French  in  1794, 
and  while  in  their  possession  was  chief  town  of  the  de- 
partment of  Jemappe.  It  was  separated  from  France 
at  the  peace  of  Paris  in  18 14,  and  annexed  to  the 
kingdom  of  tbc  Netherlands.  The  population  in  1800 
was  18,291.     E.  Long.  3.  51.     N.  Lat.  50.  25. 

Mays  Sacer^  in  Ancient  Geography^  a  mountain  of 
the  Sabines  beyond  the  Anio,  to  the  east  of  Rome  \ 
whither  the  common  people  retired  once  and  again  to 
avoid  the  tyr'anny  of  the  Patricians.  From  this  seces- 
sion, and  the  altar  o^  Jupiter  Tcnnbilis  erected  there, 
the  mountain  took  its  name. 

MONSEIGNEUR,  in  the  plural  Mcssagncvrs^  a 
titie  of  honout  and  respect  used  by  the  French  in  writ- 
ing to  persons  of  superior  rank  or  quality. 

Dukes,  peers,  archbishops,  bishops,  and  presidents  ^ 
fa  mortier^  were  complimented  with  the  title  of  Mon- 
seigneur.  In  the  petitions  presented  to  the  sovereign 
courts,  they  used  the  term  Messcigncurs, 

MoNSEiGNEUR,  absolutely  used,  was  a  title  restrain- 
ed to  the  dauphin  of  France.  This  custom  was  ^un- 
known till  the  time  of  Louis  XIV.  before  which  the 
dauphin  was  styled  Monsieur  h  Dauphin. 

MONSELEMINES,  a  people  inhabiting  that  part 
of  Biledulgcrid,  which  borders  on  the  territories  of  the 
emperor  of  Morocco.  They  are  a  mixed  race,  de- 
scended from  the  ancient  Arabs  and  fugitive  Moors. 
Their  country  extends  from  about  90  miles  beyond 
Cape  Non,  to  the  distance  of  60  miles  from  St  Croix  c 
It  is  mostly  fertile  ;  and,  with  little  cultivation,  pro- 
duces the  necessaries  of  life.  A  number  of  streams  wa- 
ter the  plains,  whicli  abound  with  fig,  date,  palm,  and 
almond  trees.  The  gardens  produce  excellent  grapes, 
which  the  Jews  convert  into  brandy  after  they  have 
been  dried  by  the  Arabs. 

The  Monselemine  territory  is  very  populous,  and 
would  be  much  more  so,  were  it  not  for  the  almost 
continual  wars  in  which  the  people  are  engaged  against 
the  emperor  of  Morocco  ;  for,  as  this  country  is  the  re- 
treat of  the  rich  Moors,  who  wish  to  fly  from  the  ty- 
ranny of  the  emperor,  they  are  too  well  acquainted 
with  the  Moorish  customs  to  be  surprised  by  that  prince. 
As  soon  as  a  Moorish  army  takes  the  field,  the  inhabi- 
tants mount  their  horses,  and  occupy  the  passes  of  the 
mountains  \  while  the  women  and  slaves  retire  to  the 
interior  parts  of  the  country,  or  to  the  desert,  if  they 
are  hard  pressed.    Their  horses,  which  they  break  in 


an  admirable  manner,  are  said  to  be  the  best  in  fbe  MontiteJ 
world  'y   obedient  to  the  voice  of  their  master,  and  al 
lowing  no  stranger  to  mount  them. 

ITie  people  derive  their  name  and  origin  firom  one  .^"°"" 
Moseilama,  who  was  contemporary  with  Mahomet. 
They  respect  the  prophet,  as  do  other  Maliometam  ■, 
but  neither  believe  that  he  was  infallible,  nor  that  his 
descendants  are  all  inspired  by  God,  nor  that  their  will 
should  be  a  law,  nor  that  such  faith  is  necessary  in  or- 
der to  be  a  good  Mahometan.  The  influence  of  their 
high  priest  is  nearly  despotic  ^  for  though  he  h»)  00 
troops,  be  may  command  the  nation,  and  peace  and 
war  depend  upon  his  will.  He  has  no  propcrtj,  yet 
every  thing  is  at  his  disposal  \  he  requires  nothing  from 
any,  yet  all  are  disposed  to  give  him. 

The  Monselemines,  on  Friday,  meet  in  their  masques 
for  prayer,  and  the  same  is  likewise  the  day  of  their 
principal  market,  when  their  goods  are  exposed  to  sale 
in  the  public  squares,  lliey  never  attempt  to  make 
proselytes  ;  and  they  treat  their  Christian  slaves  vith 
humanity,  which  ma?  perhaps  be  owing  to  the  avarice 
of  their  masters.  The  Jews  are  allowed  among  thira 
the  free  exercise  of  their  religion.  Polygamy  is  per- 
mitted among  them  \  but  the  situation  of  the  wonun  n 
more  respectable,  and  they  are  nut  so^  much  secluded  as 
among  the  Moors,  mingling  more  in  society,  walking 
at  large,  and  visiting  their  friends.  The  Menseiemiae 
children  are  brought  up  with  great  care,  and  are  not 
obliged  to  exhibit  proofs  of  their  courage  till  tbey  caa 
be  considered  as  men. 

MONSIEUR,  in  the  plural  Messieurs^  a  term  or 
title  of  civility,  used  by  the  French  in  speaking  to  (heir 
equals,  or  those  a  little  below  them,  answering  to  Mr  or 
Sir  among  the  English. 

Monsieur,  absolutely  used,  was  a  title  appropriated 
to  the  second  son  of  Frantic,  ortheking^s  brother.  The 
king  was  also  called  Monsieur^  but  that  only  by  tlie 
children  of  France. 

MONS  ONI  A,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the 
polyadelphia  class.     See  Botany  Index, 

MONSOON,  a  regular  or  periodical  wind,  in  tkc 
East  Indies,  blowing  constantly  the  same  way,  during 
six  months  of  the  year,  and  the  conU^ary  way  the  re- 
maining six. 

In  the  Indian  ocean,  the  winds  are  partly  general, 
and  blow  all  the  year  round  the  same  way,  as  in  the 
Ethiopic  ocean  ^  and  partly  periodical,  i.  e.  half  the 
year  blow  one  way,  and  the  other  half  year  on  the  op- 
posite points :  and  those  points  and  times  of  shiftisg 
differ  in  different  parts  of  this  ocean.  These  latter  are 
what  we  call  monsoons. 

The  shifting  of  these  nionsoons  is  not  all  at  once ; 
and  in  some  places  the  time  of  the  change  is  attended 
with  calms,  in  others  with  variable  winds,  and  parti- 
cularly those  of  China,  at  ceasing  to  be  westerly,  are 
very  subject  to  be  tempestuous  \  and  such  b  their  vio- 
lence, that  they  seem  to  be  of  the  nature  of  the  West 
India  hurricanes,  and  render  the  navigation  of  tboSe 
seas  very  unsafe  at  that  time  of  the  year.  These 
tempests  the  seamcB  call  the  breaking  tfp(tf  the  mtM- 
soons. 

Monsoons,  then,  are  a  species  of  what  we  othcrvi»e 
call  trade  winds.  They  take  the  denomination  mon- 
soon from  an  ancient  pilot,  who  first  crossed  the  Indian 
sea  by  means  hereof.     Tbcugh  othen  doive  the  aaine 

£raoi 


]VC    O    N 


C    341    ] 


M    O    N 


iMsoeo,  fi-ooi  a  Portuguese  word  signify iag  motien  or  change 
toittcr.  of  wiD(l  ajid  sea. 

Lucretius  and'Apollonius  make  mention  of  annual 
winds  ivhich  arise  every  year,  etesiafiabria^  which  seem 
to  be  tbe  satne  with  what  in  the  East  Indies  we  now  call 
monsoons.  For  the  physical  cause  of  these  winds,  see 
Meteoroi-ocy. 

MONSTER  \  a  hirth  or  production  of  a  living  be- 
ing, degenerating  from  the  proper  and  usual  disposition 
ef  parts  in  the  species  to  whidi  it  belongs :  As,  when 
tliere  are  too  many  members,  or  too  few  \  or  some  of 
them  are  extravagantly  out  of  proportion,  either  on  the 
aide  of  defect  or  excess.  The  word  comes  from  the 
Latin  m/mstrumj  ofmotistramis,  ''  sliowing.V  Whence 
also  the  box  wherein  rdioks  were  anciently  kept  to  be 
shown,  was  called  •  i»off9^r»iit.  Dugdaie  mentions  an 
inventory  of  the  chorchof  York  with  this  article,  lieni 
ttmtm  monstrum  cum  ouibus  sancti  PetH  in  heryly  et 
crucifixo  in  summitate, 

Aiistotle  defines  a  monster  to  be  a  defect  of  nature, 
^'hen,  acting  towards  some  end,  it  cannot  attain  to  it, 
from  some  of  its  principles  being  corrupted. 

Monsters  do  not  propagate  their  kind)  for  which 
reason  some  rank  nwhs  among  the  number  of  monsters, 
as  also  hermaphrodites. 

Females  which  bring  forth  twins,  are  found  most  li- 
able to  pvoduee  monsters.-  The  reason,^  probablyyis 
owing  t<6  this  ^  that  though  the  twins  are  covered  with 
om:  common  chorion,  yet  they  have  each  their  separate 
amnios,  which  by  their  contiguity  may  chance  to  grow 
together,  and  so  occasion  a  confusion  or  blending  of  the 
parts.     Hence  so  many  double  creatures. 

Various  theories  have  been  proposed  by  philosophers 
and  physiologists  to  account  for  tlie  production  of  mon- 
sters. But  alter  all^  it  most  be  confessed,  that  we  are 
very  little  acquainted  with  those  deviations  from  the  or- 
dinary course  of  nature.  For  each  organized  being 
there  appears  to  exist  a  primitive  germ  or  model  of  the 
different  species  drawn  by  the  Creator,  determined  by 
forms  and  sexes,  and  realized  in  the  individuals  of  both 
sexes,  whiolv  must  unite  in  order  to  their  reproduction. 
From  this  model  nature  never  departs,  unless  when 
compelled  by  circumstances  which  derange  the  primi- 
tive organization  common  to  the  species,  and  produce 
what  are  called  monsters* 

'  With  respect  to  structure,,  monsters  are  of  various 
kinds.    Some  have  an  excess  or  defect  in  certain  parts  ; 
such  as  those  which  are  called  accphahms^  or  who  want 
the  head  \  those  which  have  two  heads,  two  arms,  two 
h'gs,  and  one  body,  or  which  have  two  bodies  and  one 
bead,  or  which  have  three  legs  \  and  those  which  want 
the  arms  or  the  legs.     Others  err  through  an  extraor- 
dinary and  deformed  conformation,  through  aiip  wina- 
toral  union  of  certain*  parts  or  viscera,  through  a  great 
derangement  in  one  or  more  of  their  members,^  and 
through  the  extraoxdinary  place  which  these  often  oc- 
eojMT  in  consequence  of  this  derangement  oi^  transposi- 
tion.    The  monster  desaibed  by  Dr  EUer  ef  the  aca- 
demy of  Berlin  was  of  this  kind.    It  was-a  foetus  of  nine 
months,.  28  inches  long,  with  an  enorroons  head  and 
frightful  countenance  v  nnd  in  the  middle  of  a  broad 
and  vast  forehead  it  had  a  jeddish  eye^  without  either 
eyebrows  or  eyelids,  and  sunk  deep  into  ji  square  hole. 
Immediately  below  this  eye  was  an  excrescence  which 
strongly  reacmbled  a  peaia  with  a  glass,  a  prepucci  and 


an  urethra :  the  part  covered  with  hair  was  likewisoBe-  Montt^f; 
low  the  nape  of  the  neck.  In  other  monsters  we  meet 
with  the  unnatural  union  of  some  parts,  which  from 
their  destination  and  functions,  ought  always  to  be  se- 
parate ^  and  the  separation  of  other  parts,  which,  for 
the  same  reasons,  oug)it  constantly  to  be  united.  The 
reader  may  see  the  different  ways  in  which  the  forma- 
tion of  monsters  takes  place,,  in  four  memoirs  by  M. 
I^mery,  inserted  inr  L^Histoire  de  PAcadcmic  des 
Sciences^  I73^  and  ^739.  M.  do  Vemey  has  likewise 
poblfiihed  a  memoir  on  the  same  subject. 

In  the  volume  published  by  the  Academy  of  Sciences 
in  1724,  mention  is  made  by  M.  Geoffi*oy  of  a  monster 
bom  in  Barrois  1722.  This  monstrous  prednction 
consisted*  of  two  children  without  the  inferior  extren>i< 
ties,  joined  together  by  a  common  navel :  each  of 
them  had  a  nurse,  sucked,*  and  cat  pap  \  and  the  one 
sucked  while  the  other  slept.  The  render  may  like- 
wise consult  the  second  part  of  Winsk>w's  Memoirs  on 
Monsters,  inserted  in  the  volume  published  by  the  Aca- 
«  domy  of  Sciences  in  1734,  where  he  will  find  the  histo- 
ry of*  two-  verj  extraordinary  twin  monsters,  who  evi- 
denced during  their  life  a  great  difference  in  their  mo« 
ral  and  physical  qualities.  We  are  obliged  sin\ply  to 
refer  to  these  Memoirs,  as  they  are  too  long  for  abridge- 
ment. 

It  is  observed  by  Haller,  .titat  in  some  monsters  the 
natural  structure  is  changed  by-some 'shock  or  passion :  ~ 
in  others  the  structure,  independent  of  any  accident,  is 
originally  monstrous ;  such  as  when  all  the  members 
are  reversed  from  left  to  right,  when  the  person  has 
six-  fingers,  and-  in  many  other  instances.  M.  de  Mau- 
pertuis  mentions,  that  there  is  at  Berlili  a  family  who  ' 
have  had«  six*  fingers  en  each  hand  for  several  genera- 
tions. M.  de  Biville  saw  an  instance  of  this  at  Malta, 
of  which  he  has  given  a  description.  M.  Benou,  sur- 
geon at  Pommeraye  in  Anjou,  has  published  an  ac- 
count of  some  families  with  six*  fingers,  which  are  to  •■ 
be  found  in  several  parishes  of  the  Lower  Anjou,  and 
which  have  existed  there  from  time  immemorial.  This 
deformity  is  perpetuated  in  these  families  even  when 
they  intermarry  with  persons  who  are  free  from  it. 
Whether  the  propagation  of  these  supernamerary  or- 
gans, which  are  not* only  useless  but^  inconvenient  and 
even  disagreeable,  be  owing  to  the  *  father  or  mother, 
their  childven  of  both  sexes  are  subject  to  it  indiscri- 
minately.- A  father  and  mother  with  six  fingers  fre- 
quently have  a  part,,  and  sometimes  the  whole  of  their 
children,  .free  from  this' deformity  ^  but  it  again  makes 
its  appearanee,  and  in  a  very  great  degree,  in  the  third 
generation.  From  this  it  appears^  that  this  fault  in 
the  conformation  is  hereditary.  M.  Beauniur  has  like- 
vn»e  published  the  history  of  a  fiimily  iu  the  island  of 
Malta,  the  children  of  which  are  born  with  six  fingers 
and  six  toes.  But  it  deserves  to  be  inquired,  AVhetber 
these  supernamerary  fingers  are  real  fingers  P  The  rea- 
der may  here  consult  the  Journal  de  Physique  for  No- 
vember 1 7.74,  p»  37  2..  This  variety  of  sexdigitary  hands 
and  feet  is  not  comprehended  in  the  Researches  sur 
guelques  conformations  monstruaises  des  doigis  dans 
Phomme^  which  is  inserted  in  the  Memoirs  of  the  Aca- 
demy of  Sciences  for  1 7  7 1.  In  the  Journal  de  Physique 
for  August  1 776,  we  find  a  description  of  a  double  ute- 
rus and  vagina  obser^red  in  a  woman  who  died  in  child- 
bed|  by  DrfuTcell  of  Dublin:  and  in  that,  for  June 

1-788,: 


M    O    N  C    34a    ]  M 

«vuuisfet.   i78&»  vvc  have  tm  nocMiiit  ^f  «  mm  witb  «eftii  fingers     tiMrtiens,  gtUmte^,  tniaoEt, 
OD  eadi  kaud,  hf  Baron  Dietricb. 

Several  monstrotis  productioiu  arc  to  Im  siaeii  in  the 
cabioet  at  Chantiliy,     x.  Two  oaiires  joined  together 
in  the  body,  with  each  a  separate  liead  and  neck,  and 
four  legs  in  iviiole.     2.  Two  calves  united  only  by  tbe 
pelvis,  Tvitb  only  one  anas  and  000  tail :  the  whole  is 
su^)orted  by  six  legs,  four  before  and   two   behind, 
3*  A  lamb  with  six  1^,  four  of  wUch  are  beliind, 
4.  The  skeleton  of  a  rana,  whtdi  lias  likewise  six  legs. 
5-  A.  berroapbrodite  deer.      6.  The   bead  of  a  ftm), 
wbicb  has  only  one  eye  in  the  nuddle  of  the  forehead. 
7*  'Some  leverets  with  six  and  eight  legs.     8.  A  pvppy» 
the  lips  of  which  are  divided  foor-fold.     9.  Some  foe- 
tuses of  a  Im^  which  -have  a  kind  of  tube  npon  their 
forehead  one   or  two  inches  long)  and  anotbert  tbe 
tlunder  part  of  which  is  double  in  every  thing.    10.  Two 
doable  human  fostuses  joined  by  the  belty,  with  four 
arms  .and  three  Jegs.     x  i .  A  young  chicken  with  two 
:liodies:a»d  isne  head.     12.  A  pigeon  and  a  duck,  each 
wnth  two  bills,     i^^  A  duck  with  two  beads.     14.  ^. 
ipigeon  with  four  feet.     15*  A  capon  with  three  feet  j 
tbe  ibinl  being  fixed  to  -the  anus.     16.  Two  heads  of 
a  caif  joined  together,  each  of  them  with  two  ears : 
these  two  heads  were  both  fixed  to  one  neck.     17.  In 
the  Menagerie  at  Chantilly  there  was  formerly  to  be 
seen  a  cow  with  five  feet,,  the  fifth  of  which  was  con- 
nected with  the  dog.      18.  A  rabbit  without  ears. 
19.  Two  cats,  each  having  two  heads.     20.  Two  leve* 
rets  ae«vly  brought  forth,  well  shaped  in  the  body  and 
legs,  but  connected  leather  by  means  of  only  one 
h^.    .21.  Several  eggs,  in  the  figure  of  wbtch  there 
4>ocHr.some  monstrous  appearances  and  extraordtnaiy 
deformities,  sufficient  to  show  that  they  are  contrary  to 
the  establi^ed  form  of  nature. 

Mr  Home,  surgean,  some  time  ago  presented  to  Mr 
John  Hunter,  the  douUe  skull  of  a  diild,  bom  at  Cal- 
cutta an  May  1783  of  poor  parents  aged  30  and  35, 
and  which  lived  to  he  nearly  two  years  old.     The 
body  of  this  child  was  natufHUy  formed  4  but  the  bead 
bad  the  phenomenon  of  appearing  double  ',  another 
bead  of  the  same  size,  and  almost  equally  perfect,  be- 
ing attached  to  its  upper  part.     In  this  extraneous  and 
preternatural  bead  no  pulsation  could  be  felt  in  the  ar- 
teries of  the  temples  \  but  the  superficial  veins  were 
very  evident.  One  of  tbe  eyes  bad  been  hurt  by  tbe  fire, 
upon  which  tbe  midwife,  m  her  first  alarm,  threw  the 
child :  the  other  moved  readily  ^  but  the  icis  was  not 
affected  by  the  approach  of  any  thing  to  it.     Tbe  ex- 
ternal ears  of  Uiis  bead  were  very  imperfect,}  tbe 
tongue  adhered  to  the  lower  jaw,  except  for  about  half 
an  inch  at  the  lip,  which  was  loose  ;  tbe  jaw  was  ca- 
pable of  motion,  but  there  were  no  teeth.     The  child 
was  shown  about  the  streets  of  Calcutta  fbr  a  cuooaity  j 
but  was  rendered  unhealthy  by  confinement,  and  died 
at  last  of  a  lute  of  the  coira  ^de  capello*      It  was 
doff  up  by  the  East  India  Compaay^s  agent  for  salt 
«t  Tumlock,  and  the  sktdl  is  now  in  tbe  nniseumof 
Mr  Hunter. 

Among  tbe  monstrous  productions  of  the  animal 
kingdom,  we  may  raiik  those  individuals  Khich  ought 
only  to  possess  one  sex,  but  in  which  we  observe  the 
nnion  or  the  appeamnce  of  two.     See  the  articles  Av- 

^MtOOTKES  and  HERMAPmtODITE. 

M«  Eabri  arranges  mutilations  of  tbe  members,  dis- 


O    N 

divasioas  of  the  fi^  or  Momit. 
of  tbe  palate,  compressions  of  tbe  craaiom,  and  aiasy  ^ 
other  deformitieft  of  this  kind,  in  the  class  of.  morbific 
nonstrnosities.      In  that  which  be  calls  conmUural 
(eonnaUireile)  monstruosities,  iare  placed  tbe  piurtlity, 
transposition,  and  insertion  of  the  paits.    To  explain 
these  facts,  a  great  many  writers  have  had  recourse  to 
the  effect  of  tbe  imagination  of  pregnant  womss.^ 
The  causes  of  tbe  first  class  of  monstruosities  are  dis- 
cussed by  M.  Fabri,  who  observes,  that  some  of  tbem 
are  internal  with  regard  to  the  mother,  and  others  er- 
temal.     By  an  internal  came  he  here  means  all  those 
depravations  or  morbific  principles  which  can  afiiect 
tbe  fluids,  and  which  vitiate  tbe  form  and  structure  of 
tbe  solids  ^  in  particular  tbe  uterus,  in  which  sscb  de> 
pravations  have  often  been  found  to  occur.    To  these 
be  adds  violent  affections  of  tbe  mind,  spasmodic  con- 
ti-actions,  hysteric  convulsions,  and  the  many  inconTc- 
niences  of  this  kind  to  which  women  are  extxendy 
subject.      External   causes  comprehend  every.>tbiDg 
which  can  act  externally  upon  the  fcetus  contained  in 
the  uterus,  such  as  the  pressure  of  tbe  clothes  ^  sad  io 
short  every  thing  which  prevenlis  tbe  free  dilatation  of 
tbe  belly  in   women  that  are  pregnant,  violent  sio- 
tions,  falls,  blows,  and  all  accidents  of  this  kind*.  These 
external  causes,  and  especially  the  first,  compress  the 
foBtus  in  tbe  womb,  and  oblige  it  to  remain  in  a  very 
confined  situation.    This  according  to  the  obfiervatioa 
of  Hippocrates,  produces  those  emb^os  which  are  bon 
with  some  entire  part  wonnded.     M.  Fabri  maintsias, 
that  all  deformities  of  the  foetus  proceed  from  sone  me- 
chanical and  accidental  causes. 

The  name  of  monsters  is  likewise  given  to  animak 
enormous  for  hulk  ^  such  as  tbe  elephant  among  ter- 
restrial quadrupeds,  and  tbe  shark  and  the  whale 
among  sea  animals  j  to  other  animals  remazkable  for 
fierceness  and-cruelty  ^  and  to  animals  of  an  extraordi- 
nary species,  which,  we  are  told,  arises  £rom  tke 
copulation  of  one  animal  with  another  of  a  difiereot 
genus.  According  to  the  report  of  travellers,  Africa 
nbottttds  with  monsters  of  this  kind  ^  and  accoonts  of 
tbo  East  are  full  of  descriptions  of  sea  monsters,  which, 
however,  are  seldom  to  be  seen,  such  as  sea  men^  met' 
maids^  4^. 

Monsters  are  mors  common  and  more  extraordinary 
in  the  vegetable  than  in  the  animal  kingdom,  because 
the  different  juices  are  more  easily  deranged  and  con- 
founded together.  Leaves  are  often  seen,  from  the  io- 
terual  parts  of  which  other  leaves  spring  forth,  and  it 
is  not  uncommon  to  see  flowers  of  the  ranunculus  fiwn 
the  middle  of  which  issues  a  stalk  bearing  another 
flower.  M.  Bonnet  informs  us,  that  in  o«*tain  warm 
and  sainy  years  he  has  frequently  met  with  moosteii 
of  this  kind  in  jrose  trees.  This  observer  saw  a  rose, 
from  the  centre  of  which  issued  a  square  stalk  of  s 
whitish  colour,  tender,  and  without  prickles,  which  at 
its  top  bore  two  flower  buds  opposite  to  each  other, 
and  totally  destitute  of  a  calyx  ^  a  little  above  the 
buds  issued  a  petal  of  a  very  irregular  shape.  Upon 
the  prickly  stalk  which  supported  Uie  rose,  a  leaf  was 
^ibserved  which  bad  tbe  shape  of  a  trefoil,  together  with 
a  broad  flat  pedicle.  In  the  memoirs  of  the  Acadevy 
of  Sciences  for  1707,  p.  446,  mention  is  made  of  a 
rose  from  'the  centre  of  the  leaves  of  which  issued  a 
xose  briinch  t\vo  or  three  inches  Jong,  nnd  fioniished 

with 


M    O    N  L    S43    ] 

MvBster  ^>^^  levrts.  See  the  nuna  Memoin  for  1749,  p.  44.  great  a 
'  g  aid  for  17249  p.  TO.  In  the  MemoirB  tar  17759^  a 
tfoBtagae.  veiy  siftj^iir  instfifice  »  mentkned  of  a  meneCniQeity 
obsenred  by  M.  Duhamely  in  an  apple-tree  ingrafted 
irith  cUj.  At  the  place  of  the  iosertioo,  there  ap- 
pearad  a  bod  which  prodooed  a  stalk  and  seine  leaves  ; 
the  stalk  and  the  pedicle  of  the  leayea  were  of  a  palpT 
sobsCancey  and  had  the  most  perfect  lesemblance  both 
10  taste  and  smell  to  the  polp  of  a  sreen  apple.  An 
eitnordimny  cAankemekm  is  mentioned  in  the  Acta 
Heheiiea,  M«  Bonnet,  in  his  lUcherckes  mr  P  usage 
de$feuUU8^  mentions  likewise  some  monstroos  prodnc- 
tions  wbiob  have  been  found  in  fmits  with  kemelsy 
analogoas  in  their  nature  to  those  which  occur  in  the 
flowen  of  the  ranunculus  and  of  the  rose  tree.  He  has 
s«ca  a  pear,  from  the  eye  of  which  issued  a  tuft  of 
13  or  14  leaves,  very  well  shaped,  and  many  of  them 
of  the  natural  size.  He  has  seen  another  pear  which 
gave  rise  to  a  ligneous  and  knotty  stalk,  on  which 
grew  another  pear  somewhat  larger  than  the  first.—- 
The  stalk  had  probablT  flourished,  and  the  fruit  had 
formed.  •  The  UUum  aunan  polyanthot,  observed  some 
years  ago  at  Breslaw,  which  bore  on  its  top  a  bundle 
of  flowers,  consisting  of  102  lilies  all  of  the  common 
shape,  is  well  known.  M.  Reynier  has  mentioned 
some  iodividnals  monstrous  with  respect  to  the  flower, 
in  the  Journal  dc  Physiaue  et  eP  Histoire  Nmiurelicj  for 
November  1 785.  He  has  likewise  mentioned  a  mon- 
stroos tulip  which  is  seen  in  the  gardens  cf  some  ama- 
tcors  'y  juniper  berries  with  horns  *y  a  balsamine  with 
three  spurs,  &e. 

These  vegetable  productions  which  are  so  extra- 
ordinary, and  so  contrary  to  the  common  course  of 
things,  do  nevertheless  present  deviations  subject  to 
particular  laws,  and  reducible  to  certain  principles,  by 
distingntshing  such  as  are  perpetuated  either  by  seed 
or  by  transplanting,  firom  those  which  seem  to  be  only 
accidental.  Monstmosities  which  are  perpetuated  exist 
in  the  originnl  organization  of  the  seed  of  the  plant, 
such  as  marked  or  curled  leaves,  &c.  The  word  mo«i- 
*t€r  is  more  properly  applied  to  those  irregularities  in 
plants,  which  arise  from  frequent  transplantation,  and 
from  a  particular  culture,  such  as  double  flowers,  &c. : 
but  those  monstmosities  which  are  not  perpetuated,  and 
which  arise  from  accidental  and  transient  causes  deran- 
ging 'the  primitive  organization  of  the  plant  when  it 
comes  to  be  unfolded,  as. is  the  effect  of  diseases,  of  heat 
or  cold,  of  a  snperfluity  or  scarcity  of  juices,  of  a  de- 
pravation of  the  vessels  contrtboting  to  nutrition,  of  the 
sting  of  insects,  of  contusions  and  natural  grafis,  retain 
al^o  the  name  ot  monster$.  Of  this  kind  are  knobs 
or  swellings,  stunting,  gall  nuts,  certain  streaks,  and 
other  similar  defects.  * 

MONT-BLANC.  See  MoNT-Blanc. 
MONTAGUE,  Ladt  Mart  WoanAT,  aceom- 
panied  her  husband  who  was  sent  on  an  embassy  to  Con- 
stantinople in  the  beginning  of  the  i8th  century.  On 
her  return  she  introduced'  the  practice  of  iaocohition 
into  England,  and  thence  aoquiied  great  oelehrity.  She 
cultivated  the  belles  letties ;  and  at  one  period  of  her 
Ufe  she  was  the  friend  of  Pope,  and  at  another  his 
eoenj.  "While  they  were  at  enmity  with  each  other^ 
Lady  Mai^  Mbntague  embraced  every  opportunity  of 
Muung  the  poet,  who  well  kneW"  bow  to  take  re- 
venge.    Both  of  ^m  cairied  their  animoaity  to  so 


M    O    N 

_    ,  that  they  became  die  svbjeet  of  pnblio  Moaiaciia^ 
conversation.    Ahn  n  long  life,  iuH  of  aingulat  and: 
re— antic  adventurea^  she  died  ahont  the  year  1760., 
From  her  we  have  Leiiers^  written  durinic  her  traveh^ 


from  the  year  1716  to  the  year  1718.  They  have  been 
translated  into  French,  and  published  at  Botterdam> 
1764,  and  at  Paris  1783,  one  vol.  xanw.  They  are 
composed  in  a  lively,  interesting,  and  agreeable  style,, 
and  eotttain  many  curious  facta  relating  to  die  manners 
and  government  of  the  Turks,  which  are  nowhere  else 
to  be  found.  The  Baron  de  Tott,  who  lived  many 
years  at  Constantinople,  attacked  them  with  great  se> 
veiitv }  but  they  have  been  defended  with  equal  seal 
by  M.  Guis  of  BCarseiUes,  who  has  poblished  a  valuable 
work  on  Turkey*  It  need  not  appear  extraordinary,, 
that  persons  who  have  visited  the  same  country  shoidd 
not  see  things  in  the  same  lighL  How  few  traveUecs 
agree  iu  their  accoonts  of  the  same  objects,  which  they 
nevertheless  pretend  to  have  seen  and  to  have  examined, 
with  attention. 

MoKTAGUB,  Edward  Worileyy  son  of  the  former, 
passed  through  such  variegated  scenes,  that  a  bare  re-^ 
cital  of  them  would  savour  of  the  marvelloos.  From: 
Westminster  school,  where  be  was  placed  for  education^ 
he  ran  away  three  several  times.  He  exchanged; 
clothes  with  a  chimney-sweeper,  and  be  followed  Ibr- 
some  time  that  sooty  occupation*  He  next  joined^ 
himself  to  a  fisherman,  and  cried  flounders  in  Rother- 
bithe.  He  then  sailed  as  a  cabin  boy  to  Spain  \  where- 
he  had  no  sooner  arrived,  than  be  ran  away  from  the 
vessel,  and  hired  himself  to  ir  driver  of  moles.  After 
thus  vagabondixing  it  for  some  time,  be  was  discovered 
by  the  consul,  who  retnmed  him  to  his  friends  in  Eng*. 
land.  They  received  him  with  a  joy  equal  to  that  of 
the  father  of  the  prodigal  ten  in  the  gospel.  A.  private 
tutor  was  employed  to  recover  those  radiments  of  learU'* 
ing  which  a  Ufe  of  dissipation,  of  blackguardism,  and. 
of  vulgarity,  m^ht  have'  obliterated.  Wordey  was 
sent  to  the  West  indies,  where  he  remained  some  tiroe^. 
then  returned  to  England^  acted  accordii^  to  the  dig- 
nity of  his  birth,  was  chosen  a  member,  and  served  in 
t%fo  snccessiire  parliaments.  His  expences  exceeding  bis 
inoome,  he  became  involved  in  debt,  quitted  his  native 
country,  and  oommenoed  that  wandering  traveller  be 
continued  to  the  time  of  his  death.  Having  visited 
most  of  the  eastern  countries,  be  contracted  a  partialis 
ty  for  their  manners.  He  drank  little  wine,  a  grea 
deal  of  coffee  \  wore  a  long  beard  \  smoked  mnch : 
and,,  even  whilst  at  Venice,  he  was  habited  in  the  east* 
em  styie.  He  sat  crBSS»legged  in  the  Turkisli  fashion 
through  choice.  With  the  Hebrew,  the  Arabic,  the 
Chaldbic,  and  the  Persian  languages,  he  was  as  well  ao* 
quaiated  as  with  his  native  tongne.  He  published  Se- 
veral pieces.  One  on  the  **  Bise  and  Fall  of  the  Bo* 
man  Eaopive.**  Another  an  exploration  of  "  The 
Causes  of  Earthquakes.**  As  this  genUeaaa  waa 
remarkable  for  the  unoommon  iacideats  which  at- 
tended his  life,  the  ckee  of  that  life  was  no  leas 
marked  with  singularity.  He  bad  been  early,  mar* 
ried  to  a  woman  who  aaptred  to  no  higher  a  cha« 
nu>tcr  than  that  of  aa  industrious  washerwoman.  Aa 
the  mairiage  waa  solenmizrd  in.  a  frolie,  Wordey  ne- 
ver deemed'  her  sufficiently  the  wife  of  his  bosom  to 
cohabit  with  bar.  She  was  aMowed  a  matnteoance. 
She  lived  qaateated,  and  wa»  too  aabmissive  to  be 

troublesome 


M    O    N 


C     3 


Montagvt  trouUesome  -  on  accouti  trof  the  conjugal  rites.  Mr  ^fon- 
Ugue,  on  the  otJMr  iiand^  tvas  a  perfect  patriarch  in  his 
manners.  He  feid  wives  of  almost  every  nation.  When 
he  was  with  Ali  fiey  in  Egypt,  he  had  his  household 
of  Egyptian  females,  each  et riving  who  ■■  should  be  the 
happy  she  who  could  gain  the  greatest  ascendency 
over  this  Anglo-Eostem  bashaw.  At  Constant naple, 
the  Grecian  women  had  charms  to  captivate  tbis  un- 
settled wanderer.  In  Spain  a  Spanish  brunette,  in 
Italy  the  olive-complexioned  female,  weiie  solicited  to 
partake  the  honours  of  the  bridal  bed.  "It  may  be 
asked  ^what  became  of  this  group  of  wives  P  Mr  Mon- 
tague was  continually  shifting  the  place,  and  conse- 
quently vaiying  the  scene.  Did  he  travel  with  bis 
wives  as  the  patriar<ih  did  with  their  flocks  and  herds  ? 
No  such  thing.  Wortley,  considering  his  wives  as 
liad  travelling  companions,  generally  left  them  behind 
liim.  It  happened,  however,  that  news  ii^acbed  his 
ears  of  the  death  of  the  original  Mrs  Montague  the 
washerwoman.  Wortley  had  no  issue  .hy  her  3  and 
without  issue  male,  a  %'ei*y  large  estate  would  rcvci*t«to 
the  second  son  of  Lord  Bute.  Wortley  owing  the  fa- 
mily no  obligations,  was  determined,  if  possible,  to 
defeat  their  expectations.  He  resolved  to  return  to 
England  and  marry.  He  acquainted  a  friend  with  his 
intentions  *y  aiid  he  oom missioned  that  friend  to  •adver- 
tise for  any  young  decent  woman  who  might  be  in  a 
pregnant  state.  Several  ladies  answered  it.  -One  out 
of  the  number  was  selected,  as  being  tbe  most  eligible 
object.  She  waited  with  eagerness  for  the  arrival  of 
her  expected  bridegroom  ^  but,  behold,  whilst  he  was 
on  his  journey,  death  very  impertinently  arrested  him 
in  his  career. 

Montague  Island^  one  of  the  Hebrides,  in  the  South 
sea  near  Sandwich  island,  -E.  Long.  168.  37.  S.  Lat. 
1 7. '26. 

Montaigne,  Michel  de,  a  French  gentleman, 
was  bom  in  'Perigord  in  i'533.  His  father  educated 
him  with  great  oare,  and  made  him .  learn  Latin  as 
ether  children  learn,  their  mother  tongue.  His  tutors 
were  Nicholas  Gronchi,  who  wrote  De  Comitiis  Homo- 
norum;  William  Guerenti,  who  wrote  on  Aristotle; 
George  Buchanan  \  and  M.  Anthony  Muret.  He  was 
aUo  taught  Greek  hy  way  of  recreation  ^  and  because 
some  ^hink  that  starting  children  out  of  their  sleep 
spoils  their  understanding,  he  was  -  awakened  every 
morning  with  the  sound  of  music.  He  was  counsellor 
for  a  'wbile  in  the  parliament  of  Bourdeaux  ;  ^after- 
wards  made  mayor  of  Bourdeaux.  He  published  his 
Essays^  so  much  known  in  the  world,  in  1580.  Mon- 
taigne had  a  great  deal  of  wit  and  subtlety,  but  no  small 
share  of  conceit  and  vanity.  The  learned  and  ingenious 
are  much  divided  in  their  opinion  'about  his  works. 
He  died  in  1592. 

MONTALCINO,  a  small  populous  town  of  Italy 
in  Tuscany,  and  in  the  -  territory  of  Sienna,  with  a  bi- 
shop's see.  It  is  seated  on  a  moontain,-r7  miles  south- 
east of  Sienna,  and  44  fcoulh-east^f  Florence.  £.  Long. 
II.  30.  N.  Lat.  43.  7. 

MONT  ALTO,  an  episcopal  town  of  Italy,  in  the 
Marca  of  Ancona;  >  seated  on  tbe  river  Monacio,  xo 
miles  north  of  Ascoli,  and  45  sooth  of  Ancona.  E. 
Long.  13.  30.  N.  Lat.  42.  54. 

MONTANISTS,  Christian  heretics,  who  sprang 
up  about  the  year  17I9  in  the  reign -of  the  emperor 


44    ]  M    O    N 

Marcus  Aorelius.     They  were  so  called  from  their  U<hi^b>$^! 
leader,  the  heresiarch  Montanus,  a  Plirygian  by  birtb*, 
whence  tbey  are  sometimes  styled  Phrygian*  and  OAQ'^ 
phrtfs:fort8. 

•  MoBtanns,  it  is'  said,  embraced  Christianity  in  hopes 
of  rising  to  tlie  dignities  of  the  church.  He  pretended 
to  inspiration-;  and  gave  out,  that  the  Hdy  Ghost  had 
instructed  him  in  several  points,  which  had  not  been 
revealed  to  the  apostles.  Priscilla  and  Maximilla,  tiro 
enthusiastic  women  of  Phrygia,  presently. became  his 
disciples  ;  ainl  in  a  short  time  he  had  a  great  number 
of  follow ei*s.  Tbe  bishaps.of  Asia  being  assembled 
together,  condemned  his  prophecies,  and  excommuni- 
c&ted  those  who  dispensed  them. 

The  Montanists,  finding  themselves  exposed  to  the 
censure  of  the  whole  church,  formed  a  schism,  and  set 
up  a  distinct  society  under  the  direction  of  those  wIm 
cal  led  -i  liemsel  ves  prophets,  Mont  anus,  i  n  conjunct  ion 
with  Priscilla  and  Afaximillaf  ^was  at  tbe  Jiead  of  i\nt 
ssct. 

These  sectaries  made  no  -akei*ation  in  tlic  crc%d. 
They  only  held  that  the  Holy  Spirit  made  Montanui; 
his  orgau  for  delivering  a  more  perfect  form  of  disii- 
pline  than  what  was  delivered  by  the  apostles.  ThiT 
refused  communion  for  ever  to  those  who  wei*e  guiliy 
of  notorious  crimes,  and  believed  that  the  bishops  had 
no  authority  to  reconcile  them.  Th^  held  it  unlaiv- 
ful  to  fly  in  time'  of  persecution,  l^ey  condemned  se- 
cond marriages,  allowed  the  dissolution  of  marriage, 
and  observed  three  lents. 

The  Montanists  became  separated  into  two  branches, 
one  of  which  ^vere  tbe  disciples  of  Proclus  and  the 
other  of  ^schines.  The  latter  are  -  charged  with  fol- 
lowing the  heterodoxy  x>f  Pi'axes  and  Sabellius  cod- 
corning  the  Trinity. 

MONTARGjLS,  a  considerable  town  of  France,  ia 
the  department  of  Loij^et,  situated  on  the  rivtir  Loni', 
at  the  junction  of  tbe  two  canals  which  connect  tbe 
Seine  and  the  Loire.  ^  It  is  62  miles  south  of  Paris, 
has  some  manufactories  of  paper  and  woollen,  and  is  a 
^place  of  considerable  trade.     E.  liong,  2.  36.  N.Lat. 

MONTAUBAN,  a  considesable  town  of  Frauce, 
in  the  department  of  Lot,  seated  on  the  river  Tanu, 
20  miles  north  of  Toulouse.     E.  Long.  x.  27.  N.  Lat. 

43-  56* 

MONTBAZON,  a  town  of  France,  ia  the  depart- 
ment of  Indre  and  Loire,  135  miles  south-west  of  Paris. 
E.  Long.  o.  45.  N.  Lat.  47. 17. 

MONTBELLIARD,  a  strong  lown  of  France,  ia 
the  department  of  Haut^Bhine,  seated  near  tbe  riv^er 
Doubs,  45  miles  north-east  of  BezAO^on.  \Xs  popula- 
tion in   1800, was  4000.     E.Long.  6.  50.  N.Lat. 

47- 3'- 

MONTBLANC,  a  town  of  Spain  in  the  province 

of  Catalonia,  15  miles  north  of  Tarragon.    £.  Long,  u 

5.  N.  Lat.  41.  20. 

MONTBRISON,  a  considerable  town  of  France, 
in  tbe  department  of  Loire,  seated  on  the  river  Veziza, 
250  miles  south  by  east  of  Paris.  .It  contained  4703 
inhabitants  in  1800.     E.  Long.  4.  27.  N.  Lat.  45.  32^ 

MONTECCHIO,  a  considerable  town  of  Italy,  in 
the  duchy  of  Reggie,  10  miles  south-east  of  Paroa, 
and  eight  north-west  of  Reggie.  E.  Long.  i^»  54. 
N.  Lat«  38.  8. 

MONTE-FAixo, 


M    O    N 


[     545     ] 


M    O    N 


Nonte- 
Filco 


MONTE-FAixo,  a  town  of  Italy,  In  the  territory 
of  the  Church  and  dachy  of  Spoletto  ^  seated  on  a 
mountain  near  the  river  Clitunno,  12  miles  west  of 
Spoletto.     £.  Long.  I2.  40.  N.  Lat.  42.  58. 

MoNTB-Faiconef  a  town  of  Italy,  in  Frioli,  with 
a  castle,  near  the  river  Poozano,  12  miles  north- 
west .of  Trieste.  It  is  in  the  Lombardo- Venetian 
territories  of  Austria.  £•  Long.  13.  20.  N.  Lat.  45, 
50. 

MoyTB-FiasconCy  a  small  but  populons  town  of  Italy, 
ID  the  territory  of  the  Church,  with  a  bishop's  see ; 
seated  on  a  monntain,  near  the  lake  Bolsena,  in  a  coun- 
tnr  abounding  with  excellent  wine,  1 2  miles  south-west 
0/  Onrieto,  and  45  north-west  of  Rome.  £•  Long. 
12. 4.  N.  Lat.  42.  26. 

MoyTE'Marano,  a  populous  town  of  Italy,  in  the 
kingdom  of  Naples,  and  in  the  Farther  Principato ; 
seated  on  the  river  Calore,  18  miles  south  of  Bene- 
▼ento.     £•  Long.  15.  o.  N.  Lat.  40.  48. 

MoNTS'MoT'-O'fuwOy  or  Monte^majfrtr^l-novoy  a  con« 
fliilerable  town  of  Portugal,  on  the  road  from  Lisbon 
to  Badajoz.     W.  Long.  9.  35.  N.  Lat.  38.  42. 

MosTB-Mor-o-velhOy  or  Monte-major  et-veiho^  a  town 
of  Portugal  in  the  province  of  Beira,  with  a  very  large 
castle,  seated  in  a  fertile  country,  10  miles  south-west 
of  Coimbra,  and  83  north  of  Lisbon.  W.  Long.  8.  9. 
N.  Lat.  40.  5. 

MoHTB'Pehmj  an  episcopal  town  of  Italy,  in  the 
kiDgdom  of  Naples,  and  in  the  Basilicata  ^  seated  on  a 
mountain  near  the  river  Basiento,  14  miles  east  of  Ci- 
renza.     £.  Long.  16.  28.  N.  Lat.  40.  46. 

MoNTE-PulsianOy  a  town  of  Italy,  in  Tuscany,  with  a 
hisbop's  see;  seated  on  a  high  mountain,  near  the  river 
Ckiana,  in  a  country  noted  for  excellent  wine,  25  miles 
south-east  of  Sienna,  and  50  south  by  east  of  Florence. 
£.  Long.  II.  49.  N.  Lat.  43.  lo. 

MoNTE'SanctOy  formerly  called  Mount  At kos^  a  monn- 
tain of  Turkey  in  £urope,  on  the  gulf  of  Contessa.  It 
is  called  Monte-Sancto,  or  the  Holy  Mount,  because 
there  are  22  monasteries  thereon,  in  which  are  4000 
monks,  who  never  suffer  a  woman  to  come  near  them. 
U  is  17  miles  sooth  of  Salonichi.  £.  Long.  24.  9. 
K.  Lat.  40.  lo. 

MosTE-FerdCf  a  town  of  Italy,  in  the  kingdom  of 
Naples,  and  in  the  Farther  Principato,  with  a  bishop^s 
^e :  60  miles  east  of  Naples.  £•  Long.  1 5. 42.  N.  Lat. 
40.  51. 

MONTEGO  BAY,  a  flourishing  town  on  the  north 
side  of  Jamaica.  It  has  a  very  considerable  commerce^ 
X  50  vessels  clear  out  annually.  The  harbour  is  capaci- 
ous*, but  exposed  to  north  winds,  which  at  certain  times 
in  the  jear  blow  with  great  violence.  In  June  1795,  a 
fire  consumed  an  immense  quantity  of  stores,  and  great 
part  of  the  town.     W.  Long.  77.  5a  N.  Lat.  18.  29. 

MONTESA,  a  very  strong  town  of  Spain,  in  the 
kingdom  of  Valencia.  It  is  the  seat  of  an  order  of 
knighthood  of  the  same  name  \  and  is  live  miles  from 
Xativa.     W.  Long.  o.  30.  N.  Lat.  30.  ©• 

MONTESQUIEU,  Charles  de  Secondat,  Ba- 
ROK,  a  most  illustrious  Frenchman,  descended  from  an 
ancient  and  noble  family  of  Guienne,  was  born  at  the 
castle  of  La  Brede,  near  Bourdcaux,  in  1689.  The 
greatest  care  was  taken  of  his  education ;  and  at  the 
age  of  20  he  had  actually  prepared  materials  for  his 
Spirit  of  Laws,  by  well  digested  extracts  from  those 

Vol.  XIV.  Part^L  t 


immense  volumes  of  civil  law  which  he  had  studied,  Montes. 
not  barely  as  a  civilian,  but  as  a  philosopher.  He  be-  quien. 
came  a  counsellor  of  the  parliament  of  Bourdeaux  in 
1 714,  and  was  received  president  h.  mortier  two  years 
after.  In  1721  he  published  his  Persian  Letters^  in 
which,  under  the  screen  of  Oriental  manners^  he  satiri- 
zed those  of  France,  and  treated  of  several  important 
subjects  by  delicate  transient  glances :  he  did  not  avow 
this  publication  ^  but  was  no  sooner  pointed  out  as  the 
author,  than  zeal  without  knowledge,  and  envy  under 
the  mask  of  it,  united  at  once  against  t^e  Persian 
Letters.  He  was  received  into  the  French  academy  in 
1728^  and  having  previously  quitted  his  civil  enfploy- 
ments,  he  entirely  devoted  himself  to  his  genius,  and 
was  no  longer  a  magistrate,  but  a  man  of  letters. 
Having  thus  set  himself  at  liberty,  be  travelled  tlurough 
Germany,  Italy,  Switzerland,  Holland,  and  England, 
in  which  last  country  he  rebided  three  years,  and  con- 
tracted intimacies  with  the  greatest  men  then  alive;  for 
Locke  and  Newton  were  dead.  The  result  of  his  ob- 
servations was,  ^*  that  Germany  was  fit  to  travel  in, 
Italy  to  sojourn  in,  England  to  think  in,  and  France 
to  live  in."  On  his  return  he  retired  for  two  years  to 
his  estate  at  La  Brede,  where  he  finished  his  work 
On  the  Causes  of  the  Grandeur  and  Declension  of  the 
Bomans  \  which  appeared  in  1734.  The  reputation 
acquired  by  this  last  work  only  cleared  the  way  for  his 
greater  undertaking,  the  Spirit  of  Laws,  which  was 
printed  at  Geneva  in  2  vols.  4to,  1750.  This  was 
immediately  attacked  by  the  adversaries  of  his  Pertiian 
Letters,  in  a  multitude  of  anonymous  pamphlets  ;  con- 
taining all  the  reproaches  to  which  a  libera)  mind  is 
exposed  from  craft  and  ignorance,  M.  Montesquieu 
drew  np  a  defence  of  this  work ;  which  for  truth,  mo- 
deration, and  delicacy  of  ridicule,  may  be  regarded  as 
a  model  in  its  way.  This  great  man  was  peaceably 
enjoying  that  fulness  of  esteem  which  his  gi*eat  merits 
had  procured  him,  when  he  fell  sick  at  Paris,  and 
died  00  tlie  loth  of  February  1755.— >The  following 
character  of  this  great  man  is  drawn  by  Lord  Chester- 
field. ^^  His  virtues  did  honour  to  human  nature,  his 
writings  justice.  A  friend  to  mankind,  he  asserted  their 
undoubted  and  unalienable  rights  with  freedom,  even 
in  his  own  country ;  whose  prejudices  in  matters  of 
religion  and  government  he  had  long  lamented,  and 
endeavoured,  not  without  some  success,  to  remove.  He 
well  knew,  and  justly  admired,  the  happy  constitution 
of  this  country,  where  fixed  and  known  laws  equally 
restrain  monarchy  from  tyranny,  and  liberty  from  li- 


centiousness.    His  works  %vill  illustrate  bis 


name,  and 


survive  him,  as  long  as  right  I'eason,  moral  obligation, 
and  the  true  spirit  of  laws,  shall  be  understood,  re- 
spected, and  maintained  ''  As  to  his  personal  qualiticR, 
we  are  told  by  his  eulogist,  M.  dWlemhcrt,  that  *'  he 
was  of  a  sweet,  gay,  and  even  temper.  His  conversation 
was  spirited,  agi*eeahle,  and  instructive.  Nobody  told  a 
story  in  a  more  lively  manner,  or  with  more  grace  and 
less  aflfectation.  He  had  frequent  absence  of  mind; 
but  always  awaked  from  it  by  some  unexpected  stroke 
that  re-animated  the  languibhing  conversation.  Though 
.he  lived  with  the  great,  he  retired  whenever  be  could 
to  his  estate  in  the  country,  and  there  met  his  books, 
his  philosophy,  and  bis  repose.  Surrounded  at  his 
leisure  hours  with  peasants,  after  having  studied  mai^ 
in  the  commerce  of  the  world,  he  studied  them  in  those 

X  X  sim^lo 


M    O    N  [    ^ 

simple  people  aolelj  iaitrncted  by  natore.  With  tbem 
he  cheerfuUy  cooveraed  j  he  endeavoured,  like  Socrates, 
to  find  out  their  genius,  and  appeared  as  happy  with 
them  as  in  the  most  brilliant  as^mbliesj  especially 
when  be  reconciled  their  differences,  and  by  bis  bene- 
ficence relieved  them  from  their  distresses.^^ 

Besides  the  works  already  mentioned,  M.  Montes- 
quieu wrote  several  small  pieces,  as  the  Temple  of  Gni- 
dus,  Lysimachtts,  and  an  Essay  upon  Taste,  which  is 
left  unfinished.  His  works  have'  been  collected  since 
his  death,  and  printed  at  Paris  in  a  splendid  edition^  in 
quarto.  They  have  likewise  all  of  tbem  been  translated 
into  English. 

MONTEZUMA,  or  Mocte^uha,  was  emperor 
or  king  of  Mexico  when  Cortez  invaded  that  coun- 
try in  1 51 8,  invited  thither,  as  he  pretended,  by  the 
inhabitailts,  whose  cbildren  Montezuma,  in  the  blind- 
ness of  his  E^nperstition,  had  sacrificed  to  his  idols.  The 
warlike  animals  on  wtiich-  the  Spanish  officers  were 
mounted,  the  artificial  thunder  with  which  they  were 
armed,  the  wooden  castles  on  %vhich  they  had  crossed 
the  ocean,  the  armour  with  which  they  were  covered, 
the  victories  which  they  gained  wherever  they  went ; 
all  these  circumstances,  added  to  that  foolish  dispositton 
to  wonder  which  always  characterizes  a  simple  people, 
so  operated  upon  the  minds  of  the  Mexicans,  that  when 
Cortez  arrived  at  the  city  of  Mexico,  he  was  received 
by  Montezuma  as  his  master,  and  by  the  inhabitants 
as  a  god.  At  first  they  fell  down  in  the  streets  when 
a  Spanish  valet  passed  by  }  but  by  degrees  tho  court  of 
Montezuma  grew  familiar  with  the  strangers,  and  ven- 
tured to  treat  them  as  men.  Montezuma,  unable  to 
expel  tbem  by  Ibrce,  endeavoured  to  inspire  them  with 
confidence  at  Mexico  by  expressions  of  friendship, 
while  he  employed  secret  means  to  weaken  their  power 
in  other  quarters.  With  this  view,  one  of  his  generals, 
who  bad  private  orders  to  that  purpose,  attacked  a 
party  of  the  Spaniards  who  were  stationed  at  Vera 
Cruz ',  and,  although  his  troops  were  vnsuccessliil,  yet 
three  or  four  of  the  Spaniards  were  killed.  The  head  of 
one  of  them  was  carried  to  Montezuma.  In  consequence 
of  this,  Cortez  did  what  has  been  reckoned  one  of  the 
boldest  political  strokes  that  ever  was  performed.  He 
ran  to  the  palace,  followed  by  fifty  of  bis  troops  j  and, 
by  persuasion  and  threats,  carried  the  emperor  prisoner 
into  the  Spanish  quarters.  He  afterwards  obliged  him 
to  deliver  up  those  who  had  attacked  his  troops  at 
Vera  Cruz :  and,  like  a  general  who  punishes  a  com- 
nion  soldier,  he  loaded  Montezuma  with  chains.  He 
next  obliged  him  to  acknowledge  himself  in  public  the 
vassal  of  Charles  V. ;  and,  in  name  of  tribute  for  his 
honoage,  Cortez  received  600,000  merks  of  pure  gold. 
Montezuma  soon  afterwards  fell  a  sacrifice  to  his  sub- 
mission to  the  Spaniards.  He  and  Alvaro,  the  Iien<« 
tenant  of  Cortez,  were  besieged  in  the  palace  by 
200,000  Mexicans.  The  emperor  proposed  to  show 
himself  to  his  subjects,  that  he  might  persuade  them 
to  delist  from  the  attack  :  but  the  Mexicans  no  longer 
considered  him  in  any  other  light  but  as  the  slave  of 
foreign  conqererors.  In  the  midst  of  his  speech,  be 
received  a  Wow  with  a  stone  which  wounded  bim  mor- 
tally 5  and  he  expired  soon  after,  A.  D.  1520.7— Sec 
Cortez.  This *un fortunate  prince  left  two  sons  and 
three  daughters,  who  embraced  the^  Christian  faith. 
The  eldest  received  baptism,  and  obtained  from  Charles 


46   3 


M    O    N 


V,  lands,  revenues,  and  the  title  of  cooot  de  BIoDteiu-  MoKtit^ 
ma.     He  died  in  1608  ^  and  his  family  is  one  of  tbe     aa 
most  powerful'  in  Spain.  B 

MONTFEBRAT,  a  province  of  luly,  with  tbe  tiile^tl!^ 
of  a  duchy ;  bounded  on  the  east  by  the  duchy  of  Milan, 
and  part  of  the  territory  of  Genoa  ;  on  tbe  north,  by 
the  VerccUese  and  Canavese'^  on  the  west,  by  Pied- 
moot  properly  so  called  ^  and  on  tbe  south  by  the  terri- 
tory of  Genoa,  from  whence  it  is  separated  by  tbe  Apen- 
nine  mountains.  It  contains  200  towns  and  castles  ^ 
and  is  very  fertile  and  well  cultivated,  abounding  in 
com,  wine,  oil,  and  silk.  It  helooga  to  the  king  of 
Sardinia,  and  Casal  is  the  capitah  town. 

MONTFOBT,  a  town  of  France,  in  the  department 
of  Ille  and  Viiaine,  seated  on  tbe  river  Menei  12  miles 
from  Rennes.     W.  Long.  i.  58*.  N.  Lat.  4B.  8. 

MoNTFORT,  a  handsome  and  strong  town  of  the 
Netherlands,  in  tbe  United  Provinoefi,  with  an  ancient 
castle ;  seated  on  tbe  river  Yssel,  seven  miles  (jom 
Utrecht.     £.  Long.  5.  o.  N.  Lat.  52.  4. 

Bf ONTroRT,  a  town  of  Germany,  in  the  cirde  sf 
Suabia,  on  the  confines  of  Tirol,  16  miles  sooth  of 
Lindow,  and  the  lake  of  Constance.  It  is  capital  oft 
country  of  the  same  name,  which  has  been  almost  all 
parehased  by  tbe  house  of  Austria.  £•  Long.  9.  ji. 
N.  Lat.  47.  22. 

MoNTFORT-DE-LEMOS,  an  ancient  town  of  Spain, 
in  tbe  kingdom  of  Galicia,  with  a  magnificent  castle, 
where  the  Comarca  of  Lemos  resides.  It  is  seated  in 
a  fertile  country,  25  miles  north-east  of  Orenaa,  and  55 
south-east  of  Compostella*  W.  Long.  7.  9.  N.  Lat. 
42.  28. 

MoNTFORT-L^AivruLT,  a  town  of  France,  in  tbe  de- 
partment of  Seine  and  Oise,  25  miles  from  Paris.  E. 
Long.  2.  50.  N.  Lat.  48.  45. 

MONTGATZ,  a  town  of  Lower  Hungary,  in  tbe 
county  of  Pereczas,  with  a  strong  fortress.  It  is  en- 
compassed with  a  great  morass,  and  art  and  nature  ban 
rendered  it  almost  impregnabk.  It  was  defended  by  the 
princess  Ragotsky,  wife  of  Count  Tekeii,  when  besieged 
by  an  army  of  the  imperialists,  who  were  obliged  toraiK 
the  siege  in  1688.     £.  Long.  21.  $$'  ^-  ^^*  4^*  ^* 

MONTGERON,  Louis-Basile  Carre  de,  wss 
bom  at  Paris  in  1686 :  his  father  was  master  of  le- 
quests.  He  was  scarcely  25  years  of  age  when  be  par- 
chased  tbe  place  of  counsellor  in  parlinment,  where  by 
bis  wit  and  external  qualifications  he  gained  consider- 
able repntation.  Deeply  engaged  in  all  the  vices 
which  flow  from  irreligion,  he  was  converted  by  an 
extraordinary  circumstance.  He  went  on  the  7tfa  of 
September  1731  to  the  tomb  of  Deacon  Paris,  with 
an  intention  to  examine,  with  the  rigonr  of  tbe  scvereit 
critic,  the  miracles '  which  were  reported  to  be  pe]> 
formed  there.  But,  accoi^ing  to  his  own  account,  be 
felt  himself  suddenly  beat  to  the  earth  by  innumerable 
flashes  of  light  with  which  he  was  surrounded.  His 
incredulity  was  converted  into  flaming  zeal,  and  be 
became  the  apostle  of  the  saint  whom  he  formerly  ri* 
diculed.  From  that  moment  he  devoted  himseff  to 
the  fanaticism  of  convulsions^  with  tbe  sanm  impetoo- 
sity  of  character  with  which  he  had  mn  into  the  nest 
shameful  excesses.  He  had  not  long  been  the  disciple 
of  Jansenism  when  be  sufiered  persecntion.  l^heo 
the  chamber  of  inquests  was  banished  in  1732,  be 
was  sent  into  tbe  mountains  of  Auvergne  5  which,  is- 

stea^l 


M    O    N 


C    347    1 


M    O    N 


fjifaire- 


foit^oa  9tead  of  cooling,  tesded  rftther  to  inflftme  his  zeai. 
(I      DoriDg  his  exile,  he  formed  the  plan  of  collecting  the 
^^^^'prwh  of  the  miracles  wrought  at  the  tomh   of  the 
*"  "*   abb^  Paria,  and  of  composing  what  he  called  a  De- 
fmntiration  of  them.     On  his  return  to  Paris,  he  pre- 
paivd  to  execute  this  plan  \  and  on  the  29th  of  July 
1737,  he  actually  presented  to  the  king  >^t  Versailles 
a  Tolame  in  quarto  superbly  hound.     This  work  he 
sccompanied  with  a  speech,  which   is  a  mixture  of 
zeal  and  argunsent  in  a  tolerable  strle.     In  conse- 
i|Qence  of  this  work,  which  some  consiaer  as  a  master- 
piece of  eloquence,  and  others  as  a  mass  of  absurdi- 
ties, be  was  committed  to  the  Bastile.     After  a  few 
nonths  confinement,  he  was  sent  to  an  abbey  of  Bene- 
dictine monks  in  the  diocese  of  Avignon }  whence  he 
was  in  a  short  time  carried  to  Viviers.     He  was  after- 
wards confined  in  the  citadel  of  Valence,  where  he 
died,  A.  B.   1574,  aged  68.     The  work  which  he 
presented  to  the  king  was  entitled  La  veriU  de$  Mira- 
cles operas  par  l^mteree$nim  de  M.  Parity  &c.  &c.— 
The  critics,  eren  to  this  day,  seem  to  be  guided  in 
their  opinioo  concerning  this  hook  either  by  hatred  or 
by  eathmiasm.     **  It  would  be  extremely  rash  (sa^rs 
the  abb6  de  6t  Kerre,  in  the  second  volume  of  his 
A/makSf  p.  593O  to  maintain  with  the  Molinists,  that 
no  miraculous  cure  was  ever  performed  at  the  tomb 
of  the  abbe  Paris  ^  and  to  say  with  the  Jansenists,  that 
these  cares  were  performed  by  a  supernatural  power, 
would  be  the  height  of  fanaticism.    The  truth  is,  (adds 
the  same  author),  that  no  miracle  appears  ever  to  have 
been  performed  at  this  tomb  except  in  the  cure  of  the 
haman  bodf  \  in  alt  other  cases,  there  would  liave  been 
the  want  of  that  imagination  on  which  the  whole  mi« 
racle  depended.''    Thus,  although  Montgeron  ventured 
to  compare  these  prodigies  with  the  miracles  of  Jesus 
Christ  and  his  apostles,  yet  we  find  no  person  raised 
from  the  dead,  no  multiplication  of  loaves,  no  command 
obeyed  by  the  elements,  and  no  blind  or  deaf  restored 
to  their  sight -or  hearing.    It  belongs  to  the  Author  of 
natore  akme,  or  to  those  who' have  derived  power  fimn 
him,  to  work  sack  mirades  as  are  recorded  by  the  evan- 
gelists, or  in  the  history  of  the  apostles.     Mont|;eron 
added  a  second  and  third  velnme  on  the  same  subject : 
he  left  also  hi  manuscript  a  work  which  he  composed 
ia  prison  rMs^rr  ies  Incredules.     Religion,  it  must  be 
confessed,  has  had  much  more  powerfhl  advocates.  For- 
toaately  Pascal  and  Bossoet  are  among  the  number  \  and 
it  could  well  have  wanted  both  Paris  and  Montgeron, 
whatever  rirtues  they  might  possess  in  other  respects* 
MONTGOM[£RY,  the  capital  of  a  county  of  the 
same  name  ia  North  Wales,  1  fi  miles  from  London, 
took  its  name  from  Roger  de  Montgomery   earl   of 
Shrewsbury,  who  built  the  castle.     It  is  called  by  the 
Welsh  Tre  Fa/ik'n,  that  is,  Baldwin^s  towB  •,  having 
been  bnih  by  Baldwin,  lieutenant  of  the  marches  uf 
Wales,  in  the  reign  of  WiDiam  I.     The  Welsh,  after 
having  put  the  garrison  to  the  sword,  demolished  it  in 
109^ ;  but  Henry  III.  rebuilt  it,  and  granted  it  the 
privileges  of  a  free  borough,  with  other  liberties.    It  is 
a  tolerably  well  baUt  town,  in  a  healthful  situation  and 
fertile  soil,  with  932  inhabitants  in  181 1. 

MONTGOMfERYSHIRE,  a  county  of  North 
Wales,  40  miles  in  length  and  37  in  breadth  ^  bounded 
on  the  north  by  Merionethshire  and  Denbighshire,  on 
Aa  north-east  and  east  by  Shropshire,  on  the  south  by 


Radnorshire  and  Cardiganshire,  and  on  the  west  by  MoatieMtte. 
the  last-mentioned  county  and  part  of  Merionethshire,    rytbire, 
It   is  divided  into    six  hundreds  j   has  five    market .  Month. 
towns  and  47  parishes,   and  in  181 1  contained  51,031 
inhabitants.     It  lies  in  the  three  several  dioceses  of  St 
Asaph,  Bangor,  and   Hereford  \  but  sends  only  two 
members  to  parliament,  one  for  the^  county,  and  one  for 
the  tuwn  of  Mont^mery.    The  air  is  pleasant  and  sa- 
lubrious 'y    but  this   county,    being   extremely  moun* 
tainons,  is  not  veiy  fertile,  except  in  the  valleys,  which 
afford  some  com  and  plenty  of  pasture  ,  but  the  south, 
south-east,  and  north-eait  parts,  being  more  level,  are 
extremely  fruitful,  especially  a  pleasant  vale,  watered 
by  the  Severn. 

MONTH,  the  twelfth  part  of  a  year.  See  Chro- 
nology, N^  J  7. 

Month,  in  its  proper  acceptatiolk,  is  that  space  of 
time  which  the  moon  takes  up  in  passing  from  any 
certain  point  to  the  same  again,  which  is  called  a  pe* 
riodical  month  ;  or  it  is  the  space  of  time  between  two 
conjunctions  of  the  moon  with  the  sun,  which  is  called 
a  synodical  month*  That  space  of  time  which  the  sun 
takes  up  in  passing  through  one  sign  or  1 2th  part  of  the 
zodiac,  is  also  called  (but  improperly)  a  month.  So  that 
there  are  two  sorts  of  months ;  lunar^  iprhich  are  mea- 
sured by  the  moon  ^  and  solar^  which  are  measured  by 
the  sun.  The  lunar  periodical  month  consists  of  27 
days  7  hours  43  minutes  5  seconds  :  Hie  lunar  synodi* 
cal  month  is  29  days  1 2  hours  44  minutes  3  seconds 
and  II  thirds.  A  solar  month  contains,  upon  a  mean 
calculation,  30  days  10  hours  29  minutes  5  seconds. 

The  Jews,  Greeks,  and  Romans,  made  use  of  Itmar 
SYUodical  months  ^  but,  to  avoid  fractions,  they  con- 
sisted alternately  of  29  and  30  days.  The  former,  the 
Romans  called  cavt,  and  the  Greeks  jgMA«ij  the  latter 
were  termed  pleni  and  9rXs(ii«. 

I.  The  Hebrew  months  were  ranged  differently  in 
their  sacred  and  in  their  civil  year. 

Order  of  the  Sacre4  Tear. 


T  Nisan 
2  Jair 
Q  Sivan 
irhammu^ 
sAb 
6Eiul 

7  Ti'srt 

8  Marschevan 

9  Cas!eu 

10  T/ttbet 

11  Sebat 

12  Adar 


Answering 
to  our 


"March. 

ApriL 

May. 

June. 

July. 
August. 
September. 
October. 
November 
December., 
January. 
^February. 


1  Tisri 

2  Mdirschevan 

3  Casleu 

4  Thehet 

5  Sebat 

6  Adar 

7  Nisan 
SJm'r 

9  Sivan 

10  Thammim 

11  Ab 

12  Etui 


Order  of  the  Ciyil  Tear. 

'  September. 


Answering 
to  our 


X  X  2 


October. 

November. 
December. 
January. 
February. 
March. 
April. 
May. 
June. 
July. 
^August* 


These 


M    O    N 


C    348    ] 


M    O    N 


Month.  These  months  being  lunar  cannot  exactly  answer  to 
our  solar  months  ^  but  every  Jewish  month  must  be  con- 
ceived to  answer  to  two  of  ours,  and  partake  of  both. 
As  these  12  lunar  months  consisted  only  of  354  days, 
the  JewSy  in  order  to  bring  it  nearer  to  the  true  year, 
took  care  every  three  years  to  intercalate  a  13th  month 
into  the  number,  which  they  called  Ve-adar^  or  the 
second  Adar.  The  new  moon  was  always  the  beginning 
of  the  month  ^  and  it  is  said  the  Jews  had  people  post- 
ed on  elevated  places,  to  give  notice  to  the  Sanhedrim 
as  soon  as  she  made  her  appearance :  After  this,  pro- 
clamation was  made  by  sound  of  trumpet,  and  '*  the 
feast  of  the  new  moon,  the  feast  of  the  new  moon,'' 
resounded  amongst  the  people. 

The  ancient  Hebrew  months  were  of  30  days  each, 
excepting  the  last,  which  consisted  of  35  ^  so  that  the 
year  contained  365  days,  with  an  intercalary  month 
at  the  end  of  1 20  years,  which,  by  absorbing  the  odd 
hours  which  remained  at  the  conclusion  of  each  year, 
brought  it  back  nearly  to  its  proper  place.  This 
regulation  of  the  year  was  borrowed  from  the  Egyp- 
tians. 

2.  Tlie  months  of  the  Athenian  year,  as  we  have  be- 
fore observed,  consisted  alternately  of  29  and  30  days. 
The  first  month,  according  to  Meton's  reformation  of 
the  kalendar,  began  with  the  first  new  moon  after  the 
the  summer  solstice,  and  was  called  hecatombcsofi^  an- 
swering to  the  latter  half  of  June,  and  the  former  half 
of  July.  The  order  of  the  months,  with  the  number 
of  days  in  each,  are  as  follow : 


30 
29 

30 
29 

30 
29 


Each  month  was  divided  into  three  decades  of  days 
called  )f;gi|^f^«.  The  first  was  called  Mijm;  tt^^fom  or 
iVtf^fnr,  or  the  decade  of  the  beginning  of  the  month  j 
the  second  was  Mqi^c  fowuflt  or  the  decade  of  the 
middle ;  and  the  third  was  Mnui  ^^nflt,  wuvfaw  or 
Aiiy»?Iof,  the  decade  of  the  expiring  month. 

The  first  day  of  the  first  decade  was  termed  vuftntftm^ 
because  the  first  month  began  with  the  new  moon  j 
the  second  day  was)fv)f^«  irecfAnu  i  the  third  r^iln  loi^w, 
&c.  The  first  day  of  the  second  decade  was  ir^tfln  fti" 
ruflf^  the  second  iivluu  fuvitiifj  &c. — -the  days  of  this 
decade  were  also  called  ir^tiln  twt  )i»«,  )iv7s^«  i«-i  3fie«,  &c. 
The  first  day  of  the  third  decade  was  ir^mln  w  tuut^t  ^  the 
second  was  itvlt^m  vk  tuutJi,  &c.  i.  e.  the  first,  second, 
&c.  after  20,  because  the  last  decade  began  on  the 
20th  day.  This  decade  was  also  counted  by  inversion 
thus^  ^5<w1««  }ix«7ii  the  21st,  ^SiMyf^  %nA^  the  22d, 
^tftlt  «v)mi  the  23d,  and  so  of  the  rest  to  the  last  day 
of  the  month,  which  was  called  im  tun  fm,  the  old  and 
the  new,  because  one  part  of  that  day  belonged  to 
the  old  and  the  other  to  the  new  moon  y  but  after  the 
time  of  Demetrius,  the  last  day  of  the  month  was 
called  from  him  AnfM!l^utf\  it  sometimes  was   named 

The  Grecian  months,  thus  consisting  of  29  and  30 

I 


I  Hecatombiton^ 

30 

7  Postdion^ 

2  Metagtitmorty 

3  Bocdromiofif 

4  Mitmqcterion^ 

29 

30 
29 

8  Gameh'ony 

9  Elaphebolion^ 
10  Munich iofiy 

5  PanepKion^ 

6  Antkesterion^ 

3« 
29 

11  Thargelion^ 

1 2  Scirrophotion^ 

days  alternately,  fell  short  of  the  solar  yesr  1 1  days  (^^g^.^ 
6  hours.  To  remedy  this  defect,  the  cycle  oi*  four 
years,  called  Wt^ln^Ky  vvas  invented^— >In  this  cjcle, 
after  the  first  two  years,  they  added  an  intercalated 
month  called  i^c&Ai^,  consisting  of  22  days*,  and 
again,  after  the  expiration  of  two  years  more,  they 
inserted  another  month  of  23  days,  the  fourth  part  of 
a  day  having  in  the  space  of  four  years  amoooted  to  a 
whole  day.     See  Year. 

3.  The  Roman  year  under  Romulus  consisted  of  13 
mouths  only,  and  began  with  March,  which  contaioed 
31  days  ;  then  followed  April  which'  had  30,  May  31, 
June  30,  Quintiiis  31,  Sextiiis  30,  September  30,  Oc- 
tober 31,  November  30,  December  30.     These  10 
months  containing  no  more  than  304  days,  this  ac^ 
count  was  in  a  short  time  found  to  be  deficient.  Nunoa 
Pompillus,  therefore,  took  away  one  day  from  each  cf 
these  six  months,  April,  June,  Sextt'iiSj  September,  No- 
vember, December  *,  and  to  the  six  days  thus  obtained 
he  added  51,  which  was  the  number  that  Romulus's 
year,  in  his  opinion,  wanted  to  make  it  perfect.    Numa 
had  now  57  days  to  dispose  of;  he  therefore  divided 
them,  and  constituted  two  other  months,  January  and 
February ;  the  former  consisting  of  29  and  the  latter  of 
28  days.     The  month  of  January,  which  he  placed  at 
the  winter  solstice,  he  made  instead  of  March  to  begin 
the  year.     Thus  Noma's  year  consisted  of  355  days; 
but  this  beine  found  10  days  6  hours  short  of  the  solar 
year,  he  made  use  of  the  intercalation  of  90  days  at 
the  expiration  of  eight  years  perpetually ;  which  num- 
ber, being  made  up  of  the   11  days  and  a  quarter, 
kept  the  year  pretty  well  to  its  place.     The  beginniog 
of  the  year  in  Julius  Ceesar's  time  had  anticipated  its 
true  place  67  whole  days :  these  he  intercalated  be- 
twixt November  and  December  :  so  that  the  year  con- 
sisted, for  this  one  time,  of  15  months  or  445  days. 
This  reformation  was  called  the  Julian  correction^  and 
this  year  the  year  of  confusion.     At  the  end  of  12 
years,  by  the  ignorance  of  priests,  who  did  not  under* 
stand  intercalation,  1 2  dajrs  had  been  intercalated  for 
nine.     This  was  observed  by  Augustus  Caesar,. and  rec- 
tified, by  ordering  1 2  years  to  pass  without  any  interca- 
lary days.     The  order  and  succession  of  moaths  was 
the  same  as  that  of  Noma :  Bot  January,  March,  May, 
Quintilijff  SejFtiiis^  October,  and  December,  had  each 
31   days)  April,  June,  September  30,  and  February, 
in  common  years,  28 }  but  every  fourth  year  or  bissex- 
tile 29.     This,  with  a  very  little  difierence,  is  the  ao* 
count  observed  at  present.    Quintiiis^  in  compliment  to 
Julius  CsBsar  was  called  /z//y,  because  in  this  month  he 
was  born ;  and  Sextih's^  in  honour  of  Augustus,  was 
called  August ;  both  which  names  are  still  continued.— 
See  Year. 

Each  month  by  the  Romans  was  divided  into  kth 
lends  J  nones  J  and  ides^  all  of  which  were  reckoned  back- 
wards. The  kalends  were  the  first  day  of  the  month. 
The  nones  fell  on  the  seventh,  and  the  ides  on  the  ijtfa, 
of  March,  May,  July,  October-^but  in  all  otiier 
months  the  nones  were  on  the  fifth,  and  the  ides  on 
the  13th.  For  the  more  easy  comprehension  of  the 
Roman  manner  of  dating,  according  to  this  division  of 
the  months,  here  follows  a  table. 


Maicb 


M    O    N 


[ 


II 

tfoatpeikr. 


3 

4 

5 
6 

7 
8 

9 

10 

II 

12 
13 


5 
x6 

^7 

18 

'9| 
20 

21 
22 

^3 

^4 

25 
26 

27 
28 

29 


March 
May 
Jii]y     . 
October 


KalendcB 
6 

5 

4 

3 
PnV/.  Niwi. 

Nona 

8 

7 
6 

5 
4 
3 


January 

August 

December 


I4I PaV.  Idus 
Idus 


17 
16 

15 

'3 

12 

II 

10 

I 

7 
6 

5 
4 
3 


l3i|PnV/,  ^fl/. 


Kalenda 
4 

8 

5 
4 
3. 

Idus 

18 

^7 
16 

^5 

'4 

'3 
12 

u 

10   • 

9 
'8 

7 
6 

5 

4 

3 
Frid.  KaL 


April 
June 

September 
November 


rtww* 


Kalendce 

4 

3 

Prid,  Non. 

Nona 

8 

7 
6 

5 

4 

3  . 
Prid*  Idus 

Idus 

18 

17 
16 

15 
14 
13 

12 
XI 
10 

9 
8 

? 

5 

4 

3 
Pric/.  iTfl/, 


February. 


Kalendee 

4 

3 
PnV/.  Non, 

Nona 

8 

7 
6 

5 

4 

3  . 
PriV/.  Idus 

Idus 

16 

15 

13 
12^ 

II 
10 

9 
8 

7 
6 

J 

4 

3 
Prid.  KaL 


N.  B.  Every  leap  year,  February  consisting  of  29 
^ajs,  the  24th  and  25th  of  that  month  are  written  sexto 
Kal,  Mart, ;  hence  leap  year  is  called  Bissextilis. 

MONTIA,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  tri- 
andria  class,  and  in  the  natural  method  ranking  with 
those  of  which  the  order  19  doubtful.  See  Botany 
Index, 

MONTINIA^  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the 
dicBcia  class.     See  Botany  Index, 

MONTMEDI,  a  small  but  strong  town  of  France, 
in  the  deputment  of  the  Meuse,  seated  on  the  river 
Chire,  which  divides  it  into  the  upper  and  lower  towns. 
It  is  22  miles  soutli-east  of  Sedan,.  27  south-west  of 
Lnxembnrg,  and  135  north-east  of  Paris.  £.  Long.  5. 
23.  N.  Lat.  49.  32. 

MONTMORENCI,  FRAN901S  Henry  de.  See 
Luxemburg. 

MONTMORENCY,  a  town  of  France,  in  the  de- 
partment  of  Seine  and  Oise,  remarkable  for  the  tombs 
of  the  dukes  of  this  name.  It  is  seated  on  a  hill,  near 
a  large  valley,  fertile  in  fruits,  especially  excellent  cher- 
ries.    £•  Long.  2.  24.  N.  Lat.  48.  59. 

MONTPELIER,  one  of  the  finest  towns  of  France, 
and  the  most  considerable  in  the  department  of  Heranlt, 
excepting  Thouloose,  is  situated  in  E.  Long.  3. 58.  N. 
Lat.  43.  37.  This  town  has  been  long  famous  for  its 
talubrious  air,  and  on  this  account  has  been  the  frequent 


349    ]  M    O    N 

resort  of  invalids.  But  the  climate,  according  to  some  Montpelier, 
travellers,  is  considerably  changed,  having  at  times  con-  Mootieal. 
stant  rains  for  three  months  together,  apd  often  very 
thick  fogs.  Its  situation,  though  on  an  eminence,  never 
could  be  healthy  \  for  between  it  and  the  Mediter- 
ranean (which  is  about  two  leagues  distant)  it  is  one 
continued  marsh,  covered  with  noxious  vapours,  which 
when  the  sea  breeze  sets  in,  blows  directly  on  the  towa 
and  the  country  adjacent  ^  of  the  sadeffeets  of  which, 
its  unhealthy  inhabitants,  with  their  meagre  looks,  are 
the  most  convincing  proofs. 

This  city  stands  upon  a  rising  ground  fronting  the 
Mediterranean  ^  on  the  other  side  is  an  agreeable  plain, 
extending  about  the  same  distance  towards  the  moun- 
tains of  the  Cevennes.     It  is  reckoned  well  built,  yet  . 
the  streets  are  in  general  narrow  and  the  houses  daric 
The  city  contained  339913  inhabitants  in  1800,  many 
of  whom  are  Protestants,  and  are  sociable,  gay,  and 
good  tempered.     The  trade  of  Montpelier  is  veiy  ex- 
tensive in  wine,  cordials,  oil,  verdigris,  and  saltpetre  ^— - 
and  the  manufactures  in  silk  and  woollen  goods  are  con- 
siderable. The  markets  are  well  supplied  with  fish,  poul- 
try, butcher's  meat,  and  game,  at  reasonable  rates.    The 
wine  of  the  country  is  strong  and  harsh :   Burgundy 
is  dear,  and  so  is  sweet  wine  of  Froutignan,  though 
made   in  the   neighbourhood   of  Cette.       Liquors    of 
various  sorts  are  compounded  and  distilled  at  Mont- 
pelier.   The  environs  are  extremely  pleasant,  having  on 
one  side  La  Place  de  Peyrou,  which  forms  a  fine  ter- 
race.    From  thence  on  a  clear  day,  may  be  seen  to  the 
eastward  the  Alps,  which  form  the  frontiers  of  Italy ^ 
to  the  south-west,  the  Pyrenean  mountains,  which  forni 
those  of  Spain,   both  at  about  50  leagues  distant }  and 
to  the  southward  a  most  extensive  view  of  the  Mediter« 
ranean.     Not  fur  from  thence  is  a  noble  aqueduct,  with 
a  double  tier  of  arches  ^  by  this,  water  is  brought  from 
a  mountain  at  three  leagues  distance,  into  two  basons 
in  a  small  elegant  temple  at  the  west  end  of  the  town. . 
Here  also  is  a  royal  garden^  where  on  certain  days 
public  lectures  were  formerly  held  on  botany.     On  the 
other  side  of  the  town  is  the  esplanade,  a  beautiful  walk, 
bordered  on  each  side  by   olive  trees,  from  whence 
there  is  a  pleasing  prospect  of  the  sea  and  the  country 
adjacent   to  the  town.      Previous  to  the   revolution, 
Montpelier  had  an  university,  an  academy  of  scienceSj 
and  it  was  the  see  of  a  bishop. 

MONTREAL,  an  island  of  North  America,  in  the 
river  St  Lawrence,  ten  leagues  in  length,  and  four 
leagues  broad,  and  about  60  miles  above  Quebec.  It 
was  taken  from  the  French  by  generals  Amherst  and 
Murray  on  the  8th  of  Septeipber  1760.  The  soil  of 
the  island  is  exceedingly  rich  and  good,  producing  all 
kinds  of  European  fruits  and  vegetables  in  great  abun- 
dance, with  variety  of  garden  fruits.  The  south  side 
is  the  most  inhabited,  and  of  cpurse  best  cultivated  ; 
and  besides  the  settlements,  which  are  numerous,  the 
island  is  adorned  with  villas,  for  the  retirement  of  the 
more  wealthy  merchants  during  the  summer  season. 

The  town  of  Montreal,  situated  on  tliis  island,  and 
formerly  called  Ville  Marie ^  is  the  second  place  in  Ca- 
nada for  extent,  buildings,  and  strength  \  and  besides 
posessing  the  advantage  of  a  less  rigorous  climate,  for 
delightfiilttess  of  situation  is  infinitely  preferable  to 
Quebec.  It  stands  on  the  side  of  a  hill,  sloping  to  the 
south,  with  many  agreeable  villas  upon  it,  which   with 

the 


M    O    N 


C    350    ] 


M    O    N 


rat 


Bf  ontreol  iht  island  ef  St  Helen,  and  tlie  rirer  (which  is  here 
tl   '     about  two  niiles  broad),  form  a  most  charming  land- 

***^^^  scape.  It  was  formerly  enclosed  with  walls,' to  protect 
it  from  the  Indians,  but  these  were  levelled  some  years 
ago.  Though  the  city  is  not  very  broad  from  north  to 
sondi,  it  covers  a  great  length  of  ground  from  east  to 
west,  and  is  fully  as  large  and  populous  as  Quebec. 
The  streets  are  regular;  forming  an  oblong  square  ;  the 
houses  well  built,  and  in  particular  the  public  edifices, 
which  far  exceed  those  of  the  capital  in  beauty  and 
commodiousness  ;  the  residence  of  the  knights  hospital- 
lers being  extremely  magnificent. — There  are  several 
gardens,  in  which,  however,  the  proprietors  have  con- 
sulted use  more  than  elegance,  particularly  those  of  the 
Sisters  of  the  Congregation,  the  Nunnery  Hospital,  the 
Kcfcollets,  Jesuit  Seminary,  and  Governor.  The  num- 
ber of  inhabitants  in  1807  was  about  10,000.  The 
gardens  produce  peaches,  apricots,  plum?,  currants, 
&c.  By  the  situation  of  the  place,  the  inhabitants 
are  well  supplied  with  all  kinds  of  river  fish,  some  of 
which  are  unknown  to  Europeans.  They  have  likewise 
plenty  of  black  cattle,  horses,  hogs,  and  poultry.  .The 
neighbouring  shores .  supply  them  with  a  great  variety 
of  game  in  the  different  seasons ;  and  the  island  abounds 
with  springs  of  good  water  and  numerous  rivulets. 
The  trade  in  furs  is  considerable,  and  vessels  of  200 
tons  can  come  up  to  the  town.    See  Canada,  Sufplc- 

MKNT. 

Montreal,  a  town  of  Spain,  in  the  kingdom  of  Ar- 
ragon,  with  a  castle,  seated  on  the  river  Xiloca,  25 
miles  north-west  of  Terville,  and  40  south-east  of  Ca- 
lataud.     W.  Long.  i.  2.  N.  Lat.  41.  9. 

Montreal,  a  town  of  Sicily,  and  in  the  valley  of 
Mazara,  with  an  archbishop's  see  ;  seated  on  a  rivulet, 
five  miles  west  of  Palermo,  and  50  north-east  of  Ma- 
zara.    £.  Long.  13.  31.     N.  Lat*  38.  14. 

Montreal,  or  Mount  Royal,  a  fortress  of  Ger- 
many, in  the  circle  of  (he  Lower  Rhine,  in  the  Prus- 
sian territories,  seated  on  the  river  Masclle,  22  miles 
north-east  of  Triers.     E.  Long.  7.  6.  N.  Lat.  49.  50. 

MONTROSE,  a  handsome  town  of  North  Britain, 
in  the  shire  tof  Angus,  situated  at  the  mouth  of  the  ri- 
ver Esk,  on  the  German  ocean,  46  miles  north-east  of 
Edinburgh.  The  houses  are  neat,  and  many  of  them 
in  the  modem  taste.  The  most  remarkable  public 
buildings  are,  the  town-bouse,  the  church,  and  an  ele- 
gant episcopal  chapel. — ^Montrose  is  a  royal  burgh,  and 
a  dukedom  in  the  family  of  Graham.  It  stands  between 
two  rivers,  the  south  and  north  Esks,  over  the  latter 
of  which  there  is  a  handsome  stone  bridge,  and  over  the 
former  there  is  one  of  wood.  The  salmon  fisheries  on 
these  rivers  are  very  extensive,  and  form  a  considerable 
branch  of  commerce.  The  harbour  is  a  fiile  semicircu- 
lar bason  defended  by  a  handsome  stone  pier.  A  great 
number  of  trading  vessels  belong  to  this  port.  The  po- 
pulation of  Montrose  in  181 1  amounted  to  8955.  W. 
Lon?.  2.  32.  N.  Lat.  36.  40. 

Montrose,  Marquis  of.  Sec  Graham  ;  and  Bri- 
tain, N®  137,  138,  143,  265. 

MONTSERRAT,  a  mountain  of  Spain,  in  Catalo- 
nia, one  of  the  most  singular  in  the  world  for  situation, 
shape,  and  composition.  It  stands  single,  towering  over 
a  hilly  country  like  a  pile  of  grotto  work*  or  Gothic 
bpires  *,  and  its  height  so  great,  that  to  a  beholder  on  the 
top  the  neighbouring  mountains  appear  to  be  sunk  to  a 


level  with  the  plain.  It  is  composed  of  steep  rocks, 
which  at  a  distance  seem  indented  ^  whence  it  is  said 
to  have  received  the  name  MontseiTOt  from  the  Latin 
word  scrroy  a  **  saw.**  It  is  impossible  to  describe  the 
beauty,  richness,  and  variety,  of  the  landscapes  disco- 
vered from  the  moAt  elevated  point :  but  the  extensive- 
ness  of  the  prospect  may  be  conceived  by  the  reader, 
upon  being  told  that  the  islands  of  Minorca  and  Major- 
ca, which  are  at  the  distatce  of  60  leagues,  are  disco- 
vered from  this  elevation. 

Montserrat  is  particularly  famous  for  the  adoration 
that  is  paid  to  an  image  of  the  Virgin,  which  according 
to  tradition  was  found  in  a  cave  in  this  mountain  by 
some  shepherds  in  the  year  880.  Over  this  image, 
Guthred  earl  of  Barcelona  caused  a  monastery  and  cha- 
pel to  be  erected  ^  but  after  remaining  in  this  recepta- 
cle upwards  of  700  years,  Philip  11.  and  Philip  III. 
built  a  magnificent  church  for  its  reception.  JnoniDf- 
table  and  astonishing  miracles  are  ascribed  to^this  bo)y 
image.  The  convent  or  monastery  is  situated  in  a  nook 
of  the  mountain  'y  it  seems  as  if  vast  Torrents  of  water, 
or  some  violent  convulsion  of  natuf  e,  had  split  the  east- 
em  face  of  Montserrat,  and  formed  in  the  cleft  a  suffi- 
cient platform  to  build  the  monastery  upon.  The  riTer 
Llobregat  roars  at  the  bottom,  and  perpendicular  walls 
of  rock  of  prodigious  height,  rise  from  the  water  edge 
near  half  way  up  the  mountain.  Upon  these  masses  of 
white  stone  rests  the  small  piece  of  level  ground  which 
the  monks  inhabit.  Close  behind  the  abbey,  and  in 
some  parts  impending  over  it,  huge  cliffs  shoot  up  in  a 
semicircle'to  a  stupendous  elevation  :  their  summits  sre 
split  into  sharp  cones,  pillars,  pipes,  and  other  odd 
shapes,  blanched  and  bare  \  but  the  interstices  aie  filled 
up  with  forests  of  evergreen  and  deciduous  trees  and 
plants.  Fifteen  hermitages  are  placed  among  the 
woods  \  nay,  some  of  them  on  the  very  pinnacles  of 
the  rock,  and  in  cavities  hewn  out  of  the  loftiest  of 
these  pyramids. 

The  monastery  is  one  of  tlie  45  religious  houses  of 
the  Spanish  congregation  of  the  order  of  St  Benedict  \ 
their  general  chapter  is  held  every  fourth  year  at  Val- 
ladolid,  where  the  deputies  choose  abbots  and  other 
dignitaries  for  the  ensoing  quadrennium.  In  this  mo- 
nastery, they  elect  for  abbot  a  Catalan  and  a  Castilian 
alternately.  Their  possessions  are  great,  consisting  of 
nine  villages  lying  to  the  south  of  the  mountain )  bot 
the  king  has  lately  curtailed  their  income  about  6000 
livres  a-year,  by  appropriating  to  his  own  use  the  be^t 
house  in  each  village,  some  of  which,  with  their 
tythes,  are  worth  200  dollars  per  annum,  llieir  ori- 
ginal foundation,  in  866,  gave  them  nothing  but  tbe 
mountain  \  and  to  donations  and  economy  they  o^t 
tbe  great  increase  of  their  landed  property.  ITiey  are 
bound  to  feed  and  harbour  for  three  davs  all  poor  pil- 
grims  that  come  up  and  pay  their  homage  to  the  >  ir- 
gin  J  and  the  allowance  is  a  luncheon  of  bread  in  tbe 
morning,  as  much  more,  with  broth  at  noen,  ^^^ 
bread  again  at  night.  Sometimes,  on  particular  festi- 
vals, 7000  persons  arrive  in  one  day  5  but  people  of 
condition  pay  a  reasonable  price  for  what  they  eat.— 
The  number  of  professed  monks,  according  to  Mr 
Swinburne,  is  76  (According  to  M.  Bourgoannc  60)  j 
of  lay  brothers,  28  j  and  of  singing  boys  25  ;  be^jtlcs 
physician,   surgeon,   and  servants.     The  church  i«  » 

gloomy  edifice  >   and  the  gilding  is  much  sullied  wi»b 

tae 


M    O    N  C    351 

mttn-  tbe  uiok«  of  85  lamyt  of  silver,  of  farious  forms  Rod 
»t«    sizeti  that  bai^  round  tbe  cornice  of  the  sanctoarj. 
Funds  have  been  bequeathed  by  different  devotees  for 
farmhmg  them  with  oiK   The  choir  above  fttairs  is  de« 
consted  with  tbe  life  of  Christ,  in  good  wooden  carv- 
iag.     A  gallery  runs  on  each  side  of  tbe  chancel,  for 
tbe  convenience  of  tbe  monks.     A  large  iron  grate  di* 
Vvdee  the  church  from  the  chapel  of  the  Virgin,  where 
the  image  stands  in  a  niche  over  the  altar,  before  which 
barn  four  tapers  in  large  silver  candksticks,  the  pre- 
sent of  the  duke  of  Medina  €eli.     In  tbe  sacristy,  and 
pssages  leading  to  it,  are  presses  and  cupboards  full 
of  relicks  and  ornaments  of  gold,  silver^  and  precious 
stones  'y  they  point  out,  as  the  most  remarkable,  two 
crowns  for  the  virgin  and  her  son,  of  inestimable  va- 
ioc ',  some  large  diamond  rings ;  an  excellent  cameo 
of  Medusa^s  head  }  the  Roman  emperors  in  alabaster  j 
and  the  sword  of  St  Ignatius.     But  as  no  offerings  to 
tills  miraculous  statue  can  be  rejected  or  otherwise  dis- 
posed of,  the  shelves  are  crowded  with  most  whimsical 
ex  votosy  viz.  ailver  legs,  fingers,  breasts,  ear-rings, 
watches,  two-wheeled  chaises,  boats,  carts,  and  such 
like  trunpeiy. 

On  diflSerent  parts  of  the  moantain,  as  .already  noti- 
ced, are  a  nnmber  of  hermitages.     Each  of  these  so- 
litary retreats,  which  at  a  distance  seem  destitute  of 
every  thing,  has  a  chapel,  a  eel),  a  well  in  the  roek, 
and  a  little  garden.     The  inhabitant  of  one  of  them, 
which  is  dedicated  to  St  Beneto,  has  the  privilege  of 
making  an  annual  entertainment  on  a  certain  day }  on 
wbicb  day  all  the  other  hermits  are  invited,  when  they 
receive  the  sacrament  from  the  hands  of  the  mountain 
vicar,  and  after  divine  service  dine  together.     They 
meet  also  at  this  hermitage,  on  tbe  days  of  the  saints 
to  which  their  several  hermitages  are  dedicated,  to  say 
mass  and  commune  with  each  other.     But  at  other 
times  they  live  in  a  very  solitaiy  and  recluse  manner, 
perform  various  penances,  and  adhere  to  very  rigid 
rules  of  abstinence  ;  nor  do  they  ever  eat  flesh  ;  nor 
are  they  allowed   to   keep  within  their  walls  either 
dog,  cat,  bird,  'or  any  living  tking,  lest  their  attention 
should  be  withdrawn  from  heavenly  to  earthly  aflec- 
tious.     Most  of  these  hennits  are  said  to  be  persons  of 
fortune  and  family,  disgusted  with  tbe  world,  who  have 
retired  thither  to  dievote  tbemselrvea  to  meditation,  self- 
deaial,  and  contrition. 

MoKTSERRAT,  one  of  the  Caribbee  isles^  belonging 
to  Great  Britaiik  It  is  a  very  small^  l)Ht  very  plea- 
sant island,  so  called  by  Columbus  from  its  resemblance 
to  the  femoua  mouatatn  near  Barcelona  in  Catalonia: 
It  lies  in  W.  Long.  61.  o.  N.  Lat.  16.  50.  having 
Antigua  to  the  nartkreasl,  St  Cinristopher^s  and  Nevia 
to  the  north-west,  and  Guadaloope  lying  south-south- 
east at  the  distance  of  about  nine  leagvies.  It  is  about 
nine  miles  in  diameter,  and  is  tupiiosed  to  contain  abooS 
40,000  or  50,000  acres.  The  climate  is  warm,  but 
less  so  than  Antigua,  and  is  esteemed  very  healthy. 
The  surface  is  mountainous,  but  with  pleasant,  rich,  and 
fertile  valleys  j  the  hills  are  covered  with  cedars  and 
other  fine  trees.  Here  are  all  the  animals  as  well  as 
vegetables  and  fruits  that  are  to  be  fomid  in  the  other 
islands.  The  inhabitants  raised  formerly  a  considerable 
quantity  of  indigo.  The  produce  now  is  chiefly  cotton, 
rum,  and  sugar.  There  is  no  good  harbour,  but  three  to- 
lerable roads,  at  Plymouth,  Old  Harbour,  and  Ker^s  Bay. 


] 


MOO 


MONUMENT,  in  ArcKteeiurt,  a  bnildbg  dootiaod  ftfoavneot 


to  preserve  tbe  memory,  &c.  of  tbe  person  who  f  aiaod 
it,  or  the  person  for  wl>om  it  was  raised  \  suck  are  a 
mausoleum,  a  triorophal  arch,  a  pyramid,  Sec 

MOOD,  or  Mode.    See  Mods. 

Moods  ofSyiicgtsm.    See  Logic,  N^  85. 

Mood,  or  i/o</f,  in  Grammar^  the  diflferent  manner 
of  conjugating  verbs.    See  Grammar. 

MOON,  {Luna  ^  ),  in  Astnmomy^  one  of  tbe  hea- 
venly bodies,  usually  radked  among  the  planets  ^  but 
with  more  propriety  accounted  a  satellite,  or  secondary 
planet. 

Among  the  ancients,  the  moon  was  an  object  of  prime 
regard.— -By  the  Hebrews  she  was  more  regarded  than 
the  sun,  and  they  were  more  inclined  to  worship  her  as 
a  deity.    The  new  moons,  or  first  days  of  every  month, 
were  kept  as  festivals  among  them,  which  were  cele- 
brated with  sound  of  trumpets,  entertainments,  and  sa- 
crifice.    (See  Numb,  xviii.  11.  x.  16.  i  Sam.  xx.  5— - 
J  8.).     People  were  not  obliged  on  these  days  to  rest. 
The  feasts  of  new  moons  were  a  miniature  representa- 
tion of  the  feast  of  trumpets,  which  was  held  on  the  first 
of  the  month  Tisri,  which  was  the  beginning  of  the  civil 
year.   The  Jews  not.  being  acquainted  with  the  physical 
causes  of  eclipses,  looked  upon  tbem,  whether  of  sun  or 
moon,  as  signs  of  the  divine  displeasure.   The  Grecians 
looked  upon  the  moon  as  favourable  to  marriage  ;  and 
the  full  moons,  or  tbe  times  of  conjunction  of  sun  and 
moon,  were  held  tbe  most  lucky  seasons  tar  celebrating 
marriages ;  because  they  imagined  the  moon  to  hava 
great  influence  over  generation.     The  full  roooo  was 
held  favourable  fer  any  undertakings  by  the  Spartans : 
And  no  motive  could  induce  them  to  enter  upon  an  ex- 
pedition, march  an  army,  or  attack  an  enemy,  till  the 
fiill  of  the  moon.    The  moon  was  supposed  both  by 
Greeks  and  Romans  to  preside  over  child-birth.     The 
patricians  at  Rome  wore  a  crescent  on  their  shoes,  to 
distinguish  them  from  tbe  other  orders  of  men.     This 
erescent  was  called  Lunula.    Some  say  it  was  of  ivory^ 
others  that  it  was  worked  upon  the  shoe,  and  others 
that  it  was  only  a  particular  kind  of  fibula  or  buckle. 

For  the  astronomical  phenomena  connected  with  the 
moon,  see  Astronomy  Index. 

Harvest^MooK.'^t  is  remarkable,  that  the  moon, 
during  tlie  week  in  which  she  is  foil  in  harvest,  rises 
sooner  afler  sunsetting  than  she  does  in  any  other  full 
moon  week  in  the  year.  By  doing  so^  she  aSbrds  aa 
immediate  supply  of  light  after  sunset,  which  is  very 
beneficial  to  tbe  farmers  for  reaping  and  gathering  in 
the  fruits  of  the  earth  :  and  therefore  they  distinguish 
this  full  moon  from  all  tbe  others  in  the  year,  by  call- 
ing it  the  hof'vest-meon* 

Influence  of  the  MooN  on  the  Human  JBo^.«-*The 
famous  Dr  Mead  was  a  believer  in  the  influence  of  the 
sun  and  /nooa  on  the  human  body^  and  published  a  book 
to  this  purpose,  entitled  D<f  Imperto  Solis  ac  Lufut  in 
Corpore  humano :  but  this  opinion  has  been  exploded  by 
most  philosophers,  as  equally  unreasonable  in  itself,  and 
contrary  to  fact.  As  the  most  accurate  and  sensible 
barometer  is  not  affected  by  the  various  positions  of  the 
moon,  it  is  not  thonght  likeW  that  the  human  body 
shoold  be  affected  by  them.  Several  learned  and  in- 
genious men,  however,  still  consider  Dr  Mead*s  doc- 
trine as  far  firom  being  unfounded. 

Moon,  Injluencc  o/J  on  the  EortKs  Atmosphere.'^lt 

has 


MOO  [35 

Woon.  las  been  the  opinion  of  the  vulgar  in  almost  all  ages 
'  and  countries,  that  the  changes  which  take  place  in 
the  state  of  our  atmosphere,  or  the  changes  of  the  wea- 
ther, depend  in  a  great  measure  on  certain  situations  of 
the  moon.  This  particular  opinion  is  alluded  to  by 
Virgil  (a),  and  is  applied  in  the  shepherd  of  Ban- 
bury's rules  for  judging  of  the  weather  (B).  We  have, 
tinder  Meteorology,  N®  90  to  92,  given  the  result 
of  9onie  observations  on  the  connection  between  the 
changes  of  the  moon  and  those  of  the  weather. 

ItcBO  scarcely  be  doubted  that  an  opinion  so  gene* 
;rally  received  must  be  founded  on  something  more  than 
fancy  or  prejudice ;  and  indeed  the  observations  of  se- 
veral eminent  meteorologists  within  the  last  thirty 
J  ears  have  contributed  materially  to  favour  this  opinion, 
ndependent  of  actual  observation,  it  appears  reason* 
able  to  infer,  that  a  body  so  large,  and  so  near  the 
earth,  as  the  moon,  whose  gravitating  influence  on  the 
earth's  surface  in  producing  the^ti^r  and  reflux  of  the 
aea^  cannot  be  altogether  inactive  with  respect  to  the  air, 
a  fluid  much  more  susceptible  of  changes  than  the  sea. 

We  have  already  noticed  (Meteorology,  N"  14.) 
the  theory  of  Mr  Luke  Howard,  on  the  moon's  influ- 
ence on  the  mercury  of  the  barometer,  and  we  are  now 
to  give  a  short  account  of  what  has  been  advanced  on 
her  general  influence  by  the  philosophers  of  the  conti- 
nent. Among  these,  Signior  Toaldo  may  be  said  to 
have  led  the  way. 

From  observations  made  at  Padua,  during  fifty  years, 
on  the  state  of  the  weather  that  comsponded  to  certain 
changes  of  the  oooon,  he  found  that  these  changes  were 
always  accompanied  by  good  or  bad  weather  \  and  he 
at  length  became  enabled  to  forctcl  with  some  degree  of 
certainty  what  would  be  the  state  of  the  atmosphere 
that  should  follow  any  situation  of  the  moon,  lliere 
are  ten  situations  of  the  moon,  which,  according  to 
Toaldo,  are  capable  of  producing  a  sensible  eflfect  on 
the  earth's  atmosphere.  These  are  the  syztgies  *  or 
new  and  full  moon  ;  the  quadratures  ;  the  apsidesy  or 
apogee  and  perigee  ;  the  luni$ticesy  or  these  points 
when  the  moon  is  nearest  to  our  zenith  and  at  the 
greatest  distance  from  it ;  and  the  moon^s  equinoxes* 
There  are  three  diflerent  relations  of  the  moon's  mo- 
tion producing  a  corresponding  number  of  revolutions, 
each  having  a  certain  duration,  and  each  correspond- 
ing to  some  of  the  above  ten  situations,  as  it  will  be 
seen  by  the  following  table. 

RcTolutioni. 


] 


MOO 


*SteA»- 

froiioffiy. 


J.  Synodicaif  in  regard  to 
the  scn^  continues  29  days 
12  hours  44  minutes. 


Sitnationt. 
New  moon. 
First  quarter 
Full  moon. 
Last  quarter. 


2.  Anomalistic^  in  regard  to"! 
the  moon's  course^  continues  f  Apogeum. 
27  days  13  hours  43  mi- 1  Perigeum. 
nutes.  J 


3.  Periodical^  in  regard  to  T  Ascending  equinoxes, 
the  moon's  passing  the  equa-  \  Northern  lunistices. 
tor ;    continues    27   days,   7  |  Descending  eqninozet. 


Um 


hours,  43  minutes. 


(.Southern  lunistices* 


Sig.  Toaldo  has  calculated  a  series  of  probabilities 
that  a  change  of  weather  will  take  place  on  the  ap- 
proach of  any  one  of  these  ten  situations,  and  these  he 
has  expressed  in  a  tabular  form  as  follows. 


That  a  change 
will  take 
place  at 


('New  mooo 
First  quarter 
Full  moon 
Last  quarter 
Perigeum 
Apogeum 

Aseending  equinox 
Northern  Innistice 
Descending  equinox 
Southern  luiiistice 


isj 


6:1 

5^* 

5-» 
5-4 

4:1 

11:4 
11:4 

In  genera],  each  of  the  ten  situations  changes  tBe 
weather  that  prevailed  under  the  preceding  situation, 
and  it  seldom  happens  that  a  change  of  weather  takes 
place  without  a  corresponding  change  in  the  lunar  situ- 
ations. From  the  inequality  of  their  revolutions,  these 
situations  are  often  combined,  and  by  this  union  their 
effect  in  producing  changes  of  the  atmosphere  is  great- 
ly increased,  especially  when  a  union  takes  place  be- 
tween the  syzigies  and  apsides,     llins, 

{New  moon  with  perigee 
Ditto  with  apogee 
Full  moon  with  perigee 
Ditto  with  apogee 

These  combined  situations  arc  generally  accompanied 
or  followed  by  storms  and  tempests,  especially  wfaea 
they  take  place  near  the  moon's  passage  over  the  equa- 
tor. This  is  more  particularly  the  case  in  the  mootbs 
of  March  and  September,  and  we  find  that  at  the  new 
and  full  moon  in  these  months,  the  weather  takes  a 
certain  character,  by  which  it  is  distinguished  for  the 
succeeding  three  or  six  months.  The  same  takes  plsce 
at  the  solstices,  especially  at  the  winter  solstice.  The 
new  moon  does  not  always,  however,  produce  a  chaoge 
of  weather  \  and  this  want  of  effect  is  most  likely  to 
happen  at  those  new  moons  which  are  moat  distant  mm 
the  apsides. 

Though  Toaldo  considers  it  as  perfectly  ascertained 
that  each  succeeding  situation  of  the  moon  alters  that 
state  of  the  atmosphere  which  had  been  produced  by 
the  preceding  situation  \  it  must,  however,  be  observed 
that  some  situations  of  the  moon  favour  good  and  others 
had  weather.  Thus  the  perigee,  the  new  and  lull 
moon,  the  passage  over  the  equator,  and  the  nortbera 
lunistice  axe  favourable  to  bad  weather,  while  the  apo- 


(A) 


M 


lunasqoe  sequentet 


Ordine  respicies  \  nunqoam  te  crastina  fallet 
Hora,  neque  insidiis  noctis  capiere  serena. 

Georg,  L  424. 


(b)    I.  Horns  of  the  moon  obscure— -Pofii.  ' 

2.  tV'hen  the  moon  is  red— /f  U2</. 

3.  On  the  fourth  day  of  the  new  moon*  if  hrigbtv 
^ith  sharp  horns-^^o  wind*  nor  rain  tiU  the  mtmtk 
he  finished. 


MOO 


[     353    ] 


MOO 


Vmo.    g^j  qoadntores  and  soathern  loniittice,  are  more  fa- 
■^  vonntble  to  good  weather. 

The  chaages  prodaced  by  the  influence  of  the  lunar 
sitaatioosy  seldom  take  place  on  the  exact  clays  on  which 
these  situations  happen,  but  either  precede  or  follow 
them ;  and  Toaldo  has  found  that,  in  the  six  winter 
months,  the  changes  of  weather  commonly  precede  the 
lonar  situations,  whereas  in  the  six  summer  months  they 
more  commonly  follow  them. 

There  are  certaiu  days  before  and  after  new  and  full 
noon,  which  deserve  particular  attention  in  forming 
our  judgments  of  the  weather,  especially  the  octants  or 
the  foai*th  day  before  new  and  full  moon,  as  at  these 
times  the  weather  is  inclined  to  change,  and  it  may  be 
pretty  certainly  predicted,  that  a  change  will  follow  at 
the  next  lunar  situation.  Virgil  has  particularly  noti- 
ced this  fourth  day  as  a  sure  mark  of  the  succeeding 
ireather  (c.)  If  the  weather  continues  unchanged  on 
the  fourth,  fifth,  and  sixth  day  of  the  moon,  it  proves 
that  the  lunar  influence  is  at  that  time  very  weak,  and 
we  are  to  expect  no  change  till  the  full  moon,  or  per- 
haps till  the  next  new  moon. 

Sig.  Toaldo  compared  a  diary  which  he  had  kept 
for  many  years  of  the  state  of  the  barometer  with  the 
ten  situations  of  the  moon,  and  from  the  comparison  de- 
duced the  following  coiiclusions,  viz. 

1.  That  at  the  time  of  the  moon^s  apogee,  the  mer- 
cury rises  higher  by  the  sixth  part  of  a  line  than  at  the 
perigee. 

2.  That  at  the  time  of  the  quadratures  it  is  hi^^her 
by  the  tenth  of  a  line  than  at  the  time  of  the  syzigies. 

3.  That  it  is  higher  by  a  fourth  of  a  line  at  the 
southern  thaa  at  the  northern  lunistice.  Thb  corre- 
spondence of  the  lunar  situations  with  the  ascent  of  the 
mercury  in  the  barometer  does  not  hold  at  the  time  of 
the  moon^s  passage  through  her  equinoctial  points. 
The  mercury  is  then  higher,  especially  when  she  is  pas- 
sing in  Libra  ;  and  as  such  situations  of  the  moon  ge- 
nerally indicate  bad  weather,  this  circumstance  is  not 
conformable  to  meteorological  observations. 

In  this  case  Toaldo  thinks  that  we  must  be  guided 
in  our  judgment  of  the  weather,  rather  ^  by  the  moon 
than  by  the  barometer. 

The  case  is 'similar  during  the  coincidence  of  the 
equinoctial  points  with  the  perigee,  at  which  time  the 
mercury  is  unosually  high ;  but  this  coincidence  b  a 
Sign  of  great  regularity. 

According  to  Toaldo,  the  rising  and  setting  of  the 
moon,  as  well  as  its  superior  and  inferior  passage  of  the 
meridian,  all  which  situations  he  calls  the  moon's  angles, 
may  serve  for  foretelling  rain.  The  seasons  most  expo- 
sed to  rain,  are  the  rising  and  setting  of  the  moon ;  while 
its  passage  over  the  meridian  is  most  favourable  to  good 
weather.'  It  has  ever  been  observed  that  during  rainy 
days,  the  sky*  always  clears  a  little  wliile  the  moon  is 
passing  the  meridian.  An  exception  to  this  rule  must, 
however^  be  made  when  the  moon's  angle  does  not  coin-, 
cide  with  that  oT  the  sun- 

Vol.  XIV.  Part  I.  t 


Bad  years  take  place  when  the  apsides  of  the  moon  Voon. 
fall  in  the  four  cardinal  points  of  the  zodiiic.  Their  ^  ^ 
intervals,  therefore,  are  .is  four  to  five,  eight  to  nine, 
&c.  or  as  the  intervals  of  the  passage  of  the  apsides 
through  the  four  cardinal  points  of  the  zodiac.  Thus 
the  year  1777  was,  in  general,  a  bad  year^  and  in  that 
yt;ar  the  apsides  of  the  moon  were  iu  the  equinoctial 
signs ;  and  it  is  probable  that  the  years  in  which  the 
apsides  fall  in  the  signs  Taurus,  Leo,  Virgo  and  Aqua- 
rius, %vill  be  good  and  moderate  years,  as  the  year 
1776  really  was;  and  in  that  year  the  apsides  of  the 
moon  were  in  Taurus  and  Virgo. 

Kvery  i8th  year  must  be  similar.  We,  however, 
cannot  depend  upon  a  return  altogether  the  same,  on 
account  of  the  three  difl'erent  revolutions  of  the  i^ioon ; 
and  therefore  it  may  happen,  that  the  epoch  of  this  ex- 
traordinary year  may  he  retarded  a  year  or  perhaps 
two.  Though  approximations  only  are  here  given,  this 
does  not  prevent  their  being  useful  to  farmers,  if  they 
only  pay  attention  to  circumstances.  Besides,  various 
exceptions  must  be  made  for  different  parts  of  the  earth  ; 
and  it  is  difficult  to  determine  these  before-hand,  as 
what  regards  this  system  is  applicable  to  the  whole 
globe ;  but  when  the  result  of  the  system  has  been  im- 
proved by  local  observations,  the  conjectures  for  each 
country  will  be  attended  with  more  certainty. 

The  54th  year  must  have  a  greater  similaritv  to  the 
first  than  to  all  the  rest ;  because,  at  this  period,  the 
situations  of  the  moon,  in  regard  to  the  sun  and  the 
earth,  are  again  found  in  the  same  points. 

The  quantity  of  the  rain  which  falls  in  nine  successive 
years,  is  almost  equal  to  that  which  falls  in  the  next 
following  nine.  But  this  is  not  the  case  when  we*  com- 
pare in  like  manner  the  quantity  of  rain  which  falls  in 
six-  eight,  or  ten  years  *.  *  See  PhiL 

The  observations  of  M.  Lamarck,  though  they  con-  ^J^K-  ^^ 
firm  the  opinion  of  the  moon^s  general  influence  on  the 
atmosphere,  do  not  agree  with  those  of  Toaldo,  as  to 
the  situations  of  that  luminary  which  correspond  to  the 
changes  of  the  weather.  He  could  not  find  that  agree- 
ment between  the  syzigies  and  quadratures  of  the  moon 
and  a  change  of  weather,  which  has  been  so  muck 
dwelt  on  by  Toaldo  \  but  he  is  of  opinion,  that  we  are 
to  consider  the  declination  of  the  moon  as  the  prmcipal 
cause  of  her  influence  on  the  atmosphere. 

•  Lalande  had  conceived*  the  idea  that  when  the  moon 
entered, the  northern  hemisphere,  or  had  north  declina* 
tion^  the  weather  was  most  likely  to  be  cold  and  dry^ 
and  that  when  she  passed  to  the  soutli  of  the  equator^ 
it  was  likely  to  be  rainy.  The  observations  of  La- 
marck, however,  tend  to  establish  the  contrary  opinion. 

Lamarck  considers  the  two  following  principles  as 
established  by  his  observations  \  viz. 

1.  Thai  it  is  in  the  elevation  of  the  moon  above,  and 
her  depression  below  the  equator,  that  tve  are  to  search 

for  those  regularly  varied  ejects  which  sfte  produces  on 
Ouf  atmo^here, 

2.  That  the  determinable  circumsiances,  which  con^- 

Y  J    .  .  spire 


m. 


•  » 

(c)  Luna  rcvertentes  cum  primum  coUigit  ignes. 
Si  nigrum  obscuro  comprendcrit  aera  cornu  y 
Maximum  a^ricolis  pc-lagoque  parab^tur  imber. 
At,  HI  virgineum  suffuderit  on;  ruban  m, 
^  entus  erit  j  vcnto  semper  rubct  aurca  Phoebe. 


Sin  ortu  in  quarto  (namque  is  certissimus  auctor)^ 
Pura,  neque  obtusis  per  coelum  comibus  ibit  ^ 
Totus  et  ille  dies,  et  qui  nascentur  ah  illo 
Hxactum  ad  mensem,  plovia  ventisque  carebunt. 
See  Note  (b),  Georg.  I.  427. 


MOO 


[    354    ] 


MOO 


Moo^.  ^P^^  ^^  increase  or  diminish  the  tnooh*s  influence  in  her 
different  declinations^  are  her  apogees  and  perigees^  her 
conjunctions  with  and  oppositions  to  the  sun  ;  and  last' 
fyf  the  solar  solstices  and  equinoxes. 

Considering  that  every  lunar  month,  or  every  revolu- 
tion of  the  moon  in  the  zodiac,  may  he  divided  into  two 
distinct  portions,  each  containing  about  fourteen  days, 
and  each  giving  occasion  to  a  particular  atmospheric 
constitution,  we  may  assume  these  as  two  circumstances 
of  importance  in  meteorology,  and  we  may  call  one  the 
boreal  or  northern  constitution,  viz.  that  in  which  the 
moon  passes  through  the  six  nortliern  signs  of  the 
zodiac,  and  the  other,  the  austral  or  southern  constitn- 
tion,  viz.  that  in  which  she  traverses  the  six  sonthem 
signs. 

'  Lamaixk  is  convinced  by  observation,  that  in  these 
climates,  during  a  boreal  constitution^  there  chiefly  pre- 
vail southerly,  south-westerly,  and  westerly  winds,  though 
sometimes,  m  the  summer,  the  winds  pass  to  the  sontn- 
east.  In  general,  during  this  constitution,  the  barome- 
ter exhibits  only  moderate  elevations  of  the  mercury ; 
most  commonly  the  season  is  rainy  or  moist,  and  the  air 
loaded  with  clouds.  And,  lastly,  it  is  particularly 
during  this  constitution  that  we  observe  the  eflfects  of 
storms  and  tempests,  when  the  causes  which  occasion 
them  become  active. 

'  On  the  contrary,  during  an  austral  constitution,  the 
winds  which  chiefly  predominate  blow  from  the  north 
and  north- west,  and  in  the  summer  north-east,  and  even 
easterly  winds.  In  general  during  this  constitution,  the 
barometer  exhibits  considerable  elevations  in  the  column 
of  mercury,  at  least  if  the  wind  is  not  very  strong  \  the 
weather  is  then  most  usually  clear,  cold  and  dry,  and 
in  the  summer  it  is  seldom  (we  might  almost  say  never) 
during  this  constitution  that  storms  are  formed. 

These  atmospheric  constitutions  are  not,  however,  so 
permanently  characterised  as  to  render  it  easy  to  distin- 
guish them  at  all  times  by  the  state  of  the  atmosphere. 
The  atmospheric  air  is  a  moveable  fluid,  and  so  easily 
displaced,  that  it  is  not  surprising  that  in  the  temperate 
zones,  where  the  infinence  of  the  heavenly  bodies  acts 
Jess  strongly  than  between  the  tropics,  from  various 
causes,  that  counteract  very  often  the  regular  influence 
of  the  moon,  and  tend  to  mask  and  even  change  its  ef- 
fects. 

The  perturbations  which  these  variable  causes  pro- 
duce on  the  regular  effects  of  the  influence  of  the  moon 
on  the  atmosphere,  occasi9Q  in  fact  many  variations  in 
the  two  atmospheric  constitntions  which  we  have  been 
describing  ^  and  this  is  doubtless  the  reason  why  they 
have  been  hitherto  disregarded.  M.  Lamarck  positive- 
ly asserts,  that  these  perturbations,  though  frequent,  and 
sometimes  very  considerable,  do  not  prevent  the  cha- 
racter of  each  of  these  constitntions  from  being  remariL- 
cd  in  the  greatest  number  of  cases. 

Tie  probability  that  be  finds,  according  to  his  ob- 
servations, is  estimated  at  five  out  of  eight  \  that  is  to 
say,  out  of  48  atmospheric  constitutions  comprehended 
in  the  )unar  year,  be  estimates  there  will  he  found  at 
least  ^  agreeing  with  the  ptinsiplss  poinUrd  out  ia  his 
memoir  \  and  he  adds,  that  among  the  disturbing  causes 
^ch  ino£fy  the  before-mentioned  effects,  several  may 
be  foreseen,  and  perhaps  even  appreciatdl  as  to  their 
foantity  of  efllect. 

fis  cmBideisirittit  is  beire  pointed  out  la  A  iket )  as  an 


order  of  things  which  any  one  may  prove  by  observa-    n^^ 
tion  *.  ^  ■  ^  _j 

Lamarck  has  alsoendeavonred  to  ascertain  what  tnilh  *  ^J^, 
there  may  be  in  the  periodical  return  of  the  variations  ^''i^ 
of  the  atmosphere  at  the  end  of  nineteen  years ;  and  hey^*"*  j 
has  found,  by  comparing  meteorological  observatioiis,j^.^  I 
that  this  return  is  fiir  from  being  so  correct  as  is  gene-^ir-      | 
rally  believed. 

Astronomers  also  know  well,  that  the  cycle  of  nine- 
teen years  is  not  exact  within  an  hour  and  a  half}  an 
error  which  amounts  to  a  whole  day  in  the  coune  of 
308  years  t.  f  jw 

M.  Cotte  has  also  bestowed  much  attention  on  this  V^.  id 
subject  of  the  moon^s  infloence  ;  but  appears  to  think  ** 
that  our  observations  are  not  sufficiently  nomeroos  or 
accurate,  to  deduce  any  thing  like  a  correct  theory,  and 
be  is  not  /lisposed  to  go  so  far  as  M.  Lamarck. 

M.  Cotte  agrees  in  general  with  Mr  Luke  Howard^! 
observations  on  the  moon*s  influence.  (See  Meteoko- 
logt).  He  noted,  during  the  space  of  34  years  and 
five  months,  firom  the  ist  of  January  1768,  to  tlw 
22d  of  May  1802),  the  ascending  and  descending  di- 
rection of  the  barometer  in  each  of  the  ftyzigies  aitd 
quarters  of  the  moon  which  have  occurred  through  that 
period  of  time.  He  states  the  total  sum  of  the  elevations 
and  depressions  of  the  mercury  at  each  of  the  phases  u 
follows. 

For  34  *.  Tears.    New  moon,  itt  Quar.  Toll  mooa.  ad  Qpar. 

Sum  of  elevations  218         296  199     290  times, 

depressions  281         229  279 


Differences 


63  67 


ic6 


80       84 


These  resnHs,  of  neariy  35  years  observations,  eon* 
firm,  as  will  be  seen,  the  conclusions  drawn  by  Mr  How* 
ard,  both' from  his  observations  of  one  year  at  Plsis- 
tow,  and  those  made  for  10  jears  in  the  Koyal  Society's 
apartments. 

It  is  to  be  remarked,  ist.  That  the  four  nnrabers 
which  express  the  differences  between  the  elevations  and 
depressions  are  nearly  in  an  exact  proportion,  since 
63  :  67  ::  80  :  85^. 

2dly,  That  the  two  latter  phases,  vii.  tbe  foil  moon 
and  last  qnarter,  have  more  effect  than  the  two  fitsl. 

3dly,  He  examined  what  phases  of  the  moon  corre^ 
sponded  to  the  greatest  and  least  height  of  tbe  meicofr 
for  each  month  during  ten  years,  and  obtained  tbe  M- 
lowing  results. 


For  10  Tears.      New  Moon,   ift  Qi 

Greatest  elevation 

occurred  at 
Greatest  depres- 


26         40 
sion  occurred  at  1  ^  ^ 


FirilUo. 

a.  *i 

36 

38 

29 

a? 

The  science  may  be  therefore  said  to  bave  advanced 
one  stap^fitfthcr  on  this  occasion  \  and  it  is  to  be  b^ed 
that,  by  nroltiplying  observations,  and  combining  then  in 
various  ways  to  obtain  their  results,  its  pi  ogress  maj  bo 
still  accelerated.  The  useful  purposes  which  may  he 
thereby  answered  in  philosophy,  agriculture,  and  medi- 
cine, may  be  properly  oj^ed  to  observen  ■■  the 


MOO 


[    555    3 


MOO 


5'«]ii   of  supporting  tbeir  ardour,  and  indemQlf)ing  them  for 
I      tbo^  iarcasms  and  reflc^ctiona  which  even  some  learned 
men  have  been  pleased  to  beatow  opon  observations  of 
thi^  wrt,  together  with  their  authors  *•     See  Mct£OR- 
OLOGY,  Supplement. 

MooN'Eyetf  among  hones,  ^vhen  the  weakness  of 
the  eye  increa9es  or  decreases  according  to  the  course 
of'tke  moon  }  so  that  in  the  wane  of  the  moon  his  eyes 
tie  muddy  and  t^ubled,  and  at  new  moon  they  dear 
up.    This  observation  is  probably  inaccurate* 

Maosstone^  or  Adularia.*  See  Adularia,  Mine- 
ralogy Indix* 

MooN'fFort^     SeeLuNARiA,  Botany  Index. 

MOORy  in  country  affairs,  denotes  a  tract  of  land, 
Qsaally  overrun  with  heath. 

Mooa-Cockj  or  Gxtr-Cock.  See  TfTRAO,  Orkitho* 
LOGY  Index. 

Moor  Land^  or  Moory  SoU^  in  Agrictiiture^  is  r 
black,  iight,  and  soft  earth,  very  loose,  and  without 
any  admixture  of  stones  j  and  with  very  little  clay  or 
sand. 

MOORE,  or  More,  Edward,  an  ingenious  writ- 
er, was  bred  a  linen-draper,  bnt  quitted  business  to  join 
4he  retinue  of  the  Muses  ^  and  he  ceitainly  bad  a  very 
happy  and  pleasing  talent  for  poetry.  In  his  Trial  of 
8elini  the  Persian,  lie  compHniented  Lord  Lyttekon  in 
an  elegant  kind  of  panegyric,  couched  under  the  ap-' 
pearance  of  accusation  :  and  his  Fables  for  the  Female 
Sex,  for  easy  versification,  poignant  satire,  and  striking 
morals,  approach  nearer  to  the  manner  of  Gay  than 
any  other  of  the  numerous  imitations  of  that  author. 
He  wrote  also  three  dramatic  pieces ;  the  Gamester,  a 
tragedy^  The  Foundling,  and  Gil  Bias,  comedies. 
The  success  of  these  was  not  such  as  they  merited,  tha 
fifst  of  them  lurving  met  with  a  cold  reception,  for  no 
other  apparent  reasoa  but  because  i^  too  nearly  touched 
a  favourite  and  fiisbionable  Tice  ^  and  the  second  hav- 
ing been  condemned  for  its  supposed  reseodilance  to  Sir 
Ricliard  Steele's  Conscious  Lovers,  bnt  to  which  good 
judges  have  been  inclined  to  give  it  greatly  the  prefe* 
rence.  Mr  Moore  married  a  lady  of  the  name  of  jEEo- 
mUttm^  daughter  to  Mr  Hamilton  table-dedcor  to  the 
princesses,  who  bad  herself  a  very  poetical  turn,  and 
has  been  said  to  have  assisted  him  in  the  writing  of  his 
tragedy.  One  specimen  of  her  poetry,  however,  was 
handed  about  before  their  marriage,  and  has  since  ap^ 
peared  in  print  in  different  collections  of  songs*  It  was 
addressed  to  a  dangbter  of  the  famous  Stephen  Duck  ^ 
and  begins  with  the  following  stanza: 

Would  you  think  it,  my  Duck  ?  (for  the  fault  I  must 

own). 
Your  Jenny  at  last  is  quite  coyetous  .grown  : 
Though  millions  if  Fortune  should  lavishly  pou^i 
I  still  would  be  wretched  if  I  had  not  MoR£. 

And  after  balf  a  dozen  staqzas  mure,  in  which,  with 
great  ingenuity  and  delicacy,  and  yet  in  a  manner  that 
expresses  a  great  affection,  she  has  quibbled  on  our  au- 
thor's name,  she  concludes  with  the  following  lines:: 

Yon  may  wonder^  my  girl,  who. this  dear  one.can  be. 
Whose  merit  can  boast  such  a  conquest  as  me : 
But  you  shan't  know  his  name,  tho'  I  told  yon  be- 
fore. 
It  begins  with  an  M,  but  I  dare-not  say  More. 


In  the  year  1753,  Mr  Moore  commenced  a  weekly    Moo<e 
Yniscelhineous   paper,    entitled,   IVie  IForldj  by  J  darn         \\ 
fit^-Adam^  in  whicli  undertaking  he  was  assiatfd  by  Moorlandn.^ 
Lord  Chesterfield  with  some  Kssays.     This  paper  was         " 
collected  into  two  volumes,  aud  Mr  Moore  died  soon 
after. 

Moork,  Dr  John.    See  Supplement. 

MOORING,  the  act  of  confining  and  securing  a 
ship  in  a  particular  station,  by  chains  or  cables,  which 
are  either  fastened  to  the  adjacent  shore,  or  to  anchors 
in  the  bottom. 

A  ship  may  be  either  moored  by  tlie  bead,  or  by  the 
bead  aUd  stern  \  that  u  to  say,  she  may  be  secured  by 
anchors  before  her,  without  any  behind  %  or  she  may  ' 
have  anchors  out^  both  before  and  behind  her ;  or  her 
cables  may  be  attached  to  posts,  rings,  or  moorings, 
which  answer  the  same  purpose. 

When  a  ship  is  moored  by  the  bead  with  her  own 
anchors,  they  are  disposed  according  to  the  circum- 
stances of  the  place  where  she  lies  and  the  time  she  is 
to  continue  therein.  Thus,  wherever  the  tide  ebbs  and 
flows,  it  is  usual  to  carry  one  anchor  out  towards  the 
flood,  and  another  towards  the  ebb^  particularly  wliere 
there  is  little  room  to  range  about  \  and  the  anchors 
are  laid  in  the  same  manner,  if  the  vessel  is  moored 
head  and  stern  in  the  'same  place.  The  situation  of  the 
anchors,  in  a  road  or  bay,  is  usually  opposed  to  the 
reigning  winds,  or  those  which  are  most  dangerous  j  so 
that  the  ship  rides  therein  with  the  effort  of  both  her 
cables*  Thus  if  she  rides  in  a  bay^  or  road,  which  13 
exposed  to  a  northerly  wind  and  heavy  sea  from  the 
same  quarter,  the  anchors  passing  from  the  opposite 
bows  ought  to  lie  east  and  west  from  each  other: 
hence  both  the  cables  will  retain  the  ship  in  her  station 
with  equal  eft)rt  against  the  action  of  the  wind  and  sea. 

Moorings,  in  sea  language,  are  usually  an  assem-^ 
blagtt  of  anchors,  chains,  and  bridles,  laid  athwart  the 
bottom  of  a  river  or  haven,  to  ride  the  shipping  con« 
tained  therein.  The  anchors  employed  on  this  occa< 
sion  have  rarely  more  than  one  fluke,  which  is  sunk  in 
the  water  near  low'iirater  mark.  Two  anchors  being 
fixed  in  this  manner  on  tbe  opposite  side  of  the  river, 
are  fumbhed  with  a  chain  extending  across  from  one  to 
the  other.  In  the  middle  of  the  chain  is  a  large  square 
link,  whose  lower  end  terminates  in  a  swivel,  which 
turJis  round  in  the  chain  as  about  an  axis,  whenever 
the  ship  veers  about  with  the  change  of  the  tide.  To 
this  swivel  link  are  attached  the  bridles,  which  are  short 
pieces  of  cable,  well  served,  whose  upper  ends,  are 
drawn  into  the  ship  at  the  mooring  ports,  and  after- 
«wards  fastened  to. die  masts  or  caUe  bolts.  A  great 
number  of  moorings  of  this  sort  are  fixed  in  the  har- 
bours adjacent  to  the  king^s  dock-yards,  as  Deptford, 
Xhatham,  Portsmouth,  Plymouth,  &c. 

MOORLANDS,  a  tract  so  called,  in  the  north 
part  of  Staffordshire,  where  the  land  rises  gradually  in- 
to small  hills,  which  run  through  the  midst  of  England 
in  mie  continued  ridge,  rising  higher  and  higher  to 
Scotland,  and  sending  finlh  many  rivers.  The  soil  hei« 
is  so  foul  add  cold,  that  the  snows  lie  almost  all  the  - 
year  on  the  tops  of  the  hills ;  and  it  is  withal  veiy  rug- 
ged  and  barren :  it,  however,  yields  plenty  or  coal, 
lead,  copper,  rance-marble,  and  millstones ;  and  some 
of  the  limestone  hills  bear  such  a  sweet  though  short 
grass,  as  is  very  grateful  to  the  ozeO|  of  which  here  is 

Yya  a 


MOP  [35 

AT oorlands  ^  very  good  breed.  It  is  observed  here,  that  tbc  west 
II  wind  always  brings  rain,  and  the  cast  and  south  fair 
^^^P""*  weather  j  that  though  this  tract  is  full  of  bogs,  it  is  as 
healthy  as  any  other  part  of  the  county  ;  and  that  it 
produces  the  same  plants  as  the  Peak  of  Derby. 

MOORS.    See  Morocco. 

Moors,  in  the  Isle  of  Man,  those  who  summon  the 
courts  for  the  several  sheadings }  such  as  the  lords  bai- 
liffs. Every  moor  has  the  like  office  with  oar  bailiff  of 
the  hundred. 

MOOS£,  or  Elk.  See  Cervus,  Mammalia 
Index.  , 

MOOT,  a  difficult  case  argued  by  the  young  bar- 
risters and  students  at  the  inns  of  court,  by  way  of 
exercise,  the  better  to  qualify  them  for  practice,  and 
to  defend  the  causes  of  their  clients.  This,  which  is 
called  mooting^  is  the  chief  exercise  of  the  inns  of 
court.  Particular  times  are  appointed  for  the  arguing 
moot  cases  :  the  place  where  this  exercise  is  performed 
was  anciently  called  moot'/iaii ;  and  there  is  a  bailiff, 
or  surveyor  of  the  moots,  annually  chosen  by  the 
bench  to  appoint  the  moot  men  for  the  inns  of  chan- 
cery, and  to  keep  an  account  of  the  pei-formance  of 
exercises.  The  word  is  formed  either  from  the  Saxon 
79fetan^  genietan^  *'  meeting^' )  or  from  the  French  tnot^ 
"  a  word.'' 

MOPSUS,  in  fabulous  history,  a  celebrated  pro- 
phet, son  of  Manto  and  Apollo,  during  the  Trojan  war. 
He  was  consulted  by  Ampbimachus,  king  of  Colophon, 
who  wished  to  know  what  success  would  attend  his  arms 
in  a- war  which  he  was  going  to  undertake.  He  pre- 
dicted the  greatest  calamities  \  but  Calchas,  who  had 
l>een  n  soothsayer  of  the  Greeks  during  the  Trojan  war, 
promised  tlie  greatest  successes.  Ampbimachus  follow- 
ed the  opinion  of  Calchas  \  but  the  prediction  of  Mop- 
BUS  was  fully  verified,  lliis  had  such  an  effect  upon 
Calchas,  that  he  died  soon  after.  His  death  is  attri- 
buted by  some  to  another  mortificatioB  of  tlie  same  na- 
ture. The  two  soothsayers,  jealous  of  eaeh  other's, 
fame,  came  to  a  trial  of  their  skill  in  divination.  Cal- 
chas first  asked  his  antagonist,  how  many  figs  a  neigh- 
bouriog  tree  bore?.  10,000  except  one,  replied  Mopsus, 
and  one  single  vessel  can  contain  them  all.  The  figs 
were  gathered,  and  his  conjectures  were  true.  Mopsus 
DOW  t0  try  his  adversary,  asked  him  how  many  young 
ones  a  certain  preirnant  sow  would  bring  forth  ?  Cal- 
chas confessed  his  ignorance  ^  and  Mopsus  immediately- 
said  tha(  the  sow  would  bring  forth  on  the  morrow  ten 
young  ones,  of  which  only  one  riiould  be  a  male,  all 
black,-  and  that  the  females  should  all  be  known  by 
their  ^te  streaks.    The  morrow,  proved  the  veracity. 


6     ]  M    O    R 

of  his  prediction  \  and  Calchas  died  by  the  excess  of 
grief  which  his  defeat  produced.  Mopsus  after  death 
was  ranked  among  the  gods,  and  had  an  oracle  at  Ma- 
lia,  celebrated  foe  the  true  and  decisive  answers  which 
it  gave.  Another  Mopsu^^  son  of  Ampyx  and  Chloris, 
bom  at  Titaressa  in  Thessaly.  He  was  tlie  prophet 
and  soothsayer  of  the  Argonauts,  and  died  at  his  re- 
turn from  Colchis  by  the  bite  of  a  serpent  in  Libya. 
Jason  erected  him  a  monument  on  the  sea  shore,  where 
afterwards  the  Africans  built  him  a  temple,  where  he 
gave  oracles.  He  has  often  been  c<infounded  with  the 
son  of  Manto,  as  their  professions  and  their  names  were 
alike. 

MOR^A,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  tri- 
andria  class  \  and  in  the  natural  method  ranking  under 
the  6th  order,  Ensat^e^     See  Botak  y  Index. 

MORAI,  is  the  name  given  at  Otabeite  in  the 
South  sea  to  the  burying  grounds,  which  are  also  places 
of  worship.  This  is  a  pile  of  stone  raised  pyramidicaJIy 
upon  an  oblong  base  or  square  267  feet  long  aod  87 
wide.  On  each  side  is  a  flight  of  steps  \  those  at  the 
sides  being  broader  than  those  at  the  ends  ;  so  that  it 
terminated  not  in  a  square  of  the  same  figure  with  the 
base,  but  in  a  ridge  like  the  roof  of 'a  house.  There 
were  1 1  of  these  steps  to  one  of  these  roorai$,  eadi  of 
which  was  4  feet  high,  so  that  the  height  of  the  pile 
was  44  feet ,  each  step  was  formed  of  one  course  of 
white  coral  stone,  which  was  neatly  squared  and  polish- 
ed \  the  rest  of  the  mass  (for  there  was  no  hollow  with- 
in) consisted  of  round  pebbles,  which,  from  the  regula- 
rity of  their  figure,  seemed  to  have  been  wrought.  The 
foundation  was  of  rock  stones,  which  were  also  squared. 
In  the  middle  of  the  top  stood  an  image  of  a  bird  carved 
in  wood,  and  near  it  lay  the  broken  one  of  a  fish  canred 
in  stone.  The  whole  of  this  pyramid  made  part  of  one 
side  of  a  spacioiis  area  or  square  360  feet  by  354,  which 
was  walled  in  with  stone,  and  paved  with  flat  stones  i& 
its  whole  extent.  About- 100  yards  to  the  west  of  this 
building  was  another  paved  area  or  coort,  in  which 
were  several  small  stages  raised  on  wooden  pillars  about 
seven  feet  high,  which  are  called  by  the  Indians  nwrf- 
tas^  and  seem  to  he  a  kind  of  altars,  as  upoo  these  are^ 
placed  provisions  of  all  kinds,  as  offerings  to  their  gods. 
On  some  of  them  were  seen  whole  hogs,  and  on  otbeis 
the  skulls  of  above  50,  besides  the  skulls  pf  many  dogs. 
The  principal  object  of  ambition  among  the  natives  is 
to  have  a  magnificent  morai.  The  male  deitie»  (for 
they  have  them  of  both  sexes)  are  worshipped  by  the 
men,  and  the  female  by  the  women  \  and  each  havQ 
morals,  to  which  the  other  sex  is  not  admitted,  though* 
they  have  also  morais  common-  to  both* 


Mq\ms 


Vi 


iora 


MORAI.  PHILOSOPHY,  or  MORALS: 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY,  iil,  "  The  science  ofi 
MANNERS. or  DUTY  ', /which  it  traces  from  man^s 
nature  and  condition,  and  shows  to  terminate  in  his. 
happiness.'*  In  other  words,  it  4$,  "  The  knowledge- 
of  oof  DUT.T  and  felicity  *>'*  or,  ^*  The  art  of  being. 
VIRTUOUS  and  happy.*' 

It  is  denominated  an  art^  as  it  contains  a  system  of  • 
rules  for  becoming:  virtQoiifl  and  happy»     Whoever. 


practises  these  rules,-  attains-  an  habitual  power  or  fii* 
cftity  of  becoming  virtuous  and  happy.  It  is  likewise 
called  a  science^  as  it  deduces  those  rules  from  the 
principles  and,connexi<ms  of  our  nature,  and  proves 
that  the  observance  of  them  is  productive  of  .our  happi- 


ness. 


It  is  an  art,  and  a  science  of  the  highest  dignity,  im* 
portaoce^  and  use.   Its  object  is  maa's  duty,  or  his  g«o- 

duck 


History.  MORAL   PH 

duct  In  the  several  morul  capacities  and  connexions 
Tfbicb  he  eustaioa.  Its  office  is  to  direct  that  conduct  ^ 
to  show  whence  oor  obligations  arise,  and  where  they 
terminate.  Its  use,  or  end,  is  the  attainment  of  hap- 
piness  \  and  the  means  it  employs  are  rules  for  the  right 
cooduct  of  our  moral  powers. 

Moral  Philosophy  has  this  in  common  with  Natural 
Philosophy,  that  it  appeals  to  nature  or  fact  \  depends 
on  observation  }  and  builds  its  reasonings  on  plain  un- 
controverted  experiments,  or  upon  the  fullest  induction 
of  particolars  of  which  the  subject  will  adroit.  We 
most  observe,  in  both  theae  sciences,  how  nature  is  af- 
fected, and  what  her  conduct  is  in  such  and  such  cir- 
cutDStaoces :  Or,  in  other  words,  we  must  collect  the 
appearances  pf  nature  in  any  given  instance  ^  trace  these 
to  some  general  principles  or  laws  of  operation  \  and 
dieo  apply  these  principles  or  laws  to  the  explaining  of 
other  phenomena. 

Therefore  Moral  Philosophy  inquires,  not  how  man 
might  have  been,  but  how  he  is,  constituted :  not  into 
what  principles  or  dispositions  his  actions  may  be  art* 
fully  resolved,  hut  from  what  principles  and  disposi- 
tions they  actually  flow :  not  what  he  may,  by  educa- 
tion, habit,  or  foreign  influence,  come  to  be  or  do,  but 
what,  by  his  nature,  or  original  constituent  principles, 
he  is  formed  to  be  and  do.  We  discover  tlie  office,  use, 
or  destination  of  any  woik,  whether  natural  or  artificial, 
by  observing  its  structure,  the  parts  of  which  it  consists, 
their  connexion  or  joint  action.  It  is  thus  we  under- 
stand the  office  and  use  of  a  watch,  a  plant,  an  eye,  or 
hand.  It  is  the  same  with  a  living  creature  of  the  ra- 
tional or  brnte  kind.  Therefore,  to  determine  the  of- 
fice, duty,  or  destination  of  man  ',  or,  in  other  words, 
what  his  business  Is,  or  what  conduct  be  is  obliged  ta 
pursue ;  we  must  inspect  bis  constitution,  take  every 
part  to  pieces,  examine  their  mutual  relations  one  to 
the  other,  and  the  coounon  effort  or  tendency  of  the 
vbole. 

It  has  not  been  tbns,  bowever,  that  the  science  baa 
always  been  tanght.  The  earliest  moralists  did  not 
erect  systems  upon  a  just,  analysis  of  the  powers  of  the 
human  mind  j  nor  have  all  those  who  thought  such  a 
fi>andation  necessary  to  be  laid,  deduced  their  theories 
irom  the  very  same  principles.  As  moral  truths  are 
not  capable  of  rigid  demonstration,  it  appears  to  us, 
that  we  cannot  more  properly  introduce  the  system 
which  we  have  adopted,  than  by  giving  our  readbrs  a 
short  view  of  the  most  celebrated  systems  that  have  been 
maintained  by  others.  They  will  tbns  have  an  oppor- 
tunity of  judging  for  themselves  of  the  respective  me- 
rits of  the  different  theories,  and  of  adopting  that  which 
shall  appear  to  them  to  place  practical  virtue  on  the 
firmest  basis. 

History  of  the  Science  of  Morals^ 

} __  _ 

^         Whilst  there  has  been  a  remarkable  agreement 
fgj^  among'  the  writers  on  morality,   as  to  the  particular 
Eittcfi.  actions  which  are  virtuous  and  those  which  are  vici^ 
ffir.   008  J  and  whilst  they  have  uniformly  taught,  that  it 
^     is  oor  duty  and  our  interest  to  perform  the  one  and 
to  avoid  the  other  \.  they  have  yet  differed  exceedingly 
concerning  the  tester  criterion  of  virtue,  as  well  as  con- 
cerning the  principle  or  moUve  by  which  men  are  in- 
duced to  pnrsoa  it.    One  cause  of.  thiA  difference  in 


ILOSOPHY. 


357 


opinion  respecting  matters  of  such  univei-sal  importance, 
may  perhaps  be  traced  to  tlie  mistakes  into  which  phi- 
losophers are  apt  to  full  concerning  the  original  state 
of  man.  2 

It  is  very  generally  taken  for  granted,  that  the  first  Probable 
men  were  savages  of  the  lowest  rank,  and  that  the  race  ^""**  ^'^ 
gradually  civiii^Lcd  itself  during  the  course  of  manyjjg^^ 
succeeding  ages.     Without   mutual   intercourse,   the- 
progrcss  of  civilization  could  never  have  commenced  \ 
and  as  the  practice  of  justice  is  absolutely  necessary  to 
every  species  of  friendly  intercourse,  those  original  sa- 
vages, it  is  supposed,  must  have  been  just  in  their  deal- 
ings, and  just  upon  some  principle  which  has  its  foun- 
dation in  human  nature.     But  to  develope  the  prin- 
ciple by  which  savages  are  influenced  in  their  conduct, 
no  tedious  or  intricate  process  of  reasoning  can  be  ne- 
cessary.    It  must  have  a  place  in  every  mind,  and  be 
instantaneous  in  all  its  decisions.     Hence  it  has  been 
supposed,  that  the  principle  to  which  modem  philo- 
sophers have  given  the  name  of  the  moral  sense^  is  in- 
stinctive^ that  it  is  the  sole  judge  of  virtue  and  vice  \ 
and  that  its  admonitions  have  such  authority,  as  to  en- 
force obedience  without  regard  to  the  consequences  of 
any  action. 

Other  philosophers,  who  deny  that  the  moral  sense 
is  instinctive,  and  who  yet  suppose  that  the  original'' 
state  of  man  was  savage,  arc  forced  to  pile  hypothesis 
upon  hypothesis,  each  unnatural  in  itself,  and  all  con- 
tradictory to  one  another,  in  order  to  account  for  the 
commencement  of  civilization  and  the  formation  of  so- 
ciety. It  has  been  supposed,  that  the  desire  of  self- 
preservation  and  the  love  of  power  are  the  governing 
principles  in  human  nature  j  that  in  the  savage  state' 
every  man  had  a  right  to  every  thing  which  he  could 
seize  by  fraud  or  force  ^  that  all  had  an  innate  propen- 
sity to  invade  each  other^s  property  ^  and  that  hence 
war,  rapine,  and  bloodshed,  prevailed  universalfy,  till 
the  savages  discovered  the  expediency  of  uniting  under 
some  form  of  government  for  their  mutual  protection. 

But  before  the  original  state  of  man  bad  been  made 
the  basis  of  such  opposite  theories  as  these,  it  would- 
surely  have  been  proper  to  inquire  upon  what  grounds 
that  state  has  been  supposed  to  Be  savage.   To  us  these 
grounds  appear  to  be  nothing  better  than  mere  ima- 
ginations J  the  dreams  of  poets,  and  of  such  philoso- 
phers as  bend  facts  to  their  own  systems.     In  the  au- 
thentic history  of  our  species,  there  is  no  evidence,  in-> 
deed  there  can  be  no  evidence,  that  the  first  men  were 
savages  j  and  every  thing  which  we  know  of  human 
nature  lead^  us  to  believe,  that  had  they ^  been  so,  the 
race  could  never  have  been  civilized  but  by  the  mira- 
culous interposition  of  some  superior  being.    The  only 
record  of  the  earliest  ages  of  the  world  to  which  the 
smallest  credit  is  due,  represents  all  the  nations  of  the 
earth  as  having  sprung  from  one  pair,  and  that  pair  as 
having  been  instructed  in  their  duty  by  their  beneficent- 
Creator.     If  this  be  the  fact,  and  no  consistent  theist 
can  controvert  it,  the  precepts  of  morality  would  be' 
originally  conveyed  from  one  generation  to  another^ 
not  in  a  systematical  or  scientific  form,  but  as  the  laws  Mod^  oi^ 
of  the  Universal  Sovereign,  whose  authority  demand- comnraiii- 
ed   implicit  obedience.     Accordingly  we  find,   that»<^*^"^'°^ ' 
the  first  teachers  of  morals  were  men  of  superior  rank  T  ^^^  ^^.. 
as  well  as  of  eminent  talents,  who  formed  tollecti<ms  uett  moro^ 
of  maxims  derived  fiK>m  their  ancestors,  /*  wkh  theUst^ 

view* 


f  Bruce't 
and  Kfi' 


358 

•  Bruee'M  view  of  perfecting  subordinatloa  *,  poIUluDg  manncM, 
Elcmtntsqfstnd  educating  youth.  Such  were  the  proVeibs  of 
'a^^^  Solomon,  the  Woi J3  of  Agur,  and  the  Wisdom  of 
*^  '   the  son  of  Sirach."     These  instructors  did  not  analyze 

the  human  mind  into  its  various  faculties,  and  build  a 
system  of  morals  either  upon  a  particular  instinct  point- 
ing to  the  supreme  good,  or  upon  "the  fitness  of  things 
discovered  by  reason.    Short  Isolated  sentences  were  the 
mode  in  which  they  conveyed  their  precepts  j   which 
they  prefaced   by  observing,  that    *'  the  fear  of  the 
Lord  is  the  beginning  of  l^nowledge  j**  anil  enforced 
by  the  assurance,  that  *'  length  of  days,  and  Ion?  life, 
and  peace,  should  they  add  to  those  who  obeyed  tncm.^ 
The  sayings  of  the  celebrated  wise  men  of  Greece  were 
collections  of  apophthegms,  made  in  the  same  mannrr, 
and  delivered  with  similar  views.     Thales  and  Pytha- 
goras f ,  who  founded  the  one  the  Ionic  and  the  other 
the  Italic  school,  made  collections  of  precepts  for  the 
conduct  as  well  of  a  state  as  of  privjite  life.   **  Neither 
^fUitCs  Hu   tiig  crimes  nor  the  thoughts  of  bad  men  (said  Thales) 
^Pflu      k    ***®  concealed  from  the  gods.     The  only  method  of  bc- 
Jii\g  just,  is  to  avoid  doing  that  which  we   blame  in 
-others."     Of  Py thagoraa  it  is  related  by  Porphyry  and 
'  Laertius,  that  from  Samos  he  repaired  to  Delos,  and 
after  presenting  an  oftcring  of  cakes  to  Apollo,  there 
received,  or  pretended  to  receive,  moral  dogmas  from 
:   the  priestess  ^  which  he  aftcnvards  delivered   to  his 
disciples  under  the  character  of  divine  precepts.     A- 
mongst  these  were  the   following :    That,   *'  next  to 
gods  and  demons,  the  highest  reverence  is  due  to  pa- 
rents and  legislators ;  and  that  the  laws  and  customs. of 
our  country  are  to  be  religiously  obsenfed.'* 

To.  these  maxims  or  apophthegms,  which,  for  the 
sake  of  delighting  the  ear  and  aiding  the  memory, 
were  sometimes  delivered  in  verse,  succeeded,  as  has 
been  supposed,  the  mode  of  Instruction  by  fable  or.  al- 
legory. But  the  truth  seems  to  be^  that  this  method 
of  communicating  moral  and  political  wisdom  was  as 
ancient  as  the  other :  for  we  have  a  beautiful  specimen 
of  It  in  the  ninth  chapter  ^f  the  book  which  relates  the 
transactions  of  the  Judges  of  Israel.  Tlie  fables  of  Esop, 
too,  which  were  written  at  a  very  early  period,  remain 
lasting  modes  of  this  species  of  art  among  the  Crreeks. 


MORAL    PHILOSOPHY. 


Hist 


ory. 


basis.   In  his  lectures  and  discourses,  lie  setVA  to  have 
had  one  great  object  in  viewtt  to  connect  the  moral  t  firvtY*, 
maxims  which   were   fitted   to  reflate  the  conduct i^motf, 
of  mankind,  with  sublime  conceptions  respecting  tbe^^^  ^^^' 
character  and  government  of  a  snpreme  Being.    Tli/'"^'?'* 
first  principles  of  virtuous  conduct  which  are  coronwii*^''^'^^" 
to  all  mankind,  are  according  to  this  excellent  OKiral. 
ist,  laws  of  God :    and  the  conclusive  argument  Vy 
which  he  su]|^ports  this  opinion  is,  that  no  man  departs 
from  these  principles  with  impunity.      ^*  It  is  fre- 
quently possible  (says  be)  for  men  to  screen  tbemselfes 
.  from  the  penalty  of  human  laws,  but  no  man  cao  be 
unjust  or  ungrateful  without  suifering  for  bis  crime; 
hence  I  conclude,  that  these  laws  must  have  proceed- 
ed from  a  xw>rc  excellent  legislator  than  man.^*    From 
this  it  would  appear,  that  in  the  opinion  of  Socntea, 
conscience,  or  the  moitil  sense,  approving  of  any  ac- 
tion, is  the  criterion  by  which  it  is  known  to  be  vir- 
tuous, and  the  will  df  God  that  which  obliges  men  10 
perform  it.  ^ 

Socrates  himself  left  do  writing  behind  him,  nor,  asori<^>^ 
far  as  we  know,  offered  any  regular  and  complete  theory  tir  Girti 
of  ethics.     His  disciples,  however,  who  were  numeroua""^ 
and  distinguished,  became  the  founders  of  the  celebrat- 
ed Greek  sects.     Among  them  the. first  great  question 
-Was,  "  what  arc  the  foundstious  of  virtue?**  and  ibe 
second,  **  what  are  the  distinctions  betwixt  good  and 
evil,  happiness  and  misery  ?*'  The  answers  given  to 
these  important  questions  divided  the  philosophers  and 
their  disciples  into  distinct  orders.  f 

In  answer  to  the  former  question,  Plato  taught  *TbK(rt 
-^hat  "  virtue  is  to  be  pursued  for  its  own  sake ;  wdj^^^ 
that  being  a  divine  attainment,  it  cannot  be  taught, 
but  is  the  gift  of  God.**  This  seems  to  differ  in  no- 
thing, but  the  name,  from  the  doctrine  of  those  mo- 
dems who  place  the  sole  foundation  of  virtue  in  die 
approbation  of  the  moral  sense.  The  founder  of  the 
academy  indeed  has  no  such  phrase  as  mortL,  sense  in 
any  of  his  writings  with  which  we  are  acquainted^ 
Jbut  If  virtue  cannot  be  taught,  and  if  it  is  to  be  pur- 
sued for  its  own  sake,  it  must  in  itself  be  good^  and 
the  object  of  some  feeling,  whether  called 


sefUft*  tfi' 


stinct^  or  passion.     His  solution  of  the  second  qnestiOQ 


When  the  instroetors  of  mankind  had  proceeded  thus    .agitated  among  the  sects  is  not  indeed  very  consistent 


far  as  to  give  an  artificial  form  to  their  precepts,  they 
soon  advanced,  a  step  farther,  and  reduced  their  obser- 
vations Into  classes-  or  predicaments.  Pythagoras,  who 
'  visited  Egypt,  itas  been  supposed  to  have  learned  from 
Its  priests  the  method  of  arranging  the  virtues  into  dis- 
tinct classes.  But  it  Is  the  opinion  of  an  excellent 
|^{fpi.i^^,  writer  4:,  founded  on  the  previous  aspects  of  ethics,  and 
on  the  corop^enalve  talents  of  the  Samian  philosopher, 
that  the  honour  of  the  Invention  ought  to  be  ascribed 
to  himself*  Be  tbls  as  it  may,  it  was  observed  by 
the  inveBtoTy  that  '*  all  the  maxims  of  morality  might 
be  referred  to  the  duties  -which  men  owe  to  them« 
selves,  and  the  duties  which  they  owe  to  each  othen** 
Hence  the  four  cardinal  virtues  of  the  ancients,  pru- 

DEKC£,  T£MP£RAKC£,  FORTITUDE,  and  JUSTICE  }    of 

vhich  the  first  three  refer  to  the  individaal,  and  the 

fourth  to  society* 
The  Moral      Hitherto  lessons  in  mocallty  had  not  taken  a  syste* 
principletof  nntic  form  ^  but  they  were  gradually  .approaching  to 
2jocimtes.    it.     Socrates  was  perhaps  the  first  Pagan  philosopher 

who  established  all  his  precepts  on  one  sure  and  steady 


with  this  necessary  inference  from  hb  answer  to  the 
first ;  but  for  his  inconsistencies  we  are  not  account- 
able. ^*  Our  highest  good  (he  says)  consists  in  the 
contemplation  and  knowledge  of  the  first  good,  which 
is  mind  or  God  \  and  all  th<>se  things  which  are  called 
good  by  men,  are  in  reality  such  only  so.fiir  as  they  are 
derived  from  the  first  and  highest  good.  The  only 
power  In  human  nature  which  can  acquire  a  resem- 
blance to  the  supreme  good,  is  reason  \  and  this  re- 
semblance consists  in  prudence,  justice,  sanctity,  and 
temperance.^* 

Aristotle,  the  (bunder  of  the  Peripatetic  school,  wasiii^ 
the  pupil  of  Plato  \  but  of  the  two  great  moral  ques-^ 
tions  he  gives  solutions  somewhat  different  from  those 
of  his  master.     "  Virtue  (according  to  him^)  is«-l^^ 
ther  theoretical -OIL  practical.    Theoretical  virtoe  con- 
sists In  the  due  exercise  of  the  understanding  ^  practical, 
in  the  pursuit  of  what  Is  right  and  good*    nactica!  vir* 
tue  Is  acquired  by  habit  and  exercise.*^     This  theory 
seems  to  differ  little  from  that  adopted  hy-Cudworth, 
Clarke,  and  Price,  which  shall  be  coflsidereaafterwanls. 

With 


History. 


MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 


359 


i 

the 
aici 


With  respect  to  happiness  or  good,  the  doctrine  of 
Adstotie  is  very  national.  **  Pleasures  (he  says)  are 
esseotialtjr  different  in  kind.  Disgraceful  pleasures  are 
wiioily  auwortby  of  the  name.  The  purest  and  noblest 
pleasure  is  that  which  a  good  man  derives  from  virtu* 
oiis  actions.  Happiness,  which  consists  in  a  conduct 
conformable  to  virtue,  is  either  contemplative  or  ac« 
tive.  Contemplative  happiness,  which  consists  in  the 
pursuits  of  knowledge  and  wisdom,  is  superior  to  active 
happioess,  because  the  understanding  is  the  higher  part 
of  human  natore,  and  tho^  objects  on  which  it  is  em- 
ployed are  of  the  noblest  kind.  The  happiness  wliich 
arises  from  external  possessions  is  inferior  to  that  which 
arises  irom  virtuous  actions  ^  but  both  are  necessary  to 
produce  perfect  felicity.*' 

The  Stoics,  another  celebrated  sect  of  Greek  phi- 
losophers, maintained*,  that  **  nature  impels  e%'ery 
man  to  pursue  whatever  appears  to  bim  to  be  good.'* 
According  to  them,  **  self-preservation  and  defence  is 
the  first  law  of  animated  nature.  All  animals  neces- 
sarilj  derive  pleasure  from  those  things  which  are  suit- 
ed to  them }  but  the  first  object  of  pursuit  is,  not  plea- 
sure, but  conformity  to  nature*  Every  one,  therefore, 
who  has  a  right  discernment  of  what  is  good,  will  be 
chiefly  concerned  to  conform  to  nature  in  all  his  ac- 
tions and  pursuits.  This  is  the  origin  of  moral  obliga- 
tion.*' With  respect  to  hi^piness  or  good,  the  Stoical 
doctrine  was  altogether  extravagant:  They  taught, 
that  **  all  external  things  are  indifferent,  and  cannot 
affect  the  happiness  of  man  ^  that  pain  which  does  not 
belong  to  tlie  mind,  is  no  evil ;  and  that  a  wise  man 
viH  be  happy  in  the  midst  of  torture,  because  virtue 
itself  is  happiness  (a).". 

As  the  Stoics  held  that  there  is  but  one  substance, 
partly  active  and  partly  passive,  in  the  universe  (see 
Metaphysics,  N®  261,  262)',  and  as  they  called  the 
active  principle  Chd^  their  doctrine,  which  makes  vir- 
tue consist  in  a  conformity  to  nature^  bears^  no  small 
resemblance  to  that  of  those  modems  who  rest  moral  • 
obligation  on  the  Divine  wHL    It  was  therefore  on 
better  grounds  than  has  been  sometimes  supposed,  that 
WarbuTton,  when  characterizing  the  founders  of  the 
^^  three  principal  sects  in  Greece,  represented  i  Plato^ 
''^   as  the  patron  of  the  moral  sense  ;  Aristotle  of  the  essen^ 
tial  differences  \  and  Zeno  of  arbitrary  will*    These 
principles,  when  separated  from  each  other,  and  treat- 
ed in  the  manner  of  the  ancients,  may  not  each  be  able 
to  bear  the  superstructure  which  was  raised  upon  it ; 
bat  the  principles  of  most  of  the  other  sects  were  muck 
^/  less  pure,  and  infinitely  more  dangerous. 
^     Cudworth  },  whose  .  testimony  when  relating  the 
doctrines  of  antiquity  is  entitled  to  the  fullest  credit; 
affirms,  that  Aristippns  the  founder  of  the  Cyrenaic 
Ktip-  school,  Democritus,  and  Protogoras,  with  their  foilow- 
"^-  era  among  the  atomists,  taught,  that  ^  the  distinction 
^    between  virtue  and  vice  is  merely  arbitrary  \  that  bo- 
thmg  \»  just  or  unjust,  sacred  or  profane,  but  as  it  is 
agreeable  or  contrary  to  established  laws  and  customs  ^ 


10 


». 


that  what  is  jUst  to-dfcy,  human  authority  may  make 
unjust  to-morrow  >  and  that  present  pleasure  is  the  so- 
vereign good  of  man." 

With  these  impieties,  the  moral  doctrines  of  Epi-andofEpw 
curus  have  very  unjustly  been  confounded.     The  phy-  cunis. 
sical  and  metaphysical  systems  of  that  philosopher  are 
indeed  strange  compositions  of  ingenuity  and  absurdity, 
truth  and  falsehood  ^  and  the  moral  precepts  of  many 
of  his  followers  were  in  the  highest  degree  licentious 
and  impure.     But  his  own  life  was  exemplary  j  and 
his  etlucal  system,   if  candidly  interpreted,  is  much 
more  rational  than  that  of  the  Stoics  \  though  it  must 
be  confessed,  that  no  sect  produced  men  of  more  deter- 
mined virtue  than  the  school  of  Zeno.     According  to 
Epicurus  *,  *'  the  end  of  living,  or  the  ultimate  good  *  Enfield's 
which  is  to  be  sought  for  its  own  sake,  is  happiness.  Hutory.  ^ 
The  happiness  which  belongs  to  man,  is  that  state  in 
which  he  enjoys  as  nuiny  of  the  good  things,  and  suf- 
fers as  few  of  the  evils  incident  to  human  nature  as 
possil^e  *f  passing  his  days  in  a  smooth  course  of  tran- 
quillity.    Pleasure  is  in  its  own  nature  good,  as  pain  is 
in  its  nature  evil.-    The  one  is  therefore  to  be  pursued, 
and  the  other  to  be  avoided,  for  its  own  sake.     Plea- 
sure and  pain  are  not  only  good  and  evil  in  themselves,    - 
but  they  are  the  measures  of  what  is  good  or  evil  in 
every  object  of  desire  and  aversion ;  for  the  ultimate 
reason  why  we  pursue  one  thing  and  avoid  another  is^    • 
because  we  expect  pleasure  from  the  former,  and  ap- 
prehend pain  from  the  latter.— -That  pleasure,  howevei*, 
which  prevents  the  enjoyment  of  a  greater  pleasure,  or 
produces  a  greater  pain,  is  to  be  shunned)  and  that 
pain  which  either  removes  a  greater  pain^  or  procures 
a  greater  pleasure,  is  to  be  endured." 

Upon  these  self-evident  maxims,  Epicunis  builds  his 
system  of  ethics.;  and  proves,  withgteat  force  of  ar- 
gument, ^^  that  a  steady  course  of  virtue  produces  the 
greatest  quantity  of  hapjnness  c^  which  human  nature 
is  capable."     Without  tL  prudent  fssute^nt  the  body,  and 
a:  steady  government  of  the  mind,  to  guard  the  one  from 
diseases  and  the  other  from  the  clouds  of  prejudice, 
happiness  is  unattainable.     Bj  iemperance  we  enjoy 
*  pleasure,  without  suffering  any  consequent  inconveni- 
ence.    Sobriety  enables  us  to  content  ourselves  with 
simple  and  frugal  fare.     Gentleness^  as  opposed  to  an 
irascible  temper,  greatly  contributes  to  the  tranquillity 
and  happiness  of  life,  by  preserving  the  mind  from 
perturbation^  and  arminjg  it  against  the  assaults  of  ca* 
lunmy  and  malice,    thrtitude  enables  ns  to  bear  those 
pains  which  prudence  cannot  shun,  and  banishes  fear 
from  the  mind  \  and  the  practice  of  justice  is  absolute^ 
\j  necessary  to  the  existence  of  society;  and-  by  conse- 
quence to  the  happiness  of  every  individual."     These 
reasonings  come  home  ttf  every  man's  bosom :  and  had 
not  this  philosopher,   by  denying  the  providence,  if 
not  the  bnng,  of  God,  most  unhappily  excluded  from    ^ 
his  system  the  very  possibility  of  a  fritnre  state  of  re- 
tribution, his  moral  philosophy  would  have  been  the 
most  ntional,  and  of  ooorse  the  most  useful,  of  any 

that 


(a)  Since  this  short  history  was  written,  a  very  pleasing  view  of  Stoicism  has  been  given  to  the  public  in  Fer- 
giBon's  Principles  of  Moral  and  Political  Science  \  a  work  whidh  the  student  of  ethics  wilV  do  well  to  consult.. 
Perhaps  the  amiable  author  nay  unintentionally  have  softened  the  austere  dognuw  of  the  Porch,  W  transfusing 
into  them  somethmg  of  the  miM  ^irit  of  the  gospel }  bat,  if  80|  he  has  amch.  improved;  the  system  of  Zenob> 


^6o 


MORAL    PHILOSOPHY. 


The  crlcc- 


Alexan- 
dria. 


that  was  taught  in  the  schools >:>f  Greece.  This  enor- 
mous defect,  however,  laid  it  open  to  tlie  grossest  cor- 
ruptions *y  and  by  his  followers  it  was  in  fact  corrupted 
so  as  to  countenance  tb^  most  impure  and  criminal  plea- 
sures of  sense. 
^ .  Tliese  several  systems  of  ethics  continued  to  be  cul- 

pher*  of '°'  tivated  with  more  or  less  purity  through  all  the  revo- 
lutions of  the  Grecian  states,  and  they  were  adopted 
by  the  Romans  after  Greece  itself  became  a  province 
of  the  empire.  They  had  been  introduced  into  Egypt 
during  the  reigns  of  the  Ptolemies,  and  were  taught 
with  much  celebrity  in  the  schools  of  Alexandria.— 
The  philosophy  which  was  most  cultivated  in  those 
schools  was  that  of  Plato ;  but  from  a  desire  of  uni- 
formity which  took  possession  of  the  Alexandrian  Pla« 
tonists,  many  of  the  dogmas  of  Aristotle  and  Zeno, 
as  well  as  the  extravagant  fictions  of  the  east,  were  in- 
corporated with  the  principles  of  the  old  academy.—- 
The  patrons  of  this  heterogeneous  mass  have  been  cal- 
led eclectic  philosophers,  because  they  professed  to  select 
from  each  system  those  doctrines  which  were  rational 
•and  important)  and  to  reject  every  thing  which  was 
false  or  futile ;  but  they  added  nothmg  to  the  purity  of 
Plato^s  ethics,  and  they  increased  the  obscurity  and  my- 
sticism of  his  physics  and  metaphysics. 

Af^er  the  subversion  of  the  JKoman  empire,  every 

And  re viyal species  of  philosophy,  if  syllogistic  wrangling  deserve 
not  that  name,  was  banished  for  ages  from  the  schools 
of  Europe ;  and  ethics,  properly  so  called,  gave  place  to 
ecclesiastical  casuistry,  and  to  the  study  of  the  civil  and 
canon  law.  When  the  Greeks,  whom  the  fury  and 
fanaticism  of  Mahomet  II.  had  driven  from  Constanti- 
nople, introduced  into  Italy  the  knowledge  of  their 
own  language,  the  cabinets  of  ancient  philosophy  were 
again  unlocked }  the  systems  of  the  different  sects  were 
adopted  with  the  utmost  avidity  'y  and,  without  ac- 
curate investigation  of  their  respective  merits,  men  be- 
came Platonists,  Peripatetics,  or  Stoics,  as  fancy  or 
caprice  prompted  them  to  choose  their  leaders.  The 
cBVTdf  %p9i  of  Aristotle,  in  particular,  had  not  less  autho- 
rity over  his  modem  admirers  than  it  had  of  old  in  the 
lijceum  at  ^Athens.  At  length  the  spirit  of  Luther 
and  the  genius  of  Bacon  broke  these  fetters,  and  taught 
men  to  think  for  themselves  as  well  in  science  as  in 
religion.  In  physics,  the  effects  produced  by  the  writ- 
ings of  Bacon  were  gr^at  and  rapid  ^  for  in  physics  the 
ancient  theories  were  totally  and  radically  wrongw-* 
With  respect  to  morals,  however,  the  case  was  differ- 
ent. Each  of  the  celebrated  schools  of  antiquity  was 
in  possession  of  much  moral  truth,  blended  indeed  with 
and  long  after  tke  Stagyrite  and  his  rivals  had 


T2 

l^xtinciion 


ol  moral 
science  in 
Xttrope. 


-error 


Theories 


lost  all  influence  in  physical  science,  philosophers  of 
eminence  ibllawed  them  implicitly  in  the  science  of 
«thics. 

At  this  day,  indeed,  there  is  hardly  a  theory  of  mo- 
«f  Hobbes,  rals  at  all  distinguished,  to  which  something  very  simi- 
lar may  not  be  found  in  the  writings  of  the  ancients. 
— -Hobbes  adopted  the  principles  of  Democritus  and 
Protagoras,  and  taught  expressly  that  ^'  there 


IS  no 


Histon*. 

criterion  of  justice  or  injustice,  good  or  evil,  besides  tbe 
laws  of  each  state }  and  that  it  is  absurd  to  ioqiiire  st 
any  person  except  the  establii»faed  interpreters  of  the  laiv, 
whether  an  action  beriglit  or  wrong,  good  or  evil  (b).^^ 
These  impious  absurdities  have  been  often  confuted. 
Cud  worth,  who  composed  his  True  InteUectual  System 
of  the  Universe^  in  order  to  trace  the  metaphysical  athe- 
ism of  Hobbes  to  its  source,  and  to  expose  it  to  the 
public  in  all  its  weakness,  undertook  likewise  to  over- 
throw his  ethical  system,  in  a  treatise,  entitled  Of  Eter- 
nal and  Immutable  Morality,  That  work  was  left  un- 
finished ;  but  the  theory  of  its  great  author  was  adopt- 
ed, illustrated,  and  very  ably  supported,  by  the  doctors 
Clarke  and  Price/  ^ 

According  to  these  three  admirable  scholars,  ''weofCni. 
feel  ourselves  irresistibly  determined  to  approve  some*"^ 
actions,  and  to  disapprove  others.  Some  actions  ^e^^, 
cannot  but  conceive  of  as  right y  and  others  as  uorong; 
and  of  all  actions  we  are  led  to  form  some  idea,  as  ei- 
ther ^<  to  be  performed,  or  &n/f/,  or  as  neither  fit  nor 
unfit  to  be  performed,  i.  e.  as  indifferent.  The  power 
within  us  which  thus  perceives  and  determines,  they 
declare  to  be  the  widerstanding  ;  and  they  add,  that  it 
perceive  or  determines  immediately  or  by  intuition, 
because  right  and  wrong  denote  simple  ideas*  As  there 
are  some  propositions,  which  when  attended  to  neces- 
sarily determine  all  minds  to  believe  them,  so  are  there 
some  actions ^hose  natures  are  such,  that  when  obserr- 
ed,  all  rational  beings  immediately  and  necessarily  ap- 
prove them.  He  that  can  impartially  attend,  it  is  said, 
to  the  nature  of  his  own  perceptions,  and  determine  that 
when  he  conceives  gratitude  or  beneficence  to  be  nght^  \ 
be  perceives  nothing  true  of  them,  or  understands  no- 
thing, but  only  suffers  from  a  sense,  has  a  turn  of  mind 
which  appears  unaccountable:  for  the  more  we  ex- 
amine, the  more  indisputable  it  will  appear  to  as,  that 
we  express  necessary  truth,  when  we  say  of  some  actions 
that  they  are  right,  and  of  others  that  they  are  wrong.** 
It  is  added,  that  **  we  cannot  perceive  an  action  to  be 
right  without  approving  it,  or  approve  it  vrithout  being 
conscious  of  some  degree  of  satisfaction  and  compla- 
cency 'y  that  we  cannot  perceive  an  action  to  be  wrong 
without  disapproving  it,  or  disapprove  it  without  being 
displeased  with  it ;  and  that  the  first  must  be  liked,  the 
last  disliked  'y  the  first  loved,  the  Ittst  hated.^'  By  the 
patrons  of  this  system,  obligation  to  action,  and  rightness 
of  action,  are  held  to  be  coincident  or  identical.  ^^  Vir- 
tue, they  affirm,  has  a  real,  full,  obligatory  power,  an- 
tecedently to  all  -  laws,  and  independently  of  all  vilU 
for  obligation  is  involved  in  the  very  nature  of  it.  To 
affirm  that  the  performance  of  that  which  to  omit  would 
be  wrong  is  not  obligatory,  unless  conducive  to  private 
good,  or  enjoined  by  a  superior  power,  is  a  manifest  con- 
tradiction *."  ,^,. 

Few  men  have  deserved  better  of  letters  and  philo-jirti'r. J 
sophy  than   Cudwortb,  Clarke,  and  Price  ;   aod  yetacdiHi 
their  theory  of  morals  appears  to  us  to  be  <^ontradic-f^^ 
tory  and  unintelligible.     It  is  certainly  romantic,  and 
founded  upon  principles  which,  if  they  be  denied,  no 

naan 


(b)  Doctrinas  de  justo  et  injnsto,  bono  et  malo,  praeter  leces  in  onaquaque  civitate  constitutas, 
(e  nnllus :  et  utrum  aliqua  actio  justa  vel  injusta,  bbna  vel  mala  futura  sit,  \  neniine  inquirendum  < 
4iuam  ab  iUis,^uibus  legum  suarum  iaterpretationem  civitas  demandavcrit.     De  Civcy  p.  343. 


esse 


authenticas 
Bse,  prsetci- 


gkoiy.  MORAL  P 

mao  ly  ftrgmaefit  ca»  ht  eompelled  to  grant.    Tbere 
is,  saj  thejf  an  absolute  right  and  wrong,  fitneaa  and 
uofitnessi  in  actions )  but  if  so,  the  actions  whicb  are 
ngAi  and  fit  must  be  right  and  fit  for  something,  be- 
came fitness,  whkh  respects  no  end,  is  wholly  incon* 
crivsble.    To  say  that  any  particular  action  isjit^  and 
jct  fit  {orno  particular  purpose j  is  just  as  absurd  as  to 
say  that  the  angles  at  the  base  of  an  isosceles  triangle 
are  equal  bat  neither  to  one  another^  nor  to  any  ^tner 
angles ;  and  we  flMiy  with  no  less  propriety  talk  of  the 
relation  of  equality  attaching  to  a  particular  angle,  and 
to  nothing  else  with  which  the  angle  is  equal,  than  of  the 
absolute  fitness  or  rightncss  of  any  action  or  course  of 
actions.    If  it  be  said  that  such  actions  are  fit  and 
right)  because  they  tend  to  promote  the  harmony  of 
tire- world  and  the  happiness  of  men,  this  may  be  grant- 
ed J  but  It  overturns  the  intellectual  theory  from  its 
vicry  foundation.     Actions  wbicb  are  fit  and  right  only 
for  their  consequences,  are  approved  and  liked  for  the 
sake  of  those  consequences  ;  and  the  happiness  of  men, 
among  whom  the  virtuous  person  himself  is  certainly 
to  be  incloded,  is  the  motive  or  ultimate  obligation  to 
their  performance. 

Similar  to  this  theory,  and  liable  to  the  same  objec- 
tions, 19  that  which  resolves  moral  approbation  into  a 
sense  of  propriety  :  for  if  actions  be  approved  because 
they  are  proper,  it  must  be  because  they  are  proper  for 
^mt  end  Qit  putrpo9ey  propriety  in  ^he  abstract  being  a 
15    word  without  meaning. 

^       Many  philosophers,  feeling  tlie  force  of  these  and 
^    of  similar  objections  to  the  intellectual  theory  of  Cnd- 
1^^  worth,  Clarke^  and  Price,  as  well  as  to  a  sense  oi  pro^ 
priety  in  the  abstract,  have  had  recourse  to  another  by* 
pothc'sis,  apparently  better  founded.   Observing  that  all 
mankind  decide  on  the  morality  of  characters  and  ac- 
tions instantaneously,  without  weighing  their  conse- 
quences in  the  balance  of  reason,  they  suppose  that 
«och  decisions  are  made  by  an  instinct  of  our  common 
aature,  implanted  in  the  human  breast  by  the  hand 
that  formed  it.     To  Uiis  instinct  some  ol  them  give 
the  name  of  con^itnc^^  and  others  that  of  tharal  sense^ 
in  contradiction  to  external  sense  the  other  great  and 
nniversal  inlet  of  human  knowledge.    By  this  moral  sense 
ve  intuitively  discover  an  essential  difference  in  the 
quality  of  all  thoughts  and  actions,  and  a  general  dis- 
tinction of  them  into  good  and  evU^  just  as  by  the 
tongue  and  palate  we  discover  an  essential  difference  in 
the  taste  of  all  objects,  and  a  general  distinction  of 
tbem  into  pleasant  and  unpleasant.  The  ablest  advocates 
for  this  instinctive  system  agree,  that  the  moral  sense 
is  the  immediate  and  involuntary  criterion  of  only  a 
few  general  truths,  which  in  their  joint  operation  up- 
on the  mind,  lay  the  basis  of  moral  obligation.     Otbeirs 
have  carried  it  t^  what  we  think  a  very  dangerous  ex- 
treme 9  as  by  affirming  that  we  cannot  prove,  in  regard 
to  our  moral  feelings,  that  they  are  conformable  to  any 
extrinsic  and  eternal  relations  of  things,  they  seem  to 
wish  that  reason  were  banished  from  the  science  of  e- 
thics.     Were  this  true,  it  would  in  many  cases  be  im- 
possible to  distinguish  the  prejudices  of  early  education 
from  the  pure  dictates  of  original  instinct,  and  the  most 
pernicions  conduct  might  be  sanctified  with  the  appro- 
bation of  what  would  be  deemed  the  ultimate  test  of 
"virtue  and  vice. 
To  remedy  the  defects  of  the  intellectual  and  in- 
VoL.  XlV.PartL  + 


HILOSOPHY.  3^1 

stinctive  theories  of  morality,  Bfr  Hume  blended  them 
together  j  and,  upon  the  broader  basis  of  reason  and 
internal  sense  co-operatinff  with  each  other,  be  narad  a 
system  which,  though  difierent  from  those  of  all  his 
predecessors,  he  rendered  plausible,  and  supported  with 
his  nsoal  ingenuity;  iS 

According  to  him,  sentiment  and  reason  concnr*in  al-  Of  Mr 
most  all  moral  determinations }  and  he  proves,  that  ^^""^ 
for  this  purpose,  **  there  is  ii^iplantad  in  the  human 
breasta  disinterested  principleof  henevolentsf  or  sympathy 
which  makes  men  take  pleasure  in  each  other^s  happi- 
ness, llie  merit  or  demerit  of  actions  consists  wholly 
in  their  utility  or  natural  tendency  to  add  to  the  sum 
of  human  happiness  \  and  tbe  same  he  holds  to  be  true 
of  qualities  whether  bodily  or  mental.  This  utility 
or  natural  tendency  it  is  the  office  of  reason  to  disco- 
ver )  for  that  fiMulty  alone  can  trace  relations  and  con- 
sequences. Such  qualities  or  actions  as  reason  disco- 
vers to  be  useful  either  to  the  individual  or  society, 
tbe  instinctive  principle  of  benevolence  makes  us  in- 
stantly approve,  and  this  approbation  constitutes  their 
morality.  Thus  temperance,  fortitude,  courage,  in- 
dustry, &C.  reason  discovers  to  be  useful  to  biro  who 
possesses  them  \  and  upon  this  discovery  they  are  ap- 
proved of  by  the  sentiment  of  sympathy,  lliey  are 
therefore  moral  qualities  and  the  sources  of  \he  private 
virtues.  In  like  manner,  generosity,  cheerfulness  of 
temper,  mercy,  and  jnstice,  are  discovered  to  be  useful 
to  society,  and  are  accompanied  with  tbe  approbation 
of  that  sentiment  of  sympathy  which  makes  every  man 
feel  a  satisfaction  in  the  felicity  of  all  other  men.  They 
therefore  constitute  the  social  virtues^  Of  every  qua- 
lity and  every  action,  the  merit  or  demerit,  and  of  con- 
sequence the  degree-  of  approbation  or  disapprobation 
which  is  bestowed  upon  it,  is  in  exact  proportion  to 
its  utility  and  the  circumstances  of  the  case  in  which 
it  occurs.  The  social  virtues  are  therefore  greater  than 
those  which  are  private,  and  one  social  virtne  is  greater 
than  another  \  but  every  quality  and  every  action  which 
is  usefid,  either  to  society  or  to  the  individual,  is  more 
or  less  virtuous,  provided  the  good  of  the  individual  be 
considered  as  subordinate  to  the  good  of  the  public.** 

This  theory  is  ingenious  :  and  in  placing  the  merit 
of  actions  in  their  utility,  it  furnishes  a  CA-iterion  of. 
virtue  which  can  be  employed  by  reason ;  but  it  seems 
not  to  be  wholly  free  from  error,  and  it  is  obviously 
defective.  By  pretending  that  the  same  sentiment  of 
approbation  is  given  to  usefiil  actions  voluntarily  per- 
formed and  to  useful  qualities  which  are  merely  con- 
stitutional, Mr  Hume  confounds  the  merit  of  virtuous  > 
habits  with  the  value  of  natural  talents.  Yet  every 
man*8  consciousness  will  surely  tell  him,  that  tbe  feel- 
ing or  hentiment  which  attaches  to  deeds  of  justice^ 
clemency,  and  beneficence,  b  very  different  from  that 
which  attaches  to  beauty  of  form,  strength  of  body, 
vigour  of  mind,  and  mere  extent. of  capacity.  All 
these  actions  and  qualities  are  useful .;  hut  when  we  ap-  . 
prove  of  the  former,  besides  attending  to  thei{  utility, 
we  consider  them  as  in  the  man*s  power,  and  attribi^ . 
the  merit  of  them  immediately  to.  himself.  When  we 
approve,  or  rather  admire,  the  latter  on  account  of  their 
utility,  we  know  them  to  be  not  in  the  man*s  power, 
and  we  attribute  the  merit  of  them  immediately  to  the 
Author  of  nature. 

But  ^e  defects  of  this  theory  are  in  practice  more*. 

Z  z  pernicious 


362 


MORAL   PM 


fMmichMis  tkin  its  errofi.  Tbe  author  well  observes 
that  tbe  cod  of  all  moral  specolatioo^  is  to  teadi  us  our 
datf,  and  by  pro|M5r  representations  of  tbe  defoi-mtty 
of  vico  and  beauty  of  virtue,  to  lieget  corre^ondei^  ha* 
bits,  and  engage  as  to  avoid  tbe  one  and  embrace  tbe 
otbcr  'y  but  tbe  theory  under  review  holds  ost  bo  mo- 
tive sufficient  in  all  cases  for  this  purpose. 

Jt  is  indeed  true,  as  Mr  Hume  affinnt^  that  tbe  vir- 
toes  which  are  immediately  useful  or  agreeable  to  the 
person  possessed  of  them,  are  desirable  in  a  view  to 
self-interest,  and  that  a  regard  to  self-interest  ought 
to  engage  us  in  the  pursait.  It  is  likewise  true,  that 
the  virtues  which  are  tu)^/ and  or^ivra^/p  to  others,  are 
generally  more  desirable  than  the  c-ontrary  qnaHties } 
KMT  as  by  the  constitution  of  our  nature  no  enjoyment 
is  sincere  without  some  reference '  to  company  and  so- 
ciety 9  so  no  society  can  be  agreeable,  or  even  tolerable, 
where  a  man  feels  his  presence  unwelcome,  and  disco- 
vers all  around  him  symptonw  of  disgust  and  aversioik 
These  considerations  be  deems  sufficient  to  enforce  the 
dalics  of  hamanity,  clemency,  and  beneficence  ^  bat 
he  states  a  case  himself  in  which  they  would  certainly 
fail  to  make  a  man  abstain  from  his  neighbour's  proper* 
ty.  The  greater  part  of  property  he  considers,  and 
rightly  considers,  as  having  its  foundation  in  human 
laws,  which  are  so  calculated  as  to  preserve  the  peace 
and  promote  the  general  good  of  tbe  society,  at  the  un- 
avoidable expenoe  sometinses  of  tbe  iodividoal.  Now, 
in  particular  incidents,  a  sensible  knave,  by  secretly  pur- 
loining from  the  iMUurds  of  a  wortMese  miser,  migiit 
make  himself  comfortable  and  independent  for  life,  with- 
out causing  any  breach  in  the  soeial  union,  and  even 
without  hovting  a  single  individval.  What  then  should 
hinder  him  irom  acting  thus  ^  His  self-intere&t  would 
be  promoted  y  and  if  he  possessed  a  generous  spirit,  be 
^  might  gratify  his  sentiment  of  benevolence  or  sympa- 

thy by  doing  good  with  bis  money  to  the  poor,  whi^h 
the  miser  never  did.     For  enforcing  tbe  uniform  prac- 
tice of  justice  in  such  cases  as  this,  Mr  Home's  theory, 
of  morals  contains  no  adequate  motive ;  but  a  very 
snffici^it  one  is  held  ovt  by  the  system  which  we  are 
J  J        now  to  consider. 
A  tyttcm        That  system,  which  seems  to  have  been  unknown  to 
orctbict     the  ancients,  is  built  upon  religion,  of  which  indeed 
iMilt  upon   ji  constitutes  a  very  essential  part  5  and  those  by  whom 
re  igion.      .^  1^^  y^^^  taught,  maintain  that  no  other  foundation 
is  sufficient  to  bear  a  regular  superstructure  of  practical 
ethics.     The  pbilefophers  of  this  school  (d)  define  vir- 
tne  to  be  **  tbe  doing  good  to  mankind,  in  obedience 
to  the  will  of  God)  and  for  the  sake  of  everlasting  hap- 
piness:'^ 80  that  with  them  **  the  good  of  mankind^' 
is  the  suhject^  ''  the  will  of  God'*  the  criierwn  or  ruk^ 
and  **  everksting  happiness''  the  motive^  of  hnmai>  vir- 
tde.     The  moral  sense,  supposing  it  real,  they  consi- 
der as  a  ipery  inadequate  role  of  conduct,  aa  bein^  iu 
many  casea  difficult  to  bo  distinguished  from  prejudice  ^ 
and  mwiy  of  tbea  conlMontl3P  deny  ita  exsstottee.    The 
other  rules,  sucb  aa  ikmfii»e^ifiking9^  abatract  n^Ar, 
tb6  trtah  ofiking9i  tksim^rfrtamnjbic*  they  consider 
cither  at  vninteHigible,  or  aa  relative  to  some  end  by 


ILOSOPHY.  History. 

^ffaich  the  rules  most  themselves  be  tried.  The  two 
great  questions,  which  in  the  system  of  these  religious 
philosophers  demand  solution,  aro  :  x«#.  By  what  means 
shall  a  man  in  every  case  discover  precisely  wbat  is  the 
will  of  God  ?  and,  2<//y,  What  evidence  liave  we  that 
there  will  be  a  future  state  of  retribution  and  of  ever- 
lasting happiness  P 

Of  these  two  questions,  the  latter  belongs  wholly  to 
religion  }  and  to  solve  it  they  call  in  the  aid  of  revehi- 
tioD,  as  well  as  of  that  which  is  called  the  religion  of 
nature.  The  former  queation  is  in  the  province  of  mo- 
rality 'j  and  to  find  answers  to  it  which  will  applj  to 
every  case,  i»  the  whole  business  of  their  system. 

The  will  of  God  respecting  human  conduct  may  be 
discovered  by  reasoning  d  priori  from  his  existence  and 
attributes,  or  a  posteriori  from  the  tendency  of  bi^ 
works.  Being  bimAolf  independent  and  all  perfect,  it- 
is  inconceivable  tliat  his  view  in  creating  the  world 
couhl  be  any  thing  rise  than  to  coranHnicate  some  por- 
tion of  his  own  felicity.  (See Metaphysics,  N°  31 2\ 
This  conclusion  is  agreeable  to  what  we'peroeivc  of 
his  works,  in  which  there  are  a  thousand  contrivanccK, 
all  tending  to  give  happiness  to  man,  and  to  all  ani- 
mated natmre  ;  and  of  not  one  of  which  the  natural  ten- 
dency is  to  inftict  pain,  or  prove  ultimately  injuriow. 
Maiddnd  are  linked  together  by  various  tieo,  and  made 
to  depend  in  a  great  measvre  upon  each  other's  coa- 
dnct.  That  conduct,  therefore,  which  is  naturally 
productive  of  the  greatest  sum  of  human  bappinrss, 
mnsl  be  agreeable  to  the  will  of  God  \  or,  in  other 
woida,  viftuoaa  conduct.  That,  of  which  the  natural 
tendency  is  tlie  reverse,  must  be  vicions;  and  that 
conduct,  if  there  be  any  such,  which  tend«  to  produce 
neither  haj^ness  nor  misery,  most  be  indifierevt,  i.  e. 
neither  morally  good  nor  nH>rally  evil.  It  is  to  be  ob- 
served, however,  that  as,  previoqs  to  their  own  obedi- 
eoee  or  disobedience,  all  men  stand  in  the  sanM?  relatiea 
to  their  Creator,  it  most  be  hie  will  that  an  e«fual  por- 
tion of  the  happiness  of  which  human  nature  is  ca- 
pable be  communicated  to  all  by  whom  that  natare 
is  shared.  Whence  it  fellows,  that  only  such  oondttct 
as,  if  univeisally  porsoed  by  all  men  in  the  samestatjoa 
and  circmnstances,  would  be  productive  a^  the  greatest 
snm  of  human 'happiness  on  the  whole,  can  be  agreeable 
to  the  will  of  the  Creator ;  and  that,  in  judging  of  the 
morality  of  actions,  we  are  not  to  regard  their  inmiedi- 
ate  consequences  in  a  paiticolar  case,  bat  their  natural 
and  ultimate  tendency  if  performed  in  all  cases.. 

This  ia  a  criterion  of  virtue  which  diSers  wideff 
from  the  local  or  occaaioaal  utility  set  up  by  Mr 
Hume :  for  the  particular  coMcqueocea  of  an  aetiQa 
and  its  general  tendency  may  often  be  at  variance,  so 
thai  what  might  in  certain  eircamstaaces  be  ime 
diately  oseM,  would  yet  he  higMy  criminal  aod  oW 
timately  pemiciotts.  The  general  tendency  of  sc- 
tioos,  too^  maybe  always  known,  and.  known  with  the 
utmost  certainty:  the  whole  ol  their  porticalar  cmk 
sequences  can  never  he  discovered.  One  thio^,  how- 
ever, i«  evident,  that  if  all  men  ul  their  respective  stn- 
tiooa  wonU  regulate  their  oondoct  by  the  natural  tan* 


(d)  Gastrel,  Combehlakd,  PumNDonrr)  Norrisv  Berkeley,  Gay,  Law,  RirrHEnpoRTB,  Soave 
JeittnSi  Dr  JosKsoif,  Mr  Palet,  and  Mr  Gisbohne,  &e. 


Itey. 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


3^3 


dcncy  of  everj  siction,  the  partfeular  and  general  oonse* 
qoences  «£  their  oondoet  woald  be  tbe  8Mne|  and  the 
gKateit  happiness  would  reanlt  from  it  of  which  k«- 
man  natnre  is  in  this  world  capable.  And  tberefcrc, 
since  it  is  only  through  the  perverseness  of  som&  person 
or  penoDS  concerned^  that  the  partteuiur  cofueptenees 
of  soy  action,  of  which  the  natural  tendency  is  to  pro- 
duoe  fnitery^  can  ever  bnng  happineee  to  a  single  iodi- 
Tiditft] ;  it  can  no  more  be  the  will  of  God  that  we  make 
these  occamnal  and  dietorted  conseqnences  the  rule  of 
our  coodact,  than  it  can  he  his  will  that  the  vicee  of 
other  men  should  be  the  basis  of  our  viriues^  Accord* 
bg  to  this  scheme  of  morals,  which  rests  all  obligation 
on  private  happioeas*  the  whole  difiercnoe  between  an 
act  oi  prudence  and  an  act  of  db^,  is  this :  Thai  in  the 
former  case  we  consider  only  what  we  shall  gain  or  lose 
in  this  world  \  in  the  latter,  what  we  shall  gain  or  lose 
in  the  world  to  come. 

AUhoogli  the  patrons  of  fbiB  theory  qnestion  the 
reality  of  the  moral  seosc  as  an  instinet,  they  uttow. that 
a  leiitimeiit  of  approbation  or  disapprobatsen  of  ac- 
tions, aoeording  as  they  are  virtaons  or  vicions,  is  ge* 
nerftted  by  the  associating  principle  (see  Ikstikct,  and 
MrrAPHTSics,  N^  97.)^  Md  that  this  sentiment,  thoo^ 
faetitioos,  operates  instan|aaeomily  as  if  it  wore  instinc- 
tive.  They  insist  that  oor  earliest  actions  are  the  re- 
snlt  of  imitailion  ;  that  when  we  fimt  begin  to  trace  con- 
seqaences,  education  and  the  desire  of  immediate  enjoy- 
ment are  oor  only  guides^  that  as  onr  mind  expands 
and  ear  knotHcdge  increases,  the  hopes  and  fears  of 
fatnrity  become  &  nmtivee^  and  the  will  of  God  the 
rttk  or  oor  conduct  \  and  that  long  fwactiee  in  vtrtoe, 
upon  these  principles,  produces  habits  by  whidt  we 
<ro  on  with  satisfaction  in  the  same  coarse,  without 
looking  forward  on  every  particnlar  occasion,  to  the 
ultimate  consequences  aad  first  motives  fif  oor  actions. 
Tbos  do  habits  of  justice,  benevolence,  clemency,  and 
moral  approbation,  spring  through  a  proper  course  of 
discipline,  out  of  the  selfish  principle  >  and  when  these 


habits  are  coto^etely  formed  and  ^eply  rooted,  man 
has  attained  the  utmost  perfection  di  which  kt  is 
capable  in  this  itate  of  probation,  and  is  .fitted  ibr 
another  of  retribution  and  iiaippinesa*  i^ 

That  these  philosophers  have  not  a  just  view  of  Im-  Deftctsaad 
man  imtore,  ^vlran  tJbey  deny  that  then;  «re  any  innate  o^ccUen^r 
principles  of  beaevolenoe  in  man,  wa  shall  eadeavonr^^*  *^* 
to  show  when  we  la|r  the  fbuadation  of  thai  theory 
which  we  think  deserves  to  he  prelielTed  to  all  others  ; 
but  we  fully  agree  with  a  candid  and  able  writer*,  who  *  Siruorf** 
seems  to  considisr  tbem  as  under  the  same  mistake,  *•*•  that  £/MwnCt  ^ 
their  theory  of  morals  has  no  tendency  to  weaken  the  ^^J^^lJ*^ 
foundations  of  virtae  ^  aad  that  by  the  acoocmt  whicl^  mT^^Jmii 
it  gives  of  the  lise  of  the  social  ameetions^  it  obviates  Mint, 
many  of  the  ai^^nsnents  wUsh  kad  formeHy  been  winged 
against  the  selhsh  system.**    Nay,  we  acruple  net  €0 
confess,  that  the  mode  of  investigation  which  it  en|phi|Fa 
in  all  eusee  to  discover  the  will  of  God,  may  in  some 
cases  be  neceasnryln  any  system  which  does  not  banish 
the  use  of  reason  from  Che  acience  of  ethicsi    On  this 
account,  as  well  as  uat  of  icapect  to  the  first  moralistf  x  j^aihIoii, 
of  the  age,  who  affirms,  that  "  it  must  be  embraced  by 
all  who  are  willing  to  know  why  they  act,  or  why  they 
forbear,  to  give  any  reason  of  their  conduct  to  them* 
selves  or  to  otliers,"  we  shall  apply  it  t(^  one  of  those 
cases  of  social  duty  which  Mr  Hume^s  principle  of  oti- 
lity  could  not  resolve*   Suck  an  excmsple  will  en^e  the 
mennest  of  our  readers  to  decide  between  the  merits  of 
it  and  of  the  tkeory  which  we  shall  adopt;  or,  as  we 
rather  hope,  it  will  show  them-  that  the  two  ^eories 
lead  to  the  same  practical  conolusions. 


Having  thus  given  onr  readers  a  short  view  of  the  most 
celebrated  systems  of  ethics  which  have  prevailed  firom 
tht  earliest  ages  of  the  world  to  the  present  day,  we  now 
proceed,  agreeably  to  our  definition  of  the  science^  to 
trace  man's  duty  from  his  nature  and  connexions,  and 
to  show  that  the  steady  practice  of  virtue  must  terminate 
in  his  ultimate  happiness. 


PART   I. 


Chap.  I.  Of  Mam  and  bu  Connexions. 

I\IAN  is  bom  a  weak,  hel|dess,  delicate  crea- 
tore,  unprovided  with  food,  clothing,  and  whatever 
else  n  necessary  for  subsistence  or  defence.  And  yet, 
exposed  as  the  mfant  is  to  numberless  wants  and  dan- 
gers, he  is  utterly  incapable  of  supplying  the  former^ 
or  securing  himself  against  the  l^ter.  But,  though 
thus  feeble  and  exposed,  he  finds  innnediate  and  sure 
resources  in  the  affectum  and  care  of  his  parents,  who 
reftse  no  labours,  and  forego  no  dangers,  to  nurse  and 
rear  up  die  tender  babe.  By  these  powerful  instincts, 
ns  by  some  mighty  chain,  does  nature  link  the  parent 
to  the  ehSd^  and  form  the  strangest  nmral  eonnenian 
on  his  part,  -before  the  child  has  the  least  apprehension 
of  it.  Hunger  and  thirsty  with  all  the  sensations  that 
accompany  or  are  connected  with  them,  explain  them- 
selves by  a  laamge  strongly  expressive,  and  irresbti- 
bly  moving.  As  the  several  senses  bring  in  notices 
and  informations  of  surrounding  objects,  we  may  per- 


ceive  in  t^  young  spectator  ^arly  signs  of  a  growing 
wonder  and  admiratitm.  Bright  objects  and  striking 
sounds  are  beheld  and  heard  with  a  sort  of  commotion 
and  surprise.  But,  without  resting  on  any,  he  eager- 
ly passes  on  from  object  to  object,  still  pleased  with 
whatever  is  newest.  Thus  the  love  of  n^veky  is 
formed,  and  the  passion  of  wonder  kept .  awake.  By 
degrp^  he  becomes  acquainted  with  the  most  familiar 
objects,  his  pareats,  his  hrethren,  and  those  of  ^e 
family  who  are  most  conversant  with  him.  He  con- 
tracts  a  Jondaess  for  themf  is  uneasy  when  they  are 
gone,  and  charmed  to  see  them  a|;ain.  The%o  feel- 
ings become  the  foundation  of  a  'moral  attachment  on 
his  side  ^  and  by  this  reciprocal  sympathy  he  forms  the 
domestic  aliisAcc  with  his  parents,  brethren,  and  other 
members  of  the  family.  Hence  be  becomes  interested 
in  their  concerns  1  and  feels  Joy  or  grief,  h-jpCf  or  fear ^ 
oti  their  account,  as  well  as  his  own.  As  his  affec- 
tions now  point  beyond  himself  to  others,  he  t^  deno- 
minated a  good  or  iU  creature,  as  he  stands  well  or  ill 
affected  to  them.   These,  then,  are  the  first  links  oi  the 

Z  z  2      ,  moral 


3^4 


niichOd- 
kood. 


MORAL    PH 

Of  Man    Moral  chain  ;  the  early  rndiinents,  or  oatlines,  of  hU   - 
tmd  bifi    character ;  his  first  rude  essays  towards  agency,  firee- 
dotn,  fnanhood.  ** 

When  he  begins  to  make  excursions  from  the  nur- 
sery, and  extends  his  ac4uaintance  abroad,  he  forms 
a  little  circle  of  companions,  engages  with  them  in 
play,  or  in  quest  of  adventuiies  ^  and  leads,  or  is  led 
by  them,  as  his  genius  is  more  or  less  aspiring.  Though 
this  ia  properly  the  season  in  which  appetite  and  pas- 
sum  have  the  ascendant^  yet  his  imagination  and  intel- 
iectual  powers  open  apace  ^  and  as  the  various  images 
of  things  pass  before  the  mental  eye,  he  forms  variety 
of  tastes  -J  relishes  some  things,  and  dislikes  otheis,  as 
his  parents,  companions,  and  a'  thonsand  other  circum- 
stances, lead  him  to  combine  agreeable  or  disagreeable 
sets  of  ideas,  or  represent  to  him  objects  in  alluring  or 
odious  lights. 

As  his  views  are  enlarged,  his  active  and  social 
powers  expand  themselves  in  proportion  ^  the  love  of 
action^  of  imitation^  and  of  praise^  emulation^  curiosity y 
docility y  a  passion  for  command^  SiA^L  fondness  ofclutnge. 
His  passions  are  quick,  variable,  and  pliant  to  every 
impression  ^  his  attachments  and  disgusts  quickly  suc- 
ceed each  other.  He  compares  things,  cQstingnishes 
actions,  judges  of  characters,  and  loves  or  hates  them, 
as  they  appear  well  or  ill  affected  to  himself,  or  to  those 
he  holds  dear.  Meanwhile  he  soon  grows  sensible  of 
the  consequences  of  his  own  actions,  as  they  attract  ap- 
plause, or  bring  contempt :  he  triumphs  in  the  former  \ 
and  is  ashamed  of  the  'latter,  wanb  to  hide  them,  and 
blushes  when  they  are  discovered.  By  means  of  these 
powers  he  becomes  a  fit  subject  of  culture,  the  moral 
tie  is  drawn  closer,  he  feels  that  he  is  accountable  for 
his  conduct  to  others  as  well  as  to  himself,  and  thus  is 
gradually  ripening  for  society  and  action. 

As  man  advances  from  ckHdhood  to  youth^  his  pas- 
sions as  well  as  perceptions  take  a  more  extensive 
range.  "New  senses  of  pleasure  invite  him  to  new 
pursuits  J  he  grows  sensible  to  the  attractions  of  beauty, 
feels  a  peculiar  sympathy  with  the  sex,  and  forms  a 
more  tender  kind  of  attachment  than  he  has  yet  expe- 
rienced. This  becomes  the  cement  of  a  new  moral 
relaiiony  and  gives  a  softer  turn  to  his  passions  and  be- 
haviour. In  this  turbulent  period  be  enters  more 
deeply  into  a  relish  of  fiiendshsp^  company^  exercises^ 
and  diversions;  the  love  of  truths  of  imitation^  and 
of  design^  grows  upon  him  ^  and  as  his  connexions 
'  apread  among  his  neighbours,  fellow  citizens,  and  coun- 

trymen, his  thirst  of  praise^  emulation^  ^nd  social  cf- 
fectums  grow  more  intense  and  active.     Meanwhile, 
it  is  impossible  for  himlo  have  lived  thus  long  without 
having  become  sensible  of  those  more  august  signatures 
of  order,  wisdom,  and  goodness,  which  are  stamped 
on  the  visible  creation  \  and  of  those  strong  suggestions 
within  himself  of  a  parent  mind,  the  source  of  all  in- 
telligence and  beauty  \  an  object  as  well  as  source  of 
•   that  activity,  and  those  aspirations  which  sometimes 
rouse  his  inmost  frame,  and  carry  him  out  of  himself 
to  an  almighty  and  all-governing  power :  Hence  arise 
those  sentiments  of  reverence^  and  those  affections  of 
gratitude^  resignation^  and  love^  which  link  ^he  soul 
with  the  Author  of  Nature,  and  form  that  most  sublime 
and  godlike  of  all  connexions, 
^inaa-        ^'*"  having  now  re*ached   his  prime,   either  new 
hood.         passions  succeed,  or  the  old  set  are  wound  up  to  a 


22 


His  yoath. 


ILOSOPHY.  Parti 

higher  pitch.     For,  growing  more  sensible  of  his  con-  of  M&i 
nexioBs  with  the  public, .  and  that  particular  comma-  tad  kit 
nity  to  which  he  more  immediately  belongs ;  and  tak-  ^^'  \ 
ing  withal  a  larger  prospect  of  hnmaa  life,  and  its  \^ 
various  wants  and  enjoyments ;  he  forms  moK  inti- 
mate friendship,  grasps  at  power,  courts  honour,  iajs 
down  cooler  plans  of  interest,  and  becomes  more  at- 
tentive to  the  concerns  of  society:  he  enters  into  fa- 
mily connexions,   and  indulges  those  charities  irbtch 
arise  from  thence.     The  reigning  paasions  of  this  pe- 
riod powerfully  prompt  him  to  provide  for  the  decays 
of  life :   and  in  it  compassion  and  gratitude  exert  tbeir 
infloence  in  urging  the  mail,  now  in  full  vigour,  to  re- 
quite the  affection  and  care  of  his  parents,  by  sopplj- 
ing  tbeir  wants  iiiiil  alleviating  their  infirmities. 

At  length  human  life  verges  downwards  j  and  o/</(Hdi^ 
Qge  creeps  on  i^oe,  with  its  anxiety ^  love  of  egse^  ta- 
terestednessjfearfulnessjforesighty  and  love  ^  off  spring, 
—■The  experience  of  the  aged  is  fonned  to  direct, 
and  their  coolness  to  temper,  the  heat  of  youth :  the 
former  teacJies  them  to  look  back  on  past  follies  \  and 
the  latter  to  look  forward  into  the  consequences  of 
things,  and  provide  against  the  worst.  Thus  every  age 
has  Its  peculiar  genius  and  set  of  passions  corresponding 
to  that  period,  and  most  conducive  to  the  prosperity  of 
the  rest.  And  thus  are  the  wants  of  one  period  sup- 
plied by  the  capacities  of  another,  and  the  wetdcnssset 
of  one  age  tally  to  the  passions  of  another. 

Besides  these,  there  are  other  passions  and  afiectioM^^^^^ 
of  a  less  ambulatory  nature,  not  peculiar  to  one  period, '^*^ 
but  belonging  to  every  age,  and  acting  mfyre  or  less  io 
every  breast  throughout  life.  Such  are  se^-love^  bene- 
volencCf  love  ofl^e^  honour ^  shame^  hope^  fcar^  desire^ 
aversion^  joy^  sorrow^  anger^  and  the  like.  The  two 
first  are  affections  of  a  cooler  strain  \  one  pointing  to 
the  good  of  the  individual,  the  other  to  that  of  the 
species :  joy  and  sorrow^  hope  and  foar^  seem  to  be 
only  modifications,  or  different  exertions,  6f  the  same 
original  affections  of  love  and  haired^  desire  and  avet- 
sion^  arising  from  the  different  circumstances  or  posi- 
tion of  the  object  desired  or  abhoired,  as  it  is  present 
or  absent.  From  these  likewise  arise  other  secondary 
or  occasional  passions,  which  depend,  as  to  their  exist- 
ence and  several  degrees,  upon  the  original  affections 
being  gratified  or  disappointed  \  as  anger^  complacttKe^ 
confidence^  jealousy ^  love^  hatred^  dejectiany  exultation, 
contentment^  disgust^  which  do  not  form  leading  pas- 
sions, but  rather  hold  of  them.  :i 

By  these  simple  but  powerful  springs,  whether  ^-^^^ 
nodical  or  jixedy  the  life  of  man,  weak  and  indigent  ^''^ 
as  he  is,  is  preserved  and  secured,  and  the  creature  is 
prompted  to  a  constant  round  of  action,  even  to  rap- 
ply  his  own  numerous  and  ever^retnming  watUs^  and        ' 
to  guard  against  the  various  dangers  and  evuEr  to  which         ^ 
he  is  obnoxious.     By  these  links  men  are  connected  • 
with  each  other,  formed  into  feroilies,  drawn  into  par- 
ticular communities,  and  all  united  as  by  a  common 
league  into  one  system  or  body,  whose  members  feel 
and  sympathise  one  with  another.     By  this  admirable 
adjustment  of  the  constitution  of  man  to  his  state^  and 
the  gradual  evolution  of  his  powers,   order  is  main- 
tained, society  upheld,  and  human  life  filled  with  that 
variety  of  passion  and  action  which  at  once  enliven 
and  diversify  it.  t^W 

This  is  a  short  sketch  of  ihtprinctj^  movement  ^t^f^ 

the 


JOOS 


48 


>lllfl7. 


artl.  MOBAL    PHILOSOPHY. 

f  Mm  tlie  bmiian  miod.     Yet  these  movenienU  are  not  the 

ind  iii«  wbde  of  man ;  tbej  impel  to  action,  bot  do  not  direct 

^^'  it :  the/  need  a  rtgulatmr  to  guide  their  motions,  to 
measore  and  apply  their  forces  \  and  accordingly  they 
liaTe  one  that  naturally  tuperintenda  and  directs  their 
action.  We  are  conscious  of  a  principle  within  us, 
nhich  eiaminesy  compares,  and  weighs  things  y  notes 
the  diSerences,  observes  the  forces,  and  foresees  the 
coo^ieqnences,  of  a6Sections  and  actions.  By  this  power 
we  look  back  on  past  times,  and  forward  into  futurity, 
gather  experiences,  estinute  the  real  and  compara- 
tive value  of  objects,  lay  out  schemes,  contrive  means 
to  execute  them,  and  settle  the  whole  order  and  eco- 
nomy of  life.  This  power  we  commonly  distinguish 
by  tlie  name  of  reaaon  or  reflection^  the  business  of 
which  is  not  to  suggest  any  original  notices  or  sen* 
sations,  bat  to  canvass,  range,  and  make  deductions 
from  them. 
AVe  are  intimately  conscious  of  another   principle 

trap,  within  us,  which  approves  of  certain  sentiments^ pas- 

ni?     iionSf  and  eictions^  and  disapproves  of  their  contraries. 

"""  Iq  cooaeqiience  of  the  decisions  of  this  inward  judge, 
we  denominate  soi|ie  actions  and  principles  of  conduct 
ry^ht^  honesty  good;  and  others  toroi^^  dishonesty  iii. 
The  former  excite  our  esteem^  moral  compiacence^  and 
offcctiMf  immediately  and  originally  of  themselves, 
without  regard  to  their  consequences,  and  whether 
they  affect  our  interest  or  not.  The  latter  do  as  natu- 
rally and  necessarily  call  forth  our  contempt^  scom^  and 
aversion.  That  power  by  which  we  perceive  this  dif- 
ference in  affections  and  actions,  and  feel  a  conse- 
quent relish  or  dislike,  is  commonly  called  conscience  or 
the  moral  sense. 

That  there  is  such  a  power  as  this  in  the  mind  of 
every  man  of  sound  understanding,  is  a  fact  which 
cannot  ho  controverted^  but  whether  it  be  an  instinc- 
tive power,  or  the  result  of  early  and  deep-rooted 
associations,  has  been  long  and  ably  debated.  The 
question  is  of  importance  in  the  science  of  human  na- 
ture, as  well  as  in  ascertaining  the  standard  of  practi- 
cal virtue  \  but  to  us  it  appears  that  the  contending 
parties  have  carried  their  respective  opinions  to  danger- 
ous extremes. 

When  it  is  affirmed,  as  it  sometimes  has  been,  that 
teason  has  nothing  to  do  in  ethical  science,  hut  that  in 
every  possible  situation  our  duty  is  pointed  out  and 
the  performance  of  it  enforced'  by  mere  sentiment,  the 
consequence  seems  to  be,  that  virtue  and  vice  are  no- 
thing permanent  in  themselves,  but  change  their  na- 
tare  according  to  local  circumstances.  Certain  it  is, 
that  sentiment  has  in  similar  situations  approved  of  veiy 

i^     different  practices  in  different  ages  and  different  na- 

tOeiiipitions.  At  present  this  sentiment  in  Europe  approves  of 

^>^     the  uoiveiiMd  practice  of  justice,  and  of  parents  protect- 

^f     iog  their  children,  whether  well  or  ill  formed,  whether 

KQo  strong  or  weak:  but  in  Sparta  we  know  that  theft, 
if  dexterously  practised;  was  approved,  and  not  unfre- 

A  qnentJj  rewarded  j  and  that  the  exposition  of  lame  and 
deformed  dutdren  vna  .  not  only  permitted,  bot  abso- 
lutely enjoined.  There  is  nothing  which  our  conscience 
or  moral  sense  condemns  with  greater  seventy,  or  views 
as  a  crime  of  a  deeper  dye,  than  children's  unkind 
treatmeiil  of  their  aged  parents  $  yet  there  are  savages, 
sinong  whom  instincts  of  all  kinds  ought  to  prevail  in 
greater  pnrity  than  in  civilized  aatlons,  whose  moral 


365 

sense  permits  them  to  put  their  aged  and  decrepid  pa-    Of  Man 
rents  to  death.     If  this  sense  be  iustinctive,  and  the    and  bis 
sole  judge  of  right  and  wrong,  how  comes  it  to  decide   Conaex- 
80  differently  on  the  same  line  of  conduct  in  different      '^"^ 
ages  and  distant  countries  P    Tlie  instinct  of  brutes,  in 
similar  circumstances,  prompt  uniformly  to  similar  ac- 
tions in  every  age  and  in  every  region  where  the  spe- 
cies is  found  'j  and  the  external  senses  of  man  afford 
in  all  nations  the  same  unvaried  evidence  concerning 
their  respective  objects.    To  these  observations  we  may 
add,  that  instincts  must  be  calculated  for  the  state  of 
nature,  whatever  that  state  may  be,  and  therefore  can- 
not be  supposed  capable  of  directing  our  steps  through 
all  the  labyrinths  of  polished  society,  in  which  duties 
are  to  be  performed  that  in  a  state  of  nature  would 
never  have  been  thought  of. 

But  though  for  these  reasons  it  is  apparent  that 
mere  sentiment,  whether  •  called  conscience  or  the  mo- 
ral sense,  would  alone  be  a  very  unsafe  guide  to  virtue 
in  every  individual  case  that  may  occur,  we  think  that 
those  who  resolve  all  such  sentiment  into  habit  and. 
the  effect  of  education,  without  giving  any  part  of  it 
to  nature,  advance  an  opinion  which  is  equally  ill- 
founded  and  not  less  dangerous.  There  are,  indeed, 
men  who  affirm  that  all  benevolence  is  hypocrisy, 
friendship  a  cheat,  public  spirit  a  farce,  fidelity  a  snare 
to  procure  trust  and  confidence  ^  and  that  while  all  of 
us  at  bottom  pursue  only  our  private  interest,  we  wear 
those  fair  disguises,  in  order  to  put  those  off  their 
guard  with  whom  we  have  to  deal,  and  to  expose 
them  the  more  to  our  wiles  and  machinations.  Others 
again,  too  virtuous  to  accuse  themselves  and  all  man- 
kind of  direct  knavery,  yet  insist,  that  whatever  affec- 
tion one  may  feel,  or»  imagine  he  feels,  for  others,  no 
passion  is  or  can  be  disinterested  \  that  the  most  gene- 
rous friendship,  however  sincere,  is  only  a  modification- 
of  self-love ;  and  that  even  unknown  to  ourselves  we 
seek  only  our  own  gratification,  while  we  appear  the 
most  deeply  engaged  in  schemes  for  the  liberty  and  hap- 
piness of  mankind. 

Surely  the  mildest  of  these  representations  is  an 
exaggerated  picture  of  the  selfishness  of  man.  Self- 
love  IS  indeed  a  very  powerful  as  well  as  an  essential 
principle  in  human  nature;  but  that  we  have  likewise 
an  instinctive  principle  of  benevolence,  which,  without 
any  particular  regard  to  our  own  interest,  makes  us  feel 
pleasure  in  the  happiness  of  other  men,  is  a  &ct  which 
we  think  admits  of  very  complete  proof*  For,  at  Mr 
Hume  well  argues,  **  when  a  man  grieves  for  a  firiend 
who  could  be  of  no  service  to  him,  bot  on  the  contrary 
stood  in  need  of  his  constant  patronage  nnd  protec- 
tion, how  is  it  possible  to  suppose  that  such  passionate 
tenderness  arises  firem  self-interest,  which  has  no  30 
foundation  in  nature  ?  What  interest  (asks  the  sameEnuained, 
deep  thinker)  can  a  fond  mother  have  in  i4ew,  who*''^  shows 
loses  her  health  by  her  assidnoos  attendance  on  her  sick 
child,  and  afterwards  languishes  and  dies  of  grief  when 
freed  by  its  death  firem  the  slavery  of  attendance  ?*- 
Have '  we  no  satisfadtion  (continues  he)  in  one  man's 
company  ahove  another's,  and  no  desire  of  the  welfare 
of  our  friend,  even  though  absence  or  death  should 
prevent  us  from  all  participation  in  it  ?  Or  what  is 
it  commonly  that  gives  us  any  participation  in  it,  even 
while  alive  and  present,  but  ouf  affecticAi  and  regard  to 
him  PV     Nor  is  it  to  contemporaries  and  individuals 

alone. 


3 


66 


OfMftB 

■ml  his 

Connez- 

reot. 


to  on£i* 

IIAte  lA  the 

objector's 
misUkiAf 
tlieeiteBt 
of  those 
powtn; 


ftlone,  tlmt,  tiiclepefiHcnt  of  all  interest,  we  feel  a  bene- 
volent attachment*  We  constantly  bestow  praise  on 
actions  calculated  to  promote  the  good  of  manktnily 
thoDgh  performed  in  ages  very  distant  and  in  countries 
most  remote ;  and  fae  who  was  the  author  of  such  ac- 
tions is  the  object  of  our  esteem  and  lUFection.  There 
is  not  perhaps  a  Aum  atiTO,  faowevser  selfish  in  bis  dispo- 
sition, who  OSes  not  applaiid  the  sentiment  of  that  en* 
peror,  who  recoliefting  at  supper  that  he  had  done 
nothing  in  that  day  for  any  one*  exclaimed  with  regret^ 
that  the  day  liad  been  lost !  yet  the  ntmost  subtility  of 
imagination  can  discover  no  appearance  of  interest  that 
we  can  have  in  the  generosity  of  Ttif^,  or  find  any  con- 
neaion  of  our  piesent  happiness  with  a  character  remo- 
ved  so  far  from  us  both  in  time  and  in  place.  But,  as 
Mr  Hume  justly  observes,  if  we  even  feign  a  character 
consisting  of  all  the  most  |eneroas  and  beneficent  oaali- 
ties,  and  gire  instances  in  which  these  display  them- 
selves, after  an  eminent  and  most  extraordinary  manner, 
fin:  the  good  of  mankind,  we  shall  instantly  engage  the 
esteem  and  approbation  of  all  our  audience,  who  will 
never  so  much  as  inquire  in  what  age  or  comitry  the  ac- 
coinplisbed  person  lived. 

These  are  facts  which  cannot  ba  controverted }  and 
they  are  wholly  nnmoeountaUe,  if  there  be  not  in  hu- 
man nature  an  instinctive  sentiment  of  benevolence  or 
sympathy  wbtch  feels  a  disinterested  pleasure  in  the 
happiness  of  mankind.  Bnt  an  end  in  which  we  feel 
pleasure  we  are  naturally  prompted  to  pursue  j  and 
therefore  the  same  sentiment  impels  every  man,  with 
greater  or  less  force,  to  promote  the  happiness  of  other 
men,  which  by  means  of  it  becomes  in  reality  liis  own 
good,  and  is  afterwards  porsoed  from  the  combined 
motives  of  benevolence  and  self^njoyment.  For  in 
obeying  tbis  sentiment  we  all  feel  an  inward  compiaeencfy 
scf/-approbationf  or  consciousness  of  ^vorih^  or  merit ; 
and  m  disobeying  it,  which  cannot  be  done  but  with 
reluctance,  we  feel  remorse^  or  a  consciousness  of  cifi- 
worth'ness  or  demerit.  It  appears,  however,  from  his- 
tory, that  the  sentiment,  as  it  is  instinctive,  points  only 
to  the  good  of  mankind,  without  informing  ns  how 
that  good  is  to  be  promoted.  The  means  proper  for 
this  purpose  must  be  discovered  by  reason  j  and  when 
they  are  brought  into  view,  this  sentiment ^  cofisciefKt^  or 
mora!  nmff ,  instantly  shows  us  that  it  is  our  duty  to 
jnuYue  tbem.  / 

Hence  we  see  how  diCerent  lines  of  conduct  may  in 
similar  circumstances  be  approved  of  as  viituoos  in  dif- 
ferent nations.  When  the  Spartan  exposed  his  sickly 
and  deformed  child,  and  when  the  savage  put  his  aged 
parents  to  death,  neither  of  them  erred  from  want  of 
sentiment,  or  from  having  sentiments  originally  differ- 
ent from  ours.  Their  errors  resulted  from  a  delect  in 
rrasoning.  They  both  imagined  that  they  were  obey- 
ing the  law  of  benevolence  by  preventing  misery :  for 
a  weak  and  deformed  person  was  very  ill  qualified  to 
exist  with  any  degree  of  comfort  under  the  military 
constitution  of  Sparta,  where  all  were  soldiers,  and 
under  the  necessity  of  endnring  the  greatest  hard- 
ships }  and  in  a  state  where  the  pei^le  have  no  fixed 
habitations,  and  where  the  chase  supplies  even  the  ne- 
cessaries of  life,  an  aged  and  infirm  person  is  in  danger 
of  perishing  through  hunger,  by  one  of  the  cfoellcst 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY.  Parti 

and  most  lingering  of  deaths.  The  tbefk  aUowtd  in  or  Ma 
Sparta,  if  theft  it  may  bo  called,  was  a  still  lem  devia*  tsJUi 
tion  fiom  the  instinctive  law  of  bencvoleace.    Bo^  *^'' 


were  taught  to  slip  as  cunningly  as  they  could  into  the 
gardens  and  public  balls,  in  mier  to  steal  away  heihs 
or  meat^  and  if  they  were  caught  in  the  fiict,  they  vers 
paniehed  for  their  want  of  &xterity.  This  kind  ^ 
theft,  since  it  was  authorized  by  the  law  and  the  csn- 
sent  of  the  citizens,  was  no  robbery ;  and  the  intfntisn 
of  the  legislator  in  allowing  it,  was  to  inspire  the  8p»- 
tan  youth,  who  were  all  designed  for  war,  with  the 
greater  boldness,  subtlety,  and  address ;  to  inure  them 
betimes  ,to  the  life  of  a  soldier  ;  and  to  teach  then  t§ 
shift  for  themselves,  and  to  live  upon  little.  That  the 
Spartan  legislator  did  wrong  in  giving  liia  conntrymea 
a.  constitntioui  of  which  successful  war  was'  the  ulti* 
mate  object  j  and  that  savages,  rather  than  kill  their 
aged  parents,  or  suffer  them  to  die  of  hunger,  ought 
to  cultivate  the  ground,  and  abandon  tbe  chase  j  is 
readily  granted :  but  the  faults  of  the  one  as  well  ss 
of  the  other  arose  not  from  any  improper  decision  of 
the  moral  sense,  but  frwn  a  defect  in  thear  rcasoniag 
powers,  which  were  not  able  to  estimate  tlw  advantages 
and  disadvantages  of  different  modes  of  life.  In  meni 
decisions,  therefore,  conecience  and  reason  are  aiding 
to  each  other.  The  fimner  princi^e,  when  acpaiatsd 
from  the  latter,  is  defective,  enjoining  only  the  good  of 
mankind,  bnt  unable  to  point  out  the  nieana  by  i^ich  it 
can  be  most  effectually  promoted ;  and  the  latter  prin- 
ciple, when  separated  from  the  former,  only  directs  a 
man  to  do  what  is  most  prudent,  but  cannot  give  him  a 
conception  of  duty.  ., 

These  two  powers  of  reason  and  conscience  are  evi-wMM 
dently  principles  different  in  nature  and  kind  fium  the^ifc«>[|j 
passions  and  affections.  For  the  passions  are  >>cro^/ir«r22[^ 
or /HMeer^  hiind  impyUee^  acting  violently  and  with«it|^p^ 
choice,  and.  ultimately  tending  each  to  their  respective  mm  ul 
objects,  without  regard  to  the  interest  of  the  otheis,ifeti«k 
or  of  the  whole  system.  Whereas  the  dsreetinr  sad 
judging  powers  distinguish  and  ascertain  the  diffcrsnt 
forces,  mutual  proportions  and  relations,  which  the 
passions  bear  to  each  other,  and  to  the  whole  \  recog- 
nize their  several  degrees  of  merit,  and  judge  of  the 
wbole  temper  and  conduct,  as  tliey  respect  either  the 
individual  or  the  species  \  and  are  capable  of  directing 
or  restraining  the  blind  impulses  of  passion  in  a  doe 
consistency  one  with  the  other,  and  a  regular  suboidi* 
nation  to  the  whole  system.  jj 

This  is  some  account  of  the  constituent  mnmciples  sfSiihe^ 
our  nature,  whicJi,  according  to  their  different  auz-^'^ 
tures,  degrees,  and  proportions,  mould  our  chaiader*"'^ 
and  sway  our  conduct  in  life.     In  reviewing  that  brge 
train  of  affections  which  fill  up  the  different  stages  sf 
human  life,  we  perceive  this  obvious  distinction  aoisng 
them  *j  that  some  of  t(em  respect  the  good  of  the  m» 
dividiuedy  and  others  carry  lu  beyond  ourselves  to  the 
good  of  the  species  ot  kind.   The  former  have  thnttm 
been  called  private^  and  the  latter /MfMr  aiectioos.  Of 
the  first  sort  are  hoe  ofHfe^  of  pfeasure^  of  power^  and 
the  like.    Of  the  last  are  compassion^  gratitude^  friend* 
shipfnatmraiiificHm^  moi  the  Ukt,  Of  the/nwoDrpi* 
sions  (o),  some  respect  merely  the  seeuritf  and  dmnee^ 
of  the  creature,  such  as  resentmemi  and  fiari  nhereis 

ochnrs 


*(d)  Here  wo  use  passions  and  affections  without  distinction.    Tbeir  difference  will  he  marked  afterwards. 


moss. 
ifateor 


flMUU. 


)f  Moral  otbeiv  aim  at  some  jpoffVu^radvattUge  or  goody  as  tiiea^^, 
digatioD.  eax^fame.    The  former  sort,  therefore,  because  of  this 
difference  of  objects,  may  be  termed  drfensive  passions. 
These  answer  to  oar  dangers^  and  prompt  us  to  avoid 
them  if  we  can,  or  boldly  to  encounter  them  ivhen  we 
esDnot* 
The  other  e1a«8  of  private  passions,  which  parsue 
pttititc  private  positive  good,  may  be  called  appetitive.     How- 
ever, we  shall  still  retain  the  name  of  private  in  con- 
tradistinction to  the  definsive  passions.     Man  has  a 
great  variety  of  wants  to  sapply,  and  is  capable  of 
many  enjoyments,  according  to  the  several  iieriods  of 
his  life,  and  the  different  situations  in  which  he  is  pla- 
ced. To  these  therefore  a  suitable  train  o^  private  pas^ 
sms  correspond,  which  engage  him  iii  the  pursuit  of 
whatever  i^  necessary  for  his  subsistence  or  welfare. 
Uk  pas-     0\xTpt/btic  or  social  affections  are  adapted  to  the  sc- 
^       veral  social  connexions  and  relations  which  we  bear  to 
others,  by  making  us  sensible  of  their  dangers,  and  in- 
teresting us  in  their  ivants,  and  so  prompting  us  to  se- 
cure them  against  one  and  supply  the  other. 

This  is  tli6  first  step  then  to  discover  the  duty  and 
destination  of  man,  the  having  analyzed  the  principles 
of  which  he  is  composed.  It  is  necessary,  in  the  next 
place,  to  consider  in  what  order^  proportion^  and  mea-^ 
sure,  of  those  inward  principles,  virtue^  or  a  sound  mo- 
ral temper  and  right  conduct,  consists  ^  that  we  may 
discover  xthietkce  moral  obligation  arises. 


;5 


37 


MS. 


3« 

MR  of 


Chap.  IL  Of  Duty,  or  Moeal  Obligation. 

It  is  by  the  end  or  design  of  any  power  or  movement 
that  we  roost  direct  its  motions,  and  estimate  the  iteree 
of  for(%  necessary  to  its  just  action.  If  it  want  the  force 
requisite  for  the  obtaining  its  end,  we  reckon  it  defec- 
tive -,  if  it  has  too  much,  so  as  to  be  carried  beyond  it, 
we  say  it  is  overcharged  ;  and  in  eitlier  case  it  is  in»- 
perlect  an^  ill  contrived.  If  it  has  just  enough-  to 
reach  the  scope,  we  esteem  it  right  and  as  it  should  be. 
Let  us  apply  this  reasoning  to  the  passions, 
llie  defence  and  security  of  the  individoa)  being  the 
^»-  aim  of  the  defensive  passions^  that  security  and  defence 
^  must  be  the  meamtre  of  tlieir  strength  or  indulgence.  If 
they  are  so  weak  as  to  prove  insnfBcient  for  that  end^ 
or  if  they  carry  w  beyond it^  i.  e.  raise  unnecessary  com- 
motions, or  jcontinne  longer  than  is  needfnl,  they  are 
anfit  to  answer  their  original  design,  and  therefore  are 
ia  an  unsound  and  nnnatuml  state.  The  exercise  of 
fiwr  ot  of  resentment  baa  nothing  desirable  in  it,  nor 
dm  we  give  way  to  either  without  painful  sensationsr 
Withoat  a  certain  degree  of  them,  we  are  naked  and 
exposed.  With  too  high  a  proportion  of  them,  we 
are  miaeraUe,  and  often  injurious  to  ottters.  Thus 
cowardice  or  timidity ^  which  is  the  excess  of  fear,  in- 
stead of  saving  ns  in  danger,  'gives  it  too  fbrmtdable  an 
appewranoe,  makes  us  incapable  of  attending  to*  tbe 
best  means  of  preservation,  and  disarms  us  of  conragCy 
our  natiml  anneur.  Fsol  Aardiness^  which  is  the  want 
of  a  doe  measure  otfear,  leads  nt  heedlessly  into  dan- 
^,  and  kiUa  no  intna  peniicioas  aecorrty.  Bevenge^ 
i<  e.  excessive  reseniMeni^  by  tbe  violence  of  nta  coorai^ 
tioB,  robs  us  of  ihtil  presence  of  mind  whtck  is  often  the 
best  gaard  against  injury,  and  incKnes  ns  to  pursue  the 
sggr^essar  with  mere  severity  thfut'Self-defeiice  requires. 
Pusillanimity^  or  the  want  of  a  just  indignation  against 


MORAL   PHILOSOPHY.  367 

wrong,  leaves  us  quite  unguairded,  and  teniU  to  sink  Qf  Mora! 
the  mind  into  a  passive  enervated  tameness.     There-  ObMgation. 
fore,  "  to  keep  the  defensive  passions  duly  propor-      ~^   ' 
tioned  to  our  dangers,  is  their  natural  pitch  and  te- 

The  private  passions  lead  us  to  pursue  somt  positive  ^t^vmt  of 
species  of  private  good  :  that  godi  therefore  which  is*^«  private 
the  object  and  end  of  each  must  be  tbe  measure  of  their  ^**'"*"*" 
respective  force,  and  direct  their  operation.     If  they 
are  too  weak  or  sluggish  to  engage  us  in  the  pursuit  of 
their  several  objects,  they  are  evidently  deficient;  but 
*f  they  defeat  their  end  by  their  impetuosity^  then  are 
they  strained  beyond  the  just  tone  of  nature.     Thus 
tmnify^  or  an  excessive  passion  for  applause^  betrays  int© 
such  meannesses  and  little  arts  of  popularity,  as  make 
ns  forfeit  the  honour  we  so  anxiously  court.     On  the. 
other  hand,  a  total  indifference  about  the  esteem  of  man- 
kindy  removes  a  strong  guard  and  spur  to  virtue,  and 
lays  the  mind  open  to  the  most  abandoned  prosecutions. 
Therefore,  •*  to  keep  our  private  passions  awl  desires 
proportioned  to  our  tvantSy  is  the  just  measure  and 
pitch  of  this  class  of  affections.** 

The  defensive  and  private  pasnons  do  all  agree  in  CompLre- 
general,  m  their  tendency  or  conduciveness  to  tke  in-  tive  forccL-. 
terest  or  good  of  •the  individual.  Thereibrc,  when 
there  is  a  collision  of  interest,  as  may  sometimes  hap*- 
pen,  that  aggregate  of  good  or  happiness^  which  is  com- 
posed of  the  particular  goods  to  which  they  respec- 
tively tend,  must  be  tbe  common  standard  by  which 
their  comparative  degrees  of  strength  are  to  be  measured : 
that  is  to  say,  if  any  of  them,  in  the  degree  in  which 
they  prevail,  are  incompatihle  with  the  greatest  aggre- 
gate of  good  or  most  extensive  interest  of  the  indivi- 
dual, then  are  they  unequal  and  disproportionate.  For 
in  judging  of  a  particular  system  or  cpnstitution'otpovrers^ 
we  call  that  the  sttpreme  or  pnnciped  end,  in  which  the 
aims  of  the  several  parts  or  powers  coincide,  and  to 
which  they  are  subordinate  j  and  reckon  them  iir  due 
proportion  to  each  other,  and  right  with  regard  to  the 
whole,  when  they  maintain  that  subordination  ot  sub* 
8cr>'iency.  Therefore,  •*  to  proportiou  our  defensive 
and  private  passions  in  such  measure  to  our  .dangers 
and  wants  as  best  to  secure  the  individual,  and  obtain- 
the  greatest  aggregate  of  private  good  or  happiness,  is 
their  just, balance  or  comparative  standard  in  case  of 
competition.**  ^  ^i^. 

In  like  manner  as  the  public  or  social  affections  poiiil  Measure  of 
at  the  good  of  others,  that  good  must  be  the  raeasore  the  puWic 
of  their  force.     When  a  particular  social  affection,  aso^ctiouu  , 
gratitudcy  w^friendship^  which  belongs  to  a  particular 
social  connexion  y  viz,  that  of  a  benefactor ^  or  of  vifriendy 
is  too  feeble  to  make  us  act  the  grateful  ot friendly  part, 
that  afit?ction,  being  insufficient  to  answer  its  en<^,  is 
defective  and  unsound.     If  on  the  other  hand,  a  parti* 
cular  passion  of  this  class  counteract  or  defeat  the  inte-' 
rest'  it  is  designed  to  promote,,  by  itar  violence  or  dis- 
proportion, then  is  that  passion  excessive  an<l  irregular. 
Thus  natural  ajfection^i^t  d^enerates  into  %  passionate 
fondness,  not  only  hinders  the  paients  from  jtidging  ^ 
cpo%  of  the  interest  of  their  offspring,   but   often- 
leads  them  into  a  most  partial  and  pernicioas  indul- 
gence. A  2 

As  every  kind  afiection  points  at  the  good  of  its  ColUden  of 
paittcnhu:  object,  it  is  possible  there  may  sometimes  be  social  aiEia^ 
a  coUiaioD  of  interests  or  goods.    Thi^.the  regaxsd  due^®"^ 

to-. 


3^8 


Of  Moral 
Obligtttion 


,^3 
BaJftBcf  of 


44 
limits  of 

private  af- 

fectioot. 


MORAL  PH 

i6  ^friend  may  tnUrfere  with  that  which  we  owe  to 
a  community.  In  stich  a  competkioD  of  ioterests,  it  is 
evident  that  the  greatest  is  to  be  chosen  \  and  that  ia 
the  greatest  interest  which  contains  the  greatest  sum  or 
aggregate  of  public  good,  greatest  in  quantity  as  well  as 
duration.  This  then  is  the  common  standard  by  which 
the  respective  forces  and  subordinations  of  the  social 
affections  roust  be  adjusted.  Therefore  we  conclude' 
that  **  this  class  of  dlections  are  sound  and  regular 
when  they  prtimpt  us  to  pursue  the  interest  of  indivi" 
duals  in  an  entire  consistency  with  the  public  good;*^  or 
in  other  words,  *^  when  they  are  dniy  proportioned 
to  the  dangers  and  tvanis  of  others,  and  to  the  va- 
rious reUUums  in  wliich  we  stand  to  individuals  or  to 
soeiety*^^ 

Thus  we  have  fonnd,  bv  an  indooUon  of  particulars 
the  natural  pitch  or  tenor  of  the  dijffcfxnt  orders  ofaffec* 
tion^  ooaaideied  apart  by  themselves.  Now,  as  the  v/r- 
tue  or  perfection  of  every  creature  lies  in  following  its 
nature,  or  acting  suitably  to  the  just  proportion  and 
harmony  of  its  several  powers  \  therefore,  **  the  vir- 
tue of  a  creature  endowed  with  such  affections  as  metn 
must  consbt  in  observing  or  acting  agreeably  to  their 
natural  pitch  and  tenor  J* 

But  as  there  are  no  independent  affections  in  the 
fabric  of  the  mind,  no  passion  that  stands  by  itself 
without  some  relation  to  die  rest,  we  cannot  pronounce 
of  any  one,  considered  apart,  that  it  is  either  too  strong 
or  too  fifeak.  Its  strength  and  just  proportion  must  be 
measured  not  only  by  its  subserviency  to  its  own  im- 
mediate end,  but  by  the  respect  it  bears  to  the  whole 
system  of  affections,  Tlierefore  we  say  a  passion  is  too 
strongs  not  only  when  it  defeats  its  own  end,  but  when 
it  impairs  the  force  of  other  passions,  which  are  equally 
necessary  to  form  a  temper  of  mind  suited  to  a  certain 
economy  or  state  ,*  and  too  weak,  not  merely  on  account 
of  its  insufficiency  to  answer  its  end,  but  because  it 
cannot  sustain  its  part  or  office  in.  the  balance  of  the 
whole  system.  Thus  the  hve  of  life  may  be  foo  strong 
when  it  takes  from  the  regard  due  to  one's  country^ 
and  will  not  allow  one  bravely  to  encounter  dangers, 
or  even  death,  on  its  account.  Again,  The  hve  tf 
fame  may  be  too  weak  when  it  throws  down  the 
fences  which  render  virtue  more  secure,  or  weakens 
the  incentives  which  make  it  more  active  and  public 
spirited. 

If  it  be  asked,  ^  How  hi  may  the  aflSsctions  towards 
private  good  or  happiness  be  indulged  P**  One  limit 
was  before  fixed  for  the  particular  indulgence  of  each, 
viz.  their  subordination  to  the  common  amregate  of 
good  to  the  private  system.  In  these  thermre  a  due 
regard  is  always  supposed  to  be  had  to  healthy  reputa^ 
tion^ fortune^  mt freedom  of  action^  the  unimpaired  exer- 
cise of  reason^  tlie  calm  enjoyment  of  one^s  self,  which 
are  idl  private  goods.  Another  limit  now  results  from 
the  balance  of  affection  just  named,  viz.  **  The  security 
and  happiness  of  others  }^  or,  to  express  it  more  gene- 
rally, **  a  private  affection  may  be  safely  indulged^ 
wlien,  by  that  indulgence,  we  do  not  violate  the  obli- 
gations which  result  from  our  higher  relations  or  public 
connexions.^*  A  just  respect  therefore  being  had  to 
these  boundaries  i!^ch  nature  has  fixed  in  the  breast 
of  every  man,  what  should  limit  our  pursuits  of  private 
happiness  ?  Is  nature  sullen  and  penurious  f  or,  does 

3 


ILOSOPHY.  Pkitl 

the   God  of  nature  envy  the  happiness  of  Us  ot  nfv^ 
spring  ?  OViptti^ 

Whether  there  is  ever  a  real  collision  of  interests  ^"""v**' 
between  the  public  and  private  system  of  affections,  Vp  .^^^ 
the  ends  which  each  class  has  in  view,  will  be  A^er-inQai^ 
wards  considered  ;    but   where  there  is  no  collision, 
there  is  little  or  no  danger  of  carr^-ing  either,  bat 
especially  the  public  affections,  to  excess,  provided  both 
kinds  are  kept  subordinate  to  a  discreet  and  cool  self- 
love,  and  tu  a  calm  and  univ(.rsiil  benevolence,  which 
principles  stand  as  guards  at  the  head  of  each  system.       ^ 

This  then  is  the  conduct  of  the  passions,  considered  ftnot 
as  particular  and  separate  forces,  carrying  us  out  to 
their  respective  ends  ;  and  this  is  their  balance  or  eco- 
nomy, considered  as  compound  powers,  or  powers  ma- 
tually  related,  acting  in  conjunction  towards  a  common 
end,  and  consequently  as  forming  a  system  or  trhole*         4; 

Now,  whatever  adjusts  or  maintains  this  balanee,^^^'^ 
whatever  in  tlie  human  constitution  is  formed  for  <&*"*  ^ 
reeling  the  passions  so  as  to  keep  them  from  defeating' 
their  own  end  or  interfering  with  each  other,  must  be 
a  principle  of  a  superior  nature  to  them,  and  ought  to 
direct  their  measures  and  govern  their  proportions. 
But  it  was  found  that  reason  or  reflection  is  such  a 
principle,  which  points  out  the  tendency  of  our  pas- 
sions, weighs  their  influence  upon  private  and  public 
happiness,  and  shows  the  best  means  of  attaining  either. 
It  having  been  likewise  found  that  there  is  another 
directing  or  controlling  principle,  which  we  call  cox- 
SCIENCE  or  the  moral  sense,  which,  by  a  native  kmd 
of  authority,  judges  of  affections  and  actions,  pronoun- 
cing some  just  and  good,  and  others  unjust  and  ili^  it 
follows,  that  the  passions,  which  are  mere  impuLie  or 
blind  forces,  are  ^nciples  inferior  and  subordinate  to 
this  judging  facultyv  Therefore,  if  we  would  follow 
the  order  of  nature,  i.  e.  observe  the  mutual  respects 
and  the  subordination  which  the  dificient  parts  of  the 
human  constitution  bear  one  to  another,  the  passaow 
oi^t  to  be  subjected  to  the  direction  and  authority  of 
the  leading  or  controlling  principles.  ^i 

We  conclude,  there&re,  from  this  indmctum,  that  Is  ^^ 
the  constitution  or  just  economy  of  human  mature  con-^ 
sLsts  in  a  regular  subordination  o(  the  passions  and  afftC" 
tions  to  the  authority  of  conscience  and  the  directsom  of 


reason^ 


That  subordination  is  regular,  when  the  proportioRCMsiii^ 
formerly  mentioned  is  maintained  i  that  is  to  say,"!^* 
**  when  the  drfensive  passions  are  kept  proportiooed^*^ 
to  our  dangers  ;  when  the  private  passions  are  propw- 
tiooed  to  our  wants;  and  when  the  public  allectioas 
are  adapted  to  our  public  connexions,  and  propoctioBed 
to  the  wants  and  dangers  of  others.^  p 

But  the  natural  state,  or  the  sound  and  tf^goroms 
stitutiom  of  any  creature,  or  the  just  evonetmy  at  its' 
powers,  we  call  its  health  wadperfectiom;  and  the  actisg' 
agreeably  to  these,  its  virtue  or  goodness.  TTierefaie, 
**  the  heatlh  and  perfection  of  man  must  lie  in  the 
aforesmd  supremacy  of  conscience  and  rmsMi,  and  in  the 
subordination  of  the  passions  to  their  authority  and  di^ 
rectum* ,  And  his  virtue  ot  goodness  most  oondst  ia  act- 
ing agreeably  to  that  order  or  eco^omy^ 

That  such  an  ornament  of  the  mind,  and  so^  aWv< 


conduct  of  its  powers  and  passions,  will  stand  the  ^^^^|^ 
of  reasosi,  cannot  admit  of  any  dispute.    For,  i^sa  a^ 

Cur 


5' 


Parti.  MORAL    P 

Dfjfonl  ^  examinaitioli  tato  the  consequences  of  things,  or 
Uigitjon.  the  relations  and  aptitudes  of  tneatts  to  ends^  reastm  tvi* 
dently  demonstnUes,  and  experience  confirms  it,  that, 
^  to  have  our  defensive  passions  duly  proportioned  to 
our  dangers^  is  the  surest  way  to  avoid  or  get  clear  of 
tbem,  and  obtain  the  security  we  seek  after.-^lH>  pro- 
portion our  private  passions  to  our  wants^  is  the  hest 
means  to  supply  them  j«— and,  to  adapt  oar  public  of' 
fections  to  our  soda/  reiations^  and  the  good  of  others,  is 
the  most  effectual  method  of  fulfilling  the  one,  and  pro- 
curing the  9therJ^'^  In  this  sense,  therefore,  virtue  may 
be  said  to  be  a  *^  conduct  confmnahle  to  reason^'*  as  rea- 
son discovers  an  apparent  aptitude^  in  such  an  order  and 
ecQwmuf  of  powers  and  passions,  to  answer  the  end  for 
vbicb  they  are  naturallu  formed. 

If  the  idea  of  f»ofWoM;giei^ib;i  is  to  be  deduced  mere- 

tvtoia^Iy  froin  this  aptitude  or  connesum  between  certain  pas- 
iMu     sions,  or  a  certain  order  and  balance  of  passions  and 
'th^  certain  ends  obtained  or  to  be  obtained  by  them,  then 
^  ^is  reason  or  reflection^  which  perceives  that  aptitude  or 
l^p^  ooDoexion,  the  proper  judge  of  moral  oMigation ;  and 
on  tfaiii  supposition  it  may  be  defined,   as  hath  lieen 
done. by  some,  the  connexion  between  the  affection  and 
tbe  end^  or,  which  is  the  same  Uiiog,  between  the  ac- 
tum and  the  motive;  for  the  end  is  the  motive  or  the 
jimdcoMue^  and  the  ajfection  is  the  action^  or  its  imme- 
diate natiml  cause.      A  man,  from  mere  self-love, 
may  be  induced  to  fulfil  that  obligation  which  Is  found- 
ed on  the  connexioB  between  the  defensive  passions  and 
their  ends^  or  the  private  passions  and  their  ends  ;  he- 
caase  in  that  case  his  own  interest  will  prompt  him  to 
indnlge  them  in  the  due  proportion  required.     But  if 
he  has  no  affections  which  point  beyond  himself,  no 
principle  hai^tf-hve^  or  some  subtle  noodification  of  it, 
what  shall  interest  him  in  the  happineifs  of  others, 
where  there  is  no  connexion  between  it  and  his  own  f 
or  what  sense  can  he  have  of  moral  obligation  to  pro- 
mote it  ?  Upon  this  scheme,  therefore,  without  public 
or  social  affection,  there  could  be  no  motive^  and  con- 
sequently no  moral  obligation,  to  «  beneficent  disinte- 
rested conduct. 

But  if  tbe  mere  connexion  between  certain  passions 

or  a  certain  order  of  passions,  and  certain  ends,  is 

what  cooetitules  or  gives  us  the  idea  of  moro/ oA/f|ra- 

tion^  then  why  may  not  the  appositeaess  of  aoy  temper 

or  conduct,  saf ,  of  any  piece  of  fBaohipery,  to  obtain 

its  end,  form  an  eqndiy  strict  moral  obligation^  for  the 

connexion  and  aptitude  are  as  strong  and  invariable  in 

the  latter  iootanees  as  in  the  former.     But  as  this  is 

conibnndiag  tiie  atost  obvious  diffexenees  of  things,  we 

must  trace  tbe  idea  of  moral  obli^oltion  to  another  and  a 

more  natuml  source. 

fit       I/et  lis  appeal,  therefore,  to  oor  inmost  sense  and^ 

tpe-  experience,  **  how  we  stand  affected  to  tliose  different* 

sets  of  faooioos,  in  the  ysmX,  measure  and  baJsLnce  of 

which  wte  fi»nnd  a  right  temper  to  consist.^*  For  this  is. 

entirely  a  avitter  of  experience,  in  which  we  must  ex*- 

amine,  as  io  any  other  natural  inquiry,  '*  a!hat  are  tbe 

geauine  icelin^i  nod  operations  of  nature,  and  wbat  af<- 

Sections  or  ^ymptomo  of  them  appear  iu  the  fi?e>n  in*- 

staaoe.'* 

le       The  dafentsivie  passions,  as  wiger  and  fear^  give  us 

«   rather  pain  tban  pteaanre,  yet  we  cannot  help  feeling 

'     them  when  pKoveked  by  injury,  or  exposed  to  harm: 

We  aeeo»m  the  creature  impci^ct  tbot  wanU  tbf»i» 

Vox.  XIV.  Part^. 


HILOSOPHY. 


369 


because  they  are  necessary  to  his  defence.     Nay,  we  Of  Moral 
should  in  some  measure  condemn  ourselves,  did  we  ObUgatian. 
want  the  necessary  degree  of  resentment  and  caution.        ' 
But  if  our  resetitment  exceeds  the  wrong  received,  or 
oor  caution  the  evil  dreaded,  we  then  blame  ourselves 
for   having  overacted   our    part.      Therefore,    while 
we  are  in  danger,  to  be  totally  destitute  of  them,  wc 
reckon  a  blameable  defect^  and  to  feel  tbem  in  a  just, 
i.  e.  necessary  measure,  we  approve^  as  saited  to  the 
nature  and  condition  of  such  a  creature  as  man.     But 
our  security  obtained,  to  continue  to  indulge  them,  we 
not  only  disapprove  as  hurtful^  but  condemns  unmanly^ 
unbecomiTtg  and  mean-spirited :  Nor  will  such  a  conduct 
afford  any  self-approving  joy  when  we  ooolly  reflect 
upon  it. 

With  regard  to  the  private  passions,  such  as  love  ofvinxy  the 
l^e^  pleasure^  ease^  and  the  like,  as  these  aim  at  prl-  priTate. 
vate  good,  and  are  necessary  to  the  perfection  and 
happiness  of  tbe  individual,  we  should  reckon  any 
creature  defective^  and  even  blameable^  that  was  desti- 
tute of  them.  Thus,  we  condemn  the  man  who  impru- 
dently ruins  his  fortune,  impairs  bis  health,  or  exposes 
his  life  \  we  not  only  pity  him  as  an  unfortunate  crea> 
ture,  but  feel  a  kind  of  moral  indignation  and  contempt 
of  him,  for  having  made  himself  such.  On  the  other 
hand,  though  a  discreet  self-regard  does  not  attract  our 
esteem  and  veneration,  yet  we  approve  of  it  in  some 
degree,  in  a  higher  and  different  degree  from  what 
we  would  regard  a  well-contrived  machine,  as  necessary 
to  constitute  a  finished  creature,  nay,  to  complete  the 
virtuous  character,  as  exactly  suited  to  oor  present  in- 
digent state.  The^  are  some  passions  respecting  pri- 
vate good,  towards  which  we  feel  higher  degrees  of 
approbation,  as  the  love  ofknowledgej  ot  action^  of  ho- 
nour^  and  the  like.  We  esteem  them  as  marks  of  an 
ingenious  mind ;  and  cannot  help  thinking  the  charac- 
ter in  which  they  are  wanting  remarkably  stupid,  and 
in  some  degree  immoral.  ^ 

With  regard  to  the  social  affections,  as  compassion^  wby  the 
natural  affection^friendshipf  benevolence^  and  the  like,  public. 
we  approve,  admire,  and  love  them  in  ourselves,  and, 
in  all  in  whom  we  discover  them,  with  an  esteem  and 
approbation,  if  not  different  in  kind,  yet  surely  far  su- 
perior  in  degree,  to  what  we  feel  towards  the  other  pas- 
sions. These  we  reckon  necessary,  just,  and  excellent- 
ly fitted  to  our  structure  and  state  j  and  the  creature 
which  wants  them  we  call  defective,  ill-constituted,  a 
kind  of  abortion.  But  the  public  affections  we  esteem 
as  self- worthy,  oiigioally  and  eternally  amiable. 

But  among  the  social  affections  we  make  an  obvious  Distinction 
and  constant  distinction,  viz.  between  those  particular  between 
passions  which  ui*ge  us  with  a  sudden  violence^  and  u^  vehement 
easy  kind  of  sensadoui  to  pursue  the  good  of  their  re-^"^  ^^^ 
spective  objects,  as  /iiVir,  natural  affection^  and  th^  like  ^ 
and  those  calm  dispassionate  affections  and  desires  which 
prompt  us  more  steadily  and  uniformly  to  promote  th^ 
happiness  of  others.    The  former  we  generally  call  pas- 
^ibiM,  to  distinguish  them  from  the  other  ^rt,  which  go 
iUore  commonly  by  tbe  name  of  ajfections^  or  c€Um  de- 
sires,    Tbe  first  kind  we  Approve  indeed,  and  delight 
in  t  but  we  feel  still'  higher  degrees  of  approbation  and 
mor^  complaeence  towards  the  last^  and  towards  all  li- 
a^latita  of  the  particular  instincts,  by  the  principle  of 
universal  benevolence^    The  more  objects  the  calm  af- 
fections talge  in,  and  the  i^rthier  these  arcy  their  dig^ 
t  3  A  ni^ 


affectionf. 


'".•70 


Of  Moral 
Obtigatioa. 


MORAL    PHILOSOPHY. 


nity  ii\see  in  proportion,  and  with  this  oar  approbation 
keeps  an  exact  pace.  A  character,  on  the  other  hand, 
which  is  quite  divested  of  these  public  affections,  which 
feels  no  love  for  the  species,  but  instead  of  it  entertains 
malice,  rancour,  and  ill  will,  we  reckon  totally  immo- 
ral and  unnatural. 

Such  then  are  the  sentiments  and  dispositions  we  feel 
when  these  several  orders  of  affections  pass  before  the 
mentaheye. 

Therefore^  **  that  state  in  which  we  feel  ourselves 
noved,  m  the  manner  above  described^  towards  those 
affections  and  passions,  as  they  come  under  the  mind'tf 
review,  and  in  which  we  are,  instantaoeonsly  and  inde- 
pendently of  our  choice  or  volition,  prompted  to  a  cor- 
respondent  conduct,  we  call  a  state  of  moml  obligation^* 
Let  us  -suppose,  for  instance,  a  parent,  a  friend,  a  be- 
nefactor, reduced  to  a  condition  of  th^  utmost  indigence 
and  distress,  and  that  it  is  in  our  power  to  give  them 
immediate  relief. '  To  what  conduct  are  we  obliged  9 
what  duty  does  nature  dictate  and  require  in  such  a 
^    Attend  to  nature,  and  nature  will  tell,  with  a 


PartL 


case 


Moral  obli 
gation* 


59- 

MoraL 


do 

M«ial  ao» 
tieagood 
an^lMd. 


voic6  irresistibly  audible  and  commanding  to  tlie  human 
hearty  with  an  authority  which  no  man  can  silence  with- 
out  being  self-condemned,  and  which  no  man  can  elude 
but  at  his  peril,  **  that  immediate  relief  aught  to  be 
given.'*  Again,  Let  a  friend,  a  neighbour,  or  even  a 
stranger,  have  lodged  a  deposite  in  our  hands,  and  after 
some  time  reclaim  it ;  no  sooner  do  these  ideas  of  the 
confidence  reposed  in  us,  and  of  property  not  transfer- 
red^ but  deposited^  occur,  than  we  immediately  and  un- 
avoidably feel  and  recognize  the  obligation  to  restore  it. 
In  both  these  cases  we'should  condemn  and  even  loathe 
ourselves  if  we  acted  otherwise,  as  having  done,  jor 
omitted  doing,  what  we  aught  not,  as  having  acted  be- 
neath the  dignity  of  our  nature  \ — contrary  to  our  most 
intimate  sense  of  right  and  wrong ; — we  should  accuse 
ourselves  as  guilty  of  ingratitude,  injustice,  and  inhu- 
manity,—and  be  conscious  of  deserving  the  censure,  and 
therefore  dread  the  resentment,  of  alt  rational  beings. — 
But  in  complying  with  the  obligation^  we  feel  joy  and 
self-approbation^— -are  conscious  of  an  inviolable  har- 
mony between  our  nature  and  duty,  and  think  ourselves 
entitled  to  the  applause  of  every  impartial  spectator  of 
our  conduct. 

To  describe^  therefore,  what  we  eannot  perhaps  di> 
fine  J  a  state  of  moral  Migatim  is  '*  that  state  ih  which 
a  creature,  endued  with  such  senses,  powers,,  and  af- 
fections as  man,  would  condenm  himself,  and  think 
he  deserved  the  condemnation  of  all  others,  should 
he  refuse'  to  fufil  it  \  but  would  approve  himself,  and 
expect  the*  approbation  ol  all.  others,  upon  complying 
with  it.'* 

And  we  call  him  a  MORAL  agent,  who  is  in  such  a 
state^  or  is  subject  to  moral  obligation.  Therefore,  as 
man'6  structure  and  connexions  often  subject  him  to  such- 
a  state  of  moral  ohUgation^  we  conclude  that  he  is  a  mo-^ 
ral  agent,  Bnt  as  man  may  sometimes  act  without 
knowing  what  he  does,  as  in  cases  oiJrenTsiy  or  disease^ 
or  in  many  natural  Junctions ;  or,  knowing  what  he 
dbes,  he-  may  act  without  choice  or  affection^  as  in  cases 
of  necessity  or  compulsion  ;  therefore,  to-  denominate  an 
action  moral^  i.  e.  approveablcj  or  hlameable^  it  must  be 
done  knowingly  and  willingly ^  wjrom  affection  and 
choice.  **  A  morally  good  action^  then,  is  to  iiilfil  a 
moral  obligoHon  knowingly  and  willingly.*'     And  a. 


morally  bad  action^  or  an  immoral  action^  is,  *'  to  luh  OflW 
late  a  moral  obligation  knowingly  and  willingly:''        oytgnai. 

As  not  an  action^  bnt  a  series  of  actions^  constitute  s*     ^"^ 
character i  as  not  an  affection^  but  a  series  rfoffectms^^J^. 
constitute  a  temper ;  and  as  we  denominate  things  bjncurMi 
the  gnsss,  k  fortiori^  or  by  the  qualities  which  chiefly  tcaps 
prevail  in  them  \  therefore  we  call  that  a  ^*  mondlygood^^ 
character^  in  which  a  series  (f  moraUy  good  actums  pK»^ 
vail ;"  and  that  a  **  morally  good  temper^  in  which  a 
series  of  morally  good  affections  have  the  ascendant" 
A  bad  character  and  bad  temper  are  the  reverse.    Bot 
where  the  above-mentioned  order  or  proportion  of  pas- 
sions is  maintained,  there  a  series  of  moitdkf  good  o^- 
tions  and  actions  will  prevail.    Therefore^  **  to  maintain 
that  order  and  proportion,  is  to  have  a  morally  good 
temper  and  character.'**    But  a  **  morally  good  temper 
and  character  is  moral  rectitude^  integrity^  virtue^  or 
the  completion  of  duty**  , 

If  it  be  asked,  after  all,  **  how  we  come  by  the  idetHviric 
**  0^  moral  obl^atum  or  duty?**  we  may  answer,  Tbttcoaeif 
we  come  by  it  in  the  same  way  as  by  our  other  originai^^^ 
SLtid  primary  perceptions.  We  receive  them  all  Irem"^ 
nature,  or  the  great  Author  of  nature.  For  this  idet^^ 
of  moral  obligation  -is  not  a  creature  of  the  mind,  or  de* 
pendent  on  any  previous  act  of  volition  }  bot  arises  on 
certain  occasions,  or  when  certain  other  ideas  are  pre- 
sented to  the  mind,  as  necessarily,  instantaneously,  and 
unavoidably,  as  pain  does  upon  too  near  an  approach  ts 
the  fire,  or  pleasure  from  the  fruition  of  any  good.  It 
does  not,  for  instance,  depend^  on  pur  choice,  whether 
we  shall  feel  the  obligation  to  succour  a  distressed  parent, 
or  to  restore  a  deposite  intrusted  to  us  when  it  is  recal- 
led. We  cannot  call  this  a  compound  idea  made  op  of 
one  or  more  simple  ideas.  We  may  indeed,  nay  we 
must,  have  some  ideas  antecedent  to  it,  e.  c.  thai  of  a 
parent  in  distress— -of  a  child— able  to  relieve— of  the 
relation  of  one  to  the  other-— of  a  trust— -of  right.  Sec 
But  none  of  these  ideas  constitute  the  perception  of 
obligation.  This  is  an  idea  ^ uite  distinct  from,  and 
sonbething  superadded  tO|  the  ideas  of  the  coirelatives, 
or  the  relation  subsisting  between  them.  These  indeed^ 
by  a  law  of  our  nature,  are  the  occasion  of  soggestbg 
it ;  but  they  are  as  totally  different  from  it  as  colomt 
are  from  sounds.  By  sense  of  reflection  we  perceive  the 
correlatives  V  onr*memory  rocals-the  fiivonrs  or  deposite 
We  received  \  the  variovs  circumstances  of  the  case  aie 
"matters  of  fact  or  experience  \  but  some  delicate  inwiid 
organ  or  power ^  or  csM  it  what  we  please,  does,  by  a 
certain  instantaneous  sympathy,  antecedent  to  the  cool 
deductions  of  reason,  and  independent  of  previoas  in» 
struotion,  or  volition,  perceive  the  moral  harmony^  the 
livings  irresistible  charms  of  moral  obUgatmmf  which 
immediately  interests  the  correspondent  passions,  and 
prompts  us  to  fulfil  its  lawful  dictates.  ^^ 

We  need*  not  apprehend  any  danger  from  the-^oick^ncvt^l 
ness  of  its  decisions,  nor  be  frightened  becanse  it  looksmas* 
like  instinct^  and  has  been  cidled  so.     Wonld  we  ap"**"^^ 
prove  one  for  deliberating  long,  or  reasoning  the  ma^ 
ter  much  at  leisure,  whether  he  should  reheve  a  dif> 
tressed  parent^  feed  a  starving  nmgfaboor,  or  resldn 
the  trust  committed  to  him  P  should  we  not  sospect 
the  reasoner  of  knaveiy,  or  of  very  weak  aflfectisns  to 
Virtue  ?  We  employ  reason,  and  worthily  empkiy  it^ 
in  examining  the  condition,  relations,  and  other  dr> 
ciunstaBCca  of  the  agent  nr  fOticDt,  or  of  tkoia  mA 


<4 


hrtL  MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 

Of  P^fcep-  vikom  either  of  tfaem  ftre  cennected,  or,  in  other  words, 

lira  and   the  state  of  the  case :  and  in  complicated  cases,  where 

,^*^'*^**"°' ,  the  circamstaDGes  are  many,  it  may  require  no  small 
attention  to  find  the  true  state  of  the  case  ;  but  when 
the  relaticms  of  the  agent  or  patient,  and  the  circum- 
stances of  the  action  are  obvious,  or  come  out  such 
after  a  fair  trial,  we  should  scarcely  approve  him  who 
demurs  on  the  obligation  to  that  conduct  which  the  case 
suggests. 

from  what  has  been  said,  it  is  evident,  that  it  is  not 
the  pleasure  or  agreeable  sensations,  which  accompany 
the  exercise  of  the  several  aflfections,  nor  those  con- 
sequent to  the  actions,  that  constitute  moral  obliga^ 
tdOfij  or  excite  in  us  the  idea  of  it.  That  pleasure  is 
posterior  to  the  idea  of  obligation  }  and  frequently  we 
are  obliged,  and  acknowledge  ourselves  under  an  obli- 
gation, to  such  affections  and  actions  as  are  attended 
with  pain  ;  as  in  the  trials  of  virtue,  where  we  are  obli- 
ged to  sacrifice  private  to  public  good, .  or  a  present 
pleasure  to  a  future  interest.  We  have  pleasure  in  serv- 
ing an  aged  parent,  but  it  is  neither  the  perception  nor 
prospect  of  that  pleasure,  which  gives  us  the  idea  of  ob- 
ligation to  that  conduct. 


Bottbe 
of  Ob 


Chap.  III.  The  Final  Cataes  of  our  moral  Faculties 
9/* Perception  and  Affection. 

Wx  have  now  taken  a  general  prospect  of  man  and 
of  hb  moral  powers  and  connexions^  and  on  these  erect- 
ed a  scheme  of  duiy  or  moral  obligation^  which  seems 
to  be  confirmed  by  esperience^  consonant  to  reason^  and 
mpproved.  by  his  most  inward  and  most  sacred  senses*  It 
may  be  proper,  in  the'next  place,  to  take  a  more  par- 
ticular view  of  the  final  causes  of  those  delicate  springs 
hy  which  he  is  impelled  to  action,  and  of  those  clogs  by 
which  he  is  restrained  from  it.  By  this  detail  we  shall 
be  able  to  judge  of  their  aptitude  to  answer  their  end, 
in  a  creature  endued  with  his  capeuities^  subject  to  his 
^wants^  exposed  to  his  dangers^  and  susceptible  of  his 
enjoyments  ;  and  from  thence  we  shall  be  in  a  condition 
to  pronounce  concerning  the  end  of  his  whole  structure^ 
its  harmony  with  its  state^  and  consequently  its  subservi- 
ency to  answer  the  great  and  benevolent  intentions  of 
its  Author. 

The  supreme  Being  has  seen  fit  to  blend  in  the  whole 
ton  J  of  of  things  a  prodigious  variety  of  discordant  and  contra- 
S^fc?***"  'y  principles,  l^ht  and  darkness^  pleasure  and  pain^ 
good  and  evU,  There  are  multifarious  natures,  higher 
and  lower ^  and  many  intermediate  ones  between  the 
wide-distant  extremes.  These  are  differently  situated, 
▼arion^y  adjusted,  and  subjected  to  each  other,  and 
all  of  them  subordinate  to  the  order  and  j>er&ction 
of  the  whole.  We  may  suppose  man  placed  as  iu  a 
centre  amidst  those  innumerable  orders  of  beings,  by 
his  outward  frame  drawing  to  the  material  system,  and 
hy  his  inward  connected  with  the  iNTELLfCTUAL  or 
morale  and  of  course  affected  by  Abe  laws  which  go- 
vern both,  or  affected  by  that  good  and  that  ill  which 
result  from  those  laws.  In  this  infinite  variety  of  rc/o- 
tions  with  which  he  is  surrounded,  and  of  contingencies 
to  which  he  is  liable,  he  feels  strong  attrajctions  to 
the  good^  and  violent  repulsions  or  aversions  to  the  ill^ 
Bat  an  good  and. ill  are  often  blended,  and  wonder- 
fully com  plicated  otie  with  tlie  other ;  as  they  some- 
times immediateiy  produce  apd  run  up  into  each  other^ 


66 


371 

and  at  other  times  lie  at  great  disUnces,  yet  by  means  orPcrccp. 
of  intervening   links   introduce  one  another ;   and  as    tion  and 
these  effects  are  often  brought  about  in  consequence  of  Aflcctmu.^ 
hidden  relations  and  general   laws,   of  tlie  energy  of        *« 
which  he  is  an  incompetent  judge  \  it  is  easy  for  him 
to  mistake  good  for  evilj  and  ivil  for  goody  and  con- 
sequently   he   may   be    frequently   attracted   by   such 
things  as  are  destructive  or  repel  such  as  are  ssdutary. 
Thus,    by    the    tender   and  complicated  frame  of  hiai 
body,  he  is  subjected  to  a  great  variety  of  ills,  to  sick^ 
nesSj  coldj  heat^fatigucj  and  innumerable  wants.     Yet 
his  knowledge  is  so  narrow  withal,  and  bis  reason  so 
weak,  that  in  nuiny  cases  he  cannot  judge,  in  the  way 
of  investigation    or  reasoning,  of  the   connexions  of     ■> 
those  effects  with   their  respective   causes,  or  of  the 
various  latent  energies  of  natural  tilings.    He  is  there- 
fore  informed   of  this   connexion   by  the   experience 
of  certain  senses  or  organs  oi  perception^  which  by  a 
mechanical  instantaneous  motion,  feel   the  good  and 
the  f?/,  receiving  pleasure  from  one^  and  pain  from  the 
other.     By  these,  without  any  reasoning,  he  is  taught 
to  attract  or  choose  what  tends  to  his  welfare,  and  to 
repel   and   avoid   what  tends  to  his  ruin.     Tlius,  by 
his  senses  of  t<iste  and  smeUy  or  by  the  pleasure  he  re- 
ceives  from  certain  kinds  of  food,  he  is  admonished 
which  agree  with  his  constitution  ^  and  by  an  oppo- 
site sense  of  pain  he  is  informed  which  sort  disagree, 
or  are  destructive  of  it ;  but  is  not  by  means  of  this 
instructed  in  the  inward  natures  and  constitutions  of 
things.  ^^ 

Some  of  those  senses  are  armed  with  strong  degrees  Use  of  ap- 
of  uneasiness  or  painy  in  order  to  urge  him  to  seek  after  petites  aad 
such  objects  as  are  suited  to  them.      And   these  re-P""*®"** 
spect  his  more  immediate  and  pressing  wants  i  as  the 
sense  of  hunger^  thirsty  cold^  and  the  like  \  which,  hy 
their  painful   importunities,    compel   him   to   provide 
foodj  drinJcj  raiment^  shelter.  Those  instincts  by  which 
we  are  thus  prompted  with  some  kind  of  commotion 
or  violence  to  attract  and  pursue  good^  or  to  repel  and 
avoid  iV7,  we  call  appetites  and  passions.    By  our  senses 
then  we  are  informed  of  what  is  good  or  ill  to  iht  pri' 
vote  system^  or  tlie  individual;  and  by  out  private  appC" 
titcs  and  passions  we  are  impelled  to  one,  and  restrained 
from  the  other.  ^g 


In  consequence  of  Uits  machinery,  and  the  great  Man*f 
train  of  wants  to  which  our  nature  subjects  us,  we  are  ward  state, 
engaged  in  a  continued  series  of  occupations,  which 
often  require  much  application  of  thooglit,  or  great 
bodily  labour,  or  both.  The  necessaries  of  life,  food, 
clothes,  shelter,  and  the  like,  must  be  provided  ;  con* 
veniencies  must  be  acquired  to  render  life  still  more 
easy  and  comfortable.  In  order  to  obtain  these,  arts, 
industry,  manufactures,  and  trade  are  necessary.  And 
to  secure  to  us  the  peaceable  enjoyment  of  their  firuitsi, 
civil  government,  policy,  and  laws,  must  be  contrived, 
and  the  various  business  of  public  life  carried  on :  thus, 
while  man  is  concerned  and  busied  in. making  pro  vision^ 
or  obtaining  security  for  himself,  lie  is  hy  degrees  en- 
gaged in  connexions  with  a  family,  friends,  neighbours, 
a  community,  or  a  commonwealth*  Hence  arise  new 
wants,  new  interests,  new  cares^  and  new  employments. 
Xhe  passions  of  one  man  interfere  with  those  of  another* 
Interests  are  ^opposed.  Competitions  arise,  contrary 
courses  are  taken.  Disappointments  happen,  distinc- 
tions are  made^  and  parties  formed.    Tuis  opens  a  vast 

3  A  2  scene 


327 


Of  Pcrccp- 

lioii  anit 

Affection. 


69 

Prorisiona 
for  it. 


70 
By  public 
senses  and 
pasuoBf. 


7« 


Pity. 


7« 
Congratu- 
lation* 


73 
ReHcnt- 

ment. 


74 
Public  af- 
fections. 


MORAL    PH 

scene  of  distraction  and  embarrassment,  and  introduces 
a  miglity  trtiin  of  good  and  ill,  both  pnblic  and  private. 
Yet  amidst  all  this  confusion  and  hurry,  plans  of  action 
must  be  laid,  consequences  foreseen  or  guarded  against, 
inconveniences  provided  for ;  and  frequently  particular 
resolutions  must  be  taken,  and  scbemes  executed,  with- 
out reasoning  or  delay. 

Now  what  provision  has  the  Author  of  our  nature 
made  for  this  necessitous  condition  ?  how  has  he  fitted 
the  actor,  man,  for  playing  his  part  in  this  perplexed 
and  busy  scene  P 

Oar  supreme  Parent,  watchful  for  the  whole,  has  not 
left  himself  without  a  witness  here  neither,  and  hath 
made  nothing  imperfect,  but  all  things  are  double  one 
against  the  other.  He  has  not  left  man  to  be  informed, 
only  by  the  cool  notices  of  reason,  of  the  gtfod  or  fY/, 
the  happiness  or  misery  of  his  fellow  creatures.-^-He  has 
made  him  sensible  of  their  good  and  bappiness,  but  es- 
pecially of  their  ill  and  misery,  by  an  immediate  sym- 
pathy, or  quicky^/fVi/B'  of  pleasure  and  oi  pain* 

The  latter  we  call  pity  or  compassion.  For  the 
former,  though  every  one,  who  is  not  quite  divested  of 
humanity,  feels  it  in  some  degree,  we  have  not  got  a 
name,  unless  we  call  it  congratulation  or  jotjiful 
SYMPATHY,  or  that  good  fmmour  yfhich  arises  on  seeing 
others  pleased  or  happy.  Both  these  feeHngs  have  been 
called  in  general  the  public  or  common  sense,  xsini 
fcm^uavnif  by  which  we  feel  for  others,  and  are  interest- 
ed in  their  concerns  as  really,  thongli  perhaps  less  sen* 
sibly,  than  in  our  own. 

'  When  we  see  our  fellow  creatures  unhappy  through 
the  fault  or  injury  of  others,  we  feel  resentment  or  i n- 
dignation  against  the  unjust  causers  of  that  misery. — If 
we  are  conscious  that  it  has  happened  through  our  fault 
or  injurious  conduct,  we  feel  shame ;  apd  both  these 
classes  of  senses  and  passioTiS^  regarding  misery  and 
wrongs  are  armed  with  such  sharp  sensations  ofpatn^  as 
not  only  prove  a  powerful  guard  and  security  to  the 
species^  or  pubb'c  system^  against  those  ills  it  may,  hut 
serve  also  to  lessen  or  remove  those  ills  it  does,  suffer. 
Compassion  draws  us  out  of  ourselves  to  bear  a  part  of 
the  misfortunes  of  others,  powerfully  solicits  us  in  their 
favour,  melts  us  at  the  sight,  of  their  distress,  and 
makes  us  in  some  degree  unhappy  till  they  are  relieved 
from  it.  It  is  peculiarly  well  adapted  to  the  condition 
of  human  life,  because  it  is  much  more  and  oftener  in 
our  power  to  do  mischief  than  good,  and  to  prevent  or 
lessen  misery  than  to  communicate  positive  happiness ; 
and  therefore  it  is  an  admirable  restraint  upon  the 
more  selfish  passions,  or  those  violent  impnlsea  that 
carry  us  to  the  hurt  of  others. 

Ihere  are  other  particular  instincts  or  passions  yvhlch 
interest  us  in  the  concerns  of  others,  even  while  we 
are  most  busy  about  our  own,  and  which  are  strongly 
attractive  of  good^  and  repulsive  of  ill  to  them.  Sucn 
are  naturarajffection^Jriendship,  love^  gratitude^  desire 
of  fnme^  love  of  society^  of  one^s  country^  and  others 
that  might  be  named.  Now  as  the  private  appetites 
and  passions  were  found  to  be  armed  with  strong  sen- 
sations of  desire  and  uneasiness,  t»  prompt  roan  the 
more  effectually  to  sustain  labours,  and  to  encountei 
dangers  in  pursuit  of  those  goods  that  are  necessary  to 
the  preservation  and  welfare  of  the  individual,  and  to 
avoid  those  ills  which  tend  to  his  destruction ;  in  like 
manner  it  was  necessary,  that  this  other  class  of  desires 


Parti 


d  affections  should  be  prompted  with  as  quick  ses"  o(  i^t^. 
ions  of  pain,  not  only  to  counteract  the  strength  of  lioi  i7 


7S 


ILOSOPHY. 

and 

sations  of  pain,  not  only  to  counteract  the  strength 
theit  antagonists,  but  to  engage  us  in  a  virtuous  acti-  A^Ntin. 
vity  for  our  relations,  families,  friends,  neighboars, ' 
country.  Indeed  our  sense  of  right  and  wrong  will  ad- 
monish  us  that  it  is  our  duiy^  and  rea9on  and  experience 
farther  assure  us  that  it  is  both  oor  interest  and  best 
security^  to  promote  the  happiness  of  others  j  but  that 
sensej  that  rea^n,  and  that  exper^nce^  would  firequent- 
ly  prove  but  weak  and  ineffectual  prompters  to  such 
a  conduct,  especially  in  cases  of  danger  and  haitU 
ship,  and  amidst  all  the  importunities  of  natnre,  and 
that  constant  hurry  in  which  the  private  passions  in- 
volve us,  without  the  aid  of  those  particular  kind  affec- 
tions which  mark  out  to  us  particular  spheres  of  duty, 
and  with  an  agreeable  violence  engage  and  fix  us  down 
to  them. 

It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  those  two  classes  of  CoMntv 
affection,  the  private  and  public^  are  set  one  against  the  ^*^^ 
other,  and  deigned  to  controul  and  limit  each  other*8'"'*' 
influence,   and  thereby  to  produce  a  just  balance  in 
the  whole*.      In  general,   the  violent  sensations  oftinuu. 
pain  and  uneasiness  which  accompany  hunger,  thirst,  cAnm't 
and  the  other  private  appetites,  or  too  great  fatigue  ^"""^^ 
of  mind  as  well  as  of  body,   prevent  the  individual ^^J^ 
from  running  to  great  excesses  in  the  exercise  of  the ,,  ( 3. 
higher  functions  of  the  mind,  as  too  intense  thought 
in  the  search  of  truth,  violent  apjriication  to  business 
of  any  kind,  and  different  degrees  of  romantic  heroism. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  finer  senses  of  perception^  and 
those  generous  desires  and  ajffhciions  which  are  connec- 
ted  with   them,  the  love  of  action^  of  imitaiion^  of 
/Ttf/A,  honour  J  public  virtue^  and  the  like,  are  wisely 
placed  in   the  opposite  scale,  in  order  to  prevent  us 
from  sinking  into  the  dregs  of  the  animal  life,  and  de- 
basing the  dignity  of  man  below  the  condition  of  brutes. 
So  that,    by  the  mutual   reaction   of  those  opposite 
powers,  the  bad  effects  are  prevented  that  would  nato- 
rally  result  from  their  acting  singly  and  apart,  and  the 
good  effects  are  produced  which  each  are  severally  form- 
ed to  produce.  .$ 

The  same  wholesome  oppositicm  appears  likewise  inCoBtnit< 
the  particular   counter-workings   of  the  private  aad^^kicctf 
public  affections  one  against  the  other.     Thus  ^^^^"^P"*'^^^ 
sion  is  adapted  to  counterpoise  the  love  ofeoK^  ^ifieor^^^ 
surcy  and  of  Z^,  and  to  disarm  or  to  set  bounds  to  rr- 
sentment;  and  resentment  of  injury  done  to  ourselves,, 
or  to  our  friends  who  are  dearer  than  ourselves,  pre- 
vents an  effeminate  compassion  or  constematMmj  aad 
gives  us  a  noble  contempt  of  labour,  pain,  and  death. 
Natural  affection^  friendships  lave  ofone^s  country,  nay 
%eal  for  any  particular  virtue,   are  frequently  wort 
than  a  match  for  the  whole  train  of  selfish  passions.         * 
— On  the  other  hand,    without   that   intimate  over- 
ruling  passion  of  selfhve^  and  those  private  desires 
which  are  connected  with  it,  the  social  and  tender  im- 
stincts  of  the  human  heart  would  degenerate  into  the 
wildest  dotage,  the  most  torturing  anxiety,  and  dowB- 
right  frenzy.  77 

But  not  only  are  the  different  orders  or  olasses  afCflsmn 
affection  checks  one  upon  another,  but  passions  of  thc^^y^ 
same  classes  are  mutual  clogs.     Thus,  bow  nianyare^^p 
withheld  from  ^e  violent  outrages  of  resentment  bj^ 
fear !  and  how  easily  is  fear  controlled  in  its  tnm, 
while  mighty  wrongs  awaken  almighty  reMentment! 

The 


Purt  I. 

or  Pen:«p.Tbe/)riu)/tf  passions  often  interfere,  and  therefore  nio- 
tioQ  and  derate  the  violence  of  each  other  'y  and  a  calm  self- 
^^ction.^  ^^^  £g  placed  at  their  head,  to  direct,  influence,  and 
controol  their  particular  attractions  and  repulsions. 
The  puldic  affections  likewise  restrain  one  another  ^ 
and  all  of  them  are  put  under  Uie  controul  of  a  calm 
dispassionate  benevolence^  whicn  ought  in  like  manner 
to  direct  and  limit  their  particular  motions.  Thus 
most  part,  if  not  all  the  passions,  have  a  twofold  aspect, 
and  serve  a  twofold  end.  In  otie  view  they  may  be 
considered  as  pmvers^  impelling  mankind  to  a  certain 
course,  with  9,  Jhrce  proportioned  to  the  apptehended 
moment  of  the  good  they  aim  at.  In  another  view  they 
appear  as  weights^  balancing  the  action  of  the  powers^ 
and  controlling  the  violence  of  their  impulses.  By 
means  of  these  powers  and  weights  a  natural  poise  is 
settled  in  the  human  breast  by  its  all-wise  Author,  by 
which  the  creature  is  kept  tolerably  steady  and  regular 
in  his  course,  amidst  that  variety  of  stages  through 
which  he  must  pass. 

But  this  is  not  all  the  provision  which  God  has  made 
s  for  the  horry  and  perplexity  of  the  scene  in  which 
w  iBiliiicti  man  is  destined  to  act.     Amidst  those  infinite  attrac- 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


373 


ions  and  repulsions  towards  private  and  public  good. 
and  ill,  mankind  either  cannot  often  foresee  the  conse^ 
quences  or  tendencies  of  all  their  actions  towards  one 
or  other  of  these,  especially  where  those  tendencies 
are  intricate  and  point  different  ways,  or  those  conse- 
«|i]ence9  remote  and  complicated  \  or  though,  by  care- 
ful and  cool  inquiry,  and  a  due  Improvement  of  their 
rational  powers,  they  might  find  them  out,  jet,  di- 
stracted as  they  are  with  business,  amused  with  trifl^s^ 
ilissipated  by  pleasure,  and  disturbed  by  passion,  they 
either  have  or  can  find  no  leisure  to  attend  to  those 
consequences,  or  to  examine  how  far  this  or  that  con- 
duct is  productive  of  private  or  public  good  on  the 
whole.     Therefore,  were  it  left  entirely  to  the  slow 
and  sober  deductions  of  reason  to  .trace  those  tenden-^ 
cies,  and  make  out  those  consequences,  it  is  evident, 
that  in  many  particular  instances  the  business  of  life 
must  stand  still,  and  many  important  occasions  of  ac- 
tion be  lost,  or  perhaps  the  grossest  blunders  be  com- 
mitted.    On  this  account,  the  Deity,  beside  that  ge^ 
neral  approbation  which  we  bestow  on  every  degree 
af  kind  affection,    has   moreover   implanted   in   roan 
many  particular  perceptions  or  determinations  to  ap-> 
prove  of  certain  qualities  or  actions^  which,  in  effect;, 
tend  to  the  advantage  of  society,  and  are  connected'* 
with  private  good,  though  he  does  not  always  see  that' 
tendency,  nor  mind  that  connexion.     And  these  per- 
eeptions  or  determinations  do,  without  reasoning, .  point 
out,  and,  antecedent  to  views  of  interest,  prompt  to  ar 
eondoct  beneficial  to  the  public^  and  useful  to  the  pri- 
^Mite  system.  Such  is  that  sense  of  candour  and  veracity^ . 
that  abhorrence  of  fraud  and  falsehood-^  that  sense  of  fide- 
Hty^  justice y  gratitude,  greatness  of  mihdyjortitude,  cle- 
mency,  decorum,  and  that  disapprobation  of  knavery,  in- 
justice,  ingratitude^  meanness  of  spirit^  cowardice,  cruel' 
fjf,  and  indecorum,  which  are  natural  to^  the  human 
mind.     Th^ former  of  those  dispositions,  and  the  ac- 
tions flowing  from  them,  are  approved,  and*  those  of 
die  latter  kmd  dbapproved  by  nt,  even  abstracted  from 
the  view  of  their  tendency  or  oonduciveness,  to  the  hap- 
piness or  misery  of  others,  or  of  ourselves.     In  one  we 
discern  a  beauty,  a  superior  excellency ^^l  coagniity  to  the 


dignity  of  man  j  in  the  other  a  deformity,  2i  littleness,  a  Of  Pcrccp- 
debasement,  of  human  nature.  tion  and 

Inhere  are  other  principles  also  connected  with  the  Affection.^ 
good  of  society,  or  the  happiness  and  perfection  of  the         ' 
individual,  though  that  connexion  is  not  'immediately  othen  of 
apparent,  which  we  behold  with  real  complacency  and  an  inferior 
approbation,  though  perhaps  inferior  in  degree,  if  not^"^^* 
in  kind,  such  as  gravity,  modesty,  simplicity  of  deport- 
ment, temperance,  prudent  economy;  and  We  feel  some 
degree  of  contempt  and  dislike  where  they  are  want- 
ing, or  where  the  opposite  qualities  prevail.     These 
and  the  \iVj^  perceptions  or  feelings  are  either  different 
modifications  of  the  moral  sense^  or  subordinate  to  it,  and 
plainly  serve  the  same  important  purpose,  being  expedi- 
tious monitors,  in  the  several  emergencies  of  a  various 
and  distracted  life,  of  what  is  right,  what  is  wrong, 
what  is  to  be  pursued,  and  what  avoided;  and,  by  ^he 
pleasant  or  painful   consequences  which  attend  them, 
exerting  their  influence  as  powerful  j7ro;7//7f^r^  to  a  suit- 
able conduct.  ^ 

From  a  slight  inspection  of  the  above-named  prin-  Theirgeiie.^ 
ciples,  it  is  evident  they  all  carry  a  friendly  aspect  to  ral  ten4€a« 
society  and  the  individual,  and  have  ^  a  more  immediate  ^^•■•^ 
or  a  more  remote  tendency  to  promote  the  perfection , 
or  good  of  both.      This  tendency  cannot   be   always 
foreseen,  and  would  be  often  mistaken,  or  seldom  at- 
tended to  by  a  weak,  busy,  short-sighted  creature  like 
nnn,  both  rash  ^nd  variable  id  his  opinions,  a  dupe  to  . 
bis  own  passions,  or  to  the  designs  of  others,  liable  to 
sickness,  to  want,  and  to  error.     Principles,  therefore, 
which  are  so  nearly  linked' with /?m*a/e  jfc//r;/y  and 
public  good,  by  directing  him,  without  operose  reason- 
ing, where  to  find  the  ont^  and  how  to  promote  the  other; 
and,  by  prompting  him*  to  a  conduct  conducive  to  both,  . 
are  admirably  adapted  to  the  exigencies  of  his  present 
state,  and  wisely.,  calculated  to  obtain  the  ends  of  uni- 
versal benevolence.  rt 

It  were  easy,  by  considering-  th&  subject  in  another  Passions  fi^ 
Hght,  to- shoW|  in.  a  curious  detail  of  particulars,  how*^  ^Jt 
wonderfully  the  inside  of  man,  or  that  astoni.shing  train  \^^ 
of  moral  powers  and  affections  with  which  he  is  en- 
dued, is  fitted  to  the  several  stages  of  that  progressive 
tLod  piYibationary  state  through   which  he  iS  destined 
to  pass.     As  our  faculties  are  narrow  and  limited,  and 
rise  from  very  small  and  imperfect  beginnings,  they 
mast  be  improved  by  exercise,  by  attention,  and  re- 
peated trials.     And  this  holds  true  not  only  of  our  in- 
tellectual but  of  our  moral  and  active  powers.     The  for- 
mer are  liable  to  errors  in  speculation,  the  latter  to 
blunders  in  practice,  and  Both  ofteti  terminate  in  mis- 
fortunes and  pains.     And  those  errors-  and  blunders 
are  generally  owing  to  our  passions,  or  to  our  too  for- 
ward and  warm  admiration  of  those  partial  goods  they 
naturally  pursue,  or  to  our  fear  of  those  partial  ills  they, 
naturally  repel.     Those  misfortunes,  therefore,  lead  us 
back  to  consider  where  our  misconduct  lay,  and  whence 
our  errors  flowed  ;  and  consequently  are  salutary  pieces 
of'  trial,  which  tend  to  enlarge  our  views,  to  correct 
and  refine  our  passions,  and  consequently  improve  both 
our  intellectual  and  nu>rat  powers.     Our  passions  then 
are  the  rtide  materials  of  our  virtue,  which  Heaven  hks- 
givcn  us  to  work  up,  to  refine  and  polish  into  a  harmo- 
nious and  divine  piece  of  workmanship.  They  furnish  out 
the  whole  machinery,  the  calms  and  storms,  the  lights 
and  shades  of  human  life.  They  show  mankind  in  every 

altitude 


374 


MORAL   PHI 


82 

To  a  pro- 
gfesuTC 

ftatt. 


Of  Doty  or  attitude  and  variety  of  character,  and  give  virtve  both 
^Virtue,  its  struggles  and  its  triumphs.  To  conduct  them  well 
10  every  state,  is  merit  ^  to  abuse  or  misapply  them,  is 
demerit. 

The  different  sets  of  senses^  power 9^  and  possums^ 
which  unfold  themselves  in  those  successive  stages,  are 
botli  necessary  and  adapted  to  that  rising  and  progressive 
state.  Enlarging  views  and  growing  connexions  re- 
quire new  passions  and  new  habits ;  and  thus  the  mind, 
by  these  continually  expanding  and  finding  a  progres- 
sive exercise,  rises  to  higher  improvements,  and  pushes 
forward  to  maturity  and  perfection. 

In  this  beautiful  economy  and  harmony  of  our  struc- 
ture, both  outward  and  inward,  with  that  state,  we 
may  at  once  discern  the  great  lines  of  our  duty  traced 
out  in  the  fairest  and  brightest  characters,  and  con- 
template with  admiration  a  more  august  and  marvellous 
scene  of  divine  wisdom  and  goodness  laid  in  tiie  hu- 
man  breast,  than  we  shall  perhaps  find  in  thtf  whole 
•compass  of  nature. 

'From  this  detail  it  appears,  that  man,  by  his  original 


»3 
Hannoay 

«of  onr 

istnictnre 

.and  state. 


LOSOPHY.  PvtH 

frame,  is  made  for  a  temperate^  eon^Oisionate,  &Mfi»-or  D^yc 
lent^  active f  and  progressive  state.     He  is  stroogiy  at-  Tutu. 
tractive  of  the  good^  and  repulsive  of  the  iHs  which  be-      ^^^ 
fal  others  as  well  as  himself.     He  feels  the  highest  op-,    K 
probation  and  moral  complacence  in  those  affections,  and  ccombt 
in  those  actions,  which  immediately  and  directly  respect  ntM  os. 
the  ^00^  of  others,  anAthe  highest  d!fM^/?ro^^ib#i,  and"^ 
abhorrence  of  the  contrary.  Besides  these,  be  has  many 
particular /KT»*pfibii^  or  instincts  of  approbation^  whid^ 
though  perhaps  not  of  the  same  kind  with  the  others, 
yet  are  accompanied  with  correspondent  degrees  of  af- 
fection, proportioned  to  their  respective  tendencies  to 
the  public  good.  Therefore^  by  acting  agreeably  to  these 
principles,  man  acts  agreeably  to  bis  structure,  and  ful- 
fils the  benevolent  intentions  of  its  Author.     But  we 
call  a  thing  godd  when  it  answers  its  end^  and  a  crea* 
tnre  good^  when  he  acts  in  a  conformity  to  his  constitu- 
tion.     Consequently,  man  must  be  denominated  good  or 
virtvous  when,  he  acts  suitably  to  ih^ principles  aod  dc» 
stination  of  his  nature. 


P  A  R  T  n. 


"Chap.  I.  The  principal  Distinctions  of  DuTT  or 

Virtue. 

WE  have  now  considered  the  constitution  and  con- 
nexions of  ntan^  and  on  those  erected  a  general  system  of 
duty  or  moral  obligation^  consonant  to  reason^  approved 
by  his  most  sacred  and   intimate  sense^  suitable  to  his 
mixed  condition,  and  confirmed  by  the  espcrience  of 
mankind.     We  have  also  traced  the  final  causes  of  his 
moral  faculties  and  affections  to  those  noble  purposes 
they  answer,  with  regard  both  to  the  private  and  the 
l«       public  system, 
<3encra]  di-     From  this  induction  it  is  evident,  that  there  is  one 
-vision  of     order  or  class  of  duties  which  man  owes  to  himself:  an- 

"^'o^       oiher  to  society  ^  and  a  third  to  God, 
Duty  to  *^^  duties  be  owes  to  himself  9,re  founded  chiefly  on 

^ae*t  Bcl£  the  defeTtsfve  and  private  passions,  which  prompt  him  to 
pursue  whatever  tends  to  private  good  or  happiness,  and 
to  avoid  or  ward  off  whatever  tends  to  private  ill  or  mi- 
sery. Among  the  various  goods  which  allure  and  soli- 
cit him,  and  the  various  ills  which  attack  or  threaten 
him,  **  to  be  intelligent  and  accurate  in .  selecting  one, 
and  rejecting  the  other ^  or  in  preferring  the  most  excel- 
•  lent  goods,  and  avoiding  the  niovt  terrible  His,  when 
there  is  a  competition  among  either,  and  to  be  discreet 
in  using  the  best  means  to  attain  the  goods  and  avoid 
the  ills,  is  what  we  call  prudence.  This,  in  our  in- 
ward frame,  corresponds  to  sagacity,  or  quickness  of 
sense,  in  our  outward,^^^*  To  proportion  onr  defensive 
passions  to  our  dangers,  we  cvXX  fortitude ;  which  always 
implies  "  a  just  mixture  of  calm  resentment  or  animosi- 
ty, and  well  governed  caution.'^  And  i\k\%  firmness  of 
mind  answers  to  the  strength  sind  muscling  of  the  body. 
And  "  duly  to  adjunt  our  private  passions  to -our  wants, 
-tir  to  the  r*:spective  moment  of  the  good  we  affect  or 
ipurHue,  we  rail  temperance  ;  which  docs  therefore  al- 
ways imply,  '»»  this  larjre  sense  of  the  word,  '*a  just 
j^aUnce  or  command  of  the  pas&ions^^ 


The  second  class  of  duties  arises  from  the  public  orMa^ 
social  affections,  '*  the  just  harmony  or  proportion  of""^ 
which  to  the  dangers  am)  VHsnts  of  others,  and  to  tbe 
several  relations  we  bear,  commonly  goes  by  tbe  name 
ofjusticeJ**  This  includes  the  whole  of  our  duty  to 
society,  to  onr  parents,  and  the  general  polity  of  nature; 
^ViTticu\sLr\ygratitude^riendship,sincerity,naiuralaffec' 
tion,  benevdence,  and  the  other  social  virtues :  This,  be* 
ing  the  noblest  temper,  tind  fairest  complexion  of  tbe  soul, 
corresponds  to  the  beauty  tind  fine  proportion  of  the  per- 
son. The  virtues  comprehended  under  the  former 
class,  especially /^rtfdiryirff  said  fortitude,  may  likewise  be 
transferred  to  this  ;  and  according  to  the  various  cir- 
cumstances in  which  they  are  placed,  and  the  more 
confined  or  more  extensive  sphere  in  which  they  ope- 
rate, may  be  denominatednrfvo^^,  economical,  or  civH 
prudence,  fortitude,  &c.  These  direct  our  conduct  with 
regard  to  the  wants  and  dangers  of  those  lesser  or 
greater  circles  with  which  they  are  connected.  ,V 

The  third  class  of  duties  respects  the  Deitt,  aad^'l^* 
arises  from  the  public  affections,  and  the  several  glorioas 
relations,  which  he  sustains  to  us  as  our  Creator,  Bene* 
factor.  Lawgiver,  Judge,  &c.  S9 

We  choose  to  consider  this  set  of  duties  in  the  last  MdM 
place  \  because,  though  prv>r  in  dignity  and  excellency, 
they  seem  to  be  last  in  order  of  time,  as  thinking  it 
the  most  simple  and  easy  method  to  follow  the  gradual 
progress  of  nature,  as  it  takes  its  rise  from  individuals, 
and  spreads  through  the  social  mtem,  aod  still  aKCods 
upwards,  till  at  length  it  stretches  to  its  almighty  Fa- 
rent  and  Head,  and  so  terminates  tn  those  duties  which 
are  highest  and  best,    '  fc 

The  duties  retttilting  from  these  relations,  are  m»>Fkc^ 
rence,  gratitude,  love,  resignatum,  dependence,  obediewcc, 
worship,  praise :  which,  according  to  the  model  of  oor 
fine  capacities,  must  maintain  3ome  sort  of  proportiea 
to  the  grandeur  and  perfection  of  the  object  wbon 
we  venerate,  love,  and  obey.  ^  This  proportion  or 
harmony  is  ej^ressed  by  tbe  general  name  oipiffy  v 

5  devQtiuh^ 


IfltVtO 

UmaeK 


91 
Kcieiice. 


decoiwn^'*^  whick  la  always  stronger  or  weaker  according 
to  the  greater  or  less  appreheiidtd  excellency  of  its  ob- 
ject. Tiiis  sublime  principle  of  virtue  is  tbe  enlivening 
soul  which  animates  the  moral  »yst'em^  and  that  cement 
which  bindi  and  sustains  the  other  duties  which  man 
owes  to  himst^OT  to  iociety. 

This  then  is  the  general  temper  and  constitution  of 
virtoe,  and  these  are  the  principal  lines  or  divisions  of 
doty.  To  those  good  dispositions  which  respect  the 
several  objects  of  our  duty,  and  to  all  actions  which 
flow  from  such  dispositions,  the  mind  gives  its  sanc- 
tion or  testimony.  And  this  sanction  or  judgment 
concerning  the  moral  quality,  or  the  goodness  of  ac- 
tions or  dispositions,  moralists  call  conscience.  When 
it  jiMlgea  of  an  action  that  is  to  be  performed,  it  is  cal- 
led an  antecedent  conscience ;  and  when  it  passes  sen- 
tence on  an  action  which  is  performed,  it  is  called  a 
subsequent  conscience*  The  tendency  of  an  action  to 
prodnce  happiness,  or  its  external  conformity  to  a  law, 
is  termed  its  material  goodness,  fiut  the  good  disposi- 
tions from  which  an  action  proceeds,  or  its  conformi- 
ty to  law  in  every  respect,  constitutes  iX^  formal  good- 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY.  375 

agent,  who  neglects  to  be   better  informed,  or  who,  Of  Man's 
through  weakness  or  wickedness,  hastens  to  pass  sen-    <luty  10 
tence  from  an  imperfect  evidence. 


Himielfi 


■VI- 


4eht. 

■/Inf. 

Lcj. 

con- 

ce  is 


When  the  mind  is  ignorant  or  uncertain  abont  the 
moment  of  an  action  or  its  tendency  to  private  or 
public  good }  or  when  there  are  several  circumstances 
in  the  case,  some  of  which,  being  doubtful,  render  the 
mind  dnbious  concerning  the  morality  of  the  action  ; 
that  is  called  a  doubtful  or  scrupulous  conscience  ;  if  it 
mistakes  concerning  these,  it  is  called  an  erroneous 
conscience.  If  the  error  or  ignorance  is  involuntary  or 
invincible^  the  action  proceedinff  from  that  error;  or 
from  that  ignorance^  is  reckoned  innocent^  or  not  im-* 
potable.  If  the  error  or  ignorance  is  supine  or  affect" 
cdy  i.  e.  the  effect  of  negligence,  or  of  affectation  and 
ivilfttl  inadvertence,  the  conduct  lowing  from  such 
error,  or  such  ignorance,  is  criminal  and  imputable*-^^ 
Not  to  follow  one's  conscience,  though  erroneous  and 
iU-informed^  is  criminal^  as  it  is  the  guide  of  life  ^  and 
to  connteract  it,  shows  a  depraved  and  incorrigible  spi- 
rtt.  Yet  to  follow  an  erroneous  conscience  is  likewise 
criminal,  if  that  error  which  misled  the  conscience  was 
the  effect  of  inattention,  or  any  criminal  passion  *• 

If  it  be  asked^  ^  How  an  erroneous  conscience  shall 
be  rectified,  since  it  is  supposed  to  be  the  only  guide 
of  life,  and  judge  of  morals  ?  we  answer.  In  the  very 
same  way  that  we  would  rectify  reason  if  at  any  time 
it  should  judge  wrong,  as  it  often  does,  viz.  by  giving 
it  proper  and  sufficient  materials  for  judging  right^ 
i.  e.  by  inquiring  into  the  whole  state  of  the  case,  the 
relations,  connexions,  and  several  obligations  of  tbe  ac- 
tor, the  consequences  and  other  circumstances  of  the 
action,  or  the  surplusage  of  private  or  public  good 
which  results,  or  is  likely  to  result,  from  the  action  or 
from  the  omission  of  it.  If  those  circumstances  are  fair<> 
ly  and  fully  stated,  the  conscience  will  be  just  and  im*- 
partial  in  its  decision  y  for,  by  a  necessary  law  of  our 
nature,  it  approves  and  is  well  affected  to  the  moral 
form  i  and  if  it  seems  to  approve  of  vice  or  immorality ^ 
it  is  always  under  the  notion  or  mask  of  some  virtue* 
So  that,  strictly  speakio^^  it  is  not  conscience  which 
•rrs;  for  its  sentence  is  always  conformable  to  the 
view  of  the  case  which  lies  before  it^  and  is ^W^,. upon 
the  supposition  that  the  case  is  truly  such  as  it  is  repre- 
aaated  to  it*    All  tbe  fuilt  is  to.  be  imputed  to  tbe. 


Chap.  II.  Of  Man's  Duty  to  Himself.     Of  the. 
Nature  of  Good,  and  tbe  Cbief  Good.  • 


94 


Every  creature,  by  the  constitution  of  his  nature  is  Dmsious  of 
determined  to  love  himself  j  to  pursue  whatever  tends  S^^* 
to  his  preservation  and  happiness,  and  to  avoid  what- 
ever tends  to  his  hurt  and  misery.  Being  endued  with< 
sense  and  perception,  he  must  necessarily  receive  plea* 
sure  from  some  objects,  and  pain  from  others.  Those 
objects  which  give  pleasure  are  called  good;  and  those 
which  give  pain,  evd.  To  the  former  he  feels  that 
attraction  or  motion  we  call  desire  or  love;  to  tbe  lat- 
ter, that  impulse  we  call  aversion  or  hatred.^^To  ob« 
jects  which  suggest  neither  pleasure  nor  pain,  and  aro 
apprehended  of  no  use  to  procure  one  or  waid  off  tlie 
other,  we  feel  neither  desire  nor  aversion  ;  and  such  ob- 
jects are  called  indifferent.  Those  objects  which  do  not 
of  themselves  produce  pleasure  or  pain,  but  are  the 
means  of  procuring  either,  we  call  useful  or  noxious. 
Towards  them  we  are  affected  in  a  subordinate  manner, .' 
or  with  an  indirect  and  reflective  rather  than  a  direct 
and  immediate  affection.  All  the  original  and  particu- 
lar affections  of  our  nature  lead  us  out  to  and  ultimate- 
ly rest  in  the  first  kind  of  objects,  viz.  those  which  give 
immediate  pleasure,  and  which  we  therefore  call  good 
directly  so.  The  calm  affection  of  self  love  alone  is 
conversanta  bout  such  objects  as  are  only  consequentially 
^oo<f,  or  merely- useful,  to  ourselves.  05: 

But,  besides  those  sorts  of  objects  which  we  call  Morale 
^M</,. merely  and  solely,  as  theyt  give  pltesure,  or  aieS^^^ 
means  of  procuring  it,,  then  is  a  higher  and  nobler 
species^of  good,  towards  which  we  feel  that  peculiar 
movement  we  call  approbation  or  moral  complacency ; 
and  which  we  therefore  denominate  mond  good.     Sucb. 
are  our  affections,  and  the  consequent  actions  to  them. 
The  perception  of  this  is,  as  has  been  already  observ-^ 
ed,  quite  distinct  in  kind  from  the  perception  of  other 
species ;  and  though  it  may  be  eonneeted  with  pUa^ 
sure  or  advantf^e  by  tbe  benevolent  constitution  of 
nature,  yet  it  constitutes  a  good  independent  of  that 
pleasure  and  that  advantage,  and  far  superior  not  in. 
degree  only  but  in  dignity  to  both.     The  otker^  viz* . 
the  natural  good^  consists  in  obtaining  those  pleasures  > 
which  are  adapted  to  the  peculiar  senses  and  passions, . 
susceptible  of  them^  and  is  as  various  as  are  those 
senses  and  passions.     This,  viz.  the  moral  good,  lies . 
in  the- right  conduct  of  the  several  senses  and  passions, . 
or  their  just  proportion  and  accommodation  to  their 
respective  objects  and  relations,  and  this  is  of  a  more 
simple  and  invariable  kind.  p^« 

By  our  several  senses  we  are  eapable  of  a  great  varHmmuii 
riety  of  pleasing  sensations.     These  constitute  distinct  h^PpincM.. 
ends   or  objects  ultimately  pursuable  for  their  owb 
sake.     To  these  ends,  or  ultimate  objects^  oorrespond 
peculiar  appetites  or    affections,   which   prompt  the 
mind  to  pursue  them..    Wh^n  these  ends  are  attained^, 
there  it  rests,  and  looks  no  fiurther.     Whatever  there^ 
fore  is  pursuable,  not  on  its  own  account,  but  as  sub- 
servient or  necessary  to  the  attainment  of  something 
else  that  b  intrinsically  valuable  for  its  own  sdce,  be 
that  value  ever  so  gi^at  ox  ever  so.smally  we  calLa. 

meanf^ 


376 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


Himiielf 


97 
Gradation 

of  goods. 


Of  Afan't  m^cm,  awi  not  an  end.    So  tbat  \ends  and  means  con- 
daty  to    stitute  the  materials  or  the  very  essence  of  our  happt^ 
ness.     ConsequpDtiy  happiness^  i.  e,  human  happiness, 
cannot  be  one  simple  uniform  thing  in  creatures  con- 
•tkuted  as  we  are,  with  such  Tarious  senses  of  plea- 

^fiure,  or  such  different  capacities  of  enjoyment.     Now 

'  the  same  principle,  or  law  of  our  nature,  which  de- 
termines  us  to  pursue  any  one  end  or  species  of  good, 
prompts  us  to-  pursue  every  other  end  or  species  of 
good  of  which  we  are  susceptible,  or  to  which  our 
Maker  has  adapted  an  original  propension.  But 
amidst  the  great  multiplicity  of  ends  or  goods  which 
form  the  various  ingredients  of  our  happiness,  we 
perceive  an  evident  gradation  or  subordination  suit* 
ed  to  that  gradation  of  senses^  powers^  and  passions^ 
which  prevails  in  our  mixed  and  varions  constitution, 
and  to  that  ascending  series  of  connexions  which 
open  upon  us  in  the  different  stages  pf  our  progressive 
state. 

Thus  the  goods  of  the  body^  or  of  the  external  senses, 
seem  to  hold  the  lowest  rank  in  this  gradation  or  scale 
of  goods.  These  we  have  in  common  with  the  hrutes  ; 
and  though  many  men  are  brutbh  enough  to  pursue 
the  goods  of  the  body  with  a  more  than  brutal  fury, 
yet,  when  at  any  time  they  come  in  competition  with 
goods  of  an  higher  order,  the  unanimous  verdict  of 
mankind,  by  giving  the  last  the  preference,  condemns 
the  first  to  the  meanest  place.  Goods  consisting  m 
exterior  social  connexions,  as  Jame,  firtuney  power, 

'xivtl  authority^  seem  to  succeed  next,  and  sore  chiefly 
valuable  as  the  means  of  procuring  natural  or  moral 
good,  but  principally  the  latter.  Goods«of  the  intel' 
Ject  are  still  .superior,  as  taste,  knowledge,  memory. 

Judgment,  &c.  The  highest  are  moral  goods  of  the 
mind,  directly  and  ultimately  regarding  ourselves,  as 
command  of  the  appetites  and  passions,  prudence,  forti" 
tude,  benevolence,  Sec.  These  are  the  great  objects  of 
our  pursuit,  and  the  principal  ingredients  of  our  hap- 
piness. Let  us  consider  each  of  them  as  they  rise  one 
above  the  other  in  this  natural  series  or  scale,  and  touch 
briefly  on  our  obligations  to  pursue  them. 

Those  of  the  bodly  are  kealth,  strength,  agility,  kar^ 
diness,  tmA  patience  of  change,  neatness,  and  decency. 

Good  health,  and  a  regular  easy  flow  of  spirits,  are 
in  themselves  sweet  natural  enjoyments,  a  great  fund 
of  pleasure,  and  indeed  the  proper  seasoning  which 
gives  a  flavour  and  poignancy  to  every  other  pleasure. 
The  want  of  health  unfits  us  fot  most  duties  of  life, 
and  is  especially  an  enemy  to  the  social  and  humane  af» 
fections,  as  it  generally  renders  the  unhappy  sufferer 
peevish  and  aullen,  disgusted  at  the  allotments  of  Pro* 
vidence,  and  consequently  apt  to  entertain  suspidons 
and  gloomy  sentiments  of  its  Auth<^.  It  obstructs  the 
free  exercise  and*  full  improvenfent  of  our  reason, 
makes  us  a  burden  to  our  friends,  and  useless  to  so- 
ciety. Whereas  the  uninterrupted  enjoyment  of  good 
health  is  a  constimt  source  of  good  humour,  and  good 
liumonr  is  a  great  friend  to  openness  and  benignity  of 
heart,  enables  us  to  encounter  the  varions  ills  and  dis- 

-  appointments  of  life  with  more  courage,  or  to  sustain 
ihem  with  more  patience )  and,  in  short,  conduces 
fDttch,  if  we  are  otherwise  duly  qualified,  to  our  acting 
ear  part  in  every  exigency  of  life  with  more  firmness, 
consistency,  and  dignity.     Therefore  it  imports  us 

«iQcih  to  preserve  and' impcove  n  habit  or  enjoyment, 


PartH 


98 

Ooodf  of 
tlie  bodj. 

Good 

health; 


without  which  every  other  external  entertaiinmeiit  ii  ofu^ 
tasteless,  and  most  other  advantages  of  little  avaiU-  dvt^a 
And  this  is  best  done  by  a  strict  temperance  in  diet  ^^i^U 
and  regimen,    by  regular  exercise,   and  by  keeping'*"^''*' 
the  mind  serene  and  unruffled  by  violent  passions,  aodg^p^^^ 
unsubdued  by   intense  and   constant  laboars,  which  icmi 
greatly  impair  and  gradually  destroy  the  strongest  con- 
stitutions. 

Strength,  agility,  hardiness,  and  patience  rf  change flixta^ 
suppose  health,  and  are  unattainable  without  itj  botV^tc 
they  imply  something  more,  and  are  necessary  to  guard 
it,  to  give  us  the  perfect  use  of  life  and  limbs,  and  to 
secure  us  against  many  otherwise  unavoidable  ilU— 
The 'exercise  of  the  necessary  manual,  and  of  rnvt  of 
the  elegant  arts  of  life,  depends  on  strength  and  agility 
of  body  )  personal  dangers,  private  and  public  dangers, 
the  demands  of  our  firiends,  our  families,  and  couotiy, 
require  them  ;  they  are  necessary  in  war,  and  ornamen- 
tal in  peace  *,  fit  fi>r  the  employment  of  a  country  and  a 
town  life,  and  thev  exalt  the  entertainments  and  diver- hovs. 
sions  of  both.     Toey  are  chiefly  obtained  by  moderate  tuui 
and  regular  exercise. 

Few  are  so  much  raised  above  want  and  dependence,  p^iiaatf 
or  so  exempted  £rom  business  and  care,  as  not.tn  becMi^ 
often  exposed  to  inequalities  and  chaeees  of  diet,  ex-     ' 
ercise,  air,  climate,  and  other  irregulariues.  Now,  what 
can  be  so  effectual  to  secure  one  against  the  miscbieft 
arising  from  such  nnavoidable  alterations,  as  hardiness, 
and  a  certain  versatility  of  constitution  whidi  can  hear 
extraordinary  labours,  and  submit  to  great  changes, 
without  any  sensible  uneasiness  or  bad  eonsequepces. 
This  is  best  attained,  not  by  an  over  great  delicacy  h^v^ 
and  minute  attention  to  forms,  or  by  an  invariable  re»taiMi 
gularity  in  diet,  hoars,  and  way  of  living,  but  rather 
by  a  bold  and  discree^  latitude  of  regimen.     Besides, 
deviations  from  established  rules  and  foi*ms  of  living,  if 
kept  within  the  bounds  of  sobriety  and  reason,  are 
friendly  to  thought  and  origioal  sentiments^  animate  the 
dull  scene  of  ordinary  life  and  business,  and  agreeably 
stir  the  passions,  which  stagnate  or  breed  ill  hunour  is 
the  calms  of  life.  ,0. 

Neatness,  cleanUmess,  and  decency,  to  which  we  msyK^acv 
add  digmty  of  countenance  and  demeanour,  seem  to  have  deecae;. 
something  refined  and  moral  in  them:  at  least  we  ge-^^ 
nerally  esteem  them  indications  of  ao  orderly,  geo- 
teel,  and  well  governed  mind,  oonscions  of  an  fnward 
worth,  or  the  respect  due  to  one's  nature.    Whereas 
nastiness,  slovenliness,  osvkwardness,  and  itidecency,  are 
shrewd  symptoms  of  something  mean,  careless,  and 
deficient,  and  betray  a  mind  untaught,  illiberal,  on- 
conscious  of  what  is  due  to  one's  self  or  to  othcis. 
How  much  cleanliness  conduces  to  health,  needs  hard- 
ly to  be  mentioned  \  and  how  necessary  it  is  to  main* 
tain  one's  character  and  rank  in  life,  and  to  render  m 
i^greeable  to  others  as  well  as  to  ourselves,  is  as  evi- 
dent—There are  certain  motions,  airs  and  gestures, 
which  become  the  human  countenance  and   tona,  in 
which  we  perceive  a  comeliness,  openness,  simpUsity, 
gracefidness  i  and  there  are  othm,  which  to  our  scnie 
of  decorum  appear  uncomely,  i^ffected,  disu^genaeus,  ud 
aUflcward,  quite  unsuitable  to  the  native  digmty  of  oor 
face  and  form.    The  frr^  are  in  themselves  the  nort 
.easy,  natural  and  conwiodious,  give  one  boldnea  sad 
presence  of  mind,  a  modest  assoraaoe^  an  address  bslk 
awful  axid  allumg ',  thqr  bespeak  candour  and  gnsi- 


Pitttn. 


MORAL  PHI 


io6 


to; 
9Mds«r 


Ml 


loS 


t09 


bLC 


sets  of  mindy  nii^e  the*  most  agreeable  prejudices  in 
one's  favoor,  render  society  engaging,  command  re- 
spect, and  often  love,  and  give  weight  und  authority 
both  in  conversation  and  business^  in  fine,  they  are  tbe 
colooring  of  virtue,  which  show  it  to  tbe  greatest  ad- 
vantage in  whomsoever  it  is ;  and  not  only  imitate, 
but  in  some  measure  supply  it  where  it  is  wanting. 
Whereas  the  last,  viz,  rudeness^  affecttstion^  indecorum^ 
and  the  like,  have  all  tbe  contrary  effects  ^  they  are 
burdensome  to  one's  self,  a  dislionour  to  our  nature,  and 
a  nuisance  in  society.  The  former  qualities  or  goods 
are  best  attained  by  a  liberal  education,  by  preserving 
m  just  sense  of  the  dignity  of  our  nature, .  by  keeping 
the  best  aiid  politest  company,  but,  above  all,  by  acquir- 
ing those  virtuous  and  ennobling  habits  of  mind  which 
are  decency  in  perfection,  which  will  give  an  air  of 
vaa&cted  grandeur,  and  spread  a  lustre  truly  engaging 
over  the  ivhole  form  and  deportment. 

We  are  next  to  consider  those  goods  which  consist 
in  exterior  social  connexions,  9a  fame^  fortune^  civil 
authority^  power. 

The  first  has  a  twofold  aspect,  as  a  good  pleasant 
in  itself,  or  gratifying  to  an  original  passion,  and  then 
as  expedient  or  nseful  towards  a  further  end.  Honour 
from  tbe  wise  and  good,  on  the  account  of  a  virtuous 
conduct,  is  regaling  to  a  good  man^  for  then  his  heait 
re-echoes  to  the  grateful  sound.  There  are  few  quite 
indifferent  even  to  the  commendation  of  the  vulgar. 
Though  we  cannot  approve  that  cpnduct  which  pro- 
reeds  entirely  from  this  principle,  and  not  from  good 
affection  or  love  of  tbe  conduct  itself,  yet,  as,  it  is  of- 
ten a  guard  and  additional  motive  to  virtue  in  creatures , 
imperfect  as  wc  are,  and  often  distracted  by  interfer- 
ing passions,  it  might  be  dangerous  to  suppress  it  alto- 
gether, however  wise  it  may  be  to  restrain  it  within 
due  bounds,  and  however  laudable  to  use  it  only  as  a 
bcaflbldiog  to  our  virtue,  which  may  be  taken  down 
when  that  glorious  structure  is  finished,  but  hardly  till 
then.  To  pursue  fame  for  itself,  is  innocent ;  to  re- 
gard it  only  as  an  auxiliary  to  virtue,  is  noble  ;  to  seek 
zt  cliiefly  as  an  engine  of  public  usefulness  is  still  more 
noble,  and  highly  prai»e-worthy.  For  tliough  the  opi- 
nion and  breath  of  men  are  transient  and  fadmg  things, 
often  obtained  without  merit,  and  lost  without  cause  ^ 
yet  as  our  business  is  with  men,  and  as  our  capacity  of 
serving  them  is  generally  increaised  in  proportion  to 
their  esteem  of  us,  therefore  sound  and  well  established 
tnoral  applause  may  and  will  be  modestly,  not  ostenta- 
tiously, sought  after  by  tbe  good;  not  indieed  as  a  soli- 
tary refined  sort  of  luxnry,  but  as  a  public  and  proper 
iostmment  to  serve  and  ble^s  Qiankind.  At  the  same 
time  they  will  learn  to  deipise  that  reputation  which  is 
founded  on  rank,  for^upe,  and  any  other  circumstances 
or  acxomplisbnieots  thfit  are  foreign  to  real  merit,  or  to 
useful  services  done  to  others,  and  think  that  praise  of 
little  avail  which  is  purchased  without  desert,  and  be- 
stowed without  judgment. 

Fortu^^  power ^  and  eivii  autiority^  or  whatever  is 
called  influence  ^nd  weight  among  mankind,  are  goods 
of  the  second  division,  that  is,  valuable  and  pursuable 
only  aa  tbe^  are  usefisi^  or  as  means  to  a  farther  end, 
viz.  procuring  or  preserving  the  immediate  objects  of 
enjoymeiit  or  happiness  to  ourselves  or  others.  There- 
fore to  love  soch  goods  pn  their  own  account,  and  to 
porsne  them  as  ends,  not  the  means  of  enjoyincnt. 

Vol.  XIV,  Part  I. 


lie 


LOSOPHY.  377 

must  be  hi^^ly  preposterous  and  absurd.     Theri:  can  of  Maa*s 
be  no  measure,  no  limit,  to  soch  pursuit }  all  must  be    duty  to 
whim,  caprice,  extravagance.    '  Accordingly,  such  ap-  Hm"**^'- 
petites,  unlike  all  the  natural  ones,  are  increased  by 
possession,  and  whetted  by  enjoyment.    They  are  al- 
ways precarious,  and  never  without  fear»,  because  the 
objects  lie  without  one^s  self  ^  they  are  seldom  witlnmt 
sorrow  and  vexation,  because  no  accession  of  wealth  or 
power  can  satisfy  them.     But  if  those  goods  are  consi-  ^^^  ^*^ 
dered  only  as  the  materials  or  means  of  private  or  pub-^"°*  *" 
lie  happiness,  then  tbe  same  obligations  which  bind 
US  to  pursue  the  latter,  bind  us  likewise  to  pursue  the 
former.     We  mar,  and  no  doubt  we  ought,  to  seek 
soch  a  measure  of  wealth  as  is  necessary  to  supply  all 
our  real  wants,  to  raise  us  above  servile  dependence^ 
and  provide  us  with  such  conveniences  as  are  suited  to      ' 
pur  rank  and  condition  in  life.     To  be  regardless  of 
this  measure  of  wealth,   is  to  expose  ourselves  to  all 
the  temptations  of  poverty  and  corruption  :  to  forfeit 
our  natural  independency  and  freedom }    to  degrade, 
and  consequently  to  render  the  rank  we  hold,  and  tbe 
character  we  sustain  in  society,  unless,  if  not  con- 
temptible.    When  these  important  ends  are  secured, 
we  ought  not  to  murmur  or  repine  that  we  possess  no 
yet  we  are  not  secluded  by  any  obligation, 


more 


moral  or  divine,  from  seeking  more,  in  order  to  give 
.US  tliat  happiest  and  most  godlike  of  all  powers,  the 
power  o(  M/iggood,  A  supine  indolence  in  this  re- 
spect is  both  absurd  and  criminal  ^  absurd^  as  it  robs 
as  of  an  jnexbausted  fund  of  the  most  refined  and 
.durable  enjoyments }  and  criminal^  as  it  renders  us  so  fn 
far  useless  to  the  society  to  which  we  belong.  "  That  Atrarice. 
pursuit  of  wealth  which  goes  beyond  the  former  end, 
viz.  the  obtaining  the  necessaries,  or  such  convenien- 
cies  of  life,  as,  in  tbe  estimation  of  reason,  not  of  va- 
nity or  passion,  are  suited  to  ouf  rank  and  condition^ 
and  yet  is  not  directed  to  the  latter,  viz.  the  doing' 
good,  is  what  we  call  nvariceJ*^  And  *^  that  pursuit 
of  power f  which  afiter  securing  one^s  self,  i.  e.  having 
attained  tbe  proper  independence  and  liberty  of  a  ra- 
tional social  creature,  is  not  directed  to  the  good  of  1x2 
others,  is  what  we  call  ambition^  or  the  lust  of  power  J^^  Ambiiioa. 
To  what  extent  the  strict  measures  of  virtde  will  allow 
us  to  pursue  eitlier  wealth  or  power,  and  civil  authority, 
is  not  perhaps  possible  precisely  to  determine.  That 
must  be  left  to  prudence,  and  tbe  jieculiar  character, 
condition,^  and  other  circumstances  of  each  man.  On^ 
thus  far  a  limit  may  be  set,  that  tlie  pursuit  of  either 
roust  encroach  upon  no  other  duty  or  obligation  which 
we  owe  to  ourselves,  to  society,  or  to  its  parent  and 
head.  The  ^amc  reasoning  is  to  be  applied  Xo  power 
.  as  to  wealth*  It  ia  only  valuable  as  an  instrument  of 
oqr  own  security,  and  of  the  free  enjoyment  of  those 
original  goods  it  nuty,  and  often  does,  administer  to 
us,  and  as  an  engine  of  more  extensive  happiness  to  our 
frirnds,  our  country,  and  mankind.  xxj 

Now  the  best,  and  indeed  tbe  only  way  to  obtain  a  Row  fine 
solid  and  lasting  fame,  is  an  uniform  in^xible  course  ^'^  ^f^ 
of  virtue,  the  -employing  one^s  ability  and  wealth  in^^'^ 
supplying  the  .wants,  and  using  one^s  power  In  pro- 
moting or  securing  the  happiness,  the  rights  and  liber- 
ties of  mankind,  joined  to  an  univeraal  affability  and 
politeness  of  manners.    And  surely  one  will  not  mistake 
the  natter  much,  who  thinks  the  ss^me  course  condu- 
cive to  thjs  acquiring  giiea^r  accessions  both  of  wealth 
■|-  3  B  and 


are  attain- 


^ 


?» 


MORAL    PHILOSOPHY. 


Partn. 


duty  to 
Himscil'. 


114 
Goods  of 
the  intel- 

ICCL 


"5 

Their  mo- 

nent. 


^f  .^^f^*'  '^^  power  ^  especially  if  he  adds  to  those  qoalificaiions 
a  vigorous  industry,  a  constant  attention  to  the  cha- 
racters and  wants  of  men,  to  the  conjunctures  of  times, 
and  continually  varying  genius  of  affairs ;  and  a  steady 
intrepid  honesty,  that  will  neither  yield  to  the  allure- 
ments, nor  he  overawed  with  the  terrors,  of  that  cor- 
rupt and  corrupting  scene  in  which  we  live.  We  have 
sometimes  heard  indeed  of  other  ways  and  means,  as 
fraud,  dissimulation,  servility,  and  prostitution,  and  the 
like  ignoble  arts,  by  which  the  men  of  the  world  (as 
they  ai'e  called,  shrewd  politicians,  and  men  of  address!) 
amass  wealth,  and  procure  power  ^  but  as  we  want  ra- 
ther to  form  a  man  of  virtue,  an  honest,  contented, 
happy  man,  we  leave  to  the  men  of  the  world  their 
own  ways,  and  permit  them,  unen%aed  and  unimitated 
by  us,  to  reap  the  fruit  of  their  doings. 

The  next  species  of  objects  in  the  scale  of  good,  are 
the  goods  of  the  intellect ^  as  knowledge^  memory y  judge" 
Plenty  taste y  sagacity ^  docility ^  and  whatever  else  .we  call 
intellectual  virtues.  Let  us  consider  them  a  little,  and 
the  means  as  well  ohligations  to  improve  them. 

As  man  is  a  rational  creature,  capable  of  knowing 
the  differences  of  things  and  actions  j — as  he  not  only 
sees  and  feels  what  is  present,  but  remembers  what  is 
past,  and  often  foresees  what  is  future^— as  be  advances 
from  small  beginnings  by  slow  degrees,  and  with  much 
labour  and  difficulty,  to  knowledge  and  experience  ^— 
as  his  opinions  sway  his  passions,— >a8  his  passions  ipt 
ffuence  his  conduct,— and  as  his  condoct  draws  conse-. 
quenccs  after  \Xy  which  extend  not  only  to  the  present 
but  to  the  future  time,  and  therefore  is  the  princi-. 
pal  source  of  his  happiness  or  misery }  it  is  evident, 
that  he  is  formed  for  intellectual  improvements,  an4 
that  it  must  be  of  the  ntmoet  consequence  for  him  to 
improve  and  cultivate  his  intellectual  powers,  on 
which  these  opinions,  those  passions,  and  that  conduct . 
depend*. 

But.  besides  the  future  consequences  and  moment  of  > 
improving  our  intellectual  powers,  their  immediate  exr 
^*yi6^^  ercise  on  their  proper  objects  yields  the  roost  rational 
The  plea-    and  refined  pleasures.     Knowledge,  and  a  right  taste  in 
surei  they    the  arts  of  imitation  and  design^  as  poetry ^  paintings  sculp' 
P^^  turCy  musicy  architecture^  afford  not  only  an  innocent, 

J-  "'?  j«  hut  a  most  sensible  and  sublime  entertain men|.  Bj 
andTuste^  these  the  understanding  is  instructed  in  ancient  and 
'"  modern  life,  the  history  of  men  and  things,  the  ener- 
gies and  effects  of  the  passions,  the  consequences  of 
virtue  and  vice  ^  by  these  the  imagination  is  at  once 
entertained  apd  nourished  with  the  beauties  of  nature 
and  art,  lighted  up  and  spread  out  with  the  novelty, 
grandeur,  and  harmony  of  the  universe  j  and,  in  fine, 
the  passions  are  agreeably  roused,  and  suitably  enga- 
ged^  by  the  greatest  and  most  interesting  objects  that 
can  fill  the  human  mind.  He  who  has  a  taste  formed 
to  those  ingenious  delights,  and  plenty  of  materials  to 
•  gratify  it,  can  never  want  the  most  agreeable  exercise 
and  entertainment,  nor  once  have  reason  to  make  that 
fashionable  complaint  of  the  tediousneas  of  time.  Nor 
can  he  want  a  proper  subject  for  the  discipline  and  im- 
provement of  his  heart.  For,  being  daily  conversant 
with  beauty f  order^  and  design^  in  inferior  subjects,  he 
bids  fair  for  growing  in  due  time  an  admirer  of  what 
is  fair  and  well-proportioned  Tn  the  conduct  of  life  and 
the  order  of  society,  which  is  only  order  and  design 
^erted:  in  their,  highest  subject.    He.  will  learn  to 


«  Phiht. 
SiittC»Coti^ 
Jttc.  lib.  i. 


transfer  the  numbers  of  poetry  to  the  harmony  of  theOf  Mu'i 
mind  and  of  well-governed  passions  ^  and,  from  admi-  ^^  ^ 
ring  the  virtues  of  others  in  moral  paintings,  come  to 
approve  and  imitate  them  himself.  Therefore,  to  cul- 
tivate a  true  and  correct  taste  must  be  both  our  interest 
and  our  duty,  when  the  circumstances  of  our  station 
give  leisure  and  opportunity  for  it,  and  when  tlie  doing 
it  is  not  inconsistent  with  our  higher  obligations  or  en- 
gagements to  society  and  mankind.  ui 

It  is  best  attained  by  reading  the  best  books,  where Hovau 
good  sense  has  more  the  ascendant  than  learnings  and  ^*>>c^ 
which  pertain  more  to  practice  than  to  speculation  ;  by 
studying  the  best  models,  i.  e.  thmse  which  profc&s  to 
imitate  nature  most,  and  approach  the  nearest  to  it, 
and  by  conversing  with  men  of  the  most  refined  taste, 
and  the  greatest  experience  in  life.  ,j^ 

As  to  the  other  intellectual  goods,  what  a  fond  of  Other  it- 
entertainment  must  it  be  to  investigajte  the  truth  and  teDcttal 
various  relations  of  things,  to  trace  the  operations  of**^ 
nature  to  general  laws,  to  explain  by  these  its  mani* 
fold  phenomena,  to  understand  that  order  by  which 
the  universe  is  upheld,  and  that  economy  by  which  it 
is  governed !  to  be  acquainted  with  the  human  roind, 
the  connexions,  subordinations,  and  uses  of  its  powers, 
and  to  mark  their  energy  in  life !  how  agreeable  to 
the  ingenious  inquirer,  to  observe  the  manifold  rela- 
tions and  combinations  of  individual  minds  in  society, 
to  discern  the  causes  why  they  flourish  or  decay^  and 
from  thence  to  ascend,  through  the  vast  scale  of  be> 
ings,  to  that  general  Mind  which  presides  over  all  ^ 
and  operates  unseen,  in  every  system  and  in.  every  age, 
through  the  whole  compass  and  progression  of  nature  I 
Devoted  to  such  entertainments  as  these,  the  contem- 
j»lative  have  abandoned  every  other  pleasmre,  retired 
from  the  body,  so  to  speak,  and  sequestered  tbemaelvca 
from  social  intercourse :  for  these,  the  busy  have  often 
preferred  to  the  hurry  and  din  of  life  the  calm  retreats 
of  contemplation }  for  these,  when  once  they  came  to 
taste  them,  even  the  gay  and  voluptuous  have  thrown 
up  the  lawless  pursuits  of  sense  and  appetite,  and  ac- 
knowledged these  mental  enjoyments  to  be  the  most 
refinedy  and  indeed  the  only  luxury..  Besides,  by  a  just 
and  large  knowledge  of  nature,  we  recognize  the  per^ 
fections  of  its  Author  \  and  thus  piety,  and  all  those 
pious  affections  which  depend  on  just  sentiments  of 
his  character,  are  awakened  and  confirmed^   and  a 
thousand  superstitious  fears,  that  arise  from  partial 
views  of  his  nature  and  works,  will  of  couise  he  ex- 
cluded.    An  extensive  prospect  of  human  life,  and  of 
the  periods  and  revolutions  of  human  things,  will  coo* 
duce  much  to  the  giving  a  certain  greatness  of  mind, 
and  a  noble  contempt  to  those  little  competitions  above 
power,  honour,  and  wealth,  which  disturb  and  divide 
the  bulk  of  mankind  \  and  promote  a  calm  endoraoee 
of  those  inconveniencies  and  ills  that  are  the  cooudoq 
appendages  of  humanity.   Add  to  all,  that  a  jost  know^ 
lede  of  human  nature,  and  of  those  binges  upon  wbick 
the  business  and  fortunes  of  men  turn,  will  prevent  our 
thinking  either  too  highly  or  too  meanly  of  oor  fel- 
low creatures,  give  no  small  scope  to  the  exercise  sf 
friendship,  oonfidence,  and  good  will,  and  at  the  sane 
time  brace  the  mind  with  a  proper  caution  and  distnist 
(those  nerves  of  prudence),  and  give  a  greater  nastny 
in  the  conduct  of  private  as  well  as  public  life.   Thei^ 
iinrey  by.coltivating  our  intellectual  abilitiesi  we  ihall 


\ 


?<rtll. 


MORAL  PH 


12a 


best  promote  and  fiecure  onr  interest,  and  be  qualified 
fi>r  acting  our  part  in  society  with  more  honour  to  our- 
selves, as  well  as  advantage  to  mankind.  Consequent- 
ly, to  improve  them  to  the  utmost  of  our  power  13  our 
duty  *f  they  are  talents  committed  to  us  by  the  Al- 
mi^ty  Head  of  society,  and  we  afe  accountable  to 
him  for  the  use  of  them. 

The  intellectual  virtues  are  best  improved  by  accu- 
rate and  impartial  observation,  extensive  reading,  and 
nnconfined  converse  with  men  of  all  characters,  espe- 
cially with  those  who  to  private  study,  have  joined  the 
widest  acquaintance  with  the  world,  and  greatest  prac- 
tice in  affairs  ^  but,  above  all,  by  being  much  in  the 
world,  and  having  large  dealings  with  mankind.  Suck 
opportunities  contribute  much  to  divest  one  of  preju- 
dices and  a  servile  attachment  to  crude  systems,  to  open 
one's  views,  and  to  give  that  experience  oh  which  the 
most  useful  hecause  the  most  practical  knowledge  is 
built,  and  from  which  the  surest  ihaxims  fdr  the  con- 
duct of  life  are  deduced. 

The  highest  goods  which  enter  into  the  composition 
of  human  happiness  are  tnoral  goods  of  the  mind,  di- 
rectly and  ultimately  regarding  ourselves  ;  as  command 
of  the  appetites  and  passian^f  prudence  and  caution^  mag- 
nofUmity^Jortitude^  humiiityy  hve  of  virtue^  loveoJGod^ 
rengnatvm^  and  the  like.  These  sublime  goods  are 
goods  by  way  of  eminence,  goods  recommended  and  en- 
forced by  the  most  intimate  and  awful  sense  and  con- 
sciousness of  our  nature  \  goods  that  constitute  the 
quintessence,  the  very  temper  of  happiness,  and  form 
that  complexion  of  soul  which  renders  us  approveable 
and  lovely  in  the  sight  of  God ;  goods,  in  fine,  which 
are  the  elements  of  all  our  future  perfection  and  felicity. 

Most  of  the  other  goods  we  have'  considered  depend 
partly  on  ourselves,  and  partly  on  accidents  which  we 
<:aa  neither  foresee  nor  prevent,  and  result  jBrom  causes 
which  .we  cannot  influence  or  alter.  They  are  such 
goods  as  we  may  possess  to-day  and  lose  to-morrow, 
and  which  require  a  felicity  of  constitution  and  talents 
to  attain  them  in  full  vigour  and  perfection,  and  a  feli- 
city of  conjunctures  to  secure  the  possession  of  them. 
Therefore,  did  our  happiness  depend  altogether  or 
chiefly  on  such  transitory  and  precarious  possessions,  it 
were  itself  most  precarious,  and  the  highest  folly  to  be 
anxious  about  it.  But  though  creatures.  Constituted 
as  we  are,  cannot  be  indifferent  about  sucn  goods,  and 
must  suffer  in  some  degree,  and  consequently  have  our 
happiness  incomplete  without  them,  yet  tLey  weigh 
but  little  in  the  scale  when  compared  with  moral  goods. 
By  the  benevolent  constitution  of  our  nature,  these 
are  placed  within  the  sphere  of  our  activity,  so  that  no 
man  can  be  destitute  of  them  unless  he  is  first  want- 
ing to  himself.  Some  of  the  wisest  and  best  of  man- 
kind have  wanted  most  of  the  former  goods,  and  all 
the  external  kind,  and  felt  itiost  of  the  opposite  illd, 
such  at  least  as  arise  from  without ;  yet  by  possessing 
the  latter,  viz.  the  moral  goods,  have  declared  they 
Were  happy  \  and  to  the  conviction  of  the  most  im- 
partial observers  have  appeared  happy.  The  worst  of 
men  have  heen  surrounded  with  every  outward  good 


ILOSOPHY.  570 

and  advantage  of  fortune,  and  haVe  (possessed  great  0fM&n*B 
parts  5  yet  for  want  of  moral  rectitude,  have  been,  and    duty  to 
have  confessed  themselves,  notoriously  and  exquisitely   Himself  ^ 
miserable.     The  exercise  of  virtue  has  supported  its  vo-         ^ 
taries,  and  niade  theni  exult  in  the  midst  of  tortures 
almost  intolerable  3  nay,  how  often  has  some  false  forni 
or  shadow  of  it  sustained  even  the  greatest  (e)  villains 
and  bigots  under  the  same  pressures  !  But  no  external 
goods,  no  goods  of  fortune,  have  been  able  to  alleviate 
the  agonies  Or  expel  the  fears  of  a  guilty  mind,  consci- 
ous of  the  deserved  hatred  and  reproach  of  nlankind, 
and  the  just  displeasure  of  Almighty  God.  ^ 

As  the  present  condition  of  human  life  is  wonder-  The  mized 
fully  chequered  with  good  and  ill,   and  as  no  height  of  condition 
station,  no  affluence  of  fortune,  can  absolutely  ensure  ®/ ^'"°*? 
the  good,  or  secure  against  the  ill,   it  is  evident  that  a     ,J|^?|"^ 
great  part  of  the  comfort  and  serenity  of  life  must  lie  Tirtues. 
m  having  our  minds  duly  affected  with  iegatd  to  both, 
i.  e.  rightly  attenipered  to  the  loss  of  one  and  the  suf- 
ferance of  the  other.     For  it  is  certain  that  outward 
calamities  derive  their  chief  malignity  and  pressure 
fironi  the  inward  dispositions  with  which  we  receive 
them.     By  managing  these  right,  we  may  greatly  abate 
that  malignity  and  pressure,  and  consequently  diminish 
the  number,   and  weaken   the  force,   of  the  ills   of 
life,  if  we  should  not  have  it  in  our  power  to  obtaih  a 
large  share  of  its  goods.     There  lire  particularly  three 
virtues  which  go  to  the  forming  this  right  temper  to- 
wards ill,  and  which  are  of  singular  efficacy,  if  not  to- 
tally to  remove,  yet  wonderfully  to  allevikte,  the  cala- 
mities of  life.     These  Kt^  fortitude  or  patience^  humili- 
ty^ and  resignation*  i^^ 

Fortitude  is  that  calm  and  steady  habit  of  mind  Fortitude, 
which  either  nioderates  our  fears,  and  enables  ns 
bravely  to  encounter  the  prospect  of  ill,  or  renders  the 
niind  serene  and  invincible  under  its  immediate  pres- 
sure. It  lies  equally  distant  firohi  nishness  and  cowar- 
dice :  and  though  it  does  not  hinder  us  from  feeling, 
yet  prevents  our  complaining  or  dhrirtking  under  the 
stroke.  It  always  includes  a  generous  contempt  of, 
or  at  least  a  noble  superiority  to,  those  precarious 
goods  of  which  we  can  ensure  neither  the  possession 
nor  continuance.  The  man  therefore  who  possesses 
this  virtue  in  this  ample  sense  of  it,  stands*  upon  an 
eminence,  and  sees  human  things  below  him  ;  the 
tempest  indeed  ihay  reach  him,  but  he  stands  secure 
and  collected  against  it  upon  th^  basis  of  conscious  vir- 
tue, which  the  severest  stonlis  elm  seldom  shake,  and 
never  bverthrow.  y^. 

Humility  is  another  virtue  of  high  rank  and  dignity,  Humility, 
though  often  mistaken  by  proud  mortals  for  meanness 
and  pusillanimity.  It  is  opposed  to  pride^  which  com- 
monly includes  in  it  a  false  or  overrated  estimation  of 
our  ovm  merit,  an  ascription  of  it  to  onrSelves  as  its 
only  and  original  cause,  an  undue  comparison  of  oar- 
selves  with  others,  and  in  consequence  of  that  supposed 
superiority,  an  arrogant  preference  of  odrselves,  and  a 
supercilious  contempt  of  them.  Humility^  on  the  other' 
hand,  seems  to  denote  that  'modest  and  ingenuous 
temper  of  mind,  which  arises  from  a  just  and  equal 

3  B  2  estimate 


(e)  As  Ravaillac,  who  assassinated  Henry  IV.  of  France  j  and  Balthasar  Geraerd,  who  murdered  William  I. 
prince  of  Orange. 


3«® 


MORAL  PH 


'I 


or  Man's  estimate  of  our  OWD  advftntages  compared  with  those 
daty  to 
Himself. 


ia6 


117 
Clucf  ffood, 

and /or. 


ii8 

CtfoUaiiea. 


of  others,  and  from  a  sense  of  our  deriving  all  origi- 
nally from  tiie  Author  of  our  being.  Its  ordinary  at- 
tendants are  mildness,  a  gentle  forbearance,  and  an  easy 
unassuming  humanity  vrith  regard  to  the  imperfections 
and  faults  of  others ;  virtues  rare  indeed,  but  of  the 
fairest  complexion,  the  proper  offspring  of  so  lovely  a 
parent,  the  best  ornaments  of  such  imperfect  creatures 
as  we  are.,  precious  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  which 
ftweetly  allure  the  hearts  of  men. 

Restgnation  is  that  mild  and  heroic  temper  of  mind 
which  arises  from  a  sense  of  an  infinitely  wise  and 
good  providence,  and  enables  one  to  acquiesce  with  a 
cordial  affection  in  its  just  appointments.  This  virtue 
has  something  very  particular  in  its  nature,  and  sublime 
in  its  efficacy.  For  it  teaches  us  to  bear  ill,  not  only 
with  patience,  and  as  being  unavoidable,  but  it  trans- 
forms, as  it  were,  ill  into  good,  by  leading  us  to  con- 
sider it,  and  every  event  that  has  the  least  appearance 
of  ill,  as  a  divine  dispensation,  a  wise  and  benevolent 
temperament  of  things,  subservient  to  universal  good, 
and  of  coarse  including  that  of  every  individual,  espe- 
cially of  such  as  calmly  stoop  to  it.  In  this  light,  the 
administration  itself,  nay  every  act  of  it,  becomes  an 
object  of  affection,  the  evil,  disappears,  or  is  converted 
into  a  balm  which  both  heals  and  nourisheth  the  mind. 
For  though  the  first  unexpected  access  of  ill  may  sur- 
prise tlie  soul  into  grief,  yet  that  grief,  when  the  mind 
calmly  reviews  its  object,  changes  into  contentment^ 
and  is  by  degrees  exalted  into  veneration  and  a  divine 
composure.  Our  private  will  is  lost  in  that  of  the  Al- 
mighty, and  our  security  aninst  every  real  ill  rests  on 
the  same  bottom  as  the  Uirone  of  him  who  lives  and 
reiens  for  ever. 

Before  we  finish  this  section,  it  may  be  fit  to  observe, 
that  as  the  Deity  is  the  supreme  and  inexhansted 
source  of .  good,  on  whomi  the  happiness  of  the  whole 
oreation  depends  ;  as  he  is  the  highest  object  in  nature, 
and  the  only  object  who  is  fully  proportioned  to  the  in- 
tellectual and  moral  powers  of  the  mind,  in  whom  they 
ultimately  rest,  and  find  their  most  perfect  exercise  and 
completion  )  Ik  is  therefore  termed  the  Chief  good  of 
man^  objectively  considered.  And  virtue^  or  the  pro- 
portioned and  vigoroas  exercise  of  the  several  powers 
and  aSectiona  on  their  respective  objects,  as  above  de- 
acribed,  is,  in  the  schools,  termed  the  chief  good^  formal- 
ly considered,  or  its  formal  idea,  bein^  the  inward  tem- 
per and  native  constitution  of  human  happiness. 

From  the  detail  we  have  gone  through,  the  foUowing 
oorollaries  may  he  deduced. 

J.  It  is  evident,  that  the  happiness  i>f  such  a  prt^ 
gre^sive  creature  as  man  can  never  be  at  a  stand,  or 
<:ontintte  a  jfixed  invariable  thine.  His  finite  nature. 
Jet  it  rise  ever  so  high,  admits  still  higher  degrees  of 
improvement  and  pertection.  And  his  progression  in 
improvement  or  virtue  always  makes  way  for  a  pro* 
greasioQ  in  happineas.  So  that  no  possible  point  can 
be  assigned  in  any  period  of  his  existence  in  which  he 
is  perfectly  happy,  that  is,  so  happy  as  to  exclude,  higl^ 
er  degrees  of  happiness.  AU  his  perfection  is  only 
comparative.  %  It  appears  that  many  things  must 
conspire  to  complete  the  happinew  of  so  various  a 
creature  as  man,  subject  to  so  many  wants,  and  sus- 
ceptible of  such  different  pleasures.  3.  As  his  capaci- 
ties of  pleasure  cannot  be  all  gratified  at  the  same 


1^9 


ILOSOPHY.  PartE 

time,  and  must  often  interfere  with  each  other  in  such  j^tnM 
a  precarious  and  fleeting  state  as  human  life,  or  be  S«dm 
frequently  disappointed,  perfect  happiness,  i.  e.  the 
undisturbed  enjoyment  of  thi^  several  pleasures  of 
which  we  are  capable,  is  unattainable  in  oar  present 
state.  4.  That  state  is  most  to  be  sought  after,  in 
which  the  fewest  competitions  and  disappointmcots 
can  happen,  which  least  of  all  impairs  any  sense  of 
pleasure,  and  opens  an  inexhausted  source  of  the  most 
refined  and  lasting  enjoyments.  5.  Tbkt  state  which 
is  attended  with  all  those  advantages,  is  a  state  or  course 
of  virtue.  6.  Therefore^  a  state  of  virtue^  in  which 
the  moral  goods  of  the  mind  are  attained,  is  the  happkit 
state. 

Chap.  III.  Duiiej  ^Society. 

Sect.  I.  Fil/aJ  and  Fraternal  Duly. 

A%  we  have  followed  the  order  of  nafnre  in  tracing 
the  history  of  man,  and  those  dnties  which  lie  owes  to 
himself,  it  seems  reasonable  to  take  the  same  method 
with  those  be  owes  to  society,  which  constitute  the  jr- 
cond  class  of  his  obligations. 

His  parents  are  among  the  earliest  objects  of  his  at- 
tention 'j  he  becomes  soonest  acquainted  with  them, 
reposes  a  peculiar  confidence  in  them,  and  seems  to 
regard  them  with  a  fond  affection,  the  early  prognos- 
tics of  his  futore  piety  and  gratitttde.  Thus  does  nature 
dictate  the  first  lines  of  filial  duty,  even  before  a  just 
sense  of  the  connexion  is  formed.  But  when  the  child 
is  grown  up,  and  has  attained  to  such  a  degree  of  un- 
derstanding, as  to  comprehend  the  moral  tiey  and  be 
sensible  of  the  obligations  he  is  under  to  his  parents  ^ 
when  he  looks  back  on  their  tender  and  disinterested 
affection,  their  incessant  cares  and  labours  in  010910?, 
educating,  and  providing  for  him,  dnring  that  state  m 
which  be  had  neither  prudence  nor  strength  to  care  and 
provide  for  himself,  he  must  be  conscioos  that  he  owes 
to  them  these  peculiar  duties.  tr 

I.  To  reverence  and  honour  them,  as  the  instruments IMott 
of  nature  in  introducing  him  to  life,  and  to  that  state 
of  comfort  and  happiness  which  he  enjoys ;  and  there- 
fore to  esteem  and  imitate  their  good  qualities,  to  alle- 
viate and  bear  with,  and  spread,  as  much  at  possible,  a 
decent  veil  over  their  faults  and  weaknesses. 

a.  To  be  hiffhly  grateful  to  them,  for  those  Ikvoofs 
which  it  can  hardly  ever  be  in  his  power  fully  to  re- 
pay $  to  show  this  gratitude  by  a  strict  attention  to 
their  wants,  and  a  solicitous  care  to  supply  them  \  by 
a  submissive  deference  to  their  authority  and  advice, 
especially  by  paying  great  regard  to  it  in  the  choice  of 
a  wife,  and  (ft  an  occupation )  by  yielding  to,  rather 
than  peevishly  contending  with,  their  homonnt,  as  it- 
membering  how  oft  they  have  been  persecuted  by  his  \ 
and,  in  fine,  by  soothing  their  cares,  lightening  their 
sorrows,  supporting  the  infirmities  of  age,  and  makiog 
the  remainder  of  their  life  as  comfortaible  and  joyfid  as 
possible. 

As  his  brethren  and  sisters  are  the  next 
the  creature  forms  a  social  and  moral  connexioo,  t*|^ 
them  he  owes  a  fraternal  regard  \  and  with  them 
ought  he  to  enter  into  a  strict  league  of  friendship, 
mutnal  sympathy,  advice,  assistance,  and  a  geoeroas 

intercourse  of  kiod  offices,  remembering  thevreMiflB 

t» 


«J» 


ftrtll.  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

jhiUrs  oC  to  c^mmoQ  pareniiii  and  that  Inrotherliood  of  nature 
Society,    which  unites  them  into  a  closer  community  of  tnterast 
and  affection.  t 


«5* 


liifcktiie 


»33 


tin 


Sect.  IL  Concerning  Marriage, 

When  man  arrives  to  a  certain  age,  be  becomea 
sensible  of  a  peculiar  sympathy  and  tenderness  towards 
the  other  sex  ^  the  charms  of  beauty  engage  his  atten* 
tion,  and  call  forth  new  and  softer  dispositions  than 
he  has  yet  felt.  The  many  amiable  qualities  exhibit- 
ed by  a  fair  outside,  or  by  the  mild  alurement  of  fe- 
male manners,  or  i^hich  the  prejudiced  spectator  with- 
out much  reasoning  supposes  tho^  to  include,  with 
several  other  circumstances  both  natural  and  accident- 
al, point  his  view  and  affection  to  a  particular  ob- 
ject, and  of  course  contract  that  general  rambling  re- 
gard, which  was  lost  and  aseless  among  the  undistin-* 
guished  crowd,  into  a  peculiar  and  permanent  attach- 
ment to  one  woman,  which  ordinarily  terminates  in  the 
most  important,  venerable,  and  delightful  connexion  in! 
life. 

The  state  of  the  brute  creation  is  very  different  froni 
that  of  human  creatures.  '  The  former  are  clothed' 
and  generally  armed  by  their  structure,  eiisily  find 
what  19  necessary  to  their  subsistence,  and  Soon  attain 
their  vigour  and  maturity;  so  that  they  need  the 
care  and  aid  of  their  parents  but  for  a  short  while  ^ 
and  therefore  we  see  that  nature  has  assigned  to  them 
vagrant  and  transient  amours.  The  connexion  being 
purely  natural^,  and  merely  for  propagating  and  rear» 
tag  their  offspring,  no  sooner  is  that  end  answered, 
than  the  connexion  dissolves  of  course.  But  the  hu- 
man race  are  of  a  more  tender  and  defenceless  consti- 
tution^ their  infancy  and  non-age  continue  longer; 
they  advance  slowly  to  sti^ngth.  of  body  anfd  maturity 
of  reason  ;  they  need  constant  attention,  and  a  long 
senes  of  cares  and  labours,  to  train  them  up  to  de- 
cency, virtue,  and  the  various  arts  of  life.  Nfcture  has, 
therefore,  provided  them  with  the  most  affectionate 
and  anxious  tutors,,  to  aid'  their  weakness,  to  supply* 
their  wants,  and  to  accomplish  them  in  those  necessary 
arts,  even  their  own  parents,  on  whom  she  has  devolved 
this  mighty  charge,  rendered  agreeable  by  the  most  al- 
luring and  powerful  ofall  ties,  parental  affection.  But 
unless  both  concur  in  this  grateful  task,  and  continue 
their  joint  labours,  till  they  have  reared  up  and  planted' 
out  their  young  colony,  it  most  become  a  prey  to  every 
rude  invader,  and  the  purpose  of  nature  in  the  original 
union  of  the  human  pair  be  defeated.  Therefore  our 
structure  as  well  as  condition  is  an  evident  indication, .    extremely  perplexed,'  do  all  seem  to  require  it.     Tb 


381 

•tructing  or  impairing  the  decent  and  regnkr  eactr-  Baiie»«r 
cise  of  the  tender  and  gcDci'Ous  feeKngs  of  the  httman  Soeiet)r. 
heart,  they  in  time  become  mqa^iM  for,  or  sv^fse '  -  ^  '' 
to,  the  forming  a  moral  union  of  sonla,  which  ia  tie: 
cement  of  society,  and  the  source  of  the  purest  dd^ 
mestic  joys.  liVliereas  a  rational^  undepraved  i^ve^ 
and  its  fajr  companion,  marriage^  collect  a  man^s  views, 
guide  his  heart  to  its  prop^  object,  aoMl,  by  eoniaing 
his  afiection  to  that  object,  do  resAly  enfange  it»  m^ 
fluence  and  use.  Besides^  it  is  boi  too  efvdevt'  fiom 
the  conduct  of  mankind,  that  the  connnmi  ties  of  hu- 
manity are  too  feeble  to  engage  aod  interest  the  paa- 
sions  of  the  generality  in  the  affairs  of  soeiety.  This 
connexions  of  aeighbourbood,  acquaintance,  and  geae- 
ral  intercourse,  are  too  wide  a  field  of  action  for  many, 
and  those  of  a  public  or  coynmumty  are  so  for  tnatB ; 
and  in  which  they  e//A«r  care  not  or  know  noi  kot»  to 
exert  themselves.  Therefore  nature,  ever  wise  and  be- 
nevolent, by  implanting  that  strong  sympathy  which 
reigns  between  the  individuals  of  each  sex,  and  by 
urging  them  to  form  a  particular  moral  connexion,  the 
spring  of  many  domestic  endearments,  has  measured  oilt 
to  edicb  pair  a  particular  sphere  of  actitm^  proportioned 
to  their  views,  and  adapted  to  their  respective  capaci- 
ties. Besides,  by  interesting  them  deeply  in  the  con- 
cerns of  their  own  little  circle,  she  has  connected  them 
more  closely  with  society,  which  is  composed  of  parti- 
cular families,  and  bound  them  down  to  their  good  beba' 
viour  in  thkt  particular  community  to  which  they  be- 
long. This  moral  connexion  is  mahriage^  and  this 
sphere  of  action  is  u.Jkmi(y,  j^. 

0{  the  conjugal  alliance  the  following  are  the  naiu^Vutlittof 
ml  laws.  First,  Mutual  fidelity  to  the  marriage  hed."^*i^*^*S^ 
Disloyalty  defeats  the  very  end  of  marriage  j  dissolves 
th^  natural  cementof  the  relation }  weakens  the  moral 
tie,  the  chief  strength  of  which  lies  in  the  reeiprocatioa 
of  affection  j  and  by  making  the  offspring  nncertain, 
diminishes  the  care  aad  attachment  necessary  to  thett 
edncatio!^. 

2«  A  conspiration  of  c6uiisel8  and  endeavours  to  pro< 
mote  the  common  intei^st  of  the  family,  and  to  educate 
their  common  offspring.  In  order  to  observe  tbe^e 
laws,  it  is  necessary  to  cultivate,  both  before  and  during 
the  married  state,  the  strictest  decency  aud  chastity  of 
manners,  and  a  just  sense  of  what  becomes  their  Ivspec- 
tive  characters. 

3;  The  union  must  be  inviolable,  and  for  lif^t.    The 
nature  of  friendship,  and  particularly  of  this  species  of  - 
it,  the  education  of  their  offspring,  and  the  order  of  • 
society  and  of  successions,  which  would  otherwise  be- 


that  the  human  sexes /ire  destined  fdr-ii  inore  intimate, 
for  a  moral  and  lasting  union.  It  appears  likewise, 
that  the  principal  end  of  marriage  is  not  to  propagate 
and  nurse  up  an  ofl&pring,  but  to  educate  and  fortn  minds 
for  the  great  duties  and  extensive  destinations  of  life. 
Society  must  be  supplied  from  this  original  nursery 
with  useful  members,  and  its  fkirett  ornaments  aad 
supports. 
Moraieadt  The  niihd  is  apt  to  be  dissipated  in  its  vieWs  and 
acts  of  friendship  and  humanity ;  unless  the  Jbrmer  be 
directed  tea  particular  object,  and  the  latter  emjMoyw 
ed  ia  a  particular  province.  When  men  once  indulge 
in  this  dissipation, ,  there  is  no  stopping  their  career  ^ 
they  grow  insieosthk  to  mdral, attractions  j  and,  By^bh« 


»S4 


preserve  this  union,  and  render  the  matrimonial  state 
more  harmonious  and  tomfortable^  a  mutual  esteem 
and  tenderness,  a  mutual  deference  and  forbearance, 
a  eommunieation  of  advice,  and  assistance  and  anth6* 
rity,  are  absolutely  necessary.     If  either  party  keep  . 
within  their  |iroper  departments,   there  need   be  no  - 
dispdtes  ab60t  power  or  superiority^  and  there  will  be 
none.    They  have  no  opposite  no  separate  intertBttt^  and. . 
therefore  there  can  be  no  just  ground  for  opposition  of' 
conduct.  I M^ 

From  tbi#  detail,  and  thip  present  state  of  things,  taPel7gaa|«> 
Which  there  is  pretty  near  a  parity  of  numbers  of  both 
Si^xes,  it  is  evideat  tikkt  polygamy  is  tm-unnataral  state  ) 
and.  though  it  shtfuU  be  granted  to  be  ftiore  fraitftil 

ol 


382 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


PartH. 


]>«tics  of 

Society. 


'37 
Connexion 

of  parents 

icndchil. 

dttli* 


«38 

Theaotho.) 

rity  found- 
ed ou  that 
tionnezion. 


i39 
Duties  of 

parent!. 


140 
Edocalion. 


of  diiMren,  which  howeyer  it  is  not  found  to  be,  yet 
it  is  hy  no  means  so  fit  for  rearing  minds,  which  seems 
to  be  as  mneh,  if  not  more,  die  intention  of  nature  than 
the  propi^tion  of  bedics. 

Sect.  III.  0/  Parental  Duty, 

The  connexion  of  parents  with  their  chUdren  is  a 
natural  consequence  of  the  matrimonial  connexion  y 
and  the  duties  which  they  owe  them  result  as  natural- 
ly from  that  connexion.  The  feeble  state  of  children^ 
subject  to  so  many  wants  and  dangers,  requires  their 
incessant  care  and  attention ;  their  igncnrant  and  uncul- 
tivated minds  demand  their  continual  instruction  and 
culture.  Had  human  creatures  come  into  the  world 
with  the  fiill  strength  of  men^  and  tlte  weakness  of  rea- 
son and  vehemence  of  passions  which  prevail  in  c^f/- 
dinrn,  they  would  have  been  too  strong  or  too  stubborn 
to  have  submitted  to  the  government  and  instruction  of 
their  parents.  But  as  they  were  designed  for  a  progres* 
sion  in  knowledge  and  virtue,  it  was  proper  that  the 
growth  of  their  bodies  should  keep  pace  with  that  of 
their  minds,  lest  the  purposes  of  that  prooression  should 
have  been  defeated.  Among  other  admirable  purposes 
which  this  gradual  expansion  of  their  outward  as  well 
as  inward  structure  serves,  this  is  one,  that  it  affords 
ample  scope  to  the  exercise  of  many  tender  and  gene* 
rous  affections,  which  fill  up  the  domestic  life  with  a 
beautiful  variety  of  duties  and  enjoyments  \  and  are  of 
course  a  noble  discipline  for  the  heart,  and  a  hardy  kind 
of  education  for  the  more  honourable  and  important 
duties  ai public  life^ 

The  above-mentioned  weak  and  ignorant  state  of 
children  seems  plainly  to  invest  their  parents  with  such 
authority  and  power  as  is  necessary  to  their  support, 
protection,  and  education  3  but  that  authority  and 
power  can  be  construed  to  extend  no  farther  than  is 
necessary  to  answer  those  ends,  and  to  last  no  longer 
than  that  weakness  and  jgnorance  continue;  wherefore, 
the  foundation  or  reason  of  the  authority  and  power 
ceasing,  they  cease  of  course.  Whatever  power  or  au- 
thority then  it  may  be  necessary  or  lawful  for  parents 
to  exercise  during  the  non-age  of  their  children,  to  as- 
sume or  usurp  the  same  when  they  have  attained  the  ma- 
turity or  full  exercise  of  their  strength  and  reason  would 
be  tyrannical  and  unjust.  From  hence  it  is  evident, 
that  parents  hstve  no  right  to  punish  the  persons  of  their 
children  more  severely  than  the  nature  of  their  ward- 
ship requires,  much  less  to  invade  their  lives,  to  en- 
croach upon  their  liberty,  or  transfer  them  as  their  pro- 
.perty  to  any' master  whatsoever. 

The  first  class  of  duties  which  parents  owe  their  chil- 
dren respect  their  natural  life  \  and  these  comprehend 
protection,  nurture,  provision,  introducing  them  into  the 
world  in  a  manner  suitable  to  their  rank  and  fortune, 
and  the  like. 

The  second  order  of  duties  regards  the  intellectual 
and  moral  life  of  their  children,  or  their  education  in 
such  arts  and  accomplishments  as  are  necessary  to  qua- 
lify them  for  performing  the  duties  they  owe  to  them- 
selves and  to  others.  As  this  was  found  to  be  the  prin- 
cipal design  of  the  matrimonial  alliance,  so  the  fulfil- 
ling that  design  is  the  most  important  and  dignified  of 
all  the  parental  duties.  In  order  therefore  to  fit  the 
child  for  acting  his  part  wisely  and  worthily  as  a 

3 


man,  as  a  citi^ien^  and  a  creatare  (J'Godj  both  parenti  Dtttirf 
ought  to  combine  their  joint  wisdom,  authority,  and  Sodctj. 
power,  and  each  apart  to  employ  those  talents  which 
are  the  peculiar  excellency  and  ornament  of  their  re- 
spective sex.  The  lather  ought  to  lay  out  and  superin- 
tend  their  education,  the  mother  to  execute  and  mi^ 
nage  the  detail  of  which  she  is  capable.  The  former 
should  direct  the  manly  exerUon  of  the  intellectual  and 
moral  powers  of  his  child.  His  imagination,  and  the 
manner  of  those  exertions,  are  the  peculiar  province 
of  the  latter 4  The  former  should  advise,  protect,  com- 
mand, and,  <by  his  experience,  masculine  vigour,  and 
that  superior  authority  which  is  commonly  ascribed 
to  his  sex,  brace  and  strengthen  his  pupil  for  active 
life,  for  gravity,  integrity,  and  firmness  in  suffering. 
The  business  of  the  latter  is  to  bend  and  soften  her 
male  pupil,  by  the  charms  of  her  conversation,  and 
the  softness  and  decency  of  her  manners,  for  social  life, 
for  politeness  of  taste,  and  the  elegant  decorums  and 
enjoyments  of  humanity  j  and  to  improve  and  refine 
the  tenderness  and  modesty  of  her  female  pupil,  and 
form  her  to  all  those  mild  domestic  virtues  which  are 
the  peculiar  characteristics  and  ornaments  of  her  sex : 
To  conduct  the  opening  minds  of  their  sweet  charge 
through  the  several  periods  of  their  progress,  to  as- 
sist them  in  each  period,  in  throwing  out  the  latent 
seeds  of  reason  and  ingenuity,  and  in  gaining  fre^h  ac- 
cessions of  light  and  virtue  \  and  at  ,length«  with  all 
these  advantages,  to  produce  the  young  adventurers 
upon  the  great  theatre  of  human  life,  to  play  their 
several  parts  in  the  sight  of  their  friends,  of  society^ 
and  mankind. 


Sect.  IV.  Herile  and  Seri>ile  Duty. 


M« 


In  the  natural  course  of  human  affairs,  it  must  neces-TW^^ 
sarily  happen  that  some  of  mankind  will  live  in  plenty  ^^^'*' 
and  opulence,  and  others  be  reduced  to  a  state  of  in- 
digence and  poverty.     The  former  need  the  labours 
of  the  latter,  and  the  latter  provision  and  support  of 
the  former.     This  mutual  necessity  is  the  foundation 
of  that  connexion,  whether  we  call  it  moral  or  civile 
which  subsists  between  masters  and  servants.     He  who 
feeds  another  has  a  right  to  some  equivalent,  the  labour     |^ 
of  him  whom  he  maintains,  and  the  fruits  of  it.     AndTkecfl 
he  who  labours  for  another  has  a  right  to  expect  thattMiftf^ 
he  ^should  support  him.    But  as  the  labours  of  a  man  of  ^'^ 
ordinary  strength  are  certainly  of  greater  value  than 
mere  food  and  clothing  j    because  they  would  actually 
produce  more,  even  the  maintenance  of  a  family,  were 
the  labourer  to  employ  them  in  his  own  behalf;  there- 
fore he  has  an  undonbted  right  to  rate  and  dispose  of 
his  service  for  certain  wages  above  mere  maintenance ; 
and  if  he  has  incautiously  disposed  of  it  for  the  latter 
only,  yet  the  contract  being  of  the  onerous  kind,  be 
may  equitably  claim  a  supply  of  that  deficiency.     If 
the  service  be  specified,  the  servant  is  bound  to  that 
only  ;   if  not,  then  he  is  to  be  construed  as  bound  only 
to  such  services  as  are  consistent  with  the  laws  of  jus- 
tice and  humanity.      By  the  voluntary  servitude  to 
which  he  subjects  himself,  he  forfeits  no  rights  bat  such 
as  are  necessarily  included  in  that  servitude,  sod  is 
obnoxious  to  no  punishment  bnt  such  as  a  volontary 
failure  in  the  service  may  be  supposed  reasonably  to 
require.    The  offspring  of  such  servants  have  a  rigbt  to 

that 


Part  II. 


MORAL    PH 


Duties  of 
Society. 

Hie  ease  or 
|rrrat  oficn 
ders. 


144 
1%cc«se  of 


Hon  Ind. 
PkiLhhm 


that  liberty  which  neither  they  nor  their  parents  have 
forfeited. 

As  to  those  who,  because  of  some  heinous  oflence, 
or  for  some  notorious  damage,  for  which  they  cannot 
otherwise  compensate,  are  condemned  to  perpetual  ser- 
vice, they  do  not,  on  that  account,  forfeit  all  the  rights 
of  men ;  but  those,  the  Ioas  of  which  is  necessary  to  se- 
cure society  against  the  like  offences  for  the  future,  or 
to  repair  the  damage  they  have- done. 

With  regard  to  captives  taken  in  war,  it  is  barba- 
rous and  inhuman  to  nuvjke  perpetual  slaves  of  them,  un- 
less some  peculiar  and  aggiavated  circumstances  of 
guilt  have  attended  their  hostility.  The  bulk  of  the 
subjects  of  any  government  engatred  in  war  may  be 
fairly  esteemed  innocent  enemies  \  and  therefore  they 
have  a  right  to  that  clemency  which  is  consistent  with 
the  common  safety  of  mankind,  and  the  particular  se- 
cnrity  of  that  society  against  which  they  are  engaged. 
Though  ordinary  captives  have  a  grant  of  their  lives, 
yet  to  pay  their  liberty  as  an  equivalent  is  much  too 
high  a  price.  There  are  other  wayH  of  acknowledging 
or  returning  the  favonr,  than  by  surrendering  what  is 
far  dearer  than  life  itself  *.  To  those  who,  under  pretext 
of  the  necessities  of  commerce,  drive  the  unnatural  trade 
of  bargaining  for  human  flesh,  and  consigning  their  in- 
nocent but  unfortunate  fellow  creatures  to  eternal  ser- 
vitude and  misery,  we  may  address  the  words  of  a  fine 
writer  \  *'  Let  avarice  defend  it  as  it  will,  there  h  an 
honest  reluctance  in  humanity  a^inst  buying  and  selU 
ing,  and  regarding  those  of  our  own  species  as  eiir 
wealth  and  possessions.'* 

Bect.  V.  Social  Duties  uf  the  private  Kind.    • 

Hitherto  we  have  considered  only  the  domestic  eco- 
nomical duties,  because  these  are  first  in  the  progress  of 
nature.  But  as  man  passes  beyond  the  little  circle  of 
a  family,  he  forms  connexions  with  relations,  friends, 
neighbours,  and  others ;  firom  whence  results  a  new 
tram  of  duties  of  the  more  private  social  kind,  as 
^  friendship,  chastity,  courtesy,  good  neighbourhood, 
charity,  forgiveness,  hospitality.*' 
H^^^^ptl.  Man  is  admirably  formed  for  particular '  social  at- 
KmIc  for  so-  tacbments  and  duties.  There  is  a  peculiar  and  strong 
*ietj«  propensity  in  his  nature  to  be  affected  with  the  senti- 

ments and  dispositions  of  others  Men,  like  certain 
musical  instruments,  are  set  to.  each  other,  so  that  the 
vibrations  or  notes  excited  in  one  raise  correspondent 
notes  and  vibrations  in  the  others.  The  impulses  of 
pleasure  or  pain^  jof  or  sorrow^  made  on  one  mind,  are 
by  an  instantaneous  sympathy  of  nature  communicated 
in  some  degree  to  all  f  especially  when  hearts  are  (as 
a  humane  writer  expresses  it)  in  unison  of  kindness  j 
the  joy  that  vibrates  in  one  communicates  to  the  other 
also.  We  may  add,  that  though  joy  thus  imparted 
swells  the  harmony,  yet  grief  vibrated  to  the  heart  of 
a  friend,  and  rebounding  from  thence  in  sy/npathetic 
notes,  melts  as  it  were,  and  almost  dies  away.  Ail 
the  passions^  but  especially- those  of  the  social  kind, 
are  contagious  ^  and  when  the  passions  of  one  man 
mingle  with  those  of  another,  they,  increase  and  mul- 
tiply prodigiously.  There  is  a  most  moving  eloquence 
in  the  human  countenance,  air,  voice  and-  gesture, 
wonderfully  expressive  of  the  most  latent  feelings  and 
jpcsions  of  the  soul,  which  darts  them  like  a  subtle 


^AS 


ilosophy;  s'is 

flame  into  the  hearts  of  otliers,  and  raises  correspoo-  Duties  of 
dent  feelings   there:    friendship,  love,  good  humour,    Society, 
joy,  spread  through   every  feature,  and   particularly '       ^      '' 
shoot  from  the  eyes  their  softer  and  fiercer  fires  with 
an  irresistible  energy.     And  in  like  manner  the  oppo-' 
site  passions  of  hatred,  enmity,  ill  humour,  melancholy, 
difiiise  a  sullen  and  saddening  air  over  the  face,  and 
flashing  from  eye  to  eye,  kindle  a  train  of  similar  pas- 
sions,    fiy  thefie,  and  other  admirable  pieces  of  ma- 
chinery, men  are  formed  for  society  and  the  deliglittul 
interchange  of  £riendly  sentiments  and  dutic  s.  to.increase 
the  happiness  of  others  by  participation,  and  their  own 
by  rebound  \  and  to  diminish,  by  dividing,  the  common 
stock  of  their  misery.  746 

The  first  emanations  of  the  social  principle  beyond  Duties  ari« 
the  bounds  of  a  family  lead  us  to  form  a  nearer  con-""?  ^^^ 
junction  of  friendship  or  good  will  with  those  who  art  J[^^^*  '*" 
anywise  connected  with  us  by  blood  or  domestic  al- 
liance. To  them  our  affection  does  commonly  exest 
itself  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  according  to  the 
nearness  or  distance  of  the  relation.  And  this  pro- 
portion is  admirably  suited  to  the  extent  of  our  powers 
and  the  indigence  of  our  t»tate  \  for  it  is  only  within 
those  lesser  circles  of  consanguinity  or  alliance  that 
the  generality  of  mankind  are  able  to  display  their 
abilities  or  benevolence,  and  consequently  to  uphold 
their  connexion  with  society,  and  subserviency  to  a 
public  interest.  Therefore  it  is  our  duty  to  regard 
these  closer  connexions  as  the  next  department  to  that 
of  a  family>  in  which  nature  has  marked  out  for  us  a 
sphere  of  activity  and  usefulness  ;  and  to  cultivate  the 
kind  affections  which  are  the .  cement .  of  these^  endear- 
ing allianeesr.  147^ 

Fjeqpentlythe  view  of  distinguishing  moral  quali^  ^KJf^J"**" 
ties  in  some  of  our  acquaintance  may  give  birth  to^j^i^^''  " 
that  more  noble  connexion  we  call  friendship,  which 
is  far  superior  to  the  alliances  of  consanguinity.  For 
these  are  of  a  superficial,  and  often  of  a  transitory  na- 
ture, of  which  as  thev  hold  more  of  instinct  than  of  rea- 
sonj  we  cannot  give  such  a  rational  account.  But 
friendship  derives  all  its  strength  and  beauty,  and  the 
only*  existence  which  is  durable^  from  the  qualities  of  ■ 
the  heart,  or  from  virtuous  and  lovely  dispositions. 
Or,  should  these  be  wanting,  they  or  some  shadow  of 
them  must  be  supposed  presents— Therefore  friendship 
may  be  descnbed  to  be,  *'  The  union  of  two  souls  by 
means  of  virtue^  the.  common  object  and  cement  of 
their  mutual  affection.*^  Without  virtue^  or  the  sup- 
position of  it,  friendship  is  only  a  mercenary  league,  an 
alliance  of  interest,  which  must  dissolve  of  course  when 
that  interest  decays  or  subsists  no  longer.  It  is  not  so 
much  any  particular  passion,  as  a  composition  of  some 
of  the  noblest  feelings  and  passions  of  the  mind«  Crood 
senscy  Hjust  taste  and  love  of  virtue^  a  thomugh  candour 
and  benignity  of  hearty  or  what  we  usually  call  a  good 
temper^  and- a  generous  sympathy  of  sentiments  and 
affections,  are  the  neoessary  ingredients  of  this  virtuous 
connexion.  When  it  is  grafted  on  esteem,  strengthen- 
ed by  haibit,  and  melbwed  by  time,  it  yields  infinite 
pleasure,  ever  new  and  ever  growing  \  is  a  noble  sup- 
port amidst  the  various  trials  and  vicissitudes  of  life,  and 
a  high  seasoning  to^  most  of  our  other  enjoyments.-* 
To  form  and  cultivate,  virtuous  friendship,  must  he 
very .  improving  to.  the  temper,  as  its  principal  object 
vt  virtuCf  set  off  with  all  the  allurene^t  of  countenance, 

air. 


384 


MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 


PartD. 


Duties  of  Air,  and  maaners,   sfaining  forth  in  the  native  graces 
Soeict^    of  manly  honest  sentiments  and  affections^  and  ren- 
•         dered  visib/e  as  it  were  to  tlie  friendly  spectator  in 
a  conduct  unaffectedly  great  and  good  j  and  as  its 
-principal  exercises  are  the  very  (Orgies  of  virtne,  or 
its  effect  and    emanations.      So  that  wherever  this 
amiable  attachment  prevails,  it  will  exalt  our  admira- 
tion and  attachmeiit  to  virtue,  and  unless  impeded  in 
its   course  by  unnatural  piejudices,  run  out   into  a 
friendship  to  the  human  race.      For  as  no  one  can 
-merit,  and  none  ought  to  usurp,  the  sacred  name  of 
friend,  who  hates  mankind ;    so  whoever  truly  loves 
tAem^  possesses  the  most  essential  quality  nf  a  truie 
.    «4f       friend. 

Its  duties.  •pjjg  duties  of  friendship  are  a  mutual  esteem  of  each 
other,  unbribed  by  interest,  and  independent  of  it ;  a 
generous  confidence,  as  far  distant  from,  suspicion  as 
4rom  reserve ;  an  inviolable  harmony  of  sentiments  and 
dispositions,  of  designs  and.  interests )  a  fidelity  unshar 
ken  by  the  changes  of  fortune }  a  constancy  .unalterable 
A)j  distance  of  time  or  place  ;  a  resignation  of  one^s  per- 
sonal interest  to  those  of  one^s  friend,  and  a  recipro- 
cal, unenvious,  uni*eserved  exchange  of  kind  offices.—* 
But,  amidst  all  the  exertions  of  this  moral  connexion, 
linmane  and  generous  as  it  is,  we  must  remember  that 
it  operates  within  a  narrow  sphere,  and  its  immediate 
operations  respect  only  the  individual  *y  and  therefore 
» its  particular  impulses  must  still  be  subordinate  to  a 
BBore  public  interest,  or  be  always  directed  and  con- 
trolled by  the  more  extensive  connexions  of  our  na- 
T4P       tore. 

XoTc  mad        When  our  friendship  terminates  on  any  of  the  other 

caastily.  ^^.^  ^^  whom  beauty  or  agreeableness  of  person  and 
external  gracefulness  of  manners  conspire  to.  express 
and  heighten  the  moral  charm  of  a  tender  honest  heart, 
iand  sweet,  ingenuous,  modest  temper,  lighted  up  by 
good  sense ;  it  generally  grows  into  a  more  soft  and 
endearing  attachment.  When  this  attachment  is  im- 
proved by  a  growing  acquaintance  with  the  worth  of 
its  object,  is  conducted  by  discretion,  and  issues  at 
length,  as  it  ought  to  do,  in  the  moral  connexion  for- 

^  See  Sect  jBerly  mentioned*,  it  becomes  the  source  of  many 
hT  t  mniable  duties,  of  a  communication  of  passions  and  in- 
.terests,  of  the  most  refined  decencies,  and  of  a  thou- 
sand nameless  deep-felt  joys  of  reoiprocal  tenderness 
and  love,  flowing  from  every  look,  word,  and  action. 
Here  friendship  «cts  wkh  double  energy,  and  (he  na- 
tural conspires  vrith  the  moral  charms  to  strengthen 
tand  seaure  the  love  of  virtue.  As  the  delicate  nature 
•of  female  honour,  and  decorum,  and  the  inexpressible 
grace  of  a  diaste  and  modest  behaviour  are  the  surest 
and  indeed  the  only  means  of  kindling  at  first,  and  ever 
aft«r  of  keeping  alive,  this  tender  and  elegant  flame, 
-and  of  accomplishing  the  excellent  ends  designed  by 
it  ^  to  attempt  by  fraud  to  violate  one,  or,  under  pre- 
:tence  of  passion,  to  sully  and  corrupt  the  other,  and,  - 
:by  so  doinir,  to  expose  the  too  often  credulous  and  un» 
•guarded  object,  with  a  wanton  cruelty,  to  the  hatred 
fof  her  own, sex  .and  the  acmm  of  ours,  and  to  the 
•lowest  infamy  of  both,  is  a  conduct  not  only  base  and 
rcriminal,  but  inconsistent  with  that  truly  rational  and 
refined  enjoyment,  the  spirit  and  quintessence  of  which 
are  derived  from  the  bashful  and  sacred  charms  of  vir- 
jlue  kept  untainted,  and  therefore  ever  alluring  to  the 
Jour's  heart. 


Courtesy^  good  neighbourhood^  affabtlity^  and  the  like  Dumrf 
duties,  which  are  founded  on  our  private  social  con-  Swiei;. 
nexions,  are  no  less  necessary  and  obligatory  to  crt:a-       '  ^ 
tures  united  to  society,  and  supporting  and  support- ^^^J^^ 
£d  by  each  other  in  a  chain  of  mutual  want  and  de-gooj   '' 
pendence.     They  do  not  consist  in  a  smooth  address,  bqrUmi. 
an  artificial  or  obsequious  air,  fawning  adulations  or^^^^ 
a  polite  servility  of  manners  \  but  in  a  just  and  mo- 
dest   sense  of  our  own  dignity  and  that  of  others, 
and  of  the  reverence  due  to  mankind,  especially  to 
those  who  hold  the  higher  links  of  the  social  chain ; 
in  a  discreet  and  manly  accommodation  of  ourselves 
•to  the  foibles  and  humours  of  others ;  in  a  strict  ob- 
servance of  the  rules  of  decorum  and  civility  ;  but, 
above  all,  in  a  firank  obliging  carriage,  and  generous 
interchange  of  good  deeds  rather  than  words.     Such  a 
conduct  is  of  gitsat  use  and  advantage,  as  it  is  an  excel- 
lent security  against  injury,  and  the  best  claim  and  re- 
commendation to  the  esteem,  civility,  and  universal  re- 
spect of  mankind.     This  inferior  order  of  virtues  unites 
the  particular  members  of  society  more  closely,  and 
forms  the  lesser  pillars  of  the  civil  fabric  \  which,  in 
many  instances,  supply  the  unavoidable  defects  of  laws, 
and  maintain  the  harmony  and  decorum  of  social  inter- 
course, where  the  more  important  and  essential  lines 
of  virtue  are  wanting.  *  i^i 

Charily  9nd  forgiveness  are  truly  amiable  and  use-  Cktotr, 
ful  duties  of  the  social  kind.      There  is  a  twofold  di-^E^***^ 
stinction  of  rights  commonly  taken  notice  of  by  moral 
writers,  viz.  perfect  and  imperfect.     To  fulfil  the  for- 
mer, is  necessary  to  the  being  and  suppdrt  of  society  \ 
to  fulfil  the  latter,  is  a  duty  equally  sacred  and  obliga- 
tory, and-  tends  to  the  improvement  and  prosperity  of 
society  \  but  as  the  violation  of  them  is  not  equally  pre- 
judicial to  the  public  good,  the  fulfilling  them  is  not 
subjected  to  the  cognizance  of  law,  but  left  to  the  can- 
dour, humanity,  and  gratitude  of  individuals.     And  by 
this  means  ample  scope  is  given  to  exercise  i^l  Uie  ge- 
nerosity, and  display  the  genuine  merit  and  lustre  of 
virtue.     Thus  the  wants  and  misfortunes  of  others  call 
for  our  charitable  assistance  and  seasonable  supplies. 
And  the  good  man,  unconstrained  by  law,  a^d  unceo- 
trolled  by  human  authority,  will  cheerfully  acknow- 
ledge and  generously  satisfy  thin  mournful  and  moving 
claim  \  a  claim  supported  by  the  sanction  of  beavea, 
of  whose  bounties  he  i^  honoured  to  be  the  gratefal 
trustee.     If  his  own  perfect  rights  are  invaded  by  the 
injustice  of  others,  he  will  not  therefore  reject  their 
imperfect  right  to  pity  and  forgiveness,  unless  his  gnuil 
of  these  should  be  inconsistent  with  the  more  exten- 
sive rights  of  society,  or  the  public  good.     In  that  case 
he  will  have  recourse  to.  public  justice  and  the  lavs, 
and  even' then  he  will  prosecute  the  injury  with  no  no- 
necessary  severity,  but  rather  with  mildness  and  hu- 
manity*   When  the  injury  is  merely  personal,  and  of 
such  a  nature  as  to  admit  of  alleviations,  and  the  for- 
giveness of  which  would  be  attended  with  no  -wane 
consequences,  especially  of  a  public  kind^  the  gosd 
man  will    generously  forgive  his  offending   brother. 
And  it  is  his  duty  to  do  so,  and  not  to  take  private  re- 
venge, or  retaliate  evil  for  eril.     For  though  lesent* 
ment  of  injury  is  a  natural  passion,  and  imfjaoted,  as 
was  observed  f  above,  for  wise  and  geod  endsj  V^^^^ 
considering  the  manifold  partialities  which  nMMt  Bca^^^ 
have  for  themselves,  was  every  one  to  act  as  jod^ 


Fiartn. 


MORAL    PHILOSOPHY. 


S^S 


^■UM  of  U\  lib  own  cause,  and  to  execnte  tlie  sentence  dicta- 
ted by  his  own  resentment,  it  is  but  too  evident  that 
manlund  would  pass  all  bounds  in  their  furVy  and  the 
last  sufferer  be  provoked  in  bis  turn  to  make  full  re- 
prisals. So  that  evil,  thus  eoconntering  with  evil, 
wonld  produce  one  continued  series  of  violence  and 
misery,  and  render  society  intolerable,  if  not  imprac- 
ticable. Therefore,  where  the  security  of  the  indivi- 
dual, or  the  good  of  the  public,  does  not  require  a 
pn^ortionable  retaliation,  it  is  agreeable  to  the  general 
law  of  benevolence,  and  to  the  particular  end  of  the 
passion  (which  is  to  prevent  injury  and  the  misery  oc- 
casioned by  it),  to  fomve  personal  injuries,  or  not  to 
return  evil  for  evil,  lliis  duty  is  one  of  the  noble  re- 
finements which  ChruUanity  has  made  upon  the  gene- 
ral maxims  and  practice  of  mankind,  and  enforced, 
with  a  peculiar  strength  and  beauty,  by  sanctions  no 
less  alluring  than  awful.  And  indeed  the  practice  of.  it 
is  generally  its  own  reward  ^  by  expelling  from  the  mind 
the  most  dreadful  intruders  upon  its  repose,  those  ran- 
corona  passions  which  are  begot  and  nursed  by  resent- 
ment, and  by  disarming  and  even  subduing  every  enemy 
one  has,  except  such  as  have  nothing  left  of  men  but  the 
outward  form. 

The  most  enlarged  and  humane  connexicm  of  the 
private  kind  seems,  to  be  the  hospitable  alliance,  from 
which  flow  the  amiable  and  disinterested  duties  we 
owe  to  strangers.  If  the  exercise  of  passioos  of  the 
most  private  and  instinctive  kind  is  beheld  with  moral 
approbation  and  delight,  how  lovely  and  venerable 
must  those  appear  which  result  from  a  calm  philan- 
thropy, are  founded  in  the  common  rights  and  con- 
nexions of  society,  and  embrace  men,  not  of  a  par- 
iicular  sect,  party,  or  nation,  but  all  in  general  without 
.distinction,  and  without  any  of  the  little  partialities  of 
self-love. 


la 


? 


»53 


Ssc9r.  VL  Social  Duties  of  the  Commercial  Kind* 

The  next  order  of  connexions  are  those  which  arise 
from  the  wants  and  weakness  of  mankind,  and  from  the 
various  circomstances  in  which  their  difierent  situations 
place  them.  These  we  may  call  commercial  connexions, 
and  the  duties  which  result  from  them  commerciai  da- 
ties,  as  justice^  fair-dealings  sincerity^JideKty  to  com- 
154  pactSf  and  the  like. 
^^Ama-  Though  nature  is  perfect  in  all  her  works,  yet  she 
has  observed  a  manifest  and  eminent  distinction  among 
them.  To  all  such  as  lie  beyond  the  reach  of  human 
skill  and  power,  and  are  properly  of  her  own  depart- 
ment, she  has  given  the  finishing  hand.  These  man 
may  design  after  and  imitate,  but  he  can  never  rival 
them,  nor  add  to  their  beauty  or  perfection.  Such  are 
the  fonns  and  structure  of  vegetables,  animals,  and 
many  of  their  productions,  as  the  honey  comb,  the 
Kpider^s  w^b,  and  the  like.  There  are  others  of  her 
works  which  she  has  of  design  left  unfinished,  as  it 
were,  in  order  to  exercise  the  ingenuity  and  power 
of  man.  She  has  presented  to  him  a  rich  profusion  of 
materials  of  every  kind  for  his  conveniency  and  use  ; 
but  they  are  rude  and  unpolished,  or  not  to  be  come 
at  without  art  and  labour.  These  therefore  he  must 
apply,  in  order  to  adapt  them  to  hb  use,  and  to  enjoy 
them  in  perfection.  Thus  nature  hath  given  him  an 
infinite  varietv  of  herbs,  grains,  fossils,  minerals,  woods. 

Vol.  XlV.  Part  I.  f 


water,  earth,  air,  and  a  thousand  other  crude  mate-  Dati«i  of 
rials,  to  snpply  his  numerous  wants.    But  he  mubt  sow,    Society. 
plant,  dig,  refine,  polish,  build,  and,  in  short,  manti-'"    ^"    ' 
facture  the  various  produce  of  nature,  in  order  to 
obtain    even    the    necessaries,  and    niuch  more   the 
conveniencies   and    elegancies  of   life.     These  then 
are  the  price  of  his  labour  and  industry,  and,  without 
that,  nature  will  sell  him  nothing.     But  as  the  wants 
of  mankind  are  many,  and  the  single  strength  of  indi- 
viduals small,  they  could  hardly  find  the  necessaries, 
and  much  less  the  conveniencies  of  life,  without  unit- 
ing their  ingenuity  and  strength  in  acquiring  these,  and 
without  a  mutual  intercourse  of  good  offices.    Some 
men  are  better  formed  for  some  kinds  of  ingenuity 
and  labour,  and  others  for  other  kinds  j  and  differ- 
ent soils  and  climates  are  enriched  with  different  pro- 
ductions J  so  that  men,  by  exchanging  the  produce  of 
their  respective  labours,  and  supplying  the  wants  of 
one  country  with  the  superfloities  of  another,  do  in 
effect  diminish  the  laboiurs  of  each,  and  increase  the 
abundance  of  all.     This  is  the  foundation  of  all  com- 
merce, or  exchange  of  commodities  and  goods,  one 
with   another}    in   order    to    facilitate  which,    men 
have  contrived  different  species  of  coin,  or  money,  as 
a  common  standard  by  which  to  estimate  the  com- 
parative  values  of  their  respective  goods.     But  to 
render  commerce  sure  and  effectual,  jWffcr,,^ir-^eo/- 
irigs  sincerity^  and  fidelity  to  co^f^Mcts,  are  absolutely 
necessary.  j. 

Justice  or  /air-dealingy  or,  in  other  words,  a  dis-joxtice; 
position  to  treat  others  as  we  would  be  treated  by 
them,  is  a  virtue  of  the  first  importance,  and  insepa- 
rable from  the  virtuous  character.  It  is  the  cement  of 
society,  or  that  pervading  spirit  which  connects  its 
members,  inspires  its  various  relations,  and  maintains 
the  order  and  subordination  of  each  part  of  the  whole. 
Without  it,  society  would  become  a  den  of  thieves  and 
banditti,  hating  and  hated,  devouring  and  devoured,  by 
one  another. 

And  here  it  may  be  proper  to  take  a  view  of  Mr 
Hume's  supposed  case  of  the  sensible  knave  and  the 
worthless  miser  (N^  16),  and  consider  what  would  be. 
.  the  duty  of  the  former  according  to  the  theory  of  those 
moralists  who  hold  the  wiU  of  (rod  to  be  the  criterion 
or  rule^  and  everlasting  happiness  the  motive  of  human 
virtue.  i^^ 

It  has  been  already  observed,  and  the  truth  of  the  unWersally 
observation  cannot  be  controverted,  that,  by  secretly  •^'"^y  <»"? 
purloining  from  the  coffers  of  a  miser,  part  of  thatj5'*^'J"j5J^ 
gold  which  there  lies  useless,  a  man  might  in  parti- ^ho  bold 
cular    circumstances    promote    the    good  of   society,  tbe  wiU  of 
without  doing  any  injury  to  a  bingle  individual :  and  ^^  ^?  ^ 
it  was  hence  inferred,  that,  in  such  circumstances,  in  *^*  «"*«"- 
would  be  no  duty  to  abstain  from  thef^,  were  local  uti*^^ 
lity  arising  firom  particular  consequences  the  real  crite- 
rion or  standard  of  justice.     Very  different,  however, 
is  the  conclusion  which  must  be  drawn  by  those  who 
consider  the  natural  tendency  of  actions,  if  universally 
performed,  as  the  criterion  of  their  mei-it  or  demerit, 
in  the  sight  of  God.     Such  philosophers  attend,  not 
to  the  particular  coasequencea  of  a  single  action  in 
an^  given  case,  but  to  the  general  consequences  of  the 
principle  from  which  it  fibf^s,  if  that  principle  were 
universally  adopted.     Yoii  cannot  (say  they)  pennii 
one  action  and  forbid  another,  withcnit  sl^owmg  a  dif- 

3  C  fcrence 


386 


MORAL  PH 

DntiMof  ference  between  tbein.  The  ssme  tort  of  actions. 
Society,  therefore,  most  be  generally  permitted  or  generally 
forbidden.  But  were  every  man  allowed  to  ascertain 
for  himself  the  circumstances  in  which  tlie  good  of  so- 
ciety would  be  promoted,  by  secretly  abetnu:ting  the 
superflnous  wealth  of  a  worthless  miser,  it  is  plain  that 
no  property  could  be  secure ;  that  all  incitements  to 
industry  would  be  at  once  removed  ^  and  that,  what- 
ever might  be  the  immediate  consequences  of  any  ^r^ 
ticuhr  thefiy  the  general  and  necessary  consequences  ef 
the  princ^ie  by  which  it  was  antborized  must  soon 
prove  fatal,  Weie  one  nan  to  pnsloin  part  of  the 
riches  of  a  veal  miser,  and  to  consider  his  coadnct  as 
vindicated  by  his  ibtentioa  to  employ  those  riches  in 
acts  of  generosityy  another  might  by  the  same  sort  of 
casuistry  think  himself  authorized  to  appropriate  to 
himself  part  of  his  wealth;  and  thus  theft  would 
•pread  through  all  orders  of  men,  till  society  were  dis- 
solved into  separate,  hostile,  and  savage  families,  mo- 
toally  dmding  and  shunniitf  each  other.  The  general 
consequences^  therefore,  at  encroaching  upon  private 
property  tend  evidently  and  violently  to  universal  mi- 
senr. 

On  the  other  hand,  indeed,  tlie  particular  an<^  im- 
mediate consequences  of  that  principle  which  considers 
every  man's  property  as  sacrad,  may  in  some  cases, 
ancli  as  that  supposed,  be  in  a  small  degree  injuriono 
to  a  ftw  families  in  the  neighbourhood  f»f  the  miser 
and  the  knave»  But  that  injury  can  never  be  of  long 
duration  ^  and  it  is  infinitely  more  than  counterbalan- 
ced by  the  general  eeod  consequences  of  the  principle 
from  which  it  accidentally  results ;  for  these  eonfte*- 
quences  extend  to  all  nations  and  to  all  ages.  With- 
out a  sacred  regard  to  property,- there  could  neither 
be  arts  nor  industry  nor  confidence  among  men,  and 
happinesB  would  be  for  ever  banished  fromnhis  world. 
But  the  comnMmieatien  of  happiness  being  the  end 
which  God  had  in  view  when  be  created  tl)e  woHd, 
and  all  men  standing  in  the  same  relation  to  him,  it  is 
impossihle  to  suppose  tiiat  he  does  not  approve,  and  will 
not  nteimately  reward,  those  volnotary  actions  of  which 
the  natural  tendency  is  to  increase  the  sum  of  human 
kapfpiaess;  or  that  he  dbes  not  disapprove,  and  will 
not  ultimately  pnnish,  those  which  naturally  tend  to 
aggravate  human  misery.  The  cooclosion  is,  that  a 
strict  adherence  to  the  principle  of  justice  is  universal- 
ly, and  in  all  possUe  cncnmstencesyaduty  from  which 
we  cannot  devinte  wtthont  offiMiding  onr  Creator,  and 
ultimately  bringing  nsisery  npon  oarselves. 

Sincerity^  or  vetwcity^  in  omr  words  and  actions,  is 
another  virtue  or  duty  of  gient  importance  to  society, 
being  one  of  the  great  bands  ef  nmtua)  intercoorse, 
and  the  foundation  of  mntual  trost.  Withont  it^  so* 
ciety  would  be  the  dominion  of  mistrust,  jcaloosv,  and 
fraud,  and  eonversntioo  a  trafic  of  lies  and  dissimnla- 
tiott.  It  includes  in  it  a  confonnity  of  onr  wordi 
with  our  sentimmts,  a  correspondence  between  our 
actions  and  dispcsitionsi,  a  strict  regard  to  truth,  and  an 
irreconcilable  abhorrence  of  falsehood.  It  does  not 
indeed  reqnhre,  that  we  expose  our  soBtimeiits  indis- 
cseetly,  or  tell  aU  the  truth  in  eveiy  ease ;  but  certainly 
it  does  not  and  cannot  admit  the  lea«t  violation  of 
Irath  or  contradiction  to  onr  sentimealls.  For  if  these 
bonnds  are  once  paesed,  no  possible  limit  can  be  assigned 
when  tiae  visfation  shall  stop^  and  no  pretence  of  pri- 


ILOSOPHY. 


PkrtlL 


»57 


vate  or  pnbKc  good  can  possibly  oonntcrbalance  the  Dl  Dgt^^ 
consequences  of  such  a  violation.  Society. 

Fidelity  to  promises^  compacts^  and' engagements^  is  *     v«*J 
likewise  a  duty  of  such  importance  to  the  security  of  _'^' 
commerce  and  interchange  of  benevolence  among  roan-   ,^ 
kind,  that  society  would  soon  grow  intolerable  witk-ccnftttik 
out  the  strict  observance  of  it.     Hobbes,  and  others kc 
who  follow  the  same  track,   have  taken  a  wonderful 
deal  of  pains  to  puzzle  this  subject,  and  to  make  all 
the  virtues  of  this  sort  merely  artificial^  and  not  at  all 
obligatory^    antecedent  to  human  conventions.      No 
doubt  compacts  suppose  people  who  make  them  \  and 
promises  persons  to  whom  they  are  made  ^  aud  there- 
fore  both  suppose  some  society,  more  or  less,  between 
those  who  enter  into  those  mutual  engagements.     Bnt 
is  not  a  compact  or  promise  binding,    till  men  have 
agreed  that  they  shall  be  binding  ?  or  are  tbey  only 
binding,  becanse  it  is  our  interest  to  be  bound  by  them, 
or  to  frilfil  them  ?  Do  not  we  highly  approve  the  man 
who  fulfils  them,  even  though  they  should  prove  to  be 
against  his  interest  ?  and  do  not  we  condemn  him  as 
a  knave  who  violates  them  on  that  account  ?  A  promisL* 
is  a  voluntary  declaration  by  words,  or  by  an  action 
equally  significant,  of  our  resolution  to  do  sometbing 
in  behalf  of  another,  or  for  his  service.     When  it  i& 
made,  the  person  who^  makes  it  is  by  all  supposed  un- 
der an  obligation  to  perform  it.     And  he  to  whom  it 
is  made  may  demand  the  performance  as  bis  right. 
That  perception  of  obligation  is  a  simple  idea,  and  is 
on  the  same  footing  as  our  other  moral  perceptioos^ 
which  mav  be  described  by  instances,  but  cannot  be 
defined.     Whether  we  have  a  perception  of  such  ob- 
ligation quite  distinct  from  the  interest,  either  public 
or  private,  that  may  accompany  the  fulfilment  of  if, 
most  be  referred  to  the  eonsetence  of  every  indivi- 
dual.    And  whether  the  mero  sense  of  that  oMigatioOy 
apart  from  its  cpncomitants,  is  not  a  sufficient  induce- 
ment or  motive  to  keep  one's  promise,  without  having 
recourse  to  any  celfish  principle  of  our  nature,  must 
be  likewise  appealed  to  the  conscience  of  every  honest 
man.  |«. 

It  may,  however,  be  not  improper  to  remari,  thatsfcpna 
in  this,  as  in  all  other  instances,  our  chief  good  ish<^"»» 
combined  with  onr  duty.     •*  Men  act  from  expects- "*J[jJ[ 
tion.     Expectation  is  in  most  cases  determined  by  the^tw*^ 
assurances  and  engagements  which  we  receive  from  of  tk^ 
others.     If  no  dependence  could  be  placed  upon  these  nl"*** 
assurances,  it  would  be  impossible  to  know  what  judge- 
ment to  form  of  many  future  events,  or  how  to  rego- 
late  our  conduct  with  respect  to  them.     Confidence, 
therefore,  in  promises,  is  essential  to  the  intercouise  of 
human  life,  becanse  without  it,  the  greatest  part  of  oor 
conduct  wonl#  proceed  upon  chance*     But  there  could 
be  no  confidence  in  promises,,  if  men  were  not  obliged 
to  perform  them.     Those,  therefore,   who  allow  not 
to  the  perceptions  of  the  moral  sense  all  that  anths- 
rity  which  we  attribute  to  them,  must  btill  admit  the 
obligation  to  perform  promises  \  because  such  perforvK 
ance  may  be  shown  to  be  agreeable  to  tbe  will  of  Cod, 
infthe  very  same  manner  in  which,  upon  their  princf* 
pies,  we  nave  shown  the  nnifbrm  practice  of  jo^ice  to 
be  so.  i«r 

Fair  dealing  wad  fidelity  to  compacts  rrqniEr  that  weWkii** 
take  no  sdvantage  of  the  ignorance,  passion,  or  iDCS-^*"*^ 
pacity  of  others,,  from  whatever  cause  that  iacspacitj' 

arisei> 


x6t 
Nhkal 


litBi. 


Fartn.  ,    MORAL   PH 

Dities  of  arises  ^<— that  we  be  e):p1icit  and  candid  in  making 
Soektj.  bargains,  JQ»t  and  faithful  in  fulfining  oar  part  of  them. 
'-  »  And  if  the  other  party  violates  his  engagements,  re- 
dress is^o  be  sought  from  the  laws, .  or  from  those  who 
are  intrusted  with  the  execution  of  them.  In  fioEe,  the 
rommffrcial  virtues  ami  duties  require  that  we  not  only 
do  not  invade,  but  maintain  the  rights  of  oifaefs  ;— 
that  we  be  fair  and  impartial  in  transferring,  bartering, 
or  exchanging  property,  whether  in  goods  or  service  \ 
and  be  inviolably  faithful  to  our  word  and  our  en- 
gagements, where  the  matter  of  them  is  not  crimi* 
Bal,  and  where  they  are  not  extorted  by  force.     See 

PaOMlSE. 

Sect.  VII,  Social  Duties  of  the  Politic  A2.  Kind. 

We  are  now  arrived  at  the  last  and  highest  order  of 
doties  respecting  society,  which  result  from  the  exer- 
cise of  the  most  generous  and  herdic  aflFectioiis,  and  are 
founded  on  our  most  enlarged  connexions. 

The  social  principle  in  man  is  of  such  an  expanstfe 
nature,  that  it  cannot  he  confined  within  the  circuit 
of  a  family,  of  friends,  or  a  neighhoorhood ;  it  sj^vads 
into  wider  systeips,  and  draws  men  into  larger  confe- 
deracies, communities,  and  commonwealths.  It  is  in 
tho<9c  only  that  the  higher  powers  of  our  nature  attain 
the  bifrhest  improvement  and  perfection  of  which  they 
are  capable.  These  principles  hardly  find  objects  in 
the  solitary  state  of  nature.  There  the  principle  of 
action  rises  no  higher  at  fartliest  than  natwal  affixtion 
towards  one^s  ol&pring.  There  personal  or  family 
wants  entirely  engross  the  creatoress  attention  and  la« 
boor,  and  allow  no  leisure,  or  if  they  did,  no  exer* 
cite  for  views  and  aiections  of  a  more  enlai^d  kind. 
In  mdiktde  all  are  employed  in  dM  same  way,  in  pro- 
viding for  the  a$nmai  hie.  And  even  after  their  nt- 
BMMt  lahour  and  care,  single  and '  unaided  by  the  in- 
dnatry  ef  others,  they  find  but  a  sorry  supply  of  their 
wants,  and  a  feeble  precarious  security  against  dan- 
gers from  wiM  beasts  ;  from  inclement  skies  and  sea- 
sons *y  from  the  mistakes  or  petulant  passions  of  their 
fellow  creatures ;  from  their  preference  of  themselves 
•4o  their  neighbours  \  and  from  all  the  little  exorbi- 
tancies  of  selMove.  Bat  in  society^  the  motoal  aids 
which  men  give  and  receive  shorten  the  labours  of 
each,  and  the  combined  strength  and  reason  of  indivi- 
duals give  security  and  protection  to  the  whole  body. 
There  is  both  a  variety  and  subordination  of  genius 
among  mankind.  Soma  are  formed  to  lead  and  direct 
others,  to  contrive  plans  of  happiness  for  individuals 
and  of  government  for  communitito,  to  take  in  a  pu- 
blic interest,  invent  laws  and  arts,  and  superintend 
their  execution,  and*  in  short,  to  refine  and  civilize 
human  life,  (khers,  who  have  no  snch  good  heads, 
may  have  as  honest  hearts,  a  truly  public  spirit,  love 
of  liberty,  hatred  of  corruption  and  tyranny,  a  gene- 
rous submission  to  laws,  order,  and  public  institutions, 
and  an  extensive  philanthropy.  And  others,  who 
have  none  of  those  capacities  either  of  heart  or  head, 
may  be  .well  formed  for  manual  exercise  and  bodily 
labour.  The  former  of  these  principles  have  no  scope 
in  solitude,  where  a  man's  thoughts  and  concerns  do 
all  either  centre  in  himself  or  extend  no  fiirther  than 
a  family  \  into  which  little  circle  all  the  duty  and  vir- 
tue of  the  solitavy  :mQfftal  is  crowded.    But  society 


ILOSOPHY. 


387 


i6i 


finds  proper  objects,  and  exercises  for  every  g<»niu?«,  Duller  nf 
and  ilie  noblest  objects  and  exercises  for  the  noblest  iSociitv. 
geniuses,  and  for  the  highest  principles  in  the  human 
constitution;  particularly  for  that  wannest  and  most 
divine  passion  which  God  hath  kindled  in  our  hosoois, 
the  inclination  of  doing  good,  and  reverencing  our 
nature;  which  may  find  here  both  employment  and 
the  most  exquisite  satisfaction.  In  society,  a  man  has 
not  only  more  leisure,  but  better  opportunities,  of  ap- 
plying his  talents  with  much  greater  perfection  and 
success,  especially  as  he  is  fiumished  with  the  Joint  ad- 
vice and  assistance  of  his  fellow  creatures,  who  arc 
now  more  closely  united  one  with  the  other,  and  sus- 
tain a  common  relation  to  the  same  moral  system  or 
community.  This'  then  is  an  object  proportiontfd  to 
his  most  enlarged  social  aflections  \  and  in  serving  it 
be  finds  scope  for  the  exercise  and  refinement  of  his 
highest  intellectual  and  moral  powers.  Therefore  so- 
ciety^  or  a  state  of  civil  government^  rests  on  these  two 
principal  pillars,  *'  That  in  it  we  find  security  against 
those  evils  which  are  unavoidable  in  solitude, — and 
obtain  those  goods,  some  of  which  cannot  be  obtain- 
ed at  all,  and  others  not  so  well,  in  that  state  where 
men  depend  solely  on  their  individual  sagacity  and  in- 
•dustry.*' 

From  this  short  detail  it  appears,  that  man  is  a  so- 
cial creature,  and  'femted  for  a  social  state  \  and  that 
society^  being  adapted  to  the  higher  principles  and 
destinations  of  his  nature,  must  of  necessity  be  his  fio- 
tural  state. 

The  duties  suited  to  that  state,  and  resulting  from  Political 
those  principles  and  destinations,  or,  in  other  wordsi,  duties. 
from  our  social  passions  and  social  connexions,  or  re- 
lation to  a  public  system,  are,  love  of  our  country^ 
resignation  and  obedience  to  the  latvs,  puhlic  spirit^  love 
if  Hherty^  sacrifice  cflifo  and  all  to  the  public^  and  the 
l&ce.  ^  ,(j^ 

Love  of  our  country^  is  one  of  the  noblest  passions  Love  of 
that  can  warm  and  animate  the  human  breast.     It  in-^^**  coua- 
dudes  all  the  limited  and  particular  affections  to  onr^* 
parents,  friends,  neighbours,  fellow  citizens,  country- 
men.    It  ought  to  direct  and  limit  our  more  confined 
and  partial  actions  within  their  proper  and  natural 
bounds,  and  never  let  them  encroach  on  those  sacred 
and  first  regards  we  owe  to  the  great  public  to  which 
we  belong.     Were   we   solitary  creatures,  detached 
from  the  nest  of  mankind,  and  without  any  capacity' 
of  comprehending  a  puhlic  intfrest^  or  without  affec- 
tions leading  us  to  desire  and  pursue  it,  it  would  not 
be  our  duty  to  mind  it,  nor  criminal  to  neglect  it.     But  . 
as  we  are  parts  of  the  public  system^  and  are  not  only 
capable  of  taking  in  large  views  of  its  interests,  but  by 
the  strongest  affections  connected  with  it,  and  prompt- 
ed to  take  a  share  ef  its  concerns,  wc  ate  under  the 
most  sacred  ties  to  prosecute  its  security  and  welfare 
-with  the  utmost  ardour,  especially  in  times  ef  public' 
trial.     This  love  of  our  country  does  not  import  an  at- 
tachment to  any  particular  soil,  climate,  or  spot  of' 
earth,  where  perhaps  we  first  drew  our  breath,  though 
those  natural  ideas  are  oflen  associated  with  the  moral 
ones,  and,  like  external  signs  or  symbols,  help  to  as- 
certain and  bind  them  ^  but  it  imports  an  afiection  to 
that  moral  system^  or  community^  which  is  governed 
by  the  same  laws  and  magistrates,  and  whose  several 
parts  are  variously  connected  one  with  the  other^  and 

3  C  2  all 


388 


MORAL    PH 


164 
Resigna- 
tion and 
obedience 


Dutiet  of  ftll  ouited  upon  tbe  bottom  of  a  common  interest* ,  Per- 
Socieiy.  ^  haps  indeed  every  member  of  the  community  cannot 
comprehend  so  large  an  object,  especially  if  it  extends 
through  large  provinces,  and  over  vast  tracts  of  land  : 
and  still  less  can  be  form  such  an  idea,  if  there  is  no 
public^  i.  e.  if  all  are  subject  to  the  caprice  and  unli- 
mited will  of  one  man  \  but  the  preference  the  gene- 
rality show  to  their  native  country,  the  concern  and 
longing  after  it  which  they  express  when  they  have 
been  long  absent  from  it ;  the  labours  they  undertake 
and  sufferings  they  endure  to  save  or  serve   it,  and 
the  peculiar  attachment  they  have  to  their  coujitry- 
men,  evidently  demonstrate  that  the  passion  is  tiatu- 
rai^  and  never  fails  to  exert  itself  when  it  is  fairly  dis- 
engaged from  foreign  clogs,  and  is  directed  to  its  pro- 
per object.    Wherever  it  prevails  in  its  genuine  vigour 
and  extent,  it  swallows  op  all  sordid  and  selfish  regards  ^ 
it   conquers   the  love  of  ease^  potver^  pieagure^  and 
wealth  i  nay,  when  the  amiable  partialities  oi  friend" 
ah£p^  gratitude^  private  affectifm^  or  regards  to  a  Jami" 
/^,  come  in  competition  with  it,  it  will  teach  us  bravely 
to  sacrifice  all,  in  order  to  maintain  the  rights,  and 
promote  or  defend  the  honour  and  happiness,  of  our 
country. 

Resignation  and  obedience  to  the  laws  and  orders  of 
the  society  to  which  we  belong,  are  political  duties 
necessary  to  its  very  being  and  security,  without  which 
v^  ^  ''  ^^  ^^^  ^^^  degenerate  into  a  state  of  licentiousness  and 
anarcby.  The  welfare,  nay,  the  nature  of  civil  so- 
ciety, requires,  that  there  should  be  a  subordination  of 
orders,  or  diversity  of  ranks  and  conditions  in  it  ^— 
•  that  certain  men,  or  orders  of  men,  be  appointed  to 
superintend  and  manage  such  affairs  as  concern  tbe 
public  safety  and  happiness ; — that  all  have  their  par- 
ticular provinces  assigned  them  3  that  such  a  subordi- 
nation be  settled  among  them  as  none  of  them  may 
interfere  with  another ;  and  finally,  that  certain  rtdes 
or  common  measures  of  action  be  agreed  on,  by  which 
each  is  to  discharge  his  respective  duty  to  govern  or 
be  governed,  and  all  may  concur  in  securing  the  order, 
and  promoting  the  felicity,  of'  the  whole  political 
body.  Those  rules  of  action  are  the  Icnvs  of  the  com- 
munity \  and  tliose  different  orders  are  the  several  of- 
ficers or  magistrates  appointed  by  tlie  public  to  explain 
them,  and  superintend  or  assist  in  their  execution.  In 
consequence  of  this  settlement  of  things,  it  is  the  doty 
of  each  individual  to  obey  the  Uwa  enacted  \  to  submit 
to  the  executors  of  them  with  all  due  deference  and 
homage,  according  to  their  respective  ranks  and  dig- 
nity, as  to  the  keepers  of  the  public  peace,  and  the 
guardians  of  public  liberty  \  to  maintain  his  own  rank, 
and  perform  the  functions  of  his  own  station,  with  di- 
ligence, fidelity,  and  incorruption.  Tlie  superiority 
of  the  higher  orders,  or  the  authority  with  which  the 
state  has  invested  them,  entitle  them,  especially  if  they 
employ  their  authority  well,  to  the  obedience  and  sub- 
mission of  the  lower^  and  to  a  proportionable  honour 
mud  respect  from  all.  Tbe  subordination  of  the  lower 
ranks  claims  protection,  defence,  and  security  from 
the  higher.  And  the  laws,  being  superior  to  all,  re- 
quire the  obedience  and  submission  of  all,  being  the 
last  resort,  beyond  which  there  is  bo  decision  or  ap- 
peal. 

Public  spirit^  heroic  sualy  love  of  liberty^  and  the 
other  political  duties,  do,  above  all  others,  recommend 


ILOSOPHY.  Partn. 

those  who  practise  them  to  the  admiration  and  ho*  Ditics«r 
mage  of  mankind  \  because,  as  they  are  the  obpriog  Society. 
of  the  noblest  minds,  sp  are  they  the  parents  of  iho^"  *^ 
greatest  blessing  to  society.     Yet,  exalted  as  they  are,  .J^^..^ 
It  is  only  in  equal  and  me  flovemments  where  they^fp^y^ 
can  be  exercised  and  have  thetr  due  effect  ^  for  there  i|irit,b«i 
only  does  a  true  public  spirit  prevail,  and  there  only  ^^^Mv, 
is  the  public  good  made  the  standard  of  the  civil  con-^ 
stitution.     As  the  end  of  society  b  tbe  common  inte* 
rest  and  welfare  of  the  people  associated,  this  end  most 
of  necessity  be  the  supreme  /oto,  or  commion  standard^  by 
which  tbe  particular  roles  of  action  of'  the  several 
members  of  the  society  towards  each  other  are  to  be 
regulated.    But  a  common  interest  can  be  no  other  than 
that  which  is  the  result  of  the  common  reason  or  com- 
mon  feelings  of  all.     Private  men,  or  a  particolar  or- 
der of  men,  have  interests   and  feelings  pecidiar  to 
themselves,  and  of  which  they  may  be  good  jndgcs^ 
but  these  may  be  separate  fi^m,  and  often  contnu7  to, 
the  interests  and  feelings  of  the  rest  of  the  society ; 
and  therefore  they  can  have  no  right  to  make,  sm 
much  less  to  impose,  laws  on  their  fellow  citizens,  in- 
consistent with,  and  opposite  to,  those  interests  and 
those  feelings.     Theriefore,  a  society^  a  government^  or 
real  public^  truly  worthy  the  name,  and  not  a  confe- 
deracy of  banditti,  a  clan  of  lawless  savages,  or  a  band 
of  slaves  under  the  whip  of  a  ma8ter,*mttst  be  such  a 
one  as  consists  of  freemen,  choosing  or  consentii^  to 
laws  themselves  ^  or,  since  it  often  happens  that  they 
cannot  assemble  and  act  in  a  collective  body^  delega- 
ting a  sufficient  number  of  representatives^  L  e.  siick 
a  number  as  shall  most  fiiHy  comprehend,  and  most  e- 
qually  represent,  their  commonfeelmgs  and  common  inte- 
restSf  to  digest  and  vote  laws  for  the  conduct  and  con- 
trool  of  the  whole  body,  the  most  agreeable  to  those 
common  feelings  and  common  interests*  i^ 

A  society  thus  constituted  by  common  reason^  andMiBif 
formed  on  the  plan  of  a  common  interest^  becomes  iib-^^^ 
mediately  an  object  of  public  attention,  public  vtmeia-j|^ 
tioo,  public  obedience,  a  public  and  inviolable  attach- 
*  ment,  which  ought  neither  to  be  seduced  by  bribes, 
nor  awed  by  terrors ;  an  object,  in  fine,  of  all  those 
extensive  and  important  duties  which  arise  firom  so  gk^ 
rious  a  confederacy.  To  watch  over  such  a  system  \ 
to  contribute  all  he  can  to  promote  its  good  by  his 
reason,  his  ingenuity,  his  strength,  and  .every  other 
ability,  whether  natural  or  acquired;  to  resist,  ind, 
to  the  utmost  of  his  power,  defeat  every  encroadmest 
upon  it,  whether  carried  on  by  a  secret  corrnptioa  or 
open  violence  \  and  to  sacrifice  his  ease,  his  wealth,  his 
power,  nay  life  itself,  and,  what  is  dearer,  still,  his  fsr 
roily  and  nriends,  to  defend  or  save  .it,  is  the  duty,  tbe 
honour,  the  interest,  and  the  happiness  of  every  citi- 
zen \  it  will  make  him  venerable  and  beloved  wlule  be 
lives,  be  lamented  and  honoured  if  he  fidU  in  so  gloii- 
ous  a  cause,  and  transmit  his  name  with  immoital  re- 
nown to  the  latest  posterity.  ii; 

As  the  Pkofle  are  the  fountain  of  power  and  ao^Of  i^ 
thority,  the  original  seat  of  majesty,  the  aothon  of  pi- 
laws, and  tbe  creators  of  officers  to  execute  them  \  if 
they  shall  find  the  power  they  have  conferred  abuird 
by  their  trustees,  their  majesty  violated  by  tynony  or 
by  usurpation,  their  authority  prootituted  to  support 
violence  or  screen  corruption,  the  laws  grown  peimi* 
cious  through  accidenta  unforeseen  oir  unavoidable,  sr 

readeite 


J 


■krtll. 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


Dvty  to  renclered  ineffectoal  through  the  infidelity  and  corrup- 
tion of  the  executors  of  them  \  then  it  19  their  right, 
and  what  is  their  right  is  their  duty,  to  resume  that 
delegated  power,  and  cat!  thi^ir  trustees  to  an  account  \ 
to  resist  the  usurpation,  and  extirpate  the  tyranny  '^  to 
restore  their  sullied  majesty  and  prostituted  authority  \ 
to  suspend,  alter,  or  abrogate  tho4e  laws,  and  punish 
their  unfaithfol  and  corrupt  officers.  Nor  is  it  the  duty 
only  of  the  united  hody  \  but  every  member  of  it  ought, 
according  to  his  respective  rank,  power,  and  weight  in 
the  community,  to  concur  in  advancing  and  supporting 
these  glorious  designs. 

Resistance,  therefore,  being  undoubtedly  lawful  in 
extraordinary  emergencies,  the  question,  among  good 
reasoners,  can  only  be  with  regard  to  the  degree  of 
necessity  which  can  justify  resistance,  and  render  it  ex- 
pedient or  commendable.  And  here  we  must  acknow- 
*  EaMjfs.  ledge,  that,  with  Mr  Hume  *,  '^  we  shall  always  in- 
'^  '  cUne  to  their  side  that  draw  the  bond  of  allegiance 

very^  close,  and  who  consider  an  infringement  of  it  as 
the  last  refuge  in  desperate  cases,  when  the  public  is 
in  the  highest  danger  from  violence  and  tyranny.  For 
besides  the  mischiefs  of  a  civil  war,  which  commonly 
attends  insurrection,  it  is  certain,  that  where  a  dispo- 
sition to  rebellion  appears  among  any  people,  it  is  ones 
chief  cause  of  tyranny  ift  the  rulers,  and  forces  them 
into  many  violent  measures,  which,  had  every  one  been 
inclined  to  submission  and  obedience,  they  would  never 
have  embraoed.  Thus  the  tyrannicide^  or  assassination 
approved  of  by  ancient  maxims,  instead  of  keeping 
tyrants  and  usurpers  in  awe,  made  them  ten  times  more 
fierce  and  unrelenting ;  and  is*  now  justly  abolished  on 
that  account  by  the  laws  of  nations,  and  nniversally  con- 
demned, as  a  base  and  treacherous  method  of  bringing 
to  justice  those  disturbers  of  society.'* 


3»$ 


•«Li 


16% 


159 


•TGfld. 


Chap.  IV.    Duty  to  God. 

Of  all  the  relations  which  the  human  mind  sustains, 
that  which  subsists  between  the  Creator  and  his  ereo- 
tureSf  the  supreme  Lawgiver  and  bis  sttb/ects^  is  the 
highest  and  the  best.  This  relation  arises  from  the  na- 
ture  of  a  creature  in  general,  and  the  comtitrntim  of 
the  human  mind  in  particular  -,  the  noblest  powers  and 
affections  of  which  point  to  an  universal  Mind,  and 
would  be  imperfect  and  abortive  without  such  a  direc- 
tiOtt.  How  lame  then  must  that  system  of  morak  be, 
which  leaves  a  Deitjf  out  of  the  question !  How  dis- 
consolate, and  how  destitute  of  its  firmest  support ! 

It  does  not  appear,  from  any  true  history  or  expe- 
rience of  the  mind's  progress,  that  any  man,  by  any 
tanoal  deduction  of  his  discursive  power,  ever  reason- 
ed himself  into  the  belief  of  a  God.  Whether  such  a 
belief  is  only  some  natural  anticipation  of  «ool,  or  is 
derived  from  father  to  son,  and  from  one  man  to  ano- 
ther, in  the  way  of  tradition^  or  is  suggested  to  ns  in 
consequence  of  an  immutable  law  of  our  nature^  on  be- 
holding the  august  aspect  and  beautiful  order  of  the 
uniyerse,  we  will  not  pretend  to  determine.  What 
seems  most  agreeable  to  experience  is,  that  a  sense  of 
its  beauty  and  grandeur  j  and  the  admirable  fitness  of  one 
thing  to  another  in  its  vast  apparatus,  leads  the  mind 
necessarily  and  unavoidably  to  a  perception  of  a  des^^ 
or  of  a  designing  cause^  the  origin  of  all,  by  a  progress 
as  simple  and  natural  as  that  by  which  a  beautiful  pic- 


Duty  to 
God. 


ture  or  tifine  building  suggeists  to  us  the  Idea  of  an  vx* 
ccltent artist.  For  it  seems  to  hold  universally  true,  that 
wherever  we  discern  a  tendency  or  co-opetntion  of  things 
towards  a  certain  endj  or  producing  a  common  effect, 
there,  by  a  necessary  law  ^association^  we  apprehend 
design^  a  des^ning  energy  or  cause.  No  matter  whether 
the  objects  are  natural  or  artificicd^  still  that  suggestion 
is'  unavoidable,  and  the  connexion  between  the  e^ct  and 
its  adequate  cause  obtrudes  itself  on  the  mind,  and  it 
requires  no  nice  search  or  elaborate  deduction  of  reason 
to  trace  or  prove  that  connexion.  We  are  particu- 
larly satisfied  of  its  truth  in  the  subject  before  us  by  a 
kind  of  direct  intuition  ^  and  we  do  not  seem  to  attend 
to  the  maxim  we  learn  in  schools,  ^  lliat  there  cannot 
be  an  infinite  series  of  causes  and  effects^  producing 
and  produced  by  one  another.^^  That  maxim  is  fami- 
liar only  to  metaphysicians  \  but  all  men  of  sound  un- 
derstanding are  led  to  believe  the  existence  of  a  God. 
We  are  conscious  of  our  existence^  of  thought ,  stniinu  nf, 
sxkApassmn^  and  sensible  withal  that  tbe^e  came  not  of 
ourselves^  therefore  we  immediately  recognize  ii parent 
mindf  an  original  intelligence^  from  whom  we  borrowed 
those  little  portions  of  thought  and  activity.  And 
while  we  not  only  feel  kind  anections  in  ourselves,  and 
discover  them,  in  others,  but  likewise  behold  round  us 
such  a  number  and  variety  of  creatures,  endued  with 
natures  nicely  adjusted  to  their  several  stations  and 
economies,  supporting  and  supported  by  each  other, 
and  all  sustained  by  a  common  order  of  things,  and  shar- 
ing different  degrees  of  happiness  according  to  their 
respective  capacities,  we  are  naturally  and  necessarily 
led  up  to  the  Father  of  such  a  numerous  ofiispring,  the 
fountain  of  such  wide-spread  happiness.  As  we  con- 
ceive this  Being  before  all,  above  all,  and  greater  than 
all,  we  naturally,  and  without  reasoning,  ascribe  to 
him  every  kind  of  perfection,  wisdom,  power,  and 
goodness  without  bounds,  existing  through  all  time, 
and  pervading  all  space.  We  apply  to  him  those  glo-  His  rela- 
rious  epithets  of  our  Creator^  Preserver^  Beneftictor^  the  ^^^  ^  *^* 
supreme  Lord  and  Lawgiver  of  the  whole  society  of  ra-  jq*qj^ 
tional  and  intelligent  creatures.  Not  only  the  imper- 
fections and  wants  of  our  being  and  condition,  but 
some  of  the  noblest  instincts  and  affections  of  our 
minds,  connect  us  with  this  great  and  universal  nature. 
The  mind,  in  its  progress  from  object  to  object,  from 
one  character  and  prospect  of  beauty  to  another,  finds 
some  blemish  or  deficiency  in  each,  and  soon  exhausts 
or  grows  weary  and  dissatisfied  with  its  subject  j  it 
sees  no  character  of  excellency  among  men  equal  to 
tha#  pitch  of  esteem  which  it  is  capable  of  exerting ; 
no  object  within  the  compass  of  human  things  ade- 
quate to  the  strength  of  its  affection  :  nor  can  it  stay 
anywhere  in  this  self-expansive  progress,  or  find  repose 
after  its  highest  flights,  till  it  arrives  at  a  Being  of 
unbounded  sreatoess  and  worth,  on  whom  it  may  em- 
ploy its  sublimest  powers  without  exhausting  the  sub- 
ject, and  give  scope  to  the  utmost  force  and  fulness  of 
its  love  without  satiety  or  disgust*  80  that  the  nature 
of  this  Being  corrosponds  to  the  naturo  of  man ;  nor 
can  his  intelligent  and  moral  powers  obtain  their  entiro 
end,  but  on  the  supposition  of  such  a  Being,  and  with- 
out a  real  sympathy  and  communication  with  him. 
The  native  propensity  of  the  mind  to  reveronee  what- 
ever is  great  and  wonderful  in  4iature,  finds  a  proper 
object  of  homage  in  him  who  spread  out  the  heavens 

and 


170 


39<> 


Duty  to 

God. 


171 


MORAL   PH 

and  tLe  earlls,  and  wlio  sustains  and  governs  the  whole 
of  things.     The  admiration  of  beauty,  the  love  of  or- 
der, and  the  complacency  \vc  feel  in  goodness,  must  rbe 
to  the  highest  pitch,  and  attain  the  full  vigour  and  joy 
of  their  operations,  when  they  uuite  in  him  who  is  tho 
sum  and  source  of  all  perfection. 
ImmorAlity      It  is  evident  from  the  slightest  survey  of  morals, 
uf  tiupiety.  ^jj^^  \^q^  punctual  soever  one  may  be  in  performing 
the  duties  which  result  from  our  relations  to  mankind, 
yet  to  be  quite   deficient  iu  performing  those  which 
arise  from  our  relation  to  the  Almighty^  must  argue  a 
strange  perversion  o{  reason  or  depravity  of  Jieart,     If 
Imperfect  degrees  of  worth  attract  our  veneration,  and 
if  the  want  of  it  would  imply   an  insensibility,  or, 
which  is  worse,  an  aversion  to  merit,  what  lameness 
of  affection  or  immorality  of  character  must  it  be  to 
be  unaffected  with,  and  much  more  to  be  ill-affected 
to,  a  Being  of  superlative  worth  !  To  love  society,  or 
particular  members  of  it,  and  yet  to  have  no  sense  of 
our  connexion  with  its  Head,  no  affection  to  our  com- 
mon Parent  and  Benefactor^  to  be  concerned  about 
the  approbation  or  censure  of  our  fellow  creatures,  and 
yet  to  feel  nothing  of  this  kind  towards  him  who  sees 
and    weighs    our  actious   with   unerring  wisdom  and 
justice,  aud  can  fully  retward  pr  punish  ^faem,  betrays 
equal   madness  and  partiality  of  mind.      It  is  plain, 
therefore,  beyond  all  doubt,  that  some  regards  are  due 
to  the  great  Father  of  all,  iu  whom  every  lovely  and 
adorable  quality  combines  to  inspire  veneration  and 
homage. 

As  it  has  been  observed  already,  that  our  affhtioM 
depend  on  our  opinions  of  their  objects,  and  generally 
keep  pace  with  them,  it.  must  be  of  the  highest  im- 
portance, and  seems  to  be  among  the  first  duties  we 
owe  to  the  Author  of  our  being,  *'  to  form  the  least 
imperfect,  since  we  cannot  form  perfect,  conceptions 
of  his  character  and  administration.^^  For  such  concep- 
tions^ thoroughly  imbibed,  will  render  our  rdigion  ra- 
tional, and  our  dispositions  refined.  H  q\xt  opinions  vlt^ 
diminutive  and  distorted,/  our  religion  will  be  super- 
stitious, and  our  temper  abject.  Thus,  if  we  ascribe 
to  the  Deity  that  false  majesty  which  consists  in  the 
unbenevoleot  and  sullen  exercise  of  mere  wiU  or  power^ 
or  suppose  him  to  delight  in  the  prostrations  of  servile 
fear,  or  as  servile  praise,  he  will  be  worshipped  with 
mean  adulation  and  a  profusion  of  coroplimonts.  Far- 
ther, If  he  be  looked  upon  as  a  stem  and  implacable 
Being,  delighting  in  vengeance,  he  will  be  adored  with 
pompous  offerings,  sacrifices,  or  whatever  else  may  be 
thought  proper  to  soothe  and  mollify,  him.  Bui  if 
vit  believe  perfect  goodness  to  be  the  character  of  the 
supreme  Being,  and  that  he  loves  those  most  who  re- 
semble him  most,  the.  worohip  paid  him  will  be  rational 
and  sublime,  and  his  worshippers  will  seek  to  please 
him  by  imitating  that  goodness  which  they  adore. 
The  foundation  then  of  all  true  religion.  Js  a  rational 
faith*  And  of  a  rational  faith  these  seem  to  be  the 
chief  articles,  to  believe,  **  that  an  infinite  all-perfect 
Mind  exists,  who  has  no  opposite  nor  any  sepiirate  in* 
terest  from  that  of  his  creatures  :  that  he  superintenda 
and  governs  all  creatures^  and  things }— *tbat  his  good- 
ness extends  to  all  his  creatures,  Jn  different  degrees 
indeed,  according  to  their  respective  natures,  but  with- 
-out  any  partiality  or  envy  :— that  he  does  evert  thing 
for  the  best,  or  in  a  subserviency  to  the  perfection  and 


17a 

Right  opi- 
nions of 
God. 


^73 
Rational 

faith. 


ILOSOPHY.  PartU. 

happiuess  of  the  whole;  particularly  that  he  directs  D,t,j, 
and  governs  the  affairs  of  men,  inspects  their  actions,  God. 
distinguishes  the  good  from  the  bad^  loves  and  befriends 
the  former,  is  displeased  with  and  pities  the  latter  in 
tliis  world,  and  will  according  to  their  respective  de- 
serts reward  one  and  punish  the  other  in  the  next;— 
that,- in  fine,  he  b  alivays  carrying  on  a  scheme  of  vir- 
tue and  happiuess  through  an  unlimited  duration ;  and 
is  ever  guiding  the  universe,  through  its  successive 
stages  and  periods,  to  higher  degrees  of  perfection  and 
felicity.^^  This  is  true  Theism^  the  glorious  scheoie 
of  divine  faith  \  a  scheme  exliibited  in  all  the  works 
of  God,  and  executed  through  his  whole  administra- 
tion. ,  174 

This  faith,  well  founded  and  deeply  felt,  is  nearly  UcnBt; « 
connected  with  a  true  moral  taste,  and  hath  a  poweHul^^*^ 
efficacy  on  the  temper  and  manners  of  the  theist.  He 
who  admires  goodness  in  others,  and  delights  in  the 
practice  of  it,  must  be  conscious  of  a  reigning  order 
within,  a  rectitude  and  candour  of  heart,  which  dis- 
poses him  to  entertain  favourable  apprehensions  of  men, 
and,  from  an  impartial  survey  of  things^  to  presume 
4hBX  good  order  void  good  mea?ung  prevail  in  the  universe) 
and  if  good  meaning  and  good  order,  then  an  order- 
ing^ an  intending  mind,  who  is  no  enemy,  do  tyrant  to 
his  creatures,  hut  ^frivndy  a  benefactor,  an  indulgent 
sovereign.  On  the  other  hand,  a  bad  man,  having  do-  175 
thing  goodly  or  generous  to  contemplate  vnthm^  no  right  l^"*^ 
intentions,  nor  honesty  of  heart,  suspects  every  person^ 
and  every  thing ;  and,  beholding  natnre  through  tJb/b 
gloom  of  a  sel&h  and  guilty  mind,  is  either  averse  to 
the  belief  of  a  reigning  order,  or,  if  he  cannot  suppiess 
the  unconquenihle  anticipations  of  a  govemiog  mind, 
he  is  prone  to  tarnish  the  beauty  of  nature,  aod  to  im- 
pute malevolence,  or  blindness  and  impotence  at  least, 
to  the  Sovereign  Ruler.  He  turns  the  universe  into 
a  forlorn  and  horrid  waste,  and  transfers  his  own  cha- 
racter to  the  Deity,  by  ascribing  to  him  that  uncom- 
municative grandeur,  that  arbitrary  or  revengeful  spi- 
rit, which  he  affects  or  admires  in  himself.  As  siich 
a  temper  of  mind  naturally  leads  to  atheism^  04*  to  a  oi- 
perstition  fully  as  bad  ^  therefore,as  far  as  that  temper  de* 
pends  on  the  unhappy  creature  on  whom  it  prevails,  the 
propensity  to  atheism  or  superstition  consequent  thereto 
must  be  immoraL  Farther,  If  it  be  true  that  the  belief 
or  sense  of  a  Deity  is  Qatunl  to  the  mind,  and  the  evi-  . 
deoce  of  his  existence  reflected  from  his  worka  so  full  a» 
to  strike  even  the  most  superficial  observer  with  convic- 
tion, thep  the  supplanting  or  corrupting  that  sense,  or 
the  want  of  due  attention  to  that  evidence,  and,  in  con- 
sequence -of  both,  a  supine  ignorance  or  aJBTected  unbe- 
lief of  a  Deity,  must  argue  a  had  temper  or  an  immocal 
turn  of  mind.  In  the  case  of  inyincible  ignorpjice,  era 
vevy  bad  education,  though  nothing  can  be  concluded 
directly  against  the  character^  yet  whenever  ill  passions 
and  habits  pervert  the  judgtneik,  and  by  perverting  the 
judgment  terminate  in  atheism,  then  the  case  becomes 
plainly  criminal.  ^.^ 

Bift  let  casuists  determine  this  as  they  will,  a  tnei^^ 
faith  in  the  divine  character  and  adininistration  is  fj^vamd 
nerally  the  consequence  of  a  virtuous  state  of  Bind.t^c>"* 
The  man  who  is  tnily  and  habitually  good,  feels  the^* 
hve  of  order,  of  beauty,  aod  goodness,  in  the  stmogrit 
degree^  and  therefore  cannot  be  insensible  to  those  ema* 

nations  of  them  which  appear  in  all  the  woiks  of  God« 

nor 


Pkrt  IL 

X>Bt7to  nor  Mp  loviag  their  sopreme  source  and  model.  He 
cannot  but  think,  that  he  who  has  poured  such  beauty 
and  goodness  over  all  bis  works,  must  himself  delight  in 
beauty  and  goodness,  and  what  he  delights  in  must  be 
both  amiable  and  happy.  Some  indeed  there  are,  and 
it  is  pity  there  should  he  any  such,  who,  through  tlie 
unhappy  influence  of  a  wrong  education,  have  entertain- 
ed dark  and  unfriendly  thoughts  of  the  Deity  and  his  ad- 
ministration, thouuh otherwise  of  a  virtuous  temper  them* 
Helves.  However,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  that  such 
sentiments  liave,  for  the  most  part,  a  bad  eflect  on  the 
temper ;  aiid  when  they  have  not,  it  is  because  the  un- 
depraved.aflections  of  an  honest  htari  are  more  power- 
ful in  their  operation  than  the  speculative  opinions  of  an 
1^^  ill-informed  head. 
Duties  of  But  wherever  right  conceptions  of  tlie  Deity  and  his 
gmtitndc,  providence  prevail,  when  he  is  considered  as  the  inex- 
l0vc,  6tc  iiiMj^cd  source  of  light,  and  love,  and  joy,  as  acting 
in  the  joint  character  of  a  Father  and  QovernoTy  impart- 
ing an  endless  variety  of  capacities  to  liis  creatures, 
and  supplying  them  with  every  thing  necessary  to 
tlieir  full  completion  and  happiness «,  what  veneration 
and  gratitude  must  such  conceptions,  thoroughly  be- 
lieved, excite  i|i  the  mind  ?  How  natural  and  delight* 
fbl  must  it  be  to  one  whose  heart  is  open  to  the  per- 
ception  of  truth,  and  of  every  thing  fmr^  fcreat^  and 
tBondetful  in  nature,  to  contemplate  and  adore  him 
who  is  the  ^rAfmr,  the  first  great^  and  first  wondetful; 
in  whonifiSM/am,  /»oiifcr,and  gft^thuss^  dwell  vitally,  ea* 
aentialiy,  originally,  and  act  in  perfect  concert  P  What 
grandeur  is  here  to  fill  the  most  enlarged  capacity, 
what  beauty  to  engage  the  most  ardent  love,  what  a  nmss 
of  wonders  in  such  exuberance  of  perfection  to  astonish 
and  delight  the  human  mind  through  an  unfailing  du- 
ration ! 

If  the  Deity  is  considered  a^  our  supreme  Guanhan 
and  Bene/actorj  as  the  Father  of  Mercies^  who  lov^ 
his  creatures  with  infinite  tenderness,  and  in  a  particu- 
lar manner  all  good  men,  nay  all  who  delight  in  good- 
oess,  even  in  its  most  imperfect  degrees  ;  what  resig- 
nation, what  dependence,  what  generous  confidence, 
what  hope  in  God  and  his  al^^wise  providence,  mast 
arise  in  the  soul  that  is  possessed  of  snch  amiable  views 
of  him  !  All  those  exercises  of  piety,  and  aborre  all  a 
superlative  esteem  and  love,  are  directed  to  God  as  to 
their  neUaral^  their  uitimate^  and  indeod  their  only  ode- 
Mate  object  \  and  though  the  immense  obligations  we 
Mve  reeeived  from  him  may  excite  in  us  more  lively 
feeling  of  divine  r^^odneos  than  a  general  and  abstract*- 
ed  contemplation  of  it,  yet  the  aOections  of  gratitude 
and  hve  are  of  themselves  of  the  generous  disinterested 
kind,  not  the  result  of  self-interest,  or  views  of  reward. 
A  perfect  character,  in  which  we  always  snppoee  infi- 
nite goodness,  guided'  by  uneiTing  wisdom,  and  sup- 
ported by  almighty  power,  is  the  proper  object  of  per- 
fect love  \  which,  as  tncb,  we  are  forcibly  drawn  to 
purKue  and  to  aspire  after.  In  the  contemplation  of  the 
divine  nature  and  attributes,  we  find  at  last  what  the 
ancient  philosophers  sought  in  vain,  the  supreme  and 
SOVEREIGN  GOOD ',  from  which  aU  other  (roods  arise, 
and  in  which  they  are  all  contained.  The  Deity  there- 
fere  challenges  our  supreme  and  sovereign  love,  a  senti- 
ment which,  whosoever  indolges,  must  be  confirmed  in 
the  love  of  virtue,  ha  a  desire  to  imitate  its  all-perfect 
fatteiii,  and  in  a  checrfol  security  that  all  his  great 


i78_ 


MORAL    PHILOSOPHY.  391 

concerns,  those  of  his  friends  and  of  the  universe,  shsll    Doty  to 
be  absolutely  safe  under  the  conduct  of  unerring  wis-      i*od» 
dom  and  unbounded  goodness.     It  is  in  his  care  and        ' 
providence  alone  that  tlie  good  man,  who  is  anxions  for 
the  happiness  of  all,  finds  perfect  serenity  \  a  serenity 
neither  ruf9ed  by  partial  ill  nor  soured  by  private  dis- 
appointment. t«^ 
When  we  consider  the  unstained  purity  and  aheohite  Repent- 
perfection  of  the  dirWnf  nature,  and  reflect  withal  mi^'^^*^^ 
the  imperfection  and  various  blemishes  of  our  own,  we 
must  sink,  or  he  convinced  we  ought  to  sink,  into  the 
deepest  humility  and  prostration  of  soul  before  him  who 
is  so  wonderfully  great  and  holy.     When,  further,  wc 
call  to  mind  what  low  and  languid  feelings  we  have  of 
the  divine  presence  and  majesty,  what  insensibility  of 
his   fatherly  and  universal  goodness,  nay,  what   on- 
grateful  returns  we   have  made   to   it,   how  far  we 
come  short  of  the  perfection  of  his  law  and  the  dignity - 
of  our  own  nature,  how  much  we  liave  indulged  the*  sel- 
fish passions,  and  how  little  we  have  cherished  the  be- 
nevolent ones  \  we  must  be  conseiottt  that  it  is  oar  duty 
to  repent  of  a  temper  and  conduct  so  unworthy  onr  na^* 
ture  and  unbecoming  onr  obligations  to  its  Author,  and 
to  resolve  and  endeavour  to  act  a  wiser  and  better  part 
for  the  future.                                                                        tSo" 
^  Nevertheless,  from  the  character  which  his  works  Hopes  of 
exhibit  of  him,,  firom  those  delays  or  alleviations  of  pu*!^^^'^ 
nishment  which  offenders  often  experience,  and  frani 
the  merciful  'tenor  of  his  administration  in  many  other 
instances,  the  sincere  penitent  may  entertain  good  hopes 
that  his  Parent  and  Judge  will  not  he  strict  to  mark 
iniquity,  but  will  be  propitious  and  favourable  to  him, 
if  he  honestly  endeavours  to  avoid  his  former  practices, 
and  subdue  his  former  habits,  and  to  live  in  a  greater 
conformity  to  the  divine  will  for  the  future.     If  any 
doubts  or  fears  should  still  remain,  how  far  it  may  bo 
consistent  with  the  rectitude  and  equity  of  the  divine 
government  to  let  his  iniquities  pass  unpunished,  yet  he 
cannot  think  it  unsuitable  to  his  paternal  clemency  and"^ 
wisdqm  to  contrive  a  method  of  retrieving  the  penitent 
offender,  tljat  shall  unite  and  reconcile  the  majesty  and 
mercy  of  his  government.     If  reason  cannot  of  itself 
suggest  snch  a  scheme,  it  gives  at  least  some  ground  to 
expect  ft.     Bot  though  natural  religion  cannot  let  in 
moral  light  and  assurance  on  so  interesting  a  subject,,- « 
yet  it  will  teach  the  hnmblc  theist  to  wait  with  great 
submission  for  any  farther  intimations  it  may  please  the 
supreme  Governor  to  give  of  his  will ;  to  examine  with 
candour  and  impartiality  whatever  evidence  shall  be  - 
proposed  to  him  of  a  divine  revelation^  whether  that  evi* 
dence  is  natvrtd  ar  supernatural;  to  embrace  it  with 
veneration  and  cheerfulness,  if  the  evidence  is  clear  and  - 
convincing  \  and,  finally,  if  it  bring  to  light  any  new  ' 
relatnns  or  connexions^  natural  religion  will  persuade  its 
sincere  votary  faithfully  to  comply  with  the  obligations^  ^ 
ancT 'perform  the  duties  which  result  from  those  relations 
and  connexions.    This  is  theism^  piety^^^  completion 
of  morality  I                                                                        ^^^ 

We  must  farther  observe,  that  all  those  affections  Wonhijy 
which  we  supposed  to  regani  the  Deity  as  their  /rnxn^- praise, 
diatfi  unA  primary  object,  are  vital  energies  of  the  soul,'^"f*^*" 
and  consequently  exert  themselves  into  act,  and,  like**'**'* 
all  other  energies,  gain  strength  or  greater  activity  by 
that  exertion.     It  is  therefore  our  duty  as  well  as  high- 
est interest^  often  at  stated  times,  and  by  decent  and  so- 
lemn' 


392 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


PartH 


Dntj  to  lema  acts,  to  contemplate  and  adore  the  great  Original 
God.  of  onr  existence,  the  Parent  of  all  beauty  and  of  all 
good  'f  to  express  our  veneration  and  love  by  an  awful 
and  devout  recognition  of  his  perfections  ^  and  to  evi- 
dence our  gratitude  by  celebrating  his  goodness,  and 
'thankfully  acknowledging  all  his  benefits.  It  is  like- 
vrbe  our  duty,  by  proper  exercises  of  sorrow  and  hnmi- 
iiation,  to  confess  our  ingratitude  and  folly ;  to  signify 
our  dependence  on  God,  and  our  confidence  in  his 
goodness,  by  imploring  his  blessing ,  and  gracious  con- 
cutrence  in  assisting  the  weakness  and  curing  the  cor- 
ruptions of  our  nature ;  and,  finally,  to  testify  our  sense 
of  his  authority,  and  oar  faith  in  his  government,  by 
•devoting  ourselves  to  do  his  will,  and  resigning  ourselves 
Co  lus  disposal.  These  duties  are  not  therefore^  obliga- 
tory, because  the  Deity  needs  or  can  be  profited  by 
them  $  but  as  they  are  apparently  decent  and  morai^ 
suitable  to  the  relations  he  sustains  of  our  Creator^  JBr- 
nefaetoTy  Lawgiver^  and  ]udg(e;  expressive  of  our  state 
and  obligations }  and  improving  to  our  tempers,  by 
making  us  more  rational,  social,  god-like,  and  conse- 
quently more  happy. 

We  have  now  considered  Internal  piety,  or  the 
worsIUp  of  the  mind,  that  which  is  in  spirit  and  in 
truth ;  we  shall  conclude  the  section  with  a  short  ac- 
count of  that  which  is  External.  External  worship 
is  founded  on  the  same  principles  as  interna/^  and  of 
as  strict  moral  obligation.  It  is  either  private  or  pub' 
lie*  Detrition  that  is  inward  or  purely  intellectual^  is 
.too  spiritual  and  abstracted  an  operation  for  the  bulk 
of  mankind.  The  operations  of  their  minds,  such  espe- 
cially as  are  employed  on  the  most  sublime,  immaterial 
/objects,  must  be  assisted  by  their  outward  organs,  or  by 


SCitmal 

^WMShip^ 


some  help  from  the  imagination  ;  otherwise  they  irill  n^^ 
soon  be  dissipated  by  sensible  impressions,  or  grow  tin*-    G«d. 
some  if  too  long  continued.     Ideas  are  such  fleeting  *'"*v*^ 
things,  that  they  must  be  fixed  \  and  so  subtle,  that 
they  must  be  expressed  and  delineated,  as  it  were,  b? 
sensible  marks  and  images  \  otherwise  we  cannot  attend 
to-  them,  nor  be  much  affected  by  them.     Tl^rtfar^ 
verbal  adoration^  prayer^  praise^  thankaghnng^  and  con- 
Jeasion^  are  admirable  aids  to  inward  devotion,  fix  oor 
attention,  compose  and  enliven  oor  thoughts,  impicfg 
us  more  deeply  with  a  sense  of  the  awful  presence  in 
which  we  are,  and,  by  a  natural  and  mechanical  sort  of 
influence,  tend  to  heighten  those  devout  feelings  and  af- 
fections which  we  ought  to  entertain,  and  after  tbb 
manner  reduce  into  formal  and  explicit  act. 

This  holds  true  in  a  higher  degree  in  the  case  of  ^^^ 
public  worship,  where  the  presence  of  onr  fellow-crea-«oi^ 
tures,  and  the  powerful  contagion  of  the  social  afliec- 
tions,  conspire  td  kindle  and  spread  ^be  devout  flame . 
with  greater  wannth  and  energy.  To  conclude :  As 
God  is  the  parent  and  head  of  the  iocial  syetem^  as  he 
has  formed  us  for  a  social  state^  as  by  tme  we  find  the 
best  security  against  the  ills  of  life,  and  in  the  other 
enjoy  its  greatest  comforts,  and  as,  by  means  of  ioth^ 
our  nature  attains  its  highest  improvement  and  perfec- 
tion 'f  and  moreover,  as  there  are  public  blessings  and 
crimes  in  which  we  all  share  in  some  degree,  and  pub^ 
lie  wants  and  dangers  to  which  all  are  exposed— it  is 
therefore  evident,  that  the  various  and  solemn  oflices 
of  public  reHgian  are  duties  of  indispensable  moral  ob- 
ligation, among  the  best  cements  of  society,  the  fim- 
est  prop  of  government,  and  the  fairest  ornament  of 
botli. 


PART  ra. 


x94 

^I>iftBity 
andimport- 
ance  c^tbe 
subject. 


SeniiUe 
ideal  and 
sensible 

faste. 


Chap*  L  0/*  Practical  Ethics,  or  the  Culture 

of  the  l/iiHD. 

WE  have  now  gone  through  a  particular  detail  of 
the  several  duties  we  owe  to  Ourselves,  to  Societt, 
And  to  God.  In  considering  the  first  order  of  duties, 
.we  just  touched  on  the  methods  of  acquiring  the  differ- 
ent kinds  of  goods  which  we  are  led  by  nature  to  pur- 
due  'f  only  we  left  the  consideration  of  the  method  of 
acquiring  the  moral  goods  of  the  mind  to  a  chapter  by 
itself,  because  of  its  singular  importance.  This  chapter 
then  will  contain  a  brief  enumeration  of  the  arts  of  ac- 
quiring virtuous  hah'tSy  and  of  eradicating  vicious  ones^ 
us  far  as  is  consistent  with  the  brevity  of  such  a  work : 
a  subject  of  the  utmost  difficulty  as  well  as  importance 
in  morals }  to  which,  nevertheless,  the  least  attention 
has  been  generally  given  by  moral  writers.  This  will 
properly  follow  a  detail  of  duty,  as  it  will  direct  ns  to 
such  means  or  helps  as  are  most  necessary  and  conducive 
to  the  practice  of  it. 

In  the  first  part  of  this  inquiry  we  traced  the  order 
in  which  the  passions  shoot  up  in  the  different  periods 
of  human  life.  That  order  is  not  accidental  or  depend- 
ent on  the  caprice  of  men,  or  the  influence  of  custom 
and  education,  but  arises  f^om  the  original  constitution 
and  laws  of  our  nature  ^   of  which  this  is  one,  viz. 

I 


*^  That  sensible  objects  make  the  first  and  strongest  ita* 
preasions  on  the  mind.^  These,  by  means  of  our  out* 
ward  organs,  being  conveyed  to  the  mind^  become  ob- 
jects of  its  attention,  on  which  it  reflects  when  the  out- 
ward objects  are  no  longer  present,  or,  in  other  wwdt, 
when  the  impressions  noon  the  outward  organs  cease. 
These  objects  of  the  mind's  reflection  are  called  ideiu 
or  notions.  Towards  these,  by  anoUier  law  of  our  na- 
ture, we  are  not  altogether  indifferent  j  bat  correspond- 
ent movements  of  desire  or  aversionj  love  or  hatred^ 
arise,  according  as  tlie  objects  which  they  denote  made 
an  agreeable  or  disagreeable  impression  on  our  oigans^ 
Those  ideas  and  affections  which  we  experience  in  the 
Jirst  period  of  life,  we  refer  to  tlie  body^  or  to  sense; 
and  the  taste^  which  is  formed  towards  them,  we  call 
a  sensible^  or  a  merely  natural  taste  ;  and  the  objects 
corresponding  to  them  we  in  general  call  good  or  pksh 
santm  ti^ 

But  as  the  mind  moves  forward  in  its  course,  it  cx-idctstf 
tends  its  views,  and  receives  a  new  and  more  compU*  ^*^^ 
set  of  ideas,  in  which  it  observes  umformity^  twrMfjr,*' 
smilitude^  symmetry  of  parts^  reference  to  an  end,  im- 
*^%»  grandeur.  These  compose  a  vast  train  and  diver- 
sity of  imagery^  which  the  mind  compounds,  divides 
and  moulds  into  a  thousand  forms,  in  the  absence  ef 
those  objects  which  first  introduced  it.     And  tliis  more 
complicated  imagery  suggests  a  new  train  of  desires  sc«l 

afftxtum^ 


ftirtnir 


MORAL   PH 


Cdtnre  of  afftctknu^  fall  AS  sprightly  and  engaginff  as  any  which 
ie  Mind,  have  yet  appeared.     This  whole  class  oi  perceptions  or 
■  w       '  impressions  is  referred  to  the  imagination^  and  forms  a 
higher  taste  than  the  sensible^  and  which  has  an  imme- 
diate and  mighty  inflaence  on  the  finer  passions  of  our 
natare,  and  is  commonly  termed  s^fine  taste. 

The  objects  which  correspond  to  this  taste  we  nse  to 
call  beautiful^  grcat^  harm/oniouSy  or  wonderful^  or  in  ge- 
,g.  neral  by  the  name  of  beauty, 
[onl  ideas  The  mind,  still  pushing  onwards  and  increasing  its 
■d  ftiMK  stock  of  ideas,  ascends  from  those  to  a  higher  species  of 
At  taste,  objects,  viz.  the  order  and  mutual  relations  of  minds  to 
each  other,  their  reciprocal  affectums^  characters^  ac' 
iionsj  and  various  aspects.  In  these  it  discovers  a  beau- 
ty^  a  grandeur y  a  decorum^  more  interesting  and  allur- 
ing than  in  any  of  the  former  kinds.  These  objects,  or 
the  notions  of  them,  passing  in  review  before  the  mind, 
do,  by  a  necessary  law  of  our  nature,  call  forth  ano- 
ther and  nobler  set  of  affections,  as  admiration^  esteem^ 
bve^  honour^  gratitude^  benetxdence^  and  others  of  the 
like  tribe.  This  class  of  perfections^  and  their  corre- 
spondeilt  qffectixms^  we  refer,  because  of  their  objects 
{manner s)i  to  a  moral  sense,  and  call  the  taste  or  tem- 
per they  excite,  moral.  And  the  objects  which  are 
agreeable  to  this  taste  or  temper  we  denominate  by  the 
general  name  of  moral  beauty ^  in  order  to  distinguish  it 
mm  the  other,  which  is  termed  natural. 

These  different  sets  of  ideas  or  notions  are  the  ma- 
terials about  which  the  mind  employs  itself,  which  it 
blends,  ranges,  and  diversifies  ten  thousand  different 
ways.  It  feels  a  strong  propension  to  connect  and  as- 
sociate those  ideas  among  which  it  observes  any  simHi- 
tude  or  any  aptitude^  whether  original  and  natural^  or 
customary  and  artificial^  to  suggest  each  other.  See 
Metaphysics. 

But  whatever  the  reasons  are,  whether  fMni/tVtidlr,  co* 
existence^  causality^  or  any  other  <q)titude  or  relation^  why 
any  two  or  more  ideas  are  connected  by  the  mind  at 
first,  it  is  an  established  law  of  our  nature,  '*  that  when 
two  or  more  ideas  have  often  started  in  company,  they 
form  so  strong  an  union,  that  it  is  very  difficult  ever  af- 
ter to  separate  them."  Thus  the  lover  cannot  separate 
the  idea  of  merit  from  his  mistress  ;  the  courtier  that  of 
dignity  from  his  title  or  ribbon  ^  the  miser  that  of  hap- 
piness from  his  bags.  It  is  these  associations  of  worth 
or  happiness  with  any  of  the  different  sets  of  (Ejects  or 
images  before  specified  that  form  our  taste  or  complex 
idea  of  good.  By  another  law  of  our  nature,  *'  our  affec- 
tions follow  and  are  governed  by  this  taste.  And  to 
these  affections  our  character  and  conduct  are  similar 
and  proportioned  on  the  general  tenor  of  which  our  hap- 
piness principally  depends.'* 

As  all  our  leading  passions  then  depend  on  the  di- 
i(d.rection  which  our  taste  takes,  and  as  it  is  always  of 
the  same  strain  with  our  leading  associations,  it  is  worth 
while  to  inojuire  a  little  more  particularly  how  these 
are  formed,  m  order  to  detect  the  secret  sources  from 
whence  onr  passions  derive  their  principal  strength, 
their  various  rises  and  falls.  For  this  will  give  us  the 
true  key  to  their  management,  and  let  us  into  the 
right  method  of  correcting  the  bad  and  improving  the 

'     No  kind  of  objects  make  so  powerful  an  impression 

on  us  as  those  which  are  immediately  impressed  on  our 

senses^  or  strongly  painted  on  our  imaginations,  What- 

VOL.  XIV.  Part  L  t 


189 
rani«r 


190 


wtaite. 


■e  UBpor- 
lace  and 
leortke 


ILOSOPHY.  393 

ever  is  purely  intellectual^  as  abstracted  or  scientific  Culture  of 
truths,  the  subtle  relations  and  differences  of  things,  the  Mind. 
has  a  fainter  sort  of  existence  in  the  mind  j  and  though  — v— ' 
it  may  exercise  and  whet  the  memory ^  the  judgment ^ 
or  the  reasoning  power ^  gives  hardly  any  impulse  at  all 
to  the  active  powers,  the  passions^  which  are  the  main 
springs  of  motion.  On  the  other  hand,  were  the  mind 
entirely  under  the  direction  of  sense^  and  impressible  on<  ' 
ly  by  such  objects  as  are  present,  and  strike  some  of  the 
outward  organs,  we  should  then  be  precisely  in  the  state 
■  of  the  brute  creation,  and  be  governed  solely  by  instinct 
or  appetite^  and  have  no  power  to  controul  whatever  im- 
pressions are  made  upon  us  :  Nature  has  therefore  en- 
dued us  with  a  middle  fiaculty^  wonderfully  adapted  to 
our  mixed  state,  which  holds  partly  of  sense  and  partly 
of  reason^  being  strongly  allied  to  the  finmer^  and  the 
common  receptacle  in  which  all  the  notices  that  come 
from  that  quarter  are  treasured  up  ^  and  yet  greatly 
subservient  and  ministerial  to  the  latter^  by  giving  a 
body,  a  coherence,  and  beauty  to  its  conceptions.  This 
middle  faculty  is  called  the  imagittation^  one  of  the  most 
busy  and  firuitful  powers  of  the  mind.  Into  this  com- 
mon storehouse  are  likewise  carried  all  those  moral 
fitrms  which  are  derived  from  our  moral  faculties  of 
perception  \  and  there  they  often  undergo  new  changes 
and  appearances,  by  being  mixed  and  wrought'  up  with 
the  ideas  and  forms  of  sensible  or  natural  things.  By 
this  coalition  of  imagery,  natural  beauty  is  dignified  and 
heightened  by  moral  qualities  and  perfectionsy  and  mo- 
ral qualities  are  at  once  exhibited  and  set  off  by  natu- 
ral oeauty.  The  sensible  beauty,  or  good,  is  refined 
from  its  dross  by  partaking  of  the  moral ;  and  the  mo- 
ral receives  a  stamp,  a  visible  character  and  currency, 
from  the  sensible,  jgj 

As  we  are  first  of  all  accustomed  to  sensible  impres-  Its  eneigy 
sions  Kndsensible  enjoymeniSy  we  contract  early  a  sensual}^  yarious 
relish  or  love  of  pleasure^  in  the  lower  sense  ot  the  word.  |,Ji  JJn^nV 
In  order,  however,  to  justify  this  relish,  the  mind,  as  ing  sensible 
it  becomes  open  to  higher  perceptions  of  beauty,  and  picasures ; 
goody  borrows  from  thence  a  noble  set  of  images^  as  fine 
tastCy  generosity y  social  affections^  friendship^  goodfel- 
hwshipy  and  the  like  \  and,   by  dressing  out  the  old 
pursuits  with  these  new  ornaments,  gives  them  an  addi- 
tional dignity  and  lustre.   By  these  ways  the  desire  of' a 
tablcy  love  of  finery ^  intrigue^  and  pleasure,  are  vastly 
increased  beyond  their  natural  pitch,  having  an  impulse 
combined  of  the  force  of  the  natural  appetites,  and  of 
the  superadded  strength  of  those  passions  which  tend  to .   «  '^l^^ 
the  moral  species.     When  the  mind  becomes  more  sen-  eninic  the 
sible  to  those  objects  or  appearances  in  which  it  per- pieaKUKs 
ceives  beauty^  uniformity^  grandeur^  and  harmony^  as  of  beauiy, 
fine  clothes,  elegant  furniture,  plate,  pictures,  gawlens,  """"^^^y* 
houses,  equipage,  the  beauty  of  animals,  and  particu-  ^^ 
larly  the  attractions  of  the  sex  \  to  these  objects  the 
mind  is  led  by  nature  or  taught  by  custom^  the  opinion 
and  example  of  others,  to  annex  certain  ideas  of  moral 
character^  dignity^  decorum^  honour^  liberality^  temler- 
nesSf  and  active  or  social  enjoyment.    The  consequence 
of  this  association  is,  that  the  objects  to  which  these  are 
annexed  most  rise  in  their  value,  and  be  pursued  with 
proportionable  ardour.     The  enjoyment  of  them  h  often 
attended  vr\\h  pleasure ;  and  the  mere  possession  of  them, 
where  that  is  wanting,  frequently  draws  respect  from 
one's   fellow-creatures ;      This  respect  is,    by  many, 
thought  equivalent  to  the  pleasure  of  enjoyment.  Ilencc' 

3D  it 


-:S94 


MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 


194 

in  raising 
the  value 


Cuifirc  ot'  it  happens  that  the  idea  of  liappiness  is  connected  witk 
the  MtnJ.  tho  uiere/iAWfW/c;;/,  which  is  therefore  eagerly  sought  af- 
ter without  any  regard  to  the  genetrms  use  or  honourable 
enjoyment.  Thus  the  passion,  resting  on  the  means  xioX. 
the  end,  i.  e.  losing  sight  of  its  natural  object,  becomes 
wild  and  extravagant. 

In  fine,  ymy  object ^  or  external  denomination^  a  staffs 
a  garter  J  a  cup^  a  crown^  a  title,  may  become  a  moral 
of  external  badge  or  emblem  of  merit,  magnificence,  or  honour,  ac- 
tynibals,      eoruing  as  these  have  been  found  or  thought,  by  the 
possessors  or  admirers  of  them,  to  accompany  them ;  ' 
yet,   by  the  deception  formerly  mentioned,  the  nivrit 
ox  tha  conduct  which  entitled,  or  should  entitle  to  those 
marks  ot  distinction,  shall  be  forgot  or  neglected,  and 
the  badges  themselves  be  passionately  affected  or  pur- 
sued, as  including  every  excellency.     If  these  are  at- 
tained by  any  means,  all  the  concomitants  which  na- 
ture, custom,  or  accidents  have  joined  to  them,  will  be 
supposed  to  follow  of  course.     Thus,  moral  ends  with 
which  the-  unhappy  admirer  is   apt  to  colour  over  his 
passion  anil  views  will,  in  his  opinion,  justify  the  mbst 
tmmoral  7?k:ci?is,  as  prostitution,  adulation,  fraud,  trea- 
chery, and  every  species  of  knavery,  whether  more  open 
.    195      or  more  disguised, 
mhciglit-        When  men  are  once  engaged  in  active  life^  and  find 
enini;  the    ^^^  wealth  and  power,  generally  called  INTEREST,  ai'C 
weaUh        '^®  great  avenues  to  every  kind  of  enjoyment,  they  are 
power,* &C.  ^pt  to  throw  in  many  en^glng  moral  forms  to  the  ob- 
ject of  their  pursuit,  in  order  to  jii&tify  their  passion, 
and  varnish  over  the  measures  they  take  to  gratify  it,  as 
independency  on  the  vices  or  passions  of  others,  provision 
and  security  to  themselves  ^nd  friends,  prudent  economy 
or  well-placed  charity,  social  communication,  superiority 
to  their  enemies,  who  are  all  villains,  honourable  service, 
and  many  other  ingredients  of  merit.    To  attain  such 
capacities  of  usefulness  or  enjoyment,  what  arts,  nay 
what  meannesses,  can  be  thought  blameable  by  those 
cool  pursuers  of  interest  ?^Nor  have  they  whom  the 
gay  world  is  pleased  to  indulge  with  the  title  of  men  of 
pleasure,  their  imaginations  less  pregnant  with  moral 
images,  with  which  they  never  fail  to  ennoble,  or,  if 
they  cannot  do  that,  to  palliate  their  gross  pursuits. 
Thus  admiration  of  wit,  of  sentiments  and  merit  friend- 
ship, love,  generous  sympathy,  mutual  confidence,  giving 
and  receiving  pleasure,  are  the  ordinary  ingredients  with 
which  they  season  their  gallantry  and  pleasurable  enter- 
tainments 'y  and  by  which  they  impose  on   themselves, 
and  endeavour  to  impose  on  others,  that  their  amours 
are  the  joint  issue  of  good  sense  and  virtue. 
.  l^         These  associations,  variously  combined  and  propor- 
ence  on*  ill  tinned  by  the  imaginatwn,  form  the  Miiti private  psts- 
ti^cpassions.  sions,  which  govern  the  Uves  of  the  generality,  as  the 
love  of  action,  oi  pleasure^  power y  wealth,  and  fame; 
they  influence  the  defensive,  and  aflect  the  public  pas- 
sions, and  raise  joy  or  sorrow  as  they  are  gratified  or 
disappointed.     So  that  in  effect  these  associations  of 
good  and  evil,   beauty  and  deformity,  and  the  passions 
they  raise,  are  the  main  hinges  of  life  KViA  manners,  and 
the  great  sources  of  our  /tappiness  or  misery.     It  is  evi- 
dent, therefore,  that  the  whole  of  moral  culture  must 
depend  on  giving  a  right  direction  to  the  leading  pas- 
sionSy  and  duly  proportioning  them  to   the  value  of  the 
vh/rrts  or  gfjods  pursued,  under  what  name  soever  they 
grny  appear. 
Now,  in  order  to  give  them  tbb  r^ht  direction  and 

3 


Partm. 

due  proportion,  it  appears  from  the  foregoing  detail,  c^om  if 
that  those  associations  of  ideas,  upon  which  the  pabsions  tbe  Mini' 
depend,  must  be  duly  regulated  j  that  is  to  say,  as  an'     *^ 
exorbitant  passion  for  wealth,  pleasure,  or  power,  ftow8yJ|!' . 
from  an  association  or  opinion,  that  more  beauty  SLud\a[t^\„ 
good,  whether  natural  or  moral,  enters  into  the  CDJoy-c«ncctia| 
roent  or  possession  of  them,  than  really  belongs  to  ei-^^* 
thcr  'y  thet^efore,  in  restoring  those  passions  to  their  just  "J^"*' 
proportion,  we  must  begin  with  correcting  the  opinion, 
or  breaking  the  Jalse  association,  or,  in  other  words,  we 
must  decompound. the  complex  phantom  o£  happiness  qv 
good,  which  we  fondly  admire^  disunite  those  ideas  that 
have  no  natural  alliance  \  and  sepai*ate  the  ordinal  idea 
of  wealth,  power,  or  pleasure,  from  Uie  foreign  mix- 
tures, incorporated  with  it,  which  enhance  its  value,  oc 
give  it  its  chief  power  to  enchant  and  seduce  the  oaiad. 
For  instance,  let  it  be  considered  how  poor  and  inconsi- 
derable a  thing  wealth  is,  if  it  be   disjoined  from  real 
use,  or  from  ideas  of  capacity  in  the  possessor  to  do  good, 
from  independence,  generosity,  provision  for  a  family  or 
fricfids,  and  soa'al  communication  with  others.     By  this 
standard  let  its  true  value  be  fixed  ;  let  its  misapplies^ 
tion,  or  unbenevolent  enjoyment,  be  accounted  sordid 
and  infamous  ^  and  nothing  worthy  or  estimable  be  as* 
cribed  to  the  mere  possession  of  it,  which  is  not  borrow* 
ed^  from  its  generous  use.  i^ 

If  that  complex  form  of  good  which  is  called /?^ajiirp^  "^ 
engage  us,  let  it  be  analyzed  into  its  constituent  P' in*^||gf(,. 
ciples,  or  those  allurements  it  draws  from  the  heartj^^gg^.^ 
and  imagination,  in  order  to  heighten  the  low  part  of^ 
the  indulgence  \  let  the  separate  and  comparative  mo- 
ment of, each  be  distinctly  ascertained  and  deduced  from 
thai  gross  part,  and  this  cemainder  of  the  accumulated 
enjoyment  will  dwindle  down  into  a  poor,  insipid,  tzao- 
sitory  thing.  In  proportion  as  the  opinion  of  the  good 
pursued  abates,  the  admiration  must  decay,  and  the  pat- 
sions  lose  strength  of  course.  One  effectual  way  to 
lower  the  opinion,  and  consequently  to  weaken  the  ha- 
bit founded  upon  it,  is  to  practise  lesser  pieces  of  self- 
denial,  or  to  abstain,  to  a  certain  pitch,  from  the  par- 
suit  or  enjoyment  of  the  favourite  object ^  and,  thatthia 
may  be  the  more  easily  accomplished,  one  must  avoid 
those  occasions,  that  company,  those  places,  and  tho 
other  circumstances,  that  inflamed  one  and  endeared  the 
other.  And,  as  a  counter-process,  let  h^her  or  even 
different  enjoyments  be  brought  in  view,  other  passions 
played  upon  the  former,  different  places  frequented, 
other  exercises  tried,  company  kept  with  persons  of  a 
different  or  more  correct  Way  of  thinking  both  in  no/if- 
ral  and  moral  subjects. 

As  much  depends  on  our  setting  out  well  in  life,  ^^^ 
the  ytmilful  foncy,  which  is  apt  to  be  very  florid  and 
luxuriant,  be  early  accustomed  by  instruction,  ejecm^, 
and  significant  moral  exercises,  nay,  by  looks,  gestures, 
and  every  other  testimony  of  just  approbation  or  blame, 
to  annex  ideas  of  merit,  honour,  and  happiness,  not  to 
birth,  dresSy  rank,  beauty,  fortune,  power,  popukrity, 
and  the  like  outward  i\i\n^,  but  to  moral  and  truly  vir- 
tuous qualiiies,  and  to  those  enjoyments  which  spring  fiom 
a  well-informed  judgment  and  a  regular  conduct  of  the 
affections,  especially  those  of  the  social  and  disinterested 
kind.  Such  dignified  forms  of  beauty  and  goody  often 
suggested,  and,  by  moving  pictures  and  examples  warm- 
ly recommended  to  the  imagination,  enforced  by  the  au- 
thority of  cohsciencey  and  demonstrated  by  reason  to  be 

tho 


i|> 


200 


m.  MORAL   PH 

Cvltnrc  of  tbe  surest  means  of  enjoyment,  and  the  only  indepen- 
tke  .viind.  dent,  undeprWaMe,  and  durable  goods,  will  be  the  best 
counterbalance  to  meaner  passions,  and  the  firmest  foun- 
dation and  security  of  virtue. « 

It  is  of  great  importance  to  the  forming  Vijusi  taste^ 
or  pure  and  large  conceptions  of  happiness,  to  study  and 
understand  human  nature  well,  to  remember  what  a 
complicated  system  it  is,  particularly  to  have  deeply 
imprinted  on  our  mind  that  gradation  of  senses^  fa- 
culties^ and  pwvers  of  enjwfment  formerly  mentioned, 
and  the  subordination  of  goods  resulting  from  thence, 
which  nature  points  out,  and  the  experience  of  man- 
kind confirms.  Who,  when  they  think,  seriously,  and 
are  not  under  the  immediate  influence  of  some  vio- 
lent prejudice  or  passion,  prefer  not  the  pleasures  of  oc- 
iion^  coiitemplationy  society^  and.  mast  exercises  Kn6.joys 
of  the  moral  kind,  nA  friendships  natural  affifctiori^  and 
the  like,  to  all  ^f'li^tMi/ gratifications  whatsoever  ?  Where 
the  different  species  of  pleasure  are  blended  into  one 
complex  form^  Jet  them  b^  accurately  distinguished,  and 
l>e  referred  each  to  its  ^to^t  faculty  and  sense^  and 
examined  apart  what  they  have  peculiar,  what  common 
with  others,  and  what  foreign  and  adveutitious.  Let 
^  wealthy  grandeur^  luxury^  loue^  fome^  and  the  like,  be 
*  tried  by  this  test,  and  their  true  alloy  will  be  found  out« 
Let  it  be  further  considered,  whether  tbe  mind  may 
not  be  easy  and  enjoy  itself  greatly,  though  it  want 
many  of  those  elegancies  and  superfluities  of  life  which 
some  possess,  or  that  load  of  wealth  and  power  which 
others  eagerly  pursue,  and  under  which  they  groan, 
•Let  the  diflicolty  of  attaining,  the  precariousness  of  pos- 
sessing, and  the  many  abatements  in  enjoying  over- 
gro^vn  wealth  and  envied  greatness,  of  which  the  weary 
possessors  so  finequently  complain,  as  the  hurry  of  busi- 
ness,  the  burden  of  company,  of  paying  attendance  to 
the  few,  and  ^ving  it  to  many^  the  cares  of  keeping, 
the  fears  of  losing,  and  the  desires  of  increasing  what 
they  have,  and  the  other  troubles  which  accompany 
this  pitiful  drudgery  and  pompous  servitude  }  let  these 
mnd  the  like  circumstances  be  often  considered,  that  are 
conducive  to  the  removing  or  lessening  the  opinion  of 
such  goods,  and  the  attendant  passion  or  set  ^passions 
will  decay  of  course. 

Let  the  peculiar  bent  of  our  nature  and  character  be 


lOt 


tbe 
lent 


»ntft  of 


101 


fcc 


iifov  own  observed,  whether  we  are  mast  inclined  to  form  associ- 
^*"'"*^  ^ions  and  relish  objects  of  tbe  sensible^  intellectual^  or 
moral  kind.  Let  that  which  has  the  ascendant  be  par- 
ticularly watched ;  let  it  be  directed  to  right  objects, 
be  improved  by  proportioned  exercises,  and  guarded  by 
proper  checks  from  an  opposite  quarter.  Thus  the  sen^ 
sible  turn  may  be  exalted  by  the  intellectual^  and  a  taste 
for  the  beauty  of  the  Jtne  arts^  and  both  may  be  made 
subservient  to  convey  and  rivet  sentiments  highly  moral 
and  public-spirited.  This  inward  survey  must  extend  to 
the  strength  and  weaknesses  of  one's  nature^  one's  cofidi- 
tionSy  connexions^  habitudes fjortunes^  studies^  acquaint- 
ancej  and  the  other  circumstances  of  one's  life,  from 
which  every  man  will  form  the  justest  estimate  of  his 
own  dispositions  and  chal^cter,  and  the  best  rules  for 
correcting  and  improving  them.  And  in  order  to  do 
this  with  more  advantage,  let  those  times  or  critical  sea- 
sons  be  watched  when  the  mind  is  best  disposed  towards 
a  change  \  and  let  thenf  be  improved  by  rigorous  reso- 
lationsy  promises^  pr  whatever  else  will  engage  the  mind 


ILOSOPHY.  395 

to  persevere  in  virture.  Let  tlie  conduct^  in  fine,  be  of-  Culture  of 
ten  reviewed,  and  the  causes  of  its  corruption  or  im-  the  Miiid. 
provement  be  carefully  observed.  ^— ^.— .— < 

It  will  greatly  conduce  to  refine  the  moral  taste  and  b-f|^™nt 
strengthen  the  virtuous  temper^  to  accustom  the  mind  to  moral  excr- 
the  frequent  exercise  of  tnoral  sentiments  and  determi-  ci^es ; 
nations^  by  reading  history^  poetry^  particularly  of  the 
picturesque  and  dratnatic  kind,  the  study  of  the  fne 
arts;  by  conversing  with  the  most  eminent  for  good 
sense  and  virtue  $   but  above  all,  by  frequent  and  re- 
peated acts  of  humanity^  compassion^  friendshipy  polite^ 
nessj  and  hospitality.     It  is  exercise  that  gives  health 
and  strength.     He  that  reasons  most  frequently  be- 
comes the  wisest,  and  most  enjoys  the  pleasures  of 
wisdom.     He  who  is  most  often  affected  by  objects  of 
compassion  in  poetry,  history,  or  real  life,  will  have  his 
soul  most  open  to  pity,  and  its  delightfiil  pains  and 
duties.     So  he  also  wno  practices  most  diligently  the  * 

offices  of  kindness  and  charity,  will  by  it  cultivate 
that  disposition  from  whence  all  his  pretensions  to  per- 
sonal merit  must  arise,  hb  present  and  his  future  hap- 
piness. 204 

An  oseful  and  hononrmble  employment  in  life  will  ^7  ^  ho. 
administer^  a  thousand  opportunities  of  this  kind,  and°5^^™' 
greatly  strengthen  a  sense  of  virtue  and  good  affections,  ' 

which  most  be  nourished  by  light  training,  as  well  as 
our  understandings.  For  such  an  employment,  by  en- 
larging one's  experience,  giving  a  habit  of  attention 
and  caution,  or  obliging  one,  from  necessity  or  interest, 
to  keep  a  guard  over  tbe  passions,  end  study  the  out- 
ward decencies  and  appearances  of  virtue,  will  by  de- 
grees produce  good  habit,  and  at  length  insinuate  the 
love  cf  virtue  and  honesty  for  its  own  sake.  205 

It  is  a  great  inducement  to  tbe  exercise  of  benevo-  by  viewUig 
lence  to  view  human  naittre  in  a  favonrable  light,  to™^'^  *'^. 
observe  the  characters  and  circumstances  of  mankind  ^^A^J^^kf. 
on  the  fawest  sides,  to- pot  the  best  constmctions  on  * 

their  actions  they  will  bear,  and  t9  consider  them  as 
the  result  of  partial  and  mistaken  rather  than  HI  affec- 
tions, or,  at  worst,  as  the  excesses  of  a  pardonable  self- 
love,  seldom  or  never  tha  eflfect  of  pure  malice.  206 

Above  all,  tbe  nature  and  consequences  of  virtue  and  by  considc- 
viccy  their  consequences  being  the  law  of  our  nature  '^^^^^  ^^ 
and  will  of  heaven  j  the  light  in  which  they  appear  to  ^j^/f'^'* 
our  supreme  Parent  and  Lawgiver^  and  the  reception 
they  will  meet  with  from  him,  must  be  often  attend- 
ed to.     The  exercises  of  jnWy,  as  adoration  and  praise 
of  the  divine  excellency,  invocation  of  and  dependence 
on  his  aid,  confession^  thanksgivingj  and  resignation^ 
are  habitually  to  be  indulged,  and  frequently  perform- 
ed, not  only  as  medicinal^  but  highly  improving  to  the 
temper.  207 

To  conclude :    It  will  be  of  admirable  efficacy  to-  by  jast 
wards  eradicating  bad  habits,   and   implanting  good^^^*  ®( 
ones,  frequently  to  contemplate  human  life  as  the  great  JnJ S    \ 
Mfrsery  of  omt future  and  immortal  existence^  as  that  state  nezton 
q( probation  in  which  we  are  to  be  educated  for  a  divine  with  a  fa- 
life  ;  to  remember,  that  our  virtues  or  vices  will  be  tm-  ^'■'^ 
mortal  as  ourselves,  and  influence  tuar future  as  well  as 
our  present  happiness— and  therefore,  that  every  dispo« 
sition  and  action  is  to  be  regarded  as  pointing  beyond 
the  present  to  an  f>»morta/ duration.— An  habitual  atten- 
tion to  this  wide  and  important  connexion  will  give  a  vast 
compass  and  dignity  to  our  sentiments  and  actions,  ano^ 

3  D  2  ble 


396  MORAL    PH 

^iotives  to  ble  superiority  to  the  pleasures  and  pains  of  life,  and  a 
Virtue     generous  ambition  to  make  our  virtue  as  immortal  as 
*'*'""'V"""^  our  being. 

Chap.  IL  Motives  to  Virtue  from  Personal 

Happiness. 

208 
MotiTes  We  have  already  considered  our  Migatums  to  the 

from  per-  practice  of  virtue^  arising  from  the  constitution  of  our 

>.oiial  hap'  nature,  by  wbicb  we  are  led  to  aj)prove  a  certain  order 

^^    ^  '  and  economy  of  affections^  and  a  certain  course  of  action 

*Vide  correspondent  to  it*.     But,  besides  this,  there  are  se- 

^'j"^':  ..  veral    motives    which  strengthen  and   secure   virtue, 

chap.  1.  u.  j^jj^jygjj  i^Q^  themselves  of  a  moral  kind.     These  are, 

its  tendency  to  persofuU  happiness  and  the  contrary  ten' 
dency  of  vice.    '*  Personal  happiness  arises  either  from 
the  state  of  a  man's  own  mind,  or  from  the  state  and 
109       disposition  of  external  causes  towards  him." 
Happiness       We  shall  first  examine  the  "  tendency  of  virtue  to 
of  virtue     happiness  with  respect  to  the  state  of  a  man's  own 
from  with-  ijuJnd."     This  is  a  point  of  the  utmost  consequence  in 
morals,  because,  unless  we  can  convince  ourselves,  or 
show  to  others,  that,  by  doing  our  duty^  or  ^Killing 
our  moral  obligations^  we  consult  the  greatest  satisfac- 
'  tion  of  our  own  mind,  or  our  highest  interest  on  the 
whole,  it  will  raise  strong  and  otten  unsurmountable 
prejudices  against  the  practice  of  virtue,   especially 
whenever  there  arise  any  appearances  of  opposition  be- 
tween our  duty  and  our  satimotion  or  interest.   To  crea- 
tures  so  desirous  of  happiness,  and  averse  to  misery, 
as  we  are,  and  often  so  oddly  situated  amidst  contend- 
ing passiona  and  interests,  it  is  necessary  that  virtue 
appear  not  only  an  honourable  but  a  pkasing  and  benefit 
cent  form.     And  in  order  to  justify  our  choice  to  our* 
selves  as  well  as  before  others,  we  must  ourselves  feel 
and   be  able  to  avow  in  the  £eice  of  the  whole  world, 
that  her  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  her  paths 
the  paths  of  peace«    This  will  show,  beyond  all  con- 
tradiction, that  we  not  only  approve,  but  can  give  a 
210       sufficient  reason  for  what  we  do« 
Inflaence  of     Let  any  man  in  a  cool  hour,  when  be  is  disengaged 
Tjae  on  the  fj.^^^  busiues^^  an^  undisturbed  by  passion  (as  such  cool 
thc*n2nd.    ^®"'®  ^^^  sometimes  happen),  sit  down,  and-  seriously 
reflect  with  himself  what  state  or  temper  of  mind  be 
would  choose  to  feel  and  indulge,,  in  order  to  be  easy 
and  to  enjoy  himself.     Would  he  choose,  for  that  pur- 
pose, to  be  in  a   constant  dissipation   and   hurry  of 
thought^  to  be  disturbed  in  the  exercise  of  his  rea- 
son 'j  to  have  various  and  oflen  interfering  phantoms 
of  good  playing  before  his  imagination,  soliciting  and 
distracting  him  by  turns,  now  soothing  him  with  amus- 
ing hopes,  then  torturing  him  with  anxious  fears ;  and 
to   approve   this  minute  what  he  shadl   condemn  the 
next  P  Would  he  choose  to  have  a  strong  and  painful 
sense  of  every  petty  injury  ^  quick  apprehensions  of 
every  impending  evil  ^  incessant  and  insatiable  desires 
of  power,  wealth,  honour,  pleasure  9  an  irreconcilable 
•  antipathy  against  all  competitors  and  rivals  j  insolent 
and  tyrannical  dispositions  to  all  below  him  'y  fawning, 
and  at  the  same  time  envious,  dispositions  to  all  above 
him  f  with    dark  suspicions  and  jealousies  of  every 
mortal  ?  Wonld  he  choose  neither  to  love  nor  be  belov- 
ed of  any ;  to  have  no  friend  in  whom  to  confide,  or 
with  whom  to  interchange  his  sentiments  or  designs  \ 
no  &vonrite|  ou  whom  ta  bestow  his  kindnessi  or  vent 


ILOSOPHY.  PartHL 

• 

his  passions  ;  in  fine,  to  be  conscions  of  no  merit  with  ynm  Hi^ 
mankind,  no  esteem  from  any  creatare,  no  good  affec-    («<»: 
tion  to  his  Maker,  no  concern  for,  nor  hopes  of,  his       »  -^ 
approbation ;  but  in^'tead  of  all  these,  to  bate,  and 
know  that  he  is  hated,  to  condemn,  and  know  that  he 
is  condemned  by  all  ^  by  the  good,  because  be  is  so  un- 
like 'y  and  by  the  bad  because  be  is  to  like  themselves  \ 
to  bate  or   to  dread  the  very  Being  that  made  him ; 
and,  in  short,  to  have  his  breast  the  seat  of  pride  and 
passion,  petulance  and  revenge,  deep  melancholy,  cool 
malignity,  and  all  the  other  furies  that  ever  posses&ed 
and  tortured  mankind  ?-<— W^ouid  our  calm  inquirer  af- 
ter happiness  pitch  on  such  a  state,  and  such  a  temper 
of  mind,  as  the  most  likely  means  to  put  him  in  pos- 
session of  his  desired  case  and  sclf-enjoyroent  ?  211 

Or  would,  he  I'ather  choose  a  serene  apd  easy  flow  ofbiicBectf 
thought  3  a  reason  clear  and  composed}  a  judgmental*'" 
unbiassed  by  pi'ejudice,  and  undistracted  by  passion  ^  a     -^^ 
sober   and   well-governed    fancy,   which    presents   the 
images  of  things  true,  and  unmixed  with  delusive  and 
unnatural  charms,  and  therefore  administers  no  impro- 
per or  dangerous  fuel  to  the  passions,  but  leaves  the 
mind  free  to  choose  or  reject,  as  becomes  a  reasonable 
creature  ^  a  sweet  and  sedate  temper,  not  easily  ruf- 
fled by  hopes  or  fears,  prone  neither  to  suspicion  nor 
revenge,  apt  to  view  men  and  things  in  the  fairest 
lights,  and  to  bend  gently  to  the  humours  of  others 
rather  than  obstinately  to  contend  with  them  ?  Wooid 
he  choose  such  moderation  and  continence  of  mind,  as 
neither  to  be  ambitious  of  power^  fond  of  honours,  co- 
vetous of  wealthy  nor  a  slave  to  pleasure  ;  a  mind  of 
course  neither  elated  with  success,  nor  dejected  with 
disappointment  \  such   a  modest   and  noble    spirit  as 
supports  power  without  insolence,  wears  honour  with* 
out  pride,  uses  wealth  without  profusion  or  parsimony ; 
and  rejoices  more  in  giving  than  in  receiving  pleasure ; 
such  fortitude  and  equanimity  as  rises  above  miafor* 
tuneSy  or  turns  them  into  blessings;    such   integrity 
and  greatness  of  mind,  as  neither  flatters  the  vices, 
nor  triumphs  over  the  follies  of  men  \  as  equally  spuma 
servitude  and  tyranny,  and  will  neither  engage  iw  low 
designs,  nor  abet  them  in  others  ?  Would  he  choose, 
in  fine,  such  mildness  and  benignity  of  heart  as  takes 
part  in  all  the  joys,  and  refuses  none  of  the  sorrows,  of 
others ;  stands  well  affected  to  all  mankind ;  is  Consci- 
ous of  meriting  the  esteem  of  all,  and  of  being  beloved 
by  the  best ;  a  mind  which  delights  in   doing  good 
without  any  show,  and  yet  arrogates  nothing  on  that 
account ;  rejoices  in  loving  and  being  beloved  by  its 
Maker,  acts  ever  under  his  eye,  resigns  itself  to  his   . 
providence,  and  triumphs  in  his  approbation  }  Which 
of  these  dispositions  would  be  his  choice  in  order  to 
be  contented,  serene,  and  happy  ?  The  former  tem- 
per is  VICE,  the  latter  virtue.    Where  one  prevails, 
there  MISERY  prevails,  and  by  the  generality  is  ac- 
knowledged to  prevail.     Where  the  other  reigns,  there 
liAFPiKESS  reigns,  and  by  the  confession  of  mankind 
is  acknowledged  to  reign.     The  perfection  of  either 
temper  is  misery  or  happiness  in  perfectiMU'-'^VSMtr 
FORE,  every  approach  to  either  extreme  is  an  approach 
to  misery  or  to  happiness;  i.  e.  every  degree  of  vice  or 
virtue  is  accompanied  with  a  proportionable  degree  of 
misery  or  happiness.  tit 

The  principal  alleviations  of  a  virtiions  man*s  cak-Tke 

nuti«8  axe  these  ;<— That  though  some  of  them  mfty!^ 


tfH 


Part  IIP. 


MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 


tfotivcs  to 

•  A'iit«e. 


s"3 
His  enjoy- 


tSee 
Pkrtll. 


•«4 
ftaok  m 


ymfttky^ 


iMkll. 


loBotia. 

siere  wttb 


!nve  be«D  the  effect  of  bb  imprudence  or  ^veakncss, 
jet  few  of  them  are  sharpened  by  a  sense  of  guilt,  and 
ftone  them  by  a  consciousness  of  wickedness,  which 
surely  is  their  keenest  Mtng^— that  they  are  common 
to  him  with  the  best  of  men  ^-^tiiat  they  seldom  or 
never  attack  him  quite  unprepared,  but  rather  guarded 
with*  a  consciousness  of  his  own  sincerity  and  virtue, 
with  a  faith  and  trust  in  Providence,  and  a  firm  resig- 
tion  to  its  perfect  orders  ^— that  they  may  be  im- 
proved as  means  of  correction,  or  materials  to  give 
scope  and  stability  to  his  virtues  ^— and,  to  name  no 
more,  they  are  considerably  lessened,  and  often  sweet- 
ened to  him,  by  the  general  sympathy  of  the  wise  and 
good. 

His  enjoyments  are  more  numerous,  or,  if  less  nu- 
merous, yet  more  intense  than  those  of  the  bad  man  : 
for  he  shares  in  the  joys  of  others  by  rebound  ^  and 
every  increase  of  ^nrro/ or /^arffcf/Air  happiness  is  a  real 
addition  to  his  own.  It  is  true,  his  friendly  sympathy 
irith  others  subjects  him  to  some  pains  which  the  hard- 
hearted wretch  does  not  feel  \  yet  to  give  a  loose  to 
it,  i^  a  kind  of  agreeable  discharge.  It  is  such  a  sor- 
row as  he  loves  to  indulge :  a  sort  of  pleasing  anguish 
that  sweetly  melts  the  mind,  and  terminates  in  a  seH^ 
approving  joy.  Though  the  good  roan  may  want 
means  to  execate,  or  be  disappointed  in  the  success  of, 
his  benevolent  purposes^  yet,  as  was  formerly  f  ob- 
served, he  is  still  conscious  of  good  affection,  and  that 
conscioosness  is  an  enjoyment  of  a  more-  delightful 
savour  than  the  greatest  triumphs  of  successful  vice. 
If  the  ambitiouSy  covetous^  or  voiuptuous^  are  disappoint- 
ed, their  passions  recoil  upon  them  with  a  fury  propor- 
tioned to  their  opinion  of  the  value  of  what  they  pur- 
sue, and  their  hope  of  success  ^  while  they  have  no- 
thing within  to  balance  the  disappointment,  unless  it 
is  an  useless  land  of  pride,  which,  however,  freqitentfy 
turns  mere  accidents  into  mortifying  affronts,  and  ex- 
alts grief  into  rage  and  frenzy.  "Whereas  the  meek, 
hamble,  and  benevolent  temper,  is  its  own  reward,  is 
satisfied  from  within  *,  and,  as  it  magnifies  greatly  the 
pleasnre  of  soccess,  so  it  wonderfully  alleviates,  and  in 
a  manner  annihilates,  all  pain  for  the  want  of  it. 

As  the  good  man  is  conscious  of  loving  and  wish- 
ing well  to  all  mankind,  he  must  be  sensible  of  his  de- 
serving the  esteem  and  good- will  of  all  \  and  this  sub- 
posed  reciprocation  of  social  feelings  ts,  by  the  very 
frame  of  onr  nature,  madife  a  source  of  very  intense  and 
enlivening  joys.  By  this  sympathy  of  affections  and 
interests,  he  feels  himself  intimately  united  with  the 
human  race  ;  and,  being  sensibly  alive  over  the  whole 
systena,  his  heart  receives  and  becomes  responsive  to 
every  touch  ^ven  to  any  part.  So  that,  as  an  eminent 
phAkiophef*  *  finely  expresses  it,  he  gathers  contentment 
and  delight  from  the  pleased  and  happy  states  of  those 
aroond  him,  from  accounts  and  relations  of  such  hap- 
piness, from  the  very  countenan^s,  gestures,  voices, 
and  sounds,  even  of  creatures  foreign  to  our  kind, 
whose  signs  of  joy  and  contentment  he  can  any  way 
discern. 

Nor  do  those  generous  affections  stop  any  other  na- 
tural source  of  joy  whatever,  or  deaden  his  sense  of 
any  innocent  gratification.  They  rather  keep  the 
several  senses  and  powers  ofenfoyment  open  and  disen- 
gaged, intense  and  uncormpted  by  riot  or  abuse  5  as 
is  evident  to  any  one  who  cossidon  tho  dissipated,  wb^ 


397 


feeling  state  of  men  oi  pleasure^  a/nbitio/ij  or  interest^  From  Hap- 

and  compares  it  with  the  serene  and  gentle  state  of  a     pincss. 

mind  at  peace  with  itself,  and  friendly  to  all  mankind,  *       «      ■' 

unruffled  by  anv  violent  emotion,  and  sensible  to  every  rrn  **^ 

1       ^       J     '  1     11     •       •  •'The  misery 

good-natured  and  alluring  joy.  ^^  excess  in 

It  were  easy,  by  going  through  the  different  sets  of  the  private 
affections  mentioned  formerly  f ,  to  show,  that  it  is  only  passions, 
by  maintaining  the  proportion  settled*  there,  that  the^^*^.*?^ 
mind  arrives  at  true  repose  and  satisfaction.     If  /ear^  ap.  i.  u. 
exceeds  that  proportion,  it  sinks  into  melancholy  and 
dejection.   If  bnger  passes  just  bounds,  it  ferments  into 
rage  and  revenge,  or  subsides  into  a  sullen  corroding 
gloom,  which  embitters  every  good,  and  renders  one- 
exquisitely  sensible  to  eveiy  ilL    T\\e  private  passions, 
the  love  of  honour  especially,  whose  impulses  are  more 
generous,  as  its  effects  are  more  diffusive,  are   instru-    / 
ments  of  private  pleasure  ^  but  if  they  are  dispropor*- 
tinned  to  our  wants^  or  to  the  value  of  their  several 
objects,  or  to  the  balance  of  other  passions  equally  ne- 
cessary and  more  amiable,  they  become  instruments  of 
intense  pain  and  misery.     For,  being  now  destitute  of 
that  counterpoise  which   held  them  at  a  due  pitch, 
they  grow  turbulent,  peevish,  and  revengefnl,  the  cause 
of  constant  restlessness  and  torment,  sometimes  flying 
out  into  a  wild  delirious  joy,  at  other  times  settling 
in  a  deep  splenetic  grief.     The  concert  between  rea- 
son and  passion  is  then  broke :   all  is  dissonance  and 
distraction  within.  The  mind  is  out  of  frame,  and  feels 
an  agony  proportioned  to  the  violence  of  the  reigning 
passion.  3,^ 

The  ease  is  much  the  same,  or  rather  worse,  when  Id  the  po- 
any  of  the  particnlar  kind  affections  are  out  of  their  ^^^  afiec« 
natural  order  and  proportion  ^  as  happens  in  the  case  ^*^* 
of  effeminate  pity^  ejporbitont  hve^  parental  dotage^  or 
any  party  passion^  where  the  just  regards  to  society  are 
supplanted.  The  more  social  and  disinterested  the  pas- 
sion is,  it  breaks  out  into  the  wilder  excesses,  and  makes 
the  more  dreadful  havock  both  within  and  abroad  ;  as 
is  bnt  too  apparent  in  those  cases  where  a  false  species 
of  religion^  honour ^  ^ieal^  or  party-rage^  has  seized  on 
the  natural  enthusiasm  of  the  mind,  and  worked  it  up 
to  madness.  It  breaks  through  all  ties  natural  and  ct- 
vily  disregards  the  most  sacred  and  solemn  obligations, 
silences  every  other  affection  whether /?»&/«?  ox  private^ 
and  transforms  the  most  gentle  natnres  into  the  most 
savaffe  and  inhuman.  218 

Whereas,  the  man  who  keeps  the  balance  of  affection  Happiness 
even,  is  easy  and  serene  in  his  motions  ;  mild,  and  yet^^^^^U  pro* 
affectionate^  uniform  and  consistent  with  himself:  i3P<>^.o°cd 
not  liable  to  disagreeable  collisions  of  interests  and  pas-  ^""^  '* 
sions  \  gives  always  place  to  the  most  friendly  and  hu- 
mane affections,  and  never  to  dispositions  or  acts  of  re- 
sentment, hut  on  high  occasions,  when  the  security  of 
the  private^  or  welfare  of  the  public  system,  or  the  great 
interests  of  mankind,  necessarily  require  a  noble  indigo 
nation  >  and  even  then  he  observes  a  just  measure  m 
wrath ;  and  last  of  all,  he  proportions  every  passion  to 
the  value  of  the  object  he  affects,  or  to  the  importance 
of  the  end  he  pursues.  aip 

To  sum  up  this  part  of  the  argument,  the  ^one^  Sam  of  tfi^ 
and  good  man  has  eminently  the  advantage  of  the  Aritav- ^^S^nicnt 
ish  and  selfish  wretch  in  every  respect     The  pleasures 
which  the  last  enjop  flow  chiefly  from  external  ad- 
vantages and  gratifications  ^  are  superficial  and  transi- 
tory }  dnshod  m\it  long  iatervals  of  satiety,  and  fre-» 

q^uent 


398 


MORAX.  PHILOSOPHY. 


Motives  to 
Virtue. 


^Bztemal 
eilecU  of 
virtiie. 

221 

On  the 
*ody. 


'      212 

Oft  one's 
foitone,  in- 
terest, dtc 


quent  returns  of  remorse  aad  fear  ;  dependent  on  fa;- 
vourable  accidents  and  conjunctures  ;  and  subjected  to 
the  bumours  of  men.  But  the  good  man  is  satisfied 
from  bimself  -,  his  principal  possessions  lie  irithiny  and 
tlierefore  beyond  the  reach  of  the  caprice  of  men  or 
fortune  \  his  enjoyments  are  exquisite  and  permanent  \ 
accompanied  with  no  inward  checks  to  damp  them, 
and  always  with  ideas  of  dignity  and  self-a^irobatioo  \ 
may  be  tasted  at  any  time,  and  in  any  place.  The 
gratifications  of  vice  are  turbulent  and  unnatural ,  ge> 
nerally  arising  from  the  relief  of  passions  in  themselves 
intolerable,  and  issuing  in  tormenting  reflection  ;  often 
irritated  by  disappointment,  always  inflamed  by  en- 
joyment, and  yet  ever  cloyed  with  repietition.  The 
pleasures  of  virttse  are  calm  and  natural  \  flowing  from 
the  exercise  of  kind  affections,  or  delightful  reflections 
in  consequence  of  them ;  not  only  agreeable  in  the 
prospect,  but  in  the  present  feeling  \  they  never  satiate 
nor  lose  their  reKsh ;  nay,  rather  the  admiration  of  vir- 
tue grows  stronger  every  day  \  and  not  only  is  the  de-> 
sire  but  the  enjoyment  heightened  by  eveiy  new  grati- 
fication 'y  and,  unlike  to  most  others,  it  is  increased, 
not  diminished,  by  sympathy  and  communication.— ^In 
fine,  the. satisfactions  oi  virtue  may  be  purchased  with- 
out a  bribe,  and  possessed  in  the  humblest  as  well  as  the 
most  triumphant  fortune^  they  can  bear  the  strictest 
teview,  do  not  change  with  circumstances,  nor  grow 
old  with  time.  Force  cannot  rob,  nor  fraud  cheat  us 
of  them  \  and,  to  crown  all,  instead  of  abating,  they 
enhance  every  other  pleasure. 

But  th^  happy  consequences  of  virtue  are  seen  not 
only  in  the  internal  enjoyments  it  aflords  a  man,  but 
^  in  the  favourable  disposition  of  external  causes  to- 
wards him,  to  which  it  contributes.^' 

As  virtue  gives  the  sober  possession  of  one's  self, 
and  the  command  of  one*s  passions,  the  consequence 
'must  be  heart's  ease,  and  a  fine  natural  flow  of  spirits, 
which  conduce  more  than  any  thing  else  to  health  and 
long  life.  Violent  passions,  and  the  excesses  they  occa- 
sion, gradually  impair  and  wear  down  the  machine. 
But  the  calm  placid  state  of  a  temperate  mind,  and  the 
healthful  exercises  in  which  virtue  engages  her  faithful 
^votaries,  preserve  the  natural  functions  in  full  vigour 
and  harmony,  and  exhilarate  the  spirits,  which  are  the 
chief  instruments  of  action. 

It  may  by  some  be  thought  odd  to  assert,  that  vir* 
'  tuevmo  enemy  to  a  VMXk^^  fortune  in  the  present  state 
of  things. — But  if  hy  fortune  be  meant.a  moderate  or 
competent  share  of  weidth^  power^  or  credit^  not  over- 
grown degrees  of  them  ^  what  should  hinder  the  vir- 
tuous man  from  obtaining  that  ?  He  cannot  cringe  or 
fawn,  it  is  true,  but  he  can  be » civil  and  obliging  as 
well  as  the  knave  5  and  surely  his  civility  is  more  allu- 
ring, because  it  has  more  manliness  and  grace  in  it  than 
the  mean  adulation  of  the  other :  he  cannot  cheat  or 
undermine  ^  but  be  may  be  cautious,  provident,  watch- 
ful of  occasions,  and  equally  prompt  with  the  rogue 
in.  improving  them  :  he  scorns  to  prostitute  himself  as 
a  pander  to  the  passions,  or  as  a  tool  to  the  vices  of 
mankind  j  but  he  may  have  as  sound  an  understanding 
and  as  good  capacities  for  promoting  their  real  interests 
as  the  veriest  court  slave :  and  then  he  is  more  faithful 
and  tme  to  those  who  employ  him.  In  the  common 
course  of  business,  he  has  the  same  chances  with  the 
knave  of  acquiring  a  fortuney  and  sising  in  the  worlds 


aj 


I'artllL 

He  may  have  equal  abilities,  equal  iodnstry,  eqoal  at-  p,^  ^^ 
tention  to  business^  and  in  other  respects  he  has  greatly  ^umT 
the  advantage  of  him.  People  love  better  to  dad  with  ^ 
him  J  they  can  trust  him  more  ^  they  know  he  will  osC 
impose  on  them,  nor  take  advantage  of  them,  and  can 
depend  more  on  his  word  than  on  the  oath  or  strongest 
securities  of  others.  Whereas  what  is  commonly  called 
cun/iing^  which  is  the  offspring  of  ignorance^  and  con- 
stant companion  of  knavery^  is  not  only  a  mean-spirited, 
but  a  very  short-sighted  talent,  and  a  fundamental  ob> 
staclc  in  the  road  of  business.  It  may  indeed  procure 
inunediate  and  petty  gain<(j  but  it  i&  attended  with 
dreadful  abatements,  which  do  more  than  overbalance 
them,  both  as  it  sinks  a  man's  credit  when  discovered, 
and  cramps  that  laigeness  of  mind  which  extends  to  the 
remotest  as  well  as  th<'  nearest  interest,  and  takes  in  the 
most  durable  equally  with  the  most  transient  gains.  It 
is  therefore  easy  to  see  how  much  a  man's  credit  and  re- 
putation^  and  consequently  his  success,  depend  on  lus 
honesty  and  viitue. 

With  regard  to  9ecurity  znH  peace  wi^h  his  neigh*  Oiw'i 
hours,  it  msij  be  thought,  perhaps,  that  the  man  of  aP**^.** 
quiet  forgiving  temper,  and  a  flowing  benevolence  and' 
courtesy,  is  much  exposed  tq  injury  and  affix>nls  from 
every  proud  or  peevish  mortal,  who.  has  the  power  oc 
will  to  do  miscluefi  If  we  suppose,  indeed,  this  ^ptiei" 
neJts  and  gentleness  of  nature  accompanied  with  cofmr- 
dice  and  pusiilanimitjfj  this  may  often  be  the  case  -,  hot 
in  reality  the  good  man  is  bold  as  a  lion,  and  so  much 
the  bolder  for  being  the  calmer.  Such  a  person  will 
hardly  be  a  butt  to  mankind.  The  ill  natured  will  be 
afraid  to  provoke  him,  and  the  good  natured  will  not 
incline  to  do  it.  Besides,  true  virtue^  which  is  con- 
ducted by  reason,  and  exerted  gracefully  and  without 
parade,  is  a  most  insinuating  and  commanding  thing  \ 
if  it  cannot  disarm  malice  and  resentment  at  once,  it 
will  wear  them  out  by  degrees,  and  subdae  them  at 
length.  How  many  have,  by  favours  and  prodently 
yielding,  triumphed  over  an  enemy,  who  would  have 
been  iimamed  into  tenfold  rage  by  the  fiercest  opposi- 
tion !  In  fine,  goodness  is  the  most  universally  popular 
Uiing  that  can  be.  su 

To  conclude  J  the  good  man  may  have  some  ene-Q*!*' 
mies,  but  he  wUl  have  more  firiends;  and,  having  given  ^"^ 
so  many  marks  of  private  friendship  or  public  virtoc, 
he  can  hardly  be  destitute  of  a  patron  to  protect,  or  a 
sanctuary  to  entertain  him,  or  to  protect  or  entertain 
his  children  when  he  is  gone.  Though  he  shoidd  have 
little  else  to  leave  them,  he  bequeaths  them  the  fiurest, 
and  generally  the  most  unenvied,  inheritance  of  a  good 
namef  which,  like  good  seed  sown  in  the  field  of  futu- 
rity, will  often  raise  up  unsolicited  friends,  and  yield 
a  benevolent  harvest  of  unexpected  charities.  But 
should  the  fragrance  of  the  parent's  virtue  prove  offen- 
sive to  a  perverse  or  envious  age,  or  even  draw  per- 
secution on  the  friendless  orphans,  there  is  one  in 
heaven  who  will  be  more  than  a  father  to  them,  and 
recompense  their  parent's  virtues  by  showering  down 
blessings  on  them. 

Chap.  III.  Motives  to  ViRTUE/rom  the  Being  W 

Providence  of  God. 


«5 


Besides  the  interesting  motive  mentioned  in  thcTWsrt» 

strictly  •• 


last  Chapter,  there  are  two  great  motives  of  cw^ 


9t6 


as7 


MS 


S29 


to 


Ptotlll. 

Uotivef  to  strictly  connected  with  human  l[j%  and  resnltmg  from 
Yirtoe.  the  very  const  it  ittion  of  the  human  mind.  The  first  is 
the  Beimc  and  Providekce  of  God  \  the  second,  is 
the  Immortality  of  the  Soul,  with  future  retvards 
and  punishments. 

It  appears  from  Chap.  IV.  of  Part  II.  that  man^  by 
the  constitution  of  his  nature,  is  designed  to  he  a  Relt- 
Gious  Creature.  He  is  intimately  connected  with 
the  Deity,  and  necessarily  dependent  on  him.  From  that 
connexion  and  necessary  dependence  retiult  various  ob/i- 
gations  and  duties^  without  fulfilling  which,  some  of  his 
aahliroest  powers  and  affections  woeld  be  incomplete 
and  abortive.  If  he  be  likewise  an  Immortal  creature, 
and  if  his  present  conduct  shall  affect  his  future  happi" 
ness  in  another  state  as  well  as  in  the  present^  it  is  evi- 
dent that  we  take  only  a  partial  view  of  the  creature^ 
if  we  leave  out  this  important  property  of  his  nature  \ 
and  make  vl  partial  estimate  of  human  iife,  if  we  strike 
oat  of  the  account,  or  overlook,  that  part  of  liis  dura^ 
tion  which  rnns  out  into  eternity. 

It  is  evident  from  the  above-mentioned  Chapter, 
that  **  to  have  a  respect  to  the  Deity  in  our  temper 
and  conduct,  to  venerate  and  iove  his  character,  to 
adore  his  ^^oodness^  to  depend  upon  and  resign  ourselves 
to  his  providence^  to  seek  his  approbation,  and  act  under 
a.  sense  of  his  authority,  is  Si  fundamental  part  of  moral 
virtue,  and  the  completion  of  the  highest  destination  of 
our  nature, ^^ 

But  as  piety  is  an  essential  part  of  virtue,  so  Kkewise 
it  18  a  great  support  and  enforcement  to  the  practice  of 
it.  To  contempljate  and  admire  a  Being  of  such  trans- 
cendent dignity  and  perfection  as  GoD,  must  naturally 
and  necessarily  open  and  enlarge  the  mind,  give  a 
freedom  and  ampleness  to  its  powers,  and  a  grandeur 
and  elevation  to  its  aims.  For^  as  an  excellent  divine 
observes,  **  the  greatness  of  an  object,  and  the  excel- 
lency of  the  act  of  any  agent  about  a  transcendent 
object,  doth  mightily  tend  to  the  enlargement  and  im- 
provement of  his  faculties.^'  Little  objects,  mean 
company,  mean  cares,  and  mean  business,  cramp  the 
mind,  contract  its  views,  and  give  it  a  creeping  air 
and  deportment.  But  when  it  soars  above  mortal  cares 
and  mortal  pursuits  into  the  regions  of  divinity,  and 
converses  with  the  greatest  and  best  of  Beings,  it 
spreads  itself  into  a  wider  compass,  takes  higher  flights 
in  reason  and  goodness,  becomes  godlike  in  its  air  and' 
manners.  Virtue  is,  if  one  may  say  so,  both  the  effect 
and  cause  of  largeness  of  mind.  It  requires  that  one 
think  freely,  and  act  nobly.  Now  what  can  conduce 
more  to  freedom  of  thought  and  dignity  of  action, 
than  to  conceive  worthily  of  GoD,  to  reverence  and 
adore  his  unrivalled  excellency,  to  imitate  and  tran- 
scribe that  excellency  into  our  own  nature,  to  remember 
our  relation  to  him,  and  that  we  are  the  images  and 
representatives  of  his  glory  to  the  rest  of  the  creation  ? 
Such  feelings  and  exercises  most  and  will  make  us 
scorn  all  actions  that  are  base,  unhandsome,  or  un- 
worthy our  state  ^  and  the  relation  we  stand  in  to 
God  will  irradiate  the  mind  with  the  light  of  wis- 
dom, and  ennoble  it  with  the  liberty  and  dbminion  of 
virtue. 

The  influence  and  efficacy  of  religion  may  be  con- 
sidered in  another  light.  We  all  know  that  the  pre- 
sence of  a  friend,  a  nei^bour,  or  any  number  of  spec- 
tators, but  especially  an  august  assembly  of  them|  uses 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


399 


!«t 


to  be  a  considerable  check  upon  the  conduct  of  one  From  the 
who  is  not  lost  to  all  sense  of  honour  and  shame,  and  InwnwtBli- 
contribotes  to  restrain  many  irregular  sallies  of  passion*  ^^^^^ 
In  the  same  manner  we  may  imagine,  that  the  awe  * 

of  some  superior  mind,  who  is  supposed  privy  to  our 
secH't  conduct,  and  armed  with  full  power  to  reward 
or  ]Sunish  it,  will  impose  a  restraint  on  us  in  such  ac- 
tions as  fall  not  under  the  controol  or  animadversion  of 
others.  If  we  go  still  higher,  and  suppose  our  inmost 
thoughts  and  darkest  designs,  as  well  as  our  most  se- 
cret actions,  to  lie  open  to  the  notice  of  the  supreme 
and  universal  Mind,  who  is  both  xYie  spectator  KnA  judge 
of  human  actions,  it  is  evident  that  the  belief  of  so  au- 
gust a  presence,  and  such  awful  inspection,  must  carry 
a  restraint  and  weight  with  it  proportioned  to  the 
strength  of  that  belief,  and  be  an  additional  n.otive  to 
the  practice  of  many  duties  which  would  not  have  beea 
performed  without  it.  250 

It  may  be  observed  farther,  that  "  to  live  under  an-Exerciies 
habitual  sense  of  the  Deity  and  his  great  administration, ,  ^^^ 
is  to  be  conversant  with  wisdom,  order,  and  beauty,  in^^  Tirtae. 
the  highest  subjects,  and  to  receive  the  delightful  re- 
flexions and  benign  feelings  which  these  excite  wbilis 
they  irradiate  upon  him  ifrom  every  scene  of  nature 
and  providence.^'     How  improving  must  such  views  be 
to  the  mind,  in  dilating  and  exalting  it  abov^  those 
pnny  interests  and  competitions  tvhicn  agitate  and  in» 
flame  the  bulk  of  mankind  against  each  other  ! 

Chap.  IV.  Motive  to  Virtue  from  the  Immorta* 

LiTT  of  the  Soul,  isfc. 

The  other  motive  mentioned  was  the  imnwrtality  of^***pby- 
the  soul,  with  future  rewards  and  punishments,     ^^®JJ|^ntf  for"" 
metaphysical  ^rooh  of  the  souPs  immortality  are  com-ittimmor» 
monly  drawn  from'^iis  simple,  uncompounded,  and  iW^tality. 
visible  nature  j  from  whence  it  is  concluded,  that  it  can- 
not be  corrupted  or  extinguished  by  a  dissolution  or  de- 
struction of  its  parts  :— -from  its  having  a  beginning  of 
motion  within  itself;  whence  it  is  inferred,  that  it  can- 
not discontinue  and  lose  its  motion  : — from  the  different 
properties  o^  matter  and  i7tiW,thc  sluggishness  and  inac- 
tivity of  the  one,  and  the  immense  actitnty  o{  ihe  other  i 
its  prodigious  flight  of  thought  and  unagtuation;  hspe- 
netration,  memory,  foresight,  and  anticipations  o^futuri' 
ty ;  from  whence  it  is  concluded,  that  a  being  of  so  di-. 
vine  a  nature  cannot  be  extinguished.  But  as  these  me- 
taphysical proofs  depend  on  intricate  reasonings  concern- 
ing the  nature,  properties,  and  distinctions  of  body  and 
mind,  with  which  we  are  not  very  well  acquainted,  they 
are  not  obvious  to  ordinary  understandings,  and  are  seU 
dom  so  convincing  even  to  those  of  higher  reach,  as  not 
to  leave  some  doubts  behind  them.     Therefore  perhaps 
it  is  not  so  safe  to  rest  the  proof  of  such  an  important 
article  on  what  many  may  call  the  snbtilitie?  of  school 
learning.     Those  proofs  which  are  brought  from  ttna* 
logy,  from  the  moral  constitution  and  phenomena  of  the 
human  mindy  the  moral  attributes  of  God,  and  the  pre- 
sent course  of  things,  and  which  therefore  are  called 
the  moral  arguments,  are  the  plainest  and  generally  the 
most  satisfying,    We  shall  select  only  one  or  two  from 
the  rest.    ^  '  ,  tx% 

In  tracing  the  nature  and  destination  of  any  being,  Bf oral 
we  form  the  surest  judgment  ^TwnV^  powers  01  actum,proof  fkooL 
and  the  scope  and  limits  of  these,  compared  with  his^^^'ST* 

state^ 


400 

MotiTet  to 
Vntue. 


MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


Part  HI 


•  Fttfe  Ln- 

doT.  ViT. 
de  ReHg. 
Chrut. 
lib.  IL  de 
vHaVien, 
ficc. 


staief'ot  with  Ukui field  in  which  they  are  exercised.  If 
this  being  passes  through  different  states,  or  fields  of 
action,  and  we  find  a  succession  of  powers  adapted  to 
the  different  periods  of  his  progress,  we  conclude  that 
lie  was  destined  for  those  successive  states,  and  reckon 
his  nature  progressive.  If,  besides  the  immediate  set  of 
powers  which  fit  him  for  action  in  bis  present  state, 
we  observe  another  set  wliich  appear  superfluous  if  he 
were  to  be  confined  to  it,  and  which  ^int  to  another 
or  higher  one,  we  naturally  conclude,  that  he  is  not 
designed  to  remain  in  his  present  state,  but  to  advance 
to  that  for  which  those  supernumerary  powers  are 
adapted.  Thus  we  arj^e,  that  the  insect^  which  has 
wings  forming  or  formed,  and  all  the  apparatus  pro- 
per for  flight,  is  not  destined  always  to  creep  on  the 
ground,  or  to  continue  in  the  torpid  state  of  adhering 
to  a  wall,  but  is  designed  in  its  season  to  take  its  flight 
in  air.  Without  this  farther  destination,  the  admi- 
rable mechanism  of  wings  and  the  othex  apparatus 
would  be  useless  and  absurd.  The  same  kind  of  rea- 
soning may  be  applied  to  man,  while'  he  lives  only  a 
sort  of  vegetative  life  in  the  womb*  He  is  furnished 
even  therewith  a  beautiful  apparatus  of  organs,  eyes, 
ears,  and  other  delicate  senses,  which  receive  nourish- 
ment indeed,  but  are  in  a  manner  folded  up,  and  have 
no  proper  exercise  or  use  in  their  present  confine- 
ment*. Let  us  suppose  some  intelligent  spectator, 
who  never  had  any  connexion  with  man,  nor  the  least 
acquaintance  with  human  affairs,  to  see  this  odd  phe- 
nomenon, a  creature  fcMrmed  after  such  a  manner,  and 
placed  in  a  situation  apparently  unsuitable  to  such  va- 
rious machinery :  must  he  not  be  strangely  puzzled 
about  the  use  of  his  complicated  structure,  and  rec- 
kon^sucb  a  profusion  of  art  and  admirable  workman- 
ship lost  on  the  subject ;  or  reason  by  way  of  anticipa- 
tion, that  a  creature  endued  with  such  various  yet  un- 
exerted  capacities,  was  destined  for  a  more  enlarged 
sphere  of  action,  in  which  those  latent  capacities  shall 
have  full  play  ?  the  vast  variety  and  yet  beautiful  sym- 
metry and  proportions  of  the  several  parts  and  organs 
with  which  the  creature  is  endued,  and  their  apt  cohe- 
sion trith,  and  dependence  on,  the  curious  receptacle  of 
their  life  and  nonrishraent^  would  forbid  his  concluding 
the  whole  to  be  the  hixth  of  chance,  or  the  bungling 
effort  of  an  unskilfiil  artist  ^  at  least  would  make  him 
demur  a  while  at  so  harsh  a  sentence.  But  if,  while 
he  is  in  this  state  of  uncertainty,  we  suppose  him  to 
see  the  babe,  after  a  few  successful  struggles,  throw- 
ing off  his  fetters,  breaking  loose  from  his  little  dark 
prison,  and  emerging  into  open  day,  then  unfolding  his 
recluse  and  dormant  powers,  breathing  in  air.  gazing  at 
light,  admiring  colours,  sounds,  and  all  the jair  variety 
of  nature,  immediately  his  doubts  clear  up,  the  proprie- 
ty and  excellency  of  the  workmanship  dawn  upon  him 
with  full  lustre,  and  the  whole  mystery  of  the  first  pe- 
riod is  unravelled  by  the  opening  of  this  new  scene. 
Though  in  this  second  period  the  creature  lives  chiefly  a 
kind  of  animal  life^  i.  e*  of  sense  and  appetite^  yet  by  va- 
rious trials  and  observations  he  gains  experience,  and  by 
the  gradual  evolution  of  the  powers  of  imagination  he 
ripens  apace  for  a  higher  life,  for  exercising  the  arts  of 
design  and  imitation^  and  of  those  in  which  strength  or 
dexterity  are  more  requisite  than  acuteness  or  reach  of 
judgment.  In  the  succeeding  rational  or  intellectual 
penod,  his  understandings  which  formerly  crept  in  a 

3 


lower,  mounts  into  a  higher  sphere,  oanvisses  (he  na-  Fiwtlc 
tures,  judges  of  the  relations  of  things,  forms  schemes,  lBBMti&. 
deduces  consequences  from  what  is  past,  and  from  pre-  tjoftk 
sent  as  well  as  past  collects  futore  events.    By  this  suc- 
cession of  states,  and  of  correspondent  culture,  he  grows 
up  at  length  into  a  moral^  a  social^  and  apolitical  crea- 
ture.     This  is  the  last  period  at  which  we  perceive  him 
to  arrive  iq  this  his  mortal  career.     Each  period  h  intro- 
ductory to  the  next  succeeding  one  j  each  life  is  a  field 
of  exercise  and  improvement  for  the  next  higher  onej 
the  life  of  the  fizt us  for  that  of  the  infant,  the  life  of 
the  infant  for  that  of  the  child,  and  all  the  lower  for}  Set 
the  -highest  and  best  $. — But  is  this  the  last. period  of  Bitlo't 
nature's  progression  ?  Is  this  the  utmost  extent  of  her^"U'|p^ 
plot,  where  she  winds  up  the  drama,  and  dismisses  the 
actor  into  eternal  oblivion  P  Or  does  he  appear  to  be 
invested  with  supernumerary   powers,  which  have  not 
full  exercise  and  scopt;  even  in  the  last  scene,  and  reach 
not  that  maturity  or  perfection  of  which  they  are  capa- 
ble ;  and  therefore  point  to  some  higher  scene,  where 
he  is  to  sustain  anothej'  and  more  important  chamcCer 
than  he  has  yet  sustained  P     If  any  such  there  are, 
may  we  not  conclude  by  analogy,  or  in  the  same  way 
of  anticipation  as  before,  that  he  is  destined  fat  that 
after  part,  and  is  to  be  produced  upon  a  more  angost 
and  solemn  stage,  where  bis  sublimer  powers  shall  have 
proportioned  action,  and  his  nature  attain  its  comple- 


tion. 


tjl 


If  we  attend  to  that  curiosity,  or  prodigious  thirst  of  Powmii 
knowledge,  which  is  natural  to  the  mind  in  every  pe-^f"**** 
riod  of  its  progress,  and  consider  withal  the  ^i>^^*>S|![!^* 
round  of  business  and  care,  and  the  various  hardships  to     ,.^ 
which  the  bulk  of  mankind  are  chained  down^  it  iiiiidi» 
evident,  that  in  this  present  state  it  is  impossible  to  ex-t*!* 
pect  the  gratification  of  an  appetite  at  once  so  insa- 
tiable and  so  noble.     Our  senses,  the  ordinary  organs  by 
which  knowledge  is  let  into  the  mind,  are  always  im- 
perfect, and  often  fallacious  ',  the  advantages  of  assist- 
ing or  correcting  them  are  possessed  by  few  ;  the  diffi- 
cnlties  of  finding  out  truth  amidst  the  various  and  con- 
tradictory opinions,  interests,  and  passions  of  mankind, 
are  many  )  and  the  wants  of  the  creature,  and  of  those 
with  whom  he  is  connected,  numerous  and  urgent :  so 
that  it  may  be  said  of  most  men,  that  their  intellectual 
organs  are  as  much  shut  up  and  secluded  fix>in  proper 
nourishment  and  exercise  in  that  little  circle  to  which 
they  are  confined,  as  the  bodily  organs  are   iu  the 
womb.     Nay,  those  who  to  an  aspiring  genius  have  ad- 
ded all  the  assistances  of  art,  leisure,  and  the  most  liber- 
al education,  what  narrow  prospects  can  even  they  take 
of  this  unbounded  scene  of  things  from  that  little  emi- 
nence on  which  they  stand  ?  and  how  eagerly  do  tbey 
still  grasp  at  new  discoveries,  without  any  satisfaction 
01  limit  to  their  ambition  P  %^ 

But  should  it  be  said,  that  man  is  made  for  actiim,li0d 
and  not  for  speculation,  or  fruitless  searches  after  know- 
ledge, we  ask,  For  what  kind  of  action  ?  Is  it  only  for 
bodily  exercises,  or  for  moral,  political^  and  reHgnms 
ones  r  Of  all  these  he  is  capable ',  yet,  by  the  unavoid- 
able circumstances  of  his  lot,  he  is  tied  down  to  the 
fiirmer,  and  has  hardly  any  leisure  to  think  of  the  ib^ 
ter,  or,  if  he  has,  wants  the  proper  instruments  of  ex* 
erting  them.  The  kfve  of  virtue,  of -one*  s  friends  iid 
country,  the  generous  sympathy  withmankind,  and  hersic 
%eal  tf  doing  good,  wluch  are  all  so  natural  to  gnat  sad 

gooJ 


Pirt  III. 


MORAL   PHILOSOPHY. 


401 


MotiTcs  to  good  mindly  and  some  traces  of  ivhich  are  ibund  in  the 
Villas,     lowest,  are  seldom  united  with  proportioned  jneana  or 
.         opportunities  of  exercising  them :    so  tliat  the  moral 
spring,  the  noble  energies  and  impulses  of  the  mind,  can 
hardly  find  proper  scope  even  in  the  most  fortunate  con- 
dition ;  but  are  much  depressed  in  some,  and  almost  en* 
tirely  restrained  in  the  generality,  by  the  numerous 
clogs  of  an  indigent,  sickly,  or  embarrassed  life.  Were 
sncb  mighty  powers,  such  godlike  A'ffections,  planted  in 
the  human  breast  to  be  folded  up  in  the  narrow  womb 
t»f  our  present  existence,  never  to  be  produced  into  a 
'mart  perfect  life,  nor  to  expatiate  in  the  ample  career 
2^^       immortality  ? 
thiwiisfied      >E^t  it  be  considered,  at  the  same  time,  that  no  pos- 
^csires  of    session,  no  enjoyment,  within  the  round  of  mortal  things, 
«v&t<riice    £g  commensurate  to  the  desires,  or  adequate  to  the  capa- 
^^^^    ^'*  cities  of  the  mind.     The  most  exalted  condition  has  its 
abatements  \  the  .happiest  conjuncture  of  fortune  leaven 
many  wishes  behind  ^  and  after  the  highest  gratifica- 
tions, the  mind  is  carried  forward .  in  pursuit  of  new 
ones  without  end.     Add  to  all,  the  fond  desire  of  im- 
fnortdityy  the  secret  dread  of  noH-^xisience^  and  the 
high  unremitting  piiise  of  the  soul  beating  for  perfections 
joined  to  the  improbability  or  the  impossibility  of  attain- 
ing it  here;  and  then  judge  whether  this  elaborate 
etracture^  this  magnificent  apparatus  of  inward  powers 
and  organs,  does  not  plainly  point  out  an  Itcreafter^  and 
intimate  eternity  to  man^  Does  nature  give  the  finishing 
tooches  to  the  lesser  and  ignoble  instauces  of  her  skill, 
and  raise  every  other  creature  to  the  maturity  and  per- 
fectioQ  of -his  being ;  and  shall  she  leave  her  principal 
yrorkmanship  nnfinished  ?  Does  she  carry  the  vegetative 
and  animal  life  in  man  to  their  full  vigour  and  highest 
destination  \  and  shall  she  suffer  his  intellectual^  hisiao- 
rff/,  his  divine  life,  to  fade  away,  and  be  for  ever  extin- 
guished ?  Would  such  abortions  in  the  moral  world  be 
congruous  to  that  perfection  of  wisdom  and  goodness 
'which  upholds  and  adorns  the  naturall^ 
,^^7  We  must  therefore  conclude  from  this  detail,  that 

2^**^  the  present  state^  even  at  its  best,  is  only,  the  womb  of 
man's  being,  in  which  the  noblest  principles  of  his 
nature  are  in  a  manner  fettered,  or  secluded  from  a 
correspondent  sphere  of  action  \  and  therefore  destined 
for  a  future  and  uabounded  state,  where  they  shall 
-c^mancipatc  themselves,  and  exert  the  fulness  of  their 
strength.  The  most  accomplished  mortal,  in  this  low 
and  dark  apartment  of  nature,  is  only  the  rudiments 
of  what  he  shall  be  when  be  takes  bis  ethereal  flight, 
and  po^  on  inrniortality.  Without  a  reference  to 
that  state,  man  were  a  mere  abortion,  a  rude  unfinish- 
ed enibryo,  a  monster  in  nature,  fiut  this  being  once 
supposed,  he  still  maintains  his  rank  of  the  maat^- 
piece  of  the  creation  \  his  latent  powers  are  all  suitable 
to  the  harmamj  nnd  progression  of  nature  )  Kis  noble  as- 
pirations, and  the  pains  of  his  dissolution,  are  his  ef- 
ibrts  towards  a  second  birth,  the  pangs  of  his  delivery 
into  light,  liberty,  and  per&fstiw  \  and  deatk^  his  dis- 
charge from  gaol,  his  separation  fcom  his  fellow  pri- 
soners, and  introdoction  into  the  assembly  of  thosf  he- 
roic spirits  who  are  gone  before  him,  and  of  their 
gmat  eternal  Parent.  Tkn  fetters  of  his  mortal  coil 
being  looseaed,  and  his  prison  walb  broke  doiva,  he' 
will  be  bare  and  qpea  on  every  side  to  the  admission  of 
truth  and  virtue^  and  their  mir  attendant  happiness  i 
«verT  vital  aod  iuttikctttal  sptiog  will  evolve  itself  with 
Vol,  XIV,  Part  U.  f 


a  divine  elasticity  in  the  free  air  of  heaven.      He  will    Ficm  tl  T 
not  tlieu  peep  at  the  universe  and  its  glorious  A utk<r  lunurtKt^ 
through  a  dark  grate  or  a  groii  medium,  nor  receive  *>  ***  |^"' 
the  reflections  of  his  glory  through  the  strait  openings  »  ,    °^  '    ■ 
of  sensible  organs :  but  will  be  all  eye^  all  ear^  all  ethe- 
real and  divine  feeling^ .     Let  one  part,  however,  of*  VidcK^^ 
the  analogy  be  attended  to  :  lliat  as  in  the  -womb  we  ^'t^*^"  ^^ 
receive  our  original  constitution,  form,  and  the  esseo-f**^*^* 
iiiX' stamina  of  our  bring,  which  we  caiTy  along  with    ^' 
us  into  the  light,  and  which  greatly  afi'ect  tbe  sue-    ' 
cceding  periods  of  our  life  ^  so  our  temper  and  condi- 
tion in  the  future  -life  will  depend  ou  the  conduct  we 
have  observed,  and  the  character  we  have  formed,  m 
the  present  life.     We  are  here  in  miniature  what  we 
shall  be  ntfull  length  hereafter.     The  first  rude  sketch 
or  outlines  of  reason  and  virtue  must  be  drawn  at  pre- 
sent, to  be  afterwards  enlarged  to  Ike  stature  fiuA  beauty 
of  angels.  ^jS 

ThiA,  if  duly  attended  to,   roust  prove  not  only  a  Immoitalt- 
guards  but  an  admirable  fVic^f?/iW  to  virtue.     For  he^^'^^*'*^ 
who  faithfully  and  ardently  follows  the  light  of  know- * "^  ^"^j';, 
ledge,  and  pants  after  higher  improvements  in  virtue,  tw. 
will  be  wonderfully  animated  and  inflamed  in  that  pur- 
suit by  a  full  conviction  that  the  scene  does  not  close 
with  life— that  his  struggles,  arising  from  the  weakness 
of  nature  and  .the  strength  of  habit,  will  be  turned  into 
triumphs— that  bis  career  in  tbe  track  of  wisdom  and 
goodness  will  be  both  swifter  and  smoother— and  thoso 
generous  ardours  with  which  he  glofws  towards  heaven^ 
V,  e.  the  perfection  atul  immortality  of  virtue^  will  fi«d 
their  adequate  object  and  exercise  in  a  sphere  propor- 
tionably  enlarged,   incorruptible,  immortal.     On  the 
other  hand,  wliat  an  inexpressible  damp  most  it  be 'to 
the  good  man,  to  dread  the  total  extinction  of  that 
light  and  virtue^  withmit  which  life^  nay,  immortality 
itself,  were  not  ^rth  i  single  wish  ? 

Many  writers  draw  their  proofs  of  the  immortality  pro^^rom 
of  the  soul,  and  of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  pu- the  ivequa* 
nishments,  from  the  uneqaal -distribution  of  these' here. ^7  of  pre- 
It  cannot  be  dissembled  that  wicked  men  often  escape  f^*** ^**"^' 
the  o»ft£*ar</.  punibhment  due  to  their  crimes,  and  do  ^^^^^ 
not  feel  the  inward  in  that  measure  thctr  demerit  seems 
to  require,  partly  Irom  the  callousness  induced  upon 
their  nature  by  the  habits  of  vice,  and  partly  from, 
the  dissipation  of  their  minds  abroad  by  pleasure  or 
business— 4ind -sometimes  good  men  do  not  reap  all  the 
natmral  and  genuine  fruits  of  their  virtue^  ^through  the 
many  unforeseen  or  unavoidable  calamities  in  which 
they  are  involved.     To  the  smallest  reflection,  how- 
ever, it  is  obvions  that  the  natural  tendency  of  virtue 
is  to  produce  happiness }  that  if  it  were   universally  . 
.practised^  it  would,  in  fact,  produce  the  greatest  sum 
of  happiness  pf  which   human  nature  is  capable }  and 
that  this- tendency  is  defeated  t)nly  by  numerous  indi- 
viduals, who,  forsakmg  the  laws  ot  virtue,  injure  and 
oppress  those  who  steadily  adhere  to  them,     fiut  the 
natural  tendency^  virtue  is  tbe  result  of  that  consti- 
tution of  things  which  was  established  by  God  at  tho 
creation  of  the  world.     This  being  tbe  €bm%  vft  <nust* 
either  cooclude,  that  there  will  be  a  iuture  state,  in 
,whic^  all  the  jnoral  obliquities  of  the  .present  shall  he 
made  straight  *y  .or  else  admit,  that  the  designs  of  infi- 
aite  wisdom,  goodness,  and  power,  can  be. finally  de- 
f(9ated  by  the  perverse  conduct  of  human  weakness.-^- 
)i\jit  this  last  supposition  is  so  exti'avagaotly  absurd* 

3£  vthat 


4.02 


MORAL    PHILOSOPHY. 


Motmt  to 

Virtue. 
*         yi  mf 

240 
Belief  of 
innnortali- 
ty,  &c.  a 
;;:reat  xap* 
port  amitlst 
tritils. 


241^ 
In  the  ge- 
seralooone 
ofUfe. 


that  the  reality  of  a  future  state,  the  only  other  possi- 
ble alternative,  may  be  pronounced  to  have  the  evi- 
dence of  perfect  dem(r>tration. 

Vif*tue  has  present  rewards,  and  vice  present  punish* 
menfit  annexed  to  it  ^  such  rewards  and  punishments  as 
make  virtue^  in  most  cases  that  happen,  far  more  eli- 
gible than  Vice  :■  but,  in  the  infinite  variety  of  human 
contingencies,  it  may  sometimes  fall  out,  ihat  the  in- 
flexible practice  of  virtue  shall  deprive  a  man  of  con- 
siderable advantages  to  himself,  his  family,  or  friends, 
which  he- might, gain  by  a  well-timed  piece  of  roguery.3 
auppose  by  betraying  his  trust,  voting  against  his  con- 
science, selling  his  country,  or  any  other  crime  where 
the  security  against  discovery  shall  heighten  the  temp- 
tation. Or,  it  may  happen,  that  a  strict  adherence  to 
his  honour,  to  his  religion,  to  the  cause  of  liberty 
and  virtue,  shall  expose  him,  or  his  ^mily,  to  the  loss 
of  every  thing,  nay,  to  poverty,  slavery,  death  itself, 
or  to  torments  &r  more  intolerable.  Now  *  what  shall 
secure  a  man^s  virtue  in  circumstances  of  such  trial  ? 
What  shall  enforce  the  obligations  of  conscience  against 
the  allurements  of  so^  many  interests,  the  dread  of  so 
many.and  so  terrible  evils,  and  the  almostunsormountable 
aversion  of  human  nature  to  excessive  pain  !  The  con- 
flict is  the  greater,  when  the  circumstanees  of  the  crime 
wre  such  as  easily  admit  a  varietyiof  alleviations  from 
necessity  f  maturai  affecthn^  love  to  one*sJaim/y<iTfriends^ 
perhaps  i»  indigence  i  these  will  give  it  even  the  air  of 
virtue.  Add  to  all,  that  the  crime- may  he  thought  to 
have  few.  badconseqiienoes,*-may  be  easily  concealed,-— 
or  imagined  possible  to  be  retrieved  in  a  good  measiu^ 
by  future  good  conduct.  It  is  obvious  to  which  side 
meet  men  will  lean  in  such  a  case  ;  and  bow  much  need 
there  is  of  a  balance  in  the  opposite  scale,  fron^the  con- 
sideration of  a  Godf  of  a  Providence^jtaiA  of  an  immor' 
tai  state  of  retribution^  to  keep  the  mind  firm  and  ua- 
corrupted  in  those  or  like  instances  of  singular  trial  or 
distress. 

But  without-  supposing  such  peculiar  instances,  a 
sense  of  a  governing  Mind;  and  a  persuasion  that  vir- 
tue is  not  only  befriended  by  him  h^re,  but  will  be 
crowned  by  him  hereaftev  with  rewards  suitable  to  its 
nature,  vast  in  thenuelves,  and  immortal  in  their  du- 
ration, must  he  not  only  a  mighty  support  and  incen- 
tive to.  the  practice  of  virtue,  but  a  strong  barrier 
against  vice.  The  thoughts  of  an  Almighty  Judge, 
and  of  an  impartial  future  reckoning,  are  often  alarm- 
ing, inexpressibly  so,  even  to  the  stoutest  offenders. 
On  the  other  hand,  bow  supporting  must  it  be  to  the 
good  man,  to  think  ths^  be  acts  under  the  eye-  of  his 


M    O    R 

MoHAL  Sensc^    that  whereby  wc  perceive  what  is 
good,  virtuous,  and  beautiful,  in  actions,  manners,  and 
characters.     See  Moral  Pkihsophy, 
MORALITY.     See  Mobal  Phiiosopky, 
MoRAifT'Point^  the  most  easterly  point  or  promon- 
tory of  the  island  of  Jamaica,  in  America.    W.  Long. 

JS'  S^'  N-  ^***  '7-  5^- 

mORASS,  a  marsh,  fen,  or  low  moist  ground,  which 

receives  the  waters  from  above  without  having  any  de- 

■Geal  to  carry  them  off  again.     Somner  denves  the 

4 


Part  in 

friend,  as  well  as  judge  !  How  improving,  to  consider  Ynm  ^ 
the  present  state  as  connected  with  a  future  one,  and  laaomiu 
every  relation  in  which  he  stands  as  a  school  of  disei-  ^1^^ 
pline  for  his  affections  ^  every  trial  as  the  ejcercise  of    ™^^ 
some  virtue  ;  and  the  vtrtnoos  deeds  which  result  from 
both,  as  introductory  to  higher  scenes  of  action  and 
rff/e^fiitfff^ /.  Finally^  How  transporting  is  it  to  view 
death  as  his  discharge  from«the  warfare  oi  .mortab'tf^ 
and  a  triumphant  entry  into  a  state  of  fr^om,  securi- 
ty, and  perfection,  in  wliich  knowledge  and  wisdom 
shall  break  upon  him  fi'om  every  quarter  ;  where  each 
faculty  shall  have  its  proper  object :  and  his  viztuc, 
which  was  often  damped  or  defeated  here,  shall  be  ca- 
thconed.  in  undisturbed  and  etemaUrmpire  ? .  24] 

On  reviewing  this  short  system  of  morals^  and  thc^^^*"*"- 
xnoliWj  which  support,  and  enforce  it,  and.  comparing ^V'r' 
both  with  the  Christian  scJieme^  what  light  and  vigour  ^^^^g^^ 
do  they  borrow  from  thence!  How  clearly  and  full j tad iboi* 
do  Chkistjakity  lay-,open  the  connexions  of  our  nar^*^*^ 
ture,  both  material  VLud  iiamaterial^  waA  future  as  weU"''"''^ 
as  present !  what  an  ample  and  beautiful  detail  does  it 
present  of  the  duties  we  owe  to  God^  to  socieiy^  and 
ourselves^  promulgated  in  the  most  Mraple^  intelligible, 
and  popular  manner  j  divested  of  every  partiality  of 
sect  or  nation;  and  adapted  to  Uie  general  &tate  of 
mankind  !  With  what  bright  and  alluring  examp/e  does 
it  illustrate  and  recommend  the  practice  of  those  du- 
ties :  and  with  what  mighty  sanctions  does  it  enforce 
that  practice  !.  How  strongly  does  it  describe  tlie  eor> 
ruptions  of  our  nature;  the  deviations  of  oor  life  from 
the  f^le  of  duty^  and  the  atuses  of  both  !   How  mnrvel- 
lotis  and  benevolent  a  plan  of  redemption  doeo-  it  un- 
fold, by  which  those  corruptions  may  be  remedied,  and 
our  nature  restored  from  its  demotions  to  transcend- 
ent heights  of  virtue  and  piety  I  Finally,  What  a  fair 
and  comprehensive  prospect  does  it  give  us  of  the  ad- 
ministration of  God^  of  which  it  represents  the  present 
state  only  as  a  small  period^  and  a  period  of  vnufone 
and  trial t  How  solemn  and  unbounded  are  the  scenes 
which  it  opens  beyond  it !  the  resurrection  of  the  dead^ 
the  general  judgment  y  the  efual  distribution  of  rewards 
and  punishments  to  the  good  and  the  badi  and  the  foU 
completion  of  divine  wisdom  and  goodness  in  the  fauU 
establishment oi order y  perfection^  and  happiness!  Ilow 
glorious  then  is  that  Scheme  of  Reugiok,  and  how 
worthy  of  affection  as  well  as  of  admiraUon^  which,  bf 
making  sueh  discoveries^  and  affording  such  asst'sttntccs^ 
has  disclosed  the  unfading  fruits  and  triumphs  of  Tiir 
TUE,  and  secured  its  intecests  beyond  the  power  of 

TIME  and  CHANCE. 


M    O    R 

word  from  the  Saxon  merse^  *'  lake  ;**  Sdmasini  frsm 
marCf  **  a  collection  of  waters^**  otheis  from  the  Ger- 
man marast  ^  a  muddy  plane ;  and  others  from  «o- 
resCj  oimaricetum^  d  marisciSf  L  e.  rnshes.  See  Dxaor- 
iNG,  Agriculture  Indes^ 

In  Scotland,  Ireland,  and  the  north  of  England, 
there  is  a  particular  kind  of  morasses  called  motses, 
or peat-mossesy  whenoeihe  oonntty  people  dig  their  pot 
or  turf  for  firing.     See  Moas. 

MORAT,    or  MuRTEir,  a  coMidttmhle  town  d 

Bwitxcriaai 


M    O    R 


t    403     1 


M    O    R 


SfritztfrlaodfScapiUl  of  m  bailiwick  of  the  emme  name^ 
belonging  to'  tbe  cantons  of  Bern  and  Frtborg.  It  ia 
seated  on  tbe  lake  Morat,  on  tbe  road  from  Avenche 
to  BetHy  10  miles  west  of  Bern  and  10  miles  north-east 
of  Fribarg.  The  lake  is  about  six  miles  long  and  two 
broad,  aad  the  country  about  it  pleasant  and  well  col- 
tiTated.  The  lakes  of  Morat  and  Neufcbatel  are 
parallel  to  each  other,  but  the  latter  is  more  elevated, 
discharging  itself  by  means  of  tbe  river  Broye  into 
the  lake  of  Neufcbatel*  According  to  M.  de  Luc, 
tfie  former  is  1 5  French  feet  above  tbe  level  of  Neuf- 
obatel  lake ;  and  both  these  lakes,  as  Well  as  that  of 
Bienne,  seem  formerly  to  have  extended  considerably 
beyond  their  present  limits,  and  from  the  position  of 
Ihe  country  appear  to  have  been  once  united.  Former- 
W  the  large  fish  named  sUurus  glanis^  or  the  saloth, 
Keqoented  these  lakes,  but  has  not  been  caught  in  them 
for  a. long  time  past.  The  environs  of  this  town  and 
lake  were  carefully  examined  by  Mr  Coxe,  during  bis 
residence  in  Switzerland,  who  made  several  excursions 
across  the  lake  to  a  ridge  of  hills  situated  betwixt  it 
and  Neufcbatel.  Here  are  many  deliglitful  prospects  \ 
particular!  f  one  from  the  top  of  Mount  Vuilly,  which, 
be  says,  is  perhaps  the  only  central  spot  from  which 
the  eye  can  at  once  comprehend  the  vast  amphitheatre 
farmed  on  one  side  by  the  Jura  stretching  from  the 
environs  of  Geneva  as  far  as  Basle,  and,  on  the  other, 
by  that  stupendous  chain  of  snowy  Alps  which  extend 
from  the  frontiers  of  Italy  to  the  confines  of  Germany, 
and  Is  lost  at  each  extremity  in  the  horizon.  Morat  is 
celebrated  for  tbe  obstinate  defence  it  made  against 
Charles  the  Bold,  duke  of  Burgundy,  and  for  the  battle 
which  afterwards  followed  on  the  2 2d  of  Jun<ri476, 
where  the  duke  was  defeated,  and  his  army  almost  en< 
tirely  destroyed  *•  Not  far  from  the  town,  and  ad- 
joining to  the  high  road,  there  still  remains  a  monu- 
ment of  this  victory.  It  is  a  square  building,  filled 
with  tbe  bones  of  Burgundian  soldiers  who  were  slain 
at  the  siege  and  in  the  battle  \  the  number  of  which  ap- 
pears to  have  been  very  considerable.  There  are  seve- 
ral inscriptions  in  tbe  Latin  and  German  languages 
commemorating  the  victory. 

MORAT2V,  Oltmpia  Fulvia,  an  Italian  lady, 
distinguished  for  her  learning,  was  bom  at  Ferrara,  in 
1526.  Her  father,  after  teaching  the  belles  I^ttres  in 
several  cities  of  Italy,  was  made  preceptor  to  the  two 
young  princes  of  Ferrara,  the  sons  of  Alphonsus  I. 
^Iie  uncommon  abilities  he  discovered  in  his  daughter 
determined  him  to  give  her  all  the  advantages  of  edu- 
cation. Meanwhile  tbe  princess  of  Ferrara  studying 
polite  literature,  it  was  judged  expedient  that  she 
ahonld  have  a  companion  in  tbe  same  pursuit ;  and  Mo- 
rata  being  called,  she  was  heard  by  the  astonished 
courtiers  to  declaim  in  Latin,  to  speak  Greek,  and  . 
to  explain  the  paradoxes  of  Cicero.  Her  father  dyings 
she  was  obliged  ta  return  home  to  take  upon  her  the 
management  of  family  affairs,  and  the  education  of  her 
brother  and  three  sisters  \  both  which  she  executed  with 
the  greatest  diligence  and  success.  In  tbe  mean  time 
Andrew  Grunthler,  a  young  German  physician,  had 
nmrried  her,  and  with  him  she  went  to  Germany, 
taking  her  brother  along  with  her,  whom  she  instructed 
la  the  Latin  and  Greek  tongues ;  and  after  staying  a 
short  time  at  Augsburg,  went  to  Schweinfort  in  Fran- 
coni^,  where  bet  husband  was  born;  but  they  had  not 


been  thero  long  before  that  town  was  unhappy  besieged  Movta, 
and  burnt  -y  however,  escaping  the  flames,  they  fled  in  Moravi*. 
the  utmost  distress  to  Ilammdburg.  This  place  they 
were  also  obliged  to  quit,  and  were  reduced  to  the  last 
extremities,  when  the  elector  Palatine  invited  Grunth' 
ler  to  be  profesfor  of  physic  at  Heidelbeig.  He  en- 
tered on  his  new  office  in  1554;  hut  they  no  sooner 
began  to  taste  the  sweets  of  repose,  than  a  disease,  oc* 
casioned  by  tbe  distresses  an4  hardships  tbey  had  suf- 
fered, seized  upon  Morata,  who  died  in  1555,  in  the 
29th  year  of  her  ^ge )  and  her  husband  and  brother 
did  not  long  survive  her.     She  composed  several  works, 

great  part  of  wiiich  were  burnt  with  the  town  of 
chweinfort  ^  tbe  remainder,  which  consist  of  orations, 
dialogues,  letters,  and  translations,  were  collected  and 
published  under  the  title  of  Olympim  Ftdvw  Moratet^ 
fctmincB  doctimnuE^  ci  plane  diviruB^  opera  omnia  qua 
hattenus  rnvemri poiua-irU  ;  quibus  Cailnsecundicvrfo^ 
nis  epistola  ac  orationes  accesservnt, 

MORAVIA,  a  river  of  Turkey  in  Europe,  whioh 
rises  in  Bulgaria,  runs  north  through  Servia  by  Nissa, 
and  falls  into  the  Danube  at  Scmendria,  to  the  east- 
ward of  Belgrade. 

MoKAViA,  a  marquisaie  of  Germany,  derives  tbe 
name  oiMaAcm^  as  it  is  called  by  the  Germans,  and  cf 
MorawOf  as  it  is  called  b^  tbe  natives,  from  the  rivcc 
of  that  name,  which  rises  in  the  mountains  of  the  coun- 
ty of  Glatz,  and  passes  through  the  middle  of  it.  It  io 
bounded  to  the  south  by  Austna,  to  the  north  by  Silesia,' 
to  the  west  by  Bohemia,  and  to  the  east  by  Silesia  and 
Hungary  -y  being  about  120  miles  in  length  and  zoo  in 
breadth.  Its  surface  is  about  89,000  square  miles.  In 
1775  i^9  population,  according  to  official  returns,  waa 
If '349^749  of  whom  23,382  were  Jews  j  but  ia  iSot 
has  been  computed  to  be  1,400,000  (Mentelleet  Malte 
Brun).  Olmutz,  formerly  the  chief  town,  contains 
11,000  inhabitants;  Brunn,  now  the  seat  of  govern^ 
ment,  contains  14,000 ;  and  thene  axe  several  other  con- 
siderable towns. 

A  great  part  of  this  country  is  overrun  with  woods 
and  mountains,  where  the  air  is  very  cold,  but  much 
wholesomer  than  in  the  low  grounds,  which  are  full 
of  bogs  and  lakes.  The  mountains,  in  general,  are 
barren  ^  but  the  more  champaign  parts  tolerably  fer- 
tile, yielding  com,  with  plenty  of  hemp  and  flax,  good 
saffron,  and  pasture.  Nor  is  it  altogether  destitute  of 
wine,  red  and  white,  fruits,  and  garden  stuff.  Moravia 
also  abounds  in  horses,  black  cattle,  sheep,  and  goats. 
In  tbe  woods  and  about  the  lakes  there  is  plenty  of 
wild  fowl,  game,  venison,  bees,  honey,  hares,  foxes, 
wolves,  beavers,  &c.  This  country  affivda.  marble* 
alum,  iron,  sulphor,  saltpetre,  and  vitriol,  with  mineral 
waters,  and  warm  springs ;  but  salt  is  imported.  Ita  . 
rivers,  of  which  the  M anch^  Morawa,  or  Morau,  are  - 
the  chief,  abound  with  trout,  crayfish,  barbels,  eels, ' 
perch,  and  many  other  sorts  of  fish. 

The  language  of  the  inhabitants  is  a  'dialect  of  the 
Sclavonic,  differing  little  fix>m  the  Bohemian.;  but  the 
nobility  and  citizens  speak  German  and  French. 

Moravia  was  anciently  inhabited  by  the  Quadi,  who 
were  driven  out  by  the  Sclavi.  Its  kings,  who  were 
once  powerful  and  independent,  afterwards  became  de- 
pendent on,  aad  tributary  to,  the  German  emperors 
and  kings.  At  last,  in  the  year  908,  the  Moravian  ^ 
kingdom  was  parcelled  out  among  the  Germans,  Polcf^  . 

3  E  2  and 


M    O    R 


C    404    ] 


IVI    O    B 


MofovU  Md  HttflgarianBi     In  1086,  tint  part  of  it  pr«perly         MoiOVS  Regitu,  tbie  same  ii(ttli  the  JAUSDltX.  See  u«^ 


II 


called  Moravih  was  declared  a  ttiavqnwate  by  the  Ger* 
maa  ki&g  Henry  IV.  and  united  with  Bohemia,  to 
whose  dukes  and  kings  it  hath  ever  since>  been  sobjectr 
The  states  of  the  coantry  consist  of  the  clergy,  lordS| 
knigfatd,  and  burgesses  ^  and  the  diets,  when  lummoned 
l^y  the  regency,  are  held  at  Brunn.  The  marqaisate  is 
8ttH  governed  by  its  own  peculiar  constitotiens,  under 
the  direcUtrium  in  pubUcis  et  cameralibus^  and  the  su^ 
preme  judicatory  at  Vienna.  It  is  divided  into  six 
circles,  each  of  which  has  its  captain,  and  contributes 
to  itd  sovereign  about  one-third  of  what  is  exacted  of 
Bohemia.  Towards  the  expenees  of  the  military  esta- 
Uishnient  of  the  whole  Austrian  hereditary  countries, 
its  yearly  quota  is  1,856,490  florins.  Seven  regiments 
«f  foot,  one  of  cuirassiers,  and  one  of  dragoons,  are 
usually  quatered  in  it. 

'  Christianity  was  introduced  into  this  country  in  tlie 
9th  century  ^  and  the  inhabitants  continued  attached  to* 
the  church  of  Rome  till  the  1 5th,  when  they  espoused 
the  doctrine  of  John  Hus^  and  threw  off  F<^ry  :  but 
after  the  dt&feat  of  the  elector  Palatine,  whom  they  had 
chosen  king,  as  well  as  the  Bohemians,  the  emperor 
Ferdinand  IL  re-estabHshed  Popery  ^  though  there  are 
i9tiil  some  Protestants  in  Moravia.  The  bishop  of  01- 
fliutz,  who  stands  immediately  under  the  pope,  is  at 
the  head  of  the  ecclesiastics  in  this  country.  Tlie  su- 
preme ecclesiastical  jarisdietioa,  under  the  bishops  is 
'vested  in  a  consistory. 

The  commerce  of  this  coantry  is  inconsiderable.  Of 
w4iat  they  have,  Brunn  enjoys  the  princtpaf  part.  At 
Iglau  and  Tirebitx  are  manufactures  of  cloth,  papf?r, 
gunpowder,  &e«  There  aire  also  some  ii-on  works- and- 
^ass  houses  in  the  country. 

T-he  inhabitants  of  Moravia  in  general  are  open- 
Jfearted,  not  easy  to  be  pi'oroked  or  pacified,  obedient 
to  their  masters,  and  true  to  their  promises'^  but  credu- 
]o«8  of  old  prophecies,  and  much  addicted  to  drinking, 
though  neither  such  sots  or  bigots  as  they  are  represent- 
ed by  some  geographers.  The  boors,  indeed,  upon  the 
river  Hank,  are  satd  to  be  a  thievish  unpolished,,  brutal 
race.  The  setesces  now  begin  to  lift  up  their  beads  a 
little  among  the  Moniviaus,  the  nniversity  of  Olmuts 
leaving  been  put  on  a  better  footing;  and  a  riding  aca- 
demy, with  a. learned  society,  has  beeu  lately^ establish- 
On'tneret 

MORAVIAN  BRCTRHEir.  See  HERMHirrrERs, 
aod  Unitas  Frairum, 

MORA W,  or  Morava,  a  large  river  of  Germany^ 
which  has  its  source  on  the  confines  of  Bohemia  and 
Silesia.  It  traverses  the  whole  of  Moravia,  waters  Ol* 
ittutz  and  Hmdisch^  and  receiving  the  Taya  from  the 
confines  of  Lower  Hungary  and  Upper  Austria,  sepa- 
rates these  two  countries-  as  .far  as  the  Danube,  into, 
wtbich  it  falls, 

MORBID,  among-pbysicians,  signifies  '^-diseased  or 
eorrupt  ^'*  a  term  applied  either  to  an  unsound  consti- 
tution, OF  to  those  parts  or  humours  that  arii  affected 
by  a  disease. 

AfORBUS  coivrrtAUt,  » name  givef^  to  tlie  epi- 
lepsy ;  beoBuse  if  on  any  da^  when  th^  people  were  as^ 
sembled  in  comitut  upon  publte  business,  any  person 
suddenly  semil  with  this^  disordev:  shoaM  fall  down, 
the  assembly  was  dissolved^  and  the  business  of  the  comP' 
luii  faowovsr  att|i«ta»t,  was  suspendsd.  See  Comitia.. 

5 


Medicine  Inde>9. 

Morbus,  or  Disease^  in  Botany.     Sec  Yarjetas. 

MORDAUNT,  Charles,  earl  of  Peterborough,  a 
celebrated  commander  botb  by  sea  and  land^  was  the 
son  of  John  Lord  Mordaont  Viscount  Avalon,  and  ivas 
bom  about  the  year  1658.     In  1675  be  succeeded  bis 
father  in  his  honours  and  estate.    "While  young  he  sciw 
vcd  under  the  admirals  Torrington  and  Narborough  in 
tKe  Mediterranean  against  the  Algerines^  and  in  1680 
embarked  for  Africa  with  the  earl  of  Plymouth,  and 
distinguished  himself  at  Tangier  when  it  was  besieged 
by  the  Moors.     In  the  reign  of  James  II.  be  voted 
against  the  repeal  of  the  test  act  \  aod  disliking  the 
measures  of  the  court,  obtained  leave  to  go  to  Hol- 
land to  accept  the  command  of  a  Dutch  squadron  in 
the  West  Indies.     He  afterwards  accompanied  the 
prince  of  Orange  into  this  kingdom;  and  upon  bis 
advancement  to  the  throne,  was  sworn  of  the  privy- 
council,  made  one  of  the  lords  of  the  bedchamber  to 
his  majesty,  also  first  commissioner  of  the  treasury,  and 
advanced  to  the  dignity  of  earl  of  Monmouth.     But 
iA  November  1690  he  was  dismissed  from  his  post  ift 
the  treasury.     On  the  death  of  his  uncle  Heivy  earl 
of  Peterborough  in  1697,  he  succeeded  to  that  title  f 
and,  upon  tJie  accession  of  Queen  Anne,  was  invested 
with  the  commls<>Ion  of  captain-general  and  governor 
of  Jamaica.      In    1705  he  was   sworn  of  the  privy- 
oouncil  ;  and  the  same  year  declared  general  and  com* 
mander  in  chief  of  the  forces  sent  to  Spain,  and  ymt 
a<)miral  of  the  fleet  witli  Sir  Cloudeslry  Shovel,  of 
which  the  year  following  he  had  the  sole  connand. 
His  taking  Barcelona  with  a  handful  of  men,  and  af- 
terwards relieving^  it  when  greatly  distressed  by  the 
enemy;  his  driving  out  of  Spain  the  dukeof  Anjeo^ 
and  tlie  French  army,  which  consisted  of  25,000  men, 
though  his  own   troops  never  amounted  to  10,000^. 
his  gaining  possession  of  Catalonia,  of  the  kingdoms  of 
V-alencia,  Arragon,  and  the  isle  of  Majorca,  with  put 
of  Mureia  and  Castile,  and  tJiereby  giving  the  earl  oi 
Galway  an  opportunity  of  advancing  to  Madrid  with- 
out a  blow ;  are  astonishing  instances  of  his  bravery 
and  conduct.     For  these  important  services  his  lesd- 
bhip  was  declared  general  in  Spain  by  Charics  ID. 
afterwards  emperor  of  Germany ;  and  on  bis  retun 
to  England  be  received  the  thanks  of  the  house  of 
lords..  His  lordship  was  afterwards  employed  in  sevcial 
embassies  to  foreign  courts,  installed  knight  of  the  Gar- 
ten  and  made  governor  of  Minorca.     £0  the  reign  of 
George  I.  he  was  general  of  all  the  maiine  forces  in 
Great  Britain,  in  which -post  he  was  continued  by  Kiqg 
George  U.     He  died  in  his  passage  to  Lisbon^  where 
he  was  going  for  the  recovery  of  his  health,  in  1735* 
His  lordship  was   distinguished  by  varioua  shiniag 
qualities :  for,   to  the  greatest  personal  courage  aad 
resolution,  he  added  all  the  arts  and  address  of  age> 
neral ;  a  li vely*  and  penetrating  genius ;  and  a  gteai- 
extent  of  kuowledge  opoaaUaost  every^sobject  of  is- 
portanee  withiu  the  compass  of  ancient  aad  modara  li- 
terature". 

MORDELLA,  a  genus  of  insaote  of  the  coleaplaca 
order.     See  ENTOMOLoaY  Indes* 

MORE,  Snt  Thomas,  lord   high  chaaoeOor  of 

England,  the  son  of  Sir  John  More,  knight,  one  of  ths 

judges  of  die  Kifig^s  Boach^  was  bomiathe  jaar  J4&V 

ia 


M    O    H 


C   405    ] 


M    O    R 


More.     In  Milk-street  Loodon.    He  was  first  sent  to  a  school 
at  St  ilntbony^s  in   Tbreadneedle   street ;  and  after- 
ward  introdoced  into  the  family  of  Cardinal  M(H*eton, 
jtho  in  1497  sent  him  to  Canterbury  college  in  Ox- 
ford.    During  his  residence  at  the  university  be  con« 
stantly  attended  the  lectures  of  Linacre  and  Grocinus, 
on  the  Greek  and  Latin  languages.     Having  in  the 
space  of  about  two  years  made  considerable  profietency 
in  academical  learning,  he  came  to  New  Inn  in  Lon* 
don,  in  order  to  study  the  law;  whence,  after  some 
time,  he  removed  to  Lincoln^s  Inn,  of  which  his  fathev 
was  a  member.     Notwithstanding  his  application  ta 
the  law,  however,  being  now  about  20  years  old;   lie 
was  so  bigotted  to  monkish  discipline,  that  be  wore  a 
liair  shirt  next  his  skin,  frequently  lasted,  and  often 
^ept  on  a  bare  plank.     In  the  year  1503,  being  then 
a  burgess  in  parliament,  he  distinguished  himself  in  the 
liouse,  in  opposition   to  the  motion   for  granting  a 
subsidy  and  three  fifteenths  for  the  marriage  of  Hen<- 
Tv  VII.'s  eldest  daughter,   Margaret,  to  tbe  king  of 
Scotland.     The   motion   was  rejected;  and  the  king 
was  so  highly  offended  at  this  opposition  from  a  beard- 
less boy,  that  he  revenged  himself  on  Mr  More's  father, 
hy  sending  him,  on  a  fi'ivolous  pretence,  to  the  Tower, 
and  obliging  him  to  pay  100I.  for  hm  liberty.     Being 
new  called  to  the  )>ar,   he  was  appointed  law  reader  at 
Farnival's  inn,  which  place  he  held  about  three  years  ; 
but   abont  this  time  he  also  read  a  public  lecture  in 
the  church  of  St  Lawrence,   Old  Jewry,   upon  St  Au- 
stin's treatise  De  Civitate  Dei\  with  great  applause.  He 
had  indeed  formed  a  design  of  becoming  a  Franciscan 
Iriar,  bat  was  dissuaded  from  it ;  and,  by  the  advice 
of  Dr  Colet,  married  Jane,  the  eldestdaugbtnr  of  John 
Colt,  Esq.  of  Newball  in  Essex.     In  1508  he  was  ap* 
pointed  judge  of  the  sheTilTs  court  in  the  city  of  Lon- 
don, was  mode  a  justice  of  the  peace,  and  became  vbtj 
eminent  at  tbe  bar.     In  1516  he  went  to  Flanders  in 
the  retinue  of  Bishop  Tonstal  and  Dr  Knight,  who 
were  sent  by  King  Henry  VIII,  to  renew  the  alliance 
with  the  archduke  of  Austria,  aftierwards  Charles  V. 
On  bis  return,  Cardinal  Wolsey  would  have  engaged 
Mr  More  in  the  service  of  the  crown,  and  oiFered  him 
a  pension,   which   he  refused.     Nevertheless,  it  was 
not  long  ^before  he  accepted  the  place  of  master  of 
the  peqoests,  was  created  a  knight,  admitted  of  the 
privy  council,  and  in  1520  made  treasurer  of  the  ez- 
ehequer.     About  this  time  he   built   a  honse   on   the 
bank  of  the  Thames,  at  Chelsea,  and  married  a  second 
wifcf.     This  wife,  whose  name  was  Middfeton^  and  a 
widow,  was  old,  ill  tempered,  and  covetous  ;  neverthe- 
less Erasmus  says,  he  was  as  fond  of  her  as  if  she  were  a. 
young  maid. 

In  the  14th  year  of  Henry  VIII.  Sir  Thomas  More 
was  nmde  speaker  of  the  house  of  commons ;  in  which 
osfMcity  he  had  tbe  resolution  to  oppose  the  then 
powerful  minister,  Wolsey,  in  his  demand  of  an  op- 
pressive subsidy  j  notwithstanding  which,  it  was  not  long 
before  he  was  made  chancellor  of  the  duchy  of  Lanca- 
ster, and  was  treated  by  the  king  with  singular  familiart- 
g.  The  king  having  once  dined  with  Sir  Thomas  at 
lelsca,  walked  wit^  him  near  an  hour  in  the  garden, 
with  his  arm  round  his  neck.  After  he  was  gone,  Mr 
fioper.  Sir  Thomases  son-in-law,  observed  how  happy 


Sir  Thomas  replied,  *^  I  thank  our  lord,  son  Roper,  I 
find  his  grace  my  very  good  lord  indeed,  and  bitlleve- 
he  doth  as  singularly  favour  me  as  any  subject  witbia 
this  realm  :  howbeit,  I  must  tell  thee,  I  have  no  cause 
to  be  proud  thereof  j  for  if  my  head  would  win  him  a 
castle  in  France,  it  would  not  fail  to  go  off.^^  From 
thisr  anecdote  it  appears,  that  Sir  Thomas  knew  his 
grace  to  be  a  villain. 

In  1526  he  was  sent  with   Cardinal  Wolsey  and 
others,  on  a  joint  embassy   to   France,  and  in  1529 
with  Bishop  Tonstal  to  Cambray.     The  king,  it  seems,, 
was  so  well  satisfied  with  his  services  on  tliese  oeca- 
Sions,  that  in  tlie  following  year,   Wolsey  being  dis- 
graced, he  made  him  chancellor;   which   seems   tha 
more  extraordinary,  when  we  are  told  that  Sir  Tho- 
mas had  repeatedly  declared  his  disapprobation  of  IIioj 
king's  divorce,  on  which  tlie  great  dejfinsor  Jidei  was  so> 
positively  bent.     Having  executeil  the  oflice  of  chan- 
cellor about  three  years,  with  equal  wisdom  and  inte- 
grity, he  resiirned  the  seals  in  15339  probably  to  avoid.* 
the  danger  of  his  refusing  to  confirm  the  king's  di-; 
vorce.     He  now  retired  to  his  bouse  at  Chelsea  \  dis- 
missed many  of  his  servants  \  sent  his  children  witiu 
their  respective  fiimilies  to  their  own  houses    (for  hi- 
therto, he  had,  it  seems,  maititained  all  his  ohildreni.. 
with  their  families,  in  his  own  house,  in  tbe  true,  style 
of  an  ancient  patriarch ;  and  spent  his  time  in  study 
and  devotion :  but  the  capricious  tyrant  would  not  suf- 
fer him  to  enjoy  his   tranquillity.     Though  now   re- 
duced to  a  private  station,  and  even  to  indigence,  his 
opinion  of  tbe  legality  of  the  king's  marriage  with 
Anne  Boleyn  was  deemed  of  so  much  importance,  that 
\'arious  means  wei>e  tried  to  piocui^e  his  approbation  ^, 
but  all  persuasion  proving  ine&ctual,  he  was,  with 
some  others,  attainted  in  tfaie  hooee  of  lords  of  mispri- 
sion  of  treason,  for  eucouraging'  Eliaabeth  Barton, 
the  nun  of  Kent,  in  her  treasonable  practices.     Hia. 
innocence  in  this  affair  appeared  so  clearly,  that  they. 
were  obliged  to  strike  his  name  out  of  tbe  bill.     He 
was  then  accused  of  other  crimes,  but  with  the  same 
effect  \  till,  refusing  to  take  the  oath  enjoined  by  the  * 
act  of  supremacy,  he  was  committed  to  the  Tower,, 
and,  after  15  months  imprisonment,  was  tried  at  the* 
bar  of  the  king's  bench  f6r  high  treason,   in   denying  - 
the  king's  supremacy.     The  proof  rested  on  the  sole  - 
evidence  of  Rich  the  solicitor  general,  whom  Sir  Tho-  • 
mas,.,  in  his  defence,  sufficiently  discredited  ^  neverthe-^- 
less  the  jury  brought  him  in  guilty,  and  he  was  con- 
demned to  suffer  a9  a  traitor.     The  merciful  Harry, . 
however,  indulged  him  with,  sinnple  decollation ;  and 
be  was  accordingly  beheaded  on  Tower  hill,  on  the- 
jtb  of  July  1535.     His  body,  which  was  first  interred 
in  the  Tower,  was  begged  by  his  daughter  Margaret, 
and  deposited  in  the  chancel  of  the  church  at  Chelsea, 
where  a  monument^   with   an   inscription  written  by 
himself,  had. been  some  time  before  erected.     This  mo- 
nument with  the  inscription  is  still  to  be  seen  in  that, 
church.     The  same  daugliter,  Margaret,  also  procured 
his  head  after  it  had  remained  14  days  upon  London 
bridge,  and  placed   it  in  a.  vaidt   belonging  to  the 
Roper  family,  under  a  chapel  adjoining  to  St  Dnn- 
6tan'»  church  in  Canterbury*     Sir  Thomas  More  vrmt 
a  man  of  some  learning,  and  an  upri^t  judge ;  a-  very. 


afors* 


he  was  to  be  so  fiuniliarly  treated  by  the  king:  to  which    priest  in  religion,  yet  ^erfiil,   and  even  afieetedly 

wittv. 


More, 
MoreL 


M    O    R  [ 

witty  (a).  He  wanted  not  sagacity,  wliei«  religion 
was  out  of  the  question  ^  but  in  that  his  faculties  were 
so  enveloped,  as  to  render  him  a  weak  and  credulous 
enthusiast.  He  left  one  son  and  three  daughters  ^  of 
whom  Margaret,  the  eldest,  was  yery  renutfkable  for 
her  knowledge  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  languages.  She 
married  a  Mr  lioper  of  Welihall  in  Kent,  whose  life 
of  Sir  Thomas  More  was  published  by  Mr  Hearne  at 
Oxford  in  1716*  Mrs  Roper  died  in  1544^  and  was 
buried  in  the  vault  of  St  Dunstan's  in  Canterbury,  with 
her  father^s  head  in  her  arms. 

Sir  Thomas  iras  the  author  of  Various  works,  though 
his  Utopia  is  the  only  performance  that  has  survived  in 
the  esteem  of  the  world ;  owing  to  the  rest  being  chief- 
ly of  a  polemic  nature :  his  answer  to  Luther  has  only 
gained  him  the  credit  of  having  the  best  knack  of  any 
man  in  Europe,  at  calling  bad  names  in  good  Latin. 
His  EnglijBh  TTorks  were  collected  and  published  by 
order  of  Queen  Mary,  in  1557 ;  his  Latin,  at  Basil,  in 
1*563,  and  at  Louvam,  in  i$66f 

MORE  A,  formerly  called  the  Pehpannenu^  is  « 
peninsula  to  the  south  of  Greece,  to  which  it  is  joined 
by  the  isthmus  of  Corinth.  Its  form  resembles  a  mul- 
berry leaf,  and  its  name  is  derived  from  the  great  num- 
ber of  mulberry  trees  which  it  produces.  It  is  about 
140  miles  in  length,  and  110  in  breadth.  The  air  is 
temperate,  and  the  land  fertile,  except  in  the  middle, 
where  it  is  full  of  mountains,  and  is  watered  by  a  great 
number  of  rivers.  It  is  divided  into  three  provinces  \ 
Scania,  Belvedera,  and  Brazzo-di-Maioa.  It  was  ta- 
ken from  the  Turks  by  the  Venetians  in  1687;  but 
they  lost  it  again  in  1715*  The  population  of  the 
Morea  is  estimated  by  Dr  Clarke  at  300,000.  See 
Greece  and  P£LOPo«mESus. 

MOR£L,-the  name  of  several  celebrated  printers  to 
the  kings  of  France,  who,  like  the  Stephens,  were  also 
men  of  great  learning. 

Frederic  Morel,  who  was  interpreter  in  the  Greek 
and  Latin  tcmgues,  as  well  as  printer  ito4he  king,  was 
heir  to  Vascosan,  whose  daughter  he  had  married.— 
He  was  bom  in  Champagne,  and  he  .died  in :.  an  ad- 
vanced age  at  Paris,  1583.  His  sons  4ind  grandsons 
trode  in  his  steps  j  they  distinguished  themselves  in  li- 
terature, and  maintained  also  the  reputation  which  he 
had  acquired  by  printing.  -The  edition  of  Si  Gregory 
^fNyssOf  by  his  son  Claude  Morel,  >  is  held  4a  great 
estimation  by  the  learned. 

Morel,  Frederic^  son  of  the  preceding,  and  still 
more  celebrated  than  his  father,  was  professor  and  in- 
terpreter to  the  king,  and  printer  in  ordinary  for  the 
Hebrew,  Greek,  Latin,  and  French  languages.  He 
was  so  devoted  to  study,  tliat  when  he  was  told  his 
wife  was  at  the  point  or  death,  he  would  not  stir  till 
he  bad  finished  the  sentenee  which  he  had  begun.  Be- 
fore it  waft  finished,  he  waa- informed -that  she  was.ac- 


406    ]  M    O    R 

tually  dead  ;  /  am  wrryfor  it,  (replied  he  coldly),  sh    m ^ 
was  an  excellent  woman.     This  printer  acquired  great       {| 
reputation  from  the  works  which  he  published,  which  ^^m^ 
were  very  numerous  and  beautifully  executed.     From 
the  manuscripts  in  the  king^s  library,  he  published  se- 
veral treatises  of  St  Basil,  Theodoret,  St  Cgrrille  ^  and 
he  accompanied  them  with  a  translation.     His  edition 
of  the  works  of  (Ecoraenius  and  Aretas,  in   2  vols* 
felio,  is  much  esteemed.     In  short,  after  distinguishing 
himself  by  his  knowledge  in  the  languages,  he  died 
June  27.  1^30,  at  the  age  of  78.     His  sons  and  grand- 
sons followed  the  same  profession. 

Morel,  Wiiliam,  vegius  professor  of  Greek,  and 
director  of  the  king^s  printing  house  at  Paris,  died 
X  564.  He  composed  a  Dictionnaire  Grec-Latin  Fran^ 
coiSf  which  was  pablisbed  in  quarto  in  1622,  and 
some  other  works  which  indicate  very  extensive  leam- 
iiig.  His  editions  of  the  Greek  authors  are  >  exceed- 
ingly beautiful.  This  great  scholar,  who  was  of  a 
different  family  from  the  preceding,  had  a  brother 
named  John,  who  died  in  prison  (where  he  had  been 
confined  for  heresy)  ^at  the  age  of  20,  and  whose  body 
was  dug  out -of  the  grave,  and  burnt,  Feb.  27.  1559* 
They  were  of  the  parish  of  Tilleul,  in  the  county  of 
Mortein  in  Normandy. 

MORENA,  in  Ancient  Geography^  a  district  or  di- 
vision of  Mysia,  in  the  Hither  Asia.  A  part  of  which 
was  occupied  by  Cleon,  formerly  at  the  head  of  a 
band  of  robbers,  but  afterwards  priest  of  Jupiter  Ab- 
rettenus,  and  enriched  with  possession^,  £rst  by  Antony, 
and  then  by  Caesar* 

MORESQUE,  MoRESK,  or  Mori$ko,  «  kind  of 
painting,  carving,  &c.  done  after  the  manner  of  the 
Moors.^  consisting  of  several  grotesque  pieces  and  com> 
partments  promiscuously  intermingled,  not  containiqg 
any  perfect  figure  of  a  man,  or  other  animal,  but  a  wild 
resemblance  of  birds,  beasts,  trees,  &c  These  are  also 
called  arabesques^  and  are  particulai'ly  used  in  emhni- 
deries,  damask  work,  &c. 

'Moresque  Dances^  vulgarly  called  Morrice  donees^ 
are  those  altogether  in  imitation  of  the  Moors,  as  sa- 
rabands, chacons,  &c.  and  are  usually  performed  with 
castanets,  tambours,  &c. 

There  are  few  country  places  in  England  where  the 
morrice  dance  is  not  known.  It  was  probably  intro- 
duced about,  or  a  little  before,  the  reign  of  Henry  VUI. 
and  is  a  dance  of  young  men  in  their  shirts,  with  bells 
at  their  feet,  and  ribbands  of  various  colours  tied  round 
their  arms  and  flung  across  their  shoulders* 

MORGAGNA.    See  Fata. 

MORGAGNI,  John  Baptist,  doctor  of  medicine, 
first  professor  of  anatomy  in  the  university  of  Padua, 
and  member  of  several  of  the  most  eminent  societies  of 
learned  men  in  Europe,  was  horn  in  the  year  1682,  at 
Forli,  a  town  in  the  district  of  La  Somagna  in  Italy. 


(a)  This  last  disposition,  we  are  told,  he  could  not  restrain  even  at  his  execution.  The  day  beine  come,  be 
.jMcended  the  scaffold,  which  seemed  so  weak  that  it  was  ready  to  fall  j  wliereupon,  **  I  pray  (said  he)  see 

me  safe  up,  and  for  my  coming  down  let  me  shift  for  myself.'*  His  prayers  being  ended,  he  turned  to  the 
.«xeGultoner,  and  with  a  cheerful  countenance  said,  **  Pluck  up  thy  spirits,  man,  and  be  not  afraid  to  do  thf 
^office  V  my  neck  is  very  short,  take  heed  therefcwe  thou  strike  not  awry  for  saving  thy  honesty. '*    Then  laying 

his  head  upon  the  block,  be  bade  him  stay  until  he  had  put  aside  his  beard,  saying,  **  That  had  Bover  commit* 

tod  any  treason.'* 


M    O    R  f    407 

L  His  parents,  who  were  in  easy  cireumsUiices,  allowed 
-^  bim  to  follow  that  course  in  life  his  genius  dictated. 
He  be^n  his  studies  at  the  place  of  bis  nativity ;  but 
soon  after  removed  to  Bologna,  where  he  obtained  the 
degree  of  Doctor  of  Medicine,  when  be  had  bat  just 
reached  the  i6th  year  of  his  age.  Here  his  peculiar 
taste  for  anatomy  found  an  able  preceptor  in  Valsalva, 
who  bestowed  on  him  the  utmost  attention  ^  and  such 
was  the  progress  he  made  under  this  excellent  master, 
that  at  the  age  of  20  he  himself  taught  anatomy  with 
high  reputation.  Soon,  however,  the  fame  of  his  pre- 
lotions,  and.  the  number  of  his  pnpib^  excited  the 
jealousy  of  the  public  professors,  and  gave  rise  to  in- 
Tidious  persecutions.  But  his  abilities  and  prudence 
gained  him  a  complete  triumph  over  his  enemies  ^  and 
all  opposition  to  him  was  finally  terminated  from  his 
being  appointed  by  the  senate  of  Bologna  to  fill  a  me- 
dical chair,  which  soon  became  vacant.  But  the  du- 
ties of  this  office,  although  important,  neither  occu- 
pied the  whole  of  his  time,  nor  satisfied  liis  anxious 
desire  to  afibrd  instruction.  He  still  continued  to  Isb- 
bour  in  secret  00  his  favourite  subject,  and  soon  after 
communicated  the  fruits  of  these  labours  to  the  public 
in  his  Adversaria  Anatomica^  the  first  of  which  was  pub- 
Kshed  in  the  year  1706,  the  second  and*  third  in  1717, 
mnd  the  three  others  in  17 19.  The  publication  of  this 
excellent  work  spread  the  fame  oi  Morgagni  far  be- 
yond the  limits  of  the  state  of  Bologna.  Sach  was  his 
reputation,  that  the  wise  republic  of  Venice  had  no 
hesitation  in  making  him  an  oflfer  of  the  second  chair 
of  the  theory  of  medicine  in  the  university  of  Padua  \ 
then  vacant  by  the  death  of  M.  MoHnetti  j  and,  to  eni- 
sure  his  acceptance,  they  doubled  the  en^oluments  of 
that  appointment.  While  he  was  in  this  department, 
he  pablished  fhis  treatise,  entitled  Nova  Institutionttm 
medicarum  idea^  which  first  appeared  at  Padua  in  the 
year  17124  From  this  work  bis  former  reputation  suf- 
fered no- diminution.  And  soo»  after  he  rose,  by  dif- 
ferent steps,  to  be  first  professor  of  anatomy  in  that 
celebrated  university.  Although  Morgagni  was  thus 
finally  settled  at  Padua,  yet  he  gave  evident  proofs  of 
his  gratitude  and  attachment  to  Bologna,  which  he 
considered  as  his  native  country  with  respect  to  the 
sciences.  He  exerted  his  utmost  efforts  in  establishing 
the  academy  of  Bologna,  of  which  he  was  one  of  the 
first  associates  ;  and  he  enriched  their  publications  with 
•everal  valuable  and  carious  papers.  Soon  after  this, 
the  Royal  Societies  of  London  and  Paris  received  hini 
among  their  number.  Not  long  after  the  publication 
of  his  Adversaria  Anatomica^  he  began,  much  upon 
the  same  plan,  his  Epistake  Anattmuctej  tlio  first  of 
which  is  dated  at  Padna  in  the  beginning  of  April 
i*j26%  The  works  of  Morgagni  which  have  already 
been  mentioned,  are  to  be  considered,  in  a  great- mea- 
sure, as  strictly  anatomical :  but  he  was  not  more  emi- 
nent as  an* anatomist,  than  as- a  learned  and- successful 
physician.  In  the  year  176a,  when  he  was  not  far  di- 
stant from  the  80th  year  of  his  age,  he  published  his 
iai|^c  and  valuable  work  De  causis  et  sedibus  morborum 
fer  anaiomen  indagatk.  This  last  and  most  important 
of  all  his  prodootions  will  afford  convincing  evidence 
of  his  industry  and  abilities  to  latest  posterity.  Besides 
these  works,  he  published,  at  different  periods  of  his 


] 


M    O    H 


own  eve  at  Padua,  in  the  year  1765.     It  does  not  ap-  Mor^^n^ 
pear  that  he  had  in  view  any  future  publications  \  but        B 
he  intended  to  have  favoured  the  world  with  a  com-  M  orison, 
plete  edition  of  all  his  works,  which  would  probably 
have  been  augmented  with  many  new  observations,   lu 
this  he  was  engaged  when,  on  the  5th  of  December 
1 77 1,  after  he  had  nearly  arrived  at  the  90th  year  of 
his  age,  death  pot  a  period  to  his  long  and  glorious 
career  in  the  learned  world. 

MORGANA,  or  Morcagna,  Fata,    See  Fata. 

MORGES,  a  town  of  Swisserland  in  the  canton  of 
Berne,  a  place  of  some  trade,  and  situated  oa  the  lake 
of  Geneva,  five  miles  from  Lausanne.  £•  Long.  6.42. 
N.  Lat.  46.  29. 

MORGO,  anciently  Amorgos^  an  island  in  the  Ar- 
chipelago, which  produces  wine,  oil,  and  corn.  It  is 
well  cultivated,  and  the  inhabitants  are  affable,  and  ge- 
nerally of  the  Greek  ehnrch.  The  best  parts  belong 
to  a  monastery.  The  greatest  inconvenience  in  this 
island  is  the  want  of  wood.  It  is  30  miles  in  circunir 
ference.     £.  Long.  26.  15.  N.  Lat.  36.  30. 

MORI  AH,  one  of  the  eminences  of  Jerusalem  \  on 
which  Abraham  went  to  offer  his  son,  and  David 
wanted  to  build  the  temple,  which  was  afterwards  exe- 
cuted by  Solomon  :  The  ibreshiog  floor  of  Araunah  % 
originally  narrow,  so  as  scarce  to  contain  the  temple, 
but  enlarged  by  means  of  ramparts  \  and  surround«'d 
with  a  triple  wall,  so  as  to  add  great  strength. to  the 
temple,  (Josephus).  It  may  be  considered  as  a  part 
of  Mount  Sion,  to  which  it  was  joined  by  a  bridge  and 
g»llerv,  (Id.). 

MORILLES,  a  kind  of  mushroom,  about  the  size  * 
of  a  walnut,  pierced  with  holes  like  a  honey -comb,  and . 
said  to  be  good  for  creating  an  appetite.     It  is  often 
used  in  sauces  and  ragouts. . 

MORINA,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  diaor 
dria  class  \  and  in  the  natural  method  ranking  under 
the  48th  order,  Aggrcgata*     See  Botany  Index, 

MORINORUM  Castellum,  in  Ancient  Geogra* 
phy^  simply  Castellum  ( Antonine)  ;  situated  on  an  eroi? 
nence,  with  a  spring  of  water  on  its  top,  in  the  terri- 
tory of  the  Morini.    Now  Mont  Gassclf  in  Flanders. 

MORINDA,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the 
pentandraa  dass^  and  iu  the  natural  method  ranking 
under  the  48th  order.  Aggregate.     See  Botany  In* 

Bex. 

MORISON,  Robert^  physician- and  professor  of 
botany  at  Oxford,  was  born  at  Aberdeen  in  1620, 
bred  at  the  university  there,  and  taught  philosophy  for 
some  time  in  it  ^  but  having  a  strong  inclination  to  bo- 
tany^  made  great  progress  in  that  science.  The  civil 
wars  obliged  htm  to  leave  his  country  y  which,  how 
ever,  lie  did  not  do  till  he  had  first  signalized  his  zeal 
for  the  interest  of  the  king,  and  his  courage,  in  a  battle 
fought '  between  the  inhabitants  of  Aberdeen  and  the 
Presbyterian  troops  on  the  bridse  of  Aberdeen,  in  which 
he  received  a  dangeroua  wouno  on  the  head.  As  soon 
as  he  was  cured  of  it,  he  went  into  France  *,  and  fiauil|; 
at  Paris,  he  applied  assiduously  to  botany  and  anatomy. 
He  was  introduced  to  tho  duke  of  Orleans,  who  gave 
him  t^ie  direction  of  the  royal  gardens  at  Blots.  He 
exercised  the  office  till  the  death  of  that  prince,  and. 
afterwards  went  over  to  England  in  2660.   Charles  IL 


life,  several  miscellaneous  pieces,  which  were  after-     to  whom  the  duke  of  Orleans  had  presented  him^  at 
wards  collected  into  one  volumsi  apd  piiotcd  under  bis  "  Blois,  sent  for  him  to  London,  and  gave  him.  the  title 


M    O    R 


[    408     ] 


M    O    K 


Morlson    of  Iiis  physician^  and  tliat  of  pt^fessor  royal  of  botamf^ 
1"  w    ^^*^^'  ^  pension  of  200I  per  annum.     The  Frteludium 
01  acuta.  ffQ^gj„'^j^„j^  which  he  published  in  1669,  procured  him 

iso  much  reputation,  that  the  university  of  Oxford  in- 
vited him  to  the  professorship  of  botany  in  1669 ; 
which  he  accepted,  and  acquitted  himself  in  it  with 
^n^at  ability.  He  died  at  London  in  1683,  aged  6$. 
He  published  a  second  and  third  part  of  his  History 
of  Plants,  in  2  vols,  folio  *,  with  this  title,  P/antarum 
Ht'sioria  Oxomensh  Untversalis,  The  first  part  of  this 
excellent  work  has  not  been  printed  5  and  it  is  not 
known  what  has  become  of  it. 

MORISONIA,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the 
monadelphia  clas^,  and  in  the  natural  method  rank- 
ing under  the  25th  order,  Futaminea.  See  Botany 
ItiHex, 

MORLACHIA,  a  mountainous  country  of  DaU 
matia.  The  inhabitants  are  called  Moriacks  or  Mor* 
lacc/ii ;  they  inhabit  the  pleasant  valleys  of  Koter,  along 
the  rivers  Kerha,  Cettina,  Narenta,  and  among  the 
inland  mountains  of  Dalmatia.  The  inhabitants  are  by 
some  said  to  be  of  Walachian  extraction,  as  is  indicated 
by  their  name;  Morlachia  being  a  contraction  of 
Matifo  JFalachia^  that  is,  Biack  Walachia :  and  the 
Walachians  are  said  to  be  descendants  of  tlie  ancient 
Roman  colonies  planted  in  these  countries.  This,  how- 
ever, is  denied  by  the  Ahb^  Fortis,  who  published  a 
31'olumc  of  travels  into  that  country.  He  infornis  us 
that  the  origin  of  tlie  Morlacchi  is  involved  in  the 
darkness  of  barbarous  ages,  togetlier  with  that  of  many 
^  other  nations,  resembling  them  so  much  in  customs  and 
language,  that  tliey  may  be  taken  for  one  people,  dis- 
persed in  the  vast  tracts  from  the  Adriatic  sea  to  the 
'Frozen  ocean. 

'  With  regard  to  the  etymology  of  the  name,  the 
'Abb6  observes,  that  the  Morlacchi  generally  call  them- 
selves, in  their  own  language,  Vlassi ;  a  national  terniy 
of  which  no  vestige  is  found  in  the  records  of  Dal- 
matia till  the  13th  century.  It  signifies /wti^^r^/  men^ 
or  men  of  authority;  and  the  denomination  of  Moro 
Vlassiy  coiTuptly  MorlaceAi\  as  they  are  now  called, 
may  perhaps  point  out  the  original  of  the  nation.  This 
word  may  possibly  signily  the  conquerors  that  camejkotn 
the  sea;  moor^  in  all  the  dialects  of  the  Sclavooian 
language,  signifying  the  sea. 

With  regard  to  the  character  of  these  people,  we 
are  informed  that  th^  are  much  injured  by  their  ma- 
ritime neighbours,  The  inhabitants  of  the  sea  coast  of 
Dalmatia  tell  many  frightful  stories  of  their  avarice 
and  cruelty  :  but  these,  in  our  au thorns  opinion,  ure  aU 
either  of  an  ancient  date,  or  if  any  have  happened  ia 
latter  times,  they  ought  rather  to  be  ascribed  to  the 
corruption  of  a  ^ew  individuals,  than  to  the  bad  di»- 
position  of  the  nation  in  general  5  and  though  thievish 
tricks  are  frequent  among  them,  he  infomis  us,  that 
a  stranger  may  travel  securely  through  their  coun- 
try, where  he  is  faithfully  escorted,  and  hospitably 
treated. 

As  to  the  Morlacchi  themselves,  they  are  repre- 
sented as  open  and  sincere  to  such  a  degree,  that  they 
would  be  taken  for  simpletons  in  any  other  country  3 
and  by  means  of  Hiis  quality  they  Itave  been  so  often 
-dnp.'d  f)y  the  Italian"^,  that  the  fuiih  nf  an  Italian  and 
thefav.h  «;  «  dm*^  art  sfnonynwiw  among  the  Morlacchi. 
'[Tliey  are  very  liospitable  to  strangers  j  and  their  hos- 


pitality is  equally  conspicuous  among  the  rich  and  poor.  M«Ut^ 
The  rich  prepares  a  roasted  lamb  or  sheep,  and  the 
poor  with  equal  cordiality  olTeES  whatever  he  has ;  nor 
is  this  generosity  confined  to  strangers,  but  generally 
extends  itself  to  all  who  are  in  want.  When  a  Mor-  • 
lack  is  on  a  journey,  and  comes  to  lodge  at  a  friend's 
house,  the  eldest  daughter  of  the  family^  or  the  new 
married  bride,  if  there  happen  to  be  one,  receives  and 
kisses  him  when  he  alights  from  his  horse  or  at  the 
door  of  the  house  :  bnt  a  foreigner  b  rarely  favoured 
with  these  female  civilities  \  on  the  contrary  the  wo* 
men,  if  they  are  young,  hide  themselves,  and  keep  out 
of  his  way. 

The  Morlacchi  in  general  have  little  notion  of  do- 
mestic economy,  and  readily  consume  in  a  week  as 
much  as  would  be  sufficient  for  several  months,  when- 
ever any  occasion  of  merriment  presents  itself.  A  mar- 
riage, the  holiday  of  the  saint  protector  of  the  family, 
the  arrival  of  relations  or  friends,  or  any  other  jojfal 
incident,  consumes  of  course  all  that  there  is  to  eat 
and  to  drink  in  the  bouse.  Yet  the  Morlack  is  a  great 
economist  in  the  use  of  his  wearing  apparel}  for 
rather  than  spoil  his  new  cap,  he  takes  it  oflF,  let  it 
rain  ever  so  hard,  and  goes  bareheaded  in  the  storm. 
In  the  same  manner  he  treats  his  shoes,  if  the  road  is 
dirty  and  they  are  not  very  old.  Nothing  but  an  abso^ 
lute  impossibility  hinders  a  Morlack  from  being  punc- 
tual \  and  if  he  cannot  repay  the  money  he  borrowed  at 
the  appointed  time,  be  carries  a  small  present  to  his 
creditor,  and  requests  a  longer  term* 

Friendship  is  lasting  among  the  Morlacchi.  Thsy 
have  even  made  it  a  kind  of  religious  point,  and  tie 
the  sacred  bond  at  the  foot  of  the  altar.  The  Scla?o- 
nian  ritual  contains  a  particular  benediction  for  the  so- 
lemn union  of  two  male  or  two  female  friends  in  the 
presence  of  the  congregation.  The  male  friends  thus 
united  are  called  Fobratimi^  and  the  female  Posestreme^ 
which  means  half-brothers  and  half-sisters.  From  those 
consecrated  friendships  among  the  Morlacchi  and  other 
nations  of  the  same  origin,  it  should  seem  that  the 
sworn  hrothers  arose  y  a  denomination  frequent  enough 
among  the  common  people  of  Italy  and  in  many  parts 
of  Europe.  The  difference  between  these  and  the 
Pobratimi  of  Morlachia  consists  not  only  in  the  want 
of  the  ritual  ceremony,  but  in  the  design  of  the  union 
itself.  For,  among  the  Morlacchi,  the  sole  view  & 
reciprocal  service  and  advantage  \  but  such  a  brother- 
hood among  the  Italians  is  generally  ccmnaeDced  by 
bad  men,  to  enable  them  the  more  to  hurt  and  distorb 
so<^i£ty. 

But  as  the  friendships  of  the  Morlacchi  are  strong 
and  sacred,  so  their  quarrels  are  commonly  uneztin- 
guishable.  They  pass  from  father  to  son  \  and  the  wo- 
tbers  fail  not  to  put  their  children  in  mind  of  their 
duty  to  revenge  their  father  if  he  baa  had  the  ous- 
fortone  to  be  killed,  and  to  show  them  often  the 
bloody  shirt  and  arms  of  the  dead.  And  so  deeply 
is  revenge  rooted  in  the  minds  of  this  nation,  that  aU 
the  <nitssionaries  in  the  world  would  not  be  able 
to  eradicate  it.  A  Morlack  is  naturally  inclined  to 
do  good  to  his  fellow  creatures,  and  is  full  of  gratitude 
for  the  smallest  benefit  \  but  imptoable  if  injured  or 
insulted. 

A  Morlack  who  has  killed  another  of  a*  powerfid 
family,  is  commonly  obliged  to  save  Jiiomlf  hy 


and 


M    O    R  [    409    ]  M    O    R 

of  the  way  for  several  years.     If     ritime  towns,  wbere  the  Morlacehi  came  to  sell  their  MorittccM. 

commodities. 


during  that  time  he  has  been  fortunate  enough  to 
escape  the  search  of  his  pursuers,  and  has  got  a  small 
sum  of  money,  >lie  endeavours  to  obtain  pardon  and 
peace }  and,  that  he  may  treat  about  the  conditions 
tn  person,  he  asks  and  obtains  a  safe  conduct,  which 
ts  faithfully  maintained,  though  only  verbally  granted. 
Then  he  finds  mediators  :  and,  on  the  appomted  day, 
the  relations  of  the  two  hostile  families  are  assembled, 
And  the  criminal  is  introduced,  dragging  himself  along 
on  his  hands  and  feet,  the  musket,  pistol,  or  cutlass, 
with  which  he  committed  the  murder,  hung  about  his 
neck  ^  and  while  he  continues  in  that  humble  posture, 
one  mr  more  of  the  relations  recites  a  panegyric  on 
the  dead,  which  sometimes  rekindles  the  flames  of 
revenge,  and  puts  the  poor  prostrate  in  no  small  dan- 
ger. 

Hie  Morlacks,  whether  they  happen  to  be  of  the 
Boman  or  of  the  Greek  church,  have  very  singular 
ideas  about  religion :  and  the  ignorance  of  their  teach- 
ers daily  augments  this  monstrous  evil.  They  are  as 
firmly  persuaded  of  the  reality  of  witches,  fairies,,  en-^ 
chantments,  nocturnal  apparitions,  and  sortileges,  as 
if  they  had  seen  a  thousand  examples  of  them.  Nor 
ilo  they  make  the  least  doubt  about  the  existence  of 
vampires :  and  attribute  to  them,  as  in  Transylvania, 
the  sucking  the  blood  of  infants.  Therefore,  when 
a  man  dies  suspected  of  becoming  a  vampire,  or  VU' 
kodink^  as  they  call  it,  they  cut  his  hams,  and  prick 
his  whole  body  with  pins  j  pretending,  that  after 
this  operation  he  cannot  walk  about.  There  are  even 
Instances  of  Morlacehi,  who,  imagining  that  they  may 
possibly  thirst  for  children's  blood  after  death,  entreat 
their  heirs,  and  sometimes  oblige  them  to  promise,  to 
treat  them  as  vampires  when  tbey  die. 

A  most  perfect  discord  reigns  in  Morlacchia,  as  it 
generally  does  in  othe^  P^^i^y  between  the  Latin  and 
Greek  communion,  which  their  respective  priests  fail 
not  to  foment,  and  tell  a  thousand  little  scandalous  sto* 
ries  of  each  other.  The  churches  of  the  Latins  are 
poor,  but  not  very  dirty  ^  those  of  the  Greeks  are 
equally  poor,  and  shamefully  ill  kept.  Our  author 
has  seen  the  curate  of  a  Morlack  village  sitting  on  the 
ground  in  the  churchyard,  to  hear  the  confession  of 
women  on  their  knees  by  his  side  :  a  strange  posture 
indeed  !  but  a  proof  of  the  innocent  manners  of  those 
good  people,  who  have  the  most  profound  veneration 
for  their  spiritual  pastors,  and  a  total  dependence  upon 
them  \  who,  on  their  part,  frequently  make  use  of  a 
discipline  rather  military,  and  correct  the  bodies  of 
their  offending  flock  with  the  cudgel. 

Innocence,  and  the  natural  liberty  of  pastoral  ages, 
are  still  preserved  among  the  Morlacehi,  or  at  least 
many  traces  of  them  remain  in  the  places  farthest  di- 
stant from  our  settlements.  Pure  cordiality  of  senti- 
ment is  not  there  restrained  by  other  regards,  and  dis- 
plays itself  without  any  distinction  of  circumstances.  A 
young  handsome  Morlack  girl,  who  meets  a  man  of  her 
district  on  the  road,  kisses  him  afiectionately,  without 
the  least  imputation  of  impropriety ;  and  M.'Tortis 
has  seen  all  the  women  and  girls,  all  the  young  men 
and  old,  kissing  one  another  as  they  came  into  the 
chnrcbyard  on  a  holiday  \  so  that  they  looked  as  if 
they  all  belonged  to  one  family.  He  often  observed 
the  same  thing  on  the  road,  and  at  the  tarn  in  the  ma^ 

Vol,  XIV.  Part  IL  "      f 


The  dress  of  the  unmarried  women  is  the  roost  com^* 
plex  and  whimsical,  in  respect  to  the  ornaments  of  the 
head ;  for  when  married  tbey  are  not  allowed  to  wear 
any  thing  else  but  a  handkerchief,  either  white  or  co- 
loured tied  about  it.  The  girls  use  a  scarlet  cap,  to 
which  they  commonly  hang  a  veil  falling  down  on  the 
shoulders,  as  a  mark  of  their  virginity.  *  The  better 
sort  adorn  their  caps  with  strings  of  silver  coins,  a- 
mong  which  are  frequently  seen  very  ancient  and  va- 
luable ones  \  they  have  moreover  ear  ring»  of  very  cu- 
rious work,  and  small  stiver  chains  with  the  figures  of 
half  moons  fastened  to  the  ends  of  them.  But  the  poor 
are  forced  to  content  themselves  with  plain  caps  ;  or  if 
they  have  any  ornaments,  they  consist  only  of  small 
exotic  shells,  round  glass  beads,  or  bits  of  tin.  The 
principal  merit  of  these  caps,  which  constitute  the 
good  taste  as  well  as  vanity  of  the  Morlack  young 
ladies,  is  to  attract  and  fix  the  eyes  of  all  who  are 
near  to  them  by  the  multitude  of  ornaments,  and  tbd 
noise  they  make  on  the  least  motion  of  their  heads.* 

Both  old  and  young  women  w^ar  about  their  necks 
large  strings  of  round  glass  beads,  of  various  site  and 
colour;  and  many  rings  of  brass,  tin,  or  silver,  on 
their  fingers.  Their  bracelets  are  of  leather  covered 
with  wrought  tin  or  silver  \  and  they  embroider  their, 
stomachers,  or  adorn  them  with  beads  or  shells.  But 
the  use  of  stays  is  unknown,  nor  do  they  put  whale- 
bone or  iron  in  the  stomacher.  A  broad  woollen 
girdle  surrounds  their  petticoat,  which  is"  commonly 
decked  with  diells,  and  of  blue  colour,  and  therefore 
called  modrina.  Their  gown  as  well  as  petticoat,  is 
of  a  kind  of  serge  \  and  both  reach  near  to  the  ancle : 
the  gown  is  bordered  with  scarlet,  and  called  sadak 
They  use  no  modrina  in  summer,  and  only  'wear  the 
sadak  without  sleeves  over  a  linen  petticoat  or  shif^.-^ 
The  girls  always  wear  red  stockings  ;  and  their  shoes 
are  like  those  of  the  men,  called  opanlce.  The  sole  is 
of  undressed  ox  hide,  and  the  upper  part  of  sheep^s  skin 
thongs  knotted,  which  they  call  apute  ;  and  these  they 
fiwten  above  the  ancles,  something  like  the  ancient  co* 
thnmus.  The  unmarried  women,  even  of  the  richest 
families,  are  not  permitted  to  wear  any  other  sort  of 
shoes  ;  though  after  marriage,  they  may,  if  they  vnll, 
lay  aside  the  opanke,  and  use  the  Turkish  •  slippers; 
The  girls  keep  their  hair  tressed  under  their  caps,  but 
when  married  they  let  it  fall  dishevelled  on  the  breast  ^ 
sometimes  they  tie  it  under  the  chin  ^  and  always  have 
medals,  beads,  or  bored  coins,  in  the  Tartar  or  Ame- 
rican mode  twisted  amongst  it. 

Nothing  is  more  common  among  the  Morlacehi  than 
marriages  concluded  between  the  old  people  of  the  re«> 
spective  families,  especially  when  the  parties  live  at  a 
great  distance,  and  neither  see  nor  know  each  other  ( 
and  the  ordinary  motive  of  these  alliances  is  the  am- 
bition of  being  related  to  a  numerous  and  powerful  fa^ 
.mily,  famous  for  having  produced  valiant  men.  A  de- 
nial in  such  cases  is  very  rare ;  nor  does  the  father  of 
the  maid  inquire  much  into  the  circumstances  of  the  fifi* 
liiily  that  asks  her.  Sometimes  a  daughter  of  the  master 
is  given  in  marriage  to  the  servant  or  tenant,  as  was 
usual  in  patriarchal  times;  so  little  are  the  women  re- 

Srded  in  this  country,     cut  on  these  occasions,  the^ 
orlacchi  girls  enjoy  the  privilege  ef  Kfasal.    For  h» 

3  F  who 


MOB  [    4« 

MoifaceU.  wbo  aeU  by  proxy,  having  obtained  bis  suit,  is  oUi^ 
'to  go  and  bring  tbe  bridegroom  :  and,  if  on  seeiog 
each  otber,  tbe  young  people  are  recipracally  content, 
tbe  marriage  is  concluded,  but  not  otberwise.  In  wNae 
parto  it  is  tbe  custom  for  tbe  bride  to  go  to  see  tbe  bouse 
and  family  of  tbe  proposed  bnsband,  before  sbe  gives 
a  definitive  answer  ^  and  if  tb^  place  or  persons  are 
disagreeable  to  ber,  sbe  is  at  liberty  to  annul  tbe  con- 
tract. 

.  Tbe  bride  is  conducted  to  a  cbnrcb,  veiled,  and  sur- 
rounded by  tbe  friends  of  the  bridegroom,  or  svatt\  as 
tbey  are  called,  on  bocseback}  and  tbe  sacred  oero- 
mony  is  performed  amidst  the  noise  of  muskets,  pistols^ 
barbaric  shouts  and  acclamations,  which  continue  till 
she  return  to  her  fatber^s  house  or  to  that  of  her  bua- 
hand,  if  not  far  oSl  The  first  day^s  eDtertaiument  is 
sometimes  made  at  tbe  bride's  house,  but  generally  at 
the  bridegroom's,  whither  the  svati  hasten  immediately 
after  tbe  nuptial  benediction  ^  and  at  tbe  same  time  three 
or  four  men  run  on  foot  to  tell  the  good  news }  the  first 
who  gets  to  tbe  house  has  a  kind  of  a  towel  embroidered 
at  tbe  ends,  as  a  premium.  Tbe  domacbin,  or  bead  of 
tbe  bouse,  comes  out  to  meet  bis  daughter-in-law  ^  and 
a  child  is  banded  to  her,  before  she  alights,  to  caress  it; 
and  if  tbere  happen  to  be  none  in  the  house,  tbe  child 
is  borrowed  from  one  of  the  neighbours.  When  she 
alights,  she  kneels  down,  and  kisses  the  threshold.— 
Then  the  mother-in-law,  or  in  her  place  some  other 
female  relation,  presents  a  eom  sieve,  full  of  different 
kinds  of  grain,  nuts,  almonds,  and  other  small  fruit, 
wbioh  tbe  bride  scattei-s  upon  tbe  svati,  by  handfuls, 
behind  her  back.  The  bride  does  not  sit  at  the  great 
table  tbe  first  day,  but  has  one  apart  for  herself,  the 
two  diveri,  and  the  stacheo.  The  bridegroom  sits  at 
table  with  tbe  svati ;  but  in  all  that  day,  consecrated  to 
the  matrimonial  union,  be  must  neither  unloosen  nor  cut 
any  thing  whatever.  Tbe  knum  carves  his  moat,  and 
isuts  bis  bread.  It  is  the  domaebin's  bosiness  to  give 
tbe  toasts  ^  and  tbe  stari-svat  is  tbe  first  who  pledges 
him.  Generally  the  bukkara,  a  very  large  wooden 
cup,  goes  Tound,  first  to  tbe  saint  protector  of  the  fa- 
mily $  next  to  tbe  prosperitj  of  tlm  holy  faith ;  and 
sometimes  to  a  name  the  most  sublime  and  venerable. 
The  most  extravagant  abundance  re^sat  these  feasts; 
^nd  each  of  the  svati  contributes,  by  sending  a  share 
of  provisions.  The  dinner  begins  with  iruit  *  and 
cheese  ^  and  tbe  soup  comes  last,  just  contrary  to  our 
custom.  All  sorts  of  domestic  fowls,  kid,  lamb,  and 
sometimes  veotson^  are  heaped  in  prodigal  quantities 
upon  their  tables. 

These  nuptial  feasts,  called  adravc  by  the  ancient 
Hans,  are  by  the  Moriacchi  caMed  sdrttviaie,  from 
whence  tbe  Italian  wurd  Hnmuauk  is  Widoubtedly  de- 
rived. Tbey  continue  three,  six,  eight,  or  more  days, 
aocordioc  to  the  ability  or  prodigal  disposition  of  the 
family  whore  they  are  held.  The  new  married  wife 
gets  no  inconsiderable  profit  in  these  days  of  joy :  and 
it  usually  amounts  to  much  more  than  all  the  jrartion 
she  brings  with  bar,  which  often  consists  of  nothing 
but  her  own  clothes  and  perhaps  a  eow  \  nay,  it  bap- 
pens  sometimes  that  tbe  parents,  insteaid  of  giving 
money  with  their  daughter,  gel  somedui^  from  the 
bffidegreom  by  way  of  price.  The  bride  carries  water 
every  morning,  to  wash  the  bands  of  her  guests  ae  long 
no  tlii  fencing  hale  >  aodcechofdMai  tbeemi&iBttU 


o    ]  MOB 

piece  of  money  into  the  bason  after  perfbtauig  tku  Miriai^ 
function,  which  is  a  very  rare  one  among  than,  except*  lUn^. 
ing  on  snch  occasions.  .  ^ 

The  Moriacchi  pass  their -yooth  in  the  woods,  at- 
tending their  fioeks  and  herds  ^  and  in  that  life  of  quiet 
and  leisure  they  often  become  dexlesons  in  carving  with 
a  simple  knife :  they  make  wooden  cups^  and  whistles 
adorned  with  fanciful  has  xeUe6,  which  are  not  vsid 
of  merit,  and  at  least  show  the  geoias  of  tbe  people. 

MOBNAY,  Philiffk  de,  seigneur  du  Flessis 
Mariy,  was  bom  at  Boby  or  Bisbuy  in  Upper  Nomaa* 
dy  in  France,  in  1549,  and  was  educated  at  Paris. 
What  was  thmi  thought  a  prodigy  in  a  gentleman,  be 
made  a  rapid  progress  in  tbe  belles  lettres,  in  the 
learned  languages,  and  in  theology^  He  was  at  fint 
destined  for  the  church  \  but  the  principles  of  Calvi. 
nism,  which  he  had  imbibed  from  hb  mother,  eflee- 
tnally  excluded  him  from  the  ecclesiastical  prefennenu 
to  which  he  was  entitled  by  his  interest,  abilities, 
and  birth.  After  the  horrible  massacre  of  St  Bartho- 
lomew, Philippe  de  Momay  made  the  tour  of  Italy, 
Germany,  England,  and  the  Low  Countries  j  mad  be 
was  equally  improved  and  delighted  by  his  travels. 
Mornay  afterwards  joined  tlie  king  of  Navarre,  at  that 
time  leader  of  the  Protestant  party,  and  so  well  known 
since  by  the  name  of  Henry  IV.  This  prince  sent 
Momay,  who  employed  his  whole  abilities,  both  as 
a  soldier  and  a  writer,  in  deCence  of  the  Protestant 
cause,  to  conduct  a  negociation  with  £lizabeth  queen 
of  Engbmd  \  and  left  him  wholly  to  his  own  discretistt 
in  the  management  of  that  business.  He  was  soece«s- 
ful  in  almost  every  negociation,  because  he  coudnd- 
ed  it  like  an  able  politician,  and  not  with  a  spirit  of 
intrigue.  He  tenderly  loved  Henry  IV.  and  spoks 
to  htm  on  all  occasions  as  to  a  friends  VThen  he  was 
wounded  at  Anmale,  he  wrote  to  him  in  these  words : 
*'  Sire,  You  have  long  enough  acted  the  part  sf 
Alexander,  it  is  now  time  yon  should  act  that  of 
Csesar.  It  is  our  duty  to  die  for  your  majesty,  &e. 
It  is  glorious  for  you,  Sire,  that  I  dare  venture  to  teH 
you  it  is  your  duty  to  live  fiur  us.*'  This  fiiitblid 
subject  did  every  thing  in  his  power  to  raise  Heuy 
to  the  tbrcme.  but  when  he  deserted  the  Protestant 
failhi  he  reproached  him  in  the  bitterest  manner,  and 
retired  finom  court.  Henry  still  loved  him  ^  and  was 
extremely  afiectcd  with  an  insult  which  be  received  in 
1597  firem  one  Saint  Phal^  who  beat  him  with  a 
cud^},  and  kft  him  for  dead.  Moraay  demanded 
justice  from  the  kins,  who  g^ve  him  the  foUowing 
answer,  a  proof  a3  weU  of  his  spirit  as  of  his  goodnem 
of  heart.  *'  Monsieur  Dnplessis,  I  am  exceedingly  s(> 
fended  at  the  insult  you  have  received  \  and  I  svmpa- 
tbize  with  you  both  as  your  sovereign  and  your  niead. 
In  the  former  opacity,.  I  shall  do  justice  to  yon  and 
to  myself}  and  had  I  sustained  only  tbe  diaracter  cf 
year  friend,  tbere  are  few  perhaps  who  would  bave 
drawn  their  sword  or  sacrificed  tbor  life  mors  cbccr> 
folly  in  your  cause*  Be  satisfied,  then,  that  I  will  act 
tbe  part  of  a  king,  a  master,  and  a  friend,^  &c.  Msi^ 
nay's  knowledge,  probity,  and  valour,  made  him  tbe 
soul  of  tbe  ^otestant  party,  and  procured  him  the 
contemptuous  apnelfaition  of  the  Pope  of  the  Mugnem^ 
He  defended  their  doctrines  both  by  speech  and  writ- 
ing. One  of  his  books  on  the  Iniquity  of  the  Mam, 
having  stixied  up  all  the  Catholie  divines^  be  jsfemd 

to 


M    O    R  C    4 

to  make  any  reply  to  tbeii*  censures  anci  criticisms 
except  in  a  public  conference.  This  was  accordingly 
appointed  to  be  beld  A.  D.  1600,  at  Fountainbleau, 
frhere  the  court  then  was.  The  two  champions  were, 
Du  Perron  bishop  of  Evreux,  and  Momay.  After  0l 
great  many  arguments  and  replies  on  both  sides,  the 
victory  was  adjudged  to  Du  Perron.  He  had  boasted 
that  be  would  point  out  to  the  satisfaction  «f  every 
one  five  hundred  errors  in  his  ad\'ersary*a  book,  and 
lie  partly  kept  his  word.  The  Calvinista  did  not  fail 
to  claim  the  victory  on  this  occasion,  and  they  still 
continue  to  do  so.  xliis  conference,  Instead  of  putting 
ma  end  to  the  differences,  was  productive  of  new  quarrels 
among  the  controversialists,  and  of  much  profane  wit 
among  the  libertines.  A  Huguenot  minister,  who  was 
present  at  the  conference,  observed  with  great  concern 
to  a  captain  of  the  same  party ^-—'^  The  bishop  of  Evreux 
has  already  driven  Momay  from  several  strong  holds.*' 
*^  No  matter  (replied  the  soldier),  provided  he  does  not 
drive  him  from  Saumur.**  This  wa^  an  important 
place  on  the  river  Loire,  of  which  Duplessis  was  go- 
vernor. Hither  be  retired,  his  attention  being  con- 
stantly occapied  in  defending  the  Huguenots,  and  in 
making  himself  formidable  to  the  Catholics.  When 
Louis  Xin.  was  making  preparations  against  the  Pro- 
testants, Duplessis  wrote  him  a  letter,  dissuading  him 
-from  such  a  measure.  After  employing  the  most 
plausible  arguments,  he  concludes  in  the  following 
manner ;  "  To  make  war  on  the  subject,  is  an  indi- 
cation of  weakness  in  the  government.  Authority 
consists  in  the  quiet  submission  of  the  people^  and  is 
•established  by  the  prudence  and  justice  of  the  governor. 
:Force  of  arms  ought  never  to  be  employed  except  in  re« 
pelling  a  foreign  enemy.  The  late  king  wonld  have  sent 
the  new  minbters  of  state  to  learn  the  first  elements  of 
politics,  who  like  unskilful  surgeons  would  apply  violent 
remedies  to  every  disease,  and  advise  a  man  to  cut  off  an 
«rm  when  his  finger  aches.'*  These  remonstrances  pro- 
duced BO  other  effect  than  the  loss  of  the  government  of 
Saomur,  of  whtdi  he  was  deprived  by  Loub  XIII.  in 
•3621.  He  died  two  years  after,  November  ix.  1623, 
.aged  74,  in  his  barony  de  la  For^i^sur-Seure  in  Poitou. 
Toe  Protestant  cause  never  had  an  abler  supporter,  or 
'One  who  did  it  more  credit  by  his  virtues  and  abili- 
ties. 

Cemeur  des  courtimm$^  mats  i  ia  cour  ami; 

ennemd  de  Rome^  et  de  Borne  eiff iW.«— HsNRI  ADE. 


Moroc 

II 

Morocco. 


The  following  is  a  list  of  his  works :  J,  Un  TraitS 
de  PRuchariste^  1604,  in  folio.  2.  Vn  Traiii  de  la 
^^riti  de  la  Religion  Chretienne^  8vo.  3.  A  book  en- 
titled La  Mystere  d*IniqttitS^  4to.  4.  Un  discours  sur  le 
droit  preiendu  par  ceux  de  la  maison  de  Guise^  8vo. 
5.  Curious  and  interesting  Memoirs  from  the  year  1572 
to  1629,  4  ^^^^*  4^®*  valuable.  6.  Letters;  which  are 
vrritten  with  great  spirit  and  good  sense.  David  des 
Liques  has  given  us  his  life  in  quarto.^  a  book  more  in- 
teresting for  the  matter  than  the  manner. 

MORNE-garou,  a  very  remarkable  volcanic  moun- 
tain on  the  island  of  St  Vincent*s  in  the  West  Indies. 
^t  was  visited  by  Mr  James  Anderson  surgeon  in  the 
year  1764.    See  St  Vincents. 

MOROC,  or  Makoc,  a  beautiful  bird  of  Abyssinia, 
described  by  Mr  Bruce,  who  thinks  its  name  is  derived 
from  mar^  **  honey,^'  though  he  says  thathe  never  heard 


Ti     ]  M    O    R 

it  was  further  concerned  in  the  honey  than  destroying 
bees.  It  seems  to  pursue  those  insects  out  of  enmity  or 
diversion  as  welt  as  for  food,  leaving  great  numbers  dead 
on  tbe  ground,  besides  those  which  it  devours  for  food. 

The  moroc  resembles  tbe  cuckoo  in  size  and  shape, 
but  differs  iu  other  respects.  Its  mouth  is  very  wide, 
the  opening  reaching  almost  to  its  eyes  ;  the  inside  of 
the  mouth  and  throat  yellow,  the  tongue  sharp-point- 
ed, and  capable  of  being  drawn  almost  half  its  length 
out  of  the  mouth  beyond  the  point  of  its  beak,  and  is 
very  flexible.  The  head  and  neck  are  brown,  without 
any  mixture  of  other  colours :  there  are  likewise  a  num- 
ber of  very  small  and  scarcely  visible  hairs  at  the  root 
of  the  beak. 

This  seems  to  be  the  bird  mentioned  by  Sparman 
under  the  name  of  cuculus  indicator^  which  (he  says) 
has  the  singular  property  of  discovering  the  nests  of  wild 
bees,  and  leading  travellers  by  a  eertain  cry  to  the  place 
where  the  treasure  is  deposited.  According  to  Spar- 
man's  account,  it  makes  known  these  discoveries  by  the 
same  cry  to  foxes  as  well  as  to  the  human  species  \  but 
Jerome  Lobo,  who  mentions  the  Abyssinian  bird,  takei 
no  notice  of  the  foxes,  though  he  mentions  its  singing 
melodiously  when  it  arrives  at  the  place  where  the  honey 
is  deposited.  Both  these  accounts  are  severely  criticised 
by  Mr  Bruce,  who  says,  that  honey  is  so  abundant  on 
every  hillock  and  every  tree,  that  a  bird  possessing  this 
faculty  could  be  of  no  use  to  man  or  to  any  other  ani- 
mal in  that  country,  and  that  having  never  heard  of 
such  a  bird  in  Abyssinia,  be  considers  the  account  of  it 
as  a  fiction. 

MORNING,  the  beginning  of  the  day,  or  the  time 
of  the  sun  rising.  The  astronomers  reckon  morning, 
nutne^  from  the  time  of  midnight  to  that  of  mid-day. 
Thus  an  eclipse  is  said  to  begin  at  li  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  &c. 

Morning  star,  is  the  planet  Venus,  when  a  little  to 
the  westward  of  the  sun ;  that  is,  when  she  rises  a  iittle 
before.  In  this  situation  she  is  called  by  the  Greeks 
Pfwsphorus  ;  by  the  Latins  Lucifer^  &c.  , 

MOROCCO,  an  empire  of  Africa,  comprehending  Sitantion 
a  considerable  part  of  the  ancient  Mauritania,  is  bound-  <Mid[  boun- 
ed  on  the  west  by  the  Atlantic  ocean  \  on  the  east  1^  danes. 
the  river  Mnlvya,  which  separates  it  from  Algiers ;  on 
the  north  by  the  Mediterranean  \  and  on  the  south  by 
Mount  Atlas,  or  rather  by  the  river  Sus,  which  di- 
vides it  from  the  kingdom  of  Tafilet.  Its  greatest  length 
18  from  the  north-east  to  the  south-west,  amounting  to 
above  590  miles ;  its  breadth  is  not  above  260  where 
broadest,  and  in  the  narrowest  places  it  is  not  .above 
half  that  breadth.  ^ 

The  ancient  histoiy  of  Morocco  has  been  already  Hiistory. 
given  under  the  article  Mauritania.  It  continued 
under  the  dominion  of  the  Romans  upwards  of  400 
years.  On  the  decline  of  that  empire  it  fell  rnider 
the  Goths,  who  held  it  till  about  the  year  600,  when 
the  Goths  were  driven  out  by  the  Van.dals,  the  Van- 
dals by  the  Greeks,  and  they  in  their  turn  by  the 
Saracens,  who  conquered  not  only  this  empire^  .out 
we  may  say  the  whole  continent  of  ACrio^L^^^  at  least 
their  religion,  one  way  or  other,  is  to  be  found  in  all 
parts  of  it.  The  Saracen  .empire  did  not  continue 
long  united  under  oue  head,  and  many  princes  set  up 
for  themselves  in  Africa  as  well  as  elsewhere,  through 
whose   dissensioni  :;,the  Almoravides  were  at  length 

3  F  a  raised 


3 
GoTcrn- 

mcBt. 


M    O    R  E    41 

Morocco,  vused  to  tbe  sovereignty,  a8  related  under  the  article 
Algiers,  N^  a.  1  asef,  or  Joseph,  the  second  mo- 
narch of  that  line,  hnilt  the  citv  of  Morocco,  con- 
quered the  kingdom  of  Fez,  and  the  Moorish  domi- 
nions in  Spain  ^  all  which  were  lost  by  his  girandson 
Abbu  Halli,  who  was  defeated  and  killed  by  the  Spa- 
niards. On  this  prin^e^s  death  the  crown  passed  to 
the  Mobedians,  or  Almohedes,  with  whom  it  had  not 
continued  above  three  generations,  when  Mohammed 
the  son  of  Al  Mansur  Tost  the  famous  battle  of  SieiTa 
Morena,  in  which  200,000  Moors  were  slain,  and  in 
consequence  of  which  Alphonso  X.  retook  a  great 
many  of  the  Moorish  conquests  immediately  after. 

Mohammed  died  soon  after  this  disgrace,  and  left 
several  sons,  between  whom  a  civil  war  ensued,  during 
which  the  viceroys  of  Fez,  Tunis,  andTremesen,  found 
means  to  establish  themselves  as  independent  princes. 
At  length  one  of  the  princes  of  the  royal  blood  of 
Tremesen  having  defeated  the  Almohedes,  made  him- 
self master  of  the  kingdoms  of  Morocco  and  Fez,  and 
entailed  them  on  his  own  family.  In  a  short  time, 
however,  this  family  was  expelled  by  the  Merini,  the 
Meriniby  tbe  Oataze?,  and  these  by  the  Sharifs  of 
Hascen,  who  have  kept  the  government  ever  sisce. 

Nothing  can  be  conceived  more  unjust  and  despotic 
than  the  government  of  Morocco,  and  nothing  more  de- 
generate than  the  character  of  the  people.  The  em- 
peror is  allowed  to  have  not  only  an  uncontrollable 
power  over  the  lives  and  fortunes  of  his  subjects,  but 
in  a  great  measure  over  their  consciences,  in  as  much  as 
be  is  the  only  person  who,  as  the  successor  of  the  pro- 
phet, has  a  right  to  interpret  the  Koran  ^  and  appoints 
'all  the  judges  under  him,  of  whom  those  of  Morocco 
and  Fez  are  the  chief,  whose  business  it  is  to  explain 
and  dispense  all  matters  relating  to  their  religion  ^  and 
who,  being  his  creatures  and  dependents,  dare  not  steer 
otherwise  than  as  he  directs.  Whenever  therefore  the 
laws  are  enacted  by  him,  and  proclaimed  by  his  gover- 
nors in  all' the  provinces,  as  is  commonly  done,  |bat  none 
may  plead  ignorance,  they  are  everywhere  received 
wim  an  implicit  and  religious  submission.  On  the 
other  band,  tbe  subjects  are  bred  up  with  a  notion,  that 
'  those  who  die  in  the  execution  of  his  command  are  en- 
titled to  an  immediate  admittance  into  paradise,  and 
those  who  have  the  honour  to  die  by  his  hand  to  a  still 
greater  degree,  of  happiness  in  it.  After  this  we  need 
not  wonder  at  finding  so  much  cruelty,  oppression,  and 
tyranny  on  the  one  side,  and  so  mucn  submission,  pas* 
^  siveness  and  misery  on  the  other. 
Account  of  This  latter,  however,  extends  no  farther  than  the 
the  black  Moors :  for  as  to  the  mountaiqeers,  tbe  subjection  and 
troops.  tribute  they. pay  to  those  tyrants  was  always  involun- 
tary 'f  and  as  for  the  negroes,  their  zeal  and  attachment 
is  owing  merely  to  the  great  sway  and  power  which 
they  have  gained  in  tbe  government,  on  various  ac- 
counts. They  were  first  introduced,  or  rather  their  im- 
portation increased,  by  the  policy  oi  Muley  Ishmael,  a 
late  emperor,  at  a  period  when  there  was  a  great  de- 
crease of  population  in  the  empire,  occasioned  in  some 
degree  by  the  enormous  cruelties  exercised  by  its  former 
sovereigns,  who  have  been  known  not  unfirequently, 
through  a  slight  disgust,  to  abandon  a  whole  town  or 
province  to  tbe  sword.  In  the  character  of  Muley  Ish- 
nnael  were  found  the  most  singular  inconsistencies  ^  for 
it  is  certain,  ''that  although  a  tyrant,  yet  in  other  re- 


a    ]  M    O    R 

8pects,AS  if  to  repair  the  mischief  which  be  comoutted,  Mmwc*. 
he  left  nothing  Undone  for  the  encouragement  of  popa- 
lutiou.— -He  introduced  large  colonies  of  negroes  from 
Guinea  j  built   towns   for  tbero,  many  of  which  art 
still  remaining,  assigned  them  portions  of  land,    and 
encouraged  their  increase   by   every  possible  means. 
He  soon  initiated  them  in  the  Mahometan  faith  ^  and 
had  his  plan  been  followed,  the  country  by  this  time 
would  have  been  populous,   and  probably  flourishing. 
As  the  negroes  are  of  a  more  lively,  active  and  enter- 
prising disposition  than  the  Moors,  they  might  soon 
have  been  taught  the  arts  of  agriculture  ^  and  their  sin- 
gular ingenuity  might  have  been  directed  to  other  use- 
ful purposes.     It  is  true,  Muley   Ishmael,  when  be 
adopted  this  plan,  had  more  objects  in  view  than  that 
of  merely  peopling  his  dominions.    He  saw  plainly  that 
his  own  subjects  were  of  too  capricious  a  disposition  to 
form  soldiers  calculated   for   his  tyrannical   purposes. 
They  had  uniformly  manifested  an  inclination  to  change 
their  sovereign^,  though  more  from  the  love  of  variety 
than  to  reform  tbe  government,  or  restrain  the  abuses 
of  tyranny.     Muley  Ishmael  had  discernment  enough 
to  see,  that  by  forming  an  army  of  slaves,  whose  sole 
dependence  should  rest  upon  their  roaster,  be  ooold  easily 
train  them  in  such  a  manner  as  to  act  in  the  strictest 
conformity  to  his  wishes.     He   soon   learnt   that  tbe 
great  object  with  the  negroes  was  plenty  of  money  and 
Dberty  of  plunder  ^  in  these  he  liberal  ly  indulged  tbcm, 
and  the  plan  fiilly  answered  his  expectations.   Thoon^, 
however,  Muley  Ishmael  had  no  great  merit  in  introdo- 
cing  subjects  for  the  purposes  of  tyranny,  yet  the  good 
effects  of  this  new  colonization  were  very  generally  ex- 
perienced.    By  intermarrying  among  themselvea^  and 
intermixing  among  the  Moors  (for  the  Moors  will  keep 
negro  women  as  concubines,  though  they  seldom  many 
them),  a  new  race  of  people  started  up,  who  became  as 
useful  subjects  as  the  native  inhabitants,  and  brought  the 
empire  into  a  much  more  flourishing  state  than  it  had 
ever  been  in  since  their  great  revolution. 

Sidt  Mahomet,  his  grandson  aud  successor,  had  dif- 
ferent views,  and  was  actuated  by  different  motives. 
From  his  inordinate  avarice,  he  ceased  to  act  towards 
his  black  troops  in  the  generous  manner  which  had  di- 
stinguished his  predecessor  Muley  Ishmael  ^  and  they 
soon  showed  themselves  discontented  with  his  oondocL 
They  offered  to  place  his  eldest  son  Muley  Ali,  on  the 
throne^  but  this  prince,  not  unmindful  of  the  do^ 
which  he  owed  his  father  and  sovereign,  declined  their 
offer.  They  next  applied  to  Muley  1  azid,  who  at  first 
accepted  of  the  assistance  they  tendered,  but  in  a  short 
time  relinquished  the  plan.  Sidi  Mahomet,  disgnsled 
with  this  conduct  of  the  negroes,  determined  to  cub 
their  growing  power,  by  disbanding  a  considerable  part 
of  these  troops,  and  banishing  them  to  distant  puts  of 
the  empire. 

A  most  flagrant  raecies  of  despotism,  which  renders^ 
the  emperors  more  rormidable  to  their  subjects,  is  their tfditi 
making  themselves  their  sole  heirs,  and,  in  virtue  of  that,P"*"^ 
seizing  upon  all  their  effects,  and  making  only  sncb  pro- 
vision for  their  families  as  they  think  proper  )  and  often, 
on  some  frivolous  pretence,  leaving  them  destitute  of 
any,  according  to  the  liking  or  dblike  they  bear  to  ths 
deceased  ^  so  that,  upon  the  whole,  they  are  the  only  aa- 
kers,  judges,  and  interpreters,  and  in  many  uHtaiioes 
likewise  the  executioners,  of  their  own  laws,  which  have 


ao 


woeeo 


6 
Antionof 


M    O    R  [ 

00  dtlier  limits  tluui  their  own  fttUItxary  will*  The 
titles  which  the  emperors  of  Morocco  Assume^  are  those 
of  Mastghriowt^  ^^g^y^  ond  noble  emperor  of  Afric  ; 
ibjo^  ifFe%  and  Morocco^  Tafikt^  Suss^  Dorha^  and  ail 
the  Algarbe^  and  its  territories  in  Africa  grand  Sharif 
(or»  as  others  write  it,  Xar^^  that  is,  successor,  or  vice- 
gerent), of  the  great  Prophet  Mohammed^  Sfc. 

The  judges  or  magistrates  who  act  immediately  under 
the  emperor  are  either  spiritual  or  temporal,  or  rather 
ecclesiastical  and  military.  The  mufti  and  the  cadis  are 
judges  of  all  religions  and  civil  affiurs^  and  the  bashaws, 
governors,  alcaides,  and  other  military  officers,  of  those 
that  concern  the  state  or  the  army :  all  of  them  the  most 
obsequious  creatures  and  slaves  of  their  prince,  and  no 
less  the  rapacious  tyrants  of  his  subjects,  and  from  whom 
neither  justice  nor  favour  can  he  obtained  but  by  mere 
dint  of  money  and  extortionate  bribery,  from  the  high- 
est to  the  lowest.  Neither  can  it  indeed  be  otherwise 
in  such  an  arbitrary  government,  where  the  highest 
posts  must  not  only  be  bought  of  the  prince  at  a  most 
extravagant  price,  and  kept  only  by  as  exorbitant  a  tri- 
bute, which  is  yearly  paid  to  him,  hot  where  no  one  is 
sore  to  continue  longer  than  be  can  bribe  soipe  of  the 
courtiers  to  insinuate  to  the  monarch  that  he  pays  to  the 
otmost  of  his  power  and  much  beyond  what  was  expec- 
ted firom  him.  There  are  instances  of  the  sultan  eleva- 
ting at  once  a  conunon  soldier  to  the  rank  of  a  bashaw, 
er  making  him  a  confidential  friend  \  the  following  day 
be  would  perhaps  imprison  him,  or  reduce  him  again  to 
the  station  of  private  soldier.  Yet  such  is  the  dispo* 
aition  of  these  people,  that  they  have  an  unbounded 
thirst  for  rank  and  power  with  all  their  uncertainties  > 
mud  what  is  more  estraordioaryy  when  they  have  ob- 
tained a  high  station,  they  seldom  fail  to  afford  their 
sovereign  a  plea  for  ill  treating  them,  by  abusing  in 
.  some  way  or  other  their  trust. 
lUjU  ftve-  From  what  has  been  said,  it  may  be  reasonably  con- 
cluded that  the  revenue  arising  to  the  emperor  from  the 
last  mentioned  source,  that  of  bribery,  extortion,  and 
confiscation,  must  be  very  considerable,  though  there  is 
no  possibility  to  make  any  other  conjecture  of  its  real 
amount  than  that  it  must  be  an  immense  one.  Another 
cxmsiderable  branch  is  the  piratical  trade,  which  brings 
tlie  greater  income  into  his  treasury,  as  he  is  not  at  any 
expence  either  for  fitting  out  of  corsair  vessels,  or  main- 
taining their  men  \  and  yet  has  the  tenth  of  all  the  car- 
go and  of  all  the  captives  \  besides  which,  he  appropri- 
ates to  himself  all  the  rest  of  them,  by  paying  the  cap- 
tors 50  crowns  per  head,  by  which  means  he  engrosses* 
all  the  slaves  to  his  own  service  and  advantage.  This 
article  is  indeed  a  very  considerable  addition  to  his  re- 
veane,  not  only  as  he  sells  their  ransom  at  a  very  high 
rate,  bnt  likewise  as  he  has  the  profit  of  all  their  labour, 
without  allowing  them  any  other  maintenance  than  a 
little  bread  and  ml,  or  any  other  assistance  when  sick, 
than  what  medicines  a  Spanish  convent,  which  he  tolera- 
rates  there,  gives  them  gratis  \  and  which,  nevertheless 
is  forced  to  pay  him  an  annual  present  for  that  toleia- 
tioo,  besides  fiimishing  the  court  with  medicines,  and 
the  slaves  with  lodging  and  diet  when  they  are  not  able 
to  work«  Another  hnuDch  of  his  revenue  consists  in  the 
tenth  part  of  all  cattle,  com,  fruits,  honey,  wax,  hides, 
rice,  and  other  products  of  the  earth,  which  is  exacted 
of  the  Arabs  and  Brebes,  as  well  as  of  the  natives)  and 
these  ace  levied,  or  rather  farmedi  by  the  bashaws,  go- 


8 


413     1  M    O    R 

vemors,  aleaides,  &c.  with  all  possible  severity.  The  Moneeo* 
Jews  and  Christians  likewise  pay  an  income  or  capita- ' 
tion,  the  former  of  six  crowns  per  head  on  all  males  from 
15  years  and  upwards,  besides  other  arbitrary  imposts, 
fines,  &c.  That  on  the  Christians,  for  the  liberty  of 
trading  in  his  dominions,  rises  and  falls  according  to 
their  number,  and  the  commerce  they  drive  ^  but  which, 
whatever  it  may  bring  yearly  into  bis  coffers,  is  yet  de- 
trimental to  trade  in  general,  seeing  it  discourages 
great  numbers  from  settling  there,  notwithstanding  the 
artful  invitations  which  the  emperors  and  their  ministers 
make  use  of  to  invite  them  to  it  j  for,  besides  those  ar- 
bitrary exactions,  there  is  still  another  great  hardship 
attending  them,  viz.  that  they  cannot  leave  the  country 
without  forfeiting  all  their  debts  and  effects  to  the 
crown.  The  duties  on  ail  imports  and  exports  is  ano- 
ther branch  of  his  income,  the  amount  of  which,  it  is 
said,  does  not  exceed  165,0001.  per  annum. 

The  climate  of  the  empire  of  Morocco  is  in  eeneral  ciim^e  oC 
sufficiently  temperate,  healthy,  and  not  so  hot  as  its  situ- Morocco. 
•  ation  might  lead  us  to  suppose.  The  chain  of  moun- 
tains which  form  Atlas,  on  the  eastern  side,  defends 
it  from  the  east  winds,  that  would  scorch  op  the  earth 
were  they  frequent.  The  summit  of  these  mountains 
is  always  covered  with  snow  \  and  their  abundant  de- 
scending streams  spread  verdure  through  the^  neigh- 
bourhood, make  the  winter  more  cold,  and  temper  the 
heats  of  summer.  The  sea  on  the  west  side,  which  ex^* 
tends  along  the  coast  from  north  to  south,  also  refreshes 
the  land  with  regular  breezes,  that  seldom  vary  accord- 
ing to  their  seasons.  At  a  distance  firom  the  sea,  with- 
in land,  the  heat  is  so  great,  that  the  rivulets  become 
dry  in  summer  ^  but  as  in  hot  countries  dews  are  plen- 
timl,  the  nights  are  there  always  cool.  The  rains  are 
tolerably  regular  in  winter  ^  and  are  even  abundant, 
though  the  atmosphere  is  not  loaded  with  clouds  as  in 
northern  latitudes.  Those  rains  which  faU  by  inter\'als 
aie  favourable  to  the  earth,  and  increase  its  fecundity. 
In  January  the  country  is  covered  with  verdure,  and 
enamelled  with  flowers.  Barley  is  cut  in  March,  but 
the  wheat  harvest  is  in  June.  All  fruits  are  eai-ly  in  this 
climate  >  and  in  forward  years  the  vintage  is  over  in  the 
beginning  of  September.  Though  in  general  there  is 
more  uniformity  and  less  variation  in  hot  than  in  north- 
em  climates,  the  first  are  nevertheless  exposed  to  the 
intemperance  of  weather:  too  heavy  rains  often  impede 
the  harvest  \  and  drought  has  still  greater  inconvenien- 
ces, for  it  ensures  the  propagation  of  locusts.  ^  ' 

The  soil  of  Morocco  is  exceedingly  fertile.  It  is  Soil,  and 
most  so  in  the  inland  provinces.  On  the  western  coast 
it  is  in  general  light  and  stony,  and  is  better  adapted  to 
the  vine  and  olive  than  the  culture  of  wheat.-  They  an- 
nnallj  bum,  before  the  September  rains,  the  stubble, 
which  is  left  rather  long }  and  this  and  the  dung  of 
cattle,  every  day  turned  to  pasture,  form  the  sole  ma- 
nure the  land  receives.  The  soil  requires  but  little 
labour  and  the  ploughing  is  so  light  that  the  furrows 
are  scarcely  six  inches  deep>  for  which  reason,  in  some 
provinces,  wooden  ploughshares  ajre  used  for  cheap- , 
ness.  ,0 

The  empire  of  Morocco  might  supply  itself  with  all  prodoc* 
necessaries,  as  well  from  the  abundance  and. nature  of^^**^ 
its  products,  as  from  the  few  natural  or  artificial  wants 
of  the  Moors  occasioned  by  climate  or  education.     Its 
wealth  consists  in  the  fruitfulness  of  its  soil;  its  com, 

fruits. 


M    O    R 


[    414    3 


M    O    R 


Morocco,  fivits,  flocks,  flax*  salt,  gums,  and  wax,  would  not  only 
supply  its  necessities,  but  yield  a  superflux,  whicb  might 
become  an  object  of  immense  traide  and  barter  with 
otber  nations.  Such  numerous  exports  might  return  an 
inexhaustible  treasure,  were  its  government  fixed  and 
secure,  and  did  subjects  enjoy  the  fruits  of  their  labour 
and  their  property  in  safety.  Hie  increase  of  com  in 
Morocco  is  often  as  sixty  to  one,  and  thirty  is  held  to 
be  but  an  indifferent  barrest. 

The  Moors,  naturally  indolent,  take  little  care  of  the 
culture  of  their  fruits.  Oranges,  lemons,  and  thick 
skinned  fruits,  the  trees  of  which  require  little  nurture, 
grow  in  the  open  fields ;  and  there  are  very  large  plan- 
tations of  them  found,  which  they  take  the  trouble  to 
water  in  order  to  increase  their  product.  Their  vines, 
iirhicfa  yield  excellent  grapes,  are  planted  as  far  as  the 
33d  degree,  as  in  the  southern  provinces  of  France,  and 
are  equally  vigorous.  But  at  Morocco,  where  they 
yield  a  large  and  delicious  grape,  they  are  supported  by 
vine  poles  five  and  six  feet  above  ground  ^  and  as  they 
are  obliged  to  be  watered,  the  little  wine  made  there  is 
seldom  preserved.  Figs  are  very  sood  in  some  parts  of 
the  empire,  but  toward  the  south  they  are  scarcely  ripe 
before  they  are  full  of  worms  ^  tbe  heats  and  night 
^ews  may,  periiaps,  contribute  to  this  speedy  decay. 
Melons,  for  the  Mime  reason,  are  rarely  eatable  ^  they 
have  but  a  moment  of  maturity ;  which  passes  so  rapidly 
that  it  is  with  difficulty  seized.  Water  melons  are 
evenrwhere  reared,  and  m  some  provinces  are  excellent. 
Apncots,  apples,  and  pears,  are  in  tolerable  plenty  in 
the  neighboitffaood  of  Fez  and  Mequtnez,  where  water 
is  less  scarce  and  the  climate  more  temperate.  But  in 
the  plain,  which  extends  along  the  western  coast,  these 
V  delicate  fruits  are  very  indifferent,have  less  juice  or  taste, 
and  the  peaches  there  do  not  ripen.  The  tree  called 
the  prickly  pear,  or  the  Barbary  fig,  is  plentifully 
found  in  the  empire  of  Morocco  ^  and  is  planted  round 
vineyards  and  gardens,  because  its  thick  and  thorny 
leaves,  which  are  wonderfully  prolific,  form  impene- 
trable hedges.  From  these  leaves  a  fruit  is  produced, 
covered  with  a  thorny  skin,  that  must  be  taken  off  with 
care.  This  finiit  is  mild,  and  full  of  very  hard,  small 
kernels.  The  olive  is  everywhere  found  along  the  coast, 
but  particularly  to  the  sooth. 

In  the  province  of  Suz,  between  the  25th  and  30th 
degrees,  the  inhabitants  have  an  almond  harvest,  which 
varies  little  because  of  the  mildness  of  the  climate  ^  but 
the  fruit  is  small,  for  which  reason  they  take  little  care 
of  the  trees,  and  they  degenerate  with  time.  The  palm- 
tree  is  common  in  the  southern  provinces  of  Morocco  ; 
bat  dates  ripen  there  with  difficulty,  and  few  are  good 
except  in  the  province  of  Suz  and  toward  Tafilet.  On 
the  coast  of  Sallee  and  Mamora  there  are  forests  of  ode, 
which  produce  acorns  near  two  inches  long.  They 
taste  like  chesnnts,  and  are  eaten  raw  and  roasted.  Salt 
abounds  in  the  empire,  and  in  «ome  places  on  the  coast 
requires  only  the  trouble  of  gathering.  Independent 
of  the  salt  pits  formed  by  the  evaporation  of  the  soft 
water,  there  are  pits  and  lakes  in  tbe  countnr  whence 
ffreat  quantities  are  obtained.  It  is  carriea  even  as 
far  as  Tombut,  whence  it  passes  to  the  interior  parts  of 
Africa. 

The  Moors  cultivate  their  lands  only  in  proportion 
to  their  wants )  hence  two-thirds  of  the  empire  at  least 
.lie  ifaste*"Here  the  ihumy  that  is,  the  fan  orwild  pahn 

.a 


Mflwrwi 


It 


tree,  grows  in  abundance :  and  from  which  those  people, 
when  necessity  renders  them  Industrious,  find  great  mU 
vantage.  Tbe  shepherds,  mule-drivers,  camel-driven, 
and  travellers,  gather  the  leav^es,  of  which  they  make 
mats,  fringes,  baskets,  hats,  ahoaris  or  large  wallets  to 
carry  corn,  twine,  ropes,  girths,  and  covers  io/t  their 
pack  saddles.  This  plant,  with  which  also  they  hoi 
their  ovens,  produces  a  mild  and  resinous  fruit  that  ri- 
pens  in  September  and  October.  It  is  in  form  like  tbe 
raisin,  contains  a  kernel,  and  is  astringent  and  very  pro- 
per to  temper  and  counteract  the  effects  of  the  waterv 
and  laxative  fruits,  of  which  these  people  in  somiBer 
make  an  immoderate  use. 

Unacquainted  with  the  sonrces  of  weahb  of  wfaSchiiiM. 
their  ancestors  were  possessed,  4be  Moors  pretend  there 
are  gold  and  silver  mines  in  the  empire,  which  the  em- 
perors will  not  permit  to  be  worked,  lest  their  subjects 
should  thus  find  means  to  shake  off  their  fuke.  It  is 
not  improbable  bat  that  tbe  mountains  of  Atlas  may 
contain  unexplored  riches  ^  but  there  is  no  gsed  proof 
that  they  have  ever  yielded  gold  and  silver.  There  are 
known  iron  mines  in  tbe  sooth  ^  but  the  working  of 
them  has  been  found  so  expensive,  that  the  natives  wovid 
rather  use  imported  iron,  notwithstanding  the  heavy 
duty  it  pays,  by  which  its  prioe  is  doubled*  There  are 
copper  mines  in  tbe  neigbboorhood  of  Santa  Croz, 
which  are  not  only  sufficient  for  the  small  oonsumptiott 
of  tbe  empire,  where  copper  is  little  used,  but  are  abo 
an  object  of  exportation,  and  would  become  much  more 
so  were  the  duties  less  immoderate. 

Neither  the  elephant  nor  the  rhinoceros  is  to  he 
either  in  this  or  the  otber  states  of  Barbary  $  hot  the 
deserts  abound  with  lious,  tigers,  leopards,  hyaBoas,  and 
mons'rous  serpents.  The  Barbary  iiorses  were  fonnerfy 
very  valnable,  and  thought  equal  to  the  ArabiMk 
Though  the  breed  is  now  said  to  be  decayed,  jfi 
some  very  fine  ones  are  occasionally  imported  into  Eng- 
land. Camels  and  dromedaries,  aises,  mules,  and  kam* 
rahs  (a  most  serviceable  creature,  begot  by  an  ass  upon 
a  cow),  are  their  beasts  of  burden.  Their  cows  sit 
but  small,  and  barren  of  milk.  Their  sheep  yield  bnt 
indifierent  fleeces,  but  are  very  large,  as  are  their  goats. 
Bears,  porcupines,  foxes,  apes,  hares,  rabbits,  ferrets, 
weasels,  moles,  chameleons,  and  all  kinds  of  reptiles,  are 
found  here.  Partridges  and  quails,  eagles,  hawks,  aad 
all  kinds  of  wild-fowl,  are  frequent  on  tbe  coast. 

The  principal  mountains  fonn  the  chain  which  goei 
under  the  name  of  Mount  Atlas^  and  runs  the  whole^ 
length  of  Barbary  frtrni  east  to  west,  passing  tfarongh 
Morocco,  and  abutting  upon  that  ocean  whidi  sepantes 
the  eastern  from  the  western  continent,  and  is  from  this 
mountain  caNed  the  At/antic  Ocean»  See  Atlm.  The 
principal  rivers,  besides  the  Malva  or  Mnlvya  abore 
mentioned,  which  rises  in  the  deserts,  and  runaiogfrom 
south  to  north  dtrides  Morocco  from  the  kingdom  of 
Algiers,  are  the  Suz,  Oramirabib,  Rabbata,  Laracbe, 
Darodt,  Sebon,  Gueron,  and  Tensift,  which  rise  ii 
Mount  Atlas,  and  fall  into  tlie  Atlantic  ocean.  ^ 

The  traffic  of  tbe  empire  by  land  b  either  with  An^yui 
bia  or  Negroland :  to  Mecca,  they  send  caravans,  cmhttii* 
sisting  of  several  thousand  camels,  hoiees,  and  aniesi 
twice  every  year,  partly  for  traffic,^  and  partif  so  a 
religious  account  ^  for  numbers  of  jnlgrims  take  thai 
opportunityof  paying  dieir  devotions  to  their  great 
prophet.    The  goods  they  cany  to  the  east  arc  wosUta 

jnanufiictttres 


»i 


MOB 


[    415    ] 


M    O    R 


16 


xS 

Navy. 


maiinfiwtiim»  lesther,  aid&g«^  coduaaJt  *nA  astdcli 
feathers  ^  anil  they  being  back  from  thenoe,  silk, 
mi8liB(By  and  drofls.  By  their  camTans  to  Negrolandy 
they  send  sak,  ailk,  and  woollen  jpanafactum,  and 
bting  back  gold  and  itory  in  ictnni,  but  diMAy  ne» 
ttioea* 

The  cara^nuis  always  go  Strang  enongh  to  defenddiem- 
sehres  against  the  wnd  Arabs  in  the  deserts  of  Africa 
and  Asia  j  thongb,  notwithstanding  all  their  Tigilaace, 
some  of  the  stragglers  and  baggage  often  fidl  into  their 
'  hands :  th^  are  also  foreed  to  load  one-half  of  their 
camels  with  water,  to  prevent  their  perishing  vnA 
drought  and  thirst  in  those  iahospttable  deserts.  And 
there  is  still  a  more  dangerona  enemy,  which  is  the  sand 
itself:  when  the  winds  rise,  the  caravan  is  perfectly 
blinded  with  dust  ^  and  there  have  been  instances  both 
in  Africa  and  Asia,  where  whole  caravans,  and  even 
armies,  have  been  bnried  alive  in  the  sands. 

The  natives  have  hardly  any  trading  vessels,  but  are 
seldom  withont  some  corsairs.  These,  and  European 
merchant  ships,  bring  them  whatever  they  want  fit>m 
abroad  j  as  Imen  and  woollen  cloth,  stuflb,  iron  wron^t 
and  nnwrou^t,  aims,  gunpowder,  lead  and  the  like : 
Ibr  which  l£ey  take  in  .return,  copper,  wax,  hides, 
Morocco  leather,  wool  (which  is  very  fine),  gums^ 
woap,  dates,  ahnonds  and  other  fruits.  The  datiea  paid 
by  the  English  in  the  ports  of  Morocco  are  bat  half 
those  patd  by  other  Europeans^  It  is  a  general  obser'- 
vadiooy  dkat  no  nation  is  fond  of  trading  with  these 
states,' not  only  on  account  of  their  capricious  despotism, 
but  the  villany^of  theiv  indtvidnals,  both  natives  and 
Jews,  many  of  whom  take  all  opportunities  of  cheating^ 
and  when  detected  axe  seldom  pvnishedi 

The  land  forces  of  the  emperor  of  Morocco  coMSt 
pvineipally  of  black  troops,  and  some  few  white  \ 
amounting  altogether  to  an  aimv  of  abevt  36,000  men 
upon  the  establShment,  two-tfairdB  of  which  are  cavalrr. 
llis  establishment,  however,  upon  occasion,  admits  of  a 
cennderable  increase,  as  every  man  b  supposed  to  be  a 
ooldier,  and  when  called  upon  is  obliged  to  act  in  that 
capacity.  About  6000  of  the  standing  fiiroes  form  the 
emperor's  body  guard,  and  are  always  kept  near  his 
person ;  the  remainder  are  quartered  in  the  dafierent 
towns  of  the  empire,  and  are  under  the  charge  of  the 
bashaws  of  the  provinees.  They  are  all  domd  1^  the 
emperor,  and  receive  a  triiling  pay }  'but  their  chief  ds- 
peiMlenee  is  on  plunder,  which  they  have  fire^nent  op- 
portunities of  acquiring. 

The  black  tnofs  are  naturally  of  a  very  fiery  di^o- 
sition,  capable  <^  endorioff  great  fatigne,  huager,  thirst, 
and  every  difficulty  to  which  a- military  life  is  exposed. 
They  appear  well  calculated  for  skirmishing  parties,  or 
for  the  purpose  of  harassing  an  enemy  4  but  were  they 
obliged  to  undergo  a  regulsr  attack,  frmn  their  total 
want  of  discipline  they  would  soon  be  routed.  In  aM 
their  manoeuvres  they  luve  no  notion  whatever  of  order 
and  regularity,  but  have  altogether  iMve  the  appeav* 
nnce  of  a  ralMe  than  of  an  army. 

The  emperor's  navy  consists  of  about  15  small  fri* 
gates,  a  few  xebecks,  and  between  ao  and  30  rowi>gal« 
leys.  The  whole  is  commanded  by  one  adbniral  \  but 
as  these  vessels  are  principally  used  for  the  purposes  of 
piracy,  diey  seldom  unite  in  a  ftret.  The  nombcr  of 
the  seaflMB  in  setvice  is  eompottd  at  6ooo» 


The  coins  of  this  empiiy  are  %  fiuoe,  a  H>ni|nil,  and  Msmioes 
dncat*    The  fiuce  is  a  small  copper  coin,  ao  whereof  ^       ^      ^ 
make  a  blanquil,  of  the  value  of  twopence  sfterliag.     .  >9 
The  blanquil  is  of  silver,  and  the  ducat  of  gold,  net^^'^^' 
nnlike  th^  of  Hungary,  and  wort^  about  nine  shillinga. 
Both  these  pieces  are  so  liable  to  be  clipped  and  filed 
hy  the  Jews,  that  the  Moors  always  carry  scales  in  their 
pockets  to  weigh  them  ^  and  when  they  are  found  to  be 
mnch  diminished  in  their  weight,  they  are  recoined  by 
the  Jews,  who  are  masters  of  the  mint,  by  which  they 
gain  a  considerable  profit  ^  afi  they  do  also  by  exchao* 

S'sg  the  light  pieces  (at  those  that  are  fiiU  weight. 
erchants  accounts  are  kept  in  ounces,  10  of  which 
make  a  ducat ;  but  in  payments  to  the  government^  it 
is  said  they  reckon  17  QQe>half  for  a  dncat.  90 

With  respect  to  religion,  the  inhabitants  of  Morocco  Ke]i€N%  • 
are  Mohammedans,  of  the  sect  of  Alij  and  hav«  a^^ 
mufU  or  high-priest,  who  is  also  the  supiemo  civil  mi^ 
gistrate,  and  the  last  resort  in  all  causes  eedesiastieid 
and  civil.    They  have  a  great  veneration  for  theis  hei>* 
mits,  and  for  idiots  and  madmen  j  as  well  aa  for  thosa 
who  by  their  tricks  have  got  the  reputation  of  win* 
zards :  all  whom  they  look  upon  as  inspired  persons^ 
and  not  only  honour  as  saints  while  they  live,  but 
build  tomba  and  chapels  over  them  when  dead  ;  itUA 
places  are  not  only  xdigioualy  visided  by  theardevoiees 
far  and  near,  but  are  esteemed  inviolable  sancftuvies  • 
for  aB  sorts  of  crsmmak  exc^  in  cases  of  tieasoa. 

Ndtwithrtanding  Ac  nntivea  are  nealona  Mnhnmmff 
dans,  they  allow  foreigners  the  firee  and  open  piofcs* 
sion  of  tfeir  leliffimi^  and  their  very  slaves  have  their 
priests  ami  ^BpcSaiathfi  oapttalcit^}  thoHgjkit  must 
be  owned  that  the  Christian  slaves  ave  here  treated*      ^^  i 
wntk  the  ntmost  eroel^.    Heue,  aa  in  aU  other  Mo>  Lawsi^ 
hammedan  countries,  tne  Aleoran  and  their  comnaaats 
upon  it  are  their  only  written  laws  ^  and  though  in 
some  instances  their  cadis  and  other  civil  mngietnites 
are  controlled  by  the  arbitrary  determinations  of  their 
princes,  bashaws^  generals,  and  military  officers,  yet 
the  latter  have  generally  a  very -great  defereaee  and  • 
regard  for  their  lawe.    Murder,  theft,  and  adidtery»  •> 
are  csmmottly  punidicd  widi  death  :  and  their  punish*  - 
ments  fiir  otaer  crimes,  particulady  those  against  the  - 
state,  are  very  cruel ;  ss  inquding,  dragguM^  the  prison-  • 
er  through  the  streets  at  a  mulcts  heels  till  all  his  flesh 
is  torn  ofi^  throwing  him.  frooa  a  high  tower  upoa  iron 
hooks.  S3 

The  inhabitants  of  the  empire  of  Morocco,  known  Inhabitaata 
by  the  name  of  Moors^  are  a  mixture  of  Arabian  and  ^^^^ 
African  nationB  formed  into  tribes  ;   with  the  ongia^^^.      ^ 
of  whom  we  are  but  imperfectly  aoquaiated.    These 
tribes,  each  stnu^rs  to  the  other,  and  ever  divided  by 
traditional  hatred  or  prejudice,  seldom  mingle.  It  seema 
probable  that  most  of  the  casts  who  occupy  the  proving 
ces  of  Morocco  have  been  repulsed  from  me  eaatetn  ta^ 
the  western  Africa,  during  those  diffiorent  revolntiana 
by  which  tUs  part  oi  the  world  has  been  agitated ;  that  - 
they  have  followed  the  standard  of  their  chiefo,  whose 
nanres  they  have  preserved  ^  and  thai  by  these  they,  . 
aa  well  as  the  countries  they  inhabit,  are  distinguisluML 
At  present  these  tribe*  are  called  cofiles  \or  cabikSf 
from  the  Arabic  word  kobeUa;  and  they  are  so  num»* 
reuS)  dmt  it  i&impasaiUe  tahnvea  knowiedKe  of  them 
alL 


MOMCCO. 


The 
Brebet, 
or  Mottn- 
taiaeeri. 


f«4 


M    O    R  C    41 

The  natnre  sabjeoto  of  the  empire  of  Morocco  may 
be  divided  ioto  two  principal  classes  ^  the  Brebes  and 
the  I/Imts. 

The  etymoloej  of  the  name,  and  the  origin  of  the 
people,  of  the  first  class,  are  equally  unknown.  Like 
the  Moors,  at  the  time  of  the  invasion  by  the  Arabs, 
they  may  have  adopted  the  Mahometan  religion,  which 
is  consonant  to  their  manners  and  principal  usages  \  but 
they  are  an  ignorant  people,  and  observe  none  of  the 
precepts  of  that  religion,  but  the  aversion  it  enjoins 
against  other  modes  of  worship. 

Confined  to  the  mountains,  Ae  Brebes  preserve  great 
animosity  against  the  Moors,  whom  theyconfound  with 
the  Arabs,  and  consider  as  usurpers.^They  thus  con- 
tract in  their  retreats  a  ferbcity  of  mind,  and  a  strength 
of  body,  which  makes  them  more  fit  for  war  and  every 
kind  of  labour  than  the  Moors  of  the  plain  in  genend 
are*  The  independence  they  boast  of  gives  even  a 
greater  degree  of  expression  to  their  countenance.  The 
prejudices  of  their  religion  make  them  submit  to  the 
authority  of  the  emperors  of  Morocco  \  but  they  throw 
off  the  yoke  at  their  pleasure,' and  retire  into  the  moun- 
tains, where  it  is  dimcult  to  attack  or  overcome  them. 
The  Brebes  have  a  language  of  their  own,  and  never 
marry  but  among  each  other.  They  have  tribes  or  ca- 
files  among  them  who  are  exceedingly  powerfiil  both 
by  their  number  and  courage. 

.  The  MooTM  of  the  plains  may  be  distinguished  into 
those  who  lead  a  pastoral  life,  and  those  who  inhabit 
the  cities.  , 
The  Moon  The  former  live  in  tents  y  and  that  they  may  allow 
oftheconn-iiieif  ground  a  yearns  rest,  they  annually  change  the 
^^*  place  of  their  encampments,  and  go  in  search  of  fresh 

pasturage^  but  they  cannot  take^  this  step  without  ac- 
quainting their  governor.  Like  the  ancient  Arabs, 
they  are  entirely  devoted  to  a  pastoral  life :  their  en- 
campments, which  they  call  douchars^  are  composed  of 
several  tents,  and  form  a  crescent  ^  or  they  are  ranged 
in  two  parallel  Ibes,  and  their  flocks,  when  they  return 
from  pasture,  occupy  the  centre. 

The  tents  <  pf  the  Moors,  viewed  in  fit)nt,  are  of  a 
conical  figure  >  they  are  finom  8  to  10  feet  high,  and 
from  ao  to  25  feet  long  \  like  those  of  high  antiquity, 
they  resemble  a  boat  reversed.    They  are  made  of 
cloUi  composed  of  goats  and  camels  hair,  and  the  leaves 
of  the  wild  palm,  by  which  they  are  rendered  impervi- 
ous to  water  \  but  at  a  distance  their  black  colour  gives 
them  a  very  disagreeable  look. 
Their  am-       The  Moors,  when  encamped,  live  in  the  greatest 
pie  way  of  simplicity,  and  exhibit  a  fiuthful  picture  of  the  inhabi- 
li^  tants  of  the  earth  in  the  first  ages  of  the  world.     The 

nature  of  their  education,  the  temperature  of  the  cli- 
mate, and  the  rigour  of  the  government,  diminish  the 
wants  of  the  people,  who  find  in  their  plains,  in  the 
milk  and  wool  of  their  flocks,  every  thing  necessary  for 
fi^od  and  clothing.    Polygamy  is  allowed  among  them  ^ 
a  luxury  so  far  from  being  injurious  to  a  people  who 
have  few  wants,  that  it  is  a  great  convenience  in  the 
econoiny  of  those  societies,  heawse  the  women  are  in- 
^^        trusted  with  the  whole  care  of  the  domestic  manage- 
Occopa-     ment.     In  their  half-closed  tents,  they  are  employed  in 
dons  of  the  milking  the  cows  for  daily  use)  and  when  the  milk 
women,      abounds,  in  making  butter,  in  picking  their  com,  their 
barley,  and  pulse,  and  grinding  their  meal,  which  they 
do-  daily  in  a  mill  composed  of  two  stones  about  18 


&C. 


«    3  M    O    R 

inches  in  diameter,  the  n^^rmost  having  a  handle,  «ad  u^tvm, 
turning  on  an  axis  fixed  in  the  under  one :  they  make  v»  yw 
bread  likewise  every  day,  which  they  bake  hetwcea 
two  earthen  plates,  and  often  upon  the  ground  after  it 
has  been  heated  by  fire.    Their  ordinary  food  is.  the 
cooscoosoo  \  which  is  a  paste  made  with  their  meal  in 
the  form  of  small  grains  like  Italian  paste*    This  coos- 
coosoo is  dressed  in  the  vapour  of  boiling  soup,  in  a  hol- 
low dish  perforated  with  many  small  holes  in  the  bot- 
tom, and  the  dish  is  enclosed  in  a  kettle  where  meat  is 
boiled }  the  cooscoosoo,  which  is  in  the  hoUow  dish, 
grows  gradually  soft  by  the  vapour  of  the  broth,  with 
which  it  is  ft^m  time  to  time  moistened.     This  simple 
food  is  very  nourishing,  and  even  agreeable  when  one 
has  got  the  better  of  the  prejudices  which  eveiy  nation 
entertains  for  its  own  customs.    The  common  people 
eat  it  with  milk  or  butter  indiflerently ;  but  those  of 
higher  rank,  such  as  the  governors  of  provinces  and 
lieutenants,  who  live  in  the  centre  of  the  encampments, 
add  to  it  some  succulent  broth^  made  with  a  mixture 
of  mutton,  poultnTf  pigeons,  or  hedgehogs,  and  then 
pour  on  it  a  suflicient  quantity  of  fresh  butter. 

The  women  in  their  tents  spin  wool,  and  weave  it 
into  cloth  on  looms  suspended  the  whole  length  of  the 
tent.  Each  piece  is  about  five  ells  lonff,  and  one  and 
a  half  broad  \  it  is  neither  dressed  nor  dyed,  and  it  has 
no  seam  \  they  wash  it  when  it,  is  dirty  ^  and  as  it  is  the 
only  habit  of  the  Moors,  they  wear  it  ni^^t  and  day. 
It  IS  called  hakk^  and  is  the  true  model  of  the  ancient 
draperies.  j. 

The  Moors  of  the  plain  wear  nothing  but  theilBie^to 
woollen  stufi';  they  have  neither  shirts  nor  drawen. 
Linen  among  these  people  is  a  loxnry  known  only  to 
those  of  the  court  or  the  city.  The  whole  wardrobe  of 
a  country  Moor  in  easy  circumstances  consists  in  a  baick 
for  winter,  another  for  summer,  a  red  «ap,  a  hood,  and 
a  pair  of  slippers.  The  common  people  both  in  the 
country  and  in  towns  wear  a  kind  of  tunic  of  wooUen 
cloth,  white,  gray,  or  striped,  which  reaches  to  the 
middle  of  the  leg,  with  great  sleeves  and  a  hood  ^  it  re- 
sembles the  habit  of  the  Carthusians. 

The  women^s  dress  in  the  country  is  likewise  confin- 
ed to  a  haStk,  which  covers  the  neck  and  the  sbool- 
ders,  and  is  fastened  with  a  silver  clasp.  The  orna- 
ments they  are  fondest  of  are  ear  rings,  which  are  ei- 
ther in  the  form  of  rings  or  crescents,  made  of  silver, 
bracelets,  and  rings  for  the.  small  of  the  leg  ^  they  wear 
these  triukets  at  their  most  ordinary  oecupations  \  less 
out  of  vanity-  than  because  they  are  unacquainted  with 
the  use  of  caskets  or  cabinets  for  keeping  them.  They 
also  wear  necklaces  made  of  coloured  glass  heads  or 
cloves  strung  on  a  cord  of  silk. 

The  Moors  consider  their  wives  less  in  the  light  of 
companions  than  in  that  of  slaves  destined  to  labour. 
Except  in  the  business  of  tillage,  they  are  employed 
in  every  servile  operation  \  nay,  in  some  of  the  poorer 
quarters  a  woman  is  often  seen  yoked  in  a  plough  ahmg 
with  a  mule,  an  ass,  or  some  other  animal.  When  the 
Moors  remove  their  doochars,  all  the  men  seat  theot- 
selves  in  a  circle  on  the  ground  \  and  with  their  elbows 
resting  on  their  knees,  pass  the  time  in  conveisatjoo, 
while  the  women  strike  the  tents,  fold  them  op  ato 
bundles,  and  place  them  on  the  backs  of  their  camels 
or  oxen.  The  old  women  are  then  each  loaded  wiA 
a  parcel,  and  the  young  carry  the  children  on  their 

shou2d0S 


MOB 


[    4^7    J 


M    O    R 


«8 


^9 


KtTf  4  pidillc  innfcet  in  the  fiflfevent  quatOnm  of  Mmeuu. 
^fOTiQce.  The  Moors  of  the  neigfabraihood  a«- '  ^ 
iaBri>ie  to  mU  and  hujr  osttle,  com,  poke,  dined  fhiitfl, 
carpets,  haicks,  and  in  short  all  the  prodactions  of 
die  eouotrj.  This  in«rfcet|  whieh  is  called  Soe^  re- 
•endfeies  our  fairs.  The  bestle  of  the  people  who  go  and 
ooine^  gives  a  better  idea  of  the  manner  of  Kfe  of  the 
Moors  than  can  be  bad  in  the  cities.  The  tTcsides, 
who  eonmnuid  in  the  neighbourhood,  always  attend 
these  markets  with  soldiers  to  keep  the  peaoe  ^  as  it 
firoqneatly  happens  that  the  grodges  whieh  these  tribes 
harhoor  against  one  another  break  out  upon  snth  occa* 
aions  into  open  violence,  tr 

The  Moors  who  inhabit  the  cities  difier  from  the  Of  the 
odMPs  M^  in  having  a  Hule  moi«  nfhanity  and  •f^-^^ 
qiBM  easy  deportment.    Thoagh  thet  have  the  same  ^^^ 
origin  with  tlwse  of  the  plains,  they  affect  to  decline  alt 
itttereoasse  with^  them.     Sosne  writers,  witboot  an^ 
fiMindation,  have  given  the  nsme  of  Araii  to  the  in-*' 
iMibiUnts  of  the  towns,  and  that  of  JIbsrr  4o  these  of 
the  plains.    Bat  the  greater  part  of  the  cities  of  this 
empire  are  more  ancient  than  the  invasion  of  the  Arabs, 
who  themselves  lived  in  tents.  .it 

The  houses  in  most  of  the  towns  in  this  empif^s  <^P"7|^''  . 
pear  at  a  little  distance  like  vaulted  tombs  in  a  ^'^^'^^'^^JJi^^J^ 
yard  y  and  the  entrance  into  the  best'  of  them  has  but' 
a  mean  appearance.  The  rooms  are  generally  on  the 
ground  floor,  and  whitened  on  the  outside.  As  the 
roofs  are  quite  flat,  they  serve  ns  verandas^  where  the 
Moorish  women  eommdnly  sit  for  the  benefit  of  the 
air  'j  and  in  sense  places  it  is  possible  to  pass  nearly  over 
the  whole  town  without  having  occasion  to  descend  tn^ 
to  the  street. 

As  the  best  apaKments  are  all  backwards,  a  stable,- 

or  perhaps  something  worse,  is  the  place  to  which  visi-* 

tors  are  first  introduced.    Upon  entering '  the  bouse,> 

the  stranger  is  either  detained  in  this  place,  or  in  the 

the  nei^^hhomrhood  of  some  rivulet  or  spring,  and  they    street,  till  all  the  women  are  despatched  out  of  the  ^v^tyi 


ali^Rldtis  toSqwMsd  in  %  tMk  girt  rovnd  their  bodies. 
In  tfit  ni«r»  sonthere  pnrts  the  wemen  are  likmrise  enw 
finysd  in  the  caon  of  the  horses :  dm  bwshand,  who  in 
ihcist  dioHites  is  always  a  despot,  issoes  his  orden,  aod 
aeems  only  UMdo  to  he  obeyed. 

The  matfinge  nepenonies  of  the  Moors  tiiat  lite  in 
tents  peetty  nmch  roBemblfl  those  of  the  same  people 
ihni  livn  in  tbo  eitiss.  la  the  dmsBhsn  they  mn  genn^ 
rally  most  hsiHiiRnt  and  gay;  the  strangers  tint  pass 
almig  are  invited*  nod  made  to  contribate  to  the  feast  ^ 
hot  this  b  done  more  firom  politeness  than  firom  any 
roeroeaary  anolive. 

The  tribes  of  the  plain^  geaesnlly  amd  miaiiw  by 
mastiage  with  one  aaothor:  the  prsjudioss  that  mvido 
those  people  ase  ooamoaly  perpetuated  ^  or,  if  they 
aia  parlialfy  healed,  they  never  fall  to  revive  npon 
trifling  oocasions,  soch  as  a  atmyad  camel,  op  the  pie«* 
fcfcaae  of  a  pastore  or  a  well.  Marriages  have  sone* 
tines  takmi  place-  ssnoDg  them,  tihat^  so  far  firom  e&< 
nseatiag  their  diffareaoea,  have  eceasioned  the  most  tnu 
gical  soenes*  Husbands  have  been  kaawn  to  mardea 
thair  wives,  sad  women  their  hnsbaads,  to  revenge  na^ 
laonal  qnarrek^ 

Parents  are  not  encumbered  with  thair  children, 
however  anmerous  they  may  be,  for  they  are  very  early* 
employed  ia  domestic  aflfairs  $  they  timd  the  flocks, 
Ihey  gather  wend,  and  they  assist  in  ploughing  and' 
neapinr.  In  the  eveniog,  whea  they  retnm  irom  the- 
field,  all  the  ehildrea  of  the:  dooohar  assemble  in  a  oom* 
Bson  teat,  where  the  iman,  who  himself  can  hardly 
^all,  otakes  them  rsad  a  few  seatanees  from  the  Koran 
written  on  boards,  and  instructs  them  in  their  religion 
hy  the  light  of  a  fire,  made  of  straw,  of  bashes,  and 
now  duag  dried  in  the  sun.  As  the  beat  is  very  great 
in  the  iahmd  parts  of  the  country,  children  of  beta  sexea 
ga  quita  naked  till  the  age  of  mne  or  lea. 

The  doochars  dispersed  over  the  pbias  are  always  ia 


■satof 

vavellen.  are  a  kind  of  inns  for  the  reception  of  travellers.  Theia 
ia  geaeimlly  a  tent  er^Bcted'for  their  uacy  if  they  have 
not  brought  one  along  with  them^  where,  they  are  Hic- 
camfnodated  with  poultry,  milk,  and  ^gs,  and  ifith 
whatever  is  aeeessary  for  their  horsea.  Instead  of  wood 
fiar  fuel,  they  have  the  cow  dung,  which,  when  nuawd 
with  chascoal,  makes  a  very  brisk  fire.  A  guard  is 
always  sot  on  the  taots  of  travellers,  especially  if  they 
are  Enr^eaas^  because  the  opinion  oif  thrir  wealth 
might  tempt  the  avidity  of  the  Mooia,  who  are  aatnraU 
ly  inclined  to  thieving. 

With  respect  to  the  roads,  a  very  judictaus  policy 
is  established,  which  is  adapted  to  the  character  of  tlie 
Moors,  and  to  their  manner  of  life.  The  douchars  ase 
aesponsable  for  robberies  conmuttad  in  their  neighbour* 
hood  aad  ia  sight  of  their  tents :  they  are  not  only 
obliged  to  make  restitutioa,  but  it  gives  the  sovereign 
a  pretence  fiir  exacting  a  contribution  proportioned  to 
the  abilities  of  the  douchar^  In  order  to  temper  the 
rigour  of  this  law,  they  are  made  responsible  only  4br 
such  rahberies  as  are  committed  duriag  the  day^  those 
that  hap^n  after  sunset  are  not  imputed  to  them,  as 
they  could  neither  see  nor  prevent  them :  oti  this  ae* 
count,  people  here  travel  only  firsm  snarising  to  sun* 
settiag. 

To  Mcilitate  the  exchange  of  necessaries,  there  is  in 


y> 


he  is  then  allpwed  to  enter  a  square  court,  into  which 
four  narrow  and  long  rooms  open  by  meanff  of  lar^^' 
folding  dootts  whieh,  as  they  have  no  windows,  serv^ 
likewise  to  introdace  light  mto  the  apartmeDt&     Th^ 
court  has  generally  ia  its  centre  a  fbuntaio  ;  and  if  ia 
is  the  house  of  a  Moor  of  jMroperty,  it  is  floored  wisl^ 
biae  and  white  cheipwred  tiltngv    None  of  the  cham- 
bers have  fire  pkoea }  and  their  victuals  are  alv^tfya^ 
dressed  in  the  oouri-yard  in  an  eaJKbea  stove  heated  withl^ 
ohasaoal.     When  the  visiesr  entm  the  room^  where  ho- 
is received  by  the  master  of  the  house,  he  finds  biro  sit«' 
ting  cross'ltyged  and  barefooted  on  a  mattress,  covered 
wini  fine  white  linen,  and  placed  on  the  floor  or  else  on 
a  common  mat.    This,  wilu  a  narrow  piece  of  carpet- 
ing, is  in  oeneral  the  only  furaitwre  he  wM  meet  with 
in  Moorini  houses,  tfaoi^h  they  are  pot  destitute  of 
other  omaawotsu 

.  Tbe  wardrobe  of  the  inhabitants  of  cities  is  hot  Iktlt  Dreaii^ths 
dtfiersnt  fnm  that  of  those  who  live  in  teats^>— Like  theteea. 
latter,  they  have  a  haick,  and  a  hood  more  or  less  fine^ 
aad  have  also  a  hood  of  coarse  Earopoaa  cloth  of  dark 
blue  for  the  winter.  What  farther  diiitingaishes  them 
from  the  country  Moors  is,  that  they  wear  a  shirt  and* 
liaen  drawers,  mid  aa  apper  garment  of  cotton  in  snm« 
mer,  and  of  doth  in  winter,  whieh  they  call  a  cqfian. 
The  white  or  bine  hood,  the  purpose  of  which  seems  to 


33 


the  fields  every  day,  except  Friday,  which,  is  a  day  of    be^ta- guard  agaiast  bad  w«Mhe%  aa*  which  is  calHf' 
.  Vox-  XIV.  Part  U.  t  3  G  termts. 


M    O    R  t    4»9    I 

Mmmco:  trnNtf",  m  ISkeivise  a  ceremonial  paii  of  diees  $  wkliout    tfon.    These 
''■"■\'"  '  whicb,  together  with  sabre  and  canjer  (or  dagger)  worn 
in  a  baadelieri  persoos  of  cooditioo  aeTer  a^ear  he£Bve 


M    O    R 


34       the  cuferor. 
BfVMofthe     The  Moorish  women  who  lire  in  cities  are.  as  in 


fa^ief. 


Other  nations,  more  addicted  to  show  and  finery  in  dress 
than  those  of  the  country  j  bnt  as  they  generally  leave 
the  house  only  one  day  in  the  week,  tney  seldom  dress 
themselves.  Not  allowed  to  receive  male  visitorSi  they 
remain  in  their  houses  employed  in  their  families,  and 
so  totally  in  deshabile  that  they  often  wear  only  a  shift, 
and  another  coarser  shift  over  the  first,  tied  round  their 
waist,  with  their  hair  plaited,  and  sometimes  with, 
thdogh  often' without,  a  cap.  "When  dressed,  they 
wear  an  am^e  and  fine  linen  shift,  the  bosom  embroid- 
ered in  gold^  a  rich  caftan  of  doth,  stuff,  or  velvet, 
worked  in  gold  j  and  one  or  two  folds  of  gauze,  streak- 
ed with  gold  and  silk,  rovnd  the  head,  and  tied  behind 
80  as  that  the  firinges,  intermingled  with  their  tresses, 
descend  as  low  as  the  waist ;  to  which  some  add  a  rib* 
band  of  about  two  inches  broad,  worked  in  gold  or 
pearls,  that  encircles  the  forehead  in  fi>rm  of  a  diadenw 
Their  caftan  is  bound  round  their  waist  by  a  crimson 
velvet  girdle,  embroidered  in  gold,  with  a  buckle  of 
gold*  or  silver,  or  else  a  girdle  of  tamboured  staff,  ma- 
nnfactnred  at  Fez. 

The  women  have  yellow  slippers,  and  a  custom  of 
wearing  a  kind  of  stocking  of  fine  cloth  somewhat  large, 
which  is  tied  below  the  knee  and  at  the  ankle,  over 
which  it  falls  in  Mds.  Thia  stocking  is  less  calculated 
i»  show  what  we  call  a  handsome  leg,  than  to  make  it 
appear  thick  j  for  to  be  fat  is  one  of  the  rules  of  beauty 
among  the  Moorish  women.  To  obtain  this  quality, 
the^  take  infinite  pains,  feed  when  they  become  thin  on 
ft  diet  somewhat  like  forced  meat  balls,  a  certain  quan- 
tity of  which  is  given  them  daily  ^  and  in  fine,  the  same 
care  is  taken  among  the  Moors  to  fatten  young  women 
aa  10  in  Europe  to  wten  fowls. 

The  N^roes^  who  constitute  a  large  proportion  of 
ihe  emperor's  subjects,  are  better  formed  than  the 
Moors  I  and  as  they  are  more  lively,  daring,  iand  ac«. 
live,  they  are  intmsted  with  an  important  share  in  the 
esecntive  part  of  goremment.  They  constitute  in  fact 
lie  most  considerable  part  of  the  emperor's  army,  and 
are  generally  appointed  to  the  ooomiand  of  provinces 
nad  lowna.  Tnis  cireomstance  natnrally  creates  a  jea* 
lomtf  between  tfaentand  the  Moors,  the  latter  considerw 
ing  tha  negroea  as  nsnrpers  of  a  power  whicb  they  have 
•o  right  toatenme.  Besides  those  negroes  which  fiorm 
the  emperor's  army,  there  are  a  great  many  others  in 
the  eonntry,  who  either  are  or  bave  been  slaves  to  pri« 
vate  Moors  :  every  Moor  of  consequence,  indeed,  has 
his  proportion  of  them  in  his  service.  To  the  disgrace 
of  Europe,  the  Moors  treat  their  slaves  with  humanitVt 
employing  them  in  looking  after  their  gardens,  and  in 
the  domestic  duties  of  their  houses.  Ibey  allow  them 
to  marry  anisng.  themselves  j  and  after  a  certain  num- 
ber of  years,  spontaneously  present  them  with  the  in* 
valuable  boon  of  liberty.  They  soon  are  initiated  in 
the  Mahometan  persuasion,  thoogh  they  sometimes  in- 
termix with  it  a  few  of  thtar  original  superstitiooa  cus- 
toms. In  every  other  respect  they  copy  the  dress  and 
Runners  tf  the  Moors. 

Among  tfie  inhabitants  of  .Morocco .  there  is  ano- 
ther class^  of  whem  wo  must  not  omit  to  make  mca- 


the  J?mtfjradbiV- 
have  reaoonced  their  religion  fiw  the  fimtlT  isf 
met.  Qf  these  tlmre  are  a  great  anaibei 
been  originally  Jews :  they  are  held  in  little 
by  the  Moors  j  and  would  be 'held  in  ahhonenoe  by 
the  Jews,  if  they  durst  finely  express  their  avernon. 
The  families  of  these  apostates  are  called  TatmadA: 
not  having  at  any  time  mairied  witb  the  Maars,  they 
8t31  preserve  their  ancient  characteristica,  and  an 
known  almost  at  sight  to  be  the  progeay  «f  those  wh» 
formerly  embraced  the  Mahometan  migioa.  The 
Christian  renegadoes  are  but  few  i  and  mneralbf  aie  fii- 
gitlve  pecniatofs  of  Spain,  or  men  fidfen  fimn  power, 
who  because  of  their  misconduct,  or  in  despair,  quit  ens 
unfortunate  situation  fir  another  much  more  deploraUe. 

The  Jews  were  fiMrmeriy  very  numeioos  in  tins 
pire.  After  being  ptooscribed  in  Spain  and  Porlngal^ 
multitudes  of  them  passed  over  to  Morocoo,  and  opeead 
themselves  throng  the  towns  and  over  the  couatsy. 
By  the  relations  they  theamelvea  give,  and  by  the  ex- 
tent of  the  places  assigned  them  to  dwell  in,  it  would 
i^pear  there  were  more  than  30,000  femiliea,  oi  whosa 
at  present  there  is  scarcely  a  residue  of  oae-twelfUi }  the 
remainder  either  having- changed  their  raligiea,  souk 
under  their  sufferings,  or  fled  from  the  vexations  they 
endured,  and  the  arbitrary  taxes  and  tolb  imposed  npsn 
them.  The  Jews  possesr  neither  lands  ner  gardens,  nsr 
can  they  enjoy  their  fimits  in  tranquillity  :  they 
wear  only  bkck  }  and  are  oblised,  when  ney  pass 
mosques,  or  through  streets  m  which  there  asa 
tuaries,  to  walk  barefiwL  The  lowest  among  the  M 
imagines  he  has  a  right  to  ill-treat  a  Jew  )  nor  darca 
the  latter  defend  bimseli^  because  the  Koran  and  the- 
jadge  are  always  ia  fiivonr  of  the  Mahometan^^Not- 
withstanding  this  state  of  oppression,  the  Jews  have  ma- 
ny advantages  over  the  Moors :  they  better  understand 
the  spirit  of  trade }  they  act  as  agents  and  broken,  and 

Sofit  by  their  own  cunning  and  the  ignorance  of  the 
oors. 

The  Moots,  who  derive  their  liinguage  and  religion 
from  the  Arabs,  seem  not  in  any  manner  to  have  paiw 
ticipated  of  thmr  kaowledge.  United  and  cenfennd- 
ed  as  those  of  Morocco  have  been  with  the  Moors  of 
Spain,  the  latter  of  whom  cultivated  the  aits  and  gaw 
Urth  to  Averroea,  and  many  other  great  man,  the 
Moors  of  this  empire  have  preserved  no  Iraeea  of  the 
geniiis  of  their  ancestors,  lliey  have  no  conception  of 
the  speculative  sciences.  Education  consists  merely  in 
learning  to  read  and  write ;  and  as  the  revennea  of  the 
learned  are  derived  firom  these  talents,  the  prieats  sad 
talbes  among  them  are  the  sole  depositories  of  thus  a 
knowledge  :  the  children  of  the  Moors  are  taught 
their  schools  to  read  and  repeat  soom  sixty  I 
lected  fipom  the  Koran,  which  fer  the  sake  of 
are  written  upon  small  boards. 

The  Moors  who  formerly  inhabited  Spain  gave  great 
application  to  physic  and  astronomy;  and  they  have 
left  manuscripts  behind  them  which  still  remain  moan- 
ments  of  their  genius.  The  modem  Moora  ore  infinile- 
ly  degenerate ;  they  have  not  the  least  inclination  t» 
the  study  of  science }  they  know  the  properties  of  some 
simples^  but  as  they  dd  net  proceed  upan  nriactple,  aod 
are  ignorant  of  the  causes  and  efiects  of  diseases,  tky 


generally  make  a  wrong  application  of  their 

Their  most  McfiiL  physicians  are  their  talbes,  their  fe- 


M    O    R 


t    4 


39 


iC- 


kirs,  anil  their  Mints,  in  whom  they  ]ilac6  a  eupcrsti- 
timiB  confiilence. 

NofwitbstMidfng  the  Moors  hare  occupied  themselves 
iMe  in  the  study  of  astronomy,  they  have  been  eager 
after  astrology.  Thto  imaginary  sciencei  which  made 
^eo  rapid  a  progress  at  Rome  in  spite  of  the  edicts  of  the 
^emperors,  may  be  conceived  to  «ake  still  greater  ad- 
Tances  among  a  pe^e  whotly  stnpid  and  ignorant,  and 
«ver  agitated  by  the  dread  of  present  evils,  or  the  hope 
vi  a  more  happy  fnturity*  Magic,  the  companion  of 
astrology,  has  here  also  fiMUid  ks  followers,  and  is  par- 
ticularly Studied  by  the  talhes  in  the  southern  parts, 
.who  soceessfnlly  use  it  in  imposing  upon  Moorish  ere* 
Polity  with  stnmge  dreattsand  amhiguoos  forebodings 
and  prophecies. 

^  The  Moorish  manufactures  are— The  haick,  which 
as  was  before  observed,  is  a  long  garment  composed  of 
white  wool  and  cotton,  or  cotton  and  silk  woven  to* 
gether,  and  is  used  by  Ae  Moors  for  the  purpose  of 
covering  their  under  dress  when  they  go  abroad,  which 
they  do  by  totally  wrap^g  themselves  in  it  in  a  care* 
less  but  easy  manner  $  silk  handkerchiefs  of  a  paiticu* 
lar  kind,  prepared  onfy  at  Fez ;  silks  checquered  with 
cotton ;  carpeting,  little  inferior  to  that  of  Turkev  $ 
beautifiil  matting,  made  of  the  palmetto  or  wild  palm 
tree ;  paper  of  a  coarse  kind  \  cordovan,  commonly 
called  3ferocro  leather-;  gimpowder  of  an  inferior  na- 
ture }  and  long-bsBVelled  muskets,  made  of  Biscay 
iron.  The  Moors  are  unacquainted  with  the  mode 
of  casting  cannon :  and  therefore  those  few  which  are 
now  in  the  country  are  obtained  from  Europeans.— 
The  manufacture  of  glass  is  likewise  unknown  to 
tbem  \  as  indeed  they  make  great  use  of  earthen  ware, 
and  Imve  lew  or  no  windows  to  their  houses,  this  com- 
modity may  be  of  less  importance  to  them  than  many 
others.  Tney  make  butter,  by  putting  the  milk  into 
a  goat  skin,  with  its  ontward  coat  turned  inwards,  and 
•baking  it  UU  the  butler  collects  on  the  sides,  when  ft 
is  taken  out  for  use.  From  this  operation  it  poves 
always  full  of  hairs,  and  has  an  insipid  &vour.  Their 
cheese  consists  merely  of  curds  hardened  and  dried,-and 
has  uniformly  a  disagreeable  taste.  The  bread  in  some 
of  the  principal  towns,  particulariy  at  Tangier  and 
Sallee,  is  remarkably  good,  but  in  many  other  places 
it  is  coarse,  Uack,  and  heavy. 

Their  looms,  forges,  ploughs,  carpenters  tools,  &c. 
are  mncfa  upon  the  same  construction  with  ihe  unim- 
proved instruments  of  the  same  kind  ^which  are  used 
at  this  time  in  some  parts  of  Europe,  only  still  more 
elnmsily  finished.  In  their  work,  they -attend  more 
to  stnength  than  neatness  or  convenience  \  and,  like  all 
other  ignorant  people,  they  have  no  id^-that  what 
they  do  is  capable  of  improvement.  It  is  probable, 
indieed,  that  the  Moors  have  undergone  no  very  material 
change  since  the  ^volution  in  thmr  arta  ano  sciences, 
wUch  took  place  soon  af^er  their  expulsion  from  Spain. 
Previous  to  that  period,  it  is  well  known  they  were  an 
enlightened  people,  at  a  time  whm  the  greater  part 
of 'Enrope  was  involved  in  ignonmce  and  barbarism-} 
but  owing  to  the  weaknessand  tyianny  of  their  princes, 
they  gsaduaOy  sunk  into  the  very  opposite  extreme, 
and  may  now  be  considered  as  hot  a  •  few  deorees 
ran.v«d  from  a  mvokc  rtate.  '^ 

Their  mosques  or  places  of  publio  worshipare  usually 
large  square  buildings,,  composed  of  the  same  materials 


19    ]  M    O    R 

as  the  houses.  The  building  consists  of  broad  and  Morocco. 
lofity  piazza^  opening  into  a  square  court,  in  a  manner '  m  ■' 
in  some  deffree  similar  to  the  Royal  Exchange  of  Lon-  .4? 
don.  In  the  centre  of  the  court  is  a  large  fountain }  ^^j^^^^ 
and  a  small  stream  sturromids  the  piazzas,  where  the 
Moors  perform  the  ceremony  of  ablution.  The  court 
and  piazzas  are  floored  with  blue  and  white  chequer- 
ed tiling-;  and  the  latter  are  covered  with  matting, 
Qpon  which  the  Moors  kneel  while  repeating  their 
prayers.  In  the  most  conspicuous  part  of  the  mosque 
fronting  the  east,  stands  a  kind  of  pulpit,  where  the 
talbe  or  priest  occasionally  preaches.  The  Moors  al- 
ways enter  this  place  of  worship  barefooted,  leaving 
their  olippers  at  the  door.  On  the  top  of  thdi^osque, 
is  a  sqnare  steeple  with  a  flag  staflT,  whither  at  stated 
hours  the  talbe  ascends,  hoists  a  white  flag,  and  calls 
the  people  to  prayers,  for  they  have  no  l^Us.  From 
this  high  situation  the  voice  is  heard  at  a  conriderable 
distance;  and  the  talbes  have  a  monotonous  mode 
of  eniinciation,  the  voice  sinking  at  the  end  of  every 
short  sentence,  which  in  some  measure  resembles  the 
sound  of  a  bcti.  The  momentthe  flag  is  displayed,  every 
person  forsakes  his  employment,  and  goes  to  prayers. 
If  they  are  near  a  mosque,  they  perform  their  devo» 
tions  within  it,  otherwise  immediately  on  the  spot 
where  they  jiappen  to  be,  and  always  with  their  faces 
towards  the  east,  in  honour  of  their  prophet  Mahomet^ 
who  it  is  well  known  was  bnried  at  Medina. 

Their  Sabbath  is  on  our  Friday,  and  commences 
from  six  o*clock  the  preceding  evening.  On  this  day 
they  use  a  blue  flag  instead  of  the  white  qne.  As  it 
has  been  prophesied  that  they  are  to  be  conquered  by 
the  Christians  on  the  Sabbath  day,  the  gates  of  all  the 
towns  and  0f  the  emperor's  ^palaces  are  shut  when  at 
divine  service  on  that  day,  in  order  to  avoid 'being  sur- 
prised during  that  period.  *3heir  talbes  are  |i6t  dls.^ 
tinguished  by  any  particular  dress. 

llie  Moors  have  three  solemn  de%'otional  periods  in 
the  course  of  the  year.  The  ftpst,  which  is  named  Aid 
de  Cainer^  is  held  in  commemoration  of  the  birth  of 
Mahomet.  It  continues  seven  days  \  during  which  pe- 
riod, every  person  who  can  afford  the  expence  kills  a 
sheep  as  a  sacrifice,  and  divides  it  among  his  friends. 
The  second  4S  the  Ramadam.  This  is  held  at  the  sea- 
son* when  Mahomet  disappeared 'in*hn  flight  from  Mec- 
ca to  Medina.  Every  man  is  obliged  at  that  period 
to  fast  (that  is,  to  abstain  from  animal  food  from  sun- 
rise to  sunset  each  day)  for  30  days;  at  the  expiration 
of  whicbtime  a-feast  takes  place,  and  continues  a  week. 
The  third  is  named  LUuhorcy  and  is  a  day  set  apait 
by  Mahomet  for  every  person  to  compute  ue  value  of 
his  property,  in  order  for  the  payment  of  stakat^  that 
is,  one«>tenth  of  their  income  to  the  poor,  and  other 
pious  uses.  Although  this  feast  only  lasts  a  single  day, 
yet  4t  is  celebrated  with  hr  greater  magnificence  than 
either  of  the  others. 

'Hie  Moors  compute  time  by  lunar  months,  and 
count  the  days  of  the  week  by  the  first,  second,  third, 
&c.-beginning  from  our  Sunday.  They  use  a  common 
reed  for  writing,  and  begin  their  manuscripts  from  riffht 
to  left.  '^' 

The  Moors  of  the  empire  of  Morocco,  as  well  ^ioMewg^ 
those  to  the  northern  limits  of  Africa,  speak  Arabic )  of  the 
but  this  language  is  corrupted  in  proportion  as  we  re-  Moon. 
tire  farther  from  Asia,  where  it  fost  took  birth  ^  the 

3  G  2  intermixture 


4» 

Their  tem- 
per and 


M    O    R  [4 

Morocco,  intermixtare  which  has  haj^pmed  ftmong  the  Afinam 
nations,  and  the  frequent  traiiBougrations  of  the  Moan, 
during  a  succession  of  afies,  have  occasioned  them  to 
lose  the  purity  of  the  Arabic  language  j  its  pronun- 
ciation has  been  vitiated,  the  use  ot  many  igrords  kMt, 
and  other  foreign  words  hkve  been  introduced  without 
thereby  rendering  it  more  copious }  the  pronunciatioa 
of  the  Africans,  however,  is  softer  to  t)ie  ear  and  less 
guttural  than  that  of  the  Egyptiaas.  The  language, 
when  written,  is  in  effect  much  the  same  at  Morocca 
as  at  Cairo,  except  that  there  are  letters  and  expressions 
among  the  Moors  which  differ  firom  those  of  the  Orien* 
tal  Arabs,  who,  however,  understand  the  Moors  in  con- 
versation, notwithstanding  their  vitiated  manner  of  pro- 
nouncing. They  mutually  read  each  others  writings 
with'  some  difficulty. 

The  Moors  are  naturally  of  a  grave  and  pensive  dis- 
position, fervid  in  professions  of  friendship,  but  very 
dispaution.  insincere  in  tlunr  attachments*  They  have  no  curio- 
sity, no  ambition  of  knowledge  v  aa  indolent  habit, 
united  to  the  want  of  mental  cultivation,  renders  them 
perhaps  even  more  callous  than  other  unenlightened 
people  to  every  delicate  sensation )  and  they  require 
more  than  ordinary,  excitement  to  render  thens  sensible 
of  pleasure  or  of  pain.  This  languor  of  sentiment  is, 
however,  unaccompanied  with  the  smallest  spark  of 
courage  or  fortitude.  When  in  adversity,  they  mani- 
fest the  most  abject  submission  to  their  saperion^  and 
45  ^  in  prosperity  their  tyranny  and  pride  are  insvppm^ble. 
Mode  of  U-  Fersonal  cleanliness  has  been  considered  asona  «f 
im*  A^c?'  ^^'^  circumstances  which  serve  to  mark  and  deter- 
'  *  mine  the  civili2»tion  of  a  people.  It  was  in  vain  that 
Mahomet  enjoined  the  frequency  of  ablution  as  a  re- 
ligious duty  to  the  Moors.  Their  dress,  which  should 
be  white,  is  but  seldom  washed)  and  their  whole  ap- 
pearance evinces  that  th^  perform  this  braoeh  of  theiv 
religious  ceremonies  in  but  a  slovenly  manner.  With 
this  degree  of  negliMnce  as  to  their  persons,  we  may  be 
justly  surprised  to  find  united  a  UMWt  scrapulous  nicety 
in  their  habitations  and  apartments.  They  enter  their 
chambers  barefooted,  and  cannot  bear  the  slightest  de-* 
gree  of  contamination  near  the  place  where  they  are 
seated.  This  delicacy  again  is  much  confined  to  the 
insides  of  tlieir  houses.  The  streets  receive  the  whole 
of  their  rubbish  and  fikh }  and  by  these  means  the 
around  is  so  raised  in  most  parts  of  the  city  of  Morocco, 
that  the  new  buildings  always  stand  considerably  higher 
tban  the  old. 

With  respect  to  the  hours  for  eating,  the  people  of 
this  country  are  remarkably  regular.  Veqr  soon  after 
daybreak  they  take  their  breakfast,  which  is  generally 
a  composition  of  flour  aad  water  boiled  tiiin,  together 
with  ant  herb  which  gives  it  a  yellow  tinge.  The  male 
part  of  the  family  eat  in  one  apartment  and  the  fe- 
male in  another.  The  ohildiea  are  not  permitted  to 
eat  with  their  parents,  but  take  their  meaU  afierwards 
wiith  the  servants  'y  in(ked.  in  most  other  respects  they 
are  teeated  exactly  as  servaota  or  slaves  by  their  pa- 
rents. The  mess  io  put  into  aa  eartfaea  bowl,  aad 
beoufht  ia  opoa  a  sound  wooden  ttay.  It  ia  ptaeed 
in  the  centre  of  the  gaests,  who  sit  cross-legged  either 
on  a  aiat  or  on  the  ioor,  and  who  fivm  a  oifole  for  the 
focpose.  Havii^  piievioosly  washed  tbenselvrs,  a 
eeremony  always  performed  be^we  aad.  after  meals, 
c%ch  penoa  w|th  his  ^ooa  attaahs  yigatmm^  the 


20    ]  M    O    R 

bowl,  while  they  diversify  the  eotoitainmciii  by  mhig 
witli  it  fruit  or  bread.  At  twelve  o^dock  tbey  dine, 
perfbnning  the  same  ceremonies  as  at  brcak&st.  For 
dinner,  fivm  the  emperor  down  to  the  peasant,  thsir 
dish  is  naivessally  cooscDotoo,  the  mode  of  pvepariug 
which  has  been  already  .described.  Thedish  is  broagbt 
in  upon  a  round  tray  and  placed  00  the  floor,  roond 
which  the  family  sit  as  at  breakfast,  and  with  their  fin- 
gers commit  a  violent  assault  00  its  eoateats  :  they  tn 
at  the  same  time,  however,  attoaded  by  a  slave  or  do- 
mestic, who  pnsenis  them  with  water  and  a  towel  e^ 
casiooally  to  wash  their  hands.  From  the  want  of  the 
simple  and  convenient  invention  of  kaives  aad  forks, 
it  is  not  oaoHMMm  in  this  coaatry  to  see  thrae  or  km 
people  pulling  to  pieces  the  same  piece  of  meat,  aad 
afterwards  with  their  fiagers  stiiriag  ap  the  paste  or 
coowoosoe,  of  which  they  often  take  a  whole  haadfid 
at  OBce  iato  their  mouth.  At  saaaet  they  sap  apen  the 
same  dish  j  and  indeed  sapper  ie  their  priactpal  aeaL 

But  the  commoo  pe<^lemuet  content  theamelves  with 
alittlo  bisead  and  fruit  instead  of  animal  Used,  aad  sleep 
ia  the  open  stfeeCs.  This  kind  of  existeaeo  seems  iU 
calculated  to  eaduse  evea  in  an  iaaetive  slata  }  Cm*  mere 
severe  must  it  therefeie  be  to  those  who  eaoroise  the 
laborious  employment  of  conriers  in  this  country,  who 
travel  on  foot  a  journey  of  three  hundred  <»  fear 
huadred  miles,  at  the  rate  of  betweoa  thirty  or  ferty 
Bules  a-day ,  without  taking  any  other  aoorishment  than 
a  little  bread,  a  few  figs,  aad  some  water,  and  who 
,have  no  hotter  shelter  at  aight  than  a  tree.  It  ia 
wonderful  with  what  alacrity  and  perseveraace  these 
people  perform  the  most  fatiguing  jouvaeys  an  aU  seasons 
of  tim  year.  Theio  is  a  regular  company  of  them  ia 
every  town,  who  are  ready  to  be  dispatclie4  al  a  m^ 
meat's  warning  to  any  part  of  the  eonatry  their  em- 
ployers Bwy  have  ooeosioa  to  send  them. 

As  the  Moors  are  not  fond  of  admittinj|{  men  iato 
their  houses,  except  upon  pailiCuUr  occasioas,  if  the 
weather  be  fine  they  place  a  nmt,  aad  somefimf  a 
carpet,  00  the  ground  before  the  door,  seat  themselves 
upon  it  cross-legged,  and  receive  their  friends,  wbo 
form  a  circle,  sitting  ia  the  same  manner,  with  their 
attendants  on  the  oataide  of  the  granpe.  Upon  these 
occasions  tbey  either  driak  lea  or  smoke  and  convene. 
The  streets  are  sometimes  crowded  with  paitiee  of  tina 
kind }  some  engaged  in  playing  at  an  laiRwior  kind  of 
chess  or  draughts,  at  which  they  are  vefy-oxpert  ^  hot 
the  majoritv  in  conversation.  The  people  ot  thia 
coaatry,  indeed,  ate  so  deddedly  averse  to  standing 
up,  or  walking  about,  that  if  oidy  two  or  three  people 
m^et,  liiey  squat  themeelvee  down  in  the  first  deaa 
plaeo  they  caa  find,  if  the  conversation  is  to  hold  hot  a 
for  a  few  minutes. . 

The  Moors  have  in  general  bat  few  anraeeoMali; 
the  sedentary  life  they  lead  in  cities  is  little 
except  by  the  care  they  take  of  their  gardene, 
are  rather  kept  for  profit  than  pleasore.  Mmt  of 
these  gardens  an  planted  with  the  orange,  the  lemsn 
tree,  aad  the  oedar,  in  raws,  and  in  such  great  qaaati- 
ties,  that  the  appearance  b  rather  that,  of  a  fcreai 
that  of  a  gardeaw  The  Moors  sometimes,  thoagh 
ly,  have  mosic  in  llMse  retreats :  a  state  of  slavciy  Imt 
ill  agrees  with  the  love  of  pleasure  ^  the  people  of  Foa 
aloae,  either  from  a  difierence  ia  odacatiun,  or  he- 
cause  their  organs  and  sensibility  aia  more  delicate. 


MOB 


421     1 


M    O'*  E 


45 


4tf 
of 


make  mosie  »  ptttt  pf  Ibeir  amusemeDts.  There  «« 
•ot  in  Moroceo«  w  in  Turkey,  ipublic  cofee-koinei, 
where  people  meet  to  inquire  the  news  of  the  «lay  $ 
hot  inetead  ef  tbeae,  the  Moors  go  to  the  harbm 
shops,  wbieh  in  all  coimiries  teem  to  he  the  rendezvous 
of  newameegers*  These  shops  are  sorroModfed  by  bench- 
cs ;  oa  which  the  oastamer,  (he  ioqiiisittve,  and  tbe 
idle,  seat  themselves,  aftd  when  there  are  no  more  places 
▼acaat,  they  croach  on  the  srreimd  like  monkeVs. 

A  eoamHm  diversioB  m  tne  towns  where  there  are 
soldiera,  as  well  as  in  the  ceimtry,  b  what  the  Moors 
fiaH  the  game  of  gnnpowder ,  a  ktad  of  military  ex- 
crai&e,  that  is  the  aiore  pleasiog  to  these  people,  tn* 
Asamch  as,  by  the  natore  of  their  goyemnient,  they 
idl  ava,  9r  aie  liahte  to  become,  s^diers,  therefore  aM 
have  arms  and  horses.  By  explosioas  of  powder,  .too^ 
they  manifest  their  festivity  on  their  bolidaysw  Their 
gnnt  of  ganpowder  consists  in  two  bodies  of  horsey 
each  at  a  distance  from  tbe  other,  galloping  in  svcoes*^ 
aive  parties  of  four  and  four,  and  iring  their  pieces 
chargiMi  with  powder.  Their  chief  art  is  in  gallepiog 
up  to  the  opposite  detaobmeoti  suddenly  stopping,  fir- 
ing their  muskets,  facing  about,  charging,  and  return* 
ing  to  the  attack ;  all  which  numoBUvres  are  imitated 
by  th^  opponents.  The  Moors  take  great  pleasure  in 
this  amusement^  which  is  only  an  imitatiea  ii  their  mi* 
Utary  evolotions. 

Tiie  conamon  topics  for  conversatieii  aaMng  the 
Moors,  are  the  occurreaces  of  the  place,  religion, 
their  womeo,  bat  above  all  their  horses.  -  This  last  to- 
jfkcf  indeed,  a|>pean  to  occupy  by  far  the  greatest  p«r« 
lien  of  their  attentioa.  These  aninmls  are  seldom  kepi 
ilk  slabica  in  Metooeo.  They  are  watered  and  fed  only 
anoe  a^day,  the  former  at  one  oVloek  at  noon,  and  the 
laUer  at  suaset :  and  the  only  one  mode  which  they  use 
to  clean  them  is  by  washing  them  all  diver  in  a  tiTtt 
two  or  three  'times  a>week,  and  suffiniog  them  to  dry . 
themselves. 

Like  all  barbarous  nations,  tbe  Moors  are  passion- 
ately  fend  of  masio,  and  seme  few  have  a  taste  for  poe- 
try. Their  slow  airs,  for  want  of  that  variety  which  is 
introdnoed  when  the  science  has  attained  a  degree  of 
perfection,  have  a  very  nwlancholy  sameness  j  bnt  some 
of  their  quick  tunee  are  beautifal  and  simple,  and  psr« 
take  in  some  degree  of  the  charaeferistio  meiody  of  the 
Scotch  airs.  The  poetry  of  their  songs,  the  oonstaiit 
anbieet  of  wUch  is  love,  tkengh  there  are  few  nations 
pttimps  who  are  lew  seasible  of  that  pasaioa,  has  car- 
taink  less  merit  tban  the  music. 

Their,  instrmnents  aM  a  kind  of  hantboy,  whichr 
diSem  from  oars  only  in  having  ao  keya^  the  mando* 
line,  which  they  have  learnt  to  play  npoajrom  their 
neighboun  the  Spaniards ;  another  iastmro^at,  bearing 
sOflM  resemblance  to  a  violin,  and  played  npon  in  a  si* 
miiar  manner,  hot  witb  only  two  striiln ;  the  Jhigo 
druB,  the  osmmmi  pipe,  and  the  tabor.  Thtse  nnjl^. 
and  acoempaaied  with  a  oertain  nmnber  of  voices,  npoa 
many  occasioBS  ferm  a  band^  though  sida  mnmc  is  amie 
common  in  this  unsocial  cenntry. 

The  Moors  marry  veiy  yoang,  mnny  af  their  fe» 
raairs  not  being  mose  than  id  fetm  of  ago  at  their 
nuptials.  As  Mahometans,  it  is  well  known  that  their 
religion  adaats  of  polygamy  to  the  extent  of  fear 
wives,  and  as  many  concubines  as  they  please ;  bat  if 
we  eacept  the  very  opulent,  the  peejie  seldom  avail 


Marriage 


Dies. 


theraselvrs  of  this  indulgence,  shice  it  entails  oo  theih  M<in>cc«i 
a  vast  additional  ex  pence  in  hou6e*k«eping,  tmi  in  pro- 
viding for  a  large  family.  In  contracting  marriage, 
the  parents  of  both  parties  are  the  only  agents  (  atid 
tlie  intended  bride  and  bridegroom  never  see  eath  othe^ 
till  die  ceremony  is  performed.  The  masriage  settle- 
ments are  made  before  the  cadi  *,  and  then  the  friends 
of  the  brido.  produce  her  portion,  or  if  not,  tbe  hus- 
band agrees  to  settle  a  certain  sum  upon  her  in  case 
he  should  die,  or  divorce  her  on  account  of  barrenness, 
or  any  other  cause.  Tbe  children  of  the  wives  have 
all  an  equal  claim  to  the  effects  of  die  father  Md 
mother,  but  those  of  tbe  eoncabines  can  each  only  claifh 
half  a  share. 

When  the  marriage  is  finally  agreed  upon,  the  btidt 
is  kept  at  home  eight  days,  to  receive  her  fem^e 
friends,  who  pay  congratulatory  visits  every  day.  At 
the  same  time  a  talbe  attends  upon  her,  te  ooavers6 
with  her  relative  to  the  solemn  engagemeftt  en  which 
she  is  about  to  enter :  on  these  occasions  he  cotamonl]^ 
accompanies  his  admonitions  with  singing  a  pious  byain, 
which  is  adapted  to  the  solemnly.  The  bridemonfi, 
on  the  other  hand,  receives  visits  mm  his  male  frietids 
in  the  moraing,  and  in  tbe  evetaing  rides  through  the 
town  accompanied  by  thetn,  same  playiiig'on  hatitboys 
and  drums,  while  others  are  employed  in  firing  volkys 
of  musketry.  In  all  their  fisstivals  the  distfaargte  of 
musketry  indeed  forms  a  priaeipal  pai^  of  llbe  ^ter-* 
tainment.  Contrary  to  the  European  ttfode,  which 
particularly  ai»H  at  firing  with  exactness,  the  Moors 
diBohavge  their  pieces  as  irregularly  as  possible^  A  a^ 
to  have  a  continual  snecession  of  imports  fiir  n  few  mi« 
antes. 

On  the  day  of  the  marriage,  the  bride  in  the  eveil- 
hig  is  put  inta  ^  s^pmre  or  octagonal  cage  about  twelve 
feet  in  ciieamference,  which  is  covered  with  fine  white 
Unaa,  and  sometimes  with  gauses  and  silks  of  various 
cohmrs;  In  this  vehicley  idiich  is  placed  ota  a  nftd^^ 
she  is  paraded  roimd  the  streetn^  accompanied  by  ber* 
rehiaioas  and  frieadB,  some  carrying  lighted  torches, 
otherr  playing  on  the  havlboys,  and  a  thii^  pfti^T 
again  firing  voUelsi  of  maaketiy.  In  thiti  manni^  she 
is  carried  to  the  house  of  heft  ittteilded  husband,  Who 
netusas  about  tbe  mme  time  firoiA  perfcrtoing  similar 
cetemoni^s.  On  her  arrival,  ^  i^  placed  in  an  apart- 
meat  by  herself,  and  her  husband  is  intrddoced  to  her 
alone  ror  the  first  time,  who  finds  her  sktiag  ott  a  mAk 
or  velvet  cnsUon  (supposing  her  to  be  a  person  of  6ofi- 
sequence),  with  a  snmil  table  bofore  H^i*,  upoil  which 
are  two  waa  caadles  Hgktedi  Her  Mk^  or  niore  pifo- 
^rly  shirty  hangs  down  Kike  a  train  bdlind  her,  and^ 
over  it  is  »  silk  or  velvet  robe  irith  elose  sleerM,  which 
at  the  breast  and  wrists  is  eftibreide^d  Witl^  gold-^  this 
drem  reaebes  somttbing  Umer  than  the  esftf  of  the  leg. 
Boaad  her  head  ia  tied  a  blaok  sHk  so«rf,  whicb  hangs 
behind  as  hm  as  the  gl«und»  Thai  at^red,  t^  bride 
sits  with  her  baada  oter  her  eyes,  trhirt  her  husband' 
appeara,  dad  receives  her  al  his  wife  wMlonfitty  fiir- 
iher  ceieamny :  for  ihe  agre«Ment  made  by  tlW  friends 
befere  dm  cadi  is  the  obly  specific  eotttradt  whidh  is 
thongnt  iMceuuajy. 

If  the  husband  ^oald  hate  any  i^Mon  tostisi^fct  that 
is  wife  has  not  been  strictly  virtuous,  he  is  at  liberty 
to  diea^e  her  and  take  another.     For  some  time  after 
tbe  famity  and  ihe  firiends  are  engaged  in 

much 


mama 


M    O    R 


[    432    ] 


M    O    R 


Morocco,  nmch  feastiogy  mnd  a  variety  of  amoieffleilts,  wiiicb  last 

*     »"V       '  a  longer  or  raorter  time  according  to  the  ctreumstaoces 

of  tfaie  parties.    It  is  usually  customary  for  the  maa 

fle  remain  at  home  eight  days  and  the  woman  eight 

•Hionths  after  they  are  first  married  }  and  the  woman  is 

-mt  liberty  to  divorce  herself  from  her  hushand,  if  she 

can  prove  that  he  does  not  .provide  her  with  a  proper 

subsistence. 

Women  suffer  but  little  inconvenience  iu  tiiis  coun- 
try .from  child-bearing;  'they  are  frequently  up  the 
48        next  day,  and  go  through  vaU  the  t^uties  of  the  house 
•Circwnct*   with  the  infant  upon  'their  hacks.     In  .-celebrating  the 
''^^  rite  of  circumcision,  the  child  is.dressed  very  sumptu- 

ously, and  carried  on  a  mule,  or,  if  the  parents  are  in 
poor  circumsiantea,  on  an.jitt,  acoonpasied  with  .flags 
dying  and^nusicians  playing von  hautboys  and  beating 
49 ,     drums.     In  this  manner  they  proceed  to  the  mosque, 
^lidid^  4rhere  the  ceramony  is  performed.     Children,  as  soon 
«  Mica.^  ^y  ^^^  ^  made  in  the  least  degree  usefiil,  are^put 
.  4o  the  various  Juods  of  lalnter  adapted  to  their  age  and 
'    strength.   -Others,  whose  parents  are  in  better  circum* 
stances^'. are  •sometimes  sent  to  school ;  and  those  who 
I  are  intended  for  the  church,  usually  continue  their 
studies  till  they  have  nearly  learnt  the  Koran  by  rote. 
In  that 'Case  thev  are  enrolled  among  the  talbes,  nr 
learned  men  of  the  law.}  and  upon  leaving  school  are 
graded  round  the  strrela  en  a  horse,  accilmpanied  by 
^o       music  and  a  laige  concourse  of  people. 
Toeeral  When  any  person  dies,  a  •certain  number  oC  womcia 

rites.  ^ipe  hired  for  the  purpose  >of  lamentation  ;  in  the  pep' 

formance  ^f  which,  nothing  can  be  more  grating  to 
the  ear,  or  more  unpleasant,  than  their  frightful  moans, 
or  rather  bowlings  :  at  the  same  time,  these  mercenary 
moumeis  beat  their  heads  and  breasts^  and  tear^their 
cheeks  with  their  nails.  Hie  bodies  are  usually  buried 
a  few  hours  after  death.  Previous  to  interment,  the 
CQi^pse  is  washed  very  clean,  and  sewed  up  in  a  shroud, 
witk  the  fight  hand  under  the  head,  whioh  is  pointed 
towards  Mecca :  it  is  carried  on  a  bier  supported  upon 
men^s  shoulders,  to  the  .burying  place,  which  is  always, 
with-gaeat  propriety,  on  the  outside  of  the  town,  for 
they  never  bury  their  dead  in  the  mosques,  or  within 
tjie  bounds  of  an  inhabited  place. 

Morocco,  a  city  of  the  kingdom  of  Morocco  in 
Barbanr,  lying4ibout  1 20  miles  to  the  north  of  Tarudant, 
00  to  the  east  of  Mogodore,  and  350  to  the  sotith  of 
Tangier.^  It  is  situated  in  a  beautiful  valley,  formed 
by  a  chain  of  mountains  on  the  northern  side,  and  those 
of  Atlas,  from  which  it  is  distant  about  20  miles,  on 
the  south  and  east.  The  country  which  immediately 
surrounds  it  is  a  fertile  plain,  beautifully  diversified 
with  clumps  of  palm  trees  and  shrubs,  and  watered  by 
small  and  numerous  streams  which  descend  from  Mount 
Atlas.  The  emperor's  out  gsirdens,  which  are  sitimted 
at  the  distance  of  about  five  miles  to  the  aouth  of  the 
city,  and  are  large  plantations  of  olives  walled  in,  add 
considerably  to  the  beauty  of  the  soene. 

Morocco,  though  one  of  the  capitals  of  the  empire 
(for  there  are  three,  Morocco,  Mequinez,  and  Vet\ 
has  nothing  to  reoommend  it  but  its  great  extent  and 
the  royal  palace.  It  is  enclosed  hv  remarkably  strong 
walls  built  of  tabby,  the  circumference  of  which  is 
about  eight  milea.  On  these  walb  there  are  no  gnna 
mounted}  but  they  are  flanked  with  square  towers, 
apd  suiTOunded  by  a  wide  and.  deep  ditch.    The  city 

2 


amoDf'WW 

Jttd.rf«»'»i 


has  a  number  of  entrances,  consisting  of  kige  doskle  Um^tt, 
porches  of  tabby  in  the  Gothic  style,  the  gates 
which  are  regularly  shot  every  night  at  certam  hooA. 
As  polygamy  is  allowed  by  the  Mahometan  ivligioa, 
and  is  supposed  in  some  degree.4o  affect  popubtisa,  it 
would  be  diffieolt  to  form  any  eompatatkm  «ear  tk 
truth  with  respect  to  tlfe  number  of  inhabitants  wfaieh 
this  eitv  may  contain.     The  mosques,  which  are  the 
only  poolic  buildings  except  the  palace  woith  noticbg 
at  Merocco,  are  more  numetous  than  mi^iiiocat  \ 
one  of  them  is  omamented<*with  a  vet^  h%k  and  s^eare 
tower,  built  of  cut  stone,  which  is  visible  at  a  csnaider- 
able  distance  from  the  city.    The  streets  aie  veiy  aar« 
row,  dirty,  and  irregular,  and  many  of  theAooscs  ate 
uninhabited  and  fiilling  to  ruin.    Those  which  aie  de- 
cent and  respectable  in  their  appearance  are  buik  of 
tabby,  and  enclosed  in  gardens.    That  4»f  ^  cfai£ 
or  prime  minister  (according  to  Mr  Lempriere,  froai 
whose  Tour*  this  account  is  transcribed),  was 
the  best  in  Morocco.    This  house,  which  const 
two  stories,  had  elegant  apartments  both  above  and  be« 
low,  furnished  in  a  style  far  superior  to  any  thiag  our 
author  ever  saw  in  that  country.    The  court,  iata 
which  the  fewer  apartments  opened,  4raa  very  neatly 
paved  with  glazed  blue  and  white  tiling,  and  had  ia 
its  centre  a  beautiful  fountain.    The  upper  apartmeats 
were  connected  together  by  a  broad  gallery,  the  bal- 
lusters  of  which  were  pamted  of  different  eoloers. 
The  hot  and  cold  baths  were  very  large,  and  had  every 
eonvenience  which  art  could  afliord.    Into  the  garden, 
which  was  laid  out  in  a  tolerably  neat  style,  opened  a 
room  adjoiitiog  to  the  house,  which  had  a  broad  aiched 
entrance   but  no  door,   beautifully  onuuneiiled  with 
chequered  tilii^ }  and  at  both  ends  of  the  i^aitnicat 
the  wdUs  were  entirely  covered  with  looking  gfans. 
The  flooring  at  all  the  rooms  was  covered  with  bcao- 
tiful  carpeting,  the  walls  ornamented  with  large  add 
valuable  looking  glasses,  intermixed  with  watches  aad 
clocks  in  glass  cases.    The  ceiling  was  carved  wood- 
work, painted  of  diflferent  colours }  uimI  the  •whole  was 
in  a  superior  style  of  Moorish  ffrandeur.     This  aada 
few  others  are  the  only  decent  habitatioua-in  Morocco. 
The  generality  of  them  serve  only  to  impscss  4he  tia- 
veller  with  the  idea  of  a  tniaerable  aitd  deserted  eity. 

The  Ekaisaeria  is  a  particular  patt  of  the- torn 
where  stuflfo  and  other  valuable  articles  are  exposed  to 
sale.  It  consists  of  a  number  ef  email  shops,  fiumed  in 
the  walls  of  the  houses,  about  a  yard  from  the  groaad, 
of  such  a  height  within  .mk  just  to  admit  a  amn  to  at 
in  one  of  them^ross-legged.  The  goods  and  drawers 
are  so  arranged  rmiiad  him,  that^h^  he-aerves  hiaeo* 
stomers,  who  are  standing  idl  the  time  out  in  the  street, 
he  can  reach  down  any  article  he  -wants  •  without  be> 
ing  under  the  tiecessity  of  moving.  These  shops,  which 
are  found  in  all  the  other  towns  of  the  empire,  are  snfi* 
cient  to  affivd  a  striking  example  of  the  indolcaee  of 
the  Moors.  There  are  three  daily  markets  in  difaoat 
parts  of  Uie  town  of  Morocoo  where  peuvisians  are 
sold,  and  two  -weekly  fairs  or  maikets  for  the  dispoml 
of  cattle.  The  city  is  supplied-with  water  hj  meaw 
of  wooden  «^pes  eooncotcd  with  the  aai^hbeom 
streams,  which  empty  themselves  into  reservwia  fhm 
tfa  the  purpose  in  the  auburfaa,  aad  soom  fcw  m  tha 
centre  of  the  town. 

^Jie  caatfeis  a  laive^uid  ruinous  building,  the  ooter 

wbOs 


M    O    R 


C  423  ] 


M    O    R 


iroeeOi 


wa!l$  of  wliidi  enclose  m  space  of  ground  about  three 
miles  in  cifcamference.  It  has  a  mosquei  on  the  top  of 
wbicb  are  three  large  baUa,  formed,  as  the  Moors  alleee, 
of  solid  0ild.  The  castle  ii  almost  a  town  of  itself} 
it  contains  a  namber  of  inhabitanta,  who  in  some  de- 
partment or  other  are  in  the  service  of  the  emperor, 
and  all  under  the  direction  of  a  particolar  alcaide,  who 
ts  quite  independent  of  the  govemer  of  the  town.  On 
the  outside  of  the  castle.  Between  the  Moorisli  town 
and  the  Jewdry,  are  several!  small  distinct  pavj  lions,  en- 
cloflbd  in  gardens  of  orange  trees,  which  aie  intended 
as  occasionl  places  of  residence  for  such  of  the  empe- 
ror^ sons  or  Imthers  as  happen  to  be  at  Morocco*  As 
they  are  covered  with  coloured  tiling,  they  have  at  a 
imall  distance  rather  a  neat  appearance  j  hut  upon  ap^ 
proaching  or  entering  them,  that  effect  in  a  great  mea- 
sure ceases. 

The  Jews,  who  are  at  this  place  pretty  numerous, 
have  a  separate  town  to  themselves,  walled  in,  and  un- 
der the  charge  of  an  alcaide,  appointed  by  the  empe- 
ror. It  has  two  large  gates^  which  are  re^^ularly  shut 
every  evening  about  nine  o^clock  \  after  which  time  no 
person  whatever  is  permitted  to  enter  or  go  out  of  the 
Jewdry  till  they  are  ^opened  again  die  following  monw 
ing.  The  Jewa  have  a  manet  of  their  own  j  and 
when  they  enter  the  Moorish  town,  castle,  or  palace, 
they  are  always  compelled  to  be  barefooted. 

The  palace  is  an  ancient  building,  surrounded  by  » 
square  wall,  the  hei^t  of  which  nearly  excludes  from 
the  view  of  the  spectator  the  other  buildings.  Its 
principal  gates  are  constructed  with  Gothic  arches, 
coaiposed  of  cut  stone,  which  conduct  to  several  open 
and  spaeioua  courts }  through  these  it  is  necessary  to 
pass  before  we  reach'  any  of  the  buildings.  These  open 
courts  were  used  by  the  late  emperor  for  the  purposes 
of  transacting  public  business  and  exercising  his  troops. 
The  habitable  part  consists  of  several  irregular  aquare 
pavilions,  built  of  tabby,  and  whitened  over  j  some  of 
which,  eommunicate  with  each  other,  others  are  distinct, 
and  most  of  them  receive  their  names  from  the  diffeiient 
towns- of  the  empire.  The  principal  pavilion  is  named 
by  the  Moors  the  'Douhar^  and  is  more  properly  the 
palace  or  seraglio  than  any  of  the  others.  It  consists  of 
the  emperor*a  place  of  residence  and  the  harem,  form- 
ing altogether  a  building  of  considerable  extent.  The 
other  pavilions  are  merely  fbr  the  purposea  of  pleasure 
or  business,  and'are  quite  distinct  from  the  douhar.  The 
Mogod'ire  pavilion,  so  named  from  the  Idle  emperorV 
partiality  to  that  town,  has  by  far  the  /airest 'claim  to 
grandeur  and  magnifioenoe.  This  apartment  "was  the 
trork  of  Sidr  Mahomet,  and'  is  lofly  and  square.  It  is 
built  of  cut  stone,  handsomely  ornamented  with  win* 
dows,  an^  covered'  with  varnished  tiles  of  various  co-» 
h>urs ;  and  its  elegance  and  neatness^  contrasted  alta- 
^her  witb  th^  simplicity  tM&  irregularity  of  the  other 
buildings,  produce  a  most  striking  efiect*  In  the  in- 
side, besides  several  other  apartments,  we  find  in  the  pa- 
vilion a  spacious  ropm  floored  with  blue  and'  white 
chequered  tiling,  its  ceiling  covered'  with  curioosly 
carved  and  painted  wood,  and  its  stuccoed*  walls  van- 
oosly  ornamented  with  looking  ghisses  and  watches,  re- 
gularly dbposed  in  glass  cases.  To  this  pavilloo  the 
bite  emperor  manifested  an  exclusive  preference,  fre- 
qaently  retiring  to  it  both  for  the  purpose  of  business 


and  of  recieatioD.     The  apaitments  of  the  emperor  Mofoeeo 
have  in  general  a  much  smaller  complement  of  furniture        H 
than  those  of  the  Moors  in  the  inferior  walks  of  life.  Mei^cna» 
Handsome  carpetbg,  a  mattress  on  the  ground  covered 
with  fine  linen,  a  couch,  and  a  couple  of  European  bed- 
steads, are  the  principal  articles  they  contaho.    The 
gardens  within  the  widls  of  the  palace,  of  whidi  he 
has  several,  are  very  neat ;  they  contain  oranae  and 
olive  trees,  variously  disposed  and  arranged,  and  inter* 
sected  with  streams  of  water,  fountains,  and  reservoirs* 
Those  on  the  outside  are  nothinginore  than  large  tracts 
of  ground,  irregulariy  planted  with  olives  ^  having  four' 
square  walks,  and  surrounded  by  walls. 

Morocco,  or  Marroquin^  Uie  skin  of  a  goat,  or 
some  other  animal  resembling  it,  dressed  in  sumach 
or  galls,  and  coloured  at  pleasure ;  much  used  in 
booUbindUnff,  &c*  The  name  is  commonly  derived 
from  the  kingdom  of  Morocco,  whence  it  is  supposed 
the  manner  of  preparing  these  skins  was  first  borrow- 
ed. We  have  Morocco  skins  brought  from  the  Le- 
vant, Barbary,  Spam,  Flanders,  and  France;  red, 
black,  yellow,  blue,  &c  For  the  manner  of  preparing 
them  see  Leather. 

MORON,  a  town  of  Spaio^  in  Andalusia,  seated 
in  a  fertile  plain  about  ao  miles  south-east  of  Seville. 
W.  Long.  5*  20.    N.  Lat.  37.  o. 

MORPETH,  a  handsome  town  of  Northumber- 
land, 1 4  miles  from  Newcastle,  286  miles  fipom  Loo- 
dolif  is  an  ancient  borough  bv  prescription,  with  a 
bridge  over  the  Wansbeck.  It  had  once  an  abbey 
and  a  castle,  now  in'  rains,  situated  about  r  quarter  of 
a  mile  south  of  the  town  and  river  Wansbeck,  on  an 
eminence  which  overlooks  both.  The  market-place  is 
conveniently  situated  near  the  centre  of  the  town  \  and 
an  elegant  townhouse  was  built  by  the  Carlisle  family  * 
in  17x4,  in  which  the  quaster-sessions  is  held  for  the 
county.  It  is  built  of  hewn  stone,  with  a  piazza.  The 
church  being  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant  fi^m  the  town, 
a  tower  containing  a  good  ring  of  bells  stands  near  the 
marketplace.  Near  the  bridge  is  the  -  county  gaol,  a 
modem  structure.  Here  are  a  firee  grammar  school,  a 
chapel  near  the  river,  on  the  site  of  a  chantry  that  was 
granted  for  the  support  df  the'  foundation  of  the  school, 
which  was  part  of  the  old  ^tructurei  and  ^n  hospital  for 
infirm  people.  In  121 5,  the  townsmett  themselves 
burnt  their  town,  out  of  pure  haired  to  King  John,  that 
he  might  find  no  shelter  thm. '  Here  is  a  good  market 
on  Saturday  for  eom^  cattle,  and  All  hecessary  provi- 
sions }  and  there  is  another  on  Wedbesday,  the  greatest 
in  England  except  Smithfield,'  for  live  cattle.  This 
is  a  post  town  and'  a  thorooghfa^^  with .  many  good 
inns,  and  plenty  of  fiisih  \  and  here  are  several  mills.— 
The  earl  of  Carlisle's  steward  hold^  a  court  here  twice 
a-year^  one  of  them  the  Monday  after  Michaelmas^., 
when  four  persons  are  chosen  bT  the  free  burgesses, 
who  are  about  107,  and  presented  to  the  steward,  who 
names  two  of  them  to  the  bailiffs,'  who,'  irith  seven 
aldermen,  are  its  governors  for  the  year  ensuing.  In 
l8ir  the  inhabitants  amounted  t6  nearly  3244.  ,  It  bas 
several  fairs,,  and  sends  two.  membets  to  parliament. 
W.  Long.  r.  24;    N.  Lat.  55. 12; 

MORPHEUS,  in  fabulous    history,   the   god    of 
sleep,  or,.accortling  to  others,  one  of  the  ministers  of" 
SornRUS^^    He  caused  sleepiness,,  and  seprescnted  tbe*- 


M    O    R  I    424 

Morplieiu  forms  of  dtsams.     Ovid  stjies  him  the  kindest  of  the 
deities  y  and  he  is  usually  described  in  a  recumbent  ikh 


Mortahty*  store,  and  crowned  with  poppies. 

MORRERI,  Lewis,  author  of  the  Historical  Diis- 
tionary,  was  bom  at  Barge-mont  io  Provence,  in  1643. 
He  learned  rhetoric  and  philosophy  at  Aix,  and  di- 
vinity at  Lyons.  At  18  years  of  age  he  wrote  a  smalt 
piece,  entitled  Le  Pays  a^Amotir^  and  a  collection  of 
the  finest  French  poems  entitled  Doux  plavtirs  de  la 
foesie.  He  learned  Spanish  and  Italian  \  and  translated 
^ut  of  Spanish  inta  French  the  book  entitled  La  Per^ 
fection  Chrctienne  de  Rodriguez*  He  then  refined  the 
Saints  Lives  to  the  parity  of  the  French  tongue.  Bl^- 
ing  ordained  priest,  be  preached  at  Lyons,  and  under- 
took, when  he  was  but  30  years  of  age,  a  new  Histo- 
rical Dictionary,  printed  at  Lyons  in  one  voL  folio, 
1673.  But  his  continual  labour  impaired  his  health} 
80  that  he  died  in  1680,  aged  37.  His  second  volume 
was  published  after  his  death  »  and  four  more  volume^ 
have  since  beei|  added.  He  left  some  other  works  be- 
hind him. 

'  MORRHINA  or  IMtURRHlNA  vasa»  were  a  sort  of 
cups  or  vases  made  use  of  by  the  ancients  for  drinkine 
oat  of,  and  other  puippses.  Authors  are  not  agreed  as 
to  the  substance  of  which  thev  were  made.  Some  8i|y 
it  was  a  stone }  some  assort  tn%t  ^t  was  ^  fluid  condensr 
ed  by  being  buried  under  ground.  AU  that  we  know 
concerning  it  is,  that  it  w^  known  by  the  name  of  mur'» 
rha^  and  that  Reliogabalus^s  chamher  pot  was  made  of 
it.     The  word  is  so^^times  written  myrrhina. 

MORRISC-BANC^s.     Se^  MoitEsmuB-Dances. 

MORS,  ^pEATH,  one  of  the  infernal  deities,  borq 
.of  Nigh^  without  a  father.  She  was  wor^ipped  by 
the  ancients  with  great  solemnity.  She  was  not  rep^- 
sented  as  an  actually  ej^isting  power,  but  qs  an  imagi- 
nary being.  Euripides  introduces  her  in  one  of  bis 
tragedies  on  the  stage.  The  moderqs  represent  her  as 
a^  skeleton  armed  with  a  scythe  and  a  scimeter. 

MORSE.     See  Trichecus,  IVLimmalia  Index. 

MORTALITY,  a  term  freqnently  used  to  signify 
a  contagious  disease,  which  destroys  great  numbers  of 
either  men  or  beasts. 

BitU  o/*  UoiiT4LiTYt  are  acconnts  or  registers  spe- 
cifying the  numbers  born,  married,  and  buried  in  any 
parish,  town,  or  district^  In  general  they  contain 
only  these  numbers ;  and,  evei^  when  thus  limit^^  are 
of  great  use,  by  showing  the  degrees  of  healthiness  and 
prolifickness,  and  the  progress  of  population  in  the 
plapes  whei^e  they  are  kept.  It  h  therefore  much  to. 
be  wished,  th^t  sugh  accounts  hltd.  been  always  cor- 
rectly kept  in  every  kingdom^  and,  regularly  published 
at  the  end  of  every  year.  We  should  then  have  had 
under  our  inspection  the  comparative  strength  of  eyep]^ 
kingdom,  as  f^  as  \t  depends  on  the  number  of  inha- 
bitants, and  ita  increaw  or  decrease  at  different  periodeA 
But  such  accounts  are  rendered  mor^  useful,  when  they 
include  the  ages  of  the  dead,  i^id  the  distempers  of 
which  they  hay^  died.  In  this  case  they  convey  some 
of  the  roost  im'porti^nt  instructions,  by  furnislung  us 
with  the  means  of  ascertaining  the  law  which  governs 
the  waste  of  human  life,  the  values  of  annuities  depend 
ent  on  th^  oontin nance  of  any  lives,  or  any  survivor- 
ships between  them,  and  the  favourableness  and  upfa- 
vourableness  of  different  situations  to  the  duration  of 
.'human  life.     There  are  but  few  registers  of  tjiis  kind ; 

I 


}  MOB 

nor  has  Jthls  sabject,  though  so  interestingto  manUid,  n^ttA, 
ever  en^ged  much  attention  till  lately.    The  first  bills ^■yS 
containmg  the  ages  of  the  deaj  were  those  for  the 
town  ef  Breslaw  in  Silesia.    It  is  well  known  what  use 
has  been  made  of  these  by  Dr  Halley,  and  after  him 
by  De  Moivre.     A  table  of  the  probabilities  of  the. 
duration  of  human  life   at  every  age,  deduced  from 
them  by  Dr  Halley,  has  been  published  in  the  Philo- 
sophical Transactions,  (see  the  Abridgement,,  vol.  iiL 
p.  699.)  and  is  the  first  table  of  that  sort  that  ^^  heea 
^ver  published.     Since  the  publication  of  thu  table 
similar  bills  have  been  established  in  a  few  towns  of 
this  kingdom  j  find  particularly  in  London,  in  the  year 
1728,  and  at  Northampton  in  1735* 

Two  improvements  of  these  registers  have  been  pro- 
posed :  the  first  is,  That  the  sexes  of  all  that  die  in 
every  period  of  life  should  be  specified  in  them,  under 
the  denoqaination  of  boys^  married  men,  widowers^  and 
bachelors  i  and  of  girh^  married  Ufomen^  widows^  and 
virgins.  The  second  is,  That  they  should  specify  the 
number  of  both  sexes  dying  of  every  distemper  in 
every  month,  and  at  every  age.  See  the  end  of  die  4th 
essay  in  Dr  Price's  Treatise  00  Reversionary  Payments. 
Registers  of  mortality  thus  improved,  when  compared 
with  records  of  the  seasons,  and  with  die  oircamstances 
that  discriminate  different  situations,  might  contribute 
greatly  to  the  increase  of  medical  knowledge  )  and  thtj, 
would  afford  ^the  necessary  data  for  detemining  the 
difference  between  the  duration  of  hnman  life  among 
males  and  females  \  for  such  a  difference  tbere  certaio- 
]Y*is  much  in  favour  of  females,  a^  will  appear  from  the 
fi>] lowing  facts. 

At  Northampton,  though  more  males  are  bom  than 
females :  and  nearly  the  same  number  die  j  yet  the 
number  of  living  females  appeared,^  by  an  aecount  ta- 
ken in  1746,  to  be  greater  than  tt^  number  of  malei| 
in  the  proportion  of  2301  to  1770,  or  39  to  30. 

At  Berlin  it  appeared,  from  an  accurate  acooost 
which  was  taken  of  the  inhabitants  in  1 747,  that  the 
number  of  female  citizens  exceeded  the  number  of  mak 
citizens  iu  the  proportion  of  459  to  391.  And  yet 
out  of  this  smaller  number  of  malee,  more  had  died  for 
ao  years  preceding  1751,  in  the  proportion  of  19  to 

At  Edinburgh,  in  Z743,  the  numher  of  females  wu 
to  the  number  of  males  as  ^  to  3.  (See  Maitland*^ 
History  of  Edinburgh^  p.  ^20).  But  the  females  that 
died  annually  from  1749  to  1758,  were  to  the  males  in 
no  higher  proportion  than  3t  to  3. 

He  that  will  take  the  pains  to  examine  the  acconnts 
in  Phil.  Trans.  Abr.  vol.  vii.  part  iv.  pb  46,  &c  will 
find»  that  though  in  the  towns  there  enumerated,  the 
proportion  of  males  and  females  bom  is  no  higher  than 
ip  to  18,  yet  the  proportion  of  hoys  and  girls  that 
die  is  8  to  7 ;  and  that^  in  particular,  the  still-bora 
and  chrysom  males  are  to  the  still-born  and  chrysom 
females  as  3  to  2. 

In  39  parishes  of  the  district  of  Vand  in  Switzer- 
land, the  number  of  males  that  died  during  ten  ycais 
before  1766  was  8170^  of  females  8167  j  of  whom 
the  numbers  that  died  under  one  year  of  age  were  1817 
males  and  X305  females ;  and  under  ten  years  of  a|fr, 
3099  males  and  2598  females.  In  the  beginning  ef 
life,  therefore,  and  before  any  emigrations  can  take 
place,  the  rate  of  mortality  among  males  appears  to 


M    0    fe  [4 

■ort^y.  1»e  gteatcr  than  mmong  fertiales.  And  this  is  rendered 
yet  more  certain  by  the  follotring  accounts.  At  Vc- 
irejTy  in  the  district  of  Vaod  just  mentioned,  there  died 
m  the  course  of  20  years,  ending  at  1 764,  in  the  first 
month  after  birtli,  of  males  135  to  89  females ;  and  in 
the  first  year  22 j  to  162.  To  the  same  tflect  it  ap- 
pears  from  a  table  given  by  Snsmilch,  in  his  Gottliche 
Ordnnng,  vol.  it.  p*  3 1 7*  that  in  Berlin  203  males  di<^ 
!d  the  first  month,  and  but  168  females  j  and  in  the 
first  year,  489  to  395;  and  also,  from  n  table  of 
8tniyck%  that  in  liolland  39S  males  die  in  the  first 
year  to  306  females. 

The  -Aothonttes  for  the  fiicts  here  mentioned,  and 
much  more  on  this  subject,  may  be  found  in  the  4th 
essay  In  Dr  Price^s  Tueatise  on  Reversionary  Pay- 
ments, and  in  the  supplement  at  tlie  end  of  that 
treatise. 

We  shall  here  only  add  the  following  table,  taken 
From  a  memoir  of  Mr  Wargentin^s,  published  in  the 
eollection  of  the  Memoirs  of  the  Royal  Academy  ot 
Sciences  at  Stockliolm,  printed  at  Pans  in  1772. 

In  all  Sweden  for  nine  years,  ending  in  1763,  the 
proportion  of  females  to  males  that  died  oat  of  a  given 
number  living,  was 


Under  the  age  of  one  year, 
From  X  to  3  years  of  age, 

3 — 5  '      — 

5—10  — 

10 — 15  — 

15—20  — 

20—25  — 

25—30  — 

30—35  ~ 

35—40  — 

40—45  — 

4J— 50  — 

50—55  — 

55_6o  — 

60 — 6$  — 

^5—70  — 

70—80  — 

80—90  — 

Above  90  — 


I  COO  to  1099 

1000— 1022 
1042 
1074 
1080 
1097 
1283 
I161 

993 
1 159 

ni5 

•  »34o 

*339 
1292 

1080 
1022 
1046 
2044 


Registers  of  mortality  on  tlie  improved  plan  before 
mentioned,  were  established  in  1772  at  Chester,  and 
also  In  1773  at  Warrington  in  Lancashire  ^  and  they 
are  so  comprehensive  and  correct,  tliat  there  is  reason 
to  expect  they  will  afford  much  instruction  ort  the  sub-> 
ject  of  human  mortality,  and  the  values  of  lives. 

But  the  country  mo^t  distinguished  in  this  respect 
is  Sweden :  for  in  that  kingdom  exact  accounts  are 
taken  of  the  births,  marriages,  and  burials,  and  of  the 
numbers  of  both  sexes  that  die  at  all  ages  in  every 
town  and  district,  and  also  at  the  end  of  every  period 
of  five  years,  of  the  numbers  living  at  every  age : 
and  at  Stockholm  a  society  is  established,  whose  busi* 
ness  it  is  to  superintend  and  regulate  the  enumerations, 
and  to  collect  from  the  different  parts  of  the  king- 
dom  the  registers,  in  order  to  digest  them  into  tables 
of  observation.  These  regulations  were  begun  in 
Sweden  in  1755  9  and  tables,  containing  the  result  of 
them  from  1 755  to  1 763,  have  been  published  in  Mr 
Wargentin^s  memoir  just  referred  to^  and  the  most 

Vol.  XIV.  Part  11.  t 


25    ]  M    d   tt 

matcriAt  parts  of  them  may  hte  fwbtii  *fr  fin  tssay  ty  Hfoitiittl)^. 
Dr  Price  on  the  DiflTcrencc  between  Ilie  l>uration  of^-v  *•' 
Human   Life   in  Towns  and    in   Conntlpy   Parishes, 
printed  in  the  fijtfa  volume  of  the  Pbilosopb.  Trans. 
Part  1 1 . 

In  the  fourth  essay  In  Df  Pri«c*«  Treatise  on  K^ 
Versionary  Payments  and  Ciffe  AnnuitlsS|  Ihe  Inlloif^ 
ing  account  is'given  of  the  principles  oh  Which  tables 
of  observation  are  formed  fifom  irgisters  of  mortality) 
and  of  the  proper  method  of  fbtming  them,  so  as  ta 
render  them  jun  representations  of  tire  ntnnbet  ef  In- 
habitants, and  the  probabilities  of  the  dutation  of  hu« 
man  life  in  a  toWn  or  eonntry» 

In  everyplace  whidi  jnst  supports  itteff  in  tfi^  num- 
ber of  its  inhabitants,  without  anj^  recinfls  firom  otht^ 
places  J  or  ivhere)  for  a  bourse  of  years,  there  hat 
been  no  increase  or  decrease )  the  number  of  iiersons 
dying  every  year  at  any  particular  age,  and  above  it, 
must  be  equal  to  tho  numbc>  of  the  Uving  at  that 
age.  The  number^  for  example,  dying  every  year  at 
an  ages  from  the  beginning  to  the  utmost  extremity 
of  lilb,  must,  in  such  a  situation,  be  just  equal  to  tht* 
whole  number  born  every  year.  And  for  the  taine 
reason,  the  number  dying  tvery  year  at  one  Veat  of 
age  und  upwards,  at  two  tears  of  age  and  upward*?, 
at  three  and  upwards,  and  so  on^  most  be  equal  (O 
the  numbers  that  attain  to  those  ages  cverr  year  j  or; 
which  is  the  sam6,  to  the  ntmilMrs  of  the  living  at 
those  ages.  It  is  obvious,  that  Mc68  Ms  happens, 
the  number  of  inhabitants  cannot  remain  the  saAie.  If 
the  former  number  is  greater  than  the  latter,  th*  inha- 
bitants must  dt*creas^5  if  less,  ftey  nitrst  increase. 
From  this  obserYatidh  It  fbllows,  that  in  a  town  of 
country  where  there  is  no  Increase  of  deerea^,  bills  of 
rtiortality  whieh  give  the  ages  at  which  all  die,  will 
show  the  exact  hambcr  6f  inhabitants,  and  also  the  ex- 
act law  according  to  which  human  life  wastes  in  that 

town  or  countrv. 

In  order  to  find  the  number  of  inhabitants,  the  mean 

numbers  dying  annually  at  every  particular  age  and  up- 
wards must  be  tAken  as  given  by  die  bills,  and  placed 
under  one  another  in  die  order  of  the  second  column  of 
the  following  tables.  Tlidse  mnnbcrs  wHI,  It  has  ap- 
peared, be  the  numbers  of  the  living  at  1,  2,  3,  fitc. 
tears  of  age  )  and  consequently  the  som  diniinished  hf 
alf  the  number  born  annually  Will  be  the  whole  num- 
ber of  inhabitants. 

This  subtraction  is  nocessaty,  for  the  following  rca. 
son.  In  a  table  formed  in  the  manner  here  directed, 
it  is  supposed  that  the  numbers  in  the  second  column 
are  all  living  together  at  the  beginning  of  cX-cry  year. 
Thus  the  number  in  the  second  column  oppo^^ite  to 
O  in  the  first  column,  the  table  supposes  to  be  all  just 
born  together  on  the  first  day  of  the  year.  The  num- 
ber, likewise,  opposite  to  I,  it  supposes  to  attain  to 
one  year  of  age  just  at  the  same  time  that  the  former 
number  is  born.  And  the  like  is  tme  of  every  num- 
ber in  the  second  column.  During  the  course  of  th<! 
year,  as  many  will  die  at  all  ages  as  were  bom  at  the 
beginning  of  the  year,  and  conseqitcntly,  there  will 
be  an  excess  of  the  number  alive  at  the  beginning  of 
the  year  above  the  number  alive  tiX  the  end  of  the 
year,  equal  to  the  whole  number  of  the  annual  births*) 
and  the  true  number  constantly  alive  together,  is  the 
ariihmctical  mean  between  tbe^e  two  nimibers  j  or  a* 

.  3  If  grecabljr 


MOB  I    426    }  M    O    R 

Mortality,  greeably  tO'the  rule  here  giveoi  the  sum  of  the  num-      I734»  the*  iiiinQfil  medium  of  birthaurM  X089,  Md  of^,,,j|^ 
bers  in  the  second  column  of  the  table  lessened  by  half     buria1»  1256.     This  town,  therefore,  must  have  b^n'  /^ 

all  along  kept  up  by  a  number  of  yearly  reciuits  bm 


the  number  of  annual  births. 

In  such  a  series  of  numbers^  the  excess  of  each  num- 
ber above  that  which  immediately  follows  it  will  be  the 
number  dying  every  yeas,  oat  of  the  particular  number 
: Jive  at  the  beginmng  of  the  year  y  and  these  excesses 
set  down  regiilarly  as  in  the  third  column  of  the  table 
to  which  we  have  referred,  will  show  the  diflferent  rated 
at  which  human  life  wastes  through  alUts  different  pe- 
I'iods,  and  the  different  probabilities  of  life  at  all  par* 
ticular  ages. 

It  must  be  remembered,  that  what  has  been  now 
said  goes  on  the  supposition,  that  the  place  whose 
bills  of  mortality  are  given,  supports  itself,  by  pro- 
creation only,  in  the  number  of  its  inhabitants.  In 
towns  this  very  Seldom  happens,  on  account  of  the  lux- 
ury and  debauchery  which  generally  prevail  in  them. 
They  are,  therefore,  commonly  kept  up  by  a  constant 
accession  of  strangers,  who  remove  to  them  from  coun- 
try parishes  and  villages*  In  these  circumstances,  in 
oitler  to  find  tlie  true  number  of  inhabitants,  and  pro- 
babilities of  life,  from  bills  of  mortality  containing  an 
account  of  the  ages  at  which  all  die,  it  is  necessary 
that  the  proportion  of  the  annual  birtlis  to  the  annual 
settlers  should  be  known,  and  also  the  period  of  life 
at  which  the  latter  renu>ve.  Both  these  particulars 
may  be  discovered  in  the  following  method. 

If  fox  a  course  of  years  there  have  been  no  sensible 
increase  or  deciea^  in  a  place,  the  number  of  annual 
settlers  will  be  equal  to  the  excess  of  the  annual  bu- 
rials above  the  annual  births.  If  there  be  an  increase, 
it  will  be  greater  than  this  excess.  If  there  be  a  de- 
crease, it  will  be  less. 

The  period  of  life  at  which  these  settlers  remove, 
will  appear  in  the  bills  by  an  increase  in  the  number 
of  deaths  at  that  period  and  beyond  it.  Thus  in  the 
liondon  bills  the  number  of  deaths  between  20  and 
30  is  generally  above  double,  and  between  30  and 
40  near  triple  the  number  of  deaths  between  10  and 
20  ^  and  the  true  account  of  this  is,  that  firom  the 
age  of  18  or  20  to  35  or  40,  there  is  an  afflux  of  people 
every  yeaf  to  London  from  the  country,  which  occa- 
sions a  gscat  increase  in  .the  number  of  inhabitants  at 
these  ages  }  and  consequently  raises  the  deaths  for  all 
ages  above  20  considerably  above  their  due  proportion 
when  compared  with  the  number  of  deaths  before  20. 
This  is  observable  in  all  the  bills  of  mortality  for  towns 
with  which  we  are  acquainted,  not  even  excepting  the 
Breslaw  bills.  Dr  Halley  takes  notice,  that  these  bills 
gave  tlie  number  of  deaths  between  10  and  20  too 
small.  This  he  considered  as  an  irregularity  in  them 
owing  to  chance  j  and,  therefore,  in  forming  his  table 
of  observations,  he  took  the  liberty  so  far  to  correct  it, 
a3  to  render  the  proportion  of  thpse  who  die  to  the  liv- 
ing in  thia  division  of  life  nearly  the  same  with  the  pro- 
portion which,  he  says,  he  had  been  informed^  die  annu- 
ally of  the  yoimg  lads  in  Christ  Church  hospital.  But 
the  truth  is,  that  this  irregularity  in  the  bills  wa^  deri- 
ved from  the  causQ  we  have  j,ust  assigned.  During  the 
fve  years  for  which  the  Breslaw  bills  are  given  by  I>r 
Halley,  the  births  did  indeed  a  little  exceed  the  bu- 
rmls  \  but  it  appears  that  this  was  the  effect  of  some 
peculiar  causes  that  happened  to  operate  just  at  that 
tinjej  for  during  a  complete  century,  from  1633  to 

4 


other  places,  equal  to  about  a  seventh  part  of  the  yearly 
births. 

It  appears  from  the  account  in  the  Pbilosc^ical 
Transactions  (Abridgement,  vol.  vii.  N°  332,  p.  46, 
&c.),  that  from  171 7  to  1725,  the  annual  medium  of 
births  at  Breslaw  was  1 252,  of  burials  1507  ;  and  also 
that  much  the  greatest  part  of  the  births  died  uadec 
10  years  of  age.  From  a  table  in  Susmilch^s  works, 
vol.  i.  p.  38,  it  appears  that  in  reality  the  greatet 
part  of  all  that  die  in  this  town  are  children  under  &\t 
years  of  age. 

What  has  been  now  obscr\*ed  concerning  the  period 
of  life  at  which  people  remove  from  the  country  to  a-l- 
tle  in  towns,  would  appear  sufficiently  probable  ^vere 
there  no  such  evidence  for  it  as  has  been  mentioned;  for 
it  might  well  be  i-cckoned  that  these  people  in  general 
must  be  single  persons  in  the  beginrung  of  mature  life, 
who  not  having  yet  obtained  settlements  in  the  places 
where  they  were  born,  migrate  to  towns  in  quest  of  em* 
ployments. 

Having  premised  these  obser^'ations,^it  will  be  pro? 
per  next  to  endeavour  to  explain  distinctly  the  effect 
which  these  accessions  to  to^vns  must  have  on  tables 
of  observation  formed  from  their  bills  of  mortalitiu 
This  is  a  subject  proper  to  be  insisted  on,  because 
mistakes  have  been  committed  about  it  j  and  because 
also  the  discussion  of  it  is  necessary  to  show  how  near 
to  trutli  the  value  of  lives  comes  as  deduced  from  sncb 
tables. 

The  following  general  rule  may  be  given  on  this 
subject.  If  a  place  has  for  a  course  of  years  been 
maintained  in  a  state  nearly  stationary,  as  to  namber 
of  inhabitants,  by  recruits  coming  in  every  year,  to 
prevent  the  decrease  that  would  arise  from  the  ex- 
cess of  burials  above  the  births,  a  table  formed  on  the 
principle,  "  that  the  number  dying  annually  alter 
every  particular  age,  is  equal  to  the  number  Uving 
at  that  age,*'  will  give  the  nnmber  of  inhabitants^ 
and  the  probabilities  of  life,  too  great,  for  all  ages, 
preceding  that  at  which  the  recruits  cease :  and  af- 
ter this  It  will  give  them  right.  If  the  accessions  are 
so  great  as  to  cause  an  increase  in  the  place,  such  a 
table  will  give  the  number  of  inhabitants  and  tbe 
probabilities  of  life  too  little  after  the  age  at  which 
the  accessions  cease  j  and  too  great  if  there  is  a  decrease 
Before  that  age  it  will  in  both  cases  g\ye  them  too 
great  ^  but  most  considerably  so  in  tbe  tormer  case,  or 
when  there  is  an  increase. 

Agreeably  to  these  observations,  if  a  place  increases 
not  in  consequence  of  accessions  fr^m  other  places, 
but  of  a  constant  excess  of  the  births  above  the  deatlia, 
a  table  constructed  on  the  principle  that  has  been 
mentioned  will  give  tbe  probabilities  of  life  too  lev. 
through  the  whole  extent  of  life  ^  because  in  such 
circumstances  the  number  of  deaths  in  the  ffrst  stages 
of  life  must  be  too  great  in  comparison  of  the  number 
of  deaths  in  the  latter  stages  i  and  more  or  less  so  as 
the  increase  is  more  or  less  rapid.  The  contrary  in  alt 
respects  takes  place  where  there  is  a  decreai^  aridiig 
from  the  excess  of  the  deaths  above  tbe  births. 

For  example : '  Let  us  suppqse  that  244  of  those 
bom  in  a  town  attain  annually  to  20  yeozs  of  agr^ 

aad 


M    O    R 


f    427    3 


MOB 


Vaiialitj.  *nA  ^^^  2 jo  more^  all  likewise  29  years  of  age,  come 
■^  into  it  anaaally  from  other  plaoes,  in  conseqaenee  of 
which  it  has  for  a  coarse  of  years  heen  just  maintained 
in  the  nomber  of  its  inhabitants,  without  any  sensible 
increase  or  decrease :  in  these  eircomstances,  the  nam- 
her  of  the  living  in  the  town  of  the  age  of  ao  will 
be  always  244  natives,  and  250  settleis,  or  494  in  all  5 
and  since  these  are  supposed  all  to  die  -in  the  town, 
and  no  more  recruits  are  supposed  to  come  in,  494 
win  be  likewise  the  number  dying  arniually  at  SO 
and  upwards.  In  the  same  manner  it  will  appear,  on 
these  sappositions,  that  the  number  of  the  living  at  e- 
▼evy  age  subsequent  to  20  will  be  equal  to  the  nomber 
dying  annually  at  /  that  age  and  above  it  j  and  con- 
sequently that  the  number  of  inhabitants  and  the  de* 
eremeots  of  life,  for  every  such  age,  will  be  given  ex- 
actly 1^  the  table.  But  for  all  ages  before  20,  they 
will  be  given  much  too  great.  For  let  280  of  all  bom 
in  the  town  reach  10  ^  in  this  case^  280  will  be  tho 
troe-nember  of  the  living  in  the  town  at  the  age  of  loj 
and  the  recruits  not  coming  in  till  20,  the  number 
given  by  the  bills  as  dying  between  10  and  20  will  be 
the  true  number  dying  annually  of  the  living  in  this 
division  of  life.  Let  this  number  be  36  ;  and  it  will 
follow  that  the  table  ought  to  make  the  numbers  of  the 
living  at  the  ages  between  10  and  20,  a  se^es  of  decrea- 
sing means  betw^n  280  and  (280  diminished  by  36,  or) 
244.  But  in  forming  the  table  on  the  principle  just 
ncntioned,  250  (the  numoer  above  20  dying  annually 
ia  the  town  who  were  not  bom  in  it)  will  be  added  to 
eadi  number  in  this  series  $  and  therefore  the  table  will 
(|ive  the  numbers  of  the  living,  and  the  probabilities  of  • 
Itfe  in  this  division  of  life,  almost  twice  as  great  as  they 
really  are.  This  observation,  it  is  manifest,  may  be  ap- 
plied to  all  the  ages  under  20. 

It  is  necessary  to  add,  that  such  a  table  will  give  the 
namber  of  inhabitants  and   the  probabilities  of  life 
-equally  wrong  before  20,  whether  the  recruits  all  come 
in  at  20,  agreeably  to  the  supposition  just  made,  or  only 
begin  then  to  come  in.     In  this  last  case,  the  table  will 
give  the  nomber  of  inhabitants  and  probabilities  of 
life  too  great  throughout  the  whole  extent  of  Kfe,  if  the 
recruits  come  in  at  all  ages  above  20.     But  if  they 
cease  at  any  particular  age,  it  will  give  them  right  only 
from  that  age  j  and  before,  it  will  err  all  along  on  the 
side  of  excess  ^  but  less  considerably  between  20  and 
that  age  than  before  20.     For  example :  if,  of  the  250 
supposed  to  come  in  at  20,  only  150  then  come  in, 
and  the  rest  at  30 ;  the  number  of  the  living  will  be 
given  100  too  high  at  every  age  between  20  and  30  ^ 
but,  as  just  shown,  they  will  be  given  250  too  liigh  at 
every  age  before  20.     In  general,  therelbre,  the  num- 
ber of  the  living  at  any  particular  age  must  be  given  by ' 
the  supposed  table  as  many  too  great  as  there  are  annual 
settlers  after  that  age  >  and  if  these  settlers  come  in  at 
all  ages  Indiscriminately,  during  any  certain  interval  of 
life,  the  number  of  inhabitants  and  the  probabilities  of 
life  will  be  continually  growing  less  and  less  wrong,  tho 
nearer  any  a/<e  is  to  the  end  of  that  interval,    lliese 
observations  prove,  that  tables  of  observation  formed  in 
the  common  way,  from  bills  of  mortality  for  places 
where  thtre  is  an  excess  of  the  boriahi  above  the  births, 
must  be  erroneous  for  a  great  part  of  the  duration  of 
life,  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of  that  excess.     Thef 


show  likewise  at  what  parts  of  life  the  errors  in  anch  Mortaltiy^ 
tables  are  most  considerable,  and  how  they  may  be  in  a 
great  measure  corrected. 

All  th'is  shall  be  esHsmplified  in  the  particular  case  of 
London. 

The  number  of  deaths  between  the  ages  of  10  and 
20  is  always  so  small  in  the  London  bills,  that  it  seems 
certain  £tw  recruits  come  to  London  under  20,  or 
at  least  not  so  many  as  betbre  this  age  are  sent  out  for 
education  to  schools  and  universities*  After  20  great 
numbers  come  in  till  30,  and  some  perhaps  till  40  ot 
50  :  but  at  every  age  after  50,  it  is  probable  that  'more. 
retire  from  London  than  come  to  it.  The  London 
tables  of  observation,  theraforei,  being  formed  on  the 
principle  already  mentioned,'- cannot  give  the  probabili- 
ties of  life  right  till  40.  Between  30  and  40  they  mijst 
be  a  -  little  too  high  ^  hot  more  so  between  20  and  30^ 
and  most  of  all  so.  before  20.  It  follows  also  that  these' 
tables  must  give  the  number  of  inhabitants  in  London 
much  too  great. 

The  first  of  the  following  tables  is  formed  in  tbe^ 
manner  here  explained,  from  the  London  bills  for  10 
years,  from  1759  to  1768,  and  adapted  to  1 000 'bom- 
as  a  radix.    The  sum  of  the  numbers  in  the  seeondf 
column,  diminished  by  half  the  number  bora,  is  25.757. 
According  to  this  table,  then,  for  every  looo  deaths  id' 
London  there  are  25^  as  many  inhabitants^  or,  m$ 
other  words,  the  expectation  of  a  child  just  bom  is 
25 j-  i  and  the  inhabitants,  are  to  the  annual  budala  as 
25^  to  X.     But  it  has  appeared,  that  the  numbers  in 
the  second  column,  being  grven  on  thb  supposition  that 
all  those  who  die  in  Lonjlon  wene  born  there,  must  be 
too  great }  and  we  have  firom  hence  a  deinoostnitioii, 
that  the  probabilities  of  life  are  given  in  the  common 
tables  of  London  observations  too  high  for  at  least  the 
first  30  years  of  life  }  and  also,  that  the  number  of  in« 
habitants  in  London  must  be  less^hat  25^  onultiptied 
by  the  annual  burials.     TJie  -common  tables,  tlierefote, 
of  London  observations  undonbtedly  jieed  correction,  as' 
Mr  Simpson  suggested,  and  in  some  measure  perfomiod; 
though  too  imperfectly,  and  without  going  upon  any 
fixed  principles,  or  showing  particularly  how  tables  of 
observation  ought  to  be  formed,  and  how  far  in  difiefr- . 
ent  circumstances,  and  in  different  ages,  they  are  to  be 
depended  on.     The  way  of  doing  this,  and  in  general ' 
the  right  method  of  forming  genuine  tables  of  observa* 
tion  for  towns,  may  be  learned  from  the  following  rufe : 
"  From  the  sum  of  all  that  die  annually,  after  any 
given  age,  subtract  the  number  of  annual  settlers  after 
that  age  ^  and  the  remaimler  will  be  the  <nttniber  of  tlfa 
liyingat  the  given  time.'*. 

This,  rule  can  want  no  explication  or  proof  after 
what  has  been  already  said. 

If,  therefore,  the  miniber  of  annual  settlers  In  a 
town  at  4: very  age  could  be  ascertained,  a  perfect  tabic 
of  observations  might  be  formed  (or  that  tmvn  from 
bills  of  mortality,  contain iirg  an  account  of  the  ages 
at  which  all  die  in  it.  But  no  more  can  be  learned 
in  this  instance  from  any  biUs,  than  the  whole  aum-* 
ber  of  annual  settlers,  and  the  general  division  of  life 
in  which  they  enter.  This,  however,  may  be  suffi- 
cient to  enable  us  to  form  tables  that  shall  be  tolerably 
exact.  For  instance:  Suppose  the  annual  deaths  in 
a  to^ui  which  Iwa  not  increased  or  decrcased,  to  have 

3  ii  A  bee4 


MOB  C     429 

the  aimaal  bii^bs.  It  wilt  lience  feUont  ^^  7  of 
tile  persoos  who  die  in  sucb  a  towa  «re  Bettleifl,  of 
QMigninls  horn  othst  places,  imd  not  natives  ^  and  the 
sudden  increase  in  the  deaths  afler  ao  will  alsa  show, 
a^reeahl  J  to  what  was  hefeoe  ebssrvcA,  that  they  enter 
%fi^r  tbia  agt^  Ls  IbnttiDgy  Iheseiore,  a  taUe  fos 
snch  a  town,  a  qoaiter  of  all  that  die  at  all  ages 
thmughont  the  whole  extent  of  life  must  he  deducts 
•d  fron  tlie  son  of  all  that  die  afWff  every  ^vea  age 
before  20  ^  and  the  remainder  will  be  the  true  nnos^ 
her  living  at  that  given  age.  And  if  at  20,  and 
every  age  above  it,  the  deduction  is  omitted,  or  the 
iMmiber  of  the  living  at  every  such  age  is  taken  tha 
same  with  the  anm  of  all  that  die  after  it,  the  cesult 
will  he  (sQpyoBing  most  of  the  settlers  to  come  in  he- 
fore  30,  and  all  before  40)  a  table  exact  till  20  >  too 
high  between  20  and  30  >  bat  nearly  right  for  some 
years  befece  40  j  and  after  40  exact  again.  Such  a 
table,  it  is  evident,  will  be  the  same  with  the  table 
last  described  at  all  ages  above  20,  and  different  from  it 
only  under  2D«  It  is  evident  also,  that  on  aocount  of 
lis  giving  the  probabilities'  of  life  too  great  for  some 
years  after  20,  the  number  of  inhabitants  deduced 
from  it  may  he  depended  on  as  somewhat  greater  than 
the  truth  \  mul  more  or  less  so,  as  the  annual  recruits 
•ater  in  general  later  or  sooner  after  20« 

Let  us  no^v  consider  what  the  result  of  these  re- 
marks will  he,  when  applied  paitienkrly  to  the  London 
h^h. . 

It  most  be  here  Smt  ebeerved,  that  at  least  one  quar^ 
tar  of  aU  that  die  in  London  aie  s^pliea  or  settlers  ftrem 
the  country^  andr  not  natives*  The  medium  of  annuel 
bttiiais  for  %o  years,  from  1759  to  1768,  was  22,956  ; 
el  births  1-5,7.10.  The  excess  is  7246,  or  near  a  third 
of  the  bnrials*.  The  same  excess  dnring  so  years  before 
1750  was  10,500,  or  near  haH'  the  bariaJs*  London 
was  then,  decreasing^  For  Ihe  last  1 2  or  15  years  it 
has  been  increasing.  This  excess,  therefune,  agree^ 
ahly  to  the  foregoing  observations,  was  then  greater 
than  the  number  of  annmd  settk:rs,  aad  it  is  now  less. 
It  is  hoivever  here  supposed,  that  the  number  of  an- 
nual settlers  is  now  ao  moxe  than  a  quarter  of  the  an- 
nual burials,,  in  order  to  aUow  for  more  emissions  in 
the  births  than  the  buriab ;  and  also,  in  order  to  be 
more  sure  ef  obtainiug  results  that  shall  not  exceed  the 
tsoth. 

Of  eiKery  ifOOO  then  who  die  in  London  only  750. 
are  natives,  and  250-  are  recruits  wlio  come  to  it  after 
18  or  20  years  of  age ;  and,  consequently,  in  order  to 
obtain  from  the  bills  a.  more,  correct  table  than  the  first 
of  the  follolfiog  tables,  2^50  must  be  subtracted  from 
every  one  of  life  numbers  in  tlio  second  colamn  till  20  j 
and  the  mimbcrs  in  the  third  cohlmn>  must  be  kept  tho 
same,  the  bills  aliwiys  giving  these  rights  After  20,. 
the  taUe^is  to-be  continued  unaltered  ;  and  the  result 
will  be,  a  table  which  will  give  the  numbers  of  tha 
living  at  all  ages  in^*^ London  much  nearer  tiie  truth 
but  still  somewhat  ton  high.  Stidf  is  the  second  of 
th^  following  tables.  The  sum*  of  all  the  numbers  in 
the  seoond  column  ef  this:  table,  diminished-  by  500,  is 
20,750.  For  every  .J  000  deaths,  thereforr,  in  London, 
tlysre  are,^  according  to  this  table,  20,7^0  living  persons 
mjLy  OS  fot  ,ev£ry..  single  deaih  2o4.iababitants«     It 


)  M    O    II 

wa«  befflMie  ahawn,  that  tha  number  of  inhabilaals  ia  x«^ 
London  could  not  be  so  great  as  25^  times  the  dmtk.^ 
It  amn  appeals  (since  the  aamham  in  the  setoodea. 
bunn  of  this  taUe  aie  loo  high)  that  the  nomher  of  b» 
habitants  ^f  London  cannnt  be  «o  .great  as  evca  20^ 
times  the  deaths.  And  this  is  a  eonclusaon  which  evoy 
qpe,  who  will  bestow  due  altentioa  on  what  has  htca 
^d,  will  find  himself  forced  to  receive.    It  will  not  be 
i^niss,  however,  to  confirm  it  by  the  fallowing  £ut,  tbs 
knowledge  of  which  is  derived  from  the  particuhir  ia* 
^ry  and  information  af  JUlr  Harris,  the  lata  iageaieas 
master  of  the  royal  mathematical  school  in  Cbriit- 
Church  hospitaL     The  average  of  lads  in  this  schosl 
has,  for  30  years  past,  been  831.    They  are  adodtlcd 
at  all  ages  between  7  and  11  ^  and  lew  staj  bcjoad 
16  :  they  are,  therefore,  in  general,  lads  betweea  the 
age  of  8  and  1 6.  They  have  better  accommodations  thsa 
it  can  he  supposed  children  commonly  have  ^  and  abosl 
300  of  them,  have  the  particular  advantage  of  being 
educated  in  the  conntrj.   In  such  circiimslaaoes  it  nnj 
be  well  reckoned,  that  the  proportion  of  children  d)in{ 
annually  must  be  less  than  Uie  geneml  proportion  ol' 
children  dying  annually  at  the  same  ages  ia  LoadoR. 
Tha  fiict  is,  that  ftir  the  last  30  years  11^  have  died 
annually,  or  one  in  70^. 

According  |o  Table  II.  one  in  73  dies  between  10 
and  20,  and  one  in  70  betweea  8  and  16.  That  table, 
therefore,  probably  gives  the  decrements  of  life  in  Lon- 
don at  these  ages,  too  little,  and  the  Dambers  of  tbs 
living  too  great :  and  if  this  is  true  of  these  ages,  it 
nmst  be  true  of  all  other  ages  under  20  j  and  it  foUows 
demonstrably,  in  conlemnity  to  what  was  before  fJiewe, 
that  more  people  settle  in  London  after  20  than  tbe 
fourth  above  supposed  ^  and  that  from  20  to  at  least  30 
or  35,  the  numbers  of  the  living  are  gi\eti  too  great,  in 
proportion  to  the  deerements  ol'  life. 

In  this  table  the  numbers  in  the  second  cohsmn  are 
doahled  at  20,  agreeably  to  what  really  happens  ia 
London ;  and  the  sum  of  the  munbers  in  this  cohino, 
diminished  by  half  the  whole  number  of  deaths,  gives 
the  expectation  of  life,  not  of  a  child  just  born,  as  ia 
other  tables,  hat  of  all  the  inhabitants  of  London  st 
the  time  tlicy  enter  it,  whether  that  be  at  birth  or 
at  20  years  of  age.  The  expictaHons^  tberefere,  sod 
the  va&ics  of  Londim  lives  under  20,  cannot  be  caks- 
lated  Irom  this  table.  But  it  nmy  be  very  easily  fitted 
tor.  this  purpose,  by  finding  the  number  of  births  wbieb, 
a^cocdiag  to  the  given  dvici-ements  of  life,  will  ieaie 
494  alive  at  20 )  and  then  adapting  the  intera;cdiate 
numbers  in  such  a  manner  to  this  rsdix,  as  to  pre&erte 
all'  along  the  number  of  the  living  in  the  ssne  pro* 
portion  to  the  numbers  of  the  dead.  Thb  is  dmit  in 
the  tliird  ef  the  following  tables ;  and  this  tid»le  ff sy 
be  reeommended  as  better  adapted  to  the  present  state 
of  London  than  any  other  table.  The  values  of  fives, 
however^  deduced  from  it>  are  in  jMneral  nearly  tbe 
same  with  those  deduced  by  Mr  Simpson  ftom  tie 
London  bills  as  they  stood  forty  years  ago  ^  the  maza 
differenoc  is,,  tbat  after  52,  and  in  old  age,  thb  table 
giwes  thenv  somewhat  lower  than  Mi  Simpson^s  taUr. 
The  fourth  and  filch  oi  the  following  tables,  compared 
with  the  two  last,  will  give  a  distinct  and  fall  view  of 
tho  difference  between  the  rate  of  human  ntoftalityii 
great  towns  and  in  country  paiisbes  aad  villaftt*^. 

TABLE 


Kartkliqr* 


M    Q    R 

TABLE  r. 


I     439     1 


Bbowisg  the  Probabilities  of  Life  in  LondoQi  on  the 
supposition  that  all  wbo  die  in  London  were  bom 
tbere.  Formed  from  the  Bills  for  10  years,  frpm 
2759  to  1768. 


« 

Pcrsoni 

Deer. 

4 

Versons 

Decr.B . 

Pwionc 

Oecr 

Ages 

0 

living. 

ofUft- 

AfM 

livioi;. 

ofUft 

JlgCI. 

U*iajc 

•iUft 

1000 

249 

31 

404 

9 

62 

132 

t 

•j6o 

99 

3a 

595 

9 

63 

125 

2 

66 1 

42 

33 

386 

9 

64 

118 

3 

619 

29 

34 

377 

9     65 

III 

4 

590 

21 

35 

368 

9     6<S 

104 

5 

569 

II 

36 

359 

9     67 

97 

6 

5^8 

10 

37 

350 

9 

6» 

90 

7 

548 

7 
6 

5 

38 

34» 

9 

69 

83 

8 

541 

39 

33  a 

10 

70 

76 

6 

9 

535 

40 

322 

10  1  71 

70 

6 

13 

530 

4 

41 

312 

10  1  72 

64 

6 

II 

S^6 

4 

42 

302 

10  1  73 

58 

13 

•  522 

4 

43 

;92 

10 

74 

^2 

»3 

518 

3 

44 

282 

10 

75 

48 

»4 

5^S 

3 

45 

272 

10 

76 

43 

15 

5" 

3 

46 

262 

JO 

77 

38 

16 

509 

3 

^2 

252 

10 

78 

33 

»7 

506 

3 

48 

242 

9 

2^ 

29 

^ 

18 

503 

4 

49 

233 

9 

80 

*5 

3 

»9 

499 

5 

50 

224 

9 

81 

22 

3 

20 

494 

7 

5» 

215 

9 

82 

'9 

3 

21 

487 

8 

5* 

206 

8 

83 

16 

3 

22 

479 

8 

53 

198 

8 

l* 

13 

2 

«3 

47» 

8 

54 

190 

7 

^J 

II 

2 

*4 

463 

8 

^ 

>83 

7 

86 

9 

2 

iS 

455 

8 

5« 

176 

7 

11 

7 

2 

26 

447 

8 

57 

169 

7 

5 

I 

27 

439 

8 

58 

162 

? 

89 

4 

i- 

38 

43' 

9 

?9 

'55 

9a 

3 

I 

29 

422 

9 

60 

147 

8 

•R. 

^"3 

-9. 

61 

»39 

7 

MOB 


TABLE  UI. 


VMtaU^iu 


Showing  the  tme  Probabilities  of  Life  in  London  for 
all  ages.  Formed  from  the  Bills  for  10  yeaxs,  front 
1759  to  2768. 


1     ^^J 

Oecr 
of  lift 

Ck... 1 

..-.1 

_ 

r— 1 

Agfi 

A(«s. 

rcnoiu  .Lfcvr 
U*ia|^  of  Life 

62 

Uving.  of Lifrj 

0 

151B 

486 

31 

404 

9 

13a 

I 

103a 

200 

32 

S?5 

9 

63 

125 

2 

83* 

8j 

33 

386 

9 

64 

118 

3 

'^2 

59 

34 

ill 

9 

65 

III 

4 

688 

42 

35 

368 

9 

66 

104 

5 

646 

23 

36 

359 

9 

67 

97 

6 

623 

20 

32 

350 

9 

68 

90 

7 

603 

'4 

38 

34' 

9 

69 

83 

8 

589 

12 

39 

33  » 

10 

70 

76 

6 

9 

577 

10 

40 

322 

10 

7' 

70 

6 

10 

567 

9 

4» 

312 

10 

72 

% 

6 

11 

55» 

9 

42 

302 

to 

73 

12 

549 

8 

43 

35 

10 

74 

^l 

13 

54 » 

7 

44 

10 

75 

48 

»4 

534 

6 

45 

272 

10 

76 

43 

»5 

528 

6 

46 

■ 

49 

262 

10 

U 

38 

16 

522 

7 

252 

10 

78 

33 

17 

^'^ 

7 

242 

9 

Z' 

29 

^ 

18 

508 

7 

«33 

9 

80 

*5 

3 

'9 

501 

7 

50 

224 

9 

81 

.    22 

3 

2C 

494 

7 

5» 

215 

9 

83 

'9 

3 

21 

487 

8 

5* 

206 

8 

f3 

16 

3 

22 

479 

8 

53 

198 

8 

24 

»3 

2 

23 

47' 

8 

54 

190 

7 

85 

II 

a 

24 

463 

8 

55 
56 

'83 

7 

86 

<) 

2 

25 

455 

8 

176 

7 

5' 

7 

2 

26 

447 

8 

57 

169 

7 

88 

5 

I 

*2 

439 

8 

58 

162 

2 

89 

4 

I 

28 

43 » 

9 

|9 

^55 

90 

3 

I 

29 

423 

9 

60 

«47 

8 

7 

30 

4*3 

9 

61 

'■?9 

TABLE  IL 

Showing  the  tme  probabilities  of  Life  in  London  till 

the  age  of  19. 


Per9(on» 

Oecr 

& 

Pe^8<m^ 

Orcr 

t   -._ 

Penon- 

Deer 

Agrs 

liTiBj;; 

i>r  Ufi 

A:jrs 

ii>in;r. 

ofUfc 

igcs 

living. 

jfLift- 

0 

750 

240 

9 

285 

5 

18 

'^Sl 

4 

I 

510 

99 

10 

280 

4 

'9 

249 

2 

411 

4a 

II 

276 

4 

23 

494 

3 

3<59 

29 

12 

272 

4  1  V 

487 

4 

340 

21 

'3 

268 

3      &c 

&c. 

5 
6 

3»9 
^1 

II 
to 

'4 
«5 

265 

262 

3  1 

^     fhe  nambers  ia  thr 
^    second     column    U> 

7 

298 

7 

16 

259 

3     be  continued  at  in 

8 

291 

6 

«7 

2q6 

3     the  Inn  talilc 

All  the  bills,  from  which  the  following  tables  are  - 
formed,  give  th«i  numbers  dying  under  1  as  wdl  as  un- 
der 2  years ;  and  hi  the  numbers  dying  under  i  are  in- 
cluded, in  the  country  parish  in  Brandenburg  and  at  *. 
Berlin,  all  the  stiitboms.     All  the  bills  also  give  the  ^ 
numbers  dying  in  every  period  of  five  years. 

For  the  probabilities  of  life  at  CarUsle,  ^ee  AKNUX-i- 

TIES,  SOPRLEMENT.   . 


ABLE 


M    O    R 


C   430    I 


M    O    R 


9lhn»kiif, 


TABLE  IV. 


Sbowiog  the  Probabilities  of  Life  in  the  District  of 
Vaad,  Switzerland,  formed  from  the  Registers  of  43 
ParUhesy  frivcn  by  Mr  Muret,  in  the  First  Part  of 
the  Bern  Memoirs  for  the  Year  1766. 


TABLE  V. 


MkuSi^ 


Showing  the  Probabilities  of  Life  in  a  Country  Parish 
in  Brandenburg,  formed  from  the  Bills  for  50  Yean, 
from  i7ioto  1759,  as  given  by  Mr  Susmilcb,  in  his 
Gottltche  Ordnung. 


TABLE 


M    O    R 


TABLE  VI. 


C     431      3 


Showing  the  FrobabUities  of  Life  at  Vienna,  form- 
ed from  the  Bills  for  eight  Years,  as  given  by 
Mr  Sasmilcfcy  in  bis  Gottliche  Ordnong,  page  32, 
Tables. 


Age, 


2 

3 

4 


5 
6 

7 
8 


10 
II 
12 

»3 
M 


15 

16 

18 
*9 


20 
21 
22 

23 
24 


25 
26 

27 
28 

29 


30 
31 


Living 


1495 

8l3 
706 
645 

599 


566 

536 
516 

496 


489 

483 
478 

473 
467 


461 

448 
442 

436 


43^ 

4*5 
420 

4«5 
409 


403 
397 
391 
38' 
377 


370 
364 


I682 

107 

61 

46 

33 


Deer. 


Age. 


30 
20 

JX 

9 

7 


6 

5 

5 
6 

6 


6 

6 
6 


5 

5 

5 
6 

6 


6 
6 

7 
7 
7 


3» 
33 

34 


35 
36 
37 
38 

39 


40 

4' 
43 

43 
44 


45 

46 

47 
48 

49 


50 
5' 
5* 
53 
54 


S5 
56 
57 
58 

59 


60 
61 

62 

63 


LiTing 


358 

353 

347 


340 

33* 

324 
316 

307 


298 
290 

283 
277 
271 


264 

256 

247 
238 
229 


220 
212 

209 

98 

9' 


84 
76 
68 

59 
5» 


43 
36 
29 

23 


Deer.  I  Age. 


5 
6 


8 
8 
8 

9 
9 


8 

9 
9 
9 
9 


8 

7 
7 
7 
7 


8 
8 

i 

8 


7 

7 
6 

i. 


. 


64 


65 

66 

67 
68 
69 


8 

7 

6     74 


70 

71 
7* 
73 


75 

76 

77 
78 

79 


80 
81 
82 

83 


85 
86 

87 
88 

89 


90 

9' 
92 


laving 


116 


109 
101 

93 
85 
78 


7' 

60 

5S 
5« 


47 
42 

37 

32 

27 


23  i 

20 

'9 
16 


12 

10 

8 

6 

4 


3 
2 


Oecr.l 


8 
8 

8 
7 


6 

5 
5 
4 


5 
5 
5 
5- 
4 


3 

2 

2 
2 
2 


2 
2 
2 
2 
I 


I 
1 
I 


PTWP***'"^ 


i^i^ 


MOB 


TABLE  VIL 


Shomng  the  Probabilities  of  Life  at  Berlin,  formed 
from  the  Bills  for  Foot  Years,  from  1752  to  1755, 
given  by  Mr  Susmilch  in  bis  Gottliche  Ordnuog,  voK 
ii.  p.  37,  Tables. 


Age 


o 

I 

2 

3 
4 


5 
6 

7 
8 


10 
iz 

12 

'3 

14 


15 
16 

17 
18 

'9 


20 
21 
22 

23 
24 


25 
26 

27 
28 

29 


30 


Liviiig 


507 
502 

498 

494 
490 


486 
482 

477 
472 

467 


461 

455 
449 
443 
436 


428 
421 
412 

403 
394 


385 
376 


Deer. 


5*4 

151 
61 

73 
45 

21 

15 

«3 

9 

7 

5 
4 
4 
4 
4 

4 

5 

5 

5 
6 


6 

6 
6 


9 
9 
9 
9 
9 


9 

8 


Age; 


32 
33 
34 


35 
36 
37 
38 

39 


40 

41 
42 

43 
44 


45 
46 

47 
48 

49 


50 
5» 
52 

53 
54 


SS 
56 

57 
58 

59 


60 
61 
62 


Laving. 


368 
361 

354 


347 

339 

330 
320 

310 


300 
290 
281 

274 
266 


259 
^52 

245 
238 

231 


224 
217 

2X3 
203 

195 


187 

»79 
171 

»54 


H5 

'37 
X30 

124 


Deer. 


7 
7 
7 


8 

8 

10 

10 

10 


10 

9 

,  8 


8 
8 


8 
8 
8 

9 
9 


8 

7 
6 


Age. 

6^ 


65 
66 

67 

68 

69 


70 

71 
72 
73 
74 


75 
76 

77 
78 
79 


80 
81 
82 


85 
86 

88 
89 


90 

9' 
92 
93 
94 


Living. 


118 


XI2 

Z06 

99 

92 

86 


80 

74 
68 

62 
57 


52 

47 
42 

37 

32 


Deer. 


28 

24 
2X 

^9 
»7 


»5 

XI 

9 
7 


6 

5 

4 

3 
2 


6 

7 
7 
6 

6 


6 
6 
6 

5 
5 


5 
5 
5 
5 
4 


3 
2 

2 

2 

2 
2 
2 
2 
I 


I 

X 

] 

X 


ft 

Mortar* 


Brief  ^MORTANGESTRY,  in  Scots  Laws  an- 
ciently the  ground  of  an  action  at  the  instance  of  an 
lieir,  in  the  qiecial  case  where  be  had  been  excluded 
from  the  possession  of  bis  ancestor's  estate  by  the  supe- 
rior, or  other  person  pretending  right. 

MORTAR,  a  preparation  of  lime  and  sand  mixed 
ivith  water,  which  serves  as  a  cement,  and  is  used  by 
masons  and  bricklayers  in  building  walls  of  stone  and 
brick.     See  Lime,  CREiitSTRY  Index. 

MomTAR,  a  cbemical  utensil,  very  useful  for  the  f]i« 
tisioo  of  bodies^  partfy  by  percussion  and  partly  by 


p^rindrng.  Mortars  have  the  form  of  an  Inverted  bell. 
The  matter  intended  to  be  pounded  is  to  be  put  inlo 
them,  and  there  it  is  to  be  struck  and'  bruised  by  a 
long  instrument  callipd  a  pestit.  The  motion  given  i^ 
the  pestle  oug^t  to  vary  according  to  the  nature  of  the 
substances  to  be  pounded.  Those  which  are  easily 
broken,  or  which  are  apt  to  fly  out  of  the  mortar,  or 
which  are  bardened*by  the  stroke  of  the  pestle,  require 
tbat  this  instrument  should  be  moved  circularly,  ratbew 
by  grindrng  or  bruising  than  by  striking.  Those  suIh 
stances  vlucb  ace  ;Boitenf>d  by  the  boat  oecasioued  by 

rubbing 


M    O    R 


Moitar.  niVbing  and  percussion,  require  to  be  pounded  verj 
^  slowly.  Lastly,  Those  which  are  very  hurd,  and  which 
are  not  capable  of  being  softened,  are  casUy  pounded 
by  repeated  strokoa  of  the  pestle.  They  requite  no 
bruising  but  when  they  are  brought  to  a  certain  d^ree 
of  fineness.  But  these  things  kre  better  learned  by  ha- 
-  bit  and  practice  than  by  any  directions. 

As  mortal's  arc  instruments  which  are  constantly 
used  in  chemistry,  they  ought  to  be  kept  of  all  sizes  and 
materials  ^  as  of  marlde,  copper,  glass,  iron,  gritstone, 
and  agate.  The  nature  of  the  substance  to  be  pounded 
deten^ines  the  choice  of  the  kind  of  mortar.  The 
hardness  and  dissolving  power  of  that  substance  are  par* 
tieularly  to  be  attenued  to.  As  copper  is  a  metal, 
which  is  soluble  by  almost  all  menstrua,  and  hurtful  to 
health,  this  metal  is  rarely  or  never  em^oyed  for  the 
purpose  of  making  mortars. 

One  of  tlie  principal  inconveniences  of  pulveriza* 
t  ion  in  a  mortar  proceeds  from  the  fine  powder  which 
rises  abundantly  from  some  substances  during' the  ope- 
ration. If  these  substances  be  precious,  the  loss  wiil^ 
be  considerable  ^  and  if  they  be  injurious  to  health, 
they  may  hurt  the  operator.  Tlicse  inconveniences 
may  be  remedied,  cither  by  covering  the  mortar  with 
a  skin,  in  the  middle  of  which  is  a  hole,  through  which 
the  pestle  passes  ^  or  by  moistening  the  matter  with  a 
little  water  when  this  addition  does  not  injure  it ;  or, 
lastly,  by  covering  the  mouth  and  nose  of  the  operator 
with  a  fine  cloth,  to  exclude  tliis  powder.    Some  sub- 


[   432    ] 


M    O    R 


stances,  as  corrosive  sublimate,  arsenic,  talees  of  leal,  umm. 
cantharides,  cuphorbium,  &C.  are  so  noxious,  that  all 
these  precautions  ought  to  be  used,  particnlaxly  when 
a  large  quantity  is  pounded* 

Large  mortars  ought  to  be  fixed  open  a  block  of 
wood,  so  high,  that  the  mortar  shall  be  level  with  tbe 
middle  of  the  operator.  When  the  pestle  is  large  aa4 
heavy,  it  ought  to  be  suspended  by  a  cord  or  chaia 
fixed  to  a  moveable  pole  placed  horizontally  above  the 
mortar:  this  pole  eonstderably  relieves  tbe  operator, 
because  its  elasticity  assists  the  raising  of  tbe  pestle. 

MoxTAit-Pftce^  m  the  military  art,  a  short  piece 
of  ordnance,  thick  and  wide,  proper  for  throwing 
bombs,  carcases,  slieUs,  stones,  bags  filled  with  gnpe- 
shot,  &c.    See  Gunnery,  N®  50. 

Land  Mortars^  are  those  used  in  sieges,  and  of  late 
in  battles,  mounted  on  beds  made  of  s<did  timber,  con< 
sisting  generally  of  four  pieces,  those  of  tbe  ro]^  and 
cohorn  excepted,  which  are  but  one  single  block; 
and  both  mortar  and  bed  are  transported  on  btodc- 
carriages.  There  is  likewise  a  kind  of  land  mmtarB, 
mounted  on  travelling  carriages,  invented  by  Gmnl 
Buckebuig,  which  nay  be  eieriited  to  any  degree; 
whereas  ours  are  fixed  to  an  angle  of  ^5  degrees,  and 
firmly  lashed  with  ropes.  The  following  table -shows 
the  weight  of  land  mortars  and  shells ;  together  with 
the  quantity  of  powder  the  chambers  bold  when  fidl 
the  weight  of  the  shells,  and  powder  for  loading  them.* 


Diameter  of  mortars. 

13-inch. 

lo-inch. 

Scinch. 

5.8 -inch, 
royal. 

« 

4.6-inch, 
cohorn. 

Mortar^s  weight. 

C.     qr    lb. 

25    0    0 

C.     qr.   lb. 
10      2  18 

C.     qr.  Ibi 
4     0   20 

C.     qr.  lb. 

lie 

C.    qr.  lb 
030 

ShelPs  weight. 

X      2   15 

0      2   25 

0    1  15 

0.     0   12 

007 

ShelPs  cent,  of  powder. 

lb.    oz.  gr. 
948 

lb.    OS.  gr. 

4  14  " 

lb.    OS-  gr. 
238 

lb.   oz.  gr 
I      1      8 

lb.   OS.  gr. 
080 

Chamber's  cont.  of  powd^. 

9     I    8 

400 

2     0    10 

100 

080 

Sea  MonTAnSf  are  those  which  are  fixed  in  bomb 
vessels  for  bombarding  places  by  sea :  and  as  they  are 
generally  fired  at  a  mach  greater  distance  than  that 
which  is  required  by  land,  they  are  made  somewhat 


longer  and  much  heavier  than  the  land  mortars.  Tbe 
following  Uble  eibibits  the  weight  of  the  sea  moilaxf 
and  shells,  and  also  of  their  full  charges^ 


Nature  of  the  mortar. 


Powder  con- 
tained in  the 
cbamber 
vfhtn  full. 


lo-inch  howitzer. 
X3-iach  mortar. 
1 0-inch  mortar. 


lb.  OZ. 

12  O 

30  o 

12  o 


Weight  of 
the  mortar. 


C.  qr.  lb 

31  2  26 

81  2  1 

34  a  " 


Weight  of 

the  shell 

when  fixed. 


lb. 

J98 
93 


Weight  of 

power  con 

tallied  in 

the  shell. 


lb. 


7     o 


'To  Charge  vrToad'a  Mobtam^  the  proper  quantity 
^  gunpowder  is  pot  into  the  chamber,  and  if  there  he 
»moj  vacant  space  they  fill  it  up  with  hay  $  some  choose 
-n  wooden  ping :  over  this  they  lay  a  turf,  some  a  wood* 
«ea»toii|pion  fitted  to  the  bore  of  the  piece  ^  and  lastly 

5 


the  bomb  \  taking  eare  that  the  fuse  be  in  the  aiit 
thereof,  and  the  orifice  he  tnntd  from  the  muzzle  if 
the  piece  :  what  space  remains  is  to  be  filled  op  with 
hay,  straw,  turf,  &c.  so  as  the  load  may  not  he  eipM* 
cd  without  the  utmost  violence. 


M    O    R 


[     433     ] 


M    O    R 


VarUfi  The  quantitj  of  gunpowder  to  be  used  is  found  by 
dividing  the  weight  of  the  bomb  bj  30  >  though  this 
role  is  not  always  to  be  strictly  observed. 

When  the  proper  quantity  of  powder  necessary  to 
charge  a  sea  mortar  is  put  into  the  chamber,  it  is  co- 
vered with  a  wad  well  beat  dowu  with  the  rammer. 
After  this  the  fixed  shell  is  placed  upon  the  wad,  as 
Bear  the  middle  of  the  mortar  as  possible,  with  the 
fuse  hole  uppermost,  and  another  wad  pressed  down 
close  upon  it,  so  as  to  keep  the  shell  firm  in  its  position. 
The  officer  then  points  the  mortar  according  to  the 
proposed  inclination. — When  the  mortar  is  thus  fixed, 
the  fuse  is  opened  ',  the  priming  iron  is  also  thrust  into 
the  touch-hole  of  the  mortar  to  clear  it,  after  which  it 
is  primed  with  the  finest  powder.  This  done,  two  of 
the  matro&ses  or  sailors,  taking  each  one  of  the  matches, 
the  first  light?  the  fuse,  and  the  other  fires  the  mortar. 
The  bomb,  thrown  out  by  the  explosion  of  the  powder, 
la  carried  to  the  place  intended  :  and  the  fuse,  which 
ought  to  be  exhausted  at  the  instant  of  the  shell's  fall- 
iflg,  inflames  the  powder  contained  in  it,  and  bursts  the 
«hell  in  splinters  ;  which,  flying  oS  circularly,  occasion 
incredible  mischief  wheresoever  they  reach. 

If  the  service  of  mortars  should  render  it  necessary  to 
use  pound  shots,  200  of  them  with  a  wooden  bottom  are 
to  be  put  into  the  13  inch  mortar,  and  a  quantity  of 
powder  not  exceeding  5  pounds  y  and  100  of  the  above 
shot  with  2t  pounds  of  powder,  for  the  10  inch  mortar, 
or  three  pounds  at  most. 

To  Elevate  the  Mortar  so  as  its  axis  may  make  any 
friven  angle  with  the  horizon,  they  apply  the  artillery 
level  or  gunner's  quadrant.  An  elevation  of  70  or  80 
degrees  is  what  is  commonly  chosen  for  rendering  mor- 
tars most  serviceable  in  casting  shells  into  towna,  forts, 
&c.  though  the  greatest  range  be  at. 45  degrees. 

All  the  English  mortars  are  fixed  to  an  angle  of  45 
degrees,  and  lashed  strongly  with  ropes  at  that  elevation. 
Although  in  a  siege  there  is  only  one  case  in  which 
shelb  should  be  thrown  with  an  angle  of  45  degrees  j 
that  is,  when  the  battery  is  so  far  off  that  they  cannot 
otherwise  reach  the  works  \  for  when  shells  are  thrown 
out  of  the  trenches  into  the  works  of  a  fortification,  or 
from  the  town  into  the  trenches,  they  should  have  as 
little  elevation  sts  possible,  in  order  to  roll  along,  and 
not  bury  themselves  \  whereby  the  damage  they  do, 
and  the  terror  they  occasion,  are  much  greater  than 
if  they  sink  into  the  ground.  On  the  contrary,  when 
shells  are  thrown  upon  magazines  or  any  other  build- 
ings, with  an  intention  to  destroy  them,  the  mortars 
should  be  elevated  as  high  as  possible,  that  the  shells 
may  acquire  a  greater  force  in  their  fall,  and  coose- 
qoently  do  greater  execution. 

If  all  mortar  pieces  were,  as  they  ought  to  be,  exact- 
ly similar,  and  their  requisites  of  powder  as  the  cubes 
of  the  diameters  of  their  several  bores,  and  if  their 
shells,  bombs,  carcasses,  &c.  vnxe  also  simiUr  \  then, 
comparing  like  witli  like,  their  ranges  on  the  plane 
of  the  horizon,  under  the  same  degree  of  elevation, 
would  be  equal  \  and  consequently  one  piece  being  well 
proved,  i.  e.  the  range  of  the  grcnado,  bomb,  carcass, 
&G.  being  found  to  any  degree  of  elevation,  the  whole 
work  of  the  mortar  piece  would  become  very  easy  and 
exact. 

But  since  mortars  are  not  thus  similar,  it  is  required, 
Vox-.  XIV.  Part  II. 


that  the  range  of  the  piece,  at  some  known  degree  of    Afortar. 
elevation,  be  accurately  found  by  measuring  j  and  from 
lience  all  the  other  ranges  may  be  determined. 

Thus,  to  find  the  range  of  the  piece  at  any  other 
elevation  required  >  say.  As  the  sine.of  double  the  angle 
under  which  the  experiment  was  made,  is  to  the  sine  of 
double  the  angle  proposed,  so  is  the  range  known  to  the 
range  required. 

Suppose,  for  instance,  it  be  found,  that  the  range  of 
a  piece,  elevated  to  30°,  is  2000  yards :  to  find  the 
range  of  the  same  piece  with  the  same  charge  when 
elevated  to  45°  ^  take  the  sine  of  6o*,  the  double  of  30®,. 
and  make  it  the  first  term  of  the  rule  of  three )  the 
second  term  must  be  the  sine  of  90^,  tlie  double  of  45^, 
and  the  third  the  given  range  2000  ^  the  fourth  term 
will  be  2310,  the  range  of  the  piece  at  45°.  If  the 
elevation  be  greater  than  45^,  instead  of  doubling  it, 
take  the  sine  of  double  its  complement  to  90^.  As 
suppose  the  e-l^vation  of  a  piece  be  50°,  take  the  sine  of 
80°,  the  double  of  40°.  Again,  If  a  determinate  di- 
stance to  which  a  shot  is  to  be  cast,  he  given,  and  th<* 
angle  of  elevation  to  produce  that  effect  be  required^ 
the  range  kiiown  must  be  the  first  term  in  the  rule  of 
tliree,  which  suppose  2000  yards  \  the  range  proposed, 
which  we  suppose  j6oo  yards,  the  second  term  *,  and 
tlie  sine  of  60  double  of  the  elevation  for  the  range  of 
2000  yards,  the  third  term.  The  fourth  term  will 
be  found  the  sine  of  43°  32',  whose  half  21^  ^6'  is  tliu 
angle  of  elevation  tlie  piece  must  have  to  produce  tho 
desired  effect.  And  if  21°  $6'  be  taken  from  90%  you 
will  have  68^  4'  for  the  other  elevation  of  the  piec^ 
with  which  the  same  efiect  will  likewise  be  produced. 

Note^  To  avoid  the  trouble  of  finding  sines  of  double 
the  angles  of  the  proposed  elevations,  Galileo  and  Tor-, 
ricelli  give  us  the  following  table,  whetein  the  sines  Dif 
the  angles  sought  are  had  by  inspection. 


Ucprces. 

Dej^rees 

Ranges. 

Degteei 

Degrees 

Ranges. 

§° 

0 

0 

0 

0  " 

0 

89 

I 

349 

66 

24 

7431 

89 

2 

698 

65 

.  25 

7660 

87 

3 

1045 

64 

63 
62 

26 

7880 
8090 

86 

4 

1392 

27 

85 

J 

1736 

28 

8290 

84 

6 

2709 

61 

29 

8480 

83 

7 

2419 

60 

30 

8660 

82 

8 

^SS^ 

59 

31 

8829 

81 

9 

3090 

58 

32 

8988 

80 

10 

3420 

57 

33 

9*35 

79 

II 

3746 

56 

34 

9272 

r8 

12 

4067 

SS 

35 

9397 

77 

»3 

43^4 

54 

36 

9511 

76 

M 

4695 

53 

37 

9613 

75 

15 

50C0 

5* 

38 

9703 

74 

16 

5299 

51 

39 

9781 

73 

»7 

559^ 

50 

40 

9841 

72 

18 

5870 

49 

4» 

9903 

7« 

«9 

6157 

4« 

42 

9945 

70 

20 

6428 

47 

43 

9976 

69 

21 

6691 

4« 

44 

9994 

68 

22 

6947 

45 

45 

1 0000 

67 

^3 

7»93 

Tha 


M    O    R  I     43 

Mortar,  Tlic  usc  of  the  table  U  obvious.  Suppose,  for  in- 
Mortga<;e  stance,  it  be  known  by  experiment,  that  a  mortar  ele- 
vated 15^,  charged  with  three  pounds  of  powder,  will 
throw  a  bomb  to  the  distance  of  350  fathoms  ^  and  it 
be  required,  with  the  same  charge,  to  throw  a  bomb 
100  fathoms  farther;  seek  in  the  table  the  number  an- 
swering to  15  degrees,  and  you  will  find  it  5000.  Then 
as  350  is  to  450,  80  is  5000  to  a  fourth  number,  which 
is  6428.  Find  this  number,  or  the  nearest  to  it,  in  the 
table,  and  against  it  jou  will  find  20°  or  70°)  the  pro- 
per angles  of  elevation. 

w  MORTGAGE,  in  Law^  (mortuum  vadium^  or  dead 
pledge),  is  where  a  man  borrows  of  another  a  specific 
sum  (e.  g.  200I.),  and  grants  him  an  estate  in  fee,  on 
condition  that  if  he,  the  mortgager,  shall  pay  the  mort- 
gagee the  said  sum  of  200I.  on  a  certain  day  mentioned 
in  the  ^ced,  that  then  the  mortgager  may  re-enter  on 
the  estate  so  granted  in  pledge  *,  or,  as  is  now  the  more 
usual  way,  that  the  mortgagee  shall  re-con vcy  the  estate 
to  the  mortgager:  in  this  case  the  land  which  is  so  put 
in  pledge,  is  by  law,  in  case  of  nonpayment,  at  the 
time  limited,  for  ever  dead  and  gone  from  the  mortga- 
ger 'y  and  the  mortgagee's  estate  in  the  lauds,  is  then 
no  longer  conditional,  but  absolute.  But  so  long  as  it 
continues  conditional,  that  is,  between  the  tinfe  of 
lending  the  money  and  the  time  allotted  for  payment, 
the  mortgagee  is  called  tenant  in  mortgage.  But  as  it 
was  formerly  a  doubt,  whether,  by  taking  such  estate 
]Yi  fee,  it  did  not  become  liable  to  the  wife's  dower,  and 
other  encumbrances  of  the  mortgage  (though  that  doubt 
has  been  long  ago  overruled  by  our  courts  of  equity), 
it  therefore  became  usual  to  grant  only  a  long  term  of 
years,  by  way  of  mortgage ;  with  condition  to  be  void 
on  repayment  of  the  mortgage  money :  which  course 
bas  been  since  continued,  principally  because  on  the 
c^eath  of  the  mortgagee  such  term  becomes  vested  in 
bis  personal  representatives,  who  only  are  entitled  in 
equitj  to  receive  the  money  lent,  of  whatever  nature 
the  mortgage  may  happen  to  be. 

As  soon  as  the  estate  is  created,  the  mortgagee  may 
immediately  enter  on  the  lands ;  bnt  k  liable  to  be  dis- 
possessedi  upon  performance  of  the  condition  by  pay- 
ment of  the  mortgage  money  at  the  day  limited.  And 
therefore  the  usual  way  is  to  agree  that  the  mortgager 
shall  hold  the  land  till  tbe  day  assigned  for  payment : 
when,  in  case  of  failure,  whereby  the  estate  becomes 
absolute,  tbe  mortgagee  may  enter  upon  it,  and  take 
possession,  without  any  possibility  at  law  of  being  af- 
terwards evicted  by  the  mortgager,  to  whom  the  land 
16  now  for  ever  dead.  But  here  again  the  courts  of 
equity  interpose ;  and  though  a  mortgage  be  thus  fer- 
feited,  and  the  estate  absolutely  vested  in  the  mortga- 
gee at  tbe  common  law,  yet  they  will  consider  the  real 
▼alufi  of  the  tenements  compared  with  the  sum  borrow- 
ed. And  if  the  estate  be  of  greater  value  than  the  sum 
lent  thereon,  they  will  allow  the  mortgager  at  any  rea- 
sonable time  to  recall  or  redeem  his  estate  :  paying  to 
the  mortgagee  his  principal,  interest,  and  ezpences :  for 
otherwise,  m  strictness  of  law,  an  estate  worth  loool. 
might  be  forfeited  fbr  aon- payment  of  lOok  or  a  less 
•um.  This  reasonable-  advantage,  allowed  to  mortga- 
gers, is  cuWedr  the  eqmty  of  redemption  ;  and  this  en- 
ables a  mortgager  to  call  on  the  mortgagee,  who  has 
possession  of  his  estate,  to  deliver  it  back,  and  account 
tor  the  rents-  and  profits  received  on  payment  of  his 


4    i  .     M    O    R 

whole  debt  and  interest,  thereby  turning  the  mcrtmm  y«y_ 
into  a  kind  of  vivum  vadium;  (see  Vadium).    But,      |^ 
on  the  other  hand,  the  mortgagee  may  either  compel  Morr^k 
the  sale  of  the  estate,  in  order  to  get  the  whole  of  hii^'"  *"^ 
money  immediately  \  or  else  call  upon  the  mortgager  to 
redeem  his  estate  presently,  or,  In  default  thereof,  to 
be  for  ever  foreclosed  from  redeeming  the  same ;  that 
is,  to  lose  his  equity  of  redemption  without  possibility  of 
recaL     And  also,  in  some  cases  of  fraudulent  mortga- 
ges,  the  fraudulent  mortgager  forfeits  all  equity  of  re- 
demption whatsoever.     It  is  not,  however,  usual  for 
mortgagees  to  take  possession  of  the  mortgaged  estate, 
unless  where  the  security  is  precarious,  or  small  \  or 
where  the  mortgager  neglects  even  the  payment  of  in* 
terest :  when  the  mortgagee  is  frequently  obliged  to 
bring  an  ejectment,  and  take  the  land  into  bis  own 
hands,  in  the  nature  of  a  pledge,  or  the  pi^nvs  of  the 
Roman  law  :  whereas,  while  it  remains  in  the  hands  of 
the  mortgager,    it    more  resembles  their  hypotbect, 
which  was  where  the  possession  of  the  thing  pledged 
remained  with  the  debtor.     But  by  statute  7  Geo.  II. 
c.  20.  after  payment  or  tender  by  the  mortgager  of 
principal,  interest,  and  costs,  the  mortgagee  can  main- 
tain no  ejectment  \  but  may  be  compelled  to  re-assi^ 
his  securities.     In  GlanviPs  time,  when  the  universal 
method  of  conveyance  was  by  livery  of  seisin  or  corpo- 
ral tradition  of  the   lands,  no  gage  or  pledge  of  lands 
was  good  unless  possession  was  aUo  delivered  to  tbe  cre- 
ditor \  si  nott  sequaturipsius  vadii  traditio^  curia  domini 
regis  hujusmodi privatas  convcntiones  tueri  mm  solct : 
for  which  the' reason  given  is,  to  prevent  subsequent  and 
fraudulent  pledges  of  the  same  land ;  aim  in  taii  com 
possit  eadcm  res  pluribus  ah'is  crcditoribus  turn  prius 
turn  posterius  invadiari.     And  the  frauds  which  hare 
arisen,  since  the  exchange  of  these  public  and  notoriooa 
conveyances  for  more  private  and  secret  bargains,  have 
well  evinced  the  wisdom  of  our  ancient  law. 

MORTIER,  an  ensign  of  dignity,  which  was  borne 
by  the  chancellor  and  grand  presidents  of  the  parlia- 
ment of  France.  Tliat  borne  by  the  chancellor  was  a 
piece  of  cloth  of  gold,  edged  and  turned  up  with  er- 
mine 'y  and  that  of  the  first  president  was  a  piece  of 
black  velvet  edged  with  a  double  row  of  gold  lace. 

MORTIFICATION,  or  Gangreke.     See  Sk- 
DiciNE  and  Surgery  Index, 
""   Mortification,  in  religion,  any  severe  penancft 
observed  on  a  religious  account.     See  Fast. 

MORTISE,  or  Mortoise,  in  carpentry,  &c  a 
kind  of  joint  wherein  a  hole  of  a  certain  depth  is  made 
in  a  piece  of  timber,  which  is  to  receive  another  piece 
called  a  tenon, 

MORTMAIN,  or  Alienation  in  Mortmain  (m 
moriua  manu)^  is  an  alienation  of  lands  or  tenements  to 
any  corporation,  sole  or  aggregate,  ecclesiastical  or  tem-^  ^ 
poral  *  :  but  these  purchases  having  been  chiefly  made^^^^ 
by  religious  houses,  in  consequence  whereof  the  lands 
became  perpetually  inherent  in  one  dead  hand,  this 
hath  occasioned  tbe  genera]  appellation  of  mortmain  to 
be  applied  to  such  alienations,  and  the  religions  boosei 
themselves  to  be  principally  considered  in  fbraiog  the 
statutes  of  mortmain  :  in  deducing  the  history  of  whictf 
statutes,  it  will  be  matter  of  curiosity  to  observe  the 
great  address  and  subtle  contrivance  of^the  ecclcaiasticii 
in  eluding  from  time  to  time  the  laws  in  being,  and  the 
zeal  with  which  successive  parliament;  have  pursued 

J 


M    O    R 


[    435    ] 


M    0    R 


BkektL 


Moctmain-  them  throngli  all  their  ftnesses :  how  new  remedies  were 
still  the  parents  of  new  evasions  ^  till  the  legislature  at 
last,  though  with  difficalty,  bath  obtained  a  decisive 
victory. 

By  the  comnion  law  any  man  might  dispose  of  his 
lands  to  any  other  private  man  at  his  oWn  discretion, 
especially  when  the  feodal  restraints  of  alienation  were 
worn  away.  Yet  in  consequence  of  these  it  was  al- 
ways, and  is  still  necessary,  for  corporations  to  have  a 
license  of  mortmain  from  the  crown,  to  enable  them  to 
purchase  lands  :  for  as  the  king  is  the  ultimate  lord  of 
every  fee,  he  ought  not,  unless  by  his  own  consent,  to 
lose  his  privilege  of  escheats  and  other  feodal  profits, 
by  the  vesting  of  lands  in  tenants  that  can  never  be  at- 
tainted or  die.  And  such  licenses  of  mortmain  seem  to 
have  been  necessary  among  the  Saxons  above  60  years 
before  the  Norman  conquest.  But,  besides  this  gene- 
ral license  from  the  king  as  lord  paramount  of  the  king- 
dom, it  was  also  requisite,  whenever  there  Was  a  mesne 
or  intermediate  lord  between  the  king  and  the  alienor, 
to  obtain  bis  license  also  OJpon  the  same  feodal  princi- 
ples) for  the  alienation  of  the  specific  land.  And  if  no 
such  license  Was  obtained,  the  king  or  otherlord  might 
respectively  enter  on  the  land  so  alienated  in  mortmain, 
as  a  forfefture.  The  necessity  of  this  licence  from  the 
crown  was  acknowledged  by  the  Constitutions  of  Cla- 
rendon, in  respect  of  advowsons,  which  the  monks  al- 
ways greatly  coveted,  as  being  the  groundwork  of  slib*- 
sequent  appropriations*  Yet  such  were  the  influence 
and  ingenuity  of  the  clergy,  that  (notwithstanding  this 
fundamental  principle)  we  find  that  the  largest  and 
ino->t  considerable  donations  of  religious  houses  happen*^ 
ed  within  less  th:in  two  centuries  after  the  Conquest. 
And  (when  a  license  could  not  be  obtained)  their  con- 
trivance soenid  to  have  been  this :  That  as  the  forfei- 
ture for  such  alienations  accrued  in  the  first  place  to  the 
immediate  lord  of  the  fee,  the  tenant  who  meant  tb 
alienate  first  conveyed  his  lands  to  the  religious  house, 
and  instantly  took  them  back  again  to  hiyld  as  tenant 
to  the  monastery :  which  kind  of  instantaneous  seisin 
was  probably  held  not  to  occasion  any  forfeiture :  and 
then,  by  pretext  of  some  other  forfeiture,  surrender,  or 
escheat  the  society  entered  into  those  lands  in  right  of 
such  their  newly  acquired  sipiiory,  as  immediate  lords 
of  the  fee.  But  when  these  donations  began  to  groW 
numerous,  it  was  observed  that  the  feodal  services,  or- 
dained for  the  delipnce  of  the  kintrddm,  were  every  day 
visibly  withdrawn  ;  that  the  circulation  of  landed  pro- 
perty from  man  to  man  began  to  stagnate  :  and  that  the 
lords  were  curtailed  of  th**  fruits  of  their  signories,  their 
escheats,  waul  ships,  reliefs,  and  the  like  :  and  therc- 
f(>re,  in  order  to  prevent  this,  it  was  ordained  by  the 
secotid  of  Kin-r  Henry  Itl.'s  great  charters,  and  af- 
terwards by  thrit  printed  in  ottr  common  statute  books, 
tliat  .ill  such  uttompts  should  be  void,  and  the  land  for« 
feited  to  the  loi\l  of  tlic  fee. 

But  as  tli-^  proli'bition  extended  only  to  religious 
houses,  bfh'HoiH  Tiv.d  oO\er  sole  corporations  were  not  in- 
cluded therein;  and  til-.' aggregate  ecclesiastical  bodies 
(who.  Sir  i''»l'rvud  Ct  ke  observes,  in  this  were  to  be 
commendt  df  tl.;it  t!i«^y  t'v<  r  had  of  their  counsel  the  best 
learned  men  tli.it  tNcy  cou'd  get)  found  many  means 
to  creep  out  of  ti]is  s-nt^tc,  by  buying  in  lands  that 
were  /'.  'la  /zVr  '.'I'nl  jii  of  lli'insclves  as  lords  of  the  fee, 
and  tijcrcby  tvadiii'j  the  forl.iture  5  or  by  taking  long 


^m^m 


leases  tor  jears,  which  first  introduced  those  extensive  Alortin 
terms,  for  a  thousand  or  more  years,  which  are  now  so 
frequent  in  conveyancee.  This  produced  the  statutb 
de  rcIigiost\  7  Edw.  1. 5  which  provided,  that  ho  per- 
son, religious  or  other  whatsoever,  should  buy,  or  sell, 
or  receive  under  pretence  of  a  gift,  or  term  of  years,  or 
any  other  title  whatsoever,  nor  should  by  any  art  or  in- 
genuity appropriate  to  himself,  any  lands  6r  tenements 
in  mortmain  \  upon  pain  that  the  immediate  lord  of  the 
fee,  or,  on  his  defuult  for  one  year,  the  lords  para- 
mount, and  in  default  of  all  of  them,  the  king,  might 
'enter  thereon  as  a  fotfeitute. 

This  seemed  to  be  a  sufficient  security  against  all 
alienations  in  mortmain  :  but  as  these  statutes  extend- 
ed only  to  gifts  and  conveyances  between  the  parties, 
the  religious  houses  now  began  tb  set  Up  a  fictitious 
title  to  the  land,  which  it  was  intended  they  shouIiV 
liave,  and.  to  bring  an  attioti  to  recover  it  agkinst  tlm 
tenant  \  who,  by  fraud  and  collusion,  made  no  defence, 
and  thereby  judgment  was  given  for  the  religious 
house,  which  then  recovered  the  land  by  a  sentence  of 
law  upon  a  supposed  prior  title.  And  thus  they  had  the 
honour  of  inventing  those  fictitious  adjudications  of 
right,  which  are  since  become  the  great  assurance  of 
the  kingdom,  under  the  name  of  commoh  R£COV£Ri£<rv 
But  upon  this  the  statute  of  Westmihster  the  second, 
1^  Edw.  I.  c.  32.  enacted,  that  in  such  cases  a  jury 
shall  try  the  true  right  of  the  demandants  or  plaintiflis 
to  the  land  ^  and  if  the  religious  house  or  Corporation 
be  found  to  have  it,  they  shall  still  recover  seisin  ^  other- 
wise it  shall  be  forfeited  to  the  immediate  lord  of  the 
fee,  or  else  to  the  next  lord,  and  finally  to  the  king^ 
upon  the  immediate  or  other  lord^s  default.  And  the 
like  provision  Wa;  mftde  by  the  succeeding  chapter,  in 
case  the  tenants  set  up  crosses  upon  their  lands  (the 
badges  of  knights  templars  and  hospitallers)  in  order  to 
protect  them  from  the  feudal  demands  of  their  lord.«, 
by  virtue  of  the  privileges  of  those  religious  and  mili- 
tary orders.  And  so  careful  Was  this  provident  prince 
to  prevent  any  future  evasions,  that  when  the  statute 
of  quia  eniptoPeSy  18  Edw.  I.  abolished  all  sub-infeuda- 
tions,  and  gave  liberty  for  all  men  to  alienate  their 
lands  to  be  hold^n  of  their  next  immediate  lord,  a  pro- 
viso Was  inserted  that  this  should  not  extend  to  autho- 
rize any  kind  of  alienation  in  mortmain.  And  when 
aftcHvards  the  method  of  obtaining  the  king^s  license  by 
Writ  of  ad  qu^/d  dixmnvm  was  marked  out  by  the  statute 
27  Edw.  T.  St.  2.  it  was  farther  provided  by  statute 
34  Edw.  I.  St.  3.  that  no  such  license  should  be  ef- 
fectual without  the  consent  of  the  mesne  or  intermediate 
lords. 

Yet  still  it  was  found  difficult  to  set  boUnds  to  ec- 
clesiastical ingenuity  :  for  tvhen  they  were  driven  out 
of  all  their  former  holds,  they  devised  a  new  method 
of  cont^yance,  by  which  the  lands  were  granted,  ndt 
to  themselves  directly,  but  to  nominal  fieoffees  to  the* 
use  of  the'  religious  houses  \  thus  distinguishing  be- 
tween the  possession  and  the  use,  and  receiving  the  ac- 
tual profits,  while  the  seisin  of  the  land  remained  in' 
the  nominal  feoffee ;  who  Was  held*  by  the  courts 
of  equity  (then  under  the  direction  of  the  clergy)  to 
be  bound  in  conscience  to  account  to  his  cestui/  que 
use  for  the  rents  and  emoluments  of  the  estate.  And 
it  is  to  these  inventions  that  our  practisers  are  indebt- 
ed for  the  introduction  of  uses  and  trusts,  the  founda«- 

j  I  2  tioil 


Uil. 

^1  ^ 


M    O    R 


[    436    ] 


M    O    R 


:Morimam.  tloh  of  modern  couvejancing.  But  nnfoi-tuuafcly  for 
tlie  inventors  themselves,  they  did  not  Jong  enjoy  tb.e 
advantage  of  their  new  device  ^  for  the  statute  15  Rich- 
ard II.  c.  5.  enacts,  that  the  lands^  which  had  been  so 
purchased  to  uses  should  be  admbrtiscd  by  license  from 
the  crown, lor  else  be  sold  to  private  persons^  and  that, 
ibr  the  future,  uses  shall  be  subject  to  the  statutes  of 
mortmain,  and  forfeitable  like  the  lands  themselves. 
And  whereas  the  statutes  had  been  eluded  by  purcha- 
sing large  tracts  of  land  adjoining  to  churches,  and  con- 
secrating them  by  the  name  of  churchyards^  such  sub- 
tile imagination  is  also  declared  to  be  within  the  com- 
pass of  the  statutes  of  mortmain.  And  civil  or  lay  cor- 
porations, as  well  as  ecclesiastical,  are  also  declared  to 
be  within  the  mischief,  and  of  course  within  the  remedy 
provided  by  those  salutary  laws.  And  lastly.  As  during 
the  times  of  popery  lands  were  frequently  given  to  su- 
perstitious uses,  though  not  to  any  corporate  bodies  \ 
or  were  made  liable  in  the  hands  of  heirs  and  devisees 
to  the  charge  of  obits,  chantries,  and  the  like,  which 
were  equally  pernicious  in  a  well-governed  i>tate  as  ac- 
tual alienations  in  mortmain  \  therefore  at  the  dawn  of 
the  Reformation,  the  statute  23  Hen.  VIII.  c.  10.  de- 
clares, that  all  future  grants  of  lands  for  any  of  the 
purposes  aforesaid,  if  granted  for  any  longer  term  than 
20  years,  shall  be  void. 

But,  during  all  this  time,  it  was  in  the  power  of  the 
crown,  by  granting  a  license  of  mortmain,  to  remit 
the  forfeiture,  so  far  as  related  to  its  own.  rights  \  and 
to  enable  any  spiritual  or  other  corporation  to  purchase 
and  hold  any  lands  or  t^ements  in  perpetuity :  which 
preitigative  is  declared  and  confirmed  by  the  statute 
18  £dw.  III.  St.  3.  c.  3.  But  as  doubts  were  conceived 
at  the  time  of  the  Kevolatlon  how  far  such  license  was 
valid,  since  the  king  had  no  power  to  dispense  with  the 
statutes  of  mortmain  by  a  clause  of  rum  obstante^  which 
was  the  usual  course,  though  it  seems  to  have  been  un- 
necessary \  and  as,  by  the  gradual  declension  of  mesne 
signtories  through  the  long  operation  of  the  statute  of 
quia  emptoreSy  the  rights  of  intermediate  lords  were  re- 
duced to  a  very  small  compass ;  it  was  therefore  pro- 
vided by  the  sUtute  7  &  8  W.  III.  c.  37.  that  the 
crown  for  the  future  at  its  own  discretion  may  grant  li- 
censes to  alienate  or  take  in  mortmain,  of  whomsoever 
the  tenements  may  be  holden.  , 

After  the  dissolution  of  monasteries  under  Hen.  VIII. 
though  the  policy  of  the  next  popish  successor  affected 
to  grant  a  security  to  the  possessors  of  abbey  lands, 
yet,  in  order  to  regain  so  much  of  them  as  cither  the 
zeal  or  timidity  of  their  owners  might  induce  them  to 
part  with,  the  statutes  of  mortmain  were  suspended  for 
20  years  by  the  statute  1  &  2  P.  &  M.  c.  8.  and  dur- 
ing that  time  any  lands  or  tenements  were  allowed 
to  be  granted  to  any  spiritual  corporation  without  any 
license  whatsoever.  And  long  afterwards,  for  a  much 
better  purpose,  the  augmeittation  of  poor  livings,  it 
was  enacted  by  the  statute  17  Car.  II.  c.  3.  that  ap- 
propriators  may  annex  the  great  tithes^  to  the  vicarages, 
and  that  all  benefices  under  lool.  per  annum  may  be 
augmented  hy  the  purchase  of  lands,  without  license 
of  mortman  in  either  case  ^  and  the  like  provision  bath 
been  since  made  in  favour  of  the  governors  of  Qaeen 
Anne^  bounty.  It  hath  also  been  held,  that  the  sta- 
tute 13  Hen.  VIII.  before -mentioned,  did  not  extend 
to  any  thing  but  superstitious  uses^  and  that  therefore 


a  man  may  give  lands  for  tlie  maintenance  of  a  school,  M«taM. 
an  hospital,  or  any  other  charitable  uses.     But  as  it  Mortnry. 
was  apprehended  I  friin  recent  experience,  that  penons^"  v^' 
on  their  deathbeds  mi^'rht  make  large  and  improvid«-Bt 
dispositions  even  for  these  good  pui-poses,  and  defeat 
the  political  ends  of  the  statutes  of  mortroaiD;  it  is 
therefore  enacted  by  the  statute  9  Geo.  II.  c.  36.  that 
no  lands  or  tenements,  or  money  to  lie  laid  out  tltereon, 
shall  be  given  for  or  charged  with  any  charitable  Q«es 
whatsoever,  unless  by  deed  indented,  executed  in  the 
presence  of  two  witnesses  1 2  kalender  months  before  the 
death  of  the  donor,  and  enrolled  in  the  court  of  ckao- 
eery  within   six    months    after   ita  execution  (except 
stocks  in  the  public  funds,  which  n%ay  be  translerrcd 
within  six  months  previous  to  the  donor's  death),  and 
unless  such  gift  be   made  to  take  effect  im mediately, 
and  be  without  power  of  revocation  \  and  that  all  other 
gifts  shall  be  void.    The  two  uuiverMties,  their  colleges, 
and  their  scholars  upon  the  foundation  of  the  colleges 
of  Eton,  Wittchtstcr,  and  Westminster,  are  excepted 
out  of  this  act :  but  such  exemption  wan  granted  with 
this  proviso,  that  no  college  shall  be  at  liberty  to  pur- 
chase more  advowsons  than  are  equal  iu  number  to  one 
moiety  of  the  fellows  or  students  upon  tbo  rehpeclive 
foundations. 

MORTUARY,  in  Lawy  is  a  sort  of  ecclesiastical  be- 
riot*,  being  a  customary  gift  claimed  by  and  due  tot  Sk 
the  minister  in  very  many  parishes  on  the  death  of  fatsHiHit 
parishioners.  They  seem  originally  to  liave  been  only 
a  voluntary  bequest  to  the  church;  being  intended,  as 
Lyndewode  informs  us  from  a  constitution  of  Archbi- 
shop Langham,  as  a  kind  of  expiation  and  amend^i  to 
the  clergy  for  the  pei'sonal  tithes,  and  other  ecclesias- 
tical duties,  which  the  laity  in  their  life  time  might 
have  neglected  or  f\)rgotten  to  pay.  For  this  purpose, 
after  the  lord's  heriot  or  best  good  was  taken  out,  the 
second  best  chattel  was  reserved  to  the  cbmchasa 
mortuary.  And  therefore  in  the  laws  of  King  Canute, 
this  mortuary  is  called  soulscoi  or  hymbotum  anifiue* 
And,  in  pursuance  of  the  same  principle,  by  the  lavs 
of  Venice,  where  no  personal  tithes  have  been  paid  dtt* 
ring  the  life  of  the  party,  they  are  paid  at  his  death 
out  of  his  merchandise,  jewels,  and  other  moveables. 
So  also,  by  a  similar  policy  in  France,  every  man  tkat 
died  without  bequeathing  a  part  of  hit  estate  to  the 
church,  which  was  called  dying  without  confessiomy 
formerly  deprived  of  Christian  burial ;  or,  if  he 
intestate,  the  relations  of  the  deceased,  jointly  with  the 
bishop,  named  proper  arbitrators  to  determine  what  be 
ought  to  have  given  to  the  church,  in  case  he  bad 
made  a  will.  But  the  parliament,  in  1409,  redressed 
^his  grievance. 

It  was  anciently  usual  in  England  to  bring  the  mor- 
tuary to  church  along  with  the  corpse  when  it  cane 
to  be  buried ;  and  thence  it  is  sometimeH  called  a  corpte* 
present :  a  term  which  bespeaks  it  to  have  been  onct 
a  voluntary  donation.  However,  in  Bract  on  *8  time,  so 
early  as  Henry  III.  we  find  it  rivetted  into  an  esti* 
blished  custom  ;  in  so  much  that  the  bequests  of  beriols 
and  mortuaries  were  held  to  be  necessary  ingredients  in 
every  testament  of  chattels.  Imprimis  autcm  deiftt  qn^ 
libcty  qui  testamentumjecerity  dominvm  sttvm  de  mebri 
re  quam  habuerit  recognoscere  ;  ctposiea  ecclesiam  dcdia 
meHore :  the  lord  must  have  the  best  good  left  him  ai 
a  heriot  3  and  the  church .  the  second  best  as  a  mor* 

twury* 


M    O    R  [437 

Vortinry.  tuary.  Bat  yet  this  custom  was  different  in  diiferent 
places  :  in  quihusdam  locis  Aabet  ecclesia  melius  animal 
de  consuciudine ;  in  quihtisdam  secundum^  vel  tertium 
melius;  et  in  quibusdam  nihil:  et  ideo  consideranda  est 
eonsffeludo  lon\  This  custom  still  varies  in  different 
places,  not  only  as  to  the  mortuary  to  be  paid,  but  the 
person  to  whom  it  .is  payable.  In  Wales  a  mortuary  or 
corse  present  was  due  upon  the  death  of  every  clergy- 
man to  the  biiihop  of  the  diocese'^  till  abolished,  upon 
a  recompense  given  to  the  bishop,  by  the  statute,  1 2 
Ann.  St.  2.  c.  $.  And  in  the  archdeaconry  of  Che- 
ater a  custom  also  prevailed,  that  the  bishop,  who  is 
also  archdeacon,  should  have,  at  the  death  of  every 
cler^man  dying  therein,  bis  beat  horse  or  mare,  bridle, 
saddle,  and  spurs  *,  his  best  gown  or  cloak,  hat,  upper 
garment  under  his  gown,  and  tippet,  and  also  his  best 
signet*  or  ring.  But  by  st&tate  28  Geo.  II.  c.  6.  this 
mortuary  is  directed  to  cease,  and  the  act  has  settled 
upon  the  bishop  an  equivalent  in  its  room.  The  king^s 
claim  to  many  goods,  un  the  death  of  all  prelates  iti 
Kngland,  seems  to  be  of  the  same  nature  i  though  Sir 
£dward  Coke  apprehends,  that  this  is  a  duty  upon 
death,  and  not  a  mortuary  :  a  distinction  which  seems 
to  be  withtiut  a  difference.  For  not  only  the  king^s 
ecclesiastical  character,  as  supreme  ordinary,  but  also 
the  species  of  the  good  claimed,  which  bear  so  near  a 
resemblance  to  those  in  the  archdeaconry  of  Chester, 
which  was  an  acknowledged  mortuary,  puts  the  matter 
•ot  of  dispute.  Tlie  king,  according  to  the  record 
Tonched  by  Sir  Edward  Coke,  is  entitled  to  six  things  ^ 
the  bishop's  best  horse  or  palfrey,  with  his  furniture  v 
his  cloak  or  gown,  and  tippet ;  his  cup  and  cover  ^  his 
bason  and  ewer  3  his  gold  ring }  and  lastly,  his  muta 
canum^  his  mew  or  kennel  of  bounds. 

This  variety  of  customs  witli  regard  to  mortuaries, 
giving  frequently  a  handle  to  exactions  on  the  one  side, 
and  frauds  or  expensive  litigations  on  the  other,  it 
was  thought  proper  by  statute  21  Henry  VITL  c.  6. 
to  reduce  them  to  some  kind  of  certainty.  For  this 
purpose  it  is  enacted,  that  all  mortuaries,  or  corse- 
presents  to  parsons  of  any  parish,  shall  be  taken  in  the 
following  manner,  unless  where  by  custom  less  or  none 
at  all  b  due  \  viz.  for  every  person  who  does  not  leave 
goods  to  tlie  value  of  ten  marks,  nothing  ^  for  every 
person  who  leaves  goods  to  the  value  of  tea  marks  and 
under  30  pounds,  3s.  4d.  \  if  above  30  pounds,  and  un- 
der 40  pounds,  6s.  8d. ;  if  above  40  pounds,  of  what 
value  soever  they  may  be,  los.  and  no  more.  And  no 
mortuary  shall  throughout  the  kingdom  be  paid  for 
the  death  of  any  feme-covert  ^  nor  mr  any  child  y  nor 


] 


M    O    S 


for  any  one  of  full  age,  that  is  not  a  housekeeper ;  nor  Moiioac^ 
for  any  wayfaring  man  y  but  such  wayfaring  man's  mor-         i) 
tuary  shall  be  paid  in  the  parish  to  which  he  belongs.    ^losaic 
And  upon  this  statute  stands  the  law  of  mortuaries  to »       ^'   ^ 
tliis  day.' 

M ORUS,  the  Mulberry  Tree,  a  genus  of  plants 
belonging  to  the  monoecia  class,  and  in  the  natural  me- 
thod ranking  under  the  53d  order,  Scabrida.    See  Bo-' 
TANT  Index. 

MOSA,  in  Ancient  Geography^  a  river  of  Belgica, 
rising  in  Mount  Vogesus  on  the  borders  of  the  Lingones, 
and  which,-  after  receiving  a  part  of  the  Rhine  called 
Vahalis^'ioTvck^  the  island  of  the  Batavi,  and  passes  off 
into  the  sea,  at  the  distance  of  80  miles.  Now  called 
the  Mflesey  or  Meuse ;  rising  in  Champa^nie,  on  the 
borders  bf  tb^  county  01  Burgundy,  or  Franche 
Compt^,  at  a  village  called  Meuse^  wJience  the  appelU- 
tiop  \  and  running  north  through  Lorrain  and  Cham- 
pagne into  the  Netherlands ;  it  afterwards  directs  its 
course  north-east  and  then  west  ^  and  joining  the  Waal, 
runs  to  Dort,  and  falls  into  the  German  sea,  a  little  b^- 
^ow  the  Briel. 

MOS^  Pons,  in  Ancient  Geography jBsiga^owcA  to  be 
Maestricht,  situated  on  the  Mafise.  £%  Lang.  5*  40* 
N.  Lat.  50.  ^^, 

MOSAIC  Law,  or  the  Law  of  Mosms^  is  the  most  WilronV 
ancient  that  we  know  of  in  the  worid«  aad  is  of  three  n'S?^'* 
kinds  y  the  moral  law,  tlie  ceremonial  law,   and  the 
judicial  law.     The  different  manner  in  which  each  of 
these  was  delivered,  may  perhaps  suggest  to  us  a  riglit 
idea  of  their  different  natures.     Tlie  moral    Uw,   or 
tea  coounandments,  for  instance,  was  delivered  on  the 
top  of  the  mountain,   in  the  face  of  tW  whole  world, 
as  being  of  universal  influence,  and  obligatory  on  all 
mankind.     The  ceremonial  was  received  by  Moses  ia 
private  in  the  tabernacle,  as  being  of  peculiar  coacem,. 
belonging  to   the  Jews  only,  and  destined .  to  ccaae 
when  the  tabu'uacle  was  down,  and  the  vail  of  the  tempk 
rent.     As  to  the  judicial  law,  it  was  neiUier  so  public- 
ly nor  so  audibly  given  as  Uie  moral  law,  oor  yc^  so 
piuvately  as  the  ceremnnial  y  this  kind  of  law  bei^g  of 
an  indifferent  nature,  to  he  obseiTcd  or  not  observed, 
as  its  rites  suit  with  the  place  and  government  under 
which  we  live.     The  five  books  of  Moses  called  llio 
Pentateuch^  are  frequently' styled,  by  way  of  emphasis 
the  Law,     This  was  held  by  the  Jews  in  such  veHe- 
ration,  that  they  would  not  sdlow  it  to  be  laid  uppa  tiie 
bed  of  any  sick  person,  lest  it  should  be  fluted  b^ 
touclring  the  dead« 


A  TABLE  or  HARMONY  of  the  MOSAIC  LAW,  digested  into  proper  Heads,  with 
R£FfiR£KC£S  to  the  fieveral  Parts  of  the  Pentateuch,  where  the  respective  Laws  occur. 


Class  I.     The  Moral  Law  written  on  the  two  Tables,  containing 

the  Ten  Commandments. 

The  Jlrst  table^  which  inclndes 
The  first  commandment 

The  second  commandment, 

The  third  commandment. 


£xed. 

chap. 


20.  23. 

[20.25.34 
(20.  23. 


Levitic. 
chap. 


I 


19. 20. 26. 


. 


Nurab. 
chap. 


Dent. 
c^hap. 


- 1  - 


•^       K«  6.  13. 

f  4.5.6.7.8, 
— -    <  10.  XI.  12. 

lN3- 


3' 
5- 


The 


M    O    S 


Ikfosaic 


C    438    ] 


M    O    S 


{ 


Exod. 
cbap. 


{ 


Tbe  fourth  cotnmandmenty  •-  • 

The  second  tnbie  tnchides 
*The  fifth  commandment^ 

The  sixth  conmiandment,  -     .  -     ^ 

The  seventh  commandment^ 
Tlie  eighth  commandment^ 
The  ninth  commandment, 
The  tenth  commandment. 
The  snm  of  both  tables, 

Class  II.  The  Ceremonial  Law  maj  be  fitly  redaoed  to  the 

following  heads,  viz. 

Of  the  holy  place,  -  -  - 

Of  the  matter  and  stractore  of  the  tabernacle^ 

-Of  the  instruments  of  the  same,  vi£. 
The  laver  of  brass,  •» 

The  altar  of  burnt  offering,  ... 

The  altar  of  incense,  *  .^ 

The  candlestick  of  pure  gold. 

The  table  of  shew-bread,  -  -*       .  - 

Of  the  priests  and  their  vestments  for  gWy  and  beauty. 
Of  the  choosiilg  of  tbe  Levites, 
'Of  tbe  priests  office  in  general,  * 

Of  their  office  in  teaching, 

'Of  their  office  in  blessing,  -    '  - 

Of  their  office  in  offering-,  which  function  largely  spreading  itself, 

is  divided  into  those  heads,  riz* 
What  the  sacrifice  ought  to  be. 

Of  the  continual  fire,  ^  .  • 

Of  the  manner  of  the  burnt  offerings, 
•<      ■    ^.1  I  I       ^  the  peace  offerings. 
Of  the  manner  of  the  sacrifices  according  to  their  several  kinds,  viz. 
For  sin  committed  through  ignorance  of  the  law. 
For  sin  committed  throu^  ignorance  of  the  fact. 
For  sin  committed  "v^ittingly,  yet  not  through  impiety, 
Tbe  special  law  of  sacrifices  for  sin. 
Of  things  belonging  to  the  sacrifices,  «  •>• 

Of  the  shew-bread,        ,         - 
Of  the  lamps,  « 

Of  the  sweet  incense,  -  • 

'Of  the  use  of  ordinary  oblations,  whereof  there  were  sever&l  kinds 

observed  by  the  priests,  ... 

Of  the  consecration  of  the  high  priests  and  other  priests, 
Of  the  consecration  and  office  of  the  Levites, 
Of  the  dwelling  of  the  Levites,  ... 

Of  the  anointilig  the  altar,  and  all  the  instruments  of  the  ta- 

bemathe, 
Of  the  continual  daily  sacrifices,  -  -* 

Of  the  continual  Sabbath  day^s  sacrifices, 
Of  the  solemn  sacrifice  for  feast  days,  whiefa  wete  diversei  ^nd  had 

peculiar  rites,  distinguished  into  these,  viz. 
Of  trumpets,  .... 

Of  beginning  of  months,  ... 

Of  the  three  most  solemn  feadts  in  genera^ 

Of  the  feast  of  passover,  » 

Of  the  feast  of  pentecost. 

Of  the  feast  of  tabernacles,  ^  «.  . 

"Of  the  feadt  uf  blowing  the  trumpets,  •  ^ 


20. 23. 3 1 
34-  35- 

20.  22. 

2b. 
20. 

20.  23. 
20.  23. 
10. 


20. 
25.  26. 

27-  35- 
30- 

27. 
30- 

25- 

25.  26. 

28. 


} 


{ 


2r 

3«- 


29.30. 


29. 30. 

29. 


Levitic. 
chap. 


Numb, 
chap. 


19.23.26. 

19. 

'2* 
18. 19. 

19. 
19. 


17. 


19. 10. 


r  i: 


2i. 
6. 
6.7. 

3-7' 


6.7. 
2. 6. 7. 
24. 
24. 


6.8. 


23- 34* 
12.13. 25. 

34- 
23.  24. 

23-  34- 


f 

23« 
23- 

23' 


23^ 


Deut* 

chap. 


rtita 


5- 

5- 

5-23. 

J- 

5' 

5- 
6. 


- 


12. 


t8. 
3-» 


1.8. 


6. 


I  '7-  3»- 


S- 

J- 

8. 


8. 

35- 


28. 

28. 


10. 
18. 


9.28. 

26. 
29. 

29. 


»5-  »7- 


16. 

td. 
16. 


Of 


M    O    S 


I     439    ] 


M    O    S 


ilomic 


Gen.  is* 


or  the  feast  of  expiation, 

Of  the  first  fruits, 

Oft3rthe8, 

Of  fruits  grovftng  and  not  eaten  of, 

Of  the  first  horn, 

Of  the  sabbatical  year. 

Of  the  year  of  jubilee, 

Of  TOWS  in  general, 

What  persons  ought  not  to  make  vowi<,  ir. 

What  things  cannot  be  vowed. 

Of  redemption  of  vows. 

Of  the  vows  of  the  Nazarites, 

Of  the  laws  proper  for  the  priests,  viz. 

Of  pollutions. 

Of  the  high  priest^s  mourning, 

Of  his  marriaffe,  -  - 

Of  the  mourning  of  the  ordinary  priests, 

Of  their  marriage. 

Of  their  being  forbidden  the  use  of  wine,  &c. 

Of  sanctified  meats^ 

Of  the  office  of  the  Levites,  viz. 

Teaching, 

Offering,  «•  -  • 

Other  promiscuous  ceremonial  laws,  viz* 

Of  uncleanness  in  general, 

Of  uncleanness  in  meats,  viz. 

Of  blood, 

Offat,  -  -  - 

Of  dead  carcases. 

Other  meats,  and- diverse  living,  creatures, 

or  uncleanness  in  the  issue  of  seed  and  blood. 

In  the  dead  bodies  of  men, 

In  the  leprosy, 

Of  circumcision,  -  « 

Of  the  water  of  expiation. 

Of  the  moambg  of  the  Israelites, 

Of  mixtures,  -  •  » 

Of  their  garments,  and  writing  the  law  privately. 

Of  young  birds  not  to  be  taken  with  the  dam, 

Of  then:  paddle  staves,  - 

CLAsa  IIL  The  Political  Law, 

JV.  S^  The  Magistrate  is  the  keeper  of  the  precepts  of  both 
Tables,  and  to  have  respect  to  human  society  jr— therefore 
the  Political  laws  of  the  Israelites  are  referred  to  both  the 
Tables,  and  are  to  be  reduced  to  the  several  precepts  of  the 
Moral  Law» 

Laws  referred  to  the  first  table,  namely, 

X9t,  To  the  first  and  second  commandments/yiZi. 
Of  idolaters  and  apostates,  •  •• 

Of  abolishing  idolatry. 
Of  diviners,  and^  false  prophets, . 
Of  covenants  with  other  gods,  -  » 

2d,  To  the  third  commandment,  viz^ 
Of  blasphemies, 

3d,  To  the  fourth  commandment,  viz* 
Of  breaking  the  Sabbath, 

Pditical  laws  refexxed  to  the  second  tabie^ 


Gen.  ztii. 


Exod. 
chap. 


30- 
22.23.34 


13.22.34. 
*3- 


Levitic. 
chap. 


-{ 


16.  13. 
2. 

21. 
19.^ 

25- 
27. 

27. 
27- 


22. 
21. 

21. 
21. 

21. 
10. 

6.  17.  19. 
20. 


23- 
22. 


Numb, 
chap. 


29. 
18. 


30- 
30« 


6. 


15.  19. 

7.  17.  19. 

3-7- 
*7- 

II.  20. 
IJ.  12. 

m 

13. 14. 
12. 

19. 
19. 


32. 
23.  24. 
22. 
23.24. 


1 5.  18. 


3.  4.  1 8. 


19. 
J- 

19! 


ij- 


:• 


20. 
19.20. 


M* 


3i3J< 


33< 


15- 


—        ij 


D«ut. 

chap. 


26. 
12.14.26. 

'5. 


•3< 

»3< 


I2.i5..<8. 


17.27.31 
10. 


14. 

6.  II.  22. 
22. 
23. 


12. 

14. 
14. 

a3- 


Mosaic 
JLaw. 


- 


»3- 17- 
7. 12. 
18. 


ist,  To 


M    O    S 


[     440    ] 


M    O    S 


IkJosftte 
Law. 


ist^  To  the  fifth  cbmmandmetit,  vii.  .  -  - 

Of  magistrates  and  their  authority,  .  ,  - 

Of  the  power  of  fathers,  .  .  -  - 

2d,  TV  the  sixth  commMdaient,  viz.  ... 

Of  capital  punishments,  -  -  -  * 

Of  wiWul  murder,  -  -  1    "r   •       •"•        r  "    -» 

Of  manslaughter  unwittingly  committed,  and  of  the  cities  of  re-  I 

fuge,  -  -  -  -  -        i 

Of  heinous  injury,  - 

Of  ptmishments  iiot  capital,  -  -  -  - 

Of  the  law  of  war,  .  -.  -  - 

3d,  To  the  seventh  commandment,  vi*.  . 
Of  unlawful  marriages. 

Of  fornication,  .  -  -  -  - 

Of  whoredom,  -  -  •  "  * 

Of  adultery  and  jealousy,  -  .  .  - 

Of  copulation  against  nature,  .  -  - 

•Of  divorcements. 

Other  matrimonial  laws,  >,  -  - 

4th,  To  the  eighth  commandment,  viz- 
•Of  the  punishment  of  thefts,  .  .  - 

'Of  sacrilege,  -  -  -  -  -  - 

Of  not  injuring  strangers,  .  .  - 

Of  not  defrauding  liirelings,  .  -  - 

•Qfjnst  weights,  -  - 

Of  removing  the  land-mark,  -  -  "        . 

Of  lost  goods,  -  - 

Of  strayed  cattle,  -  - 

Of  corrupted  judgments,  "      .  " 

Of  fire  breaking  out  by  chance,  ... 

'Of  mansteialing,  .  -  - 

'Of  the  fugitive  servant,  *  -  •  " 

Of  gathering  fruits,  .  -  -  - 

Of  contnwJts,  viz,  .  -  - 

Borrowing,  -  *  '  .     ,  - 

Of  the  pledge,  -  -  .  -  - 

'Of  usury,  -  .  -  •  "  " 

♦Of  selling,  ^  -         .         - 

Of.thethittglent,  - 

Of  a  thing  committed  £0  be  kept,  w  .  - 

•Of  heirs,  .  -  .  -  - 

5th,  To  the  ninth  comnmndment,  viz. 
Of  witnesses,  -  -  *  -  - 

The  esUblishing  the  political  Uw, 

"The  esUblbhing  the  divine  law  in  general, 

From  the  dignity  of  the  lawgiver,  -  -  • 

From  the  excellency  of  the  laws,  *  ."  " 

From  tbe  .prombes,  -  •  -  "     . 

Fiom  theithreatenings,  -  -  * 


Exod. 
cfaap. 


I  Levitic. 
chap. 


18.30. 


21. 

21. 

21. 


22. 
22. 

21. 

22. 

22.  23, 


22. 
22.  23. 

22. 


22. 
22. 
21. 
22. 


{ 


24. 


24. 


18.  20. 
19. 

2I« 

19.  20. 
18;  22. 

1 8. 20. 


Numb, 
chap. 


DeoL 

chap. 


19. 
19. 
19. 


19, 


19.23. 


25- 
25- 


15.19.23. 

24. 

as- 


19.20.22. 


1 8.  26. 


^6. 


Lnr. 


lU 


{I.  13. 17. 
23. 


21.24 

33«  19.21.22. 

25- 

25- 


7.21 

23- 
22. 


24. 


I 


aj- 


10. 
a<5.aj. 

a5- 
19. 

32- 
16.  24. 

as- 
23.24. 

24. 
15- 


15' 


17.19. 

4- 
6. 11.39. 

30.31- 
4.5J6.7.S. 

10.26.27. 
4.26. 
4. 5. 6. 7. 

I0.II.i2. 

28. 

4.7.  !!• 
27.28.39^ 

30- 


MOSAIC,  or  Mosaic  Woak,  an  Assemblage  of  of  stucco,  m  siich  a  manner  as  to  imitate  ^^ 
litde  pieces  of  glass,  marble,  precious  slones,  &c.  of  and  gradaUons  of  pamting.  The  <^"^«  "T^^S 
Jf£rSurs,Sut square,  akd  cemented  on  a  gro^^^     as  to  the  origia  «id ««on  of  tba  »««.    6«ieden^ 

4 


M    O    S 


C    44i     ] 


M    O    8 


^of  jjiMiwwiw,  M  k  wa»  mIM  •nMPg  Ikfe  Biynwui 
ScAltftff  liiiimi  il  finoM  tlw  Gaeek  /Mim^  aad  uaagiMMi 
tW  nunc jpw  gra»  ta  diis  soil  of  undts  aft  faftiig  ▼•rjr 
&••  aad  iagftaiooB*    Nebiicewia  ia  of  apinioi^  it  v«a 
89  called,  bacaaee  rjp  iUupkittnsi  ofaadniiftwr  miMMit 

I.  M6Chad  af  far&vmiag  maaaiD  weak  of  gUiia  ia 
tfya :  Tka^  ppavido  littlt  piaaea  af  gksB,  af  as  naaip 
diinrea*  cmois  and  Moa  at  paooiMa. 

Naw^  in  order  to  wpjiky  ihta»  sevavak  jMoaes,  and  oNft 
of  theai  la  font  a  picture,  tkmj  kk  tba  fifsi  plaea  pra^ 
cure  a  oavlooai  or  deuga  tm  \m  dbawa  ^  lUa  ia  traasM 
feired  to  the  groaad  or  plaater  b9rchallii!ig*aft  in  pimt^ 
lag  in  firetoob     See  FBZSoe. 

At  liiw  pbMter  i§  ta  ba  laid  thick  aa  tkt  watt,  and 
thenfaae  milk  cootimia  ftaeh  and  soft  a  coaaidaraUa 
iioM^  eo  Iheva  aia^  ba  enoB^  yaeytd  aft  onoatoaenm 
fta  aa  BMKk  work  aa  fMlk  tidu»  up  three  or  tomt  da^ 

This  planter  ia  cooipoeed  ef  liaM  made  of  ha>4 
atone,  with  hrick  dasi  wry  fiae,  goM  tmgatanlh,  and 
wkitae  of  eggs  ^  whcK  tUs  piaeier  haa  been  tkaa  pre* 
paved  and  laid  on  the  wall,  and  made  the  derian  of 
what  is  lo  ba  fepiaeeated,  they  take  out  the  little  piecea 
af  glass  with  a  pair  of  plysxe,  and  caage  theo»  one  aftev 
aoathar,  sdM  keeping  atrio%  ta  the  Hght,  shadser,  dtf* 
(oMal  tcials  and  coloara  represented  in  die  design.  be« 
fcra ;  •  preseiag  or  iaitiag  them  down  with  a  ruler, 
winch  serves  &th  to  sink  them  wilhin  the  grannd  and 
fo  render  the  swfaoa  even* 

Thas,  ia  a  long  time,  and  with  a  neat  deal  of  la«* 
henr,  they  finish  the  work,  whioh  is  still  the  mere 
heantilnl,  as  the  pieces  of  f^a  aca  noae  nnifiHm  and 
ranged  at  an  even  height. 

Some  of  these  pieces  of  mosaic  work  are  paiionned 
with  that  axaetaess,  that  they  appear  as  smooth  aa  a 
tahle  of  marble,'  and  as  fiaished  and  masterly  aa  a  paints 
iag  in  fresco  ^  with  this  advantage,  that  they  have  a 
fine  laslre,  aad  will  last  ages. 

The  finest  works  of  this  kind  that  have  vemakied  till 
owr  time,  and  those  by  whom  the  medcnis  have  retriea* 
ed  the  art,  which  was  in  a  manner  lost,  are  these  in  the 
church  of  Bt  Agnes,  formeriy  the  temple  of  Bacchus, 
at  Bome ;  and  some  at  Pisa,  Flarsnce,  and  other  oiliea 
of  Italy.  The  most  esteemed  among  the  works  of  tha 
modems  are  those  of  Joseph  IHne  and  the  Chevaliev 
Laalirane,  in  the  church  of  St  Peter  at  Rome :  there  are 
alsa  very  go^  ones  at  Venice. 

1.  The  method  of  perfonaing  mosaic  work  of  marUe 
ia  this:  The  ground  of  mosaic  works,  wholly  mwrbla, 
18  nsuaUy  a  massive  marble  either  white  or  black.  On 
this  ground  the  design  is  cut  with  a  chisel,  after  it  has 
been  first  chalked.  After  it  has  been  cut  of  a  consideiw 
able  depth,  i.  e.  an  inch  or  more,  the  cavitiea  are  filled 
np  with  marble  of  a  proper  colour,  first  fashioned  nn< 
aor^pg  to  the  design,  and  reduced  to  the  thickness  of 
the  indentures  with  various  iastruments.  To  make  ^e 
l^ece  thus  inserted  into  the  indentures  cleave  fast,  whesa 
several  colonrs  are  to  ioMtate  those  of  the  design,  they 
nse  a  staceo,  composed  of  lime  and  marble  dost }  or  a 
kind  of  mastioh,  which  is  prepared  by  each  woikman, 
after  a  diieient  manner  >pec»liar  to  himself.  The 
figures  being  marked  out,  the  painter  oreenlptor  him« 
s^f  draws  with  a  pencil  the  coloms  of  the  figures  net 
detcmaiaed  by  the  ground,  and  in  the  tame  manner 
makes  strokes  or  hatchings  ia  the  plane  where  shadows 

VnL.  XIV.  Part  IL  t 


aae  ta  ka;  nnd  after  ha  has  engaaiwa  witk  Iha  cUad 
att  the  stnkaa  tims.d«awa^  bt  filb them  u|i  with  a.  black 
H»niiah»ciPfaosd  pactjl9&  of  Bqrgvndy  p&ah  ponced  on 
hat.}  takiag  offaftaiwatdli  what  m  supexfluoas  witkn 
piece  of  soft  stone  or  brick,  whjrh,  ti^tfaer  with  watst# 
aad  beaten  osnmnlv  takes  away  tha  mastioh^  polisbes  the 
marlde^  and  sendara  An  whafe  so  even  that  one  wenl4 
imagioa.it  only  QSPdistedef  one  pjone.  Thia  is  tha  kind 
af  mesaio  work  that  is  seen  in  the  chnKh.of  the  IntaJida 
at  Phats^  and  tha  fine  chapel  at  Vemailks,  with  which 
soma  entire  apsfftmenlis  of  that  palana  are  tnoruslated^ 
.  )•  Aa  finr  mmam  work  of  pgeajons.  Vianet,  other  and 
finer  inatmmeataaJDa  raquiisd  than  those  used  m  maihle  ^ 
as  dsiils^  wheels,  CiOk.  imad  b^  lap idaniea  and  engiaveai 
ew  BliMi  Aa  none  bnlithe  rii^w^  avuldas  and  stones 
ODtsr^na  werk^  to  amke  thsm  ffit  the  Cwthaiv  tiwjr 
^sa  sawn,  into  tim  thiaawst  laavea  iaiaginaUev.  scsndlgr 
eiweeding  hatfa  line  in  linekaasa^  the  bleak  to  hs.saao 
ia  fimtaned  fitmlgii  with  oamia  e»  the  benohi^  aad  only 
niaad  a  Kttfe  aa  %  piaea  of  ifmd,  aae  ee  two  iiKhea 
kigh»  Twoiian  pins,  whiab  a«e  on  eneside  the  blocks 
and  which  serve  to  &ston  it,  are  put  into  a  vice  eea^ 
trived  far  the  purpose  ^  and  with  a'kind  oCsam  or  bow, 
laade  of  a  fine  braes  wure,  bant  on  a.  plena  of  spongy 
wond,  tegsther  with  emery' aietfad  in  wwtaiv  the  )bm 
ia  padmlly  faaUonnd  by  fi>)bwiag  tha  stidLo  aC  tha 
dasigpi  made  ea  paper,  aad  glned  sa  tha  |aaaa^  Wfaea 
there  ans  pieoea  enongk  tostened  to.  isom  aa  entini 
fiower^  or  some  other  part  of  tha  design,,  they  aca-  apt 
pUed  to  the  g^womd. 

The  ground  vdaeh  snpprata  thin  mesasc.  work  ia  nan 
nally  of  freestone.  The  matter  wilk  whiek  the  stones 
are  jained  together  is  a  roastioh,  or  kind  af  stswco,  laid 
very  thin  an  the  leaves  as  they  axe  faehinned  ^  and  this 
being  done,  the  leaves  ajna  applied  with  plfors^ 

If  aaj  centeur,  or  side  of  a  leaf,  be  i|ot  eifthes  squared 
or  roanded  sufieimtW,  sa  as  to  fit  the  placa  exactly 
into  whioh  it  is  to  be  loseited,  when  it  is  too-large^  it  la 
to  be  brought  dawn  with  a  brass  file  or  aasp^  and  if  it 
be  too  little,  it  ia  nsannged  witk  a  diAl  mm!  elhar  iaslriH 
ments  used  by  lapidaries. 

Mosaic  work  af  macbia  is  nsed  ia  large  works,  as  in 
pavemento  of  chorchaa  apd  palaees  ;  and  ia  the  incms-i 
totion  aad  veaeesiag  of  the  walls  of  the  same  edifioes* 

As  fisr.  that  of  preciana  stones,  it  is  oaly  used  i n  smaU 
wavka,  as  omaaeata  §oa  altav  pieces,  inbWs  bt  nek 
cabinets,  preoions  stones  being  so  very  dear. 

4.  Maaaer  of  pezftnuing  mosaic  work  of  g^mtwu 
Of  this  stone  calcined  in  a  kiln,  beaten  in  a  mortnr  and 
sifted,  the  French  workmen  make  a  sort  of  aitificial 
marbles,  imitotinff  precaons  stones  j  aad  of  thsse  they 
eompose  a  kind  of  mosaic  work,  which  does,  not  come 
far  short  either  of  the  dnrableness  or  the  vivacity  of  the 
natural  stance  ^  and  vrhich  besides  has  this  advaati^ 
that  it  admito  of  continned  pieces  sp  paintings  of  catiea 
compnrtoMnts  without  any  visible  joining.  ^ 
.  Some  make  the  groaad  of  plastor  of  Paris,  othero  of 
fteestooe.  If  it  beef  plastor  of  Pairis,  they  spread  it 
in  a  wooden  ffame,  of  tka  length  and  breadth  of  tha 
work  intonded,  and  in  thickness  aheut  an  inch  end  n 
kd£  Thia  finme  is  so  contrived,  that  tha  teaona  being 
only  joined  to  the  ihertius  by  sii^^le  pins,  they  may  ba 
^en  nsander,  and  tha  frame  be  dinmsnated  when  tha 
phister  is  dry.  Tha  firapa  is  eaveeeien  one  side  wi^ 
a  slr«|g  liata  elatb,  aailad^^alk  iaaiA>  whisk  '*bciM 


M    O    S 


C    4+2    ] 


M    O    S 


Btouc.  placed  horizmitaUy  with  the  linen  at  tlie  bottom,  is 
filkd  with  platter  passed  throogh  a  wide  sieve.  When 
the  plaster  is  half  drv,  the  firame  is  set  np  perpendica- 
larl J,  and  left  till  it  is  quite  dry  y  then  it  is  taken  oot, 
hj  taking  the  frame  to  pieces. 

In  this  mosaici  the  gromid  is  the  most  important 
paii.  Now  in  order  to  the  preparation  of  this  sifted 
gypsum,  which  is  to  be  appfied  on  this  ground,  it  is 
dissolved  and  boiled  in  the  best  English  glue,  and  mixed 
with  the  colour  that  it  is  to  be  of;  then  the  whole  is 
worked  op  into  the  usual  consistence  of  plaster,  and  then 
taken  and  spread  on  the  ground  five  or  six  inches  thick. 
If  the  work  be  such,  as  that  mouldings  are  required, 
they  are  formed  with  gouges  and  other  instruments. 

It  is  on  this  plaster,  thus  coloured  like  marble  or 
precioiis  stone,  and*which  is  to  serve  as  a  ground  to  a 
work,-  either  of  lapis,  agate,  alabaster,  or  the  like, 
that  the  design  to  be  npresented  is  drawn :  having 
been  first  pounced  or  chalked.  To  hollow  or  impress 
the  design,  thej  use  the  same  instruments  that  sculptors 
do ;  the  ground  whereon  thej  are  to  work  not  being 
nmch  less  hard  than  the  marble  itself.  The  cavities 
being  thus  made  in  the  ground,  arv  filled  with  tlie 
same  gypsum  boiled  in  glue,  only  differently  coloured, 
and  thus  are  the  different  colours  of  the  original  repre- 
.fented.  In  order  that  the  necessaiy  colours  and  teints 
■Bay  be  ready  at  hand,  the  quantities  of  the  gypsum 
are  tempered  with  the  several  colours  in  pots.  After 
the  desi^  has  been  thus  filled  and  rendered  visible,  by 
half  polishing  it  with  brick  and  soft  stone,  they  go  over 
ft  again,  catting  snch  plates  as  are  either  to  be  weaker 
or  more  shadowed,  and  filling  them  with  gypsum  > 
which  work  they  repeat  till  all  the  colours  being  added 
one  after  the  other,  represent  the  original  to  &e  life. 
When  the  work  is  finished,  they  scour  it  with  soft  stone, 
sand,  and  water ;  after  that  with  a  pumice  stone ;  and 
in  the  last  place  polish  it  with  a  wooden  mullet  and 
emery.  Lastly,  they  give  it  a  lustre,  by  smearing  it 
over  with  oil,  and  rubbing  it  a  long  time  with  the  ^m 
of  the  hand,  which  gives  it  a  Instre  nowise  inferior  to 
that  of  natural  marble. 

5.  In  Clavigero^s  history  of  Mexico  is  described  a 
cnrioos  kind  of  mosaic  work,  made  by  the  ancient 
Meadcans  of  the  most  delicate  and  beantifiil^^o/Afrs  of 
biffd»k  They  raised  for  this  purpose  various  species  of 
birds  of  fine  plumage  with  which  that  country  abounds, 
not  only  in  the  palaces  of  the  king,  where  there  were 
all  sorts  of  animals,  but  likewise  in  private  houses ; 
a«id  at  certain  seasons  they  carried  off  their  feathers 
to-  make  nse  of  them  on  this  kind  of  work,  or  to 
sell  them  at  market.  They  set  a  high  value  on  the 
fcathers  of  those  wonderful  little  birds  which  they 
oaU  HuihiitViUm^  and  the  Spaniards  Pkaflores^  on  ac- 
ooont  of  the  simllness,  the  fineness,  and  the  variooa 
coloors  of  them.  In  these  and  other  beaatiftil  birds, 
nature  supplied  them  with  all  the  colours  which  art 
can  produce,  and  also  some  which  art  cannot  imitate. 
At  the  undertaking  of  every  mosaic  work  several  ar* 
tists  assembled:  After  having  agreed  upon  a  design, 
and  taken*  their  measures  and  proportions,  each  artist 
charged  himself  with  the  execution  of  a  certain  pari 
of  the  image,  and  exerted  himself  so  diligently  in  it, 
with  such  patience  and  application,  thst  he  fineqnently 
spent  a  whole  day  in  adjusting  a  feather  \  first  trying 
one,  then  another,  viewing  it  somotimei  Me  way,  then 


another,  nntil  he  fisond  one  which  gave  his  fsrt  Aat  Ui^ 
ideal  perfection  proposed  to  be  attained.    When  tlis  Mm. 
part  which  each  ardst  undertook  was  done,  they  ss-   ^v- 
sembled  again  to  form  the  entire  image  from  tben^— 
If  any  part  was  accidentally  the  least  deranged,  it  wis 
wrought  again  until  it  was  perfectly  fimsbed.    They 
laid  hold  of  the  feathers  with  small  pinchers,  tbtt  dxy 
might  not  do  them  the  least  injury,  and  pasted  then 
on  the  cloth  with  t»ouhtit\  or  some  other  glutiaoos  msU 
ter  J  then  they  united  all  the  parts  upon  a  little  taUe, 
or  a  plate  of  copper,  and  flattened  them  softly  until  they 
left  the  surface  of  the  image  so  equal  and'snooth  ihst 
it  appeared  to  be  the  work  of  a  pencil. 

These  were  the  images  so  much  celebrated  by  the 
Spaniards  and  other  European  nations.  Whoever  be- 
held them  was  at  a  loss  whether  he  ohght  to  have 
praised  most  the  life  and  beauty  ot  the  natural  ooloan, 
or  the  dexterity  of  the  artist  and  the  ingenious  ik^ 
sition  of  art.  **  These  images  (says  Acosta)  are  deser- 
vedly admired  ;  for  it  is  wonderful  hew  it  was  possible, 
with  the  feathers  of  birds,  to  execute  WoHls  so  fine  ami 
so  equal,  that  they  appear  the  performance  of  the  peop 
cil  'j  and,  what  neither  the  pencil  nor  the  colottrs  ia 
painting  can  effect,  they  have,  when  viewed  firom  a 
side,  an  appearance  so  beautiful,  so  lively,  and  aotmat* 
ed,  that  they  give  delight  to  the  sight.  Some  Indisa^ 
who  are  able  artists,  copy  whatever  is  painted  widi  a 
pencil  so  perfectly  with  plumage,  that  they  rival  (hs 
best  painters  of  Spain.*^  These  works  of  feathers  vets 
even  so  highly  esteemed  by  the  Mexicans  as  to  be  ts- 
loed  more  than  gold.  Cortes,  Bernal  Diaz,  Gomsis, 
Torquemada,  and  all  the  other  historians  who  MiW  then, 
were  at  a  loss  for  expressions  sufficient  to  praise  their 
perfection.  Several  works  of  this  kind,  our  author 
says,  are  still  preserved  in  the  museums  of  Europe, 
and  many  in  Mexico  >  but  few,  he  apprehends,  beloDtg 
to  the  16th  century,  and  still  fewer,  if  any,  are  of  those 
made  before  the  conquest.  The  mosaic  woiks  also 
which  the  Mexicans  made  of  broken  shells  were  ex* 
tremely  curious:  this  art  is  still  practised  in  Gnatiisaki 

MOSAMBIQUE,  a  kingdom  of  Afnca,  lyio^ 
sooth  of  Quiloa,  and  taking  its  name  from  the  chief 
town,  which  is  situated  on  an  island,  at  the  mooth  of 
a  river  of  the  same  name,  in  15  deg.  S.  Lat.  The 
island  is  30  miles  in  cireumferenoe,  and  very  popolosi. 
llioogh  the  air  is  said  to  be  very  hot,  and  the  soil  is 
general  dry,  sandy,  and  barren ;  yet  they  have  sMSt 
of  the  tropical  firuits,  with  black  cattle,  hogs,  and 
sheep.  There  is  a  kind  of  fowl  here,  both  the  featheis 
and  flesh  of  which  are  black,  insomuch  that^  when  they 
are  boiled,  the  broth  looks  like  ink  ^  and  yet  their 
flesh  is  very  delicate  and  good  food.  The  tovo  of 
Mosambique  is  regidarly  fortified,  and  has  a  good  har- 
bour, defended  by  a  citadel,  with  several  churches  sad 
monasteries.  The  Portuguese  shipping  to  and  &ob 
India  touch  here  for  refreshments.  As  the  island  s- 
boonds  in  cattle,  the  Portuguese  slanghtcr  and  salt  sp 
a  great  deal  of  beef,  which  they  afterwards  sead  is 
the  Brazils,  or  sell  to  the  European  shipping*  Tb^ 
sJso  barter  European  goods  with  the  natives  fiir  goMi 
elephants  teeth,  and  slaves,  lliere  is  another  ts«% 
eaUed  Mongahf  situated  also  on  an  island,  and  gam- 
soned  by  the  Portuguese,  being  their  chief  magazme 
for  European  goods.  The  gold  they  receive  fiso  the 
natives  is  found  near  the  suSCaoc  of  the  earth,  or  in  the 


M    O    S 


I    443    ] 


M    O    S 


iands  of  rivers ;  no  gold  mines^  or  at'  lea»i  very  few,  be- 
luff  at  present  wrooght  in  Africa. 

MOSCHION,  the  name  of  four  different  writers, 
.whose  compositions,  character,  and  native  place,  are 
4inknown.  Some  fragments  of  their  writipgs  remain, 
•«onie  few  verses,  and  a  treatise  De  mulierum  affectibu^ 

MOSCHUS,  a  Grecian  poet  of  antiquity,  usiially 

iconpled  with  Bion  j  and  they  were  both  of  them  co* 

^temporaries  with  Theocritas.    In  the  time  of  the  latter 

Grecians,  all   the  ancient  idylliimis  were   collected 

<and  attributed  to  Theocritus  ^  but  the  claims  of  Mos« 

.chus  and  Bion  have  been  admitted  to  some  few  little 

pieces ;  and  this  is  sufficient  to  mitke  us  inquisitive 

^bout  their  characters  and  story  ^  yet  all  that  can  be 

Juiown- about  them  must  be  collected  frt>m  their  own 

.remains.    Moschus,  by  composing- his  delicate  elesy 

.«a  Bion,  has  riven  the  best  memorials  of  Bion's  life. 

See'BiOK.     Moschus  ^nd  Theocritus  have   by  some 

critics  been  supposed  the  same  person  \  Jmt  there  are 

irrefragable  evidences  against  it :  others  will  have  him 

ju  well  as  Bion  to  have  lived  later  than  Theocritus, 

upon  the  authority  of  Suidas  :  while  others  agaiii  sup- 

.pose  him  to  have  been  the  scholar  of  Bion,  fuid  pro- 

*bably  his  saooessor  «in  .governing  the   poetic  school^ 

jwhich,  <from  the  elegy  of  Moschus,  does  not  seeip  uur- 

Jikdy.    Their  remains  are  to  be  found  in  all  the  edi- 

•tions  of  the  PoeUe  Minores, 

Moschus,  a  genus  of  quadrupeds,  of  the  order  of  pe» 
cora,  having  no  horns.     See  Mammalia  Index. 


his  domains,  whieh  consisted  of  the  lands  now  occn-  Mos^'ow. 
pied  by  the  city  of  Moscow  and  tlie  adjacent  terri- 
tory. Pleased  with  the  sitjaation  of  the  ground  lying 
at  the  conflux  of  the  Moskya  and  Neglina,  he  laid  the 
foundation  of  a  new  town,  which  he  called  Moskva 
from  the  river  of  that  name*  Upon  U*c  demise  of 
George,  the  ne^  town  was  not  neglected  by  his  son 
Andrew,  who  transferred  tlie  seat  of  empire  from 
Kio(  to  Vladimir  j  but  it  fell  into  such  decay  under 
his  immediate  successors,  that  when  Daniel^  son  of 
Alexander  Nevski,  received,  in  the  division  of  the  em* 
pire,  the  duchy  of  Muscovy  as  his  portion,  and  fixed 
bis  residence  upon  the  conflux  of  the  Moskva  and  Ne- 
glina, he  may  be  said  to  have  Jiew  founded  the  towiv 
The  spot  now  occupied  by  the  Kremlin  was  jkt  that 
time  oversprend  with  a  thick  wood  and  a  morftss,  in 
jthe  midst  whereof  was  a  small  island  containing  a  single 
wooden  hut.  ,  Upon  this  part  Daniel  constructed 
churches  and  monasteries,  and  various  huildings,  and 
enclosed  it  with  ]irooden  fortificati<Mis :  he  first  assumed 
the  title  of  duke  of  Moscow .;  ^d  was  so  attached  to 
this  situation,  that  when  in  1304  he  succeeded  \m 
brother  Andrew  Alexandrovich  in  the  giteat  duchy  of 
Vladimir,  he  did  not  remove  his  oourt  to  Vladimir,, 
but  continued  his  residence  at  Moscow,  which  then  be<- 
jcame  the  capital  of  the  Russiafi  dominions.  His  suo- 
(Cessors  followed  his  example  \  among  whom  his  son 
Ivan  considerably  enlarged  the  new  metropolis,  and  in 
1367  his  gnmdsqn  Pdnetrius  Jvanovitch  Donski  sur- 


MOSCOW,  the  chief  province  of  the  empire  of    iTOunded  ue  Kremlin  with  a  brick  wall.     These  new 


Russia,  deriving  its  name  firom  the  river  Muscova,  or 
Moskva,  on  which  the  citpitfd  is  situ|i|ed.    It  uras  from 
«this  duchy  that  the  eauHrs  of  old  took  the  title  0/  duht$ 
-^AftMcotxy.    The  province  is  bounded  on  the  north 
by  the  duchies  of  Twere,  Rostow,  Susdal,  and  Wi^ 
«lodimer;  on  the  south  by  Rezan,  from  which  it  is  s^ 
^Ipftrated  by  the  river  Occa  \  on  the  east  by  the  princi- 
.Mlity  )of  Cachine,  and  the  sametriver  Occa  parting  it 
from  Nisi-Novogorod  \  .and  on /the  west  by  the  duchies 
of  Rzeva,  Bielar  and  Smolensko.    It  e;ctends;about  x  50 
>  miles  in  length,  by  1 00  in  breadth,  and  contains  1 , 1 39,000 
^inhabitants  on  a  surface  of  10,000  square  miles.     It  is 
•watered  by  the  Moskva,  Occa,  and  Clesma,  which  fa)l 
Jnto  the  Wolga :  nevertheless,  the  soil  is  not  very  fer- 
^e.     The  air,  though  sharp,  is  salubrious;  and. this 
^consideration,  with  the  ^vantage  of  its  beijug  situikted 
in  the  midst  of  the  best  provinces  :in  the  empire,  in- 
duced the  czars  to  make  it  their  chief  residence.     In 
the  western  part  of  Moscow  is  a  large  forest,  from 
.whence  flows  the  celebrated « river  Dnieper,  or  Borys- 
jthenes,  which,  traversing  the  duehy  of  Smolensko,  winds 
in  a  serpentine  course  to  Ukraine,  Lithuania,  and  Poland. 
Moscow,  the  capital  of  the  above  province,  and  till 
the  beginning  of  ^e  last  century  ll^  metropolis  of 
jdl  Russia,  is  situated  in  a  spacious  plain  on  the  banks 
of  the  river  Moskva.  '£.  Long.  37*  31*  N;  LaL  $$,  45. 
,The  Russian  antiquaries  differ  considerably  in  their  opi- 
nions concerning  the.  first  foundation  of  Moscqw  \  the 
following  relation,  Mr  Coxesays,  is  generally  esteemed 
hy  the  best  authors,  the  most  probable  account. 

.Kiof  was  the  metropolis,  when-Georae  ^on  of  V]^ 
>dimir  Monomaka  ascended  in  1 1 54  the  Kussian  throng. 
That  monarch,  b^ing  insulted  in  a  progress  throu^ 
his  dominions  by  a  nch  and  powerful  nobleman  named 
£tephen  Kutchko,  put  him. to  death,  and  confiscate 


fortifications,  however,  were  not  strong  enough  to  pre- 
vent Tamerlane  in  1382,  from  takinc.the  town  ..after  1^ 
^hort  siege.  Being  soon  evacuated  by  that  desu^ory 
.conqueror;  it  agpun  came  into  the  possession  of  the 
Russians;  but  was  frequently  invaded  ^d  ctccupied 
by  the  Tartars,  who  in  the  f4th  and  25th  centuries 
overran  the  gr^test  part  of  Russia,  and  whp  evjen 
maintained  a  garrison  in  Moscow  until  they  were  finally 
^expelled  faj  Iviia  VassiUevitch  J.  To  him  JVlpscow  ip 
indebted  -iois  ,«ts  principal  splendour,  and  under  him  it 
became  the  principal  jtnd  most  considerable  city  of  the 
Russian  empire. 

Moscow  continued  the  .metropolis  of  Russia  until  the 
Jieffinniag.of  ibe  i8th  century,  when,;to  the  great  dis- 
satisfaction .tf  the  nobility,  but  ;witb  great  advantage 
probably  tO:^e  st/^,  the  sfat  of  empire  was  txiaasfejcied 
io  Pet^rsbsirgh. 

Notwithstanding  the  predilection  which  Peter  con- 
ceived for  Petersburgb,  in  which  -all  the  succeeding 
jBovereigns  ^cc^ting  jP^ter  the  II.  have  fixed  their  re- 
judence,  Moscqw,  according  to  Mr  Coxe,  is  still  the 
most  pqpnlons  city  of  the  Russian  empire.  I(ere  the 
chief  nobles  .who  do  not  belong  to  the  court  reside : 
they  here  support  a  large  number  of  retainers  \  thejf 
love  to  gratify  theirx  taste  for  a  ruder  and  .more  expen^ 
sive  magnificence  in  the  ancient  style  of  feudal  grandeur^ 
and  are  not,  as  at  Petersburgh,  eclipsed  by  the  superior 
splendour  of  the  court. 

Moscow,  before  its  destruction  in  181 2,  was  repr»i 
sented  as  the  largest  town  in  Europe  \  its  circumference 
.within  the.  rampart,  which  encloses  the  suburbH,  being 
exactly  39.versts  or  26  miles  \  but  it  was  built  in  so 
straggling  and  disjointed  a  manner,  that  its  population 
in  ao.degree^con'esponded  to  its  extent.  According  to 
a.compntation,  which  Mr  Coxe  says  may  be  depended 

3  K  2  upon. 


M    O    S  [444 

MMcdw.  upon,  Moscow  -cootaisis  Tiitlim  the  tampiufU  250,000 
soals,  and  in  the  mdjaceiit  ^ages  50,000.  The  grooad 
is  about  1 730  feet  above  tiie  level  of  the  sea/  which 
lenders  the  atmosphere  father  cold.  The  streets  of 
Moscow  are  in  general  eioeedingly  long  and  broad ; 
some  of  them  are  paved  j  otihon,  particalarly  those  in 
the  sBborbs,  are  formed  with  tranks  «f  trees,  fff  are 
%oarded  with  planks  like  the  floor  of  a  room^  ivtetcbed 
hovels  are  1>lended  with  large  palaces-;  cottages  of  ene 
otory  stand  next  to  the  most  superb  and  stately  man- 
vioTis.  Many  briek  stmctiires  are  covered  wkh  wooden 
tops ;  some  m  the  wooden  hooses  are  painted ;  others 
)iave  iron  doors  and  rools.  Vomcrous-eburahes  present 
tihemsellves  in  every  qnsiter,  bnilt  4n  a  fieetfKar  st^  of 
architectBR  ;  some  with  domes  «f  oi^per,  others  of  tin, 
Ifilt  or  paitiled  green,  and  many  roofed  with  wood,  in 
a  word,  some  parts  ^  this  vwt  city  have  the  losk  of  a 
Beqnefeitered  desert, -other  quarters  eC -a  populous  town  *; 
fiome  of  a  contemptible  village,  others^  a  great  capital. 
Moscow  may  be  oonoidercd  as  a  town  bviH  upon  Che 
Astatic  model,  but  gradasilly  becoming  moFe  and  Tuore 
European,  and  -exhibiting  in  its  |iresent  state  a  motle^r 
mixture  of  discordant  arcfahectufe.  It  is' distributed 
into  the  fbllowing  divisions,  i.  The  Kremlin.  This 
Btands  in  the  central  and  tiighest  part  of  the  city ;  is  tif 
«  triangular  ferm,  «nd  about  two  miles  in  ciicmn€^ 
rence :  and  is  vurrounded  by  liigh  walls  of  stows  and 
'brick;  which  were  constructed  in  the  year  1491,  "un- 
der  the  reign  of  Ivan  Vaesilievitoh  I.  It  contains  tlie 
ancient  palace  of  the  czars,  several  cbwrches,  two 
convents,  the  patriarchal  palace,  the  arsenal  uow  in 
ruins,  and  one  private  boose,  which  belonged  to  Boris 
Ck>dunof  before  lie  was  raised  to  the  throne.  2,  Xhi- 
taigorod,  or  the  Chinese  town,  is  enclosed  on  one  side 
%y  that  wall  of  the  Kremlin  which  runs  from  the 
Moskva  to  the  Neelina;  and  on  the  ether  side  by' a 
'brick  wall  of  inferior  height.  It  is  much  larger  than 
the  Kremlin,  and  contains  the  university,  the  printing- 
honse  and  many  other  public  buildings,  and  all  the 
tradesmen's  shops.  The  edifices  are  mostly  stuccoed  or 
white-washed,  and  it  has  the  only  street  in  Moscow  in 
which  the  houses  stand  close  to  one  another  without 
any  intervals  between  them.  3.  The  Bielgorod,  or 
White  Town,  which  runs  qnite  round  the  two  pre- 
ceding divisions,  is  supposed  to  derive  its  name  from 
a  white  wall  wiHi  which  it  was  formerly  enclosed,  and 
of  which  some  remains  are  still  to  be  seen.  4.  Sem- 
lainogorod,  whidi  environs  all  the  tbree  o^er  qnarters, 
takes  its  denomination  from  a  circular  rampart  of  earth 
with  which  it  is  encompassed.  These  two  last  mention- 
ed divisionscxhibit  a  grotesque  groupe  of  cfanrches,  con- 
vents, palaces,  brick  and  wooden  houses,  and  mean  ho- 
vels, in  Uo  degree  superior  to  peasairts  cottages.  5.  The 
Bloboda,  or  subui%s,  form  a  vast  exterior  circle  round  afl 
ttie  parts  -already  described,  and  are  invested  with -a  low 
9ampacft  and'  ditch.  These  suburbs  contain,'beside  but Id- 
ings  of  all  kinds  and  denominations,  ^om  fields,  tnucb 
open  pasture,  and  some  small  lakes,  which  give  rise  to 
the  Negjlhia.  The  river  Moskva^  from  whtdh  tihe  city 
takes  its  trnme,  flows  llirough  ft  in  a  winding  Manuel ; 
%ut  excepting  in  spring  is  only  navigable  for  rafts,  it 
receives  the  i  ansa  in  the  Semlainogorod,  and  l9ke  N^ 
^ina  at  the  western  extremity  of 'the  KrenifKn ;  the  beds 
of  both  these  last-mentioned  rival^fes  are  in  snaormer  lit- 
tle better  Aan  dry  chanods. 


J  M    O    S 

The  places  of  divine  worsbip  at  Moicow  are  exce^ 
ingly  numerous ;  including  chapels,  (hey  amount  to  above 
1000 :  there  are  4^4  public  Obnrdhes,  of  which  199  are 
cf  brick  ^  and  the  others  of  wood  j  the  former  are  com- 
monly stuccoed  or  wbite-washed,  the  hrtlcr  paioted  of  a 
red  colour.  The  most  amiiefft  churches  of  Moscow  are 
generally  square  <btii}df0g8,  with  a  oopoU  and  four  small 
domes,  some  whereof  are  of  copper  or  iron  gift  j  othefs 
df  tin,  either  plain  or  paiflted  green.  These  copofaK 
flfnd  donres  are  for  Khe  most  part  omamented  with  ctoomb 
'etf^K^ined  with  tlnn  chains  tr  wires.  The  chuvoh  of  the 
HolyTrinity,  sometimes  called  the  choroh  ^  Jw  nsalcw, 
which  stands  tnlfce  Kbitaigorod,  close  to  the  gate  ieadU 
ing  kito  t!he  Kremlin,  has  a4ind  cf  Ugh  steeple  unl 
vine  orten  domes :  it  was  built wi  4lie  veign  <of  ivan  Vas- 
siKevitdi  II.  The  inside  of  Ihe  churches  is  mostly  com- 
posed of  three  parts  :  timt  caHcd  by  the  Gneeke  mtmrna^ 
4yy  the  fiussinns  trapeza  ^  the  body  j  and  the  sanctuary 
or  shrine.  Over  the  deor-of  each  church  is  the  portrait 
-of  the  oaint  to  whom  it  is  dedicated,  to  which  tfce  con- 
iffion  people  pay  their  >homage  aa  they  pass  along,  by  ta- 
king-off '^eir  litfts,  crossing  themselves,  and  occaisioiiaOy 
toocfaiog  the  ground  with  their  heads.  Hie  t>eUs,  wludi 
form  no'  inconsiderable  poirt  of  puMic  wurskip  in  this 
country,  as  the  lengt%  cr  ohortness  of  tiieir  peals  asper- 
tains  the  greats  or  lesser  sanctity  of  the  day,  are  hong 
in  belfrys  detached  from  the  church :  they  do  not  swmg 
itke  cor  bells  j  but  are  fixed  immoveably  to  the  beams, 
and  are  rung  by  a  rope  tied  to  the  da^^er  and  pdled 
•idewise.  Some  of  these  bells  are  of  a  stupendous'  size ; 
mie  in  the  tower  of  9t  Ivwi^s  <$horch  weighs  3551  Bos- 
"sian  poods,  or  127,636  English  pounds.  It  £h  aiwajs 
been  esteemed  a  -meritorious  act  of  nligioii  to  present  a 
church  wiHh  bells  ^  and  the  piety  of  the  donor  bas  been 
-measured  by  their  magnitude.  According  to  this  mods 
cf  estimation,  Boris  Godunof,  wlio  gave  a  bcHlcf  iM^ooo 
-ponnds  to  the  cathedral  'of  Moscow,  was  the  moat  pisos 
sovereign  of  Russia,  until  he  was  surpassed  by  the  en- 
press  Anne,  at  whose  expence  a  bell  was  cast  weighing 
432,000  pounds,  and  which  exceeded  in  iMffness  every 
ben  in  the  known  worid.  The  height  of  tliis  enormom 
heW  is  19  feet,  its  circumference  at  the  bottom  ai  yudi 
1 1  inches }  its  greatest  thickness  23  inches.  T%e  hoam 
to  which  this  vast  machine  vras  fMtened  being  nceidw- 
tally  burnt,  the  bell  fell  down,  and  a  fragment  was  brs- 
ken  off  towauls  the  bottom,  which  left  an  aperture  lai^ge 
enough  to  admit  two  persons  abreast  without  stooping. 

The  palace,  inhabited  by  the  ancient  csars,  otands  it 
the  extremity  of  the  Kremlin .  Put  of  this  palace  is  old, 
and  remains  in  the  same  state  in  whioh  it  was  bnih  un- 
der Ivan  Vassflievitch  I.  The  remainder  has  been  suc- 
cessively added  at  different  intervals,  without  any  plan, 
and  in  various  stvles  of  arohit^ture,  which  has  prsdnccd 
a  motley  pile  of -binlding,  renmikable  for  noting  but 
the  incongruity  ef  ifie  several  structures.  Hie  top  is 
4bick]y  -set  with  numerous  little  gilded  spires  and  globes; 
and  a  large  portion  of  the  front  is  decorated  with  tiie  arms 
of  nH  the  provinces  whicb  compose  theRnosiaa  eaBpire. 
The  apartments  are  in  general  ewceedingly  oomiI],  ex- 
cepting one  single  room  called  the  council  chamber,  in 
wiiicb  the  ancient  czars  used  to  give  audience  tofereign 
•anrtmssadbrs,  and  wiitdh  has  been  repeatedly  described 
%y  'several  Engliafa  travtfUers  Who  viailed  Moscow  hekn 
the  imperial  residence  was  transferred  to  Pcteiabmgb* 
The  room  is  large  and  vaulted,  and  hat  is  the  centre  sa 


M    O    S 


r  4*5  1 


M    O    S 


eBormous  pillar  of  stone  ivtiich  supports  the  ceOlng.  In 
this  pafaice  Peter  the  Great  caooe  into  the  world,  in  the 
year  1 67  %,  %n  that  part  called  the  tretavry  -are  deposited 
the  crown,  jewds,  and  royal  robes,  used  at  the  corona- 
tion of  the  sovereign,  besides  several  curiosities  relative 
to  die  history  of  (he  country.  Of  the  great  number  of 
churches  contained  in  this  city,  two  in  particolar,  namo- 
iy,  diat  of  St  Michael  and  that  of  the  Assumption  of  the 
Virgin  Mary,  are  remarkable  ;  tftie  one  for  being  the 
fdace  where  the  sovereigns  of  Russia  were  formeriy  in- 
terned, and  the  other  where  they  are  crowned.  Inese 
odifices,  which  are  situated  in  toe  Kremlin,  are  both  in 
the  same  style  of  architecture  ;  and  their  exterior  form, 
though  modelled  according  to  the  ancient  style  of  the 
country,  is  not  absolately  ineletfant.  In  the  cathedral 
of  St  Michael,,  which  contains  the  tombs  of  the  Rassiaa 
sovereigns,  die  bodies  are  not,  as  with  us  deposited  in 
mmlts,  or  breath  the  pavement,  but  are  entombed  in 
raised  sepulchres,  mostly  of  brick,  in  the  shape  of  a 
coffin,  and  about  two  feet  in  heiebt. 

The  cathedral  of  the  Assumption  of  the  Virgin  Mary, 
which  has  long  been  appropriated  to  tbe  coronation  of 
the  Russian  sovereigns,  is  the  most  splendid  and  magni- 
ficent in  Moscow.  The  screen  is  in  many  parts  covered 
with  plates  of  solid  silver  and  gold  ricoly  worked.  From 
the  centre  of  the  roof  hangs  an  enormous  chandelier  of 
massy  silver,  weighing  2940  pounds  :  it  was  made  in 
'England,  and  was  a  present  from  Morosof,  prime  mini- 
ster and  favourite  of  AlexeyMichaelovttch.  The  sacred 
utensils  and  episcopal  vestments  are  extraordinarily  rich, 
hut  tbe  taste  of  tbe  workmanship  is  in  ffeneral  rude,  and 
by  no  means  equal  to  the  materials.  Blany  of  the  paint- 
ings which  cover  the  inside  walls  are  of  a  colossal  size: 
oome  are  very  ancient,  and  were  executed  so  early  as  in 
tbe  latter  end  of  the  i  cth  century,  it  contains,  amongst 
the  rest  a  head  of  the  Virgin,  supposed  to  have  been  de- 
lineated by  St  Luke,  and  gready  celebrated  in  this  coun- 
try for  its  sanctity  and  the  power  of  working  miracles. 

The  place  in  the  Khitaigorod,  where  die  public  ar- 
chives are  deposited,  is  a  strong  brick  building,  contain- 
ing several  vaulted  apartments  with  iron  floOTS.  These 
nichivBS,  consisting  of  a  numerous  collection  of  state  pa- 
pers, were  crowded  into  boxesand  thrown  asidelike  com- 
mon lumber,  until  the  empress  Catharine  ordered  them 
to  be  revised  and  arranged.  In  conibnnity  to  this  man- 
date, Mr  MuHer  has  disposed  them  in  chronological  or- 
der with  such  perfect  regularity,  that  any  single  docu- 
ment may  be  inspected  with  little  trouble. 

The  university  of  Moscow,  all  situated  in  die  Kfaitai- 
•g;orod,  was  founded,  at  the  instance  of  Count  Shuvalof, 
hj  the  empress  Elizabeth,  for  600  students ;  who  are 
clothed,  boarded,  and  instructed,  at  the  expence  of 
the  ciDwn.  Besides  this  institution,  there  are  two 
ffymnasia  or  seminaries  for  the  education  of  youth,  en- 
dowed also  by  Elizabeth^  in  which  ate  taught,  by 
twonbr-three  professors,  divinity,  classics,  philosophy, 
the  Cireek,  Latin,  Russian,  German,  French,  Italian, 
and  Tartar  languages;  history,  geography,  msthema- 
iics,  architecture,  fortification,  artillery,  algebra,  draw 
ing  and  paindng,  music,  fencing,  dancing,  reading  and 
writing. 

Moscow  is  the  centre  of  die  inland  commerce  of 
Russia,  and  particdariy  connects  tbe  trade  between 
Europe  and  Siberia.  The  onlj  navintion  to  this  city 
is  finmed  by  the  MoAva,  w^ichfaNmg  into  die  Occa 


near  Columaa,  communicates  by  means  of  that  river 
with  the  Volga.  But  as  the  Moskva  is  only  navigable 
in  tqntng  upon  the  meking  of  the  snows,  the  principal 
merchandise  is  conveyed  to  and  from  Moscow  upon 
sledges  in  \rinter.  The  whole  of  the  retail  trade  is  car* 
Tied  on  in  the  Khitaigorod  >  where  according  to  a  cus- 
tom common  in  Russia,  as  well  as  in  most  kingdoms  of 
the  East,  all  the  shops  are  collected  together  in  one  spot, 
llie  place  is  like  a  kind  of  fairi  consisting  of  soany  rows 
of  low  brick  buildings ;  the  intervals  between  them  re- 
sembKng  alleys.  These  shops  or  booths  occupy  a  con- 
riderable  space ;  they  do  not,  as  with  us,  make  part  of 
the  houses  inhabited  fay  the  tradesmen,  but  are  ^ite  de- 
tached from  their  dwellings,  which  for  tbe  mo8t|iaiiare 
at  some  distance  in  another  quarter  of  the  town.  The 
tradesman  corner  to  his  shop  in  the  morning,  remains 
there  all  day,  and  returns  home  to  his  family,  in  the  af- 
ternoon. Lvery  trade  has  its  separate  department  >  and 
they  who  sell  the  sanM  goods  have  booths  adjoining  to 
each  other.  Furs  and  skins  form  the  most  considerable 
article  of  commerce  in  Moscow  ^  and  the  shops  which 
vend  those  commodities  occupv  several  streets. 

Amongst  the  curiosities  of  Moscow,  the  market  for 
d^  sale  of  houses  is  not  the  least  reroaikable.  It  is 
held  in  a  latge  open  space  in  one  of  the  suburbs  ;  and 
exhibits  a  great  variety  of  ready-made  houses,  thickly 
strewed  upon  the  ground.  The  purchaser  who  srante 
a  dwelling,  repain  to  this  spot,  mentions  die  nomber 
uf  rooms  he  requires,  examines  the  diffevent  tinAen, 
which  are  regularly  numbered,  and  bargains  imr  dwt 
which  suits  him.  Tbe  house  is  sometimes  paid  ibr 
on  the  spot,  and  taken  away  by  the  puncfcaser  $  or 
sometiincs  the  vender  contracte  to  transport  and  ereet  it 
upon  the  place  where  it  is  designed  to  stand.  It  may 
appear  incredible  to  assert,  that  a  dwelling  may  be  thos 
bought,  iV;moved,  raised  and  inhabited,  within  the  space 
of  a  week ;  but  we  shall  conceive  it  practicable  by  con- 
sidering that  these  ready-made  houses  are  in  general 
merely  collections  of  trunks  of  trees  tenoned  and  mor- 
tised at  each  extremity  into  one  another,  so  that  nothing 
more  is  required  than  the  labour  of  transporting  and  ad* 
justing  them.  But  this  summary  mode  0[  buildinfp  is 
not  always  peculiar  to  the  meaner  hovels  j  ns  wooden 
structures  of  very  large  dimenrions  and  handsome  ttppear- 
ance  are  occasionally  foroied  in  Russia  with  an  expedi- 
tion almost  inconceivable  to  the  inhabitants  of  other 
countries.  A  remarkable  instance  of  this  -^spaltcli  was 
displayed  tbe  last  time  the  empress  came  to  Moscow. 
Her  majesty  proposed  to  reride  in  tbe  mansion  of  Prince 
Galitzin,  Which  is  esteemed  the  completest  edifice  in  this 
city ;  but  as  it  was  not  sufficiently  spadoos  Car  her  re- 
ception, a  temporary  addition  of  wood,  larger  than  the 
original  house,  and  containing  a  magnfficept  snile  df  a- 
partments,  was  begun  and  finished  within  tfaespaoe  of  six 
weeks.  This  meteor^l&e  fabric  was  so  haodBome  and 
commodious,  that  the  matetials  which  were  taken  down 
at  her  majesty^s  -departure,  were  to  be  re-constmded  asn 
kind  of  imperial  villa  upon  an  eminence  nenr  the  city. 
Mr  Coxe  mentions  an  admirahle  police  in  this  city  for 
preventing  riots,  or  ibr  stopping  the  concourse  of  people 
in  case  of  fires,  which  are  very  fiequent  and  violent  in 
those  parts,  where  the  houses  are  mo^ly  of  irood,  and 
the  streets  toe  laid  widi  timber.  At  the  entmioe  of 
each  street  there  is  a  dievaux-de*frize  gate,  one  end 
whereof  tuns  npon  a  pivot,  and  die  cfher  rolls  upon  a 

wheels 


M    O    S  [ 

MoMow.  wheel ;  neftr  it  is  a  centry  box  ii>  whicli  a  man  is  occa* 
'  sionally  stationed*  In  times  of  riot  or  fire  the  centinel 
shuts  the  gate,  and  all  passage  is  immediately  stopped. 
Among  the  public  institutions  of  Moscow,  the  most 
remarkable  is  the  Foundling  Hospital,  endowed  in  1764 
by. the  empress  Catharine,  and  supported  by  voluntary 
contributions  and  legacies,  and  other  charitable  gifts. 


446    3  M    O    S 

his  strength  as  to  lead  to  the  final  overthroir  of  hii  Hmm 
power.      Large  sums  were  collected  in  Britain  »&d      | 
elsesvhere  in  behalf  of  the  suffering  inhabitants^  and,   ^"<^ 
according  to  late  accounts,  the  city  is  rising  rapidly 
from  its  ruins.     Moscow  was  evacuated  by  the  French 
on  the  23d  October,  after  they  had  destroyed  some 
parts  of  the  town  which  had  escaped  the  fire.    Their 


In  order  to  encourage  donations,  her  majesty  granted  to  .attempts  to  .blow  up  the  Kremlin  were  inieTented  b^ 

all  benefactors  some  valuable  privileges,  and  a  certain  the  sudden  arrival  of  a  large  Russian  force, 

degree  of  rank  in  proportion  to  the  extent  of  their  libe-  MOSELLE,,  a  river  of  Germany,  which  rises  in  the 

rality.     Among  the  principal  contributors  must  be  men-  mountains  of  Vosges  in  Lorraine,  and  falb  into  the 

tioned  a  private  merchant  named  Dimidqf^  a  person  of  JRhine  at  Coblentz. 

great  wealth,  who  has  expended  in  favour  of  this  chari-  Mos£LL£  is  also  the  name  of  a  department  of  France, 

ty  above  ioo,ocal.     The  hospital,  which  is  situated  in  rwhich  includes  part  of  the  late  province  of  Lomin. 

a  very  airy  part. of  the  town  upon  a  gentle  ascent  near  Its  population  in  1800  was  3539788  upon  a  surface  of 


the  river  IVIoskva,  is  an  immense  pile  of  building  of  a 
.quadrangular  shape,  part  of  which  was  only  finished 
:nvhen  Mr  Coxe  (whose  account  we  are  transcribing)^  was 
.at  Moscow.  It  contained,  at  that  time,  three  thousand 
foundlings  \  and,  when  the  whole  is  completed,  will  re- 
ceive eight  thousand.  The  children  are  brought  to  the 
porter's  lodge,  and  admitted  without  any  recommenda- 
'tion.     The  rooms  are  lofty  and  large  ^  Xhe  dormitories. 


^2525  sqjuare  miles. 

MOSES,   the  son  of  Amram  and   Jochebed,  nu 
born  in  the  year  1571   before  Christ.     Pharaoh  Ling 

<of  Egypt,  perceiving  that  the  Hebrews  were  become 
a  formidable  nation,  issued  forth  an  edict  commanding 
all  the  male  children  to  be  put  to  death.  To  aToia 
this  cruel  edict,  Jochebed,  the  mother  of  Moses,  having 

.concealed  lier  son  for  three  months,  at  length  made  an 


which  ;ire  separate  from  the- work  rooms>  are. very  airy,    >ark  or  basket  of.  bulrushes,  daubed  it  with  pit^h,  laid 


and  the  beda  are  not  crowded :  each  foundling,  even 
each  infant,  has  a  separate  bed*     The  childreu  remain 
^two  years  in  the  nursery,  when  they  are  admitted  into 
•the  lowest  class  \  the  boys  and  girls  continue  together 
until  they  are  seven  yearsof  age^  at  which  time  they  are 
^separated.    They  all  leani  to  read,  write,  and  cast  ac- 
-couots.     The  b<^s  are  taught  to  knit  j  they  occasionally 
••Gai::4  hemp,  flax,  and  wool,  and  work  in  the  different 
^manufactures.     The  girls  leaim  to  knit,  net,  and  all 
kinds  of  needle  work  ^  they  spin  and  weave  lace  *,  they 
.  are  employed  in  cookery,  baking,  and  bouse  work  of  all 
•sorts.     At  the  age  of  fourteen  the  foundlings  enter  into 
.the  first  class,    when  they  have  liberty   of  choosing 
,any  particular  brauch  of  trade  3  and  for  this  purpose 
.there  aw  different  species  of  manufactures  established 
in  the  hospital,  of  which  the  principal  are  embroidery, 
silk  stockings,  ribbands,  lace,  gloves,  buttons,  and  cabi- 
net work.  A  separate  room  is  appropriated  to  each  trade. 
-Some.boysb  and  girls  are  instructed  in  the  French  and 
.German  languages,  and  a  few  boys  in  the  Latin  tongue  ^ 
others  learn  music,  drawing,  and  dancing. 

Such  was  Moscow  previous  to  181 2.  The  battle  of 
Borodino,  on  the  7th  September,- which  was  gained  by  the 
French,  though  hardly  contested,  opened  their  way  to 
this  ancient  capital  of  the  empire.  They  entered  it  on 
tbe  15th  September }  but  the  governor  Rostopchin  had 
previously  taken  measures  for  its. destruction. j  and  the 
French  had  hardly  got  possession,  when  tliey  discovered 
that  the  city  was  in  flames  in  many  different  quarters. 
The  greater  part  of  the  inhabitants  had  withdrawn  with 
the  governor.  From  the  love  of  pillage,  the  French 
soldiers,  at  first,  rather  aided  the  progress  of  the  firej 
and  when  they  afterwards  endeavqpred  to  stop  its 
course,  their  efforts  were  of  little  avail.  The-  confla- 
gration began  on  the  night  of  the  14th,  and  raged  with 


the  child  in  it,  and  e|[posed  him  on  the  banks  of  the 
Nile.  Thennuthis  the  king^s  daughter, .  who  haopen* 
ed  to  be  walking  by  the  river^s  side^  perceived  the 
floating  cradle,  commanded  it  to  be  brought  to  her, 
and  struck  with  the  beauty  of  the  child,  determined 
to  preserve  his  life.  In  three  years  afterwards  the 
princess  adopted  him  for  her  own  son,  <:alled  his  name 
MoseSf  and  caused  him  be  diligently  instructed  in  all 
the  learning  of  the  Egyptians.  But  his  father  and 
mother,  to  whom  he  was  restored  by  a  fortunate  acci- 
dent, were  at  still  greater  pains  to  teach  him  the  hi- 
story and  religion  of  his  fathers.  -Many  things  aiv 
related  by  histnrians  concerning  the  first  period  of  Bio- 
ses^s  life,  which  are  noLto  be  found  in  the  Old  Te- 
stament. According  to  Josephus  and  Euscbiui^  be 
made  war  on  the  Ethiopians,  and  completely  defeated 
them.  They  add,  that  the  city  Saba,  in  .which  the 
enemy  had  been  forced  to  take  refuge,  was  betrayed 
into  his  hands  by  the  king^s  daughter,  who  became 
deeply  enamoured  of  him,  when  she  beheld  from  the 
top  of  the  walls  bis.  valorous  exploits  at  the  head  of 
the  Egyptian  army.  But  as  the  truth  of  this  expedi- 
tion is  more  than  doubtful, .  we  shaU  therefore  confine 
ourselves  to  the  narrative  of  sacred  writ,  which  com- 
mences at  the  fortieth  year  of  Moseys  life.  He  then 
left  the  court  of  Pharaoh,  and  went  to  visit  his  coua- 
trymeo  the  Hebrews,  who  groaned  under  the  ill  usage 
and  oppression  of  their  unfeeling  masters.  HaviBg 
perceived  an  Egyptian  smiting  a  Hebrew,  he  slew 
the  Egyptian,  ,aua  buried  him  in  the  sand.  Bat  be 
was  obliged,  in  consej|uence  of  this  miltder,  to  fly  into 
the  land  of  ^lidian,  where  he  married  Zipporab,  daugh- 
ter of  the  priest  Jethro,  by  whom  he  had  two  soiMi 
Gershom  and  Eliezar.  Here  he  lived  40  years  j  dur- 
ing .which   time  his   employment  was    to    tend   the 


unceasing  fury  till  the  19th ;  about  three-fourths  of    iflocks  of  his  father-in-law.     Having  one  day  led  bis 


ithe  city  were  destroyed.  Great  and  unprecedented  as 
this  sacrifice  was,  it  was  justified  by  the  happy  result 
it  prodnced*  It  defeated  Bonaparte^s  purpose  of  re- 
maining there  through  the  winter,   compelled  him  to 

..make  a.  disastrous  retreat,  which  so  completely  broke 

2 


flock  towards  Mount  Horeb,   God  appeared  to  him 

in  the  midst  of  a  bush  which  burned  with  fire  hot  was 

not  consumed,^ and  commanded  him  to  go  and  deliw 

hb  brethren  from  their  bondage.    Moses  at  fiivt  rs> 

fused  to  go }  but  was  at  length  prevailed  on  by  two  ni^ 

racks 


M    O    S 


C    447    ] 


M    O    S 


racles  wliich  the  Almighty  mronght  for  his  convic* 
tioo.  UpoiF  his  retom  to  Egypt,  he,  together  with 
his  brother  Aaron,  went  to  the  court  of  Pharoafa,  and 
told  him  that  God  commanded  him  to  let  the  He^ 
brews  go  to  o&er'  sacrifices  in  the  desert  of  Arabia. 
But  the  impious  monarch  disregarded  this  commandy 
and  caused  the  labour  of  the  Israelites  to  be  doubled. 
The  messengers  of  the  Almighty  again  returned  to 
the  king,  and  wrought  a  miracle  in  his  sight,  that  they 
might  move  his  heart,  and  induce  him  to  let  the  people 
depart.  Aaron  having  cast  down  his  miraculous  rod, 
it  was  immediately  converted  into  a  serpent :  but  the 
same  thing  being  performed  by  the  nwgicians,  the 
king's  heart  was  hardened  more  and  more ;  and  his 
obstmacy  at  last  drew  down  the  judgments  of  the  Al- 
mighty on  his  kingdom,  which  was  afflicted  with  ten 
dreadful  plagues.  The  first  was  the  changing  of  the 
waters  of  the  Nile  and  of  all  the  rivers  into  blood,  so 
that  the  Egyptians  died  of  thirst.  In  consequence  of 
the  second  plague,  the  land  was  covered  with  innumer- 
able swarms  of  firogs,  which  entered  even  into  Pha- 
raoh's palace.  By  the  third  plague,  the  dust  was  con- 
verted into  lice,  which  cruelly  tormented  both  man 
aod  beast.  The  fourth  plague  was  a  multitude  of  de- 
structive flies  whieh  spread  throughout  Egypt,  and  in- 
lested  the  whole  country.  The  fifth  was  a  sudden  pe- 
stilence, which  destroyed  all  the  cattle  of  the  Egypti- 
ans, without' injtiring  those  of  the  Israelites.  The  sisth 
produced  numberless  ulcers  and  fiery  boils  upon  man 
and  upon  beast.  The  seventh  was  a  dreadful  storm  of 
hail,  accompanied  with  thunder  and  lightning,  which 
dbslToyed  every  thing  that  was  in  the  field,  whether 
man  or  beast,  and  spared  only  the  land  of  Qoshen, 
where  the  children  of  Israel  dwelt.  By  the  eighth 
plap;iie  swarms  of  locusts  were  brought  into  the  country, 
which  devoured  every  green  herb,  the  fruit  of  the  treea 
and  the  produce  of  the  harvest.  By  the  ninth  plague 
thick  djtfkness.  covered  all  the  land  of  Egypt,  except 
the  dwellings  of  the  children  of  Israel.  The  tenth  and 
last  plague  was  the  death  of  the  firstborn  in  Egypt, 
who  were  all  in  one  night  cut  off  by  the  destroying  an- 
gel, firom  the  firstborn  of  the  king  to  the  firstborn  of 
the  slaves  and  of  the  oattle.  This  dreadful  calamity 
moved  the  heart  of  the  hardened  Pharaoh,  and  he  at 
length  consented  to  allow  the  people  of  Israel  to  depart 
from  his  kingdom. 

Profane  authors  who  have  spoken  of  Moses,  seem 
tn  have  been  in  part  acquainted  with  these  mighty 
wonders.  That  he  pcrfenned  miracles,  most  have  been 
allowed  by  many,  by  whom  he  was  consldened  as  a  fa- 
moos  magician  ^  and  he  could  scarcely  appear  in  any 
other  light  to  men  who  did  not  acknowledge  him  for 
the  messenger  of  the  Almighty.  Both  Diodorus  and 
Herodotus  mention  the  distressed  state  to  which  Egypt 
was  reduced  by  these  terrible  calamities.  The  Hebrews, 
amounting  to  the  number  of  600,000  men,  without 
reckoning  women  and  children,  left  Egypt  on  the  1 5th 
day  of  the  month  Nisan,  which,  in  memory  of  this  de» 
liverance,  was  thenceforth  reckoned  the  fijrst  month  of 
their  year.  Scarcely  had  they  reached  the  shore  of  the 
Bed  sea  when  Pharaoh  with  a  powerful  army  set  out  in 
pursuit  of  them.  On  this  occasion  Moses  stretched 
forth  his  rod  upon  the  sea ;  and  the  waters  thereof  be- 
ing divided,  remained  suspended  on  hoth  sides  till  the 
Hehrews  passed  thiou^  dry-footed.*«»Tbe  Egyptians 


determined  to  foUow  the  same  course  j  but  God  caused 
a  violent  wind  to  blow,  which  brought  back  the  waters 
to  their  bed,  and  the  whole  army  of  Pharaoh  perished 
in  the  waves. 

After  the  miraculous  passage  of  the  Red  sea,  the 
army  proceeded  towards  Mount  Sinai,  and  arrived  at 
Marab,  where  the  waters  were  bitter  j  but  Moses,  by 
casting  a  tree  into  them,  rendered  them  fit  for  drinking. 
Their  tenth  encampment  was  at  Rephidim,  where  Mo- 
ses drew  water  from  the  rock  in  Horeb,  by  smiting  it 
with  his  rod.  Here  likewise  Amal'ek  attacked  Israel. 
While  Joshua  fought  against  the  Amalekites,  Moses 
stood  on  the  top  of  a  bill,  and  lifted  up  his  hands  ;  in 
consequence  of  which  the  Israelites  prevailed,  and  cut 
their  enemies  in  pieces.  They,  at  length  arrived  at  the 
foot  of  Mount  Sinai  on  the  third  day  of  the  ninth 
month  after  their  departure  firom  Egypt.  Moses  hav- 
ing ascended  several  times  into  the  mount,  received  the 
law  firom  the  hand  of  God  himself  in  the  midst  of  thun- 
ders and  lightnings,  and  concluded  the  famous  cove* 
nant  betwixt  the  Lord  and  the  children  of  Israel; 
When  he  descended  from  Sinai,  he  fi)und  that  the  peo^ 
pie  had  fallen  into  the  idolatrous  worship  of  the  golden 
calf.  The  messenger  of  God,  shocked  at  such  ingrati«^ 
tude,  broke  in  pieces  the  tables  of  the  law  which  he 
carried  in  his  hands,  and  put  23,000  of  the  transgres- 
sors to  the  sword.  He  afterwards  reascended  into  the 
mountain,  and  there  obtained  new  tables  of  stone  on 
whicsh  the  law  was  inscribed.  When  Moses  descended, 
his  face  shone  so  that  the  Israelites  dared  not  to  coma 
nigh  unto  him,  and  he  was  obliged  to  cover  it  with  a 
veil.  The  Israelites  were  here  employed  in  constructing 
the  tabernacle  according  to  a  pattern  shown  them  by 
God.  It  was  erected  and  consecrated  at  the  foot  of  the 
Mount  Sinai  on  the  first  day  of  the  first  month  of*  the 
second  year  after  their  departure  from  Egypt.;  aod  it 
served  the  Israelites  instead  of  a  temple  till  the  time  of 
Solomon,  who  built  a  house  for  the  Gsd  of  his  fiitheis 
after  a  model  shown  him  by^David. 

Moses  having  dedicated  the  tabernacle,  he  consecrat* 
ed  Aaron  and  bis  sons  to  be  its  ministers,  and  appoint- 
ed the  Levites  to  its  service.  He  likewise  gave  various 
commandments  concerning  the  worship  of  God  and 
the  political  government  of  the  Jews.  This  was  a 
ihetKracy  in  the  full  extent  of  the  word.r  God  him- 
self governed  them  immediately  by  means  of  his  ser- 
vant Moses,  whom  he  had  chosen  to  be  the  interpret- 
er of  his  will  to  the  people  }  and  he  -  required  all  the 
honours  belonging  to  their  king  to  be  paid  unto  himself* 
He  dwelt  in  his  tabernacle,  which  was  situated  in  the 
middle  of  the  camp,  like  a  monarch  in  his  palace.  He 
gave  answers  to  those  who  consulted  him,  and  himself 
denounced  punishment  against  the  transgressors*  of  his 
laws.  This  properly  was  the  time  of 'the  theocracy,  taken 
in  its  full  extent ;  for  God  was  not  only  considered  as 
the  divinity  who  was  the  object  of  their  religious 
worship,  but  as  the  sovereign  to  whom  the  honours  of 
supreme  majest}^  were  paid.  The  case  was  nearly  the 
same  under  Joshua  \  who,  being  filled  with  the  spirit 
of  Moses,  undertook  nothing  without  consulting  God. 
Every  measure,  both  of  the  leader  and  of  the  people^ 
was  regulated  by  the  direction  of  the  Almighty,  who 
rewarded  ^their  fidelity  and  obedience  by  a  series  of 
miracles,  victories,  and  successes.  After  Moses  had 
regulated  every  thing  regarding,  the  civil  administrar 

tieo^. 


Mecca 


M    O    S  [448 

tfotcit,    t^^f  An^  ^^  iiuiichiii|^  of  the  troepB,  ke  le4  tbe  Israel* 

19&>skciin.  itee  to  die  confines  of  Cunenn,  to  tiie  foot  of  Mouol 

'■     V   '"-'Nebo«     Here  tke  Lord  eommancled  kirn  to  ascead 

into  ,  tbe  moontaia  j  whence  he  showed  bim  tbe  pro- 

jnked  landy  where»fito  be  wee  toot  permitted  to  enter. 

He  immedinlely  nller  jFielded  vp  tbe  gbost^   witbeot 

•aicknesB  or  pain»  in  tbe  I20tb  year  of  bis  age,  and 

1451  jeani  before  Jesos  Christ. 

Moses  is  ineontestably  tbe  antbor  of  tbe  first  five 
books  of  tbe  Old  Testament,  which  go  by  the  name  e£ 
•jtbe  Peniaieuck ;  and  whieb  are  aeknowledged  to  be 
inspired,  by  the  Jews  and  by  Christians  of  every  per- 
snasion.  oome,  however,  have  denied  that  Moses  was 
the  author  of  these  books ;  and  have  founded  their  opi- 
.aien  on  this,  that  be  always  speaks  of  himself  in  the 
third  person.  Bot  this  manner  of  writing  is  by  no 
means  pecoliar  to  Moses  $  it  occurs  also  in  several  ancient 
Jbtttortane}  such  as  Xenopbon,  C8esar,Josepbos,&c.wbo 
possessed  of  more  modesty  or  good  sense  tbao  some  mo- 
.derR  historians,  whose  egotism  is  altogether  disgusting, 
b»ve  not  like  them  left  to  posterity  a  spectacle  of  ridicu- 
'  lous  vanity  and  setf-coneeit.  After  all,  it  is  proper  to  ob- 
serve^ that  pro&ne  aotbors  have  related  many  falsehoods 
and  absardSties  concerning  Moses,  and  concerning  tbe 
origin  and  tbe  religion  of  tbe  Jews,  with  which  they  were 
but  little  acquainted.  Ptutarcb,  in^  bis  book  concerning 
Isis  and  Osiris,  says,  that  Judseus  and  Hieresolymus 
were  brodiers,  and  descended  irom  Typhon  \  and  that 
tbe  fimner  gave  hh  name  to  tbe  country  and  its  inha- 
bitants, and  tbe  latter  to  the  capital  city.  Others  say 
that  they  came  from  Mount  Ida  in  Phrygia.  Strabo  is 
>tbe  only  author  who  speaks  any  thing  like  reason  and 
truth  concerning  them  $  tbougii  be  too  says  drat  they 
were  descended  from  the  Egyptians,  and  considers  Mo- 
ses their  legislator  as  an  Egyptian  priest.  He  acknow- 
ledges, however,  that  they  w«:e  a  people  strictly  jest 
and  sincerely  religious.  Other  authors  by  whom  tfaey 
are  mentioned,  seem  not  to  have  bad  tbe  smallest  ac- 
,quaintance  either  with  their  laws  or  their  worship* 
They  firequently  confound  them  with  the  Cbristiaas,  as 
is  the  case  with  Juvenal,  Tacitus,  and  Quintilian. 

MOSHEIM,  JoHK  Laurence,  an  illnstrious  Ger- 
man divine,  was  bom  in  1695,  of  a  noble  family,  which 
might  seem  to  open  to  bis  ambition  a  fiiir  path  to  civil 
promotion  j  but  his  zeal  fi)r  tbe  interests  of  religion,  his 
thirst  after  knowledge,  and  particularly  his  taste  for  sa- 
cred literature,  induced  him  to  consecrate  his  talents  to 
-die  service  of  the  church.  The  German  universities 
loaded  him  with  literary  honours  ^  tbe  king  of  Den- 


1  M    O    S 

Cttdiivottb*s  btellectual  System,  enriched  vilb  \a^ 
•nootatians,  discovered  a  psefocmd  acqaainlance  viA  | 
ancient  leamng  and  philosophy-  His  lUustratioM  of  lU^ 
the  Scriptnres,  bis  labours  in  defenqs  of  Chriititnttj, 
and  the  light  he  cast  upon  religion  and  philosophy,  v^ 
pear  sn  nnuiy  volumos  of  sacred  and  profane  litetatoe  \ 
and  the  Ecclesiastical  History,  from  tbe  birth  of  Chnit 
to  tbe  beirinning  of  the  i8th  century,  is  un^nestioDaUj 
tAw  best  that  is  extant.  This  work,  written  in  Litis, 
has  been  translated  into  English,  and  aeconipatted 
with  netce  and  chronological  tables  by  Archibald  Mic- 
kine,  D.  D.  and  from  this  translator's  pre&ce  to  the 
second  edition^  1758,  in  5  vols  8vo,  this  shott  acGosat 
is  taken. 

MOSKITO,  or  MosciUiTO  comrrRT,  is  aitnated  in 
North  America,  between  85  and  88  degrees  of  mit 
longitude,  and  between  13  and  15  degrees  of  north  Is- 
titude  \  having  the  North  sea  on  tbe  north  and  csit, 
Nicai^a  on  tbe  souths  and  Hondaras  on  tbe  west  \ 
and  indeed  the  Spaniards  esteem  it  a  part  of  tbe  prin- 
cipality of  Honduras,  though  they  have  no  colonies  ia 
the  Moskito  country.  Wb^  the  Spaniards  first  invad- 
ed diis  part  of  Mexico,  they  massacred  the  greatest  fsrt 
of  tbe  natives,  which  gave  those  tba(  escaped  into  the 
inaccessible  part  of  the  oountiy  an  insupersible  ammn 
to  them  J  and  they  have  always  appeared  ready  to  join 
any  Eurt^aas  that  oome  upon  their  coasts  against  the 
Spaniards,  and  particularly  tbe  English,  who  fie- 
^uently  come  hither  >  and  tbe  Moskito  men  being  ex- 
cellent marksmen,  the  Englidi  employ  tbem  in  stnkiag 
tbe  manati  fish,  &c.  and  many  of  the  Moskito  In- 
dians come  to  Jamaica,  and  sail  witb  tbe  English  ia 
their  voyages. 

These  people  are  so  situated  between  morasses  sad 
inaccessible  mountains,  and  a  coast  fall  of  rocks  sad 
shoals,  that  no  attempts  against  them  by  the  Spa- 
niards, whom  they  mortally  bate,  conld  ever  succeed. 
Nevertheless,  they  are  a  mild  inofiensive  people,  ef 
great  morality  and  virtue,  and  will  never  trust  a  msa 
who  has  once  deceived  tbem.  They  have  so  grest  a 
veneration  towards  the  English,  that  they  have  spso- 
taneously  put  themselves  and  their  lands  under  tbs 
protection  and  dominion  of  tbe  crown  of  England. 
This  was  first  done  when  the  duke  of  Albermarle  wss 
governor  of  Jamaica,  and  the  king  of  ^bt  Moskitos  re* 
ceived  a  commission  from  his  grace,  under  the  seal  of 
that  island  \  and  since  this  time  tbey  have  been  steady 
in  their  alliance  with  the  English.  But  ia  the  yesr 
1 786,  this  country  was  ceded  to  Spain,  and  conseqocal- 


mark  invited  him  to  settle  at  Copenhagen  ;  the  duke  of    ly  became  a  Spanish  province. 


Brunswick  called  bim  thence  to  Helmstadt,  where  he 
filled  tbe  academical  chair  ot  divinity )  was  honoured 
'with  tbe  character  of  ecclesiastical  counsellor  to  the 
court ;  and  presided  over  the  seminaries  of  learning  in 
the  duchy  of  Wolfenbottle  and  tbe  principality  of 
Blackenburgb.  When  a  design  was  formed  of  giving 
^an  uncommon  degree  of  lustre  to  the  universities  of  Got- 
tingen,  by  filling  it  witb  men  of  the  first  rank  in  let- 
ters, Dr  Mosbeim  was  deemed  worthy  to  appear  at  tbe 
bead  of  it,  in  quality  of  chancellor ;  and  here  he  died, 
in  1755,  universally  lamented.  In  depth  of  judgment, 
in  extent  of  learning,  in  purity  of  taste,  in  the  powers 
of  eloquence,  and  in  a  laborious  application  to  all  the 
▼arioud  branches  of  erudition  and  pbilosopbf ,  be  bad 
^rtainly  very  hxf  superiors.    His  Latin  translation  of 

1 


[ens  woiship 


MOSQUE,  a  temple  or  place  of 
among  tbe  Mahometans. 

All  mosques  are  square  buildings,  generally  constrse- 
ted  of  stone.  Befi>re  tbe  chief  gate  there  is  a  tqiart 
court  paved  widi  white  marble;  and  low  galleriei 
round  it,  whose  roof  is  supported  by  marble  pilbis. 
In  these  galleries  tbe  Turks  wash  themselves  befos 
tbey  go  into  the  nsosqne.  In  each  mosque  thers  is  s 
great  number  of  lamps  \  and  between  these  hang  bmij 
crystal  rings,  ostrich  eggs,  and  other  curiosities,  which, 
when  tbe  lamps  are  lighted,  make  a  fine  show.  As  it 
it  is  not  lawAil  to  enter  tbe  mosque  with  stockings  sr  shoes 
on,  the  pavements  are  covered  with  nieoes  of  stuff  sew- 
ed together,  each  being  wiib  enough  to  boM  a  low  sf 
■sen  kneeling,  sitting,  or  proetints.    The  wsmsi  sie 

BSt 


M    O    S 


not  ftlloiftej  to  mter  tbe  mosque^  botstajr  in  the  porches 
without.  About  everj  mosque  there  Are  six  high 
towers,  called  minarets^  each  of  which  has  three  little 
opeo  galleries,  ode  above  another:  these  towers,  as 
well  as  the  mosques,  are  covered  with  lead,  and  adorned 
with  gilding  aAd  other  ornaments  j  and  from  thence, 
inste&d  of  a  bell,  the  people  are  called  to  prayers  by 
certain  oftcers  appointed  for  that  purpose.  Most  of  the 
■losqoes  have  a  kind  of  hospital  belonging  to  them,  in 
which  travellers  of  what  religion  soever,  are  entertained 
three  days.  Each  mosque  has  also  a  pUce  called  tarbcf 
which  is  the  bnrying-place  of  its  founders^  within  which 
is  a  tomb  six  or  seven  feet  long,  covered  with  green 
velvet  or  satin }  at  the  ends  of  which  are  two  tapers, 
and  round  it  several  seats  for  those  who  read  the  Koran 
and  pray  for  the  souls  of  the  deceased. 

MOSS  or  Mosses.    See  Musci,  Botaky  Index. 

Moss  on  TrceSf  in  gardening.  The  growth  of  large 
quantities  of  moss  on  any  kind  of  tree  is  a  distemper  of 
very  bad  consequence  to  its  increase,  and  much  damages 
ibe  fruit  of  tbe  trees  of  our  orchards. 

The  present  remedy  is  tbe  scraping  it  off  from  the 
body  and  large  branches  by  means  of  a  kind  of  wooden 
knife  that  will  not  hart  the  bark,  or  with  a  piece  of 
rough  hair  cloth,  which  does  very  well  after  a  soak- 
ing rain.  Bat  the  most  effectual  cure  is  the  taking 
awaj  the  cause.  This  is  to  be  done  by  draining  off 
all  the  superfluous  moisture  from  about  the  roots  of 
the  trees,  and  may  be  greatly  guarded  against  in  the 
first  planting  of  the  trees,  by  not  setting  them  too 
deep. 

If  trees  stand  too  thick  in  a  cold  ground,  they  will 
aTways  be  covered  with  moss^  and  the  best  way  to 
femedy  tbe  fault  is  to  thin  them.  When  the  young 
branehea  of  trees  are  covered  with  a  long  and  shaggy 
moss,  it  will  utterly  ruin  them  j  and  there  is  no  way  to 
prevent  it  but  to  cut  off  the  branches  near  the  trunk, 
mnd  even  to  take  off  the  head  of  the  tree  if  necessary ; 
for  it  will  sprout  again  ^  and  if  the  cause  be  in  the 
mean  time  removed  by  thinning  the  plantation,  or  drain- 
ing the  land  and  stirring  the  ground  well,  the  young 
shoots  will  continue  clear  after  this. 

If  the  trees  be  covered  with  moss  in  consequence  of 
tbe  ground^s  being  too  dry,  as  this  will  happen  from 
either  extreme  in  the  soil,  then  the  proper  remedy  is 
the  laying  mud  from  the  bottom  of  a  pond  or  river 
pretty  thick  about  the  root,  openif)g  the  ground  to  some 
distance  and  depth  to  let  it  in^  this  will  not  only 
cool  it,  and  prevent  its  giving  growth  to  any  great 
quantity  of  moss,  bnt  it  will  also  prevent  the  other 
great  mischief  which  fruit- trees  are  liable  to  in  dry 
grounds,  whidi  is  the  falling  off  of  the  fmit  too 
early. 

The  mosses  which  cover  the  trunks  of  trees,  as  they 
always  are  freshest  and  Most  vigorous  On  the  side  which 
points  to  the  north,  if  only  produced  on  that,  serve  to 
preserve  the  trunk  of  the  tree  from  tbe  severity  of  tbe 
vorth  winds,  and  direct  the  traveller  in  his  *way,  by  al« 
ways  plainly  pointing  out  that  part  of  the  compass. 

Moss  IS  also  a  name  given  to  boggy  ground  in  many 
parts  of  England,  otherwise  called  \fen  and  bog. 

In  many  of  these  grounds,  as  well  in  England  and 
Ireland  as  in  other  parts  of  the  world,  there  are  found 
vast  nomben  of  trees  standing  with  their  stumps  erect, 
«ad  their  roots  piercing  the  ground  in  a  natural  po- 

Vol.  XIV.  Part  IL  * 


[      449      1 


M     O      S 


stnre  ns  when  growing.  Many  of  those  (reef  are  fcr»* 
ken  or  cut  off  near  the  roots,  and  lie  along,  and  this 
usually  in  a  north-east  direction.  People  who  ha^ 
been  willing  to  account  for  this,  have  usually  resolved 
it  into  the  effect  of  the  deluge  in  the  days  of  Noah ; 
but  this  is  a  very  wild  conjecture,  and  is  proved  false 
by  many  unanswerable  arguments.  The  waters  of  this 
deluge  might  indeed  have  washed  together  a  great 
number  of  trees,  and  buried  them  under  loads  of 
earth  ^  but  then  they  would  have  lain  irrsgdlariy  and 
at  random  ^  whereas  they  all  lie  lengthwise  from  south- 
west to  north-east,  and  tbe  roots  all  stand  in  their  na- 
tural perpendicular  posture,  as  close  as  the  roots  of 
trees  in  a  forest. 

Besides,  these  trees  are  not  all  in  their  natural  state, 
but  many  of  them  have  the  evident  marks  of  human 
workmanship  upon  them,  some  being  cut  down  with  an 
axe,  some  split,  and  the  wedges  still  remaining  in  them  \ 
some  burnt  in  different  parts,  and  some  bored  through 
with  holes.  These  things  are  also  proved  to  be  of  a 
later  date  than  the  deluge,  by  other  matters  found 
among  them,  such  as  utensils  of  ancient  people,  and 
coins  of  the  Roman  emperors. 

It  appears  from  the  whole,  that  all  the  trees  which 
we  find  in  this  fossil  state,  originally  grew  in  the  very 
places  where  we  now  find  them,'  and  have  only  been 
thrown  down  and  buried  there,  not  brought  from  else- 
where. It  may  appear  indeed  an  objection  to  this  opi- 
nion, that  most  of  these  fossil  trees  are  of  the  fir  kind  ; 
and  that  Csesar  says  expivssly,  that  no  firs  grew  in  Bri> 
tain  m  his  time  'y  but  this  is  easily  answered,  by  obser'- 
ving,  that  these  trees,  though  of  the  fir  kind,  yet  are 
not  the  species  usually  called  the  Jir^  but  pitch-tree  ; 
and  Caesar  has  no  where  said  that  pitch-trees  did  not 
grow  in  England.  Norway  and  Sweden  yet  abound 
with  these  trees  5  and  there  are  at  this  time  whole 
forests  of  them  in  many  parts  of  Scotland,  and  a  large 
number  of  them  wild  upon  a  hill  at  Wareton  in  Staf- 
fordshire to  this  day. 

In  Hatfield  marsh,  where  such  vast  numbers  of  tbe 
fossil  trees  are  now  found,  there  hM  evidently  once 
been  a  whole  forest  of  them  growing.  The  last  of 
these  was  firond  alive,  and  growing  in  tfaa^  place 
within  70  years  last  past,  and  cut  down  for  some  com- 
mon use. 

It  is  also  objected  by  some  to  the  system  of  the  fin 
growing  where  they  are  found  fossil,  that  these  conn- 
tries  are  all  bogs  and  moors,  whereas  these  sorts  of 
trees  grow  only  in  mountainous  places.  But  this  is 
founded  on  an  error  ^  for  though  in  Norway  and  Swe- 
den, and  some  other  cold  countries,  the  fir  kinds  all 
grow  upon  barren  and  dry  rocky  mountains,  yet  in 
warmer  places  they  are  found  to  thrive  as  well  on  wet 
plains.  Such  are  found  plenttfolly  in  Pomerania,  Li* 
Tonia,  and  Courland,  &c.  and  in  the  west  parts  of  New 
England  there  are  vast  numbers'  of  fine  stately  trees  of 
iSiem  in  low  grounds.  The  whole  troth  seems  to  lie, 
that  these  trees  iove  -a  sandy  soil }  and  such  as  is  found' 
at  the  bottoms  of  all  the  mosses  where  tliese  trees  are 
found  fossil.  The  roots  of  the  fir  kind  are  always 
found  fixed  in  'ihese  \  and  those  of  -oaks,  where  they 
are  found  fossil  in  this  manner,  are  usually  found  fixed 
in  clay ;  so  that  each  kind  of  tree  is^  always  found  root- 
ed in  the  places  where  they  stand  in  their  proper  soil  5 
and  thei^  is  no  doubt  to  be  made  but  that  they  ori* 

3  L  gi&jSHf 


Mm. 


•  f 


M    O    S 


f    450    1 


M    O    S 


Mom.  gkuilly  grew  there.  When  we  have  thus  foDod  that 
all  the  fossil  trees  we  meet  with  once  grew  in  the  places 
where  they  are  now  buried,  it  is  plain  that  in  these 
places  there  were  once  noble  forests,  which  have  been 
destroyed  at  some  time ;  and  the  qoestion  only  remains 
how  and  b?  whom  they  were  destroyed.  This  we  have 
reason  to  believe,  by  the  Roman  coins  found  among 
them,  was  done  by  the  people  of  tliat  empire,  and  that 
ait  the  time  when  they  were  established  or  establishing 
themselves  here. 

Their  own  historians  tell  us,  that  when  their  armies 
pursued,  the  wild  Britons,  these  people  always  shelter- 
ed themselves  in  the  miry  woods  and  low  watery  fo- 
rests, C»sar  expreFsly  says  this  ^  and  observes,  that 
Cassibelanus  and  his  Britons,  after  their  defeat,  passed 
the  Thames,  and  fled  into  such  low  morasses  and 
woods,  that  there  was  no  pursuing  them :  and  we  £nd 
that  the  Silures  secured  themselves  in  the  same  man- 
ner when  attacked  by  Ostorius  and  Agricola.  The 
same  thing  is  recorded  of  Venutiu9  king  of  the  Bri- 
games,  who  fled  to  secure  himself  into  the  boggy  fo- 
rests of  the  midland  part  of  this  kingdom  :  and  Hero- 
diaa  expressly  says,  that  in  the  time  of  the  Romans 
pfisbing  their  conquests  in  these  islands,  it  was  the  cus- 
tom, of  the  Britons  to  secure  themselves  in  the  thick 
forests  which  grew  in  their  boggy  and  wet  places,  and 
when  opp6rtnntty  offered,  to  issue  out  thence  and  fall 
upon  the  Romans.  The  consequence  of  all  this  was 
the  destroying  all  these  forests  ^  the  Romans  finding 
themselves  so  plagued  with  parties  of  the  natives  issuing 
out  upon  them  at  times  from  these  forests,  that  they 
gave  orders  for  the  cutting  down  and  destroying  all 
the  forests  in  Britain  which  grew  on  boggy  and  wet 
grounds.  These  orders  were  punctually  executed^ 
and  to  this  it  is  owing  that  at  this  day  we  can  hardly 
be  brought  to  believe  that  such  forests  ever  grew  with 
us  as  are  now  foiMid  buried. 

The  Roman  historians  all  agree,  that  when  Sue- 
tonius Paudinus  conquered  Anglesea,  he  ordered  all 
^  woods  W>  be  cut  down  there,  in  the  manner  of 
the  Roman  generals  in^  England:  and  Galen  tells  us, 
that  the  Bomaos,  after  their  conquest  in  Britain,  kept 
their  soldiers  constantly  employed  in  cutting  down  fo- 
rests, draining  of  marshes,  and  paving  of  bogs.  Not 
oaly  tbe  Roman  soldiers  were  employed  in  diis  man- 
ner, but  alL  the  native  Britons  made  captives  in  the 
wars  were  obliged  to  assist  in  it :  and  Dion  Cassius  tells- 
Qs,  that  the  emperor  Severua  lost  no  less  than  50,000 
men  in  a  few  years  time  in  cutting  down  the  woods  and 
draining  the  bogs'  of  this  island.  It.  is  not  to  he  won- 
dered at,  that  such  numbers  executed  the  immense  de- 
struction which  we  find  in  these  buried  focests.  One  of 
the  i(reatest  subterranean  treasures  of  wood  is  that  near 
Hatfield  *f  and  it  is  easy  to  prove,  that  these  people,  to- 
whom  this  havock  is.  thus  attributed,  were  upon  the 
spot  where  these  trees  now  lie  buried.  The  conuno^^ 
load  of  the  Romans  out  of  the  south  into  the  north, 
was  formerly  from  l»indum  (Liaoola),  to  Segelochum 
(Little  BuiTow  upon  Trent))  and  from  thenee  to 
I>anum  (Duncaster),  wh«re  t|iey  kept  a  standing,  gar- 
vison  of  Crispinian  horse.  A  little  off  on  the  east,  and 
«orth-east  of  their  road,  between  the  two  last-named 
towns,  lay  the  borders  of  the  greatest  forest,  which 
■warmed  with  wild  Britons,  who  were  continually  mak- 
ing their  salUet  out,  and.flhoir  retreats  into  it  again,  in- 

3 


terceptmg  their  provisions,  taking  and  destroying 
carriages,  killing  their  allies  and  passengtrs,  and 
turbing  their  garrisons.  Tbb  at  length  so  exasperttei 
the  Romans,  that  they  were  determined  to  destmy  it^ 
and  to  do  this  safely  and  effectually,  they  mtrcM 
against  it  with  a  great  army,  and  encamped  od  a  gtctt 
moos  not  tor  from  Finningly  )  this  is  evident  from  their 
fortifications  yet  remaining. 

There  is  a  small  town  in  die  neifihbourfaood  calk4 
Osterfifidi  and  as  die  termination  ^eld  seems  to  hue 
been  given  only  in  remembrance  of  battles  fought  near 
the  towns  whose  names  ended  with  it,  it  is  not  imjiro- 
bable  that  a  battle  was  fought  here  between  all  the  Bri- 
tons who  inhabited  this  forest  and  the  Roman  tTos|i 
under  Ostorius.     The  Romans  slew  many  of  the  Bri- 
tons, and  drove  the  rest  back  into  this  forest,  which  at 
that  time  overspread  all  this  low  country.    On  this  th^ 
conquerors  taking  advantage  of  a  strong  south-west 
wind,  set  fire  to  the  pitch-trees,  of  which  this  forest 
was  principally  composed ;  and  when  tbe  greater  ptit 
of  the  trees  were  thus  destroyed,  the  Roman  sddicn 
and  captive  Britons  cut  down  the  remainder,  except  s 
few  large  ones  which  they  left  standing  as  remembtao- 
ces  of  the  destruction  of  the  rest.     These  single  trees, 
hoifrever,  could  not  stand  long  against  the  winds,  and 
these  falling  into  the  rivers  which  run  through  tbe  coon- 
try,  interrupted  their  currents }   and  the  water  thca 
overspreading  the  level  country,  made  one  great  lake, 
and  gave  origin  to  the  mosses  or  moory  bogs,  which 
were  afterwards  formed  there,  by  the  wcokings  of  tfae 
waters,  the  precipitation  of  earthy  matter  firom  them, 
and  the  putrefaction  of  rotten  houghs  and  branches  of 
trees,  and  the  vast  increase  of  water-moss  and  other 
such  plants  which  grow  in  prodigious  abundance  ia  aO 
these  sorts  of  places.     Thus  were  these  burnt  and  Ml- 
ed  trees  buried  under  a  new-fprmed  spongy  and  wateiy 
earth,  and  afterwards  found  on  the  draining  and  dig- 
giag  through  this  e.arth  again* 

Hence  it  is  not  strange  that  Roman  vreapons  sal 
Rbman  coins  are  found  among  these  buried  tntM }  aai 
hence  it  is  that  among  the  buried  trees  some  are  foatd 
burnt,  some  chopped  and  hewn ;  and  hence  it  is  that 
the  bodies  of  the  trees  all  lie  by  their  proper  roots,  sad 
with  their  tops  lying  north-east,  that  is,  in  that  £- 
rection  ip  which  a  south-west  wind  would  have  blomi 
them  down :  hence  also  it  is,  that  some  of  the  trees 
are  found  with  their  roots  lying  flat,  these  being  aot 
cot  or  burned  down,  but  blown  up  by  the  roots  after- 
wards when  left  single ;  and  it  is  not  wonderfiil,  that 
sack  trees  as  these  shlNild  have  continued  to  grow  evea 
after  theil*  fall,  and  shoot  up  branches  from  their  sides 
which  might  easily  grow  into  high  trees*     FhiL  Tram* 

By  this  system  it  is  also  easily  exphused  why  the 
moor  soil  in  the  country  is  in  some  places  two  or  thues 
yards  thicker  than  in  others,^  or  higher  than  it  was  fiii^ 
merly,  since  the  growing  up  of  peat-earth  or  b^ 
ground  is  well  known,  and  the  soil  added  by  overfov^ 
ing  of  waters  is  not  a  little. 

As  the  Romans  were  the  destroyers  <if  this  grest 
and  noble  fore&t,  so  they  were  probably  also  of  the  se* 
veral  other  ancient  forests  ^  the.  ruins  of  which  far» 
nish  us  with  the  bog-wood  of  Sta&rdshire,  Lsaca- 
shire,  Yorkshire,  and  other  counties.  But  as  the  lU- 
Vang  were  not  much  in  li¥alea»  ia  the  Isle  «£IIa%  » 


M    O    S 


C    451    ] 


MOT 


m  trelitkd»ilisnDt  tobe  supposed  ttotfoiPatU  cot  down 
by  these  people  gave  erigin  to  the  fossil  wood  foond 
there  J  hot  though  they  did  not  cvt  down  these  fo- 
rests, ethers  did;  end  the  origin  of  the  bog-wood  is 
the  seme  with  then  end  with  us.  Holingshed  infonns 
us,  th»t  Edward  L  beiBg  not  able  to  get  at  the  Welsh 
because  of  their  hiding  themselves  in  boggv  woods, 
gave  orders  at  length  that  they  should  all  bedestroyed 
hjr  fire  and  by  the  axe  \  and  doubtless  the  roots  and  bo- 
dies of  trees  found  in  Pembrokeshire  under  ground,  are 
the  remains  of  the  enecution  of  this  order.  The  fossil 
wnod  in  the  bogs  of  the  island  of  Bian  is  doubtless  of 
the  same  origin,  though  we  have  not  any  account  ex- 
tant of  the  time  or  occasion  of  the  forests  there  being 
destroyed }  but  as  to  the  fossil  trees  of  the  bogs  of  Ire- 
land, we  are  expressly  told  that  Henry  XL  when  he 
conqneicd  that  country,  ordered  all  tlie  woods  to  be 
cut^own  that  grew  in  the  low  parts  of  it,  to  secure  his 
conquests,  by  cutting  away  the  places  of  resort  of  re^ 
beU*  For  a  fuller  detail  of  the  natural  history  of  mos- 
nee,  see  Essays  en  this  subject  by  the  Bev»  Mr  Rennie 
In  JMisyca* 

MoTiiro-MOSS.  We  have  an  account  b  the  Phi- 
faeophical  Transactions  of  a  moving  moss  near  Church- 
town  in  Lancashire,  which  ff^^^J  nlarmed  the  neigh-: 
boufheod  as  mimcukHis.  The  moss  was  observed  to 
nee  to  a  surprising  heightf  and  soon  after  sunk  as 
asQch  below  the  kWf  and  moved  slowly  towards  the 
nonth. 

A  very  aurprising  instance  of  a  moving  mess  is  that 
wf  Solway  in  Scotland,  which  happened  in  the  year 
1 771,  after  severe  rains  which  had  produced  terrible 
imodations  of  the  rivers  in  many  places.     For  the 
hotter  understanding  of  this  event,  we  shall  give  the 
fottowing  description  of  the  spot  of  ground  where  it 
hi^peneiL    Along  the  side  of  the  river  £sk  there  is  a 
vafe,  about  a  mile  bread,  less  or  more  in  different 
^anes.    It  is  bounded  on  the  scnth-east  by  the  river 
Esk,  and  on  the  north**west  by  a  steep  beak  30  feet 
in  height  above  the  level  of  the  vale*     From  the  top 
of  the  bank  the  ground  rises  in  an  easy  ascent  for 
nhont  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  where  it  is  terminated  by  the 
moss  }  which  extende  about  two  miles  north  and  south, 
ood  ahont  a  mile  and  a  half  east  and  west,  and  is 
hounded  im  the  north-west  by  the  river  Sark*    It  is 
piohabler  that  the  solid  ground  from  the  top  of  the 
honk  above  the  vale  was  continued  in  the  same  direc- 
tion under  the  moss,  before  its  eruption,  for  a  eonsider- 
oUe  space  ^  for  the  moss  at  the  place  where  the  erup- 
tien    happened,    was  inclined    towards    the    sloping 
gronnd.    From  the  edge  of  the  moss  there  was  a 
golly  or  hollow,  called  by  the  country  people  tAe  gap^ 
^nd  said  to  he  30  yards  deep  where  it  entered  the  vale^ 
down  which  ran  a  small  rill  of  water,  which  was  often 
dry  in  summer,  having  no  supply  but  what  filtered  from 
the  moes.    The  ernptioo  bappMied  at  the  head  of  this 
gap,  on  Bafenrday  November  i6.  1771,  about  ten  or 
eleven  at  night,  when  all  the  neighbouring  rivers  and 
hfooka  were  prodtgionsly  swelled  by  the  rams.   A  large 
hfldy  of  the  moss  was  forced,  partly  by  the  ^reat  fall  of 
rain,  and  partly  by  seme  springs  below  it,  into  a  small 
beck  or  bum,  which  runs  within  a  few  ywds  of  its  bor« 
dor  to  the  south  east.  By  the  united  pressure  of  the  wa- 
ter behind  it,  and  of  this  beck, .  which  was  then  very 
high,  it  was  carried  down  a  niROW  glen  between  two 


banks  about  3OO  ieet  high,  into  a  wide  and  spacious 
plain,  over  part  of  which  it  spread  with  great  rapidity. 
The  moss  continued  for  some  time  to  send  off  consider- 
able quantities  j  which  being  borne  along  by  the  tor- 
rent on  the  bsick  of  the  first  great  body,  kept  it  for 
many  honrs  in  perpetual  motion,  and  drove  it  still  far-* 
ther  on*  This  night  at  least  400  acres  of  fine  arable 
land  were  covered  with  moss  from  3  to  1 2  or  1 5  feet 
deep.  Several  houses  were  destroyed,  a  good  deal  of 
com  lost,  &C.  but  all  the  inhabitants  escaped.  When 
the  waters  subsided,  the  moss  also  ceased  to  flow  ^  but 
two  pretty  considerable  streams  continued  to  run  from 
the  heart  of  it,  and  carried  off  some  pieces  of  mossy 
matter  to  the  place  where  it  burst.  There  they  joined 
the  beck  already  mentioned ;  which,  with  this  addition, 
resumed  its  former  channel  i  and,  with  a  little  assistance 
from  the  people  of  the  neighbourhood,  made  its  way 
to  the  £sk,  through  the  midst  of  that  great  body  of 
moss  which  obstructed  its  course.  Thus,  in  a  great 
'  measure  drained,  the  new  moss  fisll  several  feet,  when 
the  fair  weather  came  in  the  end  of  November,  and 
settled  in  a  firmer  and  more  solid  body  on  the  lands  it 
had  overron.  By  this  inundation  about  800  acres  of 
arable  gmund  were  overflowed  before  the  moss  stopped, 
and  the  habitations  of  27  families  destroyed.  Tradition 
has  preserved  the  memory  of  a  similar  inundation  in 
Monteith  in  Scotland.  A  moss  there  altered  its  course 
jub  obe  nidbt,  and  covered  a  great  extent  of  ground. 

Mass  jTrocpsrs,  a  rebellious  f  ort  of  people  in  the 
north  of  England,  who  lived  by  robbery  and  rapine, 
not  unlike  the  tones  in  Ireland,  the  bucaniers  in  Ja- 
maica, or  banditti  of  Italy.  The  counties  of  Northum- 
berland and  Cumberland  were  formerly  charged  with 
a  yearly  sum,  and  a  command  of  men,  to  be  appointed 
by  justices  of  the  peace,  to  apprehend  and  suppress 
them. 

MOSTBA,  in  the  Italian  music,  a  mark  at  the  end 
of  a  line  or  space,  to  show  that  the  first  note  of  the  next 
line  is  in  that  place :  and  if  this  note  be  accompanied 
with  a  sharp  or  flat,  it  is  proper  to  place  these  charac* 
ters  along  with  the  mostra. 
MOSUL,  or  MousuL.  See  Mousul. 
MOTACILLA,  the  Wagtail  and  Warbler  y 
a  genus  of  birds  of  the  order  of  passeres«  See  Orni- 
thology Index. 

MOTE,  in  law  books,  signifies  court  or  convention } 
as  ward  mote,  burgh  mote,  swain  mote,  &c. 

Mote  was  also  used  for  a  fortress  or  castle  ^  as  mota 
de  fFindsoTf  &c. 

Mote  also  denoted  a  standing  water  to  keep  fish  in  ^  • 
and  sometimes  a  large  ditch  encompassing  a  castle  or 
dwelling  house. 

Mon-BsU^  or  Mpi-beil^  the  bell  so  called,  whicb 
was  used  by  the  English  Saxons  to  call  people  together 
to  the  court.     See  Folkmote. 
MOTH.    See  Phaxjena,  Entomology  Index. 
MOTHER,  a  term  of  relation,  denoting  a  woman 
who  bath  bora  a  child. 

MoTBSR*i^'FearJ.      See  Mytilus,  Conchology 
Indem. 

MOTION  is  now  generally  considered  as  incapable   Mbiioa. 
of  definition,  being  a  simple  idea  or  notion  received  by 
the  senses.     The  ancients,  however,  thought  different- 
ly.    Some  of  them  defined  it  to  be  a  passage  out  of 
one  state  into  another)  which  conveys  no  idea  to  him 

3X2  ^b6 


MOT 


t   452    3 


MOT 


TottQ^. 


Motion,    who  is  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  motion.— 'The  Feripa- 

*— "V-—  tetic  definition  has  been  mentioned  elseivhere  and  shown 

to  be  wholly  unintelligible,  as  well  as.  their  celebrated 

division  of  motion  into  fbor  classes,  belonging  to  the 

1        three  categories,  quality^  quantity^  and  where;   (see 

SeTeml  dc- METAPHYSICS,  N^  188,  iSp,  190).     The  Cartesians, 

fiaiuons  of.  ^jjQ^  among  the  moderns,  pretend  to  define  motion,  by 

calling  it  a  passage  or  removal  of  one  part  of  matter, 

out  of  the  neighbourhood  of  those  partH  to  which  it  is 

immediately   contiguous,    into    the   neighbourhood   of 

others.      Borelli  defines  motibn  to  be  the  successive 

passage  of  a  body  from  place  to  place.     Others  say 

tbat  it  is  the  application  of  a  body  to  different  parts  of 

*  See  An    iiifiiiite  and  immoveable  space  \  and  a  late  writer  *  of 

^i*"^  ^    uncommon  acuteness  has>  given  as  a  definition  of*  mcN 
uie  Pwoeru  ^«  »^  ^   «_ 

mlMtf.     tioa-'^mitfgeofphce. 

ehmnun^of.  We  have  elsewhere  offered  oor  opinion  of  every  po^ 
AUurr,  by  sible  attempt  to .  define  motion  :  hot  as  the  author  of 
Robert  |)|g  |j|g(  quoted  definition  has  endeavoured  to  obviate 
such  objections  as  ours,  candour  requires  that  be  be 
beard  for  himself.  ^'  It  is  said  (he  observes)  by  some, 
tliat  change  implies  motioa,  and 'therefore  cannot  be  a 
part  of  its  definition,  being  the  very  thing  defined.  T6 
this  I  answer.  We  are  speaking  ot  the  sensible  idea  of 
motion,  as  it  appears  to  our  sight;  now  changes  do  ap^ 
pear  to  our  view,  and  to  all' our  senses^  which  give  us 
no  idea  of  motibn;  Changes  in  heat  or  cold;  in  co- 
lour, flavour,  smell;  sound,  hardness,  softness,  pai», 
pleasure  \  in  these,  and  many  other  ideas,  changes  do 
not  produce  ideas  like  that  produced  by  a  ball  rolliiig 
or  a  stoae  falling.  We  may  perhaps  uHimately  trace 
them  to  motibn,  hut  to  insensible  motions ;  to  nations 
which  arise  only  in  reflection,  and  constitute,  no  part 
of' the  actual  idea  of  change.  We  can  therefore  con- 
ceive of  change,  without  c-onceiving  at  the  same  time  of 
niotioo.^-Cbange  is  a  generic  idea,  including  many 
species  ;  motion,  as  a  sensible  idea,  is  a  species  of  that 
prenus.  Change  is  therefore  a  necessary  pari  of  the  de- 
finition of  motion  y  it  marks  the  genus  of  the  thing  de- 
fitied.  Motion  is  a  change  \  but  as  there-  are  many 
species  of  change,  which  of  those  species  is  motion  ? 
The  answer  is.  It  is  a  change  of  place.  This  marks 
the  species  \  andMistinguishes  it- from- change  of  eolour, 
of  temperament  and^figurew'*' 

This  is  the  ablest  defence  of  an  attempt  to  defifie  mo- 
tion that  we  have  ever  seen  $  and  ut  first  view  the  defi- 
nition itself  appears  to  be  perfect.    Aristotle,  the  prince 
of  defihers,  ^  considers  a  definition t-  as  a  speech  declar- 
ing what  a  thing  is.   Every  thing  essential  to  the  thing 
AristoUe'f  defined,  and  nothing  mere,  must  be  contained  in  the 
^^'''^     definition.     Now  the  essence  of  a  thing  consists  of 
these  two  parts :  first,  what  is  ctnnmon  to  it  ivith-  other 
things  of  the  same  kind;   and  -  secondly,  what  datiiP' 
guishes  it  from  other  things  of  the  same  kind.     The 
first  is  called  the.  genun  of-  the  thing  $   the-  second,  it» 
specific  difference.      The  definition,  therefore,  consists 
3        of  these  two  parts.^ 
Shown  not      j^  obedience  to  this  rule,  the  definition  under  con- 
what  the    stderation  seems  to  cxmsist  of  the  genua^  signified  by  the 
thing  it ;     word  change  ;  and  of  the  specific  dfference^  denoted  by^ 
and  there-  the  words  of  place.    But  does  the  speech  change  of  place 
fore  to  be    reall)  deelare  what  motion  is  P  We  cannot-  admit  that 
S^*     "    it  does  ;   as,  in  our  apprehension,  a  change  if  place  \% 
the  effect  of  nv>tion,  and  not  motion  itself.    Suppose  a 
lover  of  dialectio  qndcrtaking  -  tQ  define  the  stroke  by. 


f  SeeDr 

acid*sac- 
voiint  of 


Kjunes*! 
Sketches 
fifMan. 


tion. 


which  he  saw  his  neighbour  wounded  with  a  bkidgeofr*,  Hg^^ 
what  should  we  think  of  his  art  were  he  to  call  it  &^-— y>«i 
contusion  on  the  head  ?  He  might  say  that  eoii/aiiMii 
a  general  term,  as  contusions  may  be  produced  09  tbe 
nrms,  on  the  legs,  and  on  various  parts  of  the  body ; 
and"  as  there  are  many  species  of  contonon,  if  be  were 
asked  which  of  those  ^ciee  was  the  stroke  to  be  de- 
fined, he  might  answer,  ^*  a  contusion  on  tbe  head.* 
Here  would  be  apparently  the  gema  and  specific  d^er- 
ence;  the  former  denoted  by  ctw^tMibif,  and  the  latter 
by  the  words  on  the  head.  Bot  would  this  be  a  dfefiok 
tion  of  a  stroke  ?•  No,  surely  :  a  contusion  on  the  bend 
may  be  the  effect  of  a  stroke ;  but  it  can  no  nore  be 
the  stroke  itself^  than  a  blow  can  be  a  bludgeon,  or  a 
flesh  wound  the  point  of-  a  sword.  Equally  evident  it 
is,  that  a  change  af  place  cannot  be  motion;  be- 
eause  every  body  must  have  been  actoally  noted  be» 
fore  we  can  discern,  or  etta  eonceive,  a  change  of  in 
place. 

The  act  of  changing  the  place  would  perhaps  cone 
nearer  to  a  definition  .of  motion  \  but  ao  Car  would  it  ba 
fin>m  ''  a  speech  declaring  what  motion  is,*'  that  we  are 
eonfident  a  man  who  had  never  by  any  of  his  acnsct 
perceived  a  body  in  actual  motion,  woold  acquire  as 
ideas  whatever  firom  the  words  ^^^act  of  changing 
place.**'-  He  might- have  experienced  changes  in  beat, 
eold,  smell,  and  sound ;-  but  be  could  not  possibly  cook 
bine  the  ideas  of  sueh  changes  wtith  the  signification  ef 
the  word  place^  were  he  even  capable  of  imderstandiag 
that  word,  which  to  us  appears  to  be  more  than  doobt- 
fttl.     (See-  MxTAVHTBics,  N^  40,  4(0*  4 

The  distinctions  of  motion  into  different  kinds  haveTk^^ 
been  no  less  various,  and  no  less  insignificant,  than  tbe<B^' 
several  definitions  of  it.     The  modems  who  reject  tbe^j^ 
Peripatetic  division  of  motion  into  four  classes,  yet  cs8*|j|^a^ 
sider  it  themselves  as  either  ahsokOe  or  relative*    TbsialcflL 
we  are  told,  that  **  absolute  mo^mn  is  the*  change  of  ab- 
solute place^  and  that-tts  celerity  most  be  measured  by 
the  quantity  of-  ahsohUe  space  which  tbe  moving  body 
nins  through  in  »  given  time***     **  Selaiive  motjbn,  on 
the  other  hand,  is  a  mutation  of  the  relative  or  valgar 
place  of  the  moving  body,  and  has  its  celerity  estimated 
by  the  quantity  of  relative  space  run  throogn.** 

Now  it  is  obvious,  that  this  distinction  conveys  as 
ideas  without  a  farther •  explanation  of  the  tenis  by 
which  it  is  expressed^  but  that  explanntio»  is  inpsm^ 
ble  to-be  gi^en.  Thus,  beibre  we  can  understand  wbal 
abmdute  motion  is,  we  must  understand  what  is  meant  by 
absolute  place.  But  absolute  place  i»<  a  contmdictioa^ 
for  all  place  is  relative^  and  consists  in  the  poaitioos  of 
different  bodies  with  regard  to  one  another.  Were  a 
globe,  in  the  regions  of  empty  space  to  be  pot  in  no* 
tion  by^  Almighty  Power,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  corps- 
real  world  to  be  soon  afterwards  annihilated,  tbe  ais- 
tion  would  undoubtedly  continue  unchanged ;  and  yet, 
according  to  this  distinction,  it  would  bo  at  fint  ms- 
Hve^  and  afterwards  absolute.  That  the  begtnniBg  of 
soeh  a  motion  would  be  perceptible^  and  tbe  renuindtf 
of  it  imperceptible^  is  readily  granted }  bat  on  this  ^^n^^ 
count  ta  eonsider  it  as  of  two  kinds,  is  as  absord  sa  ^^^d 
suppose  tbe  motion  of  the  minute  hand  of  n  dock  to  beikCMS^ 
affected  by  our  looking  at  it.  *f!f  f^ 

Leaving  therefore  these  unintelligible  -  dislinctiossy 
we  now  come  to  consider  a  question  still  of  a  very  sb-|^ 

struse  nature,. but  much  agitated  among  phiWiophen»rfa*» 

til. 


MOT 


t    453    ] 


MOT 


MotioM.  vli^  VnM  is  tlie  original  source  of  motioo  m  the  crea* 
**  \i  ■*  tlon :  Is  it  Datura!  to  matter  ?  or  are  we  to  ascribe  it 
to  tlie  imoiediate  and  continual  agepcy  of  some  tmrnO' 
terial  being  f  The  former  bas  been  strenuously  argued 
by  tbe  Cartesians,  and  the  latter  by  the  Newtonians. 
The  arguments  of  the  former,  founded  upon  tbe  chime* 
rical  hypothesis  of  vortices  and  the  original  construc- 
tion of  matter,  were  evidently  inconclusive  \  and  tlie 
hypothesis  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  who  asserted  that  it 
was  naturally  incapable  of  motion,  appeared  more  pro- 
bable. To  account  for  the  quantity  of  motion  in  tbe 
universe,  therefore,  it  became  necessary  to  have  recourse 
either  to  tbe  Deity,  or  to  some  suberdinate  spiritual 
agent  \  and  this  became  the  more  necessary,  as  the  doc- 
trine of  an  absolute  vacuum  in  the  celestial  spaces,  that 
is,  throughout  the  incomparably  greatest  part  of  the 
•reation,  was  one  of  the  fundamental  maxims  of  the 
aystenu  As  it  was  absolutely  denied  that  matter  exist- 
ed in  these  spaces,  and  it  was  plain  that  the  celq^tial 
bodies  affected  one  another  at  immense  distances,  the 
]iowers  of  attraction  and  repukion  were  naturally  called 
io  as  the  sources  of  motion  by  their  impulse  upon  inert 
and  sluggish  matter.  These  being  admitted,  a  specu- 
lution  ensued  conoemmg  their  nature.  Spiritual^  it 
was  confessed,  they  were ;  but  whether  they  were  to 
be  accounted  the  immediate  action  of  the  divine  Spirit 
himself,  or  that  of  some  subordinate  and  inferior  spirit,. 
was  a  matter  of  no  little  dispute.  Sir  Isaac  Ne^vton, 
towards  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  began  to  relax  some- 
what of  the  rigidity  of  his  former  doctrine  \  and  allow- 
I  «Ule  ^  ^^  *  ^^^  subtle  medium,  which  he  called  €tthe9\ 
adwrtlie  might  be  the  cause  of  attraction  and  repulsion^  and. 
}faibfM»  thus  of  the  whole  phenomena  of  nature.  Since  hia. 
^""*  ^      time  the  multitude  of  discoveries  in  electricity,  the  si-. 

s##«^tfB#{^ftnn 

I^^I^Tj^  milarity  of  that  fluid  to  fice  and.  light,  witb  the  vast* 


make,  show  that  there  is  a  mind  which  governs  and    Motioot 
actuates  this  mundane  system  as  the  proper  and  real        ▼ 
agent  and  cause  v  and  that  the  inferior  iustrumentai 
cause  is  pure  aether,  fire,  or  the  substance  of  light, 
which  is  applied  and  determined  by  an  infinite  mind 
in  the  macrocosm  or  universe,  with  unlimited  power, 
and  according  to  stated  rules,  as  it  is  in  the  microcosm 
with  limited  power  and  skill  by  the  human  mind.     We 
have  no  pi  oof  either  from  experiment  or  reason  of  any 
other  agent  or  eflicient  cause  than  tbe  mind  or  spirit. 
When,  therefore,  we  speak  of  corporeal  agents  or  cor- 
poreal causes,  this  is  to  be  understood  in  a  different, 
subordinate,  and  improper  sense  j  and  buch  an  agent     • 
we  know  light  or  elementary  fire  to  be.*'  >, 

That  this  elementary  fire,  absorbed  and  fixed  in  all^^" 
bodies,  ma^  be  the  cause  of  the  universal  principle  of  ^^  Uuit 
gravity,  is  made  sufficiently  evident  by  numberless  ex-  a  nibtle 
periments.     Homberg  having  calcined  in  the  focus  ofnthermaf 
a  burning  glass  some  regulus  of  antimony,  found  that^^^"*^ 
it  had  gained  one-tenth  in  weight,  thou^  the  regu-^,,^^ 
lus,  dunng  the  whole  time  of  the  operation,  sent  upthepbae* 
a  thick  smoke,  and  thereby  lost  a  considerable  partoCtary  mo- 
its  own  substance.     It  is  vain  to  allege  that  any.be-^<>°^^' 
terogeneous  matter  floating  in  the  air,  or  that  the  aii«^ 
itself,  may  have  beea  hurried  into  the  mass  by  the  ac- 
tion of  tlie  fire,  and  that  by. this  additional  matter  the* 
weight  was  increased  *,  for  it  is  known  experimentally^ 
that  if  a  quantity  of  metal  be  even  hermetically  secur- 
ed within  at  vessel  of  glass  to  keep*  .off  the.  air  and  all. 
foreign  matter,  and  the  vessel  be  placed: for  some  time 
in  a  strong  fire,  it  will  exhibit  tbe  same  efiect.  ^I  have 
seen  the  operation  performed,  (says  Mr  Jones t)  on  two.t  ISiMBf  on 
ounces  of  pewter,  filings,  .hennetically  sealed < up  in  ^xt^joLm 
Fioicnce  flask,  which  in  two  hours  gained  ^§  g^^^^OB^^fN^mU 
that, is  nearly  one  17th*     Had  it, remained  .longer  iaPhUoiopllg^. 


influence  it  has  on  every,  part,  of  the.  creation  with,    the  fire,  it  might  probably  havie  gained*  something* 


ce. 


7  . 
op- 

heaa- 

teauoa 
bis  nb* 


which  we  are  acquainted,  have  rendered  it  very  pro 
bable  that  the.setfaer  mentioned  by  Sir  Isaac  is  no  c^er. 
tban  the  element  of  fire,  **  tbe  most  subtle  f  and  ela- 
sticfof  all  bodies,  which  seems  to  pervade  and  expands 
itself  throughout  the  whole  universe.    Electrical  ex-, 
periments  show  that  this  mighty  agent  is  everywhere 
present,  ready  .to  break  forth  into  action,  if  not  re-. 
Mtrained  and  governed  with  the  greatesi.wiadom. .  Be- 
ing always  restless  and.  i»  motion,,  it  actuates  and  en^ 
livens  the^  whole  visible  mass  j  ia  equally  fitted  to  pro«^ 
doce  and  to  destroy..^  distinguishes  the  various  stages 
of  nature,  and  keepa  up  the  perpetual  round  of  gen&- 
rations  and  comiptions,  pregnant  with  forms  whick 
it  constantly  sends  forth  and  resorbs.     80  quick  in  ita. 
motionit,  so  subtle  and.  penetrating  in  its  nature^  so  ex- 
tensive in  its  effects,  it  seemeth  no  other  than. the  vege- 
tative soul  or  vital  spirit  of  the  world., 

**  The  animal  spirit .inonan, is  the  instrument  botfar 
of  sense  and  niotioB»  To -suppose  sensciin^the  corpo- 
real world  would  jbe  gross  and  unwarranted  >.  but  .loco- 
motive fa<;ulties  are.  evident  in  all  its  parts.  Tbe  Py- 
thagoreans, Platonists,  and  Stoics,  held  the  world  to. 
be  an.  animal  >. though  some  of  them  have  chosen  to 
consider  iitas  a  vegetable.  However,  the  phenomena, 
do  plainly  show,  that  there  is  a  spirit  that  nnoves,  and 
a  mind  or  providence  that  presides.  This  pyovidence, 
Plutarch  saith,  was  thought  to  be  in.  regard  to  the 
world  what  the  soul  is  10  regard  to  man.  The  order 
and  course  of  things,  and  the  experiments  we  daily- 


more  }  .as,  ia  one  of  Mr  Boyle's  experiments,. steel  £!•** 
ings.  were  found  to.  have  gained  a. fourth*  . 

^  Of  accounting  for  these  effects  there  are  but  two- 
ppssible^ways  :    z..  If. the  quantity  of  matter  be  the* 
same,  or,  in  the  case  of  calcination,  be  somewhat  less, 
after  being  exposed  to  the  action  df •  the  fire,  while . 
the  gravity  of  the  whole  is  become  greater;  then, 
does  it  follow^  that  gravitv.is  not  according  to  tbci 
quantity  of*  matter,.,  and  of  .course  is  not  one  of  its. 
properties.     2.  If  there  be  an  increasfB  of  the  mass,^ 
itxan  be  imputed-  to  nothing  butth^  matter  of  light 
ox  .fire  entangled  in.  its  passage  through  the  substance,- 
and  so  fixed  .in  its  pores, .  or  combined  with  its  solid 
parts,  as  to  gravitate  together  with  it..    Yet  it  is  cer- 
tain, from  the  phenomenon  of  light  darting  from  the 
sun,  thai  this  elcmeQtary.fire  doc9  not  gravitate,  till  it 
is  fixed  in  metal,  or  some  other  solid  sul^tanoe.«^Here 
then  we  have  a  fluid  which  gravitates,  if  it  gravitate  at 
all,  in  some  cases  and  not  in  others.     Sa  that  which 
way  soever  the  experiment  be  interpreted,  we  are  forced 
to  conclude  that  elementary  'or  solar  fire  may  be  the 
cause  of  tbe  law  of  gravitation.*' 

That  it  is  likewise  in  many  cases  the  cause  of  repol-^ 
sion,  is  known  to  every  one  who  bas  seen  it  fuse. metals,, 
and  convert  water  and  mercury  into  elastic, vapour.. 
But  there  is  a  fact  recorded  by  Mr  Jones,  which  seems, 
to  evince  that  the  same  fluid,  which  as  it  issues  from 
the  sun  exhibits  itself  in  the  foroh.  of  light  and.  heat,. 
is  in  othto  circumstances  converted  into  a  very  fine  air, 

OT'. 


MOT 


[    454    1 


MOT 


MfHioii.  or  coM  diiery  wMch  rashes  very  fiEreiUy  towards  the 
*"  ' "  r~  — ^  body  of  that  luminary.  *•  As  ^  sequel  to  wbat  has 
been  obsenred  (says  he)  concerning  the  impregnation 
of  solid  substances  with  the  particles  of  fire,  give  me 
leave  to  subjoin  an  experiment  of  M.  de  Stair.  He  tells 
OS,  that  upon  heating  red  lead  in  a  glass  whence  the 
Air  was  exhausted  by  the  raVs  of  the  sun  collected  in 
a  burning  glass,  the  vessel  m  which  the  said  red  lead 
was  contained  burst  to  {Meces  with  a  gr^ftt  noise.  Now, 
^  lu  all  explosions  in  general  must  be  ascribed  either  to 
an  admission  of  the  air  into  a  rarefied  space,  or  to  what 
.  is  called  the  genertUion  of  it  >  and  as  air  was  not  admit- 
ted upon  this  occasion,  k  must  ha^e  been  generated 
from  the  calx  within  the  vessel  ^  and  certainly  was  so, 
because  Dr  Hales  has  made  it  appear  that  this  sob- 
ttance,  like  crude  tartar  and  many  others,  will  yield 
a  considerable  quantity  ot  air  in  distillation.  "What 
went  into  the  metal  therefore  as  fire^  -came  out  of  it 
again  as  air  f  which  in  a  manner  forces  upon  us  con- 
clusions of  inestimable  Value  in  natural  philosophy,  Ittod 
Vlich  as  may  carry  us  very  fal*  into  the  most  sublime 
part  of  it." 

One  of  the  conclusions  which  the  ingenious  author 
thinks  thus  forced  upon  us,  is,  that  the  motibn  of  the 
'  planets  round  the  sun,  as  well  as  round  their  own  axes,  is 
to  be  attributed  to  the  continual  agency  of  this  fluid, 
unde)r  its  two  forms  of  elementary  fire  and  pure  air.  As 
fire  and  light,  we  know  that  it  rushes  with  inconceiv- 
able rapidity  from  the  body  of  the  sun,  and  penetrates 
isvery  corporeal  substance,  exerting  itself  sometimes  with 
such  force  as  nothing  With  which  we  are  acquainted  is 
able  to  resist.  If  it  be  indeed  a  fkctj  that  this  ele- 
mentary fire,  or  principle  of  light  and  heat,  afterwards 
cools,  and  becomes  pure  air,  thete  cannot  be  a  doubt, 
but  that  under  such  a  form  it  will  return  with  great 
•  force,  though  surely  in  a  somewhat  different  direction, 
towards  the  sun,  forming  a  vortex,  in  which  the  planets 
are  included,  and  by  which  they  must  of  course  be  car- 
ried round  the  centre.  Mr  Jones  does  Hot  suppose 
that  the  air  into  which  the  principle  of  light  and  heat 
is  converted,  is  of  so  gross  a  nature  as  ont  atmosphere. 
He  rather  considers  it  as  c^mI  oether,  just  as  he  repre- 
sents light  to  be  sether  heated :  but  he  maintains,  thiit 
this  sether,  in  its  aerial  form,  though  not  fit  for  human 
respiration,  is  a  better  pohulum  ot  fire  than  the  air 
which  we  breathe. 

This  theory  is  exceedingly  plausible ;  and  the  au- 
ihw  supports  it  by  many  experiments.     He  has  not, 
indeed,  convinced  us  that  the  solar  light  is  converted 
or  convertible  into  pure  air ;  but  he  has,  by  just  reason- 
ing from  iindonbted  facts,  proved  that  the  whole  ex- 
panse of  heaven,  as  far  as  comets  wander,  is  filled  not 
only  with  light,  which  is  indeed  obvious  to  the  senses, 
hot  also  with  a  fluid,  which,  whatever  it  may  be  called, 
supplies  the  place  of  the  air  in  feeding  the  nrfe  of  thes« 
p         ignited  bodies. 
The  exist-       That  the  motion  of  the  heavenly  bodies  should  re^^ 
enoeof mch  g^ij  f^j^  ^j^^  perpetual  agency  of  such  i|  medium,  a^ 
however'    V^^^  ^^  ^'  ^  much  more  rational  hypothesis,  than  that 
doci  not*     which  makes  them  act  upon  each  other  at  immense  di*> 
coB^eUly  stances  through  empty  space.     But  the  hypothesis  is 
•w?e  the     [jy  nQ  means  so  complete  a  solution  of  the  phenomena 
genome-    ^  ^^^^  ^p  |^  ^^^^  admirers  pretend  to  think  it     This 
luid,  whether  called  sether,  heat,  light,  or  air,  is  still 


material  j   and  the  question  retoms  upon  him  lAo  mfnj^ 
imagines  that  it  is  sufficient  to  account  for  gravit«titii,<»  y-i 
repulsion,  magnetism,   and   cohesion,  &c.    **  Wbat 
moves  the  fluid  itself,  and  makes  the  parts  of  which  it 
is  composed  cohere  together?^*    However  widely  it 
may  be  extended,-  it  is  incapable  of  positive  iofinity ; 
ana  therefore  may  be  divided  into  parts  separated  fnm 
each  other  ;  so  that  it  muHt  be  held  together  by  a  fi^ 
reign  force,  as  Well  as  a  ball  of  lead,  or  a  piece  of  wsz. 
As  matter  is  not  essentially  active,  the  motion  of  diii 
tether,  under  both  its  forms,  must  likewise  be  considered 
as  an  effect,  for  which  we  do  not  think  that  any  pr^ 
polling  power  in  the  body  of  the  sun  can  he  admitted 
as  a  sufficient  cause.   For  how  conies  the  son  to  posKV 
that  power,  and  what  makes  the  fluid  return  to  ths 
sun  ?  \Ve  have  no  notion  of  poWef,  in  the  proper  ^nse 
of  the  word,  but  as  intelligence  and  volition ;  and,  by 
the  pious  and  excellent  author  of  the  Essay  on  the  Fint 
Principles  of  Natural  Philosophy,  we  are  certain  thst 
the  sdn  was  never  supposed  to  be  intelligent.  i. 

Bishop  Berkeley,  who  admits  of  light  or  icther  stHinb^ 
the  instrumental  cause  of  all  corporeal  motion,  geti  ri^^^ 
of  this  difficulty,  by  supposing,  with  the  ancients,  tUtt'^i^ 
this  powerfnl  agent  is  animated.     **  According  to  tfce,^^^ 
Pythagoreans  and  Platonists  (says  his  Lordship*),* Ai 
there  is  a  life  infused  throughout  all  things  j  thesv^^^<17« 
fti^9f,  wvf  «t;i7faM,  an  intellectual  and  Artificial  fire,  sa 
inward  principle,  animal  spirit,  or  natural  life,  produ- 
cing and  forming  within,  as  art  doth  without }  regalae- 
ing,  moderating,  and  reconciling  the  various  motion, 
qualities,  and  parts  of  the  mundane  system.     By  virtoe 
of  this  life,  the  great  masses  are  held  together  in  their 
ordinary  courses,  as  well  as  the  minutest  particles  go- 
verned in  their  natural  motions,  according  to  the  sevml 
laws  of  attraction,  gravity,  electricity,  magnetism,  sod 
the  rest.   It  is  this  gives  instincts,  teachea  the  spider  bcr 
web,  and  the  bee  her  honey.  This  it  is  that  directs  ths 
roots  of  plants  to  draw  forth  juices  from  the  earth,  sad 
the  leaves  and  cortical  vessels  to  separate  and  attfid 
such  particles  of  air  and  elementary  fire  as  suit  their 
respective  natures.^ 

This  life  or  animal  spirit  seems  to  be  the  same  thii^ 
which  Cudworth  calls  plastic  nature,  nnd  which  has 
been  considered  elsewhere.  (See  Metaphysics,  N' 
aoo,  and  Plastic  Nature).  Yfe  shall  therefor^  Saom 
it  at  present,  with  just  admitting  the  troth  of  the  bi- 
shop's position,  *^  that  if  nature  he  supposed  the  lifc 
of  the  world,  animated  by  one  soul,  compacted  iato 
one  frame,  and  directed  or  governed  in  aH  its  parts  by 
one  supreme  and  distinct  intelligence,  this  system  caa- 
not  be  accused  of  atheism,  though  perhaps  it  nay  of 
mistake  or  impropriety.*'  " , 

A  theory  of  motion  somewhat  stmtlar  to  diat  ^^^^ 
Berkeley,  though  in  several  respects  diflereot  finon  it,^L 
was  not  many  years  ago  stated  with  great  dearaen, 
and  supported  with  much  inffennity,  in  An  Essay  on  the 
Powers  and  Mechanism  of  Nature,  intended  to  irapron^ 
and  more  firmly  establish,  the  grand  supeistinttore  of 
the  Newtonian  system.  Mr  Young,  the  author  of  the 
essay,  admits  with  most  other  philosopher*  of  the  prrseot 
age,  that  body  is  composed  of  atoms  which  are  hnpcoe- 
trable  to  each  other,  and  may  be  denommated  solid. 
These  atoms,  however,  he  does  not  consider  as  prianry 
and  simple  elements,  incapable  of  resolution  into  pr0* 


MOT 


I    455     ] 


M    O    t 


HlodM 


14 


ntiaU/ 
cti^e  per- 
mdes  the 


^     »3 
PhMfrof 

dbe  exist. 

Sttce  oi 
licb  anb< 


ciples ;  bat  thmke  thtt  they  are  {brmdl  b^  eertain  mo- 
tiom  of  the  psits  of  a  sobstance  immaterial  and  e<8eii« 
tiallj  aetive. 

As  thU  notion  is  uocommon,  and  tbe  offspring  of 
a  Tigoroos  mind,  we  shall  consider  it  more  attentively 
under  the  article  Plastic  Nature.  It  is  mentioned  at 
present  as  a  necessary  introdoction  to  the  author's  theory 
of  motion,  of  which  he  attributes  both  the  origin  and 
the  continoance  to  the  agency  of  this  elementary  sob- 
atance  pervading  the  most  solid  atoms  of  the  densest  bo- 
dies. Of  every  body  and  every  atom  he  holds  the  con* 
aftituent  principles  to  be  essentially  active  i  but  those 
principles  act  in  such  a  manner  as  to  conterbalance  each 
other}  so  that  the  atom  or  body  considered  as  a  whole 
ia  inert,  unless  in  so  far  as  it  resists  the  compression  or 
separation  of  its  parts.  No  body  or  atom  can  of  itself 
begin  to  move,  or  continue  in  motion  for  a  sin^e  tn« 
stant :  bnt, being  pervious  to  the  aetive  substance,  and 
coalescing  with  it,  that  substance,  when  it  enters  any 
body,  it  carries  it  along  with  it,  till,  meeting  some  other 
body  in  the  way,  either  the  whole  of  the  active  sub* 
stance  lodged  in  the  former  body  passes  into  the  ob- 
stacle, in  which  case  the  impelling  body  instantly  ceases 
to  move :  or  else  part  of  that  substance  passes  into  the 
obstacle,  and  part  remains  in  the  impellii^  ^^J\  ^^^ 
in  this  case  both  bodies  are  moved  with  a  velocity  in 
proportion  to  the  quantity  of  matter  which  each  coo- 
tains,  combmed.  with  the  quantity  of  active  substance 
by  which  they  are  rcspactiveW.  penetrated. 

'  In  order  to  pave  the  way  for  his  proof  of  Ae  exist- 
ence of  one  uniform  active  substance,  be  observes,  that 
*'  change  being  an  essentiaUy  constituent  part  of  mo« 
tion,  and  change  implying  action,^ it  feHows  that  all 
motion  impHeM  action^  and  depends  on  ffn  active  cause. 
Every  motion  (he  continues)  has  a  beginning,  a  mid- 
dle, and  an  end.  The  beginning  is  a  change  from  rest 
to  motion  \  the  middle  is  a  continuance  in  motion  \ 
tbe  end  is  a  change  from  motion  to  rest.^  He  then 
proceeds  to  show,  that  the  beginning  of  motion  is  by  an 
action  begun  \  the  continuance  of-  motion  by  an  ac- 
tion continued  j  and  tbe  end  of  motion- by  a  cessation 
of  action. 

*'  The  first  of- these  positions  is  admitted,  by  every 
body..  That  the  continuance  of  motion  is  by  an  action 
continued^  will  be  proved,  if  it  shall  be  showu  that  the 
continoance  of  a  motion  is  nothing  different  from  its 
beginning,  in  regard  to  any  point  of  time  assumed  in 
tbe  continued  motion.  Now  the  beginning  of  mo- 
tion (he  says)  consists  in  the  beginning  of  change  6f 
place.  But  if  any  given  portions  of  time  and  of  space 
are  assumed^  a  body  beginning  to  move  in  the  com- 
mencement of  that  time,  and  in  the  first  portion  of 
the  space  assumed,  then  and  there  begins  that  parti- 
cular motion  :  and  sriiether  heftire  the  body  began  to 
move  in  that  space  it  was  moving  in  otber  spaces  and 
times,  has  no  relation  to  the  motion  in  question  ;  for 
this  being  in  a  space  and  time  altogether  distinct,  is  a 
distinct  motion  fnmi  any  which  might  have  preceded  it 
immrdiately,  as  much  as  from  a  motion  whidi  preceded 
it  a  thousand  years  before.  It  is  therefbre  a  ntw  mo^ 
tion  begun  \  and  so  it  may  be  said  of  every  a^sunttible 
point  in  the  contmued  motion.  The  term  comhmed 
serves  only  to  connect  any  two  distinct  motiohs,  fheend 
af  one  vrith  the  beginning  of  the  otbtafj  but  doniidt 
iestjt7  their  diitinctiMa.^ 


He  thtm  pi-ocecds  to  combat,  which  he  Joes  very  Motion, 
successfully,  tbe  arguments  by  which  tbe  more  rigid 
Newtonians  endeavour  to  prove  that  a  body  in  mo* 
tion  will  continue  to  be  moved  by  its  own  inertia^  til! 
stopt  by  some  opposite  force.  Having  done  this,  bo 
establishes  the  contrary  conclusion  by  the  following  syl- 
logisms : 

**  I.  Whatever  requires  an  acdve  force  to  stop  its 

motion,  is  disposed  to  move. 
Every  body  in  motion  requires  an  active  force  to 

stop  its  motion : 
Theretore  every  body  in  motion  is  disposed  to 

move* 
"  II.  Whatever  is  disposed  to  motion  is  possessed  ot 

action. 
But  a  body  in  motion  is  disposed  to  continue  ia 

motion : 
Therefore  a  body  in  motion  is  possessed  of  action. 

Thus  it  appears,  that  the  middle  part  of  any  motion:  is 
action  equally  with  the  beginning. 

**  The  last  part  of  motion  is  its  termination.  It  ia 
admitted  that  all  motion  is  terminated  by  an  action 
contrary  to  the  direction  of  tbe  motion.  It  is  ad- 
mitted, too,  that  the  moving  body  acts  at  the  tiihe  its 
motion  is  destroyed.  Thus  the  beginning  and  the  end 
of  any  uniform  motion  are  confessed  to  be  actions  j  but 
all  tbe  intermediate  continuation  which  connects  the- 
beginning  with  the  end  is  denied  to  be  action.  Wfaai 
can  be  more  unaccountable  than  this  demal  ?  Is  it  not 
more  coubonant  to  reason  and  analogy,  to  ascribe  to  tbt 
whole  continued  motion  one  uninterrupted  action  f 
Sach  a  conclusion  true  philosophy,  we  think,  reqtlirea. 
us  to  make. 

**  To  move  or  act,  is  an  attribute  which  cannot  bt 
conceived  to  exist  without  a  substance.  The  action  of 
a  body  in  motion  is  indeed  the  attribute  of  the  body, 
and  tiie  body  relatively  to  its  own  motion  is  truly  a 
substance,  having  tbe  attribute  or  quality  of  motio]i» 
But  the  body  being  a  name  signifying  a  combinatioii 
of  eertain  ideas,  which  ideas  are  found  to  arise  from 
action  (see  Plastic  Nature\  that  action  which  is  pro« 
ductive  of  those  ideas  whose  combination  we  denomi- 
nate body,  is  of  the  nature  of  an  attribute  so  long  as  it 
is  considered  as  constituted  of  action.— -To  this  attribute 
we  must  necessarily  assign  its  substance.  The  actions 
which  constitute  body  must  be  actions  of  sometbiiig,  ot 
there  must  be  something  which  acts.  When  then  is 
this  ACTIVE  aonrtHiKG,  from  whose  a^^ency  we  get 
the  idea  of  body,  or  whose  actions  constitute  body  ?  li 
it  not  sufficient  that  it  id  something  active  ?  A  name 
might  he  surely  given*  it,  but  a  name  would  not  rendet 
the  idea  morfe  clear.  Its  description  may  be  found  i& 
every  sensation  $  it  is  colour  to  the  eye,  flavour  to  thlb 
palate,  odmir  to  the  tose,  soimd  to  the  ear,  ind  feeling 
to  the  toori  'f  for  all  our  sensations  are  but  so  many  Wayi 
in  whicb  this  actite  soMETRiKd  is  manifested  to  us. 
A  substratum  of  solidify  philosophers-  have  imagined  t6  * 
exi^  And  have  in  vain  sought  to  ^nd»  Oor  Atftivt 
SUBSTANCE  is  the  substratum  so  long  sought  for,  and 
with  SO  Kttle  success.  We  give  it  a  quality  by  wbtCH 
it  may  be  perceived  *,  it  acts.  One  moditicattion  of 
action  pi^oces  tfATtEA,  another  generates  motioii'. 
These  modifications  of  aCtibn  ane  modes  of  tbe  wclofft 
MAU^cftf  whdse^reMttCSfr  it'  mttiot :  ttmtler  aild  motio^ 

censtitute* 


MOT 


t    45«    1 


MOT 


Which  n 
unintelli- 
gent, 


!vf  otieii.    emtitute  the  whole  of  nature.  THERE  ts  THEREFORE 

THROUGHOUT  KATURE  AK  ACTIVE  SUBSTANCE,  THE 
COKSTITUENT  ESSENCE  OF  MATTER,  AND  IMMEDIATE 
KATURAL  AGENT  IK  ALL  EFFECTS.^^ 

fiy  an  argument  which  we  do  not  think  very  con- 
clusive, oor  author  determines  this  active  substance 
to  be  unintelligent.  ^  In  our  sensations  individually^ 
not  discovering  (says  he)  the  traces,  not  seeing  the 
characters  of  intelligence^  but  finding  only  action  pre- 
sent and  necessary,  our  inferences  go  no  farther  than 
our  observations  warrant  us  to  do ;  and  we  conclude 
in  all  these  things  an  action  only,  and  that  action  un- 
intelligent.*' Having  given  our  opinion  of  real  ttgcncy 
elsewhere  (see  Metaphysics,  N^  ii8*\  we  shall 
not  here  stop  to  examine  this  Teasotiing.— -We  may 
however  ask.  Whether  all  our  sensations  individually 
be  not  excited  for  a  certain  end  9  If  they  be,  accord- 
ing to  our  author's  mode  of  arguing  in  another  place, 
the  exciting  agent  should  be  an  iiltelligent  being.  By 
this  we  are  far  from  meaning  to  deny  the  reality  of 
a  secondary  or  instrumental  cause  of  sensation  wuich 
4s  destitute  of  intelligence.  We  are  strongly  inclined 
to  think  that  there  is  such  a  oause^  though  our  per- 
suasion results  not  from  this  argument  of  our  author's. 
In  our  opinion,  be  reasons  better  when  he  says,  **  that 
a  subordinate  agent  constructed  iu  the  matter  of  crea- 
tion, invested  with  perpetual  laws,  and  producing  agree- 
ably to  those  laws  all  the  forms  of  being,  through  the 
varieties,  of  which  inferior  intelligences  can,  by  pro- 
gressive steps,  arrive  ultimately  at  the  supreme  con- 
triver, is  more  agreeafile  to  our  ideas  of  dignity, 
«nd  tends  to  implress  os  with  more  exalted  senti- 
ments, than  viewmg  the  Diety  directly  in  all  the  in- 
dividual impressions  we  receive,  divided  in  the  infi- 
nity of  particular  events,  and  unawful,  by  his  conti- 
-nual  presence  in  operations  to  our  view  insignificant  and 


.  X5 

alia  aei- 


mean. 


w 


This  active  substance,  or  secondary  cause,  our  au- 
thtr  matter  £|,^j.  concludes  to  be  neither  matter  nor  mind.  '^  Mat- 
•sr  fflmd.  ^^  (gays  he)  is  a  being)  as  a  whole  quiescent  and  in- 
active, but  constituted  of  active  parts,  which  resist  se- 
paration, or  cohere,  giving  what  is  usually  denomi- 
nated solidity  to  the  mass.  Mind  is  a  Substance  which 
thinks.  A  being  which  should  answer  to  neither  of 
these  definitions^  would  be  neither  matter  nor  mind  \ 
but  an  immaterial^  and,  if  I  may  so  say,  an  immental 
aubstance."  Such  is  the  active  substance  of  Mr  Young, 
which,  CAnsidered  as  the  cause  of  motion,  seems  not  to 
differ  greatly  firom  the  piastic  nature^  hylarchical prin^^ 
€ipk^  or  vis  genitrix^  of  otheis.  The  manner  in  which 
it  opi^rates  is  indeed  mnch  more  minutely  detailed  by 
our  author  than  by  any  other  philosopher,  ancient  or 
modem,  with  whose  writings  we  haVe  any  acquaint- 
ance. 

^«  Every  thing  (he  says)  roust  \>e  III  its  own  nature 
either  disposed  to  rest  or  motion  )  consequently  the 
ACTIVE  SUBSTANCE  must  he  considered  as  a  being  na- 
turally either  quiescent  or  motive.     But  it  cannot  be 
naturally  quiescent  ^  for  then  it  could  not  lie  active,  be- 
i6       cause  activity,  wliich  is  a  tendency  to  motion,  cannot 
^tht  niMi-  originate  in  a  tendency  to  rest*     Therefore  the  aictive 
"?'*il  •  •   SUBSTANCE  is^y  nature  motive,  that  is,  tending  to  mo- 
MD^edto.ti®'*'     The  ACTIVE  SUBSTANCE  is  not  solid,  and  does 
opm^     not  resist  penetration.     It  is,  therefore,  incapable  of 
impelling  or  of  sustaining  Impolse*    Whence  It  follows, 

3 


that  as  it  tends  to  move,  and  is  incapable  ofhavin^iti  M«ii* 
motion  Impeded  by  impulse,  it  must  actually  and  oonti-  ^ 
nually  move :  in  other  words,  motion  is  ESSEirriAX. 

TO  THE  ACTIVE  SUBSTANCE. 

**  In  order  that  this  substance  may  act^  some  other 
thing  upon  which  it  may  produce  a  change  is  neces- 
sary }   for  whatever  suffers  an  action,  receives  soiae 
change.    The  active  substance,  in  acting  on  sooae  other 
thing,  must  impart  and  unite  itself  thereto  -,  for  its  or- 
tion  is  communicating  its  activity^    But  it  cannot  com- 
municate  its  activity  without  imparting  its  substance : 
because  it  is  the  substance  alone  which  possesses  activity, 
and  the  quality  cannot  be  separated  from  the  sobstaoce. 
Therefore  the  active  substance  acts  bt  uni- 
ting   ITSELF    with  the  SUBSTANCE  ON   WHICH  IT 
ACTSL    The  union  of  this  substance  with  bodies,  ii  not 
to  be  conceived  of  as  a  junction  of  small  parts  intimate-* 
ly  blended  together  and  attached  at  their  surfaces-,  but 
as  an  entire  diffusion  and  incorporation  of  one  sobstaocc 
with  another  in  perfect  coalescence.    As  bodies  are  aot 
naturally  active,  whenever  they  become  so,  as  thej  al^ 
ways  do  in  motion,  it  must  be   by  the   accession  of 
some  part  of  the  active  substance.    The  active  sqIh 
stance  beiuff  imported  to  a  body,  penetrates  the  moit 
solid  or  resisting  parts,  and  does  not  reside  in  the  pores 
without,  and  at  the  surfaces  of  the  solid  parts.     For  the 
activity  is  imparted  to  the  body  itself;  and  not  to  iti 
pores,  which  are  no  parts  of  the  bodv  :  therefore  if  the 
active  substance  remained  within  the  pores,  the  came 
would  not  be  present  with  its  effect  *,    but  the  cassr 
would  be  in  one  place  and  the  effect  in  another,  irhick 
is  impossible. 

^'  Bodies  by  their  impulse  on  others  lose  their  acti- 
vity in  proportion  to  the  impulse.  This  is  matter  of 
observation.  Bodies  which  suffer  impulse  acquire  ac^ 
tivity  in  proportion  to  the  impulse.  This  also  is  mat- 
ter of  obsenatlon.  In  impnlsei  therefore,  the  active 
substance  passes  out  of  the  impelling  body  into  the 
body  impelled.  For  since  bodies  in  motion  are  active, 
and  activity  consists  in  the  presence  of  the  active  snb- 
stance,  and  by  impulse  bodies  lose  their  activity,  there* 
fore  they  lose  their  active  substance,  and  the  loM  U 
proportional  to  the  impulse.  Bodies  impelled  acqaire 
activity ;  therefore  acquire  active  subatante,  and  the 
acquisition  is  proportioned  to  the  impulse.  Bot  the 
active  substance  lost  by  the  impelling  body  ought  ts 
be  concluded  to  be  that  found  in  the  other ;  because 
there  is  no  other  receptacle  than  the  impelled  body  to 
which  the  substance  parted  from  can  be  traced,  nor 
any  other  source  than  the  active  bodv  whence  that 
which  is  found  can  be  derived.  Therefore,  in  Impolie, 
the  active  Substanee  ought  to  be  concluded  to  pass  from 
the  impelling  body  to  ue  body  impelled.  Tbe  ilow« 
ing  of  such  a  substance  is  a  sufficient  cause  of  the  cooi- 
munlcatioti  of  activity,  and  no  other  rational  cause  caa 
be  assigned. 

**  The  continued  motion  of  a  body  depends  ost 
npon  its  inertia^  but  upon  the  continuance  of  the  ac- 
tive substance  within  the  body.  The  motion  of  a 
body  IS  produced  by  the  motion  of  the  active  sub- 
stance in  union  with  the  bo4y«  It  being  evident,  that 
since  the  active  substance  itself  docs  always  move,  what- 
ever it  IS  united  to  will  be  moved  along  with  it,  if  no 
obstacle  prevent.      In  niere  motion,  the  body  mom 

the  patient,  and  the  active  substance  the  agent.   Ii 

injNd^t 


MOT 


C   W    J 


M    O    T' 


«7 


MhtloD.  impulse,  tlie  -body  in  motioii  may  be  considered  aa  an 
agent,  as  it  is  made  active  by  its  active  substance.— 
\Yhile  the  active  subsiance  is  flowing  oiit  of  the  active 
body  into  the  obstacle  or  impelled  body,  the  active 
body  will  press  or  impel  the  obstacle.  For  while  the 
active  substance  is  yet  within  the  body,  although  flow- 
ing throogh  it,  it  does  not  cease  to  impart  to  de  body 
its  own  nature,  nor  can  the  body  cease  to  be  active 
because  not  yet  deprived  of  the  active  substance.  There- 
fore during  its  passing  out  of  the  body,  such  portion  of 
the  active  substance  as  is  yet  within,  is  urging  and  dis- 
posing the  body  to  move,  in  like  manner  as  if  the  active 
sabstance  were  continuing  in  the  body  $  and  the  body 
being  thus  urged  io  move,  but  impeded  from  moving^ 
presses  or  impels  the  obstacle. 

^  We  see  here  (says  our  author)  an  obvious  explana- 
tion of  impulse  ^  it  consists  in  the  flowii^  of  the  motive 
substance  from  a  source  into  a  receptacle  ^^'  and  he 
tliittks,  that  although  the  existence  of  such  a  sabstance 
Imd  not  been  estabUsbed  on  any  previous  grounds,  the 
communication  of  motion  by  impulse  does  akme  afford 
a  sufficient  proof  of  its  reality. 

He  employs  the  agency  of  the  same  substance  to  ac* 
count  for  many  other  apparent  activities  in  bodies, 
ouch  as  those  of  ^re,  ehctricity^  attraction^  repuision^ 
eiastinty^  &C  All  the  apparent  origins  of  corporeal 
activity  server  he  says,  to  impart  the  active  substance 
to  bodies ;  **  and  where  activity  is  without  any  mamfest 
origin,  the  active  substance  is  derived  from  an  invisible 
source.^' 

Our  limits  will  not  permit  ns  to  attend  him  in  his 
solution  of  all  the  apparent  activities  in  hodies  j  bat  the 
orbicular  motions  of  the  planets  have  been  accounted  for 
in  so  many  different  ways  by  philosophers  ancijent  and 
modem,  and  «ach  account  Ims  been  so  little  satisfactory 
to  him  who  can  think,  and  wishes  to  trace  effects  from 
adequate  causes,  that  we  consider  it  as  our  duty  to  fur- 
nish our  readers  with  the  account  of  this  phenomenon 
which  is  given  by  Mr  Yduog. 

The  question  which  has  been  so  long  agitated, 
**  Whence  is  the  origin  of  motion  P^  our  author  con- 
'the  hea^  aiders  as  im^ying  an  absurdity.  '*  It  supposes  (says 
^  *••  he)  that  rest  was  the  primitive  state  of  matter,  and 
that  motion  was  produced  by  a  subsequent  act.  But 
this  supposition  must  ever  be  rejected,  as  it  is  ffiving 
firecedency  to  the  inferior,  and  inverting  the  order  of 
nature.^*  The  substance  which  he  holds  to  be  the 
basis  of  matter  is  essentially  active  ^  and  its  action  is 
motion.  This  motion,  however,  in  the  original  ele- 
ment, was  power,  without  direction,  agency  without 
order,  activity  to  no  end.  To  this  power  it  was  new 
oessary  that  a  Law  should  be  superadded)  that  its 
agency  should  be  guided  to  some  r^;ular  ptirpose,  and 
its  motion  conspire  to  the  production  of  some  uniform 
effects.  Our  author  shows^  or  endeavours  to  show, 
by  a  process  of  reasoning  w^ich  shall  be  examined  else- 
where, that  the  primary  atoms  of  nuttt^  are  produced, 
by  the  circular  motion  of  the  parts  of  this  substance 
round  a  centre  ^  and  that  a  similar  rootiod  of  a  num- 
ber of  these  atoms  around  another  centre  common  to 
them  all,  produces  what  in  common  language  is  called 
a  soiid  body;  a  cannon  ball|  for  instance,  the  terrestrial 
l^lohe,  and  the  body  of  the  sun^  &c.  In  a  word,  be 
labours  to  prove,  and  with  no  snudl  success,  that  a  prin- 
Vot.  XIV.  Part  11.  t  • 


ciple  of  union  is  implied  in  the  revolving  or  circulatmg   M'otioit. 
movements  of  the  active  substance. 

**  But  we  may  also  assume  (he  says)  ^  priori^  that  a* 
principle  of  union  is  a  general  law  of  nature  y  becanse- 
we  see  in  fact  all  the  component  parts  of  the  universe' 
are  united  systems,  which  successively  combine  into 
larger  unionfir,  and  ultimately  form  one  whole.^*  Let 
us  then  suppose  the  sun  with  all  his  planets,  primary 
and  secondary,  to  be  already  formed  for  the  purpose  of 
making  one  system,  and  the  orbits  of  all  of  them,  a»^ 
well  as  these  great  bodies  themselves,  to  be  pervaded 
by  the  active  substance,  which  necessariTy  exists  in  a 
state  of  motion,  and  is  the  cause  of  the  motion  of  every 
thing  corporeal.  **  If  to  this  motion  a  principle  of 
union  be  added,  the  effect  of  such  a  principle  would  be 
a  determination  of  all  the  parts  of  the  active  substance,- 
and  of  cotttse  all  the  bodies  to  which  it  is  united,  to- 
wards a  common  centre,  which  would  be  at  rest,  and 
void  of  any  tendency  in  any  direction.  But  this  deter- 
mination of  all  the  parts  of  the  system  towards  a  com- 
mon centre,  tends  to  the  destruction  both  of  the  motibn 
of  the  active  substance  and  of  the  system ;  for  should 
all  the  parts  continually  approximate  from  a  circuin-' 
ference  towards  a  centre,  the  sun  and  planets  would  at 
last  meet,  and  form  one  solid  and  quiescent  mass.  Eiut 
to  preserve  exastence,  and  consequently  motion,  is  the 
first  law  of  the  active  substance,  a»  of  all  being  ^  and 
it  cannot  be  doubted,  that  to  preserve  distinct  the  se- 
veral parts  of  the  solar  system,  is  the  first  law  given  to 
the  substance  actuating  that  system.  The  mnion  of -the 
system  is  a  subsequent  law. 

'♦  When  the  direct  tendency  of  any  inferior  law  is 
obriated  by  a  higher  law,  the  inferior  law  will  operate 
indirectly  in  the  manner  the  nearest  to.  its  direct  ten- 
dency that  the  superior  law  will  permit.  If  a  body  in 
motion  be  obliquely  obstructed,  it  will  mbve  on  in  a 
direction  oblique  to  its  first  motion.  Now  the-iaw  of 
onion,  which  pervades  the  solar  systemi  being  conti- 
nually obstructed  by  the  law  of  self-preservation, '  the 
motion  of  the  active  substance,  and  of  the  bodies  to 
which  it  is  united,  can  be  no  other  than  a  revolving  < 
motion  about  the  common  centre'  of  ap^ach,  towards 
which  all  the  parts  have  a  determination.  Biit  when 
this  revolution  has  actually  taken  place,  it  gives  birth 
to  a  new  tendency,  whicb  supersedes  the  operation  of 
the  law  of  self-preservation.  It  has  been  shown,  that 
the  motion  essential  to  the  active  substance,  required  to 
be  governed  by  some  law  to  give  being  to  an  orderly 
state  of  things.  Now,  there  are  motions  simple  and 
motions  complex  j  the  more  simple  is  in  all  things  first 
in  order,  and  out  of  the  more  simple  the  more  complex 
arises  in  order  posterior.  The  most  simple  motion  is 
rectilineal  j  therefore  a  rectilineal  motion  is  to  be  con- 
sidered as  that  which  is  the  original  and  natural  state 
of  thinfls,  and  consequently  that  to  which  aU  tAiugs 
tend.  It  wiU  follow  from  hence,  that  when  any  por- 
tion of  active  substance  in  which  the  iaw  ofttnion  ope- 
rates, has  in  the  manner  above  explained  bieen  com- 
pelled to  assume  a  revolving  motion,  that  is,  a  motioii 
in  some  curve ',  a  tendency  to  a  rectilineal  motion  will 
continnalfy  exist  in  every  part  of  the  revolving  por- 
tion, and  m  every  point  of  the  curve  which  it  describes 
during  its  revolution.  And  this  rectilineal  tendency 
will  be  a  tendency  to  recede  from  the  centre  in  eveifijr 

5M  point 


v.  -jfL — '  gent  to  the  orbit  at  ^i^iJIh  W»^  T)m^  twl^UMkblH 
qies  if  i^t  affig)q%%  e^i|i|l^g)iHl(  De^QiaAlJUi]^ii»  itt  cases 
ilKi^v.^  «t  ifft  eqiii^it]^.    £'91;  the  t^diMjr  tpnjWNb  th% 

qftf^foUf  c^^a^qg  W>  if  ^m  Wpp^d^  the  OMtimi  «^ 
fipachetf  xb^  ceatr^.  tk^  t^ndoiMni  ^1  re^^.  bovk  k^ 
cfL\U4  tj^e  fi€9itri&igq(  t^^tinj^  wilt  lyiv«  lAa  proyoilioiii 
tip^tti9  cetttrifi^tA*  <$P9l#ftl|aU)r  in^i^aAed.  a*  t&e  orjiiiof 
lfQTo](i;ttipii  grfXRs  l^s?,  a^  aa  uUimiite)y*(Q(  equal  tb«  ooon 
t|pifet4  t^i]4<^i¥y,  tt9¥l  B«i$ma  the  m^ti^at  fimfcitft  eei>« 
t|ra)(  cpYisse,  9^  wh¥)h  pwAt  it  will  «a  l/ooger  saek  tlw 
W^  bpli  ifiM<rfw  rw^  iV 

^  qijK  s^ui^Qi^'  h^s  tlmt  evety  atoaa  o£  naitt^  is 
t^xvf^  hy  t^  jEPfttifiDi  qC  pfats  of  tb9>acl^:vQ  sakftaooiv 
^  c^vefgTj  ly^]^  ^m^  hji  tih%  aiolioai  o£  atoms,  t  aa  het 
Q»iilWlJflf^  QAt  Qf^\f,  tiwti  lilW  siw^  SMoii,.  earthy  plaoals^ 
mA  ^Ifin*  ve^  PQn«^riK<l4  h^t  tj^  aaoia  flakit»iwe»  bo* 
tli^l^^  eswh  in  liie  Q«At»^  <i£  a«  iy«te3C:of  that  ftabhtonot^ 
anA  thfit:  o£  thfsft  Y^Qs»i  aoqn  i|re  iqcbid^di  widMi 
f|th9«a^.  **  Xh)».  spU)^  xi^dliiag.  fl^udt  tb^-  oantre.  of 
nhfif^vfVI^I^  th^'  c%ltfi  oconpioa^.  Qot  od1|^*  SfKroonda 
^  liMlc  9«lcT%^fr  the  Ci^ctbi.  «9d'  Qthec  vintiaes  their  aartbi^ 
^  1fttihf^c€intnift3  «4.thQeaj?th.aod.]4ejietBaw  byitftjA* 
il^)j|tion»<)imMi|rQi|iMliOibtbaisowaaxe0^^  Theaacth 
i«L  ail.  a^tjfW  iiyup»^  aoAaUci^  eompoliNit  maaeee  a«a  8»^ 
^MQHaW-af^if^ls  ^  <i«|I^aQly,  iaafitins )  ttvt  tbeeartb 
and  m  ito.  ]mrt9  ha^ift  varioaA  colleotiFa  and  sepanta 
«plWAefi(f ».  iiaf!»Fted  from,  tba^  fluids  which  aorrDttods, 
MP|Vf^«^«»4iCftn8titilff^it<.  Being  iounened  toj^ber 
with  its  proper  suiroonding^  sphrre  orToiteA  10  the 
llirgBi}  ^phen^  oi>  vwnfi;^  of:  the  soiii  it  is  cacried!  thereby 
ip.%,M0er.  oijhjt  ahPMtf  the.  sup^  at:  the  same  timetfan^ 
bjfrthQ  reyolntioniof  ii«  pr^er  apban  it  rotates,  on  its 

Saok  i^;  the  most  qomidete  niew*  whieb  oor  limits 
wiU,  petTiiit.  na  to.  giTo  ofi  Mr  Youni^s  theory  of  moto 
tion^  To  th(!  phiIoeo|dlQe  who.  osBsidera.  expeimea* 
eftiCne  onl^test-ctf  tmtli^  aad  wboJn  all.  hia  ioqfuiieo 
eKbploya  hia.  h^ndsj  moca  thaiii  hia.  head,  we .  are  fully 
awane^  that:  1%  will*  apfKan  in.  na  better,  light  than  as 
'*  the)  ba^fiiM  fahnQ.og  a.mion*?'  £veB  to  the  inteU 
lectnaL  philo9eph«rrwha.ia»aDtfiighteaed  at  the  word 
Wflaph^mfiSyyi^iKKk^hmA.  tfaateachianaotavesobstaace 
a^  the.  anthor  Qfnitepida  tofa^  will  appear:  aa.  inadequate 
to  .the,  pnodMCtion  .of.  thai  phenoaiaQa.  of  giMutatieni  and 
rapnldm  a^-.  the  material:  aether,  of  Mr  Jonea  anik  has 
felloMTSk.  A.heing  void  of  iateUigeneei  whether  it  be 
roatevilLac  immateriaJ^  qnieaoentformottre^  eannotibe 
the.  aul^ec^  of  law^  in  the  peeper «  sopae  ef  >  the.  wovdi 


ObjCGUMU 

to  thtt 
tbcorjr. 


Bf    O    T 

iot  iqgefaile  the  mdkionaef  the  ae- 
tixe  sidMUinaei  M  whstMee  itsdf  maQr  he  thoi^t^— y«i^ 
si»perAoe«S9  and  ilsi  ^lesy  iprintawe  be  dcaie^  Eadh 
nfi9k  mn^  nwM^dipaifdA  irfeyaie  nooamiiate^  is  a  tole  ei 
uhiloavphtfiing  wbidk  e«ery  mas  eC  sciiHiee  acknow* 
k4g«)  to.  be  jqat.  And  ilk  wiH  hardly  be  denied  that 
the  innnediale  a«d  pespetnal  agency  ef  an  iatettigent 
bet09  ^P^*  ^^  Joae^  etharia^  &it^.  or  eaca  open  the 
matter^  of  solid>  bediaa  theaBBelflree^  wenhbheca^sbhi-ef 
pKodneiag  evcay  kind  of  motion  without  the  iastiw* 
meataliliy  of  a»  asbataaoe  which,  is  neithes  mind  ntr 
mattea. 

Such),  ma  conossae^.  aae  the  ehjeetians>  whicjb  one 
metaph^iaali  readeqi>  may  nmkeita  thia  theoc^u    Pait 
of  their  force,  however,  wtlL  perhaps,  be  atowiKd  hjt 
the  iltgesiem  amoaec  aa  wliioh  oma  auihms  analyzes 
mattea  into  an  immslnBial  pnneipb^    Bne  ap  roaeti  oE 
it  remains,,  thai  the  writes  ef  thia  astide'  ift  indamd'  t» 
Is liaini  llmf  an  mrnhmiirsl  Mmnnli  rsn  hsi  risnn  efths) 
motioas.o^  the-  heavenly  bodies,  1^  gnawtbef .planU^ 
ani  muBimm.  other  phenomena  whichi  ase  nsnaUfr  solatth     » 
by  attraction  and  repulsion.    In.  the  present  age^  phi^?^'^ 
lesopfaeDaia  general  aae-fltrangelyasBsrse  fssm^adimitlaifr^ 
on  any  ocoaaisaithe'  agsmnr  of  mind;  yet. as  e^nry  eS-t^i 
fiact  must  have  a  canse^  it  is  sorebf  not  irraticmal  to  at^d. 
tcibttte  SBch'  effects  as  mechanism  cannot  prodnec  to 
the  opeoation  either  dk  intelligence  or  instinct.    T^ 
snppoaa  the  Bbity  the  immediate  agent  in  the  pnst. 
motions,  of  the*  amwesse^  baa  bee»  deemed  impnms  v 
and  it  most  be  confessed  that  very  impioas  condasionai 
havet  beam  dedaoed^frem  that  priheiplo.     But  them  is 
aureliy  nq  im|iiely  in  sapfiosiag,  with  the  eaodlent  bi^ 
shop,  off  Cioyne,  that  the  fluids  which  is  knewii  to- 
pervade  thesolar  systeai,  aad  toopeiate  with  icsistissSi 
fores,  may  be  animated.'  by  a.  pewerfiil  mind,  whiehi 
nets,  instinctively  for  ends,  o^  wbicb  itssi£  haowa  no»« 
thing*     For  the  emstenee  of  such  a  mind^  no^  othsr 
essdenoe^  indeed;  ean  be  baooght  thanwbat  isiafford^ 
ed  by  a  very  ancient  and  very  general^  taadition,  wmb 
hy  the  impoMihility  of  acconating  far  the  phenomena 
upon  prinoip1ea.of  mere  meobanisaw     Pfrhapa'eomeof 
one  moee  pipos  .veadera  may  be  indined*  ta«  think  thafe 
theSupreaie  Being-  has^  oemnsitted  the  immediata  gs- 
usmmentofi  the  varioas  planetary- systems  te*  posiiiM 
tVi/ei/j^ncr^,  oc>akoexs,  who^  as  bistmtfttsteas»  dirsot 
theis  motions  with.wisdbm>  and^  fbresidit%      8adi  am 
opiaioni  is  cevtaihIy>not>  abBur^>in« itself;  and  itsaosm* 
toi  bo/ooantenaneed  by  «a  aneieBt  writer  *;  who,  theaghs  Asi  m 
not  known  by  th&  name  of  a  phtlesopher,  knssr.  m> 
waeh'of  the-  matter  as-  any  fenader  of  thsk  most  ct^ 


q£  which .  l)fr  Young  speaksj  as  necesssry  to    brateck^schooli 
regulate  the  nmtionsiof  thei  actiWi  snbstaneey  mustr  be        Td*objeot  to  either  of  these*  hrpothesesy  ae-bas  bm' 
niece  firoPM^  applied:  by  seam  exitriasie*  and.  snperiee    sometissea  deney  that'  i^  represents*  the  gevemmem  of 

thewei4d:^as  a  prrpstaalimicael^  betmye  the  gffossffti 

ignoranee  V  fbr  we  might  as*  well  enU  the  Bsoveassnlr 
(%tbe  bodies- o#  men-  and  bcnttet  wImA  are  oevteialy 
predacedl  by*miods^  rairaenleasv  W^  d4'  not'  aflbsa 
that)  either  •  hypothesis*  is^  oeHain1y*tnie  -,  bnl'they  am 


imner.  And  siace.  ^  motion,  asiiti  ia«^iiaiWia/ to>  the 
aqtivA  snbstanoei  la  pomeir  wtlheoti  dkeetioni  ngency 
witbonttoniUsv  activi^iteino.end ;  siiioe  itiis  of  sucb^a 
nainrei.  thatrfimm  Its  ungnided.  agttatiena 'thare<  coold 
r«sult;neithwrConnaetioBy  orders  noaihamnonyr;'*  it-foU 

lews^.  that  ..those  eiatriasie  feeossN  must  be*  p9rpeUmik/i  bothf  aa*  pFobablo'  and  assatisflMory 'asr  tlte^lmiathsmi' 

ai^plied^.because  whati  is  emmtikl  teany  snbsUnce  can  whioh^attr»butee<  agenoyte attraet4o» and npafciee,  to 

never^be  destroyed  oc  chained/ seaioag4M>thecsaSbtonce  »  sabttle  aeterv  ov^toa  substance  ^wMch  is  neilheriaisi' 

itself  remains.  nev  matter.     Were*  th^  immediate  ageney«  of*  i^leUtct* 

Rkrees  pasdliuog  ordtnoot  of-oonfaoienf  can  be>api'  te  > be'  admitted,  tlitere  wodd-  be  •  no.  reem*ier'  ma^  <A 

pUedionly/byia^bdngipsssessediof inteilifscHei)  andiif  thosoi dispvtes^ whkh  have^beena^taled<a«zengphi> 

the^  immediate  and  perpetual  agency  of  an  intelligent  losophers,  about  the  increase  or  *'^  "      *       ''      "^ 


'M    O    T 


[    43*9    ] 


MOT 


»tioa. 


21 


Merr> 


m  tbf  tmiverte ;  because  an  iirt^geift  ngtmt,  t^rdi 
covtd  begin  mMt<m  as  well  aft  carry  it  oA,  might  in- 
creafle  Of  diftmiish  it  as  be  sbotrMI  j(!nlge  prtvjier*  It  ht- 
stiDctive  agency,  or  sotnetbitig  simifat  Yo  it,  be  ade]A- 
ed,  ^re  is  tbe  same  room  for  iavestigation  as  tspon 
the  principles  of  tkietbafiism ;  because  institttt  works 
blindly,  accodling  to  Steady  laws  imposed  by  a  sftrperior 
mind,  wUcb  nAiy  be  disco^rcd  by  cbservation  of  their 
effects.  As  i^e  consider  tbis  as  by  mticb  the  ndrost  pro- 
liable  hypotbesiB  of  tbe  two,  we  Bad  ooMlves  ifivolved 
q^  10  tbe  roHowing  question :  **  If  a  certain  quantity  t>f 
Wlie-  motion  was  originally  commtmicated  to  the  matter  of 
^  the  universe,  bow  Comes  it  to  pass  that  tbe  original 
JJI^^jfqoatfttty  still  temaitis?**  CotisideriAg  the  ttiany  op- 
sin postte  and  totitradictory  motions  which  since  the  crea- 
rorid  tion  bate  taketi  place  in  die  uniTerse,  and  which  bare 
^^^■andoubtediy  'destroyed  a  great  part  of  the  original 
^  quantity,  by  what  means  bas  that  quantity  been  re« 
stored? 

If  this  question  can  be  soUed  by  natural  means,  it 
must  be  upon  tbe  princi|iles  of  NeWton ;  for,  **  in  every 
^'  case*  ivbere  quantities  and  rebitions  df  quantities  ai« 
required,  it  i^  tbe  province  of  mathematics  to  supply 
the  informatitm  sought ;  '*  and  all  philoso|>be]^  agree 
that  Sir  Isaac*8  doctrine  of  tbe  comiKtoltion  and  reso- 
lution of  tnotion,  though  in  what  respects  tbe  heaven- 
ly bodies  it  may  have  no  physical  reality,  is  so  rnathe- 
maticallyJQAt,  as  t6  be  the.  only  principle  from  which 
tbe  quantity  of  motion,  or  the  force  of  powers,  can 
ia  any  case  be  compottd.  If -we  cboote  td  answer  the 
questibn,  by  saying  that  tbe  motion  left  is  restdted  by 
the  interpofition  of  the  Detty,  then  we  might  as  wefl 
have  had  recourse  td  falm  at  first,  and  say  that  be  litdtte 
is  tbe  tme  principle  of  mdtldn  tbroughont  the  crea- 
2     tion. 

larte-  Befdte  w«e  are  reduced  to  thift  dflemnAfe,  however, 
ud  it  is  necessary,  in  tlie  first  place,  to  bqnife  whether 
there  is  or  can  be  any  real  diminutidn  of  tbe  qnaiitity 
of  motion  throughout  tbe  universe  ?  In  this  questinn 
the  Cartesians  take  the  negative  sid^  $  add  riiainlain, 
ihtit  tbe  Creator  at  the  beginning  impressed  a  certain 
qoantity  of  motion  on  bodies,  and  that  under  such 
laws  as  that  no  part  of  it  should  be  bst,  but  the  same 
portion  of  motitm  should  be  constantly  preserved  tii 
ffiatter :  and  hence  they  conclude,  that  it  any  mdvlng 
body  strike  dh  any  other  body,  tbe  fdrmer  loses  no 
ninre  of  its  motion  than  it  comnninicates  to  tbe  latter, 
Bh-  Isaac  Newton  takes  the  Contrary  Side,  and  argnes 
toa  in  the  followiikt  rtawtcr ;  "  Rom  the  various  com- 
pAsitions  of  two  motions,  it  Is  msinifest  there  is  not  aU 
trays  the  same  qn^tity  df  motion  in  the  world  j  for  it 
two  balls,  jdined  together  by  a  slender  wire,  revdf^e 
nitb  an  nnrform  motion  about  their  Cotnnlofl  centte 
of  gravity,  and  at  the  same  tibie  thitt  Centre  be  carried 
uniformly  in  a  right  line  drawn  in  the  plane  of  their 
circular  motion,  the  sum  df  the  motions  df  tbe  tWd 
bafls,  as  often  as  they  are  in  a  right  Kne,  drawn  frdm 
their  common  centre  of  gravity,  will  be  grestef  tb^n 
the  sum  <^  tfaelr  mdtions  when  they  ate  in  a  line  pef- 
pendicnlar  td  that  other.  Whence  it  a^afS,  that 
motion  may  be  both  generated  and  lost.  Bik  bv  reii- 
son  of  tbe  tenacity  of  fluid  bodies,  and  the  frietioti  of 
fheir  parts,  witi^  the  weakness  of  the  elastic  power  in 
solid  bodies,  nature*  seems  to  incline  mneh  rather^  to 
the  destruction  than  tbe  production  of  motion  ^  and 


in  reaKty,  motion  becomes  eohWfttiifly  leSs  and  lefts.—  Itftiiioii. 
For  bodies  Which  arc  tMtfft  so  perfectly  bfcrd  or  so^— *v— ^ 
soft  as  to  have  no  elastic  power,  will  tfot  rebound  from 
each  other  *,  their  impenetrability  Will  drtly  stop  Wieir 
motidn.  And  if  two  such  ^odie^  e^n&l  to  one  ano- 
ther be  carried  with  equal  but  opposite  motions.  So 
as  to  meet  in  a  void  space,  by  tbe  laws  of  motion  they 
must  stop  in  tbe  very  |kiace  df  concourse,  lose  all  their 
motion,  and  be  at  rest  for  ever,  unless  they  have  kn  elas- 
tic power  to  give  tbeM  a  new  diotinn.  IT  tbey  have 
elasticity -enough  to  make  them  rebound  with  one-fourth, 
one-balf;  or  three-feurths,  of  tbe  force  they  meet  With, 
tbey  will  lose  three -fdUiths,  one-half,  or  one-fourth,  df 
their  motion^  And  tbiSi  Is  Cdnfirmed  by  e^tperiments : 
for  if  two  eonal  nendulums  be  let  fall  from  equal  heights, 
BO  as  to  strike  inll  npon  each  other  ^  if  those  |iendnTuMs 
be  of  lead  or  soft  clAy,  tbey  will  lose  ftU,  or  almost  all, 
their  motion  ^  and  if  tbey  be  of  any  elastic  matter,  they 
wiH  only  retain  so  much  motidn  as  they  receive  froin 
their  elastic  power.** 

Motion,  therefore,  being  thus,  ih  the  opinion  of  our 
celebrated  author,  tost^  or  absolutely  destroyed,  it  is  ne- 
cessary to  find  some  Cause  by  which  it  ifiay  be  renewed. 
Such  renovation  Sir  Isaac  attributes  to  active  princi- 
ples ;  for  instance,  «*  tbfe  cause  of  ^faviiy.  Whereby  the 
jilanets  and  conAets  preserve  their  motions  In  their  or- 
bits, and  all  bddtes  acquire  a  great  degree  df  motion 
in  falling  ^  and  the  cause  of  fermentation,  whereby  tbe 
heart  and  blood  of  animals  preserve  a  perpetual  Waribtli 
and  motidn,  tbe  inner  parts  of  the  eattb  lire  kept  per- 
petually warmed;  many  bodies  bum  and  shine,  and 
the  sun  bttn^elf  burhs  and  shines,  and  With  his  light 
^arms  and  chedrS  all  things.** 

Elasticity  is  anothef  canse  of  tbe  innovation  of  mo- 
tion mentioned  bv  Sir  Isaac.  ^  We  find  but  litde  mo- 
tion in  tbe  world  (flaVs  be),  except  what  plainly  ftows 
either  from  these  active  principles,  or  from  the  cdhi- 
mand  of  tbe  Wilier.**  a4 

With  i^gard  td  the  deJitructton  or  positive  loss  df  No  power 
motidn,  however,  We  mdW  observe,  that  notwithstand-^^""^^®" 
ing  the  authority  df  Sir  Isaic  Newton,  it  is  altogether  JJ*^^*' 
impossible  that  any  such  thing  can  happen.  All  mov- 
ing bodies  Which  jcdttie  under  tbe  cognizance  df  otfr 
senses  are  merely  passive,  and  acted  upon  by  some- 
thing which  We  call  peiiveri  or  Jlutds,  and  which  ar& 
to  us  totally  invisible,  Motidn,  therefore,  cannot  be 
lost  withotft  a  dedtrudtion  dr  diminution  of  ode  of^ 
these  powers,  wbicb  We  have  no  reason  to  think  can 
ever  baprpea.  When  tWo  pendulums  rusti  agaihst  eacb 
dther,  the  motidn  is  tbe  mere  effect  df  the  action  of 
gravity )  and  thilt  action,  wbicb  in  this  case  iiS  the 
petiJ&r,  Continued  to  be  tlie  very  same  whether  the  ben- 
dnlnm'moVlfs  dr' mdves  ndt.  *  Could  motion,  therefore, 
be  exhausted  in  this  case,  we  niiist  suppose,  that  by  se- 
Jiarating  tWo  pedddlums  to  tbe  satme  distance  from  each 
other,  and  then  letting  them  come  together  for  a  great 
number  of  times,  they  would  at  lait  meet  witb  less 
force  than  before.  But  there  is  certainly  net  the  least 
Ibdndatidn  fdr  this  supposition ;  and  ^o  rational  person 
wilt  t:ike  it  fntd  bis  headj  that  supposing  the  whole 
human  race  hsid  eniployed  thentselves  in  nothing  else 
from  the  creation  to  uie  present  day,  bi»t  separating 
^'ndufnms  and  letting  them  stop  each  otber*s  motion, 
they  would  now  come  together  witb  less  force  than 
they  did  at  first.    Power,  therefore,  which  is  tbe  cause 

3  M  2  of 


MOT  [    460 

Motien.  of  motiou,  is  absolutely  indestructible.  Powers  may 
indeed  counteract  one  aaothery  or  they  may  be  made 
to  counteract  themselves  j  but  the  moment  that  the 
obstacle  is  removed,  they  show  themselves  in  their  pris- 
tine vigour,  without  the  least  symptom  of  abatement  or 
decay. 

Whetheri  therefore,  we  reckon  the  ultimate  source 
of  motion  to  be  spiritual  or  material,  it  is  plain  that  it 
must  be  to  our  conceptions  inpnite ;  neither  will  the 
phenomena  of  nature  allow  us  to  give  any  other  ex- 
planation than  we  have  done :  for  no  power  whatever 
can  lose  more  than  its  own  quantity  ;  and  it  seems  ab- 
surd to  think  that  the  Deity  would  create  the  world 
in  such  a  manner  that  it  would  ultimately  become  im- 
moveable, and  then  have  recourse  to  unknown  prin- 
ciples to  remedy  the  supposed  defect.  On  the  prin- 
ciple we  have  now  just  laid  down,  however,  the  mat- 
ter becomes  exceedingly  plain  and  obvious.  The  Crea- 
tor at  first  formed  two  opposite  powers,  the  action  of 
which  is  vai'ied  according  to  the  circumstances  of  the 
bodies  upon  whidi  they  act  \  and  these  circumstances 
are  again  varied  by  the  action  of  the  powers  themselves 
in  innumerable  ways  upon  one  another,  and  the  ap- 
proach of  one  body  to  another,  or  their  receding  to 
a  greater  distance.  Where  these  powers  happen  to 
oppose  each  other  directly,  the  body  on  which  they 
act  is  at  rest  \  when  they  act  obliquely,  it  moves  in 
the  diagonal  \  or  if  the  force  acting  upon  one  side  is 
by  any  means  lessened,  the  body  certainly  must  move 
towards  that  side,  as  is  evident  from  the  case  of  the 
atmosphere,  the  pressure  of  which,  when  removed  from 
one  side  of  a  body,  will  make  it  nkove  very  violently 
towards  that  side  \  and  if  we  could  continually  keep 
off  the  pressure  in  this  manner,  the  motion  would  as- 
suredly be  perpetuaL  We  must  not  imagine  that  mo- 
tion is  destroyed  because  it  is  counteracted;  for  it  is  im- 
possible to  destroy  motion  by  any  means  but  removing 
the  cause  \  counteracting  tiie  effect  is  onlj  a  tempo- 
rary obstacle,  and  must  cease  whenever  the  obstacle  is 
removed.  Nature,  therefore,  having  in  itself  an  infl' 
nite  quantity  of  motion,  produces  greater  or  lesser  mo- 
tions, according  to  the  vai*ious  action  of  the  moving 
powers  upon  different  bodies  or  upon  one  another, 
without  a  possibility  of  the  general  stock  being  either 
augmented  or  diminished,  unless  one  of  the  moving 
powers  was  to  be  withdrawn  by  the  Creator  y  in  which 
case,  the  other  would  destroj  the  whole  system  in  an 
The  nature  instant.  As  to  the  nature  of  these  great  original 
of  the  mov-  powers,  we  must  confess  ourselves  totally  ignorant  \ 
in^  powers  jj^,.  Jq  ^g  perceive  any  data  from  which  the.  nature 
uu  Down.  ^^  them  can  be  investigated.  The  elements  pf  light, 
air,  &c.  are  the  agents  \  but  in  what  manner  they  act, 
or  in  what  manner  they  received  their  action,  can  be 
known  only  to  the  Creator. 

Perpetuai  Mono  if ^  in  Mecfuimcs^  a  motiop  which  is 
supplied  and  renewed  from  itself,  without  the  interven- 
tion of  any  external  cause';  or  it  is  an  uninterrupted 
communication  of  the  same  degree  of  motion  from  one 
part  of  matter  to  another,  in  a  circle  or.  other  curve  re- 
*  turning  into  itself,  so  that  the  same  momjentum  still  re- 
turns undiminished  upon  the  first  mover. 

The  celebrated  problem  of  a  perpetual  motion  con- 
sists in  the  inventing  a  machine,  which  has  the  prin- 
ciple of  its  motion  within  itself.    M.  de  la  Hire  has  de- 


»5 


]  MOT 

moDstrated  the  impossibility  of  any  such  machine,  and 
finds  that  it  amounts  to  this,  viz*  to  find  a  body 
is  both  heavier  and  lighter  at  the  same  time,  or  to  find 
a  body  which  is  heavier  than  itself. 

Animal  Motion^  that  which  is  perforoaedl  by  animals 
at  the  command  of  the  mind  or  will. 

Though  all  the  motions  of  animals,^  whether  volon- 
tary  or  involuntary,  are  performed  by  means  of  the 
muscles  and  nerves,  yet  neither  these  nor  the  sobtile 
fluid  which  resides  in  them  are  to  be  accounted  the  ul- 
timate sources  of  animal  motion.  They  depend  entire- 
ly upon  the  mind  for  those  motions  which  are  properij 
to  be  accounted  animai.  All  the  involuntary  motioos, 
such  as  those  of  the  blood,  the  heart,  nrascles,  ofgim 
subservient  to  respiration  and  digestion*  &c«  are  to  be 
classed  with  those  of  vegetables ;  for  though  no  vege- 
tables have  them  in  such  perfection  as  animals,  tkm 
are  yet  traces  of  them  to  be  found  evidently  among  fc- 
getables,  and  that  so  remarkable,  that  some  have  ima- 
gined the  animal  and  vegetable  kinedonaa  to  appraach 
each  other  so  nearly  that  they  could  scarce  he  distin- 
guished by  a  philosophic  eye.     See  Muscle. 

Though  the  motions  of  animals,  however,  depend  on 
the  action  of  the  mind  or  of  the  will,  external  objects 
seem  originally  to  have  the  command  of  the  mind  itself  ^ 
for  unless  an  animal  perceive  something,  it  will  not  be 
inclined  to  act.  By  means  of  the  ideas  oDoe  received, 
indeed,  and  retained  in  the  memory,  it  acquires  a  self- 
movicg  power,  independent  of  any  object  present  at  the 
time,  which  is  not  the  case  with  vegetables  \  for  how- 
ever they  nuiy  act  fi:om  a  present  impulse,  their  motions 
never  appear  to  be  derived  from  any  source  which  maj 
not  be  accoimted  strictly  mechanical. 

According  to  some,  motion  is  the  cause  of  smaation 
itself  \  and  indeed  it  seems  very  probable  that  the  na- 
tions of  that  subtle  fluid,  called  Hght  or  deetridty^  in 
our  bodies  always  accompany  our  sensations  ;  but  whe- 
ther these  lie  the  cofw^ ,  or  only  the  medium^  of  seme, 
cannot  be  discovered* 

Though  all  animals  are  endowed  with  a  power  of  vo- 
luntary motion,  yet  there  is  a  very  great  variety  in  the 
degrees  of  that  power  \  to  determine  which  no  oertaia 
rules  can  assigned  \  neither  can  we,  from  the  ntna- 
tion  and  manner  of  life  of  animals,  derive  any  probable 
reason  why  the  motion  of  one  should  differ  so  very  mock 
from  that  of  another.  This  difference  does  not  arise 
from  their  size,  their  ferocity,  their  timidity,  nor  aaj 
other  property  that  we  can  iniagine.  The  elephant, 
though  the  strongest  land  animal,  is  by  do  means  the 
slowest  in  its  motions  \  the  horse  is  much  swifter  than 
the  bull,  though  there  is  not  much  difference  in  their 
size  \  a  greyhound  is  much  swifter  than  a  cat,  tboogk 
the  former  be  much  larger,  and  though  both  live  in  the 
same  manner,  viz.  by  hunting.  Among  insects  the 
same  unaccountable  diversity  is  observable*  The  loue 
and  flea  are  both  vermine,  are  both  nearly  of  the  aaaK 
size,  and  both  feed  on  the  bodies  of  animals }  yet  there 
is  no  comparison  between  the  swiftness  of  their  motions: 
while  t|ie  bag»  which  is  much  larger  than  either,  aeeais 
jtb  have  a  kind  of  medium  swiftness  between  botk*^ 
This  very  remarkable  circumstance  seems  not  even  ta 
•depend  on  the  range  which  animals  are  obliged  to  take 
in  order  to  procure  food  for  themselves :  the  motiMi 
of  a  snail  is  slower  than  that  of  an  earth  worm }  while 

that 


J 


MOT  [46 

Sf otioa.  ^*^  ^f  muij  cftterpiUars  ia  much  quicker  than  either  j 
though  we  can  acwrce  detennine  which  of  the  three  has 
the  greatest  or  the  least  extensive  range  for  its  food. 

Of  all  animals  the  shell  fish  move  the  slowest,  inso- 
innch  that  some  have  supposed  them  to  be  entirely  de- 
stitute of  locomotive  powers  ^  and  muscles  particular- 
ly are  denied  to  have  any  faculty  of  this  kind.  Every 
«ne  knows  that  these  animals  can  open  and  shut  their 
shells  at  pleasure^  and  it  cannot  escape  observation,  that 
in  every  muscle  there  is  a  fleshy  protuberance  of  a  much 
redder  colour  than  the  rest.  This  has  been  thought 
to  be  a  tongue  or  proboscis,  by  which  the  animal  takes 
in  its  food  ^  but  is  in  reality  the  instrument  of  its  mo- 
tion lirom  place  to  place.  l!nis  protuberance  is  divided 
into  two  lobes,  which  perform  the  office  of  feet.  When 
the  river  mnscle  is  inclined  to  remove  from  its  station, 
it  opens  its  shells,  thrusts  out  this  protuberance,  and 
digs  a  furrow  in  the  sand ;  and  into  this  furrow,  by  the 
action  of  the  same  protuberance,  the  shell  is  made  to 
&11  in  a  veirtical  position.  It  is  recovered  out  of  this 
into  the  former  horizontal  one,  by  pushing  back  the 
sand  with  the  same  tentacula,  lengthening  the  furrow, 
and  thus  the  animal  continues  its  journey  by  a  conti- 
nual turning  topsy-turvy.— -Marine  muscles  perform 
their  motions  in  the  same  manner,  and  by  similar  in- 
struments. In  general  they  are  firmly  attached  to  rocks 
or  small  stones  by  threads  about  two  inches  long,  which 
are  spun  from  a  glutinous  substance  in  the  protuberances 
already  mentioned. 

Other  animals  which  inhabit  bivalved  shells,  per- 
form their  motions  by  a  kind  of  leg  or  foot ;  which, 
however,  they  can  alter  into  almost  any  figure  they 
please.  By  means  of  this  leg  they  can  not  only  sink 
into  the  mod,  or  rise  out  of  it  at  pleasure,  bnt  can 
even  leap  from  the  place  where  they  are ;  and  this  cau 
be  done  by  the  limpit,  which  people  are  apt  to  ima- 
gine one  of  the  most  sluggish  animals  in  nature.^^-When 
this  creature  is  about  to  make  a  spring,  it  sets  its  shell 
on  edge,  as  if  to  diminish  friction  ^  then,  stretching 
out  the  leg  as  far  as  possible,  it  makes  it  embrace  a 
portion  of  the  shell,  and  by  a  sudden  movement,  simi- 
lar to  that  of  a  spring  let  loose,  it  strikes  the  earth 
with  its  leg,  and  actually  leaps  to  a  considerable  dis- 
tance. 

The  spout,  or  razor-fish,  is  said  to  be  incapable  of 
moving  forward  horizontally  on  the  surface  ^  but  it 
digs  a  hole  sometimes  two  feet  deep  in  the  sand,  in 
which  it  can  ascend  or  descend  at  pleasure.  The  leg, 
by  which  it  performs  all  its  movements,  is  fleshy,  cy- 
lindrical, and  pretty  long  \  and  the  animal  can  at  plea- 
sure make  it  assume  the  form  of  a  ball.  When  lying 
on  the  surface  of  the  sand,  and  about  to  sink  into  it, 
the  leg  is  extended  from  the  inferior  end  of  the  shell, 
and  makes  the  extremity  of  it  take  on  the  form  of  a 
shovel,  sharp  on  each  side,  and  terminating  in  a  point. 
With  this  instrument  the  animal  maken  a  hole  in  the 
sand  \  a(Ur  which  it  advances  the  leg  still  farther  into 
it,  makes  it  assume  the  form  of  a  hook,  and  with  this, 
as  a  fulcrum,  it  obliges  the  shell  to  descend  into  the 
bole.  This  operation  is  continued  until  the  whole 
shell  be  covered  ^  and  when  the  animal  wishes  to  re- 
gain the  surface,  it  makes  the  extremity  of  the  leg  to 
assume  the  form  of  a  ball,  and  makes  an  eflbrt  to  ex- 
tend it.  The  ball,  however,  prevents  any  farther  de- 
scent, and  the  reaction  of  the  muscular  effort  raises  up 


I     ]  MOT 

the  whole  shell,  which  operation  is  continued  until  it  Mdtioii. 
reaches  the  surface  j  and  it  is  surprising  with  what  fiici-  '■  '■  ^  ' 
lity  these  motions  are  accomplished  by  an  animal  seem- 
ingly so  little  qualified  to  move  at  all.  Another  parti- 
cularity in  this  fish  is,  that  though  it  lives  among  salt 
water,  it  abhors  salt  so  much,  that  when  a  little  is  thrown 
into  its  hole  it  instantly  leaves  it.  But  it  is  still  more 
remarkable,  that  if  you  once  take  hold  of  the  spout-fish, 
and  then  allow  it  to  retire  into  its  hole,  it  cannot  then 
be  driven  oat  by  salt  j  though  unless  it  be  taken  hold 
of  by  the  hand,  the  application  of  salt  will  make  it  come 
to  the  surfiice  as  often  as  you  please. 

All  other  shell  fish,  even  those  apparently  the  most 
sluggish  and  destitute  of  any  apparatus  for  motion,  ara 
found  to  be  furnished  with  such  instruments  as  enable 
them  to  perform  all  those  movements  for  which  they 
have  any  occasion.  Thus  the  scallop,  a  well-known 
animal  inhabiting  a  bivalved  shell,  can  both  swim  .up- 
on the  surface  of  water  and  move  upon  land.  When 
it  happens  to  be  deserted  by  the  tide,  it  opens  its  shell 
to  the  full  extent,  and  shutting  it  again  with  a  sudden 
jerk,  the  reaction  of  the  ground  gives  such  an  impulse 
to  the  whole,  that  it  sometimes  springs  five  or  six 
inches  from  the  ground ;  and  by  a  continued  repeti- 
tion of  this  action,  it  gradually  tumbles  forward  until 
it  regains  the  water.  Its  method  of  sailing  is  still 
more  curious.  Having  attained  the  surface  of  the 
water  by  means  unknown  to  us,  it  opens  the  shell, 
and  puts  one-half  above  water,  the  other  with  the  body 
of  the  animal  in  it  remaining  below.  Great  numbers 
of  them  are  thus  frequently  seen  sailing  in  company 
with  their  shells  sticking  up  above  water  when  the 
weather  is  fine,  and  the  wind  acting  upon  them  as  sails  j 
but  on  the  least  alarm  they  instantly  shut  their  shells, 
and  all  sink  to  the  bottom  together. 

The  oyster  has  generally  been  supposed  nne  of  the 
most  sluggish  animals  in  nature,  and  totally  incapable 
of  voluntary  motion ;  but  from  the  researches  of  the 
Abb^  Dicquemarre,  this  opinion  seems  to  be  errone- 
ous. The  oyster,  like  many  other  bivalved  shell-fish, 
has  a  power  of  squirting  water  out  from  its  body  ^ 
and  this  property  may  easily  be  observed  by  putting 
some  of  them  into  a  plate  with  as  moch  sea  water  as 
will  cover  them.  The  water  is  ejected  with  so  much 
force,  as  not  only  to  repel  the  approach  of  ordinary 
enemies,  but  to  move  the  whole  animal  backwards  or 
sidewise,  in  a  direction  contrary  to  that  in  which  the 
water  was  ejected.  It  has  been  also  suppose^^  that 
oysters  are  destitute  of  sensation  ^  but  M.  Dicquemari'e 
has  shown^  that  they  not  only  possess  sensation,  but 
that  they  are  capable  of  deriving  knowledge  from  ex- 
perience. When  removed  from  such  places  as  are  en- 
tirely covered  with  the  sea,  when  destitute  of  expe- 
rience, they  open  their  shells  and  die  in  a  few  days  j 
but  if  they  happen  to  escape  this  danger,  and  the  wa- 
ter covers  them  again,  they  will  not  fopen  their  shells 
again,  but  keep  them  shut,  as  if  warned  by  experience 
to  avoid  a  danger  similar  to  what  they  formerly  under- 
went. 

The  motions  of  the  sea>urchin  are  perhaps  more  cu- 
rious and  complicated  than  those  of  any  other  animal. 
It  inhabits  a  beautiful  multivalved  shell,  divided  into 
triangular  compartments,  and  covered  with  great  num- 
bers of  prickles ;  from  which  last  circumstance  it  re- 
ceives the  name  of  sea  wxhzn  or  sea  hedgehog.    The 

triangles 


M    4)    T 


I    4^3     1 


M    <5   -T 


MvtioA.  ^ariMgles  are  separated  from  one  anotlier  by  regular 
'  belte,  and  perfGcated  by  a  great  mimber  of  boles,  from 
every  one  of  ^n^iiph  issues  a  fleshy  horn  similar  to  thai 
ef  a  snatl,  and  capable  -of  moving  in  a  similar  manner* 
Tbe  principal  B«e  of  these  boms  seems  to  be  to  £x  the 
animal  to  roeks  or  stones,  though  it  likewise  makes 
tise  of  them  in  its  progressrvc  motion.  By  means'of 
these  horns  and  prickles,  it  is  enabled  to  walk  either 
on  its  back  or  its  belly  ^  bat  it  most  commonly  makes 
«S€  of  those  wbicli  are  near  tbe  mouth.  Occasional4y 
it  has  a  progressive  motion  by  torning  ronnd  like  a 
wheel. 

The  animals  called  sea-mettles  or  iHedttstty  though  ex- 
tremely s1o%v  in  their  motions,  are  nevertheless  ertdently 
capable  of  moving  at  pleasure  from  place  to  place.  The 
variety  of  their  figure  is  such,  that  it  is  difficult  to  assign 
them  any  detenmnate  figure  whatever.  In'  general', 
however,  they  resemble  a  truncated  cone,  the  base  of 
which  is  applied  to  the  rock  to  which  they  adhere. 
Their  colours  are  various,  whitish,  brown,  red  or  green- 
ish :  the  mouth  is  very  Urge  *,  and  when  opened  appears 
surrounded  With  filaments  resembling  the  horns  of  snails, 
which  being  disposed  in  three  rows  around  it,  give 
the  animal  the  appearance  of  a  flower ;  and  through 
every  one  of  these  the  animal  has  the  power  of  squirting 
the  sea  water.  Tbe  structure  of  these  animals  is  ex- 
tremely singular  5  tliey  consisting  all  of  one  organ,  vii. 
a  stomach.  When  searching  for  food,  they  extend 
their  filaments,  and  quickly  entangle  t^ny  small  ani* 
mals  that  qome  within  their  reach.  The  prey  is  instant- 
ly swallowed,  and  the  month  shot  close  upon  it  like  a 
purse  ;  in  which  state  it  remains  fin:  many  days  befi)re 
the  nutritive  parts  are  extract£fd.  The  animal,  though 
scarcely  an  inch  or  an  inch  and  d  half  in  diameter,  is 
nevertheless  so  dilatable,  that  it  can  swallow  large 
whelks  and  muscles,  the  sliells  of  which  are  thrown  out 
by  tbe  mouth  after  the  nutritive  partr  have  been  ex- 
hansted.  Sometimes  the  shell  is  too  large  to  be  voided 
this  way ;  in  which  case  the  body  of  the  animal  splits, 
and  the  shell  is  voided  through  the  opening,  which  in  a 
shqrt  tim^  heals  up  again.  The  progressive  motion  of 
this  creature  is  so  slow,  ^ that  it  resembles  that  of  the 
hour  hand  of  a  clock,  and  is  performed  by  means  of  in- 
numerable muscles  placed  on  th^  outside  of  the  body. 
Ail  these  are  tubular,,  and  filled  with  a  fluid,  which 
raak^s  them  project  like  prickles.  On  occasion  it  can 
likewise  loosen  the  base  of  the  cone  from  tbe  rock,  and 
inverting  its  body?  move  by  means  of  the  filaments  al- 
res^dy  mentioned,  which  surronnd  tbe  mouth  ;  but  even 
the  motion  performed  in  this  manner  is  alniost  as  slow 
as  the  other. 

Some  animals  are  capable  of  moving  backwards^  ap- 
parently with  the  same  fapiUty  that  they  do  forwards, 
and  that  by  means  of  tbe  same  instruments  which  move 
them  foi-ward.  Tbe  common  bouse  fly  exhibits  an 
instance  of  this,  and  frequently  employs  this  retrograde 
moUon  in  Us  ordinary  courses  >  though  we  cannot 
know  the  reason  of  its  employing  such  an.extraordinaiy 
method.  Another  remarkable  instance  i«  given  hv  Mr 
Smellie  in  the  fmason-bee.  Iliis  is  one  of^the  soutary 
species,  and.  has  it3  n^me  from  the  mode  of  constructing 
its  nest  with  mud  or  mortar.  Externally  this  nest  has 
no  regular  appearance,  but  at  first  sight  is  taken  for  a 
quaistity  of  dirt  adhering  to  the  waQ  5  though  tbe  inter- 
nal part  be  fiirnished  with  cells  in  the  same  regular 

2 


manner  ^nth  the  nests  of  other'  insects  of  the  bee  kind,  iifltim' 
Wlien  this  bee  leaves  its  nest,  another  freqoetitljr' 
takes  possession  of  it ;  in  which  case  a  battle  never  faiU 
to  ensue  on  the  return  ef  the  real  proprietor.  The 
dispute  is  decided  in  tbe  air ;  and  each  party  endesi- 
vonrs  to  get  above  the  other,  as  birds  of  prey  are  wont 
to  do  in  order  to  give  a  downward  blow.  The  ander- 
most  one,  to  avoid  the  strbke,  instead  of  flyiog  forward 
or  latemily,  always  flies  backward.  The  encounter  a 
90  violent,  that  when  they  strike,  both  parties  fall  to  the 
ground. 

Vegciahh  Motion.  Though  vegetables  have  not  tbe 
power  of  moving  from  one  place  to  another  like  animal^ 
thfcy  are  nevertheless  capable  of  moving  their  diSSereat 
parts  in  such  a  manner  as  would  lead  us  to  suspect  that 
they  are  actuated  by  a  sort  of  instinct.  Hence  many 
have  been  induced  to  suppose,  that  the  animal  and  ve- 
getable kingdoms  arc  in  a  manner  indistinguishable  frsm 
one  another  \  and  that  the  highest  degree  of  vegetable 
life  can  hardly  be  known  from  the  lowest  degree  of  ani- 
mal life.  The  essential  and  insuperable  distinclion  bow- 
ever  between  the  two,  is  the  facalty  of  sensation,  and 
loco-motion  in  consequence  of  it.  Were  it  not,  indeed, 
fiir  the  manifestation  of  sense  by  moving  from  one  place 
to  another,  we  should  not  be  able  to  tell  whether  vege- 
tables were  possessed  of  sensation  or  not  ^  but  whatever 
motions  they  may  be  possesscfd  of,  it  is  certain  that  no 
vegetable  has  the  faculty  of  moving  from  one  place  to 
another^  Some  have  endeavoured  to  di^^titiguisb  tbe  two 

:  kingdoms  by  the  digestion  of  food )  alleging  that  plants 
have  no  proper  organs,  such  as  a  stomach,  See.  for  tak- 
ing in  and  digesting  their  aliment.     But  tc  rhis  it  has 

'  been  replied,  that  the  whole  body  of  a  vegetable  is  a 
stomach,  and  absorbs  its  food  at  every  pore.  Hiis, 
however,  seems  not  to  be  a  sufficient  answer.  All  ani- 
mals take  in  their  fi>od  at  intervals,  and  there  is  not  a 
single  instance  of  one  which  eats  perpetually.  Tbe 
food  is  also  taken  into  the  body  of  the  animal,  and 
application  of  the  parts  made  by  means  of  the  rntemal 
organization  of  the  viscus  \  but  iu  vegetables,  tbeir 
whole  bodies  ai-e  immersed  in  their  food,  and  absorb 
it  by  the  surface,  as  animal  bodies  will  sometimes  ab- 
sorb liquids  when  put  into  them.  The  roots  of  a  tree 
indeed  will  change  tbeir  direction  when  they  meet  with 
a  stone,  and  will  turn  from  barren  into  fertile  ground ) 
but  this  is  evidently  mere  mechanism,  without  any 
proof  of  will  or  sensation  ^  for  the  nourishment  of  tht 
root  comes  not  from  the  stone,  but  from  tbe  earth 
around  it;  and  the  increase  in  size  is  not  owing 
to  any  expansion  of  the  matter  which  the  root  already 
contains,  but  to  the  apposition  of  new  matter ;  whence 
the  increase  of  size  must  always  take  place  in  the  di- 
rection from  whence  tbe  nourishment  proceeds.  Ob 
this  principle  also  we  may  explain  the  reason  wby  the 
roots  bf  a  tree,  after  having  arrived  at  the  edge  of<a 
ditch,  instead  of  shooting  out  into  tbe  air,  win  creep 
down  the  one  side,  along  tbe  bottom,  and  op  the 
other. 

In  their  other  movements  the  vegetables  discover  00- 
thins  like  sensation  or  design.  They  will  indeed  oai- 
forroly  beiid  towards  light,  or  towards  water ;  but  ia 
the  one  case  we  must  attribute  the  phenomenon  to  tk 
action  of  the  elements  of  light  and  air  upon  then; 
and  in  the  latter,  the  property  seems  to  be  the  mm*  i 

with  what  in  other  cases  .we  call  attraction.    Thus,  if 

a 


MOT 


•  mtbfttnniDvem^  and  ■  imt  apoags  fhaed  nvmr  it 
a*  iintdam  4iff(BS«it  fnoi  tlnit  k  wlliok  the  rotot 
prMncdnigv  it  will  awn  alter  ite  pesitimiy  and 
tuni  tommtds.  uie  s^ange  ^  otmL  tfans  «e  uu^  vavj  tW 
^seeCM  of  tlw  not  a»  oltt»  aa  ««  pfeaae.  The  ef<* 
fbrto  f£  a  pbiyt  tai  twa.  foaM  daidsntwor  aliada  iota  saow 
ahiaeare  nny  Mnafkiibb  v  as*  ia  oadtv  t»  aocompiiBb 
this,  0ot  onlijr  tbe  lea«ea  will  he  inclipoedv  bat  e^an  iha 
steni  aaMk  bcanohes;  twiitsili  Wbeii  a  viet  flfUMgu^  ia 
ktU  inAtr  tiia  kmras.  aia^tuse,  Ibtfp  beadi  (lawi»  ii» 
•nier  ta  to«tli  k*  H  a.  teaael  o£l  walaa  be  ptt  iMm$ 
til  iaakaa  of  9  gmming  ctucuniiiei^  im  hm  Uum  24* 
boES  tiia  tottev  inlb  altiio  ita-  divaadm*  $  dMt  kiMnobeai 
will  bead  towards  tbe  w&ter,  and  never  alidr'  tMm 
caanm  nnvS  thmf  CQMa  ii»  odRtawt  witb  it*  The-  meat 
MDorkabla  kutiuiee  of  tkia  \anA  of  aaotbuv  haaraver^ 
[bj  tbat  ii4an'  a-pola  is  fanoght  near  w  vine,  tfae  kitbr* 
aQlt  two  towavda  k,  and'  nevar  oeaae  eatilandiiig  it9 
imatbas  tiU-it  fasys  boU  of  tifae'suppart. 

The-  modofu  of  Ike  saiitkivo  pboit^  a«d  odKn  of 
the Mnw kind,  kwm  baen  ooaaidared  as varywoariea- 
&it'^  but  it  is  doabtfu^  i^  »aj  «f  tbem  be*  raally  mora* 
90-  thaa'  tlmt  of  Hia  vine  ju«t  ttientioaadi     Nona  of 
dies»sbi»a  mrtf  kind  a£  propoaaky  to  mava  widioat  ao- 
actaii  toaoh;    A  vayy  sliglit  ona,-  indeed^  makiea-  tiia' 
sMMlifa  pkme  oaatawal,  ainb  tba  t«4iaie  branehv  togvf- 
thor  witbeliie  leMnes^  bandtdawn  tovMi^dtf  tlie  eaTth*--^ 
Tkestf  pbenoiiieti»aiia  by  aame  aaoribed'  to  eleetvicity. 
Even  tiia  mationsof  the  hnifmtmmi  frfrar»^  wbieb  at 
fiiatsig^t  seemaa  modf  mor^  saepiMng  tban*  theae  ot 
the  senmtivo  plant,  mwy,.  it  is  snppOBod^  admit  of  ex^ 
planation  upon   the  same  prinoiple;     Tbe-  Ataaenc$ti^ 
jkxit  called  dmrum  musc^UOf  op  Fcmts^s  Jiy-trapf  is 
aaotbpT  example  of  very  wondetM-  meeliamein  in  v^ 
getabks,  though  even  thiff-  doea  not*  alf;ue*ai»f  ^^fP^^^ 
of  sennatfion  in  this'  plant  nlaiM  tiian  iirotfaenr;     The- 
Itei^;«8  of  the  dioneea  are*  jointed)  and*  iViniislied  ivvtb' 
tW'Towti  of  prioyesi    A^  niimber'  of  nmill  glands  iiponr- 
the  mnikte'  secrete  &•  sweet-  juioe  whicb^  enUces  ^es^to- 
come  and  settle  upa»  it ;  but  tfaie  mommt  these  insecta' 
toneh  tbe  iktal  spot^  the-  leaivea  fold  up,  anda^iueeze 
thera  to  death  between^tlM  pribklesj.    Tife  lemte^'fold 
up  in  thesame mannev w^ieif'tbe plant  is  tkiliah«dNt<4th' 
a-stMWor  pin.     Tbe  dromra  rotum^tfoita  and  lot^ 
JMi^  round  and  kisg'-Iea^d- sundew,  plants  of  oui<oWtli 
cfmnnrfi  net  nncemmon'in  ba^^igfoiind^  possess' tf^si^ 
milar  setneture,  andparfbrm  similar  fiinetimisi' 

Tbe  ibldln^upof  the  !eai!«aof  oertfoin  phuitv  Intb^' 
abseaeeof  tlM  saa*»' light,  okUedUheir '  «^7^'  alfbitte* 
another  veryi€Si»iens>  insthnee  of  vegetdlhl^  mtrtiOMr^^ 
A4tnoH  all  veg««HblM^  ind^d;  undergo'  8ticb>a<rettArlt-' 
"sMe  cbatige  in*  th^  it*^f  thttt  if  is  'difflettlt>  tO^kriO^ 


[    463    3  MOT 

thasa  tbeviiicaaai^  iBnotluri%  Mmmm^  asd  the  Sgyp-   Msdb* 
liaB^  vetoh*  All>  tliesa  aae  eMcted  daring  ^Sk&  KgliV  ;•  bit 
those  o£  tbe  while  lup^M^  ia.  time  of  sie^^  Kmn^  dowiiL 

The  flowers  of  plants  also  have  arotiblis  peevIhiF  tb 
tiieiaseivea*'  Bforay  of  them  dunng  the  nigiht  aM  en- 
eloied  in  their  <iii}fx€Bi  Same^  ptotieakaly  dlooe  of 
thv  €Sentiaar  spurge,  gataftitM/  strtatnuri  ind  eaimmnt 
whitlow  grass^  ^faen  asheep^  bend'  towards  the  eavtk^ 
l^'vtfhich  ndeans  the  naifffoua*  effects  o#  vmn  ov  dew  aV9 
previonted.  All  these  motioifB  hAKre  hwni*  oonnnoDiy 
asofltbed  to  tbo  flMi'»  lUjid  -y  a«d  Mr  Sm^Hie  inibrflrti  tm 
that  m  soMa  of  the  emnnples-  dbove  nientiooed(  thi»  eP 
feats  wenr  etFidently  to'  be  asoribedf  td^  hetfl :  but  pkinlif 
k^  ky  A  hut^hcmsav  t»h«f«(  the  tempeihlugo>  of  tfae^ 
day  and  night  m^  aiitcev  oontraet  iJheir  leawefif<  ^d  sleeps 
io  tbe  sBMiB*  matnier  ic»  if-  tUey'^miw  Exposed  t6  the  opcnT 
air  'y  ^^  whence  it  appeiM  (saiys'be)V  thlit  thv  sibep'of 
plants,  is  oivhig  Mthet  t6  a»  petuttnr  laiy^*'  thanf  to'  » 
quicker  ov slewer  iHM^oa^of  the^  jufets.'^  He  autpdctw;* 
tiiepefore^  that  ntf  the  tkub^p  of  ptants  i6>  n'bt  dwiiff  tty 
the-  mtitt  aibsonce  of  h^,-  it  may  be  o<k9aBioimd<  by^  ther 
wwrt  of  light  V  and  to-  «oMain  tHis  hi)  pmpmBn  an^ 
experiment  of  chnmhijg  u^^du  th^m  A'0tef6Ag .^xMcAiJb 
light*.  «<  If  netwithMttndittj^.  tfaia  light  (si^h^)^.  ttmf 
pla«ts  are  not  ^buae^^  btit'  contilwib  to'slM^asr  uMit]y« 
then  itmtty>  be  pneswuedthM  tiieir  otfgMiB;  lilM  thosiE' 
oi  aiiimals,v  tfi^  net*  only  irfttitble,  but'  reiqii^:  tbt^r^^- 
paration  of  some  invigomCing  influeaifb  wbioh'  tH^ 
bttve  lost  while  awttke;  by  thid  neitactolA  of  t4ir  ail*  ahd 
of  tfaeeui^srays^  by  th«  ai5t  of  gtw^tig,- <fi:  by  MAcf 
other  latent-  cause/*  Oh*  tfair^  SMTev^  ^^/^ tuu^^if^' 
maHo,  that  tiie  throwing  of*  artiB«i««I^JiglH  upon  jAnftB' 
cannot  be  attbnded' with  the  same  oiiMBeqiibllciis  a«'tli»r 
of  the  light  of  the  stm,  ttttlee»  thr  firnnir  ^^ne  isfi 
strong  as-  tb&  latter;  whicH*  ia*  impdstfibte  ;•  And<  oi^en* 
gmntitig  that  we  cmfld'<  ptocure  an  airtifksial  light  lUf 
stMmtf  as  that  of  the  ^oti,  a-  ^fl^risno^  might  be^ot^fML* 
sieaied^by  the  difl^i^l'dtrfeN^on*  of  die^  rfiy|^  thbdeof 
tbe  fPtm  being' vctty  nealty  ^mttdlcri,  ^Mle  the-i^ys  6F 
M  aitificttti  light'  div^ygi^  vtry  gtfeatl^.  11^  th«rMbr6, 
we  ape  to  msdtfe  an  elfpoi^nHduf  of  tbis^  kihd^-  tlie  i^*> 
shedd'  be  rendieMd  pMr^lel'  by  meaM^  of  a  bUMltig 
mrrron  Kkt^  again  w^  \touk|:  be^  iif5^|iW<Bd  ifl^  a'  dtffi- 
ctsltyt;  ^^^  ^^^  rays  tff  tH^  stmprMe^^'  all  iiAompdi-* 
reettoft,  but  atf  o(^  ifM^^tity^  we  mttW  emploV^difi^MMr 
minrors  in  ouv  e.i0pet1merftv  tlftf  IlgUt  mttM^fm  upon^the- 
planrin  dlfiefenttdi^ecttton^^  sd^tbtf^  w«r  om\An»V  t^ah 
sMbbly  expect' the  same' i4e$teH  a9  wbefF  tl^  flHtOM*  ai^ 
dii^ctly  exposedUo  tlf^'rays  of  tli«  fimr*  - 

The  motion  of  plants,  not  being  dcducible'  dtmi 
sentlltion^  a9inanimki«i  ifmsttHe  fltse^htd'tethiit^piSD- 
pfefrty*  calkd^tVHtoM^  ;-  sMd  this-prUp«ny  ispotito^ed'- 


exactly  how  many^kindt^  do  really  sleep.     Tfci^fbld-iipL    imMitliiy  by  thv  pat%»^  of^  anirMrtt  itf^a  gfeb't^'  de|^e 


theip  leaves  inmarfy^diflbi^nt  way»;  hot-  all'  a^^n^' in- 
disposing of  them*iH'Su«h  a^mamiet  as't0«flbpd  thcbtsf 
proleetiow  tO' thv  yout^QT  stbm^,  fl&wef  buds  Oi*  fiuif^- 
The  l^«veB>  of  tfa^  tttmiffmd>  tree-  contlrHcr  round'  the^ 
3r««mg  {ruk4B  ordertl^ pieteot  irfrom^  noctomali  osldy 
^nd'tihose  of  senna^  glyvinav  add  many  other^  papHiMftJ^ 
^^^oaaphmts,  di^>ese  of  theitltav^san'the  same-  m^ti^ 
^itt^    Thelesves^ofthtf'chiekweedf  asetepifts'attiplp^) 
<^e.  are  disposed  itf*opposite  pairss    In  the 'night  tim^' 
^\ffj  rise  perpemKcerhHrly,  and  jem  *  so'  d^se'at  the  t(yp= 
^hat'the  flivters^are  concealedby  them.     Ih  like  mati-* 
detbt  leaves  pfofetet' die  fibtittt^  of  Uto'fidfr  ot^  a)^ 


thrni  eveuf  by  tb^  ntfOM^  itrltahte  VfegetMt.     l?be*  ntHs' 
cttlaf  fibW9S  will:(MitriM^oifrtlie  appM»tttion>of  f«ny  sti^- 
nfohtting*  stbttiinee,  evetf>ftft»r*thfey'aM  det«tbt'd^ftMi« 
th»  body  to  ithleb^they'  bel^mgdd.    T^  l^art  of  tf^Mg' 
vMl  oUntintt^  tb  beHt^fhcte^prmk^d  itith  a  pb  for<  mtt^- 
rtd  hotart'  vlSUst  it^is  Ukeii  cmr  of  the  body.     The  \mm*^^ 
of  a^  viptr,  or  of  a  tbrtte;^  htmi  distinctly  from'  26tb  • 
34af'hdtfr8  afl«r  tb^e'deskth  of  thene  linimalsi    Wh^n  the 
iiitbstines  of  a  dog,  ot^'  afvy  olfa^  qiiadrtipied,'  are  sud- 
d^ly^cat  ifft<]^diffifrrMit'pbitioM,.alli  of  ihttik  cntwl  a^- 
bout  like  worms,  and  contract  upon  the  slightest  touch; 
THO' hies^t^  iiftestined^  a^d  diaphragm^  m^  the  most 

irritable 


MOT 


t    46+    ] 


MOT 


BfolMft.  irritable  parU  of  animal  bodies  f  and  to  discover  whe- 
ther this  quality  resides  in  all  plantSy  experiments  should 
be  made  chiefly  on  leaves,  flowers^  bods,  and  the  ten- 
der fibres  of  the  roots. 

The  motions  of  plants  are  universally  ascribed  by 
'  our  author  to  irritabUity^  to  which  also  we  have  ascribed 
them  under  the  article  AlflMAL.  The  term,  however, 
requires  an  explanation  ;  and  to  give  this  in  an  intelli- 
gible manner  requires  some  attention.  The  most  ob- 
vious comparison  is  that  of  an  electrified  thread  \  which 
on  the  approach  of  any  unelectrified  substance,  shows  a 
Variety  of  motions,  equally  surprising  with  those  of  the 
parts  of  plants  or  the  muscular  fibres  cut  out  of  the 
body*  Could  we  suppose  that  the  electricity  of  a  thread 
might  be  preserved  after  it  was  cut  off  from  the  electri- 
fying substance,  it  would  show  as  much  irritability  as. 
even  the  muscular  fibres,  or  portions  of  the  intestines  of 
animals*  We  know,  firom  the  history  of  the  torpedo, 
electrical  eel,  &c.  that  there  are  animals  in  which  the 
electric  fluid  acts  in  such  a  manner  as  to  produce  a  much 
more  powerful  effect  than  that  of  giving  motion  to  the 
leaves  of  plants.  The  readiness,  therefore,  with  which 
this  fluid  is. thrown  into  agitations  when  any  substance 
in  which  it  acts  is  touched,  is  without  doubt  the  irrita- 
bility in  question  \  bat  we  have  from  thence  no  more 
reason  to  ascribe  sensation  to  these  irritable  bodies,  than 
to  an  electrified  bottle  when  it  discharges  itself,  or 
makes  a  cork  ball  play  round  it* 

In  a  paper  read  before  the  Academy  of  Sciences  at 
Paris,  by  M.  Broussonet,  the  author  inclines  to  con- 
found irritability  and  sensibility  together.  The  dif- 
ferent parts  of  plants  (says  he)  enjoy  the  faculty  of 
motion )  but  the  motions  of  a  vegetable  are  very  diffe- 
rent in  their  mature  from  those  of  an  animal :  the  most 
sensible,  those  that  are  produced  with  most  rapidity  in 
plants,  are  always  influenced  by  some  stimulating  cause* 
Irritability,  which  is  nothing  but  sensibility  made  ma- 
nifest by  motion,  is  a  general  law  to  which  nature  has 
subjected  all  living  bemgs;  and  it  is  this  that  conti- 
nually watches  over  their  preservation.  Being  more 
powerful  in  animals  than  in  plants,  it  amy  be  often 
confounded  in  these  last  with  phenomena  that  depend 
on  a  quite  different  cause.  In  the  vegetable  it  is  only 
the  organ  which  is  exposed  to  the  action  of  the  stimu- 
lating power  that  moves.  Irritation  ia  particular  pla- 
ces never  produces  that  prompt  combination  of  sensa- 
tions which  we  observe  in  animals  ^  in  consequence  of 
which  certain  parts  are  put  in  motion  without  being 
<  directly  affected,  and  which  otherwise  might  have  been 
ppissive* 

'^^XbejQore  perfect  the  (Hrganization  in  the  differ- 
est^paits  of  animals  is,  the  more  apparent  are  the  signs 
of  irritability.  The  parts  that  come  nearest  to  those 
of  vegetables,  «nd  in  which  of  consequence  the  organi- 
zation is  roost  imperfect,  are  the  least  irritable*  The 
same  law  holds  with  re^^ard  to  plants  ^  but  the  result 
is  opposite :  the  signs  of  irritability  are  most  sensible  in  * 
proportion  to  the  analogy  of  the  parts  with  those  of 
animals  \  and  they  are  imperceptible  in  those  that  are 
dissimilar*  This  assertion  is  proved  by  what  we  observe 
in  the  organs  destined  in  vegetables  to  perpetuate  the 
species*  Those  parts  alone  seem  sensible  to  stimuli  \ 
the  bark,  leaves,  stalks,  and  roots  showing  no  signs  of 
irritability. 

^^  Xhc  motions  essentially  vital,  which  have  in  plants 

X 


the  greatest  affinity  with  those  of  animaW,  are  the 
of  the  sap,  the  passage  of  the  air  tn  the  tradica,  the 
different  positions  which  the  flowers  of  certain  plants 
take  at  certain  hours  of  the  day,  &t^  But  if  we  attend 
to  the  manner  in  which  all  these  motions  in  plants  are 
performed,  we  shall  £nd  that  they  present  a  greater 
number  of  modifications  than  the  analogous  motioos 
that  take  place  in  animals.  The  temperature  of  the 
atmosphere,  its  aritation,  light,  &c.  have  great  iafln> 
ence  on  the  motions  of  plants,  by  accelerating  or  re- 
tarding the  course  of  their  fluids  j  and,  as  they  can- 
not change  their  place,  these  variations  produce  ia 
them  changes  UMNre  obvious  and  more  uniforro  than  ia 
animals*'^ 

Our  author  now  proceeds  to  inform  us,  that  some  of 
the  motions  of  plants  are  occasioned  by  the  rarity  of 
the  juices  in  plants,  and  others  by  tboir  abandanee. 
Of  the  former  kind  are  those  by  which  the  capsoles  of 
some  plants  suddenly  burst  with  a  springs  and  throw 
their  seeds  to  some  distance.  Of  the  other  kind  are 
the  action  of  the  stamina  in  the  parietaria^  the  inflec- 
tion of  the  peduncles  of  flowers,  and  of  the  pistiHa* 
**  Those  motions  (says  he)  which  are  particidwrly  ob- 
served in  the  organs  destined  to  the  reproduction  of 
the  individual,  not  appearing  except  in  cireumotaaccs 
that  render  them  absolutely  necessary,  seem  in  sose 
measure  to  be  the  effect  of  a  particular  combination : 
they  are,  however,  merely  mechanical  ^  for  they  are 
always  produced  in  the  same  way  and  in  the  same  cir- 
cumstances. Thus  the  rose  of  Jericho,  and  the  dry  finit 
of  several  species  of  mesemhryfMthemum^  do  not  opoi 
but  when  their  vessels  are  full  of  water. 

'*  The  sudden  disengagement  of  fluids  produces  a 
kind  of  motion.     To  this  cause  we  must  attribate  a 
great  number  of  phenomena  observable  in  the  lea?cs 
of  several  plants,  and  which  do  not  depend  on  irrita- 
bility.    The  small  glands  in  each  leaf  of  the  dwtun 
are  no  sooner  punctured  by  an  insect,  that  it  instantly 
folds  up  and  seizes  the  animal :  the  puncture  seems  to 
operate  a  disengagement  of  the  fluid  which  kept  the 
leaf  expanded  by  filling  its  vessels*     This  explanatisa 
is  the  more  probable,  that  in  the  early  state  of  the 
vegetation  of  this  plant,  when  the  small   glands  are 
hardly  evolved,  and  when  probably  the  jnit^es  do  not 
run  in  suflicient  abundance,  the  leaves  are  folded  op 
exactly  as  they  appear  when  punctured  by  an  insect  at 
a  moro  advanced  period*     We  observe  a  pheaomenoB 
similar  to  this  in  both  species  of  the  dSrosrra  (son-dew), 
mentioned  above.     The  mechanism  here  is  very  easily 
observable :  the  leaves  are  at  first  folded  up  ^  the  joices 
aro  not  yet  propelled  into  the  fine  hairs  with  which 
they  are  covered ;  but  after  they  aro  expanded,  the 
prosence  of  the  fluid  ia  manifest  by  a  drop  seen  at  the 
extremity  of  each  hair:  it  is  by  absorbing  this  fluid  that 
an  insect  empties  the  vessels  of  the  leaf,  which  then  folds 
up,  and  resumes  its  first  state :  the  promptitude  of  the 
action  is  proportioned  to  the  number  of  hairs  toodied 
by  the  insect.     This  motion  in  some  degree  resembles 
that  which  takes  place  in  the  limb  of  an  animal  k^ 
in  a  state  of  flexion  by  a  tumor  in  the  joint  \  when  the 
matter  which  obstructed  the  motion  is  discbai^^^  the 
limb  instantly  rosuraes  its  former  position.    Tlic  phe- 
nomena that  depend  on  the  abundance  of  fluids  are 
particularly  evident  in  plants  which  grow  it^  wfti  soiii  i 
the  drosera  and  aitmaa  are  of  thia  kind :  and  it  is  kaowa 


MOT  {46s 

hj  the  experiments  of  Mess.  Du  Fay  Mid  Dn  Hamel, 
that  sensitive  plants  are  particularly  sensible  when  the 
sun  is  obscured  by  clouds  and  the  air  warm  and  ioooist. 
The  influence  of  external  causes  sometimes  so  modifies 
the  vital  motions  in  plants,  that  we  would  be  tempted 
to  ascribe  them  to  volition,  like  those  that  depend  en- 
tirely on  that  faculty  in  animals.  If  we  set  a  pole  in 
the  ground  near  a  twining  plant,  it  always  lays  hold  of 
the  pole  for  support,  in  whatever  place  we  put  it.  The 
same  thing  occurs  in  the  tendrils  of  the  vine)  which 
always  attach  themselves  to  the  support  presented  them, 
00  whatever  side  it  may  be  placed,  provided  they  can 
reach  it:  bnt  these  motions  are  entirely  vital:  the 
twining  plants  and  the  tendrils  direct  themselves  to 
every  quarter,  and  consequently  cannot  fail  of  meet* 
iBg  with  the  bodies  within  their  reach.  These  mo- 
tions are  performed  as  long  as  the  parts  continue  to 
grow  'y  but  when  they  cease  to  elongate,  if  they  have 
Dot  been  able  to  reach  any  body  on  which  they  can  fix, 
they  bend  back  upon  themselves.  This  and  other  ob- 
servations show  how  far  the  vital  motions  in  plants  may 
be  modified  by  external  causes,  and  how  essentially 
they  differ  from  those  that  are  the  effect  of  volition 
in  animals. 

^  Some  plants  appear  endowed  with  no  sort  of  mo- 
tion: some  have  leaves  that  can  move  in  different  di- 
rections :  their  motions  are  generally  modified  by  dif- 
ferent causes  -p  but  none  appear  so  eminently  possessed 
of  this  quality  as  the  hedysarum  gyrans  o^  Linnaeus.—- 
No  part  of  this  plaut  shows  any  signs  of  irritability  upon 
application  of  stimuli :  and  the  motion  of  its  foliola 
ceases  when  the  leafets  are  agitated  by  the  wind.— 
When  the  sun  is  warm,  the  little  leaves  of  the  hedy- 
sarum are  also  immoveable  \  but  when  the  weather  is 
ivarm  and  moist,  or  when  it  rains,  they  move  very 
freely.  This  motion  seems  indispensably  necessary  to 
the  plant  \  for  it  begins  as  soon  as  the  first  leaves  un- 
fold, and  continues  even  during  the  night  ^  but  in 
time  it  grows  weaker.  In  our  stoves  it  is  most  consi- 
derable during  the  first  year  1  in  the  second,  it  is  not 
very  sensible :  in  its  native  place  all  the  leaves  have  a 
motion  never  observed  here.  The  moving  ]eafets>  are 
most  agitated  while  the  plants  are  in  full  flower,  and 
the  process  of  fructificatiou  goes  on.  The  oscillatory 
motion  is  so  natural  to  it,  that  it  not  only  remains  for 
three  or  four  days  in  the  leafets  of  a  branch  that  has 
been  cut  off  and  put  in  water,  but  is  even  continued 
though  the  branch  be  exposed  to  the  air.  The  leaves 
seem  to  perform  the  office  of  the  heart  in  vegetables. 
When  a  plant  is  stripped  of  its  leaves,  the  progress  of 
vegetation  is  arrested  \  and  such  vegetables  resemble 
those  animals  which  have  a  periodical  sleep,  induced  by 
a  diminution  of -the  action  of  the  heart.  Many  plants 
hardly  show  any  signs  of  motion;  many  seem  also  whol- 
ly cataleptic ;  which  is  rarely  if  ever  found  in  animals. 
The  footstalks  of  the  flowers  of  dracocephalum,  a  Vir- 
ginian plant,  preserve  themselves  in  whatever  position 
they  are  placed. 

iltiscular  Motion.    See  Muscle. 

MOTIVK,  is  sometimes  applied  to  that  faculty  of 
tlie  human  mind,  by  which  we  pursue  good  and  avoid 
eviL  Thus  Hobbes  distinguishes  the  faculties  of  the 
mind  into  two  sorts,  the  cognitive  and  motive. 

MOTOUALIS,  a  small  nation  of  Syria,  inhabiting 
Co  the  east  of  the  country  of  tlie  Drusks,  in  the  valley 

Vol.  XIV.  Part  U.  ♦ 


] 


MOT 


which  separates  their  mountains  from  those  of  Damas*  Motousils 
cus  \  of  which  the  following  account  is  given  by  Vol- 
ney  in  his  Travels,  vol.  ii. 

The  characteristic  distinction  between  them  and  the 
other  inhabitants  of  Syria  (says  our  author)  is,  that 
they,  like  the  Persians,  are  01  the  sect  of  Ali,  while 
all  the  Turks  follow  that  of  Omar  or  Moaouia.  This 
distinction,  occasioned  by  the  schism  which  in  the 
36th  year  of  the  Hegira  arose  among  the  Arabs,  re- 
specting  the  successors  of  Mahomet,  is  the  cause  of  an 
irreconcilable  hatred  between  the  two  parties.  The 
sectaries  of  Omar,  who  consider  themselves  as  the  only 
orthodox,  assume  the  title  of  SonniUs^  which  has  that 
signification,  and  term  their  adversaries  Shutes^  that  is 
**  sectaries  of  Ali."  The  word  Motouali  has  the  same 
meaning  in  the  dialect  of  Syria.  The  followers  of 
Ali,  dissatisfied  with  thb  name,  substitute  that  of  Adlia^ 
which  means  /'  assertors  of  justice,^'  literally  *'  Justi- 
ciarians:"  a  denomination  which,  they  have  assumed 
in  consequence  of  a  doctrinal  point  they  advance  in 
opposition  to  the  Sonnite  faith.  A  small  Arabic  trea- 
tise, entitled  Theological  Fragments,  concerning  the 
Sects  and  Religions  j)f  the  World,  has  the  following 
passage : 

**  These  sectaries  who  pretend  that  God  acts  only 
on  principles  of  justice,  conformable  to  human  reason^ 
are  called  Adlia  or  Ju^ttctartans*  God  cannot  (say 
they)  command  an  impracticable  worship,  nor  ordaia 
impossible  actions,  nor  enjoin  men  to  perform  what  is 
beyond  their  ability  ^  but  wherever  he  requires  obedi- 
ence, will  bestow  the  power  to  obey.  He  removes  the 
cause  of  evil,  he  allows  us  to  reason,  and  imposes  only 
what  is  easy,  not  what  is  difficult )  he  makes  no  man 
responsible  for  the  actions  of  another,  nor  punishes 
him  for  that  in  which  he  has  no  part  ^  he  imputes  not 
as  a  crime  what  himself  has  created  in  man  *,  nor  doe^ 
he  require  him  to  avoid  what  destiny  has  decreed.-— 
This  would  he  injustice  and  tyranny,  of  which  God 
is  incapable,  from  the  perfection  of  his  being."  To 
this  doctrine,  which  diametrically  opposes  the  system 
of  the  Sonnites,  the  Motoualis  add  certain  ceremonies 
which  increase  their  mutual  aversion.  They  curse 
Omar  and  Moaouia  as  rebels  and  usurpers  ^  and  cele- 
brate Ali  and  Hosain  as  saints  and  martyrs.  They 
begin  their  ablutions  at  the  elbow,  instead  of  the  end 
of  the  finger,  as  is  customary  with  the  Turks  ^  they 
think  themselves  defiled  by  the  touch  of  strangers^  and, 
contrary  to  the  general  practice  of  the  East,  neither  eat 
nor  drink  out  of  a  vessel  which  has  been  used  by  a  per- 
son not  of  their  sect,  nor  will  they  even  sit  with  such  at 
the  same  table. 

Tliese  doctrines  and  customs,  by  separating  the  Mo- 
toualis from  their  neighbours,  have  rendered  them  a 
distinct  society*  It  is  said  ihey  have  long  existed  as 
a  nation  in  this  country,  though  their,  name  has  never 
been  mentioned  by  any  European  writer  before  the 
1 8th  century  ^  it  is  not  even  to  be  found  in  the  maps 
of  D^Anville  :  La  Roque,  who  left  their  country  not 
a  hundred  years  ago,  gives  them  the  name  of  Amcm 
diens.  Be  this  as  it  may,  in  the  later  times  their  wars, 
robberies,  successes,  and  various  changes  of  fortune, 
have  rendered  them  of  consequence  in  Syria.  Till  about 
the  middle  of  this  century,  they  only  possessed  Balbec 
their  capital,  and  a  few  places  m  the  valley,  and  Anti- 
Lebanon,  which  seems  to  have  j^een  their  original 

3  N  couot'ry. 


MOT 


[    466    ] 


M    O    U 


M«toiiaiif.  co«stry«  At  that  period  we  find  tbem  under  a  like 
Mouo.  government  with  the  Druzes,  that  is  to  say,  under 
a  number  of  Sbaiks,  with  one  principal  chief  of  the 
family  of  Harfoush.  After  the  year  1750  they  esta- 
blished themselves  among  the  height!!  of  Bekaa,  and 
got  twjtlng  in  Lebanon,  where  they  obtained  lan^ 
belonging  to  the  Maronites,  almost  as  fiir  as  Besharrai. 
They  even  incommoded  them  so  much  by  their  ravages, 
as  to  oblige  the  emtr  Yousef  to  attack  them  with  open 
force  and  expel  tbem^  but  on  the  other  side,  they 
advanced .  along  the  river  even  to  the  neighbourhood 
of  Sour  (Tyre).  In  this  sitaation,  Sbaik  Daher  had 
the  address,  in  1760,  to  attach  them  to  his  party.— 
The  pachas  of  Saide  and  Damascus  claimed  tributes, 
which  they  had  neglected  paying,  and  complained  of 
several  robberies  committed  on  their  subjects  by  the 
Motoualis;'  they  were  desirous  of  chastising  them; 
but  this  vengeance  vras  neither  certain  nor  easy. 
Daher  interposed ;  and  by  becoming  security  for  the 
tribute,  and  promising  to  prevent  any  depredations, 
acquired  allies  who  were  able,  as  it  is  said,  to  arm 
10,000  horsemen,  all  resolute  and  formidable  troops. 
Shortly  after  they  took  possession  of  Sour,  and  made 
this  village  their  principal  sea  port.  In  1771  they 
were  of  great  service  to  Ali  Bey  and  Daher  against 
the  Ottomans.  But  Emir  Yousef  having  in  their  ab« 
senoe  armed  the  Dnizes,  ravaged  their  country.  He 
was  besiegiiig  the  castle  of  Djezin,  when  the  Motouaiis, 
returning  from  Damascus,  received  intelligence  of 
this  invasion.  At  the  relation  of  the  barbarities  com- 
asitted  by  the  Drozes,  an  advanced  corps,  of  only 
500  men,  were  so  enraged,  that  they  immediately 
rushed  forward  against  the  enemy,  determined  to  perish 
10  taking  vengeance.  But  the  surprise  and  confusion 
they  occasioned,  and  the  discord  which  reigned  be- 
tween the  two  factions  of  Mansour  and  Yousef,  so 
much  £ivoured  this  desperate  attack,  that  the  whole 
army,  consisting  of  35,000  men,  was  completely  over- 
thrown. 

In  the  following  year,  the  aflUrs  of  Daher  taking 
a  fitvowable  turn,  the  zeal  of  the  Motoualid  cooled  to- 
wards him,  and  they  finally  abandoned  him  in  the  ca- 
tastrophe in  which  be  lost  his  life.  But  they  have 
snfiered  for  their  imprudence  under  the  administration 
of  the  pacha  who  succeeded  him.  Since  the  year 
X777,  Djezzar,  master  of  Acre  and  Saide,  has  inces- 
santly laboured  to  destroy  them.  His  persecution  for- 
ced them  in  1784  to  a  reconciliation  with  the  Druzes, 
and  to  enter  into  an  alliance  with  the  emir  Yousef. 
Though  reduced  to  less  than  700  armed  men,  they 
did  more  in  that  campaign  than  15,000  or  20,000 
Druzes  and  Maronites  assembled  at  Datr-el-Karoar. 
Tbcy  alone  took,  the  strong  fortress  of  Md.r-DJebaa, 
and  put  to  the  sword  30  or  60  Epirots  who  defended 
it.  not  the  misunderstanding  which  prevailed  among 
the  chiefs  of  the  Druzes  having  rendered  abortive  all 
their  operations,  the  pacha  has  obtained  possession  of 
the  whole  valley,  and  the  city  of  Balbec  itself.  At 
this  period  not  more  than  500  families  of  the  Motooalis 
remained,  who  took  refuge  in  Anti-Lebanon,  and 
the  Lebanon  of  the  Maronites  j  and,  driven  as  they 
now  are  from  their  native  soil,  it  is  probable  they  will 
be  totally  annihilated,  and  even  their  very  name  become 
extinct. 
MOTTO,  in  armoury,  a  short  sentence  or  phrase, 


carried  in  a  scroll,  generally  under,  but  sonetimes  over 
the  arms :  sometimes  alluding  to  the  bearing,  some- 
times to  the  name  of  the  bearer,  and  sometimes  oon- 
taining  whatever  pleases  the  fancy  of  the  deviser. 

MOVEABLE,  in  general,  denotes  any  thing  ca- 
pable of  being  moved. 

Moveable  Feasts^  are  such  as  are  not  always  heM 
on  the  same  day  of  the  year  or  month  ^  though  they  be 
on  the  same  day  of  the  week.     See  Feasts. 

Thus,  Easter  is  a  moveable  feast,  being  always  heU 
on  the  Sunday  which  falls  upon  or  next  after  the  fint 
full  moon  following  the  2is>t  of  March. 

All  the  other  moveable  feasts  follow  Easter,  L  e.  they 
keep  their  distance  from  it  \  so  that  they  are  fixed  with 
respect  thereto.. 

Duch  are  Septoagesima,  Sexagesima,  Ash  Wednes- 
day, Ascension  day,  Pentecost,  TVinity  Sunday,  &r. 
which  see  under  their  proper  articles,  SEPTUACfsiMA, 
&c. 

MoTBABLE  Subject^  in  Law^  any  thing  that  moves 
itself,  or  can  be  moved  \  in  contradistinction  to  immoTc- 
able  or  heritable  subjects,  as  lands,  bouses,  &c. 

MOVEMENT,  Motion,  a  term  frequenUy  used  ia 
the  same  sense  with  automaton. 

The  most  usual  movements  for  keeping  time  are 
watches  and  clocks :  the  first  are  such  as  show  the  parts 
of  time,  and  are  portable  in  the  pocket  \  the  second, 
such  As  publish  it  by  sounds,  and  are  fixed  as  funiitttiv. 
See  HoROLOGT. 

MovEMEKT,  in  its  popular  use  umong  us,  signifies 
all  the  inner  works  of  a  watch,  clock,  or  other  engine, 
which  move,  and  by  that  motion  cany  on  the  design  of 
the  instrument. 

The  movement  of  a  clock  or  watch  is  the  inside,  of 
that  part  which  measures  the  time,  strikes,  &c.  exclu- 
sive of  the  frame,  case,  dial  plate,  &c. 

The  parts  common  to  both  of  these  movements  are, 
the  main-spring,  with  its  appurtenances  \  lying  in  the 
spring  box,  and  in  the  middle  thereof  lapping  about 
the  spring-arbor,  to  which  one  end  of  it  is  fastened. 
A-top  of  the  spring-arbor  is  the  endless  screw  and  its 
wheel;  but  in  spring-docks,  this  is  a  ratchet-wheel  with 
its  click,  that  stops  it.     That  which  the  main-spring 
draws,  and  rotmd  which  the  chain  or  string  is  wrapped, 
is  called  the  fut^i  this  is  ordinarily  taper  \  in  Isige 
works,  going  with  weights,  it  is  cylindrical,  and  called 
the  barrel*     The  small  teeth  at  the  bottom  of  the  fosy 
or  barrel,  which  stop  it  in  winding  up,  is  called  the 
ratchet;  and  that  which  stops  it  when  wound  up,  sod 
is  for  that  end  driven  up  by  the  spring,  the  garde-gML 
He  wheels  are  various :  the  parts  of  a  wheel  ar«,  the 
hoop  or  rim,  the  teeth,  the  cross  and  the  collet  or 
piece  of  brass  soldered  on  the  arbor  or  spindle  whereon 
the  wheel  is  rivetted.     The  little  wheels  playing  in  the 
teeth  of  the  larger  are  called  pinions  ;  and  their  teeth, 
which  are  4,  5,  6,  8,  &c.  are  called  leves;  the  ends  of 
the  spindle  are  called  pivots;  and  the  guttered  wheel, 
with  iron  spikes  at  bottom,  wherein  the  line  of  ordi- 
nary clocks  runs,  the  puIUy.     We  need  not  say  any 
thing  of  the  hand,  screws,  wedges,  stops,  &c     Set 
Wheel,  Fust,  &c 

Perpetual  MoVEMBST.     See  Perpetual  ifoTioX* 

MOUFET,  Thomas,  a  celebrated  English  pbj»- 
cian,  was  born  at  London,  and  practised  Dediriaa 
with  great  reputation.-  Towards  the  latter  end  of  hii 


M    O    U 


[    4^7    1 


M    O    U 


life  he  retired  to  tlie  cetmtrjr,  und  died  aboat  the  jcnr 
i6qo.  This  {ihysician  U  koown  by  a  work  which  was 
begun  by  Edward  Wot  ton,  and  printed  at  London  in 
16349  folio,  with  the  title  of  Theatrum  Insectoruni,^  A 
translation  of  it  into  English  was  published  at  London 
in  -1658  folio.  Martin  Lister  gives  a  very  ODfavoor- 
able  opinion  of  this  book :  ^  As  Moufet  (says  he) 
made  use  of  Wottoo,  Gesner,  &o.  an  exoellent  work 
might  have  been  expected  from  him ;  and  yet  his  Thea^ 
frum  is  lull  of  coniiision,  and  he  has  made  a  very  bad 
.use  of  the  materials  with  which  these  authors  have  fur- 
•tiished  him.  He  is  ignorant  of  the  subject  of  which  he 
treats,  and  his  manner  of  expression  is  altogether  bar- 
barous. Besides  this,  he  is  extremely  arrogant,  to  say 
no  worse  ;  for  thon^  he  has  copied  Aldrovandus  in  in- 
numerable plnces,  be  never  once  mentions  his  name.** 
But  Lay  thinks  that  Lister,  by  expressing  himself  in  this 
manner,  has  not  done  justice  to  Moufet  j  and  he  main* 
tainiB  that  the  latter  has  rendered  an  essential  service  to 
the  republic  of  letters. 

MOUG-DEN,  or  Chkk-takg  ;  a  ei^  of  Chinese 
Ikrtary,  and  capital  of  the  country  of  the  Mantchewa 
•r  Eastern  Tartars.  These  people  have  been  at  great 
paiiM  to  ornament  it  with  several  public  edifices,  and 
to  provide  it  with  magazines  of  arms  and  storehouses. 
Tbc7  consider  it  as  the  principal  place  of  their  nation  ; 
and  since  China  has  been  under  their  dominion,  tliey 
^ave  established  the  same  tribunals  here  as  at  Peking, 
excepting  that  called  Lii-pou  :  these  tribunals  are  com- 
posed of  Tartars  only  ^  tbeir  determination  is  final ) 
and  in  all  their  acts  they  use  the  Tartar  characters  and 
language.  The  city  is  built  on  an  eminence  >  a  num« 
faer  of  rivers  add  much  to  the  fertility  of  the  surround- 
ittg  ewntry.  It  may  be  considered  as  a  dooble  chy, 
•  «f  which  one  ia  enclosed  within  the  other :  the  interior 
contains  the  emperor's  palace,  hotels  of  the  principal 
mandarins,  sovereicn  courts,  and  the  diflferent  tribu- 
nals >  the  exterior  is  inhabited  by  the  common  people, 
tradesmen,  and  all  those  who  by  their  emph>yments 
«r  professions  are  not  obliged  to  lodge  in  the  interior. 
The  latter  is  almost  a  league  in  circumference  ^  and  the 


is  Cbrraed )  being  carried  thitber  throogh  a  great  nnm*    MouMi. 
her  of  little  canals,  which  cover  the  whole  mould.     See 

FOUKDERY. 

Moulds  of  moneyers  are  frames  full  of  sand,  where- 
in the  plates  of  metal  are  cast  that  are  to  serve  for  the 
striking  of  species  of  gold  and  silver*    See  Coining. 

A  sort  of  concave  moulds  made  of  clay,  having 
within  them  the  figures  and  inscriptions  of  ancient 
Boman  coins,  are  found  in  many  parts  of  England,  and 
supposed  to  have  been  used  for  the  casting  of  money. 
Mr  Baker  having  been  favoured  with  a  sight  of  some 
of  these  moulds  found  in  Shropshire,  bearing  the  same 
types  i^nd  inscriptions  with  some  of  the  Roman  coins, 
gave  ao  account  of  them  to  the  Royal  Society.  Tbey 
were  found  in  digging  of  sand,  at  a  place  called  Rytoa 
in  Shropshire,  about  a  mile  from  the  great  Watling- 
street  road.  They  are  all  of  the  size  of  the  Roman  de- 
narius,"* and  of  little  more  than  the  tliickness  of  our 
halfpenny.  They  are  made  of  a  smooth  pot  or  brick 
clay,  which  seems  to  have  been  first  well  cleansed  from 
dirt  and  sand,  and  well  beaten  or  kneaded,  to  Fender  it 
fit  for  taking  a  fair  impression.  There  were  a  great 
many  of  them  found  together,  and  there  are  of  them 
not  nnfirequently  found  m  Yorkshire ;  but  they  do  not 
seem  to  have  been  met  with  in  any  other  kingdom,  ex- 
cept that  some  have  been  said  to  be  once  found  at 
Lyons.  Tbey  have  been  sometimes  found  in  great 
numbers  joined  together  side  by  side,  on  one  flat  piece 
of  clay,  as  if  intended  for  ^he  casting  of  a  great  num- 
ber eff  coins  at  once-j  and  both  these,  and  all  the  others 
that  have  been  found,  seem  to  have  been  of  fiie  empe- 
ror Severus.  Tbey  are  sometimes  found  impressed  on 
both  sides,  and  some  have  the  head  of  Severus  on  one 
side  and  some  well  known  reverse  of  his  on  the  other. 
They  seem  plainly  to  have  been  intended  for  the  coin- 
age of  money,  thoogh  it  is  not  easy  to  say  in  what 
manner  .thev  can  have  been  ^employed  fbr  that  purpose, 
especially  those  which  have  impressions  on  both  sides, 
unless  it  may  be  supposed  that  they  coined  two  pieces 
a)  the  same  time  by  the  help  of  three  moulds,  of  which 
this  watf  to  be  the  middle  one.    If  by  di^osing  these 


walls  which  enclose  both  are  more  than  three  leagues    4nto  some  sort  of  iron  feame  or  case,  as  oor  letter- 


romd:  these  walls  were  entirely  rebuilt  in  1631,  and 
Impaired  several  times  under  the  reign  of  Kang-hi. 

MOULD,  or  Mold,  in  the  meehanie  arts,  &c.  a 
cavity  artificially  cut,  with  a  design  to  give  its  form  or 
impression  to  some  rafter  matter  applied  therein.  Moulds 
are- implements  of  great  use  in  sculpture,  foundery,  &c. 
The  worknMU  employed  in  melting  the  mineral  or 
metallic  ore  dug  out  of  mines,  have  their  several  moulds 
to  receive  the  melted  metal  as  it  oomes  out  of  the  fur- 
nace I  but  these  are  different  according  to  the  diversity 
of  metaU  and  works.  In  gold  mines,  they  have  moulds 
for  ingots  5  in  silver  mines,  (dr  bars$  in  copper  and 
lead  mines,* for  pigs  or  salmons }  in  tin  milieu,  for  pigs 
and  ingots ;  and  in  iron  mines,  for  sows,  chimney  backs, 
anvils,  caldrons,  pots,  and  other  large  utensils  and  mer- 
chandises of  iron  ^  which  are  here  oast,  as  it  were,  at 
first  hand. 

Moulds  of  founders  of  large^works,  as  statues,  b^ls, 
gmn,  and  other  braien  works,  are  of  wax,  supported 
wfthin-side  by  what  we  call  a  core,  and  covered  with- 
entside  with  a  cape  ot  case.  It  is  in  the  space  which 
the  wax  txHik  np^  which  is  afterwards  melted  away  to 
lenre  it  firee,  tfenit  Uie  Kqmd  metal  runs,  and  the  work 


founders  do  the  brass  moulds  for  casting  their  types,  the 
melted  metal  could  be  easily  ponred  into  them,  it.trould 
certainly  be  a  very  easy  method  of  coining,  as  sncb 
moulds  require  little  time  or  ei^pence  to  make,  aad 
dierefore  might  be  supplied  with  new  ones  as  often  as 
they  happen  to  break* 

These  moulds  seem  to  Invve  been  bnmt  or  baked 
sufficiently  to  make  them  hard  ;  but  not  so  as  'to  ren** 
der  them  porous  like  onr  bricks,  whereby  they  would 
have  lost  their  smooth  «nd  even  snrfaee,  which  in  these 
is  phkinly  so  close,  tbnt  whatever  metal  should  be  form- 
ed in  them  would  have  no  appearance  like  the  sand- 
holes  by  which  coonterfeit  coins  and  metals  are  vsually 
detected. 

Moulds  of  foundera  of  smati  works  are  like  the 
frames  of  coiners:  it  is  in  these  frames,  which -ara 
likewise  filled  with  sand,  that  their  several  works  are 
fashioned  *,  into  which,  when  the  two  frames  rf  whidb 
the  mould  is  composed,  are  rejomed,  the  melted  brass 
is  run. 

Moulds  of  letter-foonders  are  parly  of  steel  and 
partly  of  wood.  The  wood,  properly  speaking,  serves 
only  to  cover  the  real  mould  which  is  within,  end  tv 

3  N  2  prevent 


M    O    U  [468 

MoiUdt.  prevent  the  workman,  who  holds  it  in  bis  hand,  from 
beiog  incommoded  by  the  beat  of  the  melted  metal. 
Only  one  letter  or  type  can  be  formed  at  once  in  each 
mould.     See  LeTtsr  Foukdery. 

Moulds,  in  the  manufacture  of  paper,  are  little 
frames  composed  of  several  brass  or  iron  wires,  fasten- 
ed together  by  another  wire  still  finer.  Each  mould  is 
of  the  bigness  of  the  sheet  of  paper  to  be  made,  and  has 
a  rim  or  ledge  of  wood  to  which  the  wires  are  fastened. 
Tbete  mdulds  are  more  usually  called  frames  or  forms. 
See  PAPXB'Making* 

Moulds,  with  furnace  and  crucible  makers, are  made 
of  wood,  of  the  same  form  with  the  crucibles  \  that  is, 
in  form  of  a  truncated  cone :  they  have  handles  of  wood 
to  hold  and  turn  them  with,  when  being  covered  with 
the  earth,  the  workman  has  a  mind  to  round  or  flatten, 
his  vessel. 

Moulds  for  leaden  bullets  are  little  iron  |(tncecs, 
each  of  whose  branches  terminates  in  a  hemispherical 
concave,  which  when  shut  from  an  entire  sphere.  In 
the  lips  or  sides  where  the  branches  meet  is  a  little  jet 
or  hole,  through  which  the  melted  lead  is  conveyed. 

Laboraiory  Moulds  are  made  of  wood,-ibr  filling 
and  driving  all  sorts  of  rockets  and  cartridges,  &c. 

Gias&iers  Moulds*  The  glaziers  have  two  kinds  of 
moulds,  both  serving  to  cast  their  lead :  in  the  one  they 
east  the  lead  into  long  rods  or  canes  fit  to  be  drawn 
through  the  vice,  and  the  grooves  formed  therein  'y  this 
they  sometimes  call  ingot-mould.  In  the  other,  they 
mould  those  little  pieces  of  lead  a  line  thick  and  two 
lines  broad,  fastened  to  the  iron  bars.  These  may  be 
abo  cast  in  the  vice. 

Goldsmiths  Moulds.  The  goldsmiths  use  the  bones 
of  the  cuttle  fish  to  make  moulds  for  their  small  works  \ 
which  they  do  by  pressing  the  pattern  between  two 
bones,  and  leaving  a  jet  or  hole  to  convey  the  metal 
through,  after  the  pattern  has  been  taken  out. 

Mould,  among  masons,  is  a  piece  of  hard  wood  or 
iron  hollowed  within  side,  answerable  to  the  contours  of 
the  mouldings  or  cornices,  &c.  to  be  formed.  This  is 
otherwise  caliber. 

Moulds,  among  plumbers,  are  the  tables  on  which 
they  cast  sheets  of  lead.  These  they  sometimes  call 
simply  tables.  Besides  which  they  have  other  real 
moulds,  wherewith  they  cast  pipes  without  soldering. 
See  each  described  under  Plumb£RT. 

Moulds,  among  the  glass  gTin<!ers,  are  wooden 
frames,  whereon  they  make  the  tubes  wherewith  they 
fit  their  perspectives,  telescopes,  and  other  optic  ma- 
chines. These  moulds  are  cylinders,  of  a  length  and 
diameter  according  to  the  use  they  are  to  be  applied  to, 
but  always  thicker  at  one  end  than  the  other,  to  facili- 
tate the  sliding.  The  tubes  made  on  these  moulds  are 
of  two  kinds  \  the  one  simply  of  pasteboard  and  paper  % 
the  other  of  thin  leaves  of  wood  joined  to  the  paste- 
board. To  make  these  tubes  to'^draw  out,  only  the  last 
or  innermost  is  formed  on  the  mould  >  each  tube  made 
afterwards  serving  as  a  mould  to  that  which  is  to  go 
over  it,  but  without  taking  out  the  mould  from  the  fint. 
See  Grinding. 

Moulds  used  in  basket-making  are  very  simple,  con- 
sisting ordinarily  of  a  willow  or  osier  turned  or  bent  in- 
to an  oval,  circle,  square,  or  other  figure,  according  to 
lAie  baskets,  panniers,  hampers,  and  other  utensils  in- 
tended.    On  these  moulds  they,  make,  or  more  properly 


3 


M    O    U 


measure  all  their  workj  and  accocdiogty  (hey  have  Mid^ 
them  of  an  sizes,  shapes,  &c.  p 

Mould,  in  ship^buiiding,  a  thin  flexible  piece  of  M-fi»t 
timber,  used  by  shipwrights  as  a  pattern  whereby  to 
form  the  different  curves  of  the  timbers,  and  other  cona- 
passing  pieces  in  a  ship^s  frame.  -  There  are  two  sorts 
of  these,  viz.  the  bend. mould  and  hollow  mouldy  the 
former  of  these  determines  the  convexity  of  the  timbers, 
and  the  faitter  their  concavity  on  the  outside,  where  they 
approach  the  heel,  particularly  towards  the  extremities 
of  the  vessel.  The  figure  given  to  the  timbers  by  this 
pattern  is  called  their  beveUing, 

Moulds,  among  tallow  chandlers,  are  of  two  kinds: 
the  first  for  the  common  dipped  candles,  being  the  ves- 
sel wherein  the  melted  tallow  is  disposed,  and  the  wick 
dipped*  This  is  of  wood,  of  a  triangnlar  form,  and 
supported  on  one  of  its  angles :  so  that  it  has  an  opeo- 
ing  of  near  a  foot  a-top :  the  other,  used  in  the  fabric 
of  mould  candles,  is  of  brass,  pewter,  or  tin.'— Here 
each  candle  has  its  several  mould.     See  Candle. 

Mould,  among  gold-beaters,  a  certain  number  of 
leaves  of  vellom  or  pieces  of  got,  cut  square  of  a  cer- 
tain size^  and  laid  over  one  another,  biBtween  whidi 
they  put  the  leaves  of  gold  and  silver  which  they  best 
on  the  marble  with  the  hammer.    See  Gold  Leaf. 

They  have  four  kinds  of  moulds  j  two  whereof  are  of 
vellum  and  two  of  gut  \  the  snmllest  of  those  of  vel- 
lum consists  .of  40  or  50  leaves  \  the  largest  oootaiss 
100 :  for  the  others,  each  contains  500  leaves.  Ik 
moulds  have,  all  tlieir  several  cases,  ooosistang  of  two 
pieces  of  parchment,  serving  to  keep  the  leaves  of  the 
mould  in  their  place^  and  prevent  their  being  diesider- 
ed  in  beating. 

Mould,  in  Agriculture^  a  seneral  name  for  the  soft 
earthy.substanoe  with  whicli  the  dry  land  is  generally 
covensd,  and  in  which  all  kinds  of  vegetables  take  root 
and  grow.  It  is  far  from  being  an  honsogeneoos  sob- 
stance  \  beiog  composed  of  deotyed  animal  and  vege- 
table matters,  along  with  calcareous,  argiUaceeos,  and 
siliceous  earths,  mixed  together  in  various  pceportisM, 
and  with  the  diflferenC  degrees  of  rooistnre,  coostitntiag 
every  ^rariety  of  Soil* 

MOULDIN£SS,  is  a  white  down  or  lanugo,  iHndi 
is  produced  on  the  surface  of  animal  or  vegetable  nst^ 
ters  in  a  state  of  putrefaction;  and  which  viewed 
through  a  microscope  appears  like  a  kind  of  meadsw, 
out  of  which  arise  herbs  and  flowers.  See  MucoA, 
BoTANT  Index, 

MOULDING,  any  thing  cast  in  a  mould,  or  that 
seems  to  have  been  so,  though  in  reality  it  were  cat 
with  a  chisel  or  the  axe. 

Mouldings,  in  Architecture^  projectures  beyond  ibe 
naked  wall,  column,  wainscot,  &c.  the  assemblage  of 
which  forms  comtches,  door  cases,  and  other  dcoofa- 
tions  of  Architecture.    See  that  article. 

MOULINET  is  used  in  Mechanics^  to  signify  a 
roller,  which  being  crossed  with  two  levers,  is  useaDy 
applied  to  cranes,  capstans,  and  other  sorts  of  ei^i 
of  the  like  nature  to  draw  ropes,  heave  up 
&c. 

MouLiNET  is  also  a  kind  of  toiaatile  or  wosdea 
cross,  which  turns  horizontally  upon  a  stake  fixed  ia 
the  ground  \  usually  placed  in  passages  to  keep  set 
horses,  and  to  oblige  passengers  to  go  and  cone  one  by 
one.    These  moulinets  are  often  set  near  the  ontusiks 

sf 


M    O    U 


C    A69    I 


M    O    U 


taU. 


MoaKaci  of  fortified  pboes  at  the  rides  of  the  harrierS|  throogh 
B         which  pcofile  ftm  on  fgot. 

MOULINSy  a  town  of  France,  in  the  department 
of  Allier,  and  conUining  ahont  13,200  inhabiunts  in 
iSoo.  The  homtea  of  the  Cbartreuz,  and  that  of  the 
Visitation,  are  magnificent*  It  has  a  cooriderahle  trade 
in  cutlery  ware,  and  is  seated  on  the  river  Allier,  in  a 
pleasant  fertile  plain,  almost  in  the  middle  of  France, 
30  miles  sooth  of  Nevers,  and  55  north  of  Clermont. 
£.  Lonir.  3.  25.  N.  Lat.  46.  34. 

MOULTON,  North,  a  town  of  Deronahire,  on  the 
river  Moul. 

MouLTON,  Souths  on  the  same  stream,  182  miles 
from  London.  This,  as  well  as  the  former,  was 
anciently  royal  demesne.  It  sent  members  to  parlia- 
ment in  the  reign  of  Edward  I.  consists  of  a  mayor,  18 
capital  bmrgesses,  a  recorder,  town  clerk,  and  2  ser^ 
jeants  at  mace.  Its  chief  manufactures  are  serges, 
ahallopns,  and  felts  >  and  a  considerable  market  for 
wool. 

MOULTING,  or  Molting,  the  fallmg  off  or 
change  of  hair,  feathers,  skins,  horns,  or  other  parts  of 
animals,  happening  in  some  annually,  in  others  only  at 
certain  stages  of  life. 

The  generality  of  animals  moalt  in  the  spring.  The 
moulting  of  a  hawk  is  called  tnewtng.  The  moulting 
of  a  deer  is  the  quitting  of  his  horns  in  February  or 
March.  The  moulting  of  a  serpent  is  the  putting  -off 
Ids  skin.     See  ExuviA. 

MOUND,  a  term  used  for  a  bank  or  rampart,  or 
ether  fence,  particularly  that  of  earth. 

Mound,  in  Heraldry,  a  ball  or  globe  with  a  cross 
vpon  it,  such  as  onr  kings  are  usually  drawn  with, 
holding  it  in  their  left  hand,  as  they  do  the  sceptre  in 
the  right. 

MOUNT,  an  elevation  of  earth,  called  also  moun- 
tain.   See  Mountain. 

Mount  Edgecumbe,  a  prodi^ous  high  peak,  at  the 
entrance  of  Cwik's  strait,  in  New  Zeahmd,  on  the  west 
side.  Itsr  height  is  supposed  not  to  be  much  inferior  to 
that  of  the  Peak  of  Teneriffe. 

Mount  Sorrel,  a  town  in  Leicestershire,  so  named 
from  a  high  mount  or  solid  rock  adjoining  to  the  town, 
of  a  dusky  red  or  sorrel-coloured  stone,  extremely  hard. 
Of  roorii  stones  hewn  out  of  this  rock  the  town  is 
bniit.  It  was  noted  formerly  for  its  castle,  and  is  seat- 
ed on  the  river  Stour,  over  which  there  is  a  bridge.  It 
in  20  miles  south-east  by  south  of  Derby,  and  105 
Borth-west  by  north  of  London.  It  contained  1 502  in- 
habitants in  181 X.    W.  Long.  x.  9.  N.  Lat.  52. 45. 

Mounts  of  Piety,  certain  funds  or  establishments  in 
Italy,  where  maoej  is  lent  out  on  some  small  security. 
There  were  also  mounts  of  piety  in  England,  raised  by 
contribotioD  for  the  benefit  of  people  rained  by  the  ex- 
tortioos  of  the  Jews. 

MOUNTAIN  {MMui)y  a  considerable  eminence  of 
land,  elevated  above  the  surrounding  country:  It  is 
eommonly  full  of  inequalities,  cavities  more  or  less  ex- 
posed, and  strata  uncovered.  For  the  natural  history 
of  mountains,  see  Mountain,  Geology  Indesc* 


Attraction  of  MvuifTAiNS.  Tbts  is  a  late  discovery,  Mbmtalipir 
and  a  very  considerable  confirmation  of  Sir  Isaac  New- ' 
ton^s  theory  of  universal  gravity.  According  to  the 
Newtonian  system,  an  attractive  power  is  not  only 
exerted  between  those  large  masses  of  matter  which 
constitQte^tbe  sun  and  planets,  but  likewise  between 
all  comparatively  smaller  bodies,  and  even  between  the  ^ 
smallest  particles  of  which  they  are  composed.  A- 
greeabl^  to  this  hypothesis,  a  heavy  body,  which  onght 
to  gravitate  or  tend  toward  the  centre  of  tiie  earth,  in 
a  direction  perpendicular  to  its  surface,  supposing-  the 
said  surface  to  be  perfectly  even  and  spherical,  ought 
likewise,  though  in  a  less  degree,  to  be  attracted  and 
tend  towards  a  mountain  placed  on  the  earth's  sur- 
face ;  so  that  a  plumb  line,  for  instance,  of  a  quadrant, 
hanging  in  the  neighbourhood  of  such  a  mountain, 
ought  to  be  drawn  &om  a  perpendicular  situation,  in 
consequence  of  the  attractive  power  of  the  quantity  of 
matter  of  which  it  is  composed  acting  in  a  direction  dif- 
ferent ftrom  that  exerted  by  the  whole  mass  of  matter  in 
the  earth,  and  with  a  proportionably  inferior  degree  of 
force. 

Though  Sir  Isaac  Newton  had  long  ago  hinted  at  an 
experiment  of  this  kind,  and  had  remarked,  that  **  a 
mountain  of  an  hemispherical  figure,  three  miles  high 
and  six  broad,  would  not,  by  its  attraction,  draw  the 
plumb  line  two  minutes  out  of  the  perpendicular  (e)  :'^ 
yet  no  attempt  to  ascertain  this  matter  by  actual  expe- 
riment was  made  till  about  the  year  1 738  \  when  the 
French  academicians,  particularly  Messrs  Bouguer  and 
Condamine,  who  were  sent  to  Peru  to  measure  a  de- 
gree under  the  equator,  attempted  to  discover  the  at- 
tractive power  of  Chimbora^o,  a  mountain  ^in  the  pro« 
vince  of  Quito.  According  to  their  observations,  which 
were  however  made'  upder  circumstances  by  no  means 
favourable  to  an  accurate  solution  of  so  nice  and  dif- 
ficult a  problem,  the  mountain  Chimbora^ o  exerted  an 
attraction  equal  to  eight  seconds.  Though  this  experi- 
ment was  not  perhaps  sufficient  to  prove  satisfactorily 
even  the  reality  of  an  attraction,  much  less  the  precise 
quantity  of  it  ^  yet  it  does  not  appear  that  any  steps  had 
been  since  taken  to  repeat  it. 

Through  the  munificence  of  bis  Britannic  majesty, 
the  Royal  Society  were  enabled  to  nndertake  the  exe- 
cution of  this  delicate  and  important  experiment  \  the 
astronomer  royal  was  chosen  to  conduct  it.  After  va* 
rious  inquiries,  the  mountain  Schehallien,  situated  near- 
ly in  the  centre  of  Scotland,  was  pitched  upon  as  the 
most  proper  for  the  pnrpofle  that  could  be  found  in  this 
island.  The  observations  were  made  by  taking  the  me- 
ridian zenith  distances  of  different  fixed  stars,  near  the 
zenith,  by  means  of  a  zenith  sector  of  ten  feet  radius  ^ 
first  on  the  south,  and  afterwards  on  the  north  side  of 
the  hill,  the  greatest  length  of  vrhich  extended  in  an 
east  and  west  direction. 

It  is  evident,  that  if  the  mass  of  matter  in  the  hill 
exerted  any  sensiUe  attraction,  it  would  cause  the 
plumb-lino  of  the  sector,  throogh  which  an  observer 
viewed  a*  star  in  the  meridian,  to  deviate  from  its  per- 
pendicular situation,  and  would  attract  it  contrariwise  at 

thr 


(e)  By  a  very  easy  calculatioo  it  is  found  that  such  a  mountain  would  attract  the  plnmb  line  x'  xS''  firom  the 
perpendicnlar. 


M    O    U 


C     47^     ] 


M    O    U 


lifimiiuiiis.tfae  two  stations^  thereby  doubling  the  effect.  On  the 
south  side  the  plummet  would  be  drawn  to  the  north- 
ward hj  the  attractive  power  of  the  bill  placed  to  the 
aorthwa]*d  of  it :  and  on  the  north  side»  a  contrary  nnd 
equal  deflection  of  the  plumb  line  would  take  plaee  in 
consequence  of  the  attraction  of  the  hill,  now  to  the 
southward  of  it.  The  apparent  zenith  distances  of 
the  stars  would  be  affected  contrariwise  ^  those  being 
increased  at  the  one  station  which  were  diminished  at 
the  other:  and  the  correspondent  quantities  of  the 
deflection  of  the  plumb  line  would  give  the  observer 
the  sum  of  the  contrary  attractions  of  the  hill,  acting 
on  the  plummet  at  the  two  stations  ;  the  half  of  which 
will  of  course  indicate  the  attractive  power  of  the  hill. 

The  various  operations  requisite  for  this  experiment 
lasted  about  four  months ;  and  from  them  it  appears 
that  the  sum  of  the  two  contrary  attractions  of  the 
mountain  Schehallien,  in  the  two  temporary  observa- 
tions which  were  successively  fixed  half  way  up  the  hill 
^(where  the  effect  of  its  attraction  would  be  greatest), 
was  equal  to  ii".6.-— From  a  rough  computation* 
founded  on  the  known  law  of  gravitation,  and  on  an 
assumption  tliat  the  density  of  the  hill  is  equal  to  the 
mean  density  of  the  earth,  it  appears  that  the  attraction 
of  the  hill  should  amount  to  about  the  double  of  this 
quantity.  From  tlience  it  was  inferred  that  the  density 
of  the  bill  is  only  about  half  the  mean  density  of  the 
earth.  It  does  not  appear,  however,  that  the  moun- 
tain Scbefaallien  has  ever  lieeD  a  volcano,  or  is  hoUo«.; 
as  it  is  extremely  solid  and  denae,  and  seemingly  coin- 
poaed  of  an  entire  rock. 

The  ittferenoes  drawn  inm  these  experiments  niay 
be  reduced  to  the  following : 

'*  I.  It  appears,  that  the  moaatain  SchebaUien  ex- 
erts a  sensible  attraction  j  therefore,  firom  the  roles  of 
philoaophixiog,  we  are  to  conclude,  that  every  nioira* 
tain,  and  indeed  every  particle  of  the  earth,  is  endued 
with  the  same  property,  in  pvopiiKtaen  to. its  quantity  of 
natter* 

'*  2«  The  law  of  the  variation  of  'tins  force,  in  the 
inverse  ratio  of  the  squares  of  the  distances,  as  laid 
down  by  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  is  also  confirmed  by  this 
experiment.  For  if  the  fbece  ofvattraction  of  the  hill 
hadiieen  only  to  that  of  ihe  earth,  as  the  matter  in  the 
hiH  to  that  of  the  earth,  and  had  not  been  greatly  in- 
cjpeased  by  the  near  approach  to  its  centre,  the  attrac- 
tion thereof  must  have  been  wholly  insensible.  Bnt 
now,  by  only  supposing  the  mean  density  of  the  earth 
ta  be  double  to  that  of  the  hill,  which  seemi  very  pro- 
bable from  other  considerations,  the  attraction  of  the 
Ikill  win  bb  reconciled  to  tke  general  law  of  the  varia- 
tion of  attraction  in  the  inverao  di^icate  Tatio  of  tha 
distances,  as  deduced  by  Sir  Isaac  Newton  from  tha 
comparison  of  the  motion  of  tha  baaaeaiy  bodies  with 
the  force  of  gravity  at  the  surfacaof  tke  eaithr^  and  the 
Mialogy  of  natnvB  will  be  preserved. 

'*  3.  We  may  now,  thera£bre,  be  idlowtd  to  admit 
this  law,  aad  to  acknowledge,  that  the  mean  density  of 
the  eardi  it  at  least  doable  of  that  at  the  aorfiMBO  } 
and  consaqoeatly  that  tiM  density  of  tha  interaal  parts 
of  the  earth  is  much  greater  than  near  the  surface* 
Hence  also,  the  whole  quantity  of  matter  in  the  earth 
will  be  at  least  as  great  again,  as  if  it  had  been  all  com- 
posed oC  HMtter  of  tha  same  density  with  that  at  Am 
'  surface  >  or.wiU  be  about  four  or  five  times  as  great  as 

.2 


if  it  were  all  composed  of  water.— This  condusioo,  Mr 
Maskelyne  adds,  is  totally  contrary  to  the  hjpotfaeMi 
of  some  naturalists,  *  who  soppose  the  earth  to  be  only 
a  great  hollow  shell  of  matter  \  supporting  itself  froai 
the  property  of  an  arch,  with  an  immense  vacuity  ia  the 
midst  of  it.*  But  were  that  the  case,  the  attraction  of 
mountains,  and  even  smaller  inequalities  in  the  eaith^s 
surface  would  be  very  great,  contrary  to  experiment, 
and  would  affect  the  measures  of  the  degrees  of  the  ror- 
ridian  much  more  than  we  find  they  do  \  and  tke  van- 
ation  of  gravity,  in  different  latitudes,  ia  going  from 
tbe  equator  to  the  poles,  as  found  by  pendulums,  would 
not  be  near  so  regular  as  it  has  been  found  by  experi- 
ment to  be. 

**  4.  As  mountains  are  by  these  expectments  fooad 
capable  of  pi^ucing  sensible  deflections  of  the  plmab 
lines  of  astronomical  instruments  ;  it  becooica  a  matter 
of  great  importance,  in  the  mensuration  of  degrees  ia 
the  meridian,  either  to  choose  places  where  the  iixega- 
lar  attraction  of  the  elevated  parti  may  be  small ;  or 
where,  by  their  sitnation,  they  may  compensate  or  coun- 
teract the  effects  of  each  other.*'  bee  MouxxA ins,  8ur- 

FLEMEKT. 

For  measuring  the  heights  of  mountains,  see  Baro> 

METER. 

Burning  MouvTAtV€.  See  ^tna,  Hucla,  Visu- 
vius;  see  also  Volcano,  G£oi.ocy  Index. 

Marble  Mountaihs.  Of  these  there  ara  great  nma- 
bers  in  Egypt,  from  which,  though  immense  qoaatities 
have  been  earned  off  for  tbe  OHiltitude  of  gneat  works 
erected  by  the  ancient  Egyptians  $  yet  in  the  opinisa 
ofMr  Bruce,  who  passed  bv  tkem  in  his  jauraey  ta  A- 
byssinia,  there  is  otiU  a  suScieat  snpply  to  hnild  Baaie^ 
Athens,  Corinth,  Syracuse,  Memphis,  Alexandria,  aad 
half  a  dozen  more  of  such  cities. 

The  first  noantain  of  this  kind  mentioned  by  Mr 
Bruce  is  one  opposite  to  Terfowey,  consisting  partly  of 
green  marble,  partly  of  granite,  with  a  red  blnsh  open 
a  gray  ground,  and  square  obloag  spots.  Here  he  saw 
a  monstrous  obelisk  of  marble  very  nearly  square,  hr^ 
ken  at  the  end,  and  nearly  30  feet^long  and  19  feet  ia 
the  face.  Throughout  the  plain  there  ware  scattered 
small  pieces  of  jasper,  with  green,  white,  and  red  spoti^ 
called  in  Italy  diaspro  Mingmnto ;  and  all  the 
tains  upon  that  side  seemed  to  oonoist  of  tke  saac 
rials.  From  Mr  Bmce^s  description  of  theae  noannt; 
it  would  appear  that  they  are  compoaed  of  aarpeaiiae, 
and  not  of  calcareoas  marble. 

Writttn  MovNTAiv^  Mmmiam  ^Lueripiiom^  or  J^ 
bel-al'MokatUhf  a  supposed  mountain  or  chain  af  OMaa* 
tains,  in  the  wilderness  of  Sinai ;  on  which,  Ibr  a 
great  extent  of  spaeat  the  marble  of  which  tke  insai 
tain  consists  is  inscribed  with  inmuncrakle  chafacttw» 
reacking  froas  the  groond  sonwtsaMa  to  tka  height  of 
12  or  14  feet.  These  were  mentioned  by  a  Greek  s» 
thor  in  the  third  contary,  and  same  of  tkeni  kava  keea 
copied  by  Pococke  and  other  late  travellers  ^  bat,  aAsr 
all,  there  is  still  a  very  great  onaertainty  even  of  the 
emtUnee  of  such  moontain  or  mountaina.  Tht  vaA 
number  of  these  inscriptions,  the  desert  plana  as  wkick 
they  are  found,  and  the  length  of  time  requisite  for  ex- 
ecuting the  task,  have  induced  a  notion  by  no  meaas 
unnatural,  that  they  are  the  work  of  the  Israelites  das* 
ing  their  forty  years  wandering  in  Ike  wikkaneas,  0- 
then  are  of  opinion  that  they  contain  usthii^  of  aay 


M    O    U 


£   471    ] 


M    O    U 


1.  importaocey  bat  consist  merely  of  the  names  of  travel- 
lers and  the  dates  of  their  journeys. 

M.  Niebabr,  who  visited  this  country  during  bis 
travels  in  the  east,  made  every  attempt  in  his  power, 
though  without  sucqess,  to  obtain  a  sight  of  this  c^le« 
brated  roountaia.  On  applying  to  some  Greeks  at  Suez, 
they  adl  declared  that  they  knew  nothing  of  the  written 
mountain :  they,  however,  directed  him  to  an  Arabiaa 
theiky  who  bad  passed  all  his  lifetime  in  travelling  be^ 
tween  Suez  and  Mount  Sinai  ^  but  he  knew  no  more 
of  it  than  the  former.  Understanding,  however,  that 
a  considerable  reward  would  be  given  to  any  person 
who  would  conduct  them  thither,  this  Arab  directed 
them '  to  another  y  who  pretended  not  only  to  know 
that  mountain,  but  all  others  upon  which  there  were 
any  inscriptions  throughout  the  desert.  On  inquiring 
particolarly,  however,  our  travellers  found  that  he  was 
not  to  be  depended  upon  \  so  that  they  were  obliged  to 
have  recourse  to  a  fourth  sheik,  who  by  his  conversa- 
tion convinced  them  that  he  had  seen  mountains  with 
inscriptions  in  unknown  cbaract^  upon  them.  It  does 
not  appear,  however,  that  this  person  was  vei^  capable, 
more  than  the  rest,  of  leading  th^n  to  the  place  they 
00  much  wished  fbrj  though  he  conducted  them  to 
aome  rocks  upon  which  there  were  inscriptions  in  un- 
known characters.  They  are  most  numerous  in  a  nai^> 
row  pass  between  two  mountains  named  Om-er-rtVaJlrfrifi; 
and,  says  M.  Niebuhr,  ^'  the  pretended  Jtbel-el-Mo- 
katteb  may  poeslbly  be  in  its  neighbourhood.'*  Somfe 
of  these  inscriptions  were  copied  by  our  author }  but  be 
dbes  not  look  upon  them  to  be  of  arty  consequence. 
**  They  seem  (says  he)  to  have  been  executed  at  idle 
faottrs  by  travellers,  who  were  satisied  with  catting  the 
unpolished  rock  with  any  pointed  instrumeat,  adding  to 
their  names  and  the  date  of  their  journeys  some  rudo 
figures,  which  bespeak  the  hand  of  a^  people  but  little 
akiUed  in  the  arts.  When  such  inscriptions  are  execu- 
ted with  tbe  design  of  transmitting  to  posterity  the  me- 
mory of  snch  events  as  might  afford  iastructive  lessons, 
greater  care  is  generally  taken  in  the  preparation  of  th^ 
•tones,  and  the  inscriptions  are  engraven  with  more  re- 
gnfairity.'* 

When  M«  Niebuhr  arrived  at  last  at  the  mountain 
to  which  the  sheik  had  promised  to  conduct  him,  he 
did  not  find  any  inscriptions ;  but  on  climbing  up  to 
tlie  top,  he  fomid  out  an  Egyptian  cemetery,  the  stones 
of  wUch  were  covered  with  faierogfyphics.  The  tomb 
stones  art  from  five  to  seven  fret  in  length,  some  stand- 
ing .on  end  and  others  lying  flat ;  and  ^  the  more  care- 
fiilly  they  are  examined  (says  he),  the  more  certainly 
do  they  appear  to  be  sepulchral  stones,  having  epitaphs 
inscribed  on  thrm.  In  the  middle  of  the  stones  is  a 
Koilding,  of  which  only  the  walls  now  remain  ;  and 
within  it  are  likewif^.s  a  great  many  of  the  sepulchral 
stones.  At  one  end  of  the  building  seems  to  have  been 
a  small  obamher,  of  which  the  roof  still  remains.  It 
is  supported  upon  square  pillars  }  and  these,  as  well  aS 
the  walls  of  the  chamber,  are  covered  with  hierogly- 
phic inscriptions.  Through  the  whole  bnilding  are  va- 
rious busts  enecnted  in  the  manner  of  the  ancient  £- 
gyptians.  The  sepulchral  stones  and  the  busts  are  of 
hard  and  fine  gn^ined  sand  stone."  M.  Niebuhr  is  of 
opinion  that  this  cemetery  was  not  the  work  of  the  E- 
|!yptians  themselves,  but  of  some  colony  which  came 
Srooi  Egypt,  and  bad  adopted  the  manners  and  costoms 


*^m 


of  the  people.     He  supposes  that  it  might  have  been  ]tf  oontaiiv. 

built  by  the  Arabs,  who  had  conquered  Egypt  under 

the  shepherd  kings,  and  adopted  the  Egyptian  manners 

during  their  residence  there.     As  it  most  have  belong-  * 

ed  to  an  opulent  city,  however,  be  owns  that  there  is  a 

great  difficulty  in  accounting  for  the  existence  of  snch 

a  city  in  tlie  midst  of  a  desert. 

The  translator  of  Volney's  travels  ascribes  these  in- 
scriptions to  the  pilgrims  who  visit  Mount  Sinai.  But 
to  tnis,  as  well  as  to  every  other  conjecture,  there  is 
this  objection,  that  whether  the  inscriptions  be  well 
executed  or  not,  whether  they  contain  matters  of  im- 
portance or  not,  they  ought  to  have  been  written  in  a- 
language  which  ifdmebody  could  understand  ^  but  from 
the  copies  that  have  been  taken  of  tbem  by  Dr  Po- 
cocke  and  others,  it  does  not  appear  that  they  could  be 
explained  either  by  him  or  any  other  person. 

When  Dr  Clayton,  bishop  of  Clogber,  visited  this 
part  of  the  world  about  the  year  1725,  he  expressed 
the  greatest  desire  to  have  the  matter  concerning  this 
written  mountain  or  mountains  ascertained,  and  even 
made  an  offer  of  500].  sterling  to  any  literaiy  person 
who  would  undertake  the  joumej  and  endeavour  to  de- 
cypher  the  inscriptioBS ;  but  no  such  person  has  appeaif- 
ed,  and  the  existence  of  the  mountains  is  testified  only 
by  the  superior  of  a  convent  at  Cairo,  who  gave  that 
mentioned  in  the  beginning  of  this  article.  Until  that 
part  of  the  world,  therefore,  become  more  accessible  to 
tfnvellere,  there  is  but  little  hope  that  we  can  come  to 
any/  certainty  in  the  matter.  M.  Niebuhr  plainly,, 
from  his  own  aeeounts,  had  not  influeaee  enough 
irith  the  Arabs  to  show  hirii  almost  any  thing,  as  tliey 
refused  to  conduct  bim  even  iO'  the  summit  of  Moont 
Sinai. 

Wkite  MomJTAivs.    See  Ntiu  HjMPSffins. 

MouNTAiHs  of  the  Moouj  a  chain  of  mountain!!  in '  ^ 
Africa,  extending  between  Abyssinia  and  Monomota- 
pa,  and  so  called  from  their  great  height. 

MovjfTAtss  of  the  Lfoni^  also  in  Africa,  divide  Ni- 
gritia  from  Guinea,  and  extend  as  far  as  Ethiopia. 
They  were  styled  by  the  ancients  the  mouittains  of  Godf. 
OR' account  of  their  being  greatly  subject  to  thunder  and'o  ^ 
lightning. 

MovvTJnf  of  Forty  Dovb;  a  mountain  of  Judea,  si-  - 
taated  in  the  plain  of  Jericno,  to  the  north  of  that  city. 
According  to  the  abb^  HI afiti^s  description,  the  snmmit ' 
of  it  is  covered  neither  with  shrubs,  turf,  nor  earth;  it-  ' 
consists  of  a  soUd  mass  of  white  marble,  the  surface  of  - 
which  is  become  yellow  by  the  injuries  of  the  air.  • 
'*  The  path  by  which  you  ascend  to  it  (says  our  author) 
fills  one  with  terror,  as  it  rised  with  a  winding  course   * 
between  two  abysses,  which  the  eye  dares  scarcely  be- 
hold.    This  path  is   at  first  pretty  broad,   but  it  at 
length  becomes  so  confined,  that  one  can  with  difficulty 
place  both  feet  upon  it  at  the  same  time.     When  wn 
had  ascended  a  little  higher,  we  found  an  Arab  stretch- 
ed out  on  the  path,  who  made  us  pay  a  certain  toll  for 
our  passage.  Here  the  traveller  requires  courage.   One 
of  the  parapets  of  the  path  being  broke,  we  t\xxtig  to 
the  part  which  remained  until  We  had  reached  a  small 
grotto,  situafed  very  commodionsly,  as  it  (^ave  us  an  op* 
portunity  of  recovering  our  breath.     When  we  had 
rested  ourselves  a  little,  we  pursued  our  course,  which 
became  still  more  dangerous.     Suspended  almost  from 
the  Tsck^  and  havitag  before  our  eyes  all  the  horror  of 

thor 


M    O    U 


[472     ] 


M    O    U 


^rountaiji, 

Mournijig. 


the  precipice,  we  could  advance  only  by  draggiog  one 
foot  after  the  other ;  so  that  had  tlie  smaUest  fragnieiits 
given  way  under  us,  we  should  have  been  hurried  to 
the  bottom  of  tbis  frightful  abyss* 

''This  mountain  is  one  of  the  highest  in  the  province, 
.and  pne  of  its  most  sacred  places.  It  takes  its  name 
from  the  rigorous  fast  which  Christ  observed  here  after 
having  triumphed  over  the  vanities  of  the  world  and 
'the  power  of  hell.  In  remembrance  of  this  miracle,  a 
chapel  was  formerly  constructed  on  the  summit  of  the 
'mountain.  It 'may  be  seen  from  the  plain,  but  we 
could  not  approach  it,  as  the  path  was  almost  entirely 
destroyed.  It,  however,  may  be  accessible  on  the  other 
side  of  the  mountain,  which  we  did  not  visit.  A 
great  many  scattered  grottos  are  seen  here  j  in  one  of 
which,  according  to  Quaresmius,  were  deposited  the 
bodies  of  several  anchorets,  which  are  still  entire.  I 
have  heard  the  same  thing  asserted  in  the  country,  but 
I  could  never  meet  with  any  person  who  had  seen  them. 
Here  we  enjoyed  the  most  beautiful  prospect  imagina- 
ble. This  put  of  the  mountain  of  Forty  Days  over- 
looks tlie  mountains  of  Arabia,  the  country  of  Gilead, 
the. country  of  the  Ammonites,  the  plains  of  Moab,  the 
plain  of  Jericho,  tlie  river  Jordan,  and  the  whole  extent 
of  the  Dead  sea.  It  was  here  that  the  devil  said  to 
the  Son  of  God,  '  All  these  kingdoms  will  I  give  thee, 
if  thou  wilt  fall  down  and  worship  me.'*  • 

MOUBNING,  a  particular  dress  or  habit  worn  to 
signify  grief  on  some  melancholy  occasion,  particularly 
the  death  of  friends  or  of  great  public  characters.-— 
The  modes  of  mourning  are  various  in  various  coun- 
tries ;  as  also  are  the  colours  that  obtain  for  that  end. 
In  Europe,  the  ordinary  colour  for  mourning  is  black  $ 
in  China,  it  is  white  ^  in  Turkey,  blue  or  violet  >  in 
Egypt,  yellow  ^  in  Ethiopia,  brown.  White  obtained 
formerly  in  Castile  on  the  death  of  tlieir  princes.  Her- 
rera  observes,  that  the  last  time  it  was  used  was  in  1498, 
at  the  death  of  Prince  John.  Each  people  pretend  to 
have  their  reasons  for  the  particular  colour  of  tbeir 
inoumiag }  white  is  supposed  to  denote  purity  ^  yellow, 
that  death  is  the  end  of  human  hopes,  in  regard  that 
Heaves  when  they  fall,  and  flowers  when  they  fade,  be- 
come  yellow :  brown  denotes  the  earth,  whither  the 
dead  return )  black,  the  privation  of  life,  as  being  the 
privation  of  light :  blue  expresses  the  happiness  which 
it  is  hoped  the  deceased  does  enjoy  j  and  purple  or  vio- 
lent, sorrow  on  the  one  side,  and  hope  on  the  other,  as 
being  a  mixture  of  black  and  blue* 

Mourning,  among  the  ancients,  was  expressed  va- 
rious ways. 

Amongst  the  Jews,  on  the  death  of  tbeir  relations 

or  intimate  friends,  grief  or  mourning  was  signified 

4iy  weeping,  tearing  their  clothes,  smiting  tbeir  breasts, 

or  tearing  them  with  their  nails,  pulling  or  cutting  off 

their  hair  and  beards,  walking  softly,  i.  e.  barefoot, 

lying  upon  the  ground,  fasting,  or  eating  upon  the 

ground.     They  kept  themselves  close  shut  up  in  their 

houses,  covered  their  faces,  and  abstained  from  all 

work,  even  reading  the  law,  and  saying  their  usual 

prayers.     They  neither  dressed  tlieiAselves,  nor  made 

the  beds,  nor  shaved  themselves,  nor  cut  tbeir  nails, 

nor  went  into  the  bath,  nor  saluted  any  body  :  so  that 

sulkiness  seems  to  have  been  an  indication  of  sorrow, 

and  dirtiness  of  distress.     The  time  of  mourning  a- 

,niong  the  Jews  was  generally  seven  days  :  though  tbis 

I 


was  lengthened  or  shorteri^d  according  to  circumstaa.  M 
ces )  but  30  days  were  thought  sui&cicnt  upon  the  ic- 
verest  occasMUs.  The  difierent  periods  of  the  time  of 
mourning  required  different  degrees  of  grief^  and  di&r* 
ent  tokens  of  it. 

The  Greeks,  on  the  death  of  friends,  showed  their 
sorrow  by  secluding  themselves  from  idl  gaiel^,  en- 
tertainments, games,  public  solemnities,  the  enjoyment 
of  wine,  and  the  delights  of  music.    They  sat  in  ^oony 
and  solitary  places,  stripped  themselves  of  all  exter- 
nal ornaments,  put  on  a  ooarse  black  stuff  by  way  of 
mourning,  tore  their  hair,  shaved  their  heads,  ndled 
themselves  in  the  dust  and  mire,  sprinkled  ashes  oa  tbeir 
heads,  smote  their  breasts  with  their  palms,  tofe  their 
faces,  and  frequently  cried  out  with  a  lamentable  voice 
and  drawling  tone,  reiterating  the  interjection  t,  f,  i,  i ; 
hence  funeral  lamentations  were  called  BAtyM.     If  they 
appeared  in  public  during  the  time  of  mourning,  they 
had  a  veil  thrown  over  tlieir  faces  and  heads.     Daring 
the  funeral  procession,  certain  persons  called  i^^t^xp* 
5^y«f,  marched  befone,  and  sung  melancholy  strains 
called  •Y§p»^f»0t  iMkifut^  Aimi,  and  AiAffti.     These  vocal 
mourners  sung  thrice  during  the  procession  round  the 
pile  and  round  the  grave.     Flutes  were  also  used  to 
heighten  the  solemnity.     At  the  fbnerals  of  soldiers, 
their  fellow  soldiers  who  attended,  as  a  testimony  of 
their  affliction,  held  their  shields,  their  spears,  and  the 
rest  of  their  armour,  inverted. 

The  tokens  of  private  grief  among  the  Romans  were 
the  same  as  those  already  observed  as  customary  among 
the  Greeks.     Black  or  dark  brown  were  tlie  cokmis  «f 
the  mourning  habits  worn  by  the  men  j  they  were  also 
common  to  the  women.     The  mourning  of  the  emperon 
at  first  was  black.    In  the  time  of  Augustus,  the  women 
wore  white  veils,  and  the  rest  of  their  dress  black.  Frsra 
the  time  of  Domitian  they  wore  nothing  but  while  ha- 
bits, without  any  ornaments  of  gold,  jewels,  or  pearls. 
The  men  let  their  hair  and  beu^  grow,  and  wore  no 
wreaths  of  flowers  on  their  heads  while  the  days  of 
mourning  continued.    The  longest  time  of  moiifning 
was  ten  months ;  tbis  was  Numa's  establiahment,  aad 
took  in  his  whole  year.     For  a  widow  to  marry  doiiag 
this  time  was  infamous.     Mourning  was  not  osed  hr 
children  who  died  under  three  years  of  age.     From  thii 
age  to  ten  they  mourned  as  many  months  as  the  child 
was  years  old.     A  remarkable  victory,  or  other  hapfiy 
event,  occasioned  the  shortening  of  the  time  of  mowa* 
ing :    The  birth  of  a  child,  or  the  attainment  of  say 
remarkable  honour  in  the  family,  certain  feasts  in  ho- 
nour of  the  gods,  or  the  consecration  of  a  temple,  bsd 
the  same  effect.     After  the  battle  of  Cannae,  the  coa* 
monwealth  decreed  that  mourning  should  not  be  mm 
for  more  than  30  days,  that  the  loss  might  be  foigottea 
as  soon  as  possible.     When  public  magistrates  died,  or 
persons  of  great  note,  also  when  any  remarkable  cala- 
mity happened,  all  public  meetings  were  intermitted, 
the  schools  of  exercitte,  baths,  shops,  temples,  and  all 
places  of  concourse  were  shut  up,  and  the  whole  city  pot 
on  a  face  of  sorrow  }  the  senators  laid  aside  the  loth' 
clave,  and  the  consuls  sat  in  a  lower  seat  than  ordinary. 
This  was  the  custom  of  Athens  also,  and  was  abserrcd 
upon  the  death  of  Socrates  not  lon^  after  be  had  beta 
sentenced  to  death  by  their  judges. 

Pretfica,  or  mourning  women,  Miy  the  Greeks  called 

5^p»»  4<CX*')9  ^^^^  about  the  :>treets :  ilia  iras  cu^to- 

isMuy 


M    O    U 


[    473     ] 


M.    O    U 


iMrAtns  mary  among  the  Jews  as  well  m  the  Greeks  and  Rowans, 

U  (Jerem.  tx.  17.) 

MouiiL        MOUSE.    Sec  Mus,  Mammalia //tcfex. 

MousE'Ear.     See  Hieracium,  J  ^q^^^y  Index 
MousE'lml,    See  Myosurus,   jf 

Dot-Mouse.     See  M yoxus,  7  tlt  .\«. .  ^ » .   r  ^  ^ 

Hhrcw-MousE.    See  SorexI  j  Mammalia  Tndc «. 

MOUSELLE,  the  name  of  an  East  Indian  tree, 
with  white  tubular  flowers,  which  fall  oft*  every  day  in 
great  plenty.  They  are  of  a  sweet  agreeable  smell, 
and  the  Gentoos  are  very  food  of  wearing  them, 
stringing  and  banging  them  about  their  necks  and 
arms.  The  fruit  is  a  pale  red  cherry,  of  the  shape  and 
size  of  our  white  heart  cherry,  but  the  footstalk  is  not 
quite  so  long,  l^is  fruit  has  a  stono  in  it,  containing* 
a  bitter  oily  kernel.  The  Indian^i  nib  with  this  oil 
any  part  stung  by  a  scorpion  or  bitten  by  a  centipede, 
which  it  soon  cures.  The  crows  are  very  fond  of  the 
fruit. 

MOUSUL,  or  Mosul,  a  largo  city  of  Turkey  in 
Asia,  and  capital  of  a  beglerbeffate,  stands  on  the  west 
bank  of  the  Tigris,  in  the  latitude,  according  to  Mr 
Ives's -observation,  of  36^  30'  north. .  It  is  surrounded 
with  stone  walls,  but  has  many  of  its  streets  lying  waste. 
Tavemier  speaks  of  it  as  a  ruined  place,  with  only 
two  blind  markets  and  a  sorry  castle^  yet,  he  says, 
that  it  is  much  frequented  by  merchants,  and  that  its 
basfaa  commands  3000  men.   There  is  a  bridge  of  boats 
over  the  Tigris  \  and  the  city  is  a  thoroughfare  from 
Persia  to  Syria,  which  makes  it  a  place  of  trade,  and 
which  is  more  augmented  by  a  constant  traffic   from 
this  place  to  Bagdad.  <  The  country  on  this  side  the 
river  is  sandy  and  barren ;  but  on  the  opposite  side 
it  is  exceedingly  fruitful,  yielding  good  crops  of  com 
and  fruit  in  abundance.     Mr  Ives  says  it  was  the  best 
built  city  he  had  seen  in  Turkey  ;  but  bad  nothing  in 
it  to  attract  the  notice  of  an  European.     It  was  be- 
sieged for  near  six  months  by  Nadir  Shah  without  suc- 
cess.    Breaches  were   frequently  made  in  the  walls, 
and  assaults  continued  for  three  days  successively  \  hut 
the  assailants  were  constantly  repulsed,  and  the  breaches 
made  in  the  day  time  repaired  during  the  night.     The 
besieged  had. unanimously  resolved  to, die  rather  than 
to  submit.     The  Turks  declared,  that  should  the  place 
be  forced  to  surrender,  they  were  determined  to  put 
to  death  all  their  wives  anil  daughters  first,  that  they 
might  not  fall  into  the  vile  hands  of  the  abhorred  Per- 
sians.    The  place  was  therefore  defended  with  uncom- 
mon bra  Very ;  even  the  women  and  children  exerted 
theitt*>elves  with  the  greatest  alacrity.     The  Christians 
behaved  in  such  a  manner  as  to  gain  the  esteem  and  ad- 
miration of  the  other  inhabitants  \  and  some  of  their 
chpTches  being  demolished,  they  were  afterwards  repair- 
ed at  the  ex  pence  of  government. 

In  this  city  there  are  a  great  many  mosques,  the 
largest  and  most  stately  of  which  is  ornamented  on  the 
top  with  green  tiles.  At  the  doors  of  these  houses 
there  are  usually  inscriptions  in  gilt  letters,  declaring 
the  awfulness  of  the  building',  ai  being  the  house  of 
God.  One  of  them  has  a  minaret  which  bends  like 
chose  of  Bagdad.  Some  of  the  most  bigotted  Turks 
«ay,  that  Mahomet  sainted  this  minaret  as  he  passed  \ 
on  which  it  bent  its  bead  in  reverence  to  the  prophet, 
and  ever  af\er  continrel  in  that  situation.     The  ma- 

VoL.  X.IV.  Part  IL  f 


nufactore  of  this  city  is  mussolen  (muslin),  which  is  made, 
very  strong  and  pretty  fine.     In  the  year  1757,  this 
city  and  the  country  adjacent  were  visited  by  a  dread- 
ful famine,  owing  to  the  preceding  Lard  winter,  and 
innumerable  multitudes  of  locusts,  by  which  the  fruitis. 
of  the  earth   were   destroyed.     When  Mr  Ives  was 
there  in  1758,  the  country  was  comparatively  depopu- 
lated.    Almost   all  the  brute  creation  had  been  de- 
stroyed for  the  subsistence  of  man.    During  the  famine, 
the  people  had  eaten  dogs,  and  i^vctj  kind  of  animal 
which  is  held  in  abhorrence  at  any  other  time,  not 
sparing  even  their  own  children  ^  and  the  dead  bodi€j«: 
lay  in  the  streets  for  want  of  people  to  bury  theoi; 
Their  fruit  trees  were  also  destroyed  by  the  frost  j  so 
that  when  our  author  was  there  scarcely  any  fruit  couKf 
be  had.      The   neighbouring  mountains   aftoid   silver 
mines  ^  and  they  would  yield  much  qoicksilver  if  the 
Turks  had  either  the  skill  or  inclination  to  work  them 
to  advantage.     Lanca  says,   that  some  time  ago  an 
Englishman   who  travelled  through  this  country  got 
two  or  three  bottles  of  it,  which  he  presented  to  the 
basha  as  a  specimen  of  what  might  be  done  in  thajb 
way ;  but  no  farther  attempt  was  made.     Here  also 
are  some  lead  mines,  which  supply  as  much  of  that 
metal  as  furnishes  them  with  bullets  and  some  necessary 
utensils. 

MOU-TAN  or  Peony  Shrub  of  China :  also  calU 
ed  hoa-cuang^  or  **^  the  king  of  flowers,"  and  ptlearrg' 
kitty  "  an  hundred  ounces  of  gold,"  in  allusion  to  tho 
excessive  price  given  formerly  by  some  of  the  virtuosi 
for  certain  species  of  this  plant.  The  n^u-tan  seems 
to  claim  pre-eminence,  not  only  on  account  of  tho 
splendour  and  number  of  its  flowers,  and  of  the  sweet 
odour  which  they  difiuse  around,  but  also  on  account 
of  tl>e  multitude  of  leaves  which  compose  them,  and 
of  the  beautiful  golden  spots  with  wlilch  they  are  in- 
terspersed. This  plant,  which  is  of  a  shrubby  nature, 
shoots  forth  a  number  of  branches,  which  form  a  top 
almost  as  large  as  those  of  the  finest  orange  tree^?. 

MOUTH,  in  Anatomy y  a  part  of  the  face,  consist- 
ing of  the  lips,  the  gums,  the  insidcs  of  the  cheeks;, 
the  palate,  the  saliva!  glands,  the  os  hyoides,  the  uvula, 
and  the  tonsils  ^  which  see  under  the  article  Ana- 
tomy. 

Mr  Derhani  observes,  that  the  mouth  in  the  several 
species  of  animals  is  nicely  adapted  to  the  uses  of  such 
a  part,  and  well  sized  and  shapeil  for  the  formation  of 
speech,  the  gathering  and  receiving  of  food,  the  catch- 
ing of  prey,  &c.  In  some  creatures  it  is  wide  and 
large,  in  others  little  and  naixow  :  in  some  it  is  formed 
with  a  deep  incisure  into  the  bead,  for  tlie  better  catch- 
ing and  holding  of  prey,  and  more  easjr  comminution  of 
hard,  large,  and  troublesome  food ;  and  in  others  with 
a  shorter  incisni*e,  for  the  gathering  and  holding  of  her- 
baceous food.  In  birds  it  is  neatly  shaped  for  piercing 
the  air  }  bard  and  horny,  to  supply  the  want  of  teeth  ^ 
hooked,  in  the  rapacious  kind,  to  catch  and  hold  their 
prey  ;  long  and  slender  in  those  that  have  their  food  to 
grope  for  in  moorish  places  y  and  broad  and  long  in  those 
that  search  for  it  in  the  mud.  Nor  is  the  mouth  lesA 
remarkable  in  insects ;  in  some  it  is  forcipated,  (o  catchy 
hold,  and  tear  the  prey  \  in  others  aculeatcd,  to. pierce 
and  wound  animals,  and  suck  their  blood  ^  in  othors^ 
»lrongly  rigid,  with  jaws  and  teeth,  to  gnaw  aod  scrape 

3  O  o**» 


II 
Mouth. 


^ 


M    U    F 


[    474    ] 


M    U    L 


M^th 

II 
Muffle. 


out  their  food,  carrj  hardens,  perforate  the  earth,  oay 
the  hardest  wood,  and  even  stones  themselves,  for  houses 
and  nestH  for  their  joung.  •  - 

MO  WEE,  one  of  the  Sandwich  islands,  discovered 
hy  Captain  Cook,  is  162  miles  in  circumference.  A 
low  isthmus  divides  it  into  two  circular  peninsulas, 
of  which  the  eastern  is  douhle  the  size  of  the  western. 
The  mountains  in  both  rise  to  a  great  height,  and  may 
be  seen  at  the  distance  of  more  than  30  leagues.  The 
northern  shores,  like  those  of  O  why  bee,  afford  no  sound- 
ings, and  the  country  presents  the  same  appearance  of 
verdure  and  fertility.  The  number  of  inhabitants  is 
computed  at  about  05^cx>o.  W.  Long.  175.  ^6.  N.  Lat. 

20.  ss- 

MOXA,  or  MuGWORT  of  China,  is  a  soft  lanagi- 
nous  substance,  prepared  in  Japan  from  the  young  leaves 
of  a  species  of  ARTEMISIA,  by  beating  them  together 
when  thoroughly  dried,  and  rubbing  them  betwixt  the 
hands  till  only  the  fine  fibres  are  left.  The  down  on 
the  leaves  of  mullein,  cotton,  hemp,  &c.  answers  the 
same  purpose. 

In  the  Eastern  countries  it  is  used  by  burning  it  on 
the  skin :  a  little  cone  of  the  moxa  is  laid  upon  the 
part,  previously  moistened,  and  set  on  fire  at  the  top ) 
it  bums  down  with  a  temperate  glowing  heat,  and  pro- 
duces a  dark  coloured  spot,  the  exulceradon  of  which 
is  promoted  by  applying  a  little  garlic ;  the  ulcer  is  left 
to  discharge,  or  is  soon  healed,  according  to  the  inten* 
tton  in  using  the  moxa. 

MOYRA.     See  Moira. 

MUCILAGE,  in  Pharmacy^  is  in  general  any  viscid 
or  firJutinous  liquor. 

Mucilage  also  imports  the  liquor  which  princi- 
pally serves  to  moisten  the  ligaments  and  cartilages  of 
the  articulations,  and  is  supplied  bj  the  mucilaginoua 
glaads. 

MUCOR,  in  Botany,  a  genus  of  the  order  of  fungi^ 
belonging  to  the  cryptogamia  class  of  plants^  See  Bo« 
tany  Index. 

MUCUS;  a  mucilaginous  liquor  secreted  by  certain 
glands,  and  serving  to  lubricate  many  of  the  internal 
cavities  of  the  body.  In  its  natural  state  it  is  generally 
limpid  and  colourless  }  but,  from  certain  causes,  assumes 
a  thick  consistence  and  a  whitish  colour  like  pus.  For 
the  distinguishing  characters  between  pus  and  mucus^ 
see  Chemistry,  N®  2769. 

MUCK,  or  Running  a  Muck,  is  a  practice  that 
has  prevailed  time  immemorial  in  Batavia.  To  ran 
a  muck,  in  the  original  sense  of  the  word,  is  to  get 
intoxicated  with  opium,  and  then  rush  into  the  street 
with  a  drawn  weapon,  and  kill  any  one  that  conies  in 
the  way,  till  the  P^urty  is  himself  either  killed  or  taken 
prisoner.  If  the  officer  take  one  of  these  antocks  or 
mohawks  (as  they  have  been  called  by  an  easy  corrup- 
tion) alive,  he  has  a  considerable  reward  j  and  the  on- 
happy  wretch  is  always  broken  alive  on  the  wheel : 
¥at  such  is  the  fnry  of  their  desperation,  that  three 
out  of  four  are  necessarily  destroyed  in  attempting  to 
secure  them. 

MUD-igvana.  See  Murjcna,  Ichthtoloot 
Index, 

MUFFLE,  in  Chemistry^  a  vessel  employed  in  some 
■letallurgic  operations.  In  figure  it  represents  an  ob** 
long  arch  «r  vault,  tbe  hinder  part  of  which  is  closed 
hf  a  semicircular  planey  and  tlie  lower  part  or  floor  of 

4 


which  is  a  reeta&gular  plane.  It  is  a  little  oven  tbit  is  n^ 
placed  horizontally  in  assay  and  enamelling  fomces,      \ 
so  that  its  open  side  corresponds  with  the  door  of  the  fat-  ^^imy 
place  of  the  furnace.     Under  thil^  arched  oven  stmll 
cupels  or  crucibles  are  placed  \  and  the  substances  con- 
taincd  are  thus  exposed  to  intense  heat  without  comart 
of  fuel,  smoke,  or  ashes. 

MUFTI^  the   chief  of  the  ecclesiastical  order,  or 
primate  of  the  Mussulman  religion.     The  authority  of 
the  mufti  is  very  great  in  the  Ottoman  empire  \  lor 
even  the  sultan  himself,  if  he  would  preserve  any  ap- 
pearance of  religion,  cannot,  without  hearing  bis  opi- 
nion, put  any  person  to  death,  or  so  much  as  inHict 
any  corporal  punishment.      In  all  actions,  especially 
criminal  ones,  his  opinion  is  required,  by  giving  him 
a  writing  in  which  the  case  is  stated  under  feigned 
names  ;  which  he  subscribes  with  the  words.  He  sAaily 
or  skaii  not,  be  pttntshed.    Such  outwa.rd  honour  b  psiil 
to  the  mufti,  that  the  grand  signior  himself  rises  op  to 
him,  and  advances  *seven  steps  to  meet  hira  when  be 
comes  into  his  presence.     He  alone  has  the  boooor  of 
kissing  the  sultanas  left  shoulder,  whilst  the  prime  Tiiior 
kisses  only  the  hem  of  his  garment.     When  the  grand 
signior  addresses  any  writing  to  the  mufti,  be  gives  hift 
the  following  titles  :  To  tkeEsad^  tkewutit^tketrut, 
tnstrticted  in  all  know/edge^  the  most  erceilent  (fexcelr 
lentSf  abstaining  from  things  uniawjul^  the  spring  of W' 
tue  and  of  true  seience^  heir  fjf  the  prophetic  doctrimi^ 
reao/vcr  of  the  problems  of  faith^  reveaier  of  the  ortko^ 
dox  articles f  key  of  the  treasures  t^  truth^  the  light  to 
tlie  doubtful  allegories^  strengthened  with  the  grace  of 
the  supreme  Legislator  of  mankind^  may  the  Most  High 
God  perpetuate  thy  virtues  !  The  election  of  the  moiti 
is  solely  in  the  grand  signior,  who  presents  him  with  a 
vest  of  rich  sables,  &c.     If  he  is  convicted  of  trraioa 
or  any  great  crime,  he  isput  into  a  mortar  kept  ior 
that  purpose  in  the  Seven  Towers  at  Constantinople,  aid 
pounded  to  death. 

MUGGLETONIANS,  a  religious  sect  which  aroie 
in  England  about  the  year  1 657  \  so  denominated  Irooi 
their  leader  Lodowick  Muggletoo,  a  journeyman  tjy- 
lor,  who,  with  his  associate  Beeves,  set  op  for  great 
prophets,  pretending,  as  it  is  said,'  to  have  an  aboohite 
power  of  saving  and  danming  whom  they  pleased ;  asd 
giving  out  that  they  were  the  two  last  witnesses  of  God 
that  should  appear  before  the  end  of  the  world. 

MUGIL,  the  Mullet,  a  genus  of  fishes  belooging 
to  the  order  of  abdominales.  See  Ichthtologt  laddi* 

MUGWOBT,  a  upecies  of  Artxmisia  \  which  icc^ 
Botany  Index* 

MUID,  a  large  measure  in  nse  among  tbe  Fmcb, 
for  things  dry.  The  muid  is  no  real  vessel  used  as  a 
measure,  but  an  estimation  of  several  other  mcasaics} 
as  the  septier,  mine,  minot,  bosbel,  &c* 

MuiD,  Is  also  one  of  the  nine  casks,  or  regolar  ves- 
sels used  in  France,  to  put  wine  and  other  Uifoon  io« 
The  muid  of  wine  is  divided  into  two  demi-muidt,  foar 
quarter*muids,  and  eight  half-qnartev  nmids,  cootiiaing 
36'  septiers. 

MULATTO,  a  name  given  in  the  Indiet  to  thoie  wW 
are  begotten  by  a  negro  man  on  an  Indian  or  white  «s* 
man,  or  W  an  Indian  or  white  man  on  a  n^Cio  wooaa* 

MULBERRY.    See  Morus,  Botany  Imde*. 

MuLBEHBY-Cydetf  a  name  given  by  tlw  people  of 

Devonshire,,  and.  some-  othec  pafts  of  Englandi  t*  * 

sort 


M    U    L 


C    475    3 


M    U    L 


%Mbetrj  ^^  ^^  cycler  ren<Ie)*e<i  very  palatable  by  an  MJiDixture 
of  molberry  juice  in  the  making;  tbey  choose  for  tbiA 
purpose  the  ripest  and  blackest  mulberriea,  and  pres- 
sing* out  their  juice,  and  mixing  it  with  a  full  bodied 
cyder  at  the  time  of  the  grinding  and  pressing,  give  just 
BO  much  of  it  as  adds  a  perceptible  flavour.  It  is 
▼ery  worthy  the  attention  of  people  who  live  in  other 
countries,  where  strong  and  good  cyder  is  made,  that 
this  renders  it  a  sort  of  wine  much  more  agreeable  than 
any  other  English  liqnor,  and  might  be  brought  into 
general  use,  to  Uie  great  advantage  of  the  dealer.  The 
colour  of  this  liquor  resembles  that  of  the  brightest  red 
wine,  and  the  flavour  of  the  mulberry  never  goes  off. 
Phil.  Trans.  N®  133. 

MULCT,  a  fine  of  money  laid  upon  a  man  who  has 
committed  some  fault,  or  misdeoieanour. 

MULE,  a  mongrel  kind  of  quadruped,  usually  ge- 
nerated between  an  ass  and  a  mare,  and  sometime^ 
between  a  horse  and  a  she  ass  ;  but  the  signification  of 
the  word  is  commonly  extended  to  every  kind  of  ani- 
mal produced  ^v  a  mixture  of  two  difierent  species* 
See  Mammalia  Index, 

Mules,  among  gardeners,  denote  a  sort  of  vege- 
tfible  monsters  pi^uced  by  putting  the  farina  fcecun- 
dans  of  one  species  of  plant  into  the  pistil  or  utricle  of 
another. 

The  carnation  and  sweet-william  being  somewhat 
alike  in  their  parts,  particularly  their  flowers,  the  farina 
of  the  one  will  impregnate  the  other,  and  the  seed  so 
enlivened  will  produce  a  plant  difiering  from  either. 
An  instance  of  this  we  first  had  in  Mr  Fairchild^s  gar- 
den at  Hoxton  ^  where  a  plant  is  seen  neither  sweet- 
william  nor  carnation,  but  resembling  both  equally  r 
this  was  raised  from  the  seed  of  a  carnation  that  had 
been  impregnated  by  the  farina  of  the  sweet-william. 
These  couplings  being  not  unlike  those  of  the  mare 
with  the  ass,  which  produce  the  mule,  the  same  name  is 
given  them ;  and  they  are,  like  the  others,  incapable  of 
multiplying  their  species. 

This  furnishes  a  hint  for  altering  the  property  and 
taste  of  any  fruit,  by  impregnating  one  tree  with  the 
farina  of  another  of  the  same  class  j  cgr.  a  codlin  with 
a  pear-main,  which  will  occasion  the  codlin  so  impreg- 
nated to  last  a  longer  time  than  usual,  and  to  be  of  a 
sharper  taste. 

MULHAUSEN,  an  imperial  and  Hanseatic  town 
of  Germany,  in  Upper  Saxony,  and  in  Thuringia,  un- 
der the  protection  of  tlie  elector  of  Saxony  j  seated  in 
a  fertile  country,  on  the  river  Unstrutht,  j  5  miles  north- 
east of  Eisenach,  and  45  east  by  south-  of  Cassel.  £• 
Ijong.  10.  49.  N.  Lat.  51.  13. 

MuLHAUSEK,  a  considerable  town  in  Abace,  former- 
ly capital  of  a  republic  in  alliance  with  the  Swiss.  It 
is  popnlous,  and  well  built,  seated  in  a  pleasant  fertile 
coontry,  on  an  island  formed  by  the  river  Ul,  15  miles 
north-west  of  Basle.  It  was  united  to  France  in  1 798, 
and  belongs  to  the  department  of  the  Upper  Rhine. 
£.  Long.  7.  24.  N.  Lat.  47.  48. 

MULIER,  in  Law^  signifies  the  lawful  issue  bom 
in  wedlock,  though  begotten  before.  The  mulier  is 
.preferred  to  an  older  brother  bom  out  of  matrimony } 
as  for  instance,  if  a  man  has  a  son  by  a  woman  before 
marriage,  which  issue  is  a  bastard,  and  afterwards  mar- 
ries the  mother  of  the  bastard,  and  they  have  another 
son,  this  second  son  is  mulier  and  lawful,  and  shall  bo 


heir  of  the  father ;  but  the  other  can  be  heir  to  no    Malier 
person*.     By  the  civil  law,  where  a  man  has  issue  by        || 
a  woman,  if  after  that  he  marries  her,  the  issue  is  Muningar. 
mulier.  ^  •Sclk 

MULL,  one  of  the  Western  islands  of  Scotland,  about  article 
25  miles  long,  and  as  much  in  breadth.     It  is  in  ge-  Bastard. 
aeral   rocky  and  barren,  not  producing  a  suflicient 
quantity  of  corn  for  the  inhabitants ;  but  a  great  num-       ' 
ber  of  cattle  are  annually  exported,  which  with  the  fish* 
ings  and  a  considerable  quantity  of  kelp  axe  the  only 
articles  of  commerce.     It  is'  deeply  indented  with  bays 
and  creeks,  forming  in  several  parts  good  natural  har- 
bours.  There  are  no  villages  except  Tobermorey,  near 
the  northern  point  of  the  island,  where  a  fishing  station 
has  been  fixed.     The  island  was  orig^ally  part  of  the 
dominions  of  the  Lords  of  the  Isles  j  but  in  after  times 
it  became  a  part  of  tlte  possessions  of  the  Ancient  family 
of  Macleans,  who  still  retain  a  considerable  part.     Th« 
duke  of  Argyll  is  also  a  considerable  proprietor.     The 
ruins  of  several  ancient  castles  ave  seen  on  this  islsnd. 
The  population  of  Mull,  in  1795,  amounted  to  about 
Sooo  persons. 
.   Mull  ofCantyre.    See  Camttae. 

MuLt  of  Galloway,    See  Gali^oWaT. 

MULLEIN.     See  Verbascum,  Botany  Indek, 

MULLER,  or  Regiomontakus,  John,  a  cele- 
brated astronomer  of  the  1 5th  century,  was  bora  at 
Koningshoven  in  Franconia  in  14^9  and  acquired 
great  reputation  by  publishing  an  abridgement  of  Pto- 
lemy^s  Almagest,  which  had  been  begun  by  Purback* 
He  went  to  Rome  to  perfect  himself  in  the  Greek 
tongue,  und  to  see  the  Cardinal  Bassarion  ^  but  finding 
some  faults  in  the  Latin  translation  of  George  de  Trr- 
bizond,  that  translator's  son  assassinated  him  in  a  second 
journey  he  made. to  Rome  in  1476,  where  Pope  SIxtus 
IV.  had  provided  for  hiii  tlie  archbishopric  of  Ratisbon^ 
and  had  sent  for  him  to  reform  the  calendar.  Others 
say  that  he  died  of  the  plague. 

MuLLER,  orMuUar^  denotes  a  stone  flat  and  even  at 
bottom,  but  round  a-top  ^  used  for  grinding  of  matters 
on  a  marble.— The  apothecaries  use  mullers  to  prepare 
many  of  their  testaceous  powders )  and  painters  for  their    , 
colours,  either  dry  or  in  oil. 

MuLLEH  is  an  instrument  used  by  the  glass-grinders  \ 
being  a  piece  of  wood,  to  one  end  whereof  is  cement- 
ed -the  glass  to  « e  ground,  whether  convex  in  a  ba- 
son, or  concave  in  a  sphere  or  bowl.— >The  muDer  is 
ordinarily  about  six  inches  long,  turned  round :  the 
cement  used  is  composed  of  ashes  and  pitch*  See 
Grinding. 

MULL  ERAS,  a  town  of  Germany,  in  the  circle 
of  Upper  Saxony,  and  marquisate  of  Brandenburg:, 
seated  38  miles  south  of  Berlin,  upon  a  canal  which 
joins  the  Oder  and  the  Spree*  This  canal  is  15  miles 
in  length,  10  yards  in  breadth,  and  seven  feet  in  depth. 
It  was  eight  years  in  making)  and  since  that  time 
the  cities  of  Hamburg  and  Breslaw  have  carried  on 
great  trade  by  water.  £.  Long.  14.  50.  N.  Lat.  52* 
21. 

ArfULLET.    .SeeMuOlL,IcHTHTOL0GT  JjM/rr. 

Mullet,  or  Mollet^  in  Heraldry^  a  bearing  in  form 
of  the  rowel  of  a  spur,  which  it  originally  reprc* 
sented. 

MULLINGAR,  the  county  town  of  Westmeath, 
and  province  of  Leinster,  in  Ireland,  38  miles  from 

3  Q  ^  l>ublin. 


HUM 


[    476    1 


MUM 


Mvniiigftr  Dublip.  N.  Lat.  53.  30.  W.  Long.  7.  50.  Within  a 
few  miles  of  it.  are  the  ruins  of  the  cbunch,  and  also  those 
of  a  castle.  It  is  situated  on  the  river  Feyle.  It  holds 
a  great  wool  fair,  and  is  a  place  of  good  trade*  In 
1 2271  the  priory  of  St  Mary,  formerly-  known  by  the 
name  of  The  House  of  God  if  MuHingar^  was  founded 
here  by  Balph  de  Pet^t  bishop  of  Meath,  for  regular 
cyions  of  the  order  of  St  Augustin.  A  Dominican 
friary  was  also  founded  here  in  1237  by  the  family  of 
Nugent}  some  ruins  of  which  still  remain.  In  10229 
the  friars  of  Multifamham  began  to  erect,  a  house  there 
lor  friars  of  the  order  of  St  Francis,  but.  it  was  never 
completed. 

•  MULIiUS,  the  Surmullet,  a  genus  of  fishes  be- 
Ibneing  to  the  order  of  thoracici.  See  Ichthyology 
Index, 

MULTIPLE,'  in  Arithmcilcy  a  number  which  com- 
prehends some  other  several  times  \  thus  6  is  a  multiple 
of  2,  and  1 2  is  a  multiple  of  6,  4,  and  3  ;  comprehend- 
ing the  first  twice,  the  second  thrice,  &c.      -^ 

Action  o/  MULTIPLEPOINDING,  in  Scots 
Law,     See  Law,  N®  clxxxiii.  24. 

MULTIPLICAND,  in  Arithmetic,  the  number  to 
be  multiplied  by  another.     See  Arithmetic. 

MULTIPLICATION,  in  general,  the  act  of  in- 
creasing the  number  of  any  thing. 

Multiplication,  in  Arithmeiic,  is  a  rule  by  which 
any  given  number  may  be  speedily  increased,  accord- 
ing to  any  proposed  number  of  times.  See  Arith- 
metic. 

Multiplication,  in  Algebra,    See  Algebra. 

MULTIPLICATOR,  or  Multiplier,  in  Arith- 
metic^  the  number  by  which  any  other  is  multiplied,  or 
the  number  of  tlmes'it  is  supposed  to  be  taken. 

MULTIPLICATUS  flos,  a  luxuriant  flower, 
whose  petals  are  multiplied  so  as  to  exclude  a  part  or 
the  whole  of  the  stamina. 

MULTIPLYING  glass,  in  Optics^  a  glass  where- 
.with  objects  appear  increased  in  number.    See  Optics. 

MULTURE  in  Scots  Latv,  a  certain  stipulated 
quantity  of  meal  given  as  payment  to  the  proprietor 
or  tacksman  of  a  mill  for  grinding  the  corn  :  and  all 
corn  ground  on  farms  thirled  to  the  mill  is  obliged  to 
]i;iy  multure  whether  the  corn  be  ground  at  that  mill  or 
•Isewhere. 

MULVIA,  a  river  of  Barbary  !•  Africa,  which 
rises  in  the  mountains  of  Atlas,, and  divides  the  em- 
pire of  Morocco  from  that  of  Algiers,  and  then  falls 
into  the  Mediterranean,  to  the  westward  of  Marsal- 
quiver. 

MUM,  a  kind  of  malt  liquor  much  drunk  in  Ger- 
many, and  chiefly  brought  firom  Brunswick,  which  is 
the  place  of  most  note  for  making  it.  The  process  of 
brewing  mum,  as  recorded  in  the  townhouse  of  that 
city,  is  as  follows  :  Take  63  gallons  of  water  that  has 
been  boiled  till  one  third  part  is  consumed,  and  brew 
it  with  seven  bushels  of  wheaten  malt,  one  bushel  of 
oat  meal,  and  one  bushel  of  ground  beans.  When  it 
iif  tunned,  the  hogshead  must  not  be  filled  too  full  at 
first :  as  soon  as  it  begins  to  work,  put  into  it  three 
pounds  of  the  inner  rind  of  fir,  one  pound  of  the  tops 
of  fir  and  beech,  three  handfuls  of  carduus  benedictus, 
a  handful  or  two  of  the  flower  of  rosa  solis  :  add  bur-  • 
net,  betony,  marjoram,  avens,  pennyroyal,  and  wild 
thyme,  of  each  a  handful  and  a  half  ^  of  elder  flowers, 

J 


two  handfuls  or  more  ;  seeds  of  cardamon  bruised,  30     y^^ 
ounces }  barbenies  bruised,  one  ounce:  when  the  li-      | 
quor  has  worked  a  wJiile,  put  the  herbs  and  seeds  ioto  ^^ 
the  vessel  j  and,  after  they  are  added,  let  it  work  orcr^ 
as  little  as  possible  5  then  fill  it  up :  lastly,  when  it  is 
stopped,  put  into  the  hogshead  ten  new-laid  eggs  un- 
broken J  stop  it  up  close,  and  use  it  at  two  years  end. 
The  English  brewers,  instead  of  the  inner  nnd  of  fir, 
use  cardamom,  ginger,  and  sassafras  \  and  also  add  ele- 
campane, madder,  and  red  sanders. 

MUMMIUS,  L.  a  Roman  consul  sent  against  the 
Achseans,  whom  he  conquered  B.  C.  147.  He  de- 
stroyed Corinth,  Thebes,  and  Chalcis,  by  order  of  the 
senate,  and  obtained  the  surname  of  Achaicus  fi-oro  his 
victories.  He  did  not  enrich  himself  with  the  spoils  of 
the  enemy,  but  returned  home  without  any  increase 
of  fortune.  He  was  so  little  acquainted  with  the  n- 
lue  of  the  paintings  and  works  of  the  most  celebrated 
artists  of  Greece  which  were  found  in  the  plunder  of 
Corinth,'  that  be  said  to  those  who  conveyed  them  to 
Rome,  that  if  they  lost  or  injured  them,  they  skoold 
makes  others  in  their  stead. 

MUMMY,  a  body  embalmed  or  dried,  in  the  man- 
ner used  by  the  ancient  Egyptians ;  or  the  composition 
with  which  it  is  embalmed.  There  are  two  kinds  of 
bodies  denominated  mummies.  The  first  are  only  car- 
cases dried  by  the  heat  of  the  sun,  and  by  that  means 
kept  from  putrefaction ;  these  are  frequently  found  in 
the  sands  of  Libya.  Some  imagine^  that  these  are 
the  bodies  of  deceased  people  buried  there  on  purpose 
to  keep  them  entire  without  embalming  ^  others  think 
they  are  the  carcases  of  travellers  who  have  been  over- 
whelmed by  the  clouds  of  sand  raised  by  the  hurri- 
canes frequent  in  those  deserts.  The  second  kind  of 
mummies  are  bodies  taken  out  of  the  catacombs  near 
Cairo,  in  which  the  Egyptians  deposited  their  dead  af« 
ter  embalming.     See  Embalming. 

We  have  two  different  substances  preserved  for  me- 
dicinal use  under  the  name  of  mummy,  though  both  in 
some  degree  of  the  same  origin.  The  one  is  the  dried 
and  preserved  flesh  of  human  bodies,  embalmed  with 
myrrh  and  spices^  the  other  is  the  liquor  running 
from  such  mummies,  when  newly  prepared,  or  when 
affected  by  great  heat  or  damps.  The  latter  is  some- 
times in  a  liquid,  sometimes  of  a  solid  form,  as  it  is 
preserved  in  vials  well  stopped,  or  suflfered  to  dry  and 
harden  in  the  air.  The  first  kind  of  mummy  is  biooght 
to  us  in  large  pieces,  of  a  lax  and  friable  texture, 
light  and  spongy,  of  a  blackish  brown  colour,  and  of- 
ten damp  and  clammy  on  the  surface  :  it  is  of  a  strong 
but  disagreeable  smell.  The  second  kind  of  mommy, 
in  its  liquid  state,  is  a  thick,  opaque,  and  viscous 
fluid,  of  a  blackish  colour,  but  not  disagreeable  smell. 
In  Its  indurated  state,  it  is  a  dry  solid  substance,  01 
a  fine  shining  black  colour,  and  close  texture,  easily 
broken,  and  of  a  good  smell  \  very  inflammable,  and 
yielding  a  scent  of  myrrh  and  aromatic  ingredients 
while  burning.  This,  if  wi;  cannot  be  content  with- 
out medicines  from  our  own  bodies,  ought  to  be  the 
mummy  used  in  the  shops  \  but  it  is  very  scarce  and 
dear  \  while  the  other  is  so  cheap,  that  it  will  always 
be  most  in  use. 

All  these  kinds  of  mummies  are  brought  from  E- 
gypt.  But  we  are  not  to  imagine,  that  any  hodj 
breaks  up  the  real  Egyptian  mummies,  to  sell  tAem  ia 

pieces 


J 


M    U    N 


r    477    1 


M    U    N 


Mxtm-Mj  pieces  to  the  druggists,  as  they  make  a  much  better 
II  market  of  them  in  Europe  whole,  when  they  can  con- 
Maad<t.  ^  itlve  to  get  them.  What  our  druggists  are  supplied 
with,  is  the  flesh  of  executed  criminals,  or  of  any 
other  bodies  the  Jews  can  get,  who  fill  them  with  the 
common  bitumen,  so  plentiful  in  that  part  of  the 
world  'y  and  adding  a  little  aloes,  and  two  or  three 
other  cheap  ingredients,  send  them  to  be  baked  in  an 
oven,  till  the  juices  are  exhaled,  and  the  embalming 
matter  has  penetrated  so  thoroughly  that  the  flesh  will 
keep  and  bear  transporting  into  Europe.  Mummy  has 
been  esteemed  resolvent  and  balsamic :  but  whatever 
virtues  have  been  attributed  to  it,  seem  to  be  suoh  as 
depend  more  upon  the  ingredients  used  in  preparing 
the  flesh  than  in  the  flesh  itself  j  and  it  would  surely 
be  better  to  give  those  ingredients  without  so  shocking 
an  addition. 

There  are  found  in  Poland  a  kind  of  natural  mum- 
mies, or  human  bodies  preserved  without  the  assistance 
of  art.  These  lie  in  considerable  numbers  in  some  of 
the  vast  cavem9  in  that  countiy.  They  are  dried  with 
the  flesh  and  skin  shrunk  up  almost  close  to  the  bones, 
and  are*  of  a  blackish  colour.  In  the  wars  which  se- 
veral ages  ago  laid  waste  that  country,  it  was  com* 
moD  for  parties  of  the  weaker  side  to  retire  into  these 
caves,  where  their  enemies,  if  ihejt  found  them  out,  suF- 
^Dcated  them  by  burning  straw,  &c«  at  the  month  of 
the  cavern,  and  then  left  the  bodies ;  which,  being  out 
of  the  way  of  injuries  from  common  accidents,  have  lain 
there  ever  since. 

.  Mummy,  amon^r  gardeners,  a  kind  of  wax  used  in 
grafting  and  planting  the  roots  of  trees,  made  in  the 
following  manner:  Take  one  pound  of  black  pitch, 
and  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  turpentine }  put  them  to- 
gether into  an  earthen  pot,  and  set  them  on  fire  in  the 
open  air,  holding  something  in  your  hand  to  cover  and 
quench  the  mixture  in  time,  which  is  to  be  alternately 
lighted  and  quenched  till  all  the  nitrous  and  volatile 
parts  be  evaporated.  To  this  a  little  common  wax  is 
to  be  added  j  and  the  composition  is  then  to  be  set  by 
for  use. 

MUMPS.    See  Medicine  Index. 

MUNDA,  an  ancients  town  of  Spain,  in  the  king- 
dom of  Granada,  seated  on  the  declivity  of  a  hill,  at 
the  bottom  of  which  runs  a  river.  W.  Long.  4.  13* 
N.  Lat.  48. 15. 

This  city  was  anciently  famous  for  a  victory  gained 
by  Csesar  over  the  two  sons  of  Pompey,  who  hiS  col- 
lected an  army  in  Spain  after  the  defeat  of  their  father 
atPharsalia.     See  {History  of)  Rome. 

The  Pompeys  posted  their  army  advantageously  on 
a  rising  ground^  whereof  one  side  was  defended  by  the 
city  of  Munda,  and  the  other  by  a  small  river  which 
watered  the  plain,  and  by  a  marsh  :  so  that  the  enemy 
could  not  attack  tlie m  but  in  front.  Csesar  likewise 
drew  op  his  troops  with  great  art,  and  having  advan- 
ced a  little  way  from  his  camp,  ordered  them  to 
halt,  expecting  the  enemy  would  abandon  tlieir  advan- 
tageous post,  and  come  to  meet  him.  But  as  they  did 
not  stir,  Caesar  made  as  if  he  intended  to  fortify  him- 
self in  that  post  'y  which  induced  the  young  general,  who 
looked  upon  this  as  a  sign  of  fear,  to  advance  into  the 
plain,  and  attack  the  enemy  before  they  could  secure 
themselves  with  any  works.  Pompey's  army  was  by 
&r  the  most  numerous :  for  it  consisted  of  13  legionS| 


6000  horse,  And  an  incredible  number  of  auxiliaries,  Munda: 
among  whom  were  all  the  forces  of  Bocchus  king  of 
Mauritania,  commanded  by  his  two  sons,  both  youths 
of  great  valour  and  bravery.  Caesar  had  8o  cohorts, 
three  legions,  to  wit,  the  third,  the  fifth,  and  the  tenth, 
and  a  body  of  8000  horse.  As  the  enemy  drew  near, . 
Caesar  betrayed  a  great  deal  of  uneasiness  and  concern, 
as  if  he  were  doubtful  of  the  success,  knowing  he  was 
to  engage  men  no  way  inferior  in  valour  and  experi- 
ence to  his  own,  and  commanded  by  officers  who  had 
on  many  occasions  given  signal  proofs  of  their  bra- 
very and  conduct.  Cneius,  the  elder  of  the  two  brothers, 
was  generally  looked  upon  as  an  able  commander  *,  and 
Labienus,  who  had  revolted,  esteemed  scarce  inferior  to 
himself. 

However,  the  dictator,  desirous  to  put  an  end  to 
the  civil  war,  either  by  his ,  own  death,  or  that  of  his 
rivals,  gave  the  signal  for  the  battle,  and  fell  upon  the 
enemy  with  his  usual  vigour  and  resolution.  At  the 
first  onset,  which  was  dreadful,  the  auxiliaries  on  both 
sides  betook  themselves  to  flight,  leaving  the  Romans- 
to  decide  their  quarrel  by  themselves.  Then  the  le- 
gionaries engaged  with  a  fury  hardly  to  be  expressed  ; 
Csesar^s  men  being  encouraged  by  the  hopes  of  putting 
an  end  to  all  their  labours  by  this  battle  ^  and  those  of 
Pompey  exerting  themselves  out  of  necessity  and  des- 
pair, since  most  of  them  expected  no  quarter,  as  hav- 
ing been  formerly  pardoned.  Never  was  victory  more 
vl^tinately  disputed.  Csesar^s  men,  who  had  been  al- 
ways used  to  conquer,  found  themselves  so  vigorously 
charged  by  the  enemy's  legionaries,  that  they  began 
to  give  ground  *,  and  though  they  did  not  turn  theii: 
backs,  yet  it  was  manifest  that  shame  alone  kept  them 
in  their  posts.  All  authors  agree,  that  Csesar  had  never 
been  in  so  great  danger ;  and  he  himself,  when  he  came 
back  to  his  camp,  told  bis  friends,  that  he  had  often 
fought  for  vietory,  but  this  was  the  first  time  he  had 
ever  fought  for  life.  Thinking  himself  abandoned  by- 
fortune,  which  had  hitherto  favoured  him,  he  had  some 
thoughts  of  stabbing  himself  with  bis  own  sword,  and- 
by  a  voluntary  death  preventing  the  disgrace  of  a  de- 
Seat:  but  returning  ^oon  to  himself,  and  concluding  it 
would  be  more  to  his  reputation  to  fall  by  the  enemy's 
band  at  the  head  of  his  troops,  than,  in  a  fit  of  despair, 
by  hb  own,  he  dismounted  from  his  hori^e,  and  snatch- 
ing a  buckler  from  one  of  his  legionaries,  he  threw  him- 
self like  a  man  in  despair  into  the  midst  of  the  enemy  ^ 
crying  out  to  his  men,  Are  you  not  ashamed  to  deliver 
your  general  inio  the  hands  of  boys  9  At  these  worda, 
the  soldiers  of  the  tenth  legion,  animated  by  the  ex- 
ample of  their  general,  fell  upon  the  enemy  with  fresh 
vigour,  and  made  a  dreadful  havock  of  them.  But  in 
spite  of  their  utmost  eflbrts,  Pompey's  men  still  kept 
their  ground,  and,  though  greiitly  fatigued,  return- 
ed to  the  charge  with  equal  vigour,  'i'hen  the  Cce- 
sareans  began  to  despair  of  victory  *,  and  the  dictator , 
running  through  the  ranks  of  his  disheartened  legion- 
aries, had  much  ado  to  keep  them  together.  The 
battle  had  already  lasted  from  the  rising  to  the  setting 
of  the  sun,  without  any  considerable  advantage  ou  either - 
side. 

At  length  a  mere  accident  decided  the  dispute  in 
favour  of  the  dictator.  Bogud,  a  petty  king  of  Mau- 
ritania, had  joined  Cccsarsoon  after  his 41  rrival  in  Spa'a, 
with,  some  squadrqns  of  Numidian  horse  i  but  in  the 


\(' 


•ry 


M    U    N 


C    478    ] 


M    U    N 


RIvBia  very  beginning  of  tlie  battle,  being  terrified  at  the 
11^  shouting  of  the  soliHers,  intenningled  with  groans,  aud 
Munich,  ji,^  clashing  of  their  arms,  he  bad  abandoned  bis  post, 
and  retired  with  the  auxiliaries  under  his  command  to 
a  rising  ground  at  a  small  distance  from  the  enemy *s 
camp.  There  he  continued  the  whole  day  an  idle 
spectator  of  the  battle  that  was  fought  in  the  plain. 
But  towards  the  evening,  partly  oat  of  aliame  and 
partly  out  of  compassion  for  his  friend  Cassar,  he  re- 
solved to  fall  upon  Pompey^s  camp  \  and  accordingly 
flew  thither  with  all  the  forces  he  had  with  him.  La- 
bienus,  apprised  of  his  desi^,  hastened  after  him  to  the 
defence  of  the  camp }  which  Cassar  observing,  cried  to 
his  legionaries,  Courage^fellow  soldiers!  the  victory  ai 
iength  is  ours  ;  Labtenus  flies.  This  artifice  had  the 
desired  effect :  Caesar's  men,  believing  that  Labienus 
was  truly  fled,  made  a  last  effort,  and  charged  the  wing 
he  commanded  so  briskly,  that  after  a  most  obstinate 
dispute  they  put  them  to  flight. 

Though  the  enemy's  left  wing  was  thus  entirely 
defeated,  the  right  wing,  where  the  elder  Pompey 
commanded,  still  kept  their  gromd  for  some  time. 
Pompey  dismounting  from  his  horse,  fought  on  foot 
like  a  private  man  in  the  first  line,  till  most  of 'his  le- 
gionaries being  killed,  he  was  forced  to  save  himself 
by  flight  from  falling  into  the  enemy's  bands.  .Part 
of  his  troops  fled  back  to  their  camp,  and  part  took 
shelter  in  the  city  of  Munda.  The  camp  was  imme- 
diately attacked,  and  taken  sword  in  hand  ^  and  as 
for  the  city,  Ccesar,  without  loss  of  time,  drew  a  line 
^  circumvailation  round  it.  This  victory  was  gained 
on  the  1 6th  of  the  kalends  of  April,  i.  e.  according  to 
our  way  of  counting,  on  the  1 7th  day  of  March,  when 
the  Diooysian  festival,  or  the  Liberalia,  were  celebrated 
at  Rome ;  the  very  day,  as  Plutarch  observes,  in  which 
Pompey  the  Great,  four  years  before,  had  set  out  for 
the  war.  In  this  action  Pompey  lost  30,00c  men  j 
among  whom  Were  the  famous  Labienus,  Attius  Va- 
rus, and  3000  Roman  knights.  Seventeen  officers  of 
distinction  were  taken,  and  all  the  enemy's  eagles  and 
*  ensigns,  together  with  Pompey's  fasces,  which  he  had 
assumed  as  governor  of  Spain.  On  Ctesar's  side,  only 
^000  men  were  killed  and  500  wounded. 

MUNDIC,  or  Marcasite,  an  old  name  for  py- 
rites of  copper  or  iron.  See  Ores  cf  Copper  and  Iron^ 
MiNERALOGT  Index, 

MUNDINGOES,  the  name  of  a  people  who  live 
on  the  sides  of  the  river  Gambia  in  Africa,  and  who 
are  of  a  jet  black  colour,  strong,  and  well  made.  They 
have  a  priest  sent  over  every  year  from  one  of  the  Cape 
de  Verd  islands  to  cfarhten  and  marry. 

MUNDUS  PATEKS,  the  c^n  world,  in  Roman 
antiquity,  a  solemnity  performed  in  a  small  temple,  of 
a  round  form  like  the  world,  dedicated  to  Dis  and  the 
Test  of  the  infernal  gods.  This  temple  was  opened  but 
three  times  in  the  year,  viz.  the  24th  of  August,  the 
4th  of  October,  and  the  7th  of  November.  During 
these  days,  the  Romans  believed  bell  was  open ;  on 
these  days  therefore  they  never  offered  battle,  listed 
soldiers,  put  to  sea,  or  married. 

MUNICH,  a  town  of  Germany,  capital  of  the 
duchy,  now  the  kingdom,  of  Bavaria.  It  stands  on 
the  Iser,  70  miles  sooth  of  Ratisbon  and  214  west  of 
Vienna,  being  one  of  the  most  pleasant  and  popnlons 
cities  of  Germany  for  its  bigness*    The  number  of 


the  inhabitants  in  x  781  was  48,000.  Having  been  MnieL 
built  at  first  on  a  spot  of  gronnd  belonging  to  a  con-  Moaki^ 
vent,  it  had  from  thence  in  German  the  name  of  i/ir«.^ 
chen^  i.  e.  Monicas  toum^  and  a  monk  for  its  arms^ 
The  elector's  palace  here  is  a  very  grand  stroctoi^, 
consisting  of  several  courts,  furnished  and  adorned  is 
the  most  magnificent  manner,  with  tapestry,  gilding, 
sculpture,  statues,  and  paintings.  It  containii  sr 
amazing  collection  of  jewels,  antiquities,  and  curiosi- 
ties. The  great  hall  is  118  feet  long  and  52  bzosd  ^ 
and  the  staircase  leading  to  it,  from  top  to  bottom  of 
marble  and  gold.  In  the  hall  of  antiquities  are  354 
busts  and  statues  of  jasper  and  porphyry,  brass  aod 
marble.  In  this  palace  is  a  library,  containing  a  vast 
collection  of  books,  and  many  valuable  manuscripts,  in 
most  languages  Bucient  and  modem  ^  and  a  chamber 
of  rarities,  among  which  is  the  pictore  of  a  bravo  or 
assassin,  who  is  said  to  have  committed  345  mnrdcn 
with  his  own  hand,  and  to  have  been  accomplice  in,  or 
privy  to,  400  more.  The  treasury  in  the  chapel  con- 
tains also  a  vast  number  of  pictures,  precious  atones, 
medals,  vessels  of  gold  and  silver,  &e«  Among  other 
curiosities,  here  is  a  cherry  stone  with  140  heads  dis- 
tinctly engraved  upon  it.  The  gardens  of  the  pJaee 
are  also  very  fine,  and  it  is  said  a  secret  passage  leads 
from  it  to  aU  the  churches  and  convents  in  the  town. 
There  is  a  great  mimber  of  other  fine  buildings  in  this 
city,  public  and  private,  particularly  the  riding  house, 
town  house,  opera  room,  the  Jesuits  coUege,  the  Jaige 
edifice  for  tournaments,  the  churches,  convents,  foun- 
tains, &C.  Its  manufkctures  are  those  ni  silk,  partico* 
larly  velvet,  woollen  cloths,  and  tapestry  j  and  it  has 
two  annual  fairs,  at  which  great  quantities  of  salt,  wine, 
&c.  are  sold.  Ilie  streets  are  broad  and  regular ;  and 
most  of  the  houses  well  built,  and  painted  on  the  out- 
side. The  market  place  is  extremely  beautiful.  Not 
far  irom  Munich  are  four  other  palaces,  with  fine  gar- 
dens; belonging  to  the  elector,  viz.  those  of  Sleisfaeim, 
Nymphepborg,  I>anc|iau,  and  Starenberg.  The  first 
and  last  are  about  three  leagues  fifom  the  capital  ^  the 
second  about  half  a  league  ;  and  the  third  about  tW9 
leagues.  It  was  unsuccessfiklly  attacked  by  the  French 
in  1796.    See  Bavaria,  Supflchent.  - 

Munich^  Count  dSr,  was  the  favourite  of  the  cza- 
rina Ann,  and  was  conoemed  in  all  the  events  of  her 
reign.      Being   appointed   general  of  her  armies,  he 
gained  gi^at  advantiq^  over  the  Crim  Tartars,  beat 
the  Turks,  A.  D.  1 739,  tn  an  engagement  near  Cboc- 
zim,  and  took  that  city  tcwether  wiUi  Jassi  the  capital 
of  Moldavia.     He  was  afterwards  prime  minister  to 
the  czar  Iwan  VI.  but  in  a  short  time  after  he  w^ 
accused  of  employing  the  power  which  his  office  con- 
ferred on  him  to  gratify  his  own  ambition  and  pri- 
vate resentment      The  empress  Elizabeth    hrso^ 
him  to  trial,  and  he  was  condemned  to  lose  his  liie, 
A.  D.  1742.     This  sentence  was  mitigated  to  baaish- 
ment  into  Siberia,  whither  many  of  the  victinn  of  hit 
power  had  been  exiled.   He  was  recalled  by  Peter  IIL 
A.  D.  1762,  and  declared  field  mM^al.    Upontbt 
death  of  this  prince,  the  empress  Catharine  II.  t^ 
pointed  him  director  general  of  the  ports  of  the  Baltic. 
He  died  on  the  8th  c?  October  1767,  at  the  age  of  8f 

MUNICIPAL,  in  the  Roman  civil  law,  an  epitkt 
which  signifies  invested  with  the  rights  and  prinlcgei 
of  Roaian  citizens.    See  MuKiciriUM. 

MtmcirA&v 


M    U    N. 


[    479    3 


M    U    R 


Bdfnnicipal 

n 

Mvnster. 


Municipal,  among  us,  is  applied  to  th^  lam  tbat 
obtain  in  any  particular  city  or  province.  And  those 
are  called  mujucipal  officers  who  ar«  elected  to  defend 
the  interests  of  clUe^,  to  maintain  their  rights  and  pri* 
vileges,  and  to  preserve  order  and  harmony  among  the 
citizens  \  such  as  mayors,  sherift's,  consuls,  &c. 

MUNICIPi£S,  an  appellation  given  by  the  Romans 
Xo  the  inhabitants  of  the  municipia  or  municipal  cities. 
See  MuNiciriuM. 

MUNICiPlUM,  in  Koman  antiquity,  a  corporatioh 
borough,  or  enfranchised  city  or  town,  where  tlie  inha- 
bitants enjoyed  their  own  laws  and  customs,  and  at  the 
same  time  were  honoured  with  the  privileges  of  Roman 
citizens  \  but  then  this  privilege  generally  reached  no 
further  than  the  bare  title.  Some  indeed,  by  parti- 
cular merit,  obtained  the  liberty  of  votes,  which  occa- 
sioned that  distinction  of  muncipium  sine  suffragioj  and 
tnunictpmm  cum  suffragi6,^-'The  inhabitants  of  the  mu^ 
nicipium  sitte  stiffragto  were  called  barely  JRomant^  but 
those  of  the  mwucipium  cum  suffragio  were  called  ctves 
Homani, 

The  diflfercnte  between  proper  citizens  of  Rome 
^nd  the  inhabitants  of  the  municipium  may  be  thus  ex- 
pressed. The  proper  citizens  of  Rume  were,  i.  Re* 
gistered  in  the  census  ^  2.  Had  the  right  of  suffrage 
and  of  bearing  honours ;  3.  Were  assessed  in  the  pollr 
tax  f  4.  Served  in  the  legions  j  5.  Used  the  Roman 
laws  and  religion  j  6.  Were  called  Quintes  and  pof 
pulus  Romanus :  Whereas  the  municipes  enjoyed  the 
three  first  of  these  privileges,  but  were  denied  the  three 
last. 

MUNITION,  the  provisions  with  which  a  place  is 
famished  in  order  for  defence  }  or  that  which  follows  a 
camp  for  its  subsistence. 

MvmTiotf  ShipSy  are  those  that  have  stores  on  board^ 
in  order  to  supply  a  fleet  of  men  of  war  at  sea.  In  an 
engagement,  all  the  mnnltion  ships  and  victuallers  at- 
tending the  fleet  take  their  station  in  the  rear  of  all 
the  rest  \  they  are  not  to  engage  in  the  fight,  but  to 
attend  to  such  directions  as  are  sent  to  them  by  the 
admiral. 

IVIUNSTER,  in  Latin  Monomtd^  and  in  Irish  Moun^ 
the  most  southerly  province  of  Ireland  >  bounded  on 
ihe  north  by  Leinster  and  ConnaUffht^  and  on  the  east, 
'West,  and  south^  by  the  ocean.  It  contains  the  coun- 
ties of  Cork,  Clare,  Kerry,  Limerick,  Tipperary,  and 
Waterford  ;  and  3,289,932  Irish  plantation  acres,  740 
parishes,  63  baronies,  and  26  boroughs.  It  is  about 
125  miles  long  and  X20  broad  ;  and  its  principal  town 
is  Cork.  Its  ancient  name  was  Mumhan  ;  and  in  lat- 
ter ages  it  was  divided  into  Desmond  or  South  Monster, 
Orrnon// or  JBastMunster,  and  T>^oi7io;i</ or  North  Mun- 
ster.  It  lies  between  51*  15*  and  53.  o..  N.  Lat.  and 
7.  10.  and  10. 40.W.  Lon^. 

MuNSTER,  a  bishopric  oT  Germany  in  the  circle  of 
Westphalia,  and  territories  of  Prussia  y  bounded  on  the 
north  by  Embden  and  Oldenburg,  on  the  south  by  the 
county  of  Mark  and  duchy  of  Westphalia,  on  the  west 
by  the  county  of  Bentbeim  and  the  United  Provinces, 
and  on  the  east  by  the  bishoprics  of  Osnaburgh  and 
Paderbom  together  witb  the  county  of  Ravensberg.  It 
is  the  largest  of  aU  the  Westphalian  bishoprics,  being 
in  length  about  80  miles,  and  in  breadth  from  20  to 
60,  and  contains  350,000  inhabitants.  It  is  divided 
lAto  13  bailiwicka:  and  though  in  geaazal  but  a  bar* 


ren  country,  has  some  fruitful  plains,  with  woods,  and  Mim«tet^ 
quarries  oi  stone.     The  inhabitants,  excepting  a  few  of        || 
the   nobility   and  gentry,   are  all  Roman  Catholics  \  Mnmna. 
though  Lutheranism  had  once  a  considei-able  footing 
here.     The  bishop,  who  was  generally  also  elector  of 
Cologne,  has  a  revenue  of  about  70,000  pounds,  and 
can  maintain  8000  men.     By  an  unjust  custom,  un- 
known in  the  rest  of  the  enipire,  he  is  heir  to  all  stran* 
gers  who  die  in  the  country  without  children.     In  the 
matricula  he  is  rated  at  30  foot  and  .118  horsey  or  832. 
florins  monthly  in  lieu  of  them.     His  chapter  consists 
of  40  canons,  who  are  all  noble. 

MuNSTER,  a  city  of  Germany,  capital  of  a  bishopric 
of  the  same  name,  and  of  all  Westphalia,  stands  at  the- 
conflux  of  the  river  Aa  with  the  Ems,  in  £.  Long.  7., 
49.  N.  Lat.  52.  o.     It  is  of  a  circular  form,  large,  and 
had  strong  fortifications  which  have  been  thrown  down». 
The  citadel,  called  the  Briiie^  has  been  converted  into  » 
residence  for  the  bishop*     The  dean  and  chapter  now 
elect  the  bishop  ^  but  till  the  beginning  of  the  13th 
century  he  was  nominated  by  the  emperor.     This  city 
has  been  rendered  famous  by  three  remarkable  trans-* 
actions,      i.  By  the  peace  concluded  here  in  1648,. 
which  put  an  end  to  the  war  of  30  jears;  occasion- 
ed by  the  persecuting  spirit  of  bigotted  Papbts,  whorv 
chose  rather  to  plunge  their  country  into  all  the  cala^. 
mities  of  war  than  allow  liberty  of  conscience  to  the 
Protestants.     By  this  peace^  however,  they  consented, 
much  against  their  inclinations,  to  grant  them  a  tolera- 
tion.    2.  By  the  disorders  and  disturbances  occasioned 
herein  1553,  by  a. parcel  of  enthusiasts,  headed  by  %. 
taylor,  csdled  John  of  Lei/den  from  the  place  of  nia . 
birth,  who  turned  out  the  magistrates,  and  took  pos-^- 
session  of  the  citv^  where  they  perpetrated  the  most  hor- 
rid villanies  and  cruelties*     3.  For  the  noble,  though 
unsuccessful,  efforts  it  made  in  defense  of  its  liberties 
against  the  tyranny  and  oppression  of  the  above  mca- 
tioned  turbulent  and  bloody-minded  bishop,  Bernard 
van  Galen.     In  this  city  are  a  great  number,  of  con- 
vents and  other  religious  houses,  many  of  them  stately, 
piles,  and  surrounded  with  beautiful  gardens^ 

MUNYCHIA,  o|f  Muftichw  Fortus^  in  Ancient 
Geogf-apAyy  a  village  and  port  of  Athens,  nearer  to  the 
city,  fortified  in  the  same  manner  as  the  Piraeus,  to  the 
east  of  which  it  lay,  or  between  it  and  the  pxomontocy 
Suqium,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Ilissus.  Strabo  saya  it  was 
an  eminence  in  form  of  a  peninsula,,  at  the  foot  of 
which  stood  three  harbours^  anciently  encompassed  with 
a  wall,  taking  within  its  extent  the  Piraeus  and  .others 
harbours  full  of  docks,  with  the  temple  of  Diana  Mq- 
nychia)  taking  its  name  from  Mynichusy  the  founder  of. 
the  temple. 

MuNYCHlA,  an  anniversary  solemnity  observed  at: 
Athens,  in  hoQour  of  Diana,  on  the  i6th  of  the  montlr 
Munychion.   Cakes  were  oflfered  oa  the  occasion,  €alled 

MUNYCHION,  the  tenth  month  of  the  Athenian 
year,  containing  29  days,  and  answering  to  the  latter 
part  of  our  March  and  the  beginning  of  April.  It 
was  so  called  from  the.  festival  Munychia,  which  w$t 
observed  in  this  month.      See  Month,  and  MvNX- 

CHIA. 

MUPHTL    See  Mum. 

MUR^NA,  or  ££L  >  a  genus  of  fishes;  belopg- 
ing  to  the  ord^r  of  apod^*    Sec  IpwrXLXOhOQY  Indtx^ 

MUBAL. 


»  Mtiral 

II. 

Mnrciil. 


M    U    R  t    48 

MURAL,  somctbing  belonging  to  a  wall,  wbich 
the  Latins  call  mums* 

Mural  Crown^  among  the  ancient  Romans.  See 
Crowk. 

Mural  Afchj  is  a  wall,  or  walled  arch,  placed  ex- 
actly in  the  plane  of  the  meridian,  i.  e.  upon  the  meri- 
dian line,  for  the  fixing  of  a  large  quadrant,  sextant, 
or  other  instrument,  to  observe  the  meridian  altitudes, 
&c.  of  the  heavenly  bodies. 

Tytho  Brahe  wm  the  first  who  lised  a  mural  arch 
*in  his  observations  \  after  him  Hevelius,  Mr  Flaip- 
stead,  De  la  Hire,  &c.  used 'the  same  means.  See 
Astronomy. 

MURANUM,  in  Ancient  Gcograpliy^  a  town  of 
the  confines  of  Lucania.  Now  Morano  ;  a  citadel  in 
Calabria  Citra,  at  the  springs  of  the  Sybari3,  midway 
between  the  Sinus  Tarentinus  to  the  east,  and  the  Tus- 
can sea  to  the  west.  Supposed  to  have  risen  from 
Ithe  ruins  of  Sypha:um,  a  town  of  the  Bruttii  mentioned 
by  Livy. 

MURATORT,  Lewis,  Anthony,  a  lea'med  and 
celebrated  Italian  writer,  born  at  Vignoles,  in  the  ter- 
ritory of  Bologna,  in  1672.  He  early  discovered  an  ex- 
treme fondness  for  the  learned  languages  and  sciences  \ 
und  this  was  seconded  by  an  excellent  education. 
After  having  (Completed  his  first  studies,  he  embraced 
the  state  'of  an  ecclesiastic )  and  applied  himself  to 
polite  literature,  philosophy,  theology,  civil  law,  an- 
tiquities,* and  other  sciences  \  by  which  means  he  be- 
xame  in  a  manner  universally  learned.  He  was  scarcely 
22  years  of  age  when  lie  was  made  librarian  of  the 
Ambrosian  library  at  Milan.  It  1700  the  duke  of 
Afodena,  his  sovereign,  recalled  him,  and  made  him 
his  librarian,  and  keeper  of  the  archives  of  his  duchy. 
Muratori  discharged  this  double  employment  during 
the  rest  of  his  life,  and  had  no  other  benefice  than  the 
provostship  of  Santa  Maria  del  Pomposa.  The  princi- 
'pal  of  his  works  are,-«-i.  AnecdotOy  Or  a  collection  of 
pieces  taken  from  the  Ambrosian  library,  2  vols  4to, 
"witli  learned  notes  and  dissertations,  2.  A  treatise  on 
the  perfection  of  the  Italian  poetry,  2  vols  4to« 
3.  Anecdota  Graca^  3  vols  4to.  4.  A  genealogical 
'history  of  the  house  of  Modena,  2  vols  folio.  5.  An 
excellent  collection  of  the  writers  of  the  Italian  history, 
27  vols  folio,  with  learned  notes.  6.  Another  collec- 
tion, under  the  title  of  Antiquitates  Italiacm  7.  A 
collection  of  ancient  inscriptions,  under  the  title  of 
Novus  Thesaurus^  6  vols  folio.  8.  The  annals  of  Italy, 
12  vols  4to,  in  Italian,  &c.  9.  Letters,  dissertations, 
'Italian  poems,  &c. 

MURCIA,  the  Pagan  goddess  of  idleness.  The 
name  is  taken  from  tnurcus  or  murciduSy  an  obsolete 
word,  signifying  a  dull,  slothful,  or  laty  person.-— 
The  statues  of  this  goddess  were  always  covered  with 
dust 'and  moss,  to  express  her  idleness  and  negligence. 
She  had  a  temple  at  Rome,  at  the  foot  of  the  Aven- 
'tine  mount. 

MuRciA,  a  kingdom  in  Spain,  bounded  on  the 
north  by  New  Castile,  on  the  east  by  the  kingdom  of 
Valencia,  on  the  west  by  Andalusia  and  Granada,  and 
^ra  the  south  by  the  Mediterranean  sea.  It  is  about 
62  miles  in  length,  and  38  in  breadth  \  and  its  prin- 
cipal river  is  the  Scgura.'  Tlie  soil  is  dry,  because  it  sel- 
dom rains,  and  therefore  it  produces  little  corn  ec 
^ine ;  bat  there  is  plevty  of  oranges,  citrons,  lemons, 


o     J 


M    U    R 


olives,  almonds,  mulberries,  rice,  pulse,  and  sugar.  It  yi^^ 
has  also  a  great  deal  of  silk.  It  was  taken  from  the  lludtr. 
Moors  in  1 265.     llie  air  is  very  healthful. 

MuRCiA,  a  large,  handsome,  and  populous  town  of 
Spain,  capital  of  a  kingdom  of  the  same  name.  It  is 
a  bishop^s  see,  and  contains  six  parishes.  The  cathe- 
dral i^  a  most  superb  edifice,  with  the  stairs  of  the 
steeple  so  contrived  that  a  man  may  ride  up  to  the 
top,  either  on  horseback  or  in  a  coach.  It  is  aitoate^ 
in  a  pleasant  plain,  which  abounds  in  fine  gardens  about 
the  city,  and  in  which  are  the  best  fruits  in  Spain.  It 
is  seated  on  the  river  Segura,  in  W.  Long.  8.  36.  N. 
Lat.  37.  48. 

MURDER,  or  Murther,  the  act  of  killing  ano- 
ther with  violence  and  injustice.  The  word  conies 
from  the  Saxon  morth^  '^  death  \^^  which  some  will  have 
to  signify  a  violent  death  ^  whence  the  barbarous  La- 
tin murdntm  and  modrvm. 

Among  the  number  of  popular  errors,  is  the  notion 
which  has  obtained,  that  the  dead  body  would  bleed 
in  the  pmsence  or  upon  the  touch  of  the  murderer. 

The  crime  of  murder  is  punished  with  death  ia  al- 
most all  nations. 

Murder,  or  Murther^  in  LaWy  is  thus  defined,  or 
rather'  described,  by  Sir  Edward  Coke  :  **  When  a 
person,  of  sound  memory  and  discretion,  unlawfully 
killeth  any  reasonable  creature  in  being,  and  under  the 
king's  peace,  with  malice  aforethought,  either  expreii 
or  implied.^'  The  best  way  of  examining  the  natore 
of  this  crime  will  be  by  considering  the  several  branches 
of  this  definition. 

1.  It  must  be  committed  by  a  person  of  sound  nu^ 
mory  and  discretion  :  for  lunatics  or  infants  are  inca- 
pable of  committing  any  crime ;  unless  in  such  cases 
where  they  show  a  consciousness  of  doing  wrong,  and 
of  course  a  discretion  or  discernment  between  good  aod 
evil. 

2.  Next,  it  happens  when  a  person  of  such  sound 

discretion  unlawfully  killetk*    The  unlawfulness  arises 

from  the  killing  without  warrant  or  excuse  :  and  there 

must  also  be  an  actual  killing  to  constitute  murder; 

for  a  bare  assault,  with  intent  to  kill,  is  only  a  great 

misdemeanour,  though  formerly  it  was  held  to  be  murder. 

The  killing  may  be  by  poisoning,  striking,  starviog, 

drowning,  and  a  thousand  other  forms  of  death,  by 

which  human  nature  nmy  he  overcome.     Of  these  the 

most  detestable  of  all  is  poison  ;  because  it  can  of  til 

others  be  the  least  prevented,  either  by  manhood  or 

forethought.   And  therefore,  by  the  stat.  22  Hen.  VIII. 

c.  '9.  it  was  made  treason,  and  a  more  grievous  asd 

lingering  kind  of  death  was  inflicted  on  it  than  the 

common  law  allowed  ^  namely,  boiling  to  death :  but  this 

act  did  not  live  long,  being  repealed  by  i  Edw.  VI.  c* 

1 2.     There  was  also,  by  the  ancient  common  law,  ooe 

species  of  killing  held  to  be  murder,  which  may  be  dn- 

bious  at  this  day,  as  there  hath  not  been  an  instance 

wherein  it  has  been  held  to  be  murder  for  many  ages 

past,  viz*  hearing  false  witness  against  another,  with  an 

express  premeditated. design  to  take  away  his  life,  so  ss 

the  innocent  person  be  condemned  and  executed.    Tbe 

Gothic  laws  punished  in  this  case  both  the  judge,  tbe 

witnesses,  and  the  prosecutor^  and,  among  the  RomaBi» 

the  lex  Cornelia  de  sicariis^  punished  the  false  witueffe* 

with  death,  as  being  guilty  of  a  species  of  assassinatioo. 

And  there  is  no  doubt  but  this  is  ei^ually  murder  if^fi^ 

ionsaentim 


J 


M    U    R 


r  481  ] 


M    U    R 


Mtedcr.  ednscunHa  as  killing  with  a  sword  ^  thonghtlie  modem 
law  (to  avoid  the  danger  of  deterriog  witnesses  from 
giving  evidence  npon  capital  prosecutions,  if  it  must  be 
at  the  peril  of  their  own  lives)  has  not  yet  punished  it 
as  such.  If  a  man,  however,  do  such  an  act,  of  which 
the  probable  consequence  may  be,  and  eventually  is, 
death  y  such  killing  may  be  murder,  although  no  stroke 
he  struck  by  himself,  and  no  killing  may  be  primarily 
intended :  as  was  the  case  of  the  unnatural  son  who 
exposed  his  sick  father  to  the  air  against  his  will,  by 
reason  whereof  he  died  ^  and  of  the  harlot,  who  laid 
her  child  under  leaves  in  an  orchard,  where  a  kite 
struck  and  killed  it.  So  too,  if  a  man  have  a  beast 
that  is  used  to  do  mischief;  and  he,  knowing  it, 
soffent  it  to  go  abroad,  and  it  kills  a  man ;  even  this 
is  manslaughter  in  the  owner ;  but  if  he  have  purposely 
turned  it  hose^  though  barely  to  frighten  people,  and 
make  what  is  called  sporty  it  is  with  us  (as  in  the 
Jewish  -law)  as  much  murder  as  if  he  had  incited  a 
hear  or  dog  to  worry  them*  If  a  physician  or  sur- 
geon give  bis  patient  a  potion  or  plaster  to  cure  him, 
which,  contrary  to  expectation,  kills  him,  this  is  nei^ 
ther  murder  nor  manslaughter,  bat  misadventure  \  and 
lie  shall  not  be  punished  criminally,  however  liable  he 
might  formerly  have  been  to  a  civil  action  for  neglect 
or  ignorance  ^  but  it  hath  been  holden,  that  if  it  be 
not  a  regular  physician  or  surgeon  who  administers  the 
medicine,  or  performs  the  operation,  it  is  manslaughter 
at  the  least.  Yet  Siv  Matthew  Hale  very  justly  que« 
stions  the  law  of  this  determination  'y  since  physic  and 
salves  were  in  use  before  licensed  physicians  and  sur* 
gieons :  wherefore  he  treats  this  doctrine  as  apocry-^ 
phal,  and  fitted  only  to  gratify  and  flatter  licenciates 
and  doctors  in  physic  *,  though  it  may  be  of  use  to  make 
people  cautions  and  wary  how  they  meddle  too  much  in 
80  dan (Tc reus  an  employment.  In  order  also  to  make 
the  killing  murder,  it  is  requisite  that  tlie  party  die 
within  a  year  and  a  day  after  the  stroke  received,  or 
caase  of  death  administered ;  in  the  computation  of 
which  the  whole  day  upon  which  the  hurt  was  done 
shall  be  i'eckoned  the  first. 

3.  Farther :  The  person  killed  milst  be  "a  reason* 
€ihU  creature  in  beings  and  under  the  king'^s  peace^^  at 
the  time  of  the  killing.  Therefore  to  kill  an  alien,  a 
Jew,  or  an  outlaw,  who  are  all  under  the  king^s  peace 
t»r  protection,  is  as  much  murder  as  to  kill  the  mo<t 
regular-born  Englishman  ;  except  he  be  an  alien -enemy, 
in  the  time  of  war.  To  kill  a  child  in  its  mother^s 
womb,  is  now  no  murder,  but  a  |rreat  misprision  \  but 
if  the  child  be  born  alive,  and  dieth  by  reasoh  of  the 
potion  or  bruises  it  received  in  the  ivomb,  it  seems,  by 
the  better  opinion,  to  be  murder  in  such  as  admin i&ter- 
f  d  or  gave  them.  As  to  the  murder  of  bastard  chiU 
dren,  see  Bastard. 

4.  La;»tly,  The  killing  must  be  committed  '*  teith 
malice  aforethought^'*  to  make  it  the  crime  of  murder. 

js  the  grand  criterion  which  now  distinguishes 

other  killing  :  and  this  malice  prepense, 

/ff,  i^  not  so  properly  spite  or  malevo- 

in  particular,  as  any  evil  design 

f  a  wicked,  depraved,  and  ma- 

^  faire  une  ntal  chose :  and 

yimpiied^  in  law.     Express 

f  sedate  deliberate  mind  and 

t  another,   which  formed  de- 


1 


sign  is  evidenced  by  external  circumstances  discovering  Mutd^. 
that  inward  intention^  as  lying  in  waft«  antecedent 
menaces,  former  grudges,  and  concerti^d  schemes  to 
do  him  some  bodily  harm.  This  takes  in  the  case  of 
deliberate  duelling,  where  both  parties  meet  avowedly 
with  an  intent  to  murder :  thinking  it  their  duty,  as 
gentlemen,  and  claiming  it  as  their  right,  to  wanton 
with  their  own  lives  and  those  of  their  fellow  creatures  ^ 
without  any  warrant  or  authority  from  any  power  eu 
ther  divine  or  human,  but  in  direct  contradiction  to 
the  laws  of  both  God  and  man  \  and  therefore  the  law 
has  justly  fixed  the  crime  and  punishment  of  murder  on 
them,  and  on  their  seconds  also.  Yet  it  requires  such 
a  degree  of  passive  valour  to  combat  the  dread  of  eyen 
undeserved  contempt)  arising  from  the  false  notions  of 
honour  too  generally  received  in  Europe,  that  the 
strongest  prohibitions  and  penalties  of  the  law  will  ne- 
ver be  entirely  effectual  to  eradicate  this  unhappy  cu- 
stom, till  a  method  be  found  out  of  compelling  the 
original  aggressor  to  make  some  other  satisfaction  to 
the  affronted  party,  which  the  world  shall  esteem 
equally  reputable  as  that  which  is  now  give^n  at. the 
hazard  of  the  life  and  fortune,  as  well  of  the  person 
insulted,  as  of  him  who  has  given  the  insult.  Also, 
if  even  upon  a  sudden  provocation  one  beats  another, 
in  a  cruel  and  unusual  manner,  so  that  he  dies,  though 
he  did  not  intend  his  death,  yet  he  is  guilty  of  murder 
by  express  malice  ;  i.  e.  by  an  express  evil  design,  the 
genuine  sense  of  malitia :  As  when  a  park-keeper  tied 
a  boy  that  was'  stealing  wood  to  a  horse^s  tail,  and 
dragged  him  along  the  park :  when  a  master  corrected 
his  servant  with  an  iron  bar,  and  a  schoolmaster  stamp- 
ed on  his  scholar^s  belly,  so  that  each  of  the  sufferers 
died)  these  were  justly  held  to  be  murders,  because 
the  correction  being  excessive,  and  'such  as  could  not 
proceed  but  from  a  bad  heart,  it  was  equivalent  .\o  a 
deliberate  act  of  slaughter.  Neither  shall  be  be  guilty 
of  a  less  crime  who  kills  another  in  consequence  of 
such  a  wilful  act  as  shows  him  to  be  an  enemy  to  all 
mankind  in  general  ^  as  going  deliberately,  and  with 
an  intent  to  do  mischief,  upon  a  horse  used  to  strike, 
or  coolly  discharging  a  gtin  among  a  multitude  of 
people.  So  if  a  man  resolves  to  kill  the  next  man  he 
meets,  and  does  kill  him,  it  is  murder,  although  he 
knew  him  not ;  for  this  is  ubiversal  malice*  And  if 
two  or  more  conie  together  to  do  an  unlawful  act 
against  the  king^s  peace,  of  which  the  probable  con- 
sequence might  be  bloodshed )  as  to  beat  a  man,  to 
commit  a  riot,  or  to  rob  a  park,  and  one  of  them  kill$ 
a  man  ^  it  is  murder  in  them  all,  because  of  the  un^ 
.lavvful  act,  the  mdiitia  prarcogitatOy  or  evil  intended 
beforehand. 

Also  in  many  cases  where  no  malice  is  expressed, 
the  law  will  imply  it :  as,  where  a  man  wilfully  poisons 
another,  in  such  a  deliberate  act  tlie  law  presumes  ma- 
lice, though  no  particular  enmity  can  be  proved.  And 
if  a  man  kills  another  suddenly,  without  any,  or  with- 
out  a  considerable  provocation,  the  law  implies  malice  ^ 
for  no  person,  unless  of  an  abandoned  heart,  would  be 
guilty  of  such  an  act  upon  a  slight  or  no  apparent  cause 
No  affront,  by  words  or  gestures  only,  is  a  sufFr:icnt 
provocation,  so  as  excuse  or  extenuate  tiucli  acts  of 
violence  as  manifestly  endanger  the  life  of  another. 
But  if  the  person  so  provoked  had  unfortunately  killed 
the  otlier,  by  beating  him  in  such  a  manner  as  showed 

3  P  only 


I 


M    U    R  [ 

Murder,  only  an  intent  to  chastise  and  not  to  kiii  him,  the  law 
80  tar  oonsiders  the  provocation  of  contamelions  beba* 
vioory  as  to  adjadge  it  only  manslaughter,  and  not  mur* 
der.  In  like  manner,  if  one  kills  an  officer  of  justice, 
either  civil  or  criminal,  in  the  execution  of  his  duty,  or 
any  of  his  assistants  endeavouring  to  conserve  the  peace, 
or  any  private  person  endeavouring  to  suppress  an  afiray 
0r  apprehend  a  felon,  knowing  his  authority  or  the  in- 
tention with  which  he  interposes,  the  law  will  imply 
malice,  and  the  killer  shall  be  guilty  of  murder.  And 
yf  one  intends  to  do  another  felony,  and  undesignedly 
kills  a  man,  this  is  also  murder,  lliod  if  one  shoots  at 
A,  and  misses  him,  but  kills  B,  this  is  mnrder^  because 
of  the  previous  felonious  intent,  which  the  law  transfers 
from  one  to  the  other.  The  same  is  the  case,  where 
one  lays  poison  for  A,  and  B,  against  whom  the  pri- 
soner had  no  malicious  intent,  takes  it,  and  it  kills  him, 
this  is  likewise  murder.  So  also,  if  one  give  a  woman 
with  child  a  medicine  to  procure  abortion,  and  it  oper* 
ates  so  violently  as  to  kill  the  woman,  this  is  murder 
in  the  person  who  gave  it.  It  were  endless  to  go 
through  all  the  cases  of  homicide,  which  have  been  ad- 
judged, either  expressly  or  impliedly,  malicious  :  these 
therefore  may  suffice  as  a  specimen }  and  we  may  take 
it  for  a  general  role,  that  all  homicide  is  malicious,  and 
of  course  amounts  to  murder,  unless  where  justified  by 
the  command  er  permission  of  the  law  j  excused  on  a 
principle  of  accident  or  self-preservation ;  or  alleviated 
into  manslaughter,  by  being  either  the  involuntary  con- 
sequence of  some  act,  not  strictly  lawful,  or  (if  volun- 
tfiry)  occasioned  by  some  sudden  and  sufficiently  violent 
provocation.  And  all  these  eircomstances  of  justifica- 
tion, excuse,  or  alleviation,  it  is  incumbent  upon-  the 
prisoner  to  make  out,  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  court 
and  jury,  the  latter  of  whom  are  to  decide  whether  the 
lurcomstances  alleged  are  proved  to  have  actually  ex- 
isted ^  the  former,  how.  far  they  extend  t».take  away 
or  mitigate  the  guilt..  For  all  hooMcide  ia  presumed 
to  be  malicious,  until  the  contrary  appearetk  upon  evi- 
dence. 

The  punishment  of  murder,  ai^d  thict  of  manrslaugh- 
ter,  were  formerly  one  and  the  same  ^  both  having  the 
benefit  of  clergy ',  so-  that  none  but  unlearned  persona, 
who  lesiit  knew  the  guilt  of  it,  were  put  to  death  for 
this  enormous  crime.  But  now,  by  several  statutes, 
the  benefit  of  clergy  is  taken  away  from  murderers 
through  malice  prepense,  tbek>  abettors,  procurers, 
and  counsellors.  In  atrocious  cases  it  was  frequently 
usual  for  the  court  to-  direct  the  murderer,  after  exe- 
cution, to  be  hung  upon  a  gibbet  in  chains  near  the 
place  where  the  fact  was  committed  $  but  this  was  no 
part  of  the  legist  judgment ;  and  the  like  is  still  some- 
times practised  in  the  case  of  notorious  thieves.  This, 
he'inyr  quite  contrary  to  the.  express  command  of'  the 
MoHaical  law,  seems  to  have  bee»  borrowed  from  the 
civil  law ',  which,  besides  the  teri*or  of  the  example, 
giveH  also  another  reason  f6r  this  practice^  viz..  that  it 
is  a  comfortable  sight  to  the  relations  and  friends  of 
the  deceased.  But  now,  in  England,  it  is  enacted 
by  statute  25  Geo.  II.  c.  ^7  that  the  judges,  before 
whom  any  person  is  found  guilty,  of'  wilful  murder, 
shall  pronounce  sentence  immediately  after  conviction, 
unless  he  sees  cause  to  postpone  it ;  and  shall  in  pas- 
hinfr  sentence  direct  him  to  be  executed  on  the  next 
day  but  one  (unless  the  same  shall  be  Sunday,  and 


482    ]  MUR 

then  on  the  Monday  following),  and  thai  hb  bod^ 
be  delivered  to  the  surgeons  to  be  dissected  and  anato-      | 
mized  ^   and  that  the  judge  may  direct  bis  body  to  be  M"M* 
afterwards  bong  in  chains,  but  in  nowL^e  to  be>  buried       ^ 
without  dissection.     And,  during  the  short  hot  aiifal 
interval  betwee'n  sentence  and  execution,  the  prisoner 
shall  be  kept  alone,  and  sustained  with  only  braad  and 
water.     But  a  power  is  allowed  to  the  judge,  upon 
good  and  sufficient  caose,  to  recite  the  execution,  aad 
relax  the  other  restraints  of  this  act.  See  fivther,  PAt- 
Ri€iD£,  and  Petit  Treaaon. 

Murderers,  or  MurderiHg  Puces^  in  a  ship,  art 
small  pieces  of  ordnance,  either  of  brass  or  iron,  which 
have  chambers  put  in  at  their  breeches.  They  ire 
used  at  the  bulk-heads  of  the  fore-castle^  half-deck,  or 
steerage,  in  order  to  clear  the  deck,  on  the  ship's  being 
boarded  by  an  enemy. 

MURENA.     See  Murjeka,  IcHTHTorocT  Is- 

MURENGERS,  two  officers  of  great  antiquity  in 
the  city  of  Chester,  annually  chosen  out  of  the  alder- 
men, to  see  the  walls  kept  in  repair,  and  to  receive  a 
certain  toil  for  that  purpose. 

MUREX,  a  genus  of  animals  beloagiDg  to  tlie  order 
of  vermes  testacea.     See  Concho  logy  Index, 

MuREX,  a  caltrap  or  iron  instrument,  with  sharp 
points  projecting  in  every  direction,  osed.  by  the  Bo- 
mans  af  a  detence  against  the  enemy's  liprae  ^  so  cal- 
led, probably  from  some,  resemblance  t»  the  spines  oa. 
the  shell  of  the  murex* 

MUBGI,  or  Murois,  in  Ancient  Geogroph/^  tk 
last  town  of  Bastica,  next  the  Tarraconensis  ^  the  Uroe 
of  Ptolemy.  Now  Mvxara^  a  port-town  of  Granada,  on 
the  Mediterranean*  W.  Long,  i^  jo'.  N.  Lat*  37^  6^* 

MURI  A,  the  Latin  name  of  common  salt.  See  8e> 
BsA,  Muriate  of^  Chemistry  Index, 

MURIATIC  ACID*  See  Chemistry  Index.  Thb 
acid;  according  to  the  views  of  Sir  H.  Davy,  is  cooh 
posed  of  chlorine  (the  oxymuriatic  acid  of  all  cbenists 
formerly,  and  of  some  still)  and  hydrogen. 

MUKINA,  or  Murines,  a- delicious  sweet  wioe,. 
medicated  with  spices,  and  the  usual  drink  of  the  bdies 
of  antiquity. 

MURRAIN,  or  Gargle,  a  contagions  disease^  a- 
mong  cattfe.     See  Farriery  Index* 

MURRAY,  or  Moaay,  the  name  of  a  district  in 
the  north  of  Scotland,  which,  in  a  former  di vision«f  the 
kingdom,  was  denominated  a  province.  This  district 
includes  the  cocmties  of  Baiifif,  Elgin  and  Nairn.  Hit 
county,  of  Elgin,  the  middle  division  of  this  district,  \s 
still  known  by  the  name  of  Morayshire. 

MURRHINE,  MuRRBfNUS,  hu^m,  in  antiquity, 
an  appellation  given  to  a  delicate  sort  of  ware  broucit 
from  the  east,  whereof  cups  and  vaiies  were  made,  which 
added  not  a  little  to  the  splendour  of  the  Roman  bao- 
qiiets»  Critics  ar^  divided  concerning  the  matter  of  tfce 
pocula  or  vasa  murrhina,  murrina,  or  murrea.  Some  will 
have  them  to  have  been  the  same  with  our  poicetaio  or 
china  ware.  The  generality  held  them  to  have  been  made 
of  some  precious  kind  of  stone,  which  was  found  diidf, 
as  Pliny  tells  us,  in  Parthia,  but  more  ei>pecially  in  Car* 
mania.  Arrian  tells  us,  that  there  was  a  great  quantity 
of  them  made  at  Dioapolis  in  Egypt.  This  he  calk 
another  sort  of  murrhina  work  ;  and  it  is  evident,  from 
all  accounts,  that  the  murrhina  of  Iliospolis  was  a  sort 


M    U    S 


r  483  ] 


ist  u  s 


Marylife^  of  glass  ware,  made  in  imitatioB  of  tbe  porcelain  or 
D  murrlia  of  India.  There  is  some  difference  in  the  ac- 
counts  giTcn  by  Piinj  and  Martial  of  the  murrhina  vasa. 
Tbe  first  author  says,  that  they  vroald  not  bear  hot  li- 
quors, bttt  that  only  cold  ones  were  drank  out  of  them. 
The  latter^  on  the  other  hand,  tells  us,  that  they  bore 
hot  liquors  rery  well.  If  we  credit  Pliny ^s  accoont, 
their  porcdain  was  much  inferior  to  oax's  in  this  parti- 
cular. Some  conjecture  them  to  have  been  of  agate, 
others  onyx,  others  of  coral.  Baronitis,  doubtless, 
was  farthest  out  of  the  way,  when  he  took  them  to  be 
made  of  myrrh,  congealed  and  hardened.  Some  have 
supposed  these  vessels  to  be  made  of  crystal,  but  this  is 
contrary  to  the  account  of  all  the  ancients.  The  Greeks 
had  the  words  m^vrm^XHj  for  crystal,  and  r^v^m  for 
myrrh,  very  common  among  them  \  and  therel'ore  if 
these  vessels  had  been  made  of  either  of  these  substances, 
they  would  in  some  places  have  called  them  Smyrna  or 
crystalline.  On  the  contrary,  the  most  correct  among 
them  call  them  murrMna  or  morrina«  The  cups  made 
of  crystal,  which  weie  also  in  use  at  those  times  were 
called  crystallina,  and  these  murrhina  or  murrhsea,  by 
way  of  keeping  op  the  distinction }  and  Martial  tells  us 
that  the  stone  they  were  ro^ de  of  was  spotted  or  varie- 
gated, calling  them  pocula  maculosce  murrae.  And 
Statins  mentions  the  crystalline  and  murrhine  cups  in 
the  same  sentence,  but  as  different  things,  not  tbe  same. 
Arrian  mentions  also  the  x4h  f^Cf '  which  his  inter- 
aretors  ceaam«  as  an  error  of  the  copies,  and  would  alter 
into  myrrha,  the  mune  of  the  gum  myrrh. 

Pompey  is  recorded  as  the  first  who  brought  these 
murrhine  vessels  out  of  the  east,  which  he  exhibited 
in  his  trtamph,  and  dedicated  to  Jupiter  Capitolinus. 
But  private  persons  were  not  long  without  them.  So 
fond  in  effect  did  the  Roman  gentry  grow  of  them, 
that  a  cop  which  held  three  sextaries  was  sold  for  70 
talents.  T.  Petronins,  before  his  death,  to  spite  Nero 
(or  as  Pliny  expresses  it,  ut  memam  epa  txharedaret^ 
to  disinherit  his  table),  broke  a  baaoo,  trtUla  tnurrhina^ 
valued  at  300  talents,  on  which  that  emperor  had  set 
his  heart. 

MUS,  a  genus  of  quadrupeds  belonging  to  the  order 
of  Glirea.    See  Mammalia  Index, 

MUSA,  tlie  Plantain-tree  -,  a  genus  of  plants  be- 
longing to  the  polyandria  class,  and  in  tbe  natural  me- 
thod ranking  under  the  eighth  order,  Scitaminete.  See 
BoTAKT  Index. 

MUSAUS,  an  ancient  Greek  poet,  was,  according 
to  Plato  and  Diodorus  Siculos,  an  Athenian,  the  son  of 
Orpheus,  and  chief  of  the  Eleosinian  mysteries  institut- 
ed at  Athens  in  honour  of  Ceres:  or,  according  to 
others,  he  was  only  the  disciple  of  Orpheus ;  but  from 
the  gi^eat  resemblance  which  there  was  between  his 
character  and  talents  and  those  of  his  master,  by  giving 
A  stronger  outline  to  the  figure  he  was  called  his  son^  as 
those  were  styled  the  children  of  Apollo  who  croltivated 
the  arts  of  which  he  was  the  tutelar  god. 

Musseus  is  allowed  to  have  been  one  of  the  first  poets 
who  versified  tbe  oracles.  He  is  placed  in  the  Arun- 
•delian  marbles,  epoch  15.  1426  B.  C.  at  which  time 
his  hymns  are  there  said  to  have  been  received  in  the 
celebration  of  the  Elcusinian  mysteries.  Laertius  tells 
us,  that  Mosaeus  not  only  composed  a  theogony,  hut 
formed  a  sphere  for  the  use  of  his  companions  \  yet  as 
this  honour  is  geoerally  given  to  Chiron,  it  is  more  na- 


tural to  suf^eso,  with  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  that  he  enlar-   Musvus" 
ged  it  with  the  addition  of  sever4l  constellations  after        (I 
the  conquest  of  the  golden  fleece.     The  ^here  itself  W<»cb«i. 
shows  that  it  .was  delineated  afW  the  Argonautic  expe- .     ^^  *  . 
dition,  which  is  described  in  the  asterisms,  together  £ut7u;y*« 
with  several  other  more  ancient  histories  of  the  Gi*ceks,  HuTory  r/ 
and  without  any  thing  later  \  for  the  ship  Argo  was  the  Ai^<<^- 
first  long  vessel  which  they  had  built :  hitherto  they 
had  used  round  ships  of  burden,  and  kept  within  sight 
of  the  shore  \  but  now,  by  the  dictates  of  the  oracle, 
and  consent  of  the  princes  of  Greece,  the  flower  of  that 
country  sail  rapidly  through  the  deep,  and  guide  their 
ship  by  the  stars. 

-  Musaeus  is  celebrated  by  Virgil  in  the  character  of 
hierophant,  or  priest  of  Ceres,  at  the  head  of  tbe  most 
illustrious  mortals  who  have  merited  a  place  in  Elysium. 
Here  he  is  made  the  conductor  of  ^neas  to  the  recess 
where  he  meets  the  shade  of  his  father  Anchises. 

A  hill  near  tbe  citadel  of  Athens  was  called  Mu- 
saum^  according  to  Pansanias,  from  Musaeus,  who  used 
to  retire  thither  to  meditate  and  compose  hb  religious 
hynlfeis  \  at  which  place  he  was  afterwards  buried.  The 
works  which  went  under  his  name,  like  those  of  Or> 
pheus,  were  by  many  attributed  to  Onomacritu^.  No- 
thing remains  of  this  poet  now,  nor  were  any  of  his 
writings  extant  in  the  time  of  Pausaoias,  except  a 
hymn  to  Ceres,  which  he  made  for  the  Lycomides. 
And  as  these  hymns  were  likewise  set  to  music,  and 
sung  in  the  my^eries  by  Mubsbus  himself  in  the  cha- 
racter of  priest,  he  thenre  perhaps  acquired  from  fit- 
tare  tiroes  the  title  of  inuncrafi,  as  well  as  of  poet ;  the 
performance  of  saored  mosic  being  probably  at  first  con- 
fined to  the  priesthood  in  these  celebrations,  as  it  had 
beeu  before  in  Egypt,  whence  they  originated.  How- 
ever, he  is  not  enumerated  among  ancient  musicians  by 
-Plutarch ;  nor  does  it  appear  that  he  merited  the  title 
of  son  and  successor  to  Orpheus  for  his  musical  abilities, 
so  much  as  for  his  poetry,  piety,  and  profound  know- 
ledge in  religious  mysteries. 

MUSCA,  tbe  Fly  ^  a  genus  of  insects  belonging  to 
the  order  of  diptera.     See  Entomology  Index, 

MuscA,  a  name  given  to  such  persons  among  the 
-Romans  as  officiously  thrust  themselves  into  the  compa- 
ny of  their  superiors  and  those  who  despised  them,  by 
finding  means  of  getting  admittance  to  entertainments 
without  invitation,  and  without  a  welcome :  So  that 
muscte  were  the  same  as  parasites,  who  were  frequently 
by  the  Greeks  termed  MvMti.     See  Parasite. 

MUSCADINE,  a  rich  wine,  of  the  growth  of 
Provence,  Languedoc,  Cividad,  &c.— -The  word  is 
supposed  to  be  derived  from  tnusk  ;  the  wine  being  sup- 
posed to  have  a  little  of  the  smell  of  that  perfume  \ 
others  from  nttssca^  **a  fly,'*  because  the  flies  are  ex- 
treinely  fond  of  its  grapes;  as^the  Latins  had  their  t»- 
num  apianum^  so  called  ah  apibus^  from  tbe  bees  which 
fed  on  it. 

The  process  for  making  muscadine  at  Frontignac,  is 
the  following:  The  muscadine  grapes  are  allowed  to  be 
half  dried  on  the  vine :  and  as  soon  as  they  are  gathered, 
they  are  trode  and  pressed,  and  the  liquor  is  tunned, 
without  letting  it  stand  to  ferment  in  the  fat  \  the  lee 
which  remains  is  supposed  to  produce  the  peculiar  fla- 
vour of  this  wine. 

MUSCHENBROECK,  Peter  de,  a  very  distin- 
guished natural  philosopher  and  mathematician,  was 

3P  2  bom 


M    U    S 


C    484    ] 


M    U    S 


Ilhischeii.  T>oni  at  Utrecht  a  kttle  before  1 700.    He  was  first  pro- 
brocck     fessor  in  his  own  university,  and  afterwards  invited  to 
H        the  chair  at  Ley  den,  where  he  died  full  of  reputation 
.      °*^*    .  and  honours  in   1761.      He  was  a  member  of  several 
academies  ^.  particularly  the  Academy  of  ^iences  at 
Paris.     He  was  the  author  of  several  works  in  Latin, 
which  are  frequently  referred  to,  and  all  of  which  dis- 
cover great  penetration  and  exactness  of  the  subjects 
of  which  he  treats.     He  was  also  consummate  in  the 
knowledge  of  law. 

MU8CI,  Mosses,  one  of  the  orders  of  the  class 
cryptogaraia;  which  see.  Botany  im/ex.— The  an- 
cients took  the  moss  of  trees  to  be  the  effect  of  a  disor- 
der or  discomposure  of  the  texture  of  the  bark }  or  at 
most  a  kind  of  little  filaments  arising  from  the  bark  : 
but  the  modems  find,  by  more  accurate  observation, 
that  mosses  are  real  distinct  plants,  whose  seed,  being 
extremely  small,  is  enclosed  in  little  capsules-;  whic^h 
bursting  of  themselves,  the  seed  is  carried  off  by  the 
winds  ;  till,  falling  into  the  inequalities  of  the  bark  of 
trees,  it  is  there  stopped,  takes  root,  and  feeds  at  the 
expence  of  the  tree,  as  mouldiness  does  on  broad,  &c. 

MUSCLE,  or  Mus$el.  See  Mytulus,  Concho- 
LOGY  Index. 

MUSCOVY.    See  Russia. 

Muscorr  Glassj  or  Glimmer,  See  Mica^  Mine- 
ralogy Index. 

MUSCULUS,  a  military  machine,  made  use  of  by 
the  Romans  to  cover  and  protect  the  soldiers  while 
they  approached  and  undermined  the  walls  of  besieged 
places,  or  filled  the  ditches.  It  seems  to  have  resemr 
bled  the  testudo  in  form,  but  was  smaller  in  size.  See 
Testudo. 

MUSEI  A,  were  Grecian  ifestivals  in  honour  of  the 
Muses,  celebrated  with  games  every  fifth  year,  parti* 
larly  by  the  Thespians.  The  Macedonians  also  ob- 
served a  festival  of  the  same  name  in  honour  of  Jupi- 
ter and  the  Muses,  which  lasted  for  nine  days,  and 
was  celebrated  with  stage  ■  Jtlays,  songs,  and  poetical 
compositions. 

*  MUSES,  certain  fabulous  deities  among  the  Pit- 
gans,  supposed  to  preside  over  the  arts  and  sciences : 
i^r  this  reason  it  is  usnal  for  the  poets,  at  the  be- 
ginning of  a  poem,  to  invoke  these  goddesses  to  their 
aid. 

The  Muses  were  originally  onlyisingers  and  musicians 
in  the  service  of  Osiris,  or  the  great  Egyptian  Bacchus, 
under  the  instruction  and  guidance  of  his>  son  Orus  j 
but  in  succeeding  times  they  wese  called  the  daughters 
ofjispiier  and  Mnemosyne  or  Memory* 

These  are  the  only  pagan  divinities  whose  worship 
ha9  been  continued  tJirough  all-  succeeding  changes  in 
the  religion  and  sentiments  of  mankind.  Professors  of 
every  liberal  art  in  all  the  eountries  of  Europe  still  re- 
vere, them  \  particularly  the  poets,  who.  seldom  undec- 
take  the  slightest  work  without  invoking  their  aid. 

Sir  Isaac  Newton  tells  us,  that  the  singing  women 
of  Osiris  were  celebrated  in  Thrace  by  the  name  of 
Ihe  Muses;  and. that  the  daughters  of  Pierius,  a  Thra- 


cian,  imitatbig  them,  were  celebrated  by  the  same 
name. 

Diodorus  Sicnlus  informs  os,  that  Aicman  of  Mes- 
sene,  a  lyric  poet  who  flourished  in  the  27tb  Olympiad, 
670  years  B.  C.  makes  them  the  daughters  of  Uianns 
and  Terra.  It  has  been  asserted  by  some  ancient  writ^ 
ers,  that  at  first  they  were  only  three  in  number :  bat 
Homer,  Hesiod,  and  other  profound  mythologists,  ad- 
mit of  nine  (a). 

In  his  hymn  to  ApoUo,  Homer  says, 


Ml 


•By  turus  the  nine  delight  to  sing. 


And  Hesiod,  in  his  Theogony,  names  them  all.-— They 
are  said  severally  to  preside  over  some  art  or  science,  as 
music,  poetry,  dancing,  astronomy.     By  some  they  are 
called  virgins^  because  the  virtues  of  education  ap|iear 
unalterable  :  they  are  called  muses  from  a  Greek  wordBin^'i 
which  signifies  to  explain  mysteries,  because  they  have  ^.</ 
taught  things  the  most  curious  and  important  to  know,^*"^ 
and    which   are  above  the   comprehension  of  valgar 
minds.     Each  of  their  names  is  said  to  include  some 
particular  allegory ;  CUo^  for  instance,  has  been  thus 
called,  because  those  who  are  praised  in  verse  acqnin 
immortal  fiime^  Euterpe^  on  account  of  the  pleasure 
accruing  to  those  who iiear  learned  po^ry-;  TAo/JKr,  im- 
plies for  ever  flourishing ;  Melpomene^  that,  her  melody 
insinuates  itself  into  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  soal^ 
Terpsichore  marks  the  pleasure  which  those  receive  who 
are  versed  in  the  liberal  arts  \  Erato  seems  to  indicate, 
that  the  learned  command  the  esteem  and  firieDdshipof. 
all  mankind  \  Polyhymnia^  that  many  poets  are  become 
immortal  hy  die  number  of  hymns  which  they  have  ad- 
dressed to  the  gods ;   Urania^  that  those  whom  she  ia> 
structs  elevate  their  contemplations  and  celebrity  to  the 
heavens  and  the  stars  ^  and  lastly,  the  exquisite  voice  of 
Calliope  has  acquired  her  that  appellation,  as  the  invco- 
tress  and  guardian  of  eloquence  and  rhetoric. 

An  epigram  of  Callimaohus  gives  'the  attribotes  of 
the  Muses  in  as  aaany  lines. 

Calliope  the  deeds  of  heroes  sings  \ 
Great  Clio  sweeps  to  history  the  strings  \ 
Euterpe  teaches  mimes  their  silent  show  y 
Melpomene  presides  o^er  scenes  -of  wo  \ 
Terpsichore  the  flute's  soft  pow'r  displays  j 
And  Erato  gives  h^mns  the  gods  to  praise  \ 
Potymnia'*s  skill  inspires  melodious  strains  j 
Urania  wise,  the  stany  course  explains  \ 
And  gay  Thalia'*  s^zss  points  out  where  folly  reigns. 

lliis  epigram  does  not,  however,  exactly  correspond 
with  the  ideas  of  other  poets,  or  of  the  ancient  painteiSy 
in  characterising  the  attributes  of  the  Muses.    The  an- 
cients had  numberless  ingenious  and  fiuiciful  ideas  con- 
cerning the  muses,  which  we  have  not  room  to  recite. 
-^'*  It  seems  ('says  the  abb6  fiarthelemi  tV as.if  the  fintf  t/ttk 
poets,  enchanted  with  the  beauties  of  nature,  <>*ca8i<"^^M^ 
ally  were  led  to  invoke  the  nymphs  of  the  woods,  hilli,*jfj 
and  fountains  \  and  that  yielding  to  the  prevailing  ^^^  fku 
for  allegory,  they  gave .  them,  names  relative  to  the  in- 


1MI8.J 


(a)  It  has  been  said,  that  when  the  citizens  of  Sicyon  directed  three  sktifol  statuaries  to  make  each  of  them 
statues  of  the  thnee  Muses,  they  were  all  so  well  executed,  that  they  did  not  know  which  to  choose,  but  erected 
all  the  nine,  and  tl^at  I{esiod  and  JEiomez:  only  gave  them  names. 


M    U    S 


[     485     1 


M    U     S 


flnence  they  might  be  supposed  to  have  over  the  pro- 
ductions of  the  mind.  At  tirnt  three  Muses  only  were 
admit ceH,  Melete,  Mneme,  and  Aoedc  :  that  is  to  say, 
the  meditation  or  reflection  necessary  to  study  )  memo- 
ry, which  records  iUustrious  deeds ;  and  song,  which 
accompanies  their  recital.  In  proportion  as  improve- 
ment was  made  in  the  art  of  versification,  its  characters 
and  effects  were  personified,  the  number  of  the  Muses 
increased,  and  the  names  they  now  received  referred  to 
the  charms  of  poetry,  its  celestial  origin,  the  beauty  of 
its  l^niruage;  the  ]deasure  and  gaiety  it  inspires,  the 
song  and  dance  which  add  to  it  new  charms,  and  the 
glory  with  which  it  is  crowned.  Afterwards  were  as- 
sociated with  them  the  Graces,  whose  employment  it  is 
to  embellish  poetry,  and  Love  who  is  so  frequently  its 
object.  The!4e  ideas  took  birth  in  a  barbaroas  country, 
in  Thrace,  where  Orpheus,  Linus,  and  their  disciples, 
suddenly  appeared  in  the  midst  of  iqnorance.  The 
Moses  were  honoured  there  on  the  Pierian  mount ;  and 
extending  their  dominion,  saix;essiveiv  took,  their  sta-  • 
tions  On  Pindas,  Paraassos,  Helicon,  and  all  tlose  so- 
litary places  where  the  painters  of  nature,  surrounded 
by  the  most  pleasing  images,  experience  the  divine 
glow  of  inspiration.'* 

Pythagoras,  and  afterwards  Plato,  make  the  Muses 
the  soul  of  the  planets  in  our  system  ;  from  whence  the 
imaginary  music  of  the  spheres. 

MUSEUM,  a  name  which  originally  signified  a 
part  of  the  palace  of  Alexandria,  which  took  up  at 
least  one-fourth  of  the  city.  This  quarter  was  called 
the  museum^  on  account  of  its  being  set  apart  for  the 
Muses  and  the  study  of  the  sciences.  Here  were 
lodged  and  entertained  the  men  of  learning  3  who  were. 


divided  into  many  companies  or  colleges,  according  to  Muscuni, 
the  sciences  of  which  they  were  the  professors  ^  and  to  Musbroom. 
each  of  these  houses  or  colleges  wan  allotted  a  handsome    "    ^ 
revenue.    The  foundation  of  this  establishment  is  attri- 
buted  to  Ptolemy  Philadelphus,  who  here  placed  his 
library.     Hence  the  word  nmaeiim  is  now  applied  to 
any  place  set  apart  as  a  repository  for  things  that  have 
an  immediate  relation  to  the  arts. 

The  museum  at  Oxford,  called  the  Ashmolean  mu- 
seum^ is  a  noble  pile  of  building,  erected  at  the  expence 
of  the  university,  at  the  west  end  of  the  theatre,  at 
which  side  it  has  a  magnificent  portal,  sustained  by  pil- 
lars of  the  Corinthian  order.  The  front,  which  is  to 
the  street,  extends  about  60  feet,  where  there  is  this 
inscription  over  the  entrance  in  gilt  characters.  Museum 
Askntoleanum^  scltoia  naturalis  histoina^  offidna  chymi* 
ca.  It  was  begun  in  1679,  and  finished  in  1683, 
when  a  valuable  collection  of  curiosities  was  presented 
to  the  univeisity  by  Elias  Asbmole,  Esq,  which  wc^e 
the  same  day  pepoMted  there  :  several  accessions  have 
been  since  made  to  the  museum  \  among  which  are  hie- 
roglyphics, and  other  Egyptian  antiquities,  aa  entire 
mummy,  Roman  antiquities,  altars,  medals,  lamps,  &c* 
and  a  variety  of  natural  curiosities. 

For  an  acoount  of  the  British  museum,  see  London, 
N°  146. 

MUSHROOM.    See  Fungi,  Botany  Index. 

To  try  the  quality. of  mushrooms :— Take  an  onion, 
and  strip  the  outer  skin,  and  boil  it  with  your  mush-^- 
rooms:  if  the  onion  become  blue  or  black,  there  are 
certainly  dangerous  ones  amongst  them  ;  if  it  remaiau. 
white,  they  are  good.  . 


M   U   S   I   Cj 


JDfKioUioii.  ''T^HE  art  of  combining  sounds  in  a  manner  a^ree- 
-*-  able  to  the  ear.  This  combination  may  be  cither 
simultaneous  or  successive  :  in  the  first  case,  it  consti- 
tutes harmony  \  in  the  last,  melody.  But  though  the 
same  sounds,  or  intervals  of  sound,  which  give  plea- 
sure when  heard  in  succession,  will  not  always  produce 
the  same  effect  in  harmony  \  yet  the  principles  which 
constitute  the  ^simpler  and.  more  perfect  kinds  of  bar-, 
mony,  are  almost,  if  not  entirely,  the  same  with  those 
of  melody.  By  perfect  luirtnonyy  we  do.  not  here  mean, 
that  plenitude,  those  complex  modiEcations  of  harmo- 
nic sound,  which  are  admired  in  practice  >  but  that  har- 
mony which  is  called  perfect  by  tbeoricians  and  artists ;, 
that  harmony  which  results  from  the  coalescence  of 
simultaneous  bounds  produced  by  vibrations  in  the  pron 
portions  of  thirds,  fifths,  and  octaves,  or  their  dupli-r 
cates. 

The  principles  upon  which-  these  various  combina^ 
tions  of  sound  ue  founded,  and  by  which  they  are  re- 
gulated, constitute  a  science,  which  is  not  only  exten- 
sive but  profound,  when  we  would  investigate  the  prin- 
ciples from  whence  these  happy  modifications  of  sound 
result,  and  by  which  they  are  determined  >  or  when  we 
wpuld  explore  the  sensations,  whether  mental  or  cor- 
poreal, with  which  they  affect  us.  The  ancient  defini- 
tion^ of  music  are  not  proportioned  in  their  extent 


to  our  present  ideas  of  that  art ;  but  M.  Rouseau  be-.  Deihiitioa^ 
trays  a  temerity  highly  inconsistent  with  the  philoso- 
phical character,  when  fi*om  thence  he  infers,  that  their 
ideas  were  vague  and  undetermined.  Every  soul  sus*. 
ceptible  of  refinement  and  delicacy  in  taste  or  senti- 
ment, must  be  conscious  that  there  is  a  music  in  action 
as.  well  as  in  sound  \  and  that  the  ideas  of  beauty  and 
decorum,  of  harmony  and  symmetry,  are,  if  we  may 
use  the  expression,  equally  constituent  of  visible  as  of 
audible  music.  Those  illustrious  minds,  whose  com- 
prehensive prospects  in  every*  science  where  taste  and 
propriety  prevail  took,  in  nature  at  a  single  glance, 
would  behold  with  contempt,  and  ridicule  those  narrow 
and  microscopic  views  of  which  alone  their  successors 
in  philosophy  have  discovered-  themselves  capacious. 
With  these  definitions,  however,  we  are  less  concerned, 
as  they  bear  no  proportion  to  the  ideas  which  are  now 
entertained  of  music.  Nor  can  we  follow  M.  Rousseau, 
from  whatever  venerable  sources  his  authority  may  be 
derived,  in  adopting  his  Egyptian  etymology  for  the 
word  music »  The  established  derivation  from  Musa 
could  onl^  be  questioned  by  a  paradoxical  genius. 
That  music  had  been  practised  in  Egypt  before  it  was 
known  as  an  art  in  Greece,  is  indeed  a  fact  which  can- 
not be  questioned  \  but  it  does  not  thenoe  follow  that 
the  Greeks  had  borrowed  the  name  as  well  as  the  art 

fromi . 


486  .    M    U 

from  Egypt-  If  the  art  of  music  be  so  natural  to  man 
that  vocal  melodv  is  practised  wherever  articulate 
sounds  Are  used,  there  can  be  little  reason  for  deducing 
the  idea  of  music  from  the  whistling  of  winds  through 
the  reeds  that  grew  on  the  river  Nile.  And  indeed, 
when  we  reflect  with  how  easy  a  transition  we  may  pass 
from  the  accents  of  speaking  to  diatonic  sounds  ^  when 
we  observe  how  early  children  adapt  the  language  of 
their  amusements  to  measure  and  melody,  however  rude^ 
when  we  consider  how  early  and  universally  these  prac- 
tices take  place— there  is  no  avoiding  the  conclusion, 
that  the  idea  of  music  is  connatural  to  man,  and  im- 
plied in  the  original  principles  of  his  constitution.  We 
have  already  said,  that  the  principles  on  which  it  is 
founded,  and  the  rules  by  which  it  h  conducted,  con- 
stitute a  science.  The  same  maxims  when  applied  to 
practice  form  an  art :  hence  its  first  and  most  ckipital 
division  is  into  speculative  nnd  practical  muac. 

Speculative  music  is,  if  we  may  be  permitted  to  use 
Ihe  cKpression,  the  knowledge  of  the  nature  and  use  of 
those  materials  which  compose  it,  or,  in  other  words, 
of  all  the  different  relations  between  the  high  and  low, 
between  the  harsh  and  the  sweet,  between  the  swift  and 
the  slow,  between  the  strong  and  the  weak,  of  which 
sounds  are  susceptible :  relations  which,  comprehend- 
ing all  the  possible  combinations  of  music  and  sounds, 
seem  likewise  to  comprehend  all  the  causes  of  the  im- 
pressions which  their  succession  can  make  upon  the  ear 
and  upon  the  soul. 

•Practical  music  is  the  art  of  applying  and  reducing 
to  practice  those  principles  "which  result  from  the  theory 
of  agreeable  sounds,  whether  simultaoeons  or  succes- 
sive *i  or,  in  other  words,  to  conduct  and  arrange  sounds 
'According  to  the  proportions  resulting  from  consonance, 
fix>m  duration  and  succession,  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
produce  upon  the  ear  the  effect  which  the  composer 
•  See  Com-  intends.  This  is  the  art  which  we  call  campontion  *. 
jwfttton.  With  respect  to  the  actual  production  of  sonnds  by 
voices  or  instruments,  which  is  called  execution^  this 
department  is  merely  mechanical  and  operative  :  which, 
only  presupposing  the  powers  of  sounding  the  intervals 
true,  of  exactly  proportioning  their  degrees  of  dura- 
tion, of  elevating  or  depressing  sounds  according  to 
those  gradations  which  are  prescribed  by  the  tone,  and 
to  the  value  required  by  the  tim^*,  demands  no  other 
knowledge  but  a  familiar  acquaintance  with  the  charac- 
ters used  in  mutiic,  and  a  habit  of  expressing  them  with 
promptitude  and  facility. 

Speculative  music  is  likewise  divided  into  two  de- 
partments \  viz.  the  knowledge  of  the  proportions  of 
sounds  or  their  intervals,  and  that  of  their  relative  du- 
rations \  that  is  to  say,  of  measure  and  of  time. 

The  first  is  what  among  the  ancients  seems  to  liave 
been  called  karmonical  music.  It  shows  in  what  the 
nature  of  air  or  melody  consists  \  and  discovers  what 
is  consonant  or  discordant,  agreeable  or  disagreeable,  in 
the  modulation.  It  discovers,  in  a  word,  the  e&cts 
^▼hich  sounds  produce  on  the  ear  by  their  nature,  by 
their  force,  and  by  their  intervals  \  which  is  equally 
applicable  to  their  consonance  and  their  succession. 

The  Second  has  been  called  rhythmical^  because  it 
treats  of  sounds  with  regard  to  their  time  and  quantity. 
It  contains  the  explication  of  their  continuance,  of  their 
proportions,  of  their  measures,  whether  long  or  short, 
quick  or  slow,  of  the  different  modes  of  time  and  the 

3 


S   1   c. 

parts  into  which  they  are  diviiled,  thai  to  these  the  sue- 
cession  of  sounds  may  be  conformed. 

Practical  music  is  likewise  divided  into  two  depart- 
ments, which  correspond  to  the  two  preceding. 

l^hat  which  answers  to  harmonical  music,  and  which 
the  ancients  called  melop^^  teaches  the  rules  for  corn* 
bining  and  varying  the  intervals,  whether  consonant  ot 
-dissonant,  in  an  agreeable  and  harmonioos  manner. 

The  second,  which  answers  to  the  rhythmical  raosic, 
and  which  they  called  rhythmopSe^  contains  the  rules 
for  applying  the  different  modes  of  time,  for  under- 
standing the  feet  by  which  verses  were  scanned,  aod 
the  diversities  of  measure  ^  in  a  word,  for  the  pnctice 
of  the  rhythmus. 

Music  is  at  present  divided  more  simply  into  melody 
and  harmonu  ;  f(v,  since  the  introduction  of  harmony^ 
the  proportion  between  the  length  and  shortness  ojf 
sounds,  or  even  that  between  the  distance  of  returning 
cadences,  are  of  less  consequence  amongst  us.  For  it 
^often  happens  in  modem  languages,  that  the  verses  as- 
sume their  measures  from  the  musical  air,  and  almost 
entirely  lose  the  snaU  share  of  proportion  and  quantity 
which  in  themselves  they  possess. 

By  melody  the  successions  of  sound  are  regulated  io 
such  a  manner  as  to  produce  pleasing  airs.  See  Me- 
lody. 

Harmony  consists  in  uniting  to  each  of  the  sounds, 
io  a  reffular  succession,  two  or  more  diflferent  sounds, 
which  simnltaneottsly  striking  the  ear  soothe  it  by  their 
concurrence.    See  Harmony. 

Music,  according  to  Rousseau,  may  be,  and  perhaps 
likewise  ought  to  be,  divided  into  the  physical  and  the 
imitative.  The  first  is  limited  to  the  mere  mechanism 
of  sounds,  and  reaches  no  &rther  than  the  external 
senses,  without  carrying  its  impressions  to  the  heart, 
and  can  produce  nothing  but  corporeal  sensations  more 
or  less  agreeable.  Such  \i  the  music  of  songs,  of  hymns, 
of  all  the  airs  which  only  consist  in  combinations  of  me- 
lodious sounds,  and  in  general  all  music  which  is  mere- 
ly harmonious. 

It  may,  however,  lie  questioned,  whether  every  sound, 
'Cven  to  the  most  simple,  is  not  cither  by  nature  or  by 
early  and  conRrmed  association,  imitative.     If  we  may 
trust  our  own  feelings,  there  is  no  such  thing  in  nature 
as  music  which  gives  mechanical  pleasure  alone.    For 
if  so,  it  must  give  such  pleasure  as  we  receive  from 
tastes,  from  odours,  or  from  other  grateful  titillatioos ; 
but  we  absolutely  deny  that  there  are  any  musical  sen- 
sations or  pleasures  in  the  smallest  degree  analogous  to 
these.     Let  any  piece  of  music  be  resolved  into  its  ele- 
mentary parts  and  their  proportions,  it  will  then  easily 
appear  from  this  analysis,  that  sense  is  no  more  tban 
the  vehicle  of  such  perceptions,  and  that  mind  alone 
can  be  susceptible  of  them.     It  may  indeed  happen, 
from  the  number  of  the  performers  and  the  complica- 
tion of  the  harmony,  that  meaning  and  sentiment  nay 
be  lost  in  the  multiplicity  of  sounds  }  but  thiss  though 
it  may  be  harmony,  loses  the  name  of  music. 

The  second  department  of  this  division,  by  lively  and 
accentuated  inflections,  and  by  sounds  which  may  be 
said  to  speak,  expresses  all  the  passions^  paints  every 
possible  picture,  reflects  every  object,  subjects  the 
whole  of  nature  to  its  skilful  imiti^tions,  and  impresses 
even  on  the  heart  and  soul  of  man  sentiments  proper  to 
aSitct  them  in  the  most  sensible  manner.    This,  cooti* 


MUSIC. 


Duet  he,  wbil:b  is  the  genuine  lyric  and  ibeatricjj  mvh 
aicy  was  what  gave  double  charms  and  energy  to  ancient 
poetry  ;  this  ia  what,  in  our  days,  we  exert  ourselves  in 
applying  to  the  drama,  and  what  our  singers  execute 
on  the  stage.  It  is  in  this  music  alone,  and  not  in  har- 
monics or  the  resonance  of  nature,  that  we  must  expect 
to  find  accounts  of  those  prodigious  effects  which  it  for» 
nerly  produced. 

But,  with  M.  Bousseau^s  permission,  all  music  wliich 
is  not  in  some  degree  characterised  by  these  pathetic 
mnd  imitative  powers,  deserves  no  better  name  than  that 
•f  &  musical  jargon^  and  can  only  be  effectuated  by  such 
a  complication  and  intricacy  of  harmony,  as  may  con- 
found, but  cannot  entertain  the  audience.  This  cha- 
racter, therefore,  ought  to  be  added  as  essential  to  the 
definition  of  music  ^  and  it  must  be  attributed  to  our 
neglect  of  this  alone,  whilst  our  whole  attention  is  be- 
stowed on  harmony  and  execution,  that  the  best  per- 
formances of  our  artists  and  composers  are  heard  with 
listless  indifference  and  oscitation,  nor  ever  can  conci- 
liate any  admirers,  but  such  as  aie  induced,  by  pedan- 
try and  affectation,  to  pretend  what  they  do  not  feel* 
Still  may  the  curse  of  indifference  and  inattention  par- 
sne  and  harrow  up  the  souls  of  every  composer  or  per- 
former, who  pretends  to  regale  our  ears  witli  this  mu- 
nioal  legerdemain,  till  the  grin  of  scorn,  or  the  hiss  oC 
infamy,  teach  them  to  correct  this  depravity  of  taste^ 
and  entertain  us  with  the  voice  of  nature ! 

Whilst  moral  effects  are  sought  in  the  natural  effects 
of  "sound  alone,  the  scrutiny  will  be  vain,  and  disputes 
will  be  maintained  without  being  understood :  but 
sounds  as  representatives  of  objects,  whether  by  nature 
or  association,  introduce  new  scenes  to  the  fancy  and 
new  feelings  to  the  heart  ^  not  from  their  mechanical. 
powers,  but  from  the  connection  established  by  the  Au- 
thor of  our  frame  between  sounds  and  the  object  which . 
either  by  natural  resemblance  or  una&'^oi4lable>  association 
they  are  made  to  represent. 

It  would  seem  that<  music  was  one  of  those  arts 
which  were  first  discovered  :  and  that  vocal  was  prior . 
to  instrumental  music,  if  in  the  earliest  ages  there 
was  any  music  which  could  be  said  to  be  purely  instru- 
mental. For  it  is  more  than  probable,  that  music  was  • 
originally  formed  to  be  the  vehicle  iti  poetry ;  and  of 
cmosequenoe,  though  .the- voice  might  be  supported  and 
aoeompanied  by  instrumenis,  yet  music  was.  never  in- 
tended for  instmments  alone. 

We  are  told  by  ancient  authors,  thifct  all  the  laws, 
whether  human  or  divine,  exhortations  to  virtue,  tho 
knowledge  of  the  cliaracters  and  actiona  of  godv  and 
beroes,  the  lives  and  atciiievements  of  illustrious  men, 
were  written  in  verse,  and  sung  publicly  by  a  quire  to 
the  sound  of  instruments  \  and  it  appears  from  the 
ScriptoKS,  that  such  from  the  earliest  times  was  the 
eofltom  among  the  Israelites.  Nor  was  it  possible  to 
find  meana  more  efficacious  for  impressing  on  the  mind . 
of  man  the  principles  of  morals,  and  inspiring  the 
love  of  virtue.  Perliaps,  however,  this  was  not  the  re- 
sult of  a  premeditated  plan  'y  but  inspired-  by  sublime 
sentiments  and  elevation  of,  thought,  which  in  accents 
that  were  suited  and  propoitioned  to  their  celestial  na- 
ture eiideavoured  to  find  -  a  language  worthy  of  them- 
selves and  expressive  of  their  grandeur. 

It  merits  attention,  that  the  ancients  were  duly  sen- 
sible of  the  value  and  impoirtance  of  this^divine  art. 


not  only  as  a  symbol  of  that  universal  order  and  sym- 
metry which  prevails  through  the  whole  frame  of  ma- 
terial and  intelligent  nature,  but  as  productive  of  the 
most  momentous  effects  both  in  moral  and  political 
life.  Plato  and  Aristotle,  who  disagreed  almost  in 
every  other  maxim  of  politics,  are  unanimous  in  their 
approbation  of  music,  as  an  efficacious  instrument  in 
Xh6  formation  of  the  public  character  and  in  conduct- 
ing the  state  j  and  it  was  the  general  opinion,  .  that 
whilst  the  gymnastic  exercises  rendered  the  constitution 
robust  and  hardy,  music  humanised  the  character,  and' 
softened  those  habits  of  roughness  and  ferocity  by 
which  men  might  otherwise  have  degenerated  into  sa- 
vages. The  gradations  by  which  voices  were  exerted 
and  tuned,  by  which  the  invention  of  one  instrument 
succeeded  to  ajiother,.  or  by  which  the  principles  of 
music  were  collected' and  methodised  in  such  a  manner - 
as  to  give  it  the  form  of  an  art  and  the  dignity  of  a  ' 
science,  are  topics  so  fruitful  of  conjecture  and  so  void 
of  certainty,  that  we  must. leave  them  to  employ  minds 
more  speculative  and  inventions  more  prolific  than 
ours^  or  transfer  them  to  the  History  of  music  as  a  more 
proper  place  for  such  disquisitions.  For  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  curious,  Bousseauin  his  Musical  Diictionary^  , 
Plates  C  and  N,  has  transcribed  some  fragments  of, 
Grecian,  Persian,  American,  Chinese,  and  Swiss  music, 
with  which  performers  may  entertain  themselves  at 
leisure.  When  they  have  tried  the  pieces,  it  is.  imagin- 
ed they  will  be  less  sanguinely  fond  than  that  author  of 
ascribing  the  power- of  music  to  its  affinity  with  the  na- 
tional accents  where  it  is  composed.  This  may  doubt- 
less have  its  influence  >  but  there  are  other  causes  more 
permanent  and  .less  arbitrary  to  which  it  owes  its  most 
powerful  and  universal  charms. 

The  music  now  most  generally  celebrated  and  prac- 
tised  is  that  of  the  Italians,  or  their  successful  imita^ 
tors.  The  English,  from  the  invasion  of  the  8axott6» 
to  that  more. late  though  lucid  era  in  which  thty  im- 
bibed the  art  and  copied  the  manner  of  the  Italians^  .. 
had  a  music  which  neither  pleased  the  soul  nor  charm- 
ed the  ear.  The  primitive  music  of  the  French  de- 
serves no  higher  panegyric.  Of  all  the  barbarous  na- 
tions, the  Scots  and  Irish  seem  to  have  possessed  the 
most  affecting  original  music.  The  first  consists  of  a 
melody  characterised  by  tenderness  :  It  melts  the  soul 
to  a  pleasing  pensive  languor.  The  other  is  the  na-. 
tive  expression  of  grief  and. melancholy.^  Tassoni  in-- 
forms  us,  that  in  his  time  a  prince  from  Scotland  had 
imported  into  Italy  a  lamentable  kind  of  music  from 
his  own  country ;  and  that  he  himself  had  composed 
pieces  in  the  same  spiriL  From  this  expressive  though  - 
laconic  description,  we  learn  that  the  character  of  our . 
national  music  was  even  tlien  established ;  yet  so  gross 
is  jQur  ignorance  and  credulity,  that  we  ascribe  the 
best  and  most  impassioned  airs  which  are  extant  among 
us  to  David.. Biz7.io ;  as  if  an  Italian  lutanist  who 
had  lived  so  short  a  time  in  Scotland,  could,  at  once,  as  . 
it  were  by  inspiration,  have  imbibed  a  spirit  and  com- 
posed in  a.  manner  so  different  from  his  own.  It  is 
yet  more  surprising  that  Geminiani  should  have  enter- 
tained and  published  the  same  prejudice,  upon  the  mi- 
serable authority  of  popular  tradition  alone )  for  the 
fact  is  authenticated  by  no  better  credentials.  The  pri- 
mitive music  of  the  Scots  may  be  divided  into  the  mar" 
tialj  i\kt,  pastoral^  and  thejestive.    Tkejirst  consists 

either. 


487 


488 


MUSI    C. 


either  in  marches,  which  were  plajeJI  before  the  chief- 
taiosy  in  imitation  of  the  battles  which  they  fought, 
6r  in  lamentations  for  the  catastrophes  of  war  and  the 
extinction  of  families.  These  wild  effusions  of  natural 
melody  preserve  several  of  the  rules  prescribed  for  com- 
position. The  strains,  though  rude  and  untutored,  are 
frequently  terrible  or  mournful  in  a  very  high  degree. 
The  port  or  march  is  sometimes  in  common,  sometimes 
in  treble  time  \  regular  in  its  measures,  and  exact  in 
the  distance  between  its  retnming  cadences  ^  most  fre^* 
quently,  though  not  always,  loud  and  brisk.  The  pi" 
brochy  or  imitation  of  battles,  is  wild  and  abrupt  in 
its  transitions  from  interval  to  interval  and  from  key 
to  key  ^  various  and  desultory  in  its  movements  ^  fre« 
quently  irregular-  in  the  return  of '  its  cadences ;  and 
in  short,  through  the  whole,  seems  inspired  with  such 
fury  and  enthusiasm,  that  the  hearer  is  irresistibly  in- 
fected with  all  the  rage  6f  precipitate  courage,  not- 
withstanding the  rudeness  of  the  accents  by  which  it  is 
kindled.  To  this  the  pastoral  forms  a  striking  contrast. 
Its  accents  are  plaintive,  yet  soothing^  its  harmony 
^nerally  flat^  its  modulations  natural  and  agreeable  ^ 
its  rhythmus  simple  and  regular  ^  its  returning  caden- 
ces at  equal  distance ;  its  transitions  from  one  concin- 
nous  interval  to  anotlier,  at  least  for  the  most  part  \  its 
movements  slow,  and  may  be  either  in  common  or 
treble  time.  It  scarcely  admits  of  any  other  harmony 
than  that  of  a  simple  bass.  A  greater  number  of  parts 
would  cover  the  air,  and  destroy  the  melody.  To  this 
we  shall  add  what  has  been  said  upon  the  same  subject 
by  Dr  Franklin.     Writing  to  Lord  K  .,  be 

proceeds  thus : 

**  'Give  me  leave,  on  this  occasion,  to  extend  a  little 
the  sense  of  your  position,  *  That  melody  and  harmony 
are  separately  agreeable,  and  in  union  delightful  ^' 
and  to  give  as  my  opinion,  that  the  reason  why  the 
Scotch  tunes  have  lived  so  long,  and  will  probably  live 
for  ever  (if  they  escape  being  stifled  in  modern  affect- 
ed ornament),  is  merely  this,  that  they  are  really  com- 
positions of  melody  and  harmony  united,  or  rather 
that  their  melody  is  harmony.  I  mean,  the  simple 
tunes  sung  by  a  single  voice.  As  this  will  appear  pa- 
radoxical, I  must  explain  my  meaning*  In  common 
acceptation,  indeed,  only  an  agreeable  succession  of 
sounds  is  called  melody;  and  only  the  coexistence  of 
agreeable  sounds  harmony.  But  since  the  memory  is 
capable  of  retaining  for  some  moments  a  perfect  idea 
of  the  pitch  of  a  past  sound,  so  as  to  compare  it  with 
the  pitch  of  a  succeeding  sound,  and  judge  truly  of 
their  agreement  or  diagreenient,  there  may  and  does 
arise  from  thence  a  sense  of  harmony  between  the  pre- 
sent and  past  sounds,  equally  pleasing  with  that  between 
two  present  sounds.  Now  the  construction  of  the  old 
Scotch  tunes  is  this,  that  almost  every  succeeding  em- 
"phatical  note  is  a  third,  a  fiftli,  an  octave,  or  in  short 
some  note  that  is  in  concord  with  the  preceding  note. 
Thirds  are  chiefly  used,  which  are  very  pleasing  con- 
cords. I  use  the  word  emphatical^  to  distinguish  those 
notes  which  have  a  stress  laid  on  them  in  singing  the 
tune,  from  the  lighter  connecting  notes  that  serve 
merely,  like  grammar>articles  in  common  speech,  to 
tack  the  whole  together. 

"  That  we  have  a  most  perfect  idea  of  a  sound  just 
past,  I  might  appeal  to  all  acquainted  with  music,  who 
'know  bow  easy  it  is  to  repeat  a  sound  in  the  same 

3 


pitch  with  one  jnst  heard.  In  toning  an  instroinfent,  a 
ffood  ear  can  as  easily  determine  that  two  strings  are 
in  unison  by  sounding  them  separately,  as  by  soaodiDa 
them  together ;  their  diftagreement  is  also  as.  easily,  I 
believe  I  may  say  more  easily  and  better  distingotthed 
when  sounded  separately  \  for  when  sounded  together, 
though  you  know  by  the  beating  that  one  is  faig^ 
than  the  other,  you  cannot  tell  which  it  is.  I  bvs 
ascribed  to  memory  the  ability  of  comparing  the  pitch 
of  a  present  tone  with  that  of  one  past.  But  if  there 
should  be,  as  possibly  there  may  be,  something  in  the 
ear  similar  to  what  we  find  in  tlie  eye,  that  ability 
would  not  be  entirely  owing  to  memory.  Possibly  tlw 
vibrations  given  to  the  auditory  nerves  by  a  particular 
sound  may  actually  continue  for  some  time  after  the 
Cause  of  these  vibrations  is  past,  and  the  agreement  or 
disagreement  of  a  subsequent  sound  become  by  compari- 
son with  them  more  discernible.  For  the  impression 
made  on  the  visual  nerves  by  a  luminous  object  will 
continue  for  20  or  30  seconds.'* 

After  some  experiments  to  prove  the  permanency  of 
visible  impressions,  he  continnes  tlius : 

**  Farther,  when  we  consider  by  whom  these  ancient 
tunes  were  composed,  and  how  tliey  were   first  per- 
fi>rmed,  we  shall  see  that  such  harmonteal  socccssioa 
of  sounds  was  natural,  and  even  necessarv  in  their  con- 
struction.     lliey  were  Composed  by  tbt;  minstrels  of 
those  days,  to  be  played -on  the  harp  accompanied  by 
the  voice.      The  harp  was  strung  with   wire,  wfaidi 
gives  a  sonnd  of  long  continuance  ^  and  had  no  con- 
trivance  like   that  of   the    modem    harpsichord,   by 
which  the  sound  of  the  preceding  note  can  be  stop! 
the  moment   a    succeeding  note    begins.      To  avoid 
actual  discord,  it  was  therefore  necessary  that  the  soc« 
ceeding  emphatic  note  should  be  a  chord  with  the  pre- 
ceding,  as  their  sounds  must  exist  at  the  same  tinse. 
Hence  arose  that  beauty  in  those   tunes  that  has  so 
long  pleased,   and  will   please  for  ever,  though  n^en 
scarce  know  why.     That  they  were   originaHy  com- 
posed for  the  harp,  and  of  the  most  simple  kind,  I 
mean  a  harp  without  any*  half  notes  but  those  in  the 
natural  scale,  and  with  no  more  than  two  octaves  of 
strings,  from  C  to  C,  I  conjecture  from  another  cir- 
cumstance \  which  is,  that  not  one  of  these  tones  rtslly 
ancient,  has  a  single  artificial  half-note  in  it  ^  and  that 
in  tunes  where  it  is  moHt  convenient  for  the  voice  to  use 
tl2e  middle  notes  of  the  harp,  and  place  the  ke/  in  F, 
there  the  B,  which  if  used  should  be  a  B  flat,  is  al- 
ways omitted,  by  passing  over  it  with  a  third.    I1ie 
connoisseurs  in  modem  music  will  say  I  have  no  taste ; 
bnt  I  cannot  help  adding,  that  I  believe  our  aocestorB, 
in  having  a  good  song,  distinctly  articulated,  song  to 
one  of  those  tunes,  and  accompanied  b)  the  harp,  felt 
more  real  pleasure  than  is  communicated  by  tbe  gene- 
rality of  modem  operas,  exclusive  of  that  arising  fion 
the  scenery  and  dancing.     Most  tunes  of  late  compo* 
sition,  not  having  this  natural  harmony  united  with 
their  melody,  have  recourse  to  the  artificial  bannooy 
of  a  ba&s,  and  other  accompanying  parts.     Tbb  sop- 
port,  in  my  opinion,  the  old  tunes  do  not  need,  and 
axe  rather  confu5;ed  than  aided  by  it.     Whoever  has 
heard  James  Ostvaiti  play  them  on  bis  violinccHo,  will 
be  less  inclined  to  dispute  this  with  me.     I  have  iiiore 
than  once  seen  tears  of  pleasure  in  the  eyes  •(  hk 
auditors :  and  yet  I  think,  even  kis  playing  those  tones 


Iifltory* 


MUSIC. 


wooM  pleate  oMre  If  be  gave  them  less  niodeni  ona« 
ment.** 

As  tlwM  ob^ermtimiB  are  for  the  mest  part  trae,  and 
alwa]rs  iogenuHis,  xfe  need  no  other  apology  for  quot- 
ing them  at  length.  It  is  only  proper  to  remark,  that 
the  transition  la  Scots  musie  by  consonant  intervals, 
4aes  not  seem,  as  Dr  Franklin  imagines,  to  arise  from 
the  nature  of  the  instruments  upon  which  they  pkiyed« 
It  is  HMrto  than  probable,  that  the  ancient  British  harp 
was  not  stronff  with  wire,  but  with  the  same  materials 
as  tha  Welsh  harps  at  present.  These  strings  have  not 
the  same  permanency  of  tone  as  metal  ^  so  that  the 
8o«nid  of  a  preceding  emphatic  note  must  have  expired 
before  the  subeeqnent  accented  note  could  be  introdu- 
ced. Besides,  theiF  who  are  aoqoainted  vnth  the  ma- 
nduvre  of  the  Irish  harp,  know  well  that  there  is  a 
nethod  of  disnoatinuing  sounds  no  less  easy  and  eftc* 
toal  thno  npon  the  haipsichord.    When  the  performer 


finds  it  proper  to  interrupt  a  note,  he  has  no  more  to  do 
but  return  bis  finger  gently  upon  the  string  immediate- 
ly struck,  which  eflfectnally  stops  its  vibration. 

That  species  of  Scots  music  which  we  have  distin- 
guished by  the  name  o(  festive  seems  now  limited  to  reels 
and  country-dances.  These  may  be  either  in  common 
or  treble  time.  They  most  frequently  consist  of  two 
strains :  each  of  these  contains  eight  or  twelve  bars. 
They  are  truly  rhythmical )  but  the  mirth  which  they 
excite  seems  rather  to  be  inspired  by  the  vivacity  of  tbo 
movement,  than  either  by  the  force  or  variety  of  the  me- 
lody. They  possess  a  manoeuvre  and  expression  pecu- 
liar to  themselves,  which  it  is  impossible  to  describe, 
and  which  can  only  be  exhibited  by  good  performers. 

Having  thus  far  pursued  the  general  idea  of  music, 
we  shall,  after  the  history,  give  a  more  particular  detail 
of  the  science. 


48^ 


HISTORY    OF  MUSIC. 


Vo  occ»-  MUSIC  is  capable  of  so  infinite  a  variety,  so  greatly 
■to«o-  ^^Q^  lliQ  oiost  aimple  difier  from  the  most  complex,  and 
Sc^te  oT^  malttplied  are  the  degrees  between  these  two  ez«> 
B^e  IB  treroes,  that  in  no  age  could  the  incidents  respecting 
;ke  earlier  that  fascinaiting  art  have  been  few  or  uninteresting. 
of  th«  Bat,  that  accooats  of  these  incidents  should  have  been 
handed  down  to  us,  scanty  and  imperfect,  is  no  matter 
of  sorprise,  when  we  recollect  that  the  history  of  mndo 
in  the  history  only  of  sounds,  of  which  writing  is  a  very 
inadequate  medium  j  and  that  men  would  long  employ 
themselves  in  the  pleasing. exercise  of  coltivating  music 
before  they  possessed  either  the  ability  or  the  inclination 
to  record  their  exertions. 

No  accurate  traces,  therefore,  of  the  actual  state  of 
Husic,  in  the  earlier  ages  of  the  world,  can  be  discern- 
ed. Our  ideas  on  the  subject  have  no  foundation  firm- 
er than  conjecture  and  analogy. 

It  is  probable,  that  among  all  barbarous  nations 
some  degree  of  similarity  is  discemiUe  in  the  style  of 
their  musk.  Neither  will  much  difierence  a^ear  du- 
ring the  first  dawnings  of  civilization.  But  in  the 
OMBo  advanced  periods  of  society,  when  the  powers 
q£  tha  human  nind  are  pennitted  without  obstacle  to 
exert  their  native  activity  and  tendency  to  invention^ 
and  are  at  the  same  time  afi^ted  by  the  infinite  variety 
•f  circwnstances  and  situations  whiieh  before  bad  no  ex** 
iatrnee,  and  which  in  one  case  accelerate,  and  in  ano- 
ther retard  }  then  that  similarity,  once  so  distinguishablo, 
ipves  place  to  the  endless  diversity  of  which  the  subject 
is  ciipable. 

The  psacdoe  of  music  being  univemal  in  all  ages  and 
ue  mjsB-  ^i  Badons,  it  would  be  absurd  to  attribute  the  invention 

■  ^lA   nm   A^m.W  

0^  g^^^  ^  of  the  art  to  aav  one  man.  It  must  have  suffered  a  re* 
gnlar  ptogression,  throngh  infiuicy,  childhood,  and 
yooth,  before  it  coold  arrive  at  maturity.  The  first 
nttempla  mnst  have  been  rude  and  artless.  Perhaps  the 
first  ftite  was  a  reed  of  the  lake. 

No  nation  has  been  aUe  to  produce  proofs  of  anti- 
quity so  indiapulable  as  the  Egyptians.  It  would  be 
vain,  thcrefiws,  to  attempt  tracing  music  higher  than 
the  hiatory  of  Egypt. 

By  comparing  the  accnoott  of  Diodorus  Siculus 
Vol.  XIV.  Pak  II.  + 


V^fOPtisn 


and  of  Plato,  there  is  reason  to  suppose,  that  in  very 
ancient  times  the  study  of  music  in  Egypt  vras  con- 
fined to  the  priesthood,  who  used  it  only  on  religions-^ 
and  solemn  occasions  ^  that,  as  well  as  sculpture,  it 
was  circumscribed  by  law  ^  that  it  vras  esteemed  sa- 
cred, and  forbidden  to  be  employed  on  light  or  com- 
mon occasions ;  and  that  innovation  in  it  was  prohi- 
bited: But  what  the  style  or  relative  excellence  of 
this  very  ancient  music  was,  there  are  no  traces  by 
which  we  can  form  an  accurate  judgment.  After  the 
reigns  of  the  Pharaohs,  the  Egyptians  fell  by  turns 
under  the  dominion  of  the  Ethiopians,  the  Persians, 
the  Greeks,  and  the  Homans.  By  such  revolutions, 
the  manners  and  amusements  of  the  people,  as  well  ab 
their  form  of  government,  must  have  been  changed. 
In  the  age  of  the  Ptolemies,  the  musical  games  and 
contests  instituted  by  those  monarchs  were  of  Greek 
origin,  and  the  musiciaas  who  performed  were  chiefly 
Greek. 

The  most  ancient  monuments  of  human  art  and  in* 
dustry,  at  present  extant  at  Rome,  are  the  obelisks 
brought  thither  from  Egypt,  two  of  which  are  said  to 
have  been  erected  by  Besostris  at  Heliopolis,  about  406 
years  before  the  siege  of  Troy.     These  were  by  the  or- 
der of  Augustus  brought  to  Rome  after  the  conquest 
of  Egypt.     One  of  them,  called  gugiia  rotta^  or  the 
broken  pillar,  which  during  the  sacking  of  the  city  ib 
1527  was  thrown  down  and  broken,  still  lies  in  the  ' 
Campos  Martins.     On  it  is  seen  the  figure  of  ,a  musr-  An  Egyp- 
cal  instrument  of  two  strings,  and  with  a  neck.     It  re- tian muucal 
sembles  much  the  calascione  still  used  in  the  kingdom  **'^'*'"*''^' 
of  Naples. 

1^18  curious  relick  of  antiquity  is  mentioned,  be- 
cause it  aflfords  better  evidence  than,  on  the  subject 
of  ancient  music,  is  usually  to  be  met  with,  that  the 
Egyptians,  at  so  very  early  a  period  of  their  history, 
luMl  advanood  to  a  considerable  degree  of.  exeellence 
in  the  cnlfivation  of  the  art^.  By  means  of  its  neck, 
tiiis  instrument  was  capable,  with  only  two  string^, 
of  ptoducing  a  great  numbier  of  notes.  These  two 
strings,  if  tuned  fourths  to  each  other,  would  furniib 
that  series  of  sounds  called  by  the  aneients  kef^ockvNt^ 

3  Q  which 


49© 


M    U 


The  Egyp- 
tian Her- 


which  coDsisU  of  a  conjttnct  tetrachord  as  B,  C,  D, 
£  'f  £y  1\  G»  A  >  if  tuned  iiftliSt  they  would  pro- 
duce an  octave,  or  two  disjunct  tetrachords.  Tlie 
calascione  is  toned  in  this  last  manner.  The  annals 
of  no  nation  other  than  Egypt,  for  nuuiy  ages  after 
the  period  of  the  obelisk  at  Heliopolis,  exhibit  the 
vestige  of  any  contrivance  to  shorten  strings  during 
performance  by  a  neck  or  finger*board.  Father  Mont- 
faucon  observes, that  after  examining  500  ancient  lyres, 
harps,  and  citharas,  be  could  discover  no  such  thing. 

£gypt  indeed  seems  to  have  been  the  source  of  hu- 
man intelligence,  and  the  favourite  residence  of  genius 
and  invention.  From  that  celebrated  country  did  the 
Greeks  derive  their  knowledge  of  the  JBrst  elements  of 
those  arts  and  sciences  in  which  they  afterwards  so  emi- 
nently excelled.  From  Greece  again  did  the  Romans 
horrow  their  attainments  in  the  same  pursuits.  And 
from  the  records  of  those  different  nations  have  the 
modems  been  enabled  to  accomplish  so  wonderful  an 
improvement  in  literature. 

The  Hermes  or  Mercury  of  the  Egyptians,  simamed 
Trismcgistus^  or  thrice  illustrious^  who  was,  according 
ncfl  the  in-  to  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  the  secretary  of  Osiris,  is  cele- 
iwotor  of  ^yatcd  as  the  inventor  of  music.  It  has  already  been 
^^'  observed,  that  no  one  person  ought  strictly  to  hie  call- 
ed the  inventor  of  an  art  which  seems  to  be  natural  to, 
and  coeval  with,  the  human  species ;  but  tbe  Eg^Fptian 
Mercury  is  witiiout  doubt  entitled  to  the  praise  of  ha- 
ving made  striking  improvements  in  music,  as  well  as 
of  having  advanced  in  various  respects  the  civilization 
of  the  people,  whose  government  was  chiefly  committed 
to  his  charge.  The  account  given  by  Apollodorus  of 
the  manner  in  which  he  accidentally  invented  tlie  lyrr, 
is  at  onoe  entertaining  and  probable.  ^  The  Nile 
(says  Apollodorus),.  after  having  overflowed  the  whola 
country  of  Egypt,  when  it  returned  within  its  natural 
bounds,  left  on  the  shore  a  great  number  of  dead  aoi- 
mab  of  varioas  kinds,  and  among  the  rest  a  tortoise  j 
the  flesb  of  which  being  dried  and  wasled  by  the  sun, 
nothing  remained  within  the  shell  hut  nerves  and  caiw 
tilaffes,  and  these  being  braced  and^contraQted  by  the 
drymg  heat  became  sonorous.  Mercury  walking  along 
the  hanks  of  the  Nile,  happened  to  strike  his  foot  ar 
gainst  this  shell  \  and  was  so  pleased  with  the  sound  pro- 
duced, that  the  idea  of  a  lyre  started  into  his  iroaginap 
tion.  He  constructed  the  instrument  in  the  form  of  a 
tortoise,  and  strung  it  with  the  dried  sinews  of  dead 
animals.^' 

How  beautiful  to  conceive  the  energetic  powers  of 
the  human  mind  in  the  early  ages  of  the  world,  ex- 
ploring the  yet  undiscovered  capabilities  of  nature,  and 
directed  to  the  inexhaustible  store  by  the  finger  of  God 
in  the  form  of  accident ! 
Vhe  nnj^le       The  monaubs,  or  single  flute,  called  by  the  Egyp- 
•utc  of  the  tians  photinx,  was  probably  one  of  the  .most  ancient 
Ji«g7pciaiis.  instrumenta  used  either  by  them  or  any  other  nation. 
From  various  remains  of  ancient  sculpture,  it  appears 
to  have  been  shaped  like  a  builds  horn,  and  was  at  first, 
it  may  be  supposed,  no  other  than  the  horn  itself*— - 
Before  the  invention  of  flutes,  as  no  other  instjcoment 
except  those  of  percussion  were  known,  mnsic  must 
have  been  little  mote  than  metrical.    When  the  art  of 
refining  and  lengthening  sounds  was  first  discovered, 
the  power  of  music  over  mankind,  from  the  agreeable 
tarprise  occasioned  by  soft  and  extended  notes,  was 


SIC.  Hish^. 

probably  irresistible.     At  a  tame  when  aU  the  rest  «( 
tbe  world  was  involved  in  savage  ignonmce,  the  Egyp- 
tians were  possessed  of  musical  instnunenta  capable  of 
much  variety  i^nd  expression.— Of  thu  th^  astoDtshiBg 
lemains  of  the  city  Thebes  still  soboisiing  aford.anple 
evidence.     In  a  lettec  from  Mr  Bmce»  ingrossed  ia  Dr 
Bomey^s  history  of  Music,  there  is  eiven  a  f*'*"T*TT 
description  of  tfafe  Theban  haq>,  an  instrmBent  of  ex- Tk  Ik. 
tensive  compass,  and  exquisite  elegance  of  foras*    It  ii^  liuptf 
accompanied  with  a  drawing  taken  from  themins  of  aa^^ 
ancient  sepulchre  at  Thebes,  supposed  by  Mr  Bmce 
ta  be  that  of  the  father  of  Sesostris* 

On  the  subject  of  this  harp,  Mr  Bruce  makes  the 
following  striking  observation.  It  overturns  all  the 
accounts  of  the  earliest  state  of  ancient  music  and  in- 
struments in  Egypt,  and  is  altogether,  ia  its  forw,  m- 
naments,  and  compass,  an  incontestable  psoof,  stasiBget 
than  a  thousand  Greek  4|notations,  that  geooetiy, 
drawinff,  mechanics,  and  music,  were  at  the  greatest 
perfection  when  this  harp  was  made ;  and  that  what 
we  think  in. Egypt  was  the  invention  of  arts  was  only 
the  beginning  of  the  eera  of  their  restoration.'* 

Indeed,  when  the  beauty  and  powers  of  this  haip^ 
along  with  the  very  great  antiquity  of  tbe  painciog 
which  rcpre^nts  it,  are  considered,  such  an  opiaioa  aa 
that  which  Mr  Brnce  hints  at,  does  not  seem  to  be  de- 
void of  probability. 

It  cannot  be  doubted  that  daring  tbe  reigns  of  the 
Ptolemies,  who  were  volnptnoos  princes,  music  auttt 
have  been  much  cultivated  and  encooiaged.  Tlie  &- 
ther  of  Cleopatra,  who  was  the  last  of  that  race  of 
kings,  derived  his  title  of  auletes,  or  flute-player,  frwa 
his  excessive  attachment  to  the  flute.  Like  Nero,  he 
used  to  array  himself  in  the  dress  of  a  tibicen,  and  cxhi- 
bit  his  performance  in  the  public  mosinl  cantests. 

Some  authors,  particularly  Am.  Marcdlinus  and  M. 
Pan,  refiise  to  the  Egyptians,  at  any  period  of  their 
history,  any  musical  genins,  or  any  excellence  in  the 
art ;  but  the  arguments  used  to  support  this  opinion  seen 
to  be  inconclusive,  and  .the  evidences  of  the  apposilade» 
cision*  appear  co  be  ineontestablo. 

^The  sacred  Scriptures  affwd  almost  the  only  onl^Bc^ 
riab  from  which  any  knowledge  of  Hebrew  music  csa''"'^ 
be  drawn.     In  the  rapid  sketch,,  therefore,  of  ancicat 
music  which  w.e  mean  ta  exhibit,  a  very  few  obscm* 
tions  are  all  which  can  properiy.  be  given  to  that  de- 
partment of  our  subject. 

Moses,  who  led  the  Israelilaa  out  of  Egypt,  wss 
edaaated  by  Pharaoh's  daughter  in  all  the  liteiatsrs 
and  elegant  arts  cultivated  in  that  country.  It  ia  pro* 
bahle,  therefore,  that  the  taste  and  styie  of  Egyptisa 
music  would  be  infused  in  some  degree  into  that  of  tbe 
Hebrews.  Music  appears  to.  have  been  interwovts 
through,  the  whole  tissue  of  religious  caremooy  ia  Pt- 
lestine.  The  priesthood  seem  to  have  bean  muHciaas 
hereditary'  and  by  oflice.  The  prophets  appear  to 
have  accompanied  their  inspired  effuriooa  with  nunc; 
and  every  prophet,  like  the  present  improvisatsri  sf 
Italy,  seems  to  have  been  accompanied  by  a  mBsicslia* 
strument. 

Music,  vocal  and  instrumental,  eoasdtoled  a  grest 
part  of  the  funeral  ceremonies  of  the  Jews.  The  powp 
and  expence  used  on  these  occasions' advanced  by  ^ 
grees  to  an  excessive  extent.  The  number  of  lote^ 
players  in  the  processions  anmunted  sometioies  to  several 

huadmh. 


Hktory.  M     U 

honflrels,  and  the  attcn^nce  of  the  gneMs  continued 
rj«MpA«i,  frequently  for  30  dajrs  *. 

The  Hebrew  language  abounds  with  consonants, 
and  has  so  few  vowels,  that  in  the  original  alphabet 
they  had  no  characters.  It  must,  Uierefore,  have  been 
harsh  and  un^ivourable  to  music.  Their  instmments 
«f  mosie  were  6hiefly  those  of  percussion-^  so  that, 
both  on  account  of  the  language  and  the  instmnients, 
the  music  must  haye  been  coarse  and  noisy.  The  vast 
numbers  of  performers  too,  whom  it  was  the  taste  of 
the  Hebrews  to  collect  together,  could  with  such  a  Ian* 
gvage  and  such  instruments  produce  nothing  but  cla- 
-nour  aiAd  jargon.  According  to  Josephus,  there  were 
100,030  musicians  at  the  dedication  of  Solomon^s 
.  temple.  Such  are  the  circumstances  from  which  only 
mn  idea  -of  Hebrew  music  can  be  formed ;  for  the  Jews, 
neither  ancient  nor  modem,  have  ever  had  any  charac- 
ters peculiar  to  music ;  and  the  melodies  used  in  their 
religious -ceremonies  have  at  alF  times  been  entirely  tra- 
ditional. 

Cadmos,  with  the  Phoenician  colony  which  ^e  led 
into  Greece,  imported  at  the  same  time  various  arts 
into  that  country.  By  the  assistance  of  his  Phoenician 
artificers,  that  chief  discovered  gold  in  Thrace  and 
copper  at  Thebes.  At  Thebes  that  metal  is  still  term- 
ed cadmia.  Of  these  materials,  and  of  iron,  they 
-formed  to  themselves  armour  and  instruments  <9f  war. 
-These  they  struck  against. each  other  during  their 
ndanees  at  •sacrifices,  by -which  they  lint  obtained  the 
idea  of  music.  Such  is  the  account  given  of  the  ori- 
gin -of  that  species  of  music  in  Greece  produced  bj 
instmments  of  percossion.  The  invention  of  wind  in- 
stntments  in  Greece  is  attributed  to  Minerva  \  and  to 
4hft  Grecian  Mercury  is  assigned,  by  the  poets  and 
liistorians  of  that  country,  the  honour  of  many  disco- 
veries probably  due  to  the  Egyptian  Hermes,  particu- 
larly the  invention  of  stringed  instruments,  ^e  lyre 
<9f4lie  Egyptian  Meretffy  had  only  three  strings^  that 
of  the  Grecian  seven :  Hieiast  was  perhaps  no  more 
than  an  improvement  on  the  other.  When  the  Greeks 
deified  a  prince  or  hero  of  their  own  country,  they 
woally  assigned  him  an  Egyptian  name,  and  with  the 
name  bestowed  on  their  new  'divinity  all  the  actions, 
attributes,  and  rites  of  the  original. 

The  Grecian  lyre,  althou^  said  to  liave  been  in- 
vented by  Mercury,  was  cultivated  principally  by 
ApifHo,"who  first  played  upon  it  with  method,  antl 
aoeompanied  ft  with -the  voice.  The  celebrated  con- 
test between  him  and  Marsyas  is  mentioned  by  various 
authors  \  in  which,  by  conjoining  the  voice  with  his 
lyre  (a  combination  never  before  attempted),  his  music 
was  declared  superior  to  the  flute  of  Marsyas.  The 
^pvogroM  of  the  lyre,  according  to  Diodorus  Siculus, 
is  the  fitUowing.  ^  The  muses  added  to  the  Grecian 
lyia  the  string  called  fne^ ;  Linus  that  of  lichanos  \ 
aad  Orphans  and  Thamyiras  those  strings  which  are 
named  hypate  and  parhypate.**  •  It  *  has  been  already 
■leotioaM,  that  the  lyre  invented  by  the  Egyptian 
Mavvry  had  bnttbree  strings.    By  putting  these  cir- 


S    I    C.  491 

cumstances  together,  we  may  perhaps  acquire  fiomc 
knowledge  of  the  progress  of  music,  or  at  least  of  the 
extension  of  its -scale  in  tlie  highest  antiquity,  Mcse^ 
in  the  Greek  music,  is  the  fourth  sound  of  the  sccand 
tetrachord  of  the  great  system,  and  first  tetrachord  in- 
vented by  the  ancients^  answering  to  our  A,  on  the 
fifth  line  in  the  base.  If*this  souud  then  was  added  to 
the  former  three,  it  proves  that  the  most  ancient  te- 
trachord was  that  from  £  in  the  base  to  A  )  and  that 
the  three  original  strings  in  the  Mercurian  and  Apol- 
lonian lyre  were  tuned  E,  F,  G,  which  the  Greeks  call 
hypate  meson^  parhyate  meson^  and  meson  diatonos: 
The  addition,  therefore,  of  mr^^  to  these,  completed  the 
first  and  most  ancient  tetrachord  E,  F,  G,  A.  The 
string  liclianos  again  being  added  to  these,  and  answer- 
ing to  our  D  on  the  third  line  in  the  base,  extended  the 
compass  downwards,  and  gave  the  ancient  lyre  a  regu- 
lar series  of  five  sounds.  The  two  strings  hypate  and 
parhypate,  corresponding  with  our  B  and  C  in  the  base, 
-completed  the 'heptachord  or  seven  sounds  h,  c,  d,  e,  f, 
•g,  a ;  a  compass  which  received  no  addition  tUl  after 
the  days  of  Pindar. 

It  might  perhaps  be  expected,  tliat  in  a  history  of 
Greek  music  something  ought  to  be  said  cqucerning 
the  muses,  Apollo,  Bacchus,  and  the  other  gods  and 
demi-gods,  who  in  the  nfythology  of  that  country  ap- 
pear ito  have  promoted  and  improved  the  art.     But 
such  a  discussion  would  be  too  diffusive,  and  involve  too 
■much  foreign  matter  for  the  plan  we  have  chosen  to 
adopt.     We  cannot  avoid,  however,   making  a  few 
observations  on  the  poems  of  'Homer,  in  do  far  as  con- 
nected with  our  subject.     It  has  been  imagined,  with 
much  appearance  of  probability,  that  the  occupation  Occupation 
of  the  first  poets  and  musicians  of  Greece  resembled  ^'^  *'**^  ^"J^ 
that  of  the  Celtic  and  German  bards  and  the  scalds  ^^^jj^JIJ, 
of  Iceland  and  Scandinavia.     They  jsung  (heir  poem^in  Givcce. 
in  the  streets  of  the  cities  and  in  the  palaces  of  princes. 
They  were  treated  with  high  respect,  and  regarded  as 
inspired  persons.     Such  was  the  employment  of  Ho- 
mer.    His  poems,   so  justly  celebrated,   exhibit  the 
most  authentic  picture  that  can  be  found  in  the  annals 
of  antiquity,  although  perhaps  somewhat  highly  co- 
loured, of  the  times  of  which  he  wrote  and  m  which 
he  lived.    Music  is  dways  named  throughout  the  'Iliad 
and  Odyssey  witb  rapture  \  but  as  in  these  poems  no 
mention  is  made  of  instrumental  music  unaccompanied 
with  poetry  and  singing,  a -considerable  share  no  doubt 
of  the  poet*8  praises  is  to  be  attributed  to  the  poetry. 
The  instruments  most  firequently  named  are  the  lyre^ 
the  flute,  and  the  syrinx.    The  trumpet  appears  not 
to  have  been  known  at  the  siege  of  Troy,  although 
it  had  come  to  be  in  use  in  the  days  of  Homer  him- 
self.    From  <he  time  of  Homer  till  that  of  Sappho, 
there  is  almost  a  total  blank  in  literature.    Only  a  few 
fragments  remain  of  the  works  of  those  poets  and  mu- 
sicians whose  names  are  preserved  as  having  flourished 
between  those  periods  (a).  During  the  century  which 
elapsed  between  the  days  of  'Sappho  and  those  of  Ana- 
creon,  no  literary  productions  are  preserved  entire.— 

3<i%  From 


(a)  Hesiod  lived  so  near  to  Homer,  that  it  has  been  disputed  which  of  them  is  the  most  ancient.  It  is  now, 
we  believe,  universally  admitted,  that  the  palm  of  antiquity  is  dne  to  Homer.;  bat  we  consider  them  as  having 
both  flourished  in  the  same  enu 


492  M     U 

From  AnacreoD  to  Pladar  there  is  another  chasm  of 
near  a  century.  Subsequent  to  this  timey  the  works 
still  extant  of  the  three  great  tragic  poets,  ^schylus, 
Sophocles,  and  Euripides,  together  with  those  of  Plato, 
Aristotle,  Arbtozenus,  Euclid,  Theocritus,  Callinaa- 
chus.  Poly  hi  us,  and  many  others,  produced  all  within 
a  8pt^  less  than  300  years,  distinguish  this  illustrious 
and  uncommon  period  as  that  in  whicli  the  whole 
powers  of  genius  seem  to  have  heen  exerted  to  iUnmi- 
nate  and  instruct  mankind  in  future  ages.  Tb^n  it 
was  that  eloquence,  poetry,  nmsk^  architecture,  hi&Cory, 
painting,  sculpture,  like  the  spontaneous  blossoms  of  na- 
ture, flourished  without  the  appearance  of  labour  or  of 
art. 

The  poets,  as  well  epic  as  lyric  and  elegiac,  were  all 
likewise  musicians^  so  strictly  connected  were  music  and 
poetry  for  many  ages.     It  would  afford  amusement  to 
collect  the  biographical  anecdotes  of  these  favourites  of 
genius,  and  to  assign  to  each  the  respective  improvements 
made  by  hini  in  music  and  poetry  y  but  our  limits  do 
not  admit  of  so  extensive  a  disquisition  \  for  which, 
therefore,  reference  must  be  made  to  the  editors  and 
commentators  of  these  authors,  and  to  the  voluminous 
histories  of  music  lately  published. 
The  inven-     The  invention  of  notation  and  musical  characters 
tion  of  mu-  niarked  a  dlstiniruished  sera  in  the  procnress  of  music, 
racten.       There  are  a  diversity  of  accoaats  respecting  |he  persofi 
^  to  whom  the  honour  of  that  invention  is  due  ;   but  the 

evidences  seem  to  preponderate  in  favour  of  Terpander, 
a  celebrated  poet  and  musician,  to  whose  genius  music 
is  much  indebted.  He  flourished  aboiU  the  27tb  Olym- 
piad, or  671  years  before,  Christ. 

Before  that  valuable  discoverv,  music  being  entirely 
traditional,  must  have  depended  muoh  on  the  memory 
and  taste  of  the  performer. 

There  is  an  incident  mentioned  in  the  accoants 
handed  down  to  us  of  the  Olympic  games,  which  may 
serve  in  some  degree  to  mark  the  character  of  music 
at  the  time  in  which  it  happened.  Lucian  relates  that 
a  yottog  flute-pUyer  nained  Harmonides,  at  kis  first 
public  appearance  in  these  games,  began  a  solo  with  sp 
violent  a  blast,  on  purpose  to  surprise  and  elevate  the 
audience,  that  he  breat/ied'&is  last  breath  i»t9  hisfiute^ 
Vociferoot  and  died  on  the  spot.  When  to  this  anecdote,  won* 
music  of  derful  to  us,  anil  almost  incredible,  is  added  that  cir-* 
the  Greeks.  eunjstnQce,  that  the  trumpet-players  at  these  public  ex-' 
hibitions  expressed  ah  excess  of  joy  whea  they  found 
their  exertions  had  neither  rent  their  cheeks  nor  burst 
tbeii^  blood-vessels,  some  idea  may  be  formed  of  the 
noby  and  vociferous  style  of  music  which  then  pleasedji 
iind  irom  suck  faints  only  can  any  opinion  he  obtained 
of  the  actual  slate  of  ancient  music. 

Ia  whatever  fBomser  the  flute  was  played  on,  there 
is  no  doubt  that  it  was  bug  io  Greece  an  iastrumeo^ 
of  high  faivoor,  and  that  ue  ftute-players  wen;  hel4 
in  much  estimation.  The  flute  ujted  by  Ismeuiaa,  a 
celebrated  Tbehaa  musician,  coi^  at  Corinth  th^ea  la«< 
leuts^  or  581I.  5s.  If^  saya  Xeuophon,  %  bad  flute* 
player  would  pass  fos^a  good  one^  he  nuwl,  like  the. 
great fiuU-fkofers^  expend  laige  sums  on  richjurniture^ 
and  appear  in  public  with  a  great  retinue  of  servants. 


SIC.  Hiitoiy. 

The  ancients,  it  appears,  were  not  less  extmvagtat  Eitniv 
in  gratifying  the  ministers  of  ifaeir  pleasures  thaa  our-iUMtf 
selves.    Amoebseus,  a  harper,  wa^s  paid  an  Attic  taleat^^^waif 
or  193I.  15a.  per  day  for  his  performance  (a).  witkre- 

It  is  proper  to  add,  that  the  celebrated  rousiciaos  of  ^[^^ 
Greece  who  performed  in  public  were  of  bath  seaies  \ 
and  that  the  beautiful  Lamia^  who  was  taken  captive 
by  Demetrius,  in  the  sea  engagement  in  which  he  vib< 
quished  Ptolemy  Soter,  and  who  herself  captivated  ber 
conqueror,  was  a  public  performer,  as  well  as  were 
many  other  elevated'  female  spirits,  who  are  recorded 
by  ancient  authors  in  terms  of  admiration,  and  of  whom, 
did  our  limits  here  admit  of  biography,  we  would  treat 
with  pleasure.  The  philosophers  of  Greece,  whose  capa- 
cious minds  grasped  every  other  object  of  Inunaa  iatel- 
Ugence,  were  not  inatteniive  tp  the  theory  of  muatc,  or 
the  philosophy  of  sound.  This  department  of  scicBoe  be- 
came the  source  of  various  sects,  and  of  much  divenity 
of  opinion.-«-The  founders  of  the  moat  distinguished 
sects  were  Pythagoras  and  Aristoxenus. 
,   Like  ^"itry  other  people,  the  Romaaa,  fimm  thcir^'f* 
first  origin  as  a  nation,  were  possessed  of  a  species  of"*"^ 
music  which  might  be  distinguished  as  their  owd.     It 
appears  to  have  been  rude  aad  coarse,  and  pcohabfy 
was  a  variation  of  the  music  ia  use  among  the  Etrus- 
cans and  other  tribes  around  them  in  Italy;  but  as 
soon   as  they  began  to  open  a  coromuuicatieo  with 
Greece,  firom  that  country,  with  their  arts  and  pbilo- 
Bt'F^y*  ^y  borrowed  also  their  music  aod  muaiod  io* 
struments.    No  account,  therefore,  of  Bomaa  mane 
is  to  be  expected  that  would  not  ho   a  lefotitiou 
of  what  has  beau  said  on  the  subject  of  the  awAic  of 
Greece. 

The  excessive  vanity  of  Nero  with  respect  to  masi^^^l^f 
displayed  in  his  public  contentions  foe  superiority  wilh|*"**? 
the  most  celebrated  professors  of  the  ait  an  Glraeet^^ 
^d  Borne,  is  known  to  every  one  conversant  tu  the 
history  of  Rome.      The  solicitude  with  which  that 
detestable  tyrant  attended  to  his  voice  ia  cunous^  aad 
will  throw  some  light '  on  the  practices  of  tringw  in 
ancient  times.     He  was  in  use  to  lie  on  his  hack^  with 
a  thin  plate  of  lead  on  his  stomach.    Ha  look  firaqnnt 
emetics  aad  cathartica^  abstained  from  aU  kinda  of 
fruits  and  such  meats  as  were  held  to  be  psejudiGial  to 
singing.    Apf  rebeuaive  of  injuring  his  voiee,  he  at 
leugth  desisted  from  haranguing  the  soUiery  aad  the 
senate  \  aod  after  hie  vetum  from  Greece  eetiblishrd 
an  oflbcer  (Phouaacvs)  to  regulate  his  lonea  in  speak- 

*»g.  , 

Most  nations  have  consented  in  iatroduoi^g 

ioto  their  laUguuia  ceremoniea.  That  ait  waa  cai^ 
admitted  ioto  the  rites  of  the  Egyptian*  aod  Hebiews ) 
aod  that  it  constituted  a  considerable  pait  of  the  Gia- 
cian  and  Roman  selAgious  service^  appaaaa  ftom  tbe 
writings  of  many  ancient  authors.  The  saaw  pisiwag 
art  soon  obtained  an  introduction  into  tho  ChsiiitJai 
church,  as  the  Acta  of  the  Apieetles  discover  an  mmf 
panoiges.  These  ramaiu  no  specimens  of  Hm  matte 
empl^^J^d  v^  the  worship  of  the  pnmitiue  ChMiinM^ 
but  probably  it  was  at  first  the  same  with  that  need  in 
the  Pagan  rites  of  the  Greeks  und  Romans.     The 


(b)  Roscius  gained  500  sestertia,  or  4036I.  9a.  2d.  sterling. 


cbarch. 


Histocy.  M    U 

pi«cUc«  of  cbaotiDg  the  pMlmi  was  iotrodaocd  into 
tiM  wMteni  okarohM  by  8t  AmbrMe,  about  350  feus 
aftoc  Cbrwt.  In  the  jear  600,  tbe  method  of  cbant- 
ing  wag  improTod  by  -St  Gregory  the  Great.  The 
Anbrociaa  cfaaot  ooDtaaaed  feor  modes*  la  the  Gre- 
gorian the  Dumber  was  doubled.  So  eariy  as  the  age 
of  Coastaotine  the  Great,  prior  to  either  of  the  pe* 
riods  last  mentioned,  when  the  Christian  religion  first 
obtained  the  countenance  of  power, -instrumental  mu- 
sic came  to  be  introduced  into  the  service  of  the  church* 
iatredoecd  ^*  England,  according  to  Bishop  Stillingfleet,  music 
into  the  was  employed  in  the  church  service,  first  ^  St  Augus- 
JCogltth  tine,  and  afierwacds  much  improved  by  Bt  Dunstan, 
who  was  himself  an  emanent  musician,  and  who  is  said 
to  have  first  furnished  the  English  chnffches  and  con* 
vents  with  the  organ.  The  organ,  the  most  majestic 
of  all  instruments,  seems  to  have/been  an  imptwirenient 
of  the  hydraidican  or  water  organ  of  the  Greeks^— • 
The  fiist  organ  seen  in  France  was  sent  from  Constan- 
tinople in  757,  as  a  present  to  Kinc  Pepin  fipom  the 
empeior  Constantino  Copreoymus  VL  In  Italy,  Oer* 
many,  and  England,  that  instiument  became  frequent 
during  the  iota  century. 

During  the  dark  ages  no  work  of  genius  or  taste  in 
department  of  science  seems  to  nave  been  produ'- 
in  any  part  of  Europe  $  and  except  in  Italy, 
where  the  cultivation  -of  music  was  rather  more  the 
object  of  attention,  that  art  was  neglected  equally  with 
ttU  ^^hsn.  There  has  always  been  observed  41  corre- 
spoadenoa  in  every  cesmtry  between  the  progress  of 
mnsic  and  the  cultivation  of  ether  arts  and  sciences. 
In  the  middle  ages,  therefoce,  when  tfaa  most  fertile 

Sovinees  of  Europe  were  occupied  by  the  Goths, 
nns,  Vandals,  and  other  harbarens  tribes,  wbsse 
language  was  as  harsh  as  their  uMnmers  were  savnge, 
little  perfection  and  n^  improventnt  of  music  is  to 
be  looked  for.  Latentufe,  arts,  and  refinements, 
TW  gitat  ^^"^^  encouraged  mofe  early  at  the  courts  of  the  Ro* 
man  pontib  than  in  any  ether  country }  and  owing  to 
that  circumstance  it  is,  that  the  scale,  the  countfr* 
^^^^point,  the  best  melodies,  the 

•a  UjJj/^^'^*  ^  ^^^  K'*^^^  >Dd  e 

sic,  have  derived  thour  origin  fsom  Italy. 

tmes,  Italy  has  been  to  tlK  net  of  Europe  what  an* 

cient  Greece  was  to  Borne*    The  Italians  have  nidud 

the  civilization  of  their  e<mqnerafs,  avd  enligfaleneii 

the  minds  of  those  wbsse  superior  peowsos  had  laislinicd 

them. 

Having  mentioned  coanterpeiat,  it  wedd  be  ia^ 

proper  not  to  make  one  sr  two  obscHrvatioos  oa  aa  ia* 

vantion  which  is  sufpssed  to  have  boon  the 

great  innovation  in  the  practice  of  music. 

pobty  or  music  in  parts,  seam  ta  be 


S 


religions  aad  se- 
^kanaeies  of  modern 
a  nam  Italv*    In 


aa 


purely 


The 


harmony 


of 
Coanter* 

inreation 
t  in  the 


pant. 


languags  of  antiquity  what  ia  now  andirntooil  by  ma« 
lody*  GuidOf  a  moak  of  Arenaa  ia  Tasssavy  is,  ia 
the  geaeiml  epmion,  snppoaed  to  have  entertamed  the 
6mL  idea  of  oanotespoint  aboat  tba  year  noM :  an  art 
which,  since  his  tiosa,  has  expemeocedgBadaal  and  im« 
perceptible  impiiov^menti,  £»r  exeeednig  tfte  psasess 
or  compnhenaiaa  oC  soy  ooe  indsridaal*  The  term 
comntirpoim^  w  eomirm  pwacfaw,.  dewotwo  its  own  ely- 
molqgy  aad  impost^  Musssal  natation  was  at  eae  time 
pexibnned  by  small  points }  aad  the  prtsent  mode  U 


S     I     C.  493 

only  an  improvement  of  that  practice*  Counterpoint, 
therefore,  denotes  the  notation  of  barmoDy  or  music 
in  parts,  by  points  opposite  to  each  other*  llie  im- 
provements of  this  important  acquisition  to  the  art  of 
music  kept  pace  at  first  with  those  of  the  organ  ;  an  in«- 
strument  admirably  adapted  to  harmony :  And  both 
the  one  and  the  other  were  till  the  13th  century  em- 
ployed chiefly  in  sacred  nhisic.  It  was  at  thia  period 
that  sacred  music  began  to  be  cultivated* 

Befin«  the  invention  of  charactere  for  time,  music 
in  parts  must  have  consisted  entifelv  of  ttmple  counter^ 
pointy  or  note  against  note,  as  is  still  practised  in  psal- 
mody* But  the  happy  discovery  of  a  tiaie-table  ex- 
tended infinitely  the  powers  of  combined  sounds*  The 
ancients  had  no  other  resource  to  denote  time  and 
movement  in  music  except  two  characters  («**  n-^), 
equivalent  to  a  long  and  a  short  syllable.  But  time 
is  of  such  importance  10  mnsic,  that  it  can  impart 
meaning  and  energy  to  the  repetition  of  the  same 
sound*  Without  it  variety  of  tones  has  no  eflfect  with 
respect  to  gravity  and  acuteness*  The  invention  <tf  The  ioven- 
the  time-table  is  attributed  by  almost  all  the  wnters  tjon  cf  the 
on  music  of  the  last  and  present  century  to  John  de^"^'^'^^^ 
Murisy  who  iourished  about  the  year  1330*  But  in 
a  manuscript  of  John  de  Muris  uimsel^  bequeathed 
to  the  Vaticaa  library  by  the  Queen  of  Sweden,  that 
honour  seema  to  lie  yielded  to  Magister  Franco,  who 
appeare  to  have  been  alive  as  late  at  least  as  1083. 
John  de  Maris,  however,  who  there  is  some  cause  to 
believe  was  aa  Englishman,  though  not  the  inventor  #f 
the  c(miU9  munmrmUH*,  did  certainly  by  his  numerous 
writings  greatly  jmpiave  it*  His  tfact  en  the  JM  of 
Cmmterptmi  is  the  most  clear  and  *u8eful  essay  on  the 
subfr ct  of  which  these  times  can  heest. 

In  the  nth  centory,  during  the  first  crusade,  £«- 
rspe  began  to  emerge  ftam  the  barbareus  stupidity 
and  igasranee  whicb  had  long  overwhelmed  it<  While 
its  inhnbitaats  were  cateruisfng  in  Asia  every  species  of 
rapine  aad  pious  cruelty,  art,  iagennity,  and  reason, 
iasmsibly  civiKxed  aad  softened  their  minds*  Then  it 
was  that  the  pooU  and  soflfgsters,  known  by  the  name 
of  Troubadours^  who  first  appeared  in  Protence^  insti*  Trouba- 
tnted  a  new  profession  j  which  obtaiiuid  the  patronage  dours. 
of  the  count  of  Pssctou,  aad  nmay  other  princes  and 
barens,  who  bad  themselves  cultivated  nrasic  and  po-* 
ctry  with  success*  At  the  ormrts  of  their  munificent 
paferons  the  troubndours  were  treated  with  respect. 
Thekdies^  wheee  charms  tiiey  celebrated,  gave  them 
the  most  genofous  and  Jbttering  receptioa.  The  svc- 
cere  of  some  inspired  othoa  wkb  hopes,  and  excited 
exertiona  in  the  exeretse  of  their  art  $  impelling  them 
towards  perfection  wiffc  a  repidity  whieb  the  united 
ferce  alone  of  emulatisB  nnd  emolomeut  conld  eoca- 
sMili  Jiasos  ssawaiM  of  MOaem  ^arsnication,  con- 
structing their  songs  on  plans  of  their  owli,  chwsical  ao** 
tharily»  eitiitfr  through  ignorance  er  design,  waa  en- 
tirely diaregaaded.  it  dres  not  sppear^  however,  do- 
abg  the  calliiratiaa  and  IJMFour  of  Provencal  literntui^, 
that  any  oae  troabndonr  s»  far  outeo^pped  ther  reet  as 
to  become  a  model  el  imitatien^  The  progress  of  taste 
mast  evur  he  impeded  by  4m  ign^rtfaco  and  oapriee  of 
those  who  eaiiivate  an  nrt  without  seienee  or  princi- 
ples. 

Daring  almost  two  ooflturies  after  the  arrangement 

of 


494  M    U 

of  the  scale  attribated  to  Guido,  and  ihe  inventiott  of 
4Be  time-table  ascribed  to  Franco,  no  remain&  of  secu- 
lar music  can  be  discovered,  except  those  of  the  troo- 
iMidonrs  or  Provencal  poets.  In  the  simple  tunes  of 
these  bards  no  time  indeed  is  marked|  and  but  little 
variety  of  notation  appears :  It  is  not  difficult,  how- 
ever, to  discover  in  thc^  the  germs  of  the  futoxe  me- 
lodies, as  well  as  the  poetry  of  France  and  Italy.  Had 
the  poetry  and  music  of  the  troubadours  been  treated 
of  in  an  agreeable  manner  by  the  writers  who  have  cho- 
sen that  subject,  it  would  have  been  discovered  to  be 
worthy  of  attention  ^  the-  poetry,  as  interesting  to  li« 
terature }  the-  melody  to  which  it  was  sung,  as  curious 
4o  the  musical  historian. 

Almost  every  species -ef  Italian- poetry  is  <^erived 
from  the  Proveo9als.  Air^  the  most  captivating  pmrt 
of  secular  vocal  music,  seems  to  have  had  the  same  ori- 
gin. The  most  ancient  strains  that  have  been  spared 
hy  time,  are  such  as  were  set  to  the  songs  of  the  tronba- 

-  doors.    The  Proven9al  language  hegan  to  be  in  favour 
'  with  poets  about  the  end  of  the  ijoth  century*     In  the 

12th  it  became  the  general  vehicle,  not  only  oi  poetry, 
-^  but  of  prose,  to  all  who  were  ignorant -of  Latin.  And 
these  were  not  the  laity  x>nly.  At  this  period  vioiars^ 
or  performers  on  the  ▼ielle  or  viol,  juglars^  or  flutes 
players,  miuart  or  players  on  odiec  instraments,  and 
comics  or  comedians,  abounded  all  ovep.£mvpe.  This 
swarm  «f  poet-musicians^'  who  «w«re  formerly  corapre* 
bended  in  France  unden  the  general  title  loi  jongkurs^ 
travelled  from  province  to  province,  singing  their  verses 
at  the  courts  of  princes*  They  were^  rewarded  with 
clothes,  horses,  arms,  and  money. .  •  Jongleurs  or  mnsi* 
cians  were  employed  often  to  sing  the  verses  of  trouba- 
dours, who  themselves  happened  to- be  deficient  in  voioe 
or  ignorant<4>f  mosio*  The  term  troubadour^  therefore, 
implies  poetry  as  weU  as  muaic.  The  jonglenrs,  roene- 
triers,  strollers,  or  minstreb,  were  firequently  musicians, 
without  any  pretensions  to  poetry.  These  last  have 
been  common  at  all  times  \  but  the  troubadour  or  bard 
has  distinguished  a  particular  profession,  either  in  an* 
cient  oTimodem  times,  mily  during  the  early  dawnings 

-  of  literature. 

In  the  13th  century  the  songs  were  on  various  sub- 
jects jv  moral, -^meny,  amorous:  and  at  that  time  me- 
lody seems  io  have  heen  little  more  than  phun  song  or 
chanting.    The  notes  were  square,^ and  written  on 
four  lines  only  like  those  of  the  Romjsh  'chnroh  in  the 
cliflF  C,  and  without  any  marks  for  time*    13ie  move- 
ment and  embellishments  of  the  air  depended*  "On  the 
abilities  of  the  singer*     Since  that  lime,  hy  the-culti- 
vation  of  tlie  voice  modem  music  has  been  much  ex- 
tended, for  it  was  not  till  towards  the  end  of  6t  Lewises 
reign  that  the  fifth  line  began  to  he  added  to  the 
stave* .  The  singer  always  aocompanitd  himself  with 
an  instrument  in  unison* 
The  harp     .   As  the  lyre  is  the  favourite  instrument  in  -Grecian 
the  faTour-  poetry,  so  the  harp  held  the  same  place  in  the  estima- 
mnt  T'  ^^^^  ^^  ^^  P^^  ^^^  flourished  in  the  period  of  which 
the  Trott-   ^^  ^^  present  speak*    A  poet  of  the  14th  century, 
hadours.      Machau,  wrote,  a  poem  on  the  subject  of  the  harp 
alone  ^  in  which  he  assigns  to  each  of  its  25  strings  an 
allegorical  name  \  calling  one  iiberali^^  another  weakkf 
&c. 
The^l         The  instrument  which. firequently 4bccompanied,  and 
or  vielia*    indeed  disputed  the  pre-eminenco  with  the  harp,  was 

2 


SIC.  Histors. 

the  viol.  Tin  the  i6th  «ceiitury  this  instmrocnt  wai 
furnished  with  frets  ^  after  that  period  it  was  reduced 
to  four  strings:  and  still  under  the  denomination  of 
violin  holds  the  first  place  among  the  treble  instntneots. 
The  viol  was  played  with  a  bow,  and  differed  entirelj 
from  the  vielle,  the  tones  of  which  were  produced  by 
the  friction  of  a  wheel :  The  wheel  perfiBtmed  the  pan 
of  a  bow. 

British  harpers  .were  (amons  long  before  the  con- 
quest. The  bounty  of  William  of  Normandy  to  bis 
joculiUor  or  bard  is  recorded  in  ttie  Doomsday  booL 
The  harp  seems  to  have  been  the  favourite  instrumeot 
in  Britain  for  many  ages,  under  tlie  British,  Saxon, 
Danish,  and  Norman  kings*  The  fiddle^  however,  is 
mentioned  so  early  as  x^aoo  in  the  legendary  life  of  St 
Christopher.  The  ancient  privileges  «f  the  minstrels 
at  the  fairs  of  Chester  are  well  known  in  the  history  of 
England. 

The  extirpation  of  the  bards  of  Wales  by  Edward  L 
is  likewise  too  familiar  an  incident  to  be  particnlaifr 
mentioned  here.  His  persecuting  spirit,  however,  seems 
to  have  been  limited  to  that  principality  ;  for  we  lean, 
that  at  the  ceremony  of  knighting  his  son,  a  fmikitwk 
ofmingirtU  attended. 

In  1 31 5,  during  the  reign  of  Edward  11.  sndi  ex- 
tensive privileges  were  claimed  by  the  minstrels,  and 
so  many  dissolute  persons  assumed  that  character,  that 
it  became  necessary  to  restrain  them  hy  express  laws. 

The  father  of  our  genuine  poetry,  who  in  the  f4th 
century  enlaorged  our  vocabulary,  polish^  our  nnn- 
hers,  and  with  aofubitiens  £rom  France  and  Itdy  aog- 
mented  our  store  of  knowledge  (Chancer),  entitles  one 
of  his  poems  The  History  of  St  Cecilia  ;  and  the  ee^St  Cccii 
lebrated  patroness -of -music  must  no  doubt  he  men* 
tinned  in  a  history  -of  the  art*  Neither  in  Qiaa- 
oer,  howewr,  nor  in  any  of  the  histories  or  legendary 
accounts  of  this  saint,  does  any  thing  appear  to  au- 
thorize the  religious  veneration  psud  to  her  by  the  vo- 
taries of  music  \  nor  is  it  easy  to  discover  whence  it  has 
arisen* 

As  an  incident  relative  to  the  period  of  which  we 
speak,  it  may  be- mentioned,  that,  according  to*  Spd- 
man,  the  appetiatioa  of  Doctor  was  not  among  the  iib^f^i 
grees  granted  to  graduates  in  England  sooner  than^'*^ 
the  reign  of  King  John,  about  1 207  *$- although,  la^''^ 
Wood's  histoiT  of  Oxford^  that  degree  is  said  to  have 
heen  conferred,  even  in  music,  in  the  reign  of  Hen- 
ry II*     It  is  known  that  the  title  was  created  on  the 
continent  in  the  12th  cortury^    and  as,  during  the 
middle  ages,  mnsic  was  always  ranked  among  the 
seven  liberal  arts,  it  is  likely  that  the  degree  was  ex- 
tended to  it* 

After  the  invention  of  printing,  an  art  which  has 
toilded. to  disseminate  knowledge- with  wonderful  n- 
pidity  among  mankind,  muric,  mud  partienlarty  ooaa* 
terpoint,^  became  an  object  of  high  importance*  Tbe 
nsunes  of  the  most  eminent/composers  who  flonriihed 
in  England,  firom  that  time  to  the  KefiMrmation,  werc^ 
Fair£ix,  William  of  Newark,  Sheryngham,  Tnigcs, 
Banister,  Tudor,  Tmvemer,  Tve,  Johnson,  Faisonsj 
to  whom  may  he  added  John  Marheek,  vHm  set  the 
whole  English  cathedral  service  to  mnsic. 

Befoe  this'  period  Scottish  music  bad  advanced  toSnoiA 
a^  high  degree  pf  perfection*     James  'L  was  a  grcati 
eomposer  of  aiis  to  his  own  verses  $  and  may  be  oonsi- 

dcred 


1 


littit<Hy. 


M  u  s  r  c 


icrtA  as  tRe  hdheit  o(  timt'  plaioiiire  melody  whicli  jA 
Scotch  tunes  is  so  pleasing  to  a  taste  not  vitiated  by 
modem  afl&sctation.  Besides  the  testimony  of  Fordun 
and  Mttfor^  who  may  be  suspected  of  being  under  the 
lafloebGe  of  national  prejudice,  we  have  that  of  Ales* 
,  sandro  Tessani,  to  the  musical  skill  of  that  accomplisb- 
cd  prince.  **  Among  us  moderns  (says  this  foreigner) 
we  may  reckon  James  king  of  Seotkmd^  who  not  only 
composed  many  sacred  pieces  of  vocal  music,  but  also 
of  himself  invented  a  new  kind  of  music^  plaintive  and 
mehnchiUyj  different  from  all  others  ;  in  which  he  haS' 
been  imitated  by  Cario  Gesneldo  prince  of  Venosa,  who 
in  our  age  has  improved  music  with  new  and  admirable 
inveotioBs.** 

Under  snch  a  genius  in  poetry  and  music  as  King. 
James  I.  it  cannot  be  doubted  Chat  the  national  music 
must  have  been  greatly  improved.     We  have  seen  that 
he  composed  several  anthems,  or  vocal  pieces  of  so* 
cred  mtmc,  which  shows  that  his  knowledge  of  the  sci- 
ence must  have-  been  very  considerable.     It  is  likewise 
)uiown,  that  organs  were  by  hiniv  introduced  into  the 
cathedrals  and  abbeys  of  Scotland,  and  choir*8ervice 
brought  to  such  a  degree  of.  perfection j. as  to  tkll  little 
short  of  that  establisned  in  any  country  of  £m*ope.-M 
*  Sec  7^1- By   an    able    and   ingenious  antiquary  *    tlie    great 
^^^*  'Dw-   era  of  music,  as  of  poetry,  in  Scotland,  is  supposed  to 
*"^S!r*     ^^^  httn  from  the  beainning  of  the  reign  of  James  I. 
^^Qi^jH^down  to  the  end  of  the  reign  of  James  V.     During 
«tc;  Tol  i  of  that  period  flourished  Gavin  Douglas  bishop  of  Dun- 
the  Tmn-  held,  BaUenden  archdeaccm  of  Murray,  Dunbar j  Hen- 
^^^*^  <3f«0A,  Scott^  Montgomery^  Sir  David  Lindsey^  and  many 
•r  AadqiMl^^'^  whose  fine  poems  have  been  preserved  in  Ba- 
ncs is  Scot*  o^tyne's  Collection,  and  of  which  several  have  been 
laad.         jinhlished  by  Allan  Ramsay  in  hia  Evergrten* 

Before  toe  Reformation,  as  there  was  but  one  re- 

Iiffion,  there  was  but   one  kind  of  sacred  music  in 

Europe,  plain  chant,  and  the  descant  built  upon  it^— 

Hiat  music  likewise  was  aj^lied  to  one  language  only, 

the  Latin.    On  that  account,  the  compositions  of  Italy, 

France,    Spain,  Germany,   Flanders,   and    England, 

kept  pace  in  a  great  degree  with  each  other  in  style 

and  excellence.     All  the  arts  seem  to  have  been  the 

Qompanions,  if  not  the  produce,  of  successful  commerce: 

they  appeared  first  in  Italy,  then  in   the  Hanseattc 

towns,  next  in  the  Netlieriands^  and  during  the  i6th 

century,  when  commerce  became  general  in  every  part 

of  Europe. 

fa  tiic  16O1      In  the  i6ih  century  anisic  was  an  indispensabre  part 

ceBbiry      of  polite  education:   All  the  princes  of  Europe  were 

""jf^  '^    instructed  in  that  art.     There  is  a  collection  preserved 

JJlJj^'JJJ^   in  manuscript  called  ^fteen  EUTsabeth^s  Virginal  Book. 

ofediica.    If  b^  majesty  was  able  to  execute  any  of  the  pieces  in 

that  book,  she  must  have  been  a  great  plajer  j  a  month^s 

Mwctice  would  not  be  sufficient  for  any  master  now  in 

Europe  to  enable  him  to  play  one  of  them  to  the  endk 

Tallis^  singularly  > profound  in  musical  composition,  and 

Bird  his  admirable  seholar,.wero  two  of  the  anthers  of 

this  famous  collection. 

During  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  the  genius  and  learn- 
ing of  the  British  musicians  were  not  inferior  to  any 
on  tbe  continent  \  an  observation  scarcely  applicable  at 
any  other  period  of  the  history  of  this  country.*  Sab- 
ered music  waM  the  principal  object  to.  study  all  over 
Europe. 

The  most  eminent  musical  theorists  of  Italy,  who 


flourished  in  the  j6th  century,  were,  Franehinus  Ga^iSmiBcat 
fierius,  or  Gafibrio  of  Lode,   Pietro' Aaron  of  Flo-nwiiciuui 
rence,  Lodovico  Fogliano,  Giov.  Spatro,  Giov.  Ma-^  *^y 
rim  da  Terentio  Lanfiranco,  Steflfano  Uanneo,  Anton.  ,^^f  ^i^^^ 
Francisco  Done,  Luigi  Dentice,  Nicolo  Vicentino,tnr7. 
and  Giooefib  Zailino,  the  most  general,  voluminous, 
and  celebrated  theorist  of  Ihat  period,  Vincentio  Gali- 
lei, a  Florentine  nobleman,  and  fother  of  the  great  Gar 
lileo  Galilei,  Maria  Artnse  of  Bologna,  Oraseo  Te> 
grini,  Pietro  Pontic,  and  Lodovico  Zaccofki. 

The  principal  Roman  anduNrs  were,  Griovanni  An- 
muccia,  Giovanni  Pierluigi  da.  Palestrina,  justly  cele« 
brated,   Ruggiero   Giovanelli,   Luca  Masenzio»  wbo"- 
brought  to .  perfoction  madrigals,  the  most  cheerful' 
species  of  secular  music. 

Of  the  Venetians,  Adrian  Willaeri  is  allowed  to  be* 
at  the  head* 

At  the  head  of  the  Neapolitans  is  deservedly  placed  ' 

Rocco  Rodio. 

At  Naples,,  too,  the  illustrious  dilettante,  Don  Carlo 
Gesualdo  prince  of  Venosa,  is  highly  celebrated.  He 
seems,  however,  to  have  owedrmuch  of  his  fame  to  his 
high  rank. 

liombardy  might  also- furnish  aa  ample  list  of  eminent 
musicians  during  the  16th  century,  of  whom,  however,  > 
our  limits  will  not  admit  of  a  particular  enumeration  :— 
The  chief  of  them  'were,  Constanzo  Porta,  Gastoldi^ 
Bissi,  Cin|ia,  Vocchi,  and  Monteverde. 

At  Bologna,  besides  Artusi  already  mentioned,  An- 
^«a  Rota  of  the  same  city  appears  to  have  been  an  ad* 
mirable  contrapunctist. 

FrancuBco  C^rteccia,  a  celebrated  organist  and  com- 
poser, and  Alessandro  Strigglio,'  a  lutanbt  and  volu- 
minons  composer,  were  the  most  eminent  Florentines. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  extensive  empire  of  Germany  ]„  Gemwr^ 
have  lonff  made  music  a  part  of  general  educatioo«««-ny. 
They  hold  the  place,  next  to  Italy,  among  tk  most 
snccessfol  cultivators  of  the  art.  During  .thd  16th  cen* 
tury,  their  most  eminent  composers  of  music  and  wri- 
ters on  the  subject  were,  Geo.  Reischius,  Michael  Ros* 
wick,  Andreas    Omitborparcbus^    Paul    Hofhaimer^ 
Luspeinius,  Henry  Loris  or  Lorit,  Faber^Fink,  Hos^ 
man^  and  many  others  whom  it  would  be  tedious  to 
mention  y  and  for  a^.particular  account  of  whose  trea- 
tises and  compositions  we  must  refer  to  morn  volumih  ~ 
nous  histories  of  musics  • 

In  France,  during  the  1 6th  century,  °o^  <^^  except  |^  p^^^^. . 
the  art  -of  war  made  much  progress  in  improvement.—- 
Rdnsard,  Baif,.  Goudime^,  Claud  le  Jeune,  Caurro;^, 
and  Maudit,  are 'the  chief  French  mnsiciana  of  that 
period. 

In  Spain,' music  was  early  received  into  the  circle  of  Spcia.  ^ 
sciences  in  the  universities.   The  musical  psofessonhip 
at  SalaoiAnca  was  founded  and  endowed  by  Alfonao  tbe 
Wise,  king  of  Castile* 

One  of  the  most  celebrated  of  tbe  Spanish  ronsicians 
was  Francis  Salinas,  who  had  been  Wnd-from  Jos  in-  r 

fancy^    He  was  a  nativo  of  Bnrgosk 

D.  Cristofero  Morales,  and  Tomaso  Lodovico  dm 
Vittorio,  deserve  likewise  to  be  mentioned}  and  to  '^ 
mention  them  is  all  we  can  attempt ;  tiiie  purpose  cT^ 
which  is,  to  excite  more*  minute  inquiry  by  those  who  • 
mj  choose  to  investigate  the  subject  particularly. 

The  Netheriand8,Iikewise,during  the  period  of  which^Tbe  N«^ 
wc  have  been  speaking,  produced  eminent  composers^  ^csl<^ft^ 

ot; 


49<>  M    U    S 

of  wbom  we  Bwy  mention  Verletot,  Gembert,  Ailuu 
delt,  Bercheaiy  Aichcfort  or  Bicdaloit,  Creqmlon  Le 
Cock  or  Le  Coq,  Canis,  Jacob  Clemens  Noa  Papa* 
PiflffM  Maacbieoart,  Baston,  Keil,  Bore,  Oriaadt  dU 
Lasso,  anit  his  sons  Ferdinand  and  Rodolph. 
Mnsical  In  the  17th  century,  the  musical  writers  and  eon»« 

compMn  posers  who  ae^nijed  (ane  in  England,  iters,  Dr  Na- 
^"^^"^tbanael  Giles,  Thomas  Tomkins,  and  his  son  of  the 
i7tlicen-  ^'Me  name  $  Elway  Bevia,  Orlando  Gibbons,  Dr  Wil* 
tmy.  liam  Child,  Adrian  Batten,  Maitin  Pierson,  WilUan 

Lawes,  Henry  Lawes,  Dr  John  Wilson,  John  Hilton, 
John  Phiyford,  Captain  Henry  Cook,  Pelham  Hnm* 
pbrsy,  John  Blow,  William  Turner,  Dr  Christopher 
Gibbons,  Benjamin  Bogsrs,  and  Henry  PorcelK  Of 
these,  Orlando  Gibbons,  Pelham  Humphrey,  and  Hen- 
ry Poroell,  far  excelled  the  rest. 

Abont  the  end  of  the  reign  of  James  I.  a  mnsie-lec- 
tare  or  professorship  was  feonded  in  the  university  of 
Oxford  by  Dr  William  Hychin. 

In  the  leigtt  of  Charles  1.  a  charter  was  granted  to 
the  musicians  of  Westminster,  incorporating  them,  as 
the  king^s  mnsioians^  into  a  body  politic,  with  powers 
to  prosecute  and  fine  all  who,  except  themselves,  shonld 
**  attempt  to  make  any  benefit  or  advantage  of  mnsie  in 
England  or  Wales  j**  powers  which  in  the  sabsequeot 
reign  were  put  in  exeention. 

About  the  end  of  the  reign  of  Charles  H.  a  pas^ 
sion  sieems  to  have  been  excited  ik  England  for  the 
violio,  and  for  pieces  expressly  composed-  for  it,  in 
the  Italian  manner  (B).     Prior  to  1600,  there  was 
little  other  mosie  except  masses  and  madri|pds,  the  two 
principal  divisions  of  sacred  and  secular  masio  j  but  from 
tbnt  time  to  the  present,  dramatic  music  becomes  the 
chief  object  of  attention.    The  music  of  the  church 
and  of  tbe  chamber  continued  indeed  to  be  cultivated 
in  Italy  with  diligence,  and  in  a  learned  and  elaborate 
style,  ull  near  the  middle  of  tbe  century ;  yet  a  rev<^ 
lution  in  fiivonr  of  melody  and  expression  was  prepar- 
ing, even  in  sacred  music,  by  the  success  of  dramatic 
composition,  consisting  of  recitation  and  melodies  for 
a  single  voice.     Such  melodies  began  now  to  be  pre- 
ferred to  rfmsic  of  many  parts ;  in  which  canons,  fugues, 
and  full  harmony,  bad  been   the  productions  which 
ehiefly  employed  the  master^s  study  and  the  hearer*8 
attention. 
Mesa  tuu     So  late  as  fbe  beginning  of  the  x8th  century,  ae- 
oftheopenteording  to  Biccoboni,  the  performers  in  the  operas 
in  the  be-    ^  Germany,  particularly  at  Hamburg,    "  were  all 
{^"isfh     tradesmen  or  handicrafts.    Your  shoerosdier  (says  he) 
century.      "^"^^^  often  the  first  performer  on  the  stage ;  and  you 
might  have  bought  fruit  and  sweetmeats  of  tbe  sam^ 
girls,  whom  the  night  before  you  had  seen  in  the  cha- 
raelers  of  Armida  or  SeroiramiSk     Soon,  however,  the 
German  opern  arose  to  a  more  respectable  situaition  y 
and  even  during  the  I7tll  century  many  eminent  com- 
Stau  oT     960ers  flourished  in  that  country.** 
mmie  in         The  Kst  of  great  musiciane  which  France  produced 
rvance  in  during  the  early  part  of  the  same  century  is  net  nu- 

centnry* 


t    C.  Kitoiy. 

Miuste  seems  to  have  been  but  Kttls  cidti- 
vated  in  that  countryt  till  the  operas  of  Lnlli,  uaier 
the  powerful  patronage  of  Louie  XIV.  excited  pnUie- 
attentien. 

The  finvourite  singing-master  and  oempoeer  of  France, 
aboot  the  middle  of  the  17th  century,  was  Michsci 
Lambeit.  John  Baptist  Lnlli,  soon  alter  this  time, 
rose  from  the  rank  of  a  menial  servant  to  fame,  epa- 
knee,  and  nobility,  by  his  skill  in  musical  compositions. 
The  celebrated  sin^r  La  Bochois  was  taught  singing 
and  aotiag  by  LuUi. 

La  Blaopin  the  successor  of  La  Bochois,  on  ae-Cuio» 
count  of  her  extraordinary  chancier  and  romantic  ad-ttn^eti 
ventures,  deserves  to  be  mentioned.  8be  eloped  frsm^*'^ 
her  husband  with  a  fencing- master,  of  whon  Am  lesnt""^ 
the  small  sword.  She  heoume  an  excellent  fencer.  At 
Marseilles  she  entertained  a  stnmge  attachment  to  a 
jroung  lady,  who  was  seized  with  a  whimsical  fondnem 
in  return,  on  account  of  which  the  latter  was  ^rm(mr4 
in  a  convent.  La  Manpin  obtained  admisaion  into  the 
same  convent  as  a  novice.  She  set  fiie  t*  tbe  baildiig, 
and  in  the  confasion  carried  off  her  favouiitev  AtPbni 
when  she  appeared  jm  the  stage  in  1695,  Dumcni  a 
singer  having  afironted  her,  she  put  on  men's  clothsi, 
and  insisted  on  bis  drawing  his  sword  and  fighting  her. 
When  he  refused,  she  caned  him,  and  took  from  Urn 
his  watch  and  snnff.box  as  trophies  of  her  Tictory.  At 
a  ball  given  by  Bfonsieor  brother  of  Looia  XIV.  ihs 
again  pot  on  men*s  clothes  f  and  having  behaved  in- 
pertinently  to  a  lady,  three  of  the  lady*s  firiends,  rappo* 
sing  La  Maupin  to  be  a  man,  called  her  out.  Sbe 
kilted  them  all }  and  returning  coolly  to  the  ball,  told 
tbe  story  to  Monsieur,  who  obtained  her  pardon.  She 
became  afterwards  mistress  to  the  elector  of  Bavaria. 
This  prince  quitting  her  for  the  coonteas  of  ArooSi 
sent  her  by  the  count,  husband  of  that  bdv,  a  pom  of 
40^000  livres.  She  threw  it  at  tbe  count^s  head,  teD- 
inir  him,  it  was  a  recompense  worthy  of  such  meannsss. 
as  he  displayed.  At  last,  seized  with  a  fit  of  devotisn, 
she  recalled  her  husband,  and  spent  the  remainder  of 
her  life  in  piety.    She  died  in  1707  at  the  age  only  of 

34- 

The  English  musician  whonft  we  last  montioaed  i^sCkarfds- 

the  celebrated  Purcell.    After  his  time  the  chief  ^x^jT^ 

posers  for  the  choreh  were  Clarke,  Dr  Holden,  ^ur^^ 

Cr^ghton,  Tucker,  Aldrich,  Golwin,  Weldon,  Dr  ^^ 

Crofts,  Dr  Greene,  Boyce,  and  Nares  y  to  whom  msy 

be  added  John  Stanley^  who  attained  higiv  prsfickacy 

in  music,  ahhongh  from  two  years  old  tsrttally  deprived 

of  sight. 

The  annals  of  modem  music  have  hitherto  fiwaia^ 
ed  ne  event  so  important  to  the  pro^ss  of  the  ait  « 
the  invention  of  recitative  or  dramatic  melody ;  a  siyle 
of  music  which  resembbs  the  manner  of  the  ancient 
rhapsodisls. 

The  Or^  of  Pelitiafi  was  the  first  aUempt  at  sa-rni  ve- 
sical drama.    It  was  afterwards  perfected  by  Metssls-cil^B* 
No  musical  dramas  similar  to  theoe  aflcrwss^ 

knsna 


sio. 


(»)  The  most  celebrated  viofin  players  of  Italy,  from  the  1 6th  century  to  the  present  time,  have  been  Farias, 
M.  Angelo  Rossi^  Bassani  the  violin-master  of  CorelK,  the  adnmable  AngeKco  Coralli  himself,  Tor^,  Albeftr, 
Albenoni,  Tessarini,  Vivaldi,  Geminiani,  one  of  the  most  distinguished  of  Corelli*s  schofairs,  Tartini,  Veracis^ 
Bnrbella,  Locatellr,  Ferrari,  Martini,  Boccherini,  and  GiardiiM.  * 

I 


Ififltary; 


■■««!- 


Opera  oC 


M    U 

hnwm  by  die  naipeB  of  opera  and  ofwtofvby  had  vdal* 
enca  ia  IuIjf  before  ihp  b^gumang  of  the  I7tb  cen* 
turj.  It  we»  about  the  i6oo».  or  a  little  befove  that 
tame,  that  euimchs  were  filet  emplojed  for  aingiaf^  in 
It^. 

There  seem  to  have  been  no  ^ingittf  connelui  in  an« 
cient  tines,  unless  the  galli  or  ajrohigalli,  priests  of 
Cybde,  were  such.  Castration  bae,  however,  at  all 
tiroes  been  practised  in  eastern  oountiies,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  fornishing  to  tyvannie  jealousy  guards  of  £►• 
male  chastity  ;  but  never,  so  far  as  modern  writers  on 
the  subject  have  discovered^,  merely  to  preserve  the 
voice,  till  about,  the  end  of  the  i6th  century. 

At  Rome,  the  first  public  theaUv  ofene^t  for  the  ex^ 
hibition  of  musiqaj  dmmas,.  in  modem  times,  was  U 
Torre  de  Nctnp%  wJiere  in  1671  Giasone  was  perforo»* 
ed.  In  16^,.  the  opera  of  Dou  e  Amori^  set  by  the 
famous  orgamst  Bernardo  Pasquini,  was  represented  at 
NiUa  Saia  de  Signori  Capronicm  a,  theatre  which  still 
subsists.  In  the  year  1 680,  L*  One^ta  negl^  Amarg  was 
exhibited}  the  first  dram^ic  composition  of  the  elegant, 
profound,  and  original  Alrssandro  Seavlatti. 

The  inhabitants  of  Venice  have  cultivated  and  en« 
couraged  the  musical  drama  with  more  zeal  and  di«> 
ligence  than  the  rest  of  Italy,  during  the  end  of  the 
la3t  and  beginning  of  the  present  century ;  yet  the 
opem  was  not  estaUisked  in  Venice  before  the  year 
1637.  In  that  year  the  first  regular  drama  was  per* 
formed.     It  was  Andromeda. 

In  e68q  tiie  opera  of  Berenice  was  exhibited  at 
Pa4osk  with  such  ast<inisbing  splendow  as  to  merit 
notice*  There  were  choruses  of  100  virgins,  100 
soldiers,  100  horsemen  in  iron  armour,  40  cornets  of 
hofse»  6  trumpeters  on  horseback,  6  drummers,  6  en- 
signs, 6  sackbots,  6  great  flutes,  6  nunstrels  playing 
on  Turkish  instruments,  6  others  on  octave  flutes,  6 
pages,  3  sergeants,  6  cymbalists.  There  were  12 
huntsmen,  xa  grooms,  6  ooacbmen  for  the  triumph} 
6  others  for  the  procession }  2  lions  led  by  two  Turks,  2 
efefiiants  by  two  ethei:*,  Berenice's  tiiuosphal  car  drawn 
by  4  horses,  6  other  cars  with  prisoners  and  spoils 
mw9k  by  I  ^  horses,  6  coaches.  Among  the  scenes 
and  rep^seotalions  in  the  first  act  Irere,  a  vast  plain 
wi|h  two  triuaaphal  arches  Mother  plain  with  paviliona 
and  tents,  and  a  forest  for  the  dmsew  In  act  thii-d, 
the  royal  dressing  room  -completely  fomisbed,  stables 
with  100  live  borses,  portieo  adorned  with  tapestry, 
and  a  stupendous  palace  in  perspective*  At  the  end 
of  the  first  act  were  fcpresentatieas  of  every  kind  of 
chase,  wild  boar,  stag,  deer,  bears.  At  the  end  of^ 
the  third  act,  an  enormous  globe,  descending  as  foom 
the  sky,  divided  itself  into  other  globes  suspended  in  the 
air,  and  ornamented  with  embleiMtioal  figures  of  time, 
fame,  bononr,  &c. 

£arly  in  the  last  century,  machinery  and  decoration 
usurped  the  importance  due  to  poetry  and  music  in  such 


Few  instances  occur  of  mnsical  dramas  at  Na]^ 
till  the  beginning  of  the  present  century.  Before  the 
time  of  the  elder  Scarlatti,  it  seems  as  if  Naples  had 
been  l<E$ss  fertile  in  peat  contrapuntists,  and  less  di* 
ligent  in  the  cyltivMion  of  dnmatic  music,  than  any 
other  state  of  Italy*  Since  that  time  all  the  rest  of 
Europe  has  been  fiwiisbed  with  composers  and  peifor* 
ners  fifom  that  city; 

Vol.  XIV.  Part  n. 


s    I    a  497 

The  word  opera  veems  to  hsAre  been  ^miliair  tolPi^ch 
English  poeto  firom  the  beginning  of  the  last  century.  |^  ^»^ 
Sith  recitativo^  a  recent  innovation  even  in  Italy,  i%  ^^^^ 
mentioned  by  Ben  Jbbnson  so  early  as  16^7.  l>tom 
tbie  time  it  was  used  in.  masques,  occasionally  in  plays, 
and  in  caatataa,  before  a  regular  drama;  wholly  set  lo 
music  was  attempted.  By  the  united  abiiities  of  Qni- 
nault  and  LuUi,  the  <^iera  in  France  had  risen  to 
high  favour*  This  circumstance  afforded  encourage- 
nient  to  several  attempts  at  dramatic  mosio  in  .Eng'- 
land  by  Sir  William  D^Avenant  and  others,  befors 
the  music,  language,  or  performers  of  Italy  were  em- 
ployed on  our  sta^.  Pieces,  at*iled  dramaHe  operae^ 
preceded  the  Italian  opera  on  the  stage  of  Englandl 
These  were  written  in  English,  and  exhibited  with  a 
profuse  decoration  of  scenery  and  habits,  and  with 
the  best  singers  and  dancers  that  could-  be  procured  : 
Psyche  and  Circe  are  entertainments  of  this  kind : 
The  Tempest  and  Macbeth  were  acted  with  the  same 
accompaniments* 

During  the  17th  century,  whatever  attempts  were 
made  in  musical  drama,  the  language  sung  was  always 
English.  About  the  end  of  that  century,  however,  Ita- 
lian singing  began  to  be  encouraged,  and  vocal  as  weH 
as  instrumental  musicians  from  that  .country  began  to 
appear  in  London* 

The  first  musical  drama,  performed  wliolly  after  the 
Italian  manner  in  recitative  for  the  dialogue  or  narra- 
tive parts,  and  measured  melody  for  the  airs,  was  Ar- 
sino^  Queen  of  Cypras,  translated  from  an  Italian  opera 
of  the  same  name,  written  by  Stanzani  of  Bologna* 
The  English  version  of  this  opera  was  set  to  music  by 
Thomas  Clayton,  one  of  the  royal  band,  in  the  reign  m 
William  and  Marv*  The  singers  were  all  English, 
Messrs  Hughes,  Leveredge,  and  Cook  y  Mrs  Tofts, 
Mrs  Cross,  and  Mrs  Lyndftey.  The  translation  of  At- 
sine6,  and  the  music  to  which  it  is  set,  are  execrable  j 
yet  such  is  the  charm  of  novelty,  that  tliis  miserable 
performance,  deserving  neither  the  name  of  a  drama  liy 
its  poetr^r,  nor  of  an  opera  by  its  music,  sustained  24  re-, 
presentations,  and  the  second  year  1 1. 

Operas,  notwithstanding  their  deficiencies  in  poeti^i 
music  and  peHbrmance  (no  foreign  composer  or  emi- 
nent singer  having  yet  arrived),  became  so  formidable 
to  our  actors  at  this  theatres,  that  it  appears  from  the 
Daily  Courant,  14th  January  1707,  a  subscription  was 
opened  ^  for  the  encouragement  of  tlie  comedians  act- 
ing in  the  Haymarkct,  and  to  enable  them  to  keep 
the  diversion  of  plays  under  a  separate  interest  from 
operas.*^ 

Mr  Addison^s  opera  of  Rosamond  appeared  abcHA 
this  time ;  but  the  music  set  by  Clayton  is  so  contemp- 
tible, that  the  merit  of  the  poeti^,  however  great, 
could  not  of  itself  long  soppoit  the  piece.  The  choice 
of  so  mean  a  composer  as  Clayton,  and  Mr  Addison^s 
partiality  to  his  abilities,  betray  a  want  of  musical  taste 
in  that  elegant  author. 

The  first  truly  great  singer  who  appeared  on  the 
stage  of  Britain  was  Cavalier  Niroiiao  Glrimakh\  com- 
monly known  by  the  name  of  Nirolinu      He  was  a 
Nei^wlitan  ^  and  though  a  beautifol  singer  indeed, 
was  still  more  eminent  ns  an  actor.     In  the  Tatler,;rsee  alts 
N^  iij.  the  elegance  and  propriety  of  his  action  Vire  SpeeUaor, 
particohndy  described  ^.     Recently  befoi-e  his  apppnr>  vol.  i,  Ns. 
ance,  Va/enttm  Vrbat  %  and  a  female  singer  called  T/te  '> 
t  3  H  Baroness^ 


498  M    U    S 

Bar<mess^  tXTived.  MargaritadePEpini,  who  afterwards 
married  Dr  Pepusch,  had  beea  in  this  country  some 
time  before. 
,  The  first  opera  performed  wkolfy  in  Italian^  and  by 

Italian  singers^  was  AimaAide,  As  at  present  so  at 
that  time^  operas  were  generally  performed  twice  a 
week. 

The  year  1710  is  distinguished  in  the  annals  of  mu- 
Arrival  of  g^e  by  the  arrival  in  Britain  of  George  Frederic  Han- 
K^ir  ^^^*  Handel  had  been  in  the  service  of  the  elector  of 
Hanover,  and  came  first  to  England  on  a  visit  of  cu* 
riosjty.  The  fame  of  this  great  musician  had  pene- 
trated into  this  country  before  he  himself  arrived  in  it ; 
and  Aaron  Hill^  then  in  the  direction  of  the  Haymar- 
ket  theatre,  instantly  applied  to  him  to  compose  an 
opera.  It  was  Rinaldo  j  the  admirable  music  of  which 
he  produced  entirely  in  a  fortnight.  Soon  after  this 
period  appeared,  for  the  first  time  as  an  opera  singer, 
the  celebrated  Mrs  Anastasia  Robinson.  Mrs  Robin- 
son, who  was  the  daughter  of  a  portrait  painter,  made 
lier  first  public  exhibitions  in  the  concerts  at  York- 
buildings  'y  and  acquired  so  much  the  public  favour, 
that  her  father  was  encouraged  to  take  a  house  in  Gol* 
den  Square,  for  the  purpose  of  establishing  weekly 
concerts  and  assemblies,  in  the  manner  of  Conversa^ 
Kionif  which  became  the  resort  of  the  most  polite  audi- 
ences. 

Soon  after  Mrs  Robinson  accepted  an  engagement 
at  the  Opera,  where  her  salary  is  said  to  have  been 
loool.  and  her  other  emoluments  equal  to  that  sum. 
She  quitted  the  stage  in  consequence  of  her  marriage 
with  the  gallant  earl  of  Peterborougli,.  the  friend  of 
Pope  and  Swift.  The  eminent  virtues  and  accomplish- 
ments of  this  lady,  who  died  at  the  age  of  88,  entitled 
her  to  be  mentioned  even  in  a  compend  too  short  for 
biography. 

The  conducting  the  opera  having  been  fonnd  to  be 
more  expensive  than  profitable,  it  was  entirely  suspend* 
ed  from  171 7  till  1720,  when  a  fund  of  50,000!.  for 
supporting  .and  carrying  it  on  was  subscribed  by  the 
ProareM  of  ^^^  personages  of  the  kingdom.     The  subscribeis,  of 
the  opera    whom  King  George  I.  was  one  for'  loOOl.  were  for- 
under  his     med  into  a  society,  and  named  The  Royal  Academy 
^1^^^'     of  Music ^     Handel  was  commissioned  to  enrage  the 
performers :  For  that  purpose  he   went  to  Dresden, 
where  Italian  operas  were  at  that  time  performed  in 
the   most  splendid  manner  at  the  court  of  Augustus 
elector  of  Saxony,  then  king  of  Poland.     Here  Han- 
del engaged  Senesino-Berenstadt,  Bosch i,  and  the  Du« 
ranstanti. 

In  the  1723,  the  celebrated  Francesca  Cozzoni  ap- 
peared as  a  first  rate  singer ;  and  two  years  afterwards 
arrived  her  di;itinguished  rival  Signora  Faustina  Bor- 
doni. 

In  a  cantabile  air,  though  the  notes  Cuzzooi  added 
were  few,  she  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  enriching 
the  cantilena  with  the  most  beautiful  embellishments^  ^ 
Her  shake  was  perfect.  She  possessed  a  creative  &ncy  ; 
and  she  enjoyed  the  power  of  occasionally  accelerating 
and  retarding  the  measure  in  the  most  artificial  and 
able  manner,  by  what  is  in  Italy  called  tempo  rubato. 
Her  high  notes  were  unrivalled  in  clearness  and  sweet- 
ness. Her  intonations  were  so  just  and  so  fixed,  that 
it  seemed  as  if  bhe  had  not  the  power  to  sing  oat  of 
tune. 


mcoL 


I     C.  History. 

l^austina  Bordoni,  wife  of  the  colebrmted  Saxon 
composer  Hasse,  invented  a  new  kind  of  singing,  by 
running  divisions,  with  a  neatness  and  velocitj  which 
astonished  all  who  heard  her.  By  taking  her  breath 
imperceptibly,  she  had  the  art  of  sustaining  a  note  ap- 
parently longer  than  any  other  singer.  Her  beats  and 
trills  were  strong  and  rapid  ^  her  intonation  perfect 
Her  professional  perfections  were  enhanced  by  a  bean- 
tifol  face,  fine  symmetry  of  figure,  and  a  countenance 
and  gesture  on  the  stage  which  indicated  an  entire  intel- 
ligence and  possession  of  the  several  parts  allotted  to 
her. 

These  two  angelic  performers  excited  so  signally  the 
attention  of  the  public,  that  a  party  spirit  between  the 
abettors  of  the  onfe  and  of  the  other  was  formed,  as  rio- 
lent  and  as^  inveterate  almost  as  any  of  those  that  had 
ever  occurred  relative  to  matters  either  theological  or 
political  'j  yet  so  distinct  were  their  styles  of  singing,  so 
different  their  talents,  that  the  praise  of  the  one  was  no 
reproach  to  the  other. 

In  less  than  seven  years,  the  whole  50,000!.  subscri- 
bed by  the  Royal  Academy,  besides  the  produce  of  ad- 
mission to  non-subscribers,  was  expended,  and  the  go- 
vernor and  directors  of  the  society  relinquished  the 
idea  of  continuing  their  engagements  j  consequently, 
at  the  close  of  the  season  1727,  the  whole  band  of 
singers  dispersed.  The  next  year  we  find  Senesino,  Fau- 
stina, Balde,  Cuzzoni,  Nicolini,  Farinelli,  and  Boscfae, 
at  Venice. 

Handel,  however,  at  his  own  risk,  after  a  suspen- 
sion of  about  a  twelvemonth,  determined  to  recom- 
mence the  Opera  }  and  accordingly  engaged  a  band  of 
performers  entirely  new.  These  were  Signior  Bemae- 
chi,  Signora  Merighi,  Signora  Strada,  Signior  Anibale 
Pio  Fabri,  bis  wife,  Signora  Bertoldi,  and  John  God- 
frid  Reimschneider. 

The  sacred  musical  drama,  or  oratorio,  was  invent- J^*^'"' 
ed  early  in  the  14th  century.     Every  nation  in  £wF!lia^2: 
seems  first  to  have  had  recourse  to  religious  subjects  (ar'^y»: 
dramatic  exhibitions.     The  oratorios  had  been  conmioodiciiaa' 
in  Italy  during  the  last  century.    They  had  never  bccn^^l^ 
publicly  introduced  in  England,  till  Handel,  stimulated 
by  the  rivalsbip  of  other  adventurers,  exhibited  in  1732 
his  oratorios  of  Esther,  and  of  Acis  and  Galatea,  the 
last  of  which  he  had  composed  twelve  years  before  for 
the  duke  of  Chandos*s  chapel  at  Cannons.     The  most 
formidable  opposition  which  Handel  met  with  in  bis 
conduct  of  the  Italian  opera  was  a  new  theatre  for 
exhibiting  these  operas,  opened  by  subscription  in  Lin- 
col  n^s-inn  Fields,  under  the  conduct  of  Nicola  Porpoia, 
a  respectable  composer.     A  diflFerence  having  occurred 
between  Handel  and  Senesino  \  Senesino  had  for  some 
time  deserted  the  Haymarket,  where  Handel  managed, 
and  was  now  engaged  at  the  rival  theatre  of  LincobV 
inn  Fields.     To  supply  the  place  of  Senesino,  Haodel 
brought  over  Giovanni  Carestiniy  a  singer  of  the  mo^ 
extensive  powers.     His  voice  was  at  first  a  powerfiil 
and  clear  soprano :    Afterwards  it  changed  into  the 
fullest,  finest,  deepest  counter-tenor  that  has  perhaps 
ever  been  heard.    Carestini's  person  was  tall,  beaotifiil, 
and  majestic.     He  rendered  every  thing  he  sung  inte- 
resting by  energy,  taste,  and  judicious  embeUishmeBt 
In  the  execution  of  difficult  divisions  from  the  chest, 
his  manner  was  articulate  and  admirable.     It  was  the 
opinion  of  Hasse,  as  well  as  other  eminent  professors, 

X  that 


History.  M    U 

that  whoever  had  oot  heard  Carestioi,  was  unacquaint- 
ed with  the  mo9t  perfect  style  of  singing.  The  opera 
*  under  the  direction  of  Porpora  was  removed  to  the 
Haymarket,  which  Handel  had  led.  Handel  occu- 
pied the  theatre  of  Lincob's-inn  Fields  j  but  his  rivals 
now  acquired  a  vast  advantage  of  attraction,  by  the 
accession  of  Carlo  Broschi  detto  Farinelli  to  their 
party  who  at  this  time  arrived.  This  renowned  singer 
leems  to  have  transcended  the  limit  of  all  ante- 
rior vocal  excellence.  No  vocal  performer  of  the  pre- 
sent century  has  been  so  unanimously  allowed  to  possess 
an  uncommon  power,  sweetness,  extent,  and  agility 
of  voice,  as  Farinelli.  Nicolini,  Senesino,  and  Ca- 
restini,  gratified  the  eye  as  much  by  the  dignity,  grace, 
and  proprietj  of  their  action  and  deportment,  as  the 
car,  by  the  judicious  use  of  a  few  notes  within  the  li- 
mits of  a  small  compass  of  voice  ^  but  Farinelli,  with- 
out the  assistance  of  significant  gestures  or  graceful  at- 
titudes, enchanted  and  astonished  his  hearers,  by  the 
force,  extent,  and  mellifluous  tone<(  of  the  mere  organ, 
when  he  had  nothing  to  execute,  articulate,  or  express. 
Though  during  the  time  of  singing  he  was  as  motion- 
less as  a  statue,  his  voice  was  so  active  that  no  intrr- 
▼als  were  too  close,  too  wide,  or  too  rapid,  for  his  exe- 
cution. ^ 

'  Handel  having  lost  a  great  part  of  his  fortune  by  the 
opera,  was  under  the  necessity  of  trying  the  public  gra- 
titude in  a  benefit,  which  was  not  disgraced  by  the  event. 
The  theatre,  for  the  honour  of  the  nation,  was  so  crowd- 
ed, that  he  is  said  to  have  cleared  800I. 
•pen  ID  After  a  fruitless  attempt  by  Heidegger,  the  coad- 

rJighnd     jtttor  of  Handel  in  the  conduct  of  the  opera,  and  pa- 
fivea  up,     tentee  of  the  King's  Theatre  in  Haymarket,  to  procure 
a  subscription  for  continuing  it,  it  was  found  necessary 
to  give  up  the  qndertaking. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  statue  of  Handel  was 
erected  in  Vauxhall,  at  the  expence  of  Mr  Tyers,  pro- 
prietor of  those  gardens. 

The  next  year  ( 1 739)  Handel  carried  on  oratorios 
at  the  Haymarket,  as  the  opera  there  was  suspended. 
The  earl  of  Middlesex  now  undertook  the  troublesome 
office  of  impresarpi  of  the  Italian  opera.  He  engaged 
Revived,  the  King's  theatre,  with  a  band  of  singers  from  the 
continent  almost  entirely  new.  Calluppi  was  his  com- 
poser. Handel,  almost  ruined,  retired  at  this  time  to 
Ireland,  where  he  remained  a  considerable  time.  In 
1744  he  again  attempted  oratorios  at  the  King's  theatre, 
wnich  was  then,  and  till  1 746,  unoccupied  by  the  opera, 
on  account  of  the  rebellion. 

The  arrival  of  Giardini  in  London  this  year  forms 
a  memorable  sera  in  the  history  of  instrumental  music  of 
England.  His  powers  on  the  violin  were  unequalled. 
The  same  year  Dr  Croza,  then  manager  of  the  opera, 
eloped,  leaving  the  performers,  and  innumerable  trades 
people,  liis  creditors.  This  incident  put  an  end  to  operas 
of  all  kinds  for  some  time. 

This  year  a  comic  opera,  called  //  Fiiosofo  di  Cam" 
pogna^  composed  by  Calluppi,  was  exhibited,  which 
surpassed  in  musical  merit  all  the  comic  operas  per- 
formed in  England  till  the  Bicona  FigHuia,  Bignora 
Faganini  acquired  sueh  fame  by  the  airs  allotted  to 
her  in  that  piece,  that  the  crowds  at  her  benefit  were 
vlieyond  example.  Caps  were  lo^t,  gowns  torn  in  pieces, 
and  ladies  in  full  dress,  without  servants  or  carriages, 


SIC.  .  499 

were  obliged  to  walk  home,  amidst  the  merriment  of 
the  spectators  on  the  streets. 

At  this  period  the  arrival  of  Giovanni  Manzoli  mark- 1764  and 
ed  a  splendid  era  in  the  annals  of  musical  drama,  by  i7^5* 
conferring  on  serious  opera  a  degree  of  importance  to  M*'*^® 
which  it  bad  seldom  yet  arisen  since  its  establishment  in 
England.     Manzoli's  voice  was  the  most  powerful  and 
voluminous  soprano  that  bad  been  heard  since  the  time 
of  Farinelli :  His  manner  of  singing  was  grand,  and 
full  of  taste  and  dignity. 

At  this  time  Tenducci,  who  had  been  in  England  TtnduccL  , 
some  time  before,  and  was  now  returned  much   im- 
proved, performed   in  the   station  of  second  man  to 
,  Manzoli. 

Gaetano  Guadagni  made  a  great  figure  at  this  time.  '7^^*  . 
He  had  been  in  this  country  early  in  life  (1748),  as  ^^'^^^^ 
serious  man  in  a  burletta  troop  of  singers.  His  voice 
was  then  a  full  and  well-toned  counter  tenor  >  but  he 
sung  wildly  and  carelessly.  The  excellence  of  his  voice, 
however,  attracted  the  notice  of  Handel,  who  assign- 
ed him  the  parts  in  his  oratorios,  the  Messiah  and  Sam- 
son, which  had  been  originally  composed  for  Mrs  Cib- 
ber.  He  quitted  London  for  the  first  time  about  1753. 
The  highest  expectations  of  his  abilities  were  raised  by 
fame  before  his  second  arrival,  at  the  time  of  which 
we  treat.  As  an  actor  he  seems  to  have  had  no  equal 
on  any  stage  in  Europe.  His  figure  was  uneommonly 
elegant  and  noble  ^  bis  countenance  replete  with  beau- 
ty, intelligence,  and  dignity  j  his  attitudes  were  full 
of  grace  and  propriety.  Those  who  remembered  his 
voice  when  formerly  in  England  were  now  disappoint- 
ed :  It  was  comparatively  thin  and  feeble :  He  bad  now 
changed  it  to  a  soprano,  and  extended  its  compass  from 
six  or  seven  notes  to  fourteen  or  fifteen.  The  music 
he  sung  was  the  most  simple  imaginable  \  a  few  notes 
with  firequent  pauses,  and  opportunities  of  being  libp-  . 
rated  from  the  composer  and  the  band,  were  all  he  re- 
quired. In  these  effusions,  seemingly  extemporaneous, 
he  displayed  the  native  power  of  melody  unaided  by 
harmony  or  even  by  unisonous  accompaniment :  The 
pleasure  he  communicated  proceeded  principally  from 
his  artful  manner  of  diminishing  the  tones  of  his  voice, 
like  the  dying  notes  of  the  ^olian  harp.  Most  other 
singers  affect  a  swell,  or  messa  de  voces  but  Guadagni, 
after  beginning  a  note  with  force,  attenuated  it  so  deli- 
cately that  it  possessed  all  the  effect  of  extreme  distance. 
During  the  season  1770  and  1771,  Tenducci  was  the 
immediate  successor  of  Guadagni.  This  performer, 
who  appeared  in  England  first  only  as  a  singer  of  the 
secoud  or  third  class,  was  during  his  residence  in  Scot- 
land and  Ireland  so  much  improved  as  to  be  well  re-  • 
ceived  as  first  man,  not  only  on  the  stage  of  London, 
but  in  all  the  great  theatres  of  Italy. 

It  was  during  this  period  that  dancing  seemed  first 
to  gain  the  ascendant  over  music  by  the  superior  talents 
of  Mademoiselle  Heinel,  whose  grace  and  execution 
were  so  perfect  as  to  eclipse  all  other  excellence. 

In  the  first  opera  performed  this  season  (Lucco  Vero)     1775. 
appeared  Miss  Cecilia  Da  vies,  known  in  Italy  by  the^i**^<^ 
name  of  L'Inglesina.     Miss  Davies  had  the  honour  of  ^'^ 
being   the  first   English  woman   who  had  ever  been 
thought  worthy  of  singing  on  any  stage  in  Italy.     She 
even  performed  with  eclat  the  principal  female  charac- 
ters on  many  of  the  great  tlieatres  of  that  country. 

3  B  2  Gabrielli 


503  M    U    S 

Gabriclli  only  on  the  ContiDent  was  said  to  sarpajis  her. 
Her  voicp,  though  not  of  great  volume,  was  clear  and 
perfectly  in  tune  j  her  shake  was  open  and  distinct,  with- 
out the  sluggishness  of  the  French  caiknce.  The  flexi- 
Uility  of  her  throat  rendered  her  execution  equal  to  the 
most  rapid  divisions. 

Next  season  introduced  Venanzio  Ravjgini,  a  beau- 
tiful and  animated  young  man  ^  a  composer  as  well  as 
a  singer.— His  voice  was  sweet,  clear,  flexible  ^  in  com* 
pass  more  than  two  octaves. 
Caterina  .  The  season  1 775  and  1 776  was  rendered  memorable 
GabRclli.  i,y  the  arrival  of  the  celebrated  Caterina  Gabriellty 
styled  early  in  life  Lq  Cuochetina^  being  the  daughter  of 
a  cardinal's  cook  at  Rome.  She  had,  however,  in  her 
countenance  and  deportment  no  indications  of  low  birth* 
Her  manner  and  appearance  depicted  dignity  and  grace. 
So  great  was  her  reputation  before  her  arrival  in  Eng- 
land for  singing  and  for  caprice,  that  the  public,  ex- 
pecting perhaps  in  hoth  too  much,  were  unwilling  to  al- 
low her  due  praise  for  her  performance,  and  were  apt  to 
ascribe  every  thing  she  did  to  pride  and  insolence.  Her 
voice^  though  exquisite,  was  not  very  powerful.  Her 
chief  excellence  having  been  the  neatness  and  rapidity 
of  her  execution,  the  surprise  of  the  public  must  have 
been  much  diminished  on  hearing  her  aUer  Miss  Davies,* 
•  who  sung  many  Qf  the  same  songs  in  the  same  style,  and 
With  a  neatness  so  nearly  «quaT,  that  common  hearers 
eould  distinguish  no  difference.  The  discriminating  cri- 
tic, however,  might  have  discovered  aauperior  sweetness 
tn  the  natural  tone  of  Gabrielli^s  voice,  an  elegance  in 
the  finishing  of  her  musical  periods  or  passages,  an  ac- 
cent and  precision  in  her  divisions,  superior  not  only  to 
Miss  Davies,  but  to  every  other  singer  of  her  time.  In 
slow  movements  her  pathetic  powers,  like  those  in  ge- 
neral of  performers  most  renowned  for  agility,  were  net 
exqnisitely  touching.  ' 

About  the  lime  of  which  we  have  been  treating,  the 
proprietors  of  the  Pantheon  ventured  to  engaee  Asujari 
at  the  enormous  salary  of  lool.  per  night,  for  singing 
two  songs  only :  Lucre%ia  Agujari  was  a  truly  wonder- 
ful performer.  The  lower  part  of  her  voice  was  full, 
round,  and  of  excellent  quality  \  its  compass  amazing. 
She  had  two  octaves  of  fair  natural  voice,  from  A  on 
the  fifth  line  in  the  base  to  A  on  the  sixth  line  in  the 
treble,  and  beyond  that  in  alt  she  had  in  early  youth 
more  than  another  octave.  She  has  been  heard  to 
ascend  to  B  b  in  aftissimo.  Her  shake  was  open  and 
perfect :  her  intonation  true  \  her  execution  marked  and 
rapid  )  the  style  of  her  singing,  in  the  natural  compass 
of  her  voice,  grand  and  majestic. 
Aana  In  1 7  76  arrived  Anna  Pozzi,  as  soccessor  to  Gabriel- 

yom.  Yu  She  possessed  a  voice  clear,  sweet,  and  powerful  j 
but  her  inexperience,  both  as  an  actress  and  as  a  singer, 
produced  a  contrast  very  unfavourable  to  her  when  com- 
pared with  so  celebrated  a  performer  as  Gabriclli.  Af- 
ter that  time,  however,  Pozzi,  with  more  study  and 
knowledge,  became  one  of  the  best  and  moat  admired 
female  singers  in  Italy. 
Gctigi  After  the  departure  of  Ajugari  for  the  second  and 

last  time,  the  managers  of  the  Pantheon  engaged  Georgi 
as  her  successor.  Her  voice  was  exqnisitely  fine,  but 
totally  uncultivated.  She  was  thereafter  emploved  as 
Hie  first  woman  in  the  operas  of  the  principal  cities  of 
Italv. 


Agvjari  ai 
Ike  Fan- 
tbeoD. 


I     C*  HiBtQiy* 

Daring  the  seasons  1777  and  t^*j%  tbe  pnncipal  RoBcagSt 
singers  at  the  opera  in  London  were  Francesco  Ron-aadi)a«K. 
ci^lia  and  Franceeca  Danze,  afterwards  Madame  Lc 
Brun. 

Roncaglia  possessed  a  sweet  toned  voice  ^  bttt<of  Hie 
three  great  requisites  of  a  complete  stage  uogeiv  pathos, 
grace,  and  execution,  which  tbe  Italians  call  cantMk^ 
grassiosa^  and  bravura^  he  could  lay  claim  only  to  the 
second.  His  voice,  a  tw:e  de  camera^  when  confined  to 
ihegrasuosa  in  a  room,  left  nothing  to  wish  for. 

Danze  had  a  voice  well  in  tune,  a  good  shake,  great 
execution,  prodigious  compass,  with  great  kaowlcdge 
of  music ',  yet  the  pleasure  her  per^M^manee  imparted 
was  not  equal  to  -these  aoconspU^hmeats.  Bat  her  cb« 
ject  was  not.  so  mocb  pathos  and  grace,  as  to  sorpiise 
by  the  imitation  of  the  tone  and  difficnlUes  of  tnstni- 
ments. 

Thb  year  Gaaparo  Pacchurotii  appeared  in  IiOodsa,P*cdH. 
whithcT  his  high  repatation  had  penetrated  long  befiire."^ 
The  natural  tone  of  his  voice  was  interestieg,  sweet, 
and  pathetic.  His  compass  downwards  was  great,  with 
an  ascent  up  to  B  b,  and  sometimes  to  C  in  ait^  He 
possessed  an  unbounded  fancy,  and  the  power  noA  only 
of  executing  the  most  difficult  and  refined  paS8iq(cs,  bat 
of  inventing  embellishment  entirely  new.  Ferdinands 
Bertonij  a  well  known  composer,  came  along  with  Pae- 
chierotti  to  Britain. 

About  this  time  dancing  became  an  important  branch  Diao^ 
of  the  amusements  of  tbe  opera  house.     MademoisdU  smm  ib 
Heinel,M.  Vestris  le  Jenne,  Mademoiselle  Bacoelli,  hai,  ■'**■*■? 
during  some  years,  delisted  the  audience  at  the  opera  ;*[^ 
but  on  the  arrival  of  M.  Vestris  PAin^,  pieasore  waS|^koat 
exchanged  for  ecstasy.  In  the  year  1781,  Pacdiierstti 
had  by  this  time  been  so  frequently  heard,  tkat  his  sing- 
ing was  no  impediment  to  conversation  ;  bot  while  the 
eldier  Vestris  was  on  the  stage,  not  a  bmiiiing  was  to 
be  heard.  Those  lovers  of  nuaic  who  talked  tke  loodest 
while  Pacchierotti  song,  were  in  agonies  of  tcvrsr  leit 
tb^  mceful  movements  of  Vestris,  le  dien  de  la  danse^ 
shomd  be  disturbed  by  audible  approbs^on.   After  that 
time,  the  most  mute  and  respectful  attention  was  paid 
to  the  nuinly  grace  of  Le  Pkq,  and  the  light  fantascie 
toe  of  the  younger  Vestris ;  to  the  Rosas,  tke  Thes- 
dores,  the  Conlons,  the  HiUii^burgs ;  while  the  sKgbt- 
ed  sio^is  were  disturbed,  not  by  the  violeBoe  of  op* 
plause,  but  tbe  clamour  of  inattention. 

The  year  1784  was  rendered  a  menMNrable  era  in  t^c— 
annals  of  music  by  the  sphendid  and  magnSfioBnt  mm  ■■■!■■  ^ 
ner  in  which  the  birth  and  genius  of  HasM  were^^.* 
celebrated  in  Westminster  Abbey  and  the  Pantheon,  ^J^^ 
five  perfi>nnannes  of  pieces  selected  iron  hts  «wn  varies, 
and  executed  by  a  hand  of  more  than  500  voioes  and 
instruments,  in  the  presence  and  under  tke  iiwtdiato 
aospioes  of  their  majesties  and  tbe  first  persoaages  of 
the  kingdom.     The  conMneaooratioQ  of  Haadcl  has 
been  since  established  as  an  annual  owmiosl  fiestival  tor 
chai-itahle  purposes ;  in  which   the  number  of  per- 
formers and  the  perfectiott  of  the  perfiwmnnH  n  have 
continued  to  iacrsase.     In  1785  tke  band,  vocal  and 
instrumental,  amounted  to  6t6:  in  1786  to  741$  is 
1787  to  806  J  and  in  subsequent  years  to  still  grasftir 
numbers. 

Dr  Barney  pnblisbed  An  Account  of  tke  MnMst 
Pesfoimanoes  in  ComnemcvatioQ  of  Ilindil,  ftr  the 

Uaefit 


Histoiyk 


Anew 


M.NO. 


benefit  of  tlie  MosicuL  Food.  iTie  tlietebeta  «ii4  gonw 
dwns  of  that  fund  are  now  incotporafed  undctr  tito  \Hlt 
of  Houai  Society  of  Musicians,     See  Ha)A>EL« 

TItis  year  PaccbierMti  and  liis  friited  BerHtoi  left 
England.  Abont  the  same  time  o«r  conntiy  was  de- 
pnved  of  €bt  eminerit  eom'poser  Saechini,  a^nd  Gkr- 
dini  the  greatest  perfarmertm  the  iriolhi  now  in  £ti- 
Tope. 
XscellcBce  As  a  ectatpensation  for  thetfe  loMes,  this  memonribte 
oCM^ane  jear  is  ^stingnished  bj  the 'arrival  oT  Madaiihe  Mara, 
whose  performance  in  'the  "comra^inofflttion  of  Handel 
in  Westttfinster  Abbey  inspired  t!n  aodienfce  irf  3000  off 
the  first  people  of  the  kingdom,  not  only  with  pleaMre 
but  with  ecstacy  and  rliptnfe. 

In  1786  arrived  Giovanni  Ruhine/ii,  His  veieelras 
a  true  and  full  contr^alto  from  €  in  the  middk  d(  the 
scale  to  the  octave  above.  His  style  was  grand  ^  his 
execntion  neat  and  distinct ;  his  taste  and  embellish- 
ments new.  Select,  and  masterly. 

In  1 788  a  new  dance,  composed  by  the  edebrated 
M.  Noverre,  tailed  Cupid  itnd  Pty<^^  was  eidiibited 
along  with  the  'opera  La  Loc^ndiera^  which  produced 
an  effect  so  oncommon  as  to  deserve  ndtice.  80  great 
Was  the  pleasure  it  afforded  to  &e  specftators,  that 
Nervefte  wa«  unaninionsly  bnmgfat  on  Cho  stage  Mid 
crowned  with  laurel  by  die  principal  performers.  This, 
thongh  common  in  France,  was  a  new  mark  of  appro- 
bation in  England. 

This  year  arrived  Signior  Luige  Marchesi,  -a  singer 
whose  talents  have  been  the  subject  cff  praise  and  ad- 
minition  on  every  great  theaftre  of  Enrcpe.  Marehetii^ 
style  of  singing  was  not  only  elegant  and  refined  in  an 
nncchlimon  degree,  bnt  often  grand  and  full  of  dignity, 

Srticularty  in  his  rotative  and  occasional  low  notes, 
is  variety  of  embellishment  and  facility  of  rnmiing 
extempore  divisions  were  wotoderful.      Many  trf  bis 
graces  were  elegant  and  of  Ihs  own  invention. 
M-        The  three  greatest  Italian  singers tyf  these  times  wev^ 
\  cha.  cetti^hr  Pacdiierotti,  BubinelK,  and  Matchesi.     In 
JJ^SJ^   discriminating  the  setend  exccHcncies  of  these  gfreat 
fvttt,Rabi.  performers,  a  very  respectable  judge,  Dr  Bnwey,  has 
Belli,  and    M^icnbrly  praised  tile  sweet  and  tonehrng  vo^ce  of 
MaiebvL   Piiechitfrdtti ',  fiis  fine  shtke,  his  rit^iske  taitte,  his 
malTsMcy,  and  hisVKvine  etpressionin  pathetit  songs : 
Of  Rdrineili^  voice,  the  Mness,  steadine^,  and  ma- 
jesty, the  ikotaiMtty  of  his  intonatieiis,  his  jndicfoos 
graces  :  Of  MardiO^iS  t«lice,  the  ele^^atfee  and  fiekibi- 
Kty,  his  graodettr  in  recitative,  and  his  b6uiidless  fhncy 
and  emb^t8hnKjnte.'*«^Hi^ring  merititfne^  Dr  Bnmey, 
we  ate  ^  justice  bornid  to  "acknowledge  the  aid  wetAve 
derived  fhttn  Ins  history  \  a  work  whith  Vre  gfiMtly  pre^ 
fer  to  every  other  modem  production  on  the  subject. 

Daring  the  latter  part  of  the  l9th  eentnry  many 

eaunent  cJompescts  floiirisAed  on  the  ciftitinent  j  soch  as 

JomelK,  the  fimiily  of  the  Bachs,  <$Kitk,  Haydn,  aifd 

ms»y  others,  whose  tKflet^nt  styles  and  exoeMetacies 

would  well  deserve  to  be  particMilsiissed,  Would  cfor  li- 

mils  permit.    With  the  same  regard  to  brevity,  we  can 

^  do  no  more  than  just  mention  thie  late  king  of  Pmssia, 

tbb  hOe  elector  of  Ba^ttria,  and  Printe  LSbkoWitz,  as 

eminent  dilettanti  of  modem  times. 

«•      Besides  the  qpera  singers  whom  we  have  mentioned, 

tbsstfn      oor  theatres  and  public  nrdens  have  exhibited  singers 

^^[^  ^  considerable  merit.    In  1730  Miss  Rafter,  a&r- 

hcfudcna  ^^^  |^  celebrated  Bfrs  CUve,  first  appeared  on  the 


S^l 


SIC 

tita|pe  at  l^ry4tfne^  a niwger.  The  sine  yMir  in«- 
trodneed  Mi^  Ceeilin  Yemift,  afterwainis  the  wife  «f 
Dr  Ame.  iiw  style  4^  nitf^g  iMs  infinity  'SiM|cirioir 
t6  thnt'of  any  oifaer  English  weman  <of  her  timew 

Onr  ftfvonrice  tenncims  at  this  thne  WM^  Diibenifg^  FaTonrits 
Clegg,  ClaHce,  %ttd  FestSng,  en  iht  vitftin^  XyMi>°'»i<'^*>^ 
en  the  bnntlioy }  Jaek  Ftetili|r  on  the  Gennan  !Aute$ 
Baston  fm.  the  eowmonflvee)  Karbk  tm <dfe htosseen ^ 
Valentine  8now  on  t4w  trmn|pet :  add  on  the  ^rgifn, 
Roseingrave,  Green,  Robinson,  Magitak,  Mk  iimies, 
and  the  blind  Stalnley,  iHio  seems  toliave  been  ftthip- 
ted.  The  favourite  pla^honse  ninger  *wiw  ^Iwny  5  tmk 
S(t  concerts  Monntier^of  Chichester. 

As  composers  for  jonr  national  theatre,  PepoM^  tMi 
Galliatd  seem  to  liave  been  «strlVidled  tiH  i  ^4  •;  ^ivlfen 
two  competiteirs  appeared,  who  tVen  k>ng  ili  pecMftflBion 
of  the  pcrblic  favour :  We  allnde  to  John  firedeiwk 
Lnmpe  and  Thomas  Atigustus  Atne. 

In  1736  Mn  Gibber,  y^o  had  csfptivtfted  tHreiry 
bearer  of  sensibility  by  her  tuMK^e  s^reetuess'ctf  voiee 
and  powers  of  eitpression  «8  a  singer,  tnade  Iter  AMt 
attempt  as  a  tragic  actress.  The  same  year  Benird  -be^ 
came  a  favourite  singer  at  Oovent-*garden.  At  tMs 
time  Miss  Young,  afterwards  Mrs  Aine,  and  her  tW<o. 
sisters  Isabella  and  Ertber,  welre  the  1a¥MM>ite  £ta^lisb> 
female  singers. 

In  1Y38  was  institnted  the  Ivnd  fbr  Mie  support  of  Fond  Ibr 
decnyed  nmsieiaos  and  their  fMsiliee.  decayed 

It  tras  in  1745  thtft  Mr  TSrers,  psoprietoriof  Van*-"'"*^*^'" 
hall  gardens,  first  added  voeai  mmdc  to  tihe  oiher^enter* 
tahiniesto  of  that  fiHtOe.  Athehrtthnetfefb^e  Ranehigli 
hud  heoome  a  pbce  t>f  public  sAmnsement. 

In  1749  arrived  Otkt^ini,  i«yhoBe  g^real  tiMe,  4iiMd,  Arriwd  of. 
and  style  in  playhig  <M  die  Violin,  pMented  ^im  tmi-  GUidiat 
versal  admiratien.    A  few  yesnrs  after  4iii  ^anrivid  %e 
fernipd  a  niei*ning  aetidefnid  ifr  •eenoert  •!»  Mb  heose, 
composed  chiefly  of  his  selMtiflrs. 

About  this  time  San.  Martini  and  Chasles  Alison 
tvere  emmeift  composers. 

Of  near  150  masical  pieces  broi^t  ttti  enr  Imtional 
thentres  within  40  yeavs,    ^iB  of  them  at  least  ^Wtte 
set  by  Arne.     The  style  of  thib  composer,  ?f  ana-  Styk  of. 
)yzed,  would  perhaps  appear  to  be  n^her  Ifiiyan^^M^ 
neir  -£n^isk^  but  sn  wgntMe  misctnre  of  beth*ited  of  • 
Seotch.. 

The  late  earl  "of  Kelly,.  Who  dicA*  seme  yeats  ttgn,ni  emf  ^ 
deserves  particular  tt<6eioe,  as  possessed  ^  a  veiy  etei*  Kelly, 
nent  degiee  ^  mnsical  science,  lar  so^ior  to  'ooer  di- 
lettanti, and  perhaps  not  inferior  to  any  profesMh*  of 
his  time.  There  Was  no  part  Jf  theeretioal  or  pnnetical 
music  in  ^ich  he  was  not  thero^ighly  v«rsc^  :  He  f^os-* 
ses^  a  strength  of  hitnd  on  Che  viol^,  and  a  genius 
ibr  cempositJon,  wMi  whidk  few  professers  wdfe  gined. 

Chailes  Fred^ok  Abel  was  an  admirable  MlkusMi^ :  Abek 
aIs  perflormamce  on  tke  iivol  va  sMMMbli  was  ihi  ti^^^lry 
particular  complete  and  perfect.  JSe  -had.  4  %alii^i4iich 
xlo  diftenleies  tould  eislbnH'a*  *,  tt  tiMte  the  ifaoet  be- 
fitted and  delicate ;  a  judmnent  so  «srt%ei  and  %eMilh 
sis  nevter  to  permit  a  sin^  iMOt  to  eseftpe  him  Mlh^ 
out  meaning.  His  compeiiUdMs  were  'easy  nnd  ek* 
gantly  simple.  In  wi4ting  and  l^aying  slh  Mujh  lie. 
was  superior  to  all  praise }  the  most  pleasing  yet  warn* 
ed  modulation,  the  richest  harmony,  the  most  elegant: 
and  polished  melody,  were  all  expressed  with  the  most 
exquisite  feeling,  taste,  and  science.    His  manner  of 

ttaying 


502  M    U 

Jilaying  an  adagio  aoou  became  the  model  of  imitatioa 
for  all  oar  young  performers  on  bowed  instramenU* 
Baitholemon  Cervetto,  Cramer,  and  Crosdil,  were  in 
this  respect  to  be  ranked  as  of  his  school.  All  lovers 
of  masic  must  have  lamented  that  Abel  in  youth  bad 
not  attached  himself  to  an  instrument  more  worthy  of 
liis  fijenius,  taste,  and  learning,  than  the  viol  da  gamba, 
that  remnant  of  the  old  chest  of  viols  which  during  the 
17th  century  was  a  necessary  appendage  of  a  nobleman's 
or  gentleman's  family  throughout  £urope,  previous  to 
.the  admission  of  violins,  tenors,  and  basses,  in  private 
jbottses  or  public  concerts.  Since  the  death  of  the  late 
elector  of  Bavaria,  who  was  next  to  Abel  the  best 
^performer  on  the  viol  da  gamba  in  Europe),  the  in- 
strument seems  quite  laid  aside.  It  was  used  longer  in 
iGermanyiilhaB  elsewhere  ^  but  the  place  of  gambist 
eeems  now  as  much  suppressed  in  the  chapels  of  German 
princes  as  that  of  lutanist.  The  celebrated  performer 
on  the  violin,  Lolle,  came  to  England  in  1785.  Such 
;wa8  his  caprice,  that  he  was  seldom  heard  ^  and  so  ec- 
centric was  his  style  and  compositioq,  that  by  many  he 
was  regarded  as  a  madman.  He  was,  however,  during 
his  lucid  intervals  a  very  great  and  expressive  performer 
in  the  serious  style. 
Mn  Bil-  ^1^  Billington,  ailer  distinguishing  herself  in  child"- 
'^'^*  hood  as  a  neat  and  expressive  performer  on  the  piano- 
forte, appeared  all  at  once  in  1786  as  a  sweet  and  cap- 
tivating singer.  In  emulation  of  Mara  and  other  great 
bravura  singers,  she  at  first  too  frequently  attempted 
passages  of  difficulty  ^  afterward,  however,  so  greatly 
was  she  improved,  that  no  song  seemed  too  high  or  too 
rapid  for  her  execution.  Now,  at  the  distance  of  20 
years,  she  retains  her  high  reputation.  The  natural 
tone  of  her  voice  is  so  exquisitely  sweet,  her  know- 
ledge of  music  so  considerable,  her  shake  so  true,  her 
doses  and  embellishments  so  various,  her  expressions  se 
grateful,  that  envy  only  or  apathy  could  hear  her  with- 
put  delight. 

The  present  composers,  and  performers  of  the  first 

.class,  are  so  well  known  to  the  lovers  of  the  art,  that 

it  would  be  needless  and  improper  to  mention  them 

particularly. 

The  catch-      The  Catch-club  at  the  Thatched  House,  instituted 

dub  and      ^  ,^52  by  the  earl  of  Eglinton,  the  duke  of  Queens- 

of  aadeat   ^^9  '^^^  others  \  and  the  concert  of  ancient  music, 

wmsifi.         suggested  by  the  earl  of  Sandwich  in  1776,  have  had  a 

beneficial  effect  in  improving  the  art. 

Two  female  performers  have  lately  appeared  oPdis- 
tinguished  eminence. 
Gnu^^         Madame  Grassini  had  exhibited  her  vocal  powers  in 
Paris  with  extraordinary  applause,  and  arrived  in  Lon- 
don in  1805,  ^^ci^  s^  excited  uncommon  admiration.' 
She  appeared  in  Zaira,  where  the  display  of  her  powers 
not  only  pleased,  but  she  astonished,  when  it  was  con- 
sidered  that  the  compass  of  her  voice  did  not  exceed 
eight  or  ten  notes. 
^*^]^      .  The  year  following  Madame  Catalani  divided  the 
***^^     public  attention  with  Grassini.— This  eminent  perform* 
er  is  a  native  of  Sioigaglia  in  Italy,  where  her  father 
was  a  singer  of  the  comic  order. 

She  was  educated  in  a  convent.     The  virtuous  im- 


S     J    ۥ  Historj. 

pressions  she  there  received,  have  continued  ever  since 
invariably  to  influence  her  conduct. 

Her  father  soon  discovered  the  excellence  and  the 
value  of  her  vocal  powers,  which  were  first  exhibited 
on  the  provincial  theatres  of  Italy.— He  soon  carried 
her  to  Spain,  where  she  attained  very  high  celebrity. 
It  was  there  her  husband,  M.  de  Valabregue,  fint  paid 
his  addresses  to  her  j  and  it  was  not  till  after  a  perse- 
verance of  seven  months  that  he  at  last  obtained  her  con- 
sent to  unite  her  fortunes  with  his.  Her  hesitation 
proceeded  from  the  reluctance  of  her  father,  at  once  to 
be  deprived  of  his  daughter,  and  of  the  very  great  emo- 
lument which  she  brought  him.  M.  de  \alabrrgue 
had  been  an  officer  in  the  French  array  under  Geneial 
Moreau. 

From  Spain  Madame  Catalani  (for  she  has  retained 
her  father^s  name),  proceeded  to  Portugal,  where  she 
accepted  an  enflngement  to  come  to  London.  She  tia- 
veiled  through  France,  and  at  Paris  appeared  at  an  oc- 
casional concert,  where  her  fame  was  so  great,  that  the 
usual  price  of  admission  was  trebled.  She  particularly 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  singular  roan  who  now 
holds  the  imperial  sceptre  of  the  continent  of  Europe* 
He  ordered  her  a  pension  (its  value  is  about  30I.  per 
annum)  ',  and  it  was  with  much  difficulty,  and  only 
through  the  interference  of  the  British  ambassador 
(the  earl  of  Lauderdale)  then  at  Paris,  that  she  was 
permitted  to  leave  that  capital,  and  pnxxed  00  her 
•journey. 

In  the  dramatic  music  of  the  opera,  this  singer  is  far 
superior  to  any  performer  ever  beard  in  this  country. 
Her  merit  in  Semiramide,  in  particular,  presents  al- 
most the  idea  of  perfection.  Her  voice  is  equal  to  the 
most  difficult  execution,  while  her  countenance  is  inte- 
resting, her  gestures  graceful,  and  her  person  elegant 
It  has  been  reported  that  she  do^  not  sing  in  tunej  hot 
it  is  an  undeniable  .fact,  vouched  by  the  first  musicians, 
that  she  possesses  a  most  accurate  ear.  Eveiy  vocal 
performer  occasionally  emits  a  false  sound  in  conse- 
quence of  some  temporary  oiganic  cause. 

Catalani's  easy  and  clear  articulation  are  particularly 
striking,  her  tones  are  full  and  liquid.  Her  cadences 
are  appropriate  and  masterly.  She  has  a  practice  of 
rapidly  descending  in  half  notes,  which  has  excited  ad- 
miration chiefly  by  its  entire  novelty.  The  deamess 
and  rapidity  displayed  by  her  in  chromatic  passages  ex- 
cite astonii>hment  y  and  she  combines  mellowness  with 
distinctness,  a  high  qualification,  which  Mara  firii 
taught  us  to  appreciate.  In  the  course  of  summer 
1807,  Madame  Catalani  visited  the  provincial  theatict 
of  England,  and  appeared  likewise  in  Dublin,  Edin- 
burgh, and  Glasgow.  Her  total  receipts  for  that  year 
are  said  to  have  exceeded  1 5.000I. 

We  have  been  somewhat  particular  in  our  accooat 
of  musical  affairs  in  our  own  country  during  the  1 8U1 
century,  as  what  would  be  most  interesting  to  geocnl 
readers,  and  of  which  a  well-informed  gentleman  would 
not  wish  to  be  ignorant.  The  professor  and  coanoisMur 
will  have  recourse  to  disquisitions  much  more  minuts 
than  those  of  which  our  limits  can  be  supposed  to 
admit. 


ELEMENTS. 


Elements. 


MUSIC 


503 


ELEMENTS    OF    MUSIC, 

Theoretical  and  Practical  (c). 


PRELIMINARY  DISCOURSE. 


Biosic  c«B 
nocred  IB 
m  doable 


of  Boaic 
like  that  of 


MUSIC  may  be  considered,  either  as  an  art,  which 
has  for  its  object  one  of  the  greatest  pleasures  of  which 
our  senses  (d)  are  sosceptible  ^  or  as  a  science,  by  which 
that  art  is  reduced  to  principles.  This  is  the  double 
▼iew  in  which  we  mean  to  treat  of  music  in  this  work. 

Ic  has  been  the  case  with  music  as  with  all  the  other 
arts  invented  by  man  \  some  facts  were  at  first  discover- 
^^^^i^'l^  ^  by  accident ;  soon  afterwards  reflection  and  observa- 
tion investigated  others :  and  from  these  facts,  proper- 
ly disposed  and  united^  philosophers  were  not  slow  in 
rorming  a  body  of  science,  which  afterwards  increased 
by  degrees. 

The  first  theories  of  music  were  perhaps  as  ancient 
as  the  earliest  age  which  we  know  to  have  been  distin- 
guished by  philosophy,  even  as  the  age  of  Pythagoras ; 
nor  does  history  leave  us  any  room  to  doubt,  that  from 
the  period  when  that  philosopher  taught,  the  ancients 
coltivated  music,  both  as  an  art  and  as  a  science,  with 
great  assiduity.  But  there  remains  to  us  much  uncer- 
tainty concerning  the  degree  of  perfection  to  which 
they  brought  it.  Almost  every  question  which  has 
b«en  proposed  with  respect  to  the  music  of  the  ancients 
has  divided  the  learned  ;  and  probably  may  still  conti- 
nue to  divide  them,  for  want  of  monuments  sufficient  in 
their  number,  and  incontestable  in  their  nature,  from 
whence  we  might  be  enabled  to  exhibit  testimonies  and 
discoveries  instead  of  suppositions  and  conjectures.    In 


the  preceding  history  we  have  stated  a  few  facts  respect- 
ing the  nature  of  ancient  music,  and  the  inventors  of 
the  several  musical  instruments ;  but  it  were  to  be  wish- 
ed, that,  in  order  to  elucidate,  as  much  as  possible,  a 
point  so  momentous  in  the  history  of  the  sciences,  some 
person  of  learning,  equally  skilled  in  the  Greek  lan- 
guage and  in  music,  should  exert  himself  to  unite  and  The  hu- 
discuss  in  the  same  work  the  most  probable  opinions  ^^^.^^ 
established  or  proposed  by  the  learned,  upon  a  *uhject2jJ^t*Jm*' 
so  difficult  and  curious.     This  philosophical  history  of  in  Utera- 
ancient  music  is  a  work  which  might  highly  embellish  tare: 
the  literature  of  our  times. 

In  the  mean  time,  till  an  author  can  be  found  suffi- 
ciently instructed  in  the  arts  and  in  history  to  under- 
take such  a  labour  with  success,  we  shall  content  our- 
selves with  considering  the  present  state  of  music,  and 
limit  our  endeavours  to  the  explication  of  those  acces- 
sions which  have  accrued  to  the  theory  of  music  in  these 
latter  times. 

There  are  two  departments  in  music,  melody  *  and  *^*  ^^' 
harmony  t.     Melody  is  the  art  of  arranging  several  x  ^'^  ^^. 
sounds  in  succession  one  to  another  in  a  manner  agree- mofty. 
able  to  the  ear ;  harmony  is  the  art  of  pleasing  that  m- 
gan  by  the  onion  of  several  sounds  which  are  heard  at 
one  and  the  same  time*     Melody  has  been  known  and 
felt  throught  all  ages :  perhaps  the  same  cannot  be  af- 
firmed of  harmony  (e)  ;  we  know  not  whether  the  an- 
cients made  any  use  of  it  or  not,  nor  at  what  peiiod  it 
began  to  be  practised. 

Not  but  that  th^  ancients  certainly  employed  in  their 

music 


(c)  To  deliver  the  elementary  principles  of  music,  theoretical  and  practical,  in  a  manner  which  may  prove  at 
once  entertaining  and  instructive,  without  protracting  this  article  much  beyond  the  limits  prescribed  in  our  plan, 
appears  to  us  no  easy  task.  We  therefore  hestitated  for  some  time  whether  to  try  our  own  strength,  or  to  follow 
some  eminent  author  on  the  same  subject.  Of  these  the  last  seemed  preferable.  Amongst  these  authors,  none 
appeared  to  us  to  have  written  any  thing  so  fit  for  our  purpose  as  M.  d^Alembert,  whose  treatise  on  music  is  the 
nx»t  methodical,  perspicuous,  concise,  and  elegant  dissertation  on  that  subject  with  which  we  are  acquainted.  As 
it  was  unknown  to  most  English  readers  before  a  former  edition  of  this  work,  it  ought  to  have  all  the  merit  of  an 
original.  We  have  given  a  translation  of  it ;  and  in  the  notes,  we  have  added,  from  the  works  of  succeeding  au- 
thors, and  from  oar  own  observations,  such  explanations  as  appeared  necessary,  to  adapt  the  work  to  the  pre- 
sent day. 

(d)  in  this  passage,  and  in  the  definitions  of  melody  and  harmony,  our  author  seems  to  have  adopted  the  vul- 
gar error,  that  the  pleasures  of  music  terminate  in  corporeal  sense.  He  would  have  pronounced  it  absurd  to  as- 
sert the  same  thing  of  painting.  Yet  if  the  former  be  no  more  than  a  mere  pleasure  of  corporeal  sense,  the  lat- 
ter most  likewise  be  lanked  in  the  same  predicament.  We  acknowledge  that  corporeal  sense  Is  the  vehicle  of 
sound  'j  bot  it  is  plain  from  our  immediate  feelings,  that  the  results  of  sound  arranged  according  to  the  princi- 
ples of  melody,  or  combined  and  disposed  according  to  the  laws  of  harmony,  are  the  objects  of  a  reflex  or  inter- 
nal sense. 

For  a  more  satisfactonr  discussion  of  this  matter,  the  reader  may  consult  that  elegant  and  judicious  treatise  on 
Musical  Expression  by  Mr  Avison.  In  the  mean  time  it  may  be  necessary  to  add,  that,  in  order  to  shun  the 
appearance  of  afiectation,  we  shall  use  the  ordinary  terms  by  which  musical  sensations,  or  the  mediums  by  which 
they  are  conveyed,  are  generally  denominated. 

(£)  Though  no  certainty  can  be  obtained  what  the  ancients  understood  of  harmony,  nor  in  what  manner  and 

in  what  period  they  practised  it }  yet  it  is  not  without  probability,  that,  both  in  speculation  and  practice,  they 

were  in  possession  of  what  we  denominate  counterpoint     Without  supposing  this,  there  are  some  passages  in  the 

Greek  authors  which  can  admit  of  00  satisfactory  interpretation.   See  the  Origin  and  Progress  of  Language^  vol.  ii. 

Besides, 


.4uL 


S,o4  M    V 

Fralinu-  music  tbose-cbords  which  were  most  perfect  and  simple^ 
naiy      such  as  the  octave,  the  fifth,  and  the  third  j  hot  it 
Diicom^.  seems  doubtful  whether  thev  knei^  ai^y  of  tbe.otheccoor 
-^     '         m^M  •"!'"??  Ql  not,  or  even  whethev  in  practice  they  could 
deduce  the  same  admntages  from  the  simple  chords 
which  were  known  to  them,  that  haye  afterwards  ac- 
crued from  experience  and  combinations. 

If  that  bavoaooy  whiah»  we  no«»  practise  owes  its  ori^ 
gHK  to  the*  experiaiice  and  refection  of  the  modems,, 
there  ta  the  highest  profaabiUty  that  the  first,  essays  ol 
this  art,  m  of  all  the  others,  were  feeble,  and  the  prot^ 
gpess  of  ita  effonts  alasost  impcroqilihle :  and  that,  ia 
the  coarse'  06  tkn^  iaapniTiiig  by  somU  gradaUons 
the  sttoeasstve  labours,  of  several  geniMMa  ha^e  elevated 
k  to>  that  6itgn»  of  perfection  in  which  at  present  we» 
find  it, 
Tha  <Hi|:iA  IIk^  fiwt  inventor  of  harmony  escapes  our  investigi^ 
of  aru  of-  ii^^  fnpin  iiie:  same  causes  whidi  leave  us  ignorant  •£ 
denudTmnd  ^^^^  ^^  ^^^  invented  each  particnlaa  science  )  ba« 
their  pro-  eause  tha  orifMnai  iaventors.  could  only  advance  one  step, 
a  socceediag  discovener  afibBrwasds  made  a  mere  sensible 
trnprovement,  and  tha  first  imperfect  essays  in  evejy  kind 
wavet  lost  in  tha  mosa  extensuve  and  striking  views  to 
which-  they  M.  Tbos.the  aits  which  we  now  ei^, 
are  for  the  most  part  fmt  faom  beii^.  dne  to  any  particu- 
lar man,  or  to  any  nation  exclusively :  they  ase  produ- 
ced by  tlw  nnitad  and  saocassive  eadeaireuKS  of  man- 
kind 'f  they  are  the  results  of  sudi  cootinned  and  united 
zvfleeiions,  as.  have  been  fi>rmed  by  all  men  at  eU  pa* 
ried^  aadiu'  aU-  nations. 

Itmightv  however,  ha*  wSahed,  that  after  having  aa- 
aeatainedv  witk  as  muck  aoeuraeyas  peasihle,  the  state 
of  aacient  mnsio  by  the  smnll  number-  of  Greek  authera 
which  remain  ta  us,  the  same  application  were  imme- 
diately directed  ta  investigate  the  first  incontestable- 
traces  of  harmony  which  appear  in  the  succeeding  Sj^S 
and  ta  pursne  those  traces,  from  period  to  period.  The 
pveducti  of  these  researches  would  doubtless  be  very  im- 
perfect, because  the  books  and  monuments  of  the  mid- 
dle ages  are  by  far  too  few  to  enlighten  that  gloomy 
and  barharpua  era  ^  yet  these  discovariea  would  still  hn 
yreeiDttS  to*  a  philosopher,  who  delights  to  ohaerva  the 
human  mind  ili  the  gradual  em>lntion  of  it&paweia, 
-and  the  prsgrees  of  its  attainments. 
^.  The  first'  oompositiona  upon  tha  laws  of  haimany 
l^^oflm,.  which  we  knew,  are  of  no  faighet  antiquity  than  two 
mooj  re-  ages  peior  to^ur  own  \  and  they  were  fidiewed  hf  many 
cent  aad  othecf.  'Bnttmne  nf  these  essays  was  capable  oiF  satisp 
iapeiiect.  Mug  the  mind  aonoermng  lihe  piinoiples  of  harmony : 
they  confined  themselves  almost  entirely  to  the  single 
ueeupation  ofcoUeelinff  rales,  without  endcavionring  to 
aceount  far  them-}  naivherhad  their  analogies  ona  with 
another,  nor  their  common  soumt,  been  perceived; 
a  blind  and  unenUgbtened  enperience  was  the  only 
compass  by  wkicb  the'  artist  conid  dsreet  and  regulate 
liM  course* 


tioni 


SIC.  BkBtth. 

M.  Rameanwasthe  first  who  began  to  transfuse  liglit 
and  order  through  this  chaos.    In  the  different  tsnei 
produced  by  the  same  sure  sonorous  body,  he  fonnd  tbe 
most  probable  original  harmony,  and  the  cause  of  tbstj^^^ 
pleasure  which  we  receive  from  it.     His  principle  fastaiS^ 
imfolded,  and  shpwed  how  the  di&rent  phenomens  of  cc4  ina 
music  were  produced  by  it :  he  reduced  all  the  como-^fyp^ 
nances  to  a  small  number  of  simple  and  fundameotalTl^^ 
chords,  of  which  the  others  ace  only  combinations  Vutm 
various  arrangements.     He  has,  in  short,  been  able  to 
discover,  and  render  sensible  to  others,  the  mutual  de- 
pendence batween  melody  and  harmony. 

Though  these  different  topins  may  be  conlained  in  tlMTk  » 
wriliogs  of  this  eelebcatied  artist,,  and  in  these  writiafESiWiai. 
may  be  understood  by  philosophers  who  ace  likewise  ^^.^ 
adepts  in  the*  art  o£  music ;  still,  however,  such,  mnsirispi  ^|[j^ 
as  were  not  philosophers,  and  such  philosophen  ss  wessMsh. 
not  musicians  have  loi^  dasired  to  see-  these  abjrcti 
brought  more  within  the  reach  of  their  capacity.    Sack 
ia  the  iatantionof  the-  present  treatise^  in  which  ws 
claim  no  other  merit  than  thai  of  having  davdepsd, 
elucidated,  and  perhaps  in  some  respects  improved,  the 
ideas  of  another  (f). 

Tha  first  edition  o(  this  essay,,  puUished  in  I75a,laptii. 
having  beea  lavouraUy  received,  wa  have  andeavooredM>ii«f 
to  render  this  more  perfecc  The  detail  which  is  ■raal^*'^ 
to  he  given  of  my  labour,  will  present  the  readw  w^^^^^^ 
a  general  idea  of  the  principle  of  M.  BtnnriMi,  of  thstkvaks 
cansesuenaes  deduced  from  it,  of  the  manner  in  wUsligeMBL 
I  have  disposed  thia  principle  and  its  cnnneyienccs )  in 
short,,  of  what  iastill  wanting,  and  might  hn  advaata* 
geonslethn  theory  of  thia  deCghtfiil  ait  $  ofwhateull 
remains  fiir.  the  learned  tocoatrihutn  towanda the ptr* 
fection  of  this  theory^  of  tha  rocks  and  yyckiaads 
wUqh  they  ought  to   avaid    in  thia  reaaarch^  aad 
which  could  soffve  no  other  purpose  than  ta  retard  thrir 

Every  sonorous  body,  besides  its  principal  sound,  jtHn'i 
likewise  exhibits  to  the  ear  the  12th  and  17th  Dajsr«i|aif 
of  that  sound*    This  multiplicity  of  diflSerent  yet  coo-^ 
CDidnnt  sounds,  known-fer  a  eansiderahle  time,  consti- 
tutes tlw  hnsis  of  the  whole  theory  of  M.  Ranmn,  and 
the  fiMmdatien  npaai  which  ha  fanskis  the  vriisie  snpMw 
strndnreof  amnsiaalsyatem*.     In  these  one  dbnraltssic^ 
nmy  ha.  seeuy  haw  frani  thie  nzperimcnt  one  ma^  d»-fm. 
dace,  by  an  eaay  <^eintion  of  reason,  the  chsef  peiatst^ 
of  meladj  and  hnnnoay}  the  psriectt  choed,  as  weU|^,^ 

r  aa  minev;  tha  twn  t  tetraoharda  employed  in  an-i^rfei 

thsiSicDa* 


nu^r 

dent  mnsic  ^  the  fiimntienof  one  dintanin  ]) 

different  values  J  which  the  same  sound  may 

that  scale,  accorAng  to  the  turn  whioh  is  giucn  to  thc^^^ 
base  IT ;  the  akaratians  *  which  we  elisusc  in  thsif  j|j»  ' 
scale^  and  the  renean  why  thejr  are  totally  impucspti  •SnMt 
hie  to  the  ear)  the  mice  peenliar  ta  tha  made  t  maJBrj^Ssa  ^ 
the  di£Bcohy  in  %  intonation  of  fianring  thsee  tooea  ]f  »|!!^'||^ 
""'*''****^n}  tha  reason  why  twn perfect  chardsasapr^^i^ 

scsibsd|9RA» 


Besides,  we  can  discover  some  vestiges  of  havmany,  however  rudo  and  imperfect,  in  the  history  of  tha  OMhSs 
ages,  and  amongst  tbe  most  barbarous  people.  This  they  could  not  have  derived  from  mare-  enktvntad  eoaatr isS| 
because  it  appears  to  be  incorporated  with  thrir  national  music.  The  most  rational  account,  thcrsfosa,  which  csi 
be  given,  seems  to  be,  that  it  was  conveyed  in  a  mechanical  or  traditionary  manner  through  the  Bonwnprariaoes 
&om  a  more  remote  period  of  antiquity. 

(F)  See  At  AimeauV  letter  upon  this  subject,  Mere*  de  Mat\  1752. 


Elements. 


M    U 


pR^Iimi.    scribed  in  immediate  sticccssimi  in  tbe  diatonic  order  ^ 

aary       the  origin  of  the  minor  mode,  its  subordination  to  the 

Dtfcourtc  mode  major,  and  its  variations  5  the  use  of  discord  {  } 

4  Sec  Dit'  ^^®  causes  of  such  effects  as  are  produced  by  different 

cffrd,  kinds  of  music,  whether  diatonic,  chromatic  *,  or  en- 

•  SceCAro  harmonic  t  j  the  principles  and  laws  of  temperament  J, 
•"•''^-  In  this  discourse  we  can  only  point  out  those  diffcreitt 
ka^onic  ®4^^^*»  ^^^^  subsequent  essay  being  designed  to  explain 
I  See  TViR.^^^'^  ^^^^  ^'^c  miuutcness  and  precision  which  they  re- 
fcrament.    quire. 

One  end  which  we  have  proposed  in  this  treatise, 
was  not  only  to  elucidate,  but  to  simplify  the  dicove- 
ries  of  M.  Kameau.— For  instance,  besides  the  funda- 
mental experiment  mentioned  above,  that  celebrated 
musician,  to  facilitate  the  explication  of  certain  phe- 
nomena, had  recourse  to  another  experiment }  that 
which  shows  that  a  sonorous  body  struck  and  put  in 
vibration,  forces  its  1 2th  and  1 7th  major  in  descending 
to  divide  themselves  and  produce  a  tremulous  sound. 
The  chief  use  which  M.  Rameau  made  of  this  second 
experiment  was  to  investigate  the  origin  of  the  minor 
mode,  and  to  account  for  some  other  rules  established 
in  harmony  j  but  we  have  found  means  to  deduce  from 
the  first  experiment  alone  the  formation  of  the  minor 
mode,  and,  besides,  to  ditengage  that  formation  from  all 
questions  foreign  to  it. 

In  some  other  points  also  *,    (as,  the  origin  of  the 

*  See  Jhifr-  chord  of  the  eub-dominant  *,  and  tho  explication  of  the 
**■"""■'     seventh  in  certain  cases)  it  is  imagined  that  we  have 

simplified,  and  perhaps  in- some  measure  extended  the 
principles  of  the  celebrated  artist. 

We  have  likewise  banished  every  consideration  of 
geometrical,  arithmetical,  and  harmonical  proportions 
and  progressions,  which  have  been  sought  in  the  mix- 
ture and  protraction  of  tones  produced  by  a  sonorous 
body  'f  persuaded  as  we  are,  that  M.  Rameau  was  under 
no  necessity  of  paying  the  least  regard  to  these  propor- 
tions, which  we  believe  to  be  not  only  useless,  but  even, 
if  we  may  venture  to  say  so,  fallacious  when  applied  to 
the  theory  of  music.     In  short,  though  the  relations 
produced  by  the  octave,  the  fifth,  and  the  third,  &c. 
were  quite  different  from  what  they  are*,  though  in 
these  chords  we  should  neither  remark  any  progression 
nor  any  law  y  though  they  should  be  incommensurable 
one  with  another^  the  protracted  tone  of  the  sono- 
zons   body,   and  the   multiplied  sounds  which   result 
from  it,  are  a  sufficient  foundation  for  the  whole  har- 
monic system. 
Theoretical     ^^^  though  this  work  is   intended  to  explain  the 
nnuiciaiis    theory  of  music,  and  to  reduce  it  to  a  system  more 
cautioned    complete  and  more  luminous  than  has  hitherto  been 
''^  h"^jr^  done,  we  ought  to  caution  our  readers  against  misap- 
Minio^of  prehension  either  of  the  nature  of  our  subject  or  of  the 
■Mihenmti-  purpose  of  our  endeavours. 

cal  or  me-  We  must  not  here  look  for  thatstriking  evidence  which 
toph^msal  ig  peculiar  to  geometrical  discoveries  alone,  and  which 
pnociples  ^^^  ^  ^  rarely  obtained  in  these  mixed  disquisitions, 
where  natural  philosophy  is  likewise  concerned.  Into 
the  theory  of  musical  phenomena  there  must  always  en- 
ter a  particular  kind  of  metaphysics,  which  these  phe- 
nomena implicitly  take  for  granted,  and  which  brings 
along  with  it  its  natural  obscurity.  In  this  subject, 
therefore,  it  would  be  in  vain  to  expect  what  is  called 
demonstration  :  it  is  much  to  have  reduced  the  principal 
facts  to  a  consistent  and  connected  system  ^  to  have  de- 
Vol.  XIV.  Part  II.  t 


in 


SIC.  505 

duced  tliem  from  one  simple  experiment  j  and  to  have    rrt'lmi* 
established  upon  this  foundation  the  most  common  and       nny 
essential  rules  of  the  musical  art.     But  if  the  intimate  DiMoui.s'-.' 
and  unalterable  conviction  which  can  only  be  produced  "^"^ 
by  the  strongest  evidence  is  not  here  to  be  required, 
we  must  also  doubt  whether  a  clearer  elucidation  of  our 
subject  be  possible. 

After  this  declaration, *it  will  not  excite  surprise, 
that,  amongst  the  iacts  deduced  from  our  fundamental 
experiment,  some  should  immediately  appear  to  depend 
upon  that  experiment,  and  others  to  result  from  it  in  a 
way  more  remote  and  less  direct.  In  disquisitions  of 
natural  philosophy,  where  we  arc  scarcely  allowed  to 
use  any  other  arguments  than  those  which  ari^e  from 
analogy  or  congruity,  it  is  natural  that  the  analogy 
should  be  sometimes  more  and  sometimes.  less  sensible  ^ 
and  we  will  venture  to  pronounce  that  mind  very  un- 
philosophical,  which  cannot  recognise  and  dibtingui:ili 
this  gradation  and  the  different  circumstances  on 
which  it  proceeds.  It  is  not  even  surprising,  that,  in  a 
subject  where  analogy  alone  can  take  place,  this  conduc- 
tress should  desert  us  all  at  once  in  our  attempts  to  ac- 
count for  certain  phenomena.  This  likewise  happens 
in  the  subject  which  we  now  treat  5  nor  do  we  conceal 
the  fact,  however  mortifying,  that  there  are  certain 
points  (though  their  number  be  but  small)  which  ap- 
pear still  in  some  degree  unaccountable  from  our  prin- 
ciple. Such,  for  instance,  is  the  procedure  of  tlie  dia- 
tonic scale  of  the  minor  mode  in  descending,  the  for- 
mation of  the  chord  commonly  termed  the  slrth  re- 
dundant i  or  superfluous^  and  some  other  facts  of  lessf  See  Re^ 
importance,  for  which  as  yet  we  can  scarcely  offer  Auydundoiii* 
satisfactory  account  except  from  experience  alxnie. 

Thus,  though  the  greatest  number  of  the  pheno- 
mena of  music  appear  to  be  deducible  in  a  simple  and 
easy  manner  from  the  protracted  tone  of  sonorous  bo^ 
dies,  it  ought  not  perhaps  with  too  much  temerity  to 
be  afBrmed  as  yet  that  this  mixed  and  protracted  tone 
is  demonstratively  the  only  original  principle  of  harmo- 
ny.    But  in  the  mean  time  it  would  not  be  less  unjust  Raincflii*» 
to  reject  this  principle,  because  certain  phenomena  ap- primary 
pear  to  be  deduced  from  it  with  less  success  than  others.  «'P«nnient 
it  is  only  necessary  to  conclude  from  this,  cither  that  "  ^^  ** 
by  future  scrutinies  means  may  be.fonnd  for  reducing  counted  for 
these  phenomena  to  this  principle^  or  that  harmony  all  the  phc- 
has  perhaps  some  other  unknown  principle,  more  ge-  n«ncna-of 
neral  than  that  which  results  from  the  protracted  and  p°'j,^'-j5 
compounded  tone  of  sonorous  bodies,  and  of  which  this  gome  other 
is  only  a  branch  \  oit^  lastly,  that  we  ought  not  perhaps  may  he  ne- 
to  attempt  the  reduction  of  the  whole  science  of  music  <^^<^s^*'T* 
to  one  and  the  same  principle  j  which,  however,  is 
the  natural  effect  of  an  impatience  so  frequent  oven 
among  philosophers  themselves,  which  induces  them  to 
take  a  part  for  the  whole,  and  to  judge  of  objects  in 
their  fuU  extent  by  the  greatest  number  of  thei^  appear*- 
ances. 

In  those  sciences  which  are  called  physiaxnathemati' 
cai  (and  amongst  this  number  perhaps  the  science  of 
sonnds  may  be  placed),  there  are  some  plienomena 
which  depend  only  upon  one  single  principle  and  one 
single  experiment :  there  are  others  which  necessarily 
suppose  a  greater  number  both  of  experiments  and 
principles,  whose  combination  is  indispensable  in  form- 
ing an  exact  and  complete  system  \  and  music  perhaps 
is  in  tbis  last  case.     It  is  for  this  reason,  that  whilst 

3S  w 


5o6  M    U 

Prelimi-  ^^  bestow  on  M.  Rameau  all  due  praise,  we  should 
nary  not  at  the  same  time  neglect  to  stimulate  the  learned 
pi«gourse.  in  their  endeavours  to  carry  them  still  to  higher  de- 
grees of  perfection,  by  adding,  if  it  is  possible,  such 
improvements  as  may  be  wanting  to  consummate  the 
science. 

AYhatever  the  result  of  their  efibrts  may  be,  the  re- 
putation of  this  intelligent  artist  has  nothing  to  fear  : 
he  will  still  have  the  advantage  of  being  the  first  who 
rendered  music  a  science  woitby  of  philosophical  atten* 
tion  y  of  having  made  the  practice  of  it  more  simple 
and  easy }  and  of  having  taught  musicians  to  employ 
in  this  subject  the  light  of  reason  and  analogy. 

We  would  the  more  willingly  persuade  those  who 
are  skilled  in  theory  and  eminent  in  practice  to  extend 
and  improve  the  views  of  him  who  before  them  pur- 
Sued  and  pointed  out  the  career,  because  many  amongst 
them  have  already  made  laudable  attempts,  and  have 
even  been  in  some  measure  successful  in  diffusing  new 
light  through  the  theory  of  this  enchanting  art.  Jt 
was  with  this  view  that  the  celebrated  Tartini  has  pre- 
sented us  in  1754  with  a  treatise  of  harmony,  founded 
on  a  principle  different  from  that  of  M.  Rameau.  This 
principle  is  the  result  of  a  most  beautiful  experi- 
ment (g).  If  at  once  two  different  sounds  are  produ- 
ced from  two  instruments  of  the  same  kind,  these  two 


Tartini*! 

eiperi- 

meuts. 


SIC.  ElemealE 

sounds  generate*   a   third    different  front  both   the  ftO^ 
others.     We  have  inserted  in  the  Encychp^ie^  under     lur 
the  article  Fundamenttdy  a  detail  of  this  experiment  ac-  l>*KnDi& 
cording  to  M.  Martini-^  and  we  owe  to  tlie  pubUcm^'l  V^ 
information,  of  which  in  composing  this  article  we  vere,^ 
Ignorant :  M.  Romieo,  a  member  of  the  Royal  Socle- hs  dm- 
ty  at  Montpeller,  had  presented  to  that  society  in  tbe^^«lp- 
year  1753,  before  the  work  of  M.  Tartini  had  appear- "^^*? 
ed,  a  memorial  printed  the  same  year,  and  where  may 
be  found  the  same  experiment  displayed  at  full  length. 
In  relating  this  fact,  which  it  was  necessary  for  us  to 
do,  it  is  by  no  means  our  intention  to  detract  in  anj 
degree  from  the  reputation  of  M.   Tartini ;  we  are 
persuaded  that  he  owes  this  discovery  to  his  own  re- 
searches alone :  but  we  think  ourselves  obliged  in  ho- 
nour to  give  public  testimony  in  favour  of  him  who 
was  the  first  in  exhibiting  this  discovery. 

But  whatever  be  the  case,  it  is  in  this  experiment 
that  M .  Tartini  attempts  to  find  the  origin  of  har- 
mony :  his  book,  however,  is  written  in  a  manner  ao 
obscure,  that  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  form  any  judge- 
ment of  it  \  and  we  are  told  that  others  distinguished 
for  their  knowledge  of  the  science  are  of  the  same  opi- 
nion. It  were  to  be  wished  that  the  author  would 
engage  some  man  of  letters,  equally  practised  in  music 
and  skilled  in  the  art  of  writing,  to  unfold  these  ideas 

which 


(g)  Had  the  utility  of  the  preliminary  discourse  in  which  we  are  now  engaged  been  less  important  and  oIk 
▼ious  than  it  really  is,  we  should  not  have  given  ourselves  the  trouble  of  translating,  or  our  readers  that  of 
perusing  it.  Bnt  it  must  be  evident  to  every  one,  that  the  cautions  here  given,  and  the  advices  offered,  are  no 
less  applicable  to  students  than  to  authors.  The  first  question  here  decided  is.  Whether  pure  mathematics  can  be 
successfully  applied  to  the  theory  of  music  ?  The  author  is  justly  of  a  contrary  opinion.  It  may  certainly  be 
doubted  with  great  justice,  whether  the  solid  contents  of  sonorous  bodies,  and  their  degrees  of  cohesion  or 
elasticity,  can  be  ascertained  with  sufficient  accuracy  to  render  them  the  snbjects  of  musical  speculation,  and  to 
determine  their  effects  with  such  precision  as  may  render  the  conclusions  deduced  from  them  geometrically  true. 
It  is  admitted,  that  sound  is  a  secondary  quality  of  matter,  and  that  secondary  qualities  have  no  obvious  con- 
nexion wliich  we  can  trace  with  the  sensations  produced  by  them.  Experience,  therefore,  and  not  specolatioo, 
is  the  grand  criterion  of  musical  phenomena.  For  the  efiects  of  geometry  in  illnstrating  the  theory  of  music  (if 
any  will  still  be  so  credulous  as  to  pay  them  much  attention),  the  English  reader  may  consult  Smith's  Harmonic?, 
Malcolm's  Dissertation  on  Music,  and  Pleydel's  Treatise  on  the  same  subject  inserted  in  a  former  edition  of  this 
work.  Our  author  next  treats  of  the  famous  discovery  made  by  Signer  Tartini,  of  which  the  reader  may  accept 
the  following  compendious  account. 

If  two  sounds  be  produced  at  the  same  time  properly  tuned  and  with  due  force,  from  their  conjnnctioo  1 
third  sound  is  generated,  so  much  more  distinctly  to  be  perceived  by  delicate  ears  as  the  relation  between  the 
generating  sounds  is  more  simple  \  yet  from  this  rule  we  must  except  the  unison  and  octave.  From  the  fiflb 
is  produced  a  sound  unison  with  its  lowest  generator  \  from  the  fourth,  one  which  is  an  octave  lower  than  the 
highest  of  its  generators  \  from  the  third  major,  one  which  is  an  octave  lower  than  its  lowest  \  and  from  the 
sixth  minor  (whose  highest  note  forms  an  octave  with  the  lowest  in  the  third  formerly  mentioned)  will  he  pro* 
duced  a  sound  lower  by  a  double  octave  than  the  highest  of  the  lesser  sixth  \  from  the  third  minor,  one  wfatch 
is  double  the  distance  of  a  greater  third  from  its  lowest  \  but  from  the  sixth  major  (whose  highest  note  makes 
an  octave  to  the  lowest  in  the  third  minor)  will  be  produced  a  sound  only  lower  by  double  the  quantity  of  a 
greater  third  than  the  highest  \  from  the  second  major,  a  sound  lower  by  a  double  octave  than  the  lowest  \ 
from  a  second  minor,  a  sound  lower  by  triple  the  quantity  of  a  third  major  than  the  highest  \  from  the  interval 
of  a  diatonic  or  greater  semitone,  a  sound  lower  by  a  triple  octave  than  the  highest  \  from  that  of  a  minor  or 
chromatic  semitone,  a  sound  lower  by  the  quantity  of  a  fifth  four  times  multiplied  than  the  lowest,  6cc.  &c. 
But  that  these  musical  phenomena  may  be  tried  by  experiments  proper  to  ascertain  them,  two  hautboys  toned 
with  scrupulous  exactness  must  be  procured,  whilst  the  musicians  are  placed  at  the  distance  of  some  paces  ooe 
from  the  other,  and  the  hearers  in  the  middle.  The  violin  will  likewise  give  the  same  chords,  bnt  they  will  be 
less  distinctly  perceived,  and  the  experiment  more  fallacious,  because  tbe^  vibrations  of  other  strings  may  be  sap* 
posed  to  enter  into  it. 

If  our  English  reader  should  be  curious  to  examine  these  experiments  and  the  deductions  made  from  tbem  in 
the  theory  of  music,  he  will  find  them  clearly  explained  and  iHnstrated  in  a  treatise  called  Princ^t  amd  Fmetr 
ef  Harmony^  printed  at  London  in  the  yca^  I77i« 


Slements. 


M    U 


TfvKmi-  vbich  he  liai  not  ^omihuntpateJ  tvith  sufficient  perspi- 
nary  cuitT«  an<l  from  whence  the  art  might  perhaps  derive 
^""^^  considerahle  advantage  if  they  were  placed  in  a  proper 
light.  Of  this  we  are  so  much  the  more  persuaded, 
that  even  though  this  experiment  should  not  be  regard- 
ed by  others  in  the  same  view  with  M .  Tartini  as  the 
foundation  of  the  musical  art,  it  is  nevertheless  extreme- 
ly probable  that  one  might  use  it  with  the  greatest  ad- 
vantage to  enlighten  and  facilitate  the  practice  of  har- 
mony. 

In  exhorting  philosophers  and  artists  to  make  new 
attempt^  for  the  advancement  of  the  theory  of  music,  we 
ought  at  the  same  time  to  caution  them  agaihst  mistak- 
ing the  Teal  end  of  their  researches.  Experience  is  the 
only  foundation  upon  which  they  can  proceed ;  it  is 
alone  by  the  observation  of  facts,  by  bringing  them  to- 
gether in  one  view,  by  showing  their  dependency  upon 
one,  if  possible,  or  at  least  upon  a  very  small  number  of 
primary  facts,  that  they  can  reach  the  end  to  which 
they  so  ardently  aspire,  the  important  end  of  establish- 
ing a  theory  of  music,  at  once  great,  complete  and  lu- 
minous. The  enlightened  philosoplier  will  not  attempt 
the  explanation  of  facts,  because  he  knows  how  little 
such  explanations  are  to  be  relied  on.  To  estimate 
*^*^J?"  them  according  to  their  proper  value,  it  is  only  neccs- 

lie  to  the  ^"7  *®  consider  the  attempts  of  natural  philosophers 

n-viutioii  01  ^ho  have  discovered  the  greatest  skill  in  their  science, 
■»oBcal  to  explain,  for  instance,  the  multiplicity  of  tones  pro- 
pftaeao.  doced  by  sonorous  bodies.  Some  having  remarked 
(what  is  by  no  means  difficult  to  conclude)  that  the 
universal  vihration  of  a  musical  string  is  a  mixture  of 
several  partial  vibrations,  infer  that  a  sonorous  body 
ought  to  produce  a  multiplicity  of  tones,  as  it  really 
does.  But  why  should  this  multiplied  sound  only  ap- 
pear to  continn  three,  and  why  these  three  preferable 
to  others  ?  Others  pretend  that  there  are  particles  in 
the  air,  which,  by  their  different  degrees  of  tension,  be- 
ing naturally  susceptible  of  different  oscillations,  pro- 
duce the  multiplicity  of  sound  in  question.  But  what 
do  we  know  of  all  this  P  And  though  it  should  even  be 
granted,  that  there  is  such  a  diversity  of  tension  in 
these  aerial  particles^  bow  should  this  diversity  prevent 
them  from  beinc  all  of  them  confounded  in  their  vibra- 
tions by  the  motions  of  a  sonorous  body?  What  then 
should  be  the  result  when  the  vibrations  arrive  at  our 
but  a  confused  and  inappretiable  *  noise,  ^vhere 


See/ii- 


cars. 


•ne  could  not  distinguish  any  piuticular  sound  ? 


^Ue. 


SIC.  507 

Tf  philosophical  musicians  ought  not  to  lose  their  Frclimi. 
time  in  searching  for  mechanical  explications  of  the  n^^y 
phenomena  in  music,  explications  which  will  always  be.^"^^""^' 
fond  vague  and  unsatisfactory ;  much  less  is  it  their i^^^^-j^^^j. 
province  to  exhaust  their  powers  in  vain  attempts  tOcal  conclu- 
rise  above  their  sphere  into  a  region  still  more  remote  sions  less 
from  the  prospect  of  their  faculties,  and  to  lose  them-*^*^"*^®* 
selves  in  a  labyrinth  of  metaphysical  speculations  upon 
the  causes  of  that  pleasure  which  we  feci  from  harmo- 
ny. In  vain  would  tliey  accumulate  hypothesis  on  hy- 
pothesis, to  find  a  reason  why  some  chords  should  'please 
us  more  than  others.  The  futility  of  these  suppositi- 
tious accounts  must  be  obvious  to  every  one  who  has 
the  least  penetration.  Let  us  judge  of  the  rest  by  the 
most  probable  which  has  till  now  been  invented  for 
that  purpose.  Some  ascribe  the  different  degrees  of 
pleasure  which  we  feel  from  chords,  to  the  more  or 
less  frequent  coincidence  of  vibrations  ^  others  to  the 
relations  which  these  vibrations  ha\'e  among  themselves 
as  they  are  more  or  less  simple.  But  why  should  this 
coincidence  of  vibrations,  that  is  to  say,  their  simul- 
taneous impuli»e  on  the  same  organs  of  sensation,  and 
the  accident  of  beginning  frequently  at  the  same  time, 
prove  so  great  a  source  of  pleasure  ?  Upon  what  is 
this  gratnitous  supposition  founded  ?  And  though  it 
should  be  granted,  would  it  not  follow,  that  the  same 
chord  should  successively  and  rapidly  affect  us  with 
contrary  sensations,  since  the  vibrations  are  alternate- 
ly coincident  and  discrepant  ?  On  the  other  hand^ 
how  should  the  ear  be  so  sensible  to  the  simplicity 
of  relations,  whilst  for  the  most  part  these  relations 
are  entirely  unknown  to^hira  whose  organs  are  not- 
withstanding sensibly  affected  with  the  charms  of  a- 
greeablc  music  ?  We  may  conceive  without  difficulty 
how  the  eye  judges  of  relations  \  but  how  does  the  ear 
form  similar  judgments  ?  Besides,  why  should  certiiin 
chords  which  are  extremely  pleasing  in  themselves, 
snch  as  the  lifth,  lose  almost  nothing  of  the  pleasure 
which  they  give  us,  when  they  are  altered,  and  of 
consequence  when  the  simplicity  of  their  relations  are 
destroyed  ^  whilst  other  chords,  which  arc  likewise  ex- 
tremely agreeable,  such  as  the  third,  become  harsh  al- 
most by  the  smallest  alteration  \  nay,  whilst  the  most 
perfect  and  the  most  agreeable  of  all  chords,  the 
octave,  cannot  suffer  the  most  inconsiderable  change  ? 
I^t  us  in  sincerity  confess  our  ignorance  concerning 
the  genuine  causes  of  these  effects  (h).    The  meta- 

3  S  2  physical 


(H^  We  have  as  great  an  aversion  as  our  author  to  the  explication  of  musical  phenomeaa  from  mechanical 
principles  \  yet  we  fear  the  following  observations,  deduced  from  irresistible  and  universal  experience,  evidently 
show  that  the  latter  necessarily  depend  on  the  former.  It  is,  for  instance,  universally  allowed,  that  dissonances 
grate,  and  concords  please  a  musical  ear :  It  is  likewise  no  less  unanimously  agreed,  that  in  proportion  as  a 
chord  is  perfect,  the  pleasure  is  increased  ;  now  the  perfection  of  a  chord  consists  in  the  regularity  and  fre-  ' 
quency  of  coincident  oFcillations  between  two  sonorous  bodies  impelled  to  vibrate :  thus  the  third  is  a  chord 
]e4sa  perfect  than  the  fifth,  and  the  fifth  than  the  octave.  Of  all  tliese  consonances,  therefore,  the  octave  is  most 
pleasing  to  the  «ar  5  the  fifth  next,  and  the  third  last.  In  absolute  discords,  the  vibrations  are  never  coin- 
cident, and  of  consequence  a  perpetual  pulsation  or  jarring  ie  recognised  between  the  protracted  sounds,  which 
exceedingly  hurts  the  ear  ^  but  in  proportion  as  the  vibrations  coincide,  those  pulsations  are  superseded,  and 
a  kindred  formed  betwixt  the  two  continued  sounds,  which  delights  even  the  corporeal  sense  :  that  relation, 
therefore,  wiXhout  recognizing  the  aptitudes  which  produce  it,  nrost  be  the  obvious  cause  of  the  pleasure  which 
chords  give  to  tiip  ear.  W  bat  we  mean  by  oincidont  vibrations  is,  that  while  one  sonorous  body  performs 
a  given  number  of  vibrNtions,  another  performs  u  d'Oi  rent  number  in  the  same  time :  so  that  the  vibrations 
*of  the  quickest  must  sometimes  be  simultaneous  w\\a\  those  of  the  slowest,  as  will  plainly  appear  from  the 
I  foUowinff 


So8  M    U 

Prelimi-  physical  conjectares  concerning  the  acoustic  organs 
nary  arc  probably  in  the  same  predicament  with  those 
Discourse.  ^yjiicJi  m^  formed  concerning  the  organs  of  vision, 
if  one  may  speak  to,  in  which  philosophers  have 
even  till  now  made  such  inconsiderable  progress,  and 
in  all  likelihood  will  not  be  surpassed  by  their  suc- 
cessors. 

Since  the  theory  of  music,  even  to  those  who  con- 
fine themselves  within  its  limits,  implies  questions  from 
which  every  wise  musician  will  abstain  y  with  much 
greater  reason  should  they  avoid  idle  excursions  beyond 
the  boandaries  of  that  theory,  und  endeavours  to  inves- 
tigate between  music  and  the  other  sciences  chimerical 
relations  which  have  no  foundation  in  nature.  The 
singular  opinions  advanced  upon  this  subject  by  some 
even  of  the  most  celebrated  musicians,  deserve  not  to 
be  rescued  from  oblivion,  nor  refuted  ;  and  ought  only 
to  be  regarded  as  a  new  proof  how  far  men  ot  genius 
may  err,  when  they  engage  in  subjects  of  which  they 
are  ignorant. 

The  rules  which  we  have  attempted  to  establish  con- 
cerning the  track  to  be  followed  in  the  theory  of  the 
musical  art,  may  suffice  to  show  our  readers  the  end 
which  we  have  proposed,  and  which  we  have  endea- 
voured to  attain  in  this  Work.  We  have  here  (we 
repeat  it),  nothing  to  do  with  the  mechanical  prin- 
ciples of  protracted  and  ^harmonic  tones  produced  by 
sonorous  bodies^  principles  which  have  hitherto  been  and 
perhaps  may  yet  be  long  explored  in  vain  :  we  have  less 
to  do  with  the  metaphysical  causes  of  the  sensations  im- 
pressed on  the  mind  by  harmony;  causes  which  are  still 
less  discovered,  and  which,  according  to  all  appearances, 
will  remain  latent  in  perpetual  obscurity.  We  are 
alone  concerned  to  show  how  the  principal  laws  of  har- 


S     I    C.  Ekfioentii 

mony  may  be  deduced  firom  one  single  ezpeiinient*,  pnfi^ 
for  which,  if  we  may  speak  so,  preceding  artists  have 
been  nnder  the  necessity  of  groping  in  the  dark. 

With  an  intention  to  render  this  work  as  generally 
useful  as  possible,  we  have  endeavoured  t«  adapt  it  to 
the  capacity  even  of  those  who  are  absolutely  uninstmct' 
ed  in  music.  To  accomplish  this  design,  it  appeared 
necessary  to  pursue  the  following  plan. 

To  begin  with  a  short  introduction,  in  which  arepharftk 
defined  the  technical  terms  most  frequently  used  in  thistialM. 
art ;  such  as  chord^httrmony^key,  tAtrd^jyik^octave^iiu 

Afterwards  to  enter  into  the  theoi^  of  faarmooy, 
which  is  explained  according  to  M.  Rameau,  with  all 
possible  perspicuity.  This  is  the  suli^ect  of  the  First 
Part ;  which,  as  well  as  the  introduction,  presuppeeet 
no  other  knowledge  of  music  than  that  of  the  names  of 
the  notes,  C,  D,  £,  F,  G,  A,  B,  which  all  the  world 
knows  (i). 

The  theory  of  harmony  requires  some  arithmetical 
calculations,  necessary  for  comparing  sounds  one  with 
another.  These  calculations  are  short,  simple,  and  may 
be  comprehended  by  every  one  \  they  demand  no 
operation  but  what  is  explained, '  and  which  every 
school-boy  may  perform.  Yet,  that  even  the  trouble  of 
this  may  be  spared  to  such  as  are  not  disposed  to  take  it, 
these  calculations  are  not  inserted  in  the  text,  hut  in  the 
notes,  which  the  reader  may  omit,  if  he  can  take  for 
'  granted  the  propositions  contained  in  the  text  which 
will  be  found  proved  in  the  notes. 

These  calculations  we  have  not  endeavoured  to  mnl- 
tiply  *,  we  could  even  have  wished  to  suppress  them,  if 
it  had  been  possible :  so  much  did  it  appear  to  us  to  be 
apprehended  that  our  readers  might  be  misled  upon 
this  subject,  and  might  either  believe,  or  suspect  us  of 

believing, 


following  deduction :  Between  the  extremes  of  a  third,  the  vibrations  of  the  highest  are  as  5  to  4  of  the 
lowest;  those  of  the  fifth  as  3  to  2;  those  of  the  octave  as  2  to  i.  Thus  it  is  obvious,  that  in  proportion  to 
the  frequent  coincidence  of  periodical  vibrations,  the  compound  sensation  is  more  agreeable  to  tbe  ear.  Now, 
to  inquire  why  that  organ  should  be  rather  pleased  with  these  tlian  with  the  pulsation  and  tremolous  motion 
of  encountering  vibrations  which  can  never  coalesce,  would  be  to  ask  why  the  touch  is  rather  pleased  with 
polished  than  rough  surfaces  \  or  why  the  eye  is  rather  pleased  with  the  waving  line  of  Hogarth  than  with 
sharp  angles  and  abrupt  or  irregular  prominences  ?  No  alteration  of  which  any  chord  is  susceptible  will  hut 
the  ear  unless  it  should  violate  or  destroy  the  regular  and  periodical  coincidence  of  vibrations.  When  altera- 
tions can  be  made  without  this  disagreeable  effect,  they  form  a  pleasing  diversity ;  but  still  this  fact  corro- 
borates onr  argument,  that  in  proportion  as  any  chord  is  perfect,  it  is  impatient  of  the  smallest  alteratioo ; 
for  this  reason,  even  in  temperament,  the  octave  endures  no  alteration  at  all,  and  the  fiflh  as  little  as 
possible. 

(i.)  In  our  former  editions,  the  French  syllabic  names  of  the  notes  »^,  re,  mt^fa^  soly  la^sij  were  retained,  as  be- 
ing tbought  to  convey  the  idea  of  the  relative  sounds  more  distinctly  than  the  seven  letters  used  in  Britain.  It  is  00 
doubt  true,  that  by  constantly  using  the  syllables,  and  considering  each  as  representing  one  certain  sound  ia  the 
scale,  a  singer  will  in  time  associate  the  idea  of  each  sound  with  its  proper  syllable,  so  that  he  will  habitually 
give  ut  the  sound  of  the  first  or  fundamental  note,  re  that  of  a  second,  mi  of  a  third,  &c«  but  this  requires  a  long 
time,  and  much  application  :  and  is,  besides,  useless  in  modulation  or  changes  of  the  key,  and  in  all  instrumental 
music.  Teachers  of  sol^aWttg  as  it  is  called,  or  singing  by  the  syllableSi  in  Britain,  have  long  discarded,  (if  they 
ever  used),  the  syllables  ut^  fv,  and  sii  and  the  prevalent,  and  we  think,  the  sounder  opinion  is  now,  that  a  scbobr 
will,  by  attending  to  the  sounds  themselves  rather  than  to  their  names,  soon  learn  their  distinct  characters  and 
relations  to  the  key,  and  to  each  other,  and  be  able  of  course  to  assign  to  each  its  proper  degree  in  the  scale 
which  he  employs  for  the  time,  by  whatever  name  the  note  representing  that  degree  may  be  generally 
known.     See  H(dden*s  Essay  towards  a  Rational  System  ofMusic^  Parti,  chap.  i.  $32,  33. 

W^e  have  therefore,  in  our  present  edition,  preferred  to  the  French  syllables  the  British  nomenclature  by  the 
letters  C,  D,  £,  F,  G,  A,  B,  as  being  more  simple,  more  familiar  to  British  rousicians,  and  equally  applicaUs 
t9  instrumental  as  to  vocal  music. 


J 


ilL^ments. 


M    U 


coo- 


BOt 


believing,  all  tbis  aritbmetic  necessary  to  form  aa  artUt. 
Calculations  may  indeed  facilitate  the  understanding  of 
certain  points  in  tbe  theory,  as  of  the  relations  between 
the  different  notes  in  tbe  gammut  and  of  the  tempera- 
ment ;  but  the  calculations  necessary  for  treating  of 
these  points  are  so  simple,  and  of  so  little  importance, 
that  nothing  can  require  a  less  ostentatious  display. 
Let  OS  not  imitate  those  musicians,  who  believing  them* 
selves  geometers,  or  those  geometers  who,  believing 
themselves  musicians,  fill  their  writings  with  figures 
upon  figures  ^  imagining,  perhaps,  that  this  apparatus 
is  necessary  to  the  art.  The  propensity  of  adorning 
their  works  with  a  false  air  of  science,  can  only  impose 
upon  ignorance,  and  render  their  treatises  more  obscure 
and  less  instructive. 

This  abuse  of  geometry  in  music  may  be  condemned 
with  so  much  more  reason,  that  in  this  subject  the 
ir^-MuScr-  foundations  of  those  calculations  are  in  some  manner 
ftlil«  to  sea-  hypothetical,  and  can  never  arise  to  a  degree  of  cer- 
ubic  oh.     tainty  above  hypothesis.     Tbe  relation  of  the  octave  as 

jec«s  wiib.  ,  to  2,  that  of  the  fifth  as  2  to  3,  that  of  tbe  third 
■■fceaetioD.       •  *     .    o,  *         l         au 

major  as  4  to  5,  &c.  are  not  perhaps  the  genome  re- 
lations established  in  nature  y  but  only  relatione  which 
approach  them,  and  such  as  experience  can  discover. 
For  are  the  results  of  experience  any  thing  more  but 
mere  approaches  to  truth  ? 

But  happily  these  approximated  relations  are  suffi- 
cient, though  they  should  not  be  exactly  agreeable  to 
truth,  for  giving  a  satisfactory  account  of  those  phe- 
nomena which  depend  on  the  relations  of  sound  ^  as 
in  the  difference  between  the  notes  in  the  gammut,  of 
tbe  alterations  necessary  in  tbe  fifth  and  third,  of  the 
different  manner  in  which  instruments  are  tuned,  and 
other  facts  of  the  same  kind.  If  the  relations  of  tbe 
octave,  of-  the  fifth  and  of  the  third,  are  not  exactly 
such  as  we  have  supposed  them,  at  least  no  experiments 
can  prove  that  they  are  not  so  ^  and  since  these  rela- 
tions are  signified  by  a  simple  expression,  since  they  are 
besides  sufficient  for  all  the  purposes  of  theory,  it  would 
be  useless,  and  contrary  to  sound  philosophy,  to  invent 
other  relations  in  order  to  form  tbe  basis  of  any  system 
of.  mosie  less  easy  and  simple  than  that  which  we  have 
deliaealed  in  this  treatise.  . 

The  second  pari  contains  the  most  essential  rules  of 
*  See  Cofli- composition*,  or  in  other  words  the  practice  of  har- 
fotition.  noonyw  These  rules  are  fonnded  on  the  principles  laid 
down  in  the  Jirsi  part ;  yet  those  who  wish  to  understand 
no  more  than  is  necessary  for  practice,  without  explor- 
ing the  reasons  why  such  practical  rules  are  necessary, 
may  limit  the  objects  of  their  study  to  the  introduction 
and  the  second  part.  They  who  have  read  the  Jtrstpart^ 
will  find  at  every  rule  contained  in  the  second^  a  refer- 
ence to  that  passage  in  the  first  where  the  reasons  for 
establishing  that  rule  are  given. 

That  we  may  not  present  at  once  too  great  a  num- 


S     I     C.  509 

ber  of  objects  and  precepts,  we  have  transferred  to  the    Pi-eltmi- 
notes  in  the  second  part  several  rules  and  observations       nary 
which  arc  less  frequently  put  in  practice,  which  perhaps  DUcoursc. 
it  may  be  proper  to  omit  till  the  treatise  is  read  a  se-^"""^'    T^ 
cond  time,  when  the  reader  is  well  acquainted  with  the^n  fLecount' 
essential  and  fundamental  rules  explained  in  it.  of  ilieir 

This  second  part  presupposes,  no  more  than  the  first,  iotncacT^ 

any  habit  of  sinsrinsr,  nor  even  any  knowledge  of  music  ;*™?'^*"*^ 

•*       1  •    „  *k  *  L     ij  1  *  *!.    •   'tothcnote*.^ 

it  only  requires  that  one  should  know,  not  even  the  in- 
tonation, but  merely  the  position  of  the  notes  in  the 
cleff  F  on  the  fo.urth  line,  and  that  of  G  upon  the  se- 
cond :  and  even  this  knowledge  may  be  acquired  froni 
the  work  itself  ^  for  in  the  beginning  of  tbe  second  part  • 
we  explain  the  position  of  the  cleffs  and  of  the  notes. 
Nothing  is  necessary  but  to  render  it  a  little  familiar^ 
and  any  difficulty  in  it  will  disappear. 

It  would  be  wrong  to  expect  here  all  the  rules  of  All  the 
composition,   and   especially   those   which    direct  the^olesof 
composition  of  music  in  several  parts,  and  which,  being  ^.^™P^"^' 
less  severe  and  indispensable,  may  be  chiefly  s^cquired  i^l^^^.^^^^ 
by  practice,  by  studying  the  most  approved  models,  in  an  ele- 
by  the  assistance  of  a  proper  master,  but  above  all  bymenury 
the  cultivation  of  the  ear  and  of  the  taste.     This  trea-^^^^'* 
tise  is  properly  nothing  else,  if  the  expression  may  be 
allowed,  but  the  rudiments  of  music,  intended  for  ex- 
plaining to  beginners  the  fundamental  principles,  not 
the  practical  detail  of  composition.    Those  who  wish  to  ' 
enter  more  deeply  into  this  detail,  will  either  find  it  in 
M.  Rameau^s  treatise  of  harmony,  or  in  the  code  of 
music  which  he  published  more  lately  (k),  or  lastly  in 
the  explication  of  tbe  theory  and  practice  of  music  by 
M.  Bethizi  (l)  'f  this  last  book  appears  to  us  clear  and 
methodical  (m). 

Is  it  necessary  to  add,  that  in  order  to  compose  Katare  the 
music  in  a  proper  taste,  it  is  by  no  means  enoogh  toesicntial 
have  familiarized  with  much  application  the  principles  "distress  oC 
explained  in  this  treatise  ?  Here  can  only  be  learned  ™"^^|.^ 
the  mechanism  of  the  art ;  it  is  the  province  of  nature  tion. 
alone  to  accomplish  the  rest.   Without  her  assistance,  it 
is  no  more  possible  to  compose  agreeable  music  by  ha* 
ving  read  these  elements,  than  to  write  verses  in  a  pro- 
per manner  with  the  Dictionary  of  Bichelet.     In  one 
word,  it  is  the  elements  of  music  alone,  and  not  the 
principles  of  genius,  that  the  reader  may  expect  to  find* 
in  this  treatise. 

DEFINITIONS. 

I.  What  is  meant  by  Melody^  by  Chords  by  Harmony^ 

by  Interval. 

1.  Melody  is  a  serieaof  sounds  which  succeed  one  to  Melody,, 
another  in  a  manner  agreeable  to  the  ear.  what. 

2.  A  Chord  is  a  combination  of  several  sounds  heard  Cliord  ancK 
together;  and  Harmony^vs  properly  a  series  of  chords  harmony, 
of  which  the  succession  pleases  the  ear.  A  single  chord  ^^^ 

is 


(k)  From  my  general  recommendation  of  this  code,  I  except  the  reflections  on  the  principle  of  sound  whicb 
are  at  the  end,  and  which  I  should  not  advise  any  one  to  read. 

(l)  Printed  at  Paris  by  Lambert  in  the  year  1754. 

(m)  In  addition  to  the  works  mentioned  in  the  text,  we  recommend  to  our  readers,  Holden^s  Essay,  Glasgow 
1770,  Edin.  1805  \  Kollmann^s  Essay  on  Musical  Harmony,  1796  \  his  Essay  ou  Musical  Composition,  fol.  1 799  ; 
Shield's  Introduction,  x8oo  y  and  Dr  Callcott*s  Musical  Grammar,  1806. 


5IO  MUSI    C.  Ekanefflfe. 

l>eiiiutions  is  likewise  sometimes  called  harmony,  to  Signify  the  co«-  To  distinguish  the  first  from  the  second  C,  we  hsvcTW4.;^Ht 

\t       '  lescence  of  the  sounds  which  form  the  chord,  and  the  marked  the  last  with  a  small  letter  (n).  <     '.^^ 

sensation  produced  in  the  ear  by  that  coalescence.   We  5.  In  general,  the  interval  hetween  two  sounds  is "^^ 

shall  occasionally  use  the  word  harmony  in  this  iast  proportionably  greater,  as  one  of  these  sounds  is  high-?"*|"' 

sense,  hut  in  such  a  manner  as  never  to  ieave  our  mean-  er  or  lower  with  relation  to  the  other :  but  it  is  nece^^n^^ 

ing  ambiguous.  sary  to^bserre,  that  two  sounds  may  be  equally  higbfiuitflr 

seeiHter-       ^^  ^^  Interval^  in  melody  and  harmony,  is  the^di-  or  low,  though  unequal  in  their  force.     The  string  of  •n>t>a< 

stance^  or  difference  in  pitch,  between  one  sound,  and  a  violin  touched  with  a  bow  produces  always  a  soaid^^ 

another  higher  or  lower  than  it.  equally  high,  whether  strongly  or  faintly  struck ;  the 

4.  That  we  may  learn  to  distinguish  the  intervab,  sound  will  only  have  a  greater  or  lesser  degree  of 

«nd  the  manner  of  perceiving  them,  let  us  take  the  strength.     It  is  the  same  with  vocal  modulation  ^  let 

ordinary  scale  C,  D,  £,  F,  G,  A,  fi,  c,  which  every  any  one  form  a  sound  by  gradually  swelling  the  voice, 

person  whose  ear  or  voice  is  not  extremely  false  natural-  the  sound  may  be  perceived  to  increase  in  force,  whilst 

l.y  modulates.     The  following  observations  will  occur  it  continues  always  equally  low  or  equally  high, 
to  us  in  singing  this  scale.  6.  We  must  likewise  observe  concerning  the  scale,  Betiirt 

.      The  sound  D  is  higher  or  sharper  than  the  sound  that  the  intervals  between  C  and  D,  between  D  and >«■»■* 

the  simplo  ^'  ^^^  sound  £  higher  4han  the  sound  D,  the  sound  £,  between  F  and  G,  between  G  and  A,  between  A^ 

iatervals.  F  higher  than  the  sound  £,  &c.  and  so  through  the  and  fi,  are  equal,  or  at  least  nearly  equal ;  and  that 
whole  octave  ^  so  that  the  intn-val,  or  the  distance  the  intervals  between  £  and  F,  and  between  B  andC, 
from  the  sound  C  to  the  sound  D,  is  less  than  the  are  likewise  equal  among  themselves,  but  consist  almost 
interval  or  distance  between  the  sound  C  and  the  only  of  half  the  former.  This  fact  is  known  and  re- 
sound £,  the  interval  from  C  to  F  is  less  than  that  cognised  by  every  one  :  the  reason  for  it  shall  he  given 
between  C  and  F,  &c.  and  in  short  that  the  interval  in  the  sequel  \  in  the  mean  time  every  one  may  ascer- 
frrom  the  first  to  the  second  C  is  the  greatest  of  all.*-*  tain  its  reality  by  the  assistance  of  an  espeiiment  (0.) 

7.  It 

(n)  We  shall  afterwards  find  that  three  different  series  of  the  seven  letters  are  used,  which  we  have  distinguish* 
ed  by  capitals,  small  Roman,  and  Italic  characters.  When  the  notes  represented  by  small  Roman  characters  oc- 
cur in  this  treatise  -we  shall,  merely  to  distinguish  them  from  the  typography  of  the  text,  place  them  in  inverted 
commas,  thus  'c\  'd*,  &c. 

^o)  This  experiment  may  be  easily  tried.  Lei  any  one  sing  the  scale  C,  D,  £,  F,  G,  A,  B  *€*,  it  will  be 
immediately  observed  without  difficulty,  that  the  last  four  notes  of  the  octave  G,  A,  B,  'c%  are  quite  similar  to 
the  first  C,  D,  £,  F  ;  insomuch,  that  if,  after  having  sung  this  scale,  one  would  choose  to  repeat  it,  beginning 
with  C  in  the  same  tone  which  was  ^occupied  by  G  in  the  former  scale,  the  note  D  of  the  last  scale  would  have 
the  same  sound  with  the  note  A  in  the  first,  the  £  with  the  B,  and  the  F  with  the  'c\ 

Whence  it  follows,  that  the  interval  between  <C  and  D,  is  the  same  as  between  G  and  A ;  between  D  and  F, 
as  between  A  and  B,  and  £  and  F,  as  between  B  and  *c\  ^ 

From  D  to  £,  from  F  to  G,  there  is  the  same  interval  as  from  C  to  D.  To  be  convinced  of  this,  we  need 
only  sing  the  scale  once  more ;  then  sing  it  again,  beginning  with  C,  in  this  last  scale,  in  the  same  tone  which 
was  given  to  D  in  the  first ;  and  it  will  be  peioeived,  that  the  D  in  the  second  scale  will  have  the  same  sonnd, 
at  least  as  far  as  the  ear  can  discover,  nvith  the  £  in  the  former  scale  ^  whence  it  follows,  that  the  difiisrence  be- 
tween D  and  £  is,  at  least  as  far  as  the  ear  can  perceive,  equal  to-  that  between  C  and  D.  It  will  also  be 
found,  that  the  interval  between  F  and  G  is,  so  far  as  our  sense  can  determine,  the  same  with  that  between  C 
and  D. 

This  experiment  may  perhaps  be  tried  with  some  difficulty  by  those  who  are  not  inured  to  form  the  notes 
and  change  the  key  ;  but  such  may  very  easily  perform  it  by  the  assistance  of  a  harpsichord,  by  means  of  which 
the  performer  will  be  saved  the  trouble  of  retaining  the  sounds  in  one  intonation  whilst  he  performs  another.  In 
touching  upon  this  harpsichord  the  keys  G,  A,  B,  'f%  and  in  performing  with  the  voice  at  the  same  time 
C,  D,  £,  F,  in  such  a  manner  that  the  same  sound  may  be  given  to  C  in  the  voice  with  that  of  the  key  G 
in  the  harpsichord,  it  will  be  found  that  D  in  the  vocal  intonation  shall  be  the  same  witli  A  upon  the  harpsi- 
chord, &C. 

It  will  be  found  likewise  by  the  same  harpsichord,  that  if  one  should  sing  the  scale  beginning  with  C  in  the 
same  tone  with  £  on  the  instrument,  the  D,  which  ought  to  have  followed  C,  will  be  higher  by  an  extremely 
perceptible  degree  than  the  F  which  follows  £•:  thus  it  may  be  concluded,  that  the  interval  between  £  and 
F  is  less  than  between  C  and  D  \  and  if  one  would  rise  from  F  to  another  sound  which  is  at  the  same  dislance 
from  F,  as  F  from  £,  he  would  find,  in  the  same  manner,  that  the  interval  from  K  to  this  new  sound  is  almost 
the  same  as  that  between  C  and  D.     The  interval  then  from  £  to  F  is  nearly  half  of  that  between  C  and  D. 

CUFF 

Since  then,  in  the  scale  thus  divided,  ^   a'b '»  '* 

the  first  division  is  perfectly  like  the  last  ^  and  since  the  intervals  between  C  and  D,  between  I)  and  £,  "and  be- 
tween F  and  G,  are  equal ;  it  follows,  that  the  intervals  between  («  and  A,  and  between  A  and  B,  are  likewiie 
equal  to  every  one  of  the  three  intervals  between  C  and  D,  between  D  and  £,  and  between  Fand  G;  and  that 
the  intervals  between  £  and  F  and  between  B  and  'c^  are  also  equal,  but  that  they  only  constitute  one  half  of 
the  others. 


Elements. 


MUSIC 


jar,  what 


Deimtioiis.     7*  ^^  i^  ^oi*  ^^''^  reason  tbat  they  have  called  the  in* 
<       ^       f  terval  from  £  to  F,  and  from  B  to  C,  a  semitone ; 

whereas  those  between  C  and  D»  D  and  £,  F  and  G, 

G  and  A,  and  A  and  B,  are  tones. 
•  Plate  The  tone  ia  likewise  called  a  second  major  *,  and  the 

CCCUV.   ggf^'ffff^  a  second  minor  i^ 

f^cc/affr-     ^*  '^^  descend  or  rise  diatonically,  js  to  descend  or 

«a/.  rise  from  one  sound  to  another  by  the  interval  of  a 

lone  or  of  a  semitone,  or  in  general  by  seconds^  whether 

major  or  minor  \  as  from  D  to  C,  or  from  C  to  D^ 

from  F  to  £,  or  from  £  to  F» 

II.  The  terms  by  which  the  different  Intervals  of  the 

Sccde  are  denominated, 

Thifd  mi-        ^  An  interval  composed  of  a  tone  and  a  semitone, 
;  what  ^  froQ,  £  to  G,  from  A  to  C,  or  from  D  to  F,  is  cal- 
led a  third  minor. 

An  interval  composed  of  two  full  tones,  as  from  C 
to  £y  and  from  F  to  A,  or  from  G  to  B,  is  called  .a 
third  major. 

An  interval  composed  of  two  tones  and  a  semitone, 
as  from  C  to  F,  or  from  G  to  C,  is  called  ^fourth. 

An  interval  consisting  of  three  full  tones,  as  from  F 
to  B,  is  called  a  tritone  or  Jburth  redundant. 
Ftfkhy  what     An  interval  consisting  of  three  tones  and  a  semitone, 
as  from  C  to  G,  from  F  to  C,  from  D  to  A,  or  from 
£  to  B,  &c.  is  called  ^Jf/^k- 
Siactli  oit-        An  interval  composed  of  three  tones  and  two  8emi>- 
■or«  what  tones,  as  from  £  to  C,  is  called  a  sixth  minor. 
Sixth  ma-        ^q  interval  composed  of  four  tones  and  a  semitone, 
|oc,  what    jyj  j^^jj^j  Q  ^^  j^^  Ij^  called  a  sixth  major, 

SeTcath  An  interval  consisting  of  four  tones  and  two  semi- 

tones, as  from  D  to  C,  is  called  a  seventh  minor 

An  interval  composed  of  five  tones  and  a  semitone, 
as  from  C  to  B,  is  called  a  seventh  mq/or. 

And  in  short,  an  interval  consisting  of  five  tones  and 
two  semitones,  as  from  C  to  *c^  is  called  an  octave. 

Several  of  the  intervals  now  mentioned,  are  distin- 
guished by  other  names,  as  may  be  seen  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  second  part  >  but  those  now  given  are  the 
most  common,  and  the  only  terms  which  our  present 
purpose  demands. 

20.  Two  sounds  equally  high,  or  equally  low,  how- 


5" 


what. 
TVttone* 


Seventh 


ever  miequal  in  their  force,  are  said  to  be  in  unison  one  Definitions, 
with  the  other.  *      -^      ^ 

11.  If  two  sounds  form  between  them  any  interval, 
whatever  it  be,  we  say,  that  the  highest  when  ascend- 
ing is  in  that  interval  with  relation  to  the  lowest  ^  and 
when  descending,  we  pronounce  the  lowest  in  the  same 
interval  with  relation  to  the  highest.  Thus  in  the  third 
minor,  £,  G,  where  £^s  the  lowest  and  G  the  highest 
sound,  G  is  a  third  minor  from  £  ascending^  and  £  is 
a  third  minor  from  G  in  descending, 

1 2.  In  the  same  manner,  if,  speaking  of  two  sono- 
rous bodies,  we  should  say,  that  the  one  is  a  fifth  above 
the  other  in  ascending  ;  this  infers  .that  the  sound  given 
by  the  one  is  at  the  distance  of  a  fifth-  asaending  from 
the  sound  given  by  the  other. 

III.  C^f  Intervals  greater  than  the  Octave, 

j^.  If,  after  having  sung  the  scale  C,  D,  £,  F,  G^Fig.  n. 
A,  B,  c,  one  would  carry  this  scale  still  farther  in 
ascent,  it  would  be  discovered  without  difficulty  tbkt 
a  new  scale  would  be  formed,  'c,  d,  e,  f  *,  &c.  entirely 
similar  to  the  former,  and  of  which  the  sounds  will  be  ' 
an  octave  ascending,  each  to  its  correspondent  note  in 
the  former  scale  ^  thus  'd^  the  second  note  of  the  se- 
cond scale,  will  be  an  octave  in  ascent  to  the  D  of  the 
fii^t  scale  'f  in  the  same  manner  'e*  shall  be  the  octave 
to  £,  &c.  and  so  of  the  rest. 

14.  As  there  are  nine  notes  from  the  first  C  to  the  Ninths 
second  ^d',  the  interval   between  these  two  sounds  is  what* 
called  a  ninth^  and  this  ninth  is  composed  of  six  full 
tones  and  two  semitones.     For  the  same  reason,  the 
interval  from  C  to  'f  *  is  called  an  eleventh^  un&  the  in- 
terval between  C  and  'g*  a  twelfth^  &c. 

It  is  plain  that  the  ninth  is  tne  octave  of  the  second^  Eleventh 
the  eleventh  of  ih^  fourth,  and  the  twelfth  of  \kke  fifth,  X^ 
&c. 

The  octave  above  the  octave  of  any  sound  is  called  a 
double  octave  *  ;  the  octave  of  the  double  octave  is  call-  «  See  /n. 
ed  a  triple  octave,  and  so  of  the  rest.  tenw/and. 

The  double  octave  is  likewise  called  v^  fifteenth  i  wid^^'*^ 
for  the  same  reason  the  double  octave  of  the  third  is 
called  a  seventeenth,  the  double  octave  of  the  fifth  a 
nineteenth,  &c.  (f)« 

IV. 


(p^  Let  OB  suppose  two  vocal  strings  formed  of  the  same  matter,  of  the  same  thickness,  and  equal  in  their  ten- 
sion, but  imequal  in  their  length  ^  it  will  be  found  by  experience, 

isi.  That  if  the  shortest  is  equal  to  half  the  longest,  the  sound  whieh  it  will  produce  must  be  an  octave  above 
the  sound  produced  bv  the  longest. 

%dly.  That  if  the  shortest  constitutes  a  third  part  of  the  longest,  the  sound  which  it  produces  mnst  be  a.  twelfth 
above  th^  sound  produced  by  the  longest. 

^dly.  That  if  it  constitutes  the  fifth  part,  its  sound  will  be  a  seventeenth  above. 

Besides,  it  is  a  truth  demonstrated  and  generally  admitted,  that  in  proportion  as  one  musical  string  is  less  than 
another,  the  vibrations  of  the  least  will  be  more  frequent  (that  is  to  say,  its  departures  and  returns  through  the 
same  space)  in  the  same  time  ;  for  instance,  in  an  hour,  a  minute,  a  second*,  &c.  in  such  a  manner  that  one 
string  whiph  constitutes  a  third  part  of  another,  forms  three  vibrations,  whilst  the  largest  has  only  accomplished 
•ne.  In  the  same  manner,  a  string  which  is  one  half  less  than  another,  performs  two  vibrations,  while  the  other 
•nly  completes  one ',  and  a  string  which  is  only  the  fifth  part  of  another,  will  perform  five  vibrations  in  the  sama 
time  which  is  occupied  by  the  other  in  one. 

From  thence  it  follows,  that  the  sound  of  a  string  is  proportionally  higher  or  lojver,  as  the  number  of  its  vi- 
brations is  greater  or  smaller  in  a  given  time  \  for  instance,  in  a  second. 

It  is  for  that  reason,  that  if  we  represent  any  sound  whatever  by  i,  one  may  represent  the  octave  above  by  2^ 
tbat  is  to  say,  by  the  number  of  vibrations  formed  by  the  string  which  produces  the  octave,  whilst  the  longest 
airing  only  vibrates  once  >  in  the  same  manner  ire  may  represeot  the  twelfth  above  the  sound  x  by  3,  the  seven- 
teenth 


^12 

Definitiom. 


MUSIC. 


Ekmenti 


IV.  tHua  is  meant  by  Sharps  and  Flats. 


Sliarpiand  1 5.  It  is  plain  that  one  may  imagine  the  five  tones 
flats,  what,  whicli  enter  into  the  scale,  as  divided  each  into  two 
^^  ^^'^^^  semitones  5,  thus  one  may  advance  from  C  to  D,  form* 
ing  in  his  progress  an  intermediate  sound,  which  bhall 
be  higher  by  a  semitone  than  C,  and  lower  in  the  same 
degree  than  D.  A  sound  in  the  scale  is  called  sharps 
when  it  is  raised  by  a  semitone  \  and  it  is  marked  with 
this  character  '^  :  thus  C  }K  signifies  C  sharp^  that  is  to 
say,  C  raised  by  a  semitone  above  its  pitch  in  the  natu* 
ral  scale.  A  sound  in  the  scale  depressed  by  a  semitone 
is  called^/,  and  is  marked  thus,  \)  :  thus  A  b  signifies 
A  flat ^  or  A  depressed  by  a  semitone. 

V.  What  is  meant  by  Consonances  and  Dissonances. 

XoBio-  16.  A  chord  composed  of  sounds  whose  onion   or 

what. '        coalescence  pleases  the  ear  is  called  consonance  ;  and 
:See  Chord,  the  sounds  which  form  this  chord  are  said  to  be  conso* 


nant  one  with  relation  to  the  other.  The  reason  of  this 
denomination  is  that  a  chord  is  foond  more  perfect,  as 
the  sounds  which  form  it  coalesce  more  closely  among 
themselves. 

17.  The  octave  of  a  sound  is  the  most  perfect  of  con- 
sonances of  which  that  sound  is  susceptible  j  then  the 
fifth,  aftenvards  the  third,  &c.  This  is  a  fact  founded 
on  experiment. 

18.  A  number  of  sounds  simultaneously  prodoced  Dia*. 
whose  union  is  displeasing  to  the  ear  is  called  a  d!uje>-***^ 
nance  J  and  the  sonnds  which  form  it  are  said  to  be  dts-*^ 
sonant  one  with  relation  to  the  other.     The  second, 
the  tritone,  and  the  seventh  of  a  sound,  are  dissonants 
with  relation  to  it.     Thus  the  sounds  C  D,  C  B,  or 

F  B,  &c.  simultaneously  heard,  form  a  dissonance.  See  [)». 
The  reason  which  renders  dissonance  disagreeable,  ii,c«nC 
that  the  sounds  which  compose  it,  seem  by  no  meaai 
coalescent  to  the  ear,  and  are  beard  each  of  them  bj 
itself  as  distinct  sounds,  though  produced  at  the  sane 
time. 


PART  I.    THEORY  OF  HARMONY. 


Chap.  I.    Preiimutary  and  Fundamental  Experi" 

mentSm 

Experiment  I. 

19.  WHEN  a  sonorons  body  is  struck  till  it  gives 
a  sound,  the  ear,  besides  the  principal  sound  and  its 
octave,  perceives  two  other  sounds  very  high,  of  which 
one  is  the  twelfth  above  the  principal  sound,  that  is  to 


say,  the  octave  to  the  fifth  of  that  soond  ^  and  the  other 
is  the  seventeenth  major  above  the  same  sound,  that  u 
to  say,  the  double  octave  of  its  third  major. 

20.  This  experiment  is  peculiarly  sensible  upon  the 
thick  strings  of  the  violoncetlo,  of  which  the  sound  be- 
ing extremely  low,  gives  to  an  ear,  though  not  very 
much  practised,  an  opportunity  of  distinguishing  with 
sufficient  ease  and  clearness  the  twelfth  and  seventeenth 
now  in  question  (d). 

21. 


teenth  major  above  5,  &c.     But  it  is  very  necessary  to  remark,  that  by  these  numerical  expressions  we  do  not 
pretend  to  compare  sounds  as  such^  for  sounds  in  themselves  are.  nothing  but  mere  sensations,  and  it  cannot  be 


same  time,  the  string  which  is  in  the  twelfth  above  shall  triple  it,  &c. 

Thus  to  compare  sounds  among  themselves  is  nothing  else  to  than  compare  amftng  themselves  the  «witit>fr  of 
vibrations  which  are  formed  in  a  given  time  by  the  strings  that  produce  these  sounds. 

(d)  Since  the  octave  above  the  sound  i  is  2,  the  octave  below  the  same  sound  shall  be  4  ^  that  is  to  say,  that 
the  string  which  produces  this  octave  shall  have  performed  half  its  vibration,  whilst  the  string  which  produces  the 
sound  I  shall  have  completed  one.  To  obtain  therefore  the  octave  above  any  sound,  the  operator  most  multiply 
the  quantit^jT  which  expresses  the  sound  by  2  ^  and  to  obtain  the  octave  below,  he  must  on  the  contrary  divide^Che 
same  quantity  by  2. 

It  is  for  that  reason  that  if  any  sound  whatever,  for  instance  C,  is  denominated  -  -  ' 

Its  octave  above  will  be  ...  ...2 

Its  double  o<itave  above  -  .  ...  4 

Its  triple  oetave  above  .  .  ...  .8 

In  the  same  manner  its  octave  below  will  be 
Its  double  octave  below 
Its  triple  octave  below 
And  so  of  the  rest. 
Its  twelfth  above 
Its  twelfth  below 
Its  X7th  major  above 
Its  17th  major  below  ...  .  .  .  j 

The  fifth  then  above  the  sound  x  being  the  octave  beneath  the  twelftby  shall  be,  as  we  have  immediately  oh- 


■ 
T 
■ 
X 

■ 

T 


3 

t 

T 

i 

■ 

T 


ien»% 


Part -I. 


MUSI    C. 


^  SceG«- 


Xbeory  of  21.  The  printipal  Sound  ia  called  the  generator*; 
Sannony.  and  the  two  other  sounds  which  it  produces,  and  with 
'  which  it  is  accompanied,  are,  inclusive  ^f  its  octave, 
called  its  Aannonicsi. 


*ExPEltIMCKt  11. 

22.  There  is  no  person  insensible  of  the  resemblance 
'  which  subsists  between  anv  sound  and  its  octave,  whe« 
ther  above  or  below.  These  two  sounds,  when  heard 
together,  almost  entirely  coalesce  in  the  organ  of  sen* 
sation.  We  maj  besides  be  convinced  (bj  two  facts 
^hich  are  extremely  simple)  of  the  facility  with  whicb 
one  of  these  sounds  may  be  taken  for  the  other. 

{iCt  it  be  supposed  that  any  person  has  an  inclina- 
tion to  sing  a  tune,  and  havbg  at  first  begun  this  air 

Vol.  XIV.  Part  II. 


5^3 


apdh  a  pitch  too  high  or  too  low  for  his  voice,  so  that  Theory  of 
he  is  obliged,  lest  he  should  strain  himself  too  much.  Harmony 
to  sing  the  tune  in  question  on  a  key  higher  or  lower         ^"^ 
than  the  first  ^  he  will  naturally,  without  being  initiated 
in  the  art  of  music,  take  his  new  key  in  the  octave  be- 
low or  the  octave  above  the  first  j  and  in  order  to  take 
this  key  in  any  other  interval  except  the  octave,  he  will 
find  it  necessary  to  exert  a  sensible  degree  of  attention. 
This  is  a  fact  of  which  we  may  easily  be  persuaded  by 
experience. 

Another  fact.  Let  any  person  sing  a  tune  in  our 
presence,  and  let  it  be  sung  in  a  tone  too  high  or  toe 
low  for  Qur  voice  ;  if  we  wish  to  joia  in  singing  this 
air,  we  naturally  take  the  octave  bslow  or  above,  and 
frequently,  in  taking  this  ocUve,  we  imagine  it  to  be 
the  unison  (^*). 
t  3T  Chap  11. 


served,  i ;  which  signifies  that  this  string  performs  -I-  vibrations  j  that  is  to  say,  one  vibration  and  a  half  during 
a  single  vibration  of  the  string  which  gives  the  sound  i. 

To  obtain  the  fourth  above  the  sound  i,  we  must  take  the  twelfth  below  that  sound,  and  the  dfonble  octave 
above  that  twelfth.  In  effect,  the  twelfUi  below  C,  for  instance,  is  F,  of  which  the  double  octavey  is  the  foarth 
above  c.  Since  then  the  twelfth  below  i  is  ^9  it  follows  that  the  double  octave  above  this  twelfth,  that  is  to  say^ 
the  fourth  from  the  sound  i  ,in  ascending,  will  be  y  multiplied  by  4,  or  4* 

In  short,  the  third  major  being  nothing  else  but  the  double  octave  beneath  the  seventeenth,  it  follows,  that  the 
third  major  above  the  sound  i  will  be  5  divided  by  4,  or  in  other  words  4* 

The  third  major  of  a  sound,  for  instance  the  third  major  £,.  from  the  sound  C,  and  its  fifth  G,  form  between 
them  a  third  minor  £,  G  ^  now  £  is  4i  '^nd  G  4-,  by  what  has  been  immediately  demonstrated :  from  whence  it 
follows,  that  the  third  minor,  or  the  interval  between  £  and  G,  shall  be  expressed  by  the  relation  of  the  fraction 
^  to  the  fraction  4** 

To  determine  this  relation,  it  is  necessary  to  remark,  that  4  are  the  same  thing  with  V^  ^^^  ^hat  4  are  the 
same  thing  with  '^  :  so  that  4  shall  be  to  4*  in  the  same  illation  as  *^  to  V  ^  that  is  to  say,  in  the  same  rela- 
tion as  10  to  12,  or  as  5  to  6.  1£^  then,  two  sounds  form  between  themselves  a  third  minor,  and  that  the  first  is 
represented  by  5,  the  second  shall  be  expressed  by  6 ;  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  if  the  first  is  represented  by  1^ 
<he  second  shall  be  expressed  by  f. 

Thus  the  third  minor,  an  harmonic  sonnd  which  is  even  found  in  the  protracted  and  coalesoent  tones  of  a 
sonorous  body  between  the  sound  £  and  G,  an  harmonic  of  the  principal  sound,  may  be  expressed  by  the 
fraction  y. 

^  B,  One  inay  see  by  this  example,  that  in  order  to  compare  two  sounds  one  with  another  which  are  expressed 
lyy  fractions,  it  is  necessary  first  to  multiply  the  numerator  of  the  fraction  which  expresses  the  first  by  the  denomi- 
nator of  the  fraction  which  expresses  the  second,  which  will  give  a  primary  number ;  as  here  the  numerator  5  of 
the  fraction  ^y  multiplied  by  2  of  the  fraction  4,  has  given  10.  Afterwards  may  be  multiplied  the  numerator  of 
the  second  fraction  by  the  denominator  of  the  first,  which  will  give  a  secondary  number,  as  here  12  is  the  product 
of  4  multiplied  by  3  >  and  the  relation  between  these  two  numbers  (which  >in  the  preceding  example  are  10  and 
12),  will  express  the  relation  between  these  sounds,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  the  interval  which  there  is  be- 
tween the  one  and  the  other  ^  in  such  a  manner,  that  the  farther  the  relation  between  these  sounds  departs  from 
unity,  the  greater  the  interval  will  be. 

Such  is  the  manner  in  which  we  may  compare  two  sounds  one  with  another  whose  nnmerical  value  is  known. 
We  shall  now  show  the  manner  how  the  numerical  expression  of  a  sound  may  be  obtained,  when  the  relation 
4vhich  it  onght  to  have  with  another  sound  is  known  whose  numerical  expression  is  given. 

Let  us  suppose,  for  example,  that  the  third  major  of  the  fifth  i  is  sought.  That  third  major  ou^t  to  be,  by 
what  has  been  shown  above,  the  i  of  the  fifth ;  for  the  third  major  of  any  sound  whatever  is  the  4  of  that  sound. 
TVe  must  thea  look  for  a  fraction  which  expresses  the  i'ofi\  which  is  done  by  multiplying  the  numerators  and 
denominators  of  both  fractions  one  by  the  other,  from  whence  results  the  new  fraction  y  •  It  will  likewise  be 
found  that  the  fifUi  of  the  fifth  is  |,  because  the  fifth  of  the  fifth  is  the  i  of  i. 

Tbus  far  we  have  only  treated  of  fifths,  fourths,  thirds  major  and  minor,  in  ascending ;  now  it  is  extremely  easy 
to  find  by  the  same  mles  the  fifths,  fourths,  thirds  major  and  minor  in  descending.  For  suppose  C  equal  to  i, 
we  have  seen  that  its  fifth,  its  fourth,  its  third,  its  major  and  minor  in  ascending,  are  4^f  4'  if  t*  To  find  its 
fifth,  its  four^,  its  third,  its  major  and  minor  in  descending,  notJiing  more  is  necessary  than  to  reverse  these 
fractions,  which  will  give  -yt  h  x*  i* 

(q^)  It  is  not  then  imagined  that  we  change  the  value  of  a  sound  in  multiplying  or  dividing  it  by  2,  by  4,  or 
by  8,  &c  the  number  which  expresses  these  sounds,  since  by  these  operations  we  do  nothing  but  take  the  simple 
-double,  or  triple  octavCi  &c.  of  the  sound  in  question,  and  that  a  sound  coalesces  with  its  octave* 


514 


MUSIC. 


Parti 


Fonda- 
meotai  and 
harmoDLcs, 
what. 


Harmony 
rednced  to 
chords, 
fifths,  and 
qctaves. 


nrhcory  of 

Harmony.  Chap.  IL    The   Origin  of  tie  Modes  Major  and 
^  .      j^fifi^f,  Qf  the  most  natural  Modulation^  and  the 

most  perfect  Harmony^ 

23.  To  render  our  ideas  4tUi  more  precise  and  per- 
manent, we  shall  call  the  tone  produced  by  the  sobo- 
rons  body  C :  it  is  evident,  by  the  first  experiment, 
that  this  sound  is  always  attended  by  its  I2th  and  I7tfa 
major  ^  that  is  so  say,  with  the  octave  of  G,  and  the 
double  octave  of  £. 

24.  This  octave  of  G  then,  and  this  double  octave 
of  £»  produce  the  most  perfect  chord  which  can  be 
joined  with  C,  since  that  chord  is  the  work  and  choice 
of  nature  (H).  •  ,  •      ^ 

^5*  For  the  same  reason,  the  modulation  formed  by 
C  with  the  octave  of  G,  and  the  double  octave  of  £, 
sung  one  after  the  other,  would  likewise  be  .the  most 
simple  and  natural  of  all  modulations  which  do  not  de- 
scend or  ascend  directly  in  the  fiatonic  order,  if  our 
voices  had  sufficient  compass  to  form  intervals  so  great 
without  difficulty:  but  the  ease  and  freedom  with 
which  we  can  substitute  its  octave  to  any  sound,  when 
it  is  more  convenient  for  the  voice,  afford  us -the  means 
of  representing  this  modulation. 

26.  It  is  on  this  account  that,  after  having  sung  the 
tone  C,  we  naturally  modulate  the  third  £,  and  the  fifth 
G,  instead  of  the  double  octave  of  £,  and  the  octave 
of  G }  from  whence  we  fom,  by  joining  the  octave  of 
the  sound  G,  this  modnlalion,  C,  £,  G,  ^c\  which  in 
effect  is  the  simplest  and  easiest  of  them  all  >  and  which 
likewise  has  its  origin  even  in  the  protracted  and  com- 
pounded tones  produced  by  a  sonorous  body. 

27.  The  modulation  C,  £,  G,  *c%  in  which  the  chord 
C,  £,  is  a  third  major,  constitutes  ^at  kind  of  harmony 
or  melody  which  we  call  the  mode  major;  from  whence 
it  follows,  that  this  mode  results  from  the  immediate 
operation  of^nature. 

Mode  mi-        28.  In  the  modulation  C,  £,  G,  of  which  we  have 
nor,  what  now  been  treating,  the  sounds  £'and  G  are  so  propor- 


Mode  Bia- 
jor,  what. 


See  3fod^. 
See  like- 
wise/liter- 
vol. 


tioned  one  to  the  other,  that  the  principal  sound  C  Tbenrrf 
(art.  19.)  causes  both  of  them  to  resound  j  but  the  se- 
cond tone  £  does  not  cause  G  to  resound,  which  only 
forms  the  interval  of  a  third  minor. 

29.  Let  us  then  imagine,  that,  instead  of  this  sound 
£^  one  should  substitute  between  the  sounds  C  and  G, 
another  note  which  (as  well  as  the  sound  C)  has  the 
power  of  causing  G  to  resound,  and  which  is,  however, 
different  from  the  sound  C;  the  sound  which  we  explore 
ought  to  bo  such,  by  art.  19.  that  it  may  have  for  it& 
17th  major  G,  or  one  of  the  octaves  of  G  j  of  conse- 
quence the  sound  which  we  seek  ought  to  be  a  17th 
major  below  G,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  a  third 
major  below  the  same  G.  Now  the  sound  £  being  a 
third  minor  beneath  G,  and  the  third  major  being 
(art.  9.)  greater  by  a  semitone  than  the  third  minor,  it 
follows,  that  the  sound  of  which  we  are  in  search  shall 
be  a  semitone  beneath  the  natural  £,  and  of  coue- 
qnence  £  }). 

30.  This  new  arrangement,  C,  £  b»  G,  in  which 
the  sounds  C  and  £  ^  have  both  the  power  of  candng 
G  to  resound,  though  C  does  not  cause  £  t^  to  resoond, 
is  not  indeed  equally  perfect  with  the  first  arrangement 
C,  £,  G  ^  because  in  this  the  two  sounds  £  and  G  are 
both  the  one  and  the  other  firenerated  by  the  principal 
sound  C  ;  whereas,  in  the  other,  the  sound  £  (7,  is  not 
generated  by  the  sound  C ;  but  this  arrangement  C, 
£  t^,  G,  is  likewise  dictated  by  nature  (art.  i^*\  though 
less  immediately  than  the  former  \  and  accocdtngfy  ex- 
perience evinces  that  the  ear  accommodates  itself  ahnost 
as  well  to  the  latter  as  to  the  former. 

31.  In  this  modulation  or  chord  C^  £  b,  G,  ^^S**^ 
it  is  evident  that  the  thlvd  from  C  to  £  [^  is  minor  j^j^*" 
and  such  is  the  origin  of  that  mode  which  we  callsecitt. 
minor  (s).  See  ib 

32.  The  most  perfect  chords  then  are,  i.  All  chords  ^'^'^ 
related  one  to  another,  as  C,  £,^  G,  ^c*,  consistmg  of  ftifat 
any  sound,  of  its  third  major,  of  its  fiflh,  and  of  its  ^^^ 
oetave.     2.  All  chords  related  one  to  another,  as  €, 
£  b,   G^  ^\  consisting  of  any  sound,  of  its  third 


minor. 


(r)  The  chord  formed  with  the  twelfth  and  seventeenth  major  united  with  the  principal  sound,  being  exacdy 
conformed  to  that  which  is  prodoced  by  nature,  is  likewise  for  that  reason  the  most  agreeable  of  all  \  especially 
when  the  composer  can  proportion  the  voices  and  instruments  together  in  a  proper  manner  to  give  this  chord  its 
full  effect.  M%  Rameau  has  executed  this  with  the  greatest  success  in  the  opera  of  Pygmalion^  page  34.  where 
Pygmalion  sings  with  the  chorus  Vamour  iriomphcj  &c.:  in  this  passi^  of  the  chorus,  the  two  parts  of  the  vocal 
and  instrumental  basses  give  the  principal  sound  and  its  octave  ;  the  first  part  above,  or  treble,  and  that  of  the 
counter-tenor,  produce  the  seventeenth  major,  and  ita  octave,  in  descending  \  and  the  second  part,  or  tenor  above, 
gives  the  twelfth. 
See  fig.  3.  (^)  '^^^  origin  which  we  have  here  given  of  the  mode  minor,  is  the  most  simple  and  natural  that  can  possibly 
be  given.  BL  Rameau  deduces  it,  more  artificially,  from  the  following  experiment :— If  you  put  in  vibration  a 
musical  string  HI,  and  if  there  are  at  the  same  time  contiguous  to  this  two  other  strings  KN,  RW,  of  whi^h 
the  first  sbdl  bo  a  t?reUUi,  and  the  second  a  seventeenth  major  below  the  string  HI,  the  strings  KN,  RW  will 
vibrate  without  being  struck  as  soon  as  the  string  HI  shall  give  a  sound,  and  divide  themselves  by  a  kind  of  un- 
dulation, the  first  into  three,  the  last  into  five  equal  paifts ',  m  such  a  manner,  that,  in  the  vibration  of  the  string 
KN^  you.  may  easily  dastingnish  two  points  at  rest  LM,  and  in  the  tremulous  motion  of  the  string  RW,  four  qui- 
escent points  S,  Xy  IJ,  V,  all  placed  at  equal  distances  firom  each  other,  and  dividing  the  strings  into  three  or 
five  equal  parts.  In  this  experiment,  says  M.  Ranean,  if  we  represent  by  the  note  C  the  tone  of  the  string  Hit 
the  two  other  strings  will  r^rceent  the  sounds  F  and  A  (^ ;  and  from  thence  M.  Rameau  deduces  the  modulatioa 
F,  A  b,  C,  and  of  consequence  the  mode  minor.  The  origin  which  we  have  assigned  to  the  minor  mode,  ap- 
pears more  disect  and  more  simple,  because  it  presnpposetf  no  other  experiment  than  that  of  art.  19.  and  beeMHs 
also  the  fi^ndamental  sonnd  C  is  stUl  retained  in  both  the  modes,  without  being  obliged,  as  M.  Rameaa  fotpd 
himselfi  to  change  it  into  F. 


^artL 


M    U 


whftL 


of  minor,  of  lis  fiftb,  andlif  its  oeUve.  In  effect,  these 
two  kinds  of  chords  are  exhihited  by  nature  \  but  the 
first  more  immediately  than  the  second.  The  first  are 
called  perfect  chords  major^  the  second  perfect  chorda 
minor. 

Qllik^.  in.    Of  the  Succession  hj  Fifths^  and  of  the 

Lotus  which  it  observes. 

33*  SiKGK  the  sound  C  canses  the  sound  O  io  be 
bemi,  and  is  itself  heard  in  the  sound  F,  which  sounds 
G  and  F  are  its  two  twelfths,  we  maj  imagine  a  modnp 
lalion  composed  of  that  sound  C  ana  its  two  twelfths, 
or,  wfaieb  is  the  same  thing  (art.  22.)  ^  1^  ^^^  fifths, 
F  and  G,  the  one  below,  the  other  above  ;  which  gives 
^e  modulation  or  series  of  fifths  F,  C,  G,  which  we  call 
iihefimdameHtal  boot  of  C  by  fifths. 

We  shall  find  in  the  sequel  (Chap.  XVIII.),  that 
there  may  be  some  fundamental'  bass  by  thirds,  de- 
duced from  the  two  seventeenths,  of  which  the  one  is 
an  attendant  of  the  principal  sound,  and  of  which  «the 
other  includes  that  sound.  But  we  must  advance  step 
-lyy  step,  and  satisfy  ourselves  at  present  to  consider  im- 
medialelv  the  fundamental  bases  by  fifths. 

34*  Thus,  from  the  sound  C,  one  may  make  a  tran- 
sition indifferently  to  the  sound  G,  or  to  the  sound  F* 

35*  One  may,  for  the  same  reason,  continue  this 
kimd  of  fifths  in  ascending,  and  in  descending,  from  C, 
in  this  manner : 

£^,  B^,  F,  C,  G,  D,  A,  &c. 
And  from  this  series  of  fifths  one  may  pass  to  any 
sound  which  immediately  precedes  or  follows  it. 

36.  But  it  is  not  allowed  in  the  same  manner  to  pass 
e»thendc.  from  one  sound  to  another  which*  is  not  immediately 
contiguous  to  it  J  for  instance,  from  C  to  D,  or  from 
D  to  C :  for  this  very  simple  reason,  that  the  sound  D 
is  not  contained  in  the  sound  C,  nor  the  sound  C  in 
that  of  D }  and  thus  these  sounds  have  not  any  alliance 
the  one  with  the  other,  which  may  authorise  the  transi- 
tion firom  one  to  the  other* 
Tw<e  ner-  37.  And  as  these  sounds  C  and  D,  by  the  first  ex- . 
feet  chotds  periment,  naturally  bring  along  with  them  the  perfect 
chords  consisting  of  greater  intervals  C,  £,  G,  V,  and 
D,  FiJ^,  A,  M'^  hence  may  be  deduced  this  rule.  That 
two  perfect  chords,  espeaally  if  they  are  major  (t), 
cannot  succeed  one  another  diatonically  in  a  funda- 
mental boss ;  we  mean,  th4t  in  a  fundamental  basrtwo 
sounds  cannot  be  diatonically  placed  in  succession,  each 
of  whichf  with  its  harmonics,  forms  a  perfect  chord, 
especially  if  this  perfect  chord  be  major  in  both. 


Mode  in 

^enenly 

what. 


Chap.  IV.  Cf  Modes  in  General. 

38.  A  MODEy  in  music,  b,  the  order  of  sounds  pre- 
scribed, as  well  in  harmony  as  melody,  by  the  series  of 


SIC.  515 

fifths.  Thus  the  three  sounds,  F,  C,  G,  and  die  har-  Thcoiy  of 
monies  of  each  of  these  three  sounds,  that  is  to  say,  Hannuny^ 
their  thirds  major  and  their fifiiis,  compose  all  thenajor  ^  ' 
modes  which  are  proper  to  C. 

30.  The  series  of  fifths  then,  or  the  fimdamentalbassliirodt^, 
F,  €,  G,  of  which  C  holds  the  middle  space,  may  ^^^^^ 
rq^arded  as  representing  the  mode  of  C.     One  mnyj^^^^^ 
likewise  take  the  series  of  fifths,  or  fundamental  bass^of  KUu^ 
C,  G,  D,  as  representing  the  mode  of  G  ^  in  the  same 
manner  B|>,  F,  C,  will  represent  the  mode  of  F. 

Thus  the  mode  of  G,  or  rather  the  fimdamental  bass 
of  that  mode,  has  two  sounds  in  common  with  the  fun- 
damental bass  of  the  mode  of  €.  It  is  the  same  wiUi 
the  ftmdamental  bass  of  the  mode  F. 

40.  The  mode  of  C  (F,  C,  G)  is  called  the  principal PnniAptA 
mode  with  respect  to  the  modes  of  these  two  fifths,  which  node,  and 
are  called  its  two  A^tMrftf.  JJ^*^** 

4T.  It  is  then,  in  some  measure,  indiffisrent  to  the^^^j, 
ear  whether  a  transition  be  made  to  the  one  or  to  ^junet, 
other  of  these  adjuncts,  since  each  of  them  has  equally  Modes  re- 
two  sounds  in  common  with  the  principal  mode.     Yet^*^*^  *? 
the  mode  of  G  seems  a  little  more 'eligible  :  for  G  WaJ^^^Sr*"^ 
heard  amongst  the  harmonics  of  C,  and  of  consequence  soutdi  see 
is  implied  and  signified  by  0}   whereas  C  does  notcammoiu 
cause  F  to  be  heard,  though  C  is  included  in  the  same 
sound  F.    ,  It  is  hence  that  the  ear,  affected  by  the 
mode  of  C,  is  a  little  more  prepossessed  fi)r  the  mode 
of  G  than  for  that  of  F.     Nothing  likewise  is  more 
frequent,  nor  more  natural,  than  to  pass  from  the  mode 
of  C  to  that  of  G. 

42.  It  is  for  this  reason,  as  well  as  to  distinguish  Bomiaaat 
the  two  fifths  one  from  the  other,  that  we  call  G  the"?l»bd»- 
fifth  above  the  generator  the  domina/i$  sound,  and  tbe^J^J^ 
fifth  F,  below  the  generator,  the  wbdominant,  SeeDomt^ 

43.  As  in  the  series  of  fifths,  we  may  indiffiBxentlyfumf. 
pass  fmm  one  sound  to  that  which  is  contiguous :   so'^^'uitiaa 
having  passed  from  the  mode  of  C  to  that  of  G,  one^^^^^* 
may  from  thence  proceed  to  the  mode  of  D.     And  on  y^,^  ^  y^ 
the  other  hand,  having  passed  from  the  mode  of  C  tommiged. 
that  of  F  we  may  then  pass  to  the  mode  of  B^.   But  it 

is  necessary,  however,  to  observe,  that  the  ear,  which 
has  been  immediately  affected  with  die  principal  mode, 
feels  always  a  strong  propensity  to  return  to  it.  Thus 
the  further  the  mode  to  which  we  make  a  transition  is 
removed  from  the  principal  mode,  the  less  time  we  ought 
to  dwell  upon  it  j  or  rather,  to  speak  in  the  terms  of 
the  art,  the  less  ought  the  f^rase  (u)  of  that  mode  to 
be  -protracted. 

Cxikf.  v.  Of  the  Formation  of  the  Diatonic  Scale  as 

used  bj  the  Greeks^ 

44.  From  this  rule,  that  two  sounds  which  are  con- 
tiguous may  be  placed  in  immediate  succession  in  the 
series  of  -fifths,  F,  C,  G,  it  foHows,  that  one  may 

3  T  2  form 


i«»u. 


(t)  We  say  especially  if  they  are  major;  (at  in  the  major  chord  D,  F*,  A,  «d%  besides  Uiat  the  foonds  C  and  D 
have  no  common  harmonical  relation,  and  are  even  dissonant  between  themselyea  (art  13.)  it  will  likewise  be 
(bund,  that  F«  forms  a  dissonance  with  C.  The  minor  chord  D,  F,  A,  M»,  would  be  more  tolerable,  because  the 
natural  F,  which  occurs  in  this  chord  carries  along  with  it  its  fifth  C,  or  rather  the  octa^  of  that  fifth  :  It  lia^ 
likewise  been  sometimes  the  practice  of  composers,  though  rather  by  a  licence  indulged  them  than  strictly  agree- 
able to  their  art,  to  place  a  minor  in  diatonic  succession  to  a  major  chord. 

(u)  As  the  mere  English  reader,  unacquainted  with  the  technical  phraseojogy  of  music>  may  be  surprised  at 

(he 


Si6     •  .MUSIC.  Parti. 

Tbeof^^r  Airm  tbk  modulation,  or  (his  fuddameDtal  bass,  by         In  the  inodalation  B^  %  d,  e,  f,  g,  a*;  the  WDods  *d^  v^^4 

Uannony  fiftbn,  *  G,  €,  G^  C,  F^  C,  F.  and  T  form  between  themselves  a  third  minor,  vhicb  Bumm^ 

*       ^       '      45,  Eaoh  of  the  eonnds  which  forms  this  modula-  is  not  so  perfectly  true  as  that  between  V  and^g^  (y)/'"  ^"^ 

Fon^tion  ^'^"  brings  necessarily  along  with  itself  its  third  major,  Nevertheiesst  this  alteration. in  the  third  minor  betweea 

of  the         *^  ^^^K  ^nd  its  octave*,  insomuch  that  he  who,  for  'd*  and  T  gives  the  ear  no  pain,  because  that  M*  and  that 

Greek'  dia-  instance,  sings  the  note  G,  may  be  reckoned  to  sing  at  *P  which  do  not  form  between  themselves  a  true  third 

tonic  scnlc  (be  same  time  the  notes  G,  B,  'd,.  g* :  in  the  same  minor,  form,,  each  in  particular,  consonances  periecdj 

^^  ^^^^'^^  manner  the  sound  C  in  the  fundamental  bass  brines  just  with  the  sounds  in.  the  fundamental  bass  which  cor- 

basf.  along  vntk  it  this  modulation,  C,  £,  G,  C :  and,  m  respond  with,  them :  for  ^d^  in  the  scale  ia  the  true  fifth 

short,  the  sound  F  brings  aldng  with  it  F,  A,  C,  T.  of  6,  which  answers  to  it  in  the  fundamental  bass;  aad 

This  modulation  then,  or  this  fundamental  bass^  *P  in  the  scale  is  the  true  octave  of  F,  which  aoswcit 

G,  C,  G,  C,  F,  C,  F,  to  it  in  the  same  bass, 
gives  the  following  diatonic  series,  47.  If,  therefore,  these  sounds  in  the  scale  fimn  con- Altmia* 

B,  'c,  d,  e,  {^  g,  a*  V  sonances  perfectly  true  with  the  notes  which  correspond ^^^^^ 

S€€  ftg.  4.   which  is  precisely  the  diatonic  scale  of  the  Greeks.  We  to  them  in  the  fundamental  bass,  the  ear  gives  iiwlf 

are  ignorant  upon  what  principles  they  bad  formed  this  little  trouble  to  investigate  the  alteratioiM  which  there 

scale  'f  but  it  may  be  sensibly  perceived,  that  that  series  may  be  in  the  intervals , which  these  sounds  in  the  scale 

arises  from  the  bass  G,  C,  G,  C,  F,  C,  F ;  and  that  form  betweeu  themselves.    This  is  a  new  proof  that 

of  consequence  this  bass  is  justly  called  Jundatnentai^  as  the  fundamental  bass  is  the  genuine  guide  of.  the  car, 

being  the  real  primitive  modulation,  that  which  conducts  and  the  true  origin  of  the  diatonic  scale. 
the  ear,  and  which  it  feels  to  be  implied  in  the  diatonic         48.  Moreover,  this  diatonic  scale  incliides«nly  sevcaRM"* 

modulation^  B, 'c,  d,  e,  f,.g,  a*  (x).  sounds,  and  goes  no   higher  than   *b?,   which   ^«Mld|^^ 

46.  We  shall  be  still  more  convinced  of  this  truth  be  the  octave  of  the  first:  a  new  singularity,  for  which  ^^,b 

by  the  following  remarks.  a  reason  may  be  given.by  the  principles  above  cstabhah-Kia 

ed.1 

the  use  of  the  word  phrase  when  transferred  fiwm  language  to  that  art,  we  have  thonght  proper  to  insert  the  define 
tion. of  Rousseau. 

A  phrase^  according  to  him,  is  in  melody  a  series  of  modulations,  or  in  harmony  a  succession  of  chords,  which 
form  without  interruption  a  sense  niore  or  less  complete,  and  which  terminates  in  a  repose  b}r  a  cailenoe  more  or 
less  perfect. 

(x)  Nothing  is  easier  than  to  find  in  this  scale  the  value  orproportions  of  each  sound  with  relation  to4be«Nuid 
C,  which  we  call  i ;  for  the  two  sounds  G  and  F  in  the  bass  are  t  and'^f ;  firom  whence  it  fiillown, 

1.  That  '0'  in  the  scale  is  the  octave  of  C  in  the  bass ;  that  is  to  say,  2. 

2.  That  *b*  ia  the  third  major  of  G }  that  is  to  say  i  of  •)■  (note  Q,),  and  of  conseqnenee  y  • 

3.  That  M*  is  the  fifth  of  G  v  that  is  to  say  4  of  i,  and  of  conseqnenee  f. 

4.  That  *e*^  is  the  third  major  of  the  octave  of  C,  and  of  eonsoquence  the  double  of  4 1  that  ia  to  say,  4* 

5.  That  T  is  the  double  octave  of  F  of  the  bass,  and  consequently  \, 

6.  That  V  ^^  ^^  ^^®  '^  ^^  octave  of  G  of  the  bass,  and  consequently  3. 
7..  That  V  in  the  scale  is  the  third  major  of  ^P  of  the  scale  j  that  b  to  say,  4  of  4,  or  y. 

Hence  then  will  result  the  following  table,  in  which  each  sound  has  its  numerical  value  above  or  below  itd 

Diatonic  C     V    2   f   4  4   5    t 

Scale.  T     B,  c,  d,  e,   f,  ff,   a« 

Fundamental     \     G,  C,  G,  C,  F,  C,  F. 
Bass.  \      i    1^   i   1   \   I     ^ 

And  if,  br  the  conveniency  of  calculation,  we  choose  ta  eall  the  soand  C  of  the  scale  i  $  in  this;  case 
we  have  only  to  divide  each  of  the  numbers  by  2,  which  represent  the.  diatooie  scale^  and  we  ■hali 
have 

«  I   *  *  4  4  4 

B,  c,  d,  e,  f,   g,  a. 

(t)  In  order  to  compare  M*  with  T,  we  need  only  compare  f  with  4  9  the  relation  between  these  firadions  wifl 
be,  (note  c)  that  of  9  times  3  to  8  times  4  ^  that  is  to  say,  of  27  to  32 :  the  third  minor,  then,  from  M*  to  T,  is 
not  true  ^  because  the  proportion  of  27  to  32  is  not  the  same  with  that  of  5  to  6,  these  two  proportions  heiag 
between  themselves  as  27  times  6  is  to  32  times  5,  that  is  to  say,  as  162  to  160,  or  as  the  halves  of  these  two 
iiambers,  that  is  to  say»  as  81  to  80. 

M.  Rameau,  when  he  published,  in  1726,  hia  New  theoretical  and practkal  Sifstem  ofMusic^  had  not  as  yet 
found  the  true  reason  of  the  alteration  in  the  consonance  which  is  between  M^  and  *r;  and  of  the  little  attentioa 
which  the  ear  pays  to  it.  For  he  pretends,,  ia  the  work  now  quoted,  that  there  are  two  thirds  minor,  one  in  the 
^portion  of  5  to  6,  the  other  in  the  proportion  of  27  to  32.  But  the  opinion  which  he  has  afterwarda  adopleii 
seems  much  preferable.  In  reality,  the  genuine  third  minor,  is  that  which  is  produced  by  nature  between  V  aad 
'g\  in  the  continued  tone  of  those  sonorous  bodies  of  which  'e*  and  'g*  are  the  two  harmonics:  and  that  thiid'ouMr, 
which  is  in  the  jproportion  of  5  to  6,  is  likewise  that  which  takes  place  in  the  minor  mode,  and  not  that  ihiid 
minor  which  is  false  and  different,  being  in  the  proportion  of  27  to  32. 


part  Tk 


M    U 


Theory  of  ^'     Inrealitj,  in  order  that  the  flound'  ^b*  may  Bucceed 
Harmony  immediately  in  the  scale  to  the  sooiid  *a%  it  is  necessary 
' '  ■  <^        '  that  the  note  *g',  which  is  the  only  one  from  whence 
'h'  as  a  harmonic  may  be  deduced,  should  immediately 
sueoeed  to  the  sound  'P,  in  the  fundamental  bass,  which 
is  the  only  one  from  whence  V  can  be  harmonically  de- 
duced.    Now,  the  diatonic  succession  from  F  to  G 
cannot  be  admitted  in  the  fundamental  bass,  according 
to  what  we  have  remarked  (art.  36.)*    The  sounds  V 
and  *b*,  then,  cannot  immediately  succeed  one  another 
in  the  scale :  we  shall  see  in  the  sequel  why  this  is  not 
the  case  in  the  series  *g,  d,  e,  f,  g,  a,  b%  r,  which 
begins  upon  C  ^  whereas  the  scale  in  question  here  be- 
gins upon  B, 
Coinplc-  4p.  The  Greeks  likewise,  to  form  an  entire  octave, 

^^i^^  added  below  the  first  B  the  note  A,  which  they  di- 
stinguished  and  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  scale, 
which  for  that  reason  they  called  prostambanoniene^  that 
is  to  say,  a  string  or  note  sobadded  to  the  scale,  and 
put  before  B  to  form  the  entire  octave. 

50.  The  diatonic  scale  B,  *c,  d,  e,  f^  g,  a*,  is  composed 
of  two  tetrachords,  that  is  to  say^  of  two  diatonic  scales, 
2^^***.*™*' each  consisting  of  four  sounds,  B,  'c,  d,  e',  and  'e,  U 
tiYetetnu'^*  a^.  These  two  tetrachords  are  exactly  similar >  for 
choidi.       from 


XlMPcale 


^e'  to  *f  *  there  is  the  same  interval  as  from  B 


crhonb 


to  ^c%  from  *f  *  to  'g*  the  same  as  from  'c*  to  'd\  from 
*g*  to  'a'  the  same  as  from  'd*  to  'e^  (z)  :  this  is  the 
reason  why  the  Greeks  distinguished  these  two  tetra* 
chords  \  yet  they  joined  them  by  the  note  'a*  which  is 
common  to  both,  and  which  gave  them  the  name  of 
conjunctive  tetrachords* 
>  >n  51.  Moreover^  the  intervals  between  ^any  two  sounds^ 
taken  in  each  tetrachord  in  particular,  are  precisely 
true :  thus,  in  the  first  tetrachord,  the  intervals  of  C  *e% 
and  B  M%  are  thirds,  the  one  major  and  the  other  mi- 
nor, exactly  true,  as  well  as  the  fourth  B  V  (aa)  \  it  is 
the-same  thing  with  the  tetrachord  *e,  f,  g,  a',  since  this 
tetrachord  vis  exactly  like  the  former. 

52.  But  the  case  is  not  the  same  when  we  compare 
two  sounds  taken  each  from  a  different  tetrachord  ^  for 
2jg^^*^we  have  already  seen,  that  the  note  M*  in  the  first  tetra- 
tctnciiords  chQ^^  &rm9  with  the  note  'f!  in  the.  second  a. third  min 
dinimUar.   nor,  which  is  not  true.     In   like  manner  it  will   be 


s    I    c.  51^ 

found,  that  the  fifth  from  'd'  to  'a*  is  not  exactly  true.  Theory  of 
which  is  evident  *,  for  the  third  major  from  ^f *  to  'a'  is  Hannoay.^^ 
true,  and  the  third  minor  fi-om  *d'  to  *f  •  is  not  so :  now^     '  ^"      * 
in  order  to  form  a  true  fifth,  a   third   major   and   ar- 
third  minor,  which  are  both  exactly  true,  are  neces^i 
sary. 

$^.  From  thence  it  follows,  that  everjr  consonance  Mother 
is  absolutely  perfect  in  each  Utrachord  taken  by  it-5j*^ljh 
self  ^  but  that  there  is  some  alteration  in  passing  fromig^'JJe 
one  tetrachord   to  the   other.     This   is  a  new  rea- scale  into 
son  for  distinguishing  the  scale  into  these  two  tetra- two  tetnu 
chords.  ehorii. 

54.  It  may  be  ascertained  by  calculation,  that  in  tfae^^Moroe 
tetrachord  B^  V,  d,  e%  the  interval,  or  the  tone  fromj^^**  j 
•d'  to  *e%  is  a  little  less  than  the  interval  or  tone  from^^f^ 
V  to  'd^  (bb).     In  the  same  manner,  in  the  second  te- vettjgated. 
trachord  'e,  f,  g,  a*,  which  is,  as  we  have  proved,  per- 
fectly similar  to  the  first,  the  note  from  'g*  to  ^a'  is  a 

little  less  than  the  note  from  'f  ^  to  ^g\     It  is  for  this 

season  that  they  distinguish  two  kinds  of  tones  5  the 

greater  tone*,  as  from  *c'  to  *d%  from  *f*  to  *g',  &c  ; Greater 

and  the  lesser  f»  from  'd'  to  *eV  from  *g'  to  «a',  &c.      tone  •  See, 

Interval. 

Chap»  VI.  The  formation  of  the  Diatonic  Scale  among  um^ 

the  Moderns^  or  the  ordinary  Gammut.  \Stt  Inters 

^  vat. 

55.  We  have  just  shown  in  the  preceding  chapter.  The  mo- 
liow  the  scale  of  the  Greeks  is  formed,  B,  'c,  d,  e,  g,  a%  J*™  •***•» « 
by  means  of  a  fundamental  bass  composed  of  three  I^  ^^^^"''^ 
sounds  only,  E|  C,  G  -,  but  to  form  the  scale  'c,  d,  e, 

f,  g,  a,  b,'  r,  which  we  use  at  present,  we  most  neces* 
sanly  jadd  to  the  fdndumental  bass  the  note  D,  and  form, 
with  these  four  sounds  F,  C,.G^  D,  tbe  followiog  fun^t 
damental  bass : 

C,  G,C,  F,  C,  G,  D,  G,  Cj 
from  whence  we  deduce  the  modulation  or  scale 

%  ^f  e,  f,  g,  a,  b,'  c. 
In  effect  (cc),  *c*  in  the  scale  belongs  to  the  harmony 
of  C  which  corresponds  with  it  in  the  bass ;  'd%  which 
is  the  second  note  in  the  gammut,  is  included  in  the 
harmony  of  G,  the  second  note  of  the  bass }  *e^  the 
third  note  of  the  gammut,  is  a  natural  harmonic. of  C, 
which  is  the  third  sound  in  the  bass,  &c^  . 

56.  Hence 


Set  fig.  5. 
Set  Scale. 


(z)  The  propmrtion  of  B  to  *c*  is  as  44  ^^  't  ^^^  ^^  ^^  say.  as  15  to  16  ;  that  between  V  and  'P  is  as  |  to  ^ 
that  is  to  say  (note  d),  as  5  times  3  to  4  times  4,  or  as  15  to  16 :  these  two  proportions  then  are  equal.  In  the 
same  manner,  the  proportion  of  'c^  to  M'  is  as  i  to  f  ^  or  a»  £  to  9  *,  that  between  'f  *  and  'g*  is  as  4  to  |  ^  that  Is 
to  say  (note  d),  as  8  to  9.  The  proportion  of  V  to  V  is  as  ^  to  i,  or  as  5  to^  y  that  between^r  and  V  is 
as  4  to  ^  or  as  .5  to  4 :  the  proportions  here  then  ace  likewise  equal. 

(aa)  The  proportion  of  *e'  to  *c*  is  as  4  to  i,  or  as  5  to  4,  which  is  a  true  third  major  >  that  from  ^d'  to  Ib^  is 
M  ^  to  -r^  ;  diat  is  to  say,  as  9.  times  16  to  15  times  8,  or  as  9  times  2  to  15,  or  as  6  to  5.  In  like  manner  we 
shall  find,  that  the  proportion  of  ^o*  to  'b*  isras  ^  to  x^-  >  thatis  to  say,  as  5  times  16  to  15  times  4,  or  as  4  to  3, 
which  is  a  true  fourth. 

(be)  The  proportion  of  *d*  to  *c*  is  as  {-to  i^  or  as  ^.to  8 )  that  of  'e*  to  'd'  is  as.  j  to  {,  that  is  to  say,  as  40 
to  36,  or  as  10  to  9 :  now  ^  is  less  removed  from  umty-than  f  3  .the  interval  then  £om  'd^  to  'e'  is  a  little  less 
thaiv  that  firom  V  to  *d\ 

If  any  one  would  wish  to  know  the  proportion  which  V^.  bear  to  {,  he  will  find  (note  d)  that  it  is  as  8. times 
10  to  9  tines  9,  that  is  ta  say,  as  80  to  81  •  Thus  the  proportion'  of  a  lesser  to  a  greater  tone  is  as  80  to  81 } 
this  difference  betweea  tbe  greater  and  lesser  tone  is  what  the  Greeks  called  a  comma. 

We  may  remark,  that  this  difference  of  a  comma  is  found-  between  tbe  third  minor  when  true  and  harmonical, 
and  the  same  chord  when  it  suffers  alteration  M\  *f\  of  which  we  have  taken  notice  in  the  scale  (note  y)  -,  for 
we  have  seen,  that  this  third  minor  thus  altered  is  in  the  proportion  of  80  to  81  with  the  true  third  ininor. 

(cc)  The  values  or  estimates  of  the  notes  shall  be  the  same  io  this  as  b  the  former  scale,  excepting  only  tbe 

tone 


Si8 


MUSIC. 


^altl 


Theorrof      S^*  Heiiee  it  follows,  tbat  tbe  duttomc  wnde  of  the 
Baimony.  Oicekfl  is,  at  least  in  some  respects,  more  simple  tban 

since  tlie  scale  of  the  Greeks  (chap.  ▼.)  may 


onrs 


oorifSnd 
wrhy. 


The  sou 
g*  twice 


diato^"*^  be  formed  alone  from  the  mode  proper  to  C  j  'irhereas 
Kiale  dto-    ^^^^'^  ^  origina^lj  and  primitivelT  formed,  not  only  from 
plec  than     the  mode  of  C  (F,  C,  G),  but  likewise  from  the  mode 
of  G,  (;C,  G,  D). 

It  Will  likewise  appear,  that  this  last  scale  consists  of 
two  parts  }  of  which  the  one,  *c,  d,  e,  f,  g*  is  in  tlie 
mode  of  C$  and  the  other,  <g,  a,  b,*  cin  that  of  G. 

57.  For  this  reason  the  note  'g*  is  twice  repeated  in 

immediate  succession  in  this  scale ;  once  as  the  fifth  of 

repeated  in  C,  which  corresponds  with  it  in  the  fondamental  bass  ^ 

the  d>^°  and  again  as  the  octoTC  of  G,  which  immediately  fol- 

iu  hanno*  ^^^''^  G  in  the  same  bass.    These  two  consecutive  *g's* 

nto  tela-     nre  otherwise  in  perfect  unison.    For  this  reason  we 

tisni  to  the  sing  only  one  of  them  when  we  modulate  the  scale  *c, 

nmdatticap  j^  ^^  f^  g>  »»  h,*  c  ;  but  this  does^not  pretrent  us  from 

^^^      employing  a  pause  or  repose,  expl^essed  or  understood, 

after  the  sound  'P.    There  is  no  person  who  does  not 

perceive  this  whilst  he  himself  sings  the  scale. 

ne  mo-  58.  The  scale  of  the  modems,  then,  may  be  consi- 

denicale    ^ered  as  consisting  of  two  tetrachords,  disjunctive  in* 

^^^P^^  deed,  but  perfectly  similar  one  to  die  o&er,  %  d,  e,  f ', 

trachofdi.  of  G.  We  shall  see  in  the  sequel,  by  what  artifice  one 
•f  dlAftttt  may  cause  the  scale  'c,  d,  e,  f,  g,  a,  b,  c,*  to  be  ref;arded 
""^^  as  belonging  to  the  mode  of  C  alone.  For  this  pur- 
pose it  is  necessanr  to  make  some  changes  in  the  fun- 
damental bass,  wnich  we  Have  already  asngned  :  but 
this  diall  be  explained  A  large  in  chap.  ziii. 

59.  The  introduction  of  the  ftiode  proper  to  G  iii 
the  fundamental  bass  has  this  happy  eflfect,  that  the 
trodacedtn  ^Qtes  %  g,  a,  b,*  may  immediately  succeed  each  other  in 
^^^Jj^||[^  ascending  the  ^»le,  which  cannot  take  place  (art.  48.) 
prodnetite  '^  ^®  diatonic  series  of  the  Greeks,  because  mat  series 
ofcoiiTe-  is  formed  from  the  mode  of  C  alone.  Whence  it 
follows: 


nemode 
of  Gia- 


nieacet. 


1.  That  we  chanfle  the  mode  at  treff  Hmt  when  Tkmj^ 
we  modulate  Ihree  mole  tones  in  succession.  Hum^i 

a.  That  if  these  three  tunes  are  sung  in  sucoessisn  in '  "  '^^ 
tiie  scale  *c,  d,  e,  f,  g,  a,  b,*  r,  this  cannoi  be  done  hut 
by  the  assistance  of  a  pause  expressed  or  understood  af- 
ter the  note  *P  ^  insomuch,  that  the  three  tones  *f  g,*  *  ga\ 
%ib*,  are  supposed  to  belong  to  two  diflSsrent  tetra- 
chords. 

60.  It  nvght  not  then  any  longer  to   snrprise  us,Clnferf 
^t  we  fieel  some  difficulty  whilst  we  ascend  the  ^^"^^^ 
in  singing  three  tones  in  succession,  because  thisis^unji 
impracticable  without  changing  the  mode  ;  and  if  ooed^pi' 
pauses  in  the  same  mode,  the  fourth  sound  above  the  tbie  «•. 
first  note  will  never  be  higher  than  a  semitone  above 
that  which  immediately  precedes  it  j  as  may  be  seen  by 
*c,  d,  e,  f,*  and  by  'g|  a,  b,*  c,  where  there  is  no  more 
than  a  semitone  between  *e  and  f  %  and  between  'b* 
and  c. 

61.  We  may  likewise  observe  in  the  scale  *c,  d,  e,  T,  Iitanii 
that  the  third  minor  from  'd^  to  ^,  is  not  true,  for  ths|^^ 
reasons  which  have  been  already  given  (art.  49.}.  It^^^^JL 
is  the  same  case  with  the  third  minor  from  V  to  c,  andftnsa 
with  the  third  major  from  *P  to  ^a*  ^  but  each  of  these  eoMt. 
sounds  forms  otherwise  consonances  perfectlj  true,?  j*^ 
with  their  corresponding  sounds  in  the  fimdamental^J^ 
bass.  ^  1,^ 

62*  The  thirds  V,  r,  'fa*,  which  were  true  in  the  fonner 
scale,  are  false  in  this ;  because  in  the  fonmer  scale  V 
was  the  third  of  "T,  and  here  it  is  the  fifth  of  D,  which 
corresponds  with  it  in  the  fundamental  bass. 

6^.  Thus  it  appears,  that  the  scale  of  the  Greeks  Pcvei;. 
contains  fewer  consonances  that  are  altered  than  ooisiacdc* 
(dd)  }  and  this  likewise  happens  from  tlie  introdno-?"^!^ 
tion  of    the    mode   of  G  into   the  fundmmeotal  has^^ 
(EE).  aedtte 

We  see  likewise  that  the  value  of  V  in  the  diatsnicisw 
scale,  a  value  which  authors  have  been  divided  in  asoo^ 
taining,  solely  depends  up<m  the  fundamental  bass,  and 

that 


tone  *a*  j  for  *d*  being  represented  by  f ,  its  fifth  will  he  expressed  by  tt  >  ^o  that  the  scale  will  be  numerically 
signified  thus : 

c,  d,  e,  f,  g,  a,    b,  c. 
Where  you  may  see,  that  the  note  'a*  of  this  scale  is  difierent  from  that  in  the  scale  of  the  Greeks }  and  that  the 
^a*  in  the  modern  series  stands  in  proportion  to  that  of  the  Greeks  as  7^  to  49  that  is  to  say,  as  81  to  80  ^  these 
two  *a*s*  then  will  likewise  differ  by  a  comma* 

(Od)  In  the  scale  of  thb  Greeks,  the  note  V  being  a  third  from  ^P,  there  is  an  altered  fifth  between  St*  and  *i* : 
but  in  ours,  'a*  being  a  fifth  to  *d%  produces  two  ahmd  thirds,  *f  a*  and  V  c;  and  likewise  a  fiifth  nkered,  V  e 
as  we  shall  see  in  the  following  chapter.  Thus  there  are  in  onr  scale  two  intervals  more  than  in  the  scale  of  the 
Greeks  which  suffer  alteration.  * 

(ee)  But  here  it  may  be  with  some  colour  objected :  The  scale  of  the  Greeks,  it  may  he  said,  has  a  fimdaaiea- 
ial  bass  more  simple  than  onrs ;  and,  besides,  in  it  there  are  fewer  chords  which  will  not  be  found  exactly  tne: 
why  then,  notwithstanding  this,  does  ours  appear  more  easy  to  be  song  than  that  of  the  Gfeekr  ?  The  Cwcisa 
scale  begins  with  a  semitone,  whereas  the  intonation  prompted  by  nature  seems  to  impel  as  to  rise  by  a  foU  toae 
at  once.  This  objection  may  be  thus  answered.  The  scale  of  the  Greeks  is  indeed  better  disposed  than  ouis  fw 
the  simplicity  of  the  bass,  hot  the  arran^ment  of  ours  is  more  suitable  to  natural  intonation.  Ouracale  csmaKS- 
ces  by  the  iiuidamental  sound  c,  and  it  is  in  reality  from  that  sound  that  we  ought  to  begin  >  it  is  from  this  dist 
all  tlie  others  naturally  arise,  and  upon  this  that  they  depend  \  nay,  if  we  speak  so^  in  this  they  are  inoladed: 
on  the  contrary,  neither  the  scale  of  the  Greeks,  nor  its  fundamental  bass,  commences  with  C  ;  bat  it  is  fnm 
this  C  that  we  must  depart,  in  order  to  regulate  onr  intonation,  whether  in  rising  or  descending;  now,  in  as- 
cending firom  *c\  the  intonation,  even  of  the  Greek  scale,  gives  the  series  ^  d,  e,  f,  g,  a* :  and  so  trae  is  it  thst 
the  fimdamental  sound  C  is  here  the  genuine  guide  of  the  ear,  that  if,  befiire  we  modulate  the  soond  *t\  v« 


Part  L  MUSIC.  519 

of  that  it  mast  be  different  ftcoordia^  as  the  note  <a'  baa     shoaM  be  the  interval  of  a  fifth  i  so  that  the  D  in  the  Theory  ef 


XiftnMNir-  *f '  or  ^d'  for  its  baas.     See  the  note  (cc).  fin»C  scaie  will  be  a  true  fooi'th  below  the  G  of  the  same  Harmony. 

»  .     ^  scale.     We  may  afterwards  tune  the  note  A  of  the  first         • 

Cha>.  VIL  Of  Temperament.  seale  to  a  just  fifth  with  this  last  D  \  then  the  note  'e* 

in  the  iMghest  scale  to  a  true  fifth  with  this  new  A,  and 

Tempera.        5^  The  alterations  which  we  have  observed  in  the  in  consequence  the  £  in  the  first  scale  to  a  true  fourth 

||^3^  intervals  between  iiarticalar  sounds  of  the  diatonic  scale,  beneath  this  same  A:  Having  finished  this  operation, 

^    naturally  lead  us  to  speak  of  temperament*     To  give  a  it  will  be  ibund  that  the  last  £,  thus  tuned,  will  by  no 

clear  idea  of  this,  and  to  render  die  necessity  of  it  pal-  means  form  a  just  third  major  from  the  sound  C  (ff)  : 

pable,  let  us  suppose  that  we  have  before  us  an  instru*  that  is  to  say,  that  it  is  impossible  for  £  to  constitute 

ment  with  keys,  a  harpsicord,  for  instance,  consisting  at  the  same  time  the  third  major  of  €  and  the  true  fifth 

of  several  octaves  or  scales,  of  which  each  includes  its  of  A  ^  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  the  true  fourth  of  A 

twelve  semitones.  in  descending. 

Sw  fig;  5.        Let  ua  choose  in  that  harpsicord  one  of  the  strings  6$.  If,  after  having  successively  and  alternately  tuned 

which  will  sound  the  note  C,  and  let  us  tune  the  string  the  strings  C,  G,  'd*,  A,  £,  in  perfect  fifths  and  fourths 

G  to  a  perfect  fifth  with  C  in  ascending  *y  let  us  after*  one  from  the  other,  we  continue  to  tune  successively  by 

wards  tune  to  a  perfect  fifth  with  thb  G  the  M*  which  is  true  fifths  and  fourths  the  strings  £,  B,  F$,  C%  G$, 

above  it  ^  we  shall  evidently  perceive  that  this  M'  will  ^AM\  ^%  B3K ;  we  shall  find,  that,  though  B%  being 

be  in  the  scale  above  that  nrom  which  we  set  out :  but  a  semitone  higher  than  the  natural  note,  should  be  equi- 

it  is  also  evident  that  this  M*  must  have  in  tlic.  scale  a  D  valent  to  V  natural,  it  will  by  no  means  form  a  just  oc« 

which  corresponds  with  it,  and  which  must  be  tuned  a  tave  to  the  first  C  in  the  scale,  but  be  considerably 

true  octave  below  M^  ^  and  between  M^  and  G  there  higher  (gg)  ;,  yet  this  B%  npon  the  harpsichord  ought 

not 


ahoiftld  attempt  to  rise  to  it  by.  that  note  in  the  scale  which  is  moat  immediately  contiguous,  we  cannot  reach 
itbot  by  the  note  B,  and  by  the  semitone  from  B  to  'c*.  Now  to  make  a  transition  from  B  to  'c',  by  titis  se* 
mitone,  the  ear  most  of  necessity  be  predisposed  for  that  modulation,  and  consequently  preoccupied  with  the 
mode  of  C :  if  this  were  not  the  case^  we  should  naturally  rise  from  B  to  *c}K%  and  by  this  operation  pass  into  an* 
other  mode* 

(ff)  The  A  considered  as  the  fifth  of  D  is  ij,  and  the  fourth  beneath  this  A  will  constitute  \  of  ^^,  that  is  to 
say,  77  >  77  then  shall  be  the  value  of  £,  considered  as  a  true  fourth  from  A  in  descending :  now  £,  considered 
aa  the  third  major  of  the  sound  C,  is  ^9  or  H :  these  two  £'s  then  are  between  themselves  in  the  proportion  of 
ftf  to  8o  $  thus  it  is  impossible  that  £  shoulcl  be  at  the  same  time  a  perfect  third  major  from  C,  and  a  true  fourth 
beneath  B« 

(gg)  In  effect,  if  yon  thus  alteraat^y  tune  the  fifth  above  and  the  fourth  below^  in  -the  same  octave,  you  may 
here  see  what  will  be  the  process  of  your  operation. 

C,  G,  a  fifth ;  Da  fourth^  A  a  fifth  \  £  a  fourth  ;  B  a  fifth  *,  F«  a  fonrth  •,  Qt  a  fifth  \  G«  a  fourth  :  'd«'  a 
fifth  ;  A)K  a  fourth  *,  *e%*  or  'f  l|'  a  fifth  \  B#  a  fourth  :  now  it  will  be  found,  by  a  very  easy  compuUtion,  that 
the  first  C  being  represented  by  i,  G  shall  be  i,  D  f ,  A  4^,  £  |},  &c.  and  so  of  the  rest  till  you  'arrive  at 
B9t  which  will  be  found  HrHi*  This  fiaction  is  evidently  in-eater  than  the  nomher  2,  which  expresses  the 
perfect  octave  c  to  its  cerre^oadent  C :  and  the  octave  below  B)K  would  be  one  half  of  the  same  Auction,  that 
19  to  say  j474iTf  which  is  evidently  greater  than  C  represented  by  unity.  This  last  fraction  447tH  i*  compo- 
sed of  two  numbers^  the  numerator  of  the  fraction  is  nothing  else  but  the  number  ^  multiplied  I  z  times  in  suc- 
eeasion  by  itself,  and  the  denominator  is  the  number  2  multiplied  i8  times  in  succession  by  itself.  Now  it  is  evi- 
dent, that  this  fraction  which  expresses  the  value  of  ^%  is  not  equal  to  the  unity  which  expresses  the  value  of 
the  sound  C,  though  upon  the  harpsichord,  B  %  and  C  are  identical.  Thb  fraction  rises  above  unity  by 
sialic  ^^^  >*  ^79  hy  about  -fj \  and  this  difference  was  called  the  comma  of  Pythagoras*  It  is  palpable 
that  this  comBia  is  moch  more  considerable  than  that  which  we  have  already  mentioned  (note  BB),  and  which  is 

•nly-^. 

We  have  already  proved  that  the  aeries  of  fifths  produces  a  '9*  different  from  B^,  the  series  of  thirds  Inajor  glvea 
«tiother  still  more  different.  For,  let  us  suppo^ie  this  series  of  thirds,  C,  £,  G^  B#,  we  shall  have  £  equal  to 
4»  G)K  to  I4»  ^^^  ^  ^o  W»  ^^^^  octave  below  is  J44  \  from  whence  it  appears,  that  this  last  B  is  less  than 
unity  (that  ia  to  say  than  C),  by  ttt*  ^^  ^  tVi  ^^  n^r  it :  A  new  domma,  much  greMer  than  the  preceding, 
and  which  the  Greeks  have  called  apotome  major. 

It  may  be  observed,  that  this  B%  deduced  from  the  series  of  thirds,  ia  to  the  BX^  dedoced  frona  the  series  of 
fifths,  aa  J44  ^  ^  f^T^TT  *  ^^^^  1'  ^  ^y*  ^^  multiplying  by  524288,  aa  125  multiplied  by  4096  ia  to'531441, 
or  aa  51200  to  531441*  that  ia  to  say,  nearly  as  26  'w  to  27 :  from  whence  it  may  be  aeen^  that  these  two  B'a^ 
are  very  conaiderably  different  one  from  the  other,  and  even  aufficiently  different  to  make  the  ear  aenaible  of 
it }  becauae  the  difference  Conaiata  almoat  of  a  minor  aemitone,  whose  valao,  as  will  afterwards  he  aeen^vt  139*  )• 

Moreover,  if,  after  having  found  the  G^  equal  to  |f ,  we  then  tune  by  fiftba  and  hy  fonrtha,  GM$  *i^^t  ^^^ 

cries  of  fifths,  we  find  that  the  BM  mnat  be  4Sii '»  its  differ- 


Cjjti,  B^K,  aa  we  have  done  with  respect  to  the  first  series 

rence,  then,  from  unity,  or,  in  other  words,  from  C,  is  tt^t'  that  ia  to  aay,  abont  -^  >  a  comma  atill  leae  thaa 

•oy  of  the  preoedingi  and  which  the  Greeka  have  called  epotome  mimtr* 


520 

Theory  of 
Marmonj. 

Reasons 
and  xules 
for  tempe- 
rament. 


M    O 

not  to  L&  different  fi*oni  the  octave  above  C :  fbr  every 
B^  and  every  V  is  the  tame  sound,  since  the  octave 
or  the  scale  only  consists  of  twelve  semitones. 

66.  From  thence  it  necessarily  follows,  i.  That  it  is 
impossible  that  all  the  octaves  and  all  the  fifths  should 
be  just  at  the  same  time,  particularly  in  instruments 
which  have  keys,  where  no  intervals  less  than  a  semi- 
tone are  admitted.  1.  That,  of  consequence,  if  the 
fifths  are  justly  tuned,  son»  alteration  must  be  made  in 
the  octaves^  Dow  the  sympathy  or  sound  which  sub- 
sists between  any  note  and  its  octave,  does  not  permit 
us  to  make  such  an  alteration  :  this  perfect  coalescence 
of  sound  is  the  cause  why  the  octave  should  serve  as  li' 
mits  to  the  other  intervals,  and  that  all  the  notes  which 
rise  above  or  fall  below  the  ordinary  scale,  are  no  more 
than  replications,  i.  c.  repetitions,  of  all  that  have  gone 
before  them.  For  this  reason,  if  the  octave  were  al- 
tered, there  could  be  no  longer  any  fixed  point  either  in 
harmony  or  melody.  It  is  then  absolutely  necessary  toi 
tone  the  *c*  or  B%  in  a  just  octave  with  the  first ;  nora 
whence  it  follows,  that,  in  the  progression  of  fifths,  or, 
what  is  the  same  thine,  in  the  alternate  series  of  fifths 
and  fourths,  C,  G,  D,  A,  £,  B,  F«,  C«,  Gt,  'd«', 
A}^,  *e)it:\  B%,  it  is  necessary  that  all  the  fifths  should 
be  altered,  or  at  least  some  of  them.  Now,  since  there 
is  no  reason  why  one  should  rather  be  altered  than  an- 
other, it  follows,  that  we  ought  to  alter  them  all  equal- 
ly. By  these  means,  as  the  alteration  is  made  to  in- 
fluence all  the  fifths,  it  will  be  in  each  of  them  almost 


S    I    C.  PartL 

imperceptible  \  and  thus  the  fifth,  which,  after  die  oc-  iWtf 
tave,  is  the  most  perfect  of  all  consonances,  and  which 
we  are  under  the  necessity  of  altering,  must  only  be  al- 
tered in  the  least  degree  possible. 

67.  It  is  true,  that  the  thirds  will  be  a  little  hanh: 
but  as  the  interval  of  sounds  which  constitutes  the 
third,  produces  a  leas  perfect  coalescence  than  that  of 
the  fifth,  'it  is  necessary,  sayv  M.  Ranieau,  to  sacrifice 
the  justice  of  that  chord  to  the  perfection  of  the  fifth  ^ 
for  the  nrore  perfect  a  chord  is  in  its  own  nature,  the 
more  displeasing  to  the  ear  is  any  alteration  which  can 
be  made  in  it.  In  the  octave  the  least  alteration  is  in- 
supportable. 

68.  This   change   in  the  intervals  of  instmmgpts  ^  ^^ 
which  have,  or  even  which  have  not,  keys,  is  that  whichtiii. 
we  call  temperament 

69.  It  results  then  from  all  that  we  have  now  said,p,j^ 
tbat  the  theory  of  temperament  may  be  reduced  tonkma 
thia  question.-— The  alternate  socoession  of  fifkhs  aad<^Bf 
fourdis  having  been  given,  (art.  66.),  in  which  BX^^'^ 
or  C  is  not  the  true  octave  of  the  first  C  ^  it  is  propo- 
sed to  alter  all  the  fifths  equally,  in  such  a  ouumer  that 

the  two  C*s  may  be  in  a  perfect  octave  the  one  to  the 
other. 

70.  For  a  solution  of  this  question,  we  must  begin  PMid 
with  tuning  the  two  C*8  in  a  perfect  octave  the  one  ta^Mi* 
the  other;  in  consequence  of  which,  we  will  render  all|^ 
the  itemitones  which  compose  the  octave  as  equal  as 
possible.    By  this  means  (hh)  the  alteration  made  in 

each 


In  a  word,  if,  after  having  found  £  equal  to  4  iu  the  progression  of  thirds,  we  then  tune  by  fifths  and  fourths 
£,  B,  F%,  C%  &c.  we  shall  arrive  at  a  new  B^,  which  shall  be  -fiTT^i  <^<^^  which  will  not  differ  from  unitjr 
but  by  about  ytt9  which  is  the  last  and  smallest  of  all  the  commas ;  but  it  must  be  observed,  that,  in  this  case, 
the  thirds  major  firom  £  to  G%,  from  G%  to  B}^,  or  C,  &c.  are  extremely  false,  and  greatly  altered. 

(hh)  All  the  semitones  being  equal  in  the  temperament  proposed  bj  M.  Kameao,  it  follows,  that  the  twelve  se* 
mitones  C,  G;K,  D,  D^,  £,  £^,  &c  shall  form  a  continued  geometrical  progression  ^  that  is  to  say,  a  series  10 
•^vhich  C  shall  be  to  C^  in  the  same  proportion  as  C^  to  D,  as  D  to  D^,  &c.  and  so  of  the  rest. 

These  twelves  semitones  are  formed  hy  a  scries  of  thirteen  sounds,  of  which  C  and  its  octave  'c*  are  the  first  uai 
last.  Thus  to  find  by  computation  the  value  of  each  sound  in  the  temperament,  which  is  the  present  object  sf 
our  speculations,  our  scrutiny  is  limited  to  the  investigation  of  eleven  other  numbers  between  i-and  2  which  may 
form  with  the  1  and  the  2  a  continued  geometrical  progression. 

However  little  any  one  is  practised  in  calculation,  he  will  easily  find  each  of  these  numbers,  or  at  least  a  nnnh 
ber  approaching  to  its  value.  These  are  the  characters  by  which  they  may  be  expressed,  which  "*ftthtmatifisi* 
will  easily  understand,  and  which  others  may  neglect. 

C        CX        D        D«        £        F        F» 

IS  13  12 

I  V2        y/i^        \/2' 

A        A«        B 


G 

V^2*      ^2*       \/2?         ^2* 


1  s 


I  a 


I  ft 


G« 

I  1 

•J* 


I  a 


I  a 


t  1 


•c' 

I  a 


^iP       V2"      yT         ^ 

It  is  obvious,  that  in  this  temperament  all  the  fifths  are  equally  altered.  One  may  likewise  prove,  that  the  al- 
teration of  each  in  particular  is  very  inconsiderable  \  for  it  will  be  found,  for  instance,  that  the  fifth  firom  C  to  G, 
which  should  be  \y  Ought  to  be  diminbhed  by  about  7V  of  tt  S  ^^^  ^^  ^  ^7*  ^7  ttti  ^  quantity  almost  ioosa- 
ceivably  small. 

It  is  true,  that  the  thirds  major  will  be  a  Uttle  more  altered  ;  for  the  third  major  from  C  to  £,  for  instaacr, 
shall  be  increased  in  its  interval  by  about  1777 :  hut  it  is  better,  according  to  M.  Hameau,  that  the  altcratisi 
should  fall  upon  the  third  than  upon  the  fifth,  which  after  the  octave  is  the  moat  perfect  chord,  and  fipon  the  per- 
fection of  which  we  ought  never  to  degenerate  but  as  little  as  possible. 

Beaides,  it  has  appeared  from  the  series  of  thirds  major  C,  £,  G^K,  B;K,  that  this  \\tiX  B%  is  very*diiereat  fiwa 
'c*  (note  cg)  \  from  whence  it  follows,  that  if  we  would  tune  this  B%  in  unison  with  the  octave  of  C,  and  alttr 
*at  the  same  time  each  of  the  thirds  major  by  a  degree  as  small  as  possible,  they  must  all  he  equally  altered.  This 
is  what  occurred  in  the  temperament  which  we  propose  \  and  if  in  it  the  third  be  more  altered  than  the  fifth,  it  if 
a  consequence  of  the  difference  which  we  find  between  the  degrees  of  perfection  in  these  intervala^  a  dilEtrcacc 
with  which,  if  we  may  speak  so,  the  temperament  proposed  confonns  itself  Thus  this  diversity  of  altenUiso  i» 
Tathtr  advantageous  than  inconvenient.  4 


MUSIC. 


neorr  9f  ^i^cb  fiftli  will  lie  Tery  considerable,  but  equal  in  all  of 

HanMtty.  tbeiiK 

'       '    ,  '      71.  In  tbis,  tbeUy  tbe  tbcory  of  temperament  con- 

ttcihod'irf  ^^^  *  ^°^  ^  '^  would  be  difficuit  in  practice  to  tune  a 
harpsichord  or  organ  by  thus  rendering  all  the  semi* 
tones  equal,  M.  Rameau,  in  his  Generation  Harmonique^ 
has  furnished  us  with  the  followii^  method,  to  alter  all 
the  fifths  as  equally  as  possible* 

72.  Take  any  4cey  of  the  haipsichord  which  you 
please  9  but  let  it  be  towards  tbe  middle  of  tbe  instru- 
ment )  for  instance,  C :  then  tune  the  note  G  a  fifth 
above  it,  at  first  with  as  much  accuracy  as  possible  \ 
this  yon  may  imperceptibly  diminish  :  tune  afterwards 
tbe  fifth  to  this  with  equal  accuracy,  and  diminish  it  in 
4he  same  mamier  \  and  thus  proceed  firom  one  fifth  to 
another  in  ascunt :  and  as  the  ear  does  not  ai^neciate  so 
^exactly  sounds  that  are  extremely  sharp,  it  is  necessary^ 
when  by  fifths  you  have  risen  to  notes  extremely  high, 
4bat  you  should  tune  in  the  most  perfect  manner  the  00- 
-tave  below  tbe  last  fifth  which  yon  had  immediately 

Vol,  XIV.  Part  IL  f 


521 


formed  3  then  you  may  continue  always  in  the  same  Theoiy^of 
manner ;  till  in  this  process  you  arrive  at  the  last  fifth  Harmony, 
from  £:^  to  fi^,  which  should  of  themselves  be  in 
tune  \  that  is  to  say,  tbey  ought  to  be  in  such  a  state, 
that  B)i[,  the  highest  note  of  the  two  which  compose 
the  fifth,  may  be  identical  with  the  sound  C,  with 
which  you  began,  or  at  least  the  octave  of  that  sound 
perfectly  just :  it  will  he  necessary  then  to  ti-y  if  this 
C,  or  Its  octave,  forms  a  just  fifth  with  the  last 
sound  £;jtl  or  F,  which  has  been  already  tuned.  If 
this  be  the  case,  we  may  be  certain  that  the  harpsi- 
chord is  properly  tuned.  But  if  this  last  fifth  be 
not  true,  in  this  case  it  will  be  too  sharp,  and  it  is 
an  indication  that  the  other  fifths  have  been  too 
much 'diminished,  or  at  least  some  of  them  \  or  it  will 
be  too  flat,  and  consequently  discover  that  they  have 
mot  been  suffici^tly  diminished.  We  must  then  be- 
ffin  and  proceed  as  formerly,  till  we  find  the  last  fifth 
jn  tune  of  itself,  and  without  our  immediate  interposi- 
tion (u). 

3U  By 


\ 


(11)  We  have  <m>y  to  acknowledge,  wilh  M.  Rameau,  that 'this  tempei^ment  is.  far  remote  from  that 
^which  is  now  in  practice :  it  may  here  he  seen  in  what  this  last  temperament  consists  as  applied  to  the  organ  or 
harpsichord.  They  begin  with  C  in  the  middle  of  tbe  keys,  and  tliey  flatten  the  four  first  fifths  G,  D,  A,  £,  till 
they  form  a  true  (bitfl  major  from  £  to  C ;  afterwards,  setting  out  from  this  £,  they  tune  the  fifths  B,  Yl^y  C% 
G^,  but  fattening  them  still  less  than  the  former,  so  that  G%  may  almost  form  ^a  true  third  major  with  £. 
When  tbey  have  arrived  at  G^,  they  stop^  they -resume  the  first  C,  and  tune  to  it  the  fifth  F  in  descending, 
-then  the  fifth  Bt^,  &c.  and  they  heighten  a  little  all  the  fifths -tiU  they  have  anrived  at  AJ^,  which  ought  to  be  tlN» 
same  with  the  Glk  already  tuned. 

If,  in  the  temperament  commonly 'practised,  some  thirds  are  found  to  be  (ess  altered  dian  in  that- prescribed  by 
M.  Rameau,  4n  return,  the  fifths  in  the  first  temperament  are  much  more  false,  and  many  thirds  are  likewise  so ; 
insomuch,  lliat  upon  a  harpsichord  tuned  according  to  the  temperament  in  common-use,  there  are  five  or  six  modes 
which  the  ear  cannot  endure,  and  in  which  it  is  impossible  to  execute  any  thing*  On  the  contrary,  in  the  tern* 
perament  suggested  by  M.  Rameau,  all  the  modes  are  equally  perfect  ^  which  is  a  new  argument  in  its  favour, 
since  the  temperament  is  peculiarly  necessmry  in  passing  from  ooe^node  to  another,  without  shocking  the  ear-^ 
for  instance,  firom  the  modeof  C  to  tbat>of  G,  from  the  mode  of  G  to  that  of  D,  &c.  It  is  true,  that  this  uni- 
'ibrmity  of  modulation  will  to  the  greatest  number  of  musicians  appear  a  defect :  for  they  imagine,  that,  by  tuning 
the  semitones  of  the  scale  unequal,  they  give  each  of  the  modes  a  .peculiar  chacacter  \  so  that,  according  to  them, 
the  scale  of  C, 

t  C,  D,  £,  F,  G,  A,  B,  C, 

4»  not  perfectly  similar  to  the  gammut  or  diatonic  scale  of  the  mode  of  £, 

E,  F«,  0«,  A«,  B,  c«,  d«,  e, 
which  in  their  judgment,  renders  tbe  modes  of  C  and  £  proper  for  different  manners  of -expression.  But  af- 
ter all  that  we  4iaYe  said  in  this  treatise  on  die  formation  of  diatonic  intervals,  every  one  should  be  convinced, 
that,  acconlingto  the  intention  of  nature,  the  diatonic  scale  ought  to  be -perfectly  tho'same  in  all  its  modes: 
Tbe  contrary  opinion,  says  M.  Rameau,  is  a  mere  prejudice  of  musicians*  The  character  of  an  air  arises  chiefly 
-from  the  intermixture  of  the  modes;  fimn  the  greater  or  lesser  degrees  of  vivacity  in  the  movement ;  from  the 
tones,  more  or  less  grave,  or- more  or  less  acute,- which  «rB  assigned  to  the  generator  of  the  mode  \  and  frwn  the 
chords  more  or  less  beautiful,  as  tbey  aaremore  or  less  deep,  more-or-less  ^at,  more  or  less  sharp,  which  are  found 
an  it. 

^  In  short,  the  last  advantage  of  this  temperament  is,  that  it  will  be  firand  confiirmed  with,  or  at  least  very  little 
Afferent  firom  that  which  is  practised  upon  instruments  wifhontkeys;  as  the  bass*viol,  the  violin,  in  which  true 
fifths  and  fouiths  are  preferred  to  thirds  -and  sixths  tuned  with  equal  aocuraey  \  a  temperament  which  appears 
'incompatible  with  that  commonly  used  in  tuning  the  harpsichord. 

Yet  M.  Rameau,  in  hu  New  System  ofMumc^  printed  in  X716,  adopted  the  ordinary  temperament.  In  that 
work,  (as  may  be  seen  chap,  xxiv.),  he  pretends  that  the  alteration  of  the  fifths  is  nnoh  more  supportable 
than  that  of  the  thirds  major;  and  that  this  last  interval  can  hardly  sitfer  a  greater  alteration  than  the  octave* 
which,  as  we  know,  cannot  suffer  the  slightest  alteration.  He  says,  that  if  three  strings  are  tuned,  one  by  an  oc- 
tave,* the  other  by  a  fifth,  and  the  next  by  a  third  major  to  a  fourth  string,  and  if  a  sound  be  produced  /rom  die 
last,  the  strings. tuned  by  a  fifth  will  vilnate,  though  a  little  less  true  than  it  ought  to  have  been  ;  but  that  the 
octave  und  the  thiirf  major,.if  altered  in  the  least  degree,  will  not -vibrate:  and  he  adds,  that  the  temperament 
which  is  now  practised,  is  founded  upon  that  principle.    M.  Bameau  goes  still  fiuther;  and  as^  in  the  ordinary 

temperament, 


522 


MUSI    C. 


Theory  of 
Harmony. 


Altera  lions 
bv  either 
method 
hardly  dis- 
agreeable. 


By  this  method  all  the  twelve  soanda  which  conpoee 
one  of  the  scales  shall  be  taned :  nothing  u  necessary 
bat  to  tane  with  the  greatest  possible  exactness  their 
octaves  in  the  other  scales,  and  the  harpsichord  shall  be 
well  tuned. 

We  have  given  this  rale  for  temperament  irom  M. 
Raroean  \  and  it  belongs  only  to  disinterested  artists  to 
judge  of  it.  However  this  question  be  determined,  and 
whatever  kind  of  temperament  may  be  received,  the 
alteration  which  it  produces  in  harmony  will  be  but 
very  small,  or  not  perceptible  to  the  ear,  whose  attention 
is  entirely  engrossed  in  attnning  itself  with  the  funda- 
mental bass,  and  which  suffers,  without  uneasiness,  these 
alterations,  or  rather  takes  no  notice  of  them,  because 
it  supplies  from  itself  what  may  be  wanting  to  the  truth 
and  perfection  of  the  intervals. 

Simple  and  daily  experiments  confirm  what  we  now 
advance.  Listen  to  a  voice  which  is  accompanied,  in 
singing,  by  different  instruments  \  though  the  tempera- 
ment of  the  voice,  and  the  temperament  of  each  of  the 
instruments,  are  all  different  one^rom  another,  yet  you 
will  not  be  in  the  least  affected  with  the  kind  of  caco- 
phony which  ought  to  result  from  these  diversities,  be- 
cause the  ear  supposes  these  intervals  true,  of  which  it 
does  not  appreciate  differences. 

We  may  give  another  experiment.  Let  the  three 
keys  £,  G,  B  be  struck  upon  an  organ,  and  the  minor 
perfect  chord  only  will  be  heard  ^  though  £,  by  the  con- 
struction of  that  instrument,  must  cause  G  i  likewise 
to  be  heard }  though  G  should  have  the  same  e&ct 
upon  D,  and  B  upon  ¥  ifS^'j  insomuch  that  the  ear  is 
at  once  affected  with  all  these  somidB,  D,  £,  F :(,  G, 
G  ^K,  B  :  how  many  dissonances  perceived  at  the  same 
time,  and  what  a  jarring  multitude  of  discordant  sensa- 
tions, would  result  from  thence  to  the  ear,  if  the  per- 
fect chord  with  which  it  is  pfooccupied  had  not  power 
entirely  to  abstract  its  attenttoa  from  such  sound  as 
might  offend ! 


Paitl 


Chap.  VIIL  Of  Reposes  or  Cadences  (u> 


73*  Ik  a  fundamental  bass  whose  praeednre  is  hjTp^i^^ 
fifths,  there  always  b,  or  always  may  be,  a  repose^  ernpc^ 
crisis,  in  which  the  mind  ac^otesces  in  its  traositioa«bii«i 
from  one  sound  to  another :  but  a  repose  may  be  more*^^ 
or  less  distinctly  signified,  and  of  conseouence  more  or^  _^ 
less  perfect.     If  one  sboudd  rise  by  fifths;  i£^  for  in-Qf  CU^ 
stance,  we  pass  from  C  to  G ;  it  is  the  gmierator  which 
passes  to  one  of  these  fifths,  and  this  fifth  was  alitady 
pre-«xistent  in  its  generator :  but  the  generator  exiiti 
no  longer  in  this  fifth  f  and  the  ear,  as  this  gcaeratsr  is 
the  principle  of  all  harmony  and  of  all  melody,  feeb 
a  dttire  to  return  to  it.     Thus  the  tfaaaitioA  fnm  a 
sound  toits  fifth  in  ascent,  ia  tmed  an  trnpetfeei  rv- 
/Nur,  or  imperfect  cadenee\  but  the  tranaitum  firam  any 
sound  to  its  fifth  in  descent,  is  denominated  a  perfai 
eadenccy  or  an  ab&ohUe  repose:  it  ia  the  offspring  whi^ 
returns  to  its  generator,  and  as  it  were  recovoa  its  ex- 
tstencfB  once  more  in  that  generator  itself,  with  which 
when  sounding  it  resounds  (chap.  i.). 

74.  Amongst  absolute  reposes,  there  are  some,  ifPttfcci» 
we  nay  be  allowed  the  expression,  ummo  absolute,  that^**^ 
is  to  say,  more  perfect,  than  others.     Thus  in  the  faa-J^^L 
daraental  bass  aa4«k;. 

C,  G,  C,  F,  C,  G,  D,  G,  C, 
which  forms,  as  we  have  seen,  the  diatonic  scale  of  the 
modems,  there  is  an  absolute  repose  from  D  to  G,  as 
from  G  to  C  *,  yet  this  last  absolute  repoae  is  more  per- 
fect than  the  preceding,  because  the  ear,  prefossessed 
with  the  mode  of  C  by  the  multiplied  impreosion  of  the 
sound  C  which  it  has  already  heard  thrice  hefere,  feeb 
a  desire  to  return  to  the  generator  C  ;  and  it  acoerd- 
ingly  does  so  by  the  absolute  repose  G  C» 

75.  We  may  still  add,  that  what  is  commoaly  oaMCt'Afk 
cadenep  in  melody,  onpht  not  to  he  oonfiKiamd  wJA?^^ 
what  we  name  cadence  in  harmony.  w^U 

IDiok^ 


temperament,  there  is  a  necessity  for  altering  the  last  thirds  major,  and  to  make  them  a  little  more  sharp,  that 
they  may  naturally  return  to  the  octave  of  the  principal  sound,  he  pretends  that  this  alteration  ia  tolerable^  net 
only  because  it  is  almost  insensible,  but  because  it  is  found  in  modidations  not  much  in  use,  unless  the  competer 
should  chooae  it  on  purpose  to  render  the  expression  stronger.  *'  For  it  is  proper  to  remark  (says  he),  that  we 
receive  different  impressions  from  the  intervals  in  propoctioa  to  their  different  alterations  :  for  instance,  the  thiri 
major,  which  naturally  elevates  us  to  joy,  in  proportion  as  we  feel  it,  heiffhtens  our  feelings  even  to  a  kind  ef 
fury,  when  it  is  tuned  too  sharp  f  and  the  third  miuor,  which  naturally  inspires  us  with  ten^mess  and  seienity, 
depresses  us  to  oielancholy  wlieu  it  is  too  fiat."  AJl  this  is  very  different  from  what  this  celebrated  musician  at* 
terwards  exhibited  ia  his  Generation  Harmomque^  and  in  the  perlormances  vhicli  followed  it.  From  thii  we 
can  only  conclude,  that  the  reasons  which,  after  him,  we  have  urged  lor  the  new  temperament,  most  wtthsat 
doubt  have  appeared  to  him  very  strong,  because  in  his  mind  they  had  superseded  those  which  he  had  fimeily 
adduced  ia  favour  of  the  ordinary  temperament. 

We  do  not  pretend  to  give  any  decision  fi>r  either  the  one  er  the  other  of  these  methods  of  temperament,  each 
of  which  appears  to  us  to  have  its  particalaf  advantages.  We  shall  oi^y  remark,  that  the  choioe  of  the  one  sr 
the  other  must  be  left  absolutely  to  the  taste  and  inclination  of  the  reader)  without,  however,  admittiag  tkii 
-choice  to  have  any  inAueace  upon  tlie  principles  of  the  system  of  music,  which  we  have  fiillowed  even  till  this  pe- 
riod, and  which  mast  always  snhsist,  whatever  temperament  we  adopt. 

{kk)  That  the  reader  may  have  a  dear  idea  of  the  term  before  he  enters  upon  the  suhjeet  of  this  chapter,  it 
may  be  neoessavy  to  caution  him  againat  a  mistake  into  which  he  may  be  too  easily  led  by  the  ordinaiy  significa- 
tion of  the  word  repose.  In  music,  therefore,  it  is  far  from  beii^  sjaonymous  with  the  word  reit.  It  is,  on  tW 
contrary,  the  terminatsoa  of  a  muAMpAmse  which  ends  in  a  cadence  m<H[«  or  less  emphatic,  as  the  t  '^  * 
implied  in  the  phrase  is  move  or  less  complete.  Thus  a  repese  in  naaaic  answers  the  same  pnrpeae  as 
iion  ia  langu^e.    See  Bsp4»x,  in  Bousseatt's  Musical 


PartL 


M    U 


MXofo. 


l%e«ry  «r  In  tb^  firti  case,  the  word  ooly  signifies  ao  agvee* 
•Ue  And  rapid  nkerataon  between  two  contignoos 
soondsy  called  likewise  a  irHi  or  shakes  in  the  second, 
it  signifies  n  repose  sr  close,  it  is  however  true,  tfant 
ttis  shake  implicfl,  or  at  kast  f  requentij  enoagh  pi«« 
sages,  n  repose,  either  prasent  or  impendiiig,  in  the  fan* 
danientnl  bass  (ix). 

76.  Since  there  is  n  repose  in  paising  fvom  one  sound 
ui  ^e  ta-  iQ  another  in  the  fondnmental  bass,  there  is  also  a 
22^^^]^es.  fepooe  in  pasaing  {ran  one  note  to  another  in  the  din- 
nryia  the  to^iie  scale,  which  is  fbnned  from  it,  and  which  this 
diatonio  hass  reprn^ts:  and  as  the  absdote  repose  G  C  is 
mJ^ud  ef  all  others  the  most  perfect  an  the  fnndamental  bass, 
the  repose  from  B  to  V,  which  answers  to  it  in  the 
scale,  and  .which  is  likewise  terminated  by  the  genera- 
tor, is  for  that  reason  the  roost  perfect  of  all  oSiers  in 
the  diatonic  scale  ascending. 

^^_ 77.  It  is  then  a  law  dictated  by  natnre  itarif  that  if 

and  ue  of  V^  wonld  ascend  diatcnkally  to  the  generator  of  a 
a  senflUe  mode,  yon  can  only  do  this  by  means  of  the  third  ma- 
jor, from  the  fifth  of  that  very  generator.  This  third 
major,  which  with  the  generator  forms  a  semitone,  has 
for  that  reason  been  caUed  the  sensible  note  or  leading 
aote^  as  introdooi^g  the  generator,  and  preparing  os  for 
the  most  perfect  repase* 

l¥e  have  already  prsred,  that  the  fuadamental  bass 
is  the  principle  of  melody.  We  sbaU  besides  make  it 
appear  in  the  sequel,  that  the  effiiot  of  a  repose  in  me- 
lody arises  solely  from  the  fundamental  bass. 

Chap.  IX.   Cftbe  Minor  Mode  and  iti  Diatonic 

Series. 

ne  dkto-  78.  In  the  second  chapter,  we  lurve  esfdained  (art. 
uc  acnes  of  20.  30.  jx.  and  32.)  by  what  meaM,  and  upon  what 
~^JJ^  principle,  the  minor  chord  C,  Efc,  G,  «c'  may  be  for- 
teiacdby  *a>^  which  is  the  characteriatical  chord  of  the  minor 
fiflerent  mode.^  Now  what  we  have  there  said,  taking  C  £sr 
*  ~  the  principal  and  fuodamenul  sound,  wjd  might  likewise 
have  said  of  any  other  note  in  the  scale,  asramed  in  tlie 
same  manner  as  the  principal  and  fiwdamental  sound : 
hat  ns  in  the  minor  chord,  C,  £|^,  G,  V.  there  nocnn 
nn  £|)  which  is  not  fi>ttnd  in  the  mdinary  diatonic  scale, 
we  shall  immediately  snhstitute,  for  greater  ease  and 
esBTOttieDoy,  another  ohsrd,  which  is  likewise  minor 
and  exnotly  similar  to  the  fiicmer,  of  which  all  the  notes 
are  finHid  in  the  scakb 

79.  The  scale  affords  us  three  chords  of  this  kind,  via. 
D,  F,  A,  'd*  'y  A^  'c,  e,  a' ;  and  £,  G,  B,  *e\  Among 
these  three  we  shall  choose  A,  *c,  e,  a*  ^  becanse  diis 
chord,  without  including  any  sharp  or  flat,  has  two 
sonnds  in  coumum  with  the  major  .<diord  £,  £,  G,  V  ^ 
nnd  besides,  one  of  these  two  sounds  is  the  very  same  V: 
so  that  this  chord  appears  to  have  the  most  immediate, 
and  at  the  same  time  tlie  most  simple,  relation  with  the 
chord  C,  £,  G,  'c'  Concerning  this  we  need  only  add, 
that  this  prefersace  of  the  chora  A,  ^  e,  a',  to  every 
other  minor  chord,  is  by  no  means  in  itself  necessary 
for  what  we  have  to  say  in  this  chapter  upon  the  dia- 


SIC.  523 

tonic  scale  of  the  minor  mode*     We  might  in  the  same  Th««)rv  of 
manner  have  chosen  any  other  minor  chord  \  and  it  is  HaroioBy. 
only,  as  we  have  said,  for  greater  ease  and  conveniency         »       ^ 
that  we  fix  upon  this. 

8d.  In  every  mode,  whether  major  or  minor,  the  Tonic  or 
prineqfol  sound  which  implies  the  perfect  chord,  whe-  ^^7  ^^  l'^-* 
ther  major  or  minor,  is  called  the  tome  note  or  key;  thus  ^*^f' 
C  is  the  key  in  its  proper  mode,  A  in  the  mode  of  A,  See  PriMcf. 
&c.     Having  laid  down  this  principle,  pal 

8x.  We  have  shewn  how  the  three  sonnds,  F,  C,  ^^c^  Twtie^ 
G,  which  constitute  (art.  38.)  the  mode  of  C,  of  which  V^^  ^f  "*• 
the  first,  F,  and  the  last,  G,  are  the  two  fifths  of  C,  one  J^e'W * 
descending,  the  other  rising,  produre  the  scale,  B,  'c,  d,  goed. 
e,  f,  g,  a*,  of  the  major  mode,  hj  means  of  the  fan-  Sec  fig.  4, 
danenul  bass  G,  €,  G,  C,  F,  C,  F ;  let  us  in  the 
same  manner  take  the  three  sonnds  1>,  A,  £,  which 
constitute  the  mode  of  At  for  the  same  reason  that  the 
sounds  F,  C,  G,  constitute  the  mode  of  € ;  and  of  them 
let  us  form  this  fundamental  bass,  perfectly  like  the  pre- 
ceding £,  A,  F,  A,  D,  A,  D ;  let  us  afiterwardd  place  See  fig.  7, 
below  each  of  these  sounds  one  of  their  harmonics,  as 
we  have  done  (chap,  v.),  for  the  first  scale  of  the  major 
mode ;  with  this  diAerenoe,  that  we  nuist  suppose  D,  and 
A  as  implying  their  thirds  minor  in  the  fundsmental 
bass  to  characterize  the  minor  mode  \  and  we  shall  have 
the  diatonic  scale  of  that  mode, 

G«,  A,  B,  *c,  d,  €,  V. 

82.  The  G^Ky  which  corre^nds  mth  £  in  the  fuut 
damental  bass,  forms  n  third  major  with  that  £,  though 
the  mode  be  minor  \  for  the  same  reason  that  a  third 
from  the  fifth  of  the  fundamental  sound  ought  to  be  ma- 
jor (art.  77.)  when  the  third  rises  to  the  fondamental 
sound  A. 

83.  It  is  true,  that^  in  causing  £  to  imply  its  third  Sf  <•  Jmpl^ 
minor  G,  one  might  also  rise  to  A  by  a  diatonic  pro-  ^^  C^TSh 
gross.     But  that  manner  1^  rising  to  A  would  be  less 
perfect  than  the  preceding  $  for  this  reason  (art.  76.), 

that  the  absolute  repose  or  perfect  cadence  £,  A,  in  the 
fundamental  bass,  ought  to  be  rapresented  in  the  most 
perfect  manner  in  the  two  notes  of  the  diatonic  scale 
which  answer  to  it,  especially  when  one  of  these  two 
notes  is  A,  the  key  itself  upon  which  the  repose  is  made. 
Fj*oro  whence  it  follows,  that  the  preceding  note  G 
ought  rather  to  be  sharp  than  natural ;  becanse  G  j^, 
being  included  in  £  (art.  ip.),  much  more  perfectly 
represents^the  note  £  in  the  bass,  than  the  natural  G 
could  do,  which  is  not  included  in  £• 

84.  We  may  remark  this  first  difference  between  Diversities 
the  scale  in  the  scales 

G«,  A,  B, 'c,  d,  e,  r,  of  the  ma. 

and  the  scale  which  corresponds  with  it  in  the  i^<>i^j^r^orif^'' 
mode 

B,  <c,  d,  e,  f,  g,  R% 
that  from  *e^  to  *P  which  are  the  two  last  notes  of  the 
former  scale,  there  is  only  a  semitone  }  whereas  from  ^g' 
to  'a%  which  are  the  two  last  sounds  of  the  latter  series, 
there  is  the  interval  of  a  complete  tone ;  but  this  not 
the  only  discrimination  which  may  be  found  between 
the  scales  of  the  two  modes. 

3  U  2  85.  To 


(ix)  M.  Rousseau,  in  his  letter  00  French  music,  has  called  this  alternate  undulation  of  diftrent  sounds  a  fri?/, 
from  the  Italian  word  irilio^  which  signifies  the  same  thing  5  and  some  French  nrasicians  already  i^^^pear  to  have 
adopted  this  expression. 


soni. 
See  fig. 


524  M    U 

Theory  of      85.  To  investigate  these  differences,  and  to  diflcoTer 
Hwrnony..  the  reason  for  which  thej  happen,  we  shall*  begin  by 
^       ».  '    *  fonning  a  new  diatonic  scale  ef  the  minor  mode,  simi* 
t^n*^f^**   lar  to  the  second  scale  of  the  major  mode, 

these  differ-  %^  c>  ^>  g»  g»  *>  *>%  ^• 

eaces  and        Tliat  last  series,  as  we  have  seen,  was  formed  by 
their  rea-    means  of  the  fundamental  bass  F,  C,  G,  B,  disposed  in 
this  manner, 

C,  G,  C,  r ,  C,  G,  D,  G>  C 
Let  us  take  in  the  same  manner  the  fundamental  bass 
D,  Ay  £,  B,  and  arrange  it  in  the  following  order^ 
A,  £,  A,  D,  A,  £,  B,  £,  A, 
Sec  fig.  8.    and  it  will  produce  the  scale  immediately  subjoined,. 

A,  B,  *c,  d,  e,  e,  f*,  g«,  a%  ' 

tn  which  ^c*  forms  a  third  minor  with  A,  which  in  the 
<fundaniental  bass  corresponds  with  it,  which  denomi- 
nates the  minor  mode ;  and^  on  the  contrary,  *g)K*  forms 
a  third  major  with  £  in  the  fnndameatal  bass,  because 
<g%*  rises  towards  V  (art.  82.  &3.)- 

86.  We  see  besides  an  'f  %%  wUch  does  not  occur  in 
the  former^ 

G«,  A,  B,  *c,  d,  e,  f  \ 
where  'f  *  is  natural.  It  is  because,  in  the  first  scale,  'f  * 
is  a  third  minor  from  D  in  the  bass  5  and  in  the  second, 
HM^  is  the  fifth  from  B  in  the  bass  (mm). 

87.  Thus  the  two  scales  of  the  minor  mode  are  still 
in  this  respect  more  different  one  from  the  other  than 
the  two  scales  of  the  major  mode }  for  we  do  not  re- 
mark this  difference  of  a  semitone  between  the  two 

mode  great- scales  of  the  major  mode.     We  have  only  observed 

er  than       (j^^  ($^.^  gonrie  difference  in  the  value  of  A  as  it  stands 

those  of  the  Iq  each  of  these  scales,  but  this  amounts  to  much  less 
major.         ^t  v 

than  a  semitone. 

'  T  and  *g*  SS*  From  thence  it  may  be  seen  why  ^f*  and  *g*  are 
sharpin  the  sharp  when  ascending  in  the  minor  mode;  besides  the 
minor  if»  |g  only  natural  in  the  first  scale  G#,  A,  B,  *c,  d,  e, 

mode,  and  *f  ,^  because  this  *f '  cannot  rise  to  «g«',  (art.  48.). 
The  cafe         ^9*  ^^  ^^  ^^^  ^^^  same  case  in  descending.     For  £, 
diSerent  m  the  fifth  of«  the  generator,  ought  not  to  imply  the  third 
descending,  major  *g$%  but  in  the  case  when  that  £  descends  to 
and  why.     ^^^  generator  A  to  form  a  perfect  repose  (art.  77.  and 
83.)  'f  and  in  this  case  the  third  major  *g%*  rises  to  the 
generator  V :  but  the  fundamental  bass  A£  may,  in 
descending,  give  the  scale  %  g*,  natural,  provided  'g* 
does  not  rise  again  to  V. 
Explica-  90.  It  is  much  more  difficult  to  explain  how  the  'f ' 

tioaof  the  which  ought  to  follow  this  *g*  in  descending,  is  natural 
descending  ^^  ^^  g^arp  ;  for  the  fundamental  bass 
mSJr'"'  .    A,  £,  B,  £,  A,  D,  A,  £,  A, 

mode  from  produces  in  descending, 
a  fanda-  Hi,  g,  f  j)^  e,  e,  d,  c\  B,  A. 

nientel  bass  ^^d  it  is  plain  that  the  T  cannot  be  otherwise  than 
difficult.  *^ 


s   I   c. 


Parti 


Difference 
between 
the  two 
scales  of 
the  nunor 


sharp,  since  ^f  i^'  '^  ^  ^f^  of  ^  note  B  of  the  fiin-  T%mj^ 
damental  bass.    Sxperieace,  however,  eviaces  that  die  Iliniiij. 
T  is  natural  in  deseending  in  the  diatonic  scale  of  the^'"*"^ 
major  mode  of  A^  espetiaJly  when  the  preceding  *g^  is 
natural :  and  it  must  be^  acknoidedged,  that  here  the 
fundamental  baas  appears  defective. 

M.  Ramean  has  attempted  the  fi>Uewiag  sokitiMi  of  KMn*! 
this  difficulty.   In  the  diatonic  scale  of  the  minor  mode'^^fy. 
in  descending,  (*a,  g,  f,  e,  d,  c',  B,  A,)  V  may  be  rt-^^ 
garded  simply  as  a  note  of  passage,  merely  added  to  give  ja  »«. 
sweetness  to  the  modulation,  and  as  a  diatonic  gradatioafiNiBii. 
by  which  we  may  descend  to  T  natural.   This  is  easily 
perceived,  according  to  M.  Rameao,  by  the  fondameti- 
tal  basft, 

A,  D,  A,  D,  A,  £,  A, 
which  produces 

*a,  f,  e,  d,  c\  B,  A  j 
which  may  be  regarded,  as  he  says,  as  the  real  scale  of 
the  minor  mode  in  descending  ;  to  which  is  added  *g*  na- 
tural between  *a*  and  'f*,  to  preserve  the  diatoBic  order. 

This  appears  the  only  possible  answer  to  the  difficulty 
above  proposed  :  but  we  know  not  whether  it  will  fally 
satisfy  the  reader ;  whether  he  will  not  see  with  regret, 
that  Uie  fundamental  bass  dees  not  produce,  to  speak 
properly,  the  diatonic  scale  of  the  minor  mode  in  des- 
cent, when  at  the  same  time  this  same  bass  so  happily 
produces  the  diatonic  scale  of  that  identical  mode  in  as- 
cending, and  the  diatonic  scale  of  the  major  mode  whe* 
ther  in  rising  or  descending  (mn). 

Chap.  X.  OfRdotlife  Modesm 

91.  Two  modes  of  such  a  nature  that  we  can  pass 
from  the  one  to  the  other,  are  called  reiatwe  modes^y^^imn' 
llius  the  major  mode  of  C  is  relative  to  the  major  htin; 
mode  of  F  and  to  that  of  G.     It  has  ako  been  aecn*^^. 
how  many  intimate  connexions  there  are  between  the^^^ 
nuMor  •  mode  of  C,  and  the  minor  mode  of  A.     For, 

f .  The  perfect  chords,  one  major,  C,  £,  G,  V,  the  other 
minor,  A,  *c,  e,  a%  which  characterize  each  of  these  twe«  sce  Ifr* 
kinds  of  modulation  *  or  harmony,  have  two  sounds  i&( 
oonmion,  'c^  and  V.    2.  The  scale  of  the  minor  mode  of 
A  in  descent,  absolutely  contains  the  same  sounds  with 
the  s<»le  of  the  major  mode  of  C. 

Hence  tiie  transition  is  so  natural  and  easy  from  the 
major  mode  of  C  to  the  minor  mode  of  A,  or  from  the 
minor  mode  of  A  to  the  major  mode  of  C,  as  experience 
proves. 

92.  In  the  minor  mode  of  £,  the  minor  perfect 
,  chord  £,  G,  B,  *e%  which  characterixes  it,  has  lOtewise 

two  sounds,  £,  G,  in  common  with  the  perfect  chord 
major  C,  £,  G,  ^%  whiish  characterizes  the  major  mode 

of 


(mm)  Besides,  without  appealing  to  the  proof  of  the  fundamental  bass,  ^f:^*  obviously  presents  itself  as  the  sixth 
note  of  this  scale  j  because  the  seventh  note  being  necessarily  *g#'  (art.  77.)  if  the  sixth  were  not  *f »%  but  *fj\ 
there  would  be  an  interval  of  three  semitones  between  the  sixth  and  the  seventh,  consequently  the  scale  would  not 
be  diatonic,  (art.  8.)«       • 

(kn)  When  ^g^  is  said  to  be  natural  in  descending  the  diatonic  scale  of  the  minor  mode  of  A,  it  is  only  meant 
that  this  *g'  is  not  necessarily  sharp  in  descending  as  it  is  in  rising ;  for  it  may  be  sharp,  as  may  be  proved  by 
numberless  examples,  of  which  all  musical  compositions  are  full,  it  is  true,  that,  when  *g'  is  found  sharp  in  des- 
cending to  the  minor  mode  of  A,  we  are  not  sure  that  the  mode  is  minor  till  the  *f  *  or  *c*  natural  is  foond  •,  bath 
of  which  impress  a  peculiar  character  on  the  minor  mode,  viz.  *c^  natural,  in  rising  and  in  descending,  and  the  *P 
natural  in  descending. 


Rartl. 


MUSIC. 


of  of  C.  Bot  the  miiiorraodie  of  £  is  not  so  clooelj  re- 
Imted  nor  allied  to  the  major  mode  of  C  as  the  minor 
mode  of  A ;  because  the  diatonic  scale  of  the  minor 
mode  of  £  in  descent,  has  not,  like  the  series  of  the 
minor  mode  of  A^  all  these  sounds  in  common  with  the 
scale  of  C.  In  reality,  this  scale  is  'e,  d,  e\  B,  A,  G, 
F^,  £,  where  there  oocors  an  T  sharp  which  is  not  in 
the  scale  of  C.  Tboogh  the  minor  mode  of  £  is  thus 
less  relative  to  the  major  mode  ef  C  than  that  of  A  ; 
yet  the  artist  does  not  hesitate  sometimes  to  pass  imme- 
diately from  the  one  to  the  other. 

When  we^  pass  from  one  mode  to  another  by  the  in- 
terval of  a  third,  whether  in  descending  or  rising,  as 
from  C  to  A,  or  from  A  to  C,  from  C  to  £,  or  from 
£  to  C,  the  major  mode  becomes  minor,  or  the  minor 
mode  becomes  major. 

93.  There  is  still  another  minor  mode,  into  which 
an  immediate  transition  may  be  made  in  issning  from 
the  major  mode  of  C.  It  is  the  minor  mode  of  C 
itself  in  which  the  perfect  minor  chord  C,  £b,  G,  V, 
has  two  sounds,  C  and  G,  in  common  with  the  per- 
fect major  chord  C,  £,  G,  'c\  Nor  is  there  any  thing 
more  common  than  a  trai^sition  from  the  major  mode 
of  C  to  the  minor  mode».  or  from  the  minor  t<r  the 
major  (00 )« 

Chap.  XI.  OfDissMmmt. 


525 


fliiidi  the 

if  OS 


94*  We  have  already  observed,  that  the  mode  of  C 
(F,  C,  G,)  has  two  sounds  in  common  with  the  mode 
of  G  (C,  G,  D)  )  and  two  sounds  in  common  with  the 
mode  of  F  (£[?,  F,  C)  j  of  consequence,  this  procedure 
of  the  bass  C  G  may  beloog  to  the  mode  of  C,  or  to 
the  mode  of  G,  as  the  procedure  of  the  bais  F  C,  or 
C  F,  may  belong  to  tlie  mode  of  C  or  the  mode  of  F« 
When  one  therefore  passes  from  C  to  F  or  to  G  in  a 
fundamental  bass,  be  is  still  ignorant  what  mode  be  is 
in.     It  would  be,  however,  advantageous  to  know  it, 
and  €0  be  able  by  some  means  to  distinguish  the  gene- 
rator from  its  fifths. 
»w  we         95.  This  advantage  may  be  obtained  by  uniting  at 
^yimrf-  the  same  time  the  sounds  G  and  F  in  the  same  har- 
^**  to     mony,  that  is  to  say,  by  joiniug  to  the  harmony  C,  B^ 
gf  It,        *d*  of  the  fiflh  G,  the  other  fifth  F  in  this  manner, 
lis,  and    G,  B;  M,  f  *  *,  this  ^P  which  is  added,  forms  a  dissonance 
that        with  G  (art.  18.).     Hence  the  chord  G,  B,  M,  P,  is 
^*  ^^*  called  a  dis&matU  chord,  or  a  chord  of  the  seventh.     It 
^^^^    ^  serves  to  distinguish  the  fifth  G  from  the  generator  C, 
which  always  implies,  without  mixture  c^  alteration, 


the  perfect  chord  C,  £,  G,  'c"*  resulting  from  nature  it-  Theory  of 
self  (art.  52.)*     By  this  we  may  see,  that  when  we  pass  HanMoy. 
from  C  to  G,  one  passes  at  the  same  time  from  C  to  F, '    •'«      ■' 
because  *V  is  found  to  be  comprehended  in  the  chord        ^ 
of  G )  and  the  mode  of  C  by  these  means  plainly  ap> 
pears  to  be  datennined,  because  there  is  none  but  that 
mode  to  whicb  the  sounds  F  aud  G  at  once  belong. 

96.  Let  us  now  see  what  may  be  added  to  the  bar-  Manner  of' 
mony  F,  A,  C,  of  the  fifth  F  behw  the  generator,  to^^^«^ 

distinguishUib  harmony  from  ^^\^  ^]^\f^^' ^^^^ 
It  seems  probable  at  nrst,  that  we  should  add  to  it  tiie 
other  fifUi  G,  so  that  the  generator  C^  in  passing  to 
F,  may  at  the  same  time  pass  to  G,  and  that  by  this- 
the  mode  should  be  determined  :  but  this  iottoduction 
of  G,  in  the  chord  F,  A,  C,  would  produce  two  se- 
conds in  succession,  F  G,  G  A,  that  is  to  say,  two 
dissonances  whose  union  would  prove  extremely  harsh 
to  the  ear ;  an  inconvenience  to  be  avoided.  For  if» 
to  distinguish  the  mode,  wc  should  alter  the  harmony 
of  the  fifth  F  in  the  fundamental  bass,  it  must  only  be 
altered  in  the  least  degree  possible* 

97.  For  this  reason,  instead  of  G,  we  shall  take  itsChoid  of 
fifth  M%  the  sound  that  approaches  it  the  nearest,  and^«  S^^*^ 
we  shall  have,  instead  of  the  fiRh  F,  the  chord  F,  A,*"^ 

*c,  d',  which  is  called  a  chord  of  the  greoM  sueth. 

One  may  here  remark  the  analogy  there  is  observed 
between  the  harmony  of  the  fifth  G  and  that  of  the- 
fifth  F.  . 

98.  The  fifth  G,  in  rising  above  the  generator,  gives  The  nldect 
a  chord  entirely  consisting  of  thirds  ascending  from  Coffluwnaa' 

C,  B,  <d,  f  ^  now  the  fifl^  F  being  below  the  genera- "^^^^ 
tor  C  in  descending,  we  shall  find,  as  we  go  lower  by*^ 
thirds  from  'c^  towards  £,  the  same  sounds  V,  A,  F, 

D,  which  form  the  chord  F,  A,  %  d',  given  to  the 
fifth  F. 

99^  It  appears  besides,  that  the  alteration  of  the  haiv  - 
mony  in  the  two  fifths  eonsists  only  an  the  third  minors ' 
D,  F,  which  was  reciprocally  added  to  the  harmony  of 
these  two  fifths. 

Chap.  XII.   Of  tie  Double  Use  or  Etkpl^fmmt  of 

Ditsonanee* 

loo.  It  is  evident  by  the  resemhlance  of  sounds  to  Accoem  tiT 
their  octaves,  that  the  chord  F,  A,  'c,  d\  is  in  effect  tlie  doable 
the  same  as  tjie  chord  I>,  F^  A,  V,  Uken  inversely  f ,  «"»P^®r- 
that  the  inverse  of  the  chord  C,  A,  F,  D,  has  beea|  g^^  j,^ 
found  (art.  98.)  in  descending  by  thirds,  ijrom  the  g»-«erlrd. 
nerat^  ftbtl^k 

JOX.  The 


i**> 


(00)  There  are  likewise  other  minor  modes,  into  which  we  may  psfis  in  our, egress  from  the  mode  major  of  C } 

that  of  F  minor.  In  which  the  perfect  minor  chord  F,  Af^,  'c\  includes  the  souud  *c\  and  whose  scale  in  ascent 
F,  G,  Abi  Bt^,  %  d,  e^  f%  only  includes  the  two  sounds  Ab,  B|i,  which  do  not  occur  in  the  scale  of  C.  This 
transition,  however,  is  not  frequent. 

The  minor  mode  of  D  has  only  in  Its  scale  ascending  D,  £,  F,  G,  A9  B,  'c^,-d%  one  'c^'shgrp  which  is  not 
found  in  the  scale  of  C.  For  this  reason  a  transition  may  liLewise  be  made»  without  mtiii^  the  -ear,  from  the 
mode  of  C  major  to  the  mode  of  D  minor  ,  but  this  passage  is  less  immediate  than  the  former,  because  the  chords 
C,  £,  G,  'c\  and  D,  F,  A,  'd%  not  hfiving  a  single  sound  in  common,  one  cannot  (art.  37.)  pass  immediately 
from  the  one  to  the  other. 

(fp)  M.  Ramcau,  in  several  passages  of  his  works  (fox  instance,  in  p;  xxo,  iii,  1X2,  and  xij.  of  the  Ge^ 
neration  Harmonique)^  appears  to  consider  the  chord  D,  F,  A,  C,  as  the  primary  chord  and  generator  of  the  chord 
£,  A,  'c,  d\  whioh  is  that  chord  reversed  ^  in  other  passages  (pai-ticularly  in  p.  116.  of  the  same  performance), 
be  seems  to  consider  the  first  qf  these  chords  m  nothing  e£e  but  the  reverse  of  the  8e9Qnd«    It  would  seem  that 

this 


5^6 


TkfMtftK 
HamMiy. 

difference 
between 
dominant 
jmd  tonic 


/f  See  Do" 


Seeming 
contradic- 
tions recon- 
ciled. 


M    U    S 

zoz.  The  cbord  D,  F,  A,  V,  is  a  chotfd  of  the 
seventh  like  the  chord  G^  ^%V^  with  this  only  differ- 
ence,  tfant  the  latter  in  the  third  G,  B,  is  major:  where- 
as  in  the  formeri  the  third  D^  F,  is  minor.  If  the  F 
were  sharp,  die  chord  D,  F^,  A^  V,  would  be  a  ge- 
nuine choni  of  the  dominant,  like  the  chord«G,  B,  D,  ^* ; 
and  as  the  domionot  G  majr  descend  to  C  in  the  fun- 
damental bass,  the  dominant  D  in^lying  or  carrying 
5fith  it  the  third  major  F%  might  in  the  same  manner 
•descend  to  G-  - 

1 02.  Now  if  the  F^  should  be  changed  into  F  nato- 
lal,  p,  the  fundamental  tone  of  this  chord  D,  F,  A,  *c% 
^gfat  stHl  descend  to  G  j  for  the  change  from  F^  to 
F  natural  will  have  no  other  effect,  than  to  preserve 
Jthe  impression  of  the  mode  of  C,  instead  of  that  of  the 
mode  of  G,  which  the  Fi)^  would  have  here  introdu- 
ced. The  note  D  wiU,  however,  preserve  its  cha- 
racter as  a  dominant,  on  account  of  the  mode  of 
C,  which  foniis  a  seventh.  Thus  in  the  chord  of  which 
we  treat  (D,  F,  A,  V),  D  may  be  considered  as  an  sm- 
perfect  dominant:  we  call  it  imperfect^  because  it  carries 
with  it  the  ^rd  minor  F,  instead  of  the  third  major 
Y%  It  is  for  this  veaaon  that  in  the  sequel  we  shall  call 
it  simply  the  dominanti%%  distlnguaah  it  firom  the  dominant 
G,  which  shaM  be  named  tlie  tonic  dominani  f . 

103.  Thus  the  sonnds  F  and  G,  which  cannot  soc- 
oeed  each  other  (art.  36.)  in  a  diatonic  bass,  vrhen 
they  only  carry  with  them  the  perfect  chords  F  A  C, 
G  B  M\  may  succeed  one  another,  if  M*  be  added  to 
the  harmony  of  the  "first,  and  ^f '  to  the  harmony  of 
the  second  \  and  if  the  iiret  chord  be  iaveited,  that  is 
to  say,  if  the  two  chords  take  thu  fimn,  D,  F,  A,  C, 
G,  B,  M,  a\ 

104.  Besides,  the  ehord  F,  A,  %  A\  being  allowed 
to  succeed  the  perfect  chord  C,  £,  G,  ^%  it  follows  for 

*  Ae  same  reasons,  that  the  chord  C,  £,  G^  €  may  be  suc- 
ceeded by  D,  F,  A,  V  \  which  is  not  contradictory  to 
what  we  have  above  said  (ait.  37.),  lliat  the  sounds  C 
and  D  cannot  succeed  one  another  in  the  fundamental 
bass  :  for  in  the  passage  quoted,  we  had  supposed  that 
Wth  C  and  D  carried  with  4iiem  a  perfect  chord  ma* 
jor }  whereas,  in  the  .present  case,  £>  carries  the  third 
minor  £,  and  likewise  the  sound  ^c*,  by  which  the 
dtord  D  F  A  *c*  is  connected  widi  that  which  precedes 
k  C  £  G  V  J  and  in  vrhich  the  sound  V  is  found. 
Besides,  this  chord,  D  F  A  V,  is  properly  nothing  else 
but  the  diord  F  A  S;  d^  inverted,  and  if  we  may  speak 
so,  msgoised. 

105.  This  manner  of  presenting  tha  chord  'of  the 


I   c. 


Rati 


ika 


subdomiaaBt  under  two  diflerent  fonas,  aiii  of  emflor*  iWay^ 
ing  it  under  these  two  diferent  fonns  has  been  caUed  Vbrnrntf. 
by  M.  Rameau  its  douhie  office  or  giwy/oywigii^f.  Ws^^*  "* 
is  the  source  of  one  of  the  finest  varieliea  in  haimenyiSy^ 
and  we  shall  see  in  the  Mtowing  chapter  the  advnatafsswkt.  ni 
which  reeult  (rem  it*  wh? » 

We  may  add,  that  as  this  double  ea^byiBent  is  a«^ 
kind  (^  license,  it  ought  not  to  he  practiaed  withoet^j^ 
some  precaution.  We  have  lately  seen  that  the  chordiD 
F  A  V,  considered  as  the  nverse  of  F  A  ^  d,*  may  sue-' 
ceedtoC£G'c%  but  this  Kbertyis  not  reciprocal :  and 
though  the  chord  F  A  *c  d*  may  be  MIowed  hy  the 
chord  C  £  G  *c%  we  have  no  right  to  conclnde  frsm 
thence  that  the  chord  D  F  A  *c%  considered  as  the  in- 
verse of  F  A  «c  d*,  nay  be  followed  by  the  chord  C  £  0 
*c*.     For  this  the  reason  shall  be  given  in  chap.  xvi. 

Chap.  XIII.  Concerning  i6e  Use  of  this  DoMe  Em^ 

fkymentf  and  its  Rufes. 

106.  We  have  shown  (chaps  xvi.)  how  the  diatpaieBythi 
scale,  or  or^nary  gammut,  may  be  fiimsed  from  tbsHi^hn 
inndaimenUl  bass  F,  €,  G,  D,  by  twice  repeMJng  ths^^ 
note  G  in  that  series  \  so  that  this  gammot  is  primitive ^^,^^ 
ly  composed  of  two  similar  tetrachords,  one  in  ^claiih 
mode  of  C,  the  other  in  that  of  G.     Now  it  is  pos8ib]e,iqraia 
by  means  of  this  double  employment,  ta  preserve  ths*'*^'*^ 
impression  of  the  mode  of  C  through  the  whole  extent "j^j*^ 
of  the  scale,  without  twice  repeating  the  note  C,  or  ***""" 
even  without  supposing  this  repetition.    For  this  efiect 
we  form  the  following  fundamental  bass, 

C,  G,  C,  F,  C,  D,  G,  C  : 
in  which  C  is  understood  to  carry  with  it  the  perfect 
chord  C  £  G  "c* ;  G,  the  chord  G  B  «d  f '  -,  F  the  chord 
F  A  «c  d* ',  and  D,  the  chord  D  F  A  'c'.  It  is  plain 
irom  what  has  been  said  in  the  preceding  chapter,  that  ia 
this  case  C  may  ascend  to  D  in  the  (midamental  basi, 
and  D  descend  to  G,  and  that  the  impression  of  the 
mode  of  C  is  preserved  by  the  ^  natural,  which  fonns 
the  third  minor  M  T,  instead  of  the  third  major  which 
D  ought  naturally  to  implf . 

X07.  Tliis  fundamental  bass  will  give,  as  it  isevi* 
dent,  the  ordinary  diatonic  scale, 

*c,  d,  e,  f,  g,  a,  b%  r, 
which  of  consequence  will  be  in  the  mode  of  C  alene ; 
and  if  one  should  choose  to  have  the  second  tetrachord 
in  the  mode  of  G,  it  wiH  be  necessary  to  substitute 
•fiK^'  instead  of  *fll%  in  the  harmony  of  D  (qa). 

X08.  Thus  the  generator  C  may  be  followed  aocori- 


this  great  alrtist  has  neither  expressed  himself  tipon  this  subject  with  so  rnndi  uuffortnitv  nor  with  so  much  predsiQa 
as  is  required.  We  think  that  thi^re  is  some  foundation  for  considering  the  diord  F,  A,  *c,  d%  as  pri- 
mitive :  t.  because  hi  this  chord,  the  fundamental  and  principal  note  is  the  subdominant  F,  which  ought  in  efect 
to  be  the  fundamental  and  principal  sound  in  the  chord  of  the  sub-dominant.  2.  Because  that  without  haviag 
recourse,  with  M.  Rameau,  to  harmonica!  and  arithmetical  progressions,  of  which  the  consideration  appeais  ts  us 
t^uite  foreign  to  the  question,  we  have  found  a  probable  and  even  a  satisfactory  reason  for  adding  the  note  *d'  to 
the  harmony  of  the  fifth  F  (art.  g6.  and  97.).  The  origin  thus  assigned  for  the  chord  of  the  sub-dominant  ap- 
pears -to  U9  the  most  natural,  though  M.  Rameau  does  not  appear  to  have  feh  its  full  valne ;  for  scarcely  hsi  it 
been  slightly  insinuated  by  him. 

(aa)  It  is  obvious  that  this  fotidamental  bass  C,  G,C,F,  C,  D,  G,  C,  which  formed  the  ascending  aale 
•c,  d,  e,  f,  g,  a,  b*,  r,  cannot  by  inverting  it,  and  taking  it  inversely  in  this  manner,  C,  G,  D,  C,  F,  C,  G,  C, 
*>rm  the  diatonic,  scale  c,  *b,  a,  g,  f,  e,  d,  c',  in  descent.  In  reality,  from  the  chord  G,  B,  *d,  P,  we  eaaasj 
jpass  to  tie  trhord  D,  -F,  A,  *c\  nor  from  thence  to  C,  E,  G,  *c\  For  this  reason,  in  order  to  have  the  fnndaacsw 

I  fc>» 


fturtL  M    U 

9i  iog  to  Measure  in  Meendittg  lUatmiicall^  either  by  a 
tonic  dominant  (DF^AC).  orbya  simple  dominant 
(D  F  A  C). 

109.  In  the  minor  mode  of  A,  the  tonic  dominant 
£  OQght  always  to  imply  its  third  major  £  GJj((,  when 
tilts  dominant  E  descends  to  the  generator  A  (art.  83.)  1 
mod  the  chord  of  this  dominant  shall  be  E  G^  B  M',  en* 
tirely  similar  to  G  B  M  f^  With  respect  to  the  sub-do- 
minant D,  it  will  immediately  imply  the  third  minor 
F,  Co  denominate  the  minor  mode ;  and  we  may  add 
B  above  its  chord  D  F  A,  in  this  manner  D  F  A  B,  a 
chord  similar  to  that  of  F  A  'c  d*,  and  as  we  hare  de- 
doced  from  the  chord  F  A  *e  d*  that  of  D  F  A  \c\  we 
may  in  the  same  manner  deduce  from  the  chord  D  F  A 
B  'a'  a  new  chord  of  the  seventh  B  *d  f  a\  which  will 
exhibit  the  doulfie  empioymerU  of  dissonances  in  the  mi- 
nor mode. 

no.  One  may  employ  this  chord  B  *d  f  a%  to  pre- 
serve the  impression  of  the  mode  of  A  in  the  diatonic 
scale  of  the  minor  mode,  and  to  prevent  the  necessity 
of  twice  repeating  the  sound  £;  but  in  this  case,  the 
F  must  be  rendered  sharp,  and  the  chord  changed  to  B 
M  OK  a%  the  fifth  of  B  being  *V%^  as  we  have  seen  above. 
This  chord  is  then  the  inverse  of  D  F)|[  A  B,  the  sub- 
dooiinant  implying  the  third  major,  which  ought  not 
to  snrprise  us ;  for  in  the  minor  mode  of  A,  the  second 
tetraehord  E  FX  G%  A  is  exactly  the  same  as  it  would 
be  10  the  major  mode  of  A :  Now,  in  the  major  mode 
of  A  the  sabdominant  D  ought  to  imply  the  third  ma- 
jor F«. 
pi«Rvtiet      III.  Henee  the  minor  mode  is  sosceptible  of  a  much 
"  *^tL^  greater  nnmber  of  varieties  than  the  major :  the  major 
1121^^^^    nM>do  is  feond  in  nature  alone  \  whereas  the  minor  is 
Beron       *^^  9mBfi  measure  the  product  of  art.     But,  in  retnm, 
tkui  ia  tbe  the  maj<«  mode  has  received  from  nature,  to  which  it 
■*j<v.        owes  its  immediate  formation,  a  force  and  energy  which 
the  miBM^  cannot  boast. 

Chap.  XIV.  Of  the  diffenni  Kindf  of  Chords  of  the 

ILventb* 

IsTestiga-  il^*  Th£  dissonance  added  to  the  chord  of  the  do- 
tioB  wbe-  minant  and  of  the  sub-dominaoty  though  an  some  mea- 
.^^^  sure  suffgested  by  natore  (chap,  xi.),  is  neverthekss  a 
^wBcc  of  ^^"^  of  art  \  but  as  it  produces  great  beauties  in  har- 
mony by  the  variety  which  it  iatrodnoes  into  it,  )gX  us 


cci^ftil  ad- 


SIC.  527 

discover  whetbei',  in  consequence  of  tfcis  list  advanoOy  Thtory  of 
art  may  not  still  bO  carried  farther.  Humony. 

1 13.  We  have  already 'three  different  kinds  of  chords  *      -* 
of  the  seventh,  viz. 

1.  The  chord  G  B  M  T,  composed  of  a  third  major 
followed  by  two  thirds  minor. 

2.  The  chord  D  F  A  <c%  or  B  M  f^  a',  a  third  major 
between  two  minors. 

3.  The  chord  B  M  f  a%  two  thirds  minor  followed 
by  a  major. 

1 14.  There  are  still  two  other  kinds  of  chords  of  the 
seventh  which  are  employed  in  harmony  \  one  is  com- 
posed of  a  third  minor  between  two  thirds  major,  C  £  G 

B,  or  F  A  *c  e^  *,  the  other  is  wholly  composed  of  thirds  ^ 
minor  G%  B  *d  T.  These  two  chords,  which  at  first  ap- 
pear as  if  they  ought  not  to  enter  into  harmony  if  we 
rigorously  keep  to  the  preceding  roles,  are  neverdiel&ss 
frequently  practised  with  success  in  the  fundamental 

bass.     Tne  reason  is  this : 

115.  According  to  what  has  been  said  above,  if  wexbe  choidi 
would  add  a  seventh  to  the  chord  C  £  G,  to  make  lastdewrib- 
a  dominant  of  C,  one  can  add  nothing  but  Bb  >  s^df^  adnussi-  ^ 
in  this  case  C  £  G  Bb  would  be  the  chord  of  the  tonic  ^'^'J""^ 
dominant  in  the  mode  of  F,  as  G  B  'd  T  is  the  chord 

of  the  tonic  dominant  in  die  mode  of  C  ^  but  if  we 
would  preserve  the  impression  of  the  mode  of  C  in  the 
harmony,  we  change  this  Bb  into  B  natural,  and  the 
chord  C  £  G  Bb  becomes  C  £  G  p.  It  is  the  same  case 
With  the  chord  F  A  'c  e^,  which  is  nothing  else  but  the 
chord  F  A  'c  eb*  \  in  which  one  may  substitute  for  'eb% 
*e*  natural,  to  preserve  the  impression  of  the  mode  of 

C,  or  that  of  F. 

Besides,  in  such  chords  as  C  E  G  B,  F  A  *c  e%  the 
founds  B  apd  V,  though  they  form  a  dissonance  with 
C  in  the  first  case,  and  with  F  in  the  second,  arc  never- 
theless supportable  to  the  ear,  because  these  sounds  B 
and  *e*  (art.  19.)  are  already  contained  and  understood, 
tlie  first  in  the  note  £  of  the  chord  C  £  G  B,  as  like- 
wise in  the  note  G  of  the  same  chord  \  the  second  in  the 
note  A  of  the  chord  F  A  *c  e%  as  likewise  in  tlie  note  *c' 
of  the  same  chord.  All  together  then  seem  to  allow  the 
artist  to  introduce  the  note  B  and  *e*  into  these  two 
chords  (rr). 

1 16.  With  respect  to  the  chord  of  the  seventh  G^  Chordi  of 
B  M  r,  wholly  composed  of  thirds  minor,  it  may  be  re-  the  teventk 
icarded  as  formed  from  the  union  of  the  two  chords  of  ^^^^^^^ 

*     plained. 


17  not  be 


carriedfkr- 

tbcr.  boM  of  tlw  scale,  c,  %  %  g,  f,  e,  d^  c%  in  drnctot,  ve  must  either  determine  to  invert  the  fundamental  bass  men- 


these. 


tioned  in  art.  ^.  ia  this  maoner,  C«  G,  D,  G,  C,  F,  C,  G,  C,  in  which  the  second  G  and  the  second  C  answer 
to  the  G  alone  in  the  scale  \  or  otherwise  fee  must  form  the  fiundamental  baas  C,  G,  D,  G,  C,  G,  C,  in  which  all 
the  notes  imply  perfieet  ohords-maier,  except  the  socond  G,  which  implies  \\\^  chord  of  the  seventh  G,  6»  %  P, 
nod  which  answers  to  the  two  notes  of  the  scale  G,  F,  both  comprehended  in  the  chord  G,  B,  M,  f. 

Whichever  of  these  two  basses  we  shall  choose,  it  is  obvious  that  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  shall  be  wholly 
in  the  mode  of  C,  but  in  the  mode  of  C  and  in  that  of  G.  Whence  it  follows,  that  the  double  employmeBt  which 
gives  to  the  scale  a  fimdamentai  bass  ajl  in  the  sanpe  mode  when  ascending,  cannot  do  the  same  in  des^e^ding } 
and  that  the  fundamental  bass  of  the  scale  in  descextding  will  be  necessarily  in  two  different  modes* 

(a&)  On  the  contrarv,  a  chord  sncfi  os  C  £b  G  B,  in  which  £  wonld  be  fiat,  could  not  be  admitted  in  harmony, 
bewise  in  this  cjiprd  the  fi  is  not  included  and  un4or8tood  in  £^.  It  is  the  same  case  with  several  other  chordb, 
anch  as  B  p  F  A|;.  B  D^  F  A,  ^.  It  is  troe,  that  in  the  last  of  these  chords,  A  is  included  in  F,  but  it  is  not 
contained  in  D$|^  \  and  this  D^Kl  likewise  fonps  wkh  Fand  with  A  a  double  dissonance,  which,  joined  with  the 
dissonance  B  F,  would  necessarily  render  this  chord  not  very  pleasing  to  the  ear  >  we  shall  yet,  however,  see  in 
the  second  part,  that  this  chord  is  sometimes  used. 


528 


MUSIC- 


PartL 


Theory  of  the  dominant  and  of  the  Mih'-ciominftnt  in  the  minor 
Harmony,  mode.  In  effecty  in  the  minor  mode  of  A,  for  insUncey 
-  these  two  chords  are  E  G*  B,  M%  and  D  E  A  B,  whose 
union  produces  E  G)J:  B,  *d,  f,  a*.  Now,  if  we  shoaid 
suffer  this  chord  to  remain  thus,  it  would  be  disagree- 
able to  tlic  ear,  by  its  multiplicity  of  dissonances,  DE, 
E  F,  F  G^,  A  B,  D  G«,  (art.  i8.)  5  so  that,  to  avoid 
tbb  inconveniency,  the  generator  A  is  immediately  ex- 
{ponged,  which,  (art.  19.)  is  as  it  were  understood  in 
D,  and  the  fif^h  or  dominant  E,  whose  place  the  sensible 
note  D  j$  is  supposed  to  hold  :  thus  there  remains  only 
the  chord  G^  B  'd  P,  wholly  composed  of  thirds  mi- 
nor, and  in  which  the  dominant  E  b  considered  as  un- 
derstood :  in  such  a  manner  that  the  chord  G]^  B  M  P  i^e- 
presents  the  chord  of  the  tonic  dominant  E  G^  B  'd\  to 
which  we  have  joined  the  rhord  of  the  sub-dominant 
D  F  A  B,  but  in  which  the  dominant  .E  is  always  rec- 
koned the  principal  note  (9$). 

1 1 7.  Since,  then,  from  the  chord  £  G  j^  B  M^,  we  may 
pass  to  the  perfect  AC  'e  a\  and  vice  versa,  we  may 
in  like  manner  pass  from  the  chord  G^  B  M  P  to  the 
chord  A  C  *e  a%  and  from  this  last  to  the  chord 
G^  BMP:  this  remark  will  be  very  useful  to  us  in 
.  the  sequel.  » 

Chap.  XV.  C^/Ar  Preparation  of  Discards. 

Diisommce.      ^^8.  Ik   every  chord  of  the  seventh,   the  highest 
what  o^t®»  ^hat  is  to  say,  the  seventh  above  the  fundamen- 

tal, is  called  a  dissonance  or  discord ;  thus  *P  is  the 
dissonance  of  the  chord  G  B  *d  f  *  >  V4n  the  chord  D 

TAV  &c. 

Manner  of      '  ^9-  '^^^  ^^  chord  G  B  *d  P  follows  %e  choi^ 

preparing    C  E  G  *c%  as  often'happens,  it  is  obvious  that  we  do  not 

disMnaaces  End  the  dissonance  *V  in  the  preceding  chord  C  E  G'c*. 

invettigat-  ^q,.  ought  it  indeed  to  be  found  in'  tlutt  chord  ^  for  this 

'^'  dissonance  is  nothing  else  but  the  sub-dominant  added 

to  the  hannony  of  the  dominant  to  determine  the  mode : 

now,  the  sub-dominant  is.  not  ibund.in  the  hannony  of 

the  generator. 

1 20.  For  the  same  reason,  when"  the  choi'd  of  the  sub* 
dominant  F  A  'c  d*  follows  the  chord  C  £  G  *c%  the 
note  M\  which  forms  a  dissonance  with  *c%  is  not  found 
.  in^he  preceding  chord. 

It  is  not  so  when  the  chord  D  F  AV  follows  the 

chwd  CEGV;  for  V  wbich  forms  a  dissonance  in 

the  second  chord,  stands  as  a  consonance  in  the  pre* 

H  ceding. 

S^unmaet     I2i.  In  geaeraly  dissonance  being  the  prodnction  of 

is  only  to-   art  (chap,  xi.),  especially  in  such  chords  as  are  not  of 

lerableto    the  tonic  dominant  nor  sub-dominant,  the  only  means 

^Jj^jj^jj^to  prevent  ite  displeasing  the  ear  by  appearing  too  hete- 

in  pieced-  rogcneous  to  the  chord,  is,  that  it  may  be,  if  we^  may 

ivgohoids.  speak  so,^  announced  to  the  ear  by  being  found  in  the 


preceding  chord,  and  by  that  means  connect  the  two  TW«y«f 
chords.     Hence  follows  this  rule : 

122.  In  every  chord  of  the  seventh,  which  is  not 

the  chord  of  the  tonic  dominant,  that  is  to  say*  (art.'  

102.)  which  is  not  composed  of  a  third  major  followed  ^^^ 
by  two  thirds  minor,  the  dissonance  which  this  cliord^crfcrK^ 
forms  ought  to  stand  as  a  consonance  in  the  chord  which 
precedes  it. 

This  is  what  we  call  ikfrt^pared  dissonance,  «  ScefW^ 

1 23.  Hence,  in  order  to  prepare  a  dissonance,  ihtepur^^^ 
fundamental  bass  must  necessarily  ascend  by  the  interval 

of  a  second,  as 

CEG'ci',  DFAVj 
or  descend  by  a  third,  as 

CEGV.ACEGj 
or-descend  by  a  fifth,  as 

CEGV,  FACE: 
in  every  other  case  the  dissonance  cannot  be  prepared. 
This  may  be  easiJy  ascertained.  If,  for  instance,  the  faa- 
damental  bass  rises  by  a  third,  as  C  E  G  *g%  E  G  B  *d% 
the  dissonance  ^d*  is  ilet  found  in  the  chord  C  E  G  *c\ 
The  same  migiit  be  said  of  C  E  G  V,  .G  B  <dP,  and 
C  E  G  *c%  B  D  Ulfk\  in  which  .the  fiwdanwotal  bass 
arises  by  a  fifth  nr  descends  by  a  second. 

1 24.  When  a  tonic,  that  k  to  say,  a  note  wluch  car- 
r  ries  with  it  a  perfect  chord,  is  followed  by  a  doounaat 

in  the  interval  of  a  fifth  or  third,  this  succession  may  be 
.regarded  as  a  process  from  that  same  tonic  to  another, 
which  has  been  rendered  a  dominant  by  the  addition  of 
.the  dissonance^ 

.  Moreover,  ve  have  seen  (art.  119.  and  120.)  that  a 
.idissonance  does  not  require  preparation  in  the  chords  of 
the  tonic  dominant  and  of  the  sub-dominant :  whence 
it  follows,  that  every  tonic  carrying  with  it  a  pcdisct 
chord,  mAj  be  changed  into  a  tonic  dominant  (if  the 
perfect  chord'  be  major),  or  into  a  sub-dominant  (whe- 
ther the  chord  he  major  or  minoi^  by  adding  the  disso* 
nance  all  at  once* 

Chap.  XVI.  Of  tie  Rules  for  resolYing  Disso^ 

nances, 

125.  We  have  seen   (chap.  ▼.  and  vi.)  how  *^i>inMn 
diatonic  scale,  so  natural  to  the  voice,  is  ibrmed  by  theccs  to  fe 
harmonies  of  fimdamental  sounds ;  from  whence  it  fel-raMiwi 
lows,  that  the  most  natural  succession  of  barmonical^|^^ 
sounds  as  to  be  diatonic.    To  give  a  dissonance  then,^? 
in  some  measure,  as  much  the  character  of.  an  hanno-toau— 
nic  sound  as  may  be  possible,  it  is  necessary  that  thisia  tie  ck* 
dissonance,  in  that  part  of  the  modulation  where  it  isr||^*|V*f 
found,  should  descend  or,  rise  diatonically  «pon  another ^™*'^ 
note,  which  may  be  one  of  the.  comonaBoes^f.the  sub- 
sequent chord. 

126.  Now  in  ihe^-ciiord  of  the  tonic  4oaiioaBt  Iti^i^ 


^M 


(ss)  We  have  seen  (art.  109.)  that  the  chord  B  *df «%  in  the  minor  mode  of  A,  may  be  regarded  as -the  in- 
verse of  the  chord  D  F  A  B  j  it  would  likewise  seem,  that,  in  certain  cases,  this  chord  B  M  f  a*  may  be  considered  ik«U 
as  composed  of  the  two  chords  F  B  *d  T,  F  A  *c  d*  of  the  dominant  and  of  the  sub-dominant  of  the  major  mede  of^  ~ 
C  J  which  chords  may  be  joined  together  after  having  Excluded  from  them,  i.  The  dominant  G,  repi^sented  \tf 
iU  third  major  B,  which  is  presumed  to  retain  its  place.  2.  The  note  C  which  is  understood  in  F,  whicfa  wiB 
form  thb  chord  B  'd  f  a\  The  chord  B  *d  f  a',  considered  in  thifi  point  of  view,  may  be  undecstowl  as  behmgrng  to 
the  major  mode  of  C  upon  certain  occasions. 


PtATtl. 


M    U    SI    C. 


Tbeory  of  ooght  rtther  to  descend  than  to  rise ;  for  this  reason* 
Bmrmoaj.  Let  us  take,  for  instance,  the  chord  G  B  M  T  followed 
bjp  the  chord  C  £  G  *c'  j  the  part  which  formed  the  dis* 
tenance  'P  ought  to  descend  to  *e^  rather  than  rise  to  'g% 
though  both  the  sounds  £  and  G  are  found  in  the  sub- 
sequent chord  C  £  G  'c' ;  because  it  is  more  natural  and 
more  conformed  to  the  connexion  which  ought  to  be 
found  in  every  part  of  the  mtisic,  that  G  should  be  found 
in  the  same  part  where  G  has  already  been  sounded, 
whiKl  the  other  part  was  sounding  'P,  as  may  be  here 
seen  (Parts  First  and  Fourth). 


529 


First  part, 
Second, 
Third, 
Fourth, 
Fundamental  bass. 


V 


B  [^ 


G 
G 


G 
C 


Coatet^oea 
ces  of  "the 


file. 
AAoiber 


Botwde- 
daccd  rrom 
the  fianner 


itMlred, 
wkaL 


Horn. 


127.  So,  in  the  chord  of  the  simple  dominant  DFA 
*c^,  followed  by  G  B  M  f  \  the  dissonance  'c^  ought  ra- 
ther 10  desceud  to  B  than  rise  to  'd^. 

128.  And,  for  tbe  same  reason,  in  the  chord  of  the 
sub-dominant  FA  ^cd\  tbe  dissonance  M^  ought  to  rise 
to  'e^  of  the  following  chord  C  £  G  'c,  rather  than 
descend  to  'c* ;  whence  may  be  deduced  the  following 
rules. 

129.  1^,  In  every  chord  of  the  dominant,  whether 
tonic  or  simple,  the  note  which  constitutes  the  seventh, 
that  is  to  say  the  dissonance,  ought  diatonically  to  de- 
scend upon  one  of  the  notes  which  form  a  consonance  in 
tbe  sobsequent  chord. 

2^,  In  every  chord  of  the  sub-dominant,  the  disso- 
nance ought  to  rise  diatonically  upon  the  third  of  the 
subsequent  chord. 

130.  A  dissonance  which  descends  ot  rises  diatoni- 
cally according  to  these  two  rules,  is  called  a  dissonance 
resohedk 

From  these  roles  it  is  a  necessary  result,  that  the 
chord  of  tlie  seventh  DFA  'c%  though  it  should  even 
be  considered  as  the  inverse  of  FA  *cd%  cannot  be  sue-" 
oeeded  by  tbe  chord  C  £  G  *c^,  since  there  is  not  in  this 
last  chord  tbe  note  B,  upon  which  the  dissonance  V  of 
the  chord  D  F  A  *c*  can  descend. 

One  may  besides  find  another  reason  for  this  rule, 
in  etamining  the  nature  of  the  double  employment  of 
dissonances.  In  effect,  in  order  to  pass  from  DFA  'c% 
to  CFG  V,  it  is  necessary  that  D  FA  'c^  should  in  this 
case  be  un4erstood  as  the  inverse  of  FA  'cd.*  Now  the 
chord  Df'A  'c*  can  only  be  conceived  as  the  inverse  of 
FA  'cd*,  when  this  chord  DFA  'c^  precedes  or  imme- 
diately follows  the  C  £  G  'c' ;  in  every  other  case  the 
chord  DFA  'c*  is  a  primitive  chord,  formed  from  the 
perfect  minor  chord  DFA,  to  which  the  dissonance  'c' 
was  added,  to  take  from  D  the  character  of  a  tonic* 
Thus  the  chord  DFA  V,  could  not  be  followed  by  the 
chord  CFG  V,  but  af^r  having  been  preceded  by  the 
same  chord.  Now,  in  this  case,  the  double  employment 
would  be  entirely  a  futile  expedient,  without  producing 
any  agreeable  effect :  because,  instead  of  this  succession 
of  chords,  C£G  V,  DFA  'c',  CFG  V,  it  would  be 
much  more  easy  and  natural  tosubstitute  this  other,  which 
furnishes  this  natural  suecession  C£G  V,  FA  'cd% 
CFG  'c^.  The  proper  use  of  tae  double  eroploymerit  is, 
that,  by  means  of  inverting  the  chord  of  the  sub-domi- 
nant, it  may  be  able  to  pass  from  that  chord  thus  inverted 

Vol.  XIV.  Part  II.'  f 


to  any  other  chord  except  that  of  the  toniC|  to  which  it  Theor>'  of 
naturally  leads.  Harmony. 

Chap.  XVII.  Of  the  Broken  or  Interrupted 

Cadence. 

131.  Ik  a  fundamental  bass  t^htch  moves  by  fifths,  The  test  of 
there  is  always,  as  we  have  formerly  observed  (chap.  P^**^*^**** 
viii.),  a  repdse  more  or  less  pet-fefet  from  One  sound  to["^^J^^J 
another  5  and  of  conseqiience  there  iiiust  likewise  be  a  in  th^  «,„. 
^pose  mord  Or  less  perfect  from  one  sound  to  another  damental 
in  the  diatonic  scal^,  which  results  from  that  bass.— ba>t. 
It  may  be  demonstrated  by  a  very  simple  experiment, 
that  the  cause  of  a  repose  in  melody  is  solely  in  the 
fundamental  bass  expressed  or  understood.    Let  any 
person  sing  these  three  notes  *cdg%  ^rforming  on  thcS 
*d'  a  shake,  which  is  commonly  called  a  cadence ;  the 
modulation  will  appear  to  him  to  be  finished  after  the 
second  *c\  in  ^uch  a  manner  that  the  ear  will  neither 
expect  or  wish  any  thing  to  follow.     The  case  will  be 
the  same  if  we  accompany  this  modulation  with  its 
natural   fundamenUl  bass  C  G  C :    but  if,  instead  of 
this  bass,  we  should  give  it  the  following,  CGA  : 
in  this  case   the  modulation   *c  d  c'   would   not  ap- 
pear to  be  finished,  and  the  ear  would  still  expect  and 
desire  something  more.    This  experiment  may  easily 
be  made. 

^  13  2.  This  passage  G  A,  when  the  dominant  G  diato-  Broken  ca« 
nically  ascends  upon  the  note  A  instead  of  descending  ^^'t 
by  a  fifth  upon  the  generator  C,  as  it  ought  naturally  to  JjJ?''  *■* 
do,  b  called  a  broken  cadence;  because  the  perfect  ca- See  Ca- 
dence GC,  which  the  ear  expected  after  the  dominant  ^fdc^. 
G,  is,  if  we  may  speak  so,  broken  and  suspended  by  the 
transition  from  G  to  A* 

133.  Hence  it  follows,  that  if  the  modulation  'cdc* 
appeared  finished  if  hen  we  supposed  no  bass  to  it  at  all, 
it  is  because  its, natural  fundamental  bass  C  G  C  is  im- 
plied 'j  for  the  ear  desires  something  to  follow  this  mo- 
dulation, as  soon  as  it  is  reduced  to  the  necessity  of 
hearing  another  bass. 

^  134.  The  broken  cadence  may  be  considered  as  ha-Ori^nof 
ving  its  origin  in  the  double  employment  of  dissonances  ;^^^^^ 
since  this  cadence,  like  the  double  employment,  only^^J^^,^ 
consists  in  a  diatonic  procedure  of  the  bass  ascending  employ, 
(chap.  xii.).     In  effect,  nothing  hinders  us  to  descend  meat  of 
from  the  chord  GB  *df'  to  the  chord  C£GA  by  con-.****»®"*»* 
verting  the  tonic  C  into  a  sub-dominant,  that  is  to  say,  *^*** 
by  passing  all  at  once  from  the  mode  of  C  to  the  mode 
of  G:  now  to  descend  from  GB  'df  to  C£GA  is 
the  same  thing  as  to  rise  from  the  chord  GB  Mf*  to 
the  chord  A  'ceg\  in  changing   the   chord   of  the 
sub-dominant  C£GA  for  the  imperfect  chord  of  the 
dominant,  according  to  tiie  laws  of  tbe  double  eroploy- 
rocQt. 

135.  In  this  kind  of  cadence,  the  dissonance  of  the  Manner  of 
first  chord  is  resolved  by  descending  diatonically  upon,.P*5^®™"'*R 
the  fifth  of  the  subsequent  chord.     iFor  instance,  in  ?"  **" 
the  broken  cadence  GB  'dP,  A'ceg*,  the  dissonance 

*V   is   resolved  by  descending  diatonically   upon  the 
fifth  v.  .  . 

136.  There  is  another  kind  of  cadence,  called  an  t »- Interiiipted 
tern/pted  cadence^  where  the  dominant  descends  by  a.*^^®**^' 
third  to  another  dominant,  instead  of  descending  by  a  ^ct  Cto- 
fifth  upon  the  tonic,  as  in  this  succession  of  the  bass^rner. 

3  X  G  B  Mf ', 


530 

Theory  of 
Uannony. 


MUSIC. 


OriKia  of 
thU  kind  of 
eadence, 
likewise  in 
thediMibk 
iploy. 


l^ndftioeii- 
talbabl 
JoitDed  by 
thirdt 
jor. 


A  chroma- 
tic interval 
or  minor 
Rcmttone, 
how  found* 
^e  Bq.  xo. 


G  B  M  f ''y  E  G  B  *iP  'y  ID  the  case  of  an  intemiptccl  ca- 
denccy  the  dissonance  of  the  former  chord  is  resolved  by 
desceodiog  diatonically  upon  the  octave  of  the  funda- 
mental note  of  the  subsequent  chord,  a^  may  be  here 
seen,  where  ^f*  is  resolved  upon  the  octave  of  £. 

137.  This  kind  of  interrupted  cadence  has  likewise 
its  origin  in  the  double  employment  of  dissonances.  For 
let  us  suppose  these  two  chorus  in  succession,  G  B  M  f ', 
G  B  *d  e^  where  G  is  successively  a  tonic  dominant  and 
sub-dominant :  that  is  to  say,  in  which  we  pass  from 
the  mode  of  C  to  the  mode  of  D  >  if  we  should  change 
the  second  of  these  chords  into  the  chord  of  the  domi« 
nant,  according  to  the  laws  of  the  double  employment, 
we  shall  have  the  interrupted  ciidence  G  B  'd  T,  £  G 
B'd.' 

CuAP.  XVHI.     Of  the  Chromatic  SpecitJ. 

138.  Thk  series  or  fundamental  bass  by  fifths  pro- 
duces the  diatonic  Rpecies  in  common  use  (chap,  vi.)  ; 
n6w  the  third  major  being  one  of  the  harmonics  of  a 
fomdamental  sound  as  well  as  the  fifth,  it  follows, 
that  wc  may  form  fundamental  basses  by  thirds  mii- 
jor,  as  we  have  already  formed  fundamental  basses  by 
fifths. 

139.  If  then  we  should  form  this  base  C,  £,  GjJ, 
the  two  first  sounds  carrying  each  along  with  it  their 
thirds  major  and  fifths,  it  is  evident  that  C  will  give 
G,  and  that  E  will  give  G^  :  now  the  semitone  which 
is  between  thib  G  and  this  G^  is  an  interval  much  less 
than  the  semitone  which  is  found  in  the  diatonic  scale 
between  E  and  F,  or  between  B  and  V.  This  may 
be  ascertained  by  calculation  (tt)  :  and  for  this  reason 
the  semitone  from  £  to  F  is  called  major ^  and  the  other 
minor  (uu). 

140.  If  the  fundamental  bass  should  proceed  by 
thirds  minor  in  this  manner,  C,  £b,  a  succession 
which  \H  allowed  when  we  have  investigated  the  origin 
of  the  minor  mode  (chap,  ix.),  we  shall  find  this  mo- 


Parti. 


dnlation  G,  G|^,  which  woUld  likewise  give  a  miner  iVvyrf 
semitone  Qxx.)  UvMif. 

141.  Tiie  minor  semitone  is  bit  by  yoang  practl- *T"^^**' 
ttoners  in  intonation  with  more  difficulty  than  the  st-^'"^ 
mitone  major.     For  which  this  reason  may  be  assign- mhiiuk 
ed :  The  semitone  major  which  is  found  in  the  disto-djfictkta 
nic  scale,  as  from  £  to  F,  results  from  a  fundamen-^^ai 
tal  bass  by  fifths  C  F,  that  is  to  say,  by  a  soccessioQ*^* 
which  is  most  natural,  and  for  this  reason  the  easiest 

to  the  ear.  On  the  contrary,  the  minor  semitone  arikes 
from  a  succession  by  thirds,  which  is  still  less  natond 
than  the  former.  Uence,  that  scholars  may  truly  hit 
the  minor  semitone,  the  following  artifice  is  eniploy- 
ed.  Let  us  suppose,  for  instance,  that  th^  intend  to 
rise  from  G  to  OM  ;  they  rise  .  at  first  ^from  G  to  A, 
then  descend  from  A  to  Cl^  by  the  interval  of  a  se- 
mitone major :  for  this  G  sharp,  which  is  a  scmitooe 
major  below  A,  proves  a  semitone  minor  above  G»  [See. 
the  notes  (tt)  and  (uu).] 

142.  Every  procedure  of  the  fundamental  bass  bjMiMrie. 
thirds,  whether  major  or  minor,  rising  or  descending,  "J*"** 
gives  the  minor  scmitooe.  Tliis  we  have  already  seen^^^  " 
from  the  succession  of  thirds  in  ascending.  The  serieSccdBetf 
of  thirds  minor  in  descending,  C  A,  gives,  C,  CiK^'*^ 
(tt)  ^  and  the  series  of  thirds  major  in  deaceading,  C,***^ 
Ab,  gives  C,  Cf ,  (zz).  ^  }g^ 

143.  The  nunor  semitone  constitutes  the  species,T^^Br 
called  c/iromattc  ;  and  with  the  species  which  moves  bjicaiiai; 
diatonic  intervals,  resulting  from  the  succession  of*^!"^ 
fifths  (chap.  v.  and  vi.),  it  comprehends  the  whole  of^^^j^ 
melody. 


Chap.  XIX.  Of  the  Enharmonic  Speciis. 

T44.  The  two  extremes,  or  highest  and  lowest  aotes,I)><di* 
C  G)^,  of  the  fundamental  bass  by  thirds  maior  CEGft.  '?*^ 
give  this  modulation  V  B$  \  and  these  two  sbonds  V^^ 
B^IC,  differ  between  themselves  by  asmaH  intenral  which uribiv 
isealled  the  diiMa^  or  §nhurmomcfouni^  of  a  tome  (3A).iMBei 


(tt)  In  reality,  C  being  supposed  i,  as  we  have  always  supposed  it,  £  is  ^  and  %\\ :  now  G  being  t,^GX 
then  shall  be  to  G  as  44  ^^  if  ^^^t  is  to  say,  as  25  times  2  to  3  times  i6 :  the  proportion  then  of  GX  to  G  is 
as  25  to  24,  an  interval  much  less  than  that  of  16  to  15,  which  constitutes  the  semitone  firom  'c*  to  B,  or  from  F 
to  £  (note  z). 

(uu)  A  minor  joined  to  a  major  semitone  will  form  a  minor  tone;  that  is  to  say,  if  one  rises,  for  instaiice,  finom 
£  to  F,  by  the  interval  of  a  semitone  major,  and  afterwards  from  F  to  FX  by  the  interval  of  a  minor  semitone,  the 
interval  from  £  to  F%  will  be  a  minor  tone.  For  let  us  suppose  £  to  be  i,  F  will  be  if*  "^d  Tff^  will  be  t|  of 
f|-  'f  that  is  to  say,  25  times  16  divided  by  24  times  15,  or  */  ;  £  then  is  to  FX  as  one  is  to  Vf  ^^  inteml 
which  constitutes  the  minor  tone  (note  BB). 

^ith  respect  to  the  tone  major,  it  cannot  be  exactly  formed  by  two  semitones ;  for,  i.  Two  major  semitones  ia 
immediate  socoesslon  would  produce  more  than  a  tone  major.  In  effect,  rf «  multiplied  by  4t  gives  f  $<^,  which  is 
greater  than  •}-,  the  interval  which  constitutes  (note  Bb)  the  major  tone.  2.  A  semitone  minor  and  a  semitone  major 
wonld  give  less  than  a  major  tone,  since  they  amount  only  to  a  true  minor.  3.  And,  iJbrtiort\  two  minor  semi- 
tones would  still  give  less. 

(xx)  In  effect,  E\^  being  |,  G^  will  be  yoi^'y  that  is  to  say,  (note  q)  4t*  d*'^  ^^^  propoitioo  of  4  to  41 
(note  a)  is  that  of  3  times  25  to  2  times  36  ^  that  is  to  say,  as  25  to  24. 

(tt)  a  being  ^  C^K  is  i  of  j- ;  that  is  to  say,  44,  and  C  is  i  :  the  proportion  then  between  C  and  C$  is  that 
•f  X  to  Y7t  or  of  24  to  25. 

(z2)  At^  being  the  third  major  below  C,  will  be  ^  (note  n) :  C|;,  then,  is  ^  of  ^ ;  that  is  to  say  4^.  The  propor- 
tion, then,  between  C  and  Ct^,  is  as  25  to  24. 

(3  a)  Gt  being  H  and  B:|:  being  i  of  4|,  tve  shall  have  B%  equal  (note  d)  to  V?  »  •^^  its  ocUve  below 
aball  be  tV  9  ^^  interval  less  than  unity  by  about  yly  or  ;i^.  It  is  plain  then,  froln  t]ii\  fraction,  that  the  Bt 
IB  iquesCion  must  be  considerably  lower  than  C.  5 


Parti. 


M    U 


ftcales. 


Theory  of  trfaich  i»  the  difference  betvreen  a  semitone  major  and  a 
Harmony,  semitone  minor  (3  B).     Tbis  quarter  tone  is  inapfire- 
^       '  liable  by  tbe  ear,  and  impracticable  upon  seTcral  of  our 
inatmments.    Yet  have  means  been  foond  to  put  it  in 
practice  in  tbe  foUowing  npinncr,  or  rather  to  perform 
what  will  haTc  tlie.same  cfiect  upon  tbe  ear- 
Manner  of      145.  We  have  explained  (art.  116.)  in  what  roan- 
fcemin^ly    ner  the  chord  G$  B  ^d  f '  may  be  introdnced  into  the 
'?5"^***^°S  minor  mode,  entirely  consisting  of  thirds  minor  perfect- 

^•lupoV'  ^y  ^'^^^  ^^  ^^  ^^^  sopposed  micb.  This  chord  snppty- 
instnimenti  >ng  the  place  of  the  chord  of  the  dominant  (art.  116.} 
of  fiK^  from  thence  we  mjiy  pass  to  that  of  the  tonic  or  general- 
tor  A  (art.  XI70-     ^"^  w®  must  remark, 

1.  That  this  chord  G$  B  Mf%  entirely  consisting  of 
thirds  minor,  may  be  inverted  or  modified  according 
to  tbe  three  following  arrangements,  B  M  f  g%*,  D 
F  G%  B,  F  G«  B  M'  I  and  that  in  all  these  three  difle- 
rent  states,  it  will  still  remain  composed  of  thirds  mi- 
nor ;  or  at  least  there  will  only  be  wanting  tbe  enhar- 
monic fourth  of  a  tone  to  render  the  third  minor  be- 
tween F  and  G;K  entirely  just ;  for  a  true  third  minor, 
as  that  from  £  to  G  in  the  diatonic  scale,  is  composed 
of  a  semitone  and  a  tone  both  major.  Now  from  F  to  G 
there  is  a  tone  major,  and  from  G  to  GiK,  there  is  only  a 
minor  semitone.  There  is  then  wanting  (art.  144.)  the 
enharmonic  fourth  of  a  tone,  to  render  the  third  F  G)fi: 
exactly  true. 

2.  fint  as  this  division  of  a  tone  cannot  be  found  in 
tbe  gradations  of  any  scale  practicable  upon  most  of  our 


SIC.  531 

instruments,  nor  be  appretiated  by  the  ear,  the  ear  Theory  of 
takes  the  different  chords.  Hannony. 

B     Si'      T      *g«'  ' ' * 

D    F      G«      B 
F     G«  B        M*, 
which  are  absolotcly  the  same,  for  chords  composed 
every  one  of  thirds  minor  are  exactly  just. 

tiovf  the  chord  G$  B  'd  P,  belonging  to  the  minor 
mode  of  A,  where  G%  is  the  sensible  note  ;  the  chord 
B  *d  f  g$',  or  B  M  f  ab%  will,  for  the  same  reason,  be-  ^ 
long  to  the  minor  mode  of  C,  where  B  is  the  sensible 
note.  In  like  manner,  the  chord  D  F  Gl^  B,  or 
DF  A|;  *cb\  will  belong  to  tbe  minor  mode  of  £[;, 
and  the  chord  F  G«  B  *d%  or  F  At?  'cfc  ebb',  to  the  mi- 
nor  mode  of  Gb* 

After  having  passed  then  by  the  mode  of  A  to  the 
chord  GX  B  *d  f  (art.  iiyOt  one  may  by  means  of  this 
last  chord,  and  by  merely  satisfying  oursel^s  to  invert 
it,  afterwards  pass  all  at  once  to  the  mode/of  C  minor, 
of  £b  minor,  or  of  Gb  minor }  that  is  to  say,  into  tbe 
modes  which  have  nothing,  or  almost  nothing,  in  com* 
mon  with  the  minor  mode  of  A,  and  which  are  entirely 
foreign  to  it  (3  c). 

146.  It  must,  however,  he  acknowledged,  that  a  The  altera- 
transition  so  abrupt,  and  so  little  expected,  cannot  de-  tion,  Uow- 
ceive  nor  elude  the  ear  >  it  is  struck  with  a  sensation  ^^j^'^'jj'y  .^ 
so  unlooked-for,  without  being  able  to  account  for  the gfl«.^.ty^|j.,j 
passage  to  itself.  And  this  account  has  its  foundation  abrapt  nad 
in  the  enharmonic  foui-th  of  a  tone  j  which  is  overlook-  sensible 

3X2  ed 


This  inter%'al  has  been  called  the  fourth  of  a  tone^  and  this  denomination  is  founded  on  reason.  In  effect,  we 
may  distinguish  in  music  four  kinds  of  quarter  tones. 

1.  The  fourth  of  atone  major:  now,  a  tone  major  being  |,  nnd  its  difference  from  unity  being  f,  the  difference 
of  this  quarts  tone  from  unity  will  be  almost  the  fourth  of -f  *,  that  is  to  say,  -yV* 

2.  The  fourth  of  atone  minora  and  as  a  tone  minor,  which  is  '^,  differs  from  unity  by  ^,  the  fourth  of  a  mi- 
nor tone  will  differ  from  unity  about  •^. 

3.  One  half  of  a  semitone  major  $  and  as  this  semitone  differs  from  unity  by  tV*  ^^^  ^^^^  ^^  ^^  ^^^^  differ  from 
unity  about  ^V* 

4.  Finally,  one  half  of  a  semitone  minor,  which  differs  from  unity  by  -^ :  its  half  then  will  be  /g-. 

The  interval,  then,  which  forms  the  enharmonic  fourtli  of  a  tone,  as  it  docs  not  differ  from  unity  but  by  ^, 
may  justly  be  called  iho  fourth  of  a  tone^  since  it  is  less  different  from  unity  than  the  largest  interval  of  a  quarter 
tone,  and  more  than  the  least. 

We  shall  add,  that  since  the  enharmonic  fourth  of  a  tone  is  the  difference  between  a  semitone  major,  and  a  se- 
mitone minor ;  and  since  the  tone  minor  is  formed  (note  uu)  of  two  semitones,  one  major  and  the  other  minor ; 
it  follows,  that  two  semitones  major  in  succession  form  an  interval  larger  than  that  of  a  tone  by  the  enharmonic 
fourth  of  a  tone  \  and  that  two  minor  semitones  in  succession  form  an  interval  less  thun  a  tone  by  the  same  fourth 
of  a  tone. 

(3  b)  That  is  to  say,  that  if  you  rise  from  E  to  F,  for  instance,  by  the  interval  of  a  semitone  major,  and  after- 
wards, returning  to  £,  you  should  rise  by  the  interval  of  a  semitone  minor  to  another  sound  which  is  not  in  the 
^ale,  and  which  I  shall  mark  thus,  F-|-,  the  two  sounds  F-|-^nd  F  will  form  the  enharmonic  fourth  of  a  tone  : 
for  £  being  i ,  F  will  be  \^  \  and  F-f-  4^  •  ^^^  propoHion  then  between  Y+  and  F  is-  that  ^f  4i  to  4r  iP^^^  Q,)  9 
that  is  to  say,  as  25  times  15  to  16  times  24 ;  or  otherwise,  as  25  times  5  to  16  times  8,  or  as  125  to  128. 
Now  this  proportion  is  the  same  which  is  found,  in  the  beginning  of  the  preceding  note,  to  express  the  enharmor 
nic  fourth  of  a  tone. 

(3  c)  As  this  method  for  obtaining  or  supplying  enharmonic  gradations  cannot  be  practised  on  every  occastott 
when  the  composer  or  practitioner  would  wish  to  find  them,  especially  upon  instruments  where  the  scale  is  fixed 
and  invariable,  except  by  a  total  alteration  of  their  economy,  and  re-tuning  the  strings,  Dr  Smith  in  his  Harmo« 
nics  has  proposed  an  expedient  for  redressing  or  qualifying  this  defect,  by  the  addition  of  a  greater  number  of  keys 
or  strings,  which  may  divide  the  tone  or  semitone  into  as  many  appretiable  or  sensible  intervals  as  may  be  neces- 
sary. For  this,  as  well  as  for  tbe  other  advantageous  improvements  which  he  proposes  in  the  strgcture  of  inBtrc^ 
ments,  we  cannot  with  too  much  warmth  recommend  the  perusal  of  his  learned  and  ipmiioos  book  toaocfa  of  oiif 
readers  as  aspire  to  the. character  of  genuine  adepts  in  the  theory  of  mnsiow 


53  2 


MUSIC. 


Part  I 


Theory  of  c<1  as  notliingy  because  it  is  inappretiable  by  the  ear ; 

Jlariiionj.  but  of  which,  though  its  value  is  not  ascertained,  the 
V  ' '  whole  harshness  is  sensibly  perceived.  The  instant  of 
surprise,  however,  immediately  vanishes  ^  and  that  asto- 
nishment is  turned  into  admiration,  when  one  fuels  him- 
self transported  as  it  were  all  at  once,  and  almost  im- 
|)erceptibiy,  fron(i  one  mode  to  another,  which  is  by  no 
means  relative  to  it,  and  to  which  he  never  could  have 
immediately  passed  by  the  ordinary  series  of  fundamen- 
tal notes. 

Chap.  XX.  Of  the  Diatonic  Enharmonic  Species* 

147.  If  we  form  a  fundamental  bass,  which  rises  al- 
ternately by  fiflhs  and  thirds,  as  F,  C,  £,  B,  this  bass 

See  fig.  X  3.  will  give  the  following  modulation- *f,  e,  e,  d%*  9  in 
which  the  semitones  from  *f '  to  *e%  and  from  'e^  to  M%\ 
are  equal  and  major  (3D). 

This  species  of  meduiation  or  of  harmony,  in  which 

S€e£fito'*|il|  the  semitones  are  major,  is  called  the  enharmonic 
dtatonic  species.  The  major  semitones  peculiar  to  this 
species  give  it  the  name  of  diatonic^  because  major  se- 
mitones belong  to  the  diatonic  species  \  and  the  tones 
which  are  greater  than  major  by  the  excess  of  a  fourth, 
resulting  from  a  succession  of  major  semitones,  give  it 
the  name  of  enharmonic  (note  3  a). 


fnomc 


Chromatic 
•nhannor 
nic  inter- 
vals, how  ^ 
formed. 
See  fip.  ij. 
IVoRi  this 
spec  ies,  the 
effects  of 
bamiony 
and  melo- 
dy appear 
to  be  in  the 
fiindamen- 
talboss. 


Diatonic 
species 
most  agpree* 
able,  and 
why. 

Thechro- 
malic  next. 

Xrfutly,  the 

enharmo* 

jiic. 


Chap.  XXI.   Of  the  Chromatic  Enharmonic  Species* 

14S.  If  we  pass  alternately  from  a  third  minor  in. 
descending  to  a  third  major  in  rising,  as  C,  C,  A,  C$, 
C%,  we  shall  form  this  modulation  'ct?,  e,  e,  e  e:JjC\  in 
which  all  the  semitones  are  minor  (3.£^X 

This  species  is  called  the  chromatic  enharmonic  spe- 
cies :  the  minor  semitones  pepuliar.  te  this  kind  give  it. 
the  name  of  chromatic^  because  minor,  semitones  belong 
to  the  chromatic  species  j  and^tl^e  sen^itenes  which  are 
lesser  by  the  diminution  of  a  fourth  resulting  from  a 
aiucoession  of  minor  semitones,  give  it^tb^  i^ime  of  en- 
harmonic  (note  3  f). 

149.  These  new  species  confirm  what  we  have  aU 
along' said,  that  the  whole,  effects  of  harmony  and.  me- 
lody reside  in  the,  fundamental  bass.. 

150.  The  diatonic  species  is  the  most  agt«eable,  be- 
cause the  fundamental  bass  which  produces  it  is. form-, 
ed  from  a  succession  of  .fifths  a^one,  which  is  the  most 
iiatural  of  all  others. 

151.  The  chroqiatit;  being  formed,  from  a  .succession 
of  thirds,  is  the  most  natural  after  the  preceding. 

152.  Finally,  the  enharmonic,  is  the  least  agreeable 
ojf  all,  becf^use  the.  fundamental  bass  wbi^b  gives  it.  is 


not  immedijitely  indicated  by  natore.     The  fourth  of  iWiiytf 
a  tone  which  constitutes  this  species,  and  which  is  it^  Eiomv 
self  inappretiable  to  the  ear,  neither  produces  nor  caa  "  »^ 
produce  its  effect,  but  tn  proportion  as  imagipatioa 
suggests  the  fundamental  bass  from  whence  it  nssnlts  \ 
a  bass  whose  procedure  i^  not  agreeable  to  nature,  atoce 
it  is  formed  of  two  sounds  which  are  not  coDtiguous  one 
to  the  other  in  the  series  of  thirds  (art.  144.)* 

Chap.  XXII.  Showing  that  Melody  is  the  Offspring 

of  Harmony* 

153.  All  that  we  have  hitherto  said,  as  it  seems  U^^^v*^ 
me,  is  more  than  sufficient  to  convince  us,  that  melody  to  uteww 
has  its  original  principle  in  harmony  j  and  tha(  it  ii>  iatifiatda 
harmony,  expressed  or  uoderstood|  that  ,we  ought  to^**") 
look  for  the  effects  of  melody..  J^S^ 

154.  If  this  should  still  appear  doubtffil,  noUung  OMNneiio^  * 
is  necessary  than  to  pay  due  attention  to  the  first  ex- 
periment (ait.  J  9.))  where  it.  may  be  seen  that  the  prin- 
cipal sound  is  always  the  lowest,  and  that  ihe  sharper 
sounds  wliich.  it  generates  are  with  relation  to  it  wM 

the  treble  of  an  air.  is  to  its  bass. 

155.  Yet  more,  we  have  proved,  in  treating  of  the 
broken  cadence  (chap.  xvii»},  that  tlie  diverbification  of 
basses  produces  effects  totally  different  jn  a  modulatiop 
which,  in  other  respects,  remains  the  same. 

156.  Can  it-  be-  still  necessary  tou adduce  more  cod- 
vinciog  proofs  ?  We.baiVe  but, to  examine  the  different 
basses  which  may  be  given  to  this  very  simple  modula- 
tion GC.  It  will  be  found  susceptible  of  many,  and 
each  will  give  a  different  character  to  the  roodolatidB 
GC,  tliough  in  itself  it  remains  always  the  same. 
We  may  .thus  change  the  whole  nature  and  effects  of  ^ 
modulation,  without  any  other,  alteration  than  that  of 
its  Jundamental  bass. 

M.  Rameau  has  shown,  in  his  Nevi  System  ofMum^ 
printed  at  Paris  1726,  p.  44.  that  this  modnlatioq 
G,  C,  is  susceptible  of  20  different  fundamental  basses. 
Now  the  same  fundamental  bass,  as  may  be  seen  in  onf 
second  part,  will  afford  several  continued  or  thorough 
basses.  How  many  means,  of  consequence,  may  be  prac- 
tised to  vary Jhe  expression  of  the  aame  modt^ation  ?. 

157.  From  these  different  observations  it  "**T  ^Ciian 
concluded,*  i*  That  an. agreeable  melody,  naturally  in-co  Mb* 
plies  a  bass  extremely  sweet  and  adapted  for  singiog^blciM 
and  il)at  reciprocally,  a%  musicians  express  it,  a  bass  of '^V"^ 
this  kind,  generally  prognosticates  an  agreeable  me-^^ 
lody(3F),  '  . 

a.  That  the  character  of  a  just  hamxmy  is  only  to 
form  io  some,  measure  one.  system  wtli.  the  mqdulatioo, 


T-r 


(3  d)  It, is  obvious,  that  if  F  in  the  bs^s  be  supposed  i,  *P  of  the  scale  will  be.  2,  .C  of  the  bass  \  and  'e*  ^ 
the  scale  ^  of  4-9  that  is  V  ^  the  proportion  of  ^V  to  *e^  b  as  2  to  V,  or  as  1  to  t?-  Now  £.  of  the  bass  beioff 
likewise  ^  of  4»  or  V'y  ^  ^^.  ^^e  bass  is  \  of  y,  and  its  third  major  Jy%  i  of  4  of  V,  or  y  of  V  9  this  thiid 
major,  approximated  as  much  as  possible  to  'e^  in  the  scale  by  iiieans  of  octaves,  will  be  H  of  V  :  V  then  of  the 
scale  will  be. to  'd'^  which  follows  it,  as  '^  is  to  Upl  Vt  that  is  to  say,  as.i  to  \^.  The  semitones  then  firaq 
*f'  to  'e\  and  from  *e'  to  *d'S,  are  both  majpr. 

(3  e)  It  is  evident  that  V^  is  y  (note  Q^)i  and  that  'e*  is  ^ :  these  two  *e*s,  then,  are  between  themselves  ««  f 
to  4>  that  is  to  say,  as  6  times  4  to  5  times  5,  or  as  24  to  25,  the  interval  which  constitutes  the  minor  semitone.. 
Moreover,  the  A  of  the  bass  Is  4»  ^^^  ^  %i  of  j^,  or  \\ :  ^e*%  then  is  ^  of  H^  the  *e^  in  the  scale  is  likewise  tf^ 
ihe  'e'^tl  which  follows  it,  as  24  to  25.     All  the  semitones  therefore  in  this  scale  are  mii^or. 

(3  F^  Many  composers  begm  with  detorminiiig  and  i?ritbg  the  bass )  a  method,  howetery  whicli  appcais  ia 


Psurtn. 


MUSIC. 


Principles  SO  that  from  tlie  whole  taken  together,  the  ear  inaf  on- 
^CwDpoii-  ly  receive,  if  we  may  speak,  so,  one  simple  and  indivi- 

*io°'      sibfe  impression. 
"^  -    ^  3.  That  the  character  of  the  same  modulation  may 

be  diversified^  according  to  the  character  of  the  bass 
which  is  joined  with  it. 

But  notwithstanding  the  dependency  of  melody  up- 
on  harmony,  and  the  sensible  in^uence  which  the  lat- 
ter may  exert  upon  the  former ;  we  must  not  however 
conclude,  with  some  celebrated  musicians,  that  tlie 
effects  of  harmony  are  preferable  to  those  of  melo- 
dy, experience  proves  the  contrary.  [See,  on  this 
account,  what  is  written  on  the  license  of  music,  print- 
ed in  torn.  iv.  of  D*Alembert*s  Melanges  de  Literature^ 
p.  448.} 


533 


General  Kemark* 


Principles 
of  Composi* 

The  diatonic  scale  or  gammnt  being  composed  of,  ^^°* 
twelve  semitones,  it  is  clear  that  each  of  these  semi- 
tones taken  by  itself  may  be  the  generator  of  a  mode  \ 
and  that  thus  there  must  be  twenty-four  modes  in  all, 
twelve  major  and  twelve  minor.  We  have  assumed 
the  major  mode  of  C,  to  represent  all  the  major  modes 
in  general,  and  the  minor  mode  of  A  to  represent:  the 
modes  minor,  to  avoid  the  difHcultres  arising  from  sharps 
and  flats,  of  which  we  must  have  encountered  either  a> 
greater  or  lesser  number  in  the  other  modes.  But  the 
rules  we  have  given  for  each  mode  are  general,  what- 
ever note  of  the  gammut  .be  taken  for  the  generator  o£ 
a  mode. 


PART  IL  PRINCIPLES  AND  RULES  OF  COMPOSITION. 


CDopoii.  158.  COMPOSITION,  called  also  counierpotnt^  is 
tiovi  io  har-QQ^  ^y  ^j,^  ^^  ^f  composing  an  agreeable  air,  but. also 
^|?[?'  ^  that  of  composing  several  airs  in  such  a  mapner  that  when 
8e«  CompO'  heard  at  the  same,  time,  they  may  unite  in  producing  an 
effect- agreeable  and  delightful  to  the  ear.^  tliis  is  what 
we  call  cwnpoting  music  in  severai parts*. 

The  highest  of  these  parts  is  called  the  treble^  the 
loivest  is  termed  the  bass;  the  others  parts,  when  there 
are  any,  are  termed  middle  parts;  and  each  in  particuv 
]ar  is  signified  by  a  different  name. 

Chap*  I.   Of  the  Different  Numes  given  to  the  jamt. 

IntervaL 


Particalar 

diCereiit 
AMBics,  tad 
wAj. 

S^Roadie- 
diandaot. 


^Thy  to 
called. 


PaliefifiJi, 


159.  In  the  introduction  (art.  9.),  we  have  seeq  a 
dclaul  of  the  most  common  names  given  to  the  different  * 
intervals.     But  particular  intervals  have  obtained  dif- 
ferent names,  according  to  circumstances  \  which  it  is  . 
proper  to  explain. 

160.  Aa  interval  composed  of  a  tone  and  a  sem^- 
tooe,  which  ia  commonly  called  a  Jthird  minora  is  like- 
wise sometimes  called  a  second  redundant ;  such  is  the 
interval  from  C.to  DJj(:.iu  ascending,  or  that  of  A  tov 
G|^  descending. 

This  interval  is  so  termed,  because  one  of  the  sounds  . 
which  form  it  is.  always  .either,  sharp  or  flat,jind  that,  . 
if  that  sharp  or  flat  be  taken  away,  the  interval  will  be 
that  of  a  second  (3  G)« 

16 1*  An  interval  composed  of  two  tones  an3  two 
semitones,  as  that  from  B  to  T,  is  called  %  false  fifths 
interval  is  the  same  with  Uie  tritone  (art.  9.),  ainc^ 


two  tones  and  two  semitones  are  equivalent  to  three- 
tones.  There  are,  hovveyer,  reasons  for  distinguishing 
them,  as  will  appear  below. 

162.  As  the.  interval  from  C  to  DiJK  in  ascending  pjf^f^,,^ 
has  been  called  a  second  redundant,  we  likewise  call  dm^aat, 
the  interval  .from  C  to  G^  in  ascending,  ^  fifth  redun^  ^lutt. 
danty  or  from  B  to  £b  in  descending,  each  01  which  ia* 
tervals  is  composed  of  four  tones  (3  h). 

This  interval  is,  in  the  main,  the  same  with  that  of  Distin- 
the  sixth  minor  (art.  6.)  :    but  in  the  fifth  redundant  8^>kcd  - 
there  is  always  a  sharp  or  flat^  insomuch,  that  if  this'^f^^? 
sharp  or  flat  were  removed,  the  interval  would  become  ^^^  ""* 
a.true  fifth.  , 

263.  .Fop  the  same  reason,,  an  interval  composed  of  Seventh  dii. 
three  tones  and  three  semitones,  as  from  G%  to  *f '  in  miniihed, 
aseending,  is  called  a  seventh  diminished;  because,  if  ^^^ 
we  remove  the  sharp  firom  G,  the  interval  from  G  to 
*f!  will  become  that  of  an  ordinary  seventh.     The  in- 
terval of  a  seventh  diminished  is  in  other  respects  the 
same  with  th%t  of  the  sixth,  mi^or  (art.  9.^  (3  i). 

164.  The  major  seventh  is  Ukewis.e  sometimes  called  Seventh 
Vk' seventh  redundant  ^{^^Vi).  major  and 

redundaat ' 

CHAP*.n.  Cwpariwtofthe  Different  Intervals.    ^"^^^^^ 

165.  If  we  sing  'c*  B  in  descending  by  a  second,. ^^tes  in 
and.  afterwards  C  B  in  ascending  by  a  seventh,  these  different 
two  B^b  shall  be  octaves  one  to  the  other  ^  or,  as  we  ocuves  or 
commonly  express  it,,  they  will  be  replications  one  ©f  •^*""P*'" 

^  ®*^«'-  twhrf the 

i66»  On  account  then  of.  the  resemblance  between  other. 

every 


geberal  more  proper  to  produce  a^leanied  and  harmonious  music,  than  a  strain  prompted  by  genius  and  animated 
by.  enthusiasm. 

(3  g)  For  the  same  reason,  this  interval  is  frequently  termed,  by  Englislr.  musicians  an  extreme  sharp  second* 
•   (3  h)  .This  interval  it*  usually,  termed  by 'English  theorists  a  sharp ^th. 

(31)  The  material  difference  between  the  diminished  seventh  and  the  major  sixth  is,,  that  the  former  always 
implies  a  division  of  the  interval  into  three  minor  thirds,  whereas  a  division  into  a  fourth  and  third  major,  or 
into  a  second  and  major  and.  minor  third,  is  usually  supposed  in  the  latter. 

(3  k)  The  chief  use  of  these  different  denommations  is  therefore  to  distinguish  chords:   for  instance,  the, 
obord  or  the  redundant  fiflh  and  that  of  the  diminished  seventh  are  different  from  the  chord  of  the  sixth  »  the 
d^T^i  of  the  seventh  redundant,  firpoi  that  of  the  seventh  major.     Thb  will  be  explained  in  the  foUowio^v 
chapters.  3  . 


534  .  MUSIC.  PartH. 

Principle*  ever  J  sotmJ  and  its  octave  (art.  22.)t  it  follow^?,  tliat  169.  Tbiis^  therefore^  we  shall  employ  them  indifler-  Vtia^ 

ofCompou./o  rise  by  a  seventh^  or  descend  by  a  second^  amount  to  ently  the  one  for  the  other  ;  so  that  wben  we  say,  furrfrfij 

.    ^^°*    .  the  same  thing.  instance,  to  rise  by  a  third ^  it  may  be  said  with  equal     ^'^ 

Hence  to        '^7'  ^*^  '*^^  manner,  it  Is  evident  that  the  sixth  des*  propriety  to  descend  by  a  sixth^  &c« 

descend  to  ceoding  is  nothing  but  a  replication  of  the  third  ascend-* 

one  replica- ing,  nor  the  fourth  descending  bat  a  replication  of  the  Chap.  III.  Of  the  Cleffs  /  of  the  Value  wr  Quantity  1 

riwtoan    fift** 'wc^n^ng-      ...  of  the  Rhythm  g  and  of  Syncopation. 

ihcr  has  ^      ^^^*  '^^  following  expressions  either  are  or  ought 

the  tame     ^^  he  regarded  as  synonymous.  170.  There  are  three  clefis  t  in  music  \  the  F  clefff  SeeGV 

Deuai  of    To  rise  by  a  second— To  descend  by  a  seventh.  0: 5  the  C  cliff  |j|  ;  and  the  G  cleff  ^ .  ^ 

tionF^*'       To  descend  by  a  second.— To  rise  by  a  seventh.  The  F  cUff  is  placed  on  the  fourth  line  (3  l)  or  oiiaadW- 

£xainp!cs    ^^  ^^  hy  a  Uiird.— To  descend  by  a  sixth.  the  third  \  and  the  line  on  which  this  cleff  b  placed  givetpbcdL 

of  this^        To  descend  by  a  third.— To  rise  by  a  sixth.  the  name  of  F  to  all  the  notes  on  that  line.  Ai 


Att 

ccctr. 


To  rise  by  a  fourth.— -To  descend  by  a  fifth.  The  C  cleff  is  placed  on  the  fourth,  the  thiid,  the  J?'^^^ 

To  descend  by  a  fourth. — To  rise  by  a  fifth.  second,  or  the  first  line  :  and  in  these  different  positions  k^^ 


aU*'" 


(3  l)  Our  ^thor  has  treated  this  part  of  his  subject  with  somewhat  less  perspicuity  than  usual.  He  has  nei- 
ther described  the  staffs  or  systems  of  lines  on  which  the  cleffs  are  placed,  nor  explained  their  relation  to  each 
t>ther.     We  bdve  therefore  attempted  to  supply  the  deficiency. 

Musical  sounds,  like  language,  are  represented  by  written  characters,  by  which  their  graveness  or  acoteneis, 
their  duration,  and  the  other  qualities  intended  to  be  assigned  to  them,  Are  accurately  distinguished. 

The  characters  which  denote  the  graveness  or  acuteness,  or,  as  it  is  termed,  the  pitch  of  sounds,  are  intended 
to  represent  the  ordinary  limits  of  the  human  voice,  in  the  exercise  of  which,  ot  the  employment  of  instromeBta 
of  nearly  the  same  compass  with  it,  all  practical  music  consists. 

From  the  lowest  distinct  note,  without  straining,  of  the  masculine  voice,  to  the  highest  note  generally  produced 
by  the  female  voice,  there  is  an  interval  of  three  octaves,  or  twenty-two  diatonic  notes. 

These  notes  are  represented  by  characters  described  alternately  on  eleven  parallel  lines,  and  the  spaces  betweca 
them,  fonrnng  what  we  shall  here  term  the  general  system. 

The  characters  representing  the  notes  are  differently  formed  according  to  their  duration,  but  with  this  we  have 
at  present  no  concern.     We  shall  employ  the  simplest,  a  small  circle  or  ellipse. 

The  whole  extent  of  the  human  voice,  then,  if  described  upon  the  general  system^  would  be  represented  as  at 
Plate  CCCLV.  fig.  I. 

The  masculine  voice,  rising  from  the  lowest  note  of  the  general  system,  will,  generally  speaking,  reach  the 
note  on  the  central  line  ^  and  an  ordinary  female  voice  will  reach  the  same  note,  descending  from  the  highest. 
Male  voices  more  acute,  and  female  voices  graver  than  usual,  will  consequently  execute  this  note  with  greater 
facility^ 

This  central  note,  then,  being  producible  by  every  species  of  voice,  has  been  assamed  as  a  fundamental  or  key 
note,  by  whieh  all  the  others  are  regulated  (art.  4.).  And  to  it  is  assigned  the  name  of  C,  by  which,  in  tho 
theory  of  harmony,  (as  we  have  seen),  the  fundamental  sound  of  the  diatonic  scale  is  distinguished. 

The  other  notes  take  their  denominations  accordingly.  The  note  below  it  is  B,  that  above  it  'd*,  &c.  }  and 
to  distinguish  this  central  C  from  its  octavefi,  it  is  called  the  middle  or  tenor  C. 

As  no  human  voice  can  execute  the  whole  twenty-two  notes,  the  general  system  is  divided  into  portions  of  five 
lines,  each  portion  representing  the  compass  of  an  ordinary  voice  }  and  difl^rent  portions  are  made  use  of,  accord« 
ing  to  the  graveness  or  acuteness  of  different  voices. 

The  five  lines  in  this  state  form  what  is  called  a  staffl  Each  staff  is  subdivided  into  lines  and  spaces.  Om 
the  lines,  and  in  the  spaces,  the  heads  of  the  notes  are  plaeed.  The  lines  and  spaces  are  counted  upwards,  from 
the  lowest  to  the  highest  ^  the  lowest  line  is  termed  the^r^^  line;  the  space  between  it  and  the  ^crofti/ /nie  is  de- 
nominated the  first  space^  and  so  on.  Both  lines  and  spaces  have  the  common  name  of  degrees  ;  the  staff  thds 
contains  nine  degrees,  viz.  fivt  lines  and  four  spaces. 

To  ascertain  what  part  of  the  general  system  is  formed  by  ft  stQJ^\  one  of  the  el^s  mentioned  in  the  text  is 
placed  at  the  beginning  of  the  staff,  on  one  or  other  of  the  lines  of  it. 

The  C  or  tenor  cleft  always  denotes  the  line  on  which  it  is  placed  to  be  that  which  carries  the  tenor  C.  The 
G  or  treble  cleff  distinguishes  the  line  carrying  'g\  the  perfect  fifth  above  the  tenor  C.  And  the  F  or  hass  cleff 
ascertains  the  line  which  represents  F  the  perfect  fifth  below  the  tenor  C. 

The  figures  of  the  cleffs,  (which  are  characters  gradually  corrupted  firom  the  Gothic  C,  G,  and  F),  and  their 
places  in  the  generar  system,  appear  on  Plate  CCCLV.  fig.  2. 

By  this  disposition  of  the  cleffs,  we  see  that  the  staff,  which  includes  the  line  hearing  the  treble  cleff,  is  hmml 
by  the  five  highest  lines  of  the  general  system  )  and  that  the  staff  which  comprehends  the  bass  cleff  consists  of 
the  five  lowest. 

The  central  line,  which  carries  the  tenor  C,  belongs  neither  to  the  treble  nor  the  bass  staves.  Bnt  as  that  nste 
frequently  occurs  in  composition  written  on  these  staves,  a  small  portion' of  the  tenor  line  is  occasionally  iotfO> 
duced  below  the  treble  cleff  and  above  that  of  the  bass  (fig.  3.). 

is 


part  IL 


M    U 


^%-> 


Xi 


p^'iaciplet  ^1  ^  mukta  ob  the  same  line  with  the  cleff  take  the 
name  of  C. 

The  G  cleff  Is  placed  on  the  second  or  lint  line  ^ 
and  all  the  notes  on  the  line  of  the  ckfF  take  the  name 

ofa 

171.  As  the  notes  are  placed  on  the  linesy  and  in 
the  notes  to  the  spaces  between  the  lines,  the  name  of  any  note  may 
^  "^^*h  ^  discovered  fron  the  position  of  the  cleff.  Thus,  in 
9|^  *?*"*  the  F  cleffy  the  note  on  the  lowest,  line  is  G  ^  the  note 
lion  of  the  <^  ^^®  space  between  the  two  first  lines  A  *,  the  note  on 
second  Hne  B,  &c. 
and  172.  A  note  before  which  there  is  a  sharp  (marked 
power  of  thos  ^)  most  be  raised  by  a  semitone  ^  and  if  there  be 
^|^l»»  Aat^a  flat  (marked  b)  before  it,  it  must  be  depressed  by  a 
'"*'"  semitone* 


and  nato- 


S    I    C.  535 

The  natorai  (marked  thus  I))  restores  to  its  natoraf  Prmc^t 
value  a  note  which  had  been  raised  or  depressed  by  »<rf€oinpoa^ 
semitone.  *'o»* 

173.  When  a  sharp  or  a  flat  is  placed  at  Hie  clefl^  j^  3 
all  the  notes  upon  the  line  or  space  on  which  this 
sharp  or  fiat  is- marked,  are  sharp  or  fiat.  For  instance, 
if  in  the  cleff  of  G  a  sharp  be  placed  on  the  highest 
line,  which  is  the  place  oJf  *p,  all  the  notes  on  that 
line  will  be  y*^'— to  restore  them  to  the  oisginal  va» 
lue  of  y  natural,  a  ||  must  be  placed  before  them. 

In  the  same  manner,  if  a  flat  be  marked  at  the  clefl^pj^^ 

all  the  notes  on  the  same  line  or  space  with  the  flat  will 

be  flat  'y  to  restore  thera  to  their  natural  state,  a  \\  must 

he  placed  before  them  (3  m). 

174.  Every  piece  of  music  is  divided  into  diffemt  ^^n  and 

^  Tiinc^ 
what. 


eguai,^*"^*- 


As  notes  still  more  remote  from  the  staff  in  use  are  sometimes  introduced,  small  portions  of  the  lines  to  which 
Uiese  lines  belong  are  employed  in  the  same  manner.  Thus,  if  in  writing  in  the  bass  staff  we  want  the  note  properly 
placed  on  the  lowest  line  of  the  treble  staff,  we  draw  two  short  lines  above  the  bass  staff,  one  representing  tlie  tenor 
line,  and  the  other  the  lowest  line  of  the  treble  staff,  and  on  this  last  short  line  we  place  the  note  in  question,  (fig.  4.). 
On  the  other  hand,  if,  in  writing  on  the  treble  staff,  we  would  employ  a  note  properly  belonging  to  the  bass 
staff,  we  place  it  below  the  treble  staff,  and  iusert  the  requisite  short  lines,  representing  the  corresponding  Knea 
of  the  genera!  system  (fig.  5.). 

llie  occasional  short  lines  thus  employed  are  termed  leger  lines. 

The  same  expedient  is  used  to  represent  notes  beyond  the  limits  of  the  general  systenf.  *Thos,  we  \rrite  the  F 
which  is  one  degree  lower  than  the  lowest  O  of  the  bass  staff,  on  the  space  below  that  G  *,  the  £  immediately 
lower,  or  on  a  leger  line  below  the  bass  staff,  and  so  on.  Notes  in  this  position  are  termed  double;  thus,  the  F 
just  mentioned  is  double  F,  or  FF  j  the  £,  or  double  £,  E£,  8cc. 

Again,  the  V  above  the  highest  *g*  of  the  treble  staff  is  placed  on  a  leger  line  above  that  staff.  The  *5*  :is 
placed  on  the  space  above  the  leger  line  :  The  next  note  *c*  is  set' on  a  second  leger  line,  and  so  on.  Tliesebigh 
notes  are,  in  compositions  for  some  instruments,  carried  more  than  an  octave  above  the  general  system.  Those  in 
the  first  octave  are  said  to  be  in  alt ;  those  beyond  it,  to  be  tia  (dtigsimo. 

The  tenor  or  C  cleff  is  employed  to  form  different  intermediate  staves  between  the  treble  and  bass,  according 
to  the  compass  of  the  voice  or  instrument  for  which  the  staff  is  wanted. 

Compositions  for  the  gravest  mascnline  voices  and  instruments  are  written  on  the  bass  cidff,  and  those  fi)r  fe 
male  voices  and  instruments  highest  in  tone,  on  the  treble  staff*. 

For  masculine  voices  next  in  depth  to  the  bass,  and  for  the  higher  octave  of  the  violoncello  and  bassoon, 
a  staff,  called  the  tenor  stcff^  is  formed  by  adding  to  the  tenor  line  the  three  highest  lines  of  the  bass  staff  and 
the  lowest  line  of  the  treble  (fig.  6.  i.). 

For  the  highest  masculine  voices,  which  are  called  amnier  tenor^  and  for  the  tenor  violin,  a  staff  is  formed  by 
tile  tenor  line,  the  two  highest  lines  of  the  bass,  and  the  two  lowest  of  the  treble  staff  (fig.  6.  2.). 

For  the  gravest  female  voices,  which  are  called  mezzo  soprano^  the  tenor  line  and  four  lowest  lines  of  the 
treble  form  a  staff  (fig.  6.  3.) 

'  The  relation  of  all  the  staves  to  the  general  system,  and  to  each  other,  will  appear  from  fig.  S. 
The  bass  cleff  on  the  third  line,  the  tenor  cleff  on  the  second,  and  the  treble  cleff  on  the  first,  rarely  occur,'  ex- 
cept in  old  French  music. 

The  tenor  cleff,  and  the  staves  distinguished  by  it,  are  now  less  firequently  used  tban  the  treble  and  bass  cleffs. 
Those  who  cultivate  music  only  as  an  amusement  find  it  irksome  to  learn  so  many  modes  of  ndtation.  The  tenor 
ataves  are  accordingly  banished  firom  compositions  for  keyed  instruments.  Secular  compositions  for  voices  are  like- 
wise now  written  in  the  treble  and  bass  staves  only  5  although  in  this  there  is  r^ime  inaccuracy,  as  the  tenor  parts 
now  written  in  the  treble  staff,  roust  often  be  sung  an  octave  below  that  in  which  they  appear.  The  chief  use  of 
tho  tenor  cleff  is  in  choral  music  and  compositions  for  the  bassoon  and  tenor  vioKn  \  and  its  principal  advantage, 
4he  fiu^ility  of  reading  ancient  music,  which  is  almost  exchistvely  written  in  this  cleff,  has  seldom  been  deemed  an 
lasofficient  recompense  for  the  labour  of  acquiring  it. 

(3  m)  The  disposition  of  sharps  or  flats  at  the  cleff,  which  is  termed  the  signdture^  depends  opon  the  mode,  or 
tone  assumed  in  the  composition  as  a  fundamental  or  key  note,  and  will  be  afterwards  explained! 

The  sharps  or  flats  of  the  signature  affect  not  only  the  notes  placed  on  the  same  degree  vtith  themselves,  as  men- 
tioned in  the  tejrt,  but  also  all  the  notes  of  the  same  letter,  in  every  octave  throagbout  the  movement. 

The  sharps  or  flats  of  the  signature  determine  the  scale  in  which  the  movemeot  is  composed,  andarethereforesaid 
io  be  essential;  those  whicb  occur  in  the  course  of  the  piece  on  an  occasionalchange  of  thescale,  are  termed  accidental, 

• 
a  ComporitiooB  for  French  horm  are  written  in  tbc  treble  «toff,  althoo^h  the  tone  oT^he  iftftmaeat  be  veiy  gnrt ;  but  thbis  be- 
<tnMe  tka^hem  iftbersDwvd&aai,.aad  hu  th«:sBiat.nBtQsa4iater«aU  «alk>tiio  Tmrnpeti  «hioh.isaa«catriastniinuit* 


53^  MUSIC.  .  PartlL 

Principles  equitl  times,  calted  fHeast^rei}  and  each  measure  is  like-  and  weak  even  the  parts  of* the  same'  tiiDe  ate  distin* 

of  Gompon- wise  divided  into  different  times.  guished  j  thus,  tlic  first  note  of  each  time  is  consi< 

.     ^^°'    .      There  are  properly  two  kinds  of  measures  or  modes  of  as  strong  and  the  others  as  weak. 
See  Time,  ^^^  >  ^^^  measure  of  two  times,  or  common  time,  mark-  175.  The  longest  of  all  notes  is  a  semibreve^     A  m^-1    v^^ 

ed  bj  the  figure  a  at  the  hegtnning  of  the  time  (fig.  lo.)^  nim  is  half  its  value  ^  that  is  to  say,  two  minims  are  tooruiei^ 

and  the  measure  of  three  times,  or  triple  time,  marked  be  performed  in*  th^  time,  occupied  by  one  semibreve.dvuigi. 

by  the  figure  3  placed  in  the  same  manner  (fig.  II.).  A  minim   in  the  same  manner  is  equivalent  lo  two^-xL 

The  different  measures  are  distinguished  by  perpen«  crotchets j  the  crotcht^t  to  two  quavers  (^  o). 
dicular  lines  (3  n)j  called  bars,  176.  A  note  which  is  divided  into  two  parts  by  aSyanfi. 

In  a  measure,  we  distinguish  between  the  strong  and  bar^  that  is,'wiiicb  begins  at  the  end  of  a  measure,  aadt>^  »W. 

the  weak  time  :   the  strofig  time  is  that  which  is  beat;  terminates  in  the  measure  following,  is  called  a  jyiiof»-^^^^^*' 

the  weak  J  that  in^whtch  the  hand  or  foot  is  raised,     A  pated  note  (3  P)«  ?■«■• 

measure  consisting  of  four  times  ought  to  be  consider-  '77-  -^  i^ote  followed  by  a  point  or  dot  is  increased  y^^ 

ed  as  compounded  of  two  measures,  each  consisting  of  half  its  value.     Thus  a  dotted  semibreve  is  equivalent  a  poi 

*  two  times  :  thus  thete  are  in  this  measure  two  strong  to  a  semibreve  and  a  minim,  a  dotted  minim,  to  a  mi-Mtr. 

'  and  two  weak  times.     In  general  by  the  words  strong  nim  and  a  crotchet,  &c.  (Fig.  17  )  (3  <l)* 

Chap. 

(3  n)  All  the  notes,  therefore,  contained  between  two  bars  constitute  one  measure  ;  although  in  common  lao- 
guage  the  word  bar  is  improperly  used  for  measure. 

(3  o)  The  notes,  in  their  figure,  consist  of  a  head  and  a  stefn^  except  the  semibreve,  which  has  a  head  only* 

xbe  place  of  the  note  in  the  staff  is  determined  by  the  head^  which  most  be  placed  on  the  line,  or  sn  the  space, 
'  assigned  to  tiie  note.     The  stem  may  be  turned  either  up  or  down. 

The  quaver  is  equivalent  to  two  semiquavers^  and  the  semiquaver  to  two  demt-semtquavers.  In  modem  music, 
the  demi-semiquaver  is  also  subdivided. 

The  quaver  and  the  notes  of  shorter  duration  may  be  grouped  together,  by  two,  three,  or  four,  &c.  and  joined 
by  as  many  black  lines  across*  the  ends  of  the  stem  as  there  are  hooks  in  the  single  note  (fig.  la).  This  arrange* 
ment  is  convenient  in  writing,  and  assists  the  eye  in  performance. 

When  quavers,  or  the  shorter  notes,  are  to  be  repeated  in  the  same  degree  for  a  time  equal  to  the  duration  of 

a  longer  note,  the  iterations  arc,  by  a  sort  of  musical  short-hand,  represented  by  writing  the  long  note  only,  and 

.  j^lacing  over  or  under  it,  as  many  short  lines  as  the  short  note  has  hooks  (fig.  13.)    And  the  repetition  of  a  series. 

'  of  shoii  notes  is  represented  by  'merely  writing  for  each  repetition  as  many  short  lines  as  there  are  hooks  to  the 

short  notes  of  which  the  series  is  composed  (tig.  X40* 

(3  p)  A  note  in  the  middle  of  a  measure  is  also  said  to  be  syncopated  when  it  begins  on  nstrong,  and  ends  on  a 
^eak  part  of  the  measure,  (see  fig.  15.)  where  D,  C,  and  B  are  each  of  them  syncopated. 

A  note  which  of  itself  occupies  one,  two,  or  more  measures,  is  not  said  to  be  syncopated,  hnt  continued  {a  pro* 
trdcted.     See  fig.  x6. 

(3  Q,)  Notes  have  sometimes  in  modem  music  a  double  dot  after  tbem,  which  makes  them  longer  by  three- 
feurths.     Thus  a  -minim  twice  dotted  is  equal  to  three  crotchets  and  a  half,  or  seven  quavers,  &c. 

Our  author,  in  this  chapter,  has  omitted  the  explanation  of  rests^  and  of  the  particular  modifications  of  time. 

Itests  are  characters  indicating  the  temporary  suspension  of  musical  sounds.  There  are  as  many  different  rests 
ad  there  are  notes*  Thus  the  semibreve  rest  indicates  a  pause  of  the  duration  of  a  semibreve  j  the  minim  rest,  of 
a^mittim,  &c.  (fig.  18.). 

The  semibreve  jrest  also  denotes  the  silence  of  one  entire  measure,  in  triple  as  well  as  common  time.  Hie 
silence  of  several  measures  is  marked  as  in  fig.  18.  ^  but  where  the  silence  exceeds  three  bars,  the  number  is  usual- 
ly^ marked  over  the  rests. 

Common  time  is  either  of  a  semibreve,  or  of  a  minim  to  the  measure. 

Common  time  of  a  semibreve  is  indicated  by  the  letter  C  at  the  cleff,  fig.  l«  of  Plate  CCCLVI.  When  it  is 
meant  to  be  somewhat  quicker  than  usual,  a  perpendicular  line  is  drawn  through  the  C,  (fig.  2.). 

Common  time  of  a  minim  to  the  measure,  which  is  called  halftime^  is  indicated  by  the  fraction  |,  that  is,  two- 
fourths  of  a  semibreve,  or  two  crotchets  equal  to  a  minim,  (fig.  3.). 

In  triple  time  the  measure  consists  of  three  minims,  three  crotchets  or  three  quavers,  six  crotchets  or  six 
quavers,  nine  quavers  or  twelve  quavers. 

Triple  time  6f  three  minims  is  marked  at  the  cleff  4-9  that  is,  three  halves  of  a  semibreve,  (fiff.  4.) 

Triple  time  of  three  crotchets  is  indicated  by  the  fraction  i,  (three-fourths  of  a  semibreve)  (fig.  5.)  and  that  of 
three  quavers  by  ^  (three-eighths  of  a  semibrove),  (fig.  6.) 

In  the  last  tluree  examples  the  measure  is  divided  into  three  twtes^  of  which  the  first  is  strongs  and  the  two 
'  others  weak. 

The  measure  of  six  crotchets  is  marked  |,  (fig.  7.)  ^  and  that  of  six  quavers  f,  (fig.  8.).  In  both  there  ace 
two  times,  of  which  the  first  is  strong,  and  the  second  weak. 

The  measure  of  nine  quavers  is  marked  f ,  (fig.  9O  ',  and  is  divided  into  one  strong  and  two  weak  times.  Thai 
of  twelve  quavers  is  marked  V-  (%•  ^o.)  ',  and  is  accented  as  if  it  weie  two  measures  of  six  quavers. 

The  measures  of  |  and  VV  rarely  occur. 

Three  notes  are  often  performed  in  Uie  time  of  two  of  the  same  name,  and  are  then  termed  triplets,  (fig«  ii*) 

wbere 


irhmt,  mud 
Mfrto  be 


AoM  of 


or  the 

gmtcf 


Plate 
CCCLVlt 

Tonic, 

how  fnr- 
•d.   ^^ 

Doaiaaat, 

whftt,UHl 


td. 


M     -U 

Chap.  IV.  Dtfiniiion  of  the  prindptJ  Cbotdi. 

178.  (3R)  The  chord  composed  of  a  third,  a  fifth, 
and  «a  ocUve,  as  C,  £,  G,  C,  is  called  v^pefjkct  chord 

(art.  32.). 

If  the  third  he  major,  as  in  C,  E,  G,  C,  the  perfect 
chord  is  denomiDated  mahr :  if  the  third  be  minor,  as 
hi  A,  C,  E,  A,  the  perfect  chord  is  minor.  The  per- 
fect chord  major  constitutes  the  major  mode  ;  and  the 
perfect  chord  minor,  the  minor  mode  (art.  3iO« 

179.  A  chord  composed  of  a  third,  a  fifth,  and  a 
serenth,  as  G,  B,  D,  F,  or  D,  F,  A,  C,  &c  is  called 
a  eAord  of  the  seventh.  Sach  a  chord  is  wholly  com- 
posed of  thirds  in  ascending. 

All  chords  of  the  seTeoth  are  practised  in  harmony, 
save  that  which  miffbt  carry  the  third  minor  and  the 
seyenth  major,  as  C  £|^  G  B ;  and  that  which  might 
carry  a  false  fifth  and  a  seventh  major,  B  D  F  A:)i[, 
(chap.  xiv.  Part  I.)» 

i8o.  As  thirds  are  either  major  or  minor,  and  as 
tliey  may  he  differently  arm^ged,  it  is  clear  that  there 
are  different  kinds  of  chords  of  the  seventli ;  there  is 
even  one,  B  D  F  A,  wiiich  is  composed  of  a  third,  a 
false  fifth,  and  a  seventh. 

l8i.  A  chotA  compOiied  of  a  third,  a  fifth,  and  a 
aixth,  as  F  A  C  D,  D  F.A  B,  is  called  a  chord  of  the 
greater  sixth, 

182.  Every  note  which  carries  a  perfect  chord  is 
called  a  tonic  ;  and  a  perfect  chord  is  marked  by  an 
8,  hy  a  3,  or  hy  a  5,  which  is  written  above  the  note  ^ 
but  frequently  these  nomhers  are  suppressed.  Thus  in 
the  example  i.  the  two  C^s  equally  carry  a  perfect 
chord. 

183.  Every  note  which  carries  a  chord  of  the  seventh 
is  called  a  dominant  (art.  102.)  ;  and  this  chord  is 
marked  by  a  7  written  above  the  note.  Thus  in  the 
example  11.  D  carries  the  chord  D  F  A  C,  and  G  the 
chord  G  B  D  F. 

It  is  necessary  to  remark,  that  among  the  chords 
Vol.  XIV.  Part  11. 


SIC.  537 

of  the  seventh  we  do  net  reckon  the  clmrd  of  the  Prindplci 
seventh  diminished,  which  is  only  improperly  called  aofCompotU 
chord  ^the  seventh  ;  and  of  which  we  shall  say  more .    ^^°'    ^ 
helow.  ' 

184.  Every  note  which  carries  the  chord  of  the  great  Sub-domi. 
sixth,  is  caMed  a  subdominant^  (art.  97.  and  42.)  andna°^/^bat, 
is  marked  with  a  6.     Thus  in  the  exaro^e  iii.  F^^f"?^ 
carries  the  chord  of  F  A  C  D.    The  sixth  should  al.°^^*"^ 
ways  be  major,  (art.  97.  and  109.). 

185.  In  every  chord,  whether  perfect,  or  a  chord  Pnndamen- 
df  the  seventli,  or  of  the  great  sixth,  the  note  which  |^^^^^ 
carries  this  chord,  and  which  is  the  flattest  or  lowest, 

is  called  the  fundamental  note.  Thus  C  in  the  ex- Sec  Fun- 
ample  I.  D  and  C  iji  the  example  1 1,  and  F  ip  the  ex-^"*^"^ 
ample  ill.  are  fundamental  notes. 

1 86.  In  every  chord  of  the  seventh,  and  of  the  |p^at  Dissonance 
sixth,  the  note  which  forms  the  seventh  or  sixth  abavjB  °*!^  *^^^^» 
the  fundamental,  that  is  to  say,  the  highest  note  of  the  ^ 
chord,  is  called  a  dissonance,     TJjus  in  the  chords  of 

the  seventh  G  B  D  F,  D  F  A  C,  F  and  C  are  the 
dissonances,  viz.  F  with  relation  to  G  in  the  first  chord, 
and  C  with  relation  to  O  in  the  second.  In  the  chord 
of  the  great  sixth  F  A  C  D,  D  is  the  dissonance  (art. 
120.)  $  but  that  I)  19  only,  properly  speaking,  9>  dissop- 
apce  with  relation  to  C  from  whicn  it  Is  a  second,  and 
not  with  respect  to  F  from  which  it  is  a  sirth  major 
(art.  17.  and  18.). 

187.  When  a  chord  of  the  sevjcnth  is  composed  ofT**"*^*?^ 
a  third  major  followed  by  two  thirds  minor,  the  *"»- JJI^Sl^tf ^ 
damental  note  of  this  chord  is  called  the  tonic  domi-yfY^^^ 
nant.     In  every  other  chord  of  the  seventh  the  funda- 
mental is  called  the  simple  dominant  (art.  102.).  Thus 

in  tlie  chord  G  B  D  F,  the  fundamental  G  is  the  tame 
dominant ;  hut  in  the  other  chords  of  the  seventh,  as 
C  E  G  B,  D  F  A  C,  &c.  the  fundamentals  C  and  D 
are  simple  dominants, 

188.  In  every  chord,  whether  perfect,  or  of  the^fjjjj'^ 
seventh,  or  of  the  sixth,  if  it  is  meant  that  the  third  ^^^^^ 
above  the  fundamental  note  should  be  major  though  der«d  mi- 
it  be  naturally  minor,  a  sharp  must  be  placed  above  the  nor,  and 
f  3  Y  fnndamenUl^* 


where  the  groops  of  quavers  in  the  second  measure  are  triplets,  apd  each  triplet  occupies  the  time  of  two  qnavers 
only.     Triplets  also  occur  in  triple  time,  fig.  1 2. 

Certain  other  characters  will  be  with  propriety  explained  here. 

The  Pause  signifies  that  the  regular  time  is  to  he  delayed,  and  the  note  marked  with  the  panae  protracted. 
See  fig.  13.  where  the  pause  is  on  the  last  note  of  the  second  measure. 

The  Repeat ^  a  character  resembling  an  8,  denotes,  that  the  following  part  of  the  movement  must  be  repeated. 
See  fig.  14. 

The  Direct  (fig.  15.)  is  placed  at  the  end  of  the  staff,  to  shew  upon  what  degree  the  first  note  of  the  following 
ataff  is  placed. 

When  the  inner  sides  of  two  bars  are  dotted,  the  measures  between  them  are  to  he  repeated  (fig.  €6.).  The 
word  bis  is  sometimes  placed  over  such  passages. 

The  double  bar  distinguishes  the  end  of  a  movement  or  strain,  (fig.  17^).  If  the  doable  bar  he  dottedl  on  one 
or  both  sides,  the  strain  is  to  be  repeated,  (fig.  18.).  The  double  bar  does  not  affect  the  time  \  so  that  when  the 
•train  terminates  before  the  end  of  a  measure,  as  is  often  the  case,  the  doable  bar  only  marks  the  oonclosion  of 
the  strain,  but  the  time  is  kept  exactly  as  if  it  were  not  inserted.     See  fig.  19. 

The  graces  of  exertion  and  expression,  such  as  the  appogioture,  the  shake,  die  slur,  the  crescendo,  the  diminu- 
endo, &c  are  not  necessary  to  the  consideration  of  the  theory  of  music  or  principles  of  composition,  but  belong 
to  tile  performer  only.     See  Shake,  &c. 

(jr)  In  this  part  of  our  subject,  we  shall,  in  mentioning  the  harmonies  of  the  chords,  make  use  of  the  capital 
letters  only,  as  the  general  names  of  the  notes,  without  distinguishing  octaves  by  miuuscular  or  Italic  letters. 
The  haiTOonics^may  be  arranged  in  different  octaves.  Their  ditterent  f^tions  will  be  most  easily  sees  and  best 
understood  from  the  examples  in  the  plates. 


538  M    U 

Piinciiitet  fimdaiDeiiUl  note.  For  exampk,  if  tie  would  nuurk  the 
•f  Conpoa.peifeGt  major  chord  D  FX  A  D«  M  the  third  F  ahoye 
>  *""•  ^  D  is  naturally  minor,  we  place  ahove  D  a  sbaip,  as  in 
Example  iv.  In  the  same  manner^  the  chord  of  the 
eeventh  D  FjK  A  C,  and  the  chord  of  the  great  sixth 
D  FX  A  B,  is  mariied  with  a  S  ahoTO  D,  and  above 
the  ji;  a  7  or  a  6  (see  ▼•  and  vi.). 

On  the  contrary,  when  the  third  is  naturally  major, 
and  if  we  would  render  it  minor,  we  place  above  the 
fundamental  note  a  |^.  Thus  the  example  vii.  viii. 
IX.  shew  the  chovds  G  Bb  D  G  G  Bb  D  F,  G  Bb  B  £ 

Chip.  V.  Of  the  FundamifOal  Bass. 

FvndaiiieA.     iSp*  LvT  a  modulation  he  invented  at  pleasure  ;  and 

ul  but      under  this  modulation  let  there  be  set  a  bass  composed 

how  fonn«  ^f  different  notes,  of  which  some  may  carry  a  perfect 

chord,  others  that  of  the  seventh,  and  others  tliat  of 

the  great  sixth,  in  such  a  manner  that  each  note  of  the 

modulation  which  answers  to  each  of  the  bass,  may  be 

lyne  of  those  which  enters  into  the  chord  of  that  note  in 

the  bass ;  this  bass  being  composed  according  to  the 

rules  which  shall  be  immediately  given,  will  be  the 

fundamental  bast  of  the  modulation  proposed.     See 

Part  L  where  the  nature  and  principles  ofthefunda- 

mental  base  are  explained. 

See  FVmdo-     Thus  (Exam.  XVI.)  it  will  be  found  that  this  roodu- 

>"<»ta^       lation,  C  D  £  F  G  A  B  C,  has  or  may  admit  for  its 

fundamental  bass,  CGCFCDGC. 

In  reality,  the  first  note  C  in  the  upper  part  is 
found  in  the  chord  of  the  first  note  C  in  the  bass, 
which  chord  is  G  £  Q  C  ^  the  second  note  D  in  the 
treble  is  found  in  the  chord  G  B  D  G  ^  which  id  the 
chord  of  the  second  note  in  the  bass,  &c.  and  the  bass 
is  composed  only  of  notes  which  carry  a  perfect  chord. 


SIC.  PartlL 

or  that  of  the  seventh,  or  that  of  thegicat  lixtLpkMb 
Moreover  it  is  formed  according  to  the  rules  which  uctf  Ci^«. 
are  now  about  to  give.  tm 

Chap.  VI.  Rules  fw  the  Fundamental  Bass. 

190.  All  the  notes  of  the  fundamental  bass  beiagRdair 
only  capable  of  carrying  a  perfect  chord,  or  the  chord  tUfaM. 
of  the  seventh,  or  that  of  the  great  sixth,  are  etthcf^''^ 
tonics,  or  dominants,  or  sub-dominants  ^  and  the  domi' 
nants  may  be  either  simple  or  tonic  * 

Tlie  fundamental  bass  ought  always  to  begin  widr 
a  tonic,  as  much  as  it  is  practicable.  And  now  foUsw 
the  rules  for  all  the  succeeding  chords  \  rules  which 
are  evidently  derived  from  the  principles  established  ia 
the  First  Part  of  this  treatise.  To  be  convioced  oC 
this  we  shall  find  it  only  necessary  to  review  the  articks 
34,  9i>  l22f  124,  126,  127. 

Rule  I. 

191.  In  every  chord  of  the  tonic,  or  of  the  tonie 
dominant,  it  is  necessary  that  at  least  one  of  the  notes 
which  form  that  chord  should  be  found  in  the  cheid 
that  precedes  it. 

Rule  II. 

1 92.  In  every  chord  of  the  simple  dominant,  it  is 
necessary  that  the  note  which  constitutes  the  sevendi, 
or  dissonance,  should  likewise  be  found  in  the  preceding 
chord. 

Rule  III. 

T93.  In  every  chord  of  the  sub-dominant,  at  least 
one  of  its  consonances  must  be  found  in  the  preeedhig 
chord.  Thus,  in  the  chord  of  the  sub-dominant  F  A 
C  D,  it  is  necessary  that  F,  A,  or  C,  which  are  the 


(3  ^)  ^®  B>^y  ^7  *^^t  ^^^^  there  is  no  occasion  for  marking  these  sharps  or  flats  when  they  are  originally 
^aoed  at  the  cleff.  For  instance,  if  the  sharp  be  upon  F  which  indicates  the  kev  of  G  (see  £xam.  x.)  it  is  suf- 
ficient to  write  D,  without  a  sharp,  to  mark  the  perfect  chord  major  of  D,  D  rlt  A  D.  In  the  same  maaacr, 
in  the  £xample  xi.  where  the  flat  is  at-the  cleff'  upon  B,  which  denotes  the  key  of  F,  it  is  suflicient  to  wnte  G, 
to  mark  the  perfect  chord  minor  of  G  Bb  D  G. 

But  where  there  is  a  sharp  or  a  flat  at  the  clelF,  if  we  would  render  the  chord  wnkunr  which  ia  major,  or 
vice  tvTJO,  we  must  place  above  the  fiindamental  note  a  ||  or  natural.  Thus  the  £xarople  xil.  marks  the  niair 
chord  D  F  A  D,  and  £xamp!e  xiii.  the  major  chord  G  B  D  G.<— Sometimes,  in  lieu  of  a  natural,  a  flat  ii 
used  to  signify  the  minor  chord,  and  a  sharp  to  s>gpirT  the  major.  Thus  £xample  xiv.  in  the  key  of  G,  maiki 
the  minor  chord  D  F  A  D,  and  £xample  xv.  in  F,  the  major  chord  G  B  D  G. 

When  in  a  chord  of  the  great  sixth,  the  dissonance,  that  is  to  say,  the  sixth,  ought  to  be  sharps  and  when  tbe 
sharp  is  not  found  at  the  cleff',  we  write  before  or  after  the  6  a  !|j;  ^  and  if  this  sixth  should  he  flat  acooffdiag  ts 
the  cleff^  we  write  a  I). 

In  the  same  manner,  if  in  a  chord  of  the  seventh  of  the  tonic  dominant,  the  dissonance,  that  ia  to  mt,  the 
seventh,  ought  to  be  flat  or'  natural,  we  write  by  the  side  of  the  seventh  a  b  or  a  ||.  Many  mnoiciaiit,  when  a 
seventh  from  the  simple  dominant  ought  to  be  altered  by  a  sharp  or  a  natural,  have  likewise  written  by  the  side  of 
the  seventh  a  ijjf  or  a  l| }  but  M.  Rameau  suppresses  these  characters.  The  reason  shall  be  given  below,  wbea 
we  speak  of  chords  by  supposition. 

If  there  be  one  sharp  at  the  cleff*,  and  if  we  would  mark  the  chord  G  B  D  F||  or  the  chord  A  C  £  F^  we 
ooriit  to  plaoe  before  the  seventh  or  the  sixth  a  ||  or  a  b. 

In  the  same  manner,  if  there  be  one  flat  at  the  cleff*,  and  if  we  would  mark  the  chord  CFG  Bl|,  we  ou^ 
to  place  before  the  seventh  a  ^  or  a  || ;  and  so  of  the  rest* 

All  these  intricate  combinations  of  figuring  shew  the  superior  convenience  of  themodeip  method  of  writiim  At 
notes  themselves  instead  of  the  figures,  which  has  the  farther  advantage  of  exhibiting  the  proper  amanmeut  of 
the  chord,  see  Example  ii. 


*aitn.  M    U 

Michilcs  eoBiMialices  oF  the  c1io»d,  Amii  be  firand  in  the  choxd 
rcompoBi.  pveoediog.  Tlie  dwnonence  D  nay  either  be  fiHind  in 
itorooC. 

Rule  IV. 

194.  Everr  ample  er  tonic  dominuit  oaeht  to  de- 
scend by  a  fifth.  In  thefixst  casci  that  is  to  eay, 
when  tbe  dominant  is  sunpie,  the  note  which  fidiows 
can  only  be  a  dominant  \  in  the  second  it  may  be  nny 
one  i  or,  in  other  words,  it  may  either  be  a  tonic,  a 
tonic  dominant,  a  simple  dominant,  or  a  sub-dominant. 
It  is  neoessery,  however,  that  the  conditions  prescribed 
in  the  second  role  should  be  observed,  if  it  be  a  simple 
dominant. 

Thie  last  reflection  is  necessary,  as  will  presently  be 
«een.  For,  let  us  assume  the  succession  of  the  two 
chords  A  CX  £  G,  D  F  A  C  ^see  Exam,  xvii.),  this 
succession  is  by  no  means  legitimate,  though  in  it  the 
first  dominant  descends  by  a  fifth  ;  becense  tbe  C  which 
Arms  the  dissonance  in  tbe  second  chord,  and  which 
belongs  to  a  simple  dominant,  is  not  in  the  preceding 
chord.  But  the  succession  will  be  admissible,  if,  with- 
CNit  meddling  with  the  second  chord,  we  take  away  the 
aliarp  carried  by  tbe  C  in  the  first;  or  if,  without 
■Mddling  with  the  first  chord,  we  render  C  and  F  sharp 
In  the  second  (3  t)  (  or,  if  we  simply  render  the  D  of 
the  second  choid  a  tonic  dominant,  in  causing  it  to  car« 
jry  F$  instead  of  F||  (119.  and  122.)* 

It  is  likewise  by  tbe  same  rule  that  we  ought  to  re- 
ject tbe  succession  of  the  two  following  chords, 

DFAC,GBDF«> 
^see  Exam,  xyiii.). 

Rule  V. 

X95.  Every  sub-dominant  ought  to  rise  by  a  fifth  \ 
and  the  note  which  follows  it  may,  at  pleasure,  be 
cither  a  tonic,  a  tonic  dominant,  or  a  sob-dominant. 

Remark. 

Of  the  five  fnadamental  ndee  which  have  now  been 
given,  instead  of  the  three  first,  one  may  substitute 
the  three  following,  which  are  consequences  from 
them* 

Rule  L 

If  a  note  of  the  fundamental  bass  be  a  tooic,  and 
rise  by  a  fifth  or  a  third  to  another  -nottf  that  second 


SIC.  539 

note  may  be  either  a  totnc  (34.  &  ptOi  see  Examples  principles 
XIE.  and  EX.  (3  u)  J   a  tonic  dominant  (ia4.)»  seeot'Compoii* 
xxu  and  XXII. }  or  a  mb-^ominant  (124.)*  see  xxiii.      tion. 
and  XXIV  j  or,  to  express  the  rule  more  simply,  that '       '    ^ 
second  note  may  be  any  one,  except  a  simple  domU 
nant. 

Rule  II. 

If  a  note  of  the  fnndamental  bass  be  a  tonic,  and 
descend  by  a  fifth  or  a  third  upon  another  note,  this 
second  note  may  be  either  a  tonic  (34.  &  91.)  s«e 
Exam.  XXV.  and  xxvi.  \  or  a  tonic  dominant,  or  a 
simple  dominant,  yet  in  such  a  manner  that  the  rule  of 
art.  192.  may  be  observed  1,1 24.)*  see  xxvii.  xxviii. 
XXIX.  and  xxx. }  or  a  sub-dominant  (124.),  see  xxxi. 
and  XXXI  I. 

The  succession  of  the  bass  C  £b  G  C,  F  A  C  £,  is 
excluded  by  art.  192. 

Rule  III. 

If  a  note  in  the  fundamental  bass  be  a  tonic,  and 
rise  by  a  second  to  another  note,  tbat.  note  ousbt  to  be 
a  tonic  dominant,  or  a  simple  dominant  (loi.  &  102.). 
See  XXXIV.  and  xxxv.  (3  x). 

We  must  here  advertise  our  readers,  that  the  exam- 
ples XXXVI.  XXXVII.  XXXVIII.  XXXIX.  belong  to  the 
fourth  rule  above,  art.  194. ;  and  tbe  examples  XL. 
XLI.  XLII.  to  the  fifth  mle  above,  art.  195.  See  the 
articles  34,  3J;,  I2l,  123,  124. 

Remark  I, 

196.  Tbe  transition  firom  a  tonic  dominant  to  a  Perfect  anA 
tonic  is  called  an  absoiuie  repose^  or  a  perfect  cadenecm^^tax 
(73O  \  ^^od  the  transition  from  a  sub-dominant  to  a^J^*''^"* 
tonic  is  called  an  imperfdct  or  itrtguiar  cadence  (73.)  \  \^' 
the  tonic  fidls  upon  the  accented  part  of  tbe  bar.    See  ployed.  ~ 
xliii.  xliv.  xlv.  xlvi. 

Remark  II. 

19^.  We  must  avoid,  as  owch  as  we  can,  syncopa- Syncopa. 
tions  in  tbe  fundamental  bass  \  that  tbe  ear  may  accu-  tion  onJy 
rately  distinguish  the  primarily  accented  part  of  a  mea-  ^i^utsiUe 
sure,  by  means  of  a  harmony  diflRerent  from  that  which  ^^enuf 
it  had  befiire  perceived  in  the  kst  unaccented  part  of  tbe  baw  by 
pKceding  measure.     Nevertheless  syncopation  may  be  license. 
aometimee  admitted  in  the  fundamental  bass,  but'it  is 
by  a  license  (3  t). 

3  Y  a  Chap. 


(3  t)  In  this  chord  it  is  necessary  that  the  C  and  F  should  be  sharp  at  the  same  time ;  for  the  chord  DF  AC)^, 
in  whidi  C  would  be  sharp  without  the  F^  is  excluded  by  art.  179. 

(3  u)  When  tie  bass  rises  or  descends  from  one  tonic  to  another  by  the  interval  of  a  third,  the  mode  is 
commonly  changed  \  that  is  to  say,  from  a  major  it  becomes  a  minor.  For  instance,  if  we  ascend  from  the 
tonic  C  to  the  tonic  £,  the  major  mode  of  C,  C  £  G  C,  will  be  changed  into  tbe  minor  mode  of  £, 
£  G  B  E.  We  must  never  ascend  from  one  tonic  to  another,  when  there  is  no  sound  common  to  botb  theirmodes : 
for  example,  we  cannot  rise  from  the  mode  of  C,  C  £  G  €,  to  tbe  minor  mode  of  £|),  £|^  G|^  Bb  £|^  (91  *)• 

(3  x)  Thus  all  the  intervals,  viz.  the  third,  the  fifUi,  and  second,  mav  be  admitted  in  the  fundamental  bass,  ex- 
cept that  of  a  second  in  descending.  The  rules  now  given  for  tl^  fnndamental  bass,  are  not,  however,  witboot 
exception,  as  approved  compositions  in  music  will  certainly  discover  \  but  these  exceptions  being  in  reality  licences, 
and  for  the  most  part  in  opposition  to  the  ^reat  principle  of  connection^  which  prescribes  that  there  should  be  at 
least  one  note  in  common  between  a  preeedmg  and  a  subsequent  chord,  it  does  not  seem  necessary  to  enter  into  a 
nunnte  detail  of  tbese  licences  in  an  elementary  work,  where  the  first  and  most  essential  rules  of  the  art  alone 
«oght  to  be  elcpected. 

(3  t)  There  are  notco  which  may  be  found  several  times  in  the  fudamental  bnes  in  succession  with  a  dif. 

>rent 


54° 


MUSIC. 


Rirtn. 


Definition 
«f  treble. 


principles  . 

ftTGomposi.  Chap.  VII.  Of  the  Rules  nohieb  ought  /d  be  observed 
}1^^L^^  in  the  Treble  vntb  relation  to  the  Fundamental  Bass. 

T98.  The  treble  19  nothing  else  but  a  modulation 
above  the  fundamental  bass,  and  "whose  notes  are  found 
in  the  chords  of  that  bass  which  corresponds  with  it 
(189.).  Thus  in  Ex.  xVi.  the  scale  CDEFGABC, 
is  a  treble  with  respect  to  the  fundamental  bass  C  G  C 
F  C  D  G  C. 

199.  We  are  about  to  give  the  rules  for  the  treble  ( 
but  first  we  think  it  necessary  to  make  the  two  follow* 
ing  remarks. 

X.  It  is  obvious,  that  manjr  notes  of  the  treble  may 
answer  to  one  and  the  same  note  in  the  fundamental 
bass,  when  these  notes  belong  to  the  chord  of  the 
same  note  in  the  fondamenUl  bass.  For  example,  this 
modulation  C  £  G  £  C,  may  have  for  its  fundamental 
bass  the  note  C  alone,  because  the  chord  of  that  note 
comprehends  the  sounds  C,  £,  G,  which  are  found  in 

the  treble. 

2.  In  like  manner,  a  single  note  in  the  treble  may, 
for  the  same  reason,  answer  to  several  notes  in  the 
bass.  For  instance,  G  alone  may  answer  to  these  three 
notes  in  the  bass,  C  G  C  (3  z). 

Rule  I.  For  the  Treble. 

200.  If  the  note  which  forms  the  seventh  in  a  chord 


One  note 
in  the  tre- 
ble or  bass 
may  answer 

to  its  CBT- 

respondent 
parts,  and 
why. 


of  the  fwtple  dominafit^  is  Ibuid  in  the  treUe,  tke  note  Wma^ 
which  precedes  it.  moft  be  the  very  aame*  This  19  wfaet^C^4«> 
we  call  a  discord  prepared  ( 1 22).  For  instance,  let  oa ,  '"*•  , 
suppose  that  the  note  of  the  fundamental  bass  shall  be 
D,  bearing  the  chord  of  the  simple  dominant  D  F  A  C  ; 
and  that  this  C,  which  (art*  18.  and  116*)  li  the  dis- 
sonance, .should  be  found  in  tike  treble ;  it  is  neceaaary 
that  the  note  which  goes  before  it  in  the  treble  slMNild 
likewise  be  a  C. 

201.  According  to  the  rules  which  we  have  ^vcn 
for  the  fundamental  bass,  C  will  always  be  fonnd  in  the 
chord  of  that  note  in  the  fundamental  base  which  pre* 
cedes  the  simple  dominant  D.  See  XLViii.  xliz.  u 
In  the  first  example  the  dissonance  is  C,  in  the  second 
G,  and  in  the  third  £  :  and  these  notes'  are  already  in 
the  preceding  chord  (4  a). 

Rule  II. 

202.  If  a  note  of  the  fundamental  bass  be  a  tonic 
dominant,  or  a  simple  domioantt  and  if  the  dissonance 
be  found  in  the  treble,  this  dissonance  in  the  aame 
treble  ought  to  descend  diatonically.  But  if  the  note 
of  the  bass  be  a  sub-dominant,  it  ought  to  rise  diatoot- 
cally.  This  dissonance,  which  rises  or  descends  dialoni- 
cally,  is  what  we  have  called  a  diseanance  saved  ei 
solved  (129^  ^30.).     See  Lil.  Liii.  Liv. 

203.  According  to  the  rules  for  the  fundamental 
which  we  have  given,  the  note  upoo  which  the  in 

ance 


fbrent  harmony.  For  instance,  the  tonic  C,  after  having  carried  the  chord  C  £  G  C,  may  be  fdlowed  by 
tfaer  C  which  carries  the  chord  of  the  seventh,  provided  that  this  chord  be  the  chord  of  the  tonic  dominant  C  £ 
G  B[;.  In  the  same  manner,  the  tonic  C  may  be  followed  by  the  same  tonic  C,  which  may  be  rendered  a  sub^ 
dominant^  by  causing  it  to  carry  the  chord  C  £  G  A. 

A  dominant,  whether  tonic  or  simple,  sometimes  dt'scends  or  rises  to  another  by  the  interval  of  a  Itrkone  or 
false  fifth.  For  example,  the  dominant  F  carrying  the  chord  F  A  C  £,  may  be  followed  by  another  deminaet 
B  carrying  the  chord  B  D  F  A.  This  is  a  licence  in  which  the  musician  indulges  himself,  that  he  may  not  he 
obliged  to  depart  from  the  scale  in  which  he  is  ^  for  instance,  from  the  scale  of  C  to  which  F  and  B  belong.  If 
one  should  descend* from  F  to  B(7  by  the  interval  of  a  just  fifth,  he  would  then  depart  from'tkat  scale,  becaose 
B|;  is  no  part  of  it. 

(3  z)  There  are  often  in  the  treble  several  notes  which  may,  if  wc  choose,  carry  no  chord,  and  he  regarded 
merely  as  notes  of  passage,  serving  oaly  to  connect  between  themselves  the  notes  that  do  carry  chords,  and  to 
form  a  more  agreeable  modulation.  These  notes  of  passage  are  commonly  quavers.  See  Example  XLVir. 
(Plate  CCCLVIII).  in  which  this  modulation  C  D  £  F  G,  may  be  regarded  as  equivalent  to  this  other,  C  £  G,. 
as  D  and  F  are  no  more  than  notes  of  passage,     80  that  the  bass  of  this  modulation  may  be  simply  C  G. 

When  the  notes  are  of  equal  duration,,  and  arranged  in  a  diatonic  order,  the  notes  which  are  accented  ought 
each  of  them  to  carry  chords.  Those  which  are  unaccented,  are  mere  note?  of  passage.  Sometimes,  however, 
the  unaccented  note  may  be  made  to  carry  harmony  \  but  the  duration  of  this  note  is  then  commonly  increased 
by  a  point  placed  after  it,  which  proportionably  diminishes  the  continuance  of  the  accented  note,  and  makes  it 
pass  more  swiftly. 

When  the  notes  do  not  move  diatonically,  they  ought  generally  all  of  thenn  to  enter  into  the  chord  which  ia 
placed  in  the  lower  part  oprrespondent  with  these  notes. 

(4  a)  lliere  is,  however,  one  case  in  which  the  seventh  of  a  simple  dominant  may  be  found  in  a  roodQlatian 
without  being  prepared.  It  is  when,  having  already  employed  that  dominant  in  the  fundamental  bass,  its  seveath 
is  afterwards  beard  in  the  modulation,  while  the  dominaot  is  still  retained.  For  instance,  let  as  imagine  this 
modulation, 

and  this  fundamental  bass, 

(see  example  Li.)  ^  the  D  of  the  fundamental  bass  answers  to  the  two  notes  D  Cirf'  the  treble.     The 

7 
has  no  need  of  preparation,  because  the  note  D  of  the  fundamental  bass  having  already  been  employed  for  the  O 

which  precedes  C,  the  dissonance  C  is  afterwards  presented,  below  which  the  chord  D  may  be  preserved,  sr 

DFAC. 


c 

D  C  BC 

Dj 

c 

D  GC 

G} 

Choid  in. 


Airtll:  M    U 

MKipta  aio^  9m^  to  ^detMod  or  rise  will  always  ba  fimad  ia 
Ae  fobaef oent  cbord  (4  b). 

Caiip.  Vin.  Of  the  Continued  Boss  and  its  Rules. 

nmedBau.       204.  The  continued  t  bass  is  a  fundamental  oaas 

Contiiiiied    whose  chords  are  inverted.     We  invert  a  chord  when 

bMi,  what.  ,^  change  the  onitr  of  the  notes  which  compese  iti 

For  example,  if,  instead  of  the  dievd  G  B  D  F,  we  should 

say  B  D  F  G  or  D  F  G  B,  &c.  the  chord  is  inverted. 

TFt/e  ways  in  which  a  Pehpect  CHonh  may  he  In- 

VERTED. 

205,  Th^  perfect  chord  C  £  G  C  may  he  inverted 
in  two  different  ways, 

1.  £  G  C£,  which  we  call  a  chord  of  the  sixths 
composed  of  a  third,  a  sixth,  a^id  an  octave  ^  and  in  this 
case  tlie  bass  note  £  is  marked  with  a  6.   (See  LVI.) 

2.  G  C  £  G,  which  we  call  a  chord  of  the  sixth  and 
fourth^  composed  of  a  fourth,  a  sixth,  and  an  octave  \ 

and  it  is  marked  with  a  %•     See  i«vii. 

The  perfect  minor  chord  is  inverted  in  the  same 
manner.  * 

T^e  ways  in  which  the  CffOBJ>  of  the  SsrESTn  may-  he 

Inverted. 

206.  In  the  chord  of  the  tonic  dominant,  as  G  B  D  F, 
tbe  third  major  B  above  the  fundamental  note  G  is 
called  a  sensible  note  (77.)  >  snd  the  inverted  chord  B 
D  F  G  composed  of  a  third,  a  false  fifth  and  a  sixth,  is 
called  the  chord  of  the  folsejlfthf  and  is  marked  as  in 
examples  LViii.  and  Lix. 

The  chord  D  F  G  B,  composed  of  a  third,  a  fourth, 
and  a  sixth,  is  called  the  chord  ^  t/ie  sensible  six th^  and 
marked  as  in  £xamp1e  LX.  (4  c).  In  this  chord,  the 
third  is  minor,  and  the  sixth  major* 

The  chord  F  G  B  D,  composed  of  a  second,  a  tritone,^ 


s  I  a  541 

and  a  sixth;  is  called  the  chord  of  tAe  trionCf  and  if  Mnetpl(B» 
narked  as  in  £xample  LXi.  (4  d).  qT CompsB*. 

207.  In  the  chord  of  the  simple  dominant  O  F  A  C, .  ^*** 
we  find,  ^ 

I.  F  A  C  D,  a  chord  of  the  great  sixth,  which  if 
composed  of  a  third,  a  fifth,  and  a  sixth,  and  which  is 
figured  with  a  5.  See  LXil.  (4  £). 

2*  A  C  D  F;  a  chord  of  the  lesser  sixth,  Which  is  fir 
gored  with  a  6.  See  LXJII.  (4  f). 

3.  C  D  F  A,  a  chord  of  tlie  second,  composed  eC  ii 
second,  a  foordi,  and  a  sixth,  and  which  is  marked  with, 
a  3.     Seeunv.  (4  g). 

The  ways  in  which  the  ChoM  of  the  stsB-DOMiNANT 

may  he  Inverted. 

208.  The  chord  of  the  sob-domioant,  as  F  A  C  O^ 
may  be  inverted  in  three  different  manners  ^  but  the 
method  of  inverting  it  which-  is  most  in  practice  is  the 
chord  of  the  lesser  sixth  A  €  D  F  (lxiii.),  and  the 
chord  of  the  seventh  D  F  A  C.     See  Lxv. 

Mules  for  the  CoNTimsn  Bass. 

209^  The  continued  bass  is  a  fundamental  bass,, 
whose  chords  are  only  inverted  in  order  to  render  it 
more  in  the  taste  of  singing,  and  suitable  to  the  voice* 
See  LXVi.  in  which  the  fundamental  bass  which  in  it-^ 
self  is  monotonic  and  little  suited  for  singing,  C  G  C  G  C 
G  C,  produces,  by  inverting  its  chords,  this  continued 
bass  highly  proper  to  be  sung,  C  B  C  D  £  F£,  &c.  (4  h). 

The.  continued  bass  then  is  properly  a  treble  with 
respect  to  tbe  fundamental  bass.  Its  rules  immediately 
follow,  whic)i  are  properly  those  already  given  fpr  the 
treble. 

RUEE  I. 

2io»  £very  note  which  carries  the  cbord  of  the  false 

fifth, 


(4  b)  When  the  treble  syncopates  in  descending  diatonically,  it  is  common  enough  to  make  the  second  part  of 
the  syncope  carry  a  discord,  and  the  first  a  concord.  See  Example  LV.  where  the  first  part  oi  the  syncopated  note 
G,  is  in  ooBcord  with  the  notes  C  £  G  C,  which  answers  to  it  in  tbe  fundaoiental  bas»,  and  where  the  second, 
part  IS  a  dissonance  in  the  subsequent  chord  A  C  £  G.  In  the  same  manner,  the  first  part  of  tbe  syncopated  noto 
F  is  in  concord  with  tbe  notes  D  F  A  C,  which  answer  to  it  i  and  the  second  part  is  a  dissonance  in  the  subsc-^ 
guent  chord  G  B  D  F^  which  answers  to  it,  &c. 

(4  c)  This  chord  is  called,  by  English  musicians,  the  chord  of  the  third  and  fourth^  and  generally  figuisedj,.. 

(4D)  This  chord  is  in  £ngland  celled  the  chord  of  tbe  second  and  fourth,  and  is  figured  ,. 

(4  s)  We  are  obliged  to  mark  likewise,  in  the  continued  bass,  the  chord  of  the  sub-dominant  with  a  f ,  which 
in  the  fundamental  bass  is  figured  with  a  6  alone  ^  and  this  to  distinguish  it  from  the  chords  of  the  sixth  and  of  the 
lesser  sixth.  (See  examples  i^vi.  and  LXiil.).  The  chord  of  the  great  sixth  in  the  fundamental  bass  carries  aU 
ways  the  sixth  major,  whereas  in  the  continued  bass  it  may  carry  tbe  sixth  minor.  For  instance,  the  chord  of  the- 
seventh  C  £  G  B,  gives  the  chord  of  the  great  sixth  £  GBC,  thus  improperly  called,  since  the  sixth  from  £ 
to  C  is  minor. 

(4  f)  M.  Rameau  has  justly  observed,  that  we  ought  rather  to  figure  this  lesser  sixth  with  a  J,  to  distinguish, 
it  from  the  sensible  sixth  which  arises  from  the  chord  of  tbe  tonic  dominant,  and  from  the  sixth  which  arises  from 
the  perfect  chord.  In  the  mean  time  he  figures  in  bis  works  with  a  6  alone,  the  lesser  sixths  which  do  not  arise 
from  the  tonic  dominant^  that  is  to  say,  he  %ures  them  as  those  which  arise  from  the  perfect  chords,  and  we 
have  followed  him  in  that  notation,  though  we  thought  with  him,  that  it  would  be  better  to  mark  this  chord  by  a^- 
particular  figure. 

(4  g)  The  chord  of  the  seventh  B  D  F  A  gives,,  when  inverted,  the  chord'F  A  B  D,  composed  of  a  third,  a 
tritone,  and  a  sixth.  The  chord  is  commanly  marked  with  a  6,  as  if  the  tritone  were  a  just  fourth.  It  is  his 
business  who  performs  the  accompaniment,  to  know  whether  the  fourth  above  F  be  a  tritone  or  a  fourth  redundant. 
One  may  figure  this  chord  thus,  J*. 

(4  h)  Tbe  continued  bass  is  proportionably  adapted  to  singing,  aa^the  sounds  which  form  it  moxe  scrupulously 

observe 


54* 


MUSIC. 


BtttH 


fifth,  and  whieh  of  eonseqnenoB  mutt  be  ifhat  we  haye 

«f€oaipon.  called  a  setutbie  mde,  oo^t  (77*)  to  tim  diatonically 

^*^       upon  the  note  which  feUowa  it.     Thua  in  example 

LXiv.  the  note  B,  carrying  the  chord  of  the  faUe  fifths 

liaes  diatonically  npon  C  (4  i). 

BUL£  II. 

211.  Every  note  carrying  the  chord  of  the  tritone 
ahoald  deaoend  diatonically  upon  the  sahieqaent  note. 
Thm  in  the  same  example  LX vi«  F,  which  carries  the 
chord  of  the  tritone  figured  with  a  44-,  descends  diato. 
nically  npon  £  (art.  202.)* 

Rule  IIL 

212.  The  chord  of  the  second  is  commonly  pot  in 
practice  npon  notes  which  are  syncopated  in  descend- 


ing, hecanse  these  aoCes  are  dissomnpca  wliifli  eaili  li 
be  prepared  and  resolved  (200.  302.).    See  the 
pie  LXTil.  where  the  second  C,  which  is  syooopated,     ^"^ 
and  which  descends  afterwards  upon  B,  carries  the  chord 
of  the  second  (4  k). 

Chap  IX.  Of  some  Lkensts  asnmti  m  tie  Ftmd^ 

mmial  Bass* 

{  I.  O/Beoksn  and  Ikterbuftsd  CjanarcES. 


213.  The  broken  cadence  is  execnted  by  means  of  albihB» 
dominant  which  rises  diatonically  npon  another, or  npoa^^^^b* 
a  tonic  by  a  license.    See,  in  the  example  ULXXV.  GA,**"**^ 
(132.  and  134.) 

214.  The  interrupted  cadence  is  formed  by  a 


obsenre  the  diatonic  order,  hecanse  this  order  is  the  most  agreeable  of  all.  We  mnst  therefore  endeavour  to  pre- 
serve it  as  much  as  possible.  It  b  for  this  reason  that  the  continued  bass  in  Example  Lxv.  is  much  more  in  the 
taste  of  singing,  and  more  agreeable,  than  the  fandamental  bass  which  answers  to  it. 

X4  i)  The  continued  bass  being  a  kind  of  treble  with  relation  to  the  fundamental  bass,  it  ought  to  observe  the 
aame  rules  with  respect  to  that  bass  as  the  treble.  Thos  a  note,  for  instance  D,  cairying  a  chord  of  the  seventh 
D  F  A  C,  to  which  the  chord  of  the  sub-dominant  F  A  C  D  corresponds  in  the  fundamental  bass,  oaght  to  rise 
diatonically  upon  £,  (art.  129.  N*  i.  and  art.  202.). 

1(4  k)  When  there  is  a  repose  in  the  treble,  the  note  of  the  continued  bass  ought  to  be  the  same  with  that  of  the 
fundamental  bass,  Qsee  Example  LXViii.).  In  the  closes  which  are  found  in  the  treble  at  D  and  C  (measmes  se- 
cond and  fourth),  Uie  notes  in  the  fundamental  and  continued  bass  are  the  same,  viz.  G  for  the  first  cadence,  and 
C  for  the  second.  This  rule  ought  above  all  to  be  observed  in  cadences  which  terminate  a  ^ece  or  a  mods- 
lation. 

It  is  necessary,  as  much  as  possible,  to  prevent  coincidences  of  the  same  notes  in  the  treble  and  continued  ban, 
unless  the  motion  of  the  continued  bass  should  be  contrary  to  that  of  the  treble.  For  example,  in  the  first  note  sf 
the  second  measure  in  Example  LXlx.  D  is  found  at  the  same  time  in  the  continued  bass  and  in  the  treble ;  but 
the  treble  nses  from  C  to  D,  and  from  D  to  £,  whilst  the  bass  descends  from  £  to  D,  and  from  D  to  C. 

Two  octaves,  or  tvro  fifths,  in  succession,  must  likewise  be  avoided.  For  instance,  in  the  treble  sounds  G  £, 
the  bass  must  be  prevented  from  sounding  G£,  CA,orDB;  hecanse  in  the  first  case  there  are  two  octaves  la 
succession,  £  against  £,  and  G  i^unst  G;  and  hecanse  in  the  second  case  there  are  two  fifths  in  sncceasion,  C 
against  £,  and  A  against  G,  or  D  against  G,  and  B  against  £•  This  rule,  as  well  as  the  preoedingy  b  firand- 
ed  upon  this  principle,  that  the  continued  Imss  ought  not  to  be  a  copy  of  the  treble,  but  to  form  a  diflneat 
melody. 

Every  time  that  several  notes  of  the  continued  bass  answer  to  one  note  alone  of  the  fundamental,  the  composer 
satisfies  himself  with  figuring  the  first  of  them.  Nay  he  does  not  even  fiffore  it  if  it  be  a  tonic  ;  and  he  oaiis 
above  the  others  a  line,  continued  from  the  note  upon  which  the  chord  is  formed.  See  Example  LXX.  (Plate 
CCCLIX.)  where  the  fundamental  bass  C  gives  the  continued  bass  C  £  G  £;  the  two  E*s  ought  in  this  bssi  ts 
oany  the  chord  6,  and  G  the  chord  \ :  but  as  these  chords  are  comprehended  in  the  perfect  chord  C  £  G  C^ 
which  is  the  first  of  the  continued  bass,  we  place  nothing  above  C,  only  we  draw  a  line  over  C  £  G  £• 

In  like  manner,  in  the  second  measure  of  the  same  example,  the  notes  F  and  D  of  the  continoed  base,  aiisi^ 
fiom  the  note  G  alone  of  the  fundamental  bass  which  carries  the  chord  G  B  D  F,  we  think  it  anflicBent  to  figve 
F  only,  and  to  draw  a  line  above  F  and  D  because  the  same  harmony  is  used  with  both. 

It  should  be  remarked,  that  this  F  ought  naturally  to  descend  to  £;  but  this  note  is  considered  as  sobsistiagso 
long  as  the  chord  subsists  \  and  when  the  chord  changes,  we  ought  necessarily  to  find  the  £,  as  may  be  seen  by 
that  examplOi 

In  general,  whilst  the  same  chord  subsists  in  passing  through  difierent  notes,  the  chord  is  reckoned  the 
if  the  first  note  of  the  chord  had  subsisted ;  in  such  a  manner,  that,  if  the  first  note  of  the  chord  is,  lor  i 
the  sensible  note,  we  ought  to  find  the  tonic  when  the  chord  changes.    See  Example  Lxxi.   where  this 
bass,  C  B  D  B  G  C,  is  reckoned  the  same  with  this,  C,  B  C.  (Example  Lxxil.). 

If  a  single  note  of  the  continued  bass  answers  to  several  notes  of  the  fundamental  bass,  it  is  figured  with  the  dif* 
ferent  chords  which  agree  to  it.  For  example,  the  note  G  in  a  continued  bass  may  answer  to  this  fondameatsl 
bass  C  G  C,  (see  example  LXXIII.) }  in  this  case  we  may  regard  the  note  G  as  divided  into  three  parts,  sf 
which  the  first  carries  the  chord  ^,  the  second  the  chord  7,  and  the  third  the  chord  j. 

We  shall  repeat  here,  with  respect  to  the  rules  of  the  continued  bass,  what  we  have  formerly  said  concentnj 
the  rules  of  the  fundamental  bass  in  the  note  upon  the  third  rule,  art.  193.  The  rules  of  the  continued  bass  hate 
exceptions,  which  practice  and  the  perusal  of  good  authors  will  teach.  There  are  likewise  several  other  nks 
^ch  might  require  a  considerable  detail,  and  which  will  be  found  in  the  Trralue  of  Harmom^^  by  M.  BasMaa, 

J.  ud 


Ptot  n.  MUSIC.  543 

imoMt  ivhioh  dMccodft  Uy  a  Uilrd  npoa  aodtber  (i36.)«  iprinciplei 

Ste,  in  Ae  example  Lxxv,  G  £  (4  l).  0/<^  difftraU  kinth  of  Chorda  hy  Suppo9ttion.      of  Compod^ 


tton. 


Thcae  cadences  ought  to  be  permitted  bot  rarelj  and 
with  precaution.  216.  Chords  by  suppo^tion  are  of  diflferent  kinds. 

For  instance,  the  chord  of  the  tonic  dominant  G  B  D  F 

2.  O/'SuPPOSiTiOK.  gives, 

I.  By  adding  the  fifth  C,  the  chord  C  G  B  D  F« These  dlfie. 

Chord  bf         2x5.  When  a  dominant  is  preceded  by  a  tonic  in  caWed  a  c/tord  ^  ^  aeventA  redundant^  and  composed  ^n^  c^o>^* 

the  fundamental  bius,  we  add  sometimes,  in  the  con-  of  a  fifth,  seventh,  ninth,  and  eleventh.     It  is  figured  j^J|^^/^r- 

tinued  baas  to  the  chord  of  that  dominant,  a  new  note  with  a  ^7  ^  see  LXXVi.  (4  n).  This  chord  is  not  prac-^ 

which  is  a  third  or  a  fifth  below  j  and  the  chord  which  Used  but  upon  the  tonic   They  sometimes  leave  out  the 

results  iipom  it  in  thia  continued  bass  is  called  a  chord  sensible  note,  for  reasons  which  we  shall  give  in  the  note 

ly  m^pontton*  (40),  upon  the  art.  219 }  it  is  then  reduced  to  C  F  G  D, 

For  examph;,  let  ns  suppose,  that  in  the  fundamental  and  marked  with  J  or  {. 
we  have  a  dominant  G  carrying  the  chord  of  the  2.  By  adding  the  third  E,  we  shall  have  the  chord 


seventh  G  B  D  F  j  let  us  add  to  this  chord  the  note     E  G  B  I>  F,  cidled  a  chord  of  the  ninths  and  composed 
C9  which  is  a  fifth  below  this  dominant,  and  we  shall     of  a  third,  fifth,  seventh,  ana  ninth.     And  it  b  figured 


kvethe  total  chord  CGBDF,  orCDFG,  whidi  with  a  9.  This  third  may  be  added  to  every  third  of 
is  called  a  chord  by  supposition  (4  m).  the  dominant*    See  LZXVil. 

3-  K 

and  elsewhere.  These  rulea,  which  are  proper  for  a  complete  dissertation,  did  not  appear  indispensably  necessary 
in  an  eiementary  essay  on  mmsic^  such  as  the  present.  The  books  which  we  have  quoted  at  the  end  n  tuar  preli' 
minary  discourse  will  more  particularly  instruct  the  reader  concerning  this  practical  deuiU 

(4  l)  One  may  sometimes,  but  very  rarelvy  cause  several  tonics  in  succession  to  follow  one  another  in  ascending 

or  descending  diatonically,  as  C  £  G  C,  D  F  A  D,  B|)  D  F  Bb  ;  but,  besides  that  this  succession  is  harsh,  it  is 

■  necessary,  in  order  to  render  it  practicable,  that  the  fifth  below  the  first  tonic  should  be  found  in  the  chord  of  the 

tonic  following,  as  here  F,  a  fifth  below  the  first  tonic  C,  is  found  in  the  chord  D  F  A  D,  and  in  the  chord  Btn 

B  F  Bb  fa?,  and  note  t). 

(4  m)  Though  supposition  be  a  kind  of  license,  yet  it  is  in  some  measare  fonaded  on  the  experiment  related  ia 
the  note  (s),  where  you  may  see  that  every  principal  or  fundamental  sound  causes  its  twelfth  and  seventeenth  ma- 
jor in  descending  to  vibrate,  whilst  the  twelfth  and  the  seventeenth  major  ascending  resound :  which  seems  to  au- 
thorize us  in  certain  cases  to  join  with  the  fundamental  harmony  this  twelfth  and  seventeenth  in  descending }  or, 
which  is  the  same  thing,  the  fifth  or  the  third  beneath  the  fundamental  sound. 

Even  without  having  recourse  to  this  experiment,  we  may  remark,  that  the  note  added  beneath  the  fundamen- 
tal sound,  causes  that  verv  fundamental  sound  be  beard.  For  instance,  C  added  beneath  G,,  causes  G  to  re- 
sound.   Thus  G  is  found  in  some  measure  to  he  implied  at  C. 

If  the  third  added  beneath  the  fundamental  sound  be  minor,  for  example,  if  to  the  chord  G  B  D  F,  we  add 

•  the  third  £,  the  supposition  is  then  no  longer  founded  on  the  experiment,  which  only  gives  the  seventeenth  major, 

or  what  is  the  same  thing,  the  third  major  beneath  the  fundamental  sound.    In  this  case  the  addition  of  the  third 

minor  must  be  considered  as  an  extension  of  the  rule,  which  in  reality  has  no  foundation  in  the  chords  emitted  by 

a  sonorous  body,  but  is  authorized  by  the  sanction  of  the  ear  and  by  practical  experiment. 

(4N)  Many  musicians  figure  this  chord  with  a  XJ  :  M.  Ramean  suppresses  this  2,  and  merely  marks  it  to 

be  the  seventh  redundant  by  a  7)^^  or  X7-     But  it  may  be  said,  how  shall  we  distinguish  this  chord  from  the 

.seventh  major,  which,  as  it  would  seem,  ought  to  be  marked  with  a  7%  ?  M.  Rameau  answers,  that  there  is  no 

danger  or  mistake,  because  in  the  seventh  major,  as  the  seventh  ought  to  be  prepared,  it  is  found  in  the  prece- 

dbg  chord }  and  thus  the  sharp  subsisting  already  in  the  preceding  chord,  it  would  be  useless  to  repeat  it. 

Thas  D  O,  accordiDg  to  M.  BwDMo,  would  indicate  D  Fit  A  C,  GBDF^..  If  we  mold  change  F%  of .  th* 

second  chord  into  Ft|,  it  would  then  he  necessary  to  write  D  GL  In  notes  such  as  C,  whose  natural  Seventh  is 
naajor,  the  figure  Tpreoeded  or  fidlowed  by  a  sharp  will  su£Bciently  serve  to  distinguish  the  chord  of  the  seventh 
redundant  CGBDF,  from  the  simple  chord  of  the  seventh  C  £  G  B,  which  is  marked  with  a  7  alone.  Ail  this 
appears  just  and  well  founded* 

(4  0}  Supposition  introduces  into  a  chord  dissonances  which  were  not  in  it  before.  For  instance,  if  to  the 
ehord  E  G  B  D,  we  should  add  the  note  of  supposition  C  descending  by  a  third,  it  is  plain  that,  besides  the  dis- 
sonance  between  £  and  D  which  was  in  the  original  chord,  we  have  two  new  dissonances,  C  B,  and  C  D  j  that 
is  to  say,  the  seventh  and  the  ninth.  These  dissonances,  like  the  others,  ought  to  be  prepared  and  resolved.  Tley 
are  prepared  by  being  syncopated,  and  resolved  by  descending  diatonically  upon  one  of  the  consonances  of  the 
subsequent  chord.  The  sensible  note  alone  can  be  resolved  in  ascending ;  but  it  is  even  necessary  that  jthis  sen- 
sible note  should  be  in  the  chord  of  the  tonic  dominant.  As  to  the  dissonances  which  are  found  in  the  primitive 
chord,  they  should  always  follow  the  common  rules.     (See  art.  202.). 


tton 


544  M    U 

Principles       3-  If  to  a  cbord  of  tke  simple  dominant,  as  D  F  AC, 
•f  Compoti-we  should  add  the  fifth  G,  we  would  have  the  chord  G 
D  F  A  C,  called  a  chord  of  the  eleventh^  and  which  is 
figured  with  a  J  or  ^.     (See  LKXViii.). 

Observe. 

Occationt        217.  When  the  dominant  is  not  a  tonic  dominant, 

when  re-     ^^  often  take  awaj  some  notes  from  the  chord.     For 

menta  of     c^^inpl^y  ^^t  US  suppose  that  there  is  in  t!be  fundamen- 

ehords  ate  tal  bass  this  simple  dominant  £,  carrying  the  chord  £ 

-proper.        G  B  D :  if  there  should  be  added  the  third  C  beneath, 

we  shall  have  this  chord  of  the  continoed  bass  C  £  G 

B  D }  but  we  suppress  the  seventh  B,  for  reasons  whicJi 

shall  be  explained  in  the  note  upon   art^   210.      In 

this  state  the  chord  is  simplj  composed  of  a  third, 

fifth,  and  ninth,  and  is  marked  with  a  9.     See  LXXIX. 

218.  In  the  chord  of  the  simple  dominant,  as  D  F 
A  C,  when  the  fifth  G  is  added,  we  freifuent! j  oblite- 
rate the  sounds  F  and  A,  that  too  great  a  number  of 
dissonances  may  be  avoided,  which  reduces  the  chord 
to  G  C  D.  This  last  is  composed  only  of  the  fourth 
and  the  fifth.  It  is  called  %  chord  oftkejourtk^  and  it 
is  figured  with  a  4  (40,)  (see  Lxxx.)* 

219.  Sometimes  we  only  remove  the  note  A,  and 
then  the  chord  ought  to  be  figured  with  4  or  ^  (4^)* 

•€boid  of  220.  Finally,  in  the  minor  mode,  for  exampje,  in 
the  fil\h  re-(])|it  of  A,  where  the  chord  of  the  tonic  dominant  (109), 
whitTilid  w  E  G*  B  D  5  if  we  add  to  this  chord  the  thinl  C  be- 
how  fign-  lo^y  ^^<^  ^^^'^  ^^^^  ^  ^%  ^  ^»  Called  the  chord  of  the 
red.  Jjf^^^  redundant^  and  composed  of  a  third,  a  fifth  redon- 

dant,  a 

(4  s). 


seventh  a^  a  ninth.  It  is  figured  as  in  Lxxxi. 


i  3*  Q/"  '^  Chord  of  the  Diminished  Seventh. 

Chord  of         22^'  ^1*  the  minor  mode,  for  instance,  in  that  of  A, 

the  flat  se-  £  a  fifth,  from  A  is  the  tonic  dominant  (109),  and 

venthwhat,  carries  the  chord  £  0%  B  D,  in  which  G  is  the  sensible 

and  how 

fgured. 


SIC.  FtatH 

note.  For  this  diord  we  aometimes  subetitnle  G  B||DF, 

in 6),  all  composed  of  minor  thirds;  and  #hich 
or  its  fundamental  sound  the  sensible  note  G^.  This 
chord  is  called  a  chord  of  the  flat  or  dhmmehed  wevetiak^ 
and  is  figured  with  a  (/  in  the  fundamental  baits,  (see 
LXXXIV.)  \  but  it  is  always  considered  as  representing 
the  chord  of  the  tonic  dominant. 

222.  This  chord  by  inversion  produces  in  the  conti-Gkfffapi. 
nued  bass  the  following  chords :  ^>n^ik 

1.  The  cliord  B  D  F  G«,  eomposed  of  a  tlHrd,  W«2^^ 
fifth,  and  sixth  major.     They  call  it  the  chard  rf  tkcwhi^'mi 
sixth  $ensib(e  and  faUe  fifth;  and  it  is  figured  as  ia how f|v. 
Exam.  Lxxxv.  (Plate  CCCLX.).  «L 

2.  The  chord  D  F  0%  B,  composed  of  a  ibird,  a  tri- 
tone,  and  a  sixth.  It  is  called  the  chord  of  the  tritoue 
and  third  minor  ;  and  marked  as  in  Lxxxvi. 

3.  The  chord  F  G^  B  D,  composed  of  a  second  re- 
dundant, a  trttooe,  and  a  sixth.  It  is  caHed  the  chord 
of  the  second  redundant^  and  fignied  as  id  lxxxtii. 

(4T). 

233*  Besides,  since  the  chord  G^K  B  D  F  represents  AJtotHi 

the  chord  £  G^  B  D,  it  follows,  that  if  we  operate  by  ^  "^ 

suppoeitioB  upon  the  first  of  these  chords,  it  nnet  beeper-  ^^^^  ^ 

fomed  as  one  would  perform  it  upoa  £ GtC  'A'D*^  thatprvte, 

is  to  say,  that  it  will  be  neoeesary  to  add  to  the  choid«lMt,ai 

G«B  D  F,  the  notes  C  or  A,  which  ue  the  thixd  or^^ 

fifth  below  £,  and  which  will  produce, 

1.  By  adding  C,  the  chord  COM  BDF,  cenposcd 
of  a  fifth  ledundaat,  a  seven&,  a  4iincby  aasl  eieveath, 
which  is  the  octave  of  the  fourth.  It  is  called  a  chmd 
of  the  fifth  redwmdemi  asid  fimrih^  siaA  marked  as  in 

LXXXVIII. 

2.  By  adding  A,  we  shall  have  the  chord  KC%  B 
D  F,  composed  of  a  aeventh  redaodant,  a  ninth,  an 
eleventh,  and  a  tliirteenth  minor,  which  is  the  octave 
of  the  sixth  minor*  It  is  called  the  chord  tf  the 
seventh  redundant  and  suih  nu'nor^  and  marked  as  in 
Lxxxix.  It  is  of  all  chords  the  most  hanb,  and  the 
most  rarely  practised  (4  u). 

Chat. 


(4?)  Several  musicians  call  this  last  chord  the  chord  of  the  ninth;  and  that  which,  with  M.  Rnmeao,  we 
bave  simply  called  a  chord  of  the  ninths  they  term  a  chord  rf  the  ninth  and  seventh*  This  last  chord  they  mark 
with  a  ^  ;  but  the  denomination  and  figure  used  by  M.  luimeau  are  more  simple  and  can  lead  to  noeiror; 
because  the  chord  of  the  ninth  always  includes  the  seventh,  except  in  the  cases  of  which  we  have  already 
spoken. 

(4  u)  In  England  it  is  figured  \. 

(4  r)  We  often  remove  some  dissonances  from  chords  of  supposition,  either  to  soften  the  harshness  of  the  chord, 
or  to  remove  discords  which  can  neither  be  prepared  nor  resolved.  For  instance,  let  us  suppose,  that  in  the  ooa- 
tinued  bass  the  note  C  is  preceded  by  the  sensible  note  B  carrying  the  chord  of  the  false  fifth,  and  that  we  shoold 
choose  to  form  upon  this  note  C  the  chord  C£GBD,  we  must  obliterate  the  seventh  B,  becaose  in  retaining  it 
we  should  destroy  the  efifect  of  the  sensible  note  B,  which  ought  to  rise  to  C. 

In  the  same  manner,  if  to  the  harmony  of  a  tonic  dominant  G  BDF,  one  should  add  the  note  bv  snppositioa  C, 
it  is  usual  to  retrench  from  this  chord  the  sensible  note  B  ;  because,  as  the  D  ought  to  descend  dmtoni^ly  to  C, 
and  the  B  to  rise  to  it,  the  effect  of  the  one  would  destroy  that  of  the  other.  .  This  above  all  takes  place  in  the 
suspension^  concerning  which  we  shstll  presently  treat. 

(4  s)  Supposition  produces  what  we  call  suspension ;  and  whieb  is  almost  the  same  thing.  Sittpension  censto 
in  retaining  as  many  as  possible  of  the  sounds  in  a  preceding  chord,  that  thev  may  be  heard  in  the  chord  w^ieh 
succeeds.  For  instance,  in  Example  LXXXli.  the  C  bearing  3K7  is  a  supposition  ;  but  in  Example  utxxni.it 
is  a  suspension,  because  it  suspends  or  retards  the  perfect  chord  CEGC  which  the  ear  expects  afbr  the  teeie 
dominant  G  B  D  F. 

(4T)  The  chord  of  the  diminished  seventh,  and  the  three  derived  from  it,  arc  termed  chords  ff  suhst^utim 
They  are  in  general  harsh,  and  proper  for  imitating  melancholy  objects. 

(4U)  As  the  chord  of  the  diminished  seventh  G%  BDF,  and  the  chord  of  the  tonic  dominant  £GtBD,oBlj 

A  diin' 


Portll. 


M    U    S 


Prificiplei 

oTCmponpCHAP.  3L  Of  smi  ikemtJ  mud  in  tit  TreUe  and 

Continued  Bass. 


1st. 


224*  SoMFTtMIES  In  a  treble,  the  dissonance  "which 
ought  to  have  been  tesolved  by  descending  diatonicallj 
ii^on  the  iDcceeding  note,  instead  of  descending,  on  the 
contravy  rises  diatonitally :  but  in  that  case^  the  note 
upon  which  it  oueht  to  have  descended  most  be  foand 
10  aome  of  the  o&r  pans.  This  license  ooghl  to  be 
rarelv  practised. 

In  like  manner,  in  a  continued  basay  the  disBonance 
in  a  chord  of  the  rab-domtnant  inverted,  as  A  in  the 
chord  A  C  £  G,  inverted  fitAn  C  £  G  A,  ma^  sone- 
limes  descend  diatoilicallj  instead  of  rising  as  it  oti^t 
to  do,  art.  J  29.  N^  2.  \  but  in  that  case  the  note  ought 
to  be  repeated  in  another  part,  that  the  dissonance  may 
be  there  resolved  in  ascending. 
*^  225.  Sometimes  likewise,  to  render  a  continued  bass 
more  agreeable  by  causing  it  to  proceed  diatooically, 
we  place  between  two  sounds  of  that  bsss  a  note  which 
belongs  to  the  ohard  of  neither.  See  £zaraple  xcii.  in 
which  the  fundamental  bass  G  C  produces  the  continu- 
ed bass  G  A  B  G  C,  where  A  is  added  on  account  of 
the  diatonic  modulation.  This  A  has  a  line  drawn 
above  it,  to  show  its  resolution  by  passing  under  the 
ichoid  G  B  D  F. 

In  the  same  manner,  (see  XCiik)  this  fundamental 
bass  C  F  may  produce  the  continued  bass  C  D  £  C  F, 

Vol.  XIV.  Part  11.  + 


I     ^-  34S 

the  note  D,  which  is  ftdded,  parses  anaer  the  Prlnci^ 
chord  C  £  G  C.  of  Uatpoii. 

tloOb 

Chap.  XI.  Containing  the  Mabod  rf  finding  <^Howtoibkl 
Fundamentai  Bass  ^beh  Urn  eontinaei  Bask  ^thefuod*- 
figured.  "«ata\ 

226»  As  the  continued  bass  alone  «n>®inittyHrtll-^,^^|.^ 
oal  compofiitiokiSy  It  becomes  necessary  to  kiiotf  turn  ^^a^L 
find  the  fondamelital  bass  when  the  continued  =bas8  b 
figured.  This  proUem  msy  be  easily  solved  by  the  fol- 
lowing fules. 

227.  t.  £very  note  which  has  no  figvre  fai  Uie  toa» 
tinned  bass,  ought  to  be  the  samoi  and  without  a  figuns 
in  the  fitudamental  bass^  it  is  oithor  a  lonio,  orretkon- 
ed  such  (4  x). 

2.  £very  note  wliich  in  the  continued  bass  carries  a 
6,  ought  in  the  fundamental  bass  to  give  its  third  be- 
low not  figuied^*,  or  its  fifth  below  marked  with  a  7.*See  F». 
TVe  shall  distinguish  these  two  cases  below.     See  LVi.^*''^'' 
and  the  note  (4  t). 

3.  Every  note  tartying  ^  gived  in  the  fundamental 
bass  its  fifth  below  not  figured.     See  LVii. 

4*  Every  note  figured  with  a  7,  or  a  ^9  is  the  same 
in  both  basses,  and  with  the  same  figure  (4  y). 

5.  £very  note  figured  with  a  2  gives  m  the  funda- 
mental bass  the  diatonic  note  above  figured  with  a  7^ 
See  LXIV.  (4  z). 

6.  Every  note  maiktd  with  a  4  gives  in  tb^  fan^a« 

3  £  mental 


differ  one  from  the  other  by  the  notes  £  and  F  \  one  may  fonti  a  diatonic  modulirtion  of  these  two*  notes,  und 
ihea  the  fundamental  bass  does  noting  but  pass  from  the  tonic  domiuattt  to  the  sensible  note,  and  from  that  note 
to  the  tonic  dominant,  till  it  arrives  at  the  tonic.     (See  xc). 

For  the  same  reason,  as  the  chord  of  the  diminished  seventh  G^  fi  I)  f ,  and  the  chord  B  D  F  A,  which  car* 
f  ies  the  Mth  B  of  the  tonic  dominant  C,  only  diftm  by  the  sensible  note  GiK«  iu>d  l3ie  tonic  A  $  one  may  some- 
tirteSf  while  th«  ti^bfe  modulates  0%  A  G:j|t  A  G%  A,  ascend  in  the  fundamental  bass,  from  the  bass  note  to  the 
third  above,  provided  one  descend  at  last  from  thence  to  the  tonic  dominant,  and  from  thence  to  the  tonic  \  (see 
sci).    This  and  the  preceding  examples  are  licenses. 

(4  x)  We  say  a  tonic,  or  reckoned  such^  becltuse  it  may  perhaps  l>e  a  dominant  from  wliich  the  dissonance  has 
been  removed.  6ot  in  thst  case  one  may  know  that  it  is  a  real  dominant  by  the  note  which  precedes  it.  For 
instance,  if  the  note  G,  carrying  a  perfect  chord,  is  preceded  by  D  a  simple-^ dominant,  carrying  the  chord  D 1^ 
A  C,  that  note  G  is  not «  real  tonic  >  beeause,- in  order  to  tbis,  it  would  hftv6  b^en  fted^sary  Chat  D  should  have 
lieen  a  tonic  dominant,  and  should  have  carried  the  chord  D  FlK  A  C  \  and  that  a  sii^ple  dMiinaBtf  SA  D,  cann- 
ing the  cfaofd  D  F  A  €,  ifhould  ofrfy  naturafly  descend  to  a  dominant,  (ait.  194.). 

(47)  Sometimes  a  tssi^  l^hith  cstrri^s  a  7  in  the  contlnoed  bass,  gives  in  m  fiindasMntal  bafts  itoiUrd  above 

figured  with  a  6.  Tor  ekample,  this  oontianed  bass  ABC  gives  Ai<  fitfndaaaMiftal  bft;^  C  6  6  j  W  in  Uus^sase 
it  is  necessary  that  the  note  figured  with  a^  sbonld  rise  by  a  fifths  as  #e  see  here  C  iis^  b  f3. 

(4  z)  A  note  fif^red  with  a  a,  gives  likei^ise  somctimos  ift  thb  fundamental  btos  its  IbMEh  d>0^  't^tS. 
witb  a  6 ;  hot  it  i»  Bocessary  ki  that  caae  that  the  noti^  figifsd  irkb  a  6,  may  even  li€fefi«6  t6  «  fifm.    (Selk 
note  (4  Y^. 

These  variations  in  Oe  fundauMifid  bass,  as  well  ia  the  chodi  eoAceming  iHiiSAk  ^  ndw  tr6a<,  is  ib  &A  ^(xA 
figured  with  a  7,  and  in  two  ofber«  whidt  shati  irfkrimb  be  niOlil^)i#d  (ati^.  f 28.  and  22().)f»  are  UvMi  by  i 
deficiency  ia  the  s^gas  proper  for  die  chord  of  the  sabHliMkiinMe,  Md  for  the  diifeteO^  arrSttgemoots  bjr  ^di  ft 
is  inverted. 

M.  rAbb6 'fioussier,  to  redress  this  defi^iencv,  liad  iavealed  a  tfiW  manner  «f  figuring;  th^  eotatihued  bas^ 
His  method  is  most  simplo  for  those  who  know  the  ilttidamelital  bASs.  It  consists  io  ei|ft«ssiog  eS6h  chord  by 
-only  signifying  the  fundamental  sound  with  that  letter  of  the  seide  by  ^htch  it  is  doAomittafted^  which  is  jotAe^ 
m  7  orf^or  m  6,  b  order  to  mfirk  all  the  discords.  Tbn  the  fiuidamental  chord  of  the  sev^ndi  DFAC  isexpres* 

sed  by  a  D }  and  the  same  chord,  ivhen  it  is  inverted  from  that  of  the  sub-dominant  F  A  C  D.  is  characterize! 

liy  F}  the  chord  of  the  second  C  D  F  A,  inverted  firom  Ac  dominant  D  F  A  C,  is  likewise  represented  It 

9  \  and  lie -same  chord  C  D  F  A^  iovorted  froib  that  of  the  sub-domiaaat  F  A  C  D,  is  signified  by  F^  the  case  ia 

the 


346  M    U 

Principles  in^ntal  Wusthe  diatonic  note  mbore,  figored  with  ft  7. 
of ComposU  (See  LXI.) 

tion.  ^.  Every  note  figured  \fith  a  |  gives  its  third  below 

, '       »        figured  with  a  7.   (See  LVili.)- 

8.  Every  note  marked  with  a  ^  gives  the  fifth  be- 
low marked  with  a  7;  (see  LX.)  and  it  is  plain  by 
art.  1 87.  that  in  the  chord  of  the  seventh,  of  which  we 
treat  in  these  three  last  articles,  the  diird  ought  to  be 
major,  and  the  seventh  minor,  this  chord  of  the  seventh 
being  the  chord  of  the  tonic  dominant.    (See  art  102.) 

9.  Every  note  marked  with  a  9  gives  its  third  above 
figured  with  a  7.     (See  Lxxvii.  and  i.xxix.)* 

10.  Every  note  marked  with  a  f  gives  the  fifth  a^ 
bove  figured  with  a  7.     (See  Lxxviii.) 

If.  Every  note  marked  ivith  a  ^5,  or  with  a  -4-5, 

gives  the  third  above  figured  with  a  X*.    (See  LXXXI.)* 

12.  Every  note  marked  with  aif^J  gives  a  fifth  above 

figured  with  a  7,  or  with  a  %     (See  LXXTI.)*     It  is 

the  same  case  with  the  notes  marked  {,  ft  or  4  :  which 

shows  a  retrenchment,  either  in  the  complete  chord  of 
the  eleventh,  or  in  that  of  the  seventh  redundant. 

13.  Every  note  marked  with  a  4  gives  a  fifth  above 

7 
figured  with  a  7,  or  a  %.     (See  Lxxx.) 

14.  Every  note  marked  with  a^%6  gives  the  third  mi- 
nor below,  figured  with  a  |f.     (See  Lxxxv.). 

4 

15.  Every  note  marked  with  a  (^  gives  the  tritone  a- 

.    bove  figorecl  with  a  if.     (See  Lxxxvi.). 

16.  Every  note  niarked  with  a  S^2  gives  the  second 
redundant  above,  figured  with  a  f,     (See  Lxxxvii.)* 

17.  Every  note  marked  with  a  %!  gives  the  fifth 
redundant  above,  figured  with  a  if,      (See  Lxxxvili.). 

J  8.  Every  note  marked  with  a  ^1  gives  the  seventh 

V  redundant  above,  figured  with  a  f    (See  Lxxxix.). 
(5  A). 

Remark* 

A  difficulty      *^®'  ^®  ^^^  oinitted  two  cases,  which  may  cause 

IB  fiadittj^   <<»Be  uncertainty. 

thefimdi^ 

mental 


SIC.  Partn. 

The  first  is  that  where  the  note  of  the  continued  btss  ptitdpin 
is  figured  with  a  6.  We  now  present  the  reason  of  tbcrffif  iii 
difficulty.  ,^J^ 

Suppose  we  should  have  the  dominant  D  in  the  foo- 
damental  bass,  the  note  which  answers  to  it  in  the  con- 
tinued bass  may  be  A  carrying  the  figure  6  (ace 
LXIV.)  J  that  is  to  say,   the  chord  A  C  D  F :  now 

if  we  should  have  the  snbdominant  F  in  the  fundamen- 
tal bass,  the  sobdominant  might  produce  in  the  conti- 
nued bass,  the  same  note  A  figured  with  a  6.  When 
therefore  we  find  in  the  continued  bass  a  note  marked 
with  a  6,  it  appears  at  first  uncertain  whether  we 
should  place  in  the  fundamental  bass  the  fifth  below 
marked  with  a  7,  or  the  third  below  niarked  with 
a  6. 

229.  The  second  case  is  that  in  which  the  oonti-Asochv 
nued  bass  is  figured  with  a  f .     For  instance,  if  there 


T 


should  be  found  F  in  the  continued  bass,  we  may  be 
ignorant  whether  we  ought  to  insert  in  the  fondn- 
mental  bass  F  marked  with  a  6,  or  D  figured  with 

230.  This  difficulty  may  be  removed  by  leaving  forsdwia 
,  an  instant  this  uncertain  note  in  suspense,  and  in  exa- 
mining the  succeeding  note  of  the  fundamental  bass ; 

for  if  that  note  be  in  the  present  case  a  fifth  above  F, 
that  is  to  say,  if  it  be  C  in  this  case,  and  in  this  alone, 

we  may  place  F  in  the  fundamental  bass.  It  is  a  con- 
sequence of  this  rule,  that  in  tlie  ftindamental  bass  every 
sub- dominant  ought  to  rise  by  a  fifth  (i950* 

Chap.  XII.    What  is  nuani  by  being  in  a  Modi  or 

Tone. 

231.  Ik  the  first  part  of  this  treatise  (chap,  vi.)  wsHciMtf 
have  explained,  how  by  the  means  of  the  note  C,  aod^iuM 
of  its  two-fifths  G  and  F,  one  in  ascending,  which  i*|2^ 
called  a  tome  dominani^  the  other  in  descending  which  ii,t^^ 
called  a  sub-dominant^  die  scale  C  D  E  F  A  B  C  laajH^. 

be  found:  the  diflferent  sounds  which  fonn  this  scale 


the  saipe  when  the  chords  are  differently  inverted.  By  this  means  it  would  be  impossible  to  mistake  either  with  re- 
spect to  the  fundamental  bass  of  a  chord,  or  with  respect  to  the  note  which  forms  its  dissonance,  or  with  respect 
to  the  nature  and  species  of  that  discord. 

(5  a)  We  may  only  add,  that  here,  and  in  the  preceding  articles  of  the  text,  we  suppose,  that  the  continued 
bass  IS  figured  in  the  manner  of  M.  Rameau.  For  it  is  proper  to  observe,  that  there  are  not,  perhaps,  two  ma- 
sicians  who  characterize  their  chords  with  the  same  figures  •,  which  produce  a  great  inconveniency  to  the  persoa 
^^^^^^  accompaniments :  hut  here  we  do  not  treat  of  accompaniments.  We  prefer  the  continued  faassts 
of  M.  Rameau  to  all  the  others,  as  by  them  the  fundamental  bass  will  be  most  easily  discovered. 

M.  Rameau  only  marks  the  lesser  sixth  by  a  6  wilhont  a  line,  when  this  lesser  sixth  does  not  result  tnm  the 
chord  of  the  tonic  dominant  j  in  such  a  manner  that  the  6  renders  it  uncertain  whether  in  the  fundamental  bus 
we  ought  to  ehoose  the  third  or  the  fifth  Ulow  j  but  it  wiU  be  easy  to  see  whether  the  third  or  the  fifth  is  signified 
by  Uiat  figure.  This  may  be  distinguished,  i.  In  observing  which  of  the  two  notes  is  excluded  by  the  roles  of  the 
fundamental  bass.  2.  If  the  two  notes^may  with  equal  propriety  be  placed  in  the  fundamental  bass,  the  preferena 
must  be  determined  by  the  tone  or  mode  of  the  treble  in  that  particukr  passage.  lu  the  following  chapter  we 
shall  give  rules  for  determining  the  mode  (note  3  z). 

There  is  a  chord  of  which  we  have  not  spoken  in  this  enumeration,  and  which  is  calted  the  chord  ^the  nxtk 
redundant.  This  chord  is  composed  of  a  note,  of  its  third  major,  of  its  redundant  fourth  or  tritone,  and  its  le- 
dundant  sixth,  as  F  A  B  D«.  It  is  marked  with  a  6%  It  appears  difficnit  to  find  a  fundamental  bass  fiv  thit 
chord  5  nor  is  it  indeed  much  in  use  amongst  us.     (See  the  note  upon  the  art.  115.) 

.  This  chord  is  called  m  England  the  chord  of  the  extreme  sharp  sixth.     When  accompanied  by  the  third  0^ 
It  IS  caUed  the  Italmn  sixth.    When  the  fifth  is  substituted  for  the  tritone,  it  has  been  called  the  German  sktL 


Part  ir. 


M    U    S 


lioa. 


Priaciples  compose  the  major  ntodt  of  C,  }>€causc  the  third  E 
•fCompod- above  C  is  major.  If  therefore  we  wouhl  have  a  mo- 
dulation in  the  major  mode  of  C,  no  other  sounds  must 
enter  into  it  than  those  which  compose  thn  scale  ;  in 
such  a  manner  that  if,  for  in^itance,  we  should  find  F$ 
in  thU  moduiatlon,  this  F){[  discoverit  to  us  that  we  are 
not  in  the  mode  of  C,  or  at  least  that,  if  we  have  been 
in  it,  we  are  no  longer  so. 

232.  In  the  same  manner,  if  we  form  this  scale  in  as- 
cending A  B  C%  D  E  F«  0%  A,  which  is  exactly  si- 
roilar  to  the  scale  C  D  £  F  G  A  B  C  of  the  major  mode 
of  C,  this  scale,  in  which  the  third  from  A  to  C^jft  is 
major,  shall  be  in  the  major  mode  of  A  ^  and  if  we  in- 
cline to  be  in  the  minor  mode  of  A,  we  have  only  to 
substitute  for  C  sharp  C  natural ;  so  that  the  major 
Ihird  A  C%  may  become  minor  AC:  we  shall  have 
then 

ABCDEF$G«A, 
'which  is  (85.)  the  scale  of  the  minor  mode  of  A  in  as- 
cending}  and  the  scale  of  the  minor  noode  of  A  in  de- 
scending shall  be  (90O9 

AGFECDBA, 
it!  which  the  G  and  'F  are  no  longer  sharp.    For  it  is  m 
singularity  peculiar  to  the  niinor  mode,  that  its  scicle  is 
not  tlie  same  in  rising  as  ia  descending  (89.). 

233.  This  is  the  reason  why,  when  we  wish  to  be- 
h*   k        ^'"  ^  piece  in  the  major  mode  of  A,  we  place  three 

^U^j^*"^*  sharps  at  the  cleft'  upon  F,  C,.and  G;  and  on  the  con- 
sJumld  be     trary,  in  the  minor  mode  of  A,  we  place  non<»,  because 

the  minor  mode  of  A, 'in  descending,  has  neither  8harp9 

nor  flats. 


^  Bettcc  it 
flcppciin 


pUccd  at 
^becWir 

W  BMdr^r  ^34*  ^^  ^^  ^^^  contains  twelve  sounds,  eadi  di- 
A,  and  wfay  >tant  from -the  other  by  the.  interval  of.  a  semitone,  it  is 
tWj  are  dbvioQs  that  each  of  these  sounds  can  produce  both  a 
<"^tted  in  major  and  a  minor  mode,  which  constitute  24  modes 
•M^ftiade* °P^™  ^^^  whale.  Of  these  we  shall  immediately  give  a 
m>mmkAim»  tftble,  which  may  be  very  useful  to  discover  the  mode 
in.  which  we  are* 


-  Modes  24 
i  intlM 
;erhole« 


A  TABLE  of  the  Different  Modes. 

MAJor  Modes. 
Maj.  Bfede. 

of  C  ;       C,  D,  E,  F,  G,  A,  B,  c, 
ofG>       G.A,  B,c,d,  e,f«,  g. 


1   c. 

of  D ;  J>,  E,  F*,  G,  A,  B,  c«,  d. 

of  A;  A,  B,  c«,  d,  e,  f«,  g*,  a. 

of  E  5  E,  F«,  G«,  A  B  c«,  d«,  e. 

of  B  5  B,  c»,  d«,  e,  f«,  g«,  a«,  b. 

Of  F«.  F«,  G«,  A«,  B,  €«,  d«,  e«,  f «  (5  b). 

?r%*|  }^^*  ^^^  ^'  ^^^  ^^^  ^^^  ^»  •''^' 
tAb,  Bb,  c,  dt?,  cb,  f,  g,  at?. 

»|Eb,F,G,Ab,Bb,c,d,eb. 

Bb,  C,  D,  Eb,  F,  G,  A,  Bb. 


547 


Priacjplci 

ofCompoai- 

tion. 


OfG« 

or  Ab 
OfD« 

orEb 
ofA« 

orBb 

ofE^ 

or  Ft 

ofBtf; 

or  On 


F,  G,  A,  Bby  c,  dy  e,  f. 

C,  D^  E,  F,  G,  A^  B,  c 

(See  Ex.  xciv.). 


In  descending, 
iln  rising. 

In  descending. 
In  vising. 

In  descending, 
^n  lisiDg. 

In  descending. 
In  rising. 

•In  deseei^ding. 
In  rising. 

In  descending. 
In  rising. 

In  descending. 
In  rising.     • 

In  descendinir. 
*in  rising. 


Minor  Modes. 

Of  A. 
AGFEDCBA. 
A  B  C  D  E  F»  G  j^  A. 

OfE. 
e  d  c  B  A  G  F«  E. 
E  F«  G  A  B  OJC  d%  e. 

OfB. 
B  A  G  F«  £  D  C«  B. 
B  C«  D  E  Fj^  G^  A«  B. 

OfF*. 
fDC  e  d  c^  B  A  G«  E«. 
F«  G«  A  B  C«  6%  e«  f«. 

OfC«. 
C«:  B  A  G«  F«;  E  D«  C% 
C«  D«  E  F«  G«  A*  B«  C«. 

Of  G«orAb. 
g«  f«  e  d»  c*  B  A«  G». 

Ab  BbCbdbfbfgab- 

Of  DX  or  Eb. 
eb  db  cb  Bb  Ab  Gb  F  Eb. 
Eb  F  Gb  Ab  Bb  c  d  eb. 

Of  AM  or  Bb. 
Bb  Ab,  Gb  F  Eb  Db  C  Bb. 
Db  C  Db  Eb  F  G  A  Bb. 
3  Z2 


Of 


(5  b)  The  m&jor  mode  of  Fi)$,  of  Ci|$,  and  of  G%,  are  not  ranch  practised. 

When  a  piece  begins  upon  Cl[,  there  ought  to  he  seven  sharps  placed  at  the  deff  j  bat  it  is  more  convenient 
oi^ly  to  place  five  flats,  and  to  suppose  the  key  Db,  which  is  almost  (he  same  thing  with  CM.  For  this  reason  we 
substitute  here  the  mode  of  Db,  for  that  of  C%. 

It  is  still  mocb  more  necessary  to  (ubstitate  the  mode  of  Ab  for  that  of  G^  ;  ibr  the  scale  of  the  major  mode  of 
C*  is,  G«,  A«,  B»,  C«,  d«,  e«,  g,  g;R, 

in  which  it  appears  that  there  are  at  the  same  time  both  a  *gl|*  and  a  *g;K^ :  it  would  then  be  necessary,  even  at 
tlie  same  time,  that  upon  G  there  should  and  shonld  not  be  a  sharp  at  the  cleff }  which  is  inconsistent.  It  is  true 
that  this  inconvenience  may  be  avoided  by  placing  a  sharp  upon  G  at  the  cleff,  and  by  marking  the  note  G  with 
u.  natural  through  die  course  of  the  mu^ic  wherever  it  ought  to  be  natural  y  hut  this  would  become  troublesome, 
above  all  if  there  should  be  occasion*  to  transpose.  In  the  article  236.  we  shall  give  an  account  of  transposition. 
IrVe  might  likewise  in  this  series,  instead  ofG  natural,  which  is. the  note  immediately  before  the  last,  substitute 
FHX,  that  is  to  say,  F  twice  sharp :  which,  however,  is  not  absolutely  the  same  sound  with  G  natural,  especial^ 
ly  upon  instruments  whose  scales  are  fixed,  or  whose  intervals. are  invariable.  But  in  that  case  two  sharps  must 
be  placed  at  the  cleff  upon  F,  which  would  produce  another  inconvenience.  But  by  substituting  Ab  for.Gji;,  the 
trouble  is  eluded. 

The  double  sharp,  however,  is  incidentally  used,  when  in  a  composition  in  the  key  of  Fjt:  there  is  an  occasional 
Biodalation  into  the  dominant  of  that  key,  and  it  is  distinguished  by  the  character  X  oriJK^. 


548 


MUSIC.  Ptetll. 


Friiu:iplct  .     Of  E)K  Or  Fl(  236.  Hence  it  follows,  Pncifb 

orCouipo»i.lQ  descending,  f  F  eb  db  c  Be  Ab  GF.  i.  That  when.th^r^  are  neither  sharps  nor  flats  atofCBiiw 

tioD.      Iq  rising.  F  G  Ab  B|)  c  d  e  C  the  clefi^  the  piece  begins  in  the  lyajor,  mgde  of  C,  or    i"*- 

^    •  -  ~  Of  C  "*  ^''*  minor  mode  of  A.  "  '^ 

In  d^ceading.  c Bb  Ab  G  F*F.b  PC  *•  Jtat  when  tbete  is  one  8h»^^  it  will  nlwnys  b.B«lfc 

In  rUing.         C  Jp  E|)  F  Q  A  »  c.  ?'»««'  "P!!'^  *^'.'"»t  ^"^  *'*,PJf?  **«?*  m  the  major 

r^r  r«  mode  of  G,  or  in  the  n%inorof  £«,  in  such  a  manner  that 

*     -  J;  n     A  A^  *^  may  be  sung  as  if- there  were  no  sharp,  by  singiBg  B 

In  descending,  g  f  eb  d  <>  BM  G.  instead  of  F«,  and  in  singing  the  tone  as  if  it  had  beea 

In  rising.  GABbcdef«g.  jn  another  dcff.    For  iostanoe,  let  there  be  a  sharp  up- 

Of  D.  en  F  in  the  cleff  of  G  upon  the  first  line ;  one  may  tfara. 

In.  descending.  dcBbAGFED.  sing  the  tone  as  if  there  were  no  sharp ;  and  as  if,  ia- 

In  rising.  I)  £  F  G.  A  B  c)K  d  (5 c).  stead  of  the  cleflL  of  G  upon  the  first  line,  it  were  the 

cleflf  of  C  V  ^or  the  F^K^  when  changed  into  B,  will  re- 
crowded          ^3S'  These  thea>i|ve  all  the  mod^,  as  well  majo;r  s^  quire  that  the  clelF  of  G  shoul4  be  changed  to  the  cklF 
with  ihafpf  ^nor.     Those  which  are  crowded  with   shurps  a^nd  of  C,  as  may  be- easily  seen.  This  is  what  we  call  fnnu- 
tid  flsu     flats  are  little  practised,  as  being  ^tremel)(  difficult  in  position  (5  d). 
little  prac-  execution.  237.  It.  us  evident,,  tb^  idien,  F^jt^  b  chiuiged  iotoscelVaK. 


^m» 


CS^)'  ^®  hsLve  alread)^s^9y  that  in  each  mode,  the  principal  note  is  calk4^  tome;  that- the  fifth  above  that 
note  is  called  a  Um/c  d^mingniU  OT  the  domimnt  (^  the  moelCf  oi;sifnply  a  domiofint ;  that  the  fifth  below  the  tonic, 
or,  what  is  the  samt  thing,  the> fourth, above  tbaj^  tows,  is  called  a  suthdoinioant ;  and,  in  short,  that,  the  note 
which  forms  a  semitone  below,  the  tonic,  and  which  is  a  third  major  fronft  the  dpminajiit,  is  called  a  sennbkmU. 
The  other  notea  have  likewise  in  e^eiy  mod^  piMticolar  names  which  it  i^.  advantageous  to  know.* .  Tbiis  a  note 
which  is  a  tone  im.media^v  above  the:  ton  ic,  as  D  ip  the  qlpde  of  C,  and  B  in  th^t  of  A.is  termed  a  super^ttrnk; 
the  following  note,  which  is  a  third  major  or  minor  from  the  tonic,  according  a^  the  chord  is  major  or  minor, 
such  as  E  in  the  m^)or  n^odo  of  Q;  and-  9  in  the  minor,  mod^  of  A,  is  called  a  mediant ; -^vtA  the  note 
whioh.is  a  tone  aboire,  the  dpounafil,  such  as.  A^  ip,  the  mode  of  C.iU^  F:K  in  that,  of  A,  is  called  a  n^prr* 
dhminant, 

(5  d)  Though  our  author's  aqcoool-  of^  this  d^cat^  aeration  in  music  will  he  £^und  ezlreroetj^  just  and  com- 
P^dious ; .  thpugh  it  prooec^t  opoia^  simple  pripciples,  and  comprehends  every,  possible  contingency. ^  yet  as  the 
manner  of  thinking  upoo.whioh  it  depends  may  be  less  fagiiliar  to  ]^nglish  readers,  if  not.  profoundly  skilled  in 
music,  it  has  been  thought  ^p^ipper,  to  fffs^  a  more.  £ns)iliar,  though  Jess  conjifcehenslve,  explanatioix  of  the  mannei: 
in  which  transposition  nMiy.  b^  executed* 

It  will  easily  occur  to  every  reader,  that  if  each  of  the  intervals  tlirough  the.  whole  diatonic  series  were  equals, 
in  a  mathen^tical  sense,  it  wc^d/be  absolutely  indilBerent  upon  what  note  any  air  were  begun,. if  within  the  com* 
pass  of  the  gampiut^  becapae.  the isaiae  equal. intftrvals  must. always  have  the  same  eflPects.  But  since,  besides  the 
Batural  senutones,  there  is,  a^iother:  distinction  of  diatonic  intervals. into  greater  and  lesser  tones  ;  ^id- since  these 
▼ary  their  positions  in.  the  series  of  aa  octave^  according  as  the  note  from  whence  you  begin  is  placed,  that  note  is 
consequently,  thf^  best  k(ey  for  a^  tpne  whose  iiatucal  series  is  most  exactly  correspondent  with  the  mtervals  whidF. 
that  melody  or  harmony,  visf^php^  But  in  instruments  wbose  scales  are  fixed,  notwithstanding  the  temperaaieiit 
and  other  expjpdient^  of  tfa^  sam^  kind,.sH.cli  a.serse^is  far  irom  being  easilj  found, .and.is  indeed  in  conaMiq  prac- 
tice almost. totally. neglected j  All  tbaiean  frequently.. be  done  is,  to  takae  care  that  the  ear.  may, not.  be  seosihly 
abpcked.  This,  however,  woold.be  tlie  case,  if,  in  transposing  any  tune,  the  situation  of  the  semitones,  whether 
natural  or  artificial,  were  not  exactly  correspondent  in  the  series  to  which  your  air  must  be  transposed,  with  their 
positions  in  the  scale  from  which  you  transpose  it.  Suppose,  for  instance,  your  air  should  begin  upon.  C,  reqoiring 
the  natural  diatonic  series  through  the  whole  gamauit,  in  .^ich  the  diAtam^e^  betweop  .£  apd..£,  aik  als»  that  he- 
tfreen  B  and  C,  is  ooly  a  senntoqe*  Again,  SMpp9se  it  n^fiessary.for  your  vpice,.oc  tbe-iostrmi^nt  on,  which  joo 
plaj,  that  thesanip  air  shpuld  be  traosfyssed  to  G,  a  fifth  above  its  fbim^r  h^y.^  t(bsn  because  in  the  first  series  the 
intervals  between  the  third  and  the  ieurth,  seventh  and  eighth  notes,  are  n^  more  than  seniitooes,  the  saooue  iater- 
ya)s  mjU9t,t;(K|B^  the,  sapie  pU^  ii^the  octayre  to  which  you  trai^pose*  Now^.  from  G,  theiiote  with  which  yoo  pvo- 
pose  to  begin,  the  three  tones  immediately  soceeedipg  aige  fuU  f  butftfae  fourth  C  is  only  a  sen^itone  \  it  may  there* 
fore  b^.  kept  io  iti^  plft^e,  Bivtfroai  F,  the  seven^h^  nofis,  aboye,  ta.G,  th^  eighth,,  thp  interval  is  a  full  tone,, 
wjuch: must  coQsequ^utly: be  red|c^sed by  raising,  th^  F  a  semit^n/?  higher.  Thus  the  situations  of  thcsenitonie 
ii^terv^s  in  both  ocp^ve^.will  b^coijfesponjentKaj^thos,  by  confonning.thepositioneoCthe.  semitones  in  the  oc- 
tave to  wjiich  you..tiJMaAp<3)3e,  with  tbpse.iQ,thaoc;|aye.iawjiich  the, original  k^y.  of  the  tone, is  contained,  J90  will. 
per fpri^n  your  o^ati^n.  ^vith  as  mupb ,  success  as  th^.  natuns  o(  fixed,  scales  ■  can,  adi^i^ 

T|»,ordpr  to  be.  obs|e^ved,  in.  tbe^e  alterations  of  xbeintervalf^^isi  deduced fipom- the  relation  .whichithe  fifth  a»* 
Ceoding  and,  dtisc«;n4iQg  be^,,tQ  the, fuqdfiipentfll  (a^ti  34^550  >  a^dtherjefora  the  farthec  we  depart  fmatha 
n9it)Ural  fundiim^ntal  C  by, a  jbce^  of  fif^  a^oendiqg  OiC  descending,  the.alteratioos^  and. consequently  the  noinher 
sharps  or  flats  iqdicattng,  them,  willt  be  the.gre^r«. 

Thus  if  G,  which  is  the  perfect  fifth  ascending  from  ,  therefore  tbe  note  most  nearly  allied  to  C  (arU  35^40*)* 

be 


Pfertn.-  MUSIC.  H9 

Midpies  Bf  G  mast  be  changed  into  C,  and  £  into  A*    Thus,  AinciDfM 


rf€oiiipod.b7  traaspositioiiy  the  air  has  the  same  melody  as  if  it  Crap.  XIII.   To  find  the  Fundantimdt  Bsii  df  M  of  Compou 

.    ^^    .  Wffre  in  the  major  mode  of  C,  or  in  the  mtnof  mode  of  jttvn  Modulation^                                  ^^^ 

^  ^^        A.     The  major  mode  then  of  G,  and  the  minor  of  E,  ,                                                            ' 

■tdet  re-    ^^^  ^X  transposition  reduced  to  tbose  of  C  major,  and  238.  As  tre  have  reduced  to  a  very  small  number'MeUiod  of 

Isdble  to    of  A  minor.     It  is  the  same  case  with  all  the  other  tlie  rules  of  the  fundamental  bass,  and  those  which  iof''^"'^^ 

the  major    modes  (5  e),  the  treble  ought  to  be  observed  with  relation  to  tbisjjf*^*?" 


of  C  and 

(k  minor 


bass,  n  giTen  air 

not  fitt- - 

onlVaifS 


be  taken  ^r  a  fundamental,  F,  which  is  the  seventh  of  the  scale  of  G,  must  be  made  sharp,  that  it  may  ^  a^^ 
whole  tone  from  the  sixth  £,  and  only  a  semitone  from  the  key  note  G,  according  to  the  latfs  of  the  diatbnic 
scale  (art  77.).     See  Ex.  xciy*  i.  2. 

Again,  if  J>,  the  perfect  fifth  ascending  from  G,  and  the  second^  in  the  series  of  progressive  fifths'  a^endin^ 
from  C,  be  used  as  a  fundamental,  C,  whicb-is  the  seventh  of  the  scale  of  D,  must',  to  itnder  it  dic'^sensible  or 
leading  note  (art.  77.J  be  made  sluuqp  in  addition  to  F  j  so  that  in  the  scale  of  D^  there  aite  ti^  sharps,  F  aAd  C. 
See  Ex.  xciv.  (3.) 

If  A,  the  perfect  fifth  above  D,  and  the  third  in  the  series  of  fifths  ascen^g'from  C,  be  the  fundamcnatal,  thtf 
seventh  G  must,  in  addition  to  F  and  C,  be  made  sharp,  for  the  same  reason  (4.)  \  and  so  on,  on  the  scale  of  £^  ^ 
'which  is  next  in  order,  F,  C  G,  ajid  D,  must  be  sharp  (5.) :  in  that  of.  B;. the  sfamrpft  must  be  F,  C,  G, 
D,  and  A  (4). 

The  perfect  fiftk  above  B  is  1^%  and  in  that  scale  F,  C,  G,  D,  A;  and  E,  must  be  sharp  (7.).    And  ijd  the 
next  scale  C%^  all  tbn  notes  of  the  system  are  sharp  {%,). 

This,  for  the  reasons  mentioned  in  the  m>te  (5  B),  is  the  last  scale  to  t«tacb  we  can  px^pefly  gb'by  the  ^gi^s-- 
stons  of  fifths  ascending. 

Betucning  to  the  natural  scale  of  G,  if  instead  ofassnming  G,  the  perfects  ffilr  tfl/ave;.for  a  ftmdtotentki,  ^e^- 
take  F,  the  perfect  fifth  below ;  B,  which  is  tfa^  fbnrth  note  above  F,  ahd' fiirfsRi.  a^f/^V^i^  or'. sharp!  fbttrtb 
to  it,  most,  to  become  a  perfect  fonrthf,  according  to  the.  kws  of  the  diatonic  scale,   (alt.  66.y  be  mkd^' 
flat  12.). 

Piooeeding  with  the  series  of  fifths  descending,  if  B|^,  which  is  the  perfbet  fifth  belbiT  Iff  be'tak^tfforafbtfda- 
mental  \  £,  which,  in  its  natural  state,  is  the  tritone  or  sharps  fonrtbr  to  Bt^,  most;  to  becnmetbe  diatbnio  fourth^ 
(art.  60.),  also  be  rendered  fiat  (iiO* 

If  Et^,  \Tbioh  is  the  perfect  fifth  below  B^,  and  the  third  in  the  series  ofliflhs  descending  filMtfC,  be  lAadb^die 
fimdameotd.  A,. the  sharp  fourth,  must,  to  become  the  diatonic  fburth,  bte'made  flat;  aUd  the  flilts'nttlilLed  at^thV 

cleiFare  B,  E,  and  A  (io.)« 

To  form  the  next  scale  in  the  series  of  fifUit  deseendtng,wiifcfa  is  that  of  A  Ant,  jt^  mtist  berdktteiied.>*and'Bi' 
£,  A,  and  D,  are  marked  flat  at  the  cleff  (9;). 

The  next  scale,  tbat  of  D  fbkt,  is  formedbr  flattening  G,  and  adding  its  flilt  tb' tUer  other$  flithedeir(d.).  TKh 
is  the  scale  reoommendedto  be  used  rather  than  that  of  Cijit.   (Sbe'note  5  b). 

We  do  not  proceed  .fieu'ther  with  the  series  of  fifths  d^scending^  sittce'the  n63tt  sicale,  that  <rf*Gt;,  T^tdd  jnst'  <^ 


vcvy  nearly  exhibit  the  sounds  idteady  represented  by  the  scale  of  FijS^  (7:).  This  scale  id,'  ho^^^,  somfctiMe^ 
wvttten  in  the- key  of  G  flat^  and  weeven^  meet  with  the  scale  of  itrfifttr  belbtr,  C  fl&t;  antt,  viThh^an'oceasibnal 
modulation  from  that  key  into  its  fitfth  below,  F  flat,  where  B  being  necessarily  twicb 'flitttgned,i6  df0tingbbh^*b/' 

tlus  character  f*  or  |>|^  called  v^donble  flat. 

We  have  thus  seen-,  ist^  Tbat  each*  of 'thte  notes  ofthe  diatonic  stale  of  "Cj  afld^ACh  of  the  seniitOUeli'ifild  i(iRt}i\ 
the  whole  tones  of  tbat  scale  are  divided^  may  betaken*  for  this  fdndametftal  nXAt  ctf  i^diatdnic!  sckle;  dill^d  thb-" 
se<^  ofthMnakei    2diy,  ThMthe  notes' of  tK'  natrnml  scalearrnxore  of  less^altered;  as  the  nbte  ateum'ed'for  a'* 
foidanientai  is  more  or  less  distant  firom  C,  in  a  progression  of  fifths  ascending  or  descending.     3dly,  That  in  the 
pro§re84ion.by.  fifths  aar^nding,  tho  notes  aic  altared  by^ihagpS|  and  in  the  psogrooaion  \^  fifths  desoendiagy >  tli» 
alterations  are  by  flats.     4tl)ly«  That  in  the  alteration,  by.  sharps,  .the  last  sharp  is  always  on  the  seventh  or  sen-- 
nMr  note  of  the  scale-,  and  wiiere  thereme  ntt>r«  tliAn  oDe,..is  always  on  the' filVh  at>ove^  thV  sharjCithYnedf^fely 
preceding-,  and  imthe  altenition  by  flkts,  the  last  flkt  is  alwaysr4>n  th^  fbuith^  of  thi^  scahr^  tfod'i^h<!re'  there* arff*' 
more  than  one,  is  always  on  the  fifth  below  the  flat  immediately  pree0dh)|r. 

Hie  signatures  of  sham  and  fliti  at  the  cl^,.  beldnging-  to  the'  twelve  ntiijnriBifltled,  ax«;aldd  nS^d'fflrtRffir 
rrktive  minor  scales;  Ijie  occasional  elevation.  and^depressiotrofCthfeBixtlis  aAdosevifnthli^  ai'  thr  ndnof'sctaJeSr; 
are  denoted  by  occasiomd  sharps  and  flats  placed  before  thbse  notfes; 

(5E)'Afeny  musicians,  and  amongst  others  the  ancient  mnsietattsi>f  Ffant^;  aS'Dutll;  Cam^tt^  8tc;  pla)!e"oM 
fidi  less  in  the  minor  mode:  so  that  in  the  minor  mode  of  D,  they  place  n^itAbi**Bbaif  n'orflstC  at  th^"de^^  id  thdL 
minor  mode  of*G,  oneflkt  onhr^  in  the  niinorinode'of'C^  two'fll^ts^,  See; 

This  practice  inr  itself  is  sn^eotly  iadiflbrenty^d'searcelynferhft  ttfe  ti^tkble  of  a'dl^dte^  YeTthe  niSthbd". 
which  we  have  faere«describfed;  accordfqg  toAI.  B^imeao;  has  thradvantage'of  rethiOiflg'  alf  thernfbdl^  t6  tW6  \  ^ 
and  besides  itis  founded  uporthis  simple  and  very  ^nerid  rule,  That  in  the'mojar  mode;  We-nfOsr  plicff  atf  mltn^T 
sharps  or  fl^  atthe'defi^  as  afe  contained  in  iheiRatonic  scale  of  thkt^modeiil*  al^OOHdibg^  and'in  thb'  nlidOf ' 
mode,  as  many  as  are  contained  in  that  same  scale  in  descending. 


tlon. 


base  is 
scoghu 


SSo  M    U    S 

Maciplct  bass,  it  should  no  longer  be  difficult  to  find  the  funda- 
of  Com^osi-  mental  bass  of  a  given  modulation^  nay,  frequently  to 
find  several  ^  for  every  fundamental  bass  ivlll  be  legiti- 
mate, vfhen  it  is  formed  according  to  the  rules  which 
'We  4iave  given  (chap,  vi.)  ^  and  that,  besides  this,  the 
^'dissonances  which  the  modulation  may  form  with  this 
bass,  will  both  be  prepared,  if  it  is  necessary  that  they 
should  be  so,  and  always  resolved  (c  f). 
Difficalty  of      239.  It  is  of  the  greatest  utility  in  searching  for  the 
assigning    fundamental  bass,  to  know  ivhat  is  the  tone  or  mode 
general       ^f  (||q  melody  to  which  that  bass  should  correspond. — 
uccrtt^-   But  it  is  difficult  in  this  matter  to  assign  general  rules, 
ing  the        And  such  as  are  absolutely  without  exception,  in  which 
taiode  of  a   nothing  maj  be  left  that  appears  indijQ'erent  or  discre- 
melody       tionary  ^  because  sometimes  we  seem  to  have  the  free 
r    enSr*  ^^®*^^  ^^  referring  a  particular  melody  either  to  one 
mode  or  another.     For  example,  this  melody  G  C  may 
belong  to  all  the  modes,  as  .well  major,  as  minor,  in 
which  G  and  C  are  found  together  j  and  each  of  these 
two  sounds  may  even  be  considered  as  belenging  to  a 
different  mode. 

240.  We  may  sometimes,  *as  it  jsliould  seem,  operate 
without  the  knoXvl^dge  of  the  mode,  for  two  reasons  \ 
I.  Because^  since  the  same- sounds  belong- to  several  . 
vceedwith-  j^getent  modes,  the  mode  is  sometimes  considerably 
kBowledse  undetermined ',  above  all,  in  the  middle  of  a  piece^  and 
of  the  during  the  time  of  one  or  two  bars.  2.  Without  giving 
mode,  and  ourselves  much  trouble  about  the  mode,'  it  is  often  suf- 
bow  we  ficient  to  preserve  us  from  deviating  in  composition,  if 
**^  ^  .  we  observe  in  the  simplest  manner  the  niles  above  pre* 
n^dcvi.  scribed  (.chf^p.  vi.)  for  .the  procedure  of  the  fundamental 
ating  in       bass. 

compoii.         24 1  •  In  the-itiean  time,  it  .js .  above  all  things  ne-    ' 

^^"^  eessary  to  know  in  what  mode,  we  operate  at  the  be- 

^"J'^**^  ginning  of  the  piece,  because' it  is  indispensable  that 

in  beJL-  ^  ^^  fundamental  bass  should  begin  in^  the.aame  ukmU*, 

■ingapiece<^nd  that  the  treble  and  bass  should  likewise  end  in  it ; 

indispen.     n%y,  that  they  should^ven  .terminate  ia  its  fundamental 

sable,  and   note,  which  in  the  mode  of  C  is  C,  and  A  in  that  of 

.rvrhj.  Af  &c.  {Beside^  in  those  passages  of  the  modulation 

t  where  tliere  is  a  cadence,  it  is  generally,  necessary  that 

.  the .  mode  of  the  fundamental  bass  should  be  the  same 

f'  with  that  of  the^part  ta  which  it  corresponds^ 

Invesiiga-       242.  To  know  upon  what  mode  Or  in  what  key  a 

lion  of  tbe  piece  commence^,  our  inquiry  may  be  entirely  reduced 

Sun^T^'^'  to  distingutsLthe- major  mode  of  C  from  the  minor  of  A. 

'  For  we  Cave  already  seen  (art.  236.  and  237.),  that  all 

,  tbe  modes  may  be.  reduced  to  these  two,  at  least  in  the 


I   c. 


Partll. 


Reasons 
why  we 
-may  pro. 
«eed  wi 
out  tbe 


beginning  of  the  piece.  We  shall  now  therefore  give  a  rriarijilo 
detail  of  the  dilFcrent  means  by  which  these  two  modes  of  CoapM- 
roay  be  distinguished.  w!** 

1 .  From  the  principal  and  characteristical  sounds  ofj^^^r^ 
the  mode,  which  are  C  £  G  in  the  one,  and  ACE  ia^^ijit;^ 
the  other ;  so  that  if  a  piece  should,  for  instance,  begin  Bodciaa 
thus,  A  C  £  A,  it  may  be  almost  constantly  condoded,^.^<<a. 
that  the  tone  or  mode  is  in  A  minor,  although  the  notes  ^ 
A  C  £  belong  to  the  mode  of  C. 

2.  From  the  sensible  note,  which  is  B  in  the  one,  and 
G%  in  the  other  \  so  that  if  GX  appears  in  tbe  fint 
bars  of  a  piece,  we  may  be  certain  that  we  are  in  tbe 
mode  A. 

3.  From  the  adjuncts  of  tbe  mode,  that  is  to  say, 
tbe  modes  of  its  two-fifths,  which  for  C  are  F  and  G| 
and  D  and  £  for  A.  For  example,  if  after  having  be- 
gun a  melody  by  some  of  the  notes  which  are  commoa 
to  the  modes,  of  C  and  of  A  (asE  D  £  F.£  D  C  B 
C),  we  shoulil  afterwards  iind  the  mode  of  G,  which^we 
ascertain  by^he  £•#,  or  that  of  F^which  we  ascertain 
by  the  Bt;  or  C||,  we  may  conclude  that  we  have  begun 
'in  tbe  mode  of  C  j  but  if  we  And  the  mode  of  D,  or 
that  of  £,  which  we  ascertain  by  B^,  €%,  or  D;jSl,  &c. 

.  we  conclude  from  thence  that .  we  have  begun  in  tbe 
mode  of' A. 

4.  A  mode  is  not  usually  changed,  especially  in 
the  beginning  of  a  piece,  unless  in  oiider  to  pass  mto 

or  other  of  the  modes  most  relative  to  it,  which 


^ne 


are  the  mode  of  its  fifth  above,  and  that  of  its  third 
below,  if  the  ordinal  mode  be  major,  or  of  its  third 
above  if  it  be  minor.  Thus,  for  instance,  tbe  modes 
which  are  most  intimately  relative  to  tbe  major  mode 
>of  C,  are  the  major  mode  of  G,  and  that  of  A  minor. 
From  the  mode  of  C  we  commonly  pass  either  into 
tbe  one  or  the  other  of  these  modes  ;  so  that  we  may 
sometimes  judge  of  the  principal  mode  in  which  we 
are,  by  the  relative  mode  which  follows  it,  or  which 
goes  before  it,  when  these  relative  modes  are  decisively 
marked.  Besides  these  two  relative  modes,  there  are 
likewise  two  others  into  which  the  principal  mode  may 
pass,  but  less  frequently,  viz.  the  mode  of  it&  fifth  bebw, 
and  that  of  its  third  above,  as  F  and  £  for  tbe  mode  of 
C(5G). 

5.  The  modes  may  still,  be  likewise  distinguished  by 
th^  cadences  of  the  melody.  These  cadences  ought  to 
occur  at  the  end  of  every  two,  or  at  most  of  every  feor 
bars,  as  in  the  fundamental  bass:  now  the  note  of 
the  fundamental  bass  .which  is  moat  suitable  to  these 

closer 


(5  f)  We  often  say,  that  we  are  upon  aparttcular  key  or  ecale^  instead  of  saying  that  we  are  in  a  ^ 
"  mode.    The  following  expressions  therefore  are  synonymous  j  mch  a  piece  is  in  C  major^  or  in  the  mode  of  C 
jor^  or  in  the  key  qfC  majors  or  in  the  scale  of  C  mttjor* 

(5  g)  It  is  certain  that  the  minor  mode  of  £  has  an  extremely  natural  connection  with  the  mode  of  C,  as  has 
been  proven  (art.  92.)  both  by  arguments  and  by  examples.  .It  has  likewise  appearedin  the  note  upon  the  art  93. 
that  the  minor  mode  of  D  may  be  joined  to  the  major  mode  .of  C  :  and  thus  in  a  particular  sense,  this  mode  may 
be  considered  as  relative  to  the, mode  of  C,  but  it  Is  still  less  so  than  tbe  major  modes  of  G  and  F,  or  than  thoie 
of  A  and  E  minor  j  because  we  cannot  immediately,  and  without  licence,  pass  in  aiundamental  bass  from  tbe 
perfect  minor  chord  of  C  to  the  perfect  minor  rchord  of  D  >  and  if  vou  pass  immediately  firom  the  major  mode  of 
C  to  the  minor  mode  of  D  in  a  nindamental  bass,  it  is  bypassing,  for  instance,  from  the  tonic  C,  or  from  £  G  C, 
to  tbe  tonic  dominant  of  D,  carrying  the  chord  A  C%  £  G,  m  which  there  are  two  sounds,  £  G,  which  are 
found  in  the  jn^cedins  chord,  (Ex.  xcv.)  or  otherwise  from  C  £  G  C  to  G  Q^  D  E»  a  chord  of  Ae  aob-doaa- 
nant  in  the  minor  mode  of  D,  which  chord  has  likewise  two  sounds,  G  and  £,  in  common  with  that  which  wsat 
immediately  before  it.    See  £x.  xcvi. 


Piirtn. 


MUSI    C. 


Principlet 

of  Compoci- 

tioB. 

•  SeeC>. 

UmTing^  as* 
certjdncd 
the  mode, 
the  ftmda- 
■icntJil  bftKS 
motdiffi. 
cult. 


closes  *,  is  ahrays  easy  to  be  fouoil.  For  the  sounds 
whicli  occur  in  the  treble,  M.  Rameao  may  be  con- 
sulted, p.  54.  of  bis  Nouveau  Systeme  de  Mwiquc  theo- 
rique  et  pratique  (5  H). 

Wben  the  mode  is  ascertained,  by  tbe  diflerent 
means  which  we  have  pointed  out,  the  fundamental  bass 
will  cost  little  pains.  For  in  each  mode  there  are  three 
Amdamental  sounds* 

I.  The  tonic  of  the  mode,  or  its  principal  sound, 
which  carries  always  the  perfect  chord  major  or  minory 
according  as  the  mode  itself  is  major  or  minor* 
Major  mode  of  C,         C  £  G  <c'. 
Minor  mode  of  A,        A  C  E  A. 

2*  The  tonic  dominant,  which  is  a  fifth  above  the 
tonic,  and  which,  whether  in  the  major  or  minor  mode, 
always  carries  a  chord  of  tbe  serenth,  composed  of  a 
third  major  followed  by  two  thirds  minor. 

Tontc  dominants 
Major  mode  of  C,        G  B  D  'V. 

Tonic  dominant. 

Minor  mode  of  A,        E  G  iK  B  «d'. 

3*  The  sub-dominant,  which   is  a  fifth   below  the 

tonic,  and  which  carries  a  chord  composed  of  a  third, 

fifth,  and  sixth  major,  the  third  being  either  greater 

or  lesser,  according  as  the  mode  Is  major  or  minor. 

Sub-dominant, 

Major  mode  of  C,         FAG  ^d** 

Minor  mode  of  A,        D  F  A  B. 

These  three  sounds,  the  tonic^  the  tonic  dominant, 

and  the  sub-dominant,  contain  in  their  chords  all  the 

notes  which  enter  into  the  scale  of  the  mode  ;  so  that 

when  a  melodv  is  given,  it   may  almost  always  be 

found  which  of  these  three  sounds  should  be  placed  in* 

tbe  fundamental  bass,  under  any  particular  note  of  the 

.upper  part.     Tet  it  sometimes  happens  that  not  one 

of  these  notes  can  be  used. ,  For  example,  let  it  be 

supposed  that  we  are  in  the  mode  of  C,  and  that  we 

find  in  the  melody  these  two  notes  A  B  in  succession  ^ 

if  we  confine  ourselves  to  place  in  the  fundamental 

bass   one  of  the  three  sounds  C  G  F,  we  shall  find 

nothing  for  tbe  sounds  A  and  B  but  this  fundamental 

bass  F  G ;  now  snch  a  succession  as  F  to  G  is  pro- 
hibited by  the  fifth  role  ibr  the  fundamental  bass,  accord- 
ing to  wUch  every  sub-dominanti  as  F,  shall  rise  by  a 


551 


fifth  ;  so  that  F  can  only  be  followed  by  C  in  the^fgJ^Pj^- 

fundamental  bass,  and  not  by  G.  ^<^ 

To  remedy  this,  tbe  chord  of  the  sub-dominant  F 
A  C  M*  must  be  inverted  into  a  fundamental  chord  of 
the  seventh,  in  this  manner,  D  F  A  ^c%  which  has  been 
called  the  double  employment  (art.  105.)  because  it  is  a 
secondary  manner  of  employing  the  chord  of  the  sob- 
dominant.     By  these  means  we  give  to  the  modulation 

A  B  this  fundamental  bass  D  G ;  which  procedure  ia 
agreeable  to  rules.     See  Ex.  xcvii. 

Here  then  are  four  chords,  C  E  G  'c\  G  B  D  <f^, 
F  A  C  ^d^,  D  F  A  *c^,  which  uiay  be  employed  in  tho 
major  mode  of  C.     We  shall  find  in  like  manner,  for  ' 
the  minor  mode  of  A,  four  cbmrds. 

AC«ea\EG*B*d% 
DFAB,  BD    *fa\ 

And  in^  this  mode  we  sometimes  change  the  last  of 
these  chords  into  B  D  ^f^  a%  substituting  tbe  'f^*  for 
*fl|\  For  instance,  if  we  have  this  melody  in  the  minor 
mode  of  A,  E  Fi)^  G^  A,  we  would  cause  th«  first 
note  £  to  carry  the  perfect  chord  A  C  E  A-,  the  second 
note  Y%  to  cany  the  chord  of  the  seventh  B  D  F^  A  ; 
the  third  note  Gj^,  the  chord  of  the  tonic  dominant  £ 
Gjjtl  B  D,  and  the  last  the  perfect  chord  A  C  £  A. 
See  Ex.  xcviii. 

On  the  contrary,  if  this  melodv  is  given  always  in 
the  minor  mode,  A  A  Gj$  A,  toe  second  A  being- 
syncopated,  it  might  have  the  same  bass  as  the  modular 
tjon  £  F$  G^  Ki  witb  this  difierence  alone,  that  F|| 
might  be  substituted  for  Fj)^  in  the  chord  B  DF^  A^^ 
the  better  to  mark  out  the  minpr  mode.  See  Exam, 
zcix. 

Besides  these  chords  which' we  have  just  mentioned^ 
and  which  may  be  regarded  as  the  principal  chords  of  * 
the  mode,  there  are  still  a  great  many  others  5  ior  ex- 
ample, the  series  of  dominants, 

77777  777T7 

CADGCF        BEADGC, 

which  are  terminated  equally  in  the  tonic  C,  either 
entirely  belong,  or  at  least  may  bcs  reckoned  as  b^ 
longing  (5 1)  to  the  mode  of  C }  because  none  of  these 
dominants  are  tonic  dominants,  except  G,  which  ia 
tbe  tonic  dominant  of  the  mode  of  C ;  and  besides,  be- 
cause tbe  chord  of  each  of  these  dominants  forms  n^- 

other 


(5  h)  All  these  different  manners  of  distngnishing  the  modes- ongbt,  if  we  may  speak  so,  to  give  mntnal  light 
and  assistance  one  to  the  other.  But  it  often  bappens,-  that  one  of  these  signs  idone  is  not  sufficient  to  detemune 
the  mode,  and  may  even  lead  to  error.  For  example,  if  a  piece  or  music  begins  witb  these  three  notes,  £  C  G^ 
we  most  not  with  too  much  precipitation  conclude  from -thence  that  we  are  in  the  major  mode  of  C,  .although 
these  three  sounds,  £  C  G,.  be  the  principal  and  characteristical  sounds  m  the  major  mode  of  C  :  we  may  be  m 
the  minor  mode  of  E,  especially  if  the  note  £  should  be  long. 

(5  i)  I  have  said,  that  they  may  be  reckoned a»  bekt^ing  to  thie  mode^  &t  two  reasons  :  i.  Because,  properly 
speaking,  there  are  only  three  chords  which  essentially  and  primitively  belong  to  the  mode  of  C,  viz.  C  car- 
rying the  perfect  chord,  F  carrymg  that  of  the  sub-dominant,  and  G  that  of  the  tonic  dominant,  to  which  we 
may  join  the  chord  of  the  sevenUi,  D  F  A  C  (art.  105.)  :  but  we  here  regard  as  esttndethhe  series  of  dominants 
in  question,  as  belonging  to  the  mode  of  C,  because  it  preserves  in  the  ear  the  impression  of  that  mode.  2.  In  a 
series  of  dominants,  there  are  a  great  many  of  them  which  likewise  belong  to  other  modes  j  for  instance,  the 
simple  dominant  A  belongs  naturally  to  the  mode  of  G,  the  simple  dominant  B  to  that  of  A,  &c  Thus  it  is 
only  improperly,  and  by  way  of  extension,  as  I  have  already  said,  that  we  regard  here  these  dominants  as  belong 
ing  to  tbe  mode  of  C. 


552 


MUSIC. 


IWtB. 


jltl^ii. 


Piwe^lei  ^her  sounds  th&B  suck  as  belong  to  libe  scale  of  C.  Aee 
of  Comp0-  Ex.  c. 

Bat  if  we  were  to  fbrra  this  fandamental  basSy 

•      7  7  7  7b 
CADGC, 

coofiideriBg  tlie  last  C  as  a  tonic  dominant  in  this  man- 
ner^  C  £  G  Bfe ;  the  mode  would  then  benchanged  at 
the  second  C9  and  we  shonld  enter  into  the  mode  of 
Itt  because  the  chord  C  E  G  Bt^  indicates  the  tonic 
dominant  of  the  mode  of  F;  besides^  it  is  evident  that 
the  mode  is  chanffed,  because  "B^  does  not  belong  to  the 
scale  of  C.    SeeEx.  ci. 

In  the  same  manner,  were  we  to  fonii  this  fundamen- 
tal bass 

*€  A.  »  G  C, 

considering  the  last  C  as  a  sub-dominant  in  this- man* 
ner,  C  £  G  A ;  this  last  C  would  indicate*  the  mode  of 
Of  of  which  C  is  the  suh-^hminafU.    See  Ex.  cii. 

In  like  manner,  still,  if  in  the  fint  aerica  of  dbmi- 
nairtsi,  wacanaed  Uie  first  D  to  carry  the  third  major,  in 
this  maiines,  OFIK  A  '  c^  thisA  havti^B^  become  a  to- 
wdaminaatf  woidd  iignify  to  ns  the  mftjor  mode  of  G, 

and  the  u  which  shonld  follow  it,  cany ing  the  chord 
B  A  *r,  would  relapse  into  the  mode  ofC,  firom  whence 
^we  bad  departed.    See  Ex.  cm. 

'  finally,  in  the  same' manner,  if  in  this  series  of  do- 
minant^ we  should  cause  B  to  cany  F)K  in  this  man- 
ner, B  D  F^  A,  this  F  would  show  that  we  had  de- 
IMirted  from  the  mode  C,  to  enter  into  that  of  G.    See 
^£x.  CIV. 

Hence  St' is  easyto  form  this  tole  for  disborering  the 
•changes  .of  mode  in  the'fundamental  bass. 
Andelbr  i.  VRven^we  find  a  tonic  in  the  fundamental  bass, 
'^'^^l^'  ^^  ***  '^  ^®  mode  of  that  tonic  ;  and  the 'mode  is  ma- 
cha^Mof  y^  ^  minvt  according  as  the  perfect  chord  is  major  or 
-mode* 


1.  When  we  find  a  sub-domiiiant,  we  are  in  the 
mode  of  the  fifth  above  that  aab-doroinant ;  and  theofC«a^ 
'  mode  is  mAJor  or  minor,  according  as  the  third  in  the 
chord  of  the  sub-dominant  is  major  or  minor* 

3.  When  we  find  a  tonic  dominant,  we  are  in  the 
mode  of  the  fifth  below  that  tonic  dominant*  As  the  to- 
nic dominant  carries  always  the  third  major,  it  cannot  be 
aafc^rtained  from  this  dominant  alone,  whether  the  awde 
be  maj6r  or  minor :  but  it  is  only  necessary  to  examine 
the  following  note,'whtch  most  be  the  tonic  of  the  mode 
in  which  he  is  j  by  the  third  rf  this  tonic  it  will  he  dis- 
covered whether  the  mode  be  major  or  minor. 

243.  Every  change  of  the  mode  supposes  a  cadence ; 
and  when  the  mode  changes  in  the  fiuidamental  bass, 
it  is  almost  always  either  after  the  tonic  of  the  mode 
in  ^hich  we  have  been,  or  after  the  tonic  dominant  of 
that  mode,  considered  then  as  a  tonic  by  favoor  of  a 
clofe  which  ought  necessarily  to  be  found  in  that  place : 
Whence  it  -happens  that  cadences  in  a  melody  for  the 
most  part  pfesage  a  change  of  mode  which  ooght  to  fid- 
low  them. 

244.  All  these  rules,  joined  with  the  table  of  modes 
il[faich  wcfaii^e  given  (art.  234.),  will  serve  to  discover 
in  imiat  mode  we  are  in  the  middle  of  a  piece,  especial- 
ly in  the  most  essential  passages,  as  cadences  (5  k). 

Chap.  XIV.  Cftbe  Chromatic  and  Enbarmome. 


245.  Wc  call  that  melody  chromatic  which  is 
posed  of  sevend  notes  in  succession,  whether  nmg  or^ 

•descending  by  seipitones.    See  cr.  and  cvi. 

246.  When  an  air  is  chromatic  in  descending,  theTW 
most  natural  and  ordinary  ftmdamental  bass  is  a  con"*** 
catenated  series  of  tonic  dominants;  all  of  iHbich  fid-|^^ 

*Iow  one  another  in  descending  by  a  fifth,  or,  which  tcnd^ 
is  the  same  thing,  in  rising  by  a  loorth.    See  Ex.  CT.i 

(JL).  •- 

247. 


-f*  » 


li».<a 


{5K)  Two  modes  are  so  nrach  more  tntimately  relative,  as  they  contain  a  greater  number  of  sounds  cornmon 
tb  both  $  fi>r  example,  iSke  miner  mode  of  C  and  the  major  of  G,  or  the  major  mode  of  C  and  the  minor  of  A: 
on  the  contrary,  two  modes  are  less  intimately  relative  ao  the  number  of  sounds  which  they  contain  as  commoa 
to  belli  is  snmner ;  for  instance,  the  major  mode  of  C  and  the  minor  of  B,  Sec. 

When  the  eon^oser,  led  away  by  the  current  of  die  modnlatioir,  that  is  to  any,  by  the  nanaer  in  which  the 
fundamental  bass  is  cooititoled,  into  k  modie  remote  from  that  k  iriiich  the  piece  w«s  begun,  he  ooght  to  cna- 
time  in  it  but  for  a  short  time,  because  the  ear  is  always  impatient  to  return  to  the  former  mode. 

(i  O  ^^  °^y  likewise  nve  to  a  chromatic  melody  m  descending,  a  ftmdamental  bass,  into  which  may  enter 
chords  of  the  seventh  and  of  the  diminished  seventh,  which  may  succeed  one  another  by  the  intervals  oTa  Use 
-fifth  a«d  n  fiflli  redundant :  thua  in  the  Example  eviz.  wiiere  Ine  centinned  baas  duacunds  chreomttcaHy,  it  mf 
oasUy  be  seen  that  the  fmidsiwtsi  bass  caifws  swosaiively  the  dioids  of  Uie  seventh  atnd  of  the  sevoith  disDH 
nished,  and  that  w  this  hasa  then  as  a  fidae  fifth  hma  D  to  G»,  and  a  fifth  redundant  from  G«  to  C. 

The  neaaonof  this  licence  is,  as  it  nppeaia  to  ns,  hecaian  the  ohend  of  the  diminished  aeveoth  may  heco^ 
sideoed  an  rapieeentinf  (art.  Ml.)  the  ehopd  of  tha.  tmae  dbminant^  in  anch  a  manner  thai  tUs  k 
bass 

a]2gscfkbea 

(see  Example  cviii.)  may  ha  considered  as  x^cesenting  (art.  116.)  that  which  is  written  below. 


ADe2]?»B£A. 
Now  this  last  fnadanieaial  baa»  is  fwmed  aoesedinr  to  the 


that  there  ia  n  hakm 


* 


dence  from  D  to  E^  and  tn  intermpted  cadence  firom  £  to  C,  which  are  licensee  (art.  213*  and  2i4») 

3 


\ 


J 


>       v 


^^ 


^ 


C    D    EF     G    A      Be 


Music. 


PL.ITE  ccc/jr. 


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d      e       f      g 

; 
G    C     F    C 


D    G 


C 

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d       ^f      S       ^       he      d       fj      g 


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Music. 


I^LATE  CCCLV 


Fig.l. 


Fig.  P. 


Tenor  Line 


n 


■n± 


ss^ 


O  O  ^  '*^      lenof  Line. 


Fig.  S. 


-©-Tenor  C 


Fig.  4. 


^ 


Fiff.J. 


Tnible  Cleff 
Tenor  Clc{f; 
Bass  Cleff  5« 


ai 


Fig.  <$". 


1 


^z:± 


Fig.  L2. 


Seinibreve.    Minima.     Crotchets.       Quavers.  Semiqaavers • 

Fig.  L3.  Fiff.  14. 


DemiseiniquaTers . 


Fig.  L5. 


Fig.  yi. 


cquivakat     t 

_^ig.  i;. 


Rests  of  several  Bars. 


Fig.  18.  Rests.  

■    P  ■  B  ^  M  1  4-q   IM    II   ■   II  -   II  ■■   II  ■■■  II 


Sctnibrcve  )  IVGn.Rest  Crot.Rest  Quav.Rest  Semiq.Rcst  Demis.Rest  2  Bar  Rest  3  Bar  Rest  4  Bar  Rest  S  Bar  Rest, 
or  Bar  Rent)  ; 


•        ^     .    •- 


J 


Music. 


PUrE  CCCL17. 


Fig.  1. 


FiV.  2. 


'ifJiLfx/in 


Fig.  3. 


Fig.  4. 


Fig.  S. 


Y'\9.^. 


firuJJJi^Jnj., 


Fig.U. 


Fi?.  \2. 


Kig.  1«3.  Fau8e,,i^. 


Fig.  14. 


f'Vrr-i^rf'r'J^^''^*^-"i*'J"^'^^'=^ 


*c/ Repeat 


Direct 


Fig.  \€. 


Fig  i; 


Fiff.  18. 


iJjjJ^iiyJrrrt^^ 


Fig.  ly 


^■^^^MttvArV^iv 


•  IV'!  / 


*v 


•  '     • ..  -.^ 


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<  *    - 


JI-\. 


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.    '    -    "-     H 


a 


X  7 

1 


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Music. 


PLATE  CCCLVir. 


Cx.I. 


XXXIII. 


XXXIV. 


XXXV. 


XXXVI. 


XXXVII.      xxxvni.     XXXIX. 


XLI. 


XL  II. 


XLIII. 


XLIV. 


XLV. 


XLVI. 


IP-jl    ll'>'0-'llol|->'fi-1ln    IPvl 


m 


^1 


Ferlect  Cadlence.  Imperfect  Cadence. 


Perf.  Cad. 


Imperf.  Cad. 


Music. 


XLVII. 


XLVIII. 


XLIX. 


pum  cccunr. 

LI. 


Diss,  prepared.  Diss.  prep. 

LIII.  LIV.  I     LV 


Diss. 


prep. 


j%i^'^pift^ 


LVIl.       _LVIII. 


i 


Diss,  resolved.  Diss,  res? 


Diss,  res? 


Continued  Bass. 


i 


m 


-a. 


i 


s 


i 


LIX. 


LX. 


LXI. 


.LXIl. 


LXIII.        LXIV.         LXV. 


f\ind.  Bass. 


LXVI. 


O     "  - 


Fund.  Bass. 


LXIX. 


Fund.  Bass. 


•  • 


r 


■J 


•t  - 

r  ' 


it 


\ 


t  : 


V  . 


.1 


Music. 


LXX. 


LXXI. 


PLdTE  CCCLU: 


LXXU. 


Fund.  Bass. 


LXXIII. 


LXXIV. 


LXXV. 


LXXVI.  LXXVII.  LXXVIII. 


114  §  "J  H 


Cont.  Baas. 


'>'   ,.l  '1   rj    I  ^  B 


6  T     7 

^3 


7    7 


1  ip'i'l  IP  "  ig 


7 i 

>■■        '■'        ■    ■'>!      =^ 


i 


I 


Fund.  Bass. 


LXXIX. 


LXXX.  LXXXI.  LXXXII. 


LXXXIII. 


LXXXIV. 


# 


II  j!§'  ■jj^ii  II 


4  or 


l5or^ 


"'"'■'      "'"■■      ll'>'.l*fl-ll"M   'll*f,H|.>.l:     II 


f)l  l-i 


I 


m 


i 


£ 


\ 


LI'   g 


II'MjImP.I  JljJll'*-''  II 


\ 

% 


Music. 


PLATE  CCCLX. 


LXXXV.  LXXXVI.       LXXXyil.        LXXXVni.     LXXXIX.  XC. Diatonic  Modulation. 


I 


I 


i 


f 


1^ 


7  J         7   ^f 


M       11/^:  In     ■■/>:»>..      \\iv.  t(\     \\ivt^\     11  i>:  .  |it'.|   I  ^n^ 


I 


m 


XCI. 


XCII. 


XCIII. 


XCIV.    Major  Scaiea. 


3.of  D, 


,4.of  A. 


5.  of  F. 


6.o£  B. 


7.o£F#. 


8.  of  Db. 


9.  of  A  t^. 


lO.of  eK 


11.  of  Bb. 


l2.of  F. 


AiiH^rprfrriiAV|iii||||||ji',|||rrrfiij!bijj^rr^^' 


Music. 


PMTE  CCCLM 


xcv. 


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CV.  Chromatic  Modulation  descending. 


CVI.  Chromatic  Modulation  ascending. 


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Fund.  Bass. 


ex.    Canon  in  the  Fourth. 


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pncdied. 


M    U    S 

« 

247.  When  tbe  air  is  chromatic  in  a«c«iidii)g,  oae 
nay  form  a  fimdaiBeKtal  bass  by  a  series  of  tonka  aad 
of  tonic  ^uunaats,  nvbicb  tocceed  one  another  alter- 
nately  by  the  interval  of  a  third  in  desoeoding,  and  of 
»  fimrtb  in  ascending,  (see  £x.  cvi.)-  There  are  many 
other  way«  of  forming  a  chromatic  air,  whethiBr  in 
rising  or  descending  ^  bot  these  deiaik  in  as  ebmeii- 
taiy  essay  are  by  no  means  necessary. 

248.  The  enharmonic  is  very  rarely  pot  vn  practice} 
and  we  have  explained  its  formation  in  the  first  book, 
to  which  we  refer  our  readers. 


SeeJDMjpi.      Chap.  XV.  Of  -Design,  Imkation^  and  Fugue. 


whtt. 


Sec  Jmi- 


249.  In  music,  the  name  of  design^  or  subject^  is  ge- 
nerally given  to  a  particular  air  or  melody,  which  the 
composer  intends  should  prevail  throngb  the  piece  j 
whether  it  is  intended  to  express  the  meaning  of  words 
to  which  it  may  be  set,  or  merely  inspired  by  the  im* 

Sulse  of  taste  and  fancy.  In  this  last  case,  design  is 
istinguished  into  imitation  sld6  Jvgue. 
150.  Imitation  consists  in  causing  to  be  repeated  the 
melody  of  one  or  several  mea«urcs  in  one  single  part, 
or  in  the  whole  harmony,  and  in  any  of  the  various 
modes  that  may  be  chosen.  When  all  the  parts  abso- 
*  See  Air,  lutely  repeat  the  same  air  *  or  melody,  and  beginning 
one  after  the  other,  this  is  called  »  canon  (j^i). 

Fugue  consists  in  altemately  repeating  that  air  in 
treble,  and  in  the  bass,  or  even  in  all  the  parts,  if  there 
are  more  than  two. 

Vol.  XIV.  Part  II.  t 


JmiUtioii, 
what. 


Ftigiu. 


I    C.  553 

251.  Imitation  and  fugue  are  sometimes  conducted  Principal 
by  rules  merely  deducible  fiom  taste,  which  may  be  ©f  C<«po. 
seen  in  the  332d  and  following  pages  of  M.  Kameau^s.    "**^-  , 
TrtaUet  on  Harmony  ;  where  will  likewise  be  found  a  principal 
detail  of  die  rales  ktt  oomposkion  in  several  parts,  rnlei  for 
The  chief  rules  fitr  composition  in  several  parts  are,  compound 
that  the  discords  should  be  feand,  as  much  as  possible,  ^'^^<|^^^^ 
prepared  and  resolved  in  the  same  part^  that  adis-^ 
cord  shmdd  not  be  heard  at  the  same  time  in  several 
parts,  because  its  harshness  would  disgust  the  ear; 
and  that  in  no  particular  part  there  should  be  found 
two  octaves  or  two  fifths  in  succession  (5N)  with  re- 
spect io  the  bass.     Musicians,  however,  do  not  hesitate 
semetines  to  violate  this  precept,  when  taste  or  occa- 
aon  rof  oire.     In  masic,  as  in  all  the  other  fine  arts,  it 
15  the  buMCBS  of  the  artist  to  assign  and  to  observe 
rules  J  and  the  jn^vinoe  of  men  of  taste  and  genius  to 
find  exceptions. 


APPENDIX. 

The  treatise  of  D^  Alembert  is  well  entitled  to  the  me* 
rit  of  accuracy  \  but  perhaps  a  person  who  has  not  par- 
ticularly studied  the  subject,  may  find  difficulty  in  fol- 
lowing the  scientific  deductions  of  that  author.— We 
subjoin,  therefore,  a  few  general  observations  on  the 
philosophy  of  musical  sound,  commonly  called  hanmh' 
nics^  which  may  perhaps  convey  the  full  portion  of 
knowledge  of  the  theory  of  music,  with  which  one  in 

4  A  search 


(5  m)  Compositions  in  strict  canon,  where  one  part  begins  with  a  certain  subject,  and  the  other  parts  are 
bound  to  repeat  the  very  same  subject,  or  the  reply,  as  it  is  called,  in  the  unison,  fifth,  fourth,  or  octave,  de- 
pend on  the  following  rules,  which  are  nothing  more  than  a  summary  of  the  system  exphuned  by  our  aa« 
thor. 

1.  The  chords  to  be  employed  are  the  tonic,  and  its  two  adjuncts;  the  suhdominant,  susceptible  of  an  added 
sixth,  and  the  dooMoant,  susceptible  of  an  added  seventh. 

2.  The  subject  must  begin  in  the  harmony  of  the  tonic,  and  as  the  fundamental  progression  from  the  domi- 
nant to  the  suhdominant  is  not  permitted  (art.  33,  36.x  the  suhdominant  most  fellow  the  tonic,  and  the  dominant 
the  suhdominant,  thus, 

C,  F,  G,  C,  ]?,  G,  C,  &c. 

3.  As  the  diatonic  scale  consists  of  two  tetrachords,  of  wbich  the  first  is  also  the  second  tetracbord  of  the 
mode  of  the  sub-dominant,  and  the  second  the  first  tetracbord  of  the  dominant ;  sp,  in  canon,  when  the  rtply  Is 
meant  to  be  in  the  mode  of  the  dominant,  the  subject  must  be  in  the  firht  tetracbord  of  the  tonic,  bj  wliicli  means 
the  corresponding  first  tetracbord  of  the  dominant  being  the  second  tetracbord  of  the  tonic,  the  whole  piece  is 
truly  in  that  mode.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  reply  is  to  be  in  the  mode  of  the  sub-dominant,  the  subject  niutjt 
be  in  the  second  tetracbord  of  the  tonic,  the  corresponding  tetracbord  of  the  sub- dominant  being  the  first  tetra- 
cbord of  the  tonic,  and  the  mode  of  the  tonic  behig  thus  preserved. 

4.  For  the  same  reason,  where  the  reply  is  In  the  dominant,  the  subject  is  only  allowed  to  modulate  into* 
the  mode  of  the  sub- dominant,  and  the  reply  of  course  into  that  of  the  tonic  And  where  the  reply  is  in  the 
dominant,  the  subject  is  to  modulate  only  into  the  mode  of  the  sub  dominant,  the  reply  following  of  course 
into  that  of  the  tonic.  Were  the  contrary  modulation  permitted,  the  reply  would  depart  too  far  from  the  mode 
of  the  tonic. 

Lastkf^  When  the  reply  is  to  be  in  the  mode  of  the  dominant,  it  must  commence  in  the  measure  bearing  that 
harmony  \  and  in  the  same  way,  the  reply  in  the  sub-domioant  must  begin  in  the  measure  wbich  bean*  the  har- 
mony of  the  sub-dominant. 

If  thefte  rules  be  observed,  and  due  attention  paid  to  the  preparation  and  resolution  of  dissonances,  composition 
in  strict  canon,  in  any  number  of  parts,  will  be  found  to  be  by  no  means  di£BcuIt.     Ste  Ex.  cix.  and  ex. 

(5  N)  Yet  there  may  be  two  fifths  in  succession,  provided  the  parts  move  in  contrary  directions,  or,  in  other 
words,  if  the  progress  of  one  part  be  ascending,  and  the  other  de<-cending;  but  in  this  caf:c  tb^y  are  not  properly 
two  fifths,  tliev  are  a  fifth  and  a  twelfth  :  for  example,  if  one  of  tbe  parts  in  descending  should  sound  F  D,  aod 
the  other  'c  a^  in  Tmug^  C  is  the  fifth  of  F,  and  'a^  the  twelfth  ol  D. 


tionson 
Bumonici. 


554  M    U 

Gtnenl  aearch  only  of  general  informatioo,  and  not  a  professed 
ObMTy^  student  of  this  particnlar  science,  would  choose  to  rest 
satisfied. 

The  theory  of  musical  sound,  which  only  in  the  be« 
ginning  of  the  present  century  was  ultimately  establish- 
ed by  mathematical  demonstration,  is  no  other  than  that 
which  distinguished  the  ancient  musical  sect  who  fol- 
lowed the  opinions  of  Pythagoras  on  that  subject. 

No  part  of  natural  philosophy  has  been  more  fruit- 
ful of  hypothesis  than  that  of  which  musical  sound  is  the 
object.  The  musical  speculators  of  Greece  arranged 
themselves  into  a  great  number  of  sects,  the  chief  of 
whom  were  the  Pythagoreans  and  the  Aristoxenians. 

Pythagoras  supposed  the  air  to  be  the  vehicle  of 
sound}  and  the  agitation  of  that  element,  occasioned 
by  a  similar  agitation  in  the  parts  of  the  sounding  body, 
to  be  the  cause  of  it.  The  vibrations  of  a  string  or 
other  sonorous  body,  being  communicated  to.  the  air, 
affected  the  auditory  nerves  with  the  sensation  of  sound  \ 
and  this  sound,  he  argued,  was  acute  or  grave  in  pro- 
portion as  the  vibrations  were  quick  or  slow.— He  dis- 
covered by  experiment,  that  of  two  strings  equal  in 
every  thing  but  length,  the  shorter  made  the  quicker 
vibrations,  and  emitted  the  acuter  sound :  in  other 
words,  that  the  number  of  vibrations  made  in  the  same 
time  by  two  strings  of  different  lengths,  was  inversely 
as  those  lengths  ^  that  is,  the  greater  the  length  the 
smaller  the  number  of  vibrations  in  any  given  time. 
Thus  sound,  considered  in  the  vibrations  that  cause  it, 
and  the  dimensions  of  the  vibrating  body,  came  to  be 
reduced  to  quantity,  and  as  such  was  the  subject  of  cal- 
culation, and  exDfessible  by  numbers.*-For  instance^ 
the  two  sounds  (nat  form  an  octave  could  be  expressed 
by  the  numbers  I  and  2,  which  would  represent  either 
the  number  of  vibrations  in  a  given  time,  or  the  length 
of  the  strings  \  and  would  mean  that  the  acuter  sound 
vibrates  iWice,  while  the  graver  vibrates  once  ;  or  that 
the  stril^g  producing  the  lower  sound  is  twice  the 
length  of  that  which  gives  the  higher.  If  the  vibra- 
tions Were  considered,  the  higher  sound,  was  as^ri,  the 
lower  as  I  }  the  reverse,  if  the  length  was  alluded  to. 
In  ibe  same  manner,  in  the  same  sense,  the  jth  would 
be  expressed  by  the  ratio  of  2  to  3,  and  the  4th  by  that 
of  3  to  4* 

Aristoxenes,  \tk  opposition  to  the  calculations  of  Fy* 
tdngoras,  held  the  ear  to  be  the  sole  standard  of  musi- 
tA  proportions.  That  sense  he  accounted  sufficiently 
^urate  for  musical,  though  not  for  mathematical  pur- 
poses ;  and  it  was  in  his  opinion  absurd  to  aim  at  an 
artificial  accuracy  in  gratifying  the  ear  beyond  its  own 
power  of  distinction*    He,  therefore,  rejected  the  velo- 


S    I    C.  Appendix. 

cities,  vibrktioDS,  and  proportions  of  Pythagoras,  as  Gaad 
foreign  to  the  subject,  in  so  far  as  they  substitnled  OhMm* 
abstract  causes  in  the  room  of  experience^  and  nade^ 
music  the  object  of  intellect  rather  than  4»f  sense. 

Of  late,  however,  as  has  been  already  mentioned, 
the  opinions  of  Pythagoras  have  been  confirmed  by  ab> 
solute  demonstration  j  and  the  following  propositions,  in 
relation  to  musical  sound,  have  passed  from  conjecture 
to  certainty. 

Sound  is  generated  by  the  vibrationaof  elastic  bodies, 
which  communicate  the  like  vibrations  to-  the  air,  and 
these  again  the  like  to  our  organs  of  hearing.  This  is 
evident,  because  sounding  homes  communicate  tremors 
to  other  bodies  at  a  distance  from  them.  The  vibrating 
motion,  for  instance,  of  a  musical  string,  excites  motioa 
in  others,  whose  tension  and  quantity  of  matter  dispose 
their  vibrations  to  keep  time  with  the  undulations  of  air 
propagated  from  it  (the  string  first  set  in  motion). 

if  the  vibrations  be  isochronous,  and  the  sound  musi- 
'  cal,  continuing  at  the  same  pitch,  it  is  said  to  be  acater, 
sharper,  or  higher,  than  any  other  sound  whose  vibra- 
tions are  slower  ^  and  graver,  flatter,  or  lower,  than 
any  other  whose  vibrations  are  quicker.— -For  while  a 
musical  string  vibrates,  its  vibrations  become  quicker 
by  increasing  its  tension  or  diminishing  its  length  \  its 
sound  at  the  same  time  will  be  more  acute :  and,  00 
the  contrary,  by  diminishine  its  tension  or  increasing 
its  length,  the  vibrations  will  become  slower  and  the 
sound  graver.  The  like  alteration  of  the  pitdr  of  the 
sound  will  follow,  by  applying,  by  means  of  a  weight, 
an  equal  degree  of  tension  to  a  thicker  or  heavier  and 
to  a  smaller  or  lighter  string,  both  of  the  same  length, 
as  in  the  smaller  string  the  mass  of  matter  to  be  moved 
by  the  same  force  is  less. 

If  several  strings,  however,  di&rent  in  length,  density, 
and  tension,vibrate  altogether  in  equal  times,  their  sosads 
will  have  all  one  and  the  same  pitch,  however  they  may 
differ  in  loudness  or  other  qualities*— They  are  called 
unisons*    The  vibrations  of  unisons  are  isochronous. 

The  vibrations  of  a  musical  string,  whether  wider  or 
narrower,  are  nearly  *  isochronous.  Otherwise,  while 
the  vibrations  decrease  in  breadth  till  they  cease,  the 
pitch  of  the  sound  could  not  continue  the  same  (which 
we  |)erceive  by  experience  it  does),  unless  where  the 
first  vibrations  are  made  very  violently  j  in  which  case, 
tlie  sound  is  a  little  acuter  at  the  beginning  than  after- 
wards. 

Lastly,  The  word  vibration  is  understood  to  mean 
the  time  which  passes  between  the  departure  of  the  vi- 
brating body  from  any  assigned  place  and  its  return  to 
the  same. 


M    U    S 

MuMc,  GlanS'Music.  See  Harmonica. 
Masimon.  MUSIMON,  in  Natural  History^  the  name  of  an 
animal  esteemed  a  species  of  sheep,  described  by  the 
ancients  as  common  in'  Corsica,  Sardinia,  Barbary, 
and  the  north-east  parts  of  Asia.  It  has  been  doubted 
whether  the  animal  described  under  this  name  is  now 
any  where  to  be  found  in  the  world ;  and  whether  it 
was  not  probably  a  spurious  breed  between  two  ani- 
mals of  different  species,  perhaps  the  sheep  and  goat. 


M    U    S 

which,  like  the  mule,  not  being  able  to  propagate  its 
species,  the  production  of  them  may  have  been  disconti- 
nued. 

Buffon  supposes  it  to  be  the  sheep  in  a  wild  state  \ 
and  it  is  described  as  such  by  Mr  Pennant.  These 
animals  live  in  the  mountains,  and  run  with  great 
swiftness  among  the  rocks,  lliose  of  Kamtschatka 
are  so  strong,  that  10  men  can  scarce  hold  onej  asd 
the  horns  are  so  large  as  sometimes  to  weigli  30  pooa^ 

asd 


M    U    S 


C    555    1 


M    U    T 


UtumoB  &nil  so  capacious  tbat  young  foxes  often  sWItcr  them- 
H        selves  in  the  hollow  ot  such  as  by  accident  fall  oil'  in 
MyffiiliBaa.^e  deserts. 

MUSIVUM  AURUM.    See  Chemistry,  N«  1806. 

MUb>K,  a  very  strooff  scented  sabstance,  found  in  a 
bag  under  the  belly  01  a  species  of  noschus.  See 
MoscHus,  Mammalia  Index*  And  for  an  account 
of  the  nature  and  properties  of  muski  see  ^f  ateria 
MfDiCA  Jmlex. 

MusK^Attimtd,  SeeMoscHUS,! 

Mush  Ox.    See  Bos,  >  Mammalia  Index* 

Musk  Rat,    See  Castor,      j 

MUSKET,  or  Musciuet,  properly  a  fire-arm  borne 
on  the  shoulder,  and  .used  in  war  \  to  be  fired  by  the 
applicadoD  of  a  lighted  match. 

The  length  of -the  barrel  is  fixed  to  three  feet  eight 
inches  from  the  muttle  to  the  toucb-pan^  ^nd  its  bore 
is  to  be  sach  as  may  receive  a  bullet  of  14  in  a  pound, 
And  its  diameter  differs  not  above  one  50th  part  Ifom 
4hat  of  tbe  bullet. 

Muskets  were  anciently  borne  in  the  field  by  the 
Mifiuitry,  and  were  used  in  England  so  lately  as.  the  be- 
^ioniog  of  the  civil  wars.  At  present  they  are  little 
used,  except  in  the  defence  of  places  \  fusees  or  fire- 
locks havin((  taken  their  place  and  name. 

MUSKETOON,  a  kind  of  short  thick  musket, 
.whose  bore  .  is  the  38th  part  of  its  length  y  it  carries 
five  ounces  of  iron,  or  seven  and  a  half  of  lead,  with  an 
equal  quantity  of  powder*  This  is  the  shortest  kind 
of  blunderbuHses. 


MUST,  MrsTUM,  sweet  wine  newly  pressed  from  Mnsfnlinaa 
the  grape ;  or  the  new  liquor  pressed  from  tbe  fruit  be-         | 
fore  it  is  fermented.     See  Wine.  MuUUtioB. 

MUSTARD.    See  Sinapi,  Botany  Index.  ^"-'  v    "' 

Mustard  Seed,  For  an  account  of  its  medical  qua- 
lities, see  Materia  Medica  Index, 

MUSTELA,  the  Otter  and  AVeaselj  a  genus 
of  quadrupeds  of  the  order  of  ferse.  See  Mammalia 
Index, 

MUSTER,  in  a  military  sense,  a  review  of  troops 
under  arms,  to  see  if  they  be  complete  and  in  good 
order  J  to  take  an  account  of  their  numbers,  the  con- 
dition they  are  in^  viewing  their  arms  and  accoutre^ 
monts,  Sec. 

MusTBR-MmteT'general^  or  Ctmrnissary-general  of 
the  Musters;  one  who  takes  account  of  every  regi- 
ment, their  number,  horses,  arms,  &c.  reviews  them, 
sees  the  hones  be  well  mounted,  and  all  the  men  well 
armed  and  accoutced,  &c. 

Mu8TSR'jRo/iSf  lists  of  soldiers  in  each  company, 
troop,  or  regiment,  by  which  they  are  paid,  and  the 
strength  of  the  army  is  known. 

MUTABIJLITY  is  opposed  to  immutability.  See 
Immutabimtt. 

MUTATION,  the  act  of  changing,  or  sometimes 
tbe  change  itself. 

Mutation,  in  the  ancient  music,  is  applied  to  the 
chaBffos.or  alterations  that  happen  in  the.prder  of  the 
sounds  which  conipose  the  melody.  "" 

MUTATIONESf  among  the  Romans,  post  stages 


MUSLIN,, a- fine  sort  of  cotton  cloth,  which  bears  a    .i»'  places  yrhere  the  public  couriers  were  supplied  with 


doivof  knot  on  its  surface.  There  lare  several  sorts  of 
nmslins  brou^t  from  the  East  Indies,  and  more  parti- 
cularly from  Bengal ;  such  as  doreas,  betelles,  mulmula, 
caajecbs,  &c.  ^iuslln  is  now  manufactured  in  Britaiq, 
and  brought  to  very  great  perfection 


MUSQUETOE.  See  Culex,  Entomology  Index.    .^ int. 


fresh  horses,— The  mutatvmes  were  wholly  designed 
for  the  use  pf  these  couriers,  or  laaessengeis  of  state  \  ia 
which  xespect  they  differ  fit>qi  mansiones. 

MUXCHKIN,  a  liquid  loeasure  used  in  Scotland  \ 
it  contains  four  gills,  and. is  the  fourth  part  of  a  Scotcb 


MUSSULMAN,  or  Mustlman,  a  title  bv  which 
the  Mahometans  distinguish  themselves  j  signimng,  in 
the  Turkish  language,  *'  true  believer,  or  orthodox.'* 
See  Mahometanism. 

\ltk  Arabic,  the  word  is  written  Moslem^  Mosteman^ 
«r  Moaolman.  The  appellation  was  first  given  to  tbe 
Saracens,  as  is  observed  by  Leunclavius^-^There  are 
two  kinds  of  Mussulmans,  very  averse  to  ^acli.  other  \ 
the  one  called  Skmmtes^  and  the  other  .£AitVe#.— The 


MUTE,  in  a  general  sense,  signifies  a  person  that 
cannot  speak,  or  has  not  tbe  use  of  speech. 

.  Mute,  in.iaw^  a,person  that  stands  dumb  or  speech- 
Jess  wbenhe  ought  .to  answer^  or  to  plead.  See  Ar- 
raignment. 

Mute,  in  (xramfnar^  a  letter  which  yields  no  sound 
without  the  addition  of  .a  vowel.  The  simple  conso- 
nants are  distinguished  into  mutes  and  liquids,  or 
semivowels.     See  the  articles  Consonant,  Li(^uid, 


Sonnites  follow   the   interpretation    of    the    Alcoran  ^Silc. 

giiren  by  Omar  \  the  Shiites  are  the  followers  of  Ali.  The  mutes  in  the  Greek  alphabet  are  nine,  three  of 

The  subjects  of  the  king  of  Persia  are  Shiites )  and  which,  viz.  «*,  »,  r,  are  termed  tenues  \  three  /9,  y,  }, 

those  of  the  grand  signior,  Sonnites.     See  Sonna,  and  /termed  media;  and  three  ^,  ;^,  I,  termed  aspv^ata. 


AiX:ORAN. 

According  to  some  authors  the.  word  Mussulman  sig- 
nifies  savedf  that  is,  predestinated :  und.  hence  the  Ma* 
hooietaas  give,  themselves  the  appellation,  as  believe 
ing  they  are  all  predestinated  te  salvation.-— Marti- 
niiis  is  more  particular  as  to  the  origin  of  the  name  ; 
which  he  derives  from  the  Arabic  pVoo  musalem^ 
**  saved,  snatched  out  of  danger  :**  the  Mahometans, 
he  observes,  establishing  their  religion  by  fire  .and 
sword,  massacred  all  those  who  ^would  not  embrace  it, 
and  granted  life  to 'all  that  did,  calling  them  Mussui- 
mamSf  q.  ^.  rerepti .  i  periculo  ;  «vhenoe  the  word,  \fi 
course  of  time,  became  tbe  distinguishing  title  of  a)l 
those  of  that  sect,  who  have  affixed  to  it  the  significa- 
tion of  tnte  ieUfwrt. 


See* the  article  Aspirate,  &c. 

The  mutes  of  tbe  Latin  alphabet  are  also  nine,  viz. 
B,.C,  D,  G.  I,  K,  P.  Q,  T, 

MUTILATION,  the  retrenching  or  cutting  away 
anymcmber  of  the  body. 

This  word  is  also  extended  to  statues  and  buildings, 
where  any  part  is  wanting,  or  the  projecture  of  any 
member,  as  a  cornice  or  an  impost,  is  broken  off.  It 
is  sometimes  also  used  in  a  more  immediate  manner 
for  castration :  (See  Castration  and  Eunuch).  The 
practice  of  this  sort  of  mutilation  is  of  various  kinds : 
the  Hottentots  are  said  to  cut  away  one  testicle  from 
their  children  upon  supposition  that  they  are  thereby 
made  lighter  and  more  active  for  running.  In  other 
countries,  poor  people  completely  mutilate  their  boys, 

4  A  2  to 


M    U    T 


[    S 


Mutilation  to  prevent  the  misery  and  want  which  would  attend 
II,  their  oflFspring.  Those  who  have  nothing  in  view  but 
Mutina.  ^|,^  improvement  of  a  vain  talent,  or  the  formation  of 
a  voice  which  dbfigares  nature,  as  was  the  case  for- 
merly in  Italy,  are  contented  with  cutting  away  the 
testicles.  But  in'  some  countries  of  Asia,  especially 
among  the  Turks,  and  in  a  part  of  Africa,  those  whom 
jealousy  inspires  with  distrust  would  aot  think  tlieir  wives 
safe  in  the  custody  of  such  eimochs  :  They  employ  no 
slaves  in  their  seraglios  who  have  not  been  deprived  of 
all  the  external  parts  of  generation* 

Amputation  is  not  the  only  means  of  accomplishing 
this  end.  For/nerly,  the  growth  of  the  testicles  was 
prevented,  and  their  organization  destroyed  by  simple 
rubbing,  while  the  child  was  put  into  a  warm  bath 
made  of  a  decoction  of  plants.  Some  pretend  that  by 
thi.s  species  of  castration  the  life  is  in  no  danger.  Am- 
putation of  the  testicles  is  not  attended  with  much 
danger  *,  but  complete  amputation  of  the  external  parts 
of  generation  is  often  fatal.  This  operation  can  only 
be  performed  on  children  from  seven  to  ten  years  of 
age.  Eunuchs  of  this  kind,  owing  to  the  danger  at- 
tending the  operation,  cost  in  Turkey  five  or  six  tiroes 
more  than  others.  Chardin  relates,  that  this  operation 
is  so  painful  and  dangerous  after  1 5  years  of  age,  that 
hardly  a  fourth  part  of  those  by  whom  it  is  undergone 
e5cape  with  life.  Pietro  della  VaiUj  on  the  contrary, 
informs  us,  that  in  Persia  thdse  who  suffer  this  cruel  and 
dangerous  operation  as  a  punishment  for  rapes  and  other 
crimes  of  this  kind,  are  easily  cured  though  far  ad- 
vanced in  life  ^  and  that  nothing  but  aslies  is  applie<I  to 
the  wound. 

Tliere  are  eunuchs  at  Constantinople,  throughout 
all  Turkey,  and  in  Persia,  of  a  gray  complexion  :  they 
come  for  the  most  part  from  the  kingdom  of  Gol- 
conda,  the  peninsula  on  this  side  the  Ganges,  the  king- 
doms of  Assan,  Aracan,  Pegu,  and  Malabar.  Those 
from  the  gulf  of  Bengal  are  of  an  olive  colour.  There 
are  some  white  eunuchs  who  come  from  Georgia  and 
Circassia,  but  their  number  is  small.  The  black  eu- 
nuchs' come  firom  Alrtca,  and  especially  from  Ethiopia. 
These,  in  proportion  to  their  horrible  appearance,  are 
the  more  esteemed  and  cost  dearer.  It  appears  that 
a  very  considerable  trade  is  carried  on  in  this  species  of 
men  ^  for  Tavern ier  informs  us,  that  when  he  was  in 
the  kingdom  of  Golconda,  in  the  year  1657,  22,000 
eunuchs  were  made  it  it.  In  that  country  they  are 
sold  at  the  fairs. 

The  object  of  improving  the  voice  by  means  of  this 
species  of  mutilation,  it  is  said,  often  fails ;  for  of  2000 
victims  to  the  luxury  and  extravagant  caprices  of  the 
art,  hardly  three  are  found  who  unite  good  talents  with 
good  organs.  The  other  languishing  and  inactive 
wretches  are,  in  some  m^urc,  outcasts  from  both  sexes, 
and  paralytic  members  in  the  community.  But  let  us 
pay  the  tribute  which  is  due  to  that  virtuous  pontiff 
Pope  Clement  VII I.  who,  listening  to  the  voice  of 
modesty  and  humanity,  proscribed  and  abolished  this 
detestable  and  infamous  practice.  Mutilation,  he 
declared  was  the  roost  abominable  and  disgraceful  of 
crimes. 

MUTILLA,  a  genus  of  insects  belonging  to  the  or- 
der of  hrmenoptera.     See  Entomology  Index, 

MUTINA,  in  Ancient  Geography ^  a  noble  city  of  the 
Cispadana,  made  a  Romaa  colony  in  the  same  year  with 

1 


5^    ]  M    U    T 

Parma,  situated  between  the  rivers  Gabellos  and  ScoU 
tenna,  on  the  Via  Emilia.  Here  D.  Bmtos  being  be- 
sieged by  Antony,  was  relieved  by  the  consuls  Hiitiui 
and  Pansa.  The  Greeks  called  it  Mutine;  except  Po- 
lybius,  in  whom  il  is  Motine  ;  and  in  Ptolemy  Mutina^ 
after  the  Roman  Inamiet. — Now  Modena^  a  city  of 
Lombardy,  and  capital  of  a  cognominal  duchy.  E. 
Long.  1 1.  20.  N.  Lat.  44.  45. 

MUTINY,  in  a  military  sense,  to  rise  against  aotho- 
rity.— '*  Any  officer  or  soldier  who  shall  presume  to  use 
traiterous  or  disrespectful  words  against  the  sacred  per* 
son  of  his  majesty,  or  of  the  royal  family,  is  guilty 
of  mutiny. 

'*  Any  officer  or  soldier  who  shall  behave  himsetf 
with  contempt  or  disrespect  towards  the  general  or 
other  commander  in  chief  of  our  forces,  or  aball  speak 
^ords  tending  to  their  hurt  or  dishonour,  is  guilty  of 
mdtiny. 

**  Any  officer  or  soldier  who  shall  begin,  excite,  caase, 
or  join  m,  any  mutiny  or  sedition,  in  the  troop,  cooi- 
pany,  or  regiment,  to  which  he  belongs,  or  in  any  otiier 
troop  or  company  in  our  service,  or  in  any  party,  post, 
detachment,  or  guard,  on  any  pretence  whatsoever,  is 
guilty  of  mutiny. 

**  Any  officer  or  soldier  who,  being  present  at  any 
mutiny  or  sedition,  does  not  use  his  utmost  endeavoois 
to  suppress  the  same,  or  coming  to  the  knowledge  of 
any  mutiny,  or  intended  mutiny,  does  not  without  de- 
lay give  information  to  bis  commanding  officer,  is  guiltj 
of  mutiny. 

**  Any  officer  or  soldier,  wlio  shall  strike  bis  superior 
officer,  or  draw,  or  offer  to  draw,  or  shall  lift  op  ai^ 
weapon,  or  offer  any  violence  against  him,  being  in  tkle 
execution  of  his  office,  on  any  pretence  whatsoever,  or 
-shall  disobey  any  lawful  command  of  bis  superior  officer, 
is  guilty  of  mutiny.^* 

MuTiKY  Act.    See  Military  State, 

MUTIUS,  Caius,  sumamed  Codru*^  and  afterwards 
Scavoh^  was  one  of  the  illustrious  Roman  family  of  the 
Mutii,  and  rendered  his  name  famous  in  the  war  be- 
tween Porsenna  king  of  Tuscany  and  the  Romans. 
Tliat  prince  resolving  to  restore  the  fiimily  of  Tarqoia 
the  Proud,  went  to  besiege  Rome  507  B.  C.  Mntius 
resolved  to  sacrifice  himself  for  the  saftcy  of  his  oooB- 
try ;  and  boldly  entering  the  enemy *s  camp,  killed 
Porsenna^s  secretary,  whom  he  took  for  Porsenna  hin- 
self.  Being  seired  and  bronght  before  Porsenna,  lie 
told  him  boldly,  that  300  young  men  like  himself  had 
sworn  to  murder  him  \  but  since  this  hond  hat  tmtaed 
thecy  continued  he,  it  must  be  punished ;  then  patting 
his  right  hand  on  the  burning  coals,  he  let  it  bun 
with  such  constancy  as  astotiished  the  beholders.  Tbc 
king,  amazed  at  the  intrepidity  of  this  young  Raoiaa, 
ordered  fehat  he  should  have  his  freedom  and  return  is 
Rome,  and  soon  after  concluded  a  peace  with  the  Bo- 
mans.  From  this  action  Mutins  obtained  the  sonaine 
of  Saevoloy  '*  or  left-handed,^'  which  was  enjoyed  by 
his  family. 

MvTiVs  SctBVohij  Q.  sumamed  the  Augur^  was  in 
excellent  civilian,  and  instructed  Cioero  in  the  lam^ 
He  was  made  praetor  in  Asia  *,  was  afterwards  oonsol, 
and  perlbrmcd  very  important  services  for  the  rr- 
public. 

He  ought  not  to  be  confounded  wttb  Qpiaius  J/v- 
tius  Scatvla^  anotlier  excellent  civilian,  who  was  ptt- 

tor 


M    Y    € 


[    557    1 


M    Y    G 


Mutiut  tor  in  Asia,  tribune  of  the  people,  and  at  length  con- 
1)  8ul,  95  B.  C.  He  governed  Asia  with  8uch  prudence 
Myceme.  ^^^  equity,  that  hiis  example  was  proposed  to  the  go- 
vernors who  were  sent  into  the  provinces.  Cicero  says, 
''  that  he  was  the  mast  eloquent  orator  of  all  the  ci- 
vilians, and  the  roo8t  able  civilian  of  all  tlie  orators/* 
He  was  assassinated  in  the  temple  of  Vesta,  during  the 
wars  of  Marios  and  Sylla,  82  B.  C. 

MUTTON,  the  common  name  of  the  flesh  of  a 
aheep  after  the  animal  has  been  killed.  Mutton  has 
been  commonly  preferred  to  all  the  fleshes  of  quadru- 
peds. And  indeed,  besides  its  being  more  perfect,  it 
has  the  advantage  over  them  of  being  more  generally 
suited  to  different  climates  :  whereas  beef,  e*.  g.  re- 
quires a  very  nice  intermediate  state,  which  it  seems 
to  enjay  chiefly  in  England  ',  for  although  Scotland 
supplies  what  are  reckoned  the  best  cattle,  it  is  in  the 
rich  English  pastures  that  they  are  brought  to  perfec- 
tion. Now  the  sheep  can  be  brought  almost  to  the 
8am«*.  perfection  in  this  bleak  northern  region  as  in  the 
southern  countries.  ^ 

MUTUAL,  a  relative  term,  denoting  something 
that  is  reciprocal  between  two  or  more  persons. 

Thus  we  say,  mutual  assistance^  mutual  aversion^  &c. 
There  are  mutual  or  reciprocal  duties,  offices,  &c.  be- 
tween superiors  and  inferiors  \  as  the  king  and  his  sub- 
jects, the  master  and  his  servants,"  &c. 

Vaugelas  makes  a  distinction  between  mutual  and 
reciprocal :  mutual^  according  to  him,  is  understood  of 
what  is  between  two  only  \  and  reciprocal^  of  what  is 
between  more  than  two :  but  this  distinction  is  little 
renrded  in  common  use. 

MUTULE,  in  Architecture^  a  kind  of  square  mo- 
dillion  set  under  the  cornice  of  the  Doric  order. 

MUTUNUS,  or  Mutinus,  in  Fabulous  History,  a 
deity  among  the  Romans,  similar  to  the  Friapus  of  the 
Greeks. 

MUZZLE  of  a  Gun  or  Mortar,  the  extremity  at 
which  the  powder  and  ball  is  put  in  ^  and  hence  the 
mozzle  ring  is  the  metalline  circle  or  moulding  that 
surrounds  the  mouth  of  the  piece* 

MY  A,  the  Gaper  j  r  genus  of  shell  fish.  See  CoN- 
CHOLOGY  Index. 

MYAGRUM,  Gold  of  Pleasure,  a  genus  of 
plants,  beloDging  to  the  tetradynamia  class  \  and  in  the 
natural  method  ranking  under  the  jj^th  order,  SiliquO' 
see.    See  Botany  Index. 

MYCALE,  a  city  and  mountain  of  Caria  j  also  a 
promontory  of  Asia  opposite  Samos,  celebrated  for  a 
battle  which  was  fought  there  between  the  Greeks  and 
Peraians  about  the  year  of  Rome  275.  The  Persians 
were  about  1 00,006  men,  who  had  just  returned  from 
the  unsuccessful  expedition  of  Xerxes  in  Greece.-— 
They  had  drawn  their  ships  to  the  shore,  and  fortified 
themselves  strongly,  as  If  determined  to  support  a  siege. 
They  suffered  the  Greeks  to  disembark  from  their  fleet 
without  the  least  molestation,  and  were  soon  obligedUo 
give  way  before  the  cool  and  resolute  intrepidity  of  an 
inferior  number  of  men.  The  Greeks  obtained  com«- 
plete  victory,  slaughtered  some  thousands  of  the  enemy, 
burned  their  camp,  and  sailed  back  to  Samos  with  an 
immense  booty,  in  which  were  70  chests  of  money. 

MYCEN^JB,  in  Ancient  Geography^  a  town  of  Ar- 
golis,  in  Peloponnesus.  The  kingdom  of  tbe  Argives 
was  divided  into  two  portions  by  Acrisius  and  his  bro- 


ther Proetus.  Argos  and  Mycense  were  their  capitals.  Myceoit 
—-These,  as  belonging  to  the  same  family,  and  distant  |1 
only  about  50  stadia  or  six  miles  and  a  quarter  from  ,Myj^inda. 
each  other,  bad  one  tutelary  deity,  Juno,  and  were 
jointly  proprietors  of  her  temple,  tbe  ilcraum,  which 
was  near  Mycenae.  It  was  here  that  Agamemnon 
reigned.  He  enlarged  his  dominions  by  his  valour  and 
good  fortune,  and  possessed,  besides  Mycenae,  the  re- 
gion about  Coriuth  and  Sicyon,  and  that  called  after- 
words Achsea.  On  his  return  from  Troy,  he  was  slain 
with  his  companions  at  a  banquet.  Mycenae  then  de- 
clined :  and  under  the  Heraclidae  was  made  subject  to 
Argos.  (See  Argos  and  Argeia.)  llie  Mycenaeans 
sending  80  men,  partook  with  tbe  Lacedaemonians  in 
the  glor^  acquired  at  I'hermopylse.  The  jealousy  of 
tbe  Argives  produced  the  destruction  of  their  city, 
which  was  abandoned  after  a  siege,  and  laid  waste  in 
the  first  year  of  the  78th  Olympiad,  or  466  years  be- 
fore Christ.  Some  part  of  the  wall  remained  in  the 
second  century,  with  a  gate  on  which  were  lions,  a 
fountain,  the  subterraneous  edifices  where  Atreus  and 
his  sons  had  deposited  their  treasures,  and,  among  other 
sepulchral  monuments,  one  of  Agamemnon,  and  one  of 
his  fellow  soldiers  and  sufferers* 

MYCONE,  an  island  of  the  Archipelago,  situated 
in  E,  Lon^.  25.  51.  'N.  Lat.  37.  26.  It  is  about  36 
miles  in  circuit,  aud  has  a  town  of  the  same  name, 
containing  about  3000  inhabitants.  Tbe  people  of 
this  island  are  said  to  be  the  best  sailors  in  the  Archi- 
pelago, and  have  about  150  vessels  of  different  sizes. 
The  island  yields  a  sufficient  quantity  of  barley  for  tbe 
inhabitants,  and  produces  abundance  of  figs,  and  some 
olives  \  but  there  is  a  scarcity  of  water,  especially  in 
summer,  there  being  but  one  well  in  tbe  island.*— 
There  are  a  great  number  of  churches  and  chapels, 
with  some  monasteries. 

MYCONUS,  in  Ancient  Geography^  one  of  the 
islands  called  Cyclades,  near  Delos,  under  which  tbe 
last  of  the  Centaurs  slain  by  Hercules  are  feigned  to  lie 
buried.  Hence  tbe  proverb.  Omnia  sub  unam  Myconum 
congerere^  applied  to  an  injudicious  or  unnatural  far- 
rago. Myconii,  the  people,  noted  for  baldness.  Hence 
Myconius,  a  Imld  person.  According  to  Strabo,  the 
inhabitants  became  bald  at  the  age  of  20  or  25  3  and 
Pliny  savs  that  the  children  were  always  born  without 
hair.  1  he  island  was  poor,  and  the  inhabitants  very 
avaricious }  whence  Archilocbus  reproached  a  certain 
Pericles,  that  he  came  to  a  feast  likea  Myconian^  that 
is  without  previous  invitation.  Now  called  Mycvne^ 
which  see. 

MYCTERIA,  the  Jabiru,  a  genus  of  birds  be- 
longing to  tbe  order  of  gralJae.  l^e  Ornithology 
Index, 

MYODONIA,  in  Ancient  Geography^  a  district  of 
Macedonia,  to  the  north  of  the  Sinus  Thermaicus,  and 
east  of  tbe  river  Axius,  which  separates  it  from  Bot- 
tseis,  and  west  of  the  river  8trymon  (Pliny).  Also  a 
district  of  Mesopotamia,  which  took  its  name  firom  that 
of  Macedonia,  running  along  tbe  Euphrates,  from 
Zeugma  down  to  Tbapsaoos,  extending  a  great  way 
east,  because  Nisibis  was  reckoned  to  it. 

MYCIN  DA,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the 
tetiaodria  olaas ;  and  in  the  natural  method  ranking 
with  those  of  which  the  order  is  doubtful.  See  Botany 
Index, 

MYIAGRUS, 


M    Y    L 


t     558     ] 


M    Y    O 


Myiagnis       MYIAGRUS    DEUS,   in    the   heathen    mylhologyi 
U        a  name  given  sometimes  t»  Jupiter,  and  somctiines  to 
^  *'*' .  Hercules,  on  occasion  of  their  being  sncrificed  to  for 
the  driving  away  the  vast  numbers  of  flics,  ivhich  in- 
fested the  sacriticos  on  certain  public  occasions.     The 
"^vord '  is  u&uaUy  spelt  M^agrits  ;  but  this  must  be  an 
*iTor,  as  this  word  docs  not  express  the  fly-destroyer^ 
hut  the  mouse-destroyer;  and  we  have  it  sufficiently  testi- 
fied hy   the  ancients^  that  flies  'Were  the  only   crea- 
tures  against   whom  this  deity  was   invoked*     Fliny 
calls  this  deity  a\so Mp'odes ;  and-tclls  us  that  the  .(lies 
which  used  to  pester  the  Olympic  rites  -went  away  in 
whole  clouds  on  the  sacrificing  a  bull  to  this  god.      W-e 
4ind  in  Athenseus  also,  that  this  sacrificing  to  the  god 
of 'flies  at  th&  Olympic  games  was  a  constant  custom. 
.Some  distinguish  these  two  deities,  and  tell'US  that  the 
latter  or  Myiodes,  used  to  visit  the  nations  in  ven* 
geance,  with  a  vast  multitude  of  flies :   atid  that,  -un 
paying  htm  the  due  honours  of  a  sacrifice,  they  all 
went  away  again  \  and  this  seems  to  agree  with  what 
Pliny  tells  us  in  some  places. 

At  the  time  of  the  Olympic  games,  Jupiter  was 
'worshipped  under  the  name  of  Apomyos  or  Myiagtms 
DeuSf  to  supplicate  the  destruction  of  those  troublesome 
creatures.  This  happened  only  onee  in  many  years, 
when  the  sacrifices  were  performed  there  ^  hut  the 
Klians  worshipped  him  coetinually  under  this  name,  to 
deprecate  the  vengeaace  of  heaven,^ which  usually  sent, 
as  ^ey 'expFessed'tt,*an  army  of  flies  and  other  insects, 
•toward  '2the4attep  end  of  the  summer,  that  invested  the 
^hole«  omintrv  with  sickness  and  pestilence. 

MYIODES^DEUS,  in' the  heathen  mythology,  a 
•name  sonietimes  givea  to  Hercules,  hut  more -frequent- 
ly to  Jupiter,  to  whom  a  bull  was  sacrificed,  in  order 
.to  make  him  propitious  in  driving  away  the  flies  that 
infested  the  Olympic  games.  ' 

•MYL^,  in  Ancient  Geography^  a  Greek  city  situa- 
ted on  an  isthmus  of  a  cognominal  peninsula,  00  the 
north-east  side  of  the  island.  Myiaa\  or  Mylenses^  the 
.  people.  A  town  built  4>y  those  of  Zancle  (Strabo). 
Mylaeuf,  the  iBpithet,  as  Myl»u8  Campus,  mentioned 
-by  Polybius.  Now  called  idtla%w)y  a  port  tofi^n  of 
Sicily,  in  the  Val  di  Demona.  £.  O^ong.  r5»  5.  N. 
.]uatJ3&i  56. 

MYLASA,  or  Mylassa,  m"^ Ancient  Geography^  u 

noble  city  of  Caria  in  Asia  Minor,  situated  about  three 

leagues  liom  the  Sinus  Ceramicus,    It  was  the  capital 

-of  Hecatomnus  king  of  Caria,  and  father  of  Mausolus. 

.Fliny  speaks  of  Menander  king  of  Caria,  and  says  that 

the  Khodians  preserved  with  the  greatest  care  his  por- 

-trail  painted  by  Apelles :  ^but  it  was^-uot  in  honour  of 

this  Menander  that  a. Corinthian  pillar  was  erected  at 

Mylasa,  which  still  exists,  and  on  which  is  to  be  seen 

:  the. following  inscription:   ^'The  people  erected  this 

^pillar*in 'honour  of  Menander,- the  son  of  Uliades,  add 

-grandson  of  £uthydemu8,  the  benefactor  of  his  country, 

.and  whose  ancestors  rendered  it  great  services  also.*^ 

.Euthydemus,  the  grandfather  of  this  Menander,  lived 

tin  the  time  of  Julius  Caesar  and  Augustus.     Caria  was 

"iaken  by  Mithridates,  and  afterwards  by  Labienus, 

whose  father  had  been  one  of  Csesar's  generals.     Hy- 

ibrias,  whose  eloquence  artd  valour  deservedly  entitled 

bim  to  a  distinguished  rank  among  his  countrynaen,  in 

jrain  encouraged  them  to  make  a  most  obstinate  defence 

2 


while  it  was  besieged  hy  the  latter*     He  hjinstlf  was   Hy]^ 
obliged  to  yield   to  necessity,  and  to  take  refuge  at      | 
iihndcs  :  but   scarcely  had  the  conqueror  quitted  the  ^>"kj 
city,  when  Hybrias  returned,  and  restored  liberty  to 
his  country.—-Not  content  with  rendering  it  this  ser- 
vice, he  also  destroyed  the  power  of  a  dangerous  citi- 
zen, ivhose  riches  and  talents  rendered' him  a  necessary 
evil.     Euthydennis,  often  banished,  and  as  often  nv 
called,  always  loo  powerful  in  a  state  the  independence 
t)f  which  he  threatened,  saw  his  jambition  checked  by 
the  zeal  and  activi^'  of  Hybrias.     The  Romans  left  to 
'Mylasa  that  liberty  of  which  it- rendered  kselfsa  worthy, 
by  the  great  eflforts  it  made  ta  preserve  it.    Fliny«cjJls 
it  Mylasa  libera.     Strabo  informs  us,*  that  it  was  ooe  of 
the .  most  mfkgnificeut  cities  of  antiquity,  and  -  one  of 
those,  the  temples,  porticoes,  and  other  {wblio  moon* 
nicnts  of  which  were  highly  admired.     -A  quarry  of 
white  marble  in  the  neighhouthood  furnished  it  with 
abundance  of  materials  for  erecting  these  edifices.— 
The  Mylasians  had  two  temples  dedicated  to  -^Jupitrr, 
one  situated  in  the  city,  which  was  named  Osogo^  and 
another  built   on  a  mountain,  at  the  distance  of  60 
leagues.     The  latter  was  dedicated  to  Jupiter  SfratrLs^ 
Jupiter  the  Warrior.     His  state,  which -was  irery  an- 
cieiYt,  inspired  great  veneration  ^  people  came  frcni  all 
quarters  to  implore  hi»  protection^  and  for  the  greater 
accommodation  of  his  votaries  a  paved  way  was  c«n- 
structed  which  reached  from  Mylasa  to  lliis  venerable 
fabric.     This  city  is  now  caUed  Melassoj  and,  according 
to  Dr  Chandler,  is  still  a  large  place.— The  houses  are 
numerous,' hut  chiefly  of  plaster,  and  mean,  with  trees 
interspersed.    The  air  is  accounted  bad  }  and  scorpions 
abound  as  anciently,  entering  often  at  the  doors  and 
windows,  and  lurking  in  the  rooms.     The  plain  is  sur- 
rounded ^j  lofty  mountains,  and  cullivated.     Roocd 
the  towns  are -ranges  of  broken  columns,  the  remnants 
of  porticoes,  now  with  rubbish  bounding  the  vineyardf. 
A  large  portion  of  the  plain  is  covered  with  scattered 
fragments,  and  with  piers'of  ordinary  aqueducts }  besides 
inscriptions,  mostly  rutned  and  illegible.     Some  altais 
dedicated  to  Hecatomnus  have  been  itiscovered.    Of 
all  the  ancient  temples  which  fonneriy  ornamented  this 
city,  one  only  escaped  the  power  of  time,  the  blind 
•zeal  of  the  early  Christians,  and  the  barbarous  super- 
stition nf  the  Mahometans.   This  monument  was  dedica- 
ted to  Augustus  and  the  divinity  of  Rome.    "WheD  Po- 
cocke  visited  Melasso,  it  was  perfect  and  entire  ^  but 
at  present  no  traces  of  it  remain,  except  a  few  fia^r- 
ments,  which  have  been  employed  to  construct  a  Turk- 
ish mosque. 

MYLOGLOSSUM,  m  Anatomy.  See  Akatomt, 
Table  of  the  Muscles. 
MYLOHYOIDiEUS.  lUd. 
MYOLOGY,  (formed  of-^uf,  ^m, «'  ftmuscle,**aod 
•?i»yH9  ^'-discourse**),  in  anatomy,  a  description  of  tk 
muscles ;  nr ;  the  knowledge  of  what  relales  to  tbe 
muscles  of  the  human  body.     Ibid. 

MYOMANCY,  a  kind  of  divination,  or  method  of 
foretelling  future  events  by  means  of  mice. 

Some  authors  bold  myomancy  to  be  one  of  the  oMit 
«ncient  kinds  of  divination ;  and  -think  it  is  oa  (U* 
account  that  Isaiah,  Ixvi.  17.  reckons  mice  anoog  tk 
abominable  things  of  the  Idolaters.  But,  beside  tfet| 
it  i»  not  certain  that  the  Hebrew  word  l^i  used  ^ 


M    Y    R 


t    559    ] 


M    T    R 


Ujomu^y  the  prophet  signifies  a  mouse^  it  if  evident  it  is  not  the 
I         divination  by  that  animal,  be  it  what  it  will,  that  is 
MyiMtica.  gpoken  of,  bat  the  eating  it. 

MnrOPi A,  Short-sightedness  ;  a  species  of  vU 
sion  wherein  objects  are  seen  only  at  small  distances. 
See  Medicine,  N°  361. 

MYOSOTIS,  Scorpion-grass  }  a  genus  of  plants 
belonging  to  the  pentandria  class,  and  in  the  natural 
method  ranking  under  the  4i8t  order,  Asper^oHte.  See 
Botany  Inder, 

MYOSORUS,  a  pnns  of  plants  belonging  to  the 
pentandria  class,  and  in  the  natural  method  ranking 
under  the  26th  order,  MuitisHiqtut,    See  Botant  in- 

NfYOXUS,  the  Dormouse,  a  genus  of  quadrupeds 
belonging  to  the  order  of  glires.  See  Mammalia  /yt- 
dex. 

MYRIAD,  a  term  sometimes  used  to  denote  ten 
thousand. 

MYRICA,  Gale,  or  Sweet-willow,  a  genus  of 
plants  belonging  to  the  dioecia  class,  and  in  the  natural 
method  ranking  under  the  5th  order,  Amentacete,  See 
Botant  Indev. 

MYRIOPHYLLUM,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging 
to  the  monoecia  class,  and  in  tbe  natural  method  rank- 
ing under  the  15th  order,  Inundatte.  See  Botant 
Index. 

MYRISTICA,  the  Nutmeg-tree,  in  Botany^  a 
genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  class  dioecia,  and  or- 
der syngenesia,  and  of  the  natural  order,  Laurie  The 
description  of  this  genus  having  been  omitted  in  its  pro- 
per place  under  Botant,  wc  shall  here  introduce  « 
short  account  of  it. — The  male  calyx  is  monopfayllous, 
strong,  and^  parted  into  three  lacimte  of  an  oval  shape, 
and  ending  in  a  point :  it  has  no  corolla.  In  the  mid- 
dle of  the  receptacle  rises  a  column  of  the  height  of  the 
calyx,  to  the  upper  part  of  which  the  anthene  are  at- 
tached. They  vary  in  number  from  three  to  twelve 
or  thirteen.— The  female  calyx  and  corolla  as  in  the 
male,  on  a  distinct  tree.  The  gernven  of  an  oval* 
shape ;  the  style  short,  with  a  bifid  stigma,  the  laei- 
nii  of  which  are  oval  and  spreading.— Ine  fruR  is  of 
that  sort  called  drupa.  It  is  fleshy,  roundish,  some- 
times unilocular,  sometimes  bivalved,  and  bursts  when 
ripe  at  the  side.  The  seed  is  enveloped  with  a  fleshy 
and  fatty  membranous  substance  which  divides  into 
filaments  (this,  in  one  of  the  species,  is  the  mace  of 
the  shops)^  The  seed  or  nutmeg  is  round  or  oval 
shaped,  unilocular,  and  contains  a  small  kernel,  varie- 
gated on  the  surface  by  the  fibres  running  in  the  form 
of  a  screw. 

iS;iffCfif5.— -There  are  five  species  of  this  genus  ac- 
cording to  some  authors  \  but  several  of  these  being 
only  varieties,  may  be  reduced  into  three,  viz. 

1.  MyrisCica  fatua,  or  wild  nutmeg:  this  grows  in 
Tobago,  and  rises  to  the  height  of  an  apple-tree  \  has 
oblong,  lanceolated,  downy  leaves,  and  hairy  fruit  :«- 
the  nutmeg  of  which  is  aromatic,  but  when  given  in- 
wardly is  narcotic,  and  occasions  drunkenness,  delirium, 
and  madness,  for  a  time. 

2.  The  myristica  sebifera,  {Virola  Selnfera  Aublet, 
page  904.  tab.  345.)  a  tree  firequent  in  Guiana,  risbg 
to  40  or  even  to  60  feet  high  ;  on  wounding  the  trunk 
of  which,  a  thick,  acrid,  red  juice  runs  out.  Aublet 
says  nothing  of  the  nutmegs  bemg  aromatic )  he  only 


observes,  that  a  yellow  fat  is  obtained  from  them,  which  Myristioa^ 
serves  many  economical  and  medical  purposes,  and  that 
the  natives  make  candles  of  it. 

3.  The  myristica  moschata,  or  nutmeg,  rises  to  the 
height  of  30  feet,  producing  numerous  branches  \  tbe 
bark  of  the  trunk  is  of  a  reddish  brown,  but  that  of  the 
young  branches  is  of  a  bright  vreen  colour :  the  leaves 
are  nearly  elliptical,  pointed,  undulated,  obliquely 
nerved,  on  tbe  upper  side  of  a  bright  green,  on  the* 
under  whitish,  and  stand  alternately  upon  footstalks  :* 
the  flowers  are  small,  and  hang  upon  slender  pedun-^ 
cles,  proceeding  from  the  axillae  of  the  leaves:  they  are 
both  male  and  female  upon  separate  trees* 

M.  Schwartz,  who  has  carefully  examined  this  as* 
well  as  the  two  first  species,  preserved  in  spirits,  places 
them  among  the  monadelphia. 

The  nutmeg  has  been  supposed  to  be  the  comacvn^' 
of  Theophrastus,  but  there  seems  little  foundation  for 
this  opinion ;  nor  can  it  with  jpore  probability  be 
thought  to  be  the  cirysobalanos  ol  Galen.  Our  first 
knowledge  of  it  was  evidently  derived  from  the  Ara- 
bians ;  by  Avicenna  it  was  called  jimtstban^  otjuufh" 
band^  which  signifies  nut  of  Banda.  Rumphins  botb> 
figured  and  described  this  tree  \  but  the  figure  riven 
by  him  is  so  imperfect,  and  the  dciscription  so  conrased, 
that  LinnsBus,  who  gave  it  the  generic  name  myristica^ 
was  unable  to  assign  its  proper-characters.  M.  I«amarck 
informs  us,  that  be  received  several  branches  of  the  my- 
ristica, both  in  flower  and  fruit,  from  the  isle  of  France^ 
where  a  nutmeg-tree,  which  was  introduced  by  Mon- 
sieur Poivre  in  1770,  is  now  very  large,  and  continu- 
ally prodocing  flowers  and  firuit.  From  these  branches, 
whfch  were  sent  from  Mons.  Cere,  director  of  the  king^a- 
garden  in  that  island,  Lamarck  has  been  enabled  to 
describe  and  figure  this  and  other  species  of  the  myris- 
tica.   See  Plate  CXXIV.  Botany* 

Fig.  a.  A  sprig  with  fiructifioatio»»  The  drupa  of 
the  natural  size,  and  bursting  open.  Fig.  b*  Tbe  full- 
grown  fruit  cut  lengthwise.  Fig.  c.  Another  section' 
of  the  same.  Fig.  d.  The  nutmeg  enveloped  with  itS" 
covering,  the  mace.  Fig.  e,  llie  fatty  membrane  or 
mace  spread  out.  Fig.  y.  Tbe  nutmeg  of  its  natural* 
size.  Fig.  g*  The  same  with  its  external  tegument  re- 
moved at  one  end.  Fig.  /«.  The  same  with  its  outer 
tegument  entirely  removed.  Fig^  t.  A  transverse  sec-' 
tion  of  the  nntmeg. 

The  seeds  or  kernels  cidled  nttitnegs  are  well  known,? 
as  they  have  been  long  used  both  for  culinary  and  me- 
dical purposes.     Distilled  with  water,  thev  yield  ^a 
large  quantity  of  essential  oil,  resembling  in  flavour' 
the  spice  itself  j  after  tbe  distillation  an  insipid  seba- 
ceous matter  is  found  swimming  on  the  watery   the- 
decoction  inspissated,  gives  an  extract  of  an  unctuous, 
very  lightly  bitterish  taste,  and  with  little  or  no  astrin-^ 
gency.     Rectified  spirit  extracts  the  whole  virtue  of 
nutmegs  by  infusion,  and  elevates  very  little  of  it  in* 
distillatbn  j   hence  the  spirituous  extract  possesses  the- 
flavour  of  the  spice  in  an  eminent  degree. 

Nutmegs,  when  heated,  yield  to  the  press  a  consider-^ 
able  quantity  of  limpid  yellow  oil,  which  on  cooling 
concretes  into  a  sebaceous  consistence.     In  the  shops  ^ 
we  meet  with  three  sorts  of  unctoous  substances,  called* 
oil  ofmaccy  though  really  expressed  from  the  nutowg. 
The  best  is  brought  from  the  Ea^t  Indies  in  stone 
jars  J   this  is  of  a  thick  consistence,  of  the  colour  of 

mace^. 


M    Y    R  C    560 

Mynitica.  mftce,  and  has  an  agratable  fi-ftipraiit  small  ;  the  se- 
cond sort,  which  is  paler  coloured,  and  much  inferior 
in  quality,  comes  from  Holland  in  solid  masses,  gene- 
rally flat,  and  of  a  square  figure :  the  third,  which  is 
the  worst  of  all,  and  usuiJly  called  common  mi  ofmace^ 
is  an  artificial  composition  of  sevum,  palm  oil,  and  the 
like,  flavoured  with  a  little  genuine  oil  of  nutmeg. 

Method  of  gathering  trndpreparinf^  Nii/»j<y.— When 
Uie  fruit  is  ripe  the  natives  ascend  the  trees,  and  ga- 
ther it  by  polling  the  branches  to  them  with  long  hooks. 
Some  are  employed  in  opening  them  immediately,  and 
in  taking  off  the  green 'shell  or  first  rind,  which  is  laid 
together  in  a  heap  in  the  woods,  where  in  time  it  pu- 
trefies. As  soon  as  the  potrefisction  has  taken  place, 
there  spring  up  a  kind  of  mushrooms  called  boUti  mos" 
chatyni^  of  a  blackish  colour,  and  much  valued  by  the. 
natives,  who  consider  them  as  delicate  eating.  When 
the  nuts  are  stripped  of  their  first  rind,  they  are  carried 
home,  and  the  mace  is  carefully  taken  off  with  a  small 
knife.  The  mace,  which  is  of  a  beautiful  red,  but  af- 
terwards assumes  a  darkish  or  reddish  colour,  is  laid  to 
dry  in  the  sun  for  the  space  of  a  day,  and  is  then  re- 
moved to  a  place  less  exposed  to  his  rays,  where  it  re- 
mains for  eig^t  days,  that  it  may  soften  a  little.  They 
afterwards  moisten  it  with  sea  water,  to  prevent  it  from 
drying  too  much,  or  from  losing  its  oil.  They  are 
careful,  however,  not  to  employ  too  mucti  water,  lest  it 
should  beeome  putrid,  and  be  devoured  by  the  worms. 
It  is  last  of  all  put  into  small  bags,  and  squeezed  very 
close. 

The  Bots  which  are  still  covered  with  their  ligne- 
ous shell,  aie  for  three  days  exposed  to  the  sun,  and 
afterwards  dried  befi>re  a  fire  till  they  emit  a  sound 
when  they  are  shaken  ;  they  then  beat  them  with 
small  sticks  in  order  to  remove  their  shell,  which  flies 
off  in  pieces.  These  nuts  are  distributed  into  three 
paroels,  the  first  of  which  contains  the  largest  and  most 
beautiful,  which  are  destined  to  be  brought  to  Eu- 
rope ;  the  second. contains  such  as  are  reserved  for  the 
use  of  the  inhabitants  \  and  the  third  contains  the  small- 
est, which  are  irregular  or  unripe.  These  are  burnt  \ 
and  part  of  the  rest  is  employed  for  procuring  oil  by 
pressure*  A  pound  of  them  commonly  gives  three 
ounces  of  oil,  which  has  the  consistence  of  tallow,  and 
has  entirely  the  taste  of  nutmeg.  Both  the  nut  and 
mace,  when  distilled,  afford  an  esKcntial,  transparent, 
and  volatile  oil,  of  an  excellent  flavour. 

The  nutmegs  which  have  been  thus  selected  would 
soon  corrupt  if  they  were  not  watered,  or  rather 
piokled,  with  lime-water  made  friMn  calcined  shell  fish, 
which  they  dilute  with  salt  water  till  it  attain  the 
consistence  of  fluid  pap.  Into  this  mixture  they 
plunge  the  nutmegs,  contained  in  small  baskets,  two 
or  three  times,  till  they  are  completely  covered  over 
with  the  liquor.  Tbey  are  afterwards  laid  in  a  heap, 
where  they  heat,  and  lose  their  superfluous  moisture 
by  evaporation.  When  they  have  sweated  sufficient- 
ly, they  are  tl^n  properly  prepared,  and  fit  for  a  sea 
voyage. 

In  the  island  of  Banda,  the  fruit  of  the  nutmeg  tree 
IS  preserved  entire  in  the  following  manner :  When  it 
is  a]mo.'>t  ripe,  but  previous  to  its  opening,  it  is  boiled 
in  water  and  pierced  with  a  needle.  They  next  lay 
it  in  water  to  soak  for  ten  days,  till  it  has  lo&t  its  sour 


]  M    Y    R 

and  sharp  taste.  They  then  boil  it  gently  in  a  m^ 
of  sugar,  to  which,  if  they  wish  it  to  be  hard,  a  littfe 
lime  is  added.  This  operation  is  repeated  for  eight 
days,  and  each  time  the  syrup  is  renewed.  The  iniit 
wlien  thus  preserved  is  put  for  the  last  time  into  a 
pretty  thick  syrup,  and  is  kept  in  earthen  pots  closely 
shut. 

These  nuta  are  likewbe  pickled  with  brine  or  with 
vinegary  and  when  they  intend  to  eat  them,  they 
first  steep  them  in  fresh  water,  and  afterwards  hoil  them 
in  syrup  of  sugar,  &c. 

CAif#.-.Kutmeg8  preserved  entire  are  presented  as 
desserts,  and  the  inhabitants  of  India  sometimes  eat 
them  when  tfiey  drink  tea.  Some  of  them  use  nothing 
but  the  palp  }  others  likewise  chew  the  mace ;  but  they 
generally  throw  away  the  kernel,  which  is  really  the 
nutmeg.  Many  who  perform  sea  voyages  to  the  north 
chew  this  fruit  everv  morning. 

The  medicinal  qualities  of  nutmeg  are  supposed  ta 
he  aromatic,  anodyne,  stomachic,  and  restringent ;  and 
with  a  view  to  the  last*mentioned  effects,  it  has  been 
much  used  in  diarrhoeas  and  dysenteries. 

Rtmarks  on  the  trade  of  Nutmegs, — ^Nutmeg  trees 
grow  in  several  islands  in  the  eastern  ocean.  The  wood 
pigeon  of  the  Moluccas  is  unintentionally  a  great  phm- 
ter  of  these  trees,  and  disseminates  them.in  places  where 
a  nation,  powerful  by  its  commerce,  thinks  it  for  its  in* 
terest  that  they  should  he  rooted  out -and  destroyed. 
The  Dutch,  whose  unwearied  patience  can  sarmount 
the  greatest  obstacles,  formerly  appropriated  to  them- 
selves the  crop  of  nntmeg,  as  well  as  that  of  cloves  and 
ciunamon,  growing  in  the  islands  of  Temate,  Cejlon, 
&c.  either  by  right  of  conquest  or  by  paving  auhsidies  te 
the  islanders,  who  find  these  much  more  profitable  than 
the  former  produce  of  their  trees.  It  is  oeverthelesi 
true,  that  they  have  prevaikd  upon  or  compeUed  the 
inhabitants  of  the  Moluccas  to  cut  down  and  root  out 
all  the  clove  trees,  which  they  have  preserved  only  ia 
the  islands  ofAmboyna  andlemate,  which  are  in  a 
great  measure  subject  to  them.  We  know  for  certain, 
that  the  Dutch  pay  18,000  rixdoUars  yearly  to  the 
king  of  Temate  by  way  of  tribute  or  gift,  in  order 
to  recompense  him  for  the  loss  of  hts  cloTe  trees  ia 
the  other  Molucca  islands  \  and  that  they  are  moreover 
bound  by  treaty  to  take  at  3^.  a  paund,  all  the  cbvee 
brought  by  the  natives  of  Ambo^na  to  their  maga- 
zines. 

The  Dutch  had  formerly  immense  and  very  rich  ma- 

gLzines  of  these  precioas  aromatios,  both  in  India  sad 
urope.  It  is  said,  that  they  had  actoally  by  them  the 
produce  of  16  years,  and  never  supplied  their  neighhoan 
with  the  last,  hut  always  with  the  oldest  crop:  in  1760 
tbey  sold  what  was  Isiid  up  in  1 744  \  and  when  they 
had  too  great  a  quantity  of  cloves,  nutmeg,  &c.  ia 
their  magazines;  they  threw  them  into  the  sea,  or  de- 
stroyed them  by  burmng.  On  the  loth  of  June  1760, 
M.  Boraare  saw  at  Amsterdam,  near  the  Admiralty,  a 
fire,  the  fuel  of  which  was  valued  at  8,000,000  sf 
livreb  *,  and  as  much  was  to  be  burned  on  the  day  Ibl* 
lowing.  The  feet  of  the  spectators  were  bathed  ia  the 
essential  oil  of  these  substances  ;  but  no  penoo  wis  al- 
lowed to  jBtather  any  of  it,  much  lefts  to  take  any  of  the 
spices  which  were  in  the  fire.  Some  years  before, 
upon  a  similar  occasion,  and  at  the  same  piace,  a  ^ok 


M    Y    R 


ffyfiiigB,  "I'M  ^^  1^^  iakea  op  some  natmegs  which  had  rolled 
out  of  the  fire,  was,  as  M.  Bomare  was  informed,  seixed 
and  condemned  to  immediate  ezecotion. 

Bat  after  all,  although  the  spice  trade  is  less  exda* 
sively  limited  to  the  Dutch  of  late  jears,  it  does  not 
appear  that  the  price  of  East  Indian  spiceries  is  in  any 
degree  reduced  to  the  consumer. 

MTRMECOPHAGA,  or  Ant-bkar,  a  genus  of 
quadrupeds,  belonging  to  the  order  of  bruta.  See  Mam- 
malia Index. 

MYRMELEON,  or  Ant-Lion,  a  genus  of  insects 
of  the  neuTopt^ra  order.     See  Entomologt  Index. 

MYRMIDONS,  Myrmidones.  in  fmtiqnitj }  a 
people  in  the  southern  borders  of  Thessaly,  who  ac- 
companied Achilles  to  the  Trojan  war.  They  re- 
ceived their  uame  from  Myrmidon,  a  son  of  Jupiter 
and  Eurymedosa,  who  married  one  of  the  daughters 
of  /Bolus,  son  of  Helen.  His  son  Actor  married 
^gina,  the  daughter  of  ^sopus.  He  gave  his  name 
to  his  subjects,  who  dwelt  near  the  river  Peneus  in 
Theslaly.  According  to  some,  the  Mjrrmidons  re- 
ceived Uieir  name  from  their  having  arisen  from  ants 
or  pismires,  upon  a  prayer  put  up  tor  that  purpose  by 
King  iEacus  to  Jupiter,  after  his  kingdom  had  been 
dispeopled  by  a  severe  pestilence.  According  to  Strabo, 
they  received  it  from  their  indostry,  because  they  imi- 
tated the  diligence  of  the  ants,  and  like  them  were  in- 
defatigable, and  were  continu^ly  employed  in  cultivat* 
ing  the  earth. 

AfYRMILLONES  were  gladiators  of  a  certain 
kind  at  Rome,  who  fought  against  the  Retiarii.  Their 
arms  were  a  sword,  head  piece,  and  shield.  On  the 
top  of  the  head-piece  they. wore  a  fish  embossed,  called 
M«^v^*(,  whence  their  name  is  by  some  supposed  to  be 
derived.  The  Retiarii,  in  their  engagements,  made  use 
of  a  net,  in  which  they  endeavoured  to  entangle  their 
adversaries )  and  sung  during  the  fight,  ''  Non  tepetOf 
piKcm  peto;  quid  me  fogisf  GalleV^  ^*  I  aim  not  at 
thee,  but  I  aim  at  thy  fish  \  why  dost  thou  shun  me,  O 
Gaul  !^*  The  Myrmillones  were  called  Gkdli,  because 
they  wore  Gallic  armour.  They  were  also  named  Se^ 
cutores.  This  kind  of  gladiators  was  suppressed  by 
Caligula.    See  Gladiators,  Retiarii,  kc. 

MYROB ALANS,  a  kind  of  medicinal  fruit  brought 
from  the  Indies,  of  which  there  are  five  kinds,  i.  The 
citrine  of  a  yellowish  red  colour,  hard,  oblong,  and  the 
size  of  an  olive.  2.  The  black  or  Indian .  myrobalan, 
of  the  bigness  of  an  acorn,  wrinkled  and  without  a 
stone.  3*  Cbebulic  myrobalans,  which  are  of  the  size 
of  a  date,  pointed  at  tlie  end,  and  of  a  yellowish  brown. 
4.  Emblic,  which  are  round,  rough,  the  size  of  gall, 
and  of  a  dark  brown.  5.  Balleric,  which  are  hard, 
round,  of  the  size  of  an  ordinary  prune,  less  angular 
than  the  rest,  and  yellow.  They  are  all  slightly  pur- 
^tive  and  astringent.  The  word  comes  from  the 
Greek  ^vm*,  ^*  ointment,^*  and  fimXatHj  *'  acorn,^*  as 
beinff  in  the  form  of  acorns,  and  used  in  medicine. 

mYRON,  an  excellent  Grecian  statuary,  flourished 
442  B.  C.  The  cow  he  represented  in  brass  was  an 
admirable  piece  of  workmanship,  and  was  the  occasion 
of  many  fine  epigrams  in  Greek. 

MYllOXYXfON,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to 
•the  decandria  class.     See  Botany  Index, 

MYRRH,  a  gummy-resinous  concrete  juice,  which 
Vol.  XIV.  Part  II.  t 


[     S6i     ] 


M    Y    S 


IS  brought  from  the  East  Indies  or  from  Abyssinia.  Sm 
Materia  Medica  Index* 

It  is  aflEirmed  by  some,  that  the  myrrh  we  have  at 
present  is  not  eqnal  in  quality  to  that  of  the  ancients, 
and  has  not  that  exquisite  smell  which  all  authors  a- 
scribe  to  the  latter.  They  aromatized  their  roost  deli-' 
cions  wines  with  it  >  and  it  was  presented  as  a  very  va- 
luable perfume  to  our  Lord  while  he  lay  in  the  manger. 

It  was  this  gum  also  which  was  mingled  with  the 
wine  given  him  to  drink  at  his  passion,  to  deaden  hid 
pains,  and  produce  a  stupor.  (See  Mark  xv.  32.).  The 
gall  mentioned  on  the  same  occasion  by  St  Matthew  is 
probably  the  same  with  mvrrh  'y  for  any  thing  bitter 
was  usually  distinguished  oy  the  name  of  gall.  The 
Hebrews  were  accustomed  to  give  those  that  were  exe* 
cuted  some  stupefying  draught.  The  difficulty  which 
arises  from  the  seeming  difference  betwixt  the  two  evan- 
gelists, by  some  is  solved  by  saying,  that  St  Matthew, 
writing  in  Syriac,  made  use  of  the  word  marrYi,  which 
signifies  ^  myrrh,  bitterness,  or  gall  ;*'  but  the  Greek 
translator  has  taken  it  for  gall,  and  St  Mark  for  myrrh. 
Others  think  that  our  Saviour's  drink  was  mingled 
with  myrrh  as  a  stupefying  drug :  but  suppose  that  the 
soldiers  out  of  wanton  cruelty  and  inhumanity,  infiised 

£11  'f  which  was  the  reason,  say  they,  why,  when  he 
d  tasted,  he  refused  to  drink. 

MYRRHINE,  or  Murrike.    See  Murrike. 

MYRSINE,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  pent- 
andria  class,  and  in  the  natural  method  ranking  under 
the  1 8th  order,  Btcomes.     See  Botany  Index, 

MYRTIFORM,  in  Anatomy,  an  appellation  i^ven 
to  several  parts,  from  their  resembling  myrtle  hemes. 

MYRTLE.    See  Myrtus,  Botany  Index. 

MYRTOUM  MARE,  a  part  of  the  ^gean  sea,  ly- 
ing between  EuboBa,  Peloponnesus  and  Attica.  It 
receives  this  Qame  from  Myrto  a  woman,  or  from 
Myrtos  a  small  island  in  the  neighbooiiiood,  or  from 
Myrtilus  the  son  of  Mercury  who  was  drowned  the|«, 
&c. 

MYRTUS,  in  Ancient  Geogtnphfy  a  small  island 
near  Carystus  in  Enboea,  which  gave  name  to  the  mare 
Myrtoum.  Others,  aCcordin|^  to  Paoaanias,  derive  the 
appellation  firom  Myrto,  the  name  of  a  woman.  Strabo 
extends  this  sea  between  Crete,  Arena,  and  Attica. 
Pau^nias  beginning  it  at  Eubcea,  joins  it  at  Helena, 
a  desert  island,  with  the  ^gean  sea.  Ptolemy  carries 
it  to  the  coast  of  Caria.  Pliny  says,  that  the  Cjclades 
and  Sporades  are  bounded  on  the  west  by  the  Myrtoan 
coast  of  Attica. 

Myrtus,  the  Myrtle,  a  |;enus  of  plants  belonging 
to  the  icosandria  class, )  and  tn  the  natural  method  rank- 
ing under  the  19th  order,  Hesperidea.  See  Botany 
Index% 

MYSIA,  a  country  of  Asia  Minor, .  generally  di- 
vided into  Major  and  Minor.  Mysia  Minor  was  bound- 
ed on  the  north  and  west  by  the  Propontis  and  Bitl^- 
nia,  and  Phrygia  on  the  southern  and  eastern  borders. 
Mysia  Major  bad  .£olia  on  the  south,  the  ^gean  sea 
on  the  west,  and  Phiygia  on  the  north  and  east.  Its 
chief  cities  were  Cyzicum,  Lampsacus,  &c.  The  inha* 
bitants  were  once  very  warlike  \  bot  they  greatly  dege-* 
nerated,  and  the  woros  Myeorum  vltwnu  were  eropha* 
tically  used  to  signify  a  person  of  no  merit.  The  an* 
cients  generally  hired  them  to  attend  their  funerals  as 

4  B  mournersp 


M    Y    S  t    56 

fljiUi  mi^rtKtBi  buk\Ut  ihhf  itti^  dAtortflty  Melibicli^y  and 
Mjioa.  iacUned  to  shed  tears.  They  #eie  obee  governed  by 
^  "  '  AfDHtfrclitf.  Tb^  kx^  In^pb^d  t<^  b«  de86(^fi^d  ffom 
1^6  Mysittttd  bf  Etirot^,-  A  ttAtito  If  h^  inMbit^d  tbai 
]«ife  bf  Tftfac«  \«hich  Wad  situlittfd  b^twe^n  MotM 
Ifafentud  ftifd  tlite  XHioube. 

MY80N,  a  batite  of  Sptfrtii,  one  of  tlie  seveh  t^is^ 
thtn  of  G)r^e«.  W&eii  Anaebarsii  fcoiisvrtt^  th^  ohi- 
f If  af  Afiblitf^  ttf  katfiv  which  wad  the  wisest  ndatt  in 


2   1 


M    V    S 


Gr^^e,  be  received  fbr  atiswef,  Ir6  who  b  ndW  plooglh  |f«a^ 
jB^  fti9  DeIo#*     Xnfs  Was  My  soil*  SIvhr. 

MYSORE,  or  MT$6it2AK  DoMtnioks,  a  kingdom 
6f  AiAia,  In  the  Eitst  Indfe^y  ioclodinff  the  temtories 
MQi^d  or  sciMaed  hy  Hyder  Ali,  ana  transttiitted  (0 
Btfl  M>li  Tiprpoo  Satb,  but  now  Subject  to  the  Brituh  go* 
vemment.     For  an  account  of  the  conqocst  of  irhicb, 


MYSTERIES. 


The  gra- 
4aal  intra, 
faction  of 
aiysteriei 
into  lell* 
ipoa. 


4 
S^aio* 
lofcy  and 
import  of 
Ihe  term. 


tf  ELI&ld^,  ih  its  oHginal  forrrt,  was  sifli|>1e  knd 
-EV  iotdHi^b?^:  It  tm  ihtetidkd  fbr  th^  ittstrdctbtl 
afld  ^dtit!atibn  of  kll  riiiikd  6f  in^ti ;  afkd  bf  boo^equericc^ 
Hd  ddfctrmdl  W^i%  dh  k  herel  whB  VUlgaf  cdpacilies.  The 
Jewish  a^pbiisatibh  Waii  ofieilly  Jirkbtiited :  hothing  Was 
jrffcHbHhl^d  yii  Mbr^t ;  e^terf  arlibl^  Was  ttkib,  open,  ahd 
ic^iBie.  The  Htvlh^  AutKor  of  thb  tbridtidn  econo- 
my c(MfifaiHttded  his  discitltek  to  pf^kch  hU  dobtfiile  iVi 
lh(»  fM^t  ^bHb  ktti^ii^r :  '<  Ifhat  ve  hive  beird  ih  sb- 
A%t  (siys  ite)  pi^ach  t))ibn1t ;  ^bd  What  I  have  taoght 
yoa  in  private  teach  ye  phbni&iy,  iWd  prdclaiM  it  on  iht6 
louse  td]^.**  6uth  are  thii  cbihAi  of  trfath,  Ahd  such 
the  chtt^tl^  of  th^  liHigidh  Which  taihb  doWn  fi^m 
fe«*VAi»  thM  thl^y>  Ak  ft  wbUfc,  <^  dk^light,  aiid  m  np 
their  voibb  Ctt  t&6  ktk^^  knd  cry  itt  the  cfefef  j^l^tbs  M 
«M'eflu)*sb.^ 

Bttt  8«dl  fl  ihi  di^j^^fy  bf  ftb  ttaterit  of  hUn,  that 
the  noblb^  ikstJt\AibiMr  degenehite  iti  his  hahds.  ftbli- 
jrfbn  ilKblf,  oHj^tniliy  ]^Te,  SiAiple,  atid  amiabhs,  UYlder 
Bis  mattkj^dkt  hak  often  Kbbh  tmtokfonfied  into  poHu- 
tfoiS  (K^plbkiiy,  aftd  dbfdhni^y.  TAb  ihihl^Cer^  of  re- 
l^fob,  Whos\&  ^ovincte  it  Wa^  td  j^ard  Ae  sacred  de- 
pMitir,  %M  to  setMfe  ii  frobi  foibign  attd  ftp^H-cus  in- 
termixtures, have  generally  been  the  first  innovatoi^, 
HtnA  the  jfirlft  a&id  inosl  rndt&triotts  kj^bts  in  corrupting 
its  ibtegriiy  ai)d  tkrAtkhmg  its  Veabty.  AvaHde  and 
tibbitiob  prompted  that  c!a!ss  of  ini^b  t6  deviate  fibth 
Ibb  6^nkl  f1al?ni&e«is  khd  sibijpHbity  bf  religious  ibsti- 
ttftibbs^  kVtd  tb  TntrocMc^  art?dbs,  tite&,  and  nta^es, 
Wirtch  ttl^t  forbiih  tfibitt  With  bpportubitibs  of  grati- 
^$  t!hbtfe  nnhhlloWed  anii  ibsatiabfe  jka^bns.  Hence 
di^inclldnS  uAfcnbwn.  to  pni^  abd  bndefited  religiota 
Wei^  &t]^iCa(ed*y  and  tbkt  heav^&nly  instltutiob,  hek-eto- 
fore,  one,  simple,  indivisible,  was  divided  ibCb  tWo  par- 
titions 7  l^e  bbie  popular  and  publib  ^  thfe  other  dark, 
secret,  and  niyfttlc^ions.  Tie  Iktter  of  tlieSe  We  intend 
^  Ithe  subject  of  thfe  articfe. 

The  English  word  mystery  is  derived  from  the  Greek 
ft\frnl^t¥9'f  ku'd  ib  its  mod^cfm  acceptation  im^iorts  "some- 
ti^ing  abovb^lranikn  intelligence,  something  awfully  ob- 
su^e  and  enigfnatica!  v^^y  thing  artfblly  made  difficulty 
tb*  secret  of  any  business  or  pfofes^ion.  The  word  is 
often  uded:by  the  finnd^  of  the  Christian  ^ligiob;  and 
Aore  freqaenHy  by  fiis  a^^les,  especially  St  rauL  In 
tHese  ca^s,  rt  gc^eiiklly  signffrbs  those  dcjct^ibes  of 
Christianity  wlifcb  tllfe  JiftWs,  pridr  to  tffe  kdverit  of  the 
Messiah,  either  did  not  or  could  riot  nndr^tabd.  The 
Trinity  in  Unity,  knd  the  Unity  in  Trihity  -,  the  in- 
carnation of  the  -Son  of  God ;  tlie  nnion  of  two  na- 
kqres  in  one  and  the.  vuBt'  person,  ^c.  we  {generally 


6ktl  mgsieriieSj  bbcausb  they  ire  infinitely  above  human 
bbfnprbhbnslob.  All  these  significations  are  out  of  the 
qUb&tion  at  present.  Our  intention  in  this  article  is(Njed^ 
to  lay  before  oui^  leaders  the  fullest  and  fairest  account tiikaitibc 
We  have  beeh  able  to  cbtlei^t,  of  those  »wt  ^(«r«,  or  secret 
fnttSf  of  thb  Pagan  superstition,  Which  were  carefully 
bonCeklbd  fh)bi  the  knowledge  of  the  vulgar,  and  ^vhich 
itb  universally  knowb  under  the  denomination  of  iny- 
ifi^es. 

Thb  ttord  fivrt^in  is  evidentlv  deduced  from  ftPi^t 
hbt  the  bHgin  bf  this  last  term  is  not  altogether  so  oIh 
tibus.  The  etymologies  of  it  exhibited  by  tbe  learned 
&rb  vatioU^  *y  some  of  them  absurd  and  ibconsiatent, 
others  foolish  and  futile.  Instead  of  fatiguing  our 
ibaders  with  a  detktt  of  thbsb,  which  would  be  equally 
dnebtertaibing  and  Uninteresting,  we  shall  only  produce 
ob)^,  which  tb  us  kppbars  to  comb  nearest  the  truth. 
The  ifaysteries  tibdeif  cobsidbration  at  present  were  cer- 
tkirily  imported  into  Greece  from  the  east,  tn  those 
rbgions,  theb,  Wb  ought  of  course  to  look  for  the  etymo- 
Ibgy  of  the  Word.  Afistor  of  mtstur^  in  Hebrew,  signifies 
**  aby  place  ot  thing  hidden  or  concealed.*^  As 
ttiis  Word  iibplies  k  kind  of  definition  of  the  nature 
df  the  thing  intended,  and  as  it  is  one  of  the  excel- 
Icttbies  of  original  languages  to  apply  vocables  with 
this  pt^p^iety,  we  find  ourselves  strongly  inclined  to 
kteigb  tne  wofd  fnistur  as  the  loot  of  the  term  ^hx» 
myster. 

We  have  klheady  observed,  that  the  avarice  and  am-tfotnaa 
bitibn  of  tbe  Pagan  priesthood  probably  gave  birth  totkeko*- 
the  institntion  of  the  mysteries.     To  this  observatioo*JJ**^ 
we  may  now  add,  that  the  ministers  of  that  supersti-     '* 
tfon  might  possibly  imagine,  that  some  articles  of  their 
i^ual  Were  too  profound  to  be  comprehrnded  by  the 
Vut'gar  \  others,  too  sacred  to  he  communicated  to  a 
dbscription  of  men,  whom  the  institutions  of  civil  socie- 
ty had  plkCed  in  a  situation  not  only  subordinate  but 
even  contem[ftible.     It  was  imagined,  that  things  sa- 
cfed  and  venerable  would  have  contracted  a  taint  and 
poltiitibn  by  an  intercourse  with  sordid  and  untatortd 
souls.     Iliese  appear  to  us  the  most  probable  motives 
{or  making  tlat  odious  and  pernicious  distinctiea  be- 
tween the  popular  religion  and  that  contained  in  tbe 
skcred  and  mysterious  ritual. 

Tlie  Tcarned  Bishop  Warburton  is  positive,  that  the 
mysteries  of  the  Pagan  religion  were  the  is  vent  ion  of 
legislators^  and  other  great  personages,  whom  fortune^ 
or  tlirir  own  merit  hacl  placed  at  the  head  of  tho^ciTil^* 
societies  which  were  formed  in  the  earliest  agca  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  tbe  world.     It  is  with  reluctance,  imI 

indeed 


MYSTERIES. 


5  indeed  with  diffidettce,  tba.t  we  presume  to  di^er  ui 
Tlie  hypo-  ^^^^  sentiments  from  such  respectable  authoritj.  What- 
Warbiirton  ^^^  hypothesis  tiiis  prelate  had  once  adopted,  so  extcn- 
fl)  feonded.  sive  was  hii  reading,  and  so  exuberant  hi?  intellectual 
iTSources,  tbat  he  found  liule  dli&cuky  in  defending 
it  by  an  appearance  of  plausilMlity,  if  i]iot  of  rational 
argamentation.  The  large  quotations  he  has  adduced 
from  Plato  and  Cicero,  do  indeed  prove  that  the  sages 
«nd  legislators  of  an^tiquLty  sometimes  availed  them- 
selves of  the  iofliience  derived  from  the  doctrines  of 
the  mysteries,  and  from  the  autliority  they  acquired 
by  the  opinion  of  their  having  been  initiated  Jn  them  ^ 
but  thai  those  men  were  the  loven^irs  and  fabricators 
of  them  is  a  position  for  wliich  his  4|uot|^tioQS  do  no.t 
furnish  the  most  slender  presumptiion.  At  the  same 
time,  we  think  it  not  altogether  certain,  that  the  dop- 
trine  of  a  divine  Providence,  and  a  futurfc  state  of  re- 
vrards  and  punisbmeiits,  were  revealed  in  the  mysteries 
with  all  the  clearness  and  coj^ncy  which  is  j>retejQdc4 
by  bis  lordship. 

But  gnwi^ng  that  the  fabric  was  raised  hy  the  hapd# 
of  sages  and  legislators,  we  imagine  it  would  be  rather 
difficult  to  discover  what  emolument  that  descriptiou 
of  men  could  propose  to  derive  frooi  the  enterprise— r 
The  institution  was  evidently,  and  indeed  coafes^dly^ 
deviled  to  conceal  from  the  million  those  very  docr 
trines  and  miixims,  vhich  had  they  known  and  eqi- 
braced  them,  wpuld  hstve  contributed  most  eflcctcuilly 
to  dispose  them  tp  submit  to  those  wise  regulation^ 
vhicb  their  governors  and  legislators  wj^ed  most  ar- 
dently to  establish.  Experience  has  taught,  that  no- 
thing has  a  wore  jcomn^anding  influence  on  the  oninds 
of  the  vulgar,  than  those  very  dqgmas,  which,  accord- 
tog  to  the  Bishop,  were  communicated  to  the  initi- 
ated. A  conviction  of  the  unity  of  the  Deity,  of 
bis  wisdoqip  power,  i^odnes^,  omQipresenee,  &g*  the 
steady  belief  of  the  immortality  of  the  buroan  sou^ 
.  and  of  a  future  atate  of  rewiirds  and  pupisbpieiits,  have 
in  all  ages,  and  in  all  countries,  proved  the  firmest 
$upD0Xts  of  legal  authority.  The  very  same  doctrines, 
in  the  dawn  of  Christianity,  contributed,  of  all  other 
methods^  the  most  eflectually  to  tame  and  civilize  the 
aavage  (a)  inhabitants  of  the  northern  regions  of  Eu- 
rope. Supposing  those  principles  to  have  been  incul«- 
cated  by  the  mysteries,  the  most  prudent  plan  legisla- 
tors coukl  have  adopted,  would  have  beeo  to  publish 
them  to  all  mankind.  They  ought  to  have  sent  forth 
.apostles  to  preach  them  to  the  (lavages  whom  they  had 
undertaken  to  civilize.  According  to  the  learned 
prelate,  they  pursued  the  opposite  course,  and  deprived 
themselves  of  those  very  arms  by  which  they  might 
have  encountered  and  overthrawn  all  the  amxies  of 
ic        savaglsm. 

Of  all  the  legislators  of  antiquity,  the  Cretan  alone 
was  prudent  enough  to  foresee  and  adopt  this  rational 
plan.  Diodonis  the  Sicilian  informs  ust,  that  the 
mysteries  ff  Eleusis,  Samothracia,  &c.  which  were 
elsewhere  buried  in  profound  darkness,  were  among 
cfic  '^/retails  "taognt  piibliciT,  ancl  conMBonicatecl  to  ftil 


563 


M>>.t  fries 
of  Kleuus 
laid  to  be 
remind 
inblicljin 
Crete. 


the  world.  Minos,  howevjot^  w;is  a  saccessful  Icgjhlii- 
tor;  and  his  intercourse  with  Jupiter  Idteus  exte^ided 
his  inflijienpe  and  established  his  atithoiity.  He  was 
not  under  the  jiocessity  of  calling  in  tJie  mysteries  to 
bis  assistance :  op  the  contrary,  it  is  highly  probable 
that  the  universal  knowledge  of  the  doctrines  of  tlie 
mysteries  among  his  countrynpen  contributed  in  a  con- 
siderable degree  to  facilitate  his  labour,  and  ensure  his 
success. 

The  divine  Author  of  the  Christian  econoipy,  view- 
ed in  the  light  of  a  human  legislator,  saw  tlie  propriety 
of  this  pi-ocedure.  Nothing  was  concealed  in  his  insti- 
tutions) nothjnjD^  was  veiled  with  mystery,  or  buried 
in  darkness.  The  success  was  answerabU  to  the  wis- 
dom of  the  plan.  The  yiillipn  flocked  to  the  evangeli- 
cal standara :  the  gospel  wfis  preached  to  the  poor,  t« 
the  illiterate  and  the  vylgar  ^  a^d  the  ineitnest  of  man* 
kind  eagerly  embraced  its  maxims*  Wherever  it  pre- 
vailed, it  produced  civilization,  morality,  sobriety,  joyr 
alty,  and  every  other  private  and  social  virtpe^— Upoa 
the  supposition  tb^t  the  inysteries  had  contaiued  aqd  i<i- 
culcatcd  the  principles  and  practices  which  the  prelate 
supposf.'s  they  did,  the  civilizers  of  mankind,  legislators^ 
magistrates,  and  princes,  ou^t  to  have  coilibined  tp 
n^abs  ibeca  public  for  the  sake  of  their  own  trapqui)U-> 
ty,  and  the  jgipre  effectual  support  of  their  authority 
l^nd  influence,  • 

jLJpon  the  whole^  we  Vt^  inclined  to  believe  that  the  Mytteriet 
inysteries  were  the  ofispriig  of  Egyptian  priestcraft.  ^<^  ^'ff- 
Tliey  were  iufiUUited  with  a  view  to  aggrandi^^e  ^•'^'^'^^^ 
ondar  of  jneut  to  e;iLtend  their  influence,  and  enlargtp^i^^; 
tlieir  revenues.      To  accomplish  those  selfish  projects^  trat 
they  applied  every  engine  towards  besotting  the  mtd^ 
tjtude  with  superstition  and  enthusiasm.    They  taMgbt 
tliem  to  believe,  that  themselves  were  the  .distinguished 
favourites  of  heaven;  and  that  celestial  doctrines  had 
been  revealed  to  them,  too  holy  to  be  coQimimicated 
to  the  profane  mbble,  and  too  subliipe  to  be  compre- 
hended by  v^dgar  capacities.    It  is,  wecopfeis,  ^* 
ceedingly  probable,  that  gfter  the  mysteries  were  iir* 
stituted,  aod  bad  acquired  an  exalted  reputation  in  the 
world,  legislators,  roagisU^ite^y  judges,  and  potentates, 
joined  in  the  imposture,  with  the  same  views  and  fron^        3 
the  same  principles.      Princes  and    legislators,    who  adopted  by 
found  their  advantage  in  overawing  and  humbling  •the  legisUioni 
multitude,  readily  adopted  a  plan  which  they  found  so^*^* 
artfully  fiibricated  to  answer  these  very  purposes.    They 
Imd  interest  enough  with  the  sacerdotal  (b)  mystar- 
gogues,  to  induce  them  to  allpw  them  to  participate  in 
those  venerable  rites  which  had  already  established  the  ' 
authority  of  that  description  of  men  in  whose  hands 
they  were  deposited*     Tbe  views  of  both  parties  wera 
exactlv  congenial.     The  rea^ect,  the  admiration,  and 
dependance  on  the  miUioQ,  were  the  ultimate  objects 
of  their  ambition  r€spectivdy.-^-]^riest8  and   prmoes 
were  actuated  by  the  very  same  spirit.    The  combina- 
tion was  advantageous,  and  of  consequence  harmoni- 
ous.    For  these  reasons  we  have  taken  the  liberty  of 
from  his  liordsbip  of -GkHieestw  with  reepeet 

4B  2  to 


"■  "y 


^ft*- 


(a)  The  Germans,  Bussians,  and  Scandinavians,  who  were  never  thoiDUghly  civilized  till  the  gospel  w^ 
preached  among  them. 

(b)  The  mystagognes  were  (he  ministers  t^o  acted  the  chief  part  in  celebrating  the  mysterietfi 


5<54 


MYSTERIE   S. 


to  the  persons  who  £rst  instituted  the  secret  mysteries  of 
9  the  Pagan  religion. 
Hypothedf  Another  writer  of  considerable  reputation  in  the 
of  Mo-  republic  of  letters,  is  of  opinion,  that  the  mysteries 
were  entirely  commemorative  }  that  they  were  institut- 
ed with  a  view  to  preserve  the  remembrance  of  heroes 
and  great  men;  who  had  been  deified  in  consideration 
of  their  martial  exploits,  useful  inventions,  public  vir- 
tues, and  especially  in  consequence  of  the  benefits  by 
them  conferred  on  their  contemporaries. — According  to 
him,  the  (c)  mysteries  of  Mithras  were  established  for 
this  very  purpose.  It  would  be  no  difficult  matter 
to  prove  that  the  Persian  deity  of  that  name  was  the 
sun,  and  that  his  name  and  insignia  jointly  ascertain 
the  truth  of  this  assertion.  The  same  writer  extends 
this  observation  to  the  mysteries  of  the  Egyptians, 
Phoenicians,  Greeks,  Hetroscans ;  and  in  a  word,  to 
10  all  thaF^nstitutions  of  that  species  throughout  the  world, 
''^■f^l^  In  opposition  to  this  singular  opinion,  it  may  be  argued, 
^J?  ^  we  think  with  some  show  of  reason,  that  the  method 
of  preserving  the  memory  of  great  and  illustrioos  men 
generally  adopted,  was  the  esUblishing  festivals,  cele* 
brating  games,  offering  sacrifices,  singing  hymns, 
dances,  &c.  We.  can  recollect  no  secret  mysteries  inr 
stituted  for  that  purpose  at  least  in  their  original  in- 
tention. If  any  usage  of  the  commemorative  kind  was. 
admitted,  it  wa^  superinduced  at  some  period  posterior 
to  the  primary  institution.  At  the  same  time,  upon  the 
supposition  that  the  orgia  of  Bacchus  were  the  same  with 
those  of  the  Egyptian  Osiris,  and  that  the  mysteries  of 
Ceres  exhibited  at  Eleusis  were  copied  from  those  of  the. 
Egyptian  Isis,  and  allowing  that  the  former  was  the  • 
sun,  and  the  latter  the  moon;  it  will  be  difficult  to> 
find  out  the  human  persons  whose  exploits,  adventures^ 
inventions,  &c.  were  intended  to  be  immortalized  by. 
those  institutions.  Upon  the  whole,^  the  mysteries  were 
performed  in  secret ;  they  were  intended  to  be  com- 
municated only  to  a  few  ;  of  course  had  they  been  in-r 
stituted  with  a  view,  to  immortalize  the  memory  of 
heroes  and  great  men,  the  authors  would  have  acted  the 
most  foolish  and  inconsistent  part  imaginable.— Instead 
«f  transmitting  the  fame  of  their  heroes. with  ecfat  to 
posterity,  they  would  by  this  procedure  have  consigned 
J  J  it  to  eternal  oblivion. 
Chirfint  We  must  then  recur  to  our  first  position.     The  my- 

position       steries  were  the  offspring  of  bigotry  and  priestcraft } 
f'PP?'**^    they  originated  in  Egypt,  the  native  land  of  idola^ 
lister  of  *"^*      ^^  ^^**  country  the  priesthood  ruled  predomi- 
the  prietU  TatmL     The  kings  were  engrafted  into  their  body  be- 
ef I^ypU     fore  they  coold  ascend  the  throne,      '^^  were   pos- 
*  J>iwtor.   sessed  oi  a  third  part*  of  all  the  land  of  Egypt.     The 
oieul^W).  ^sacerdotal  function  was  confined  to  one  tribe,  and  was 
transmitted  unalienably  from  father  to  son.     All   the 
orientals,  but  more  especially  the  Egyptians,  delight- 
ed  in   mysterious  and   allegorical  doctrines.      Every 
maxim  of  morality,   every  tenet  of  theology,   every 


dogma  of  philosophy,  was  wrapt  up  in  a  vail  of  allc- 
gory  and  mysticism.  This  propensity,  no  doubt,  con- 
spired with  avarice  and  ambition  to  dispose  them  to  a 
dark  and  mysterious  system  of  religion.  Besides,  the 
Egyptians  were  a  gloomy  t  race  of  men ',  they  delighted  t 
in  darkness  and  solitude  Their  sacred  rites  were  ge- 
nerally celebrated  with  melancholy  airs,  weeping,  and 
lamentation.  This  gloomy  and  unsocial  bias  of  mind 
must  have  stimulated  them  to  a  congenial  mode  of  wor- 
ship. In  Egypt  then  we  are  to  search  f<lr  the  origin 
of  the  mysteries.  Both  the  nature  of  the  institution 
and  the  genius  of  the  people  confirm  this  position  )  and 
historians,  both  ancient  and  modem,  are  agreed  in.  ad- 
mitting the  certainty  of  the  fact. 

The  Osiris  of  Egypt,  every  body-  knows,  was  the  j^  ^^ 
original  Bacchus }  as  the  Isis  of  the  same  country  was  madlmd 
the  Ceres  of  the  Greeks.     The  rites  of  Qsiiis  were^^TP^tke 
performed  with  loud  shriek^  and  lamentations  wfaeo^^'j^ 
he  was  put  into  ihe  coffin^  and  with'  the  most  extrarq|>Q^^^_ 
vagant  mirth,  when  he  was  in, a  manner  raised  from 
the  dead,  or  supposed  to  be  found  again.  .  Their  hymns 
were  upon  the  whole  ajways  composed  in  melancfaolj 
affecting  strains ',  and.  consisted  of  lamentations  for  the 
loss  of  Osiris,  the  mystic  flight  of  Bacchus,  the  wan- 
derings of  Isis,  and  the  sufferings  X^  of  the  gods.     The  «  ^^  l 
Canaanites,  who  were  a  kindred  tribe^of  the  Mizraimct  o^. 
or  Egyptians,  imitated  them  in  their  sacred  rites.     At  i  f«^ 
Byblus,  Beiytus,  Sidon,  and  afterwards  at  Tyre,  thej  ^ifL  m. 
used  particularly  mournful. dirges  for  the  death  of  Ado- '■^^^'■b 
nis  or  Tammuz  },  who  was  the  same  with  the  Egypti-  ^^''^ 
an  Osiris,  i.  e.  the  suib 

The  Egyptians,  then,  naturally  iqclinedto  gloom  ^^^ 


and .  secrecy,  instituted  a  mode  of  worship  congenial 
with  their  natural  disposition  of  mind.     The  recess  ci 
the  son  towards  the   sonthem  hemisphere,  was  tbe^J?| 
death  *  of  Osiris }  the  wanderings  of  Isis  in  search  of  ^^ 
her  husband   and  brother,  allegorically  imported   the 
longing  of  the  earth  t  for  the  return  of  the  fructifying  |  fM-k^ 
influence  of  the  solar  heat.  H  ^  ' 

When  that  luminary  returned  towards  the  summer 
solstice,  and  grain,  trees,  fruits,  herbs,  and  flowers 
adorned  the  fiice  of  nature,  another  festival  was  cele- 
brated'of  a  very  different  complexion  from  that  of  the 
former.  In  this  season  all  Egypt  was  dissolved  in  the 
most  extravagant  mirtb  and  jollity.  During  the  cele- 
bration of  those  festivals,  the  priests  formed  allegorical 
representations  of  the  sun  and  the  earth  (d).  They 
personified  the  one  and  the  other,  and  allegorized  their 
motions,  aspects,  relations,  sympathies,  accesses,  re- 
cesses, &c.  into  real  adventures,  peregrioations,  suffer- 
ings, contests,  battles,  victories,,  defeats,  and  so  fortL 
These,  in  process  of  time,  were  held  up  to  the  vulgar 
as  real  occurrences ;  and  these  in  a  few  ages  becwe 
the  most  essential  articles  of  the  popular  creed.  From 
this  source  were  derived  the  conquests  of  Dionysus  or 
Bacchus,  so  b^utifiilly  exhibited  by  Nonnns  in  his 

Dionysiacs; 


(c)  Principio  hoc  ego  quid^m  coatroversia  vacare,  arbitror,  mysteria  quae  vocantur,  ritus  fuisse  idcirco  institu- 
tes ne  memoria  periret  veterum  beneficiomm,  inventorum,  fatorum  rerum  gestarum  quibus  primi  popalorum  < 
ditores,  aut  alii  praeclari  homines,  decus  nomen,  et  famam,  inter  suos  sibi  comparaverant.     Neque  htfc  cuif 
sententia  roirabilis  vlderi  poterit.     Cud.  Syst,  Intellect,  ed.  MosAemu\  p.  329. 

(p)  Isis,  among  the  Egyptians,  sometimes  sigaiifies  the  moon,  aud  sometimes  the  earth« 

3 


RieEgTP- 
laasdci- 

ted  depwt 

d  heroes. 

Iab.L 
U  <f 


«5 


objects 
(wonhip 
in 


i6 
Uefad- 
latageof 


ncNM. 


M  Y  S  T 

Dionysiacs;  tbe  w&nderings  of  lo,  wonderfally  adorned 
hy  ^schylus ;  and  the  labours  of  Hercules,  afterwards 
usurped  by  the  Greeks. 

Whether  the  Egyptiails  deified  mortal  men  in  tlie 
earliest  ages  has  been  much  controverted.  Jablonkski  t 
'  has  taken  much  pains  to  prove  the  negative.  Diodo- 
rus  t  assures  us,  that  they  paid  their  roonarcbs  a  kind 
of  divine  adoration,  even  in  their  lifetime.  Plutarch 
tells  us  plainly  ^,  that  some  were  of  opinion  that  Isis, 
Osiris,  Horus,  Anubis,  Typhon,  were  once  mortal 
persons,  who  were  exalted  into  demons  after  their  death. 
The  Sicilian,  in  his  history  of  Isis  and  Osiris,  Pan,  Her- 
mes, &c.  plainly  represents  them  as  human  personages  } 
and  informs  us,  that  the  Egyptians  imagined,  that  after 
their  decease  they  transmigrated  into  particular  stars. 
From  these  authorities,  we  are  inclined  to  believe  that 
the  Egyptians,  as  well  as  the  other  Pagans,  did  actual- 
ly deify  persons  who  had  distinguished  themselves  in 
their  days  of  nature  by  prowess,  wisdom,  useful  arts, 
and  inventions.  This  was  a  constant  practice  among 
the  Greeks,  who  probably  learned  it  from  the  people  in 
question. 

The  exploits  of  these  heroes  had  been  disguised  by^ 
allegorical  traditions  and  bieroglvphical  repre-sentations^ 
They  bad  b^n  magnified  beyond  all  dimensions,  in  or- 
der to  astonish  and  intimidate  ihe  vulgar.  They  had 
been  iuterlarded  with  the  most  extravagant  fables,  in 
ofder  to  gratify  their  propensity  towards  the  marvel- 
lous. All  these  secrets  were  developed  in  the  mysteries. 
The  catechumens  (e)  were  informed  of  every  particular 
relating  to  the  birth,  the  life,  the  exploits,  the  adven-. 
tores,  the  misfortunes,  and  decease  of  those  heroic  per- 
sonages, and  when,  -and  by  what  means,  they  had  atT 
tained  to  the  high  rank  of  divinities.  At  the  same 
time  we  think  it  highly  probable,  that  those  demi-goda 
were  represented  in  their  state  of  exaltation  and  beaven- 
ly  splendour.  The  magicians  of  Egypt  were  abundantr 
ly  qualified  for  exhibiting  angeis  in .  mackines.  The 
souls  of  virtuous  men,  who  bad  Hot  been  eminent  enough 
to  merit  the  honour  of  deification,  were  shawQ  in  all 
the  perfection  of  Elysian  felicity;  and  perhaps  thesoub 
of  tyrants,  and  of  the  children  of<  (f)  Typhon,  were 
sbown  in  Tartarus,  suffering  all  the  extremes  of  infemat 
punishment.  From  these  exhibitions  the.  mystacoguef 
might  naturally  enough  take  occasion  to  read  their  por. 
pils  suitable  lectures  on  tbe  happy  tendency  of  a  virtu- 
ous conduct,  and  the  dishonour  and  misery  conseqi^ent 
upon  a  contrary  course.  Tb^y  might  set  before  tbem 
immortal  renown,  deification,  and*  lllysium,  on  the  one 
band,  and  eternal  infamy  and  misery  on  the  other.  This 
will  ^obably  be  deemed  tbe  chief  advantage  acoming 
from  this  institution. 

Besides  tbe  communications  above  mentioned,  tbe 
catechameot  were  taught  many  secrets  of  physiology, 
or  the  nature  of  the  phenomoDa  of  the  worla.  This 
Pbanmtos  *  every  whete  affirms,  especially  in  his  last 
book'towards  the  en4.    PlntarcV.too  mfemisvs,  that 


E  fi  I  E  g.  565 

many  of  tbe  Greek  philosophers  were  of  opinion,  that 
most  of  tbe  Egyptian  fables  were  allegorical  details  of 
physical  operations.      Eusebius   acquaints   ust,  tbatfiVop. 
the  physiology,  not  only  of  tbe  Greeks,  but  likewise  E^f^H^^ 
of  the  barbarians,   was  nothing  else   but   a  kind  of 
science  of  nature,  a  concealed  and  dark  theology,   in- 
volved  in   fable  and  fiction,  whose  bidden  mytseries 
were-  so  veiled  over  with  enigmas  and  allegories,  that 
the  ignorant  million  were  as  little  capable  of  compre- 
hending what  was  said  as  what  was  suppressed  in  si- 
lence.    This,  says  he,  is  apparent  firom  the  poems  of 
Orpheus  and  the  fable  of  tbe  Phrygians  and  Egyp- 
tians.    Dionysius  of  Halicamassus  likewise  observes ^,  t  Antif, 
that  tbe  fables  of  tbe  Greeks  detail  the  operations  of  •'^mi. 
nature  by  allegories.     Proclus  $  makes  the  same  ob-  i  I^  Tim. 
servation   concerning   tbe  people  in   question.      The 
Egyptians,  says  he,  taught  the  latent  operations  of 
nature  by  fkbles.  2- 

These  physiological  secrets  were.no  doubt  expounded  Pbysiologi* 
to  tbe  initiated  \  and  that  the  Egyptian  priests  were  ^^  wcv^ts 
deeply  skilled  in  physiological  science,  can  scarce  be  ?*??"'^** 
questioned,  if  we  believe  that  Jannes  and  Jambres  ri- sillies  i2* 
vailed  Moses  with  tbeir  enchantments^  .  The  preceding  Egypt. . 
detail  comprehends  all  that  was  revealed  to  the  Epoptae 
in  the  original  Egyptian  mysteries.      What  articles  . 
might  have  been  introduced  afterwards  we  cannot  pre- 
tend to  determine.. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  one  thing  is  certain,  namely,  that 
tbe  vulgar  were.excluded  from  all  those  choice  secrets^ 
which  were^  carefully  reserved  for  the  nobility  and 
sacerdotal  tribes..  To  tbem  it  was  given  to  know  the 
mysteries  of  the  kingdom  of  darkness ;  but  to  those 
who  were  without,  all  was  mystery  and  parable.  While 
the  laity  fed  on  husks,  the  clergy  and  the  quality 
feasted  on  royal  dainties.  The  priests  who  bad  de- 
vised these  allegories  understood  their  original  import, 
and  bequeathed  it  as  ao  inestimable  legacy  to  their 
children.  Here  then  we  have  the  primary  object  of 
tbe  mysteries,  namely,  to  develope  to  tbe  initiated  the 
original  and  rational  import  of  those  allegorical  and 
mystical  doctrines  which  were  tendered  to  tbe  uniniti- 
ated, wrapt  up  in  impenetrable  allegory  and  obscurity. 
To  the  former,  these  were  communicated  and  explain- 
ed: Thfe  latter  were  obliged  to  stand  at  an  awral  di- 
stance, and  retire  as  tbe  Procui^  O  procui  esteprofant\ 
thundered  in  their  cars. 

These  allegorical  traditions.origin'atedin  ^ypt,  (see 
Mtthtologt.)  It  was^  the  ^neral  bias  ofthe  orien- 
tal genius.  The  Egyptians,  however,  according  to  the 
most  authentic  accounts  (g),  were  the  greatest  profi- 
cients in  that  science.  The  original  subject  of  these 
institutions  were,  we  imagine,  tbe  articles  we  have  spe- 
cified above :  but  in  process  of  time,  according  to  the 
natural  course  of  things,  numerous  improvements  were 
made,  and  many  new  rites,  ceremonies,  usages,  and  even  , 
doctrines,  were  superinduced,  which  were  utterly  un- 
known to  tbe  original  hierophants,  (H).     Simplicity  is. 


^w 


(e)  Catechumens  were  pupils  who  wctre  learning  the  elements  of  any  science. 
(F)  Typhon  was  the  evil  genius,  or  devil,  of  the  Egyptians. 

(g)  As  early  as  the  age  of  Joseph,  the  Egyptians  were  skilled  in  the  interpretation^  of  dreams,  divinationSt 
&c.  and  in  tha  age  of  AioSes  they  werq  jMcome  wise  men,  magicians,  &c. 
(h)  Hievophant  imports  a  priest  enipli»yed  in  explaiaing  the  doctrioes,.  rites,  &c.  commmucstcd  to  the  initiated. 


5^5 


MYSTERIES. 


for  tbe  moist  part,  cne  of  tfac  distinguishing  characters  of 
a  new  institution ;  but  succeeding  architects  generally 
imagine  that  something  is  still  wanting  to  complete  tbe 
beauty^  the  regularity,  the  uniformity,  the  magnifi- 
cence, and  perhaps  the  conveniency  of  tbe  structui'e. 
Hence,  at  length,  it  comes  to  be  so'overloaded  with  ad- 
ventitious drapery,  that  its  primary  elegance  and  sym- 
metry are  altogether  defaced.  This  was  the  case  with 
the  earliest  ^Egyptian  mysteries.  Their  subject  was  at 
''Arst  simple  and  easy  to  be  comprehended  j  in  time  it 
became  complex,  intricate,  and  unintelligible. 
xS  In  order  to  celebrate  those  mysteries  with  the  greater 

Tcmjjics      secrecy,  their  temples  were  so  constructed  as  to  favour 
m^stei^    the  artifice  of  tlie  priests.     Tlie  fanes,  in  which  they 
\T«re  cele-  ^^^^  ^^  execute  their  sacred  functions,  and  to  perform 
bratcd.        the  rites  and  ceremonies  of  their  religion,  were  sub- 
terraneous apartments,  constructed  with  such  wonder- 
full  skill  and  dexterity,  that  every  thing  that  appeared 
in  them  breathed  an  air  of  solemn  secrecy.      Their 
walls  were  covered  with  hieroglyphic  paintings  and 
sculpture,  and  the  altar  was  situated  in  the  centre  of 
t  ^iWilm,  the  apartment.    Modern  X  travellers  have  of  late  years 
Shttw,  Po'  discovered  some  vestiges  of  them,  and  bear  witness  to 
cocke.icc,  ^|jg  above  description  of  those  dark  abodes  (i).     In 
those  subterraneous  mansions,  which  the  priests  of  that 
ingenious  nation  had  planned  with  the  most  consum- 
mate skill,  the  kings,  princes,  and  great  men  of  the 
state,  encountered  the  dangers  and  hardships  contrived 
to  prove  tlieir  prudence,  fortitude,  patience,  abstinence, 
&c.     These  were  appointed  to  try  their  merit )  and  by 
'  tlicse  the  bierophants  were  enabled  to  decide  whether  or 
not  they  were  duly  qualified  for  receiving  that  benefit. 
Upon  these  occasions  we  may  believe,  abundance  of 
those  magical  tricks  were  exbibked,  for  which  the  ma- 
gicians of  Egypt  were  ao  much  celebrated  among  the 
ancients.     The  strange  and  astonisliing  sights,  the  aU 
teraate  successions  of  light  and  darkness,  the  hideous 
spectres  exposed  to  view,  the  frightful  bowlings  re- 
echoed by  these  infernal  domes,  the  scenes  of  Tartarus 
and  Elysium,  exhibited  altemately  and  in  quick  succes- 
sion, must  have  made  a  deep  and  lasting  impression  on 
the  mind  of  the  afirighted  votary  (k).    These  scenes 
iQ       we  shall  describe  more  fully  in  the  sequel. 
The  Gre-        From  the  scenes  exhibited  in  celebratini^  the  Egyp- 
n^'r^ions  ^^^  mysteries,  especially  those  of  Isis  anaOsiris,  iihe 
■  copied        Greeks  seem  to  have  copied  their  ideas  of  the  infernal 
from  tbe     regions,  aad  tbe  subterraneous  mansions  of  departed 
i:,gyp\Mn    gouts,     lyiany  colonies  of  Egyptians  settled  ia  Greece. 
^nyctencB.    Ytom  these   the  km^ci   (l),    or  most  early  bards  of 
Greece,  learned  them  imperfectly.      Of   course,  we 
find  Homer^s  account  of  the  infernal  regions,  and  of 
the  state  of  departed  souls,  lame  and  incoherent.    Suc- 
ceeding bards  obtained  more  full  and  more  distinct  in- 


formation.    Euripides  and  Aristophanes  seem  to  \axt 
paved  the  way  for  tbe  prince  of  Roman  poets.    Plato  fipj^ 
and  some  of  the  other  philosophers  have  shown  hv  their 
descriptions  or  allusions,  that  the  whole  apparatus  of 
Tartarus  and  Elysium  had  become  a  hackneyed  topic 
some  .centuries  before  Virgil  was  bom*     This  incom- 
parable poet  borrowed  bis  ideas  firom  Homer,  Aristo- 
phanes, Euripides,  Plato,  &c.     These,  under  his  plas- 
tic hand,  in  the  sixth  ^neid,  grew  into  a  system  beao- 
tiful,  regular,  uniform,  and  consistent.     The  materials 
he  lias  employed  were  created  to  his  hand  3  lie  bad 
only  to  collect,  polish,  arrange,  and  connect  them.— 
The  sentiments  collected  from  the  Platonic  philosopbr, 
and  tbe  inimitable  -episode  copied  from  the  annals  of 
Home,  by  tbe  masterly  skill  which  he  has  displayed  in 
the  application  of  them,  form  the  chief  excellencies  of 
tbe  piece.     For  the  rest,  ^e  could  well  dispense  with 
oing  to  EleusLB  (m)  :  every  old  woman  in  Athens  and 
ome  could  repeat  them.  i- 

Egypt  was  then  the  native  land  of  mysteries  as  well  Untaa 


as  of  idolatry.  Every  god  and  goddess  respcctiveltj""^ 
had  their  mysteries ;  but  as  those  of  Isis  and  Osim^S^ 
were  the  most  celebrated,  they  of  course  became  prin-^i^cinK^ 
cipal  objects  of  pursuit  as  well  as  of  imitation  to  the 
neighbouring  nations.  These,  as  is  generally  believed, 
were  carried  into  Persia  by  Zoroastres,  or  Zerdosht, 
by  whom  they  were  consecrated  to  Mithras.  On  these 
we  shall  make  some  observations  in  the  sequel.— Or- 
pheus imported  them  into  Thrace  3  Cadmus  hrooght 
them  into  Boeotia,  where  they  were  sacred  to  Bacchus. 
Inadius  established  them  at  Argos  in  honour  of  Jdoo, 
the  same  with  Isis  (n)  3  Cyniras  in  Cyprus,  where  tbev 
were  dedicated  to  Venus.  In  Phrygia  they  were  sacred 
to  Cybele,  the  mother  of  the  gods. 

Our  learned  readers,  who  will  probably  reflect 
that  the  Egyptians  were  in  ancient  times  inhospitable 
to  strangers,  will  perhaps  be  surprised  that  this  fasti- 
dious and  jealous  people  were  so  ready  to  comoumicate 
tlie  arcana  of  their  religion  to  foreigners. — But  they 
will  please  recollect,  that  a  great  part  of  Greece  was 
planted  with  colonies  from  Egypt,  Phoenicia,  Palestine, 
&c.  This  yre  could  easily  prove,  did  tbe  bounds  pcr- 
scribed  us  admit  such  a  degression.  Orpheua,  if  not  an 
Egyptian,  was  at  least  of  oriental  extraction.  Inachns, 
Cadmus,  and  Melampus,  are  universally  allowed  to 
have  been  Egyptians.  Etecbtbeus,  in  whose  reign  the 
Eleusinian  mysteries  were  established,  was  an  Egyptian 
by  birth,  or  at  least  sprung  from  Egyptian  ancestors. 
1  be  Egyptians,  tli^i,  in  those  early  ages,  did  not  view 
the  Greeks  in  the  light  of  aliens,  but  as  a  people 
nearly  related  either  to  themselves  or  the  Phoenicians, 
who  were  their  brethren.  Upon  this  connexion  we 
imagine  it  was,  that  in  later  times  most  of  the  sages  of 

Greece^ 


(i)  See'  an  excdlent  description  of  these  subtearan«ons>ahodei^  and  of  th^  process  of  probation  candied  on  tbaie, 
in  a  French  romance,  entitled  i/ie  Life  of  Sethos. 

(k)  Persons  who  had  descended  into  Trophonius^s  vault  were  said  to  have  been  so  terrified  with  diockiog  sighc^ 
that  they  never  laughed  during  the  remainder  of  their  \hes, 

(l)  These  were  strolling  poets  like  our  jninstieb,  who  frequented  the  bouses  of  the  great  men  of  Greeoe,  aid 
entertained  the  company  upon  public  occasions  with  aifliging  iiud  tales  of  other  times. 

(m)  Bishop  Wasburton  has,  with  much  ii^nuity,  and  a  vast  proiiisioa  of  reading,  endeavoure4  to  proipe  that 
Virgil  borrowed  the  whole  scenery  of  the  aixth  .£neid  from  the  sources  roentioned  in  the  test. 

c(n.)  Isis  'was  the  moon,  and  the  ori^al  luno  was  the  same  .planet. 

5 


MYSTERIES. 


I 
lies 


Greece,  es]^etally  of  Athens,  found  so  hos]Htable   a 
Kception  among  that  people.     They  probably  vietred 
them  in  the  light  of  prapagandi ;  apostles   able  and 
wiHiog  to  disflenilnate  their  idolatrous  rites.     This  ob- 
servation, which  might  be  supported  by  numberless  au- 
thorities, did  the  nature  of  the  present  inquiry  permit, 
irill,  we  think,  go  a  great  way  towards  obviating  the 
objection. 
Although,  as  has  been  observed,  every  particular 
thras  deity  had  bis  oivn  peculiar  mysterious  sacred  rites,  yet 
IBS,    of  all  others  those  of  Mithras,  fiacchas  (o),  and  Ceres, 
^^  were  deemed  the  most  august,  and  were  most  univei-sal- 
^    ]y  and  roost  religiously  celebrated.  To  these,  therefore, 
we  shall  in  a  good  measure  confine  ourselves,  upon  this 
occasion.     If  our  readers  shall  become  intimately  ac- 
quainted with  tbescf  they  may  readily  dispense  with  the 
knowledge  of  the  rest,  which  are,  indeed,  no  more  than 
streams  and  emanations  from  these  soui^es.     We  shall 
then,  in  the  first  place,  present  to  our  readers  a  brief 
sketch  of  the  mysteries  of  Mithras. 

Mithras,  or,  according  to  the  Persian,  Mtftr^  was 
one  of  the  great  gods  of  the  Asiatics.     His  worship 
Was  fur  many  ages  confined  to  Persia.     Afterwards, 
however,  it  was  propagated  so  far  and  wide,  that  some 
have  imagined  they  had  discovered  vestiges  of  It  even 
r.    in  Gani.     Mihr^  atcoi*ding  to  Dr  Hyae  *,  signifies 
"^^  lore,  and  Hkewiso  the  sun.     If  we  might  presume  to 
differ  from  so  a  respectable  an  authority,  we  should  con- 
jectare  that  it  is  a  cognate  of  the  Hebrew  word  muthtr^ 
**  excellentia,  prasstantia.^^   That  there  was  an  analogy 
between  the  Hebrew  and  old  Persian,  is  generally  ad- 
mitted by  the  learned.     Be  that  as  it  may,  Mithras 
was  the  sun  (r)  among  the  Persians  \  and  in  honour 
.^  of  that  luminary  thb  institution  was  established.     Mi- 
[j.  thras,  according  to  Plutarch  (q^),  was  tlie  middle  god 
li.  between  Oramai  and  Aritnan,  the  two  supreme  divi- 
nities of  Persia.     But  the  fact  is,  the  solar  phtnet  was 
the  visible  emblem  of  OraUiaz,  the  good  genius  of  die 
Persian  tribes,  and  the  same  with  the  Osins  of  the 
Egyptians.     From  these  people,  some  liavc  imagined 
that  Zoroastres  (n),  or  llerdusht,  borrowed  his  my- 
steries of  Mithras.    To  this  opinion  we  cannot  give 
our  assent,  because  the  probationary  trials  to  be  onder- 
gone  by  the  candidates  among  the  inrmer  were  much 
more  savage  and  sanguinary  than  among  the  latter.^— 
Both,  however,  were  instituted  in  honour  of  the  sanre 
deity  \  and  probably  the  scenes  exhibited,  and  the  in- 
formation communicated  in  both,  were  analogous ;  a 
circumstance  which  perhaps  gave  birth  to  the  opinion 
above  mentioned. 


s^i 


The  grand  festival  of  Mlthms  was  celebrated  six 
days,  in  the  middle  of  the  month  Mihr  (s).  Upon 
these  days,  it  was  lawful  for  the  kings  of  Persia  to  get 
drank  and  dance.  On  this  festival,  we  imagine,  the 
candidates  for  initiation,  having  duly  pro\'ed  their  vo- 
cation, were  sofemnly  admitted  to  the  participation  of 
the  mysteries. 

Zoroastres  (t)  worshipped  Mithras,  or  the  Sun,  in  a  ; 
certain  natural  cave,  which  he  formed  into  a  temple^ 
and  fitted  up  in  a  manner  exactly  mathenmtical.  There 
Mithras  was  represented  as  presiding  over  the  lower 
world  with  all  the  pomp  of  royal  magnificence.  la 
it  too  were  seen  the  symbols  of  Mithras  and  of  the 
world,  philosophically  and  mathematically  exhibited, 
to  be  contemphited  and  worshipped.  This  deity  was 
sometimes  represented  as  mounted  on  a  bull,  which  he. 
is  breaking,  and  which  he  kills  with  a  sword.  On 
some  has  relief  still  existing,  he  appears  as  a  young 
man  with  his  tiara  turned  upward,  after  the  manner  of 
the  Persian  kings.  He  is  clothed  with  a  short  tunic  and 
breeches,  afler  the  Persian  fashion.  Sometimes  he  wears 
a  small  cloak.  By  his  sides  are  seen  otlier  human  figures,  , 
with  tiaras  of  the  same  fashion  on  their  heads,  but  with- 
out cloaks.  One  of  these  figures  commonly  holds  in- his 
one  hand  a  torch  lifted  up ;  in  the  other,  one  turned . 
downward.  Sometimes  ever  the  cave  are  seen  the  cha- 
riots of  the  sun  and  moon,  and  divers  constellations^ 
such  as  cancer,  scorpio,  &c. 

In  one  of  thnse  caves  the  ceremonies  of  initiation  Prfti,^*^^^- 
were  performed;  but  Biefore  t%e  candidate  could  boarj^xer. 
admitted,  he  was  forced  to  undergo  a  course  of  pro-  cites  ]»«- 
bationary  exercises,  so  numerous  and  so  rigorous,  that7*?'!*V^ 
very  few  had  courage  and  fortitude  enough  to  go  through  "***^^'**' 
them.     He  was  obliged  to  live  a^ife  of  virtue  and.! 
abstinence  for  the  space  of  seven  years  previous  to  the 
period  of  his  initiation.    Some  months  before  it,  he  was  . 
obliged  to  submit  to  a  long  and  austere  fast,  which  i 
contmned  fifly  days.     He  was  to  netire  several  days 
to  a  deep  and  dark  dungeon,  where  he  was  succeasiveily 
exposed  to  aH  the  extremes  of  heat  and  cold.     Mean- 
time  he  frequently  underwent  the   bastinado,   which 
the  priests  applied  without  mercy.     Some  say  this  lu- 
srtigation  continued  two  whole  days,  and  was  repeated 
no  less  than  15  times.    In  the. course  of  these  proba- 
tionary exercises,  the  candidate  was  generally  reduced  ' 
in  a  skeleton  :  and  we  are  told,  that  there  have  been 
several  instances  of  persons  who  have  perished  in  the 
attempt. 

Upon  the  eve  of  the  inhiation,  the  aspirant  was  ^  -.  -^ 
oMiged  \xi^  brace  on  hi^  armour,  in  order  to  encoun-^,*^|^ 

ter 


(o)  Bacchus  was  the  Osiris  of  the  Egyptians,  and  Ceres  was  Isis  of  the  same  people. 

(p)  Mosheim,  in  his  note  on  Cudworth^s  Intellectual  System,  p.  330.  has  taken  much  pains-  to  prove  that^ 
Mithras  vsfw  -a  deified  4iMMrtal-}  hot  we  cannot  agree  with  that  learned  man  in  this  point. 

(q^)  Isis  and  Osiris,  p.  369.  I.  20.  from  the  bottonK  This  philosopher  makes  Zoroaster,  according  to  some,.. 
jooo  years  prior  to  the  Trojun  war.  Thisdsiteis  certainly  extravagant.  We  cannot,  however,  agree,  with  • 
some  modems,  who  make  him  contemporary  with  Dams  Hystaspes,  ,1lhe  immediate  euccessor  of  Canfbyaes,  he-  ~ 
cause  it  conLmdicts  aTl  antrquity. 

("r)  5f .  Sll<Awdtte,  Disser.'  v.  p.  17.  -asseits'that  Zoroa^tes  was  initiated  nmong  the  'Egyptians. 

(S)  The  month  Mehr  began  September  30.  and  ended  October  30; 

(t)  See  Dr  Hyde  de  Rel.  vet.  Pers.  pages  16,  17.  Mr  Bryant's  Anal.  rd.  i.  p.  Tp-  Porphyr.  de  A-irtro  "• 
Nymph,  p.  254.  This  ^/hSosppher  often  'mentioBS  "ihe.  t:are  df  HEthras,  and  always  attributes  the  institution  :of  / 
hib  T)Sxfi  to  ZQroa&ter. . 


S68 


MYSTERIES. 


;ter  giants,  and  savage  ttonsters.  In  those  spacious 
subterraneous  mansions  a  mock  hunting  was  exhibited. 
The  priests  and  all  the  subordinate  officers  of  the 
temple,  transformed  into  lions,  tygers,  leopards,  boars, 
wolves,  and  other  savage  creatures,  assailed  him  with 
'•loud  bowlings,  roaring,  and  yelling,  and  every  instance 
of  ferine  fury.  In  those  mock  combats,  the  hero  was 
often  in  danger  of  being  really  worried,  and  always  came 
off  with  bruises  and  wounds.  Lampridius  informs  us, 
that  when  the  emperor  Conunodos  was  initiated,  he  ac- 
tually carried  the  joke  too  far,  and  butchered  one  of  the 
priests  who  attacked  him  in  the  figure  of  -a  wild  beasU 
The  Persians  worshipped  Mithras  or  the  Sun  by  a  per- 
petual fire  'y  hence  the  votary  was  obliged  to  undergo  « 
fiery  trial  ^  that  is,  to  pass  seven  times  through  the 
sacred  fire,  and  each  time  to  plunge  himself  into  cold 
water.  Some  have  made  these  probationary 'penances 
amount  to  So :  others  have  thought  that  they  were  in 
all  only  8.  As  we  find  no  godd  authority  for  either 
of  these  numbers,  we  think  ourselves  at  liberty  to  ha- 
zard the  following  conjecture :  The  number  seven  was 
deemed  sacred  over  all  the  east.  <The  Mithriac  pe- 
nanees  we  imagine  were  either  .seven,  or  if  they  ex- 
ceeded it,  were  regulated  by  seven  repetitions  of  that 
number.  The  candidate  navlng  undergone  all  these 
torturing  trials  with  becoming  .patience  and  fortitude, 
was  declared  a .  proper  subject  for  initiation.  But  be- 
fore his  admission  be  was  obliged  to  bind  himself  by 
the  most  solemn  oath,  with  horrible  imprecations  an- 
nexed, never  to  divulge  any  single  article  of  all  that 
should  be  communicated  to  him  in  the  course  of  his 
initiation* 

VfhtLVmirpMil^  or  ineffable  secrets  were  imparted  to 
tions  in  the  ([^q  initiated,  it  is  impossible  at  this  distance  of  time  to 
52J2J|^^^  discover  with  any  tolerable  dcffree.of  certainty.     We 
-  may*  however,  rest  assured,  uat  the  most  authentic 
tradition  concerning  the  origin  of  the  universe  ^  the  na- 
ture, attribntes,  perfections,  and  operations,  of  Oro- 
masd  f  the  baleful  in&uenees  of  Ariman  ^  and  the  be- 
nign effects  of  the  government  of  Mithras,  were  un- 
folded and  inculcated.     The  secret  phenomena  of  na- 
ture, as  far  as  they  had  been  discovered  by  the  Magi, 
were  likewise  exhibited  j  and  the  application  of  their 
effects,  to  astonish  and  delude  the  vulgar,  were  taught 
both  in  theory  and  practice.     The  exercise  of  public 
and  private  virtues  was  warmly  recommended  ^   and 
•vice  represented  in  the  most  odious  and  frightful  co- 
lours.    Both  these  injunctions  were,  we  may  suppose, 
-enforced  by  a  display  of  the  pleasures  of  Elysium  and 
the  pains  of  Tartarus,  as  has  been  observed  above  in  de- 
scribing the  mysteries  of  the  Egyptians. 

Those  initiations  are  mentioned  by  Lampridius  in 

iDioLcum^^  life  of  Commodos,  and  likewise  by  Justin f  and 

IVjfphmie.  Tertullian  ^,  who  both  flourished  in  the  second  centu- 

tDepnB' 

Mcript  ad- 

ver. 

ret. 


Oath  of 
Mcrecy. 


lievcla- 


ry.  The  last  of  these  two  speaks  of  u  kindof  bapliflB^ 
which  washed  from  the  souls  of  the  initiated  all  thr 
stains  which  they  had  contracted  during  the  ceuzse  of 
their  lives  prior  to  their  initiation.  He  at  the  ataie 
time  mentions  a  particular  mark  which  was  imprinted 
upon  them  (u)^  of  an  offering  of  bread,  and  an  enUen 
of '  the  resorrection  }  which  particulars,  however,  he 
does  not  describe  in  detail.  In  that  offering,  which 
was  accompanied  with  a  certain  form  of  prayer,  a  ves- 
sel of  water  was  offered  up  with  the  bread.  The  same 
father  elsewhere  informs  us,  that  there  was  presented  to 
the  initiated  a  crown  suspended  on  the  point  of  a  sword; 
but  that  they  were  taught  to  say,  Mithras  is  mf 
crown.  By  this  answer  was  intimated,  tliat  they  look- 
ed upon  the  service  of  that  deity  as  their  chief  honour 
^and  ornament. 

After  that  the  Teletas  (x)  were  finished,  the  pup3 
^was  brought  out  of  the  cave  or  temple,  and  with  great 
solemnity  proclaimed  a  lion  of  Mithras  (t)^  a  title 
which  imported  strength  and  intrepid  courage  in  the 
service  of  the  deity.  They  were  now  consecrated  to 
the  god,  and  were  supposed  to  be  under  his  immedistc 
protection  ^  an  idea  which  of  course  animated  them  to 
the  most  daring  and  dangerous  enterprises. 

The  worship  of  Mithras  was  introduced  into  the  Bo- 
man  empire  towards  the  end  of  the  republic,  where  it 
made  very  rapid  progress.  W  hen  Christianity  begaa 
to  make  a  figure  in  the  empire,  the  champions  for  Pa- 
ganism thought  of  proposing  to  men  the  worship  of  tkii 
power  of  benevolence^  in  order  to  counterbalance  or  aa* 
nihilate  that  worship  which  the  Christians  paid  to  Jesai 
Christ  the  true  Sun  of  righteousness.  But  this  mode 
was  soon  abolished,  toother  with  the  other  rites  of  Pa- 
ganism. The  Persian  grandees  often  affected  mudm 
compounded  with  Mithras }  hence  Mithridates,  Mi- 
throbarzanes,  &c  Hence,  too,  the  precious  stone 
called  Mitkridatff  which  by  the  reflection  of  the  8ai||^^ 
sparkled  with  a  variety  of  colours.  There  is  likewise  c^,:. 
a  certain  pearl  of  many  different  colours,  which  they 
call  Mithras*  It  is  found  among  the  mountains  nesr 
the  Bed  sea^  and  when,  exposed  to  the  sun,  it  spsiklci 
with  a  variety  of  dyes.  We  find  likewise  a  king  of 
Eflrypt  of  that  name,  who  reigned  at  Heliopolis  ^  who 
being  commanded  in  a  dream  to  erect  an  obelibk  to  the 
solar  deity,  reared  a  most  prodigious  one  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  that  city.  ^ 

The  votaries  of  Mithras  pretended  that  he  was  spraof  nj^ 
from  a  rock,  and  that  therefore  the  place  where  tfaeMitihiB 


mysterious  ceremonies  were  communicated  to  the  iai-^ 
tiated  was  always  a  cave.    Many  different  reasons  have*  "^ 
been  assigned  for  the  origin  of  this  rock-bom  deity, 
most  of  which  appear  to  us  unsatisfactory.    If  ov 
readers  will  be  obliging  enough  to  accept  of  a  siiDpie 
and  obvious  conjecture,  they  may  take  the  foUowing: 

ML 


(u)  In  allusion  to  this  practice  of  imprinting  a  sacred  mark,  probably  on  the  forehead  of  the  initiated,  we  fiat 
the  injunction  to  the  angel,  Ezek.  chap.  ix.  ver.  4.  and  the  Bevelation  passim* 

(x)  The  mysteries  were  called  Teletes^  which  imports,  **  the  rites  which  confer  perfection.*^ 
(t)  TertuU.  adv.  Marc.  p.  5  5.  The  priests  of  Mithras  were  called  the  lions  of  Miikras^  and  his  pricsteM 
lionesses  ;  some  say  hyeenas.  The  other  inferior  ministers  were  called  eagles,  hawks,  ravens,  &c.  and  on  their 
iiestivals  they  wore  masks  coiresponding  to  their  titles,  after  the  Egyptian  manner,^ where  the  priests  af^eaicd  st 
the  ceremouM^  with  masks  resembling  the  heads  of  lions,  apes,  dogs,  &c.  a  circumstance  which  fomiahes  a  pt^ 
sumption  that  the  mysteries  6f  Mithras  were  of  Egyptian  original. 


M  Y  S  T 

A  rock  18  the  symbol  of  stfeflgili  ftiicl  stalillitv  (£)  ;  the 
dominion  of  Mithras,  in  the  opinion  of  his  votarids^ 
iras  firm  as  a  rock,  and  stable  as  the  everlasting  hills» 
If  oyr  readers  should  not  admit  the  probability  of  thi^ 
conjecture,  we  would  hef^  leave  to  remit  them  to  the 
learned  Mr  Bryaot*8  Anahjm  of  Mtjtkolfis^if^  where  they 
will  fiad  this  point  discussed  with  deep  research  and 
wonderful  ingenuity.  Whatever  may  have  been  the 
origin  of  this  opinion  with  relation  to  the  hirth  of  Mi- 
thras, it  is  certain  that  some  reverence  to  rocks  and 
'  caves  was  kept  op  a  ton^  time  even  after  the  establish- 
ment of  Christianity.  Hence  the  prohibition  given  to 
some  of  the  proselytes  to  that  religion,  that  they  should 
no  more  presume  to  offer  up  their  prayers  ad petras^  at 
the  rocks  (a). 

We  shall  conclude  onr  account  of  the  mysteries  of 
Mithras,  with  a  passage  from  M.  Anquetil,  to  whom 
we  are  so  much  indc-btcd  for  what  knowledge  we  have 
of  the  Persian  theology,  and  in  which  the  functions  of 
that  deity  are  briefly  and  comprehensively  delineated. 
^  The  peculiar  functions  of  Mithras  are  to  fight  conti- 
nually against  Ahriman  and  the  impure  army  of  evil 
genii,  whose  constant  employment  is  to  scatter  terror 
and  desolation  over  the  universe  ;  to  protect  the  frame 
of  nature  from  the  demons  and  their  productions.     For 
this  purpose  ha  is  furnished  with  a  thousand  cars  and  a 
thousand  eyes,  and  traverses  the  space  between  heaven 
and  earth :  his  hands  armed  with  a  club  or  mace.    Mi- 
thras gives  to  the  earth  light  and  sun  :  he  traces  a 
course  for  the  waters :  he  gives  to  men  corn,  pastures, 
ond  children  \  to  the  world  virtuous  kings  and  war- 
riors ;  maintains  harmony  upon  earth,  watches  over  the 
law,^*  &c.     As  the  history  of  Mithras,  and  the  nature 
of  his  mysteries,  are  not  generally  known,  we  imagined 
St  would  be  agreeable  to  many  of  onr  readers  to  have 
the  most  important  articles  relating  to  that  subject  laid 
2y        before  them  as  it  were  in  detail. 
MTstcrics        We  now  proceed  to  the  orgta  ot  mysteries  of  Bac- 
•f  Jfacckui.  chus,  which  we  shall  introduce  with  a  brief  history  of 
that  deity.    The  original  Dionysus  or  Bacchus  was  the 
Osiris  o^  the  Egyptians,  which  last  was  the  Sun  (B). 
Whether  there  was  an  Egyptian  monarch  of  that  name, 
*  Libw  i.      ar  Diodorus  Srculus  affirms  *,  has  no  manner  of  con* 
nexion  with   the   present  disquisition.      The   Greek 
name  of  that  deity  is  plainly  orientf  1,  being  compound- 
laccbas     ^  ^  ^'»   "hright,"  and  nasta  or  nasa^  in  the  .£olic 
ht  y*m*     dialect  nusOj  '^  a  prince.**     This  name  was  imported 
Kill  OstrUfrom  the  east  by  Orpheus,  Cadnnts,  or  by  whoever  else 
communicated  the  worship  of  Osiris  to  the  Greeks, 
That  the  Dionysus  of  the  Greeks  was  the  same  with 
the  Osiris  of  the  Egyptians,  is  universally  allowed. 
Lab.  iL     Herodotus  tells  us  expressly  +,  that  Osiris  is  Dionysus 
TJk^t'    i^i  ^he  Greek  language :  Martianu?  Capellus,  quoted 
^g;ypi'        above,  expresses  the  very  same  idea  {.     The  original 
^  u-  Osiris  was  then  the  sun  ;  but  tlie  Dionysus  or  Bacchua 

»I^  '•  Vol.  XIV.  Part  II.  f 


of  the  Greeks  Was  the  8&me  Uni^k  the  Osiris  0^  the  £- 
gyptians ',  therefore  the  Bacchus  or  'Dionysus  of  the 
Greeks  was  likewise  the  same  luminary. 

The  name  Osiris  has  much  embarrassed  critics  and 
etymologists.  The  learned  Jablonski  },  instead  of  de-$  Panth. 
Ilneating  the  character,  attributes,  operations,  advcn-  ^gJfP* 
tures,  exploits,  and  peculiar  department  assigned  this 
deity  by  his  votaries,  has  spent  much  of  his  pains  on 
trying  to  investigate  the  etymology  of  his  name.  If 
it  be  granted,  which  is  highly  probable,  that  the  He- 
brew and  Egyptian  tongues  are  cognate  dialects.  We 
should  imagine  that  it  is  actually  the  Choshcr  or  Oshir 
of  the  former  language,  which  imports,  ^'  to  make  rich^ 
to  become  rich.^*  Indeed  the  words  Osiris  and  isi% 
were  not  the  ifulgslr  names  of  the  sun  alid  moon  among 
the  Egyptians,  but  only  epithets  importing  their  quali% 
ties.  The  name  of  the  sun  among  that  people  was  PAri or 
P/irt/y  and  that  of  the  moon  loh^  whence  the  Greek  io. 
The  term  Osiris  was  applied  both  to  the  sun  and  to  the 
river  Nile  ;  both  which  by  their  iniSuenCe  contributed 
res|>cctively  to  enrich  and  fertili^  the  land  of  £g}'pt. 

It  was  a  general  custom  among  the  orientals  to  de* 
nominate  their  princes  and  great  men  from  their  gods^ 
demigods,  heroes,  &c.  When  the  former  were  ad- 
vanced to  divine  honours,  they  were  in  process  of  time 
confounded  with  their  archetypes.  The  original  di- 
vinities were  forgotten,  and  these  upstart  deities  usurp* 
ed  their  place  and  prerogatives.  In  tlie  eai'liest  pe- 
riods of  tl)e  Egyptian  monarchy,  tliere  appeared  ttvo 
illustrious  personages,  Osiris  and  Isis.  These  Were  the 
children  of  Cronus  ;  and  being  brother  and  sifter,  they 
were  joined  in  matrimony^  according  to  tlic  custom  of 
the  Egyptians.  As  the  brother  and  husband  had  as- 
sumed the  name  of  tlie  Sun,  so  the  sister  ami  consort 
took  that  of  Isisy  that  is,  "  the  woman  ||,*^  a  name  which*  j|^,^_|^^ 
the  Egyptians  applied  botli  to  the  moon  and  to  the  cap.  r. 
earth,  in  consequence  of  the  similarity  of  their  na- 
turR,  their  mutual  sympathy,  and  congenial  fecuYidify* 
Osiris  having  left  bis  consort  Isis  regent  of  the  king-  f'? 
dom,  with  Hermes  as  her  prime  minister,  and  Hercu-  Qginfc! ' 
les  as  general  of  her  armies^  quitted  Egypt  with  a  nu- 
merous body  of  troops,  attended  by  companies  of 
fauns  (c),  satyrs,  singing  women,  musicians,  &c.  and 
traversed  all  Asia  to  the  eastern  ocean.  Ho  tl»en  re- 
turned homeward  through  the  Upper  Asia,  Thrace, 
Pontus,  Asia  Minor,  Syria,  and  Palestine.  Wherever 
he  marched  he  conferred  numberless  benefits  on  the 
savage  inluibitants.  He  taught  the  art  of  cultivating 
the  ground,  preserving  the  fruits  of  tlie  earth,  and  di- 
stinguishing the  wholesome  and  nutritive  from  the  un- 
wholesome and  poisonous.  He  instructed  them  in  the 
culture  of  the  vine  ',  and  where  vines  could  not  be  pro- 
duced, he  communicated  to  them  the  method  of  pro- 
ducing a  fermented  liquor  from  barley,  very  little  in-^ 
ferwr  to  wine  itself.  He  hnilt.many  cities  in  differenf 
'  4  C  parts 


lAfc 


^i>^ 


(z)  Our  Saviour  probably  alludes  to  this  emblem,  when  he  talks  of  building  his  tkurch  on  a  rock$  and  adds, 
that  the  f^tet  ofheH  should  not  prevail  against  it. 

^a)  The  Caledonian  dniids  seem  to  have  regarded  certain  stones- with  a  superstitious  veneration,  in  ^hich  the 
Catholics  imitated  them.  There  are  in  several  places  of  Scotland  large  stones,  which  the  vulgar  call  leere  8toneS| 
].  e.  we  imatrine,  lecture. 

(d)  See  Macrob.  lib.  i.  cap.  21.  p.  247.  bottom.  Diogenes  Laert.  in  prooemio,  par.  I0«  lif artiaii.  Capel*  lib.  ik 
Jablonj^ki,  vol.  i.  lib.  it.  415.  par.  3.     Phit.  Isis  et  Osir.  passim. 

(c)  Men  and  women  dressed  in  the  habits  of  those  rural  deitie9> 


57® 


M  Y  S  T  E  R 

parts  of  the  globe,  planted  numerous  colonies  (d),  and 
wherever  he  directed  his  course  instituted  just  and 
wholesome  laws,  and  established  the  rites  and  ceremo* 
nies  of  religion,  and  left  priests  and  catechists  of  his 
train  to  teach  and  inculcate  the  oliservance  of  them. 
In  short,  he  left  everywhere  lasting  monuments  of  his 
progress,  and  at  the  same  time  of  his  generosity  and 
beneficence.  Where  he  found  the  people  docile  and 
'  submissive,  he  treated  them  with  kindness  and  huma- 
Bity  .^  if  any  showed  themselves  obstinate,  he  compel- 
led them  to  submit  to  his  institutions  by  force  of 
arms. 

At  tbe  end  of  three  years,  he  returned  to  Egypt, 
where  his  brother  Typhon,  a  wicked  unnatural  mon- 

30  ster,  had  been  formmg  a  conspiracy  against  his  life. 
Bis  death,  ^his  traiteroua  design  he  soon  after  accomplished  in 

the  following  manner :    He  invited  Osiris,  with  some 
6ther  persons  whom  he  bad  gained  over,  to  an  enter- 
tainment.    When  the  repast  was  finished,  he  produced 
\  a  beautiful  coffer,  Highly  finished,  and  adorned  with 

studs  of  gold  'y  promising  to  bestow  it  on  the  person 
whom  it  should  fit  best.  Osiris  was  tempted  to  make 
the  experiment.  The  conspirators  nailed  down  the 
cover  upon  him,  and  threw  the  coffer  into  the  river. 
This  coffer,  which  was  now  become  the  coffin  of  O^iiris, 
was,  they  tell  us,  wafted  by  the  winds  and  waves  to 
the  neighbourhood  of  Byblus,  a  city  of  Phoenicia,  where 
it  was  cast  on  shore,  and  left  by  the  waves  at  the  foot 

31  of  a  tamkrind  tree. 
Wander.         Jgjs  in  the  mean  time,  disconsolate  and  forlorn,  at^ 
in^careh*  *^"^®^  ^7  A^nubis,  was  ransacking  every  quarter  in 
of  his  body,  ^eaicb  of  "her  beloved  Osiris.     At  length  being  inform- 
ed by  her  faithful  attendant  and  guardian,  that  his  bo- 


I  E  S. 


dy  was  lodged  somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood  of  By- 
blus, she  repaired  to  that  city.     There,  they  sav,  she 
was  introduced  to  the  queen,  and  after  (£)  a  variety  of 
adventures  she  recovered  the  corpse  of  her  husband, 
vhich,  of  course,  she  carried  back  with  her  to  Egypt : 
but  the  mischievous  Typhon,  ever  on  the  watch,  found 
her  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile  *,  and  having  robbed  her 
of  her  charge,  cat  the  body  into  14  parts,,  and  scatter- 
ed them  up  and  down.     Now,  once  more,  according 
to  the  fable,  Isis  set  out  in  quest  of  those  parts,  all  of 
which,  only  one  excepted,  she  found,  and  interred  in 
the  place  where  she  found  them ;  and  hence  the  many 
tombs  of  Osiris  in  that  country.   These  tombs  were  de- 
nominated taposiv^  by  the  natives.     Many  other  fabu- 
lous adventures  were  ascribed  to  those  two  personages, 
which  it  is  not  our  province  to  enumerate  at  present. 
If  our  readers  should  wish  to  be  more  minutely  inform- 
ed on  this  subject,  they  may  have  recourse  to  the  au- 
thors mentioned  in  the  last-quoted  author,  or  to  the 
learned  Mr  Bryant^s  Analysis  of  Ancient  Mythology, 


and  M.  Cour  do  Gebelin,  wher6  diey  will  find  matter 
enough  to  gratify  their  curiosity.  -ru-^' 

To  commemorate  those  adventures,  the  mysteries  ©^  •    JJ^" 
Jsis  and  Osiris  were  instituted  ;  and  from  them  botb^g^  q^j, 
those  of  Bacchus  and  Ceres,  among  the  Greeks,  wereiKdtttcd 
derived.    Of  the  Egyptian  solemnity,  we  have  an  ex->»  «■»«- 
act  epitome  in  one  of  the  fathers  of  the  church,  to  tbe'?"'"*^*^ 
following  purpose :    "Here  follows  (says  he)  an  cpi-vcBtBra. 
tome  of  the  mysteries  of  Isis  and  Osiris.  They  deplore 
annually,  with  deep  lamentations  and  shaved  heads,  the 
catastrophe  of  Osiris  over  a  buried  statue  of  that  mo- 
narch.    They  beat  their  breasts,  mangle  their  arms, 
tear  open  the  scars  of  their  former  wounds  \  that  by  an- 
nual lamentations  the  catastrophe  of  his  miserable  and 
fatal  death  may  be  revived  in  their  minds.   When  they 
have  practised  these  things  a  certain  number  of  days, 
then  they  pretend  that  they  have  found  the  remains  of 
his  mangled  body  *,  and  having  found  them,  their  sor- 
rows arc  lolled  asleep,  and  they  break  ont  into  immo- 
derate joy.^'   \\  hat  maxims  of  morality,  secrets  of  phj- 
siolog}',  or  phenomena  of  astronomy,  were  couched  un- 
der this  allegorical  process,  is  not  our  business  to  inves- 
tigate in  this  place.     We  shall  only  observe,  that,  in 
all  probability,  Osiris  and  Isis  were  sovereigns  of  Egypt 
at  a  very  early  period  ^  that  they  had  conferred  many 
signal  benefits  on  their  subjects,  who,  ipffoenced  by  a 
sense  of  gratitude,  paid  them  divine  honount  after  their 
decease  ;  that  in  process  of  time  they  were  confounded 
with  the  sun  and  the  moon  \  and  that  their  adventures 
were  at  length  magnified  beyond  all  credibility,  inter- 
larded with  fables  and  allegories,  and  employed  in  tbe 
mysteries  as  channels  to  convey  a  variety  of  instroctiona 
to  the  initiated.  y^ 

Be  that  as  it  may,  it  is  certain  that  the  very  sameTnacftr- 
mode  of  worship  was  established  at  Byblus,  and  in  af-*^  **^ 
ter  ages  transferred  to  Tyre.     The  Aiizraim  and  CIui-~^ 
naanim  were  nearly  connected  by  blood,  and  their  re-^^^g^ 
ligions  ceremonies  were  derived  from  the  very  sameri««» 
source.     By  what  medium  tbe  worship  of  Osiris  atc*Mi>>- 
Abydus  and  Tyre  was  connected,  we  shall  leave  to^^^ 
others  to  explain  ^  we  shall  only  observe,  that  among 
the  Phcenicians  this  deity  obtained  the  names  Adonii 
and  Bacchus.     Tbe  former  is  rather  an  (f)   epithet 
than  a  name :   the  latter  is  evidently  an  allusion  to 
the  weeping  and  lamentation  (g)  with  which  the  rites 
were  performed.     We  find  another  name  of  that  divi* 
nity  mentioned  in  Scripture  (h)  ^   but  that  term  is 
plainly  of  Egyptian  original :  we  shall  now  proceed  to 
the  mysteries  of  Osiris  as  they  were  celebrated  among 
the  Greeks  and  Thracians,  under  the  name  of  the  Or* 
gia  of  Dionysus  or  Bacchus  f .  f  !>>■*  * 

Orpheus,  the  celebrated  Thracian  philoeophcr,  bad^,^^''* 
travelled  into  Egypt  in  quest  of  knowledge  j  aad  from 

that 


••^ 


(d)  Many  have  thought  this  expedition  fabulous  j  but  the  numberless  monuments  of  Egyptian  aichitecture, 
sculpture,  and  statuary,  lately  discovered  in  the  east,  confirm  it. 

(e)  For  the  conquests  and  adventures  of  Osiris  and  Isis,  we  must  send  our  learned  readers  to  Diod.  Sk. 
Bibl.  1.  i.  and  Pint.  Isis  et  Osiris,  p.  256.  et  seq.  which  we  have  been  obliged  to  abridge,  in  conseqtteooe  of  the 
narrow  limits  prescribed  us. 

(r)  Adonis  is  evidently  the  Hebrew  Adoniy  **  my  lord,"  and  imports  the  sovereignty  of  the  deity, 
(c)  Bacchus  is  derived  from  the  Phoenician  word  bahahy  ^'  to  weep.'^     This  was  the  name  embmoed  by  tbt 
Bomans. 

(h)  Ezek.  chap.  viii.  ^er.  14.  Tammu%  is  the  name  of  one  of  the  months  of  tbe  Egyptian  year* 

4 


MYSTERIES. 


tlufct  eottntry,  aceordiag  t5  the  most  authentic  accounts, 
ha  imported  the  Bacchanalian .  rites  and  institutions* 
Some  have  affirmed  that  this  same  Orpheus  being  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  the  family  of  Cadmus,  commu- 
nicated these  rites  to  them,  and  endeavoured  to  transfer 
them  to  the  grandson  of  that  hero,  which  grandson  be- 
came afterwards  the  Grecian  Bacchus.    It  is,  however, 
34       we  think  much  more  probable,  that  those  rites  were 
vad  thence  imported  from  Egypt  or  Phoenicia,  by  (i)  Cadmus 
{■•JS*'^     himself,  who  was  a  native  of  the  former  country,  and 
Uto  JBceo-  ^  thought  to  have  spent  some  time  in  the  latter,  before 
ttt.  be  emigrated  in  quest  of  a  settlement  in  Boeotia.    It  is 

said  that  Semele,  the  daughter  of  Cadmus,  and  the 
mother  of  the  Grecian  Bacchus,  was  struck  with  light- 
ning at  the  very  instant  of  his  birth.  The  child  was, 
in  all  probability,  denominated  Bacchus  (k),  from  the 
sorrow  and  lamentation  this  melancholy  accident  had 
occasioned  in  the  fismily.  Cadmus,  in  order  to  conceal 
the  dishonour  of  his  daughter,  might,  we  imagine,  con- 
vey away  his  infant  grandson  to  some  of  his  relations  in 
PhcBoicia  or  Egypt.  There  he  was  educated  and  in- 
structed in  all  the  mysteries  of  Isis  and  Osiris,  and  at 
the  same  time  initiated  in  all  the  magical  or  juggling 
tricks  of  the  Egyptian  priests  and  hierophants.  Thus 
aeeomplished,  when  he  arrived  at  manhood,  he  returned 
to  Thebes  with  the  traditional  retinue  of  the  original 
deity  of  the  same  name;  and  claimed  divine  honours 
accordingly.  This  claim,  however,  was  not  admitted 
withoat  much  opposition  ;  Penthens,  another  grandson 
of  Cadiisus,  was  torn  to  pieces  by  the  frantic  Baccha- 
BlsUans  upon  Mount  Citheron,  because  he  attempted  to 
intermpt  them  in  celebrating  the  orgia.  Some  have 
thought  that  Cadmus  lost  his  kingdom  for  the  same 
reason ;  but  this  we  think  is  by  no  means  probable : 
we  should  rather  imagine  that  the  old  prince  was  privy 
to  the  whole  process,  and  that  it  was  originally  planned 
by  him,  with  a  view  to  attract  the  veneration  of  his 
new  subjects,  by  making  them  believe  that  there  was  a 
55  divinity  in  his  family. 
llM«etioBt  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  vain-glorious  Greeks  attribu- 
*^^^  ted  all  the  actions  of  the  Egyptian  hero  to  tlieir  new 
to  tke  Gre-  ^*^<^l>^  9  <^^  according  to  their  laudable  practice,  en- 
ctta  Bac-  fS^S^^  ^^^  !q  numbericss  adventures  in  which  his  proto-* 
type  had  no  share.  Most  of  those  are  futile  and  unen- 
tertaining  (l).  Tjie  Greeks  commonly  adopted  some 
oriental  personage  as  the  hero  of  their  mythological 


571 


rhapsodies.  Him  they  naturaliled  and  adopted  into 
some  Gre<iian  family,  and  so  he  became  their  own.  To 
him  they  ascribed  all  the  adventures  and  exploits  of  the 
oriental  archetype  from  whom  he  was  copied.  Conse-^ 
quently  in  the  orgia  (m),  every  thing  was  collected 
that  had  been  imported  from  the  east  relating  to  Osiris  $ 
and  to  that  farrago  was  joined  all  that  the  Grecian 
rhapsodists  had  thought  fit  to  invent,  in  order  to  amuse 
the  credulous  multitude.  This,  however,  was  not  the 
whole  of  the  mi;sfortune :  The  adventures  of  Osiris  were 
described  by  the  Egyptian  hierophants,  veiled  with  al-^ 
legorical  and  hieroglyphical  nsysteries.  Tbe«e  the  per- 
sons who  imported  them  into  Greece  did  not  thorough- 
ly comprehend,  or,  if  they  did,  they  were  not  inclined 
to  communicate  them  sound  and  unsophisticated.  Be- 
sides, many  oriental  terms  were  retained,  the  import  of 
which  was  in  process  of  time  lost  or  distorted.  Hence 
the  religious  ceremonies  of  the  Greeks  became  a  med- 
ley of  mconsistencies.  The  mysteries  of  Bacchus,  in 
particular,  were  deeply  tinctured  with  this  meretricious', 
colouring;  the  adventures  of  the  Thcban  pretender 
were  grafted  upon  those  of  the  Egyptian  archetype, 
and  out  of  this  combination  was  formed  a  tissue  of  ad- 
ventures disgraceful  to  human  nature,  absurd,  and  in- 
consistent. Indeed  the  younger  or  Thcban  Bacchus 
seems  to  have  been  a  monster  of  debauchery  ;  where- 
as the  Egyptian  is  represented  as  a  person  of  an  op- 
posite character.  Of  course  the  mysferies  of  the 
former  were  attended  with  the  most  shocking  abomina- 
tions. 

These  mysteries,  as  has  been  observed  above,  were' Mysteries 
first  celebrated  at  Thebes  the  capital  of  Bocotia,  under  of  Bacchn* 
the  auspices  of  the   family  of  Cadmus.      From  thisg'*^'^'* 
country  they  gradually  found  their  way  into  Greece,    '***^*^' 
and  all  the  neighbouring  parts  of  Europe.     They  were 
celebrated  once  every  three  years  Tn),  because  at  the 
end  of  three  years  Osiris  returned  from  his  Indian  ex- 
pedition.    As  the  Greeks  had  impudently  transferred 
the  actions  of  the  Egyptian  hero  to  their  upstart  divi- 
nity, the  same  period  of  time  was  observed  for  the  cele- 
bration of  those  rites  in  Greece  that  had  been  ordained 
for  the  same  purpose  in  Egypt. 

When  the  day  appointed  for  the  celebration  of  the  Proc^  of 
orgia  (o)  approached^  the  priests  issued  a  proclama*  their  cele*  ^. 
tion,  enjoining  all  the  initiated  to  equip  themselves-^'^^^^^ 
according  to  tlie  ritual,  and  attend  the  procession  on 

4  C  2  the 


.1^ 


(i)  Cadmus  and  Melampus,  who  were  both  Egyptians,  introduced  the  Bacchanalia  into  Greece..  The  Egyp*» 
ttan  or  oriental  name  of  Bacchus  was  Dinun)  that  is,  **  the  prince  of  light.^*  Cadmus  bad  learned  the  name 
Bacchus  from  the  Phoenicians. 

(k)  We  have  omitted  the  immense  farrago  of  fable  relating  to  the  connexion  between  Jupiter  and  Semele  as 
of  little  importance  to  our  readers* 

(l)  Nonnus,  an  Egyptian  of  Pentapolis,  has  collected  all  the  fabulous  adventures  of  Bacchus,  and  exhibited 
them  in  a  beautiful  but  irregular  poem :  To  this  we  must  refer  our  learned  readers.  Of  the  Dionysiacs  we  have 
a  most  judicious  sketch,  Geoe/in.  Calend,  p.  553.  et  seq. 

(m)  The  orgia  belonged  to  all  the  Mydones,  but  to  those  of  Bacchus  in  a  peculiar  manner. 

(n)  Hence  these  orgia  were  called  Triieria* 

(o)  According  to  Clem.  Alexand.  Cohort,  page  12.  Pott,  the  word  orgia  is  derived  from  orgc,^  which  sig- 
nifies ^  anger,*^  and  originated  from  the  resentment  of  Ceres  against  Jupiter,  in  consequence  of  a  most  outra- 
geous insult  he  had  offered  her  with  success.     We  should  rather  imagine  it  derived  from  the  Hebrew  word  - 
orpM^  signifying  a  ^'  chest  or  coffer,^'  alluding  to  the  casket  which  contained  the  sacred^  symbols  of  the  god.-i» 
The  E^ptions  or  Phoenicians  might  write  and  pronounce,  argoz,  or^oss,  or  ia  some  manner  nearly  resembling 


57* 


M  y  s 


i]it  d^y  appoihted'.  Tbe  votarres  were  to  dress  them- 
selves in  coats  of  deer-skins,  to  loose  tbe  fillets  of  their 
hair,  to  cover  their  legs  with  the  sanse  stuO*  with  their 
ooats,  and  to  arm  themselves  with  thyrsi,  which  were  a 
kind  of  spears  wholly  of  wood  entwined  with  leaves 
and  twigs  of  the  \ine  or  ivy.  It  is  said  that  the  Bac* 
«hanalians,  especially  the  Thracians,  used  often  to 
quarrel  and  commit  murder  in  their  drunken  revels  \ 
and  that  in  order  to  prevent  those  unlucky  accidents, 
a  law  was  enacted,  that  the  votasies,  instead  of  real 
spears,  should  arm  themselves  with  those  sham  weapons 
which  were  comparatively  inoffensive.  The  statue  of 
the  deily,  which  was  always  covered  with  vine  or  ivy 
kaves  was  now  taken  down  from  its^  pedestal,  and 
elevated  on  the  shoulders  of  the  priests.  Tlie  ca-* 
yalcade  then  proceeded  nearly  in  the  following  man- 
Ber: 

First  of  all,  hymns  were  chanted  in  honour  of  Bac- 
chus, who  was  called  the  Power  of  dances^  smiles^  and 
Jests  ;  while  at  the  same  time  he  was  deemed  equally 
qualified  for  the  exploits  of  war  and  heroism.  Horace, 
in  some  of  his  dithyramhic  odes,  has  concisely  pointed 
out  the  subjects  of  those  Bacchanalian  songs.  In  the 
collection  of  hymns  fabulously  attributed  to  Orpheus, 
we  find  several  addressed  to  this  deity  (p),  each  under 
a  different  title^  derived  from  the  diTOrent  appellations 
of  tlie  god.  All  these  pames  are  of  oriental' original, 
and  might  easily  be  explained,  did  the  bounds  prescri* 
l(c4  149  admit  of  etymological  disquisitions. 

The  hymn. being  finished,  the  fii-st  division  of  the  vo- 
tiirtes  proceeded^  carrying  a  pitcher  of  wine,  with  a 
launch  of  the  vine.  Then  followed  tbe  he-goat  \  an 
^Bwai  odious  to  Bacchus,  because  he  ravages  the  vines. 
The  chanting  the  hymns,  the  sacrificing  the  he-goat, 
and  the  revels,  games,  and  diversions,  with  which  the 
celebration  of  those  rites  was  attended,  gave  birth  to 
tbe  di*amatic  poetry  of  the  Greeks  \  as  the  persons  ha- 
bited in  the  dress  of  Fauns,  Sylvans«  and  Satyrs  (a), 
furnished  the  name  of  another  speciea  of  poetry  of  a 
CAarsei^  and  moi*e  forbidding  aspect. 

Tlien  appcaiTed  tbe  mysterious  eu0er  or  basket,  con- 
taining tbe  secret  symbols  of  the  deity.   These  were  the 
cp^eiv  w^^phsillus  (r),  some  gi*ains  of  sesama,  heads  of  poppies, 
li'  tT^'       poQ!)egn<nates,  dry  s-tems,  cakes  baked  of  the  meal  ojf 
difierent  kinds «of  cem,  salt,  carded  wool,  rolls  of  ho^ 


3« 
%faemy« 

Ucriotts 


T  E  R  I  E  S. 

ney,  and  cheese  ;  a  child,  a  serpent  (s),  ani  *  tbb  (t). 
Such  was  the  furnitoie  of  the  sacred  coffer  cairied  m 
the  solemn  Bacchanalian  prooessioc.  The  inventory  gi- 
ven by  some  of  the  fathers  f  of  the  church  is  aemewhatf  cbm. 
di&rent.     They  mention  tbe  dye,  the  ball,  the  Xis/^Mtsmi, 
the  wheel,  the  apples,  the  looking-glaaa,  and  tbe  fleece. 
The  articles  first  mentioned  seem  to  have  been  of  £- 
gyptian  original  \  the  last  were  certainly  soperiadoced 
by  the  Greeks,  in  alloston  to  his  being  murdered  and 
torn  in  pieces  when  he  was  a  child  by  the  maebinatioas 
of  Juno,  who  prevailed  with  the  Titans  te  commit  the 
horrid  deed.     These  last  seem  to  ha;ve  been  nemorials 
of  his  boyish  playthings^  for,  says  .MateiniM,  ^  the 
Cretans  Xf  in  celebrating  the  rites  of  the  child  Bacchns,  |  Jk  Tjn- 
acted  every  thing  that  tlie  dying  boy  either  said,  or  did,w  iv»f. 
or  suffered.     They  likewise  (says  he)  tore  a  live  hnll^^'^ 
in  pieces  with  their  teeth,  in  order  to  cenMneDner^e  the 
dismembering  of  the  boy.^'  For  our  part,  we  think,  that 
if  sach  a  beastly  rite  was  practised,  it  was  done  in  com- 
memoration of  the  savage  manner,  of  life  which  had  pre- 
vailed among  men  prior  to  the  'more  humane  diet  in- 
vented and  introduced  by  Isis  and  Osiris.     Be  that  as^,^  ^ 
it  may,  we  learn  from  Porphyry  },  that  in  tbe  island  of  criim. 
Chios  they  used  to  sacrifice  a  man  to  Bacclnis,  and  that}  litJA^ 
they  used  to  mangle  and  tear  him  limb   from   lirab.*^*'''' 
This  was  no  doubt  practised  in  commemoration  of  tbe 
catastrophe  menticmed  above. 

The  orgia  of  this  Pagan  god  were  originally  simple 
enough  \  but  this  unsophisticated  mode  was  of  no  long 
continuance,  for  riches  soon  introdoced  Inxory,  which 
quickly  infected  even  tbe  ceremonicfs  of  religion.  On 
tbe  day  set  apart  for  this  solemnity,  men  and  women 
crowned  with  ivy,  their  hair  dishevelled,  and  their  bo- 
dies almost  naked,  ran  about  the  streets,  roaring  aloud 
Evoke  (u)  Bacehe.  In  tliis  rout  were  to  be  seen  peo- 
ple intoxicated  at  once  with  wine  and  entbiisiasm, 
dressed  like  Satyrs,  Fauns,  and  Sileni,  in  such  scanda- 
lous postures  and  attitudes,  with  so  little  regard  to  mo-jonlcfis. 
desty  and  even  common  decency,  that  we  are  persuaded  tcnft  «f 
our  readers  will  readily  enough  forgive  our  omitting  to 
describe  them.  Next  followed  a  company  mounted  up- 
on asses,  attended  by  Fauns,  Bacchanals,  Thyades,  Mi- 
mallonides,  Naiads,  Tiiyri,  &c.  who  made  the  adja- 
cent places  echo  to  their  frantic  shrieks  and  bowlings. 
Aften  this  tumultnotis  herd  were  carried  the  statues  of 

Victory 


(p)  These  stand  between  the  41  and  52  \  one  to  Lcnseus,  or  the  presser ;  one  to  Libnites,  or  tbe  winnower; 
one  to  Bessareus,  or  the  vintager  \  one  to  Saba^us  the  god  of  rest  \  to  Myses,  or  the  Mediator,  &«. 

(q.)  Dacier,  Casaubon,  and  other  French  critics,  have  puzzled  and  perplexed  themselves  to  little  pnrpose  abest 
the  origin  of  this  word,,  without  considering  that  it  was  coeval  to  dramatic  poetry. 

(r)  The  phallus  was  highly  respected  by  the  Egyptians,- and  was  used  as  the  emblem  of  the  fecundity  of  the 
human  race. 

(s)  That  reptile  was  in  high  veneration  among  the  Egyptians*  See  Euseb.  Phep.  Evaog.  lib.  i.  page  26. 
Steph.  wher4;  we  have  8s  minute  detail  of  the  symbolical  properties  of  that  creature^  according  to  'taaulos  the  great 
legislator  of  that  people. 

(t)  Servius  in  Georg.  I.  Virg.  ver»  1^6.  'bSjBiioMi  vannus  laochi.  The  van,  says  be,  is  an  emblem  of  tbtt 
purifying  iufiqence  of  the  mysteries,  by  which  the  initiated  were  cleansed  from  all  their  former  poiiotions,  sad 
qualified  for  commencing  a  holy  course  of  life* 

(u)  Clem.  Alexand.  ColiorC  page  11.  Pott,  derives  this  word  fsom  Cheveh^  tbe  mother  of  mankind,  who,  first 
opened  the  gate  to  tJiat  and  every  other  error  \  but  we  are  rather  inclined  to  believe  that  it  conies  finom  the  ories- 
tul  word  /Ifu/,  which  signifies  a  *'*'  serpent  j^'  which  among  the  Egyptians  was  sacred  to  the  srni,  and  was  hke- 
wise  tbe  emblem  of  life  and  inynortiilit]^.  \%  th.en  iipjpizt^  a  prayer  to  B^icdius^jfQr  life,  vigour^  .h^abbi  sad 
erVery  other  bli^ssinj;... 


.     M  Y  S  T 

Victory  and  attars  to  form  of  viae-set^,  crotrned  Mtkh 
ivy,  smoking  trith  iaoense  and  othtt  aromattdd.  Tlien 
appeared  several  chariots  loaded  with  thyr9i,  arms,  gar- 
lands, casks,  pitchers,  and  other  vases,  tripods,  and 
vans.  The  chariots  were  followed  bj  young  virgins  of 
quality,  who  carried  the  baskets  and  little  boxes,  which 
in  general  contained  the  mysterious  articles  above  eno* 
merated.  These,  from  their  office,-  were  called  cisto- 
pAorte.  The  phallophori  (x)  followed  them,  with  a 
chorus  of  itophallopbori  habited  like  Fauns,  counter'* 
feiting  drunk  persons,  singing  in  honour  of  Bacchus 
songs  and  catches  soited  to  the  occasion.  The  proces- 
sion was  closed  by  a  troop  of  Bacchanalians  crowned 
with  ivy,  interwoven  with  branches  of  yew  and  with 
•  Ovid.  acrpents  *.  Upon  some  occasions,  at  those  scandalous 
jtf«i.  festivals,  naked  women  whipped  them-^lves,  and  tore 
their  skin  in  a  most  barbarous  manner.  The  procession 
terminated  on  Mount  Citheron,  when  it  set  out  from 
Thebos  J  and  in  other  places,  in  some  distant  unfrc<> 
quented  desert,  where  the  votaries  practised  every  spe- 
cies of  debauchery  vrith  secrecy  and  impunity.  Or- 
pbeiis  saw  the  degeneracy  of  tliose  eeremonies ;  and  in 
endemvooring  to  reform  them  he  probably  lost  his  life. 
Pentbeus  suffered  in  the  like  attempt,  being  torn  in 
pieces  by  the  Bacchanalians  on  Mount  Citheron,  a- 
mong  whom  were  his  own  mother  and  his  aunts.  The 
Greeks,  who  were  an  airy  jovial  people,  seem  to  have 
paid  Kttle  regard  to  the  plaintive  part  of  the  orgia ;  or 
rattier,  we  believe,  they  acted  with  howling  and  frantic 
exclaraalions,  often  enfianced  by  a  combination  of 
drunkenness,  ecstacy,  and  enthusiastic  fury. 

What  secrets,  religious,  moral,  political,  or  physf- 
cal,  were  communicated  to  the  votaries,  it  is  impos- 
41    '  Bible   to  determine  with   any  degree  of  certainty.—* 
Doctriaes   Que  thing  we  may  admit,  namely,  that  the  doctrines 
''tS*       discovered  and  inculcated  in  the  orgia,  were  originally 
ria.       '    the  very  same  which  the  apostles  of  the  sect  had  im- 
bibed in  Egypt  and  Phoenicia ;  and  of  which  we  have 
fiven  a  brief  account  near  the  beginning  of  this  article, 
t  is,  however,  probable,  that  the  spurious  or  Theban 
Bacchus  had  superadded  a  great  deal  of  his  own  inven- 
tion, which,  we  may  belierve,  was  not  altogether  so 
sound  and  salnbrions  as  the  original  doctrine.     How- 
ever that  may  be,  the  initiated  were' made  to  believe 
that  they  were  to  derive  wonderful  advantages  from  the 
participation  of  those  rites,  both  in  this  life  and  that 
which  is  to  come.     Of  this,  however,  we  shall  talk 
more  at  length  by  and  bye,  in  our  account  of  the  £leu« 
sinian  mysteries. 

To  detail  the  etymology  of  the  names  of  this  Pagan 
deity,  the  fables  relating  to  his  birth,  his  education, 
his  transformations,  his  wars,  peregrinations^  adven- 
tures, the  various  and  multiform  rites  with  which  he 
was  worshipped,  would  swell  this  article  to  a  most  im- 
moderate size.  If  any  of  our  readers  should  wish  to 
be  more  minutely  and  more  accurately  acquainted  with 
this  subject,  we  most  beg  leave  to  remit  them  to  Diod. 
Sic.  Apollod.  Bibl.  £nripid.  Bacchse,  Aristophanis  Ra- 
nae,  Nonn.  Dionys. ;  and  among  the  modems,  to  Ban* 


£  R  1  E  S.  -    573. 

Mythol.  Voss.  de  Orig.  Idol.  Mons.  Fourroont,  Re. 
flexions  stnr  Porigine  des  anciens  peoples,  Mr  Bryant's 
Analjs.  an4  especially  to  Mons.  Cour  de  Gebeliu,  Ca- 
lendries  ou  Almanach.  That  prince  of  etymologists, 
in  his  account  of  the  festival  of  Bacchus,  has  given  a 
most  acute  and  ingenious  explication  of  the  names  and 
epithets  of  that  deity.  For  our  part,  we  have  endea- 
voured to  collect  and  exhibit  such  as  we  judged  most 
important,  most  entertaining,  and  most  instructive,  to^ 
the  less  enlightened  classes  of  our  readers.  ^, 

We  noW}proceed  to  the  Eleusinian  mysteries,  which,  Elcostnian  • 
among  the  ancient  Greeks  and  Romans,  were  treated  |n}'\terici 
with  a  superior  decrree  of  awe  and  veneration.     These  J"*'*'**'fd  m 
were  mstitoted  m  honour  of  Ceres,  the   goddess  otQ^t^^ 
com ;  who,  according  to  the  most  authentic  accounts, 
was  the  Isis  of  the  Egyptians.     The  mysteries  of  Osi-* 
ris  and  Isis  have  been  hinted  at  in  the  preceding  parf 
of  this  article.     They  were  originally  instituted  in  ho - 
nonr  of  the  sun  and  moon,  and  after-wards  consecrated . 
to  an  Egyptian  prince  and  princess  ^   who,  in  conse- 
quence of  their  merits,  had  been  deified  by  that  people. 
We  know  of  no  more  exact  and  brilliant  description  pf 
the  ceremonies  of  that  goddess,  in  the  most  polished  ages 
of  the  Egyptian  superstition,  than  what  we  meet  with  in 
the  witty  and  florid  Apuleius  t,  to  which  we  must  taket^-ib'"*-- 
the  liberty  to  refer  our  more  curious  readers.  Our  busi- 
ness at  present  shall  be  to  try  to  investigate  by  what 
means,  and  upon  what  occasion,  those  mysteries  were 
introduced  into  Attica,  and  established  at  Eleusis.     A 
passage  from  Diodorus  Siculus  j,  which  we  shall  here  f  Lib.  L. 
translate,  will,  we  think,  throw  no  inconsiderable  light' 
on  that  abstruse  part  of  the  subject. 

**  In  like  manner  with  him  (Cecrops),  says  that  ju- 
dicious historian,  they  tell  us,  that  Erechtheus,  a  prince 
of  Egyptian  extraction,  once  reigned  at  Athens.     Of qq  ^^^ 
this  fact  they  produce  the  following  evidence :  A  scorch-  occanon 
ing  drought,  during  the  reign  of  this  prince,  prevailed  introduced 
over  almost  all  the  habitable   world,  except  Egypt  j"**^®^*^*'* 
which,  in  consequence  of  the  humidity  of  its  soil,  was 
not  affected  by  that  calamity.    Tlie  fruits  of  thb  earth 
were  burnf  up;  and  at  the  same  time  multitudes  of  people 
perished  by  fisimine.   Erechthcus,  upon  this  occasion,  as  • 
he  was  connected  with  Egypt,  imported  a  vast  quan- 
tity of  grain  firom  that  country  to  Athens.     The  peo- 
ple, who  had  been  relieved  by  bis  munificence,  unani-  • 
moosly  elected  him  king.     Being  invested  with'  the  go- 
.  vemment,  he  taught  his  subjects  the'mysterics  of  Ceres  . 
at  Eleusis,  and  the  mode  of  celebrating  the  sacred  ce- 
remonies, having  transferred  from  Egypt  the  ritual  for  - 
that  purpose.  In  those  times  the  goddess  is  said  to  havO 
made  her  appearance  at  Athens  three  several  times ;  be- 
cause, according  to  tradition,  the  fruits  of  the  earth* 
which  bear  her  name  were  then  imported  into  Attica. 
On  this  account  the  seedi  and  fruits  of  the  earth  were  * 
said  to  be  thte  invention  of  that  deity.     Now  the  Athe- 
nians themselves  acknowledge,  that^  in  the  reign  of 
Erechtheus,  the  fruits  of  the  earth  having  perished  for  - 
want  of  raio,  the  arrival  of  Ceres  in  their  country  did 
actually  happen,  and  that  along  with  her  the  blessing  of  ' 


corai 


(x)  The  phallns  was  the  symbol  of  the  fl-uctifyjng  power  of  Nature.     The  itopballus  wjis  the  type  of  (bat: 
ppwecioLact%. 


574  M  Y  S  T 

<*Orn  was  refttm-ed  to  the  eartli.  Ttiey  tell  us  at  the  same 
time,  that  die  teletse  and  the  mysteries  of  that  goddeas 
were  then  received  and  idstituted  at  Elensis.** 

Here  then  we  have  the  whole  mystery  of  the  arrival 
of  Ceres  in  Attica,  and  the  institotioii  of  her  mysteries 
-at  Eleusi^y  unveiled.  The  whole  is  evidently  an  orien- 
^  tal  allegory.  The  fruits  of  the  earth  had  been  destroy- 
ed by  a  long  course  of  drought :  Egypt,  by  its  peculiar 
situation,  had  been  preserved  from  that  dreadful  cala- 
mity. Erechtheus,  in  coifsequcnce  of  his  relation  to  the 
Egyptians,  imported  from  their  country  a  quantity  of 
grain,  not  only  sufficient  for  the  consumption  of  his  own 
subjects,  but  also  a  great  overplus  to  export  to  other 
{>arts  of  Greece,  Sicily,  Italy,  Spain,  &c.  Triptolemus, 
another  F^iryptian,  was  appointed  by  Erechtlieus to  export 
'this  superfluous  store.  That  hero,  according  to  Phere- 
cydes,  was  the  son  of  Oceanus  and  Tellus,  that  is,  of 
the  sea  and  the  earth  $  because  his  parents  were  not 
known,  and  because  he  came  to  Eleusis  by  sea.  The 
ship  in  which  lie  sailed,  when  he  distributed  his  corn 
to  the  western  parts  of  the  world,  was  decorated  with 
the  figure  of  a  winged  dragon :  therefore,  in  the  alle- 
gorical style  of  his  country,  he  was  said  to  be  wafted 
through  the  air  in  a  chariot  drawn  by  dragons.  Those 
creatures,  every  body  knows,  were  held  sacred  by  the 
Egyptians. 

\Vherever  Triptolemus  disposed  of  his  com,  thither 
^ere  extended  the  wanderings  of  Ceres,  In  order  to 
elucidate  this  point,  we  must  observe,  that  along  with 
the  grain  imported  from  £gypt,  Ere^htheus,  or  Trip- 
tolemus, or  both,  transported  into  Attica  a  cargo  of 
priests  and  priestesses  from  the  temples  of  Buslris,  a 
«  ffcroi,  ^'^y  ^^'^^  ^^y  ^^  ^he  *  centre  of  the  Delta,  where  the 
lib.  i.  goddess  Isis  had  a  number  of  chapels  erected  for  her 

worship.  The  presidents  of  these  ceremonies,  like  all 
other  bigots,  gladlj  laid  hold  on  this  opportunity  of 
propagating  their  religious  rites^  and  dissen»inating 
tlic  woi'ship  of  the  deities  of  their  Country.  That  the 
Egyptian  priests  were  zealous  in  propagating  the  dog- 
mas of  their  superstition,  is  abundantly  evident  from 
the  extensive' spreading  of  their  rites  and  ceremonies 
over  almost  all  Asia  and  •  considerable  part  of  Europe. 
The  Greek  and  Roman  idolatry  is  known  to  have  ori<» 
ginated  from  them  ^  and  numberless  monnments  of  their 
t  Anaiie  impious  worship  are  still  extant  in  Persia  tt  India,  Ja- 
Jl^ararcA^t,  pan,  Tartary,  &c.  Our  inference  then  is,  that  the 
vqL  L  and  ^Qi^hip  of  Isis  was  introduced  into  every  countiy  where 
Triptolemus  sold  or  disposed  of  his  commodities.-— 
Rence  the  wanderings  of  Ceres  in  scai-ch  of  her  daudi- 
ter   Proserpine  who    is   generally  called   Ccire.    The 


E  R  I  E  S. 

famine  occasioned  by  the  dnmght  destroy!  bg  tlie  friltal 
of  the  ground,  imports  the  loss  of  Proserpine.  The 
restoration  of  the  com  in  various  parts  of  the  eartb|  by 
fresh  supplies  firom  Egypt  from  tune  to  tine,  imports 
the  wanderings  of  Ceres  in  quest  of  Proserpine.  The 
whole  process  is  an  oriental  allegory.  The  disvipew- 
ing  of  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  of  which  Proserpine,  or 
Persephone  t,  or  Peresephone  (y),  is  the  emblem,  '^\I^q^ 
the  allegorical  rape  of  that  goddess.  She  was  seized 
and  carried  off  by  Pluto,  sovereign  of  the  infernal  re- 
gions. The  seed  committed  to  the  earth  in  that  dry  sea- 
son appeared  no  more,  and  was,  consequently,  said  to 
dwell  under  ground  with  Pluto.  It  was  then  that  Ceres, 
that  is,  com  imported  from  Egypt,  set  ont  in  quest  of  her 
daughter.  Again,  when  the  eartli  recovered  her  pn»- 
tine  fertility,  the  Core,  or  maid,  was  found  by  her  mother 
Ceres,  that  is,  tlie  earth  ;  for  Isis,  among  the  Egyptians, 
frequently  signified  the  earth.  The  wanderings  of  Isis 
in  search  of  Osiris  fiimished  the  model  for  the  pcregri* 
nations  of  Ceres.  ^ 

Ceres,  tlie  Roman  name  of  the  goddess  of  com,  wasDifaai 
unknown  to  the  modem  Greeks.  They  always  dcno-**"*' 
minated  her  Damater  (z),  which  is  rather  an  epithet ^^""^ 
than  a  proper  name.  The  Greeks,  who  always  alEecC- 
ed  to  pass  for  originals,  we  think,  suppressed  the  Egyp- 
tian name  on  purpose,  to  conceal  the  c^onntry  of  tfant 
deity.  As  a  proof  of  the  probability  of  this  oonjec- 
turo,  it  may  be  observed,  that  they  metamorphoaed  the 
wanderings  of  Isis  in  searoh  of  Osiris  into  the  pcregri* 
nations  of  Ceres  in  quest  of  Proserpine.  The  itomans 
who  were  less  ambitious  of  the  character  of  originality, 
retained  one  of  her  oriental  names  (aa.)  Ceres,  says 
Diodoms,  appeared  thrice  in  Attica  during  the  reign  of 
Erechtheus  j  which  seems  to  import,  that  fleets  loaded 
with  com  had  thrice  arrived  in  that  country  firom  Egypt 
during  that  period. 

Cecrops,  the  first  king  of  Attica,  had  established  the 
worship  of  the  Saitic  Athena  or  jVlinerra  in  that  region, 
and  consecrated  his  capital  to  that  deity.  Erechtheus, 
in  his  turn,  introduced  the  worship  of  Isis,  or  Damater, 
who  in  all  appearance  was  the  tutelar  deity  of  Bnsiris 
his  native  city.  The  subjects  of  Cecrops  were  a  colony* 
of  Saites,  and  readily  embraced  the  worship  of  Miner- ^ 
va ;  but  the  aborigines  of  that  district  being  accos-[_ 
tomed  to  a  maritime,  perhaps  to  a  piratical  oonrse  of  Mi 
life,  wero  mom  inclined  to  consecrate  their  city  ton^^ 
Neptune  the  god  of  the  f^^ca,  and  to  constitute  kim  their[ 
guardian  and  protector.  Cecrops  by  a  stratagem  m 
cured'  the  preference  to  Minerva  his  favourite  divinitj.] 
Erechtheus,  in  order  to  give  equal  importance  to  hisi 


45 


(t)  This  word  seems  to  be  formed  of  two  Hebrew  terms, /;//m  **  fi-uit,**  and  tv&aphon^  or  ivsepkom^  **  ahsoondit, 
tecondidit.'^ 

(z)  Damater  is  compounded  of  the  Chaldaic  particle  da^  **  the,'^  and  tnater^  *^  mothcr.^^  As  Isis  often  signtfird 
the  earth,  the  Creeks  naturally  adopted  that  title  ;  because,  according  to  them,  that  element  is  the  n>other  of  all 
living.  In  the  very  same  manner  they  discarded  the  word  Juno^  an  original  title  of  the  moon,  and  subslitnlcd 
Hera^  which  intimates  ^'  mistress  or  lady.** 

(aa)  According  to  some  of  the  Latin  etymologists,  Ccrt*^  or  rather  Geres j  is  derived  from^fvro,  **  to  bear,  to 
cany,*^  because  the  earth  bears  all  things;  or  because  that  element  is  the  general  fruit- bearer.  But  as  this  tcm 
came  to  Italy  immediately  from  the  east,  and  not  by  the  medium  of  Greece,  we  would  rather  incline  to  adopt  aa 
oriental  etymology.  The  Hebrew  word  cheree  fignifies  araref  ^*  to  plough  j**  a  name  naturally  applicable  to  the 
|(6dde8S  ofhushandiy. 


M  Y  S  T 

patroness,  bad  the  adciress  to  institute  the  Elensinian 
mysteries  \  and  to  accomplish  his  design  laid  hold  ou 
the  opportunity  above  mentioned. 

This  appears  to  us  the  most  probable  account  of  the 
origin  and  institution  of  the  Eleusinian  mysteries ;  for 
which  the  Sicilian  historian  has  indeed  furnished  the  clue. 
Wc  shall  now  proceed  to  detail  some  other  circumstances 
which  attended  the  original  institution  of  these  far-famed 
ceremonies. 
The  archpriestess  who  personated  the  newly  import - 
^^  ed  deity  was  entertained  by  one  Celeus*,  who  was 
ib.    cither  viceroy  of  that  petty  district  of  which  Eleusis 
bij.  was  the  capital,  or  some  considerable  personage  in  that 
^      city  or  its  neighbourhood.     Upon  her  immediate  ar- 
Mt-  ^^^''  accordiiig  to  the  fabulous  relations  of  the  Greeks, 
^  the  A  f^i^e  was  acted  not  altogether  suitable  to  the  cha- 
prar- racter  of  a  goddess  whose  mysteries  were  one  day  to 
rc«.  1^  deemed  so  sacred  and  austere.    Tliese  coarse  recep- 
tions  and   other   indecencies    attending   the    first  ap- 
pearance of  the  goddess,  that  is,  the  Egyptian  dame 
who  assumed  her  character,  were  copied  from  the  like 
unhallowed   modes   of  behaviour    practised    ou    occa- 
sion of  the  solemn  processions  of  her  native  country. 
Th<;$e  scomroata,  or  coarse  jokes,  had  an  allegorical 
iiignification  in  Egypt }  and  among  the  most  ancient 
Greeks  the  very  Same  spirit  was  universally  diffused  hy 
the  oriental  colonists  who  from  time  to  time  arrived 
and  settled  among  them.    In  process  of  time  they  aban- 
doned the  figurative  and  allegorical  style,  in  consequence 
of  their  acquaintance   with   philosophy    and   abstract 
reasoning.      In  the  ceremonies  of  religion,  however, 
the  same  allegorical  and  typical  representations  which 
had  been  imported  from  the  east  were  retained  ^  but 
the  Grecian  hierophants  in  a  short  time  lost  every  idea 
of  their  latent  import,  and  religions,  moral,  or  physi- 
cal interpretation.      Accordingly,  this  shameful  ren- 
counter between  Ceres  and  Banbo  (bb),  or  Jarabe,  was 
retained  in  the  mysteries,  though  we  think  it  was  co- 
pied from  Egypt,  as  was  said  above,  where  even  that 
obscene  action  was  probably  an  allegorical  representa- 
tion of  something  very  different  from  what  appeared  to 
the  Greeks. 
i       At   the  same  time  that  Ceres  arrived  in  Attica, 
Bacchus  likewise  made  his  appearance  in  that  country. 
He  was  entertained  by  one  Icarus  *,  whom,  as  a  re- 
word for  bis  hospitality,  he  instructed  in  the  art  of  cul- 
tivating  the   vine,  and   the  method  of  manufacturing 
wine.     Thus  it  appears  that  both  agriculture  and  the 
art  of  managing  the  vintage  were  introduced  into  A- 
thens  much  about  the  same  time.     Ceres  was  no  other 
than  a  priestess  of  Isis  \  Bacchus  was  no  doubt  a  priest 
of  Osiris.      The  arrival  of  those  two  personages  from 
Egypt,  with  a  number  of  inferior  priests  in  their  train, 
produced  a  memorable  revolution  in  Athens,  both  with 
respect  to  life,  manners,  and  religion.     The  sacred  rites 
of  Isis,  afterwards  so  famous  under  the-  name  of  the 
Eleusinian  mysteries,  dote  their  institution  frsm-this 
period. 


E  R  I  E  S.  57S. 

When  this  company  or  propagandi  arrived  at  Elen- 
sis,  they  were  entertained  by  some  of  the  most  respect- 
able persons  who  then  inhabited  tliat  district.  Their 
names,  according  to  Clem.  Alexand.  were  Banbo, 
Dysaulis,  Triptolemns,  Eumolpus,  and  Eubulus.  From 
Eumolpus  were  descended  a  race  of  priests  called  Eu- 
molpidae,  who  figured  at  Athens  many  ages  after. 
Triptolemns  was  an  ox  herd,  Eumolpus  a  shepherd, 
and  Eubulus  a  swine  herd.  These  were  the  first  apostles 
of  the  Eleusinian  mysteries.  They  were  instructed  by 
the  Egyptian  missionaries ;  and  they,  in  their  turn,  in- 
structed their  successors.  Erechtlieus,  or,  as  some  say, 
Pandion,  countenanced  the  seminary,  and  built  a  small 
temple  for  its  accommodation  in  Eleusis,  a  city  of  At- 
tica, a  few  miles  west  from  Athens,  and  originally  one 
of  the  twelve  districts  into  which  that  territory  was  di- 
vided. Here  then  we  have  arri\'ed  at  the  scene  of  those 
renowned  mysteries,  which  for  the  space  of  near  2000 
years  were  the  pride  of  Athens  and  the  wonder  of  the 
world.  g 

The  mysteries  were  divided  into  the  greater  and  Ics-  Eleusinma. 
ser.     The  latter  were  celebrated  at  Agrae,  a  small  town  m\stcncs 
on  the  river  Ilyssus:  the  former  were  celebrated  in  thc^*^^'*^^  *^ 
month  which  the  Athenians  called  Boedromion  (cc)',  the^^'J^'^^" 
latter  in  the  month  Anthesterion  (dd).  The  lesser  mys- 
teries, according  to  the  ^bulous  legends  of  the  Greeks, 
were  instituted  in  favonr  of  the  celebrated  PIcrcules. 
That  hero  being  commanded  by  Eurystheus  to  bring  up* 
Cerberus  from  the  infernal  regions,  was  desirous  of  be- 
ing initiated  in  the  Eleusinian  mysteries  before  he  en- 
gaged in  that  perilous  undertaking.    He.addressed  him- 
self to  Eumolpus  the  hierophant  for  that  purpose.  There 
was  a  law  among  the  Eleusinians  prohibiting  the  initia- 
tion of  foreigners.     The  priest  not  dariipg  to  refuse  the 
benefit  to  Hercules,  who  was  both  a  friend  and  bene- 
factor to  the  Athenians,  advised  the  hero  to  get  him- 
self adopted  by  a  native  of  the  place,  and  so  tu  elude 
the  force  of  the  law.     He  was  accordingly  adopted  by 
one  Pyolius,  and  so  was  initiated  in  the  Ibsser  mysteries, 
which  were  instituted  for  the  first  time  upon  that  occa-  ' 
sion.   This  account  has  all  the  air  of  a  fable.  The  lesser 
mysteries  were  instituted  by  way  of  preparation  for  the 
greater. 

The  person  who  .was  to  be  initiated   in  the  lesser  ^„st^ritier-- 
mysteries,  as  well  as  in  the  greater,  was  obliged  toandritev 
practise  the  virtue  of  chastity  a  considerable  time  be-prcyoui  to. 
fore  his  admission.     Besides,  he  was  to  bind  himself  by '*^****^**"' 
the  most  solemn  vows  not  to  divulge  any  part  of  the  .  -  >, 

mysteries.  At  the  same  time,  he  was,  according  to  the 
original  institution,  to  be  a  person  of  unblemished  mo- 
ral character.  These  were  preliminaries  indispensably 
necessary  in  order  to  his  adtnission.  A  bull  was  sacri- 
ficed to  Jupiter,  and  the  hide  of  that  animal,  called 
by  a  peculiar  name  {Aif  KmSmf)  was  carefully  pre- 
served and  carried  to  Eleusis,  where  it  was  spread  un-  * 
der  the  feet  of  the  initiated.  The  candidate  was  then 
purified  by  bathing  in  the  river  Ilyssus,  by  aspersions 
with  salt  water  or  salt,  with  laurel,  barley,  and  passing 

through- 


•'  t 


X 


(bb)  Apollbd.  Bib*  nbi  supra.  Clem.  Alexand.  Cohort,  page  17.  where  the  story  is  told  with  very  little 
serve. 

(cc)  The  third  month  of  the  Athenian  year,  answering  to  our  September. 

(Di>)  The  eighth  mouth,  answering  to  our  Febmary  y  butMeujrsius  makes  it  November. 


'57^ 


M  Y  S  T 

(1)  rough  iKe'fire^  »U  wlilck  rites  were  s^ttenilccl  with 
incantations  gnd  other  usages  equally  insignificant  and 
ridiculous.  Last  of  all,  a  youn^  sow  was  sacrificed  to 
Ceres ;  and  this  animal,  arcoriling  to  the  ritual,  bo* 
hoved  to  be  with  pigs  :  and  before  it  was  killed  it  was 
to  be  washed  in  Cantharus,  one  of  the  three  harbours 
CO  which  formed  the  Firseus. 
iMio  ihc  Ail  tlicsc  ceremonies  duly  performed,  the  candidate 

^Crf*^  "'^  f  ^^^*  carried   into  the  hall  appointed  for  the  purpose  of 
which  '       initiation.     There  he  was  taught  the  first  elements  of 
those  arcana  which  were  afterwardsL  to  be   more  fully 
nnd  more  clearly  revealed  in  the  more  august  mysteries 
of  Kltusis.      The  pupils  at  Agrse  were  called  Mysta^ 
which   may  intimate    probationers  j   whereas  those  of 
Elcusis  were  denominated  Epopta:^  importing  that  they 
5^       saw  as  they  were  seen. 
'tl;cre  were      The  lesser  mysteries  were  divided  into  several  stages, 
several       niul  candidates  were  admitted  to  them  according  to 
«uges,\vjthjjjgj^  quality  and  capacity  respectively.     Those  who 
valf  bc-**^"  ^^^^^  initiated  in  the  lowest  were  obliged  to  wait  five 
twcen         years  before  they  were  admitted  to  the  greater.     Those 
tbcm.  ^vho  had  partaken  of  the  second  kind  underwent  a  no- 

viciate of  three  years ;  those  who  had  been  admitted  to 
the  third,  one  of  two  years  \  and  those  who  had  gone 
through  the  fourth  were  admitted  to  the  greater  at  the 
end  of  one  year  ^  which  was  the  shortest  period  of  pro- 
bation a  candidate  for  that  honour  could  legally  under- 
go.    Such  Was  the  process  generally  observed  in  admi- 
^2        uistering  the  lesser  mysteries. 
^Kone  bot         With  resjiect  to  the  greater  mysteries,  it  is  probable 
natiyet  of   that  originally  none  but  the  natives  of  Attica  were  ad- 
Athens  on-jj^^i^^gji  ^Q  partake  of  them.     In  process  of  time,  how- 

iniued  to  *  ^^'^''>  ^^  P**^®  ^"^^^  extended  so  far  and  wide  as  to  com- 

thc  ^eater  prebend  all  who  spoke  the  Greek  language.     All  fo- 

iinystcrics.    reigners  were  debari^ed  from  those  sacred  rites.     They 

•tell  114,  however,  that  Hercules,  Bacchus,  Castor  and 

Pollux,  yEsculapiiis,  and  Hippocrates,  were  initiated 

in  an  extraordinary  manner,  from  a  it^gard  to  their 

high  character  and  heroic  exploits.     All  barbarians, 

too,  were  excluded  y  yet  Anacharsis  the  Scythian  was 

indulged  that  privilege,  in  consequence  of  his  reputa^ 

tion  for  science  and  philosophy.     All  persons  guilty 

of  manslaughter,    though  even  accidentally  or  invo* 

•luntarily,  all  magicians,  enchanters  ^  in  a  word,   all 

impious  and  profane  persons,  were  expressly  prohibited 

the  benefit  of  this  Pagan  sacrament.    At  last,  however, 

the  gate  became  wider,  and  crowds  of  people,  of  all 

nations,  kindreds,  and  languages,  provided  their  cha- 

i*acter  was   fair  and  irreproachable,  nislied  in  by  it. 

In  process  of  time  the  Athenians  initiated  even  theii 

infants ;  bnt  this,  we  imagine,  must  have  been  a  kind 

of  lustration  or  purification,  from  which  it  was  supposed 

that  they  derived  a  kind  of  moial  ablution  from  vice, 

and  were  thought  to  be  nnder  Uie  peculiar  p^^otection 

53       of  the  goddess. 

Celebration     The  celebnUion  of  the  mysteriea  began  on  the  I5tb 

•lusted  nine  .j^y  of   the   month   Boedromioi^^   and,  according  to 

*  *^''   °     most  ancient  authors,  lasted   nine   days.      Mearsiiis 

has  enumerated  the  transactions  of  each   day,  which 

are  much  too  numerous  to  fall  within  the  compass  of 

this  article ;  we  must  therefore  refer  oar  curious  reader 

to  the  autlior  just  mentioned.     Some  days  before  the 

commencement  of  the  festival,  the  prsecones,  or  public 

criers,  invited  all  the  initiated,  and  all  the  pretenders 

»to  tliat  honour,  to  attend    the  festival*  witli  clean 


E  a  I  E'S. 

hands  and  a  pure  heart,  and  the  knowledge  •f  tW 
Greek  language.  ^ 

On  the  evening  of  the  J  5th  day  of  the  month  callow  ptr. 
ed  Boeilromiou  the  initiations  coranoenced.     Our  rcad-J''*^*' 
ers  will  observe,  that  all  the  mobt  sacred  and  8okmB|^^^ 
rites  of  the  Pagan  superstition  were  performed  during 
the  night :  they  were  indeed  generally  works  of  dark* 
ucss.     On  this  day  there  was  a  solemn  cavalcade  of 
Athenian  matrons  from  Athens  to  Eleusis,  in  carriages 
drawn  by  oxen.     In  this  procession  the  ladies  used  to 
rally  one  anotlter  in  pretty  loose  terms,  in  imitation, 
we  suppose,  of  the  Isiac  procession  described  by  Hero- 
dotus, which  has  been  mentioned  above.     The  mmtivii^ 
nemarkable  object  in  this  pincession  was  the  Biundas^  Ctma. 
Cerei'is,  contained  in  a  small  coffer  or  basket.    Tbii 
was  carried  by  a  select  company  of  Athenian  matrons, 
wIk),  from  their  office,  were  styled  Caniphorw.   In  this 
coffer  were  lodged  the  comb  of  Ceres,  her  mirror,  a 
serpentine  figure,  some  wheat  and  barley,  the  pudenda 
of  the  two  sexes,  and  perhaps  some  other  articles  which 
we  have  not  been  able  to  discover.     The  processioa 
ended  at  the  temple,  where  this  sacred  charge  was  de- 
posited with  the  greatest  solemnity. 

We  have  no  description  of  the  temple  of  Elcnsis 
upon  record.      Pausanias  intended  to  have  described 
it ;  hut  says  he  was  diverted  from  his  design  by  a 
dream*.     Strabo  informs  tts  that  the  mystic  aanctna-^Ii^ifc 
ry  was  as  large  as  a  theatre,  and  that  it  was  built  bj 
Ictinusf .     In  the  perch,  or  outer  part  of  this  temple,^.^^ 
the  candidates  were  crowned  with  garhnds  of  flowers,      ^ 
which  they  called  himera,  or  ^  the  desinhle.^^    TbeyDraitf 
were  at  the  same  time  dressed  in  new  garmeots,  whicitkaii^ 
they  continued  to  wear  till  tJiey  were  quite  worn  oat^*''^ 
They  then  washed  their  haada  in  a  laver  filled  itiik 
lioly  water  ;  a  cerenaony  which  intimated  the  purity  of     ^ 
their  hearts  and  hands.     Before  the  doors  were  locked,Ctttto 
one  of  the  officers  of  the  temple  proclaimed  with  akctptk 
loud  voice  a  stern  mandate,  enjoining  all  the  uniai-''"'^ 
tiated  to  keep  at  a  distanee  from  the  temple,  and  de-, 
nouncing  tlie  most  terrible  menacea  if  any  sbmdd  date 
to  disturb  Or  pry  into  the  holy  myateriea.     Nor  were 
these  menaces  without  effect :  for  if  any  person  was 
found  to  have  cmwded  into  the  sanctoary  even  tfarongb 
ignorance,  he  was  put  to  death  without  mercy.    Every 
precaution  having  beent  takfA  to  secnce  secrecy,  the 
initiatory  ceremonies  oaw  began.     But  before  we  de- 
scribe these,  we  mnat  lay  hdRsre  our  readers  a  facief 
account  of  the  ministers  and  retaiaeis  of  theee  secrets 
of  paganism.  >9 

The  chief  minister  of  these  far*faaMd  mysteries' 
was  the  Itierophant.  He  wns  styled  Kingy  aad  c^-' 
ed  that  dignity  during  life,  and  waa  always  by  birth 
an  Athenian.  He  pKsided  in  the  solemnity,  as  is  evi- 
dent from  his  title.  This  peraonage,  aa  we  leam  from 
Eusebius,  represented  the  Demimgna,  or  Creator  of 
the  world.  <*  Now  in  the  nyateriee  of  £leoaiB  (sa^ 
that  father)  the  hierophnnt  is  dressed  out  in  tfe  figva 
of  the  demiurgus.^*  What  this  deminrgus  was,  vc 
leam  fix>m  the  same  writer.  As  this  whole  insti- 
tution was  copied  from  the  Egyptians,  we  nav  rest 
assured  that  the  figure  of  the  rHeusinian  Demturgof 
waa  borrowed  from  the  aaoke  quarter.  ^  As  for  the 
symbols  of  the  Egyptians  (says  he,  quoting  from  P«^ 
SJiy^  X\  ^7  we  of  the  following  cosiplexioai    ^U^ 

emiujcgns,  whom  the  Egyptian^  ^1  Cm;ph^  a  %w^ 


t 

D 


59 
TIm  dado- 


do 


6a 


M  Y  S  T 

AS  a  man  of  an  azure  coloar,  shaded  tpith  black,  hold- 
ing in  his  right  band  a  sceptre  and  in  bis  left  a  girdle, 
and  having  on  his  head  a  royal  wing  or  feather  wreath^ 
ed  round.^'  Such,  we  imagine,  was  the  equipment  of 
the  Eleusinian  hierophant.  This  person  was  likewise 
styled  Prophet,  He  was  to  be  of  the  family  of  the 
Eumolpidse  \  was  obliged  to  make  a  vow  of  perpetual 
chastity  \  and  even  his  voice,  hair,  and  attitude,  were 
adjusted  to  the  ritual. 

The  next  minister  was  the  daduchus,  or  torch- 
bearer  'y  who,  according  to  the  fatHer  above  quoted, 
was  attired  like  the  sun.  This  minister  resembled  the 
sun,  because  that  luminary  was  deemed  the  visible  type 
of  the  supreme  Demiurgus,  and  his  vicegerent  in  go- 
verning and  arranging  the  affairs  of  this  lower  world. 

!%•  priests.  Tlie  third  was  the  person  who  officiated  at  the  altar. 
He  was  habited  like  the  moon.  His  office  was  to  im« 
plore  the  favour  of  the  gods  for  all  the  initiated.  We 
should  rather  imagine,  that  the  person  at  the  altar,  as 
he  resembled  the  moon,  was  intended  to  represent  the 
goddess  herself:  for  the  Egyptian  Isis,  who  was  the 
archetype  of  Ceres,  was  sometimes  the  moon  and 
6t        sometimes  the  earth. 

Aelicnld  The  sacred  herald  was  another  principal  actor  in 
this  solemn  exhibition.  His  province  was  to  recite 
every  thing,  that,  according  to  the  ritual,  was  to  be 
communicated  to  the  novices  ;  and  he  probably  repre- 
sented Tliyotb  or  Tlioth,  that  is  Hermes  or  Mercury, 
the  interpreter  of  the  gods. 

Besides  these,  there  were  five  epimeletse  or  curators, 
of  whom  the  king  was  one,  who  jointly  directed  the 
whole  ceremonial.  Lastly,  There  were  ten  priests  to 
offer  the  sacrifices.  There  were  no  doubt  many  officers 
of  inferior  note  employed  upon  these  occasions ;  but 
these  were  only  insignificant  appendages,  whose  depart* 
ments  have  not  been  transmitted  to  posterity. 

After  this  detail  of  the  ministers  of  this  solemn  ser- 
vice, we  return  to  the  mystipy  or  candidates  for  initia* 
tion.  Some  of  the  fathers  of  the  church  t  mention  a 
hymn  composed  by  the  celebrated  Orpheus,  which  was 

^^'^■' -^^  sung  by  the  mystagogue  or  king  upon  that  occasion. 
This  hymn  appears  to  us  one  of  those  spurious  com- 
positions which  abounded  in  the  first  ages  of  Christi- 
anity, and  which  the  pious  apologists  often  adopt- 
ed without  sufficient  examination.  That  some  sa* 
cred  hymn  was  chanted  upon  that  occasion,  we 
think  highly  probable  *,  but  that  the  one  in  question 
was  either  composed  by  Orpheus,  or  used  at  the  open- 
ing of  these  ceremonies,  to  us  appears  somewhat  pro- 
blematical. 

Before  the  ceremony  opened,  a  book  was  produced, 
which  contained  eveiy  tiling  relating  to  the  telefax. 
This  was  read  over  in  the  ears  of  the  raystse  5  who 
were  ordered  to  write  out  a  copy  of  it  fox  themselves. 
This  was  book  kept  at  Eleusis  m  a  sacred  repository, 
^3        formed  by  two  stones  exactly  fitted  to  each  other,  and 

t*e  petio-  of  n  very  large  size.  This  repository  was  called  petroma. 

"*•  At  the  annual   celebration  of  the  greater  mysteries, 

these  stones  were  taken  asand^,  and  the  book  taken 
out  \  which,  after  being  read  to  the  mystse,  was  repla- 
64        ced  in  the  same  casement. 

!«B-  The  initiations  began  with  a  representation  of  the 

BCBceaMBt^jiQderings  of 'C^res,  and  her  bitter  and  loud  lamen* 

rtbciai.   f^jions  for  the  loss  of  her  beloved  danghtier.      Upon 
this  occasion,  no  doubt,  a  figure  of  4bftt  deity  was 
-Vol,  XIV.  Part  IL 


E   R   I  E  S. 

displayed  to  the  mystse,  while  loud  lamentations  echoed 
from  every  comer  of  the  sanctuary.  One  of  the  com- 
pany having  kindled  a  firebrafid  at  the  altar,  and 
sprung  to  a  certain  place  in  the  temple,  waving 
the  torch  with  the  utmost  fnry,  a  second  snatcbed 
it  from  him,  roaring  and  waving  it  in  the  sams 
frantic  manner  \  and  a  third,  fourth,  &c.  in  the  roost 
rapid  succession.  This  was  done  to  imitate  Ceres,  who 
was  said  to  have  perlustrated  the  globe  of  the  earth 
with  a  flaming  pine  in  her  hand,  which  she  had  lighted 
at  Mount  Etna. 


577 


^s 


When  the  pageant  of  the  goddess  was  supposed  to  Qnestjons 
arrive  at  Eleusis,  a  solemn  pause  ensued,  and  a  few  put  to  tlie 
trifling  questions  were  pnt  to  the  mystse  :  What  these  "^3^^^ 
questions  were,  is  evident  from  the  answers.  "  I  have 
fasted  ^  1  have  drunk  the  liquor"^  I  have  taken  the  con- 
tents out  of  the  coficr  ^  and  having  performed  the  cere- 
mony, have  put  them  into  the  hamper :  I  have  takes 
them  out  of  the  hamper,  and  put  them  again  ianhe 
coffer.'*  The  meaning  of  these  answers,  we  conjecture, 
was  this :  *<  I  have  fasted,  as  Ceres  fasted  while  in 
search  of  her  daughter ;  I  have  drunk  off  the  wort  9H 
she  drank  when  given  her  by  Banbo  \  I  have  perform- 
ed what  Ceres  taught  her  first  disciples  to  perform, 
when  she  committed  to  them  the  sacred  hamper  and 
cofftr.'*  After  these  interrogatories,  and  the  suitable 
responses,  the  mundas  Ceren's  was  displayed  beiore  the 
eyes  of  the  mystse,  and  the  mystagogue  or  hierophant, 
or  perhaps  the  sacred  herald  by  his  command,  read  a 
lecture  on  the  allegorical  import  of  those  sacred  sym« 
hols.  This  was  beard  with  the  most  profound  atten- 
tion 'y  and  a  solemn  silence  prevailed  throughout  the 
fane.  Such  was  the  first  act  of  this  religious  farce, 
which  perhaps  consisted  originally  of  nothing  more. 

After  the  exposition  of  the  mundus  Cereris^  and  the  Traditions 
import  of  her  wanderings,  many  traditions,  were  com- respecting 
municated  to  the  mystse  concerning  -tlie  origin  of  the  the  origin 
universe  and  the  natui-e  of  things.     The  doctrines  deli-  ^^  '^*  ""*" 
vercd  in  the  greater  mysteries,  says  Clem.  Alex>  «•  jre*^*"** 
late  to  the  nature  of  the  universe.    Here  all  instruction 
ends.     Things  are  seen  as  they  are  ^  and  nature,  and 
the  things  of  nature,  are  given  to  be  comprehended.*' 
To  the  same  purpose  Cicero:  **  Which  points  being 
explained  and  reduced  to  the  standard  of  reason,  the 
nature  of  things,  ratber  than  that  of  the  gods,  is  disco- 
vered.**    The  father  of  the  universe,  or  the  supreme 
demiurgus,  was  represented  as  forming  the  diaotic  mass 
into  the  four  elements,  and  producing  animals,  vege- 
tables, and  all  kinds  of  organized  beings,  out  of  those 
materials.     They  say  that  they  were  informed  of  the 
secrets  of  the  anomalies  of  the  moon,  and  the  eclipses  of 
the  sun  and  moon  }  and,  according  to  Virgil, 

TJndc  /tommum  gcnus^  et  p<cudesy  unde  imBcr  et  ignes» 

What  system  of  cosmogony  those  hierophants  adopted, 
is  evident  from  the  passage  above  quoted  from  Eusebius} 
and  from  the  account  immediately  preceding,  it  was 
that  of  the  most  ancient  Egyptians,  and  of  the  orientals 
in  general.  This  cosmogony  is  beautifully  and  energe- 
tically exhibited  in  Plato*s  Timseus,  and  in  the  genuine 
spirit  of  poetry  by  Ovid  in  the  beginning  of  his  Meta- 
morphoses. ^* 

llie  next  scene  exhibited  upon  the  stage,  on  this  Kxplotu  of 
solemn  occasion,  consisted  of  the  exploits  and  adventures  the  gods» 
ef  the  gods,  demigods,  and  heroes,  who  had  iicni  tioe""^ 
t  4D  te 


578 


MYSTERIES. 


6Z 
tiieiroii- 
gin. 


to  time,  being  advanced  to  divine  honours.  These 
weie  displayed  as  passing  before  the  mystse  in  pageants 
fabricated  for  that  important  purpose.  This  was  the 
original  mode  among  the  Egyptians,  and  was  no  doubt 
Mowed  by  their  Eleusiniau  pupils.  These  adventures 
wrere  probably  demonstrated  to  have  been  allegorical^ 
symbolical,  hieroglyphical,  &c.  at  least  they  were  exhi- 
bited in  such  a  Stvourable  point  of  view  as  to  dispel 
those  absurdities  and  inconsistencies  with  which  they 
wexts  sophisticated  by  the  poets  and  the  vulgar. 

With  respect  to  the  origin  of  those  factitious  deities, 
it  was  discovered   that  they  had  been  oiiginaliy  men 
who  had  been  exalted  to  the  rank  ef  divinity,  in  con- 
sequence of  their  lieroic  exploits,  their  useful  inventions, 
their  beneficent  actions,  &c.    This  is  so  clear  from  the 
two  passages  quoted  from  Cicero,  by  Bishop  Warbur- 
fDtu.  Leg,  ton  t,  that  the  the  fact  cannot  be  contradicted.  But  that 
pielate  has  not  informed  ns  so  precisely,  whether  the 
mystagogues  represented  them  as  Ikotbing  more  than 
dead  men,  in  tbeis  present  state,  or  as  beings  who  were 
aistoally  existing  in  a  deified  state,  and  executing   the 
functions  assigned  them  in  the  rubric  of  Paganism.  Ano- 
ther query  naturally  occurs  ^  that  is,  to  what  purpose 
did  the  mystagogues  apply  this  comnmnication  ?  That 
the  hierophants  did  actually  represent  those  deified  mor- 
tab  in  the  latter  predicament,  is  obvious  from  another 
passage  quoted  from  Cicero  by  the  same  prelate,  which 
we  shall  transcribe  as    translated  by  him :    ^'  What 
think  you  of  those  who  assert  that  valiant,  or  famous, 
DT  powerful,  men,.  ha.ve  obtained  divine  honours  after 
death  ^  and  that  these  are  the  very  gods  now  become 
the  objects  of  our  worship4  our  prayers,  and  adoration  ? 
Etthemerns  tells  uh,  wbeH  these  gods  died,  and  where 
they  lie  buried.     I  forbear  to  speak  of  the  sacred  and 
august  rites  of  Eleusis.     I  pass  by  Samothrace  and  the 
nysteries  of  Lemnos,  whose  hidden  rites  are  celebrated 
in  darkness,  and  amidst  the  thick  shades  of  groves  and 
forests.'*     If,  then,  those  deified  mortals  were  becomd 
the  objects  of  worship  and  prayers,,  there  can  be  no 
doubt  of  the  belief  of  their,  deified  existence.   The  allu- 
sion to  the  Eleosinian  and  other  Pagan  mysteries  to- 
wards the  close  of  the  quotation,  places  the  question 
beyond  the  reach  of  controversy.     But  though,  accor- 
ding to  this  account,  '*  there  were  gods  many  and  lords 
many  3^  yet  it  is  evident  from  the  passage  quoted  from 
Eusebius  in  the  preceding  part  of  tliis  article,  that  the 
unity  of  the  Supreme  Being  was  maintained,  exhibited, 
|.  ^  and  inculcated.     This  was  the  original  doctrine  of  the 
^Tmiin-    hitrophanU  of  Egypt :   It  was  maintained  by  Thales 
and  all  the  retainers  of  the  Ionian  school.     It  was  the 
doctrine  of  Pythagoras,  who  probably  gleaned  it  up  in 
the  country  just  mentioned,  in  connexion  with  many 
other  dogmas  which  he  had  the  assurance  to  claim  as 
his  own. 

But  however  the  unity,  and  perhaps  some  of  the  most 
obvious  attributis,  of  the  Supreme  Author  of  nature, 
might  be  il{ustrated  and  inculcated,  the  tribute  of  ho- 
tnafire  and  veneration  doe  to  the  subordinate  divinities 
was  by  no  means  neglected.  The  initiated. were  taught 
to  look  to  the  i(ii  mujerum  gentium  witii  a  superior  de- 
gree of  awe  and  veneration,  as  beings  endowed  with  an 
ineB'able  measure  of  power,  wisdom,  purity,  goodness, 
&c.  These  were,  if  we  may  use  the  expression,  the 
prime  favourites  ef  the  Monarch  of  the  universe,  who 
^we^idMilted  ii|lo  Ihb  amwwii«t<>  pcawnoei  and  who 


69 

Unity  of 
the  su- 


tained  ia 
the  myt- 
tericy. 


^  70 

Oraces  of 

llie  other 
«9da 


received  his  behests'  from  hU  o?m  month,  and  conBH^ 
nicated  thein  to  his  subordinate  officers,  prefects,  Uea- 
tenants,  &c.  These  they  were  exhorted  to  adore  \  to 
them  they  were  to  offer  sacrifices,  prayers,  and  eveiy 
other  act  of  devotion,  both  on  account  of  the  exceliency 
of  their  nature  and  the  high  rank  they  bore  at  the 
court  of  heaven.  They  were  instructed  to  look  op  to 
hero  gods  and  demigods,  as  being  exalted  to  the  high 
rank  of  governors  of  different  parts  of  nature,  as  the 
immediate  guardians  and  protectors  of  the  human  race  \ 
in  short,  as  gods  near  at  hand,  as  prompters  to  a  virtu- 
ous course,  and  assistants  in  it ;  as  ready  upon  all  occa- 
sions to  confer  blessings  upon  the  virtuous  and  deserving. 
Such  were  the  doctrines  taught  in  the  teletse  with  re- 
spect to  the  nature  of  the  Pagan  divinities,  and  the 
worship  and  devotion  enjoined  to  t>e  ofl^red  them  by  the 
mysteries. 

As  the  two  principal  ends  proposed  by  these  ini- 
tiations were  the  exercise  of  heroic  virtues  in  men, 
and  the  practice  of  sincere  and  uniform  piety  by  the 
candidates   for   immortal    happiness,    the   hierophants 
had  adopted  a  plan  of  operations  excellently  accom- 
modated to  both  these   purposes.     The  virtuous  coo- 
duct  and  heroic  exploits  of  the  great  men  and  demi- 
gods of  early  antiquity,  were  magnified  by  the  moat 
pompous   eulogiums,  enforced  with    suitable  exhorta- 
tions to  animate  the  votaries  to  imitate  so  noble  and 
alluring  an  example.     But  this  was  not  all :  the  he- 
roes and  demigods  themselves  were  displayed  in  pa- 
grants,  or  vehicles  of  celestial  light.     Their  honours, 
offices,  habitations,  attendants,  and  other  appendages,, 
in   the   capacity  of  demons,   were   exhibited  with  all 
the  pomp  and  splendour  that  the  sacerdotal  college  were 
able  to  advise.     The  sudden  glare  of  mimic  light,  the 
melting  music  stealing  upon   the   ear,   the   artificial 
thunders  reverberated  from  the  roof  and  walls  of  the 
temple,  the  appearance  of  fire  and  ethereal  radiance, 
the  vehicles  of  flame,  the  effigies  of  heroes  and  de- 
mons adorned   with   crowns  of  laurel   emitting  rap 
from  every  sprig,  the  iragrant  odours  and  aromatic 
gales  which  breathed  from  every  quarter,  all  dexter* 
ously   counterfeited   by  aacerdotal   mechanism,    most 
have  filled  the  imagination  of  the  astonished  votaries 
with  pictures  at  once  tremendous  and  transporting: 
Add  to  this,  that  every  thing  was  transacted  in  the 
dead  of  night   amidst  a  dismal  gloom  \   whence   the 
most  bright  effulgence  instantaneously  burst  upon  the 
sight.     By  this  arrangement  the  aspirants  to  initia- 
tion were  wonderfully   animated  to   the   practice  of 
virtue  while  they   lived,  and   inspired  with   the  hope 
of  a   blessed  immortality   when   they  died.     At  the 
same  time,  their  awe  and  veneration  for  the  gods  of 
their  country  were  wonderfully  enhanced  by  reflecting 
on   the  appearances  above    described.      Accordicgly 
Strabo  very. judiciously  observes,  *^  that  the  my«4ical 
secrecy  of  the  sacred  rites  preserves  the  majesty  of  the 
Deity,  imitating  its  nature,  whioh  escapes  our  appre- 
hension.    For  these  reasons,  in  celebrating  the  teletae, 
the  demons  were  introduced  in  their  deified  or  glorified 
state. 

But  as  all  the  candidates  for  initiation  might  not 
aspire  io  the  rank  of  heroes  and  demigods,  a  aore 
easy  and  a  more  attainable  mode  of  conduct,  in  order 
Io  arrive  at  the  palace  of  happiness,  behoved  to  he 
iifened»    Pmatc^VAftuea  were  inculcated,  and  the^ 

tea 


7« 


cfla^phi» 

Ufrtk 


ine  of  a 


M  Y  S  T 

7-    .    too  Were  to  meet  a  condign,  reward.     But  alas!  tbb 
iJ!^,T'"  present  life  is  too  often  a  chequere^d  scene,  where  vir- 
ited  ia  tlie  ^^  ^^  depressed  and  trodden  under  foot,  and  vice  lifts 
srstcries.     Op  its  bead   and  rides  triumphant.     It  is  a  dictate  of 
[the  doc-  common  sense,  that  virtue  should  sooner  or  later  emerge, 
and  vice  sink  into  contempt  and  misery.     Here  then 
the  conductors  of  the  mysteries,  properly  and  natural- 
ly, adopted  the  doctrine  of  a  fnture  state  of  rewards 
and  punishments.     The  dogma  of  the  immortality  of 
the  human  soul  was  elucidated,  and  carefully  and  pa- 
thetically inculcated.     This  doctrine  was  likewise  im- 
ported   from    Egypt  *f    for   Herodotus  *   informs  os, 
**  chat  the  Egyptians  were  the  first  people  who  main- 
tained  the   immortality  of  the   human   soul."      The 
Egyptian  immortality,  however,  according  to  him,  was 
only  the   metempsychosis  or  transmigration  of  sonls. 
This  was  not  the  system  of  the  ancient  Egyptians,  nor 
indeed  of  the  telet^.     In  these,  a  metempsychosis  was 
admitted ;  but  that  was  carried  forward  to  a  very  di- 
stant period,  to  wit,  to  the  grand  Egyptian  period  of 
j9        36,00 D  years. 
CfliMeBisof     As  the  mystagogues  well  knew  that  the  human  mind 
ElyBiiun      18  more  powerfully  affected  by  objects  presented  to  the 
ind  Tartar  ^^  ^^^^  ^y  ^^  ^^^^  engaging  instructions  conveyed 

^  the  ear,  they  made  the  emblems  of  Elysium  and 
Tartarus  pass  in  review  before  the  eyes  of  their  no- 
vices. There  the  Elysian  scenes,  so  nobly  described 
by  the  Roman  poet,  appeared  in  mimic  splendour  j  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  gloom  of  Tartarus,  Charon^s 
boat,  the  dog  of  hell,  the  Furies  with  tresses  of  snakes, 
the  tribunal  of  Miiios  and  Rhadaroanthus,  &c.  were 
displayed  in  all  their  terrific  state.  Tantalus,  Ixion, 
Sisyphus,  the  daughters  of  Danaus,  &c.  were  repre- 
sented in  pageants  before  their  eyes.  These  exhibitions 
were  accompanied  with  most  horrible  cries  and  bowl- 
ings, thunders,  lightning,  and  other  objects  of  terror 
which  we  shall  mention  in  their  proper  place. 

No  contrivance  could  be  better  accommodated   to 
animate  the  pupils  to  the  practice  of  virtna  on  the  one 
hand,  or  to  deter  them  from  indulging  vicious  passions 
on  the  other.     It  resembled  opening  heaven  and  hell 
to  a  hardened  sinner.     The  practices  inculcated  in  ce- 
lebrating the  mysteries  are  too  numerous  to  be  detail- 
y^       ed  in  this  imperfect  sketch.     The  worship  of  tbe  gods 
tile  three  was  strictly  enjoined,  as  has  been  shown  above.     The 
laws  of       three  laws  generally  ascribed  to  Triptolemus  were  in- 
colcated,  1.  To  honour  their  parents^  ^.  To  honour 
the  gods  with  the  first  fruits  of  the  earth  ;  3.  Not  to 
treat  brute  animals  with  cruelty.     These  laws  were 
imported  from  Egypt,  and  were  communicated  to  the 
Eleusinians  by  the  original  missionaries.  Cicero  makes 
the  civilixation  of  mankind  one  of  the  most  beneficial 
effects  of  the  Elensinian  institutions  :  **  Nullum  miht, 
cum  multo  eximia  divinaque  videntur  Athense  toae  pe- 
perisse ;   tnm  nihil  melius  illis  mysteriis,  quibus  ex 
agresti  Immanique  vita,  excultiad  humanitatem,  et  mi- 
tigati  sumus  )  inttiaque,  ut  appellantur,  ita  revera  prin« 
cipiH  vit$e  cognovimus ;  neque  solum  cum  lectitia  vi* 
vendi  rationcm  accepimus,  sed  etiam  cum  spe  melratfe 


E  R  I  E  S. 


579 


Ttiptoie- 


n... 


which  may  appear  to  lis  of  less  importasce,  whichi 
however,  in  the  symbolical  style  of  the  Egyptians,  were 
abundantly  significant.  The  initiated  were  *'  command- 
ed to  abstain  from  the  flesh  of  certain  birds  aqd  fishes ; 
firom  beans,  from  pomegranates  and  apples,  which 
were  deemed  equally  polluting.  It  was  taught,  that 
to  touch  the  plant  of  asparagus  was  as  dangerous  as 
the  most  deadly  poison.  Now,  says  Porphyry,  who- 
ever is  versed  in  the  history  of  the  viswns^  knows  fi>r 
what  i*eason  they  were  commanded  to  abstain  from  tbe 
flesh  of  birds." 

The  initiated  then  bound  themselves  by  dreadful  oaths  Hie  initia- 
to  observe  most  conscientiously  and  to  practise  every  ^^  bound 
precept  tendered  to  them  in  the  course  of  tbe  teletae ;  ^  oathrto 
and  at,  the  same  time  never  to  divulge  one  article  of  obserre  the 
all  that  had  been  heard  or  seen  b]^  them  upon  that  oc- precepts  of 
casion.     In  tbb  they  were  so  exceedingly  jealous,  that  the  myste* 
^schylus  the  tragedian  was  in  danger  of  capital  pu*  ^^^^ 
nishment,  for  having  only  alluded  to  one  of  the  £leu<» 
sinian  arcana  in  a  tragedy  of  his  \  and  one  of  the  ar*> 
tides  of  indictment  against  Diagoras  tbe  Melian  was^ 
bis  having  spoken  disrespectfully  of  the  mysteries,  and 
dissuaded   people  from  partakmg  of  them.     It  must 
then  be  allowed,  that  the  institution  of  the  mysteries 
was  of  infinite  advantage  to  the  Pagan  world.     They 
Were  indeed  a  kind  of  sacraments,  by  which  the  initiat- 
ed bound  themselves  by  a  solemn  vow  to  practise  piety 
towards  the  gods,  justice  and  humanity  towards  tfteir 
fellow  men,  and  gentleness  and  tenderness  towards  the 
inoflensive  part  of  the  brute  creation.     The  Pagans 
themselves  were  so  thoroughly  convinced  of  this  fact, 
that  in  their  disputes  with  the  apologists  for  Christiani- 
ty, they  often  appealed  to  the  teletse,  and  contrasted 
their  maxims  iMi  the  naoet  sublime  doctrines  of  that 
heavenly  institution. 

In  order  to  impress  these  malcims  the  more  deeply 
upon  tbe  minds  of  the  novices,  and  to  fix  their  atten- 
tion more  stedfastly  upon  tfa^  lectures  which  Were  de* 
livered  them  by  the  mystagogue  or  the  sacred  herald^ 
a  mechanical  operation  was  played  off  at  proper  inter- 
vals during  the  course  of  the  celebration.     '*  Towards 
the  end  of  the  celebretioo  (says  Stobseus),  tbe  whole 
scene  is  terrible  ;  all  is  trembling,  shuddering,  sweaty        ^^ 
and  astonishment.     Many  horrible  spectres  are  8een;UombIe 
and  strange  cries  and  bowlings  uttered.    Light  sue- «P«ctrei 
ceeds  darkness  5  and  again  the  blackest  darkness  tlie  ,^^ jj^ 
most  glaring  light.     Now  appear  <^n  plains,  flowery  aiusniate- 
meads,  and  waving  groves  ^  where  are  seen  dances  and  \y  exhibit* 
choruses  *,  and  various  holy  phantasies  enchant  the  sight,  cd. 
Melodious  notes  are  beard  from  far,  with  all  the  sub- 
lime symphony  of  the  sacred  hymns.     The  pupil  now 
is  completely  perfect,  is  initiated,   becomes  free,  re- 
leased,  and  walks  about  with  a  crown  on  his  head, 
and  is  admitted  to  bear  a  part  in  the  sacred  rites.''   A- 
ristides  dc  Myst.  Eleos.  calls  Eleusis  *'  a  kind  of  temple 
of  the  whole  earth,  and  of  all  that  man  beholds  done 
in  tke  most  dreadfiil  and  the  roost  exhilarating  manner. 
In  what  other  place  have  the  records  of  fable  sung  of 
things  more  marvelldus  ?  or  in  what  region  upon  earth 


moriendi.**     Hence  it  is  evident  that  the  precepts  of     have  the  objects  presented  to  the  eye  borne  a  more  ex- 
hamanity  stod  morality  were  warmly  recommended  in    'act  resemblance  to  the  sounds  whidi  strike  the  ear  ? 


thetie  institations.  Ine  virtue  of  bumcanity  was  ex- 
tended, one  may  say,  even  to  the  brute  creation,  as 
appears  from  the  last  of  Triptolemiis's  laws  above 
•quoted.    Some  articles   were  enjoined  in   tke  telete 


What  object  of  sight  have  the  numberless  |renerations 
of  men  and  women  beheld  comparable  to  these  exhi- 
bited m  the  ineffable  mysteries  ?"  To  tbe  same  p^r- 
note.  Hethp.  in  the  oracles  of  Zoroastres,  informs  us, 
^  4  D  a  "that 


58o  M  Y  S  T 

^*  that  ^rightfol  knA  shocking  apjlaritlons,  in  a  variety 
of  forin!$y  used  to  be  disphiyed  to  the  mystse  in  the 
course  of  Ihictr  inittationw''  And  a  little  after,  he  adds, 
**  that  thunder  and  lightning  and  fire,  and  every  thing 
terrible  which  might  be  held  symbolical  of  the  divine 
presence,  were  introduced/'  Claudian,  in  his  poem 
Z)e  Rapta  Proserpina^  gives  an  elegant,  though  brief, 
description  of  this  phenomenon,  which  throws  some  light 
on  the  passages  above  quoted. 

Jam  mild  certmntvr  trcpidis  dclubra  mavcri 
Sedibus  et  clarum  dis  pergere  culmina  iucem^ 
Adventum  Sestata  Dea^  Jam  magnu9  ab  imis 
Auditur  fremitus  terris^  tetnpiuvtque  remugit 
Cecropidum. 


ries. 


The  sight  of  those  appearances  was  called  the  Antopsia^ 
or  *'  the  real  presence :''  hence  those  rites  were  some- 
times called  Epoptica.     The  Epoptte  were  actually  ini- 
tiated, and  were  admitted  into  the  Sanctum  Sanctorum^ 
and  bore  a  part  in  the  ceremonial :  whereas  the  mysta^ 
who  had  only  been  initiated  in  the  lesser  mysteries  at 
Agree,  were  obliged  to  take  their  station  in  the  porch 
A  kin^  of    ^^  ^^®  temple.     The  candidates  for  initiation  bathed 
tfnpfUnwi    themselves  in  holy  water,  and  put  on  new  clothes,  all 
ablation  la  of  linen,  which  they  continued  to  wear  till  they  were 
the  mytte-  qgjte  torn,  and  then  they  were  consecrated  to  Ceres 
and  Proserpine.     From  the  ceremony  of  bathing  they 
were  denominated  Hydrani;  and  this  again  was  a  kind 
of  baptismal  ablution.  Whether  the  phrases  of  washing 
away  sin^  putting  on  the  Lord  Jems  Christy  putting  off* 
the  M  man  with  his  deeds,  ptttting  on  a  robe  of  right" 
eousnessy  being  buried  in  baptism,  the  words  mystery, 
perfect,  perfection,  which  occur  so  frequently  in  the 
New  Testament,  especially  in  the  writings  of  the  apostle 
St  Paul,  are  borrowed  from  the  Pagan  mysteries,  or 
from  usages  current  among  the  Jews,  we  leave  to  our 
more  learned  readers  to  determine. 

The  Epoptse  having  sustained  all  those  fiery  trials, 
heard  and  seen  every  thing  requisite,  taken  upon  them 
the  vows  and  engagementa  above  narrated,  and,  in  a 
word,  having  shown  tliemselves  good  soldiers  of  Ceres 
and  Proserpine,  were  now  declared /i^f^^  tnen.    They 
The  initi-    might,  like  Cebes^s  virtuous  man^  travel  wherever  they 
^^^^J^ehose;  those  wild  •  beasts  (the  human  passions)  which 
^^^'^^  tyrannise  over  the  rest  of  mankind,  and  often  destroy 
them,  had  no  longer  dominion  over  them.     They  were 
now  not  only  perfect  but  r^enerated  men.    They  were 
now  crowned  with  lanrel,  as  was  said  above,  and  diai- 
missed  with  two  barbarous  words,  K«y|  ifMnti,  Konx 
ompax,  of  which  perhaps  the  hierophants   themselves 
did  not  oomprehend  the  import.     They  had  been  in- 
troduced by  the  first  Egyptian  missionaries,  and  re- 
tained in  the  sacra  after  their  signification  was  lost. 
This  was  a  common  practice  among  the  Greeks.     In 
the  administi^ation  of  their  religious  ceremonies,  they 
retained  many  names  of  persons,  places,  things,  cu- 
stoms, &c.  which  had  been  introduced  by  the  Phoeni- 
cians and  Egyptians,  from  whom  they  borrowed  their 
sjrstem  of  idolatry.     These  terms  constituted  the  lan- 
guage of  the  gods,  80  often  ventiooed  by  the  prince 


7». 


E  R  I  E  S. 

of  poets.     To  us  the  words  in  question    appear  to  be 
Syriac,  and  to  signify.  Be  vigilant,  be  innocent. 

Numerous  and  important  were  the  advantages  suppo- 
sed to  redound  to  the  initiated,  from  their  being  admiu 
ted  to  partake  of  the  mysteries,  both  in  this  life  and 
that  which  Is  to  come.     First,  They  were  highly  ho- 
noured, and  even  revered  by  their  contemporaries.    In- 
deed, they  were  looked  op  to  as  a  kind  of  sacred  per- 
sons :  tliey  were,  in  reality,  consecrated  to  Ceres  and 
Proserpine.   Secondly,  They  were  obliged  by  their  oatb 
to  practise  every  virtue,  religions,  moral,  political,  pub- 
lic, and  private.     Thirdly,  They  imagined,  that  soaod 
advice  and  happy  measures  of  conduct  were  suggested 
to  the  initiated  by  the  Eleusinian  goddesses.     Accord- 
ingly, says  Pericles  the  celebrated  Athenian  statesmao, 
'*  lam  convinced,  that  the  deities  of  EleusLs  inspired 
me  with. this  sentiment,  and  that  this  stratagem  was 
suggested  by  the  principle  of  the  mystic  rites.**    There 
is^a  beautiful  passage  in  Aristophanes's  t  comedy  of  the  t  Act  I 
Ranse  to  the  \ery  same  purpose,  of  which  we  shall  sub- 
join the  following  periphrasis.    It  is  sung  by  the  chorus 
of  the  initiated. 


Let  us  to  flowery  meads  repair, 

With  deathless  roses  bloomings 
Whose  balmy  sweets  iropregn  the  air,. 

Both  hills  and  dales  perfuming. 
Since  fate  benign  our  choir  has  joia*d^ 

WVII  trip  in  mystic  measure  ^ 
In  sweetest  harmony  combined 

We'll  quaflF  full  draughts  of  pleasare* 
For  us  alone  the  powV  of  day 

A  milder  light  dispenses  j 
And  sheds  benign  a  mellowed  ray 

To  cheer  our  ravishM  senses  : 
For  we  beheld  the  mystic  show, 

And  bravM  Eleusis'  dangers. 
We  do  and  know  the  deeds  we  owe 

To  neighbours,  friends,  and  strangers. 

Euripides,  in  his  Bacchse  (e),.  introduces    the  cho- 
rus extolling  the  happiness  of  those  who  bad  been  ac- 
quainted with  God,  by  participating  in  the  holy  my- 
steries, and  whose  nunds  had  been  enlightened  by  the 
mystical  rites.    They  boast,  **  that  they  had  led  a  holy 
and  unblemished  life,  from  the  time  that  they  liad  bcea 
initiated  in  the  sacred  rites  of  Jupiter  Idseos,  and  frooi 
the  time  that  they  had  relinquished  celebrating  the 
nocturnal  rites  of  Bacchus,  and  the  banquets  of  raw 
flesh  torn  off  living  animals.*'     To  this  sanctity  «f  life 
they  had  no  donbt   engaged  themselves,   when  the/ 
were  initiated  in  the  mysteries  of  that  god.    The  Elea- 
sinian  Epoptse  derived  the  same  advantages  firom  their 
sacramental  engagements.     Fourthly*    The  initiated 
were  imagined  to  be  the  peculiar  wards  of  the  Eleu- 
sinian goddesses.     These   deities   were   supposed  to 
watch  over  them,  and  often  to  avert  impending  dasr 


ger,  and  to  rescue  them  when  beset  with  troubles.— 
Our  readers  will  not  imagine  that  the  initiated  reaped 
much  benefit  from  the  protection  of  his  Eieosiaiaa 
tutelary  deities  j  bnt  it  was  sufficient  that  they  belicr- 


(z)  Act  L  near  the  bc|iiuung|.aad  in  naoy  other  places. 


MY  S  T 

ed  the  faet,  «nd  actually  depended  upon  their  inter- 
position.     Fifthly,  The  happy  influences  of  the  teletae, 
were  supposed  to  administer  consolation  to  the  Epoptac 
in  the  hour  of  dissolution }  for,  says  Isocrates,  **  Ceres 
bestowed  upon  the  Athenians  two  gifts  of  the  greatest 
Importance ;   the  fruits  of  the  earth,  which  were  the 
cause  of  our  no  longer  leading  a  savage  course  of  life  ; 
and  the  tcletse,  for  they  who  partake  of  these  entertain 
more  pleasant  hopes  hoth  at  the  end  of  life,  and  eterni- 
•  AH»tidct,ty  afterwards."     Another  author*  tells  us,  "  that  the 
i/i!^^    initiated  were  not  only  often  rescued  from  many  bard- 
"         ships  in  their  lifetime,  but  at  death  entertained  hopes 
that  they  should  be  raised  to  a  more  happy  condition.^' 
Sixthly,  After  death,  in  the  Elysian  fields,  they  were 
to  enjoy  superior  degrees  of  felicity,  and  were  to  bask 
in  eternal  sunshine,   to  quaff  nectar,   and  feast  upon 
7  9       ambrosia,  &c. 
''*'"*!!^^'      The  priesta  were  not  altogether  disinterested  in  this 
^^^^^        salutary  process.     They  made  their  disciples  believe, 
that  the  souls  of  the  uninitiated,  when  they  arrived  in 
the  infernal  regions,  should  roll  in  mire  and  dirt,  and 
with  very  great  difficulty  arrive  at  their  destined  man- 
f  PAtfirfo.    sioD.      Hence  Plato  introd^ices  Socrates  t  observing, 
'*  thnt  the  sages  who  introduced  the  teletse  had  posi- 
tively affirmed,  that  whatever  soul  should  arrive  in  the 
infernal  mansions  unfwuselVd  and  unanntaPd^  should  lie 
there  immersed  in  mire  and  filth."     And  as  to  a  future 
state  (says  Aristides),  *'  the  initiated  shall  not  roll  in 
mire  and  grope  in  darkness  \  a  fate  which  awaits  the 
unholy  and  nn initiated.^'     It  is  not  bard  to  conceive 
with  what  a  commanding  influence  such  doctrines  as 
these  must  have  operated  on  the  generality  of  man- 
Bo       kind. 
JjJ^'*"  *>f     When  the  Athenians  advised  Diogenes  td  get  him- 
udAn^.  self  initiated,  and  enforced  their  arguments  with  the 
tbcaea.        above  considerations,  "  It  will  be  pretty  enough  (re- 
plied the  philosopher)  to  see  Agesilaus  and  Epaminon- 
das  wallowing  in  the  mire,  while  the  most  contemptible 
rascals  who  have  been  initiated  are  strutting  in  the 
islands  of  bliaO' 

When  Antisthenes  was  to  be  initiated  in  the  Or- 
phic mysteries,  and  the  priest  was  boasting  of  the  many 
astonishing*  benefits  which  the   initiated  should  enjoy 
I  J}wz*       iu   a  fntore   state  Xy  *'  ^^hy,   forsooth,    (says  Antis- 
^^^^        thenes),   'tis  wonder  your  reverence .  donH  e'en  hang 

8x       yourself  in  order  to  come  at  them  the  sooner." 
All  the  When  such  benefits  were  expected   to  be  derived 

^*^  from  the  mysteries,  no  wonder  if  all  the  world  crowd- 

VI :^       ed  to  the  Eleusinian.  standard.     After  the  Macedonian 

conquests,  the  hieropbants  abated  much  of  their  ori- 
ginal strictness.  By  the  age  of  Cicero,  ELeusis  was  a 
temple  whither  all  nations  resorted  to  partake  of  the 
benefits  of  that  institution.  We  find  that  almost  all 
the  great  men  of  Rome  were  initiated.  The  hiero- 
phants,  however,  would  not  admit  Nero  on  account  of 
the  profligacy  of  his  character.  Few  otbei's  were  re- 
fused that  honour )  even  the  children  of  the  Athe- 
aians  were  admitted.  But  this,  we  think,  was  rather 
a  luatration  or  consecration,  than  an  initiation.  Per- 
haps it  paved  the  way  fur  the  more  august  ceremony, 
as  the  Cbristtan  luiptism  does  among  us  for  the  other 
is  sacrament. 
^^^  That  this  institution  gradually  degenerated,  can 
^^^i^^l^^  hardly  be  questioned^  but  how  much,  and  in  what 
points,  we  have  not  been  able  to  investigate.    The  fa- 


E  R  I  E  S.  581 

thers  of  the  church,  from  whom  that  charge  is  chiefly 
to  be  collected,  are  not  always  to  be  trusted,  espe- 
cially when  they  set  themselves  to  arraign  the  institu- 
tions of  Paganism,  There  were  indeed  several  an- 
cient authors,  such  as  Melanthius,  Menandcr,  So- 
tades,  &c.  who  wrote  purposely  on  the  subject  in 
question  \  but  their  works  are  long  since  irrecoverably 
lost.  For  this  reason,  modem  writers,  who  havt  pro- 
fessedly handled  it,  have  not  always  been  successful  in 
their  researches.  The  two  who  have  laboured  most 
indefatigably,  and  perhaps  most  successfully,  in  this 
field,  ai«e  Meursius  and  Warburton.  Tbe  former,  in 
his  Liber  Singulariu^  has  collected  every  thing  that  can 
be  gleaned  from  antiquity  relating  to  the  ceremonial 
of  these  institutions,  without,  however,  pointing  out 
their  original,  or  elucidating  the  end  and  import  of  their 
establishment.  The  latter  has  drawn  them  iato  the 
vortex  of  a  system  which  has  in  many  instances  led  him 
to  ascribe  to  them  a  higher  degree  of  merit  than  we. 
think  they  deserve.  These  instances  we  would  willing- 
ly have  noticed  in  our  progress,  had  the  limits  prescribed, 
us  admitted  such  a  discussion. 

If  we  may  believe  Diodorus  the  Sicilian,  those  my<^ 
steries,  which  were  celebrated  with  such  wonderful  se- 
crecy at  Eleiisis,  were  communicated  to  all  mankind 
among  the  Cretans.  This,  however,  we  think,  is  ra- 
ther problematical.  We  imagine  that  excellent  histo- 
rian has  confounded  the  mysteries  of  Cybele  with  those 
of  the  Eleusinian  Ceres.  These  two  deities  were  un- 
doubtedly one  and  the-  same,  that  is,  the  moon  or  the 
earth.  Hence  it  is  probable,  that  there  was  n  striking 
resemblance  between  the  sacred  mysteries  uf  the  Cre« 
tans  and  Eleusinians. 

This   institution    continued  in   high   reputation   to> 
the  age  of  St  Jerome,  as  appears  from  the  following 
passage :  *'  Hieropbantsc  quoque  Atheniensium  legant 
usque  hodie  cicutie  sorbitione  castrari."      Tbe   em» 
peror  Yalentinianus  intended  to  have  supressed  them  ^ 
but  Zozinius  *'  informs  us,,  that  he  was  diverted  from  *  Adveru 
his  design  by  the  proconsul  of  Greece.     At  length  •^<>*'*«» 
Theodosius  the  elder,  by  an  imperial  edict,  prohibited  Aboi*  hed 
the  celebration  of  these  as  well  as  of  all  the  other  sa-  ^j  ^^  ^^^ 
era  of  Paganism..    These  mysteries,  instituted  in  theperoiTheo*^ 
reign  of  Erechtheus,  maintained  their  ground  to  thedosiot. 
period  just  mentioned,  that  is,  near  2000  years  ^  dur- 
ing which  space,  the  celebration  of  them  never  had 
been   interrupted  but  once.      When  Alexander  the 
Great  massacred  the  Thebans  and  razed  their  city, 
the  Athenians  were  so  much  affected  with  this  melan- 
choly event,  that  they  neglected  the  celebration  of  that 
festival.  ^  3. 

'   There  were  almost  numberless  other  nvysterious  in-  other  my^ 
stitutions  among  the  ancient  Pagans,  of  which  these  iteriei  a- 
sketched  above  were  the  most  celebrated.      The  Sa-^^^^S^he 
mothracian  mysteries,  instituted  in  *»onour  of  the  Car  j^^^J^j^^^ 
biri,  were  likewise  of  considerable  celebrity,  and  were  ty. 
supposed  to  confer  much  the  same  blessings  with  the 
Eleusinian,    but  were  not  of  equal  celebrity.      The 
Cabiri  were  Phoenician  and  likewise  Egyptian  f  dei^^^^p,^;^^!^ 
ties.     The  learned  Bochart  has  explained  their  ori-  athon  aiul 
gin,  number,  names,  and  some  part  of  their  worship.  McrodoiUMi 
The  Orphic  mysteries  were  likewise  famous  amons 
the  Thracians.     Orpheus  learned  them  in  Egypt,  and 
they  were  nearly  the  same  with  the  sacra  Paechanalia 
of  the  Gxecks.^     There  were  likewise  the .  mysteries 


582 


of  Jupiter  Ideeus  in  great  request  among  the  Cretans, 
those  of  the  Magna  Mater  or  Cybele,  celebrated  in 
Phrygia.  To  enumerate  and  detail  all  these  would 
require  a  complete  volume.  We  hope  our  readers 
will  be  fully  satisfied  with  the  specimen  exhibited  above. 
We  are  convinced  many  things  have  been  omitted  which 


myst:eries. 

might  have  been  Inserted,  bnt  We  lifttre  Collected  die 
roost  curious  and  the  most  important. — Every  one  of 
the  positions  might  have  been  authenticated  by  quota- 
tions from  authors  of  the  most  undoubted  credibility, 
but  that  process. would  have  swelled  the  article  beyond 
all  proportion. 


M    Y    S 

Mjitical,  MYSTICAXy  something  mysterious  or  allegoricaf. 
Myttics.  8ome  of  the  commentators  on  the  sacred  writings,  be- 
sides a  literal  find  also  a  mystical  meaning.  The  sense 
of  Scripture,  say  they,  is  either  that  immediately  sig-^ 
nified  by  the  words  and  expressions  in  the  common  use 
'  of  language ;  or  it  is  mediate,  sublime,  typical,  and 
'  t&ysti^al.  The  literal  sense  they  again  divide  into  pro- 
'  ^r  literal,  which  is  contained  in  the  Words  taken 
simply  and  properly^  and  metaphorical  litem!,  where 
the  words  are  to  be  taken  in  a  figurative  and  meta- 
phorical s^nse.  The  mystical  sense  of  scripture  they 
divide  into  three  kinds :  the  first  corresponding  to 
faith,  and  called  alkgoritdl;  the  second  to  hope, 
called  anagogictUi  and  the  third  to  charity,  called  the 
tropoiogical  sense.  And  sometimes  they  take  the  same 
word  in  Scripture  in  all  the  four  senses ;  thus  the  word 
Jerusalem  literally  signifies  the  capital  of  Judea :  al- 
legorically,  the  church  militant :  tropologically,  a  be- 
liever :  and  anagogicallv,  heaven/  So,  that  passage  in 
Genesis,  ilp^  there  he  Hght^  and  there  wasUght^  literally 
signifies  corporeal  light  \  by  an  allegory,  the  Messiah  \ 
in  the  tropoiogical  sense,  grace}  and  anagogicallyi 
beatitude,  or  the  light  of  glory. 

MYSTICS,  mystict^  a  kind  of  religious  sect,  distin* 
gblshed  by  their  professing  pure,  sublime,  and  perfect 
devotion,  with  an  entire  disinterested  love  of  God,  firee 
from  all  selfish  eonslderations. 

The  mystics,  to  excuse  their  fanatic  ecstasies  and 
amorous  extravagancies,  allege  that  passage  of  St 
Paul,  The  Spirit  prays  in  us  by  sighs  and  groans  that 
are  unutterable.  Now,  if  the  spirit,  say  they,  pray  in 
us,  we  must  resign  ourselves  to  its  motions,  and  be 
swayed  and  guided  by  its  impulse,  by  remaining  in  a 
state  of  mere  inaction. 

Passive  contemplation  is  that  state  of  perfection  to 
which  the  mystics  all  aspire. 

The  authors  of  this  mystic  science  which,  sprung 
up  towards  the  close  of  the  third  century,  are  not 
known  ^  but  the  principles  firom  which  it  was  formed 
are  manifest.  Its  first  promoters  proceeded  from  the 
known  doctrine  of  the  Platonic  school,  which  was  al- 
so adopted  by  Origen  and  his  disciples,  that  the  di- 
vine nature  was  infused  through  all  human  sonls,  "of 
that  the  faculty  of  reason,  from  which  proceed  the 
health  and  vigour  of  the  mind,  was  an  emanation  from 
God  into  the  human  soul,  and  comprehended  in  it  the 
principles  and  elements  of  all  truth,  human  and  divine. 
They  denied  that  men  conld  by  labour  or  study  excite 
this  celestial  flame  in  their  breasts  \  and  thererore  they 
disapproved  highly  of  the  attempts  of  those,  who  by 
definitions,  abstract  theorems,  and  profound  specola- 
tibns,  endeavoured  to  form  distinct  notions  of  truth, 
and  to  discover  its  hidden  nature.  On  the  contrary, 
they  maintained  that  silence,  tranquillity,  repose,  and 
solitude,  accompanied  with  such  acts  as  might  tend  to 


M    Y    T 

extenuate  and  exhaust  the  body,  were  the  means  by  Mjrtiet 
which  the  hidden  and  internal  word  was  excited  to  ^ 
produce  its  latent  virtues,  and  to  instruct  men  in  the  ' Ty*^ 
knowledge  of  divine  things.  For  thus  they  reasoned; 
those  who  behold  with  a  noble  contempt  all  human  af« 
fiiirs,  who  turn  away  their  eyes  from  terrestrial  vani- 
ties, and  shut  all  the  avenues  of  the  outward  senses 
•gainst  the  contagions  influences  of  a  material  world, 
must  necessarily  return  to  God,  when  the  spirit  is  thos 
disengaged  from  the  impediments  that  prevented  that 
happy  4inion4  And  in  this  blessed  frame  they  not  on- 
ly  enjoy  inexpressible  raptures  from  their  commonioB 
with  the  Supreme  Being,  but  also  are  invested  with 
the  inestimable  privilege  of  contemplating  truth  undis- 
guised and  uncorrnpted  in  its  native  purity,  while  otfaen 
behold  it  in  a  vitiated  and  delusive  form. 

The  number  of  the  mystics  increased  in  the  fourth 
century,  under  the  infinence  of  the  Grecian  fanatic, 
who  gave  himself  out  for  Dionysins  the  Areopagite, 
disciple  of  St  Paul,  and  probably  lived  about  this  pe> 
riod ;  and  1^  pretending  to  higher  degrees"  of  peifrc<* 
tion  than  other  Christians,  and  practising  greater  an- 
sterity,  their  cause  gained  ground,  especially  in  the 
eastern  provinces,  in  the  fiftli  century.  A  copy  of  the 
pretended  works  of  IHonysius  was  sent  by  Balbos  te 
Lewis  the  Meek,  in  the  year  824,  which  kindled  the 
holy  flame  of  mysticism  in  the  western  provinces,  lad 
filled  the  Latins  with  the  most  enthnsiastic  admiratioa 
of  this  new  religion. 

In  the  twelfth  century,  these  mystics  took  the  lead 
in   their   method   of  expounding  Scripture;  and  by 
searching  for  mysteries  and  hidden  meaning  in  the 
plainest  expressions,  forced  the  word  of  God  into  a 
conformity  with  their  visionary  doctrines,  their  entbo* 
siastic  feelings,  and  the  system  of  discipline  which  they 
had  drawn  from  the  excursions  of  their  irregular  fan- 
cies.    In  the  thirteenth  century,  they  were  the  moat 
formidable  antagonists  of  the  schoolmen  ;  and  towards 
the  close  of  the  fourteenth,  many  of  them  resided  sad 
propagated  their  tenets  almoat  in  every  part  of  Enrope. 
They  had,  in  the  fifteenth  century,  many  penons  of 
distinguished  merit  in  their  number :  and  in  the  six- 
teenth century,  previous  to  the  Reformation,  if  any 
sparks  of  real  piety  subsisted  under  the  despotic 
pire  of  superstition,  they  were  only  to  he  ibaiid 
the  mystics. 

The  principles  of  this  sect  were  adopted  by  these 
called  Qfiile^to  in  the  seventeenth  centary,  and,  under 
different  modifications,  by  the  Quakers  and  HethodtslB. 
MYSTRUM,  a  liquid  measure  among  the  aneieats, 
containing  the  fourth  part  of  the  cyathas,  and  weif^ 
ing  two  drachms  and  a  half  of  oil,  or  two  diadm 
two  scruples  of  water  or  wine.  It  neariy  answers  to 
our  spoonful. 

MYT£L£N£.    See  ItfcrruNX- 

MYTHOLOGY. 


t  583  ] 


MYTHOLOGY 


DefmtioiL  TS  a  term  compounded  of  two  Greek  wwds,  and  in  iti 
-^  original  import  it  signifies  any  kind  of  fabulous  doc- 
trine :  In  its  more  appropriated  senae^  it  means  those 
fabulous  details  concerning  the  objects  of  worship  wbich 
were  invented  and  propagated  by  men  who  lived  in  the 
early  ages  of  the  world,  and  by  them  transmitted  to 
succeeding  generations,  either  by  written  records  or  by 
oral  tradition. 

As  the  theology  and  mythology  of  the  ancients  are 
almost  inseparably  connected,  it  will  be  impossible  for 
ns  to  develope  the  latter,  without  often  introducing 
some  observations  relating  to  the  former.  We  must 
therefore  entreat  the  indulgence  of  eur  readers,  if  up- 
on many  occasions  we  would  bazanl  a  few  strictures  on 
the  names,  characters,  adventures,  and  functions  of  such 
Pagan  divinities  as  may  have  furnished  materials  for 
those  fabulous  narrations  which  the  nature  of  the  sub* 
,  ject  may  lead  us  to  discuss. 
Qtif^n  of  With  respect  to  fahlcj  it  may  be  observed  in  gene«> 
Wt.  ral,  that  it  is  a  creature  of  the  human  imagination, 
and  derives  its  birth  from  that  love  of  the  marvelmu 
which  is  in  a  manner  congenial  to  the  soul  of  man.«^ 
The  appearances  of  nature  which  every  day  occur,  ob« 
jects,  actions,  and  eventn,  which  succeed  each  other 
by  a  kind  of  routine,  are  too  familiar,  too  obvious,  and  ' 
uninteresting,  either  to  gratify  curiosity  or  to  excite 
admiration.  On  the  other  hand,  when  the  most  com- 
mon phenomena  in  nature  or  life  are  new-modelled  by . 
the  plastic  power  of  a  warm  imagination  \  when  they 
are  diversified,  compounded,  embellished  ^  or  even  ar* 
ranged  and  moulded  into  forms  which  seldom  or  per- 
haps never  occur  in  the  ordinary  course  of  things  ^— . 
novelty  generates  adn.i ration,  a  passion  always  attended 
with  delightful  sensations.  Here  then  we  imagine  we 
have  discovered  the  very  source  ol  jutioti  and  ^o^iSr.-** 
They  originated  from  that  powerful  propensity  in  our 
nature  towards  the  ttetv  and  surprUit^y%fk\mvXtA  by  the 
deli^  with  which  the  contemplation  of  them  is  ge-, 
nerally  attended. 

Many  cireumstances  contributed  to  extend  and  esta*- 
blish  the  empire  of  table.  The  legislator  laid  hold  on 
this  bias  of  human  nature,  and  of  course  employed 
fable  and  fiction  as  the  most  efiectual  means  to  civilize; 
a  rude,  unpolished  world.  The  pliilosopher,  the  theo- 
logist,  the  poet,  the  musician,  each  in  his  turn,  made 
use  of  this  vehicle  to  convey  his  maxims  and  instruc- 
tions to  the  savage  tribes.  1  hey  knew  that  truths  sim- 
ple and  unadorned,  is  not  possessed  of  charms  power- 
ful enough  to  captivate  the  heart  of  man  in  his  present 
corrupt  and  degenerate  state.  This  consideration,  which 
did  indeed  result  from  the  character  of  theii-  audience, 
naturally  led  them  to  employ  fiction  and  allegory.  From 
this  was  derived  the  allegorical  taste  of  the  ancients, 
and  especially  of  the  primary  sages  of  the  east. 

Though  almost  every  nation  on  the  face  of  the  globe, 

^        however  remote  from  the  centre  of  population,   how- 

JBoldtten  of^^^'  <*<^yAge  and  averse  from  cultivation,  ban  fabricated 

theoricotaland  adopted  iu  own  system  of  mytbohogy  *,   the  O- 

^r^^^'^*  iieatali^  however,  have  di^tingmshed  tlieiiiselTet  in  a 

3 


peculiar  manner,  by  the  boldness,  the  ineonsistencjr, 
and  the  extravagance  of  their  mythology.  The  genial 
warmth  of  those  happy  climes,  the  fertility  of  the  soil| 
which  aflforded  every  necessary,  every  conveniency, 
and  often  every  luxury  of  life,  without  depressing  their 
spirits  by  laborious  exertions  \  the  face  of  nature  per- 
petually blooming  around  them,  the  skies  smiling  with 
uninterrupted  serenity  \  all  contributed  to  inspire  th9 
Orientals  with  a  glow  of  fancy  and  a  vigour,  of  .ima*  . 
gination  rarely  to  be  met  with  in  less  happy  regions. 
Hence  every  object  was  swelled  beyond  its  natural  di* 
mensions.  Nothing  was  great  or  little  in  moderatiooi 
but  every  sentiment  was  heightened  with  incredible  hy^ 
perbole.  The  magnificent,  the  sublime,  the  vast,  the 
enormous,  the  marvellous,  first  sprung  up,  and  were 
brought  to  maturity,  in  those  native  regions  of  fable 
and  fairy  land.  AJs  nature,  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
her  operations,  exhibited  neither  objects  nor  effects 
adequate  to  the  extent  of  their  romantic  imaginations, 
they  naturally  deviated  into  the  fields  of  fic^on  and  fa^ 
ble.  Of  consequence,  the  custom  of  detailing  fabnloua^ 
adventures  originated  in  the  east,  and  was  from  thence 
transplanted  into  the  western  countries. 

As  the  allegorical  taste  of  the  eastern  natiom  had  • 
sprung  from  their  propensity  to  fiible,  and  as  that  pror 
pensity  had  in  its  turn  originated  from  the  love  of  the 
marvellous  \  so  did  allegory  in  process  of  time  cpntribute 
its  influence  towards  multiplying  fables  and  fiction  al- 
most in  inAnitumm.  The.  latent  import  oC  the  allegorical 
doctrines  being  in  a  few  ages  lost  andobliteia(ed,.^hat 
W4is  originally  a  moral  or  theological  tenet,  assumed  the-^ 
air  and  habit  of  a  personal  adventure.  . 

The  propensity  towards  personification,  almost  uni-  Propen^ty 
versa  1  among  the  orientals,  was  another  fruitful  source  to  pcnoni^ 
of  fable  and  allegory.     That  the  people  of  the  east^^^'^''  ^ 
were  strongly  inclined  to.  personify  inanimate  objects ^^^^^ 
and  abstract  ideas,  we  imagine  will  be  readily  granted,  thplogy. 
when  it  is  considered,  that  in  the  formation  of  language  > 
they  have  generally  annexed  the  afiection  of  sex  to 
those  objects.     Hence  the  distinction  of  grammatical 
genders,  which  is  known  to  have  eriginated   in   the  . 
eastern  parts  of  the  worid.     The  practice  of  personify* 
ing  virtues,  vices,  religious  and  moral  affections,  was 
necessary  to  support  that  allegorical  style  which  univer^ 
sally  prevailed  in  those  countries.     This  mode  of  writ- 
ing was  in  high  reputation  even  in  £nrope  some  cen-  - 
turies  ago  \  and  to  it  we  are  indebted  for  some  of  the 
mosfr  noble  poetical  compositions  now  extant  in  our  own 
language.     Those  productions,  however,  are  but  faint . 
imitations  of  the  original  mode  of  writing  still  current 
among  the  eastern  nations.    The  Europeans  derived 
this  species  of  composition  from  the  Moorish  inhabitants  . 
of  Spain,  who  imported  it  from  Arabia,  their  original  , 
country; 

The  general  use  of  hieroglyphics  in  the  east,  mostxiie  cflbots 
have  contributed  largely  towaids  extendinff  the  em*  of  faieroi^ly* 
pire  of  mythology.     As   the   imp<tft  of  the  figures  phlfi  un- 
employed in  this  method  of  delineating  the  signs  ^^^h^?^^*  ~ 
ideas  was  in  a  gieat  measore  Mrbitnry,  mistakes  must      ^^' 

have. 


584 


MYTHOLOGY. 


have  been  frequently  committed  in  ascertaining  the 
notions  which  they  were  at  the  first  intended  to  re^ 
present.  When  the  developement  of  these  arbitrary 
signs  happened  to  be  attended  with  uncommon  dilfi- 
calty,  the  expounders  were  obliged  to  have  recourse 
to  conjecture.  Tbosc  conjectural  expositions  were  for 
the  most  part  tinctured  with  that  bias  towards  the 
marvellous  which  imiversally  prevailed  among  the  pri- 
mitive men.  This  we  find  is  the  case  even-  at  this 
day,  when  modems  attempt  to  develope  the  purport 
of  emblematical  figures,  preserved  on  ancient  medals, 
entaglions,  &c. 

The  wise  men  of  the  east  deliglited  in  obscure  enig- 
matical sentences.  They  seem  to  have  disdained  every 
sentiment  obvious  to  vulgar  apprehension.  The  words 
of  the  wise,  and  their  dark  sayings,  often  occur  in  the 
most  ancient  records  both  sacred  and  profane.  The 
sages  of  antiquity  used  to  vie  with  each  other  for  the 
prize  of  superior  wisdom,  by  propounding  riddles, 
and  dark  and  mysterious  questions,  as  subjects  of  in- 
vestigiktion.  The  contest  between  Solomon  and  Hi- 
ram, and  that  between  Amasis  king  of  Egypt  and 
Polycrates  tyrant  of  Samos,  are  universally  known.-— 
As  the  import  of  those  enigmatical  propositions  was 
often  absolutely  lost,  in  ages  when  the  art  of  writing 
was  little  known,  and  still  less  practised,  nothing  re- 
mained but  fancy  and  conjecture,  which  always  verged 
towards  the  regions  of  fiible.  This  then,  we  think, 
£  was  another  source  of  mythology. 
Mythology  The  Pagan  priests,  especially  in  Egypt,  were  pro- 
•"^*^  J®  bably  the  first  who  reduced  mythology  to  a  kind  of 
•mem  in  ^7^^®°^-  "^^  sacerdotal  tribe,  among  that  people, 
£^pt.  were  the  grand  depositories  of  learning  as  well  as  of 
religion.  That  order  of  men  monopolized  all  the 
arts  and  sciences.  They  seem  to  have  formed  a  con- 
spiracy among  themselves,  to  preclude  the  laity  from 
all  the  avenues  of  intellectual  improvement.  This 
plan  was  adopted  with  a  view  to  keep  the  laity  in  sub- 
jection, and  to  enhance  their  own  importance.  To 
accomplish  this  end,  thev  contrived  to  perform  all  the 
ministrations  of  their  religion  in  an  unknown  tongue, 
and  to  cover  them  with  a  thick  veil  of  fable  and  alle* 
gory.  The  language  of  Ethiopia  became  their  sacred 
dialect,  and  hieroglyphics  their  sacred  character.-— 
Egypt,  of  course^  became  a  kind  of  fairy  land,  where 
M  was  jugglery,  magic,  and  enchantment.  The  ini- 
tiated alone  were  admitted  to  the  knowledge  of  the 
occult  mystical  exhibitions,  which,  in  their  hands,  con- 
stituted the  essence  of  their  religion.  From  these  the 
vulgar  and  profane  were  prohibited  by  the  most  rigo- 
rous penalties  (see  Mysteries).  The  Egyptians,  and 
indeed  nil  the  ancients  without  exception,  deemed  the 
m3rsteries  of  religion  too  sacred  and  solemn  to  be  com- 
municated to  the  herd  of  mankind,  naked  and  unreserv- 
ed;  a  mode  by  which  they  inmgined  those  sacred  and 
sublime  oracles  would  have  been  defiled  and  degrad- 
ed. "  Procul,  6  procul  este  profam — Odi  profanum 
^*ulgus  et  arceo.^*  Egypt  was  the  land  of  graven 
images  j  allegory  and  mythology  were  the  veil  which 
concealed  religion  from  the  eyes  of  the  vulgar ;  fable 
7  was  the  groundwork  of  that  impenetrable  covering. 
lathe  ear-  j^  ^^  earliest  and  most  unpolished  stage  of  society 
ihe  wS^  ^®  cannot  suppose  fable  to  have  existed  among  men. 
mythology  Fables  are  always  tale*  0/ other  times^  but  at  this  period 

liad  no  ex-  Other  times  did  not  reach  far  enough  backward  to  af- 
^ftencc.  ^ 


ford  those  fruits  of  the  imagination  sufficient  time  ts 
arrive  at  maturity.  Fable  requires  a  considerable  space 
of  time  to  acquire  credibility,  and  to  rise  into  repu- 
tation. Accordingly,  we  find  that  both  the  Chinese 
and  Egyptians,  tbe  two  most  ancient  nations  whoM 
annals  have  reached  our  times,  were  altogether  unac- 
quainted with  fabulous  details  in  the  most  early  and 
least  improved  periods  of  their  respecrtive  monarchies. 
It  has  been  shown  almost  to  a  demonstration,  by  a  va- 
riety of  learned  men,  that  both  the  one  and  the  other 
people,  during  some  centuries  after  the  general  de< 
luge,  retained  and  practised  the  primitive  Noachic  re- 
ligion, in  which  fable  and  fancy  could  find  no  place  f 
all  was  genuine  unsophisticated  truth. 

As  soon  as  the  authentic  tradition  concerning  the 
origin  of  the  vniverse  was  either  in  a  good  measnit 
lost,  or  at  least  adulterated  by  the  invention  of  men, 
fable  and  fiction   began  to  prevail.      The  Egyptian      1 
TAotA  or  Thyoth,  or  Mercury  Trismegiatiis,  and  Mos-FiiidHi 
chus  the  Phoenician,  undertook  to  accoant  for  the  for-f'^P- 
mation  and  arrangement  of  the  universe,  upon  P>^d*[]|J|b^ 
ciples  purely  mechanical.     Here  fable  b^an  to  nsorp^^ig, 
the  place  of  genuine  historical  truth.      Accordingly,  nik 
we  find  that  all  the  historians  of  antiquity,  who  liave 
undertaken  to  give  a  general  detail  of  the  afiairs  of 
the  world,  have  ushered  in  their  narration  with  a  fabu- 
lous cosmogony.     Here  imagination  ranged  nnconfined 
<over  the  boundless  extent  of  the  primary  chaos.    To  be 
convinced  of  the  truth  of  this  assertion,  wt  need  ooly 
look  into   Sanchoniathon^s  Cosmogony,  Suseb.  Praep. 
Evang«  1.  I.  sub  init.  and  Diodorns  Sic.  1.  I.     From 
this  we  suppose  it  will  follow,  that  the  first  race  of 
fables  owed  their  birth  to  the  erroneous  opinions  of 
the  formation  of  the  universe. 

Having  now  endeavoured  to  point  out  the  origin  of 
mythology,  or  fabulous  traditions,  we  shall  proceed  te 
lay  before  our  readers  a  brief  detail  of  tbe  nnrthologj 
of  the  most  respectable  nations  of  antiquity,  following 
the  natural  order  of  their  situation.  ^ 

The  Chinese,  if  any  credit  be  due  to  their  own  an-CkiaeK 
nals,  or  to  the  missionaries  of  the  church  of  Rome,  wbo^f*^'^ 
pretend  to  have  copied  from  them,  were  thejir$i  i^the' 
nations^     Their  fabulous  records  reach  upwards  many 
myriads  of  years  before  the  Mosaic  era  of  tbe  creation. 
The  events  during  that  period  of  time,   if  any  had 
been  recorded,  must  have  been  fabulous  as  the  period 
itself.     These,  however,  are  buried  in  eternal  oblivion. 
Tbe  missionaries,  who  are  the  only  sources  of  oor  iofor* 
mation  with  relation  to  the  earliest  periods  of  the  Chinese 
history,  represent  those  people  as  having  retained  the 
religion  of  Noah  many  centuries  after  the  foundatisa 
of  their  empire.     Upon  this  supposition,  their  co$aM»- 
gony  must  have  been  sound  and  genuine,  without  tbe 
least  tincture  of  those  fabulous  ingredients  which  have 
both  disguised  and  disgraced  the  cosmogonies  of  most 
other  nations.  u 

According   to  the  most  authentic  ^Mcoonts,  Fahe^jg^itd 

or  Fohi  laid  the  foundation   of    that  empire  abootiinij* 

4000  years  ago.    This  emperor,  according  to  tbe  Cbt-*''^ 

nese,  was  conceived  in  a  miraculous  manner.    His  iiio> 

ther,  say  they,  one  day  as  she  was  walking  in  a  desert 

place,  was  surrounded  by  a  rainbow ;  and,  being  im* 

pregnated  by  this  meteor,  was  in  due  time  delivnvd 

of  that  celebrated  legislator.     This  personage,  like  the 

Athenian  Cecrops,  was  half  a  man  and  half  n  wrp^ 

Hi* 


MYTHOLOGY. 


His  inivllcctual  powers  were  truly  hyperbolical.  In 
v>ne  day  he  discovpred  50  different  species  of  poisonous 
herbs.  He  taught  bis  countrymen  the  whole  art  of 
agriculture  in  the  space  of  a  very  few  years.  He  in- 
structed them  how  to  sow  five  different  sorts  of  grain. 
He  invented  boats,Yand  nets  for  fishing,  the  art  of  fabri- 
cating porcelain,  the  management  of  silk  worms,  the 
manufacturing  of  silk,  &c.  In  a  word»  that  wonder- 
ful personage  was  inspired  by  Heaven  with  knowledge, 
which  qualified  him  for  composing  that  incomparable 
body  of  laws  which  are  even  at  this  day  the  wonder  of 
the  world.  Our  readers  will  admit,  that  this  whole 
detail  is  fabulous  and  chimerical.  The  mQ»t  learned 
part  of  them  will  readily  observe,  that  the  Chinese  in 
ascribing  the  invention  of  all  the  useful  arts  to  their 
Fohi,  are  perfectly  agreed  with  almost  all  the  other  na- 
tions of  antiquity.  The  Indians  ascribe  eveiy  inven- 
tion to  Budha^  or  Vishnou^  or  Foe}  the  Persians  te  Xer^ 
dusht^  or  Zoroaster  ;  the  Chaldeans  to  their  man  of  the 
sea,  whom  they  call  Oannes;  the  Egyptians  to  Thoth 
or  Thifoth;  the  Phcenicians  to  Melicerta;  the  Greeks 
to  the  family  of  the  Titans;  and  the  Scandinavians  to 
Odiuy  &c. 

^J^^"*  About  551  years  before  the  Christian  era,  appeared 
the  famous  Chinese  philosopher  Con-fo-tse  or  Confucius. 
Concerning  the  birth  of  this  prince  of  philosophers,  the 
Chinese  have  prdpagated  the  following  legendary  tale. 
His  mother,  walking  in  a  solitary  place,  was  impregnated 
by  the  vivifying  influence  of  the  heavens.  The  babe, 
thus  produced,  spake  and  reasoned  as  soon  as  it  was 
bom.     Confucius,  however,  wrought  no  miracles,  per- 


tl 


the  family   of  TchoU,   and    brother   of  the   cmpeior 
Ming-ti,  to  make  him  enter  into  communion  with  the 
spirits.   At  bis  solicitation  an  ambassador  was  despatch- 
ed into  India,  in  order  to  inquire  wbeie  the  true  reli- 
gion was  to  be  found.     There  bad  been  a  tradition, 
say  the  missionaries,  ever  since  the  age  of  Confucius, 
that  the  true  religion  was  to  be  found  in  the  west.— 
The  ambassador  stopt  short  in  India  ^  and  finding  that 
the  god  Foe  was  in  high  reputation  in  that  country, 
he  collected  several  images  of  that  deity  painted  on 
chintz,  and  with  it  42  chapters  of  the  canonical  books 
of  the  Hindoos,  which,  together  with  the  images,  be 
laid  on  a  white  elepbapt,  and  transported  into  bis  na- 
tive country.     At  the  same  time  he  imported  from  the 
same  quarter  the   doctrine   of  the  transmigration  of 
souls,  which  is  firmly  believed  in  China  to  this  day. 
The  doctrine  and  worship  of  Foe,   thus  introduced* 
made  a  most  rapid   progress  all  over  China,  Japao^ 
Si  am,  &C.     The  priests  of  Foe  are  called  among  the 
Siamese  Tahpnins;  by  the  Tartars,  Lamas;  by  the 
Chinese,  Ha^chang;  and  by  the  people  of  Japan,  Jh»' 
%es.     By  this  last  appellation  they  are  generally  known 
in  Europe. 

An  infinitude  of  fables  was  invented  and  propagated  ^e 
by  the  disciples  of  Foe,  concerning  the  life  anaadven-'^dnMnAf 
tures  of  their  master.     If  the  earlier  ages  of  ihe  Cli-*^^^^* 
nese  history  are  barren  of  mythological  incidents,  tfaeg^^ 
later  periods,  after  the  introduction  of  the  worship  pf 
Foe,  fiimiah  an  inexhaustible  store  of  miracles,  mon- 
sters, fables,  intrigue,  exploits,  and^advcntures,  of  the 
most  villanous  complexion.     Indeed,  most  of  them  are 


formed  no  romantic  exploits,  but  lived  an  anstere  ascetic     so  absurd,  so  ridiculous,  and  at  the  same  time  so  impious 


11 


life,  taught  and  inculcated  the  doctrines  of  pure  mon^- 
lity,  and  died,  remarkable  only  for  superior  wisdom,  re- 
ligious, moral,  and  political. 
^^        About  the  year  of  Christ  601,  flourished  the  sec- 
IgQUjg^   tary  Lao-Mun.     His  mother  carried  him  30  years  in 
her  womb,  and  was  at  last  delivered  of  him  under  a 
plum-tree.      This  philosopher   was    the   Epicurus   of 
the  Chinese.      His  disciples,  who  were  denominated 
Fao-ssc^  i.  e.  heavenly  doctors,  were  the  first  who  cor- 
rupted the  religion  of  the  Chinese.     They  were  ad- 
dicted to  magic,  and  introduced  the  worship  of  good 
and  bad  demons.     Their  doctrine  was  embraced  by  it 
long  succession  of  emperors.     One  of  these  princes, 
called    You-tif  had  been  deprivecl  by  death  of  a  fa- 
vourite mistress,  whom  he  loved  with  the  most  extra- 
vagant passion.    The  emperor,  by  the  magical  skill  of 
one  of  these  doctors,  obtained  an  interview  with  his 
deceased  mistress,  a  circumstance  which  rivetted  the 
whole  order  in  the  affection  and  esteem  of  the  deluded 
prince.     Here  our  readers  will  observe  the  exact  coun- 
terpart of  the  fable  of  Eurydice,  so  famous  in  the  my- 
thology of  the  Greeks  and  Romans.     That  siicb  a  sys- 
tem of  religions  principles  most  have  abounded  with 
mythological  adventnres  is  hi^'bly  probable  \  but  as  the 
missionaries,  to  whom  we  are  chiefly  indebted  for  our 
1^^^^^^    iofoonation  relating  to  the  religion  of  the   Chinese, 
imoftji^  have  not  taken  the  pains  to  record  them,  we  find  it 
wibp  w  impossible  to  gratify  the  curiosity  of  ocv  readers  on 
Wpf  that  head'. 

■■eo^tLs  ^^^  worship  of  the  idol  Fo,  or  Foe,  was  trans- 
letempgy  P^^^ted  from  India  into  China  aboot  the  56th  year  of 
^''  iota  ^  Christian  eia,  npon  the  following  occasion.     One 


and  profane,  that  we  are  convinced  our  readers  will  easi- 
ly' dispense  with  a  detail  from  which  they  could  reap 
neither  entertainntent  nor  instruction.  Such  as  may  find 
themselves  disposed  to  rake  into  this  abominable  puddle, 
we  must  refer  to  the  reverend  fathers  Du  Halde,  Cou- 
plet, Amiot,  Kircher,  and  other  members  of  the  propa- 
ganda, in  whose  writings  they  will  find  wherewithal  to 
satisfy,  and  even  to  surfeit,  their  appetite.  ,. 

The  Hindoos,  like  the  other  nations  of  the  east^  for  Hindoo  o^u 
a  long  time  retained  the  worship  of  th^  true  God.     AX^^f^^Vf* 
length,  however,  idolatry  broke  in,  and,  like  an  im- 
petuous torrent,  overwhelmed  the  country.     First  of 
all,  the  ^nuine  history  of  the  origin  of  the  universe 
was  either  utterly  lost,  or  disguised  under  a  variety  of 
fictions  and  allegories.     We  are  told  that  Brimlia^  the 
supreme  divinity  of  the  Hindoos,  after  three  several 
efforts,  at  last  succeeded  ii^  creating  four  persons,  whom 
he  appointed  to  rule  over  all  the  inferior  creatures.-— 
Aflerwards  Brimha  joined  his  eflicient  power  with  Bi» 
shon  and  Rulder  \  and  by  their  united  exertions  .they 
produced  ten  men,  whose  general  appellation  is  Mit^ 
nieSj  that  is,  the  inspired.     The  same  being,  accord- 
ing  to  another  mythology,  produced  four  other  per-  " 
sons,  as  imaginary  as  the  former  j  one  from  his  breast^ 
one  from  his  back,  one  from  bis  lip,  and  one  from  his 
heart.    These  children  were  denopiin^d  Bangs;  the 
import  of  which  word  we  cannot  pretend  to  deter- 
mine.    According  to  another  tradition,  Brimha  pro- 
duced the  Bramins  from  his  moudi,  to  pray,  to  read, 
to  instruct ;  the  Cbiltem  from  his  arms,  to  draw  the 
bow,  to  fight,  to  govern  5  the  Bice  from  his  belly  or 
thighs,  to  nourish,  to  provide  the  necessaries  of  life  by 


of  the  doctors  ef  the  Fao-jse  hod  promised  a  prince  of    agriCMlture  and  commerce  \  the  Soder  from  his  feet,  fop 
Vol.  Xiy.  Fart,  it  t  4$  rabjectioo. 


586 


MYTHOLOGY. 


subjectiooy  to  serve,  to  laboar,  to  travel.  The  reader 
will  sec  at  once,  in  these  allegorical  persons,  the  four 
casts  or  «>epts  into  which  the  Hindoo  nations  have,  time 
immemorial,  been  divided.  These  arc  some  of  their 
most  celebrated  mythological  traditions  with  relation  to 
i6  the  ori^n  of  the  universe. 
^j^^*^  The  Hindoos  have  likewise  some  mythological  opi- 

rclRting"*©  "*®'*®  which  seem  to  relate  to  the  general  deluge.  They 
the  deluge,  tell  us,  that  desiring  the  preservation  of  herds  and  of 
fcc.  brahmans,  of  genii  and  of  virtuous  men,  of  vedas  of 

law,  and  of  precious  things,  the  Lord  of  the  universe 
assumes  many  bodily  shapes  ;  but  though  he  pervades, 
like  the  air,  a  variety  of  beings,  yet  he   is  himself 
unvaried,  since  he  has  no  quality  m'  him  subject   to 
change.     At  tlie  close  of  the  last  calpa^  there  was  a 
general  destruction,  occasioned  by  the  sleep  of  Brah- 
me,  whence  his   creatures   in  different   worlds  were 
drowned  in  a  vast  ocean.     Brahmc  being  inclined  to 
slumber  after' a  lapse  of  so  many  ages,  the  strong  de- 
mon Hyagri'Vay  came  near  him,  and  stole  the  vedas 
which  bad  flowed  from  his  lips.     When  Hert^  the  pre- 
server of  the  universe,   discovered  this  deed  of  the 
prince  of  DattiavaSj  he  took  the  shape  of  a  minute  fish 
called  Sap'hari,    After  various  transformations,  and  an 
enormous  increase  of  siie  in  each  of  them,  the  Lord  of 
the  universe  loving  the  righteous  man  (a),  who  had 
still  adhered  to  him  under  all  these  various  shapes,  and 
intending  to  preserve  him  from  the  sea  of  destruction 
caused  by  the  depravity  of  the  aee,  thus  told  him  how 
he  was  to  act :  *'  In  seven  days  from  the  present  time, 
O  thou  tamer  of  enemies !   the  three  worlds  will  be 
plunged  in  an  ocean  of  death  j  but  in  the  midst  of  the 
destroying  waves  a  large  vessel  sent  by  me  for  thy  use 
shall  stand  before  thee.^^     The  remaining  part  of  the 
mythology  so  nearly  resembles  the  Mosaic  history  of 
Noah  and  the  general  deluge,  that  the  former  may  be 
a  strong  confirmation  of  the  truth  of  the  latter.     To 
•dry  op  the  waters  of  the  deluge,  the  power  of  the 
Deity  descends  in  the  form  of  a  ifoar^  the  symbol  of 
strength,  to  draw  up  and  support  on  his  tusks  the 
whole  earth,  ^-^diich  had  been  sunk  beneath  the  ocean. 
Again,  The  same  jfthver  is  represented  as  a  tortoise  sus- 
taming  the  globe,  which  had  been  convulsed  by  the 
violent  assaults  of^  demons,  while  the  gods  charmed  the 
sea  with  the  mountain  Mandar^  and  forced  it  to  dis- 
gorge the  sacred  things  and  animals,  together  with  the 
water  of  life  which  it  had  swallowed.  .  All  these  stories, 
we  think,  relate  to  the  same  event,  shadowed  by  a  mo- 
ral, a  metaphysical,  and  an  astronomical  allegory ;  and 
all  three  seem  connected  with  the  hieroglyphical  sculp- 
tures of  the  old  Egyptians. 

The  Hindoos  divide  the  duration  of  the  world  into 
four  yugs  or  jugs^  otjogues^  each  consisting  of  a  prodi- 
gious number  of  years.  In  each  of  those  periods,  the 
age  and  stature  of  the  human  race  have  been  gradually 
diminished  ^  and  in  each  of  them  mankind  has  gradual- 
ly declined  in  virtue  and  piety,  as  well  as  in  age  and 
stature.  The  present  period  they  call  the  ChiUtf  i.  e. 
the  corrupt  jogue,  which  they  say  is  to  last  400,000 
years,  of  which  near  5000  years  ave  already  past^  In  the 


last  part  of  the  preceding  jogue,  whicih  they  call  the  Ada 
paar^  the  age  of  man  was  contracted  into  lOOD  years,  at 
in  the  present  it  is  coi^ned  to  100.  From  this  propor- 
tional diminution  of  the  length  of  the  homan  life,  oor 
readers  will  probably  infer,  that  die  two  last  jogues  bear 
a  pretty  near  resemblance  to  the  Mosaic  history  of  the 
age  of*^  the  antediluvian  and  postdiluvian  patiiaiths ; 
and  that  the  two  first  are  imaginary  periods  prior  to 
the  creation  of  the  world,  tike  those  of  the  Chinese, 
Chaldeans,  and  Egyptians.  ,^ 

According  to  the  mythology  of  the  Hmdoos,  tklVvdi 
system  of  the  world  is  subject  to  various  dissolutioDS*^^ 
and  resuscitations.     At  the  conclusion  of  the  CoDac'"** 


jogue,  say  they,  a  grand  revolution  will  take  place,  ^i 
when  the  solar  system  will  be  consumed  by  fire,  and 
all  the  elements  reduced  to  their  original  constitoeiit 
atoms.  Upon  the  back  of  these  revolutions,  Brimha, 
the  supreme  deity  of  the  Hindoos,  is  sometimes  repfe- 
sen  ted  as  a  new  bom  infant,  with  bis  toe  in  his  mooth, 
floating  on  a  camala  or  water  flower,  sometimes  onlj 
on  a  leaf  of  that  plant,  on  the  surface  of  the  vast  abyn. 
At  other  times  he  is  figured  as  coming  forth  01  a 
winding  shell :  and  again  as  blowing  up  the  mttndme 
foam  with  a  pipe  at  his  mouth.  Some  of  these  emble- 
matical figures  and  attitudes,  our  learned  readers  nill 
probably  observe,  nearly  resemble  those  of  the  aodeftt 
Egyptians. 

But  the  vulgar  reHgion  of  the  ancient  Hindoos  wu 
of  a  very  different  complexion,  and  opens  a  large  fi^ 
of  mythological  adventures.  We  have  o{>served  abore, 
that  the  Fo  or  Foe  of  the  Chinese  Was  impoAed  fnm 
India  ^  and  now  we  shall  fi^ve  a  brief  detail  of  the  mt*  rf 
thological  origin  of  that  divinity.  We  have  no  certtfiattiikL 
account  of  the  birth-place  of  this  imaginary  deity^— f[^t^ 
His  followers  relate,  that  he  was  bom  in  one  of  the 
kingdoms  of  India  ndar  the  line,  and  that  his  father 
was  one  of  that  country.  His  mother  brooght  hia 
into  the  world  by  the  left  side,  and  expired  soon  after 
her  delivery.  At  the  time  of  bet  conception,  she 
dreamed  that  she  had  swallowed  a  white  elephant  ^  a 
circumstance  which  is  supposed  to  have  given  birth  t» 
the  veneration  which  the  kings  of  India  have  ahnp 
shown  for  a  white  animal  of  that  species.  As  soon  tf 
he  was  bora,  he  had  strength  enough  to  stand  erect  with- 
out as^stance.  He  walked  abroad  at  seven,  and,  point- 
ing with  one  hand  to  the  heavens,  and  with  the  other 
to  the  earth,  he  cried  out,  "  In  the  heavens,  and  oa 
the  earth,  there  is  no  one  but  me  who  deserves  lo  be 
honoured.^^  At  the  age  of  30,  he  felthimsdf  all  oa 
a  sudden  filled  with  the  divinity  ^  attd  now  he  was  me- 
tamorphosed into  Fo  or  Pagod,  according  to  the  ex- 
pression of  the  Hindoos.  He  had  no  sooner  dechrrd 
himself  a  divinity,  than  he  thought  of  propagating  \k 
doctrine,  and  proving  his  divine  mission  by  minefes. 
The  number  of  his  disciples  was  immense  ^  and  they  seoa 
spread  his  dogmas  over  all  India,  and  even  to  the  high- 
er extremities  of  Asia.  n 

One  of  the  principal  doctrines  which  Fo  and  kit !!«*■' 
disciples  propagated^  was  the  metempsychosu  or  tms-^^T^ 
migration  of  souls.    Tbi^  doctiioOi  some  imagine,  ^^,1^^ 

gi«« 


(a)  He  was  Sovereign  of  the  worlttl 
vatOf  or  Child  of  the  Sun. 


His  name  was  Mana^  or  Statgavrata)  his  patroDymit  name  wis  TftV 


lO 


MYTH 

^H^  cm  to  tbe^  mnltituje  of  idols  xtvereoced  in  every 
country  where  the  mowMjg^  of  Fo  ia  established.  Qua- 
drop^Sybinlsv.  cefitilos,  and  the  vilest  aairoalsy  had 
temples  ^reoted  Cmt  them  y  hecaaee,  sa)r  they,  the  soul 
of  the  god»  io  his  nomerona  transmigrations,  may  have 
at  tmfi  time  or  otlv^  inhabited  their  bodies. 

Qoth  tbc^  doptxine^  of  transmigration  and  of  the 
iroKshiy  of  animala  seems*  however,  to  have  been  im* 
ported  from  Egypt  ioio  India.  If  the  intercourse  be* 
tveeo  these  two  countries  was  begun  at  so  early  a  pe- 
riod as  some  very  late  writers  have  endeavoured  to 
pfove,  such,  a  supj^tioo  is  by  no  aieans  improbable. 
The  doctrine  of  the  transmigration  of  souls  was  ear- 
!▼  established  among  the  Egyptians.  It  was,  indeed, 
the  only  idea  they  formed  of  the  soiil^s  immortality. 
The  worship  of  animals  among  them  seems  to  have 
been  still  more  ancient.  If  such  an  intercoorse  did  ac- 
tually exist,  we  may  naturally  suppose  that  colonies  of 
Sgyf^inp  priests  found  their  way  into  India,  as  they 
did  afterwards  into  Asia  Minor,  Italy,  and  Greece. 
Xhi^  colonies  of  Egyptians  did  actually  penetrate  |in- 
to  that  country,  and  settle  there,  many  centuries  be- 
fore the  Nativity,  is  a  fact  that  cannot  be  called  in- 
question,  for  reasons  which  the  bounds  prescribed  us 
iq  this  article  will  not  allow  ns  to  enumerate.  We 
shall  only  observe,  that  from  the  hieroglyphical  repre- 
sentations of  the  Egyptian  deities  seem,  to  have  origi- 
nated those  monstrous  idols  which  from  time  immemo- 
rial have-  been,  worshipped  in  India,  China,  Japan, 
Siam»  audi  e^^en  in  the  remotest  parts  of  Asiatic  Tar- 
tary* 

Ae  ineer-  Foe, is  often  callfid- JBikMh  or  Budda^  and. sometimes 
^  Vitkniou.i  perhaps,  indeed,  he  may  be  distinguished  by 
mni^.  other  na<neS|  according  to  the  variety  of.  dialects 
of  tbi(' different  nations  among  which  his  worship  was 
establisbod.  An.  infinitude  of  fables  was  propofrated 
by«bia  di«ciples  concerning  him  after  his. death.  They 
pnBtended  that  their  master  was  still  alive  \  that  he  had. 
been  ab^Ady  Imrn  8000  times,  and  that  he  had  succeso 
8iyely.an>oereA  under  the  figure  of  an.  ape,  a,  lion,  a 
dragon,  an  elephant,  a  boar,  &c.  These  were  called 
tho  incarnations  of  VJsbnou,  Al  length  be  waa  con- 
founded with  the,  Sttpieme  God  \  and. all  the  titles,  at- 
tributes, op^fj^iioas^  perfections,  and.  ensiffna  ,of  the 
Most  High  w€^  asGxUied  to  him.  Sometimes  he  is 
called  Amida*  and. represented  witb  the  head  of  a  dog, 
and  worsliipp^,as  the  g^uardiaa  of  mankind.  He  some- 
times appfears  as  a«priiHce)y  personage,  isMungfrom  the 
mouth  of  a  fish*  At  other  times, ,  he.weajrs  a  lunette  on 
his  bead,  in  which-  are  seen  cities,  mountains,  towers, 
frraip  in  short,  all  that  the.  ivorld^  contains.  Tlieso 
transformations  are  evideatlv.*  the  children  of  allege* 
rical  or  hiereglj^ihtcal  emblems^  and  form  an  exact 
connterp^t .  to  the.  symbolical  worship  of  the  Egyp- 
tians- 

Theenorrooos'mass  of  mythological  traditions  which 
faajPB  in  a^manner  deluged  the  vast  continent  of  India^ 
would  fill  manyvoluyies:  We  have  selected  the  pre- 
ceding articles  aaa  speotman  only^  by  which  oar  read- 
ers-mav  be  qualified  to  judgs  of  the  rest.  If  they,  find 
themselves  disposed  to  indulge  their  curiosity  at  greater 
length,  we  must  remit  them  to  Thevenot's  and  Hamil- 
ton's Travels,  to  Mens.  Anquetil  in  his  Zond  A  vesta, 
Hallied's  Introduction  to  hi*}' Translation  of  the  Code 
^f  Gentoo  Laws,  Col.  Ihiw!s  History  of  Hindartao^ 


O  L  O  G  Y.  587 

Grosc^s  Voyage  to  the  East  Indies,  Asiatic  Researches, 
'    vol.  i.  and  ii.  ^i 

The  mythology  of  the  Persians  is,  if  possible,  still  Prrsiitii 
more  extravagant  than  that  of  the  Hindoos.     It  sup- i^y^bologjr. 
poses  the  world  to  have  been  repeatedly  destroyed,  and 
repeopled    by   creatures  of    different   formation,  who 
w-TC  successively  annihilated  or  banished  for  their  dis- 
obedience to  the    supreme   Being.      The   monstrous 
griffiu  Sinergh  tells  the  hero  Cahertnan  that  she  bad 
already  lived  to  see  the  earth  seven  times  filled  with, 
creatures,  and  seven  times  a  perfect  void :  that  be- 
fore the  creation  of  Adam,  this  globe  was  inhabited       it 
by  a  race  of  beings  called  Pm  and  Dives^  whose  cha-'P^^*>ad 
meters  formed  a  perfect  contrast.     The  Peri  are  de-  ^**'^ 
scribed  as  beautiful  and  benevolent  \  the  Dives  as  de- 
formed,  malevolent,   and  mischievous,  differing  from 
infernal  demons  only  in  this,  that  they  are  not  as  yet 
confined  to  the  pit  of  hell.     They  are  for  ever  ranging 
over  the  world,  to  scatter  discord  and  misery  among 
the  sons  of  men.     The  Peri  nearly  resemble  the  fiiiriea 
of  Europe :  and  perhaps  the  Diveii  gave  birth  to  the 
giants  and  magicians  of  the  middle  ages.     The  Peri 
and  Dives  wage  incessant  wars  >  and  when  the  Dives 
make  any  of  the  Peri  prisoners,  they  shut  them  up  in 
iron  cages,  and  hang  them  on  the  highest  trees,  to 
expose  them  to  public  "view,  and  to  the  fury  of  every 
chilling  blast. 

When  the  Peri  are  in  danger  of  being  overpowered 
by  their  foes,  tliey  solicit  the  assistance  of  some  mor- 
tal hero^  which  produces  a  series  of  mythological  ad- 
virntures  higUy  ornamental  to  the  strains  of  the  Per- 
sian bards,  and  which,  at  the  same  time,  furnishes  an 
inexhaustible  fund  of  die  most  diversified  machinery. 

One  of  the  most  celebrated  adventurers  in  the  my- 
thology of  Persia  is  TahmuraSj  one  of  their  most  an- 
cient monarchs.  This  prince  performs  a  variety  of  ex- 
ploits, while  he  endeavours  to  recover  the  fairy  Mer- 
jan.  He  attacks  the  Dive  Demrush  in  his  own  cave  ; 
where  having  vanquished  the  giant  or  demon,  he  finds 
vast  piles  of  hoarded  wealth.^  these  he  carries  oO'  with 
the  fair  captive.  The  battles,  labours,  and  adventures 
of  Bostan,  another  Persian  worthy,  who  Ir^^cd  many 
ages  after  the  former,  are  celebrated  by  the  Persian 
bards  with  the  same  extravagance  of  hyperbole  with 
which  the  labours  of  Hercules  have  been  sung  by  the 
poets  of  Greece  and  Rome.  23 

The  adventures  of  the  Persian  heroes  breathe  all  ^^^^  ^he  . 
the   wildneaa  of  achievement  recorded  of  the  k^i'ights^^*^^.^ 
of  Gothic  romance.    The  doctrine  of  enobaatments,  and  ro^ 
transformations.  Sic.  exhibited  in  both,  is  a  characte-  buucc 
ristic  fcymptom  of  one  common  original.     Persia  is  the 
genuine  classic  ground  of  eastern  mythology^  and  the 
source  of  the  ideas  of  chivalry  and  romance ;  from  which 
they  were  propagated  to  the  regions  of  Scandinavia, 
and  indeed  to  the  remotest  comers  of  Europe  towards 
the  west. 

Perhaps  our  readers  may  be  of  our  opinion,  when  we 
offer  it  as  a  conjecture,  that  the  tales  of  the  war  of  the. 
Peri  and  Dives  originaled  from  a  vague  tradition  con- 
'  cerninff  good  and  bad  angels :  nor  i^  it,  in  oor  opinion, 
improliable,  that  the  fable  of  the  wars  between  the  gods 
and  giants,  so  famous  in  the  mythology  of  Grec  ce  and 
Italy,  was)  imported  into  the  former  of  these  countries 
from  the  bame  quarter.  For  a  roort^  pigtrticiilar  account 
of  the  PcrslaB  .mythology,  our  readers  may  consult  Dr 

4  £  3  Hyde 


588 


MYTHOLOGY. 


Hyde  Rdig.  ret.  Pers.  Medor.  &c.  D'Herbelot's  Bibl. 
Orient,  and  Mr  Ricbardson's  introductiou  to  his  Persian 
^  and  Arabic'Dtctionarj. 
Chaldean  The  mythology  of  the  Chaldeans,  like  that  of  the 
Bythulogy.  other  nations  of  the  east,  commences  at  a  period  my* 
riads  of  years  prior  to  the  era  of  the  Mosaic  creation. 
Their  cosonogony,  exhibited  by  B«rosns,  Tvho  was  a 
priest  of  Belus,  and  deeply  versed  in  the  antiquities  of 
his  country,  is  a  piece  of  mythology  of  the  most  extra- 
vagant nature.  It  has  been  copied  by  Eusebius  (Chron. 
lib.  i.  p*  5O  9  ^^  ^^  likewise  to  be  found  in  Syncellus, 
copied  from  Alexander  Polyhistor.  According  to  this 
historian,  there  were  at  Babylon  written  records  pre- 
served with  the  greatest  care,  comprehending  a  period 
of  fifteen  myriads  of  years.  Those  writings  likewise 
contained  a  history  of  the  heavens  and  the  sea,  of  the 
earth,  and  of  the  origin  of  mankind.  ''  In  the  begin- 
ning (says  Berosus,  copying  from  Oannes,  of  whom  we 
shall  give  a  brief  account  below)  there  was  nothing  but 
darkness  and  an  abyss  of  water,  wherein  resided  most 
hideous  beings  produced  from  a  twofold  principle.  Men 
appeared  with  two  wings  3  some  with  two  and  some 
with  four  faces.  They  bad  one  body,  but  two  heads  ^ 
the  one  of  a  man,  the  other  of  a  woman.  Other  hu- 
man figures  were  to  be  seen,  furnished  with  the  legs 
and  horns  of  goats.  Some  had  the  feet  of  horses  be- 
hind, but  before  were  fashioned  like  men,  resembling 
hippocentaurs.^^  The  remaining  part  of  this  mythology 
is  much  of  the  same  complexion;  indeed  so  extravagant, 
that  we  imagine  our  readers  will  readily  enough  dis- 
pense with  our  translating  the  sequel.  **  Of  all  these 
(says  the  author)  were  preserved  delineations  In  the 
temple  of  Belus  at  Babylon.  The  person  who  was  sup- 
posed to  preside  over  them  was  called  Ontorea,  This 
word,  in  the  Chaldean  language,  is  Thalaih^  which 
the  Greeks  call  e«iA«rmi,  hut  it  more  properly  imports 
the  moon.  Matters  being  in  this  situation,  their  god 
(sayd  Eusebius),  the  god  (says  Syncellus)  came  and  cut 
the  woman  asunder;  and  out  of  one  half  of  her  he  form- 
ed the  earth,  and  out  of  the  other  he  made  the  heavens; 
and,  at  the  same  time,  he  destroyed  the  monsters  of  the 
abyss.*^  This  whole  mythology  is  an  allegorical  history 
copied  from  hieroglyphical  representations,  the  real  pur- 
port of  which  could  not  be  decvphered  by  the  author. 
Snch,  in  general,  were  the  consequences  of  the  hiero- 
glyphical  style  of  writing. 
Oannes  the  Oannes^  the  great  civilizer  and  legislator  of  the  Chal- 
legialator  of  deans,  according  to  Apollodoms,  who  copied  from  B&- 
the  Chill-  rosus,  was  an  amphibious  animal  of  a  heterogeneous  ap- 
^^^^  pearance.  He  was  endowed  with  reason  and  a  very 
uncommon  acuteness  of  parts.  His  whole  body  re- 
sembled a  fish.  Under  the  head  of  a  fish  he  bad  also 
another  head,  and  feet  below  similar  to  xhmit  of  a  man, 
which  were  subjoined  to  the  tail  of  the  fish*  His  voice 
and  language  were  articulate  and  perfectly  intelligible, 
and  there  was  a  figure  of  him  still  extant  in  the  days  of 
Berosus.  He  made  his  appearance  in  the  Erythrean 
or  Red  sea,  where  it  borders  upon  Babylonia.  This 
monstrous  being  conversed  with  men  by  day ;  but  at 
night  he  plunged  into  the  sea,  and  remained  concealed 
in  the  water  till  next  morning.     He  taught  the  Baby- 


lonians the  use  of  letters,  and  th^  knowledge  of  all  the 
arts  and  sciences.  He  instructed  them  in  the  method 
of  building  houses,  constructing  temples,  and  all  other 
edifices.  He  taught  them  to  compile  laws  and  rtligloos 
ceremonies,  and  explained  to  them  the  principles  of 
mathematics,  geometry,  and  astronomy.  In  a  word  be 
communicated  to  them  every  thing  necessary,  usefii), 
and  ornamental :  and  so  universal  were  his  instructions, 
that  not  one  single  article  had  ever  been  added  to  them 
since  the  time  they  were  first  communicated.  Hella- 
dius  is  of  opinion  that  this  strange  personage,  whoever 
lie  was,  came  to  be  represented  under  the  figure  of  a 
fish,  not  because  he  was  actually  believed  to  be  such, 
but  because  he  was  clothed  with  the  skin  of  a  sctL 
By  this  account  our  readers  will  see  that  the  Babylonian 
Oannes  is  the  exact  counterpait  of  the  Fohi  of  the  Chi- 
nese, and  the  Thyoth  or  the  Mercury  Trismegistos 
of  the  Egyptians.  It  is  likewise  apparent  that  the  idea 
of  the  monster  compounded  of  the  man  and  the  fish  has 
originated  from  some  hieroglyphic  of  that  form  grafted 
upon  the  appearance  of  man.  Some  modem  roytbo- 
logists  have  been  of  opinion,  thut  Oannes  was  actually 
Noah  the  great  preacher  of  righteousness ;  who,  as 
some  think,  settled  in  Shinar  or  Clialdea  after  the  de- 
luge, and  who,  in  consequence  of  his  connexion  with 
that  event,  might  be  properly  represented  under  the 
emblem  of  tJie  Man  of  the  Sfa»  j( 

The  nativity  of  Venus,  the  goddess  of  heanty  aodTki^ 
love,  is  another  piece  ot   mythology  fa  moos  among  the  ^^^-^ 
Babylonians  and  Assyrians.     An  egg,  say  they,  of  sJJJSbI 
prodigious  size,  dropt  from  heaven  into  the  river  Ea-iof^ 
phrates.     Some  doves  settled  upon  this  egg,  after  that 
the  fishes  had  rolled  it  to  the  bank.     In  m  short  time 
this  egg  produced  Venus,  who  was  afterwards  called 
Dea  Syrta^  the  Syrian  goddess.     In  conseqoence  0 
this  tradition  (says  Hyginus),  pigeons  and  fishes  becaine 
sacred  to  this  goddess  among  the  Syrians,  who  always 
abstained  from  eating  the  one  or  the  other.     Of  tins 
imaginary  being  we  have  a  very  exact  and  entertaintog 
history  in  the  treatise  De  Dea  Syna^  generally  ascrihed 
to  Lucian* 

In  this  mythological  tradition  oar  readers  will  proha- 
bly  discover  an  allusion  to  the  celebrated  Mumdatte  egg; 
and  at  the  same  time  the  stpry  of  the  fishes  will  lead  tfaesi 
to  anticipate  the  connexion  between  the  aca  and  the 
moon.  This  same  deity  was  the  Atargatis  of  Ascaloo, 
described  by  Diodorus  the  Sicilian ;  the  one  half  of  her 
body  a  woman  and  the  other  a  fish.  This  was  no  doak 
a  hieroglyphic  figure  of  the  moon,  importing  the  ialo- 
ence  of  that  planet  upon  the  sea  and  the  sex.  The  oci- 
ental  name  of  this  deity  evidently  points  to  the  mooo ; 
for  it  is  compounded  of  two  Hebrew  words  (b),  which 
import  **  the  queen  of  the  host  of  heaven.**  s; 

The  fable  of  Semiramis  is  nearly  connected  wtthftt^ 
the  preceding  one.     Diodorus  Siculns  has  preserved  *(' 
the  mythological  history  of  this  deity,  which  he  aod' 
all  the  writers  of  antiquity  have  confounded  with  the 
Babylonian  princess  of  the  same  name.     That  histo- 
rian informs  us,  that  the  word  Semtrtrmts^  in  the  Sy- 
rian dialect,  signifies  **  a  wild  pigeon  }*'  hot  we  ap* 
prehend  that  this  term  was  a  name  or  epithet  of  the 

moos, 


«■■>■ '  ^' 


(b)  Adar  or  Hqdarj  ^  magn^ieusi^^  and  Gad^  **  excrxitm  turmu?^ 


MYTH 

moon,  as  it  is  compounded  of  two  words  (c)  of  an 
import  naturally  applicable  to  the  lunar  planet.  It 
waa  a  ;«eneral  practice  among  the  Orientals  to  denomi- 
note  their  sacred  animals  from  that  deity  to  which  they 
were  consecrated.  Hence  the  niuon  being  called  Semi- 
ratnis^  and  the  pigeon  being  sacred  to  her  divinity,  the 
latter  was  called  by  the  name  of  the  former. 

As  the  bounds  prescribed  this  article  render  it  im- 
possible for  us  to  do  justice  to  this  interesting  piece 
of  niythologyy  we  must  beg  leave  to  refer  our  readers  for 
farther  intormation  to  Diod.  Sic.  lib.  ii.  Hyginus  Poet. 
Astron.  FabJ  197.  Phamutus  de  Nat.  Deor.  Ovid.  Me- 
tam.  lib.  iv.'Athcn.  in  Apol.  Izetzes,  Chil.  ix.  cap.  275. 
Seld.  de  Dib  Syr.  Syrit.  ii.  p,  183. 
ji^lQ  We  should  now  proceed  to  the  mythology  of  the 

Bown  of    Arabians,  the  far  greatest  part  of  which  is,  however, 
xabiaa      buried  in  the  abyss  of  ages ,  though,  when  we  reflect  on 
ijrtbology.  the  genius  and  character  of  that  people,  we  must  be  con- 
vinced that  they  too,  as  well  as  the  other  nations  of  the 
cast  abounded  in  fabulous  relations  and  romantic  com- 
positions. The  natives  of  that  country  have  always  been 
enthosiastically  addicted  to  poetry,  of  which  fable  is  the 
essence.  Wherever  the  Mu^ies  have  erected  their  throne, 
fables  and  miracles  have  always  appeared  in  their  train. 
In  the  Koran  we  meet  with  frequent  allusions  to  well- 
known  traditionary  fables.     These  had  been  transmit- 
ted from  generation  to  generation  by  the  bards  and 
rhapaodists  for  the  entertainment  of  the  vulgar.     In 
Arabia,  &om  the  earliest  ages,^  it  has  always  been  one 
of  the  favourite  entertainments  of  the  common  people, 
to  assemble  in  the  serene  evenings  around  their  tents,, 
or  on  the  platforms  with  which  their  houses  ace  gene» 
rally  covered,  or  in  large  halls  erected  for  the  purpose^ 
in  order  to  amuse  themselves  with  traditional  narrations 
of  the  most  distinguished  actions  of  their  most  remote 
ancestors.     Oriental  imagery  always  eoftbeHished  their 
nmiaatic  details.     The  glow  of  fancy^  the  love  of  the 
marvellous,  the  propensity  towards  the  hyperbolical  and 
the  va:it,  which  constitute  the  esisence  of  oriental  de- 
scription, roust  ever  have  drawn  the  relation  aside  into 
the  devious  regions  of  fiction  and  fairy  land.     The  re- 
ligion of  Mahomet  beat  down  the  original  fabric  of 
idolatry  and  mythology  together.     The  Arabian  fables 
current  in  mudem  times  are  borrowed  or  imitated  from. 
Persian  compositions)  Persia  being  still  the  grand  none- 
rr  of  romance  in  the  east* 
Sljyp^        In  Egypt  we  fiiid  idolatry,  theology,,  and   mytho« 
■ytWIogy  logy,  almost  inseparably  blended  together.     The  mhae- 
bitants  of  this  region,,  to,  as  well  as  of  others  in  the- 
▼icinity  of  the  centre  of  population,  adhered  for  seve* 
ral  centuries  ta  the  worship  of  the   true  God.     At 
lasty  however,  conscious  of  their  own  ignorance,  im* 
purity,  imperfection^  and  total  unfitness  to  approach, 
air  infinitely  perfect  Being,  distant,  as  they  imagined,, 
and  invisible,  they  began  to  cast  about  for  some  beings 
moie  exalted,  and  more  perfect  than  themselves,  by 
whose  mediation  they  might  pcefer  their  prayers  to 
the  supreme  Mijeitty  of  heaven*     The  luminaries  oC 
heaven,  which  they   imagined  were  animated  bodies^ 
naturally  pvesented  themselves.    These  were  splendid 
and  glorious  beings^    They  were  thought  to  partake 


O  L  O  G  Y.  -  589 

of  the  divine  nature  :  they  were  revered  as  the  satraps, 
prefects,  and  representatives  of  the  supreme  Lord  of  the 
universe.     They  were  visible,  they  were  beneficent  ^ 
they  dwelt  nearer  to  the  gods,  they  were  near  at  hand 
and  always   accessible.     These  were,    of  course,  em- 
ployed as  mediators  and  intercessors  between  the  su- 
preme Divinity  and  his  humble  subjects  of  this  lower 
world.     Thus  employed,  they  might  claim  a  subordi- 
nate share  of  worship,  which  was  accordingly  assigned 
them.      In   proce!»s  of  time,    however,  that  worship, 
which  was  originally  addressed  to  the  supreme  Creator 
by  the  mediation   of  the   heavenly    bodies,  was  in  a. 
great  measure  forgotten,  and  the   adoration  of  man- 
kind ultimately  terminated  on  those  illustrious  crea- 
tures.   To  this  circumstance,  we  think,  we  may  ascribe     ^  ^10 
the  origin  of  that  species  of  idolatry  called  Zabiism^  S'lS"  *^   • 
or  the  worship  of  the  host  of  heaven,  which  overspread  ^™"'^ 
the  World  early  and  almost    universally.      In  £gypt 
ibis  mode  of  worship  was  adopted  in  all  its  most  ab- 
surd and  most  enthusiastic  forms:  and   at  the  same 
time  the  most  heterogeneous   mythology  appeared  in 
its  train.     The  mythology  of  the  ancient  Egyptians 
was  so  various  and  multiform,  so  ^complicated  and  so 
mysterious,  that  it  would  require  many  volumes  even 
to  give  a  superficial  account  of  its  origin  and  progress^ 
not   only  in  its  mother  country,    but   even   in  many 
other  parts  of  the  ea&tern  and  western  world.    Besides, 
the  idolatry  and  mythology  of  that  wonderful  countiy. 
are  so  closely  connected  and  so  inseparably  blended  to-- 
gether,  that  it  is  impossible  to  describe  the  latter  with- 
out at  die  same  time  developing  the  former.   We  bope^ 
therefore,  our  readers  Will  not  be  disappointed,  if,  in  a 
work  of  this  nature,,  we  toucb  only,  upon  some  of  the 
leading  or  moat  interesting  articles  of  thi»  complicated 
subject*  J, 

The   Egyptians  confounded  the  revolutions  of'theRsignof* 
heavenly   fa«Klies  with  the  reigns  of  their  most  early  R^s  and 
monarchs.     Hence  the  incredible  number  of  years  in-  ^f"'^^*'^ 
eluded  in  the  reign  of  their  «ight  superior  gods,  who,  _^ 
aceocding  to  them,  filled  the  Egyptian  throne  succes-  ^^^ 
sively  iu  the  most  early  periods  of  time.     To  these, 
according,  to  their  system,  succeeded  twelve  demigods^, 
who 'likewise   reigned  an  amazing  number  of  years. 
These  imaginary  reigns  were  na  other  than  the  perio- 
dical revolutions  of  the  heavenly  bodies  preserved  in- 
their  almanacks,  which  might  be  carried  back,  and 
actually  were  carried  back,  at  pleasure.     Hence  the- 
fiibulous  antiqidty  of  that .  kingdom.     The  imaginary 
exploits  and  adventures  oT  these  gods  and  demigods 
ibniiabed   an  inexhaustible  fund  of  mythological  ro- 
mances.    To    the   demigods  succeeded  the  kings  of.' 
the   cynic  cycle,  personages  eqjaally   chimerical  with, 
the  former.     The  import  of  this  epithet  has  greatlj. 
perplexed  critics  and  etymologists.     We  apprehend  it.  '     * 
18  an  oriental  word,  importinff  royal  dignity,  elevation- 
of  rank.     This   appellation  intimated^,  that   the   mo- 
narchs of  that  cycle,  admitting  that  they  actually  ex- 
isted, were  more  powerful  and  more  highly  revered' 
than  their  successors.     After  the  princes  of  the  cynic 
cycle  comes  another  race,,  denominated  Nekyes^  a  title 
likewise   implying   royal,   splendid,   glorious.     These 

cycles 


(c)  S/um  or  Scm^  **  a  sign,*'  and  ramah^  *<  high*?^ 


590  M 

cycles  figure  bigh   in  the  mjtliological  annab  of  Uie 

32       Egyptians,  and  have  {urniphed  materials  fot;  a  variety 

fiirtli,  ex-   of  learned  andf  ingenious  disquisitions.     The.  wars  and 

pWts,  and  adventures  of  Osiris,  Oris,  Typfion,  and  other  alle- 
tTAiisfumui- •_  1  '        •       t     «•  .Ti     V*    •  -.    •      1    •    _ 


kmte  ani- 
mals, &c 


tionofthe'^^'^*'  personages  who  figure  in  the  Egyptian  rubriq  ; 

godf.  ^be  wanderings  of  Isis,  the  8i8t;er  and  wife  of  Osiris ; 

the  transformation  of  the  gods  into  divers  kinds  of 
animals;  their  birth,  education,  peregrinations,  and 
exploits  ; — compose  a  hody  of  mythological  fictions  so 
▼arious,  so  complicated,  so  ridiculous,'  and  often  so 
apparently  absurd,  that  all  attempts  to  develope  and 
iexplain  them  liave  hitherto  proved  unsuccessful.  All^ 
or  the  greatest  part,  of  those  extravagant  fables,  are 
the  oflHiprinff  of  hieroglyphical  or  allegorical  emblems 
Revised  by  tne  priests  and  sages  of  that  nation,  i^rith  a 
v^ew  to  conceal  the  mysteries  of  their  religion  from  that 
class  of  men  whom  they  stigmatized  with  the  name  of 
33       Uie  uninitiated  rabble. 

K^^H^fs  ^^  ^^  worship  of  brute  animals  and  of  certain  vege- 
tables, universal  among  the  Egyptians,  was  another  ex- 
.uberant  source  of  mythological  adventures.  The  £- 
gyptian  priests,  many  of  whom  were  likewise  profound 
philosophers,  observed,  or  pretended  to  observe,  a  kind 
of  analogy  between  the  qualities  of  certain  animals  and 
vegetables,  and  those  of  some  of  their  subordinate  di- 
vinities. Such  animals  and  vegetables  they  adopted^ 
and  consecrated  to  the  deities  to  whom  they  Were  Sup- 
posed to  bear  this  analogical  resemblance  ;  and  in  pro- 
cess of  time  they  considered  them  as  the  visible  emblems 
of  those  divinities  to  which  they  were  consecrated.  By 
these  the  vulgar  addressed  their  archetypes :  in  the  same 
mannei^,  as  in  other  countries,  pictures  and  statues  were 
eniployoil  for  the  very  same  purpose.  The  mqb,  in 
process  of  time,  forgetting  the  emblematical  character 
of  those  brutes  and  vegetables,  addressed  their  devotion 
immediately  to  them ;  and.  of  course  these  became  the 
ultimate  oljects  of  vulgar  adoration. ' 

After  thai:  these'  objects,  animate  or  inanimate,  were 
consecrated  as  the  visible  symbols  of  the  deities;  it  soon 
became  fashionable  to  make  use  of  their  figures  to  re- 
.present  those  deities  to  which  they  were  consecrated. 
This  practice  was  the  natural  consequence  of  the  hie- 
roglyphical ^tyle  which  u'nivefsatly  pirevailejl  among  the. 
ancient  Egyntiandl  Hence  Jupiter  Animon  was're- 
pres^ted  under  the  &fate  of  a  ram.  Apis,  under  that 
of  a  coW^  Ositis  of  4  bull.  Pan  of  Sk  goat,  Thoth  or 
Mercurv'of  an  Ihht  Bubastis  or'Diaiia  of  a  cat,  &c. 
It  Was  likewise  )a  cbVilmbn  practice  among  those  deluded 


Y  T  H  O  L  O  G  Y. 

He  it  was  who  first  discoveiced  the  analog  between 
the  divine  afiections,  influences,  appearances,  opera- 
tions, and  the  corresponding  properties,  qualities,  and 
instincts  of  certain  animals,  and  the  propriety  of  dedi- 
cating particular  kinds  of  vegetables  to  the  service  of 
particular  deities. 

The  priests,  whose  province  it  was  to  expound  tbe 
mysteries  of  that  allegorical  hieroglyphical  religicw, 
(see'  Mysteries),  gradually  lost  all  knowledge  ot  tbe 
primary  import  of  the  symbolical  characters.  To  sap- 
ply  this  defect,  and  at  the  same  time  to  veil  their  own 
ignorance,  the  sacerdotal  instructors  bad  recourse  to 
fable  and  fiction*  They  heaped  fable  uppa  fable,  till 
their  religion  became  an  accumulated  chaos  o£  mytho* 
logical  absurdities* 

Two  of  the  roost  learned  and  inost  acute  of  the  an* 
cient  philosophers  have  attempted  a  rational  explica- 
tion of  the  laient  import  of  the  Egyptian  mythology; 


but  both  have  failed  in  the  attemprj  nor  have  tha 
modems,  who  have  laboured  in  tbe  same  department, 
perfor^ned  their  part  with  much  better  8u<;cess.  In- 
stead,  therefore,  of  prosecuting  this  inexplicable  suV 
ject,  which  would  swell  this  article  beyond  all  propor- 
tion, we  must  beg  leave  to  refer  those  who  are  desirous 
of  furthe/  information  to  the  following  authors,  where 
they  will  find  enough  to  gratify  their  curiosity,  if  not 
to  inform  t^eir  juograent :  Herodotus,  lib.  ii.  Diodo- 
rus  Siculus,  lib.  i.  Pint.  Isis  et  Osiris  ^  Jamblichus  do 
Myst.  Egypt.  HorapoHo  Hieroglyph.  Egypt.  Macrob. 
Sat.  cap.  23.  among  the  ancients  ^  and  among  the  mo- 
derns, JKLircher^s  Oedip.  Voss.  de  Orig.  et  ^og.  Idol. 
Mt  BfyantN  Analysis  of  Anc.  Mythol.  M^ns.  Gebelin 
Monde  Prim. ;  ani,above  all,  to  tbe  learned  Jablonski's 
Panth.  Egyptiorum. 

The  elertients  of  Phoenician  mythology  have 
preserved  by  Eusebius,  Pr«p.  Evang.  suhu  iniL    In^J^^dai^ 
the  large  extract  which  that  learned, rather  hs^d  copied 
from  Fhilo    Biblips^^  translation    of  Sanchoniatbon's 
History  of  Pbcenlcia^  we  are  furnished  with  several  ar- 
ticles of  mythology.     Some  of  these  throw  considerable 
light  on^  several  passages  of  the  sacred  history ;  and  all 
of  them  a^.  strictly  Connected  with  tbe  mythology  of 
the  Greeks  and  Roff^ins.     There  we  have   preserveii. 
a  brief  but  entertaining  detail  of  the  fabulous  adven- 
tures of  Uranus,  Cronus,   Dagon^  Tbyoth  or  Xfercury, 
probably  the  same  with  the   Egyptian  hero  of  that 
name.     H^re  we  fipd  Muth  or  Aujto,  ^phcestns  or- 
Vulcan,  ^sculapius,  Ne^eps,Pos<;^on  or  Neptune,  &c. 
Astarte,  or  VenuS  Urania,  makes  a  cdnspjcnpus  figure. 


peoplis  to  dignify  these  objects,  by  giving  them  the 

names  of  those  deities  wfiicfa^  they  represented:    By  this     in  the  catalogue  of  Phcejii^ian  worthies  ^  jPalla^  or  fllf- 

mode  of  dignifying  these  sacred  emblems^  the  venera-     nerva  is  ^planted  on  the  territory  of  Attica  j  in  a  word, 

tion  of  the  rabbit' Was' consideralily  e'nhaiiced,  and  the     all  the  blanches  of  the  fa^i^  of  the  Titans,  who  in 

ardour  of  theit  devotion  inflamed  inpropoirtion.    'From     aft^r  ages  figured  in  the  rubric  of  the  Greeks,  are 

•these  tWo  sources,*  we  think^'  are'  derived  the  fabulous     brojught  upon  the  stage,'  and  their  exploits  and  adven- 

transforination  of -the  gods,' so  generally  celebrated  in^    tures  briefly  detailed. 

the  Egyptian  mytholo^J  and  from   it  imported  into         ** 

Greece  knd 'Italy .^     In  consequence  of  tbisl  pijactice. 

their  mythological  system  Was  rendered  at  once  enpr* 

mous'and  unintelligible. 


H 


Mercury  T^eir  Thoth,  "or  Mercury  Trismegistus,  was,  in  our 

Trismegis-  opinion,' the  invenW'of  this  unhappy  system.  This 
th*  { th'  P^^^'^*^®'  according  to  the  Egyptians,  was  the  origi- 
£^ptian  ^^^  author  of  letters^  geometry,  astronomy,  music,  ar- 
Bjthology.  chitecture  ^  in  a  word,  of  all  the  elegant  and  useful 
arts,  and  of  all  the  branches  of  science  and  philosophy., 

I     • 


By  comparing  this  frijigment  with  the  mythology  of  Gmi* 
the  Atlantidae  aiid  that  of  thie  Cretans  preserved  by^y^ 
Diodorus  the  Sicilian,  lib.  v.  we  think  there  is  good.^£w 
reason  to  conclude,  that  the  family  of  the  Titans,  the^fyt- 
several  branches  of  wUch  see^i  to  Jiave  been  both  tbei 
authors  and  objects  of  a  great  jpart  of  the  Grecian  ido- 
latry, Originally  emigrated  from  Phoenicia.     This  con- 
jecture will  receive  additional  strength,  when  it  is  coo- 
sideredy  that  almost  all  their  names  mecocded  in  the  £i» 
bulous  records  of  Greece,  may  be  easily  traced  up  to  a 

Phoenicisa 


^7 , 

Hence  the 


J 

teat  fie- 
tions  of  the 


MYTH 

Phcenicuiii  origimtl.  We  agrefc  with  Herodotus,  that 
n  considerable  part  of  the  tdohitry  of  Greece  may  have 
l>eeii  borrowed  from  the  Egyptians  ^  at  the  samie  time, 
tre  imagine  it  highly  irrobable,  that  the  idolatry  of  the 
Egyptians  atid  Vboenitians  vras^  in  its  original  consti- 
tatron,  nearty  the  sam^.  Bdth  tfy^tems  trere  Sabiism, 
or  the  iroTship  of  the  host  of  heaven.  The  Pelasgi,  ac- 
cording to  Herodotus,  learned  the  names  of  this  ^ods 
from  the  Egyptians  ;  bat  in  this  conje'cttire  he  is  cer- 
tainly trarped  by  hrs  partiality  for  that  people.  Hud 
those  names  been  imported  from  Egypt,  they  would 
no  doubt  have  bewrayed  their  Egyptiati  original^  wbere- 
fts,  every  etymologist  will  be  convitxced  that  every  dne 
is  of  Phobtoician  extraction. 

The  adventures  of  Jnpitef,  Juno,  Metcnry,  ApoHo, 
Dlalia,  Man,  Minerva  or  Pi^s,  Venus,  Bacchus,  Ge- 
res, Rrosei^rne,  Pluto,  Neptutie,  and  the  6ther  descen- 
dants and  coadjntors  of  tiie  ambitidus  family  of  the 
Titans,  fumisli  btfiir  the  greatest  part  of  tbe  mytho- 
logy of  Orecte.  They  left  Phoehftia,  we  think,  about 
the  age  of  Moses  *,  tbey  settled  in  Crete,  a  targe  fthd 
fertile  island  ^  from  this  regiidn  they  madi6-  tbeir  way 
into  Greece,  which,  according  to  the  mxyst  authentic  ac- 
Gomts,  was  4t  that  time  ihhiibited  by  a  facft  of  sitvia- 
gesi.  The  arts  and  rnvtStftitons  wbrch  they  cotnmuni- 
c^ted  to  the  natives  j  th^  masteries  bf  rellgibn  t^hich 
they  mculcated}  th^  laws,  customs,  polity,  and  good 
thr&t^^  which  they  established  ^  in  shx)H,  the  blesdings  of 
humanity  tod  eivifization,  which  they  everywhere  dis- 
seminated, in  jiroce^  of  tithe  inspired  tbt^  unpolished 
itihkbiUisitg  wKh  a  kind  of  divide  admiratioh.  Thote 
ambitioM  ihortais  improved  this  admiration  ihto  divine 
homage  aAd  adoi'atiy>A.  The  gli^eat^r  pkit  of  that  wor- 
ship, which  had  beiftu  formerly  liddressi^d  to  the  luhiina- 
ries  of  heaveA,  Was  now  tiHinsferred  to  those  illustridus 
persoAitges.  Th«y  claimed  and  dbtainted  diviile  hohoUrs 
from  the  deluded  rabble  of  ehthusiastic  Greeks.  Heilte 
spruhg  an  inexhaustible  frittd  of  tl^  most  inconsistent 
and  irrecoil(^ilabll^  fictiohs. 

The  foibles  add  frailties  of  ihtb  deified  moital^  Were 
transmitted  to  posterity,  inc<)r^rated  as  it  w^re  with 
the  pomj^us  attributies  of  supreme  divinity.  Hence 
the  heterogeneous  mixture  of  the  mighty  and  tlie 
ntein  Which  ehfeqUers  the  chaH^ctets  of  the  heroes  of 
tRb  Iliad  and  Od^ey.  The  Grteks  adopted  tbe  ori- 
ental fables  y  the  impott  df  whicb  th^  did  not  under- 
^rfd.  These  rhey  aceotttmodated  to  heroes  atid  illu- 
sfrious  personal^,  who  had  figured  in  thei^  6Wn  coun- 
try in  tlie  earl^n  periods.  Th^  llibouril  of  Herdules 
originated  in  £g^t,  and  e\idertl1y  relate  to  the  anrtaal 
ffogtesA  6t  the  suti  in  the  zodiac,  thougli  th^  vain-glo- 
rioiis  Greeks  accoihmodated  them  to  a  hero  of  their 
own,  th«  reputed  son  of  Jupiter  and  Akmena.  The 
ex|tedition  of  Osiris  the^  borrowed  froita  the  Egyptians, 
and  transferred  to  theit  Bacchus,.  tb€  soA  of  Jupiter 
atid  Semele  the  daughter  of  Cadmus.  The  transfor- 
mation and  Wandering^  of  lo  are  evidently  transcribed 
from  the  Egyptian  romance  of  the  travels  of  Isis  in 
quest  of  thfe  body  of  Osiris,  6r  of  the  Phoenician 
Astafte,  drawn  from  Sanchoniathon.  lo  or  JtoA  is  in 
reality  th^  Egyptian  name  of  the  moon,  aiid  Astafte 
was  tlie  name  of  the  same  planet  among  the  Phcerii- 
ciatis.  Both  theSe  fables  are  allegorical  representations 
of  the  anomalies  of  the  lunar  planet,  of  perhaps  of  tbe 
progress  of  the  worship  of  that  phnet  in  diflferent  parts 


591 


3» 


O  L  (D  G  V. 

of  the  world,  'tbt  fiible  of  the  conflagratloh  occa- 
sioned by  Phaeton  is  clearly  of  oriental  extraction, 
flind  alludes  to  an  excessive  drought  which  in  the  early 
periods  of  time  scorched  Ethiopia  and  the  adjacent 
countries.  The  fabulons  adventures  of  Perseus  are  said* 
to  have  happened  in  the  saitte  regions,  and  are  allego- 
rical representatiocis  of  the  Infioence  of  the  solar  lumi- 
nary ;  for  tlfe  original  Perseus  was  the  son.  The  rape 
of  rroserpine  and  the  wanderings  of  Ceres  3  the  Eleu* 
sinian  mysteries ;  the  orgra  or  sacred  rites  of  Bacchus ; 
the  rites  and  worship  ot  the  Cabiri — Were  imported 
frt>m  Egypt  and  Phoenicia ;  but  strangely  garbled  and 
disfigtrred  by  the  bierophants  of  Greece.  The  gigan- 
tomachia,  or  war  between  the  gods  aod  the  giants, 
and  all  the  fabulous  events  and  varieties  of  that  war, 
form  an  exact  counterpart  to  the  battles  of  the  Peri 
and  Dives,  celebrated  in  the  romantic  annals  of  Per- 
sia. 

A  considerable  part  of  the  mythology  of  the  Greeks  TheGreekt 
sprung  from  their  ignorance  of  the  oriental  languages,  ignorant  of 
They  disdained  to  apply  themselves  to  the  study  of  ®"*°*^ 
]an|ruage.s  spoken  by  people  whom,  in  the  pride  of  *°€''*fi^*' 
their  bba^tv  they  stigmatized  with  the  epithet  of  bat'  . 
(mrhns.  This  aversion  to  every  foreign  dialect  was 
higMy  detrin^ental  to  their  progress  in  tbe  sciences. 
TYce  Siame  nejifleict  6t  ave^lon  has.  We  imagine,  proved 
an  irreparable  injury  to  the  republic  of  letters  in  all 
Succeeding  k^^.  TI16  abids,  or  strolling  bards,  laid 
h6M  on  thoiie  bri^ntal  legends,  which  they  sophisti- 
tiated  with  their  own  additiotis  and  improvements, 
in  ordel^  td  acc6mtt^odate  them  t6  ttie  popular  taste.^ 
The§e  i^ondetfol  tal^  figured  in  their  rhapsodical 
cbmpositiokis,  atid  wtr6  m^edily  swallowed  down  by 
the  Credulous  vul^r.  'niOs^  fictions,  -as  they  rolled 
doWn,  w^re  cbbstaiitly  augmented  with  fresh  materials, 
till  in  process  of  time  their  ok*iginal  import  was  either 
forgotten  or  buried  in  impenetrable  darkness.  A  mul- 
titude df  these  Hesiod  has  Collected  in  his  Theogonia, 
or  Generation  of  the  Gods,  which  unhappily  became 
the  religibub  creed  of  the  illiterate  part  of  the  Greeks. 
Indeed  fable  Was  so  closely  interwoven  with  the  religion 
of  that  airy  volatile  people,  that  it  seems  to  hi^ve  conta- 
minated not  only  their  religious  and  moral,  hut  even 
their  political  tenets. 

The  fer-famed  oracle'  of  Dodona  Was  copied  from  omcfe^of 
tbat  df  Ammon  at  Thebes  in  Egypt:  The  oracle  of  Dodona. 
Apollo  at  Delphos  was  an  emanation  from  the  same 
source  :  The  eelebrited  Apbllb  Pytbius  of  the  Greeks 
was  no  other  than  Ob  or  Aub  of  the  Egyptians,  who 
denominated  the  basilisk  or  royal  snake  Cfi)  Cat\  because 
it  was  held  sacred  to  tbe  dun.  Ob  or  Aub  is  still  re- 
tained in  the  Coptic  dialect,  and  is  one  of  the  many 
names  or  epithets  of*  that  luminary.  In  short,  the 
gfbund-work  of  the  Grecian  mythology  is  to  be  tra- 
ced in  the  east.  Only  small  part  of  it  was  fabricated 
in  the  country )  and  what  was  imported  pure  and  ge- 
nuine was  miserably  sophisticated  by  the  hands  through 
which  it  passed,  in  order  to  give  it  a  Grecian  air,  and 
to  accommodate  its  style  to  the  Grecian  taste.  To 
enlarge  upbn  this  topic  would  be  altogether  superflu- 
ous, as  our  learned  readers  must  be  well  acquainted  with  49 
it  already,  and  the  unlearned  may  without  much  trouble  Roman 

or  expcnce  furnish  themselves  with  books  upon  thatj^^^^®'^ 
,  .    f.  *  H)orrowea 

subject.  f„„, 

The   Roman  mythology  was  boHrowed  from    thecjreccob 

Greeks, 


592 


MYTHOLOGY. 


4^ 
Mythology 

of  the 

northern 

jutioas. 


4» 

Odin  or 

IVoden. 


•43 
TheheH 

and  deiril 

of  the 


Greeks.  That  people  had  addicted  themselves  for 
manj  centuriea  to  the  arts  of  war  and  civil  polity* 
Science  and  philosophy  were  either  neglected  or  un- 
known. At  last  they  conquered  Greece,  the  native 
land  of  science,  and  then  **  Grsecia  capta  ferum  victo- 
•rem  cepit  arte  et  intulit  agresti  Latio.*^  This  being 
*the  case,  their  mythology  was,  upon  the  whole,  a  tran- 
^script  from  that  of  Greece.  They  had  indeed  gleaned 
a  few  fables  from  the  Pelasgi  and  Hetruscans,  which, 
however,  are  of  so  little  consequence,  that  they  are 
scarce  worth  the  trouble  of  transcribing. 

The  mythology  of  the  Celtic  nations  is  in  a  good 
measure  lost.  There  may  possibly  still  remain  some 
"vestiges  of  the  Druidical  superstition  in  the  remotest 
parts  of  the  highlands  and  islands  of  Scotland  j  and 
perhaps  in  the  uncivilized  places  of  Ireland.  These, 
we  presume,  would  aflford  our  readers  but  little  enter- 
tainment, and  still  less  instruction.  Instead  therefore 
t>f  giving  a  detail  of  those  uninteresting  articles,  we 
shall  beg  leave  to  refer  our  readers  to  Ossian's  Poems, 
•and  Col.  Valency^s  Collections  of  Irish  Antiquities,  for 
^iCtisfaction  on  that  subject. 

The  mythology  of  Jibe  northern  nations,  1.  e.  of  the 
Norwegians,  Danes,  Swedes,  Icelanders,  &c.  is  un- 
commonly curious  and  entertaining.  The  Edda  and 
Voluspa  contain  a  complete  collection  of  fables  which 
have  not  the  smallest  affinity  with  those  of  the  Greeks 
and  Romans.  They  are  wholly  of  an  oriental  com- 
plexion, and  seem  almost  congenial  with  the  tales  of 
^he  Persians  above  descril^d.  The  Edda  was  com- 
piled in  Iceland  in  the  13th  century.  It  is  a  kind  of 
system  of  the  Scandinavian  mythology :  and  has  been 
reckoned,  and  we  believe  justly,  a  commentary  on  the 
Voluspa,  which  was  the  Bible  of  the  northern  nations. 
Odin  or  Othin,  or  Woden  or  Waden,  was  the  supreme 
divinity  of  those  people.  His  exploits  and  adventures 
furnish  the  far  greater  part  of  their  mythological  creed. 
That  hero  is  supposed  to  have  e^iigrated  from  the  east  ^ 
but  from  wliat  country  or  at  what  period  is  not  cer- 
tainly known.  His  achievements  are  magnified  be- 
yond all  credibility.  He  is  represented  as  the  god  of 
i>attles,  and  as  slaughtering  thousands  at  a  blow.  His 
^palace  is  called  Valhal:  it  is  situated  in  the  city  of 
Midgard,  where,  according  to  the  fable,  the  souls  of 
.heroes  who  had  bravely  fallen  in  battle  enjoy  supreme 
felicity.  They  spend  the  day  in  mimic  hunting 
.matches,  or  imaginary  combats.  At  night  they  as- 
semble in  the  palace  of  Valhalla,  where  they  feast  on 
the  most  delicious  viands,  dressed  and  served  up  by  the 
Valkyritje^  virgins  adoroed  with  celestial  charms,  and 
.flushed  with  the  bloom  of  everlasting  youth.  They 
solace  themselves  with  drinking  mead  out  of  the  skulls 
f>f  enemies  whom  they  killed  in  their  days  of  nature. 
Mead,  it  seems,  was  the  nectar  of  the  Scandinavian 
rheroes. 

Sleepner,  the  horse  of  Odin,  is  celebrated  along 
with  his  master.  Hela,  the  hell  of  the  Scandinavi- 
.sns,  affords  a  variety  of  fables  equally  shocking  and 
heterogeneous.  Loke,  the  evil  genins  or  devil  of  the 
northern  people,  nearly  resembles  the  Typhon  of  the 
Egyptians.  ,  Signa  or  Sinna  is  the  consort  of  Loke  ^ 
from  this  name  the  English  word  tin  is  derived.  The 
giants  Weymur,  Ferbanter,  Belupher,  and  Hellunday 
perform  a  variety  of  exploits,  and  are  exhibited  in  the 
jBOSt  frightful  attitudes.    O^e  would  be  tempted  to 

i 


imagine,  that  they  perform  the  exact  consterpait  ot 
the  giants  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  mytbologists.  In- 
stead of  glancing  at  these  ridiculous  and  nnintereBting 
fables,  which  is  all  that  the  limits  prescribed  os  would 
permit,  we  shall  take  the  liberty  to  lay  befwe  oer 
readers  a  brief  account  of  the  contents  of  the  Volus|t, 
which  is  indeed  the  text  of  the  Scandinavian  mjtLi* 

The' word  Voktspa  imports,  *'  the  prophecy  of  VokiVelib, 
or  Fola."  This  was,  perhaps,  a  general  name  for  the  pi- 
prophetic  ladies  of  the  north,  as  Sibyl  was  appropriated 
to  women  endowed  with  the  like  faculty  in  the  sooth. 
Certain  it  is,  that  the  ancients  generally  connected  mad- 
ness with  the  prophetic  faculty.  Of  thia  we  have  tiro 
celebrated  examples :  the  one  in  Lycophron's  Alex- 
andra, and  the  other  in  the  Sibyl  of  the  lUman  poet 
The  word  voia  signifies  *'  mad  or  foolish  >**  whence  the 
English  words  fool^  Jholtsh^  folly •  Spa^  the  latter  part 
of  the  composition,  signifies  *'  to  prophecy,^*  and  is  still 
current  among  the  common  people  in  Scotland,  in  the 
word  S^MiCf  which  has  nearly  the  same  signification. 

The  Voluspa  consists  of  between  200  and  300  lines. 
The  prophetess  having  imposed  silence  on  all  intelli- 
gent beings,  declares  that  she  is  about  to  reveal  the 
works  of  the  Father  of  nature,  the  actions  and  opera- 
tions of  the  gods,  which  no  mortal  ever  knew  before 
herself.  She  then  begins  with  a  description  of  the 
chaos  J  and  then  proceeds  to  the  formation  of  the 
world,  the  creation  of  the  different  species  of  its  inha- 
bitants, giants,  men,  and  dwarfs.  She  then  explains 
the  employments  of  the  fairies  or  destinies,  whom  the 
northern  people  call  normes ;  the  functions  of  the  dei- 
ties, their  most  memorable  adventures,  their  disputes 
with  Loke,  and  the  vengeance  that  ensued.  She  at 
last  concludes  with  a  long  and  indeed  animated  denrip- 
tion  of  the  final  state  of  the  universe,  and  its  dissolo- 
tion  by  a  general  conflagration. 

In  this  catastrophe,  Odin  and  all  the  rabble  of  the 
Pagan  divinities,  are  to  be  confounded  in  the  generd 
ruin,  no  more  to  appear  on  the  stage  of  the  universe. 
Out  of  the  ruins  of  the  former  world,  according  to  the 
Voluspa,  .a  new  one  shall  spring  up,  arrayed  in  all  the 
bloom  of  celestial  beauty. 

Such  is  the  doctrine  exhibited  in  the  fitbulons  Vo- 
luspa. So  congenial  are  some  of  the  details  therein 
delivered^  especially  thode  relating  to  the  final  dissolu- 
tion of  tKe  present  system,  and  the  succession  of  a  new 
heaven  and  a  new  earth,  that  we  find  ourselves  strong- 
ly inclined  to  suspect,  that  the  original  finhncator  tf  the 
work  was  a  semipagan  writer,  much  of  the  same  com- 
plexion with  the  authors  of  the  Sibylline  oracles,  and 
of  some  other  apocryphal  pieces  which  appeared  in  the 
world  during  the  first  ages  of  Christianity.  ^c 

In  America,  the  onlV  my thological  countries  mwtlf^fiiiiiip 
be  Mexico  and  Pern.  The  other  parts  of  that  ^K'^^'^ 
continent  were  oririnally  inhabited  hy  savages,  most 
of  them  as  remote  from  religion  as  from  civilizatioa. 
The  two  vast  edipires  of  Mexico  and  Peru  had  existed 
about  400  years  only  before  the  Spanish  invasion.  la 
neither  of  them  was  the  uae  of  letters  understood  \  sad 
of  course  the  ancient  opinions  bf  the  uuives  relatiog 
to  the  origiii  of ^tbe  universe,  the  changes  which  rnc- 
ceeded,  and  eveiy  other  monument  of  antiquity,  wen 
obliterated  and  lost.  Clavigero  has  indeed  ennmeimted 
n  yast^  canaille  of  sanguinary  gods  wotahippf^  by  the 

MexicaiB} 


MYTHOLOGY. 


Mexicans;  Hot  pr4><luces  nothing  either  entertaining 
or  interesting  with  respect  to  their  mythology.  The 
information  to  be  derived  from  any  other  quarter  is 
kittle  to  be  depended  npon.  It  passes  through  the 
bands  of  bigotted  missionaries  or  other  ecclesiasticSi 
who  w^re  so  deeply  tinctured  with  fanaticism,  that 
they  viewed  every  action,  every  sentiment,  every  cus- 
tom, every  religious  opinion  and  ceremony  of  those 
half-civilized  people,  through  a  false  medium.  They 
often  imagined  they  discovered  resemblances  and  ana- 
logies betwen  the  rites  of  those  savages  and  the  dogmas 
of  Christianity,  which  nowhere  existed  but  in  their  own 
heated  iomgination. 

The  only  remarkable  piece  of  mythology  in  the  an- 
nals of  the  Peruvians,  is  the  pretended  extinction  of 
Manco  Capeo  the  first  Inca  of  Peru,  and  of  Mama 
Ocolla  his  consort.  These  two  illustrious  personages 
appeared  first  on  the  banks  of  the  lake  Titiaca*  They 
were  persons  of  a  majestic  stature,  and  clothed  in  de- 
cent garments.  They  declared  themselves  to  be  the 
children  t>f  the  Snn,  sent  by  their  beneficent  parent, 
who  beheld  with  pity  the  miseries  of  -the  hnman  race, 


to  instruct  and  to  reclaim  them.  Tlius  we  find  these 
two  legislators  availed  themselves  of  a  pretence  which 
had  often  been  employed  in  more  civilized  regions  to 
the  very  same  purposes.  The  idolatry  of  Peru  was 
gentle  and  beneficent,  that  of  Mexico  gloomy  and  san* 
guinary.  Hence  we  may  see,  that  every  mode  of  su- 
perstition, where  a  divine  revelation  is  not  concerned, 
borrows  its  complexion  from  the  characters  of  its  pro- 
fessors. 

In  the  course  of  this  article,  our  readers  will  ob- 
serve, that  we  have  not  mach  enlarged  upon  the  my- 
thology of'  the  Greeks  and  Romans  ',  that  subject  we 
imagme  to  be  so  universally  known  by  the  learned, 
and  so  little  valued  hy  the  vulgar,  that  a  minute  dis- 
cussion of  it  would  be  altogether  superfluous.  Be- 
sides, we  hope  it  will  be  remembered,  that  the  nar- 
rowness of  the  limits  prescribed  as  would  scarce  admit 
of  a  more  copious  detail.  We  would  flatter  ourselves^ 
that  in  the  course  of  our  disquisition,  we  have'thrown 
ottt  a  few  reflections  and  obsorvations,  which  piay  per- 
haps prove  iBore  acceptable  to  both  descriptions  of 
readers. 


593 


M    Y    U 

I^IYTILUS,  the  Mussel,  a  genus  of  animals,  ^- 
longiiig  to  the  order  of  vermes  testacea.  See  CoKCHO- 
LOGT  Index. 

MYTTOTON,  a  coarse  kind  of  food,  used  b]r  the 
labouring  people  among  the  Greeks,  and  sometimes 
among  the  Romans.  It  was  made  of  garlic,  onions, 
eggs,  cheese,  oil,  and  vinegar,  and  reckoned  very  whole- 
some. 

MYUS,  In  Ancient  Geography^  one  of  the  twelve 
towns  of  Ionia  \  seated  on  the  Meander,  at  the  distance 
of  30  stadia  from  the  sea*     In  Strabo*s  time  it'Was  in- 


M    Y    X 

cotporated  with  the  Milesians,  on  account  of  the  paucity 
of  inhabitants,  fi'om  its  being  formeriy  overwhelmed  with 
water :  for  which  reason  the  lonians  consigned  its  suf- 
frage and  religious  ceremonies  to  the  people  of  Mile- 
tus. Artaxerxes  allotted  this  town  to  Themistocles,  in 
order  to  furnish  his  table  with  meat:  Magnesia ^as 
to  sqpport  him  in  bread,  and  Lampsacus  in  wine.  I1i^ 
town  now  lies  in  ruins. 

M  YXINE,  the  Hag  \  a  genus  of  animals  belong- 
ing to  the  order  of  vermes  intestina.  See  H£LMtK*i 
TUOLOGT  Index, 


Myits 

II 

N. 


N. 


"^     A  liquid  consonant,  and  the  13th  letterof 'the 
-^^  9     Greek,  Latin,  English,  &c.  alphabets. 

The  n  is  a  nasal  consonant :  its  sound  is  that  of  a  1/, 
passed  through  the  nose  \  so  that  when  the  nose  is  stop- 
ped by  a  cold,  or  the  like,  it  is  usual  to  pronounce  d 
for  If.  M.  Abbe  de  Dangean  bhseihres,  that  in  the 
French,  the  n  is  frequently  a  mere  nasal  vowel,  with* 
out  any  thing  of  the  consonant  in  it  He  calls  it  die 
Sclavonic  vowel.  ^  Hie  Hebrews  call  their  n  mtn^ 
which  signifies  diild,  as  being  supposed  the  ofispring 
of  m  ;  partly  on  account  of  t^  resemblance  of  souoi^ 
and  partly  on  that  of  the  figure.  Thus  fron  the  i», 
by  omitting  the  last  column,  is  formed  n;  and  thus 
firom  the  capital  N,  by  omitting  the  first  column,  la 

Vol.  XI V.  Part  XL  + 


formed  the  Greek  minuscie  »•  Hence  from  biennies^  &c. 
the  Latins  frequently  u^e  himui^  &c«  and  the  sAme  peo- 
ple convert  the  Greek  »,  at  the  end  of  a  word,  into  an 
i»,  as  fiiyiawif,  pharmacum^  &c«     See  M. 

^  before  p,  ^,  and  m,  the  Latins  change  into  i»,  and 
frequently  into  /and  r;  as  in  in4udo^  tUudo;  inrigo^ 
irrigo^  &c. :  in  which  they  agree  with  the  Hebrews^ 
who,  in  lieu  of  min,  frequently  doable  «the  following 
consonants :  and  the  Greeks  do  the  same  j  as  when  for 
ManHuSf  they  write  M«AAm(,  &c.  TIkb  Greeks  also, 
before  »,  y,  x^,  f,'  changed  the  9  into  y :  in  which  they 
were  followed  by  the  ancient  Romans :  who,  for  AngU" 
Iwy  wrote  Aggidus;  for  ancep$^  ogUP**  &®* 

Thfe  Latfatt  retrench  the  n  from  GredL  nonns  end- 

4F  iȤ 


NAB 


[    594-    ] 


NAB 


N 

II 
Nabis. 


ing  in  «r  *,  as  Auvv,  Leo  ;  A^«««r,  Draco ;  on  the  con* 
trary,  the  Greeks  add  it  lo  the  Latin  ones  ending  in 
0  ;  as  K«r«y,  Nf^*v.  Caio^  Nero, 

Ny  among  the  ancients,  ivas  a  numeral  letter,  signi- 
fying 900  }  according  to  the  verse  in  Baroniua, 

N^  quoqu^  nongenlos  numero  designat  /labendos. 

And  when  a  line  was  struck  over  it,  N,  nine  thousand. 
Among  the  ancient  lawyers,  N,  L,  stood^for  non  It" 
qftfty  i.  e.  the  cause  is  not  clear  enough  to  pass  sen- 
tence upon.  X  N,  or  N^,  in  commerce,  &c.  is  used  as 
an  abbreviation  of  numero^  number. 

NAARDA,  NuARDA,  Neerda,  or  NehardeOy  in 
Ancient  Geogriaphy^  a. town  situated  on  the  confines  of 
Mesopotamia  and  Babylonia  \  popnlous,  and  with  a 
rich  and  extensive  territory,  not  easily  to  be  attacked  by 
an  enemy,  being  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  tlie  Euphra- 
tes and  strong  walls  (Joseph us).  In  the  lower  age  the 
Jews  bad  a  celebrated  school  there. 

NAAS,  a  borough  totm  of  Ireland,  in  the  county 
of  Kildare  and  province  of  Leinster.     It  is  the  shire 
town  of  that  county,  and  alternately  with  Athy  the 
assizes  town.     It  is  distant  above  15  miles  south-west 
from  Dublin,  in  N.  Lat.  53.  10.  W.  Long.  6.  50.     It 
gives  title  of  viscount  to  the  family  of  Burke.     This 
place   was   anciently   the   residence   of  the   kings  of 
Leinster :  the  name  signifies  **  the  place  of  elders,'^ 
i^r  here  the  states  o£  that  province  assembled  during 
tlie  6th,  7th,  and  8th  centuries,  after  the  Naasteighan 
ef  Carmen  had  been  anathematized  by  the  Christian 
dergy.    On  the  arrival  of  the  English  it  was  fortified  \ 
many  castles  were  erected,  the  ruins  of  which  are  part- 
ly visible  \  and  parliaments  were  held  there.     At  the 
foot  of  the  mount  or  rath  are  the  ruins  of  a  bouse 
founded  in  1484,  for  eremites  of  the  order  of  St  Au- 
gustin.    In  the  1 2th  century  the  baron  of  Naas  found- 
ed a  priory  dedicated  to  St  John  the  Baptist,  for  Au- 
gustinian  regular  canons.     In  the  centre  of  this  town 
the  family  of  Eustace  erected  a  monastery  for  Domi- 
nican friars,  dedicated  to  St  Eustachius  ^  and  it  appears 
that  their  possessions  in  Naas  were  granted  them  in  the 
year  1355*     This  place  was^a  strong  hold  during  the 
civil  wars. 

NABATENE,  or  Regio  Nabatjuorum,  accord- 
ing to  Jerome,  comprised  all  the  country,  lying  be- 
tween the  Euphrates  and  the  Red  sea,  and  thus  con- 
tained Arabia  Deserta,  with  a  part  ef  the  Petraea^ : 
so  called  from  Nabaioth,  the  first  bom  of  Ismael.  Ac* 
cording  to  Diodorus,  it  was  situated  between  Syria 
and  Egypt.  The  people  Nabataei  ( 1  Maccabees,  Dio- 
dorus Siculus) :  inhabiting  a  desert  and  barren  coun- 
try :  they  lived  by  plundering  their  neighbours,  accord- 
ing to  Diodorus.     Nabathseus  the  epithet. 

NABIS,  tyrant  of  Sparta,  reigned  about  204  B.  C.  \ 
and  is  reported  to  have  exceeded  all  other  tyrants  so 
far,  that,  upon  comparison,  he  left  the  epithets  of 
grarioits  and  mvrctful  to  Dionysius  and  Phalaris.  He 
is  said  to  have  contrived  an  instrument  of  torture  in 
the  fMrm  of  a  statue  of  a  beautiful  woman,  whose  rich 
drths  concealed  a  number  of  iron  spikes  in  her  bosom 
and  arms.  ^  lien  any  one  therefore  opposed  biH  de- 
mands, he  would  say,  **  If  I  have  not  talents  enough 
to  prevail  with  you,  perhaps  my  woman  Apega  may 
persuade  yon.*'  The  statue  then  appeared  j  which 
IJabis  taking  by  the  hand,  led  up  to  the  person,  who, 


being  embraced- by  it,  was  thus  tortured  into  cobi-    lUbM 
pliance.     To  render  his  tyranny  less  unpopular,  Nabis      | 
made  an  alliance  with  Flamiuius  the  Roman  general,  ^■^kIi'^ 
and  pursued  with  the  most  inveterate  enmity  the  war 
which  he  had  undertaken  against  the  Achaeans.    He 
besieged  Gytbium,  and  defeated  Fhilopcemen  in  a  naval 
battle.     His  triumph  was  short,  the  general  of  the 
Achaeans  soon  repaired  his  losses,  and  Nabis  was  de- 
feated in  an  engagement,  and  killed  as  be  attempted 
to  save  his  life  by  flight,  about  194  years  before  the 
Christian  era. 

NABLOUS,  a  province  of  Syria,  anciently  cele> 
brated  under  the  name  of  the  kingdom  qfSamana,  Its 
capital,  likewise  railed  Nabhwt^  is  aituated  near  to 
Sichem  on  the  ruins  of  the  Miepolis  of  the  Greeks,  and. 
is  the  residence  of  a  sheik,  who  is  subordinate  to  the 
pacha  of  Damascus,  from  whom  he  farms  the  tnbme 
of  the  province. 

NABLIJM,  in  Hebrew,  Nebcin  was  an  instrbment 
of  music  among  the  Jews.  It  had  strings  like  the  barp, 
and  was  played  0[)on  by  both  hands.  Its  form  was 
that  of  a  Greek  A.  ]n  the  Septoagint  and  Vulgaie,  it  is 
called  noblunij  pnaiterion^  fyra  ;  and  sometimes  citkara. 
NABO,  or  Nebo,  in  Mytkohgy^  a  deity  of  the 
Babylonians,  who  possessed  the  next  rank  to  Bel.  It 
is  mentioned  by  Isaiahf  chap,  xlviii.  Vossius  appre- 
hends that  Nabo  wa»  the  moon,  and  Bel  the  sun :  hot 
Grotius  supposes  that  Nabo  was  some  celebrated  prophet 
of  the  country  \  which  opinion  is  confirmed  by  the  ety- 
mology of  the  name,  signifying,  according  to  Jerome, 
*'  bne  that  presides  over  prophecy.'* 

NABOB,  properly  Navab,  the  plural  of  NmlS,  a 
deputy.  As  used  in  Bengal,  it  is  the  same  as  Nazin. 
It  is  a  title  also  given  to  the  wives  and  dangbten  of 
princes,  as  well  as  to  tlie  princes  themselves. 

NABONASSAR,  first  king  of  the  Chaldeans  or 
Babylonians)  memorable  for  the  Jewish  era  which 
bears  his  name,  which  is  generally  fixed  in  3257,  be- 
ginning on  Wednesday,  February  26tb,  in  the  3967tb 
of  the  J  ulian  period,  747  years  before  Christ.  The 
Babylonians  revolting  from  the  Medes,  who  had  over- 
thrown the  Assyrian  monarchy,  did,  under  Nabooassar, 
found  a  dominion,  which  was  much  increased  nnder 
Nebuchadnezzar.  It  is  probable,  that  thia  Nabooassar 
is  that  Baladan  in  the  sepond  of  Kings,  xx.  1 2.  father 
of  Merodach,  who  sent  ambassadors  to  Hezekiah.  See 
2  Chron.  xxxii. 

NABOPOLASSAR,  king  of  Babylon :  he  joined 
with  Astyages  the  Mede,  to  destroy  the  empire  of  As* 
Syria  \  which  having  accomplished,  they  founded  the 
two  empiras  of  the  Medes  under  Astyages,  and  (be 
Chaldeans  under  Nabopolassar,  627  B.  C. 

NABUCHADNEZZAR,  or  Nabdchodokosor 
II..  king  of  Assyria,  son  of  Nabopolassar,  and  styled 
the  Greatf  was  associated  by  his  father  in  the  enpire, 
607  B.  C.  and  the  following  year  he  took  Jehoiakim 
king  of  Judah-  prisoner,  and  proposed  to  carry  bis 
and  his  subjects  in  captivity  into  Babylon^,  hot  opoo 
his  submission,  and  promising  to  hold  his  kingdcun  no- 
der  Nabuohodonosor,  he  was  permitted  to  remajn  at 
Jerusalem  In  603  B.  C.  Jeboiakyn  attempted  to 
shake  off  the  Assyrian  yoke,  but  without  success  j,^  sa^ 
this  revolt  brought  on  the  general. captivity.  Ntbo* 
chadnezzar  having  subdued  the  Ethiopians,  Arabis«i 
Idumaeans,  Philistines,  Syrians,  PexsiaoSi  Medes»  A»- 

syriaP'r 


N    A    E 


r    595    ] 


N    A    1 


aytiMiS,  and  almost  all  A^ia^  being  puffied  op  -mtk 
pride,  caused  a  golden  statue  to  be  set  up,  and  com- 
manded all  to  worship  it  ^  which  DaniePs  companions  . 
refusing  to  do,  they  were  cast  into  the  fiery  furnace. 
But  as  he  was  admiring  his  own  magnificence,  hj  di«- 
Tine  sentence  he  was  driven  from  men,  and  in  the  Scrip- 
ture style  is  said  to  have  eaten  grasses  oxen  :  i.  e.  be  was 
seized  with  the  disease  called  by  the  Greeks  fyctm^ 
^woipy^  which  is  a  kind  of  madness  that  causes  persons 
to  run  into  the  fields  and  streets  in  the  night,  and 
•ometimes  to  suppose  themselves  to  have  the  heads  of 
oxen,  or  to  be  made  of  glass.  At  the  end  of  seven 
years  his  reason  returned  to  him,  and  he  was  restored 
to  his  throne  and  glory.  He  died  562  B.  C.  in  the 
43d  year  of  his  reign  \  in  the  5th  of  which  happened 
that  eclipse  of  *  the  sun  mentioned  by  Ptolemy,  which 
is  ^  sorest  foundation  of  the  chronology  of  his  reign. 

NADIR,  in  Asironomy^  that  point  of  the  heavens 
irhich  is  diametrically  opposite  to  the  zenith  or  point 
directly  over  our  heads. 

N^NIA,  the  goddess  of  funerals  at  Rome.  Her 
temple  was  without  the  gates  of  the  city.  The  songs 
which  were  sung  at  fiinerals  were  also  called  nanid. 
They  were  generally  filled  with  the  praises  of  the  de- 
ceased ^  but  sometimes  they  were  so  unmeaning  and 
improper,  that  the  word  became  proverbial  to  signify 
nonsense. 

NA£RD£N,  a  strong  town  of  Holland,  seated  at 
the  head  of  the  canals  of  the  province*  The  foun* 
dations  of  it  were  laid  by  William  of  Bavaria,  in 
1350.  It  was  taken  by  the  Spaniards  in  1572,  and 
by  the  French  in  1672  j  but  it  was  retaken  by  the 
prince  of  Orange  the  next  year.  It  stands  at  the  south 
end  of  the  Zuyder  Zee,  in  E.  Long.  5.  3.  N.  Lat. 
51.  22. 

N^VIUS,  Cneius,  a  famous  poet  of  Campania, 
was  bred  a  soldier ;  but  quitted  the  profession  of  arms^ 
in  order  to  apply  himself  to  poetry,  which  he  prose- 
cuted with  great  diligence.  He  composed  a  history  in 
verse,  and  a  great  number  of  comedies :  but  it  is  said 
that  his  first  performance  of  this  last  kind  so  displeas- 
ed Metellus  on  account  of  the  satirical  strokes  it  con- 
tained, that  he  procured  his  being  banished  from  the 
city :  on  which  he  retired  to  Utica  in  Africa,  where 
he  at  length  died,  202  B.  C.  We  have  only  some 
fragments  left  of  his  works. 

There  was  another  N^vius,  a  famous  augur  in  the 
reign  of  Tarqoin,  who,  to  convince  the  king  and  the 
Romans  of  his  preternatural  power,  cut  a  flint  with  a 
razor,  and  turned  the  ridicule  of  the  populace  to  ad- 
miration. Tarqutn  rewarded  his  merit  by  erecting 
him  a  statue  in  the  comitium,  which  was  still  in  be- 
ing in  the  age  of  Augustus.  The  razor  and  flint  wei-e 
buried  near  it  under  an  altar,  and  it  was  usual  among 
the  Romans  to  make  witnesses  in  civil  causes  swear 
near  it.  This  miraculous  event  of  cutting  a  flint  with 
a  razor,  though  believed  by  some  writers,  is  treated 
as  fabulous  and  improbable  by  Cicero,  who  himself 
bad  been  augur. 

Ni^VUS,  a  mole  on  the  skin,  generally  called  a 
mather*s  mark  ;  also  the  tumour  known  by  the  name 
of  a  tDen. 

All  preteirnatnral  tumours  on  the  skin,  in  the  form 
of  a  wart  or  tubercle,  are  called  excrescences  ;  by  the 
Greeks  they  are  called  acr&thymia  ;  and  when  they  are 


born  with  a  person,  they  are  called  netvi  maternt\  of 
marks  from  the  mother.  See  Tumours,  Surgery 
Index* 

NAGE^A,  or  Nagara,  a  town  of  Spain,  in  Old 
Castile,  and  the  territory  of  Rioja,  with  the  title  of  a 
duchy  and  fortress  \  famous  for  a  battle  fought  in  its 
neighbourhood  in  1369.  It  is  situated  in  a  fertile 
country,  on  a  brook  called  Niaserilia.  W.  Long.  2.  20. 
N.  Lat.  42.  45. 

NAGRACUT,  a  town  of  India,  the  capital  of  a 
kingdom  of  the  same  name  in  the  dominions  of  the 
Great  Mogul,  with  a  rich  temple  to  which  tlie  Indians 
go  in  pilgrimage.  It  is  seated  on  the  river  Ravi.  £. 
Long.  78.  10.  N.  Lat.  33.  12. 

NAHUM,  or  the  Prophecy  ofNAHUMf  a  canonical 
book  of  the  Old  Testament. 

Nahum,  the  seventh  of  the  12  lesser  prxiphets,  was 
a  native  of  £ikosliai,  a  little  village  of  Galilee.  The 
subject  of  his  prophect  is  the  destruction  of  Nineveh, 
which  he  describes  in  the  most  lively  and  pathetic  man- 
ner ^  his  style  is  bold  and  figurative,  and  cannot  be  ex* 
ceeded  by  the  most  perfect  masters  of  oratory.  This 
prophecy  was  verified  at  the  siege  of  that  city  by  Asty- 
ages,  in  the  year  of  the  world  3378,  622  years  before 
Christ. 

NAIADES,  in  fabulous  history,  certain  inferior 
deities  who  presided  over  rivers,  springs,  wells,  and 
fountains.  The  Naiades  generally  inhabited  the  coun- 
try, and  resorted  to  the  woods  or  meadows  near  the 
stream  over  which  they  presided.  They  are  represent- 
ed as  young  and  beautiful  virgins,  often  leaning  upon 
an  urn,  firom  which  flows  a  stream  of  water.  JEg\e 
was  the  fairest  of  the  Naiades,  according  to  VirgiJ. 
Their  name  seems  to  be  derived  from  mmiv,  ''  to  flow.^* 
They  were  held  in  great  veneration  among  the  an- 
cients 'y  and  often  sacrifices  of  goats  and  lambs  were  of- 
fered to  them,  with  libations  of  wine,  honey,  and  oil. 
Sometimes  they  received  only  oflferings  of  milk,  fruit, 
and  flowers. 

NAIANT,  in  Heraldry ^  a  term  used  in  blazoning 
fishes,  when  home  in  a  horizontal  posture,  as  if  swim- 
ming. 

NAIAS,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  disecia 
class  'y  and  in  the  natural  method  ranking  with  those  of 
which  the  order  is  doubtful.     See  Botakt  Index. 

NATD,  the  interior  of  the  great  desert  of  Arabia, 
inhabited  by  a  few  scattered  tribes  of  feeble  and 
wretched  Arabs.     See  Arabia. 

NAIL,  Unguis,  in  Anatomy^  which  see. 

Nails,  in  building,  &c.  small  spikes  of  iron,  brasS) 
&c.  which  being  driven  into  wood,  serve  to  bind  se- 
veral pieces  together,  or  to  fasten  something  upon 
them. 

Nails  were  made  use  of  by  the  ancient  Hebrews  for 
cancelling  bonds  ;  and  the  ceremony  was  performed  by 
striking  them  through  the  writing.  This  seems  to  be 
alluded  to  in  Scripture,  where  God  is  said  by  our  cru- 
cified Saviour  to  have  ^^  blotted  out  the  hand-writing 
of  ordinances  that  was  against  us,  and  to  have  taken  it 
out  of  the  way,  nailing  it  to  his  cross,'*  Col.  ii.  14. 
For  the  cause  and  ceremony  of  driving  the  annual  nail, 
or  ciavt/s  annalis^  among  the  Romans,  see  Annaus 
Clavus. 

Nail,  is  also  a  measure  of  length,  containing  the 
1 6th  ^art  of  a  jard 

4  F  2  Naiusq 


Kbtus 

II 
Nail 


NaiUB^  of 
Gannon 

B 

Naifv* 


NAT  r  596  ] 

Nailiitg  of  Cannon.  When  clrcnmstances  make  it  rage 
necessary  to  abandon  cannon,  or  when  the  enemj^s  ar- 
tillery are  seized,  and  it  is  not  however  possible  to  take 
them  away,  it  is  proper  to  nail  them  up,  in  order  to 
render  them  useless ;  which  is  done  by  driving  a  large 
nail  or  iron  spike  into  the  vent  of  a  piece  of  artillery, 
to  render  it  unserviceable.  There  are  various  contri* 
vances  to  force  the  nail  out,  as  also  sundry  machines 
invented  for  that  purpose,  but  they  have  never  been 
found  of  general  use ;  so  that  the  best  method  is  to 
drill  a  new  vent. 

One  Gasper  Vimercalus  was  the  first  who  invented 
the  nailing  of  cannon.  He  was  a  native  of  Bremen, 
and  made  use  of  his  invention  first  in  nailing  up  the  ar- 
tillery of  Sigismund  Malatesta. 

NAIN,  Lewis  Sebastian  de,  a  French  critic  and 
historian,  was  the  son  of  a  master  of  the  requests,  and 
was  born  at  Paris  in  1637.  At  ten  years  old  he  went 
to  school  at  Port  Royal,  and  became  one  of  the  best 
writers  of  that  institution*  Sacy,  his  intimate  friend 
and  counsellor,  prevailed  with  him  in  1676  to  receive 
the  priesthood  J  which  it  seems,  his  great  humility 
would  not  before  suffer  him  to  aspire  to.  This  virtue 
he  seems  to  have  possessed  in  the  extreme  ;  so  that 
Bossuet,  seeing  one  of  his  letters  to  Father  Dami,  with 
whom  he  had  some  little  dispute,  besought  him  mer- 
rily **  not  to  be  always  upon  his  knees  before  his  ad- 
versary, but  raise  himself  up  now  and  then.*'  He 
was  solicited  to  push .  himself  forward  in  the  church, 
and  Buzanval,  bishop  of  Beauvois,  wished  to  have  him 
for  his  successor ;  but  Nain,  regardless  of  dignities, 
wished  for  nothing  but  retirement,  so  that  he  might  in- 
dulge in  the  mortifications  of  a  religious  life  and  the  in- 
defatigable cultivation  of  letters.  He  died  in  1698,  aged 
61.  His  principal  works  are,  i.  Memoirs  on  the  ec- 
clesiastical history  of  the  six  first  ages  of  the  church, 
x6  vols.  4to.  2.  The  history  of  the  emperors,  6  vols. 
410.  These  works  are  deduced  from  original  sources, 
and  composed  with  the  utmost  fidelity  and  accuracy. 

Nain,  or  Naim,  situated  at  the  bottom  of  Mount 
Hermon  on  the  north  side,  was  anciently  a  city  of  the 
tribe  of  Issacbar,  in  the  province  of  Galilee.  It  was 
near  the  gates  of  this  city  that  our  Saviour  restored 
to  life  the  only  son  of  a^widow,  and  where  he  inspired 
Mary  Magdalen  to  come  and  mourn  for  her  sins  at 
his  feet.  These  circumstances  alone  make  this  place 
worthy  of  notice  >  for  at  present  .Nain  is  only  a  hamlet 
inhabited  by  Christians,  Mahometans,  and  Hebrews, 
where  there  is  not  a  single  monument  to  attract  the  cu- 
riosity of  the  traveller. 

NAIRES,  Nahers,  orNATERS,  in  modern  histoiy, 
a  name  which  is  given  by  the  Malabarians  to  the  mili- 
tary of  their  country,  who  form  a  very  numerous  class 
or  tribe,  out  of  which  the  sovereigns  of  Malabar  choose 
their  body  guard. 

NAIRN,  a  county  of  Scotland,  comprehending  the 
western  part  of  the  province  of  Murray.  It  is  bounded 
ion  the  north  by  the  Murray  frith,  on  the  west  and 
south  by  Inverness,  and  on  the  east  by  Elgin.  The 
length  18  about  18  miles,  and  the  breadth  about  14. 
.  The -air  is  temperate  and  salubrious,  and  the  winters 
arc  remarkably  mild.  The  face  of  the  countnr  is  rough 
and  mountainous :  yet  there  are  some  fruitful  valleys 
•which  produce  good  crops ^of  oats  and  barleys  but  in 
general  the  country  i^  much  better  adapted  for  pastu- 


N    A    I 

Here  arc  also  large  woods  of  fir,  and  other 
trees,  that  aflbrd  shelter  to  the  game,  of  which  there  is 
great  plenty.  The  most  remarkable  straths  or  vallcjt 
in  this  county,  are  Strathnaim,  on  the  river  of  that 
name,  in  the  sooth-west  part  of  the  shire }  and  on  the 
south-east  side,  Strathrin,  on  both  sides  of  Findhon 
river.  Naim  is  well  watered  with  streams,  rivniae, 
and  lakes  abounding  with  fish.  In  the  southern  put 
there  is  a  small  lake,  called  M<^.  The  greater  (^ 
of  the  shire  is  peopled  by  the  Frazers,  a  warlike  Hidb- 
land  clan,  whose  chief,  the  lord  Lovat,  lost  hu  life 
on  the  scaffold  for  having  been  concerned  in  the  rebel- 
lion of  1745.  Here  are  a  great  number  of  villtges^ 
but  no  towns  of  note  except  Nairn,  supposed  to  be  the 
Ttuesu  of  Ptolemy,  situated  at  the  mouth  of  the  iiver 
which  bears  the  same  name  ^  a  royal  borongh,  Hhidi 
gave  the  title  of  hrd  to  an  ancient  family,  fmeited  is 
the  rebellion  of  1715.  The  harbour,  which  opened  ia 
the  Murray  firith,  is  now  choked  up  with  sand  ^  and 
the  commerce  of  the  town  is  too  inconsiderable  to  de- 
serve notice.  About  four  miles  finom  Naim  stands  the 
castle  of  Calder  on  the  river  of  that  nanoe,  behmging 
to  a  branch  of  the  fiimily  of  Campbell }  and  six  miki 
to  the  north-west  of  Naim  stands  Fort  George. 

The  following  is  the  population  of  the  parishes  of 
this  county,  according  to  the  Statistical  History  of  Scot- 
land. 


Parishes, 

Ardclach 
Auldearn 
Calder 
Nairn 


PopalEtion 

1163 

1951 

882 

Poptdatioaia 
1790— 179S. 

1 186 

1406 

1062 

1698 

2400 

5694 

6054 
5694 

Increase 


360 


Population  in  l8oi,  including  pari  of  some  other 

Parishes. 


Ardclach 

Auldearn 

Calder 

Croy  (Nairn  division) 

Moy  do. 

Nairn 


Urquhart     (do«) 


8257 


In  the  returns  for  181 1  tlie  p<^latioa  of  Nain  is 
stated  to  be  8251.    See  Nairn,  Suppi.KifEirr. 

NAISSANT,  in  Heraldry,  is  applied  to  any  aainal 
issuing  out  of  the  midst  of  some  ordinary,  and  showing 
only  his  head,  shoulders,  fore  feet,  and  legs,  with  the 
tip  of  his  tail  j  the  rest  of  hts  body  being  hid  ia  tht 
shield,  or  some  charge  upon  it :  in  which  it  diffeiv  fnm 
issuantj  which  denotes  a  living  creature  arising  oot  if 
the  bottom  of  any  ordinary  or  charge. 

NAISSUS,  in  Anaent  Geography^  a  town  of  Dar-» 

dania,  a  district  of  Moesia  Superior,  said  to  be  the 

birthplace  of  Constantino  the  Great,  which  seems  ft^ 

bable  fi.*om  his  often  residing  at  that  place.  Naisii^** 

the 


NAM  t    597     ] 

the  people  (Coin).     Now  called  NissOf  a  city  of  Ser-     cestqrs,  who, 
via.     £.  Long.  23.  N.  Lai.  43. 

NAKED  SKEDs,  in  Botany^  those  that  are  not  en- 
elosed  in  any  pod  or  case. 

NAKIB9  in  the  oriental  dignities,  the  name  of  an 
officer  who  is  a  deputy  to  the  cadiliskier,  or,  as  he  may 
be  called,  the  lord  high  chancellor  of  Egypt,  appoint- 
ed hy  the  grand  signior.  His  office  is  to  carry  the 
standard  of  Mahomet. 

NAK.OUS,  an  Egyptian  musical  instrament,  made 
like  two  plates  of  brass,  and  of  all  sizes,  from  two  inches 
to  a  foot  in  diameter  ^  they  hold  them  by  strings  fast- 
ened to  their  .middles,  and  strike  them  together  so  as  to 
beat  time.  They  are  used  in  the  Coptic  churches  and 
in  the  Mahometan  processions. 

NAM  A,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  pent- 
nndria  class,  and  order  digynia  \  and,  in  the  natural 
method,  ranking  under  the  13th  order,  Succulenta. 
Sec  Botany  Index. 

NAAI E,  denotes  a  word  whereby  men  have  agreed 
to  express  some  idea ;  or  which  serves  to  denote  or  sig- 
nify a  thing  or  subject  spoken  of.     See  Word. 

This  the  grammarians  usually  call  a  mmn^  nomen^ 
though  their  noun  is  not  of  quite  so  much  extent  as  our 
name.     See  NouK. 

Seneca,  lib.  ii.  de  BeneficitSj  observes,  that  there  are 
a  great  number  of  things  which  have  no  name  y  and 
which,  therefore,  we  are  forced  to  call  by  other  bor- 
rowed names.  Ingen»  est  (says  he)  rm/in  copia  sinewy 
mine^  quas  cum  propriis  appeHationibus  sigrtare  non  pos- 
sumuSy  ahenis  accomrnodatis  utimur :  which  may  show 
why,  in  the  course  of  this  dictionary,  we  frequently  give 
divers  senses  to  the  same  word. 

Names  are  distinguished  into  prcper  and  appeikUive. 

Proper  Namss^  are  those  which  represent  some  indi- 
vidual thing  or  person,  so  as  to  distinguish  it  from  all 
other  things  of  the  same  species;  as,  Socrates^  which 
represents  a  certain  philosopher. 

Appetlaiive  or  General  Names^  are  those  which  sig- 
nify common  ideas }  or  which  are  common  to  several 
individuab  of  the  same  species ;  as,  horse^  animal^  man^ 
oakj  &c. 

Proper  names  are  either  called  Christian^  as  being 
given  at  baptism  \  or  surnames :  The  first  imposed  for 
distinction  of  persons,  answering  to  the  Roman  presno- 
tnen ;  the  second,  for  the  distinction  of  families,  an- 
swering to  the  nomen  of  the  Romans,  and  thepatrany- 
fnicum  of  the  Ghreeks. 

Originally  every  person  had  but  one  name;  as  among 
the  Jews,  Adam^  &c.  among  the  Egyptians,  Busiris; 
among  the  Chaldees,  Nmus ;,  the  Medes,  Astyages ; 
the  Greeks,  Diomedes ;  the  Romans,  Romulus f  the 
Gauls,  Divitiacus;  the  Germans,  Arhvistus;  the  Bri- 
tons, Cassibelan;  the  English,  Hengist^  &&  And  thus 
•f  other  nations,  except  the  savages  of  Mount  Atlas, 
whom  Pliny  and  Marcellinus  represent  as  anonymi^ 
••  nameless.*' 

The  Jew3  gave  the  name  at  the  circumcision,  viz* 
eight  days  after  the  birth  :  the  Romans,  to  finales  the 
same  day,  to  males  the  ninth  \  at  which  time  ihey  held 
a  feast,  called  nominaUa, 

Since  Christianity  has  obtained,  most  nations  have 
followed  the  Jews,  baptizing  and  giving  the  name  on 
the  eighth  day  after  the  birth;  except  our  English  an- 


NAM 

till  of  late,  baptized  and  gave  the  name    Nameii 
on  the  birth  day. 

Hie  first  imposition  of  names  was  founded  on  differ- 
ent views,  among  different  people  ;  the  most  common 
was  to  mark  the  good  wishes  of  the  parents,  or  to  en- 
title the  children  to  the  good  fortune  a  happy  name 
seemed  to  promise.  Hence,  Victor^  Castor^  Faustvs^ 
StatorMs,  Probus^  &c. 

Accordingly,  we  find  such  names,  by  Cicero  called 
bona  nomina^  and  by  Tacitus  fyusta  nomina^  vr&tt 
first  enrolled  and  ranged  in  the  Roman  musters  ;  first 
called  to  serve  at  the  sacrifices,  in  the  foundation  of 
colonies,  &c.— And,  on  the  contrary,  Livy  calls  Atrins 
Umber,  abominandi  omnis  nomen :  and  Plautus,  on  oc- 
casion of  a  person  named  Xyro,  i.  e.  **  greedy  wolf,?^' 
says; 

Vosmei  nuncfucite  conjecturam  aeferum 
Quid  id  sit  hominis^  cui  Lyco  nomen  fiet, 

m 

Hence,  Plato  recommends  it  to  men  to  be  careful  in^ 
giving  happy  names ;  and  the  Pythagoreans  taught  ex- 
pressly, that  the  minds,  actions,  and  successes  of  men, 
were  according  to  their  names,  genius,  and  fate.  Thus 
Panormitan,  ex  bono  nomine  oritur  bona  pretsumptio  ; 
and  the  common  proverb,  Bomtm  nomen  Sonum  omen  ;' 
and  hence  the  foundation  of  the  onomomantia.     See 

0NOMOMANTIA. 

It  is  an  observation  deserving  attention,  says  the 
abb^  Barthelemi,  that  the  greater  part  of  names  found 
in  Homer  are  marks  of  distinction.  They  were  given, 
in  honour  of  the  qualities  most  esteemed  In  the  heroic  - 
ages.  From  the  word  polemos^  which  signifies  war,- 
have  been  formed  Tlepolemus  and  Archepolemus^  the 
names  of  two  heroes  mentioned  in  the  Iliad.  The  for- 
mer name  signifies  able  to  support^  and  the  latter,  able 
to  direct f  the  labours  of  war.  By  adding  to  the  word 
mache^  or  battle^  certain  prepositions  and  different  parts 
of  speech,  which  modify  the  sense  in  a  manner  always 
honoorablcf,  are  composed,  the  names  Amphimachus^ 
Antimackus^  Promackus,  Telemachus*  Proceeding  in 
the  same  way,  with  the  word  homorea^  ''  strength  or 
intrepidity,''  they  formed  the  names  j^gdpenor^  **  he 
who  esteems  valour  ;'*  Agenor^  *^  he  who  directs  hX 
From  tboeSf  ^  swift,''  are  derived,  Akathoes^  Panthoes^ 
Periihoes^  &c.  From  nousy  **  mind  or  intelligence," 
come  AstynoeSf  ArsinoeSf  Autenoes^  &c.  Yiorn'medes^ 
*^  counsel,"  Agamedes^  Eumedes^  Lycomedes^  Thrasy" 
medes;  and  from  clws^  ^^f^ory^^  Amphicles^  Agacles^  ^ 
Ip/kicleSj  PatrochiSf  CUobulus^  with  many  others. 

Hence  Camden  takes  it  for  granted,  that  the  name^, 
in  all  nati<|ns  and  languages,  are  significative,  and  not 
simple  sounds  for  mere  distinction's  sake.  This  holds 
not  only  among  the  Jews,  Greeks,  Latins,  &c.  but  even 
the  Turks ;  among  whom,  Abdala  signifies  God*s  ser- 
vant; Soliman,  peaceable;  Mahomet,  ghrXed^  &c. 
And  the  savages  of  Hispaniola,  and  throughout  Ame- 
rica, who,  in  their  ianffoages,  name  their  children. 
Glistering  Light,  Sun^  Br^ht^  Fine  Gold^  &c. ;  and 
they  of  Congo,  by  the  names  of  precious  stones,  flow- 
ers, &c. 

To  suppose  names  given  without  any  meaning,' 
however  by  the  alteration  of  language  their  significa- 
tion may  bie  lost,  that  learned  author  thinks  is  to  re- 
proach our  ancestors ;  and  that  contrary  tO'  the  sense 

of^ 


Name*. 


u 


NAM  [598 

of  all  ancient  writers.  Porpbyry  notes,  that  the  bar- 
"^  barous  names^  as  he  calls  them,  were  very  empbatica), 
and  very  concise :  and  accordingly  it  was  esteemed  a 
duty  to  be  ^^mvfit,  or  svi  nrnninis  homines :  as  Seve- 
rus,  Probus,  and  Aurelius,  are  called  sui  nontinis  tmp9' 
ra  tares. 

It  was  the  usual  way  of  giving  names,  to  wish  the 
children  might  discharge  their  names.  Thus  when 
Guntbram  king  of  France  named  Clotharius  at  the 
font,  he  said,  Crescat  puer^  et  kujus  sit  nominis  execu- 
tor* 

The  ancient  Britons,  Camden  says,  generally  took 
their  names  from  colours,  because  they  painted  them- 
selves 'f  which  names  are  now  lost,  or  remain  hid  among 
'  the  Welsh.  -  When  they  were  subdued  by  the  Homans, 
'  they  took  Roman  names,  some  of  whicn  still  remain 
corrupted  J  though  the  greatest  part  became  extinct 
upon  the  admission  of  the  English  Saxons,  who  intro- 
duced the  German  names,  as  Cridda^  Penda^  Oswcdd^ 
Edwardj  &c.— -The  Danes,  too,  brought  with  them 
their  names ;  as  Suayne^  Harold^  Knute^  &c.  The 
Normans,  at  the  Conquest,  brought  in  other  German 
names,  as  originally  using  the  German  tongue  \  such 
as  Bobert^  WtUiam^  Richard^  Henry^  Hvgh^  &c.  after 
the  same  manner  as  the  Greek  names  Asposius^  Boe^ 
thtusy  Summaehzts^  &c.  were  introduced  into  Italy  upon 
the  division  of  the  empire.  After  the  Conquest,  our 
nation,  which  bad  ever  been  averse  to  foreign  names, 
as  deeming  them  unlucky,  began  to  take  Hebrew 
names :  as  Matthew^  David^  Samson^  &c.  The  va- 
rious names  anciently  or  at  present  obtaining  among  u$, 
•from  what  language  or  people  soever  borrowed,  ara. ex- 
plained by  Camden  in  his  Remains.  As  to  the  period 
when  names  began  to  be  multiplied,  and  surnames  in- 
troduced, &c.  see  Surname. 

Of  late  years  it  has  obtained  among  us  to  give  sur- 
names for  Christian  naoics^  which  some  dislike,  on 
account  of  the  confusion  it  may  introduce.  Camden 
relates  it  as  an  opinion,  that  the  practice  first  began  in 
the  reign  of  Edward  VI.  by  such  as  would  be  godfathers, 
when  they  were  more  than  half  fathers.  Upon  which 
some  were  persuaded  to  change  their  names  at  confir-» 
nation  ^  which,  it  seems,  is  usual  in  other  countries. 
— oThus,  two  sons  of  Henry  II.  of  France,  christened 
Alesander  and  Hercules^  changed  them  at  confirmation 
into  Henry  s^nd  Francis*  In  monasteries,  the  religious 
asstime  new  names  at  their  admittance,  to  show  they  are 
about  to  lead  a  new  life,  and  have  renounced  the  world, 
their  family,  and  even  their  name :  v.  g.  sister  Mary  of 
the  Incarnation^  brother  Henry  (fthe  Holy  Sacrament^ 
&c.  The  popes  also  changed  their  names  at  their 
exaltation  to  the  pontificate  ^  a  custom  first  introduced 
by  Pope  Sergius,  whose  name  till  then,  as  Platina 
informs*  us,  was  Swine^s-snout,  But  Onuphrius  refers 
it  to  John  XII.  or  XIII.  and  at  the  same  time  adds  a 
diiFf*rent  reason  for  it  from  that  of  Platina,  viz,  that  it 
was  done  in  imitation  of  St  Peter  and  St  Paul,  who 
were  first  called  Simon  and  Saul, 

Among  the  ancients,  those  deified  by  the  Heathen 
consecrations  had  new  names  given  them ;  as  Romulus 
was  called  Q^irinus;  Melicertes,  Portunus  or  Portum- 
&c. 


nus. 


New  names  were  also  given  in  adoptions,  and  some- 
times by  testament?  thus  L.  ^milius,  adopted  by 
Scipio,  took  the  name  of  Scipio  Africanus ;  and  thus 

3 


]  NAM 

Augustus,  who  was  at  first  called  C  Octavnts  2%rrimt, 
being  adopted  by  the  testament  of  Julius  Caesar  into  his 
name  and  family,  took  the  name  of  Caius  JuUus  Catar 
Octavianus, 

Names  were  also  changed  at  enfranchisements  ioto 
new  cities.  Thus  Lucumo,  at  bis  first  being  made  lite 
of  Rome,  took  the  name  Lucius  Tarquinius  Priscus^ 
&c. }  and  slaves  when  made  free,  usually  assumed  their 
masters  names.  Those  called  to  the  equestrian  order, 
if  they  bad  base  names,  were  always  new  named,  noiRtJit 
ingenuorum  veterumque  Romanorum.  And  among  the 
primitive  Christians,  it  was  the  practice  to  change  ihe 
names  of  the  catechumens:  Thus  the  renegade  Lucianuay 
till  his  baptibm,  was  called  Lucius, 

Towards  the  middle  of  the  1 5th  century,  it  wis  the 
fancy  of  the  wits  and  learned  men  of  the  age,  particularly 
in  Italy,  to  change  their  baptismal  names  for  claaiiiad 
ones.  As  Sannazarius,  for  instance,  who  altered  hii 
own  plain  name  Jacopo  to  Actius  Syncents,  Numbeis 
did  the  same,  and  among  the  rest  Platina  the  historiaa 
at  Rome,  who,  not  without  a  solemn  ceremonial,  took 
tlie  name  of  CtUlimachus  instead  of  Philip,  Pope  Paul 
II.  who  reigned  about  that  time,  unluckily  chanced  to 
be  suKpicious,  illiterate,  and  heavy  of  comprtbcnsion. 
He  had  no  idea  that  persons  could  wish  to  alter  their 
names  unless  they  had  some  bad  design,  and  actoally 
scrupled  not  to  employ  imprisonment  and  other  violeat 
methods  to  discover  the  fancied  mystery.  Platina  was 
most  cruelly  tortured  on  this  frivolous  account :  be  had 
nothing  to  confess :  so  the  pope,  after  endeavouring  ia 
vain  to  convict  him  of  heresy,  sedition,  &c.  released 
hhn  after  a  long  imprisonment. 

NAMPTWICH,  or  Nantwich,  a  town  of  Che- 
shire in  England,  situated  on  the  river  Weever,  14 
miles  S.  E.  from  Chester,  and  162  miles  from  London. 
It  lies  in  the  Vale  Royal,  and  is  one  of  the  largest  and 
best  built  towns  in  the  county,  the  streets  being  veij 
regular,  and  adorned  with  many  gentlemen's  booses. 
The  inhabitants  amounting  in  181 1  to  3999,  trade  ia 
corn,  cattle,  cheese,  fine  white  salt,  and  shoes.  It  ii 
governed  by  a  constable,  &c.  who  are  guardians  of  the 
salt  springs.  It  is  divided  into  two  equal  parts  by  the 
Weever,  which  is  navigable  to  Wiosford  bridge.  The 
Chester  canal,  terminates  in  a  large  bason  near  this  place. 
In  this  town  were  several  religious  foundations,  now  ao 
more.  The  church  is  a  handsome  pile  of  buildiog  ia 
the  form  of  a  cross,  with  an  octangular  tower  io  the 
middle. 

NAMUR,  a  province  in  the  kingdom  of  the  Nether- 
lands, lying  between  the  rivers  Sambre  and  Mae^  j 
bounded  on  the  north  by  Brabant,  on  the  east  and  sooth 
by  Liege,  and  on  the  west  by  Hainault.  It  is  prettj 
fertile  \  has  several  forests,  marble  quarries,  and  buocs 
of  iron,  lead,  and  pit  coal  \  and  is  about  30  miles  hmg 
and  20  broad.     Namur  is  the  capital  town. 

Namur,  a  large,  rich,  and  very  strong  town  of  the 
Netherlands,  capital  of  the  county  of  Namur,  with  a 
strong  castle,  several  forts,  and  a  bishop^s  see.  It  coo- 
tains  I  £.400  inhabitants.  The  most  con^derable  foits 
are.  Fort  William,  Fort  Maese,  Fort  Coquelet,  and 
Fort  Espinor.  The  castle  is  built  in  the  middle  of  the 
town,  on  a  craggy  rock.  It  was  besieged  by  Kiag 
WUliam  in  1 695,  who  took  it  in  the  sight  of  an  amjj 
of  ioo,cx^o  French,  though  there  were  16,000  niea  in 
the  garrison.     It  was  ceded  to  the  house  of  Austria 


NAN 


[    599    ] 


NAN 


ig^ar    in  1 71 3*  bot  takeD  by  tbe  French  in    1746*,    and 
Ij        anil  restored  by  the  treaty  of  Aix-la*Cbapelle.     It  was 

fo^kinit'  again  taken  by  the  French  in  I794»  and  remained  in 
'  their  possession  till   1814,  when  it  was  ceded  to  the 
king  of  the   Netherlands.     It  is  situated  at  the  con- 
flaence  of  the  rivers  Maese  and  Sambre,  in  £.  Long. 
4.  57.  N.  Lat,  50.  25. 

NAN-TCHAKG-Fou,  the  capital  of  Kiang-si,  a  pro- 
vince of  China.  This  city  has  no  trade  but  that  of 
porcelain,  which  is  made  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Jao- 
tchcou.  It  is  the  residence  of  a  viceroy,  and  compre- 
hends in  its  district  eight  cities  ^  seven  of  which  are  of 
the  third  class,  and  only  one  of  the  second.  So  much 
of  the  countjy  is  cultivated,  that  the  pastures  left  are 
scarcely  sufficient  for  the  flocks. 

NANCI,  a  town  of  France,  in  the  department  of 
Meurthe,  situated  near  the  river  Meurthe,  and  con- 
taining 29,740  inhabitants  in  i8oo.  It  is  divided  into 
the  Old  and  New  Towns.  The  first  is  irregularly 
built,  and  contains  tbe  ducal  palace  :  the  streets  of  the 
New  Town  are  as  straight  as  a  line,  adorned  with 
handsome  buildings,  and  a  very  fine  square.  The  pri- 
matiai  church  is  a  magnificent  structure,  and  in  that 
of  the  Cordeliers  are  the  tombs  of  the  ancient  dukes. 
The  manufactures  are  cloths,  woollen  stuffs,  silks,  hats,, 
iron  ware,  &c.  The  town  was  very  well  fortified,  but 
the  king  of  France  demolished  the  fortifications.  It 
has  been  taken  and  retaken  several  times  ^  but  has  be- 
longed to  France  ever  since  1736.  £•  Long*  6.  17. 
N.  Lat.  48.  41. 

NANCOWRY,  or  Sowkt,  one  of  the   Nieobar 
islands,  lying  at  tbe  entrance  of  the  baj  of  BengaL  See 

NiCOBAR. 

NANI,  JoHK  Baptist,  was  bom  in  16x6.  His 
father  was  procui-ator  of  St  Mark,  and  ambassador  from 
Venice  to  Rome.  He  was  educated  with  attention, 
and  make  considerable  improvement.  Urban. Vill.  a 
jnst  valuer  of  merit,  soon  perceived  that  of  young 
Nani.  He  was  admitted  into  the  college  of  setoators  in 
1641,  and  was  shortly  after  nominated  ambassador  in 
France,  where  be  signalized  himself  by  his  compliant 
manners.  He  procured  considerable  succours  for  the 
war  of  Candia  against  the  Turks  ^  and  became^  after 
his  retom  to  Venice^  superintendant  oC  the  war  office 
and  of  finances.  H9  was  afterwards  ambassador  to  the 
empire :  where  be  rendered  those  services  to  his  coun- 
try which,  as  a  zealous  aAd  intelligent  citizen,  he  was 
well  qualified  to  discharge.  He  was  again  sent  into 
France  in  1660  to  solicit  fresh  succours  for  Candia  ^ 
and  en  his  return  was  appointed  procurator  of  St  Mark* 
He  died  November  5.  1768,  at  tbe  age  of  63,  much 
regretted  by  his  countrymen*  The  senate  had  appoint- 
ed him  to  write  the  History  of  the  Republic  ^  which  he 
executed  to  the  satisfaction  of  tbe  Venetians,  although 
the  work  was  less  admired  by  foreigners,  who  were. not 
proper  judges  of  the  accuracy  with  which  he  stated  the 
facts,  of  the  parity  of  his  diction,  nor  of  the  simplicity 
of  his  style ;  although  it  most  be  acknowledged  that 
bfs  narrative  is  much  interrupted  by  too  fireqaent  paren- 
theses. In  writing  his  history  of  Venice  he  has  given 
an  univer»ial  history  of  his  times,  especially  with  respect 
•  to  the  affairs  of  the  French  in  Italy.  This  history, 
wiiich  b  continued  firom  16 13  to  1671,  was  printed  at 
Venice  in  2  vols  4to,  in  the  years  1662  and  1679. 
NA^^KiVG,  a  eitf  of  China,  and  capital  of  the  pro* 


vince  of  Kiang-nan,  is  said  to  have  been  formerly  one  Nkn-king:« 
of  the  most  beautiful  and  flourishing  cities  in  the 
world.  When  the  Chinese  speak  of  its  extent,  they 
say,  if  two  horsemen  should  go  out  by  the  same  gate, 
and  ride  round  it  on  full  speed,  taking  different  direc- 
tions^ they  would  not  meet  before  night.  This  account 
is  evidently  exaggerated  ;  but  it  is  certain,  that  Nan- 
king surpasses  in  extent  all  the  other  cities  of  China. 
We  are  assured  that  its  walls  are  five  leagues  and  a  half, 
in  circumference. 

This  city  is  situated  at  the  distance  of  a  league  from 
the  river  Yang-tsc-kiang :  it  is  of  an  irregular  figure  *, 
the  mountains  which  are  within  its  circumference  hav- 
ing prevented  its  being  built  on  a  regular  plan.  It  was 
fornocrly  tbe  imperial  city  ;  for  this  reason  it  was  called 
Nati'-Kingj  which  signifies,  the  Southern  Court  ;'^  but 
since  the  six  grand  tribunals  have  been  transferred 
from  hence  to  Peking,  it  is  called  Kiang^tng  in  all  the 
public  acts. 

Nan-king  has  lost  much  of  its  ancient  splendour :  it 
had  formerly  a  magnificent  palace,  no  vestige  of  which, 
is  now  to  be  seen*,  an  observatory  at  present  neglected, 
temples,  tombs  of  the  emperoi*s,  and  other  superb  mo- 
numents, of  which  nothing  remains  but  the  remem* 
brance.  A  third-  of  the  city  is  deserted,  but  tbe  rest  is 
well  inhabited.  Some  quarters  of  it  are  extremely  po- 
pulous and  full  of  business }  particularly  the  manufac- 
ture of  a  species  of  cotton  cloth,  of  which  great  quan- 
tities are  imported  into  Europe  under  tbe  nameof  Nan- 
km^  The  streets  are  not  so  broad  as  those  of  Peking ,. 
they  are,  however,  very  beautiful,  well  paved,  and 
bordered  with  rich  shops. 

In  this  city  resides  one  of  those  great  mandarins 
ealled  Tsong-gtou^  who  takes  cognizance  of  all  import- 
ant affairs,  not  only  of  both  the  governments  of  the 
province,  but  also  of  those  of  the  province  of  Kiang-si. 
The  Tartars  have  a  numerous  garrisotf  here,  command- 
ed by  a  general  of  their  own  nation  y  and  they  occupy 
a  quarter  of  the  city,  separated  from  the  rest  by  a  plain 
wall. 

The  palaces  of  the  mandarins,  whether  Chinese  or 
Tartars,  are  in  this  city  :Beither  larger  nor  better  built 
than  those  in  tbe  capital  cities  of  other  provinces.  Here 
are  no  public  edifices  corresponding  to  the  reputation 
of  so- celebrated  a  city,  excepting  its  gates,  which  are 
very  beautiful,  and  some  temples,  among  which  is  the' 
famous  porcelain  tower.  It  is  200  feet  high,  and  di- 
vided into  nine  stories  by  .plain  boards  within,  and 
without  by  cornices  and  small  projections  covered  with 
gveen  varnished  tikis.  There  is  an  ascent  of  40  steps 
to  the  first  story  y  between  each  of  the  others  there 
are  2i. 

The  breadth  and  depth  of  tbe  river  Yang-tse-kiang 
formerly  rendered  the  port  of  Nan-king  very  commo- 
dious }  hut  at  present  large  barks,  or  rather  Chinese 
junks,  never  enter  it:  whether  it  be  that  it  is  shut  up 
by  sand  banks,  or  that  the  entrance  of  it  has  been  for-> 
bid,  in  order  that  navigators  may  insensibly  lose  all 
knowledge  of  it. 

In  the  months  of  April  and  May  a  great  number  of 
excellent  fish  are  caught  in  this  river  near  the  city, 
which  are  sent  to  court ;  they  are  covered  with  ice, 
and  transported  in  that  manner  by  barkr  kept  entirely 
on  poi^ose.  Although  this  city  is  more  than  200 
letgnet  from  Peking,  tbe^e  boati  make  such  expedition, 

that 


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Kaa-kiag  tbat  they  arrive  there  in  eight  or  alne  dnys*    This  city, 
V,        though  the  capital  of  the  provtoqe,  has  under  its  par- 

2_'!^  1  ticolar  jurisdiction  only  eight  cities  of  the  third  class. 
The  number  of  its  inhabitants  is  said  to  be  1,000,000* 
without  comprehending  the  garrison  of  40,000  men. 
£.  Long.  119.  24.  N.  Lat.  32.  46. 

NANSIO,  an  island  of  the  Archipelaco,  a  little  to 
the  north  of  the  island  of  Santorino,  10  miles  in  cir- 
cumference ;  but>  has  no  harbour.  The  mountains  are 
nothing  but  bare  rocks,  and  there  are  not  springs  sufli* 
cient  to  water  the  fields.  There  is  a  vast  number  of 
partridges,  whose  eggs  they  destroy  every  year  to  pre- 
serve the  com,  and  yet  vast  numbers  of  them  are  always 
produced.  The  ruins  of  the  temple  of  Apollo  are  yet 
to  be  seen,  and  consist  chiefly  of  marble  columns. 
£.  Long*  26.  20.  N.  Lat.  36.  15. 
(  NANTES,  an  ancient,  rich,  and  very  considerable 
town  of  France,  in  the  department  of  Lower  Loire^ 
containing  73^879  inhabitants  in  1800.  It  is  situated 
on  the  north  side  of  the  Loire^  about  40  miles  from 
its  mouth,  at  the  confluence  of  the  Erdre.  It  is  the 
chief  place  of  the  department,  the  see*  of  a  bishop^ 
and  the  seat  of  several  tribunals.    The  atmosphere  is 

Sure,  and  the  surrounding  country  is  rich  and  beautiful* 
Mantes  is  a  town  of  extensive  trade.  Vessels  under 
xoo  tons  ascend  to  the  city ;  those  above  that  size  dis- 
charge'their  cargoes  at  Paimboeuf,  25  miles  below,  and 
haveihem  conveyed  up  in  boats.  The  manufactures 
are  cordage,  canvas,  linen,  calico,  leather,  refined  sugar, 
bottle-glass,  &c.  By  the  Loire,  this  town  has  an  ex« 
tensive  communication  with  the  interior  of  France  j  and 
supplies  Orleans  and  other  towns  with  foreign  com- 
modities. The  Spaniards  trade  here  in  wine,  fine  wool, 
iron,  silk,  eU,  oranges,  and  lemons ;  and  they  carry 
back  cloth,  stuBs,  corn,  and  hard  ware.  The  Dutch 
send  salt  fish,  and  ^  all  sorts  of  spices  ^  and  in  return 
have  wine  and  brandy.  The  Swedes  bring  copper ; 
and  the  Englisb,  lead^  tin,  &c.  It  was  in  this  place 
that -Henry  FV.  promulgated  the  famous  edict  in  1598, 
called  the  Edict  of  Nantes^  and  which  was  revoked  in 
1685.  Nantes  was  anciently,  like  almost  every  con- 
aiden^le  city  in  Europe,  very  strongly  fortified.  Peter 
de  Dreux,  one  of  the  dukes  of  Bretagne,  surrounded  it 
with  walls,  which  have  only  been  demolished  within 
these  few  years*  The  bridge  is  an  object  of  curiosity. 
It.  is  near  a  mile  and  a  half  in  length,  being  continued 
-across  all  the  little  islands  in  the  lioire,  from  north  to 
south.    W.  Long.  i.  45.  N.  Lat.  47.  13* 

NANTWICH.    See  Namftwich. 

NAF^A,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  po- 
lyadelphia  class  j  and  in  the  natural  method  ranking 
under  the  37th  order,  Columnifera*  See  BoTAMY 
Index. 

NAPHTHA,  an  inflammable  substance  of  the  bi«- 
tumiiious  kind.    See  Chemistrt  and  Mineralogy. 

NiJPHTHALI,  or  Nepbthali  (Josh,  xix*),  one 
of  the  tribes  of  Imel  j  having  Zabulon  on  the  south, 
Asher  on  the  west,  the  Jordan  on  ,the  east,  and  on  the 
north  Antilibanus. 

NAPIER,  John,  hanm  of  Merchiston  in  Scot- 
land, inventor  of  the  logarithms,  was  the  eldest  son  of 
Sir  Archibald  Naoiei^  of  Merchiston,  and  bom  in  the 
year  1550*  Having  given  early  diwoveries  of  great 
natural  parts,  his  fiSher  waff  careful  to  have  them  cul- 
tivated by  a  liberal  education*    After  going  through 


the  ordinary  courses  of  philosophy  at  the  university  of  ^^^^ 
6t  Andre w*8,  he  made  Uie  tour  of  France,  Italy,  aai  «— y^ 
Germany.      Upon  his  return  to  bis  native  coontry, 
his  literature  and  other  fine  accomplishments  soon  re&« 
dered  him  conspicuous,  and  might  have  raised  him  to 
the  highest  offices  of  the  state  :  but  declining  all  dvil 
employments,  and  the  bustle  of  the  court,  he  retired 
from  the  wprld  to  pursue  literary  researches,  in  which 
he  made  an  uncommon  progress,  so  as  te  have  favour* 
ed  mankind  with  sundry  useful  discoveries.    He  ap- 
plied himself  chiefly  to  the  study  of  mathematics  \  but 
at  the  same  time  did  not  neglect  that  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures.     In  both  these  he  hath  discovered  the  mwt 
extensive  knowledge  and  profound  penetration.    His 
essay  upon  the  book  of  the  Apocalypse,  indicates  tbe 
most  acute  investigation,  and  an  unconMuon  strength 
of  judgment  \  though  time  hath  discovered,  that  hit 
calculations  concerning  particular  events  hath  proceeded 
upon   fallacious  data.     This   work   has  been  printed 
abroad  in  several  languages  \  particularly  in  French  tt 
Rocheile  in  tbe  year  1593,  8vo,  announced  in  tbe  title, 
as  revised  by  himself.     Nothing,  saja  Lord  Bnchto, 
oould  be  more  agreeable  to  the  Rochellers  or  to  the 
Huguenots  of  France  at  this  time,  than  the  aothor^i 
annnnciatton  of  the  pope  as  antichrist,  which  in  this 
book  he  has  endeavoured  to  set  forth  with  mocb  zeal 
and  erudition.     But  what  has  principally  rendered  his 
name  famous,  was  his  great  and  fortunate  discovery  of 
logarithms  in  trigonometry,  by  which  the  ease  and  ex' 
pedition  in  calciUation  have  so  wonderfully  assisted  the 
science  of  astrononoy  and  the  «rts  of  practical  geometry 
and  navigation.     That  he  had  begun  about  theyetr 
1593  the  train  of  inquiry  which  led  him  to  that  great 
achievement  in  arithmetic,  appears  finom  a  letter  ts 
Crugerus  from  Kepler  in  the  year  1624;   whereia^ 
mentioning  the  Canon  Mutficus^  he  writes  thus ;  ^  Nihil 
autem  supra  Neperianam  rattonem  esse  puto :  etsi  Scs- 
tus  quidem  liter  is  ad  Tychonem,  anno  1564,  scripde 
jam  spem  fecit  Canonis  iiltus  mirifica  f^  whtch  sJhh 
sion  agrees  with  the  idle  story  mentioned  by  Wood  in 
his  AtheniB  Ojcon.  and  explains  it  in  a  way  perfectly 
consonant  to  the  rights  of  Napier  as  the  inventor. 

When   Napier  *  bad  communicated   to  Mr  Hcaiy 
Briggs,  mathematical  professor  in  Gresham  coUege* 
his  wonderful  canon  for  the  logarithms,  that  l«Amed 
proficssor  set  himself  to  apply  the  rules  in  lus  Lmtaim 
Nepeirca;  and  in  a  letter  to  Archbishop  Usher  in  the 
year  16 15,  he  writes  thus :  **  Napier,  baron  of  Mer- 
chiston, hath  set  my  head  and  bands  at  work  with  hii 
new  and  admirable  logarithms,     I  hope  to  see  bin 
this  summer,  if  it  please  God  j  for  I  nrver  saw  a  book 
which  pleased  me  better,  and  made  4Be  oaoie  wonder." 
The  following  passage  firom  the  liie  of  Lilly  tbe  aitie- 
loger  is  qnc^  by  Xord  Buchan,  as  giving  a  pkt»* 
resqne  riew  of  the  meeting  betwixt  Briggs  and  the  ii- 
vaitor  of  the  logarithms  at  Merchiston  near  Edinboigh. 
^  I  will  acquaint  you  (says  Lilhr)  with  one  memoiaUs 
story  related  unto  me  by  John  Mair,  an  excellent  a*- 
thematician  and  geometrician,  whom  I  oooerive  ysn 
remember.     He  was  servant  to  King  James  L  and 
Charles  I.    When  Merchiston  first  puhUahed  his  lo- 
garithms, Mr  Briggs,  then  reader  of  the  aetronooBy  lec- 
tures at  Gresham  college  in  London,  was  so  much  «^ 
prised  with  admiratiott  of  them,  that  he  could  haseai 
qnietness  in  himself  until  he  had  seen  Ihat  noiUeK'"* 


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mflfmpier 


ivliose  only  iDTCDtion  tbej  were :  lie  acquaints  John 
Marr  therewith,  who  went  into  Scotland  before  Mr 
Briggs,  purposely  to  be  there  wben  these  two  so  learned 
persons  shoold  meet*  Mr  Briggs  appoints  a  certain  day 
If  hen  to  meet  at  Edinburgh  \  b\it  ftiiling  thereof,  Mer« 
chtston  was  fearfbl  he  would  not  come.  •  It  happened 
one  day  a»  John  Marr  and  the  baron  Napier  were 
opeaking  of  Mr  Briggs  \  *  Ah,  John  (said  Merchiston), 
Mr  Briggs  will  not  come.*  At  the  very  instant  one 
knocks  at  the  gate :  John  Marr  hasted  down,  and  it 
proved  to  be  Mr  Briggs  to  his  great  contentment.  He 
brings  Mr  Briggs  up  to  the  lmron*»  chamber,  where 
almost  one  qnsrter  of  an  hour  was  spent,  each  behold- 
'  tng  the  other  with  admiration  before  one  word  was 
spoken.  At  last  Mr  Briggs  began  y  *  Sir,  I  have  un- 
dertaken this  long  journey  purposely  to  see  your  person, 
and  to  know  by  what  engine  of  wit  or  ingenuity  you 
cnme  first  to  think  of  tbb  roost  excellent  help  into  astro* 
tiomy,  viz.  the  logarithms  \  but.  Sir,  being  by  you 
found  out,  I  wonder  nobody  else  found  it  out  before, 
when  now  being  known  it  appears  so  easy.*  He  was 
nobly  entertained  by  Baron  Napier  \  and  every  summer 
"after  that,  during  the  laird*s  being  alive,  this  venerable 
man,  Mr  Briggs,  went  purposely  to  Scotland  to  visit 
•  Emrl  of  him  ♦.'* 

JSmckMn'9  There  is  a  passage  in  the  life  of  Tycho  Brabe  by 
.^ll^^'Jl^y  Gassendi,  which  may  mislead  an  attentive  reader  to 
suppose  that  Napter*s  method  had  been  explored  by 
Herwart  at  Hoenburg :  It  is  in  Gassendi*s  Observa* 
tions  on  a  Letter  from  TVcho  to  Herwart  of  the  last 
day  of  August  1599-  *'  Dixit  Hervartus  nihil  morari 
se  solvendi  cujosquam  trianffoli  difficoltatem;  solere 
se  enim  multiplicationum,  ac  divisionnm  vice  additiones 
solum,  subtractiones  93  usurpare  (quod  ut  fieri  posset, 
docuit  postmodum  sno  logarithmomm  Canone  Nepe* 
rusy*  But  Herwart  here  alludes  to  this  work  aftei^ 
waids  published  in  the  year  1610,  which  solves  tri^ 
angles  by  prostaphceresis  \  a  mode  totally  diflerent  from 
that  of  the  lonnthms. 

Kepler  dedicated  his  Epkcmeridei^  to  Napier,  which 
were  published  in  the  year  1617  ^  and  it  appears  from 
many  passages  in  his  letter  about  this  time,  that  be 
held  Napier  to  be  the  greatest  man  of  his  age  in  the 
particular  department  to  which  he  applied  his  abili- 
ties. **  And  indeed  (says  our  noble  biographer),  if 
we  consider  that  Napier's  discovery  Was  not  like  those 
of  Kepler  or  of  Newton,  connected  with  any  analogies 
or  coincidences  which  might  have  led  him  to  it,  but 
the  fruit  of  unassisted  reason  and  Msience,  we  shall  be 
vindicated  in  placing  him  in  one  of  the  highest  niches 
in  the  temple  of  Fame.  Kepler  had  made  many  un- 
successful attempts  to  discover  his  canon  ^r  the  pe- 
riodic motions  of  the  planets,  and  hit  upon  it  Ht  last, 
as  he  himself  candidly  owns,  on  the  15th  of  May  1618  ; 
and  Newton  applied  the  palpable  tendency  of  heavy, 
bodies  to  the  earth  to  the  system  of  the  universe  in  ge- 
neral \  but  Napier  sought  out  his  admirable  rules  by  a 
slcpw  scientific  progress,  arising  from  the  gradual  evoln- 
tioo  of  truth." 

The  last  literary  exertimi  of  this  eminent  person  was 
the  publication  of  his  Bahdohgf  and  Promptnarf  in  the 
year  1617,  which  he  dedicated  to  the  Chancellbr  Se- 
ton  $  and  soon  after  died  at  Merchiston  on  the  3d  of 
April  O.  S  of  the  same  vear,  in  the  68th  year  of  his 
Vol.  XIV.  Part  II.  + 


age  and  23d  of  his  happy  invention.«*Tlie  parttmimr 
titles  or  his  works  published  are :  i.  A  plain  disoevery 
of  the  Revelation  of  St  John.  2«  Mirifici  ipmtf  cmmmit 
construeHo  ei  icgariihmorum^  ad  nahtrtdes  ^somm  nu^ 
meroi  habitmdines.  3,  appendix  de  alia  atque  prmitan^ 
Hore  hgarithmorum  specie  caneiiiueiula^  in  qua  sciHcei 
unitas  hgarithmas  est,  4.  BAabdokgHe^  sen  nmnerati^ 
oms  per  virgaias^  Uhri  dinK  5,  PrcpesHumes  qveedam 
eminentiesimee^  adtrianguiaspAitrtva  mirafotuhate  re* 
solvenda.  To  which  may  be  added,  6.  His  Letter  to 
Anthony  BaCon  (the  original  of  which  is  in  the  archbi* 
shop*s  library  at  Lambeth),  entitled,  '^Secret  inventions, 
profitable  and  necessary  in  these  days  for  the  defence  of 
this  island,  and  withstanding  strangers  enemies  to  God^s 
troth  and  religion*/*  which  the  earl  of  Bucban  has 
caused  to  be  pnnted  in  the  Appendix  to  his  Account  of 
Napier*s  Writings.  This  letter  is  dated  June  3.  1596, 
about  which  time  it  appears  the  author  had  set  himself 
to  explore  his  logarithmic  canon. 

This  eminent  person  was  twice ,  married.  By  his 
first  wife,  who  was  a  daughter  of  Sir  James  Stirling  of 
Keir,  he  had  only  one  sou  named  Archibald,  who  suc- 
ceeded to  the  estate.  By  his  second  wife,  a  daughter 
of  Sir  James  Cbisholm  of  Cromlix,  he  had  a  numerous 
issue.— ^rc^fAa/(/  Napier^  the  only  son  of  the  first  mar- 
riage, was  a  person  of  fine  parts  and  learning.  Having 
more  a  torn  to  public  business  than  his  father  had,  he 
was  raised  to  be  a  privy  counsellor  by  Janes  VL  under 
whose  reign  he  also  held  the  offices  of  treasurer^epute, 
justice-clerk,  and  senator  of  the  college  of  justice.  By 
Charles  I.  he  was  raised  to  the  peerage  by  the  title  of 
Lwd  Napier^ 

Njpisk*s  Rods^  or  Sones^  an  instrument  invented  by 
Baron  Napier,  whereby  the  multiplication  and  diviaiou 
of  litrge  numbers  is  much  facilitated* 

As  to  the  Consirwctton  vf  Napier's  Bods :  Suppose  the 
common  table  of  multiplication  to  be  made  upon  a 
plate  of  metal,  ivory,  or  pasteboard,  and  then  con- 
ceive the  several  columns  (standing  downwards  from 
the  digits  on  the  head)  to  be  cut  asunder :  and  these 
are  what  we  caSl  Napier^s  rods  of  muUipHcaHon.  But 
then  there  must  be  a  good  number  of  eadi}  Jinr  as 
many  times  as  any  figure  is  in  the  multiplicand,  so 
many  rods  of  tbat  species  (i.  e.  with  that  figure  on  the 
top  of  it)  must  we  have }  though  six  rods  of  each  spe- 
cies will  be  sufficient  for  any  example  in  common  af- 
fairs :  there  must  be  also  as  many  rods  of  o*s. 

But  before  we  explain  the  way  of  using  these  rods, 
there  is  another  thing  to  be  known,  viz*  that  the  fi- 
gures on  every  rod  are  written  in  an  ocder  different 
from  that  in  the  table.  Tbus  the  little  square  space 
or  division  in  which  the  several  products  of  every  eu- 
lumn  are  written,  is  divided  into  two  parts  by  a  line 
across  from  the  upper  angle  on  the  right  to  the  lower 
on  the  left ;  and  if  the  product  is  a  digit,  it  is  set  la 
the  lower  division  $  if  it  has  two  places,  the  first  is  set  in 
the  lower,  and  the  second  in  the  upper  division ;  but 
the  spaces  on  the  top  are  not  divided  \  also  there  is  a 
rod  of  digits,  not  divided,  which  is  called  the  indent  rod^ 
and  of  this  we  need  but  one  single  rod.  See  the  figure 
of  all  the  different  rods,  and  the  index,  separate  from 
one  another,  in  Plate  CCCLXIX.  fig.  t. 

MuttipUeatisn  by  Napier^s  Bods*  First  lay  down  the 
index  rod  \  then  on  the  right  of  it  set  a  rod,  whose 

4G  top 


Nafieft 


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[    602    ] 


Ntipier.  top  is  the  figare  in  the  highest  place  of  the  multipli- 
cand ;  next  to  this  again,  set  the  rod  whose  top  is  the 
next  figure  of  the  multiplicand  ^  and  so  on  in  order  to 
the  firbt  figure*  Then  is  your  multiplicand  tabulated 
for  all  the  nine  digits  ^  for  in  the  same  line  of  squares 
standing  against  every  figure  of  the. index  rod,,  you  have 
the  product  of  that  figure  ^  and  therefore  you  have  no 
more  to  do  but  to  transfer  the  products  and  sum  them. 
But  in  taking  out  these  products  from  th^  rods,  the 
order  in  which  the  figures  stand  obliges  you  to  a  very 
easy  and  small  addition  7  thus,  begin  to  take  out  the 
figure  in  the  lower  part,  or  units  place,  of  the  square 
of  the  first  rod  on  the  right  'j  add  the  figure  on  the  up- 
per part  of  this  rod  to  that  iu  the  lower  part  of  the 
next,  and  so  on  ^  which  may  be  done  as  fast  as  you 
can  look  on  them.  To  make  this  practice  as  clear  as 
possible,  take  the  following  example. 

Example  ;  To  multiply  4768  by  385.  Having  set 
the  rods  together  for  the  number  4768  (fig.  2.)  against 
5  in  the  index,  I  find  this  number  by  adding  accord- 
ing to  the  rule,  -  -  23840 
Against  8,  this  number  ->  -  3S'44 
Against  3,  this  number             -             *           14304 

Total  product  ...  1835680 

1^0  make  the  use  of  the  rods  yet  more  regular  and  easy, 
tliey  arc  kept  in  a  flat  square  box,  whose  breadth  is 
that  of  ten  rods,  and  the  length  that  of  one  rod,  as 
thick  as  to  hold  six  (or  as  many  as  you  please),  the  ca- 
pacity of  the  box  being  divided  into  ten  cells,  for  the 
different  species  of  rods.  When  the  sods  ate  put  up  in 
the  box  (each  species  in  its  own  cell  distinguished 
by  the  first  figure  of  the  rod  set  before  it  on  the  face  of 
the  box  near  the  top),  as  much  of  every  rod  stands 
without  the  box  as  shows  the  first  figure  o£  that  rod.: 
also,  upon  one  of  the  flat  sides  without  and  near  the 
edge,  upon  the  left  band,  the  index  rod  is  fixed  ^  and 
along  the  foot  there  is  a  small  ledge  y  so  that  the  rods 
when  applied  are  laid  upon  this  side,  and  supported  by 
the  ledge,  which  makes  the  practice  very  easy  ^  but  in 
case  the  multiplicand  should  have  more  tlian  nine  places, 
that  upper  face  of  the  box  may  be  made  br-oadcr.  Some 
make  the  rods  with  four  different  faces,  and  figuces  on 
each  for  different  purposes. 

Division  by  Napier* s  Rods*  First  tabulate  your  di- 
visor 'y  tlien  you  have  it  multiplied  by  all  the  digits,  out 
of  which  yon  may.  choose  such  convenient  divisors  as 
will  be  next  less  to  tlic  figures  in  tlie  dividend,  and 
write  the  index  answering  m  the  quotient,  and  so  con- 
tinuatiy  till  the  work  is  done  Thus  21797.88,  divided 
by.  61 23,  gives  in  the  quotient  $$6% 

Having  tabulated  .the  divisor  6<J23,  you  see  that 
6123  cannot  be  had  in  2179^^.  therefore  take  five 
places,  and  on  the  rods  find  a  number  that  is  equal  or 
next  less  to  21797,  which  is  18369  j  that  is,  3  times 
the  divisor  ^  wherefore  set  3  in  the  quotient,  and  sub- 
tract 18369. from  the  figures  above,  and  there  will  re- 
main 3428 ;  to  which  add  8,  the  next  figure  of  the  di- 
vidend, and' seek  again  on  the  rods  for  it,  or  the  next 
less,  which  you  will  find  to-be  five  times  ^  therefore  set 
5  in  the  quotient,  and  sobtiact  30615  from  34288,  and 
diere  will  remain  3673  }  to  which  add  8,  the  last  figure 
i|i  the  dividend,  and  finding  it  to  be  just  six  tiroes  the 
divisor^  set  six  in  the  quotient,. 


NAP 

6123)2179788(356 
18369., 

34288 
30615 


36738 
36738 


NAPLES,  a  kingdom  of  Italy,-  comprehending  tLc 
ancient  countries  of  Samnium,  Campania,  Apulia,  aad 
Magna  Graecia.  It  is  bounded  on  all  sides  by  the  Me< 
diterraoean  ^  and  Adriatic,  except  on  the  north  east, 
where  it  terminates  on  the  Ecclesiaetical  state.  ltd 
greatest  length  from  south-east  to  north-west  is  about 
280  English  miles  ;  and  its  breadth  from  nortb-€as>t  to 
south-west,  from  96  to  1 2o. 

The  ancient  history  of  this  country  faiU  under  the 
articles  Rome  and  Itajly  j   the   pre«>eut  ttutc  0:  it,  ai 
well  as  of  the  rest  of  Italy,  is  owing  to   the  ccm^uesti 
of  Charlemagne^     \N  hen   that    monarch    put   ud  ei.d 
to  the  kingdom  of  the  Lombards,  he  obliged  the  dukes 
.of  Friuli,  Spoletto,   and  Bencvento,    to    ackncwkdge 
him  as  king  of  Italy  ^  but  allowed  them  to  exercise  the 
same  power  and  authority  which  they  Lad  enjoyed  ce- 
fore  hU  conquest.    Of  these  three  dukedoms  BeoeTcnto 
waaby  far  the  mobt  powerful  and  ei tensive,  as  it  coiD-£x*attf 
•prehended  almost  al  1  the  pi^esent  kingdom  of  Naples ;  thr  ^ 
that  part  of  Farther  Calabria  beyond  the  rivers  Savutoo^ ^*' 
and  Feto,.  a  few  maritime  cities  in  Hither  Calabiia,^*''^ 
with  the  city  of  Acripoli,  and  tlie  promontory  in  its 
neighbourhood  called  Capo  di  Licosa ; '  and  lastly,  the 
dukedoms  of  Gaeta,  Naples,  and  Amalfi,  which  were 
very  inconsiderable,  and  extended  along  the  shore  only 
about  loa  miles,  and  were  interrupted  by  the  Gastil* 
date  or  county  of  Capua.  1 

.  Thb  flourishing  and  extensive  dukedom  was  at  tbisAivclit 
time  governed'  by  Arechis,  who  had  married  one  of^' 
the  daughtcES  of  the  last  king  of  the  Lombards,  u^^^ 
had  submitted)  and  taken  die  oath  of  allegiance  to  tbe^];,^ 
emperor  Charles.  However,  a  few  years  after,  kci 
renounced  his  allegiance  to  the  Franks,  declared  bioi- 
self  an  independent  .soveroign,  and  waa  acknowledged 
as  such  by  all  the  inhabitants  of  liis  docbv.  To 
strengthen  himself  against  Pepin  king  of  Itwy,  vbo 
resided  at  Ravenna,  he  enlarged  and  fortified  the 
city  of  Benevento,  and-  likewise  built  Salerno  oa 
the  sea  coast,  surrounding  it  with  a  veiy  strong  and 
high  wall.  He  engaged  in  several  wars  with  the 
Greeks,  whom  he  sometimes  obliged  to  give  hiia 
hostagCH  *y  but  having  invaded  the  territories  of  the 
pope,  whom  Fepin  could  not  assist,  Charlemagae  vai 
prevailed  on  to  returi^  to  Italy.  Arechis^  unable  to 
oppose  such  a  formidable  enemy,  sent  his  eldest  mo, 
Romuald,  to  Rome,  with  an  ofler  of  aubmfssien :  bot, 
,at  the  instigation  of  the  pope,  Charles  refused  the 
,  offer,  and  detained  his  son  prisoner  j  after  which  he  ra- 
vaged the  country,  and  made  himself  master  of  Capot. 
Other  deputies,  however,  pioved  more  success^}  aod, 
in  the  jbear  787,  a  peace  was  eoncluded  on.  thecr  cod* 
ditions.:  That  Arechis  and  the  Beneventans  sfaoold  rf- 
new  their  allegiance  to  the  Franks)  that  be  should  pay  a 
]rearly  tribute  to  Pepin ;  deliver  an  all  kia  txraavt}  aid 


NAP 


t    66.^    1 


NAP 


KaplM. 


BahBUti. 

4 
Revolu  a 

lecoad 

tiae. 


^illMWld 


or  Mwte 
il  to  the 


gave  Ills  Mk  Grimoald  and  bis  daughter  Adclgisa,  trith 
twelve  others,  as  hostages  for  his  fidelity  :  however,  af- 
ter many  entreaties,  Adclgisa  was  restored  to  her  father. 
*  Charles  had  no  sooner  left  Italy,  than  Arcchis  for- 
got all  his  engagements,  and  began  to  negociate  with 
Irene,  empress  of  Constantinople,  and  her  son  Con« 
stantine,  for  expelling  the  Franks  out  of  Italy.  For 
himself,  he  desired  the  honour  of  the  patriciate,  and  the 
dukedom  of  Naples  with'  all  its  dependencies  ;  and, 
in  retorn,  promised  to  acknowledge  the  Greek  empe- 
ror as  his  sovereign,  a.id  to  live  after  the  manner  of 
the  Greeks.  He  required,  however^  to  be  supported 
by  a  Greek  army,  and  that  his  brother-in-law  Adal- 
gisus,  son  to  Dcsiderius  the  last  king  of  the  Lombards, 
should  be  sent  over  Into  Italy^  to  raise  a  party  among 
his  countrymen.  Tliese  conditions'  wei^  readily  ac- 
cepted, on  condition  that  Prince  Rorouald  should  be 
sent  as  an  hostage  ^  ambassadors  were  sent  to  Naples 
ivith  the  ensigns  of  the  Patrician  order,  namely  the 
mantle  of  cloth  of  gold,  the  sword,  the  comb,  and  the 
sandals  :  but  before  the  ceremony  could  be  performed, 
Prince  Bomuald  died,  and  soon  after  him  his  father ; 
whose  death  was  supposed  to  have  been  hastened  by 
that  of  his  son. 

After  the  death  of  Arechis,  the  Beneventans  sent 
a  most  submissive  embassy  to  Charlemagne,  entreating 
him  to  send  them  Grimoald,  the  late  king^s  son,  and 
only  lawful  heir  to  his  crown  ;  threatening  at  the  same 
time  to  revolt  if  their  prince  was  denied  them.  Charles 
readily  granted  their  request,  and  allowed  Grimoald 
to  depart,  after  he  had  agreed  to  the  following  con*- 
ditions,  viz.  That  he  should  oblige  tlie  Lombards  to 
shave  their  beards  j  that,  in  writings,  and  on  money, 
the  name  of  the  king  should  be  put  before  that  of  the 
prince  \  and  that  he  should  cause  the  walls  of  Salerno^ 
Acerenza,  and  Consia,  to  be  entirely  abolished.— 
The  new  king  was  received  by  bis  subjects  with  the 
utmost  joy :  and  for  some  time  continued  faithful  to 
his  engagements,  excepting  only  the  last  article,  which 
he  either  neglected  or  eluded.  So  far,  however,  was 
he  from  assisting  the  Greeks,  that  he  gave  notice  of 
their  machinations  to  Pepin  king  of  Italy  ;  raised  an 
army  to  oppose  his  uncle  Adalgisus  ^  and  being  join« 
ed  by  Hildebrand  duke  of  Spoletto,  and  Vinigise  the 
general  of  Pepin,  he  attacked  the  Greeks  in  Calabria 
soon  after  they  had  landed,  entirely  defeated  and  took 
his  uncle  prisoner,  and,  as  is  said,  put  him  to  a  cruel 
death.  Yet  in  a  short  time  Grimoald  contracted  an 
alliance  with  the  Greek  emperor  by  marrying  his  niece 
Wanzia  ^  and  in  the  fifth  year  of  his  reign  a  war 
broke  out  between  him  and  Pepin,  which  continued 
for  twelve  years  ;  at  the  end  of  which  time  a  truce  was 
concluded.  Grimoald  survived  -this  pacification  only 
three  years,  and  was  succeeded  by  his  treasurer  Gri*- 
nioald  II.  who  submitted  to  Charlemagne  after  the 
death  of  Pepin ;  and  from  thb  time  the  Beneventans 
\rcre  looked  upon  as  tributaries  of  the  western  emperors* 
As  yet,  however,  the  city  of  Naples  did  not  own  alle- 
giance to  the  dukes  of  Benevento,  but  was  held  by  the 
eastern  emperors  ^  and  frequent  wars  took  place  be- 
tween the  Beneventans  and  Neapolitans.  This  hap- 
pened to  be  the  case  when  Grimoald  II.  ascended  thfi 
throne.  He  concluded  a  peace  with  them  *,  which, 
liowever,  was  of  no  long  continuance ;  for  Theodore, 
|;ovemor  of  Naples,   having  granted   protections  te 

i 


Dauferius  a  noble  Befteventan,  who  had  been  c6nceme^  N«|>ieik 
in  a  conspiracy  against  his  prince,  Grimoald  marched  '  ■  V  '  ■  "^ 
against  the  city  of  Naples,  and  invested  it  by  sea  and 
land.  Tbeodoi-e  still  refused  to  deliver  up  the  traitor^ 
and  a  general  engagement  both  by  land  and  sea  wa« 
the  consequence  ^  in  which  the  Neapolitans  were  dc- 
foated  with  .so  gi-eat  slaughter,  that  the  sea  \vas  stain- 
ed with  their  blood  for  more  than  seven  days.  Theodore 
then  consented  to  deliver  up  Dauferius,  with  8o30 
crowns  for  the  expence  of  the  war  ^  and  Grimoald  not 
only  pardoned  Dauferius,  but  received  him  into  favour: 
7he  traitor^  however,  reflecting  on  the  hcinousncss 
of  his  crime,  was  seized  with  remorse ;  and  went  a 
pilgrimage  to  the  holy  land,  carrying  a  large  stone  in 
bis  mouth,  by  way  of  penance,  which  he  never  took  out 
but  at  his  meals.  «  5 

In  the  year  821,  Grimoald  was  murdered  by  Ra- '^  •nur^er* 
delchis  count  of  Consia,  and  Sico  Gastald  of  Aceienza,*****"^  f"** 
the   latter   of  whom  succeeded    to    the    dukedom   ofgj^^,*^   ^ 
Benevento.     Radelchis  being  soon   after  seized  with 
r»morsc,  became  a  monk ;  while  Sico  associated  his 
son  Sicardo  with  him  in  the  government ',  atod  both, 
being  of  an  ambitious  and  restless  disposition^,  sought 
a, pretence  for  attacking  the  Neapolitans.     This  Mas  i^aplls  b6> 
soon  found,  and  the  city  v^s  invested  by  sea  and  land-ucged  by 
The  walls  were  furiously  battered  ^  and   part  of  thciu^^^<>'> 
being  beat  down,  Sico  prepared  for  a  general  assault. ' 
Stephen,  at  that  time  duke  of  Naples,  pretended  to 
submit  (  but,  that  he  might  prevent  the  city  from  be- 
ing pillaged,  entreated   Sico  to  put  off  his  entry  tiH 
the  morning,  and  in  the  mean  time  sent  out  his  mo- 
ther and  his  two  children  as  hostages.     Sico  consented 
to  his  request^  but  next  morning  found  the  breach 
built  up,  and  the  Neapolitans  prepared  for  their  de- 
fence.    Exasperated  at  their  ]ierfidy,  he  renewed  his 
attacks  With  vigour,  but  without  any  success ;  the  be- 
sieged defending  themselves  with  the  utmost  obstinacy. 
At  last,  perceiving  that  they  should  not   be  able   to 
hold  out  much  longer,  they  consented  to  a  peace  on 
the   following  conditions,  viz.  That   the   Neapolitans 
should  pay  an  annual  tribute  to  the  princes  of  Bene- 
vento, and  consent  of  the  transporting  of  the  body  of 
St  Januarius   from    bis   church  without  the  walls  nf 
Naples  to  Benevento.   These  conditions  being  ratified^ 
Sico  returned  with  great  honour  to  Benevento;  but 
soon  after  renewed  the  war,  under  pretence  that  the 
Neapolitans  had  neglected  to  pay  the  stipulated  sum ; 
and  hostilities  continued  till  his  deatli,  which  happened 
in  833.  « 

Sico  was  succeeded  in  the  government  of  Benevento  ^"^  ^y  ^ 
by  bis  son  Sicardo,  who  had  married  the  daugliter  of ^.®*^*f^ 
Dauferius  ;  and  being  influenced  by  the  evil  counsels  * 
of  Roffrid  his  wife^s  brother,  oppressed  his  subjects  to 
such  a  degree  that  they  conspired  against  his  life.  He 
besieged  Naples  with  a  powerful  army,  and  took  pos- 
session of  Acerra  and  Atella,  both  of  which  he  forti- 
fied. But  Bonos,  the  Neapolitan  duke,  defended  him* 
self  so  vigorously,  that  the  Beneventans  were  obliged 
to  retire,  and  even  to  abandon  Acerra  and  Atella,  the 
fortifications  of  whith  were  immediately  demolished. 
At  last  Sicardo  agreed  to  a  peace  for  five  years,  on 
the  intercession  of  Lothaire,  emperor  and  king  of  Italy  j 
but  his  chief  motive  was  thought  to  have  been  the  fear 
of  the  Saracens,  whom  the  duke  of  Naples  had  called 
over  from  Africa  to  his  assistance }  for  no  sooner  were 

4  G  2  the^v 


NAP 


C    604    1 


NAP 


Kftplet. 


The  Sara, 
cens  called 
in  by  the 
dqke  of 
Naples. 


10 
Sicardo 
murdered 
bv  Radel- 
enis,  which 
brings  on 
a  civil  war. 


IX 

The|irin> 
uipality  di' 
vided. 


tbey  sent  back  than  Sicardo  attempted  to  delay  the 
conclusion  of  the  treaty  ^  hot  the  emperor  interposing 
his  authority^  a  peace  was  concladed  in  the  year  836, 
after  the  war  had  continued,  with  very  little  intermis- 
sion, for  16  years. 

Soon  after  the  conclusion  of  this  peace,  the  Saracens 
landed  at  Brindisi ',  and  having  made  them^ielves  masters 
of  the  place,  ravaged  all  the  neighbouring  country. 
Sicardo  marched  against  them  witb  a  numerous  army  > 
hut  the  Saracens  having  dug  a  great  number  of  ditches 
which  they  slightly  covered  over,  found  means  to  draw 
the  Beneventans  tn  among  tJiem,  whereby  they  w^re 
repulsed  with  great  loss.  However,  Sicardo,  having 
reinforced  bis  army,  marched  again  to  attack  them  j 
hut  the  Saracens,  despairing  of  success,  pillaged  and 
burnt  Brindisi,  and  then  retired  with  their  booty,  and 
a  great  many  captives  to  Sicily.  Sicardo,  then,  with- 
out any  apparent  provocation,  attacked  the  city  of- 
Amalfi,  levelled  its  walls  with-  the  ground,  carried  off 
all  its  wealth,  and  the  body  of  its  tutelar  saint  Tri- 
phomen.  A  gneat  many  of  the  inhabitants  were 
transported  to  Salerno }  and  by  promoting  alliances 
between  the  inhabitanta  of  both  pbces,  he  endeavoured 
to  nni^  Amalfi  to  his  own  principality  as  firmly  as- 
possible. 

During  all  these  transactions,  Sicardo  had  tyran^ 
nized  over  his  subjects  in  such  a  manner,  that  at  last  he 
became  intolerable.  Among  other  acts  of  injustice, 
he  imprisoned  his  own  brother  Siconolphusj  com- 
pelled bim  to  turn  priest;  and  afterwards  sent  him 
bound  to  Tarento,  where  be  caused  him  to  be  shut  up 
in  an  old  tower  that  had  been  built  for  a  cistern.  By 
such  acts  of  tyranny  his  nobles  were  provoked  to  con- 
spire against  him  ^  and  in  the  year  839  he  was  mur- 
dered in  his  tent. 

On  the  de^h  of  Sicardo,  Radelchis,  bis  secretary 
or  treasurer,  was  unanimously  elected  princ^  of  Bene- 
vcnto ;  but  Siconolpbus,  the  last  king^s  brother,  hav- 
ing regained  his  liberty,  formed  a  great  party  against 
the  new  prince.  Radelchis  did  not  fail  to  oppose 
him  with  a  formidable  army  ^  and  a  roost-  ruinous  civil 
war  ensued.  Both  parties  by  turns  called  in  the  Sara- 
cens ^  and  these  treaolierons  allies  acted  sometimes 
against  one,  and  sometimes  against  the  others  or, 
turned  their  arms  against  both,  as  seamed  most  suit- 
able to  their  own  interest.  Thus  the  war  continued 
with  the  otmost  animosity  for  12  years,  during  which 
time  the  principality  was  almost  entirely  ruined  ^  tiU 
at  last  the  emperor  Lewis  interposed,  and  obi  iced  the 
competitors  to  agree  to  a  partition  of  the  principality. 
By  this  treaty!,  Radelchis  promised  to  acknowledge 
Siconolpbus  and  his  successors  as  lawful  princes  of  Uie 
principality  of  Salerno,  which  was  declared  to  contain 
Tarento,  Latiano,  Cassano,  Cossenzoi  Laino,  Luca- 
dia,  Consia,  Montella,  Rota,  Salerno,  Sai-no,  Cirate*- 
Furctilb,  Capua,  Feano,  Sora,  and  the  half  of 


num. 


the  Gastaldate  of  Acerenza,  where  it  joins  Latiano 
and  Consia.  The  boundary  betwixt  Benevento  and 
Capua  was  fixed  at  St  Angelo  ad  Cerros  ;  Alii  Fere- 
grini  was  made  the  boundary  betwixt  Benevento  and 
Salerno,  and  Staffilo  betwixt  Benevento  and  Connia. 
The  monasteries  of  Monte  Cassino  and  St  Vincent 
were  declared  to  be  immediately  under  the  protection 
of  the  emperor :  both  princes  stipulated  that  no  hosti- 
lities should  be  comadtted  by  either  against  the  sub- 


jects of  each  other ;  and  promised  to  job  their  knn  fajfa, 
in  order  to  drive  out  the  Saracens.  Soon  after  tlus^"*"^ 
pacification,  however,  both  Radelchis  and  ^conolpbin 
died  'f  the  Ibrmcr  appointing  his  son  Badelganos, 
qr  Radelcar,  to  succeed  him  ^  and  the  latter  leaving 
an  infant  son,  Sico,  to  the  care  of  hut  godfather, 
Peter.  ,^ 

The  war  with  the  Saracens  proved  very  on>occeai.i?M^^ 
ful :  neither  the  united  efibrts  of  the  princes,. nor  the^w 
assistance  of  the  enj^peror  Lewis  himself^  being  able  to^^ 
expel  the  infidels-^  and  in  854,  Adelgise  the  second' 
son   of  Radelchis,   who  'had  now  succeeded,  oa  the 
d'^ath  of  his  brother  Radelcar,  to  the  principality  of 
Benevento,  was  obliged  to  pay  them  an  anonal  soh- 
sidy.     Two  years  after,  Latido,  count  of  Caput,  re- 
volted from  tbc  prince  of  «Salerno,   and  conld  not  be 
rechiced.     In  the  mean  time,  Sico,  the  lawful  prince 
of  Salerno,  had  been  poisoned  by  Count  Lando,  aaii 
the  principality,  usurped  by..  Ademarius,   the  son  of 
Peter  above  mentioned;  but  in. 861,  Ademarins  hinnelf 
was  seized  and  imprisoned  by  Gauferios,  the.  son  of 
Dauferius  formerly  mentioned.     This  waa  occasioned 
by  his  cruelty  and  rapacionsness,.  which  entirely  alie- 
nated the  hearts  of  his  subjects  frOni  him,  and  eocoor- 
aged  Gauferius  to  become  the  head  of  the  conspirators. 
Ihe  Saracens  in  the.  mean   time   coajmitted  terrible 
ravages  throughout  the  Bcneventan  territories  y  which 
at  last  obliged  Adelgise  to  enter  into  an  alliance  with 
Gauferius,  and  both  together  sent  a  most  hnrobk  em. 
bassy  to  the  emperor  Lewis,  requesting  him  to  take 
them  under  his  protection.     About  the  same  time  aa 
embassy  arrived  from  Constantinople,  proposing  a  junc- 
tion of  the  forces  of  the  eastern  ami  western  enpiitf 
against  the  infidels  y  upon  which  Lewis  gave  orders  ftr 
assembling  a  formidable  army.     But  in  the  mean  tiait 
Adelgise   fell   off  from  his  alliance,  aqd  made  peace 
with  the  Saracens ;  nay^  according  to  some,  he  ea- 
couraged  them  in  their  incurhions,  and  it  was  at  his 
desire  that  tbey  invaded  the  duchy  of  Capua,  and  aAe^ 
wards  that  of  Naples,  which  they  ravaged  in  a  mostk 
barbarous  manner.     The  Neapolitans,  in  conjunctioa 
with  the  duke  of  Spoletto  and  the  count  of  Marsi,  ea- 
deavoured   to  oppose  them  y  but  being  defeated,  the 
Saracens  continued  their  ravages  with  redoubled  fiuy, 
and  retired  to  Ban,  which  was  their  capital  city,  witb 
an  immense  booty. 

In  866,  Lewis  arrived  at  Sora  with  his  army:  aa^ 
having  marehed  to  Capua,  was  there  joined  byLas- 
dulph,  the  bishop  and  count,  with  a  body  of  Capaans : 
but  Landulph  soon  after  persuading  his  coontrymeo  t* 
desert,  Lewis  marched  against  that  city,  which  betook 
after  a  siege  of  three  months,  and  aloioot  totally  Je* 
stroyed.  In  the  end  of  the  year  he  was  joined  by 
Gauferius  with  his  quota  of  troops,  having  ordered  tbo 
eyes  of  Arderoarins  to  be  put  out  in  his  absence.  Lewi» 
confirmed  him  in  the  principality,  and  marched  with 
his  array  to  Benevento,  where  Adelgise  received  hia 
with  great  respect.  Having  reduced  some  incoosi^ 
able  places  belonging  to  the  Saracens,  Lewis  aooo  after 
invested  Bari  >  but  as  the  Saracens  received  oontinaal 
supplies  from  their  countrymen  settled  in  Sicily,  aai 
besides  were  protected  by  the  Neapolitans,  he  cowd 
not  reduce  the  place  till  the  year  871,  thongh  hr  had 
received  considerable  asaistance  from  his  brother IwO- 
rius,  and  the  Greek  emperor  had  s&ii  him  a  Itet  or 

20Q 


r 


t.^ 


a«Ucd. 


tat» 


NAP  r  ^05 

Iffaylet*  aoo-CAiL  Tlie  expabion  of  the  Saracens  wat  conqilet- 
ed  the  same  year  by  the  taking  of  Tareoto  ^  after  which 
the  emperor  returned  with  great  glory  to  BeneventO| 
resolying  next  to  carry  his  arms  into  Sicily,  and  expel 
the  iofideb  from  thence  also.  But  his  future  schemes 
•f  conquest  were  frustrated  hy  a  quarrel  between  him 
and  Adelgise.  The  latter,  pretending  to  have  been  in- 
sulted by  the  empress,  and  oppressed  by  the  French, 
seized  the  emperor  himself,  and  kept  him  prisoner  for 
14  40  days.  His  imprisonment  would  probably  have  been 
of  much  longer  continuance,  had  not  a  body  of  Sara- 
cens arrived  from  Africa,  who,  being  joined  by  such  oi 
their  countrymen  as  had  concealed  themselves  in  Italy, 
laid  siege  to  Salerno  with  an  army  of  30,000  men,  ra- 
vaging the  neighbouring  country  at  the  same  time  with 
the  utmost  barbarity.  By  this  qew  invasion  Adelgiae. 
was  so  much  akrmed,  that  he  set  the  emperor  at  liber- 
ty, but  first  obliged  him  to  swear  that  he  would  not  re- 
venge the  insult  that  had  been  oUcred  him,  and  that  he 
would  never  return  to  Benevento.  Lewis  having  then 
joined  his-forces  to  those  of  the  prince  of  Salerno,  soon 
obliged  the  SiMracens  to  raise  the  siege  of  Salerno ) 
but  though  thfj  were  prevented  from  taking  that 
city,  they  entirely  destroyed  the  inhabitants  of  Cala- 
bria, leaving  it,  according  to  the  expression  of  one  of 
the  historians  of  that  time,  '*  as  desolate  as  it  was  at  the 
fcod/» 

In  the  year  873,  Lewis  being  absolved  from  his  oatb^ 
by  the  pope,  went  to  Benevento,  and  was  reconciled 
to  Adelgise  j  but  soon  after  this  reconciliation  he  died^ 
and  the  Saracens  continned  their  ravages  to  such  a.de- 
^e  that  the  inhabitants  of  Biiri  were  constrained  to 
deliver  up  their  city  to  the  Greeks.     At  the  same  jime 
the  Salemitans,  Neapolitans,   Cajetans,  and   Amalfi* 
tans,  ha?ing  made  peace  with  the  Saracens,  were  com- 
pelled to  agree  to  their  proposal  of  invading  the  terri- 
tories of  the  Roman  pontiff.      His  holiness  exerted- 
15        hiaisclf  to  the  utmost,  both  with  spiritual  and  tempo-. 
The  pope    ral  weapons,  in  order  to  defend  his  right ',  but  was  at 
1?^*^?^?     last  reduced  to  the  necessity  .of  becomiQg  a  tributary 
to  the  infidels,  and  promising  to  pay  them  a  large  sum 
annually* 

la  the  mean  time,  all  Italy  was  thrown  into  the 
greatest  confusion  by  the  death  of  Charles  the  Bald, 
who  died  of  poison  at  Pavia,  as  he  was  coming  to  tho 
pope*S  assistance.  Sergius  duke  of  Naples  continued 
a  firm  fnend  to  the  infidels  '^  nor  could  be  be  detached 
horn  their  interests  even  by  the  thunder  of  a  papal  ex- 
communication:  but  unluckily  happening  to  fall  into 
the  hands  of  his  brother  Athanasius  bishop  of  Naples, . 
the  zeal  of  that  prelate  prompted  him  to  pot  out  his 
eyes,  and  send  him  a  close  prisoner  to  Rome  *,  for  which 
the  highest  encomiums  were  bestowed  on  him.  by  the 
holy  father. 

In  876,  Adelgise  was  murdered  by  two  of  his  -ne- 
phews ;  one  of  whom,  by  name  Gaidens^  seized  the 
principalitjr.  About  the  same  time  Landulph  bishop 
of  Capoa  dying,  a  civil  war  ensued  among  his  children, 
Chongh  their  father's  dominions  had  been  divided  a- 
mong  them  according  to  his  wi&h  The  princes  of  Sa- 
Jemo  and  Benevento,  the  duke  of  Spoletto,  and-Gre- 

Sory  the  Greek  governor  of  Bari  and  Otranto,  took 
ifferent  sides  in  the  quarrel,  as .  they  thought  most ' 
proper }  and  to  complete  the  confusion,  the  new  bishop 
was  expelled^  and  his  brother,  though  a  layman,  cho- 


3  N    A    I*" 

sen  to  that  office,  and  even  consecrated  by  the  p^f    Naples, 
who  wrote  to  Gauferius,  forbidding  him  to  attack  Ca-  ^ 
poa  under  pain  of  excommunication.    But  thongh  Gau- 
ferius was,  in  general,  obedient  to  the  pope's  commands, . 
he  proved  refractoiy  in  this  particular,  and  laid  siege  to 
Capua  for  two  years  successively. 

Thus  the  Capuan  territories  were  reduced  to  the 
most  miserable  situation  ^  being  obliged  to  maintain  at 
the  same  time  the  armies  of  the  prince  of  Benevento 
and  the  duke  of  Spoletto.     The  Saracens,  in  the  mean 
time,  took  the  opportunity  of  strengthening  themselves^ 
m  Italy  j  and.  Athanasius,  notwithstanding  the  great-^ 
•ommendations  he  had  received  .from  the  pope  for  put-- 
ting  out  his  brother's  eyen,  consented  to  eoter  into  an 
alliance  with-  them,  in  conjunction  with  whom  he  ra- 
vaged the  territories  of  the  pope,  as  well  as  these  of  Be- 
nevento and  Spoletto,  laundering  all  the  churches,  mo- 
nasteries, towns,  and  villages,  throuifh  which  they  pas« 
sed.     At  tlie  same  time  the  prince  of  Salerno  was  obli- 
ged to  grant  them  a  settlement  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  his  capital ;  the  duke  of  Gaeta  iuvited  them  to  his 
assistance,  being  oppressed  by  the  count  of  Capua }  and 
even  the  pope  himself  was  obliged  to  make  peace  with 
them,  and  to  grant  them  a  settlement  on  the  north  side 
of  the  Carigliano^  where  they  fortified  themselves,  and  . 
oentinued  for  more  than  40  years. 

To  put  a  stop  to  the  confusion  which  reigned  in-* 
Italy,  the  pope  now  thought  proper  >  to  -restore  the  bi- 
shop of  Capua,  who  had  been  expelled,  but  allowed  his 
brother  to  reside  in  the  city,  and  govern  one  half  of 
the  diocese  \  but  notwithstanding  this  partition,   tba 
civil  dissensions  continued  with  the  utmost  violence,  the- 
nearest  relations  murdering  or  banbhing  each  other, . 
according  as  the  fortune  of  the  one  or  the  other  pre- 
vailed.    Athanasius,  notwithstanding  all  the  pope's  re- 
monstrances, continued  his  alliance  with  the  Saracens } 
in  conjunction  with  whom  he  ravaged  the  territory  of . 
Benevento,  and  fomented  the  divisions  in  Capua,  in  ^ 
hopes  of  being  able  to  make  a  conquest  of  it.     At  last 
his  holiness  thought  proper  to  issue  a  sentenco.^f  ex- 
communication against  him:  but  this  attached  him  to «• 
the  Saracens  more  than  ever :  insomuch  that  he  sent 
to  Suchaim,  king  of  the  Saracens  in  Sicily,  desiring 
him  to  come  over  and  command  a  great  body  of  his 
countrymen  who  had  settled  at  .the  foot  of  Mount  Ve- 
suvius.    Suchaim  accepted  die  invitation,  and  immedif 
ately  turned  his  arms  a^inst  Atlianasius ',  allowing  his 
troops  to  live  at  discretion  in  the  territory  of  Naples, 
where  they  ravishedtthe  women,  and  plundered  the  in- 
habitants.    These  calamities  were,  by  the  superstitious 
Neapolitans,  imagined  to  be  a  consequence  of  the  sen- 
tence of  excommunication  ^   and  therefore  they  «used 
their  utmost  endeavours  to  persuade  the  prelate  to  con- 
clude a  league  with  some  Christian  prince,  and  renounce 
all  connexion  with  the  infidels.     In  thb  they  at  last 
proved  successful,  and  Athanasius  concluded  an  alliance 
with  Guaimarius  prince  of  Salerno  j  in  consequence  of 
which  the  Saracens  were  obliged  to  quit  the  Neapoli- 
tan territories,  and  retire  to  Agropoli.    Athanasius 
then  directed  his  force  against  Capua,  of  which  he  made 
himself  master  in  the  jrear  882.    The  Saracens,  how- 
ever, still  continued  their  incursions,  and  ravaged  several 
provinces  in  such  a  manner,  that  they  became  entirely 
desolate. 

These  confusions  continued  for  a  hmg  time.;  durinff 

which  . 


«-• 


l^aples 


16 


iUly. 


NAP  t    606 

tvliicti  tbe   Greeks  found   an  opportanity  of  making 

themselves  roasters  of  Benevento,  and  well  nigh  became 

masters  also  of  Salerno  ^  hut  in  thi^  they  failed  through 

the  treachery  of  the  bishop,  and  in  the  year  896  they 

^vere  totally  expelled  hy  the  bishop,  four  years  after 

they  had  become  masters  of  it.     In  915  the  Saracens 

TTbe  Sara-  received  such  an  overthrow  at  Carigliano,  that  scarce 

cens  almoRt  one  of  them  remained.     However,  a  new  body  soon  ar- 

•cntircLy  cat  rived  from  Africa,  and  infested  the  sea  coasts  for  some 

^"'  time  longer.     A  war  also  ensued  between  Landulph 

and  the  Greeks;  which  concluded  disadvantageously 

for  the  former,  who  was  obliged  to  submit  to  the  empe- 

Tor  of  Constantinople  in  943. 

In  961,  Otho  the  Great,  king  of  Germany,  invaded 
Italy  with  a  powerful  army  against  BercngHrius  III. 
and,  marching  to  Rome,  received  the  impeiial  crpwn 
from  the  hands  of  the  pope.  In  964,  he  erected  Ca- 
pua into  a  principality,  received  homage  from  the' 
other  princes  of  Lombardy,  and  formed  a  design  of  re* 
covering  Puglia  and  Calabria  from  the  Greeks.  But 
in  this  last  scheme  he  failed  *,  and  after  various  hostili- 
ties a  treaty  was  concluded,  and  the  young  princess 
Theophania  married  to  Otho^s  son,  afterwards  em- 
3>eror. 

All  this  time  the  Saracens  continued  their  incursions; 
and  the  Greeks  had  gained  ground  so  much,  that  they 
^vere  now  in  possession  of  two-thirds  of  the  present 
j^  kingdom  of  Naples  3  but  in  the  year  1002  or  1003,  the 
The  Nor-  Normans  first  began  to  be  remarkable  in  Italy.  They 
mans  first  lad,  about  a  century  before,  embraced  Christianity,  and 
^owa  in  become  very  zealous  in  all  the  superstitions  which  were 
then  practised.  They  were  particularly  zealous  in  visi- 
ting sacred  place?,  especially  Rome,  and  the  holy  se- 
pulchre at  Jerusalem ;  and  being  naturally  of  a  very 
martial  .disposition,  they  forced  through  great  bodies  of 
Greeks  and  Saracens  who  opposed  their  passage.  A- 
4>out  this  time  40,  or,  as  others  write,  ico,  of  these 
Normans,  returning  from  Jerusalem  by  sea,  landed  at 
Salerno  in  the  habit  of  pilgrims,  where  they  were  ho- 
nourably received  hy  Guaimarius.  During  their  resi- 
dence at  Salerno,  a  great  body  of  Saracens  landed,  and 
invested  the  city.  Guaimarius,  not  being  in  a  condi- 
tion to  oppose  the  invaders  by  force,  was  preparing  to 
pay  them  a  large  sum  of  monej,  which  they  demanded 
when  the  Normans  proposed  to  attack  them ;  and,  ha- 
ving got  arms  and  horses  from  the  prince,  they  engaged 
the  infidels  with  such  fury  and  bravery,  that'  they  en< 
tirely  defeated  them,  and  obliged  them  to  fly  to  their 
ships.  By  this  complete  victory  Guaimarius  was  filled 
with  such  admiration  of  the  valour  of  these  strangers, 
that  he  entreated  them  to  remain  in  his  country ;  ofier- 
ing  them  lands,  and  the  most  honourable  employ- 
ments :  but  not  being  able  to  prevail  with  them  to  stay 
in  Italy,  or  even  accept  of  his  presents ;  at  their  depar- 
ture he  sent  some  ambassadors  with  them  to  Norman cly^ 
in  vessels  loaded  with  exquisite  fruits,  rich  furniture  for 
horses,  &c.  in  order  to  allure  the  valiant  Normans  to 
leave  their  own  country.  This  kind  invitation  encou- 
raged a  Norman  chief,  named  Osmond  Drengot^  tt>  set- 
tle in  Italj  aboQt  the  year  X015 ;  having  killed  another 
lord  in  a  duel,  which  obliged  him  to  leave  his  own 
<;ountry,  in  order  to  avoid  the  resentment  of  his  sove- 
reign, Robert  duke  of  Normandy.  In  the  mean  time, 
the  city  of  Bari  had  revolted  from  the  Greeks,  and 
«cbos€ii  -one  Mcllo  for  their  leader,   whose  wife  and 


] 


NAP 


children  happened  soon  after  to  &11  into  tlie  hands  of  Ki|ici 
their  enemies,  and  weie  sent  prisoners  to  Constantinople.  *     v  -^ 
No  sooner,  therefore,  did  Mello  hear  of  the  aniva)  of^   '^ 
these  adventurers,  than  he  engaged  them  to  asnst  him ;  ^^ 
and  having  drawn  together  a  considerable  army,  defeat- ^jei^i^ 
ed  the  Greeks  with  great  slaughter,  and  obliged  themGcecki^ 
to  abandon  their  camp.     In  this  engagement  the  Nor- 
mans distinguished  themselves  bj  their  braveiy ;  and 
the  news  of  their  success  soon  brought  from  Nomao- 
dy    an    innumerable    multitude   of  their   coontrymen, 
with  their  wived  and  children.     By  this  reinforcement, 
Mello  gained  two  other  victories,  took  a  great  many 
towns,  and  obliged  the  Greeks  to  abandon  a  large 
territory ;  but,  m   1019,  they  were  utterly  defeated, 
and  every  thing  recovered  by  the  Greeks.     The  Grcdtbitmai 
general,  Bajanus,  continued  to  go  on  with  such  8or-l«it4dn:> 
prising  success,  that  he  almost  entirely  re-established*^^*'** 
the  attairs  of  his  country meil  in  Italy,  and  made  a  dis- 
tinct province  of  the  western  part  of  Puglia,  which 
he  called  Capatatiata,  and  which  to  this  day  retains  the 
name  of  Capitana/a,    His  great  progress  at  last  alarm- 
ed the  emperors  of  Germany';  and,  in  10 2 7,  Pandoi- 
phus  prince  of  Capua  made  himself  master  of  Naples ; 
but  was  obliged,  three  years  afterwards,  to  lemve  it,  by 
the  Normans,  who  built  the  city  of  Aversa,  whidi 
was  now  erected  into  a  county.    In  consequence  of  this 
piece  of  good  fortune,  great  numbers  of  Norman  ad- 
venturers migrated  into  Italy ;  among  whom  were  Wil- 
liam, Drogo,  and  Umbert,  three  of  the  sons  of  Tancrtd 
duke  of  Hautville ;  from  whose  posteritj  those  princes 
were  descended,  who  first  conquered  the  island  of  Sicily 
from  the  Saracens,  and  formed  the  present  kingdom  of 
Naples. 

In  1040,  the  Greek  emperor  Michael  Paleologo, 
in  order  to  secure  the  affection  of  his  fickle  subject^, 
undertook  the  conquest  of  Italy  from  the  Saracens, 
And  for  that  purpose  sent  a  general  named  MichaciMa-' 
niacus  into  Sicily.     This  commander,  hearing  of  the 
great  reputation  of  the  Normans,  sent  to  Guaunarins, 
prince  of  Salerno,  entreating  him  to  grant  him  some  ai 
those  warriors.     His  request  was  most  willingly  heark- 
ened to  by  the  prince  of  Salerno,  who,  to  encooragc 
the  Normans  to  engage  in  the  expedition,  promised 
them  some  additional  rewards  besides  the  emperoi^s  pay- 
William,  Drogo,    and   Umbert,  accordingly  marched      :: 
from  Salerno  with  300  of  their  countrymen ;  and,  pas-1Ve!ir 
sing  over  into  Sicily,  distinguished  themselves  roost  re-"*".'^ 
markably  in  the  conquest  of  that  island.     Maniacos  ac-^^^ 
knowled^:  d,  that  the  recovery  of  Messina  was  chieiy 
owing  to  their  valour ;  and  William  with  his  Normans 
gained  a  complete  victory  over  the  Saracens  before  Sy- 
racuse, where  he   killed  the  governor  of  the  city  ia 
single  combat.     Maniacus  made  himself  master  of  Sy- 
racuse, and  almost  entirely  reduced  the  whole  island ; 
but,  being  accused  of  treason,  was  next  year  carried 
prisoner  to  Constantinople.     His  successor  Doceanos, 
being  a  msn  of  no  abilities,  quickly  lo»t  the  whole 
island  except  Messina,  and  treated  bis  Norman  auxi- 
liaries with  the  utmost  contempt.     He  would  not  al- 
low them  any  share  of  the  booty  }  and  even  caused  one 
Ardoin,  a  noble  Lombard,  and  aasociate  and  intrqve- 
ter  of  the  Normans,  to  be  whipped  round  the  caap^ 
because  he  refused  to  part  with  tbe  horse  of  1^  Sancra 
whom  he  had  slain  in  single  combat.    The  conseqneaMf 
of  this  tyrannical  behavioqr  were  very  fiUal  ta  the 


NAP 


[    607    ] 


NAP 


pies. 


t 

con- 


Greeks.     Ardmn  soon  after  obtaloicd  kaye  to  retoni 
to  Italy  under  a  pretence  of  a  vow,  aod  all  the  Normana 
embarked  at  night  along  with  him  ^  but  instead  of  go- 
ing to  Rome,  Ardoin   went  iminediately  to  Aversa, 
where  be  persuaded  Count  Rainulphos,  sovereign  of 
that  province,  to  join  with  him  in  the  design  he  had 
formed   of  attacking  the  Greek  provinces   in   Italy, 
which  he  shol^ed  him  would  be  an  easy  conquest,  as 
the  inhabitants  submitted  with  great  reluctance  to  the 
Greeks,  and  the  provinces  were  at  that  tim6  almost  en* 
tirely  defenceless.    Kainulphos  approved  of  the  scheme, 
and  raised  300  soldiers,  whom  he  sent  under  1 2  offi- 
cers to  join  the  other  Normans  under  the  sons  of  Tan- 
crcd  'y  and  made  an  agreement  with  Ardoin,  that  the 
conquests  should  he  equal Iv  divided  among  the  chief 
leaders.     Their  first  enterprise  was  the  reduction  of 
MelBs,  one  of  the  strongest  cities  in  PugUa,   which 
presently  surrendered  y  and  they  increased  its  fortifica- 
tions so  much,  that  it  thenceforth  became  impregnable. 
Soon  after  this  they  made  themselves  mastei*s  oi  Veno- 
sa,    A^coli,  and  Lavclio,  with  very   little  opposition. 
Docoa>M>    alarmed   with   the  rapidity  of  their  con- 
qne:<ts,  iniiicdintely  left  Sicily,   and  marched  with  his 
army  into  Pucrjia,  where  lie  attaokod  the  invaders  near 
the  liver  Oliviento  ;  but  aUer  a  fierce  entrHgement,  he 
fvas    obliged    to  retire  witii    t-^Hisidenil^le  Juss.       The 
OrcekM  \vere  soon  after  defeated  a  s<  cond  time  at  Can- 
use  ;  and  in  a  third  engagement,  which  happened  near 
the  river  Ofanto«  the  army  of  Doceaaiis  was  entirely 
routed,  and  he  himself  obliged    to  fly  to   fiari.     On 
this  bad  success  Doceanus  was  ordered  to  return  to 
bis  command  in  Sicily,  and  another  general  was  sent 
with  an  army  into   Puglia.     This   new  commander, 
however,  had  no  better  success  than  his  predecessor  ^ 
for  his  army  was  entirely  defeated  in  an  engagement 
with  the  Normans,  and  he  himself  taken  prisoner.     A- 
lenulphus,  brother  to  one  of  the  princes  of  Benevento 
on  whom  the  Normans  had  conferred  the  chief  comr 
mand,  set  at  liberty  the  captive  general  without  con* 
suiting  them,  on   receiving   from   him  a  considerable 
stim  of  money.     With  this  the  Normans  were  so  much 
displeased  that  they  deprived  Atenulphus  of  his  com<- 
maod,  and  bestowed  it  on  Argyrus   son  to  the  late 
lif  ello,  who  had  escaped  from  Constantinople,  and  now 
assumed  the  title  of  duke  and  prince  of  Italy ^    Before 
this  time  also  Maniacus,  whom  we  have  formerly  men- 
tioned, had  returned  to  Italy  \  and  to  strike  the  great- 
er terror  into  the  revolted  cities,  had  executed  a  numr 
bcrjof  people  of  all  ages  and  sexes  with  great  inhuma- 
nity.   Soon  after  this  Maniacus  openly  rebelled  against 
the  Greek  emperor  Constantious,  and  prevailed  upon 
Ills   own  army  to  proclaim   him  emperor,   beginning 
hostilities  immediately  against  tbe  Greek  cities.     Ar- 
gyrus at  the  same  time  took.  Giovenazzo  and  besieged 
Ijnint,  and  soon  after  besieged  Maniacus  himself  in 
'Farento  \    hut   he,   being  afraid   of.  falling   into   the 
hands  of  the  Normans,  Hed  to  Otranto,  and  from  tlience 
^o  Bulgaria,  where  being  entirely  defeated  by  one  of  the 
^nsperor^s  generalsi  he  was  taken  prisoner,  and  bad  his 
Jaead  struck  off. 

The  Nornmns  having  now  conquered  the  greatest 
jiart  of  Puglia,  proceeded  to  make  a  division  of  their 
conquest,  in  which,  after  each  commander  had  got  his 
proper  share,  the  city  of  Melfi^  was  left  common  to  all, 

4  appiojuriated  as  a.  j^lace  foe  assembling  to  consult 


23 


in  all  their- 
cocqnettflk 


^bout  the  most  important  affairs  of  the  nation.  Argyras    Kapic* 
alone  was  neglected  in  this  divii>ion  \  but  he,  having 
gained  the  favour  of  the  emperor  by  expelling  the  re* 
bel  Maniacus. fiom  Italy,  was  by  him  created  duke  of 
Bari,  on  purpose  to  check  the  power  of  the  Normans, 
with  the  title  of  prince  and  duke  of  Vuglia*    The  Nprr 
mans,  however,  were  too  powerful  to  be  much  awed 
by  Argyrus,  and  behaved  with  great  insolence  to  tho 
neighbouring  princes  ;  but  as  they  could  not  be  expeU 
led  by  force,  and  were  confirmed  in  their  conquests  by 
Henry  IL  emperor  of  Geimany  in  1047,  the  Greek 
emperor  attempted  to  get  rid  of  them,  by  sending  Ar- 
gyrus with  large  sums  of  money  to  bribe  them  to  enter 
into  his  service  against  the  Persians.     But  they,  per- 
ceiving the  snare,  replied  that  they  were  resolved  not 
to  leave  Italy  unless  they  were  expelled  by  force :  upon 
which  Argyrus  made  use  of  the  same  money  in  bribing 
the  Fugiians  to  assassinate  these  invaders.  TbiA  brought  ^'^■'^  "^>iu* 
on  a  massacre,  in  which  greater  numbers  of  Normans  .l'JL 
perished  than  had  fallen  in  all  the  late  wars.     Argyrus  ga^f^.j^ 
attempted  to  take  advantage  of  the  confusion  produced 
by  this  massacre,  but  was  defeated  ^  after  which  he 
had  recourse  to  Pope  Leo,  beseeching  him  to  deliver    . 
Italy  from  these  cruel  tyrants :  but  this  scheme  proved 
still  more  unsuccessful  than  the  others  had  been  \  for  the 
pope  himi«elf  was  defeated  and  taken  prisoner  ^  and,  in        ^v 
consequence  of  the  respect  showed  him  by  the  Normans,  They  fu« 
granted,  them,,  as  a  fief  of  the  holy  see^  all  the  con-  confinned 
quests  they  had  made  or  should  make  in  Calabria  and  1^3^  ^^5  ?°?^ 
Dicily. 

Soon  after  this,  the  Norman  power  became  extreme^ 
ly  formidable  j  the  famous  Hobert  Guiscard  ascended 
the  throne  in  1056.     He  made  great --progress  in  the 
conquest  of  Calabria,  and.  reduced  most  of  the  cities 
which  held  out  for  the  Greeks  in  these  parts.     About 
the  same  time  the  counts  of  Capua  were  expelled  from 
tlieir  territory  y  and  the  abbot  Desiderius  mentions  his 
having  seen  the  children  o£  Landulphus  V.  the  last, 
count,   going   about  as'  vagabonds,   and   begging  for 
their  support.     The  pope  alarmed  by  these  conquests^ 
excommunicated  the  Normans  in  wholesale,  pretending 
that  they  had  seized  sofue  of  tlie  territories  belonging 
to  the   church  \    but  by  the  pretended  submission  of 
Robert,  he  not  only  was  persuaded  to  take  off  the  sea- 
tence  of  excommunication,  but  to  invest  him  with  the 
provinces   of  Apulia,   Calabria,   and   Sicily.      After 
this,   he   continued   die  war  against  the  Greeks  with 
great  success.     In  1071,  in  conjunction  with  hisbro-c.  g^^ 
ther  Roger,  he  conquered  the  island,  of  Sicily,    andqucij/^r 
gave  the  investiture  of  the  whole  island  to  him  witli  the  Roticrt 
title  of  county  resenting  to  himself  only  the  half  of  Pa-  C:aiKard4. 
lermo,  Messina,  and  the  valley  of  Demona.     The  like 
success  attended  his  arms  against  Salerno  in  ]  074  \  but 
after  this,  having  unadvisedly  taken  some  places  from 
the  pope,  he  again  fell  under  the  sentence  of  excommu- 
nication ^  yet  he  was  reconciled  to  him  in  1080,  and 
received  a  second  time  the  investiture  of  all  his  domi« 
nions.     The  next  year  he   undertook   an   expedition 
against  the  Greeks  ^  and  though  the  emperor  was  as-* 
sisted  by  a  Venetian  fleet,  Robert  made  himself  master 
of  the  island  of  Corfu,   reduced  Durazzo,   and  great 
part  of  Romania  ^  insomuch  that  by  the  success  of  his 
arms,  and  his  near  approach   to  Constantinople,  he 
struck  an  universal  terror  amone  the  Greeks.     But 
while  Robezt  was  thus  extending  his  conquests,  he  was 

alarmedi 


coa»- 


NAP  [    608    ]  NAP 

Ht[fles.    ftlarmed  hf  the  news  of  a  formidable  rebelKmi  in  Italy,  nost  powerfnl  of  the'^inaleooiitento'  for  a  xevdution  10 

and  that  tbe  emperor  Henry  bad  taken  the  city  of  favour  of  Constantia,  though  she  ^derired  her  ngbt  oilj 

Rome,  and  closely  shut  op  the  pope  in  tbe  castle  of  St  as  being  the  daoghter  of  a  former  osnrper  named  Mam* 

Angelo.     Bobert,  therefore,  leaving  the  command  of  /f*td,     Procida  then  set  ont  for  Cbnslantiaople,  vbere 

the  army  to  his  son  Boemnnd,  retomed  to  Italy,  where  in  some  private  conferences  with  the  emperor,  he  psr- 

he  immediately  dispersed  tbe  rebels,  and  released  the  traded  him,  that  the  most  probable  means  of  defeaCiag 

rpope,  while  his  son  gained  a  considerable  victory  xyvet  Charles's  scheme  was  by  assisting  tbe  Spaniards  and 

the  Greeks.     After  this  Robert  made  great  prepara-  Sicilian  raalecontents.     Paleologns  accordingly  gruM 
tioos  for  another  expedition  into  Greece,  ia  order  to       '  " 
second  his          ^ 


son  Boemund.  Alexins  Comnenns,  who 
was  about  this  time  declared  emperor  by  the  Greek  ar* 
my,  being  assisted  by  the  Venetian  fleet,  endeavoured 
to  oppose  his  passage ;  hot  was  entirely  defeated,  with 
the  loss  of  a  great  many  galleys.  But  a  final  stop  was 
now  put  to  his  enterprises  by  his  desitb,  which  hap- 
^ned  in  the  island  of  Corfn  in  loSjt 

Though  the  power  of  the  l^ormans 'was  thus  tho- 
roaghlv  established  in   Italy  mnd  Sicily,  and    though 
tbe  prince  of  Benevento  was  in  n  jo  invested  by  the 
pope  with  the  title  of  king  of  Sici>y,  -yet  by  reason  <^ 
the  civil  dissensions  which  took  filace  among  themsefves, 
and  the  general  confusion  which  reigned  in  Italy  in 
a^       those    ages,  '  they  were  obliged,  notwithstanding  all 
And  by  the  their  valour,  to  stdmiit  to'tbe  emperor  in  it^S'     ^ 
empenir  of  faim  the  Sicilians  were  treated  'With  so  great  cruelty, 
c^maBj.    ^jjj  iIj^  empress  Constantta  was  induced  to  conspire 
a^ainat  him  in  11 97,  took  him  prisoner,  and  released 
him  only  on  condition  of  his  sending  off  his  army  im- 
mediately for  the  Holy  Land.   This  was  complied  with  > 
but  the  emperor  did  not  hang  survive  the  reconciliation, 
being  poisoned,  as  was  9Qp|K>sed,  by  order  of  the  em<- 
press 


ed  him  a  large  som  of  money,  and  on  his  defaitme 
sent  one  of  his  secretaries  atong  with  him,  who,  buid> 
ing  rn  Sicily,  had  a  conference  with  the  chief  cons^- 
raters.  John,  having  received  letters  from  them,  dis* 
guised  himself  in  tbe  habit  of  a  Franciscan,  and  neat 
to  Snriano  in  tbe  neighbourhood  of  Rome.  As  he  irell 
knew  the  enmity  which  subsisted  between  the  pope  sod 
King  Chiirles,  he  diadosed  his  design  to  his  hoJmeaa'i 
Mho  readily  entered  into  his  measures,  wrote  to  Peter 
to  hasteir  his  armament,  phimising  him  the  invcstitait 
of  the  island  as  soon  as  he  had  taken  possesston  of  it } 
and,  by  refusing  the  assistance  be  bad  ^mnised  ts 
Charles,  obliged  -him  for  the  present  to  delay  fais  ex- 
pedition. In  the  beginning  of  the  year  128c,  Procids 
returned  to  Arragon,  and  by  showing  tbe  letters  fnm 
the  pope  and  Sicilian  bkrons,  {oevailed  on  Peter  ts 
embark  in  his  design,  by  assuring  him  of  the  assistaacc 
of  Paleologus*  This  king  of  Arragon  accordingly  jn- 
pared  a  formidable  fleet  under  pretence  of  invadisg 
Africa,  and  is  even  said  to  have  received  20,000  da- 
cats  from  Charles,  in  order  to  assist  him  in  his  prep^ 
rations. 

But  while  John  went  on  thus  sucoeasfblly  with  his 
Scheme,  all  his  measures  were  in  danger  of  being  broke 


In  1254  ^^^  t^  ^kumed  the  kingdom  as  'u  fief    by  tbe  death  of  Pope  Nicholas.     Tbe  new  pope,  Mar^ 


devolved  on  the  church  in  consequence  of  a  sentence  of 
deposition  pronounced  against  King  Frederick  at  the 
,  council  of  Lyons-;  «nd,  in  1263,  -the  kingdom  was,  in 
eonsenoence  of  this  right,  conferred  on  Charles  count 
of  Anjou.  After  much  contention  and  bloodshed,  the 
^6  French  thos  became  roasters  of  Sicily  and  Naples. 
^^^^^ Their  government  was  insuppoKably  tyrannical)  and 
1^,^^  Qf  at  the  same  time  tbe  haughtiness  of  tlieir  king  so  pro- 
Sicily  aad  -vok^  the  pope,  that  be  resolved  to  humble  hirti.— 
Kaplei.  Charles  had  resolved  on  an  expedition  against  Constan- 
tinople ;  and  fi^r  'this  ptirpose  had  fitted  out  a  fleet  of 
100  galleys,  30  large  ships,  200  transports,  besides 
many  other  smaller  vessels,  on  board  of  which  he  in- 
tended to  embark  10,000  horse,  and  a  numerous  ar* 
my  of  foot.  This  formidable  armament  greatly  alarm- 
ed the  emperor  Michael  Paleologus  ;  for  which  reason 
be  entered  into  a  negotiation  with  John  di  Procida,  a 
noble  Salernitan,  lord  of  (be  isle  of  Procida  in  the  bay 
of  Naples,  who  had  formed  a  scheme  for  a  general  re- 
volt in  the  island  of  Sicily.  John,  though  a  noble- 
man,  was  also  a  physician,  and  had  been  counsellor  to 
two  former  princes,  and  even  to  King  Charles  himself  j 
but  being  stripped  of  bis  estate  br  tbe  king  under  pre- 
tence of  treason,  and^  his  wife  being  dfebauched  by  tbe 
French,  he  retired  to  Constantia  qoeen  of  Arragon, 
where  he  was  created  a  baron  of  the  kingdom  of  Va- 
lencia, by  her  husband  King  Peter,  and  lord  of  Luxen, 
Benizzano,  and  Palma.  As  he  was  greatly  ezasperat* 
ed  against  the  French,  he  employed  many  spies  both 
in  Puglia  and  Sicily ;  and  being  informed  that  the  Si- 
cilians were  totally  disaffected  to  the  French,  he  came 
to  the  island  in  disguise,  and  concerted  a  plan  with  the 


tin  IV.  was  entirely  in  the  interest  of  Charles,  on  whso, 
in  1 28 1,  he  conferred  the  senatorial  dignity  of  Bone. 
Procida,  however,  still  resolved  to  proeecnHe  his schcne; 
and,  leaving  Italy,^  hi^  .another  conference  with  the 
conspirators  in  Sicily ;  i(ier  tvhich,  be  again  went  ts 
Constantinople,  and  obtained  firom  Paleologns  30,00c 
ounces  of  gold,  with  which  he  immediately  retvaed 
to  Arragon.  The  death  of  Nicholas  had  damped  tbe 
ardour  of  Peter  ;  hot,  being  urged  with  great  earnest* 
ness  by  John,  he  again  renewed  his  preparations; 
which  alarmed  the  pope  and  the  king  of  France.  In 
consequence  of  this  they  sent  a  message  to  him,  denr- 
ing  to  know  against  what  Saracens  he  designed  ts 
employ  his  armament.  In  this  particular  Peter  reh- 
Bed  to  satisfy  them  ^  upon  which  they  earnestly  osnD> 
soiled  Charles  to  guaid  against  an  invaalnn:  but  he 
neglected  their  advice,  being  wholly  intent  on  Ins 
eastern  expedition,  and  encouraged  by  a  revolt  which 
bad  happened  in  Greece  i  and  to  facilitate  his  expedi- 
tion, he  prevailed  on  tlw  pope  to  escommnnicate  the 
Greeks,  on  pretence  that  they  had  broken  some  of  the 
articles  of  union  concluded  at  tbe  conncil  of  Lyoai  a 
few  years  before.  Peter  in  the  mean  time  oontiBned 
his  preparations  with  great  dilieenoe,  intending  to  pat  ^, 
to  sea  the  following  summer.  Procida  had  raCncned  t»^« 
Palermo,  to  wait  for  a  fiivonrable  oppottmity  of  pnl-i 
ting  his  design  in  execution,  which  was  soon  aflavM 
him  by  the  FrencL  On  Easter  Monday,  March  3a 
1 282,  the  chief  conspiratois  had  asseipbled  at  Palenas; 
and,  after  dinner,  both  the  Palera^tana  and  Frcach 
went  in  a  grand  procession  to  the  church  of  Msuiah, 
about  lihree  milos  without  die  city.    Wbila  thsy 


NAP  [609 

^«pi«c  spoitiag  in  the  fields,  a  bride  happened  to  pan  by  with 
■  ¥  **  her  traiiiy  who  being  observed  bj  one  Drocbettus,  a 
French  raani  he  ran  to  her,  and  began  to  ose  her  in  a 
mde  manner,  under  pretence  of  searching  for  conceal- 
ed arms.  A  young  Sicilian^  exasperated  at  this  af- 
front stabbed  him  with  his  own  sword  ;  and  a  tumult 
ensuing,  200  French  were  immediately  murdered.  The 
enraged  populace  then  ran  to  the  city,  crying  out, 
*'  Let  the  French  die,  Let  the  French  die }''  and,  with- 
out distinction  of  age  or  sex,  slaughtered  all  of  that  na- 
tion they  could  find,  even  such  as  had  fled  to  the  churches. 
The  conspirators  then  left  Palermo,  and  excited  the  in- 
habitants to  murder  the  French  all  over  the  island,  ex- 
cepting in  Messina,  which  city  at  first  refused  .to  be  con- 
cerned in  the  revolt.  But,  being  invited  by  the  Paler- 
nutans  to  throw  oflF  the  French  yoke,  a  few  weeks  after, 
the  citizens  in  a  tumultous  manner  destroyed  some  of 
the  French  j  and  pulling  down  the  anns  of  King  Charles, 
and  erf«ting  those  of  the  city,  chose  one  Baldwin  for 
their  governor,  who  saved  the  remaining  French  from 
the  fury  of  the  populace,  and  allowed  them  to  transport 
themselves,  with  their  wives  and  children  to  Italy. 
Eight  thousand  persons  are  said  to  have  been  murdered 
on  this  occasion. 

Immediately  after  this  massacre,  the  Sicilians  offered 
their  allegiance  to  the  king  of  Arragon  \  who  accepted 
of  the  invitation,  and  landed  with  his  forces  at  Trapani. 
From  thence  he  went  to  Palermo,  where  he  was  crown« 
ed  king  of  Sicily  with  great  solemnity,  and  Charles  left 
the  island  with  precipitation.  The  day  after  he  landed 
his  army  in  Italy,  die  Arragonian  fleet  arrived,  took 
29  of  his  galleys,  and  the  next  day  burnt  80  transports 
in  presence  of  his  army.  Soon  after  this  Charles  sent 
an  embassy  to  Peter,  accusing  him  of  perfidy,  in  invading 
his  dominions  in  time  of  peace ;  and,  according  to  some, 
challenged  him  at  the  same  time  to  decide  the  matter 
by  single  combat.  Others  say  tliat  the  challenge  was 
given  by  Peter.  Certain  it  is,  however,  that  a  chal- 
lenge was  given,  and  to  appearance  accepted :  bat  Pe- 
ter determined  to  employ  much  more  eflfectoal  means  in 
support  of  his  pretensi'ens  thto  trusting  to  a  duel ;  and 
therefore  pushed  on  his  operations  most  vigorously, 
while  his  adversary  trifled  away  his  time :  and  thus  be 
at  last  became  masteriof  the  contested  kingdoin  \  which, 
however,  he  did  not  ;long  enjoy,  dying  about  the  end 
of  the  year  1285. 

By  hb  will,  Peter,  left  the  kingdom  of  Arragon  to 
his  eldest  son  AlphoUsus,  and  Sicily  to  Don  James 
his  other  son,  who  was  also  to  succeed  to  the  kingdom 
of  Arragon  in  case  Alphonsus  should  die  without  male 
issue.     Accordingly,  Don  James  was  solettinly  crown- 
ed at  Palermo  the  ad  of  February  1 286.     In  x  295, 
liowever,  he  deserted  them,  and  tamely  resigned  up  bis 
right  to  Charles,  son  to  him  above  mentioned,  in  a 
manner  perhaps  unparalleled.     On  his  resignation  the 
Sicilians  conferred  the  crown  upon  his  brother  Don 
Frederic :  after  which  the  war  continued  with  great 
yiolence  till  the  year  1363,  when  a  peace  was  concluded, 
,g        and  the  kingdoms  of  Naples  and  Sicily  formally  dis- 
rhe  fcs-y-  joined  j  Frederic  being  allowed  to  keep  the  latter,  under 
ioBt  of      the  MMBB  'of  Trimicfia  ;  and  Charles  being  confirmed 
l^^f^f*^  in  the  possessioil  of  the  fimner,  which  he  quietly  eojey- 
^^  ^d  tUl  his  death  iit  13C91 

jN'aples  -oontinoed  to  be  governed  by  its  own  kings 
Vol.  XIV.  Part  II. 


]  NAP 

till  the  beginning  of  the  i6th  century,  when  the  kings    Naples, 
of  France  and  Spain  contended  for  the  sovereignty  of  ^       v    - 
this  country.     Frederic,  at  that  time  king  of  Naples, 
resigned  the  sovereignty  to  Louis  XII.  on  being  created 
duke  of  Anjou,  and  receiving  an  annual  pension  of       29 
30,000  ducats.     But,  in  1504,  the  French  were  entire- ^li«  Spa- 
ly  defeated  by  the  Spaniards,  and  obliged  to  evacuate  "**"**  ***" 
the  kingdom-,  and  the  following  vear  Louis  renoun- ^j^^*^** 
ced  all  pretensions  to  the  crown,  which  from  this  time  Naples. 
hath  remained  almost  constantly  in  the  hands  of  the 
Spaniards. 

The  government  of  the  Spaniards  proved  no  less  op- 
pressive to  the  Neapolitans  than  that  of  others  bad  been. 
The  kings  of  Spain  set  no  bounds  to  their  exactions, 
and  of  consequence  the  people  were  loaded  with  all 
manner  of  taxes  ;  even  the  most  indispensable  necessa- 
ries of  life  not  being  exempted.  In  1647,  ^  ^^^  ^^^ 
was  laid  on  firuit;  which  the  people  looked  upon  as 
the  most  grievous  oppression,  the  chief  part  of  their 
subsistence,  during  the  summer  months,  being  fruit, 
which  in  the  kingdom  of  Naples  is  very  plentiful  and 
delicious.  The  edict  for  collecting  the  new  duty  was  30 
no  sooner  published,  than  the  people  began  to  murmur  A  general 
in  a  tumultuoos  manner;  and  when  the  viceroy  came'^^^^ 
abroad,  they  surrounded  his  coach,  bawling  out  to 
have  their  grievances  redressed.  They  wore  encoura- 
ged in  their  sedition, ,  by  the  news  that  the  citizens  of 
JPalermo  had  actually  revolted  on  account  of  the  im- 
position of  new  duties.  The  viceroy,  therefore,  appre- 
hensive of  greater  disorders,  began  to  think  of  taking 
off  the  tax  j  but  those  who  farmed  the  tax  having  brib- 
ed some  of  bis  favourites,  he  was  by  their  means  per- 
suaded not  to  abolish  it*  The  indignation  of  the  people, 
who  had  suspected  his  intention,  was  now  greatly  in- 
creased, especially  as  they  were  privately  excited  by  se- 
veral realecontents.  The  farmers  of  the  revenue,  and 
all  those  concerned  in  raising  the  taxes  had  incurred  -the 
hatred  and  detestation  of  the  people,  particularly  of  31 
Tommaso  Aniello,  commonly  called  massantei/o  ^Account  of 
Amalji^  a  fisherman,  whose  wife,  having  been  discover-  j 
ed  in  smuggling  a  small  quantity  of  meal,  was  imprison- 
ed, and  condemned  to  pay  a  fine  of  100  ducats. 

Massaniello,  a  few  years  before  had  come  to  Naples 
from  Aroalfi,  where  bis  father  had  been  a  fisherman. 
At  this  time  he  was  about  24  years  of  age,  and  tlie 
father  of  four  children.  He  was  of  a  middle  stature, 
and  an  agreeable  aspect ;  was  distinguished  for  bis  bold- 
ness, activity,  and  integrity  \  and  had  a  great  influence 
with  his  companions,  by  whom  be  was  beloved  and 
esteemed.  As  be  was  obliged  even  to  sell  his  furniture 
to  pay  the  heavy  fine,  he  had  conceived  an  implacable 
hatred  agaiAst  the  fiarmers  of  the  taxes,  and  was  also 
moved  with  compassion  for  the  miserable  state  of  the 
city  and  kingdom.  He  therefore  formed  a  design, 
with  some  of  his  companions,  to  raise  a  tumult  in  the 
market  place  on  the  festival-day  of  the  Carmelites, 
usually  celebrated  about  the  middle  of  July,  when  be- 
tween 500  and  600  youths  entertain  the  people  by  a 
mock  nght ;  one  half  of  them,  in  the  character  of 
Turks,  defending  a  wooden  castle,  which  is  attacked  . 
and  stormed  by  the  other  half  in  the  character  of  , 
Christians.  Massaniello  being  appointed  captain  of 
one  of  these  parties,  and  Dne  Pione,  who  was  privy  to 
his  design,  commanding  the  other,  for  several  weeks 
-f-  *  4  H  before 


NAP  [ 

Naples,  before  the  festival  the^  were  very  diligent  in  reviewing 
and  'training  their  followers,  who  were  armed  with 
sticks  and  reeds  j  but  a  snuU  and  unforeseen  accident 
tempted  tbem  to  begin  their  enterprise  without  waiting 
for  the  festival. 

On  the  7th  of  July  a  dispute  happening  in  the  mar- 
ket-place betwixt  tbe  tax-gatherers  and  some  garden* 
ers  of  Fozzuolo  who  had  brougbt  some  figs  into  the 
city,  whether  the  buyer  or  seller  sbould  pay  the  du- 
ty ;  after  the  tumult  had  continued  several  hours,  Mas- 
saniello,  who  was  present  with  his  company,  excited 
the  mob  to  pillage  the  office  built  in  the  market  for 
receiving  the  duty,  and  to  drive  away  the  officers 
with  stones.  The  elect  of  the  people,  who,  by  decid- 
ing against  the  gardeners,  had  increased  the  tumult, 
ran  to  the  palace,  and  informed  the  viceroy,  who  most 
imprudently  neglected  all  means  of  putting  a  stop  to 
the  commotion.  Massaniello,  in  the  mean  time,  being 
joined  by  great  numbers  of  people,  ordered  his  youne 
troop  to  set  fire  to  all  the  offices  for  the  taxes  through 
the  city  j  which  command  being  executed  with  de- 
spatch, he  then  conducted  them  directly  to  the  palace, 
where  the  viceroy,  instead  of  ordering  his  Spanish  and 
German  guards  to  disperse  them,  encouraged  their  in- 
solence by  timidly  granting  their  demands.  As  they 
rushed  into  the  palace  in  a  furious  manner,  he  escaped 
by  a  private  do6r,  and  endeavoured  to  save  himself  in 
Castel  del  Ovo  ;  but  behig  overtaken  by  the  rioters  in 
the  streets,  he  was  trampled  upon  by  them,  and  pulled 
by  the  hair  and  whiskers.  However,  by  throwing  some 
handfuls  of  gold  among  them,  he  affain  escaped,  and 
took  sanctuary  in  a  convent  of  Minims,  where,  being 
joined  by  tbe  archbishop  of  Naples,  Cardinal  Filoma- 
fini,  and  several  nobles,  by  their  advice  he  signed  a  bil- 
let, by  which  he  abolished  all  taxes  upon  provisions. 
As  a  means  to  quell  the  tumult,  he  likewise  desired 
the  cardinal  to  offer  Massaniello  a  pension  of  2400 
crowns,  who  generously  rejected  the  bribe  \  and  declar- 
ed, that  if  the  viceroy  would  keep  his  word,  he  would 
find  them  obedient  subjects. 

It  was  now  expected  that  the  tumult  would  cease  \ 
but  Massaniello,  upon  his  return  to  the  market-place, 
being  joined  by  several  malecontents,  among  whom 
were  Genuino  and  one  Feronnc,  who  had  formerly 
been  a  captain  of  Uie  Sbirri,  be  was  advised  by  them 
to  order  the  houses  of  those  concerned  in  raising  the 
tax  to  be  burned  \  which  were  accordingly  in  a  few  days 
reduced  to  ashes,  with  all  their  rich  furniture.  Massa- 
niello being  now  absolute  master  of  the  whole  city, 
and  being  joined  by  great  numbers  of  people  of  despe- 
rate fortunes,  he  required  the  viceroy,  who  had  retir- 
ed to  the  Castel  Nuovo^  to  abolish  all  the  taxes,  and  to 
deliver  up  the  writ  of  exemption  granted  by  Charles  V. 
This  new  demand  greatly  embarrassed  the  viceroy } 
but  to  appease  the  people,  he  drew  up  a  false  deed  in 
letters  of  gold,  and  sent  it  to  them  by  their  favourite 
the  duke  of  Matalone,  who  bad  before  been  in  con- 
finement. The  fraud,  however,  being  discovered,  the 
duke  was  pulled  from  bis  horse  and  maltreated  by  tbe 
mob,  and  at  length  committed  as  a  prisoner  to  Peronne. 
This  accident,  to  the  great  joy  of  the  viceroy,  enraged 
the  people  against  the  nobility,  several  of  whom  they 
killed,  burnt  the  houses  of  others,  and  threatened  to 
extirpate  them  all.     Massaniello,  in  the  mean  time,  tat- 


610   ] 


NAP 


tered  and  half  naked  commanded  his  followen,  wbo  y^ 
were  now  well  armed,  and  reckoned  about  100,000 
with  a  most  absolute  sway.     He  ate  and  slept 


men. 


little,  gave  his  orders  with  great  precision  and  judge- 
ment, appeared  full  of  moderation,  without  ambitioo 
and  interested  views.  But  the  duke  of  Matalone  hiv- 
ing procured  his  liberty  bj  bribing  Peronne,  the  ^'icttvj 
imitated  his  example,  and  secretly  corrupted  Genaioo 
to  betray  his  chief.  A  conspiracy  was  accordinglj 
formed  against  Massaniello  by  Matalone  aodPerouie', 
the  duke,  who  was  equally  exasperated  against  the  vice- 
royf  proposing,  that  after  Iiis  death  bis  brother  D. 
Joseph  sbould  bead  the  rebels. 

Massaniello  in  the  mean  time,  by  means  of  the  car- 
dinal archbishop,  was  negotiating  a  general  peace  and 
accommodation ;  but  while  both  parties  were  assem- 
bling in  tbo  convent  of  the  Carmelites,  the  banditti 
hircS  by  Matalone  made  an  unsuccessful  attempt  apoo 
Massaniello*s  life.  His  followers  immediately  killed 
1 50  of  them.  Peronne  and  D.  Joseph  bein^  discovered 
to  be  concerned  in  the  conspiracy,  were  likewise  pot 
to  death,  and  tbe  duke  with  great  difficulty  escape! 
Massaniello  by  this  conspiracy  was  rendered  more  soi- 
picious  and  severe.  He  began  to  abuse  bis  power  bj 
putting  several  persons  to  death  upon  slight  pretences  ^ 
and,  to  force  the  viceroy  to  an  acconunodation,  be  cot 
oS  all  communication  with  the  castles,  which  were  oa- 
provided  witli  provision  and  ammuoitton^— The  vice- 
roy likewise  being  afraid  lest  the  French  should  tike 
advantage  of  the  commotion,  earnestly  desired  to  agree 
to  a  treaty^  which  was  accordingly  concluded  on  the ^|^ 
fifth  day  of  the  insurrection,  by  the  mediation  of  thee^KWri 
archbishop.  By  the  treaty  it  was  stipulated,  that  all  km* 
duties  imposed  since  tbe  time  of  Charles  V.  should  1*{|'T^ 
abolished  *,  that  the  writ  of  exemption  granted  by  that*  ^ 
emperor  should  be  delivered  to  the  people  ;  that  for  the 
future  no  new  taxes  should  be  imposed  ^  that  tbe  vole 
of  tbe  elect  of  the  people  should  be  equal  to  the  votes 
of  the  nobility  j  than  an  act  of  oblivion  should  be  grant- 
ed for  all  that  was  past  ^  and  that  the  people  shooM 
continue  in  arms  under  Massaniello  till  the  ratificatioa 
of  the  treaty  by  the  king. 

By  this  treaty,  no  less  than  10,000  persons  whs 
fattened  upon  the  blood  of  the  public  were  ruined.— 
The  people,  when  it  was  solemnly  published,  manifest- 
ed an  extreme  joy,  believing  they  had  now  recovered 
all  their  ancient  rights  and  privileges.     Massaniello^  at 
the  desire  of  the  viceroy,  went  to  the  palace  to  visit 
him,  accompanied  by  the  archbishop,  who  vras  obli- 
ged to   threaten   him   with   excommunication,  bcfive 
he  would  consent  to  lay  aside  his  rags  and  assume  a 
magnificent  dress.     He  was  received  by  the  doke  with 
the  greatest  demonstrations  of  respect  and  friendships 
while  the  duchess  entertained  his  wife,  and  presented 
her  with  a  robe  of  doth  of  silver,  and  some  jewels.— 
The  viceroy,  to  preserve  some  shadow  of  autboritj, 
appointed  him  captain-general  j  and  at  his  departmck 
made  nim  a  present  of  a  golden  chain  of  great  vs1m»^ 
which  with  great  difficulty  be  was  prevailed  upon  to 
accept  'y  but  yielded  at  length  to  the  entreaties  of  tbe 
cardinal.     Next  day,  in  consequence  of  the  iwiiiiiissina 
granted  him  by  the  viceroy,  he  began  to  exercise  idl 
tbe  functions  of  sovereign  authority ;  and  having  caascd 
a  scaffold  to  be  erected  in  one  of  the  streets,  aod  se- 

vfiil 


i3. 


Xapli 


35 


NAP  [    6i 

vend  gibbets,  ho  judged  all  crimes,  whether  civil  or 
military^  in  the  last  resort  y  and  ordered  the  guilty  to 
be- immediately  pot  to  death,  which  was  the  punishment 
be  assigned  to  all  offences.  Though  he  neglected  all, 
forms  of  law,  and  even  frequently  judged  by  physiog- 
nomy, yet  he  is  said  not  to  have  overlooked  any  crimi- 
nal, or  punished  any  innocent  person. 

His  grandeur  and  prosperity  were  of  very  short  con- 
tinuance ;  for  his  mind  becoming  distracted  and  deliri- 
ous for  two  or  three  days,  he  committed  a  great  many 
mad  and  extravagant  actions }  and  on  the  i8th  of  July 
be  was  assassinated  with  the  consent  of  the  viceroy. 

The  tumult  did  not  end  with  the  death  of  Massa- 
niello :  on  the  contrary,  the  people  now  expelled  the 
Spaniards  from  most  of  the  cities  throughout  the  king- 
dom; and  this  jreneral  insurrection  being  the  subject 
of  discourse  at  Kome,  the  duke  of  Guise,  who  happen- 
ed then  to  be  at  the  pope^s  court,  took  the  opportu- 
nity, at  the  instigation  of  bis  holiness,  to  offer  his  ser- 
vice to  the  Neapolitans  against  the  Spaniards.  The 
dnke  was  prompted  by  his  ambition  to  engage  in  this 
enterprise,  especially  as  he  himself  had  some  distant 
pretensions  to  the  crown.  The  Spaniards  in  the  mean 
time  made  a  vigorous  attack  on  the  city ;  but  were  re- 
pulsed by  the  people,  who  now  formally  renounced 
their  allegiance  to  them.  In  a  short  time,  however, 
their  city  being  surprised  by  the  new  viceroy,  the 
count  d^Oniate,  and  the  duke  of  Guise  himself  taken 
ne'peopkpcuoner,  the  people  returned  to  their  allegiance  ;  and 
tetara  to  thus  all  the  attempts  of  the  French  on  Naples  were 
^^^^^  frostrated.  From  that  time  the  Spaniards  continued  in 
peaceable  possession  of  the  kingdom  till  the  year  1 707, 
when  it  was  taken  from  them  by  Prince  Eugene.  It 
was  formally  ceded  to  the  emperor  by  the  treaty  of 
Rastadt  in  1713  >  but  was  recovered  by  the  Spaniards 
in  1734,  and  a  branch  of  the  family  of  Spain  has  reign- 
ed there  since  that  time.  For  a  particular  account  of 
these  revolutions,  see  the  articles  Spain  and  Sicily. 

Naples,  like  the  other  states  of  Europe,  has  experi- 
enced many  revolutions  within  the  last  thirty  years. 
She  took  part  in  the  alliance  against  France  in  1793, 
but  was  little  affected  by  the  war  till  1 796,  when  the 
pfogress  of  the  French  arms  in  Italy  induced  her  to 
conclude  a  peace.  The  continual  encroachments  of  the 
French,  however,  made  her  take  up  arms  again  in  con- 
cert with  Austria  in  1798;  but  her  forces  commanded 
by  General  Mack  sustained  repeated  defeats,  and  the 
French  gained  possession  of  tlie  capital.  The  king  re- 
tired to  Palermo  in  Sicily  in  December  1798,  till  the 
soecesses  of  Suwarrow  compelled  the  French  to  with- 
draw their  troops,  after  which  he  re-entered  his  capital 
in  1709-  After  the  treaty  of  Luneville,  Naples  ob- 
tained peace  from  France  on  the  condition  of  giving 
up  the  port  of  Otranto.  In  1 806  the  king  admitted 
some  British  and  Russian  troops  into  his  dominions, 
and  this  was  made  a  pretext  by  Bonaparte  for  de- 
throning him.  The  kingdom  of  Naples  was  given  to 
Joseph  Bonaparte,  who  retained  it  till  he  was  promot- 
ed to  the  crown  of  Spain  in  1 808,  when  Naples  was 
given  to  Joachim  Murat.  From  this  period  Naples 
rollowed  the  fortunes  of  France,  and  furnished  men  and 
money  for  her  wars.  After  the  disasters  of  the  Russian 
eampaigft,  Murat  who  had  received  some  insults  from 
Bonaparte  shook  off  his  authority,  and  entering  into 
with  the  allies  obtained  a  recognition  of  bb  in- 


] 


N   -A    'P 


dependence.^  In  the  beginning  of  1814  he  assisted  the  Kaplci. 
Austrians  in  overthrowing  the  French  viceroy  in^  y  *- 
Italy  J  but  repenting  of  this  course,  or  distrusting  the 
intentions  of  the  allies,  he  declared  for  Bonaparte 
when  the  latter  returned  to  France  in  1815.  Fortune 
however  did  not  favour  him;  he  was  defeated,  and 
fled  to  France  in  May  181 5.  fn  afit  of  rash  enthusiasm 
he  set  out  with  a  small  band  of  400  adventurers,  land- 
ed in  Naples  in  October,  but  instead  of  meeting  witk 
support  was  immediately  taken  and  executed.  Since 
that  time  Ferdinand  IV.  has  had  peaceable  possession 
of  the  kingdom.  .^ 

The  climate  of  Naples  is  extremely  hot,  especially  Clinuite, 
in  July,  August,  and  September.  In  winter  there  is^^]??* 
seldom  any  ice  or  snow,  except  on  the  mountains.— ^^J^ 
On  account  of  its  fertility,  it  is  justly  termed  an 
earthly  paradise  -y  for  it  abounds  with  all  sortk  of  grain, 
the  finest  fruit  and  garden  productions  of  every  kind^ 
with  rice,  flax,  oil,  and  wine,  in  the  greatest  plenty 
and  perfection.  It  affords  also  saffron,  manna,  alum, 
vitriol,  sulphur,  rock  crystal,  marble,  and  several  sorts 
of  minerals,  together  with  fine  wool,  and  silk.  The 
horses  of  this  country  are  famous,  abd  the  flocks  and 
herds  very  numerous.  Besides  these  products,  of  which 
a  considerable  part  is  exported,  there  are  manufiictures 
of  snuff,  soap,  and  glass  ware.  Waistcoats,  caps,  stock- 
ings, and  gloves,  are  also  made  of  the  hair  or  fila- 
ments of  a  shell  fish,  which  are  warmer  than  those  of 
wool,  and  of  a  beautiful  glossy  green.  In  thb  king- 
dom likewise  is  fi>und  that  called  the  Phrygian  stones 
or  pietra/ufig^era^  which,  being  laid  in  a  damp  shady 
place,  will  yield  mushrooms,  sometimes  of  a  very  large 
size,  especially  if  the  stone  is  sprinkled  with  hot  water. 
See  Agaricus. 

As  to  the  mountains  of  this  country,  the  principal 
are  the  Apennines,  which  traverse  it  *firom  south  to 
north  ;  and  Mount  Vesuvius,  which,  as  is  well  known, 
is  a  noted  volcano,  five  Italian  miles  from  Naples.  The 
side  of  this  mountain  next  the  sea  yields  wine,  particu- 
larly the  two  famed  wines  called  Fino  Gtrco  and  Za- 
chrynue  Christi,  One  of  the  greatest  inconveniences 
to  which  this  kingdom  is  exposed  is  earthquakes,  which 
the  eruptions  of  Mount  Vesuvius  contribute,  in  some 
measure,  to  prevent.  Another  inconveniency,  which, 
however,  is  common  to  it  with  other  hot  countries,  is 
the  great  number  of  reptiles  and  insects,  of  which  some 
are  very  poisonous.  3^ 

With  respect  to  religion,  it  is  on  a  very  bad  foot-  1^sligu>n. 
ing  here.  The  number  of  convents  and  monasteries 
is  astonishing.  It  is  said,  the  clergy  and  convents 
possess  two  thirds  of  the  whole  kingdom :  nay,  some 
maintain,  that  weie  the  kingdom  divided  into  five 
parts,  four  would  be  found  in  the  hands  of  the  church. 
Notwithstanding  this  power  and  influence  of  the  clergy, 
they  have  not  been  able  hitherto  to  get  the  inquisition 
established  here.  In  the  year  1731,  measures  were 
taken  for  lessening  the  number  of  convents  j  and  lately 
the  order  of  Jesuits  hath  been  suppressed.  The  papiu 
bulls  cannot  be  made  public  without  the  king's  per- 
mission \  nor  are  Protestants  compelled  to  kneel  in  the 
churches,  or  at  meeting  the  host;  and  in  Lent  they 
can  very  easily  procure  flesh  meat.  In  the  year  1 740, 
the  Jews  were  allowed  to  settle  in  the  kingdom  during 
the  term  of  50  years,  and  several  privileges  were  grant- 
ed them  during  that  period  ;  at  the  expixation  of  which, 

4H2  the 


NAP  ['   6i 

Naples,    the  ^rant  was  supposed  to  be  renewed,  nnless  tliey  were 
*      ^     '  -'  expressly  ordered  to  quit  the  country* 

The  king  of  Naples,  or  of  the  two  Sicilies,  is  an 
hereditary  monarch.  The  high  colleges  are,  the  coun- 
cil of  state,  the  privy  council,  the  treasury,  the  Sicily 
council,  the  council  of  war,  &c.  This  kingdom  is  a 
papal  fief  ^.  and  the  king,  in  acknowledgment  of  the 
pope^s  feudal  right,  sends  him  every  year  a  white  pal- 
fry,  and  a  purse  of  6000.  ducats.  The  title  -of  the 
^ing^s  eldest  son  is  prince  of  Calabria,  The  number 
both  of  the  high  and  low  nobility  in  the  kingdom  of 
f  Vitip  of  Naples  is  very  great.  **  I  am  assured  (says  Dr  Moore*) 
?^^^*  ^  ^^^  ^^  ^^°£  °^  Naples  counts  among  bis  subjects 
.  ''^'  100  persons  with  the  title  of  prince,  and  a  still  greater 
with  that  of  duke.  Six  or  seven  of  these  have  estates 
which  produce  from  10  to  12  or  13,0001.  a-year^  a 
considerable  number  have  fortunes  of  about  half  that 
value  \  and  the  annual  revenue  of  many  is  not  above 
ioool.  OS  2000I.  The  inferior  orders  of  the  nobility 
are  mnch  poorer.  Many  counts  and  marquisses  have 
not  above  300I.  or  4061.  a-year  of  paternal  estate  j 
lyiany  have  still  less  \  and  not  a  few  enjoy  the  title  with- 
out any  estate  whatever,  lliese  nobles,  however,  are 
excessivelv  fi^nd  of  splendour  and  show,  which  appears 
in  the  brilliancy  of  their  equipages,  the  number  of 
their  attendants,  the  richness  of  tueir  dress,  and  the 
grandeqr'  of  their  titles.  The  finest  carriages  are 
painted,  gilt,  varnished,  and  lined,  in  a  richer  and 
.  more  beautiful  manner  than  has  yet  become  fashionable 
either  in  England  or  in  France.  They  are  often  drawn 
by  six  and  sometimes  by  eight  horses.  Before  the 
carriage,  it  is  the  mode  to  have  two  running  footmen, 
and  behind  three  or  four  servants  in  the  richest  liveries* 
'The  ladies  and  gentlemen  within  the  coaches  glitter  in 
all  the  brilliancy  of  lace,  embroidery,  and  jewels.— 
Xhis  finery  is  not  confined  to  the  persons  within  and 
without  the  coaches  j  it  is  extended  to  the  horses, 
whose  heads,  manes,  and  tails,  are  ornamented  with  the 
]:arest  plumage,  and  set  off  with  ribbons,  and  artificiat 
flowew." 

The  population  of  Naples  in  1769^  was  319539098  j 
in  1783  it  was  4,675,376,  including  45,525  secular 
priests,  24,694  religious  of  the  male  sex,  and  20,973 
of  the  female.  (Mentelle  et  Malte  Bran.). 
^  In  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  the  hereditary  jurisdic- 
tion of  the  nobles  over  their  vassals  subsists  in  the  full; 
rigour  of  the  feudal  government.  The  peasants  thcEe- 
fbre  are  poor  ^  and  it  depends  entirely  on  the  personal 
character  of  the  master,  whether  their  poverty  be  not 
Uie  least  of  their  grievances.  As  this  power  is  too 
often  abused,  the  importance  of  the  nobility  depends 
in.  a  great  measure  on  the  favour  of  the  king,  who, 
under  pretence  of  any  offence,  can  confine  them  to 
ttheir  estates,  or  imprison  them  at  pleasure.  Unless 
this  prince  were  so  very  impolitic  as  to  disgust  all  the 
nobility  at  once,  and  so  unite  the  whole  body  against 
him,  he  has  little  to  fear  from  their  resentment.  Even 
in  case  of  such  an  union,  as  the  nobles  bave^  lost  the  af- 
fection of  their  vassals,  what  could  they  do  in  opposi- 
tion to  a  standing  army  of  30,000  men,  entirely  dievoted 
to  the  crown?  The  government  of  Naples,  therefore^ 
is  in  fact  a  desjpotic  monarchy,  though  something  like 
the  form  of  a  feudal  constitution  in  its  ancient  purity 
19  still  kept  up  by  the  biennial  sumiAona  of  the  general 


a   ] 


NAP 


assembly.     This  convention,  which  consists  of  the  no-  ^^^^ 
bility  and  commons,  is  <»lled  together  eveiy  two  yean, ^-  ^^u 
to  deliberate  on  the  customary  free  gift  to  the  crown. 

The   inhabitants  of  this  country  have  at  all  times 
borne  but  an  indifferent  character  among  other  nationi. 
''•From  the  few  hints  dropped  by  the  classic  autj^orii 
we  collect  that  the  ancient  Neapolitans  were  a  race  of 
epicures,  of  a  soft  indolept  turn,  averse  from  martial  ex- 
ercises, passionately  fond  of  theatrical  amose meats  sad 
music,  expert  in  all  the  refined  arts  that  administer  to 
the  caprices  of  luxury,  extravagant  in  their  expressiou 
and  gestures,  and  dupes  to  various  sorts  of  sopeistitioo. 
If  we  make  allowance  for  a  quantity  of  northern  blood 
which  has  joined  the  original  Grecian  stream,  and  im- 
parted a  roughness  not  yet  worn  off  by  the  mildness  of 
the  climate,  we  shall  find  the  modern  Neapolitans  very 
like  the  ancient.— Provisions  being  here  plentiful  uid 
cheap,  the  lower  class  of  people  work  but  little.    Theic 
delight  is  to  bask  in  the  sun,  and  do  nothing.    Persons 
of  a  middle  rank  frequent  places  of  public  resert  \  and 
very  few  of  any  rank  attend  to  their  proper  businen 
with  the  zeal  and  activity  we  are  wont  to  meet  with  in 
the  professional  men  of  colder  countries.     Gluttony  is 
a  predominant  vice,  while  instances  of  ebriety  are  com- 
paratively rare.     In  the  fismale  sex,  the  passion  for 
finery  is  almost  superior  to  every  other  \  and,  tloogk 
chastity  is  not  the  characteristic  virtue  of  the  country,  fir 
Swinburne  doubts  *  whether  a  Neapolitan  woman  woqU^IWh^ 
not  nine  times  out  of  ten  prefer  a  present  to  a  lover.  *j^^ 
That  furious  jealousy  for  which  the  nation  was  once  so' 
remarkable,  is  now  greatly  abated.     The  breach  of  the 
conjugal  vow  sometimes  occasions  quarrels  and  assasi- 
nations  among  people  of  an  inferior  station  \  and  in  the 
metropolis,  assassinations  are  often  perpetrated  from 
mnch  less  cogent  motives.     Of  these  vices,  many  an- 
doobtless  owing  to  that  slavery  and  oppression  under 
which  they  groan,  and  to  a  radical  defect  in  the  admi- 
nistration of  justice,  though  the  kingdom  is  divided  in- 
to 1 2  provinces  or  jurisdictions. 

Naples,  anciently  Parthenope^  afterwards  Neapoiis^ 
the  capital  of  the  kingdom  of  that  name  in  Italy,  lies 
in  the  province  called  Terra  tie  Lavora^  which  is  the 
richest  and  best  inhabited  of  the  whole  kingdom,  and 
comprehends   a  part  of  the  ancient  Campania  Felix 
or  the  Happy.     This  city  is  fabled  to  owe  its  foonda- 
tion  to  a  Syren,  and  to  have  received  its  ancient  rnaie 
from  its  supernatural  foundress.     Whatever  be  its  ori* 
gin,  it  is  the  first  far  neatness,  and  the  second  fiir  ex- 
tent, of  all  the  cities  in  Italy.    It  was  formerly  a  place 
of  strength  }  but  its  walls  at  present  being  of  no  real 
defence,  its  safety  depends   of  course  upon  the  ibite 
of  its  armies.     It  is  most  advantageously  situated,  hav- 
ing a  delicious  country  on  one  side,  and  a  noble  bay  of 
the  Mediterranean  on  the  other,  with  an  excellent  har- 
bour.     The  circumference,  including  the  suburbs,  is 
said  not  to  be  less  than  18  Italian  miles,  and  the  num- 
ber of  the  inhabitants  therein  little  less  than  300,000. 
The  houses  are  of  stone,  flat  roofed,  and  generally  lofty 
and  uniform  y  .but  many  of  them  have  lalconies,  wilk 
kttice  windows.    The  streets  are  well  paved  >  but  tbcy 
are  not  lighted  a)  night,  and  in  the  day  time  are  di»- 
figured,  in  many  places,  by  stalls,  on  which  pcovisioM 
are  exposed  to  sale.     Here  are  a  great  number  of  fine 
churches,.  «onvents>  fountains,  and  palaaes  of  the^sb^ 

fty» 


NAP 


C    6f3    3 


N    A    K 


Naples,  lltyt  many  of  whom  constantly  reside  here.  It  is  usoal 
to  walk  on  the  tops  of  the  houses  in  the  evenings,  to 
breathe  the  sweet  cool  air,  after  a  hot  snltry  day.  The 
climate  here  is  so  mild  and  warm,  even  in  the  winter, 
that  plenty  of  gre^  pease,  artichokes,  asparagus,  and 
other  vegetables,  may  be  had  so  early  as  the  beginning 
of  the  new  year,  and  even  all  the  winter.  This  city 
swarms  with  monks  and  nuns  of  all  sorts,  to  such  a  de- 
gree, that  there  aru  no  less  than  149  convents.  There 
are  also  34  poorbouses,  1 1  hospitals,  43  parish  churches, 
and  70  other  charches.  The  magnificence  of  many  of 
the  churches  exceeds  imagination.  In  a  cloister  of  the 
Carthusian  monastery  is  a  crucifix,  said  to  be  done  by 
Michael  Angelo,  of  inimitable  workmanship. 

To  repel  hostile  attempts  by  sea,  which  firom  its  si- 
toation,  maritime  powers  might  be  ten^ted  to  make, 
Naples  has,  to  the  west,  the  Castel  del  Ovo,.  a  con- 
fused pile  of  ancient  buildings,  and  some  modem  bat- 
teries. The  roclc  upon  which  this  fortress  stands  was 
originally  called  ilcgaroj  then  Lucullanum  ;  and  was 
considered  as  a  place  of  strength  so  early  as  the 
year  475.  Aleug  the  line  of  the  shore  towards  the 
east  are  some  batteries  on  the  points  of  land,  the  ba- 
stions of  the  arsenal^  and  above  it  the  lofty  wall  of  the 
Castel  Noovo.  This  last  fortress  has  been  the  usoal 
refuge  of  the  sovereigns  and  viceroys  in  all  civil  wars 
and  tumults^  for  which  reason  they  have  long  &ced 
their  residence  near  its  walls.  A  blockhouse  and 
batteries  defend  the  mouth  of  the  harbour,  and  at  the 
eastern  extremity  of  the  town  is  the  Torrione  de  Car- 
mine, better  known  by  the  figure  it  made  in  Massani- 
ello's  rebellion  thau  by  its  extent  or  military  strength. 
The  castle  of  St  Elmo  commands  Naples  in  every 
direction,  and  is  in  reality  calculated  rather  to  annoy 
and  awe  the  citizens  than  to  defend  them  from  fo- 
reign invaders.  The  city  is  indited  far  from  being  se- 
cure against  a  bombardment  j  for  the  sea  is  so  deep, 
that  a  large  vessel  may  come  up  to  the  very  mole  in 
defiance  of  the  blockhouse  and  batteries,  &c.  Pic* 
tures,  statues,  and  antiquities,  are  not  so  common  in 
Naples  as  might  be  expected  in  so  great  and  ancient  a 
city,  many  of  the  most  valuable  pieces  having  been 
sent  to  Spain  by  the  viceroys.  The  bay  is  one  of  the 
finest  in  the  world,  being  almost  of  a  round*  figore, 
about  30  miles  in  diameter,  and  three  parts  of  it  shel- 
tered with  a  noble  circuit  of  woods  and  mountains.. 
The  city  stands  in  the  bosom  of  this  bay,  in  as  pleasant 
a  situation,  perhaps,  as  is  in  the  W4>rld»  MrKeyslersays,. 
diey  reckon  about  1 8,000  donne  iHtcrCy  or  courtezans, 
in  the  city  \  and  Dr  Moore  computes  the  number  of 
krsKMronif  or  blackguards  at  above  30,000.  The 
greater  part  of  these  wretches  have  no  dwelling  houses, 
but  sleep  every  night  under  porticos,  piazzas,  or  any 
kind  of  shelter  they  can  find.  Those  of  them  who 
have  wives  and  children,  live  in  the  suburbs  of  Naples 
near  Peusilippo,  in  huts,  or  ineavems  or  chambers  dug 
oot  of  that  mountain.  They  are*  generally  represented 
as  a  lazy,  licentious,  and  turbulent  set  of  people,  as  in- 
deed by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  rabble  are,  who  pre- 
fier  begging  or  robbing,  or  running  errands,  to  any  fixed: 
and  permanent  employment.  Yet  there  are  in  Naples 
some  flourishing  mapufiictures,  particularly  of  silk  stock- 
ings, soap,  snuff-boxes  of  tortoise  shells  and  the  lava  of 
Mount  Vesuvius,  tables,  and  ornamental  fumiture  of. 


marble.    The  city  is  supplied  with  a  vast  quantity  of    Naples- 
water,  by  means  of  a  very  costly  aqueduct,  from  the         II 
foot  of  Mount  Vesuvius.    Mr  Addison  says,  it  is  in- .  "y°*^J 
credible  how  ^reat  a  multitude  of  retainers  to  the  law        ' 
there  are  in  Naples,  who  find  continual  employment 
from  the  fiery  temper  of  the  inhabitants.     There  are 
five  piazzas  or  squares  in  the  city,  appropriated  to  the 
nobility,  viz.  those  called  Capuana^  Nido^  Montoftna^ 
PortOj  and  Porta  Nova,    Of  all  the  palaces,  Jthat  of  the 
king  is  not  only  the  most  magnificent,  but  also  in  the 
best  style  of   architecture.     The   cathedral,  though- 
Gothic,  is  a  very  grand  splendid  edifice.     It  is  hero 
that  the  head  and  blood  of  St  Januarius,  the  tutelary 
saint  of  Naples,  are  kept,  the  latter  in  two  glass  or 
crystal  vials.     The  pretended  liquefaction  of  the  dried 
blood,  as  soon  as  brought  near  the  head  of  the  saint^. 
16  a  thing  well  known  >  Mr  Addison  says,  it  is  ona  of 
the  most  bungling  tricks  he  ever  saw.     The  harbour 
is  spacious,  and  kept  in  good  repair.     It  is  fortified 
with  a  mole,  which  runs  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in- 
to the  sea,  and  at  the  extremity  has  a  high  lanthom  to 
direct  ships  safely  into  the  harbour.     Luxui^  here  is 
restrained  by  severe  sumptuary  laws,  and  the  women 
are  more  closely  confined  than  in  any  other  city  of 
Italy.     Here  is  an  university  and  two  academies  o£ 
wits,  the  one  called  Gli  Ardcnti^  and  the  other  Gli 
Otiosi,     The  nunnery  for  ladies  of  quality  is  said  to  be 
the  largest  in  the  whole  world,  containing  no  less  than 
350  nnns,  besides  servants.     The  Mount  of  Piety,  or. 
the  office  for  advancinir  money  to  the  poor,  on  pledges^ . 
at  a  low  interest,  or  without  any,  has  an  income  of  op* 
wards  of  50,000  ducats.    The  arsenal  ia  said  to  contain*      * 
arms  fiir  50,000  men.     The  walls  of  the  city  consist  of 
hard  black  quarry  stones,  called /ifjier/io.    Instead  of  ice,^ 
vast   quantities  of  snow  are    used  for  cooling  their 
liquors,  not  so  much  as  water  being  drank  without  it ; 
so  that,  it  is  said,  a  scarcity  of  it  would  as  soon  occa- 
sion a  mutiny  as  a  dearth  of  corn  or  provisions.     Cer- 
tain persons,  who  fiirni  the  monopoly  of  it  from  the- 
government,  supply  the  city  all  the  year  round  from- 
a  mountain  about  1 8  miles  off,  at  so  much  the  pound. 
In  the  beginning  of  17999  it  was  taken  by  a  body  of 
French  troops  under  General  Cham  pionet.    The  streets 
of  this  city  were  lighted  for  the  first  time  on  the  i6th« 
December,  i8o6.     Naples  stands  1 10  miles  south-east: 
from  Rome,  164  north-east  from  Palermo  in  Sicily, 
217  south-east  from  Florence,  and  300  from  Venice. 
£.  Long.  14.  20.  N.  Lat.  40.  $^. 

NARBO,  in  AncictU  Geography^  a  town  of  the 
Volsoae  Tectosages,  called  also  Narbo  Martt'us^  from  tho 
Legio  Martia,  the  colony  led  thither  59  years  before 
the  consulate  of-  Csesar,  (Velleius)  ^  increased  with  & 
colony  of  the  Decumani  or  tenth  legion  by  Caesar.  An 
ancient  trading  town  on  the  Atax,  which  discharges^ 
itself  into  the  sea  through  the  Lacus  Rubresus,  or  Rob— 
rensis.  Capital  of  Gallia  Narbonensis ;  sumamed  Coh^ 
fda  Julia  Patema,  from  Julius  Caesar,  the  father  of 
Augustus  by  adoption*  Now  called  Narbontte^  a  city 
of  Jjanguedoc. 

NAKBONNE,  is  a  city  of  France,  in  the  department 
of  Aude,  with  an  archbishop's  see,  and  is  particularly 
f|imous  for  its  honey.  It  is  seated  on  a  canal  cut  from, 
the  river  Aude,  which  being  but  three  miles  firom  the 
sea,  vessels  come  up  it  laden  with  merchandise^  wliioh- 

renders. 


N    A    R 


[    6 


'Nudui. 


Karbonne  renders  it  a  place  of  some  trade.  But  though  it  pre- 
II.  tends  to  the  most  remote  antiquity  under  ^e  Celtic 
kings,  *in  ages  anterior  even  to  the  Roman  conqnests, 
which  under  these  latter  masters  gaVe  its  name  to  all 
GaUia  Narboncnsis^  and  was  a  colony  of  the  first  con- 
sideratiouy  it  is  now  dwindled  to  a  wretched  solitary 
town  containing  9000  inhabitants,  of  whom  three- 
•fourths  are  priests  and  women.  The  streets  and  bnild- 
*ings  are  mean  and  ruinous ;  it  has  indeed  a  communi- 
-cation  with  the  Mediterranean,  from  which  Narbonne 
is  only  about  three  leagues  distant,  by  means  of  a  small 
river  which  intersects  the  place  \  but  their  commerce 
is  very  limited,  and  chiefly  consists  in  grain  which  they 
export  to  Cette  and  Marseilles.  No  marks  of  Roman 
magnificence  remain,  except  several  inscriptions  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  city.  It  is  divided  into  the  city 
and  the  town,  which  are  joined  together  by  a  bridge, 
with  houses  on  each  side,  in  which  the  richest  merchants 
live.  There  are  several  churches  and  convents  \  the 
metropolitan  church  has  a  handsome  steeple.  £.  Long. 
3*  6.  N.  Lat.  43.  II. 

NARCISSUS,  in  fabulous  history,  the  son  of  the 
river  Cephissus  and  Liriope  the  daughter  of  Oceanus, 
was  a  youth  of  great  beauty.  Tiresias  foretold  that 
he  should  live  till  he  saw  himself.  He  despised  all  the 
nyn^  of  the  country  \  and  made  £dio  languish  till 
she  became  a  mere  sound,  by  refusing  to  return  her 
passion ;  but  one  day  coming  weary  and  fatigued  from 
the  chase,  he  stopped  on  the  bank  of  a  fountain  to 
quench  his  thirst :  when,  seeing  his  own  form  in  the 
water,  he  became  so  in  love  with  the  shadowy  image, 
that  be  languished  till  he  died.  On  which  the  gods, 
being  moved  at  his  death,  changed  him  into  the  flower 
which  bears  his  name. 

Narcissus,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  bex- 
andria  class  \  and  in  the  natural  method  ranking  under 
the  oth  order,  Spathacc€t,     See  Botany  Index • 

NARCOTICS,  in  Medicine^  soponferous  drugs, 
which  bring  on  a  stupefaction.  Among  narcotics  the 
most  eminent  are  those  usually  prepared  for  medicinal 
uses  from  the  poppy,  especially  opium  \  as  also  all  those 
prepared  from  mandragoras,  hyoscyamus,  stramonium 
and  datura.     See  Materia  Medic  a  Index, 

NARDO,  a  pretty  populous  to>vn  in  the  kingdom 
of  Naples,  and  in  the  Terra  d'Otranto,  with  the  title 
of  «  duchy  and  a  bishop's  see.  £.  Long.  18.  27.  N. 
Lat.  43.  28. 

In  this  little  city  are  8000  inhabitants.  The  steeple 
of  its  cathedral  is  built  in  a  very  uncommon  but  showy 
style  of  Gothic  architecture.  Luco  Giordano  and  So- 
limeni  have  adorned  the  church  with  some  agreeable 
paintings.  This  place  was  a  part  of  the  Baizo  estate. 
The  Aquavivas  were  the  next  possessors:  they  are 
thought  to  have  come  from  the  Marca  di  Ancona.  In 
1401,  in  Consideration  of  their  relationship  to  Pope  Bo« 
nifiice  IX.  Laudislaus  erected  their  manor  of  Atri  into 
a  dukedom,  an  honour  till  then  seldom  granted  to  any 
but  princes  of  the  blood  royal.  Claudius  Aquaviva,  a 
famous  general  of  the  Jesuits,  who  died  in  1615,  was 
of  this  family. 

NARDUS,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  tri> 
andria  class  ;  and  in  the  natural  method  ranking  under 
the  4th  order,  Qramina,     See  Botany  Index.  * 

This  plant  was  highly  valued  by  the  ancients,  both 
•3  an  article  of  luxury  and  medicine.    The  unguentum 


14    3  N    a    R 

nardinum^  was  used  at  baths  and  feasts  as  a  (avoorite  vui 
perfume.  Its  value  is  evident  from  that  pasugt  of  Su^ 
Scripture,  where  our  Saviour^s  head  mas  anointed  with* 
a  box  of  it,  with  which  Judas  found  fault.  From  t 
passage  in  Horace,  it  appears  that  this  ointment  Tras  so 
valuable  among  the  Roman?,  that  as  much  as  coold  be 
contained  in  a  small  box  of  precious  stime  iras  consider- 
ed as  a  sort  of  equivalent  for  a  large  vessel  of  wine,  and 
a  proper  quota  for  a  guest  to  contribute  at  an  entertain- 
ment, according  to  tlie  ancient  custom: 


•Nardo  vina  tnercbere^ 


Nardi  parvus  onyx  ciiciet  cadum. 

NAREA,  the  most  southerly  province  of  the  empire 
of  Abyssinia  J  a  kingdom  still  governed  by  its  own 
princes,  who  have  the  title  of  Bencros,  Its  territory 
was  formerly  more  extensive  than  at  present,  the  Galla 
having  almost  quite  surrounded  it,  especially  00  tiie 
south-east  and  north.  The  country  to  the  west  is  the 
most  unknown  part  of  Africa^  the  kingdom  itwlf 
stands  like  a  fortified  place  in  the  middle  of  a  plaio, 
bebg  a  high  and  mountainous  country.  A  great  maaj 
rivers,  rising  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  degrees  of  dqiu 
latitude,  spread  themselves  over  the  level  part  of  the 
country,  and  fill  it  with  marshes  all  the  way  from  sooth 
by  east  to  north  or  north-west.— ^These  marshes  are 
bounded  by  mountains,  of  which  those  nearest  the  mar- 
shes are  overgrown  with  coffee  trees,  the  larmt,  if  not 
the  only  ones,  which  gfow  in  this  country.  The  king- 
dom of  Narea  Proper  is  interspersed  with  small,  on- 
wholesome,  but  very  fertile  valleys.  The  mountainoos 
country  of  Caffa  adjoins  immediately  to  Narea,  and  b 
said  to  be  governed  by  a  separate  pri  nee }  but  the  Gafla 
having  settled  themselves  in  all  the  flat  ground  to  the 
very  edge  of  the  marshes,  have  in  a  great  measure  cot 
ofl*  the  communication  with  Abyssinia  for  a  long  time 
past.  The  Nareans  who  inhabit  the  mountainous  coontir 
have  the  lightest  complexion  of  any  people  in  Abjssi- 
nia  \  but  those  who  inhabit  the  bordem  of  the  manbes 
are  perfectly  black,  and  have  the  features  and  woolly 
heads  of  negroes  \  but  the  mountaineers  of  Narea,  aod 
much  more  those  of  Cafia,  are  fair  coroplexioned,  more 
so  than  even  the  Neapolitans  or  Sicilians.  It  is  said 
that  snow  has  been  seen  to  lie  on  some  of  the  moontaios 
of  Ca£Fa  \  but  Mr  Bruce  imagines  this  to  be  a  mistake, 
and  thinks  that  it  must  have  been  hail. 

Narea  abounds  with  cattle,  grain,  and  all  kinds  «f 
provisions,  both  in  the  high  and  low  country.  The 
medium  of  commerce  is  gold,  which  they  sell  hy 
weight ;  but  the  principal  articles  of  trade  are  cotrse 
cotton  cloths,  antimony,  beads,  and  incense,  which  an 
carried  from  this  countiy  to  the  kingdom  of  Aogob, 
and  the  parts  of  the  African  continent  towards  the  At- 
lantic. The  people  are  exceedingly  brave  ^  andthoogh 
they  have  been  driven  out  of  the  low  country  by  mohi- 
tudes  of  Galla,  they  now  bid  them  defiance,  and  drire 
them  from  their  frontiers  whenever  they  come  too  near. 
The  Narean  prisoners  taken  in  the&e  skirmishes  are  sold 
to  the  Mahometan  merchants  at  Gondar  \  and  at  Con- 
stantinople, Cairo,  or  in  India,  the  women  are  moft 
esteemed  than  those,  of  any  other  part  of  the  world. 
Both  sexes  have  a  cheerful  kind  disposition,  and  attach 
themf^elves  inviolahly  to  their  masters,  if  properly  trrtt- 
ed.    The  people  of  Narea  and  Cafia  apeak  a  laagosg^ 

peculiar  to  themselves. 

NAPRATION, 


N    A    R  [    6is 

Kamtlon.  NARRATION,  ID  oratorji  poetry,  and  bUtorj^y  a 
recital  or  rehearsal  of  a  fact  as  it  happened,  or  as  it  is 
flapposed  to  have  happened.  See  Oratort,  N^  26. 
123. 

Concerning  Narration  and  Dewrtption  we  have 
the  following  rules  and  observations  in  the  Elements  of 
Criticism. 

I.  The  first  rule  is.  That  in  history  the  reflections 
ought  to  be  chaste  and  solid }  for  while  the  mind  is  in* 
tent  upon  truth,  it  is  little  disposed  to  the  operation 
of  the  imagination.  Strada^s  Belgic  history  is  full  of 
poetical  images,  which  being  discordant  with  the 
subject,  are  unpleasant* j  and  they  have  a  still  worse  ef- 
fect by  giving  an  air  of  fiction  to  a  genuine  history. 
Such  flowers  ought  to  be  scattered  with  a  sparing  hand, 
even  in  epic  poetry }  and  at  no  rate  are  they  proper 
till  the  reader  be  warmed,  and  by  an  enlivened  imagina- 
tion be  prepared  to  relish  them  :  in  that  state  of  mind, 
they  are  agreeable  ;  but  while  we  are  sedate  and  at- 
tentive to  an  historical  chain  of  facts,  we  reject  with 
disdain  every  fiction. 

2*  Vida,  following  Horace,  recommends  a  modest 
commencement  of  an  epic  poem  ^  giving  for  a  reason 
that  the  writer  ought  to  husband  his  fire.  Besides  bold 
thoughts  and  figures  are  never  relished  till  the  mind  be 
heated  and  thoroughly  engaged,  which  is  not  the  rea- 
der's case  at  the  commencement.  Homer  introduces 
not  a  single  simile  in  the  first  book  of  the  Iliad,  nor  in 
the  first  book  of  the  Odyssey.  On  the  other  hand, 
Shakespeare  begins  one  of  his  plays  with  a  sentiment 
too  bold  for  the  most  heated  imagination  : 

Bedford.  Huuff  be  the  heavens  with  black,  yield  day 
to  night ! 
Comets,  importing  change  of  times  and  states. 
Brandish  your  crystal  tresses  in  the  sky. 
And  with  them  scourge  the  bad  reroUing  stars. 
That  have  consented  unto  Henry ^s  death  ! 
Henry  the  Fifth,  too  famous  to  live  long  ! 
England  ne'er  lost  a  king  of  so  much  worth. 

First  part  Henry  VI. 

The  passage  with  which  Strada  begins  his  history,  is 
too  poetical  for  a  8ubje<^t  of  that  kind )  and  at  any  rate 
too  high  for  the  beginning  of  a  grave  performance. 

3.  A  third  rule  or  observation  is,  That  where  the 
subject  is  intended  for  entertainment  solely,  not  for  in- 
struction, a  thing  ought  to  be  described  as  it  appears, 
not  as  it  is  in  reality.  In  running,  for  example,  the 
impulse  upon  the  ground  is  proportioned  in  some  degree 
to  the  celerity  of  motion  \  though  in  appearance  it  is 
otherwise,  for  a  person  in  swift  motion  seems  to  skim 
the  ground,  and  scarcely  to  touch  it.  Virgil,  with  great 
taste,  describes  quick  running  according  to  appearance  ^ 
and  raises  an  image  far  more  lively  than  by  adhering 
scrupulously  to  truth : 

Hos  super  advenit  Volsca  de  gente  Camilla, 
Agmen  agens  equitum,  et  florentes  acre  catervas, 
Bellatrix :  non  ilia  colo  calathisve  Minervse 
Foemineas  assueta  manus ;  sed  prselia  virgo 
Dora  pati  cursuque  pedum  ppsevertere  ventos. 
Ilia  vel  intactSB  segetis  per  summa  volaret 
Gramina,  nee  teoeras  cursu  leesisset  arista^ : 
Vel  mare  per  medium,  flucto  suspensa  tumenti, 
Ferret  iter,  celeres  nee  tingeret  scquore  plantas. 

JEneidf  vii.  803. 


}  N    A    R 

.  4.  In  narration  as  well  as  in  description,  objects  ^l^^'^tian. 
ought  to  be  painted  so  accurately  as  to  form  in  the 
mind  of  the  reader  distinct  and  lively  images.  Every 
useless  circumstance  ought  indeed  to  bo  suppressed,  be- 
cause every  such  circumstance  loads  the  narration  ;  but 
if  a  circumstance  be  necessary,  however  slight,  it  can- 
not be  described  too  minutely.  The  force  of  language 
consists  in  raising  complete  images,  which  have  the  ef- 
fect to  transport  the  reader  as  by  magic  into  the  very 
place  of  the  important  action,  and  to  convert  him  as 
it  were  into  a  spectator,  beholding  every  thing  that 
passes.  The  narrative  in  an  epic  poem  ought  to  rival 
a  picture  in  the  liveliness  and  accuracy  of  its  represen- 
tations :  no  circumstance  must  he  omitted  that  tends  to 
make  a  complete  image  5  because  an  imperfect  image  as 
well  as  any  other  imperfect  conception,  is^cold  and  un- 
interesting. We  shall  illustrate  this  rule  by  several 
examples,  giving  the  first  place  to  a  beautiful  passage 
from  Virgil : 

Qualis  populed  mcerens  Philomela  sub  umbr& 
Amissos  queritur  foetus,  quos  durus  orator 
Observans  nido  imphimes  detraxit. 

Georg,  lib.  iv.  ^tu 

The  poplar,  ploughman,  and  unfledged- young,,  though 
not  essential  in  the  description,  tend  to  make  a  com- 
plete image,  and  upon-  that  account  an  an  embellish* 
ment* 

Again  : 

Hie  viridem  JEneta/rondenti  ex  ilice  metam 
Constituit,  signum  nantis.  JEneid^  r.  x  29. 

Horace  addressing  to  Fortane : 

Te  pauper  ambit  sollicita  prece 
Ruris  colonus  :  te  dominam  aequoris, 
Quicomque  Bitbynft  lacessit 
Carpathium  pelagus  carinft. 

Carm,  lib.  i.  ode  35. 

-— —  Ilium  ex  moenihus  hosticis 
Matrona  bellantis  tyranni 
Frospiciens,  et  adulta  ▼irgo, 
Suspiret :  Eheu,  ne  mdis  agminum 
Sponsus  lacessat  regius  asperum 
Tactu  leonem,  quem  cruenta 
Fer  medias  rapit  ira  csedes. 

(hrm.  lib.  iii.  ode  2. 

Shakespeare  says,  *'  You  may  as  well  go  about  to  turn 
the  sun  to  ice  by  fiuining  in  his  face  with  k  peacock^ a 
feather.'^  The  peacock's  feather,  not  to  mention  the 
beauty  of  the  object,  completes  the  image :  an  accur 
rate  image  cannot  be  formed  of  that  fanciful  operation, 
without  conceiving  a  particular  feather  j  and  one  is  at 
a  loss  when  this  is  neglected  in  the  description.  Again, 
'*  The  rogues  slighted  me  into  the  river  with  as*  little 
remorse,  as  they  would  have  drown*d  a  bitches  blind 
puppies,  fifteen  i*  th*  litter." 

Old  Lady,  You  would  not  be  a  queen  ? 
Anne.  No,  not  for  all  the  riches  under  heaven. 
Old  Lady.  ^Tis  strange :  a  threepence  bow'd  would 
hire  me,  old  as  I  am,  to  queen  it. 

Henry  Flit,  act  ii.  sc.  5. 


In  the  following  passage,  the  action,  with  all  its  materi- 
al 


N    A    R 


NvnUMHi.  a1  circumstances,  is  represented  so  much  to  the  life,  that 
it  would  scarce  appear  more  distinct  to  a  real  specta- 
tor 'y  and  it  is  the  manner  of  description  that  contri- 
butes greatly  to  the  sublimity  of  the  passage- 
He  spake ;  and,  to  confirm  his  words,  oat  flew 
Millions  of  flaming  swords,  drawn  from  the  thighs . 
Of  mighty  cherubim  ;  the  sudden  blaze 
Far  round  illuminM  hell :  highly  they  rag'd 
Against  the  Highest,  and  fierce  with  grasped  arms. 
Clashed  on  their  somiding  shields  the  din  of  war, 
Hurling  defiance  toward  the  vault  of  heavHu 

Milton,  book  L 

The  following  passage  from  Shakespeare  falls  not 
much  short  of  that  now  mentioned  in  particularity  of 
description : 

'O  you  bard  hearts  !  ye  cmel  men  of  Borne  ! 
Knew  you  not  Pompey  ?  Many  a  time  and  oft 
Have  you  climbM  up  to  walls  and  battlements. 
To  towers  and  windows,  yea,  to  chimney  tops, 
Your  infants  in  your  arms,  and  there  have  sat 
The  live-long  day  with  patient  expectation 
To  see  great  Pompey  pass  the  streets  of  Rome  j 
And  when  yon  saw  his  chariot  but  appear. 
Have  you  not  made  an  universal  shout,^ 
That  Tyber  trembled  underneath  his  banks, 
To  hear  the  replication  of  your  sounds. 
Made  in  his  concave  shore  P 

Julius  Citsarj  act  i.  sc.  l. 

*The  fd^lowing  passage  is  scarcely  inferior  to  either  of 
those  mentioned: 

**  Far  before  the  rest,  the  son  of  Ossian  comes : 
brighjt  in  the  smiles  of  youth,  fair  as  the  first  beams  of 
the  sun.  His  long  hair  waves  on  his  back  :  his  dark 
brow  is  half  beneath  his  helmet.  The  sword  hangs 
'loose  on  the  hero's  side ;  and  his  spear  glitters  as  be 
moves,  I  fled  from  his  terrible  eye,  king  of  high 
Temora.  Fingal. 

'The  Henriade  of  Voltaire  errs  greatlv  against  the 
"foregoing  rule :  every  incident  is  touched  m  a  summary 
way,  without  ever  descending  to  circumstances.  This 
manner  is  good  in  a  general  history,  the  purpose  of 
which  is  to  record  important  transactions :  but  in  a  fa- 
ble it  is  cold  and  uninteresting  \  because  it  is  impracti- 
cable to  form  distinct  images  of  persons  or  things  repre- 
sented in  a  manner  so  superficial. 

It  is  observed  above,  that  every  useless  circumstance 
ought  to  be  suppressed.  The  crowding  such  circum- 
stances iS|  on  the  one  hand,  not  less  to'  be  avoided 
than  the  conciseness  for  which  Voltaire  is  blamed,  on 
the  other.  In  die  .£neid,  finrce,  the  nurse  of  Sicbas* 
-us,  whom  we  never  heaor  of  befive  nor  aftn*,  is  intro- 
'doced  for  a  purpose  not  moce  important  than  to  call 
Anna  to  lier  sister  Dido:  and  that  it  migh^  not  be 
thought  unjust  in  Dido,  even  in  this  -trivial  circum- 
stance, to  prefer  her  husband's  nurse  before  her  own, 
the  poet  takes  care  to  inform  his  reader,  that  Dido's 
nurse  was  dead.  To  this  may  be  opposed  a  beautiful 
passage  in  the  same  book,  where,  after  Dido's  last 
speech,  the  poet,  without  detaining  his  readers  by  de- 
iScribing  the  manner  of  her  death,  hastens  to  the  lamen- 
.tation  of  htr  attendants : 

4 


[      6l6      ] 


N    A    R 


Dixerat :  atqne  iOam  media  inter  talia  feirs  ICami^ 

Collapsam  aspiciunt  comites,  ensemque  cmore 
Spumantem,  sparsasque  manos.     It  clamor  ad  tlta 
Atria  ^  concussam  baccbatur  fiima  per  urbem  \ 
Lamentis  gemituque,  et  foemineo  ululatu 
Tecta  fremunt,  resonat  magnis  plangoribus  aether. 

Lib.  iv.  663. 

As  an  appendix  to  the  foregoing  role,  may  be  added 
the  following  observation,  That  to  make  a  sodden  sod 
strong  impression,  some  single  circumstance,  bappily 
selected,  has  more  power  than  the  most  laboured  de- 
scription. Macbeth,  mentioning  to  his  lady  sane 
voices  he  heard  while  he  was  murdering  the  King, 
says, 

lliere's  one  did   lau|^  in's  sleep,  and  one  cry*d 

Murder ! 
They  wak'd  each  other;  and  I  stood  and  beard 

•  them : 
But  they  did  say  their  prayers,  and  address  them 
Again  to  sleep. 

Lady.  There  are  two  lodg'd  together. 
Macbeth,   One  cry'd,  God  bless  us !  and,  Amea ! 
the  other ; 
As  they  had  seen  me  with  these  hangman's  hands, 
Listening  their  fear.     I  could  not  say  Amen, 
When  they  did  say,  God  bless  us. 
Lady,  Consider  it  not  so  deeply. 
Macbeth.    But  wherefore  could  not  I  proaoonce 
Amen ! 
I  had  most  need  of  blessing,  and  Amen 
Stuck  in  my  throat. 

Lady,  These  deeds  must  not  be  thought 
After  these  wavs ;  so,  it  will  make  as  mad. 

Macbeth.  Metbought,  I  heard  a  voice  cry.  Sleep 
no  more ! 
Macbeth  doth  murder  sleep,  &c.  Act  ii.  sc  2. 

Describing  Prince  Henry : 

I  saw  young  Harry,  with  his  beaver  on. 
His  cuisses  on  bis  thighs,  gallantly  arm'd, 
llise  from  the  ground  like  feather'd  Mercury  \ 
And  vaulted  with  sucli  ease  into  his  seat. 
As  if  an  angel^dropt  down  from  the  clouds. 
To  turn  and  wind  a  fiery  Pegasus, 
And  witch  the  world  with  noble  horsemanship. 

First  Part  Henry  IK  act  iii.  sc.  3. 

King  Henry,    Lord  Cardinal,  if  thou  tbink'st  m 
Heaven's  bliss. 
Hold  up  thy  hand,  make  signal  of  thy  hope. 
He  dies,  and  makes  no  sign  ! 

Second  Pari  Henry  VL  act.  iii.  sc  iii. 

The  same  author,  speaking  ludicrously  of  an  annf 
debilitated  with  diseases,  says, 

**  Half  of  them  dare  not  shake  the  snow  finm  off 
their  cassocks,  lest  they  shake  themselves  to  pieces.** 

'*  I  have  seen  the  walls  of  Balclntha,  hot  they  imt 
desolate.  The  flames  had  resounded  in  the  balls :  aad 
the  voice  of  the  people  is  heard  no  more.  The  stresa 
of  Clutha  was  removed  from  its  plaee  by  the  foil  of  tk 
walls.  The  thistle  shook  there  its  lonely  head:  tftc 
moss  whistled  to  the  wind.  The  fin  looked  oot  fiss 
the  windows  ^  and  the  rank  grass  of  the  wall  vawd 


J 


N    A    R 


t    6 


Nuratioii.  rouiiA  bis  head.     Desolate  is  the  dwelling  of  Morna : 
'  silence  is  in  the  house  of  her  fathers."  FingaL 

To  draw  a  character  is  the  master  stroke  of  deacrip- 
tioB.  In  this  Tacitus  excels  ^  his  portraits  are  natui'al 
and  lively,  not  a  feature  wanting  or  misplaced.  Sbake- 
spearcy  however,  exceeds  Tacitus  in  liveliness  \  some 
characteristical  circumstance  being  generally  invented 
or  laid  hold  of,  which  paints  more  to  the  life  than 
many  words.  The  following  instances  will  cxplaie  our 
meaning,  and  kt  the  same  time  prove  our  observation 
to  be  just. 

Why  should  a  man,  T*!iose  blood  is  warm  within, 

Sit  like  his  grandsire  cut  in  alabaster  f 

Sleep  when  he  wakes,  and  creep  into  the  jaundice. 

By  being  peevish  ?  I  tell  thee  what,  Anthonio, 

(I  love  thee,  and  it  is  my  love  that  speaks), 

There  are  a  sort  of  men,  whose  visages 

Do  cream  and  mantle  like  a  standing  pond  ; 

And  do  a  wilful  stillness  entertain. 

With  purpose  to  be  dressed  in  an  opinion 

Of  wisdom,  gravity,  profound  conceit  \ 

As  who  should  say,  I  am  Sir  Oracle, 

And  when  I  ope  my  lips,  let  no  dog  bark  \ 

O  my  Anthonio  !  I  do  know  of  those. 

That  therefore  only  are  reputed  wise, 

For  saying  nothing. 

Merchant  of  Venice^  act  i.  sc.  i. 

Again: 

"  Gratiano  speaks  an  infinite  deal  of  nothing,  more 
than  any  man  in  all  Venice :  his  reasons  are  two  grains 
of  wheat  hid  in  two  bushels  of  chaffy  you  shall  seek  all 
day  ere  yon  find  them  ;  and  when  you  have  them,  they 
are  not  worth  the  search."  Ibid, 

In  the  folkywing  passage  a  character  is  completed  by 
a  single  stroke : 

Shallow,  O  the  mad  days  that  I  have  spent }  and  to 
aee  how  many  of  mine  «ld  acquaintance  are  dead. 

SiiefKe,  We  shall  all  follow,  coosin. 

Shallow,  Certain,  ^tis  certain,  very  sure,  very  sure  ; 
Death  (as  the  Psalmist  saith)  is  certain  to  all :  all  shall 
die.     How  a  good  yoke  of  bullocks  at  Stamford  fair  ? 

Slender.  Truly  cousin,  I  was  not  there. 

Shallow,  Death  is  certain.  Is  old  Double  of  your 
town  living  yet  f 

Silence.  Dead,  Sir. 

Shalhw,  Dead !  t»ee,  see :  he  drcfw  a  good  bow :  atad 
4lead.    H««4iot  alWie  shot.    How  a  aowre  of  ewes  mnv  f 

Silence,  Thereafter  as  they  be.  A  score  of  good 
ewes  may  be  worth  ten  pounds. 

SlutUow,  And  is  okl  Double  dead  f 

Second  part  Henry  IK  act  ili.  ac.  2* 

Describing  a  jealous  hnsband  : 

''  Neither  pfcss,  coflcr,  chest,  trank,  well,  vault,  but 
he  hath  au  abstract  lor  the  remembraoceof  sach  places, 
and  goes  to  thorn  by  his  note.  Tiiere  is  no  hiding  you 
in  the  house."     Merry  ff^wes  ofWiodmry  act  ir.  ec.  3. 

Covgreix  has  an  inimitable  stroke  of  this  kind  in  his 
coaaedy  of  Love  for  Love : 

Sen  Legend.  Well,  father,  and  how  ^o  all  at  home? 
how  does  brother  Dick,  and  brother  Val  ? 

Vol.  XIV,  Part  U.  t 


17     ]  N     A     R 

Sir  Sampson,  Dick,  body  0*  me,  Dick  has  been  dead  Karratlos. 
these  two  years.     I  writ  you  word  when  you  were  at 
Leghorn. 

Ben,  Mess,  that's  true  5  marry  I  had  forgot.  Dick*s 
dead,  as  you  say.  Act  iii.  sc.  6. 

Falstaff  speaking  of  Ancient  Pistol : 

♦•  He's  no  swaggerer,  hostess  5  a  tame  cheater  i'faith : 
you  may  stroak  him  as  gently  as  a  puppy  greyhound  j 
he  will  not  swagger  with  a  Barbary  ben,  if  her  feathers 
turn  back  in  any  show  of  resistance." 

Second ^art  Henry  IF.  act  ii.  sc.  4. 

Ossian,  among  his  other  excellencies,  is  eminentiv 
successful  in  drawing  characters )  and  he  never  fails  to 
delight  his  reader  with  the  beautiful  attitudes  of  bis 
heroes.     Take  the  following  instances  : 

"  O  Oscar  !  bend  the  strong  in  arm  ^  but  spare  the 
feeble  hand.  Be  thou  a  stream  of  many  tides  against 
the  foes  of  thy  people  ^  but  like  the  gale  that  moves  the 
grass  to  those  who  ask  tbine  aid.^So  Trenmor  lived  ^ 
such  Trathal  was  ^  and  such  has  Fingal  been.  My  arm 
was  the  support  of  the  injured  ^  and  the  weak  rested 
behind  the  lightning  of  my  steel*" 

'*  We  heard  the  voice  of  joy  on  the  coast,  and  we 
thought  that  the  mighty  Cathmor  came.  Cathroor  the 
friend  of  strangers !  the  brother  of  red-haiied  Cairfaar ! 
But  their  souls  were  not  the  same )  for  the  light  of 
heaven  was  on  the  bosom  of  Cathmor.  His  towers 
rose  on  the  banks  of  Atha :  seven  paths  led  to  his  halb : 
seven  chiefs  stood  on  these  paths,  and  called  the  stranger 
to  the  feast.  But  Cathmor  dwelt  in  the  wood  to  avoid 
the  voice  of  praise." 

*•  Dermid  and  Oscar  were  one :  they  leaped  the 
battle  together.  Their  friendship  was  strong  as  their 
steel ;  and  death  walked  between  them  to  the  field. 
They  rush  on  the  foe  like  two  rocks  falling  from  the 
brow  of  Ardven.  Tlieir  swords  are  stained  with  the 
blood  of  tlic  valiant :  warriors  faint  at  their  name. 
Who  is  equal  to  Oscar  but  Dermid  ?  who  to  Dermid 
but  Oscar  P 

'<  Son  of  Comhal,  replied  the  chief,  the  strength  of 
Momi's  arm  has  failed :  1  attempted  to  draw  tlie  sword 
of  my  youth,  bat  it  remains  in  its  place :  I  throw  the 
spear,  but  it  falls  short  of  the  mark :  and  I  feel  the 
weight  of  my  shield.  We  decay  Kke  the  grass  of  the 
mountain,  and  our  strength  returns  no  more.  I  hwe 
a  son,  O  Fingal  !  bis  soul  has  delighted  in  the  actions 
of  Morni^s  youth }  but  his  sword  has  not  been  fitted 
'  against  the  foe,  neither  has  his  faafie  begun.  I  coma 
ifith  him  to  battle,  to  direct  his  arm.  His  renown  will 
be  a  sun  to  my  soul,  in  the  dark  hour  of  my  departure. 
O  that  the  name  of  Momi  were  forgot  among  the 
people !  that  the  heroes  would  only  say^  BeMd  the  Jit" 
iher  ef  GauV' 

Some  writers,  through  heat  of  imagination,  fall  into 
contradiction  ^  some  are  guilty  of  downright  absurdi- 
ties \  and  some  even  rave  like  madmen.  Against  such 
capital  erroia  one  cannot  be  more  eflectualty  warned 
than  by  collecting  instances  ;  and  the  first  sha^l  be  of  a 
contradiction,  the  most  venial  of  all.  Virgil  speaking 
of  Neptune, 

4 1  Interea 


N    A    R 


[    6x8    ] 


NAB 


Narraiioa.      loterea  magno  miaceri  munnure  pootum, 
V     ^   *  *      Emissaraque  byemeoa  sensit  Neptunus,  et  iaua 
Stagna  refusa  vadis  j  graoiter  commotus^  et  alto 
ProspicienSy  sumiaft  placidum  caput  extulit  und&, 

JEnetdf  i.  128. 

Again: 

Wben  first  young  Maro,  in  his  boundless  mind, 
A  work  t'outlast  immortal  Rome  designM. 

Essay  on  Criticism^  30. 

The  following  examples  are  of  absurdities. 

**Alii  pulsis  €  tormento  catenis  discerpti  sectique, 
dimidiate  corpore  pngnabant  sibi  superstites,  ac  per- 
emptse  partis  ultores.^*  Strada,  Dec,  ii.  2* 

II  pover  huomoy  che  Aon  sen^  era  accortOy 
Aodava  combattendo,  ed  era  morto.  Bcrnt. 

He  fled,  but  flying,  left  his  life  behind. 

liiddf  xi.  443. 

Full  through  his  neck  tlie  weighty  falchion  sped  : 
Along  the  pavement  roUM  the  muttering  head. 

Odyssey^  xxii.  365. 

The  last  article  is  of  raving  like  one  mad.     Cleopatra 
quaking  to  the  aspic, 

■Welcome,  thou  kind  deceiver. 
Thou  best  of  thieves  ^  who,  with  an  easy  key. 
Dost  open  life,  and  unperceivM  by  us 
Ev'n  steal  us  ht>m  ourselves ;  discharging  so 
Death's  dreadful  office,  better  than  himself; 
Touching  our  limbs  so  gently  into  slumber. 
That  Death  stands  by,  deceivM  by  his  own  image, 
And  thinks  himself  but  sleep. 

Drtden,  AUfor  Love^  act  v. 

Having  discussed  what  observations  occurred  upon 
the  thoughts  or  things  expressed,  we  proceed  to  what 
more  peculiarly  concerns  the  language  or  verbal  dress. 
As  words  are  intimately  connected  with  the  ideas  they  * 
represent,  the  emotions  raised  by  the  sound  and  by  the 
sense  ou^t  to  be  concordant.  An  elevated  subject  re* 
quires  an  elevated  style }  what  is  familiar,  ought  to  be 
familiarly  expressed :  a  subject  that  is  serious  and  im- 
portant, ought  to  be  clothed  in  plain  nervous  language-: 
A  description,  on  the  other  hand,  addressed  to  the  ima- 
gination, is  susceptible  of  the  highest  ornaments  that 
Bounding  words  and  hgurative  expression  can  bestow 
upon  it. 

We  shall  give  a  few  examples  of  the  foregoing  rules. 
A  poet  of  any  genius  is  not  apt  to  dress  a  high  sub^ 
ject  in  low  words  ;  and  yet  blemishes  of  that  kind  are 
found  even  in  classical  works.  Horace,  observing  that 
men  are  satisfied  with  themselves,  but  seldom  with 
their  condition,  introduces  Jupiter  indulging  to  each 
his  own  choice: 

Jam  faciam  quod  vultis  ;  oris  tu,  qui  modo  miles, 
Mercator)  tu,  cotisultus  modo,  rusticus:  bine  vo8| 
Vos  bine,  mutatis  disced  ite  partibus.  eia, 
Quid  ?  statis  ?  nolint.  atqui  licet  esse  beatis. 
Quid  causae  est,  merito  quin  illis  Jupiter  amhas 
Iratus  buccas  inflet^  neque  se  fore  posthac 
Tarn  facllem  dicat,  votis  ut  praebeat  aurem  ? 

Sai,  i.  i6. 


Jupiter  in  wrath  puffing  up  both  cheeks,  is  a  Iw  nj  yivu^^ 
even  ludicrous  expression,  far  from  suitable  to  the  gn-  ^— ^,-^ 
vity  and  importance  of  the  subject :    every  one  most 
feel  the  discordance.     The  following  couplet,  sinking 
far  below  tlie  subject,  is  no  less  ludicrous : 

Not  one  looks  backward,  omvard  still  he  goes, 
Yet  ne'er  looks  forward  farther  than  his  nose. 

Essay  on  Man^  ep.  iv.  225. 

On  the  other  luind,  to  raise  the  expression  above  the 
tone  of  the  subject,  is  a  fault  than  tvhich  none  is  idok 
common.     Take  the  following  instances : 

Orcan  le  plus  fiddle  i  servit  ses  dcsseins, 

Ne  sous  le  ciel  briilant  des  plus  noirs  Africains. 

Baja%etf  act  iii.  sc  &. 

Les  6mbre8  par  trois  fois  out  obscurci  les  cieox 
Depuis  que  le  sommeil  n^est  tntr6  dans  vos  yetix; 
£t  le  jour  a  trois  fois  cbasse  la  noit  obscure 
Depuis  que  votre  corps  languit  sans  nourritnre. 

P?uedra^  act  i.  sc  3. 

Assueris,  Ce  mortel,  qui  niontra  tant  de  z£le  poor 
moi,  Vit*il  encore  ? 

Asaph.  II  voit  Tastre  qui  vous  Claire. 

Esther^  act  iL  sc.  3. 

Oui,  cVst  Agamemnon,  c^est  ton  roi  qui  tVveiUe  \ 
Vieas,  reconnois  la  voix  qui  frappe  ton  oreille. 

Iphigenk. 

No  jocund  health  that  Denmark  drinks  to-day, 
Bui  the^  great  cannon  to  the  clouds  shall  tell  j 
And  the  king^s  rowse  the  heaven  shall  bruit  again, 
llespeaking  earthly  thunder. 

Hamlet^  act  L  se.  X 

In  the  inner  room 
I  spy  a  winking  lamp,  that  weakly  strikes 
The  ambient  air,  scarce  kindling  into  light. 

SouTHERNE,  Fate  ofCapuOy  act  til 

In  the  Funeral  Orations  of  the  bishop  of  Meanx,  tk 
following  passages  are  raised  far  above  the  tone  of  the 
subject  \ 

*<  L'Ocean  etonn6  de  se  voir  traverse  tant  de  fois,  ea 
des  appareils  si  divers,  et  pour  des  causes  si  differeotOi 
&c.''  Pag.  d. 

'^  Grande  reine,  je  satisfais  A  vos  plus  tendres  deu^ 
quand  je  c^l^bre  ce  monarque  \  et  son  eceor  qni  a'a  ja- 
mais vteu  que  pour  lui,  s^eveille,  tout  poudre  qa*il  at, 
et  devient  sensible,  ro6me  sous  ce  drap  mortnaire,  sa 
nom  d*un  epoux  si  cher."  Pag.  %% 

The  following  passage,  intended,  one  would  iniagiDe^ 
as  a  receipt  to  boil  water,  is  altogether  borlesqae  by 
the  laboured  elevation  of  the  diction  : 
A  massy  cauldron  of  stupendous  frame 
They  brought,  and  placM  it  o^er  the  rising  flaiae : 
Then  heap  the  lighted  wood  \  the  flame  divides 
Beneath  the  vase,  and  climbs  aromid  the  sides : 
In  its  wide  womb  they  pour  the  rushing  strrav : 
The  boiling  water  bubbles  to  the  brim. 

lliad^  xviii*  405. 

In  a  passage  at  the  beginning  of  the  4th  bsok  if 
Telemachus,  one  feels  a  sudden  bound  upvaid  ailhsi' 
preparation,  which  accords  not  with  the  sobject : 

«*Wyj», 


N    A    R 


[     619  '] 


N    A    R 


^  Calypso,  qui  avoit  ^te  josq*  a  ce  moment  immo- 
'  bSe  et  transported  de  plsisir  on  ^outant  les  aventures 
ie  T^maque,  rinterrompit  poor  lui  faire  prendre 
qnelque  rep6:>.  II  est  toms,  lui  dit-elle,  que  tous  alliez 
gofiter  la  douceur  du  sommeil  apr^s  tant  de  travaux. 
Vous  n^avcz  rien  ^  craindre  ici ;  tout  vous  est  favora- 
ble. Abandonoez  vous  done  ^  la  joie.  Goutez  la 
pAix,  et  tous  les  autres  dons  des  dieuK  dont  vous  allez 
^tre  combl^.  Demain,  quand  PAurore  avec  ses  doigts 
de  rSses  entr^ouvrvn  les  pories  dories  de  P  Orient^  et  que 
let  chevaux  du  soieiij  soriant  de  Pondc  anUre^  rSpandront 
Us  flames  du  jour^  pour  chaster  devani  eux  tautes  les 
etmles  du  ciel^  nous  reprendrons,  mon  cher  T^Mmaque, 
rhistoire  de  vos  malheurs/' 

Tbls  obviously  is  copied  from  a  similar  passage  in 
tbe  w£neid,  wbich  ought  not  to  have  been  copied,  be- 
cause it  lies  open  to  tJbe  same  censure  \  but  the  force 
of  authority  is  great : 

At  regioa  gravi  jamdudum  saucia  cura, 
Vulnus  alit  vents,  et  coeco  carpitur  igni. 
Multa  viri  virtus  anidko,  multusque  recursat 
Gentis  honos :  baerent  infixi  pectore  voltus, 
Verbaque :  nee  placidam  membris  dat  cura  quietem. 
Postera  Fhabea  lustrabat  hmpade  terras^ 
Humeniemque  Aurora  polo  dimoverat  umbram; 
Cum  sic  uuanimem  alloquttur  malesana  sororem. 

Lib*  iv.  I.  , 

Tbe  language  of  Homer  is  suited  to  his  subject,  not 
less  accurately  than  the  actions  and  sentiments  of  his 
heroes  are  to  their  characters.  Vireil,  in  that  particu- 
lar, falls  short  of  perfection :  his  language  is  stately 
throughout  -y  and  though  he  descends  at  times  to  the 
simplest  branches  of  cookery,  roasting  and  boiling  for 
example,  yet  he  never  relaxes  a  moment  from  the  high 
toDe.«i*In  adjusting  his  language  to  his  subject,  no  wri- 
ter equals  Swift.  >Ve  can  recollect  but  one  exception, 
wbich  at  tbe  same  time  is  far  from  being  gross :  Tbe 
Journal  of  a  modem  Lady  is  composed  in  a  style  blend- 
ing sprightliness  with  familiarity,  perfectly  suited  to 
the  subject  \  in  one  passage,  however,  the  poet,  deviate 
ing  from  that  style,  takes  a  tone  above  his  subject. 
The  passage  we  have  in  view  begins  1.  115.  But  let 
me  flow  a  while  survey y  &c.  and  ends  at  1.  135. 

It  is  proper  to  be  observed  upon  this  head,  that  wri- 
ters of  inferior  rank  are  continually  upon  tlie  stretch 
to  enliven  and  enforce  their  subject  by  exaggeration 
and  superlatives.  This  unluckily  has  an  eflPcct  contrary 
to  what  is  intended  \  tbe  reader,  disgusted  with  lan- 
guage that  swells  above  tbe  subject,  is  led  by  contrast 
to  think  more  meanly  of  (lie  subject  than  it  may  pos- 
aibly  deserve.  A  man  of  prudence,  beside,  will  be  no 
less  careful  to  husband  bis  strength  in  writing  than  in 
walking  ;  a  writer,  too  liberal  of  superlatives,  exhausts 
his  whole  stock  upon  ordinary  incidents,  and  reserves 
no  share  to  express,  with  greater  energy,  matters  of 
ironortanc^ 

Many  writers  of  that  kind  abound  so  in  epithets,  as 
if  poetry  consisted  entirely  in  high  sounding  words. 
Take  the  following  instance : 

"When  black  browed  night  her  dusky  mantle  spread, 
And  wrapt  in  solemn  gloom  the  sable  sky  j 

IVhen  soothing  sleep  her  opiate  dews  had  shed, 
And  sealM  in  silken  slumbers  every  eye : 


My  waking  thought  admits  no  balmy  rest. 
Nor  the  sweet  bliss  of  soft  oblivion  share  'y 

But-Watchful  woe  distracts  my  aching  breast, 
My  heart  the  subject  of  corroding  care  : 

From  haunts  of  men  with  wandering  steps  and  slow 

I  solitary  steal,  and  soothe  my  pensive  woe. 

Here  every  substantive  is  faithfully  attended  by  some 
tumid  epithet. 

We  proceed  to  a  second  remark,  not  less  important 
than  the  former.  No  person  of  reflection  but  must  be 
sensible,  that  an  incident  makes  a  stronger  impression  on 
an  eye  witness,  than  when  heard  at  second  hand.  Wri- 
ters of  genius,  sensible  that  the  eye  is  the  best  avenue  to 
the  heart,  represent  every  thing  as  passing  in  our  sight ; 
and,  from  readers  or  hearers,  transform  us  as  it  were 
into  spectators :  a  skilful  writer  conceals  himself,  and 
presents  his  personages  :  in  a  word,  every  thing  becomes 
dramatic  as  much  as  possible.  Plutarch,  de  gloria  A- 
theniensiumy  observes,  that  Thucydides  makes  his  reader 
a  spectator,  and  inspires  him  with  the  same  passions  as 
if  be  were  an  eye  witness. 

In  the  fine  arts,  it  is  a  rule  to  put  tbe  capital  objects 
in  the  strongest  point  of  view  ^  and  even  to  present  them 
oftener  than  once,  where  it  can  be  done.  In  history 
painting,  tbe  principal  figure  is  placed  in  the  front,  and 
in  the  best  light :  an  equestrian  statue  is  placed  in  a 
centre  of  streets,  that  it  may  be  seen  from  many  places 
at  once.  In  no  composition  is  there  greater  opportuni* 
ty  for  this  rule  than  in  writing  : 

» 

-«-^—  Sequitur  pulcherrimus  Astur, 
Astur  equo  fidens  et  versicoloribus  armis. 

JEneidy  x.  180. 
'  Full  many  a  lady 

I*ve  eyM  with  best  regard,  and  many  a  time 
Tb*  harmony  of  their  tongues  hath  into  bondage 
Brought  my  too  diligent  ear  :  for  several  virtues 
Have  I  likM  several  women :  never  any 
With  so  foil  soul,  but  some  defect  in  her 
Did  quarrel  with  the  noblest  grace  she  owM, 
And  put  it  to  tbe  foil.     But  you,  O  you, 
80  perfect,  and  so  peerless,  are  created 
Of  every  creature*s  best.         Tempest y  act  iii.  sc.  i. 


Nairatidn. 


Orlando^ 


.Whatever  you  are 


That,  in  the  desert  inaccessible. 

Under  the  shade  of  melancholy  boughs. 

Lose  and  neglect  the  creeping  hours  of  time  \ 

If  ever  you  have  lookM  on  better  days  j 

If  ever  been  where  bells  have  knolPd  to  church  \ 

If  ever  sat  at  any  good  man's  feast  'y 

If  ever  from  your  eyelids  wip^d  a  tear. 

And  known  what  'tis  to  pity,  and  be  pity'd ) 

Let  gentleness  my  strong  enforcement  be. 

In  tbe  which  hope  I  blush,  and  hide  my  sword. 

Duke  sen.  True  is  it  that  we  have  seen  better  days^ 
And  have  with  holy  bell  been  knoli'd  to  church  > 
And  sat  at  good  men's  feasts  j  and  wip'd  our  eyes 
Of  drops  that  sacred  pity  had  engender'd  \ 
And  therefore  sit  you  down  in  gentleness, 
And  take  upon  command  what  help  we  have, 
That  to  your  wanting  may  be  minist'red. 

As  you  like  it. 

With  thee  conversing  I  forget  all  time  \ 

All  seasons  and  tbeir  change,  all  please  alike. 

4  I  a  Sweet 


N    A    R  [ 

Sweet  is  the  breath  of  moniy  her  r»ing  sweet, 
With  charm  of  earliest  birds }  pleasant  the  sua 
When  first  on  this  del^btful  land  he  spreads 
His  orient  beams  on  herbs,  tree,  firuit,  and  flower 
Glistering  with  dew }  fragrant  the  fertile  earth 
After -soft  showers  ^  and  sweet  the  coming  on 
Of  grateful  evening  mild,  the  silent  night 
With  this  her  solemn  bird,  and  this  fair  moon, 
And  these  the  gems  of  heav*n,  her  starry  train  : 
But  neither  breath  of  mom,  when  she  ascends 
With  chafm  of  earliest  birds,  nor  rising  sun 
On  this  delightful  land,  nor  herb,  fruit,  flow'r, 
GlistVing  with  dew,  nor  fragrance  after  show^rfi. 
Nor  grateful  evening  mild,  nor  silent  night. 
With  this  her  solemn  bird,  nor  walk  by  moon 
Or  glittering  star  light,  without  thee  is  sweet. 

Paradise  Lost^  book  iv.  1.  634. 

•*=  What  meaH  ye,  that  ye  use  this  proverb,  Tlie  fa- 
thers have  eaten  sour  grapes,  and  the  children's  teeth 
are  set  on  edge  ?  As  1  live,  saith  the  Lord  God,  yc 
shall  not  have  occasion  to  use  this  proverb  in  Israel.  If 
a  man  keep  my  judgments  to  deal  truly,  he  is  just,  he 
shall  surely  live.  But  if  he  be  a  robber,  a  shedder  of 
blood  :  if  he  have  eaten  upon  the  mountains,  and  de- 
filed his  neighbour's  wife:  if  he  have  oppressed  the 
poor  and  needy,  have  spoiled  by.  violence,  have  not  re- 
stored the  pledge,  have  lift  up  his  eyes  to  idols,  have 
fiven  forth  upon  usury,  and  have  taken  increase  :  shall 
e  live  ?  he  shall  not  live  :  he  shall  surely  die  \  and  his 
blood  shall  be  upon  him.  Now,  lo,  if  he  beget  a  son, 
that  seeth  all  bis  father's  sins,  and  considereth,  and  doth 
not  such  like  \  that  hath  not  eaten  upon  the  moun- 
tains, hath  not  lift  up  his  eyes  to  idols,  nor  defiled  his 
neighboiif's  wifi^,  hath  not  oppressed  any,  nor  with- 
held the  pledge,  neither  hath  spoiled  by  violence,  but 
hath  given  his  bread  to  the  hungry,  and  covered  the 
naked  with  a  garment :  that  hath  not  received  usury 
nor  increase,  that  hath  executed  my  judgments,  and 
walked  in  my  statotes :  he  shall  not  die  for  the  iniquity 
of  his  fiitbcr  }  lie  shall  surely  live.  The  soul  that  sin- 
neth,  it  shall  die  \  the  son  shall  not  bear  the  iniquity 
•f  the  fiither,  neither  shall  the  father  bear  the  iniquity 
of  the  son  \  the  righteousness  of  the  righteous  shall  be 
upon  him,  and  the  wickedness  of  the  wieked  shall  be 
upon  him.  Have  I  any  pleasure  that  the  wicked  should 
die,  saith  the  Lord  God  \  and.  not  that  he  should  return 
from  his  ways,  and  livo  !'^  JSzekiei  xvii. 

A  concise  comprehessirc  style  is  a  great  ornament  in 
narration  ;  and  a  superfiuily  of  unnecessary  words,  not 
less  than  of  circumstanoes,  a  great  nuisance.  A  judi- 
cious selection  of  the  striking  circumKtances,  clothed  in 
a  nervous  style,  is  delightfuL  In  this  style,  Taoitus 
excels  all  writers^  ancient  and  modern.  Instancea  are 
anmberleas :  take  the  following  specimen : 

**  Crtbra  bine  prselta,  et  ssepius  in  modum  latrocinii : 
per  saltus^  per  paludes^.  ut  cuique  fbrs  aut  virtus:  te- 
mere,  proviso,  ob  iram,  ob  prsedam,  jussu,  et  aliquando* 
ignaris  ducibus.'*^  Annal.  lib.  xii.  §  ^g. 

After  Tacitus,  Ossian  in  that  respect  justly  merits 
ihe  place  of  distinction.  One  cannot  go  wrong  for  ex- 
amples in  any  part  of  the  book. 

If  a  concise  or  aervoos  style  be  a  beauty,  tavtology 
nnst  be  a  blemish }  and  yet  writers,  fettered  by  verse, 


620      ] 


N    A    R 


are  not  sufficiently  careful  to  avoid  this  slovenly  pne- 
tice :  they  may  be  pitied,  b«t  they  camiot  he  jostified. 
Take  for  a  specimen  the  Mlowing  instances,  (ran  tht 
best  poet,  for  versification  at  loast,  that  England  has  ts 
boast  of: 

High  on  his  helm  celestial  liffhtnings  play, 
His  beamy  shield  emits  a  living  ray  \ 
Tb'  unwearyM  blaze  incessant  streams  supplies, 
Like  die  red  star  that  fiies  the  autumnal  skies. 

Uiad,  5. 

Strength  and  ounipoteace  invest  thy  throne. 

Ibid.  576. 

So  silent  fountains,  from  a  rqck's  tall  head, 
In  sable  streams  soft  trickling  waters  shed. 

IhidL  ix.  19. 

His  clanging  armour  rung.  Ihid^  xii.  94. 

Fear  on  their  cheek,  and  horror  in  their  eye. 

Ibid,  XV.  4. 

The  blaze  of  armour  flash'd  agaimt  the  day. 

Ibid,  xvii.  736. 

As  when  the  piercing  blasts  of  Boreas  blow. 

Ibid.  xix.  380. 

And  like  the  moon,  the  broad  refulgent  shield 
Blaz'd  with  long  rays,  and  gleam'd  athwart  the  field. 

Ibid*  xix.  40i- 

No— could  oor  swiftness  o'er  the  winds  prevail, 

Or  beat  the  pinions  of  the  western  ga.le. 

All  were  in  vain  ibid,  xix.  604. 

Tlie  humid  sweat  from  every  pore  descends. 

Ibidn  zxiii.  829. 

We  close  this  article  with  a  curious  inqoiry.  Aa 
object,  however  ngly  to  the  sight,  is  far  frcMD  hciog  m 
when  represented  by  colours  or  by  wotds.  What  '% 
the  cause  of  this  diflference  f  With  respect  to  painting, 
the  cause  is  obvious :  a  good  picture,  whatever  the 
subject  be,  is  agreeable  by  the  pleasure  we  take  is 
imitation ;  and  thi^  pleasure  overbalancing  the  &• 
agrceableness  of  the  subject,  makes  the  picture  apM 
the  whole  agreeable.  With  respect  to  the  desciiftMi 
of  an  ugly  object,  the  oauso  follows.  To  connect  in- 
dividuals in  the  social  state,  no  particular  contribstcf 
viore  than  language,  by  the  power  it  possesses  sf  as 
expeditious  communication  of  thought,  and  a  lively 
representation  of  transactions.  But  nature  bath  ost 
been  satisfied  to  recommend  language  by  its  utiHty 
merely :  independent  of  utility,  it  is  made  soMcptible 
of  many  beauties,  which  are  directly  felt,  witheat  aav 
intervening  reflection.  And  this  unfolds  the  mysleiy; 
for  the  pleasure  of  language  is  so  grrat,  as  in  a  livrir 
description  to  overbalance  the  diaagreeableness  of  tk 
image  raised  by  it.  This,  however,  ia  no  enesonge* 
ment  to  choose  a  disagireabie  subject  \  for  the  pleaamt 
is  incomparably  greater  where  the  subject  and  the  de- 
scription an  both  oi  tliem  agreeable. 

The  following  dencription  is  upon  the  whole  a- 
greeable,  though  the  subject  described  is  in  inrlf 
dismal : 

Nine  times  the  space  that  measures  day  and  w^ 
To  mortal  men,  he  with  hb  horrid  crew 


N    A    R 


[    621     ] 


N    A    R 


Narration. 


Lay  vanquished,  rolling  in  the  fiery  gulf, 

Confounded  though  immortal !  but  his  doom 

BeservM  him  to  more  ^rrath  •,  for  now  the  thought 

Both  of  lost  happineis  and  lasting  pain 

Torments  him :  round  he  throws  his  balefnl  eyes 

That  witnessM  huge  affliction  and  dismay, 

MixM  with  obdurate  pride  and  stedfast  hate. 

At  once  as  far  as  angels  ken  he  views 

The  dismal  situation  waste  and  wild : 

A  dungeon  horrible,  on  all  sides  round 

As  one  great  furnace  flamed  ^  yet  from  those  flames 

No  light,  bnt  rather  darkness  visible 

Served  only  to  discover  sights  of  wo, 

Kegions  of  sorrow,  doleful  shades,  where  peace 

And  rest  can  never  dwell,  hope  never  comes 

That  comes  to  alt ;  but  torture  without  end 

Still  urges,  and  a  fiery  deluge,  fed 

With  ever-burning  sulphur  unconsumM  ! 

Such  place  eternal  justice  had  preparM 

For  those  rebellious.  Paradise  Lost^  book  i.  50. 

An  unmanly  depression  of  spirits  in  time  of  danger  is 
not  an  agreeable  sight  \  and  yet  a  fine  description  or 
representation  of  it  will  be  relished: 

JT.  Ric/iard.  What  must  the  king  do  now  ?  must 
he  submit? 
The  kiai;  shall  do  it :  must  he  be  deposM  ? 
Tire  king  shall  be  contented  :  must  he  lose 
The  name  of  king  ?  0'  God^s  name  let  it  gi 
.  I^ll  give  my  jewels  for  a  set  of  heads  ^ 
My  gorgeous  palace,  for  a  hermitage ; 
My  gay  apparel,  for  an  alronman^s  gowa^ 
My  figurM  goblets,  for  a  dish  of  wood ; 
My  sceptre  for  a  palmer^^  walking  staff} 
My  subjects,  for  a  pair  of  carved  saints  y 
And  my  large  kingdom,  for  a  little  grave  j 
A  little,  little,  grave,         an  obscure  grave. 
Or  I'll  be  buried  in  the  king^s  highway ; 
Some  way  of  common  tread,  where  subjects  feet 
May  hourly  trample  on  their  sovereign's  head  f 
For  on  my  heart  they  tread  now,  whilst  I  live  j 
And,  bury'd  once,  why  not  upon  my  head  i 

Richard  II.  act  iii.  sc.  6* 

Objeets  that  strike  terror  in  a  spectator,  have  in  poe- 
tiy  and  painting  a  fine  efllect.  The  picture,  by  raising 
a  slight  emotion  of  tenor,  agitates  the  mind  ^  and  in 
that  condition  every  beauty  makes  a  deep  impression^ 
May  not  contrast  heighten  the  pleasure,  by  opposing 
eor  present  security  to  the  danger  of  encountering  the 
object  represented. 


go: 


-The  other  shape, 


If  shape  it  might  be  calPd  that  shape  bad  none 

Distinguishable  in  member,  joint,  or  limb  j 

Or  sul^taoce  might  be  called  that  shadow  seem'd, 

For  each  seem'd  either  ^  black  it  stood  as  night. 

Fierce  as  ten  furies,  terrible  as  hell. 

And  shook  a  dreadful  dart.   Par.  Lost^  book  ii.  666. 


-Now  storming  fury  rose, 


And  clamour  such  as  heard  in  heaven  till  now 
Was  never :  arm^i  on  armour  clashing  bray'd 
Horrible  discord,  and  the  mailding  wheels 
Of  brazen  chariots  rage  ;  dire  was  the  noisa 
Of  conflict  \  overhead  the  dismal  hiss 


Of  fiery  darts  in  flaming  volleys  flew. 

And  flying  vaulted  either  host  with  fire. 

So  under  fiery  cope  together  rush'd 

Both  battles  main,  with  ruinous  assault 

And  unextingtiisliable  rage :  all  heaven 

Resounded,  and  had  earth  been  then,  all  earth 

Had  to  her  centre  shook.  Ibid,  book  vu  207. 


Narraiion^ 
Karses. 


G/wst.> 


•But  that  I  am  forbid 


To  tell  the  secrets  of  my  prison-house, 

I  could  a  tale  unfold,  wookc  lightest  word 

Would  harrow  up  thy  soul,  freeze  thy  young  blood. 

Make  thy  two  eyes,  like  stars  start  from  their  spheres, 

Thy  knotty  and  combined  locks  to  pfirt. 

And  each  particular  hair  to  stand  on  end*. 

Like  quills  upon  the  fretful  porcupine  : 

But  this  eternal  blazon  must  not  be 

To  ears  of  flesh  and  blood.  Hamlet^  act  1.  sc.  8» 

Gratiano.  Poor  Desdemona !  I*ni  glad  thy  father's 
-dead: 
Thy  match  was  mortal  to  him  \  and  pore  grief 
Shore  his  old  thread  in  twain.     Did  he  live  now. 
This  sight  would  make  bim  do  a  desp'rate  turn : 
Yea,  curse  his  better  angel  from  his  side. 
And  fall  to  reprobation.  OiAeUb^  act  v.  sc  8. 

Objects  of  horror  must  be  excepted  from  Ihe  finrem- 
ing  theory  ;  for  no  description,  however  lively,  is  nim^ 
cieat  to  overbalance  the  disgust  raised  even  by  the  ide»* 
of  such  objects.     Every  thing  hoirible  ought  therefiwo* 
to  be  avoided  in  a  description 

NARSES,  the  eunuch  who  rivalled  Belitarioa  in  he* 
roism  under  the  reign  of  the  emperor  Justinian,  emerged 
firom  obscurity  A.  D.  538.  From  the  domesCie  service 
of  the  palace,  and  the  administration  of  the  private  *e« 
venue,  he  was  suddenly  exalted  to  the  head  df  an  amy. 
He  is  ranked  among  the  few  eunuchs  who  have  rescued 
tliat  unhappy  name  from  the  contempt  and  hatred  of 
mankind.  A  feeble  diminutive  body  concealed  the  soul 
of  a  statesman  and  a  warrior.  His  youth  had  been  em* 
ployed  in  the  management  of  the  loom  and  distaff,  in 
the  cares  of  the  household,  and  the  service  of  female 
luxury }  bnt,  while  his  hands  were  busy,  he  secretly  ex« 
ercised  the  faculties  of  a  vigorous  and  diaceming  mind. 
A  stranger  to  the  schools  and  the  camp,  he  studied  in 
the  palace  to  dissemble,  to  flatter,  and  to  persuade  ^  and 
as  soon  as  he  approaclicd  the  person  of  the  emperor, 
Justinian  listened  with  surprise  and  pleasure  to  the  man- 
ly couusels  of  his  chamberlain  and  pfivate  treasurer.. 
The  talents  of  Narses  were  tried  and  improved  in  fre- 
quent embassies ;  he  led  an  army  into  Italy,  acquired  a 
practical  knowledge  of  the  war  and  the  country,  and 
presumed  to  strive  with  the  genius  of  Belisarius. 
Twelve  years  after  his  return,  the  eunuch  was  chosen 
to  achieve  the  conquest  which  had  been  left  imperfect 
by  the  first  of  the  Roman  generals.  Instead  of  being 
dazzled  by  vanity  or  emulation,  he  seriously  declarecl, 
that  unless  he  were  armed  with  an  adequate  force,  he 
would  never  consent  to  risk  his  own  glory  and  that  of 
his  sovereign.  Justinian  granted  to  the  favourite  what 
he  might  have  denied  to  the  hero :  the  Gothic  war 
was  rekindled  from  its  ashes,  and  the  preparations 
were  not  unworthy  of  the  ancient  majesty  of  the  em- 
pire. 

Narses  defeated  the  Goths,. the  Franks,  and  the 

Alamanni : . 


N    A    S  f    622 

-Narrai    Alamanni  ^  the  Italiao  cities  opened  their  gates  to  the 

I)        conqueror  y  he  entered  the  capital  in  triumph ;  and 

Natsau.    having  established  the  seat  of  his  government  at  Ra« 

'     "    venna,  continued  15  years  to  govern  Italy  under  the 

title  of  Exarch. 

His  virtues,  we  are  told,  were  stained  with  avarice; 
•and  in  this  provincial  reign  he  accumulated  a  treasure 
of  gold  and  silver  which  surpassed  the  modesty  of  a 
private  fortune.     His  government  was  oppressive  or 
unpopular ;  and  the  general  discontent  was  expressed 
with  freedom  hy  the  deputies  of  Home.     Before  the 
throne  of  Justinian  they  boldly  declared,  that  their 
'Gothic  servitude  bad  been. more  tolerable  than  the  des- 
potism of  a  Greek  eunuch ;  and  that  unless  their  ty- 
rant were  instantly  removed,  they  wouM  consult  their 
own  happiness  in  the  choice  of  a  master.     Thus  was 
|iis  disgrace  the  effect  of  the  people's  disaffection ;  and 
his  death,  though  in  the  extreme  period  of  old  age, 
•was  Huseasonable  and  premature,  since  bis  genius  alone 
could  have  repaired  the  last  and  fatal  error  of  his  life; 
He  died  about  the  year  567,  and,  as  some  say,  at  the 
advanced  age  of  95  y  but  this  does  not  appear  very  pro- 
bable. See  Gibbon's  Bom.  Hist.  vol.  iv.  4to  edit.  p.  'I94, 
298,  &c. 

NABVA,  a  strong  town  of  the  Bussian  empire,  in 
Xivonia,  with  a  castle  and  a  harbour.  It  was  taken  by 
the  Muscovites  from  the  Danes  in  1 558,  by  the  Swedes 
in  1 581,  and  they  defeated  the  Muscovites  near  it^in 
1700 ;  but  it  was  retaken  by  the  Bussians  in  1704  by 
storm,  and  the  inhabitants  sent  to  Astracan.  It  is  seat- 
ed on  the  river  Narva,  95  miles  south-west  of  Wiburg, 
and  172  north-east  of  Biga.  E.  Long.  29.  o.  N.  Lat. 
Sg.  8. 

NABWAL,  a  genus  of  whales.  See  Monodok, 
Cetologt  Index* 

NASSAU-si£G£N,  a  small  principality  of  Germany 
in  the  Westerwalde,  is  in  general  a  mountainous  woody 
country,  with  some  arable  and  pasture  ground,  and  .a 
good  breed  of  cattle.  Its  manufactures  are  chiefly 
those  of  iron  and  steel,  having  an  iron  mine  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Siegen.  Count  John  the  Younger, 
in  1626,  embraced  the  Boman  Catholic  religion,  and 
endeavoured  to  introduce  it  iuto  the  country  \  but  the 
principality,  upon  the  extinction  of  the  line  of  Nassau- 
|>iegen  in  17439  falling  to  the  line  of  Nassau-Dietz, 
and  therein  to  the  prince  of  Orange,  hereditary  stadt« 
holder  of  the  United  Provinces,  the  Protestants  were 
delivered  from  their  apprehensions  of  Popish  tyranny 
and  bigotry.  The  prince,  ou  account  of  these  territo- 
ries, has  a  seat  and  voice  at  the  diets  of  the  empire  and 
circle  in  the  college  of  princes.  His  assessment  in  the 
roatricula  for  Nassau -Siegen  is  77  ^orins  monthly  j 
and  towards  the  maintenance  of  the  chamber  judicato- 
ry, 50  rixdollars,  six  kruitzera  and  a  half,  each  term. 
The  revenue  of  this  principality  is  estimated  at  100,000 
rix  dollars. 

Nassau  Dillenbourg^  a  principality  of  Germany,  si- 
tuated near  the  former.  It  has  not  much  arable  land, 
but  plenty  of  wood,  good  quarries  of  stone,  some  sil- 
ver and  vitriol,-  copper  and  lead,  with  store  of  iron, 
for  the  working  and  smelting  of  which  there  are  many 
forges  and  founderies  in  the  country^  and  by  these, 
and  the  sale  of  their  iron,  the  inhabitants  chiefly  sub- 
sist. Calvinism  is  the  religion  of  the  principality, 
which  contains  five  towns  and  two  boroughs,  and  be- 


]  NAT 

longs  entirely  to  William  V.  prince  of  Orange,  and  iwu 
hereditary  stadtholder  of  the  United  Provinces,  irhote     | 
father  succeeded  to  a  part  of  it  in  1739  00  the  death  ^*^^ 
of  Priijce  Christian,  and  to  the  rest  in  1743  ou  tliev,^5llj 
death  q{  Prince  William  Hyacynih  of  Siegen.   The^^^ 
prince,  on  account  of  this  principality  also  and  Dxetz, 
has  a  seat  and  voice  in  the  college  of  princes,  at  the 
diets  of  the  empire  and  circle.     Ilis  assessment  ia  the 
raatricula,    for    Nassau-Dillenbonrg,    is    102   florios 
monthly  \  and  to  the  chamber  judicatory,  59  nzdol- 
lars  six  and  half  kruitzers,  each  term.     His  rcTeDoe 
from  this  principality  is  computed  at  above  130,000 
florins. 

NAS9AU'Hadamar^  a  country  of  Germany,  which, 
till  the  year  171 1,  bad  princes  of  its  own  \  but  now  be- 
loBffs  wliolly  to  WiUiam  V.  prince  of  Orange. 
Nassau,  prince  of  Orange.  See  Maurice. 
NATES,  in  Anatomy^  a  term  expressing  tbqse  two 
fleshy  exterior  parts  of  the  body,  vulgaily  called  the 
buttocks.     See  Axatomt. 

Nates  Cerebri^  are  two  circular  protuberances  of  the 
hrain,  situated  ^m  the  back  side  of  the  medulla  oblonga- 
ta, near  tbe  cerebellum. 

NATION,  a  collective  term,  used  for  a  consider- 
able  number  of  people  inhabiting  a  certain  extent  of 
land,  confined  within  fixed  limits,  and  under  tbe  nne 
government.* 

NATIONAL  DEBT :  the  money  owing  by  goren' 
roent. 

Our  limits  permit  us  to  give  but  a  very  general  sketch 
of  this  subject :  However,  as  it  is  of  considerable  im- 
portnnce  to  every  inhabitant  of  those  kingdoms,  we 
shall  endeaATour  to  give  as  clear  and  comprehensive  a 
view  of  it  as  the  bounds  necessarily  prescribed  us  will 
admit.  In  order  to  this,  it  may  not  be  improper  to  re- 
fer ^ck  to  tbe  times  that  have  gone  before  us,  that  we 
may  the  better  iliscover  the  nature  of  public  revenoes, 
the  manner  of  their  expenditure,  and  the  causes  of  jwb- 
lie  debt. 

In  that  rude  state  of  society  which  precedes  tbe  ex* 
tension  of  commerce  and  the  improvements  of  maim- 
factures,  when  those  expensive  luxuries  which  cooi- 
merce  and  manufacture^  can  alone  introduce,  are  aho' 
getber  unknown  *,  the  person  who  possesses  a  large  reve- 
nue can  spend  or  enjoy  that  revenue  in  no  other  way 
than  by  maintaining  nearly  as  many  people  as  it  caa 
maintain.  Among  our  feudal  ancestors,  the  long  tiax  j^^ 
during  which  estates  used  to  continue  in  the  same  faoii-IMtt^ 
ly,  suflSciently  demonstrates  the  general  dispositioa  ^' 
people  to  live  within  their  income.  Though  tbe  rustic 
hospitality  constantly  cxeixised  by  the  great  landboldcn 
may  not  to  us  in  the  present  times  seem  consistent  with 
that  order  which  we  are  apt  to  consider  as  inseparably 
connected  with  good  economy,  yet  we  must  certainly 
allow  them  to  have  been  at  least  so  far  frugal  as  not 
commonly  to  have  spent  their  whole  income.  Sofne 
part  of  this  money,  perhaps,  they  spent  in  purcbasiDg 
the  few  objects  of  vanity  and  luxury  with  which  tbe 
circumstances  of  the  times  could  fumi&b  them :  but 
some  part  of  it  they  secra  commonly  to  have  bearded. 
They  could  not  well  indeed  do  any  thin;^:  ti>c  hot 
hoard  whatever  money  they  saved.  To  tiadt-  wiv  i\^ 
graceful  to  a  gentleman  ^  and  to  lenH  i:i.;nt  v  : :  'uttn-^ 
which  at  that  time  was  consideic  •.  .'^  us>  ■  v  >.i;i  •  i-  't- 
bited  by  law,  woold  have  bctu  su..  m.k'  ic. 


NAT 


E    623    ] 


NAT 


Kati<raal  The  same  disposition  to  save  and  to  hoard  prevailed 
^*^^  in  the  sovereign  as  vrell  as  in  the  subjects.  Among  na- 
tions to  whom  commerce  and  manufactures  are  little 
known,  the  sovereign  is  in  a  situation  which  naturally 
dbposea  him  to  the  parsimony  requisite  for  accumula- 
tion. In  that  situation  the  expence  even  of  a  sove- 
reign cannot  he  directed  by  that  vanity  which  delights 
in  the  gandy  finery  of  a  court.  The  ignorance  of  the 
times  affords  hut  few  of  the  trinkets  in  which  that 
finery  consists.  Standing  armies  are  not  then  necesna- 
rj }  so  that  the  expence  even  of  a  sovereii^n,  like  that 
of  any  other  great  lord,  can  be  employed  in  scarce  any 
thing  but  bounty  to  his  tenants  and  hospitality  to  his 
retainers.  But  bounty  and  hospitality  very  seldom  lead 
to  extravagance :  thougli  vanity  almost  always  docs. 
All  the  ancient  sovereigns  of  Europe  accordingly  had 
treasures.  Every  Tartar  chief  in  the  present  times  is 
said  to  have  one. 

In  a  commercial  country  abounding  with  every  sort 
of  expensive  luxury,  the  sovereign,  in  the  same  manner 
as  almost  all  the  great  proprietor!  in  his  dominions,  na- 
turally spends  a  great  part  of  his  revenue  in  purchasing 
those  luxuries.    His  own  and  the  neighbouring  coun- 
tries supply  him  abnndantly  with  all  the  costly  trinkets 
which  compose  the  splendid  but  insignificant  pageantry 
of  a  court.     His  ordinary  expence  becomes  equal  to 
bis  ordinary  revenue,   and  it  is  well  if  it  does   not 
frequently  exceed  it.     The  amassing  of  treasure  can 
no    longer  be  expected :  and  when  extraordinary  exi- 
gencies require  extraordinary  expences,  he  must  ne- 
cessarily call  upon  his  subjects  for  an  extraordinary  aid. 
Tbe  late  king  of  Prussia  and  his  father  are  the  only 
great  princes  of  Europe  who,  since  the  death  of  Hen- 
ry IV.  of  France  in  1 6 10,  are  supposed  to  have  amas* 
sed  any  considerable  treasure.     The  parsimony  which 
leads  to  accumulation  has  become  almost  as  rare  in  re- 
publican as.  in  monarchical  governments.     The  Italian 
republics,  the  United  Provinces  of  the  Netherlands, 
are  all  in  debt.     The  canton  of  Berne  is  the  single  re* 
poblic  in  Europe  which  has  amassed  any  considerable 
treasure.     Tbe  other  Swiss  republics  have  not.     The 
taste  for  some  sort  of  pageantry,  for  splendid  buildings 
at  least  and  other  public  ornaments,  frequently  prevails 
as  moch  in  the  apparently  sober  senate  house  of  a  little 
republic  as  in  the  dissipated  court  of  tbe  greatest  king. 
Tbe  want  of  parsimony  in  time  of  peace  imposes  tbe 
necessity  of  contracting  debt  in  time  of  war.     When 
-  war  comes,  there  is  no  money  in  the  treasury  but  what 
is  necessary  for  carrying  on  the  ordinary^  expence  of 
the  peace  establishment.     In  war  an  establishment  of 
three  or  four  times  that  expence  beconoes  necessary  for 
the  defence  of  the  state,  and  consequently  a  revenue 
three  or  four  times  greater  than  the  peace  revenue. 
Supposing  that  the  sovereign   should   have  what  fie 
scarce  ever  has,  the  immediate  means  of  augmenting 
bis  revenue  in  proportion  to  the  augmentation  of  his 
expence  j  yet  still  the  produce  of  the  taxes,  from  which 
this  increase  of  revenue  must  he  drawn,  will  not  begin 
to  come  into  the  treasury  till  perhaps  ten  or  twelve 
months  after  they  are  imposed.     But  the  moment  in 
which  war  begins,  or  rather  the  moment  in  which  it 
appears  likely  to  begin,  the  army  must  be  augmented, 
the  fleets  most  be  fitted  out,  the  garrisoned  towns  must 
,  be  put  into  a  posture  of  defence  :  that  army,  that  fleet 

I 


those  garrisoned  towns,  must  be  furnished  with  arms,  Nutional 
ammunition,  and  provisions.     An  immediate  and  great     Debt, 
expence  must  be  incurred  in  that  moment  of  immedl-        ' 
ate  danger,  which  will  not  wuit  for  the  gradual  and 
slow  returns  of  the  new  taxes.     In  this  exigency  go* 
vernment  can  have  no  other  resources  but  in  borrow- 
ing- 

The  same  commercial  state  of  society  which,  by  the 

operation  of  moral  causes,  brings  government  in  this 
/  manner  into  the  necessity  of  borrowing,  produces  in 
the  subjects  both  an  ability  and  an  inclination  to  lend. 
If  it  commonly  brings  along  with  it  tlie  necessity  of 
borrowing,  it  likewise  brings  along  with  ii  the  facility 
of  doing  so.  « 

A  country  abounding  with  merchants  and  manufac- 
turers, necessarily  abounds  with  a  set  of  people  through 
whose  hands  not  only  their  own  capitals,  but  the  capi- 
tals of  all  those  who  either  lend  them  money  or  trust 
them  with  goods,  pass  as  frequently  or  more  frequent- 
ly than  the  revenue  of  a  private  man,  who  without 
trade  or  business  lives  upon  his  income,  passes  through 
his  hands.  The  revenue  of  such  a  man  can  regularly 
pass  through  his  hands  only  once  in  a  year.  But  the 
whole  amount  of  the. capital  and  credit  of  a  merchant 
who  deals  in  a  trade  of  which  the  returns  are  very 
quick  may  sometimes  pass  through  his  hands  two, 
three,  or  four  times  in  a  year.  A  country  abounding 
with  merchants  and  manufactures,  therefore,  necessa- 
rily abounds  with  a  set  of  people,  who  have  it  at  all 
times  in  their  power  to  advance,  if  they  choose  to  do 
so,  a  very  large  sum  of  money  to  government.  Hence 
the  ability  in  the  subjects  of  a  commercial  state  to* 
lend. 

The  progress  of  the  enormous  debts  which  at  pre-  Biacktt^ 
sent  oppress,  and  wilf  in  the  long-run  probably  ruin,  ^'W"*''*' 
all  the  great  nations  of  Europe,  has  been  pretty  uni- 
form.    In  England,  after  the  Revolution,  when  new 
connexions  with  Europe  introduced  a  new  system  of  . 
foreign  politics,  the  expences  of  the  nation  not  only  in 
settling  the  new  establishment,  but  in  maintaining  long 
wars,  as  principals,  on  the  continent,  for  the  security 
of  the  Dutch  barrier,  reducing  the  French  monarchy, 
settling  the  Spanish  succession,  supporting  the  house 
of  Austria,    maintaining   the   liberties    of  tbe  Ger- 
manic body,  and  other  purposes,  increased  to  an  niw 
usual  degree  :  insomuch  that  it  was  not  thought  advise- 
able  to  raise  all  the  expences  of  any  one  year  by  taxes 
to  be  levied  within  that  year,  lest  the  unaccustomed 
weight  of  them  should  create  murmurs  among  the  peo- 
ple.    It  was  therefore  the  policy  of  the  times  to  antici- 
pate the  revenues  of  their  posterity,  by  borrowing  im- 
mense sums  for  the  current  service  of  the  state,  and  to 
lay  no  more  taxes  upon  the  subject  than  wonid  suffice 
to  pay  the  annual  interest  of  the  sums  so  borrowed  ^  by 
this  means  converting  the  principal  debt  into  a  new 
species  of  property,  transferable  mm  one  man  to  an- 
other at  any  time  and  in  any  quantity.  This  system  in- 
deed seems  to  have  had  its  original  in  tbe  state  of  Flo- 
rence, A.  D*.  1344 ;  which  government  then  owed  a> 
bout  6o,OOol.  sterling)  and  being  unable  to  pay  it^ 
formed  the  principal  into  an  aggregate  sum,  called  me- 
taphorically a  mount  or  bankj  the  shares  whereof  were 
transferable  like  our  stocks,  with  interest  at  5  per  cent, 
the  prices  varying  according  to  tbe  exigencies  of  the 

state. 


NAT 


t    624    3 


NAT 


KBlTonal  state.     This  laid  tbe  foundation  of  wliat  is  called  tlie 
Debt     national  debt ;  for  a  few  long  annuities  created  in  the 
reimfi  of  Charles  II.  \rill  hardly  deserve  that  name. 

Nations,  like  priirate  nien,  have  generally  begun  to 
borrow  upon  what  may  be  called  pa^sonal  credit^  irith- 
•out  assigning  or  mortgaging  any  particular  fund  for 
ihe  payment  of  the  debt  ^  and  ivhen  this  resource  has 
failed  them,  they  have  gone  on  to  borrow  upon  assign- 
ments or  mortgages  of  particular  funds. 

What  is  called  the  unfunded  debt  of  Great  Britain^ 
4S  contracted  in  the  former  of  those  two  ways.  It 
xonsists  partly  in  a  debt  which  bears,  or  is  supposed  to 
bear,  no  interest  *,  and  which  resembles  the  dsbts  that  a 
private  man  contracts  upon  account ;  nnd  partly  in  a 
debt  which  bears  interest,  and  which  resembles  what  a 
private  man  contracts  upon  his  bill  or  promissory  note. 
The  debts  which  ate  due  either  for  extraordinary  ser- 
vices,'or  for  services  either  not  provided  for  or  not 
paid  at  the  time  when  they  are  performed  \  part  of 
the  bxtraordinaries  of  the  army,  navy,  and  ordnance, 
the  arrears  of  subsidies  to  foreign  princes,  those  of 
Keamen^s  wages,  &c.  usually  constitute  a  debt  of  the 
iirst  kind,  ^avy  and  exchequer  bills,  which  are  is- 
sued sometimes  in  payment  of  a  part  of  such  debts 
and  sometimes  for  other  purposes,  constitute  a  debt  of 
the  second  kind  \  exchequer  bills  bearing  interest  from 
the  day  on  which  they  are  issued,  and  navy  bills  six 
months  after  they  are  issued.  The  bank  of  England,  • 
either  \y  voluntarily  discounting  those  bills  at  their 
current  value,  or  by  agreeing  with  government  for  cer- 
tain considerations  to  circulate  exchequer  bills,  th;;t  is, 
to  receive  them  at  par,  paying  the  interest  which  hap- 
.^peos  to  be  due  upon  them,  keeps  up  their  value,  and 
facilitates  their  circulation,  and  thereby  frequently 
Enables  government  to  contract  a  very  large  debt  of 
this  kind.  During  the  great  recoinage  in  King  Wil- 
liam^s  time,  when  the  bank  of  England  thought  pro- 
per to  put  a  stop  to  its  usual  transactions,  exchequer 
bills  and  tallies  are  said  to  liave  sold  from  25  to  60 
per  cent,  discount,  owing  partly,  no  doubt,  to  the  sup- 
posed instability  of  the  new  government  established  by 
the  Revolution,  but  partly  too  to  the  want  of  the  sup- 
port of  the  bank  of  England. 

When  this  resource  is  exhausted,  and  it  becomes  ne- 
rcessary,  in  order  to  raise  money,  to  assign  or  mortgage 
some  particular  branch  of  the  public  revenue  for  the 
payment  of  the  debt,  government  has  upon  different 
occasions  done  this  in  two  different  ways.     Sometimes 
it  has  made  this  assignment  or  mortgage  for  a  short  pe- 
riod of  time  only,  a  year  or  a  few  years,  for  example  \ 
and  sometimes  for  perpetuity.     In  the  one  case,  the 
fund  was  supposed  sufficient  to  pay  within  the  limited 
time  both   principal   and  interest  of  the  money   bor- 
.rowed :  In  the  other,  it  was  supposed  sufficient  to  pay 
the  interest  only,  or  a  perpetual  annuity  equivalent  to 
the   interest^  government  being  at  liberty  to  redeem 
at  any  time  tbis  annuity  upon  paying  back  the  prin- 
cipal sum  borrowed.     When  money  was  raised  in  the 
one  way,  it  was  said  to  be  raised  by  anticipation  ;  when 
in  the  other,  bi/  pet'petual fundings  or,  more  shortly,  by 
funding. 

In  the  reign  of  King  "William,  when  the  debt  began 
to  be  amassed,  and  during  a  great  fpart  of  that  of 
Queen  Anne,  before  we  had  become  so  familiar  as  we 
are  now  with  the  practice  of  perpetual  funding,  the 


greater  part  of  the  new  taxes  were  imposed  but  for  a  -^^^ 
short  period  of  time  (for  fonr,  five,  six,  or  seven  yean    lyck. 
only),  and  a  great  part  of  the  mnts  of  every  yett^-nr*' 
consisted  in  loans  upon  anticipation  of  the  produce  ef 
those  taxes.     The  produce  being  frequently  insoffident 
for  paying  within  the  limited  term  tbe  principal  and 
interest  of  the  money  borrowed,  deficiencies  arose;  to 
make  good  which  it  became  necessary  to  prolong  tlw 
term. 

On  the  jist  of  December  1697,  the  fonded  and  on- 
funded  debts  amounted  to  21,515,7421.  13s.  8i<L; 
at  the  same  time,  17I4»  they  were  531681,0761  5s. 
drvd.  In  1755,  before  the  breaking  out  of  tbe  wa*, 
they  amounted  to  72,289,6731.  >  and  on  the  5th  of 
January  1763,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  peace,  they  had 
accuinulated  to  122,603,336!.  Ss.  l^A.  of  fiindcd  debt, 
and  of  unfunded  I3>027,5§9l.  28.  2d.  more.  In  1775, 
they  were  very  nearly  1 30  millions  j  and  tbe  last  Ane- 
rican  war  added  upwards  of  1 20  millions  more  to  tliat 
enormous  sum :  to  pay  the  interest  of  which,  and  tk 
charges  of  management,  amounting  annually  to  nearij 
eight  millions  and  a  half,  the  extraordinary  reTenaes 
elsewhere  enumerated*  (excepting  only  the  htod-tutSecli. 
and  annual  malt  tax)  an;  in  the  first  place  mortgaged^ 
and  made  perpetual  by  parliament.  Perpetual,  we  sty; 
but  still  redeemable  by  the  same  authority  that  impOMd 
them  :  which,  if  it  at  any  time  can  pay  off  the  capirtl, 
will  abolish  those  taxes  which  are  raised  to  discharge 
the  interest. 

By  this  means,  then,  the  quantity  of  prcqielty  in  ds 
kingdom  is  greatly  increased  in  idea  compared  vttfc 
former  times  ^  yet,  if  we  coolly  consider  it,  not  at  ill 
increased  in  reality.  We  may  boast  of  large  fortiiires 
and  quantities  of  money  in  the  funds.  But  where  does 
this  money  exist  ?  It  exists  only  in  name,  in  piper,  ia 
public  faith,  in  parliamentary  security  :  and  that  i» 
undoubtedly  sufficient  for  the  creditors  of  the  pobKc 
to  rely  on.  But  then  what  is  the  pledge  whicb  tbe 
public  faith  has  pawned  for  the  security  of  these  debtsf 
The  land,  the  trade,  and  the  personal  industry  of  dii 
subject ;  from  which  the  money  must  arise  that  top- 
plics  tbe  several  taxes.  In  these,  therefore,  and  tlicft 
only)  the  property  of  the  public  creditors  does  reafly 
and  intrinsically  exist  ^  and  of  course  the  land,  tbe 
trade,  and  the  personal  industry  of  individuals,  ait  £• 
minished  in  their  true  value  just  so  much  as  they  are 
pledged  to  answer.  If^A^s  income  amounts  to  lOcL 
per  annum  \  and  he  is  so  far  indebted  to  B,  that  be 
pays  him  50I.  per  annum  for  his  interest ;  one  half  of 
the  value  of  A's  property  is  transferred  to  B  the  credi- 
tor. The  creditor's  property  exists  in  the  demand 
which  he  has  upon  the  debtor,  and  nowhere  else ;  and 
the  debtor  is  only  a  trustee  to  his  creditor  for  one  half 
of  the  value  of  his  income.  lu  short,  the  property  of 
a  creditor  of  the  public  consists  in  a  certain  portioo  of 
tbe  national  taxes  j  by  how  much  therefore  he  is  ibe 
richer,  by  so  much  the  nation,  which  pays  these  tasef, 
is  the  poorer. 

Tlie  only  advantage  that  can  result  to  a  nation  fioa 
public  debts,  is  the  increase  of  circulation,  by  «««*" 
plying  the  cash  of  the  kingdom,  and  creating  a  aer 
species  of  currency,  assignable  at  any  time  and  in  an 
quantity  •,  always  therefore  ready  to  be  cmpbyed  la 
any  beneficial  undertaking,  by  means  of  tliis  its  trans- 
ferable quality  j  and  yet  producing  some  profit  ewa 


NAT 


[    <525    ] 


NAT 


KailMial  ^4^M  it  Kes  idle  «nd  miemplojed.  A  certain  |»ropor- 
tiott  of  debt  seems  to  be  highly  usefal  to  a  trading  peo- 
ple; but  what  that  proportion  is,  it  b  not  for  us  to 
deCermiae.  This  much  is  indisputably  certain,  that 
the  present  magnitude  of  our  national  encumbrances 
rerjr  far  exceeds  all  calculations  of  commercial  bene- 
At,  and  is  pToductire  of  the  greatest  inconveniences, 
for,  first.  The  enormous  taxes  that  are  raised  upon 
the  necessaries  of  life  for  the  paymeml  of  the  interest 
of  this  debt,  are  a  hurt  both  to  trade  'knd  manufic- 
tures,  by  raising  the  price  as  well  of  the  artificer^ 
subaistenee  as  of  the  raw  material,  and  of  course,  in  a 
much  greater  proportion,  the  price  of  the  commodity 
itself.  Nay,  the  very  increase  of  paper  circulation  it- 
self, when  extended  beyond  what  is  requisite  for  com- 
merce or  foreign  exchange,  has  a  natural  tendency  to 
increase  the  price  of  provisions  as  well  as  of  all  other 
nerehaadise.  For  as  its  effect  is  to  multiply  the  cash 
of  the  kingdom,  and  this  to  such  an  extent  that  much 
must  remain  unemployed,  that  cash  (which  is  the  uni* 
▼ersal  measure  of  the  respective  values  of  all  other  com- 
modities) most  necessarily  sink  in  its  own  valuer  and 
every  thing  grow  comparatively  dearer«  Secondly,  If 
part  of  this  debt  be  owing  to  foreigners,  either  they 
draw  ont  of  the  kingdom  anaoally  a  considerable  quan- 
tity of  specie  for  the  interest ;  or  else  it  is  made  an  ar- 
gument to  grant  them  unreasonable  pritileffes  in  order 
to  induce  them  to  reside  here.  Thirdly,  If  the  whole 
be  owing  to  subjects  only,  it  is  then  charging  the  active 
and  industrious  subject,  who  pays  his  share  of  the  taxes 
to  maintain  the  indolent  and  idle  creditor  who  receives 
them.  Lastly,  and  principally,  It  weakens  the  inter- 
nal strength  of  a  state,  by  anticipating  those  resources 
which  should  be  reserved  to  defend  it  m  case  of  neces- 
sity. The  interest  we  now  pay  for  our  debt  would  un- 
doubtedly be  suflkient  to  maintain  the  most  vigorous 
war  that  any  national  motives  could  possibly  require* 
If  indeed  our  ancestors  in  King  William^s  time  had  an- 
nually paid,  so  long  as  their  exigencies  lasted,  a  far 
less  sum  than  we  now  annually  raise  upon  their  accounts, 
they  would  not  in  time  of  war  have  borne  so  great  bur- 
dens as  they  have  bequeathed  to  and  settled  upon  their 
posterity  in  time  of  peace ;  and  might  have  been  eased 
the  instant  the  exigence  was  over. 

On  the  whole,  then,  the  national  debt  is  nadoubt- 
edly  a  snbject  of  vast  importance,  and  as  such  it  has 
been  alwajrs  considered  ^  for  much  has  been  said  and 
written  upon  it,  and  many  schemes  have  been  proposed 
at  various  times  and  by  various  persons  for  gradually  re- 
moving it.  It  being  considered  by  the  most  judicious  as 
a  most  pernicious  encumbrance  to  a  commercial  coon- 
trr.  Some,  we  are  aware,  think  it  of  vast  utility ;  but 
this  opinion  is  too  excentric,  and  in  our  estimation  too 
feebly  supported,  to  be  convincing.  The  public  debt 
Is  indisputably  a  great  grievance  ^  and  every  lover  of 
his  country  most  surely  wish  to  see  it  removed :  the  pe- 
riod, howeveri  when  this  blessing  shall  take  place,  if 
indeed  it  ever  arrive,  must  at  least  be  very  distant. 

We  refer  such  as  wish  for  farther  information  on  this 
interesting  topic,  to  those  who  have  treated  of  it  at  full 
length,  as  Smith  in  his  Wealth  of  Nations,  and  Sir 
John  Sinclair  in  his  History  of  the  Revenue.  The 
writings  of  Dr  Price  likewise  deserve  considerable  at- 
tention, especially  as  one  of  his  plans  for  the  reduction 

Vol.  XIV.  Part  II. 


of  the  deibt  has  in  &ct  been  adopted,  and  in  conse-    National 
quence  established,  by  the  legislature  :  His  three  plans     Debt 
may  be  found  in  a  pamphlet  by  William  Morgan,  en- 
titled, A  Review  of  Dr  Price*s  Writings  on  the  Sub- 
ject of  the  Finances  of  this  Kingdom. 

NATIVITY,  or  Natal  Day,  the  day  of  a  per- 
son's birth.  The  word  nativity  h  chie^*  used  in  speak- 
ing of  the  saints  ;  as,  the  nativity  of  St  John  the  Bap- 
tist, &c.  But  when  we  say  the  Nativity,  it  is  un- 
derstood of  that  of  Jesus  Christ,  or  the  feast  of  Christ- 
mas. 

Nativity,  nativitas^  in  ancient  law  books,  signifies 
bondage  or  servitude. 

Nativity,  in  Astrology^  the  theme  or  figure  of  the 
•heavens,  and  particnlariy  of  the  twelve  houses,  at  the 
moment  when  a  person  was  bom ;  called  also  the  ^ 
foscope* 

Casting  the  nativity,  or  by  calculation  seeking  to 
know  how  long  the  queen  shouhi  live,  &c.  was  made 
felony,  an.  23.  Eliz.  c.  2. 

NATIVO  HABENDO,  in  Law^  a  writ  directed  ta 
the  sheriff,  for  a' lord  who  claimed  inheritance  in  any 
villain,  when  a  villain  was  run  away  from  him,  for  the 
apprehending  and  restoring  him  to  the  lord. 

NATIX-,  in  Natural  History^  a  name  given  by  some 
old  writers  to  the  nerita, 

NATO  LI  A,  the  modem  name  of  the  Lesser  Asia, 
being  the  most  westerly '^part  of  Turkey  in  Asia,  and 
consisting  of  a  large  peninsula,  which  extends  from  the 
rivef  Euphrates  as  far  as  the  Archipelago,  the  sea  of 
Marmora,  the  straits  of  Gallipoli  and  of  Constantinople, 
which  separate  it  from  Europe  on  the  west  It  is 
bounded  on  the  north  by  the  Black  sea,  and  on  the 
south  by  the  Mediterranean. 

NATRIX,  in  Zoology^  the  name  of  the  common  or 
water-snake,  called  also  torquata^  from  the  ring  about 
its  neck.     See  Ophioloot  Index. 

NATRUM,  or  Natron,  the  nitre  of  the  ancients, 
one  of  the  fixed  alkalies.  See  Soda,  Chemistry  Index; 

It  is  found  in  great  abundance  in  many  parts  of  Asia, 
where  the  natives  sweep  it  up  from  the  surface  of  the 
ground,  and  called  9oap  earth.  The  earliest  account 
we  have  of  it  is  in  the  scriptures,  where  we  find  that 
the  salt  called  nitre  in  those  times  would  ferment  with 
vinegar,  and  possessed  a  detersive  quality,  so  that  it  was 
used  in  baths  and  in  washing.  Solomon  compares  the 
singing  of  songs  with  a  heavy  heart,  to  the  contrariety 
of  vinegar  and  nitre :  and  Jeremiah  sajs,  that  if  the  sin- 
ner wash  himself  with  nitre,  his  sin  is  not  cleansed  off. 
These  are  properties  that  perfectly  agree  with  this  salt, 
but  not  at  all  with  our  saltpetre,  which  is  the  nitre  of 
the  modems. 

NATTERJACK,  a  species  of  Rana,  which  see, 
Erpctolocy  Index. 

NATURAL,  in  general,  something  that  relates  tQ 
nature.     See  Nature. 

Natural  Children^  are  those  bom  out  of  lawful  wed*' 
lock.     See  Bastard. 

Natural  Functions^  are  those  actions  whereby  the 
aliments  are  changed  and  assimilated  so  as  to  become  a 
part  of  the  body* 

Natural,  in  Heraldry^n  used  where  animals,  fruits, 
flowers,  &c.  are  blazoned  with  the  colours  they  natu- 
rally have,  though  diflerent  from  the  common  colours 
f  4K  «f 


NAT 


[    626    ] 


NAT 


f  DrPerei- 
▼al*tJlfo. 
raitmdld- 
tarary  Dit- 
uriaiumt. 


of  heraldry  •*  M)d  this  is  to  prevfcnt  th^ir  armories  heing 
accused  of.  falsity,  when  blazoned  with  the  names  of 
colours  unknown  in  heraldry. 

NsiTURAL  Note^  in  MusiCf  is  used  in  opposition  to 
flat  and  sharp  notes,  which  are  called  arttftciai  notes. 
See  Note,  Scalu,  &c. 

Natural  is  also  used  for  something  coming  imme- 
diately out  of  the  hands  of  nature :  in  which  sense  it 
stands  opposed  to  factitunis  or  artificial,  which  signifies 
something  wrousht  by  art.    See  Artificial. 

Bishop  Wilkms  observes,  that  there  appears  a  world 
of  diiFerence  between  natural  and  artificial  things,  when 
viewed  with  microscopes.  The  first  ever  appear  adorn* 
ed  with  all  imaginable  elegance  and  beauty  \  the  latter, 
though  the  most  curious  in  their  kind,  infinitely  rude 
and  unhewn :  the  finest  needle  appears  a  rough  har  of 
iron  ;  and  the  most  accurate  engraving  or  embossment, 
as  if  done  with  a  mattock  or  a  trowel. 

Natural  Beauty^  or  the  beauty  of  natural  objects, 
is  that  quality  or  those  qualities  in  tl^e  works  of  nature, 
«r  more  properly  of  God,  which  are  calculated  to  ex- 
cite pleasing  sensations  in  the  minds  of  all  such  persons 
of  true  taste  as  attentively  observe  them*  It  will  not, 
we  trust,  be  deemed  improper  or  impertinent,  there- 
fore, to  introduce  a  few  observations  on  this  subject, 
previous  to  our  treating  of  natural  history. — To  many, 
it  is  hoped,  it  will  appear  to  be  a  very  proper  introduc- 
tion to  that  important  article.  '*  That  sensibility  to 
beauty,  which,  when  cultivated  and  improved,  we 
term  taste,  is  universally  diffused  through  the  human 
speciest ;  and  It  is  most  uniform  with  respect  to  those 
objects,  whicli  heing  out  of  our  power,^  are  not  liable  to 
variation  from  accident,  caprice,  or  fashion.  The  ver- 
dant lawn,  the  shady  grove,  the  variegated  landscape, 
the  boundless  ocean,  and  the  starry  firmament,  are  con- 
templated with  pleasure  by  every  attentive  beholder. 
But  the  emotions  of  different  spectators,  though  similar 
in  kind,  differ  widely  in  degree  ;  and  to  relish  with  full 
delight  the  enchanting  scenes  of  nature,  the  mind  must 
be  uncorrnpted  by  avarice,  sensuality,  or  ambition; 
qnick  in  her  sensibilities  \  elevated  in  her  sentiments  ; 
and  devout  in  her  affections.  He  who  possesses  such 
exalted  powers  of  perception  and  enjoyment,  may  al- 
mtet  say,  with  the  poet, 

I  care  not.  Fortune !  what  you  me  deny  ; 
You  cannot  rob  me  of  free  Nature^s  grace  \ 
You  cannot  shut  the  windows;  of  the  sky» 
Through  which  Aurora  shows  her  brightening  face  \ 
You  cannot  bar  my  constant  feet  to  trace 
The  woods  and  lawns,  by  living  stream,  at  eve  : 
Let  health  my  nerves  and  finer  fibres  brace. 
And  I  their  toys  to  the  great  children  leave  : 
Of  fancy,  reason,  virtue,  nought  can  me  bereave. 

"  Perhaps  such  ardent  enthusiasm  may  not  he  cem- 
patible  with  the  necessary  toils  and  active  offices  which 
i^ovidenee  has  assigned  to  the  generality  of  men.  But 
there  are  none  to  whom  some  portion  of  it  may  not 
prove  advantageous :  and  if  it  were  cherished  by  each 
individual,  in  that  degree  which  is  consistent  with  the 
indispensable  duties  of  his  station,  the  felicity  of  hnrocn 
life  would  be  considerably  augmented.  From  this 
source  the  refined  and  vivid  pleasures  of  the  iroagina^ 
tion  are  almost  entirely  derived :  and  the  elegant  arts 
ewe  their  choicest  beauties  to  a  taste  for  the  contempla- 


tion of  nature.  Painting  and  sculpture  are  cacfreniaft-  n^^ 
tations  of  visible  objects  \  and  where  woold  be  tke  B«i^ 
<:harms  of  poetry,  if  divested  of  the  imagery  and  embeU' 
lishments  which  she  borrows  from  rural  scenes?  Paiit- 
ers,  statuaries,  and  poets,  therefore,  are  always  smbi- 
tious  to  acknowledse  themselves  the  pupils  of  oatint^ 
and  as  their  skill  increases,  they  grow  more  and  more 
delighted  with  every  view  of  the  animal  and  vegetable 
world.  But  the  pleasure  resulting  from  admiratign  iii 
transient  \  and  to  cultivate  taste,  without  regard  to  its 
influence  on.  the  passions  and  affections,  *  is  to  rear  a 
tree  for  its  blossoms,  which  is  capable  of  yielding  die 
richest  and  most  valuable  fruit.^  Physical  and  monl 
beauty  bear  so  intimate  a  relation  to  each  other,  that 
they  may  be  considered  as  different  gradations  is  the 
scale  of  excellence  \  and  the  knowledge  and  relish  of 
the  former  should  be  deemed  only  a  step  to  the  nobler 
and  more  permanent  enjoyments  of  the  latter. 

*'  Whoever  has  visited  the  Leasowes,  in  Wamjck- 
shire,  must  have  felt  the  force  and  propriety  of  an  in- 
scription which  meets  the  eye  at  the  entrance  into  thoia 
delightful  grounds. 

Would  you  then  taste  the  tranquil  scene  ? 
Be  sure  your  bosoms  be  serene  : 
Devoid  of  hate,  devoid  of  strife. 
Devoid  of  all  that  poisons  life  : 
And  much  it  *vails  you,  in  their  plaee. 
To  graft  the  love  of  human  race* 

*'  Now  such  scenes  contiibute  powerfully  to  inspire 
that  serenity  which  is  necessary  to  enjoy  and  to  height- 
en their  beauties.  By  a  secret  contagion,  the  soul 
catches  the  harmonv  which  she  contemplates;  sad 
the  frame  within  assimilates  itself  to  that  which  ii  with- 
out.    For, 

Who  can  forbear  to  smile  with  Nature  ?  Can 
The  stormy  passions  in  the  bosom  roll. 
While  every  gale  is  peace,  and  every  grove 
Is  melody  ? 

*'  In  this  state  of  sweet  composure,  we  become  soi- 
ceptible  of  virtuous  impressions,  from  sdmost  every  soi^ 
rounding  object*  The  patient  ox  is  viewed  with  geae- 
reus  complacency  j  tl|e  guileless  sheep  with  pity  \  aid 
the  playful  lamb  raises  emotions  of  tenderness  and  love* 
We  rejoice  with  the  horse,  in  hb  liberty  and  exemftisa 
from  toil,  while  he  ranges  at  large  thioogfa  eoaoielkd 
pastures  \  and  the  firoHcs  of  the  colt  womd  afford  nh 
mixed  delight,  did  we  not  recollect  the  bondage  which 
he  is  soon  to  undergo.  We  are  charmed  with  the  seag 
of  birds,  soothed  with  the  buzz  of  insects,  and  pleased 
with  the  sportive  motions  of  fishes,  because  th^^  are 
expressions  of  enjoyment ;  and  we  exult  in  the  feliciCr 
of  the  whole  animated  creation.  Thus  an  eqoal  asd 
extensive  benevolence  is  called  forth  into  exertioo ;  sad 
having  felt  a  common  interest  in  the  gratificatioos  of 
inferior  beings,  we  shall  be  no  longer  indiflerent  to 
their  sufferings,  or  become  wantonly  instrumental  u 
producing  them. 

*'  It  seems  to  be  the  intention  of  Providence,  thsl 
the  lower  order  of  animals  should  be  subservient  to  the 
comfort,  convenience,  and  sustenance  of  man.  n^ 
his  right  of  dominion  extends  no  farther ;  and  if  |has 
right  be  exercised  with  mildness,  humanitVt  and  jsa- 
tice,  the  subjects  of  his  power  will  be  no  less  beM(|- 


NAT 


r  627  ] 


N    A    t 


ed  than  Uiftself*  For  varioas  species  of  living  crea- 
tares  are  annually  multiplied  by  human  mt,  improved 
in  their  perceptive  powen  by  human  culture,  and  plen- 
tifully fed  by  human  industry.  The  relation,  there- 
fore, 18  reciprocal  between  such  animals  and  man  j  and 
he  may  supply  his  own  wants  by  the  use  of  their  la- 
hour,  the  produce  of  their  bodies,  and  even  the  sacri- 
£ce  of  iheir  lives,  whilst  he  co-operates  with  all-era- 
^1008  Heaven  in  promoting  happiness,  the  great  end  of 
existence. 

**  But  Chough  it  be  true,  that  partial  evil,  with  re- 
spect to  different  orders  of  sensitive  beings,  may  be  uni- 
versal good }  and  that  it  is  a  wise  and  benevolent  insti- 
tution of  nature^  to  make  destruction  itself^  within  cer- 
tain Umitations,  the  cause  of  an  increase  of  life  and  en- 
joyment.; yet  a  generous  person  will  extend  his  com- 
passionate regards  to  every  individual  that  suffers  for 
kis  sake :  and  whilst  he  sighs 

Even  for  the  lud  or  lamb  that  parts  itsti& 
Beneath  the  bloody  knife, 

he  will  naturally  be  solicitous  to  mitigate  pain,  both  in 
duration  and  degree,  by  the  gentlest  modes  of  inflicts 
ing  it. 

**  We  are  inclined  to  believe,  however,  that  this  sense 
of  humanity  would  soon  be  obliterated,  and  that  the 
heart  would  grow  callous  to  every  soft  impression,  were 
h  not  for  the  benignant  influence  t>f  the  smiling  face  of 
nature.  The  count  de  Lauiun,  when  imprisoned  by 
I^uis  XIV.  in  the  castle  of  Pignerol,  amused  himself 
.  during  a  long  period  of  time  trith  catching  flies,  and 
delivering  them'  to  be  devonred  by  a  rapacious  spider. 
Such  an  entertainment  was  equally  singular  and  cruel : 
and  inconsistent,  we  believe,  'with  his  former  character, 
and  his  subsequent  tum  of  mind*  But'his  cell  had  no 
window, -and  received  only  a  glimmering  light' from  an 
aperture  in  the  roof,  in  less  unfavourable  circumstan- 
ces, may -we  not  presume,  that  instead  of  sporting  ^ith 
tiiiifery,  he  would  have  released  the  agonizing  -flies,  and 
bid  them  enjoy  that  freedom  of  which  he  himself  ivas 
bereaved  ? 

'*  But  the  taste  for  natural  beanty  is  subservient  to 
'  higher  purposes  than  those  which  have- been  enumerat- 
ed 'y  and  the  coltivaUon  of  it  not-only  refines  and*  hu- 
manizes, but  dignifies  and  exalts  the  affections.  It 
elevates  them  to  the  admiration  and  4ove  of  that  Be- 
ing who  is  the  author  of  all  that  is  fair,  sublime,  and 
good  in  the  creation.  Scepticism  and  irreligion  are 
hardly  compatible  with* the  sensibility  of  heart  which 
arises  firom  a  just«nd  Kvely  relish  of -the  wisdom,  har^ 
mony,  and  otder  subsisting  in  the  world  around  ns : 
«nd  emotions  Kif  piety  innst  ^ringmp  spontaneously  in 
the  bosom  that  is  in  unison  with. all  animated  nature. 
Actuated  by  this  divine. inspiration,  man  finds  a  fane  in 
every  crove  \  and  glowing  with  devout  fervour,  he 
joins  4iB  song  to  the  universal  chorus,  or  muses  the 
praise  of  the  Almighty,  in  more  expressive  silence. 
Thus  they 

^  Whom  NatnveV  workn-oan  charm,  with4Sod  himself 
Hold  converse:  grow  familiar,  day  by  day, 
With  his  conce^qns  ^  act  upon  his  plan  ^ 
And  form  to  his  the  reUsh  of.  their  souls.*^ 

On  the  whole,  then,  it  oeKai&ly  appears,  that  the 


advantages  resulting  from  a  taste  for  natqral  beauties  Katniml 
are  great  and  important :  it  is  equally  certain,  that  as  Beavtjr. 
it  is  useful,  so  it  is  a  continual  source  of  real  enjoy-  »  ' 
ment  $  for  a  more  rational  pleasure  cannot  possibly  oc- 
cupy the  attention  or  captivate  the  affections  of  man- 
kind, than  that  which  arises  from  a  due  consideration 
of  the  works  of  nature.  Pleasure,  we  know,  is  a  ne- 
cessary ingredient  in  human  lifci  in  order  in  some  mea- 
sure to  counterbalance  the  pains,  the  evils,  and  listless- 
nesses,  wliich  are  at  times  perhaps  unavoidable,  and  in 
oisder  to  render  life  tolerable*  It  is  the  part  then  of 
the  moralist,  and  it  has  been  frequently  his  business, 
to  point  out  And  recommend  such  pleasures  as  are  high- 
ly gratifying,  and  are  yet  perfectly  innocent.  The 
Spectator,  whose  works  will  be  admired  as  long  as  the 
language  in  which  they  are  written  is  understood,  re- 
commends strongly  and  elegantly  the  pleasure  of  a  gar- 
den I  and  «  later  writer  t,  of  no  common  degree  of  me-  f  Dr  Kom* 
litt  *od  of  very  considerable  fame,  has  an  essay  on 
the  same  subject,  from  which  we  shall  select  a  few  ob- 
servations, and  so  conclude  the  article.  *'Not  he  a- 
looe  (says  this  elegant  writer)  is  to  be  esteemed  a  be- 
nefactor to  mankind,  who  makes  an  useful  discovory  \ 
bnt  he  also  who  can  point  out  and  recommend  an  inno- 
cent pleasure.  Of  this  kind  are  the  pleasures  arising 
from  the  observation  .of  nature  ;  and  they  are  hiidily 
agreeable  to  every  taste  uncorrupted  by  vicious  indul- 
gence. Rural  scenes  of  almost  every  kind  are  delight- 
ful to  the  mind  of  man.  But  the  misfortune  is,  that 
the  greater  part  are  hurried,  on  in  the  .career  of  life  .with 
too  gte»i  rapidity  to  be  able  to  give  attention  to  that 
which  solicits  sojmssion.  The  darkest  habitation  in 
the  dirtiest  street  of  ,•  the  metropolis,  where  money, caa 
be  earned,  baa  greater  charms, with  many  thain  tha 
groves  of  Hagley. 

*^  The  patron  of  refined  pleasure,  the  elegant  I^icu- 
ru8,..fixed  the  seat  of  4iis  enjoyment  in  a.  garden.     He 
was  of  opinion,  .that  a  tranquil  spot,  furnished  rSvith 
the  .united  .sweets  .of  art  and  nature,   was  the  .best 
adapted  to  delicate  repose.    And  even  the  severer  phi- 
losophers of  antiquity  were  wont  to  discourse  in  the 
^ade  of  a  sprea«ling  tiee,  in  some  cultivated  planta- 
tion.    It  is  obvious,  on  intuition,  that  natore  often 
intended  solely  to  please  the  eye  in  her  vegetable  pro-    . 
ductions.    She  decorates  the  floweret  that  springs  be- 
nealii  our  feet  in  ail  the  perfections  of  external  bi^uty. 
She  has  clothed  the  garden  with  a  constant  succession 
pf  various  hues.    JSvenrthe  leaves  of  the  tree  undergo 
a  pleasing  vicissitude.     He  fresh  verdure  which  they 
exhibit  in  the  spring,  the  various  shades  which  they 
assume  in  summer,  the  yellow  and  russet  tinge  of  au» 
tuinn,  and  the  nakedness  of  winter,  aflibrd  a  constant 
pleasure  to  a  lively  imagination,     r  rom  the  snowdrop 
to  the  moss  rose  the  flower  garden  displays  an  infinite 
variety  of  shape  and  colour.    The  taste  of  the  florist 
has  been  ridiculed  as  trifling  \  yet  surely  without  rea- 
son.   Did  nature  bring  forth  .the  tulip  and  the  lily, 
the  rose  >nd  the  honeysuckle,  to  be  neglected  by  the 
;  haughty  pretender  to  superior  reason  f    To  omit  a 
single  social  duty  for  the  cultivation  of  a  polyanthus 
were  ridiculous,  as  well  as  criminal  ^  but  to  pass  by  the 
beauties  lavished  before  us,  without  observing  them,  is 
no  less  ingiiatitude  than  stupidity.     A  bad  heart  finds 
little  amusement  but  in  a  communication  with  the  ac- 
tive world,  where  scope  is  civea  for  the  indulgence  of 

4  K  2  malignant 


NAT  [628 

NatanU  malignant  passions  \  but  an  amiable  dispMiiiofi  is  com- 
iicauty.  rnonly  known  by  a  taste  for  the  beauties  of  the  animal 
and  the  vegetable  creation/'  In  short,  since  the  world 
was  made  for  our  use,  since  the  beauties  of  natore  are 


] 


NAT 


alike  displayed  before  all  men,  and  since  they  aronD.  w^^ 
questionably  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  innocent  aaiBfe-  ^t^j, 
ment  f  that  subject  must  be  of  vast  importaaoe  whidi 
caablea  us  to  relish  them  properly*. 


NATURAL  HISTORY. 


Definition* 'T^HE  objects  of  nature  nwy  be  considered  under  two- 
'*'  points  of  view  >  ist,  iVith  respect  to  their  form, 
structure,  habits,  and  individual  properties  when  viewed 
in  a  state  of  inactivity }  2dly,  With  respect  to  the  mu- 
tual changes  which  they  produce  when  made  to  act  on 
each  other.  Hence  thie  study  of  nature  may  be 
divided  into  two  parts.  Natural  History  and  Na- 
tural Science  ^  the  former  considering  bodies  in  com- 
paratively an  inactive  state,  the  latter  in  a  state  of  mu- 
tual action. 

Natural  History,  then,  is  that  part  of  natural 
knowledge  which  teaches  us  to  distinguish  and  describe 
the  objects  of  nature,  to  examine  their  appearance, 
structure,  properties  and  uses,  and  to  collect,  preserve, 
2         and  arrange  them  (a). 
Immensity       I.  When  we  take  a  general  survey  of  the  objects 
of  natnie't  ^2tb  which    we  are  surrounded,   we  are  bewildered 
^^"^        amidst  the  number  and  varietv  that  are  every  where 
presented  to  otir  view.    The  air,  the  woods,  the  fields, 
the  waters,  teem  with  myriads  of  animals  ;  a  large  pro- 
portion of  the  earth^s  surface  is  covered  with  a  green 
mantle  of  luxuriant  herbage,  interspersed  with  plants 
ind  flowers  of  a  thousand  varied  tints }  and  when  we 
search  below  this,  when  we  explore  the  cloud-capt 
mountain,  the  gloomy  mine,  the  sequestered  cavern^  or 
the  rocky  cliff,  we  discover  a  great  variety  of  mineral 
substances,  either  piled  into  irregular  masses,  or  lying 
in  uniform  beds  or  layers,  disposed  in  veins  or  seams, 
or  scattered  at  random  throngh  the  other  stony  mat- 
ters. 

To  the  casual  observer,  the  number  and  "variety  of 
these  objects  woold  appear  almost  infinite.  He  would 
consider  it  equally  impossible  to  enumerate  them,  as  to 
number  the  stars,  or  cotint  the  sands  on  the  sea  shore. 
This  idea,  however,  arises  from  his  seeing  them  in  con- 
fusion and  disorder.  The  naturalist,  by  separating  them 
into  those  groups  or  classes,  in  which  they  often  natural- 
ly present  themselves,  has  succeeded  not  only  in  dis- 
tinguishing th^  several  kinds  from  each  other,  but 
even  in  guessing  pretty  Accurately  at  the  nomber  of 
species  that  have  hitherto  been  discovered. 

lliere  are  two  objects '  which  shoald  principally  oc- 


cupy the  attention  of  the  natntaliflt :  xst,  To  ekssify 
natural  svbstances  j  2dly,  To  exanioe  their  stnctar^      5 

The  nmnber  of  natunl  prodnctiMM  being  cott£me^<Mft> 
ly  very  great,  it  is  necessary  to  €ad  out  some  nesm^ 
of  distinguishing  them  from,  each  other,  and  ef  le- 
eognizing  them  on  seeing  them  anew.  These  ukim 
are  the  peculiarities,  or  the  assemblages  of  pecoHaiitiea, 
that  exclusively  belong  to  each  body.  Now  tbac  ii 
scarcely  any  substance  that  has  a  simple  character,  tliai 
is,  which  can  be  distinguished  from  every  other  sub- 
stance by  any  one  of  its  properties  singly.  It  is  only 
by  the  combination  of  several  of  these  proptities  tbst 
we  can  distinguish  an  object  from  others  which  le- 
sembie  it  in  possessing  some  one  or  more  of  those  itrj 
properties  j  and  the  more  numerous  the  species  we  com- 
pare, the  more  necessary  it  becomes  to  bring  their  fn- 
perties  together,  in  order  to  assign  to  each  a  cbarutn 
that  may  distinguish  it  from  the  rest.  Hence  to  distin- 
guish  a  species,  considered  independently  from  all  otbos 
that  exist  in  nature,  it  is  necessary  to  express  in  its  cbir 
racter  almost  the  whole  of  its  properties  ;  and  tbe  wtn 
of  these  we  take  into  the  character,  the  more  cooaplete 
will  be  our  description  of  the  object.  But  no  ouui  eta 
acquire  a  sufficiently  accurate  knowledge  of  all  aatmil 
objects  to  enable  him  to  give  a  comj^ete  descnptioB  sf 
them :  human  life  is  too  short  to  admit  of  the  cssi- 
pletion  of  such  a  task.  All  that  can  be  expected  from 
our  limited  faculties  is  to  acquire  a  general  knowledgs 
of  natural  objects,  confining  our  principal  attcotisa  to 
such  as  possess  some  striking  qualities,  or  appear  css- 
vertible  to  the  useful  purposes  of  life.  ^ 

To  gain  this  end,  two  modes  of  prooedne  have  1ms  jfM 
adopted  by  naturalists*     According  to  the  first  modsjuiar 
we  employ  diaracters   that  proceed  by  degrees  fiim'* 
particulars  to  generals.     We  begin    by    conpaiii^ 
together  a  certain  number  of  species  that  hear  tb 
nearest  relation  to  each  other.    In  drawing  the  cha- 
racters of  these  species,  it  is  requisite  to  exprcM  mlj 
those  differences,  which,  on  a  supposition  that  they  aie 
the  most  nearly  related,  form  but  a  small  part  of  tbcir 
properties  }  a  number  of  species  thus  brought  together 
constitutes  what  is  called  a  genus  or  tri^» 


(a)  Some  writers  divide  natural  history  into  gineral  Bndparticuhr^  which  are  thus  defined  by  Cuvier.  Gemrti 
natural  history  considers  under  a  single  point  of  view,  all  natural  bodies,  and  tbe  common  result  of  all  their  actioai 
in  tbe  great  whole  of  natore.  It  determines  the  laws  of  coexistence  of  their  properties }  it  establishes  thedc|^ 
of  resemblance  that  exist  between  different  bodies,  and  classes  them  according  to  these  degrees*  The  Partkwkr 
natural  history  of  any  body,  to  be  perfect,  should  comprehend,  ist.  The  description  of  all  the  sensible  properties 
of  that  body,  and  of  all  its  parts  \  2d,  The  mutual  relations  of  these  parts,  the  motions  which  they  prodooe,  sal 
(he  changes  which  they  undergo  while  they  remain  united}  3d,  The  active  and  phssive  relalioas  ttf  this  body  with 
every  other  body  in  the  universe  }  and  4th,  The  explanation  of  all  these  pfaenomena.  See  2WtoM  EkmUfm 
d*Histoire  Naturelh. 


NATURAL  HISTORY. 


I; 

It 

v- 
J 

p 

0 


luBpdems 


TiiQ  remainder  of  tliese  properties  iHiieh  are  comnHHi 
to  aH  the  species  of  tlie  gesos  oomfaine  to  form  the 
character,  or  rather  the  description,  of  the  genos,  dis* 
tingmshing  it  from  all  these  which  might  be  formed  bj 
bringing  together  other  "specieB ;  but  the  number  w 
tbese  common  properties  being  still  very  considerable^, 
we  repeat  the  same  means  in  order  to  reduce  the  cha- 
racters of  the  genera  to  smaller  terms.  We  compare 
together  only  those  genera  which  most  nearly  resemble 
each  otiber,  and  the  generic  characters  now  employed 
most  only  express  those  differences  fHiich  form  but  a 
small  part  of  their  common  properties.  Those  proper- 
ties, which  are  common  to  all  the  genera,  compose  a 
character  that  dbttngQisfaes  this  assemblage  or  group 
from  all  other  groups  of  genera.  Such  an  assemblage 
of  genera  is  cdled  an  order, 

Itepeating  the  same  operation,  and  bringing  to- 
gether* such  orders  as  are  most  nearly  allied,  we  form 
a  more  general  assemblage,  called  a  chss  ;  and  again 
uniting  a  certain  number  of  classes,  we  form  a  higher 
division,  to  which  naturalists  have  given  the  name  of 
kingdom :  this  chain  of  divisions  in  which  the  higher 
links  comprehend  the  lower,  forms  what  is  called  a  me- 
tAod.  The  other  mode  of  procedure  is  to  rise  gra- 
dually from  generals  to  particulars,  beginning  with  the 
slightest  and  most  obvious  differences,  thus  forming  the 
£rst  division  or  kingdom }  dividing  each  kingdom  into 
classes,  each  class  into  orders,  each  order  into  genera, 
each  genus  into  species,  and  each  species  into  varieties. 
This  descending  series  constitutes  what  is  called  a  ifs- 
tem^  and  is  that  which  has  been  generally  adopted  by 
naturalists. 

To  illustrate  this  systematical  tlassification  of  natural 
.  objects,  let  us  select  a  familiar  example.  Among  the 
various  creatures  that  pass  under  our  observation,  a 
great  number  are  possessed  of  life,  of  sensation,  and  vo- 
luntary motion  \  these  we  call  ammtds^  and  of  tbese 
we  form  the  animal  kingdom.  On  examining  various 
groups  of  animals,  we  find  that  many  have  four  extre- 
mities, and  suckle  their  young  by  means  of  teats ;  these 
we  call  quadrupeds  or  mammalia.  We  have  thus 
formed  a  class  ofanimcds,  Aeain  we  find  that  of  the 
mammalia  some  have  hoofed  feet  and  bhint  fore-teeth, 
and  feed  almost  entirely  on  vegetables.  These  will 
constitute  an  order  of  the  class  of  mammalia,  to  which 
Linnaeus  has  given  the  name  of  helhtet.  Of  this  order 
a  certain  number  of  animals  agree  in  having  six  fore- 
.^  teeth  in  both  .jaws,  and  form  a  genus  or  tribe  distinguish- 
ed by  this  particular  from  the  other  animals  of  the  same 
order,  and  commonly  called  the  horse  tribe.  Lastly, 
In  this  tribe  we  find  one  species  that  has  solid  hoofs,  a 
tail  bristly  at  the  end,  an  upright  mane,  and  a  bhick 
cross  on  the  shoulder  of  the  male.  This  species  is  the 
common  ass, 
of  In  framing  an  artificial  system  of  natural  history, 
^^  most  writers  have  agreed  on  the  division  of  natund 
bodies  into  kingdoms,  proceeding  on  the  supposition 
that  those  marks  which  are  to  distinguish  the  objects  of 
one  kingdom  from  those  of  another  are  sufficiently  fixed 
and  certain. 

Let  us  examine  for  a  litde  how  far  this  supposition 
i^grces  with  nature's  works  as  we  find  them. 

The  division  of  natural  objects  commonly  adopted  is 
into  three  kiuffdoms ;  the  animal,  vegetable,  and  miner- 
al kingdoms.  This  ^vision  has  been  almost  uniTexBally 


received  as  perfectly  consistent  with  nature  ;  umTss  by 
most  persons  thought  to  be  so  clear  and  ^BrttBCt*  that 
they  suppose  it  impossible  to  mistake  in  referring  any 
partioulu'  object  to  its  pn^r  kingdeoi.  This  artscB' 
from  their  having  noticed  only  such  oli^ts  as  bear  evi- 
dent marks  of  the  di  vision  to  which  they  belong  ^  but 
.  if  we  draw  their  attention  to  a  variety  of  other  indivi- 
duals, they  will  ac^owledge  themselves  to  be  iaoompe- 
tent  to  the  decision,  or  will  emoeously  refer  to  one  di- 
vision, what  has,  after  aocni«te  examination,  been  de- 
termined to  belong  to  another. 

Hiere  is  one  w4ole  class  of  producBons,  called  isoo 
phytes  by  naturalists,  which  seem  to  form  the  connect* 
ins  links  between  the  different  kingdoms.  They  an 
animals  of  the  polypus  kind,  mostly  covered  with  a  cal- 
careons  crust,  diTOrinff  little  in  composition  frsm  the 
shells  of  lobsters,  shrimps,  and  other  shell*fish,  and 
formed  like  them  from  an  exudation  or  secretion  on  the 
snriace  of  their  bodies.  Tbese  polypi  are  oonoected 
together  by  thousands^  or  even  millions,  and  assume  a 
great  variety  of  appearances  according  to  their  arrange- 
ment :  the  same  species,  however,  always  assuming  the 
same,  or  very  nearly  the  same  appearanoe.  Sonae  are 
connected  together  m  form  of  stem  and  branches,  astha 
flustra^  sertulairue^  corallines  mad  others  j*  many  of  which 
have  their  ofispring  in  the  egg  state  attached  to  them,, 
and  so  situated  as  to  bear  exact  resemblance  to  the  seed^ 
vessels  of  plants.  These  are  altogether  so  like  to  many 
of  the  sea  plants,  as  to  bo  generally  confounded  with 
tbem,  undef  the  title  of  sea-weeds  j  hut  the  attentive 
naturalist  may,  by  examining  tlom  in  their  natvral  state^ 
perceive  the  tentacula  or  feelers  of  each  polypus  ex* 
tended  in  its  search  for  food,  and  hastily  retracting 
within  its  shell  upon  the  least  alarm.  Many  of  this  d&-^ 
scription  are  found  attached  to  oysters  or  other  sliell- 
fish  ^  and  often  to  stones  and  pebbles  which  are  covmed 
or  occasionally  wetted  by  the  sea. 

Other  zoophytes  assume  less  regular  figures,  and  are 
much  more  firm  and  solid,  resembling  the  productions 
of  the  mineral  kingdom.  Madrepores  and  millepores, 
called  often  brainsiones,  are  of  this  kind.  At  first  sight 
they  look  very  like  stones  and  pebbles,  or  like  pieces  of 
chalk  or  marble,  but  on  an  accnrste  inspection,  any- 
one may  perceive  marks  of  an  organic  structure  ;  and 
when  they  are  in  a  recent  state^  may  detect  the  inhabi- 
tants of  nidr  numerous  cells. 

The  above  examples  will  suffice  to  prove,  bow  in- 
sufficient is  either  a  hasty  examination  or  the  judging 
by  similarity  of  appearance,  for  determining  to  what 
kingdom  of  nature  any  particular  object' belongs.  Bat 
there  are  maay  other  productions  to  winch  few  persons 
could  without  hesitation  assign  their  places :  For  in- 
stance, where  would  we  arrange  the  |:recn  powdery 
substance  so  common  on  paling*,  the  spotted  and  streak- 
ed appearance  on  stones  v  the  mould  on  cheese,  or  the 
green  jelly-like  matter  that  ioats  on  the  «urfoce  of  the 
stagnant  waters  ?  Nattiralists  in  general  have  assigned 
these  productions  to  the  vegetaUe  kingdom  j  but  Sen- 
nebier  and  a  few  others  have  maintatived  that  aotoe  of 
them  are  animals. 

According  to  some  writers,  llio  most  philosophical 
notion  which  we  can  form  on  this  subject  is,  that  tha 
£rision  of  natural  objects  into  kingdoan  is  artificia>, 
and  that  Nature,  acknowledging  no  sud)  bonds,  passes 
imperceptiUy  ixvBthe  tuuniat  to  tbe  Tugetaiblei  and  from 

tbo 


630 


NATURAL    HISTORY. 


CUttifio*.  the  vegetable  to  the  mineral  world,  without  defiuing 
*i<^      where''  one  ceases  or  where  the  next  begins. 

As  the  appearanees  of  natoral  productions  are  insuf- 
ficient, so  are  their  properties  and  powers,  for  determin- 
ing which  are  animals  or  which  vegetables,  accosd.ing 
to  -the  received  acceptation  of  the  terms.     If  loco- 
-motion  is  allowed  to  be  the  characteristic  of  an  animal, 
-where  shall  we  place  the  oyster,  or  the  zoopliytes  of 
which  we  have  just  been  speaking,  or  where  some 
-species  oftr/va  and  conferva^  plants  that  swim  about  de- 
tached in  water  ?     If  feeling  or  sensation  be  the  test, 
who  shalhdecide,  that  the  sensitive  plant  (mimasd  jm- 
dica)j  possessess  it  not  ?  and  who  determine  that  the 
^leatfcs  of  the  fly-trap,  (Diofkea  tnuseifiila)^  when  they 
•contract,  and  catch  the  fly  as  sbon  as  it  alights,  do  not 
feel  the  despoiler  that  comes  to*rob  it  of  its  honey  P^ 
Though  these  and  similar  objections  may  certainly 
•^ff  onJVa- jjg  made  to  the  artificial  division  of  nature^s  works  into 
'taru,  yo],  i^  kingdoms,  yet  it  is  convenient  to  have  such  a  division  j 
and  even  Uie  very  diflicnlty  of  establishing  to  .which 
'  -kingdom  any  object  belongs,. Is  an  additional  spur  to 
.7        'the  genius  and  indostry  of  the  naturalist* 
^^jt^S^hL     '^^  most  natural  division  of  the  worka  of  nature  is 
dies  into    'thatn^hich  distinguishes  them  into  organized  and  fVior- 
crgamzed  game  bodies  y  and  on  the  whole,  we  have  seen  no  at- 
and  tpior-    tempt  to  establish  the  differences  between  these  so  suc- 
cesalul  as  that  adoptedJ>y  M.  Dumeril  in  his  late^sciea- 
lific  work.  Trait/  Tllemeniaire  tPHistoire  Naturelle, 
'*  Some  objects,  says  he,  as  animals  andplants,  have  for- 
merly constituted  a  part  of  other  individuals,  similar  to 


•  Skrim^ 


gvnc. 


form  that  is  constant,  for  the  most  part  rounded  aai  rL^ 
eymmetrical,  and  their  extension  Is  limited  within  ccr-    tM. 
tain  bounds.  ^'  ^^ 

*'  There  Is  this  great  difference  between  these  bodies  \ 
that  those  which  increase  by  aggregation  may  be  divid- 
ed into  molecules,  or  parts  infinitely  small,  bearing  i 
vet^  near  resemblance  to  the  mass  from  which  thej 
were  taken  ;  while  in  those  which  develope  themselves, 
•110^  portion  can  be  taken  away  and  exist  by  itself,  tt 
least  unless  it  develope  new  parts,  which  replaoe  those 
ihat  are  Wanting. 

**  The  bodies  which  do  not  develope  themselves,  ait 
jn  genera]  formed  of  ^fluids  or  solids  which  remain  con- 
<8tant1y  in  the  same  points  ^  th^  are  composed  of  verj 
•few  elements,  which  may  be  separated  and  again  reuoit- 
ed.     The  bodies  which  develope  themselves,  on  the 
.contrary,  are  essentially  composed  of  solids  and  fluids, 
;which  are  always  changing,  and  in  a  state  of  renovi- 
,tion(  they  have  always,  and  from  necessity,  moreor^Aasi 
less  consistence,  they  are  penetrated  and  augmented  ^J^!^ 
.fluids,  and  after  being  decomposed  they  can  never  be^^  ^ 
formed  again .  such  as  .they  were  before.*.*^  | 

.  for  the  more  convenient  study  of  Jiatural  history,  theDhiia  tf 
-whole  sul^ect  majr  be  divided  into^iive  great  branches,  ■■(""^^ 
viz.  Meteorology,  Hydrography,  Mineralogy,  fiotaoj,^'* 
rand  Zoology* 

V.I.  Meteoroiogr  includes ihe^escription  of  all  those 
^phenomena  which  take  place  in  the  atmosphere  that 
surrounds  .our  globe.  In  the  present  work  it  is  consider- 
ed under  the4irticles  Meteorology,  Mexeorolite, 


9 

themselves,  from  which  they  haye  been  separated  at  a    >Atmo9phertc  Electricitt,  Cloud,  Moon,  InftMemx 
certain  period,  under  the  form  of  eggs,  of  germs,  or  of     ^  &c.  n 

^little  living  creatures  ;  and  their  ^existence  is  evidently         .2.  Hy^graphy  comprehends  the  viatural  histoiy  of  Hi*i^ 
owing  to  this  generation }  they  are  bonu  /Others,  on   «the  sea,  of  nyers,  lakes,  and  other  collections  of  vaterf^f' 
'the  contrary^  as  stones,*  salts,  water^  may  b»  formed  by    <that  make  up  so  large  a  part  of  the  earth.    Much  of 
^t^rtain  circumstances,  and  even  by •ourselves»at  pleasure,    .this  subject  will  be  found  treated  of  under  the  article 
They  have  not  necessarily  made  a  part  of.<ither  similar     River,  and  various  .parts  of  it  have  been  discussed 
'bodies;  their  existence  seems  to  depend  on  oertainfor-    «under  Chemistry  and  Mineralogy.  ,, 

tuitous  circumstances,  that  have  produced  the  approxi-         3.  Mineralogy  is  that  part  of  the  subject  which  treats  iBi^ik 
mation  of  their  constituent  principles,,  and  .their  origin    .of  the  solid  inorganic  bodies  that  are  found  on  the  sor-fi. 
might-  be  refened  to  attraction^   .These .^bodies  are    .face  or  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth.     iLbas  been  con- 
formed.  Vegetables  ahd  animals,  in  increasing  their  sia&e,    .  sidered  under  the  articles  Geoiog  y  and  Mi keralogt*     n 
only  develope   themselveSb  •  IVhatever  may  be   their         4.  Botany  comprehends  the  natural  histoiy  of  vege-BM** 
minuteness,  we  shall,  on  a^icareful  examination,  find     tables.     See  BoTAKY..  i] 

them  already  ^nned,  with  their  parts  requiring  only  to         5*  Zoology  includes  the  Jiatural  history  of  all  aoi-Ziri4e» 

mated  beings,  and  is  subdivided,  into  many  subordinate 
classes. 

These  classes  are  different  in  number  and  denomioa- 
.tion,  according  to  the  different  ^jrstems  of  naturalists. 
iiinni,  whom  we  have  principally  followed  in  this 
work,  has  arranged  animals  under  six  classes :  viz.  i* 
Mammalia^  or  those  animals  which  suckle  their  yonog 
at  mamnuB or. paps  ^  see  Man, Mammalia  andCrro- 
LOG Y.  2.  Aves^  or  bu^ds  \  see  Ornithology.  3.  Am- 
phibia^ or  those  animals  which  can  live  either  oolaod 
or  in  .water  >  see  Erpetology  and  Ophiology.    4 


•  be  evolved.     Their  increase  proceeds  from  within  out- 
.  wards 'by  inttis^stuceptum. '  aStones,  and  a  great  many 

.   other  bodies,  are  augmented  onlj  hj  the  same  matter 
'   from  which  they'-M'e  produced^   their  gmwth  takes 

•  place  alwayS'fronr •without, -by  a  sort  of  aggregation* 

**.  As. the  increase  of  the  bodies  which  compose,  these 

f  two-  great  ^subdivisions  is  not  alike  in  both,  a  duration 

very  different  oaght<to  be  the  result  of  these  dissimilari- 

•f  ty.  Jn  fact,  minerab  are  susceptible  of  indefinite  in- 

;  crease,'- and  >their  end  is  always  indeterminate;  It  is 

vague,  and  depends  on  the  circumstances  under  which 

^  they  are  placed*    Plants  and  animals  ought,  from  the 

-  same  circumstances  which  favoured  their  developement, 

'^  to  stop  when  their  extension,  has  been  carried  to  the 

highest  degree,  so  that  the  end  or  death  of- these  bodies 

is  fixed  and  necessarv. 

'*  The  masses  in  whioh  stones  and  other  similar  bodies 

.  generally  present  themselves,  are  angular,  insulated,  and 

<  very  variable  in  their  si^e.     The  individuals  which  we 

^  \S9M  plants  and  animals,  have  always,  and  necessarily,  a 

2 


Puce«,  or  fishes ;  see  Ichthyology.    5.  Jjiicrfa,or 

insects }  see  Entomology.  And^.  Fm»^«,  or  womt) 

see  Helminthology  and  Conchology.  u 

Later  naturalists  have  divided  animab  into  a  greater  Oi««^ 

numbev  of  classes,  and  have  subdivided  these  dtfieraitlv.'^ 

Of  these  arrangements,  that  of  M.'Cuvier  seems  the  aiort 

deserving  of  notice.     After  considering  man,  iihsa  he 

very  properly  distmguishes  from  .the  other  mtmmsKa 

by  allottipg  to  him  a  separate  boek,  he  divides  tk  re^ 

of 


'S 


NATURAL 

of  the  ADimal  kingdom  inta  nine-classes,  tiz^Mammi^e- 
Rous  animala.  Birds,  Reptiles,  Fishes,  M6llu$ca, 
Worms,  Crustaceous  animals,  Insects  and  Zoo* 

FHYTES. 

We  have  abready  given  an  outline  of  four  of  these 
classes,  viz.  of  the  Mamxaferous  animals,  under 
Mammalia,  and  of  Mollusca,  Worms  and  Zoo- 
phytes, under  Helminthology.  To  complete  our 
view  of  Cuvier^s  arrangement,  we  shall  here  $dd  an  out- 
line of  the  remaining  five  classes. 

Cnvier  divides  hirds  into  five  orders,  viz.  Rapa- 
cious birds  or  AcciPiTREs,  Passerine  birds,  Clim^ 

BERS  or  SCANSORES,  GALLINACEOUS  birds,  WaDERS 

•r  Gralla,  and  Anserine  birds. 

1.  The  Rapacious  birds  have  short  feet,  toes  fur- 
nished with  strong  daws,  .and  a  hooked  bill.  They  are 
subdivided  into  three  sections  j  viz.  NudtcoUcs^  having 
the  head  and  part  of  the  neck  without  feathers  ^  contain- 
ing the  vulture  tribe.  PUimicoUes,  having  the  head 
covered  with  lealhers  and  a  cere  at  the  base  of  the 
bill,  containing  the  falcon  tribe ;  including  Griffons^ 
Ilf^^s^  Sparrow-hawks^  Buzzards^  Kites  and  Faicons. 
Nycterides^  having  the  head  flattened  backward  from 
the  front  and  the  eyes  directed  forward^  containing  the 
owl  tribe. 

2.  The  Passerine  birds  are  distinguished  by  having 
four  toes,  three  before  and  one  behind,  with  the  exter- 
nal toes  wholly  or  partially  united.  They  are  subdivid- 
ed into  seven  sections :  viz«  Cremrostres^  having  the  bill 
grooved  towards  the  end  of  the  mandible  ^  containing 
the  Shrikes,  Flycatchers,  Thrushes,  Chatterers  and 
Tanagers.  Dcntirostres^  having  a  bill  with  notched 
edges ;  containing  the  Plant-clippers,  Motmots,  and 
Hombills.  PUtnrostres^  having  the  bill  straight,  strong, 
compressed  and  without  a  groove  \  containing  the  Gn^ 
kles.  Crows,  Rollers,  and  Birds  of  Paradise.  Conirostres^ 
having  the  bill  conical  \  containing  the  Orioles,  Stares, 
Grosbeaks,  Sparrows,  and  Buntings.  ■Sabulirosires^hiSL'^ 
ing  the  bill  slender  like  an  awl*  \  containing  the  Titmice, 
Manakins,  Larks,  and  Wagtails.  Planirastres^  having 
the  bill  short,  flattened  horizontally,  and  opening  very 
wide  ;  containing  the  Swallows,  and  Goat-suckers. 
Tenuirosires^  having  the  bill  slender,  elongated  and 
solid  'f  containing  the  Nuthatches,  Creepers^  Humming 
birds.  Hoopoes,  Bee-eaters,  KingVfishers  and  Todys* 

3.  The  Climbers  have  two  toes  before  and  two 
behind.  They  are  subdivided  into  two  sections  y  viz. 
Cuneirostres^  having  a  slender  bill }  containing  Jac»- 
mars.  Wood-peckers,  Wry-necks,  and  Cuckoos.  Levi^ 
rostres^  having  the  bill  thick  and  light  5  containing  the 
Anis,  Tonracoes,  Musophages,  Curucnis,  Barbets,  Tou^ 
eans,  and  Parrots. 

4*  The  Gallinaceous  birds  have  the  front  toes 
united  at  their  base  by  a  sliort  membrane.  Tley  are 
subdivided  into  two  sectioa%  viz.  Alectrides^  having 
common  wings  fitted  for  flying  \  containing  the  Pigeons, 
Grouae,  Peacocks,  Pheasants,  Pintados,  Turkeys,  Cur- 
assAws,  Guans,  Bustards.  BrewpenncSj  having  wings 
too  short  for  flight  \  containing  the  Ostrich,  Cassowary 
and  Dodo  tribes. 

5*  The  Waders  have  elevated  and  naked  tarsi  and 
the  two  outer  toes  united.  They  are  subdivided  into 
five  sections,  viz.  Brevirostres^  having  the  bill  short  and 
thick;  containing  theTrumpeters,  ScreamerSySecretaries, 
Boat-bills,  and  Flamingos.  Cfr//rfirof/rr«,  having  the  bill 


HISTOBY.  6si 

long,  strong,  and  like  a  knife  >  containing  the  Herons,  fflrH*^ 
Jabinis  and  Ibisses.    Laiirostres  ;  having  the  bill  long,      tion. 
weak,  and  flattened  horizontally;  containmg  the  Spoon* '       ' 
bills.     LongirosireSf  having  the  bill  slender,  long-  and' 
weak  ;  containing  the  Avosets,   Plovers,  Iiapwings, 
Phalaropes,   and  Woodcocks.     Pressirostre^^  having 
the  bill  middle-sized  and  compressed,  containing  the 
Oyster-Catchers,  Rails,  Coots  and  Jacanas, 

6.  The  Anserine  birds  have  the  toes  united  by 
broad  membranes.  They  are  subdivided  into  four  sec^ 
tions,  viz.  Pennipedes^  having  all  the  four  toes  united  i 
containing  the  Pelicans,  Tropic  birds  and  Darters.  JHo- 
croptcres^  having  the  thumb  free,  the  bill  not  indented; 
and  very  long  wings;  containing  the  Terns,  Gulls,  Skim- 
mers, Petrels  and  Albatrosses.  Sertirostres^  having  the 
thumb  free,  the  bill  broad  and  serrated,  and  wings  of  a 
moderate  size  ;  containing  the  Ducks  and  Mergansers.  - 
BrachifpUres^  having  the  thumb  either  free  or  wanting,  - 
the  bill  not  serrated,  and  the  wings  very  short,  contain- 
ing the  Grebes,  Auks  and  Manchots.  ^^ 

The  Amphibia  or  Reptiles  are  divided  intd  twoofieptilet^ 
orders,  as  follows* 

I.  Those  that  have  a  heart  with  two  auricles.  This 
order  is  subdivided  into  two  sections,  viz.  Chehma^ 
having  a  back  shell  and  the  jaws  invested  with  homy  • 
containing  the  Tortoise  tribe,  including  Turtles  and 
Tortoises.  Sauria^  having  a  scaly  body  and  teeth  \  con- 
taining the  Lizard  tribe,  including  the  Crocodiles, 
Guanas,  Dragons,  Lizards,  Skinks,  and  some  others. 

a.  Those  that  have  a  heart  with  one  auricle.  This 
order  is  also  subdivided  into  two^  sections,  viz.  Ophidia^  ■ 
having  a  scaly  body,  no  leet,  and  always  without  bran- 
chiae >  containing  rtbo  tribes  of  Anguis,  Amphisbsena, 
CsBcilia,  Acrocordon,  Angaha,  Coluber  or  Stuike^ 
Boa,  and  Crotalus  or  Battic'Snake*  Bairachia,  hav- 
ing a  naked  skin,  feet  and  branchiss  in  the  yonug  ani- 
mals \  containing  the  Frogs,  Salamanders,,  and  (accord-  * 
ing  to  Cuvier^s  original  taltle)  the  Siren. 

The  fishes  are  divided  into  two  orders,  CARTILAGX-Of  sibta^  - 
NOUS  and  Bont  fishes. 

I.  Those  which  have  a  Cartilaginous  skeleton  are 
divided  into  two  sections,  viz.  CSondropteryg$t\  with 
fixed  braochise  ^  containing  the  Lampreys,  Hags,  Rays,  . 
Dog-fish  and  Sea-monsters.  Branchiostegt\  with  free 
branchiaB^  containing  the  tribes  Batrachus  or  ^mcncaii  ' 
Toadrfish^  Polyodon,  Accipenser  or  Sturgeons^  PegA- 
;nathu»  or  Pipe^jUh^  Centri^us  or  BeUows* 


sus, 


Jish^   B^tes  or  Homedfishj  Ostracion  or  Trunh^ 
fish^  Tetraodon  or  Sun-Jisk^  Oveides,  Mola  or  Moles, 
Diodon  or  Porcuptne^JM^  Lophius  or  Frog^Jkh^  and 
Cyolopterus  op  Lump-JUh* 

2.  The  fi^es  with  a  bony  skeleton  ^re  subdivided 
into  fonr  sections,  viz.  Apodes^  having  no  ventral  fins  j 
containing  the  tribes  of  Mursena  or  HelSf  Gymno^ 
thorax,  Syilhrancfaus,  Sphagebranchus,  G^mnotus  or 
Eiectrie-eels^  Trichiurus,  Gymnetems,  Ophidium,  Am- 
inodytes,  or  Sand-eels;  Aiiarrhichas,  or  Sea^wolves;  and 
Xiphias  or  Swordfish^  Jugulares^  having  the  ventral 
fins  situated  before  the  pectoral  ^  containing  the  Had- 
docks, Blennys,  Hunch-back,  Dragonets,  Sea-dragons, 
and  Star-gazers.  Thoracict\  with  the  ventral  fins  situ- 
ated below  the  pectoral ;  containing  the  Bull-heads, 
Scorpions,  Gurnards,  Gobys,  Surmullets^  Mackerel, 
Stickle-backs,  Long-tails,  Iioncbiurus,  Johnes,  Scisenes, 
l)orees,  Stromateus,  Theutbis,  Chsetodon,  Dorados, 

Bodians,. 


'K 


6  39 

Cimmti 


18 
Of  oniiUU 


NATURAL 

Bo£aiii,H*l0eettltttSy  Latjtns  Pevekes,  Aothms,  Eput- 
elepkw,  Wyasses,  Breamt,  Scavcs,  Floonden,  Sca-ser- 
penta,  LepidopwB,  abiI  IUmocm^  AbdomifuJetf  with 
tiM>^«iitral  fins  situmCed  behtiid  the  pectoral  \  eontauiing 
tlw  Movmyrus^  ^^V^t  MuUeft,  Flying-fisk^  FrijaemuS) 
Hcningsv  Atherioes,  Argen€iiie9|  Salmonsv  Pikes^ 
Lochesv  Attabkpes,  Silunis,  PUtymMitus  AniMd-fisli, 
Cuiras8-fish|  Amia,  Acanthoaotus,  aod  Fialiiknaf  or 

The  Crostagca  aro  diTiddl  iato  two  or^era^  as  M* 


I.  MontmuX^  ooutaining  the  iribea  of  LiomkiB^  Ct^ 
IjgfiSy  Ap«s»  CyelopSy  and  Pblyphomiis. 

a.  £r/w£fa»,  or  Crafo,  containiiig  the  tribes  of  Ca»« 

eer,  Inachits,  Pagtiroa^  Astacos,  Palburas,  ScjlkuniS) 

ip       and  Squitta. 

0f  iaiecti.      The  Insects  are  distribated  by  Cutter  under  two 

general  orders,  viz.  Those  with  jaws,  and  those  withoot 

jaws. 

I.  Insects  with  jaws  are  arranged  ander  five  seetionsv 
via.  Gkathapterai  Nevroptera,  Htmemoptera, 
CoLEOFTERA,  andORTHOPTERA.  The  GkatHaptsra, 
have  no  wings',  and  are  snbdftvidod  intoP^»i^;gti(i#Atf^,hav- 
ingseveral  poirsof jaWSyContainingthetribesofPhysodes* 
OniscBS,  aod  Cymothoa }  MMfedes^  with  two  jaws  and 
fM  at  eaeh  ring  of  the  body,  containing  the  tribiM  of  Ja- 
ins and  Stdopendra^  ArmiMes^  having  the  head  joined 
to  the  corselets,  eight  feet,  and  abdonen  withoat  feet  \ 
ScHeaudes^  having  thehead  distinct,  six  feet,  and  abdomen 
terminated  by  sHked  threads ;  Rkimts^  with  the  head 
distinct,  six  feet,  and  the  abdomen  naked.  The  Neh- 
ROFTERA  have  fonr  reticulated  wings,  and  are  subdivid- 
ed into  Odsnates^  havinv  the  month  covered  with  the 
lip,  and  the  wings  extended  daring  repose  j  TeciipenneSy 
with  the  month  salient,  and  wings  hidden  below  the 
body  dining  repose  ^  AgnatkeSf  with  a  very  small 
month,  and  no  mandibles.  The  Htmenoptera  have 
four  veined  wings,  and  of  these  some  have  the  abdomen 
joined  to  the  thorax  by  a  pediete  ^  as  the  MeitiUs^  ha- 
ving the  lip  prolonged  into  a  trunk  }  the  DupHpennes^ 
having  the  upper  wings  folded  lengthwise  \  the  Chry- 
sidesy  having  the  antennae  bent^  and  the  abdomen  hol- 
low below  \  the  Antkophiksj  with  the  antennae  filiform, 
wings  not  felded,  abdomen  round,  and  lips  short  \  the 
^TnmisseurSy  with  setaceous  antennse,  of  12  or  15  joints, 
rolling  up  spirally  \  the  Myrmeges^  with  setaceous  bent 
antennae,  and  a  ronnded  abdomen ;  the  Jnsectirodes^ 
with  bent  antennee  of  30  joints,  and  a  prominent  sting  \ 
CynipeSf  with  filtform  antennae  and  a  spiral  sting. 
Others  of  this  section  have  the  abdomen  sessile,  as  the 
Uroceriy  with  palpae  scarcely  apparent,  and  a  very  pro- 
minent sting,  and  the  Tenfkredos  with  very  prominent 
palpoB  and  a  serrated  sting.  The  Coleoptera  have 
four  wings,  the  uppermost  of  which  at>e  hard,  and  the 
lower  feld  transversely  :  they  have  either  six  palpae^  as 
the  Camassiersy  with  fiKforra  or  setaceons  antennae  ^  or 
fonr  palpae;  and  of  these  latter  some  have  the  tarsns  five- 
jointed,  as  the  Lameilicomesy  with  clavated  antennae, 
having  the  dub  lamellatedj  the  Ciavicornes^  with  the  an- 
tennae either  perfoliated  or  solid  \  the  BmcMytereSj  with 
uioniliform  antennse  and  short  elytra  ^  the  fTooi^'erctrty 
^th  filiform  antennae  and  hard  elytra  J  andthei^w/yfrvir, 
with  fiiiform  antennae  and  soft  elytra.  Others  have  the 
tarsi  four  or  five- jointed  >  as  the  Lucifuges^  with  variable 
suitemifle  and  hard  elytra  \  and  the  Bluterit^JUeSy  with 

4 


HISTORY. 

Tariahloanteaaaeaad  soft  elytra.  Otbeisagaia  bate  the 
tarsi  four-jointed  >  as  the  RosiricomeSy  with  aateaue  m 
the  beak;  the  Wo^d-eaUrSy  with  setifeni  anteoBs;  the 
TeretiformSy  with  clavated  antennae,  and  a  body  oftoi 
eyKndrieal,  and  the  club  solid ;  the  Piamfirmt^  with 
granulated  antennae  and  a  flattened  body ;  and  the  Her* 
bworiy  with  filiform  or  monliferm  antennae  and  a  swol- 
len body.  A  few  have  the  tarsi  three-jointed,  as  tht 
CoecinelUt.  TheORTHOPTERA  have  feur  wmgs,  the  op- 
per  hard  and  the  lower  folded  longitudinally.  They  ia- 
chide  the  JFbf^Scif/r,  having  the  anus  terminated  by  a  fibr- 
ceps;  the  BlaUsSy  with  a  flattened  body  and  the  head  n- 
tiring  below  the  corselet;  the  MatfHs  and  ^ctretywA 
a  very  long  corselet ;  and  the  Leapersy  with  cyliodncal 
body  and  long  hinder  legs  fiinaed  for  jumping. 

2.  The  Insects  without  jaws  are  subdivided  into  He- 
MiPTERA,  Lepidotera,  Diptera,  and  Aptera.  Ths 
Hemiptera  have  four  wings  fircfuently  crosaed,  and  a 
jointed  beak ;  and  include  the  Frtmtirosk^Sy  haviof  tk 
heak  rising  from  the  fore  part  of  the  head ;  the  Ufr 
TfistreSy  with  the  beak  appearing  to  grow  from  the  neck; 
and  the  flampennesy  with  the  wings  not  crossed  aod 
spreading.  The  Lepidoptera  have  fdur  wings  corcsed 
with  scales  and  a  spiral  trunk;  they  include  the  l^artcrw 
JUeSy  with  the  antennae  terminated  by  a  solid  anas ;  the 
HesperUty  with  the  antonnae  curved  at  their  eztrendtT; 
the  FuskomeSy  with  the  aatenaae  swelling  towards  no 
middle,  and  the  SeticcmeSy  with  setaceons  antennae.  TW 
Diptera  have  only  two  wings;  and  inchide  the  Hjif^ 
miesy  with  filiform  or  plumose  antennae  and  a  tnisk; 
the  SarrastomeSy  with  a  fleshy  retractile  trunk,  temioat^ 
ed  by  two  lips ;.  the  StierostonveSy  with  very  short  sntet- 
Bfls,  a  homed-  projecting  sucker,  b6t  no  trunk ;  and  the 
GadJUeSy  with  shmt  antennae,  and  neither  sucker  oar 
trunk.  The  Aptera  have  no  wings :  they  include  the 
Parasitictd  insects,  or  F/eaSy  Liccy  and  Mites.  o 

It  is  not  surprising  that  naturalists  of  taste  and  geais^lWias 
from  the  gradation  that  seems  to  take  pbce  amoagthe^*^ 
works  of  nature,  should  have  been  led  to  finrn  the  ^f^J^ 
tion  that  there  exists  in  nature  a  regular  series  or  cAsn 
of  beings,  the  links  of  which,  if  we  eoald  discover  thea 
aR,  would  be  found  to  resemble  each  other  so  aoarij, 
as  only  to  eidubit  to  the  superficial  observer  a  few  shsdes^ 
of  difference.     Naiura  ttonper  sahum  moveiy  has  b^ 
come  a  soil  of  axiom  in  natural  history* 

The  notion  of  a  chain  of  heitig  n  woring,  and  docs 
not  want  arcuments  in  its  favour.  The  Esqoiosax 
Indian,  or  the  inhabitant  of  Terra  del  Fuego,  aeeos 
scarcely  superior  in  form,  and  very  little  in  intelleet,  ts 
the  Oran  Oten  \  the  PiatypuSy  the  flying  Lematy  iyiag 
Squirrels,  and,  still  more,  the  Bats,  appear  to  fona  the 
connecting  links  between  quadrup^  and  birds;  wlBe 
the  Seals,  the  WidttssseSy  and  the  whole  order  of 
Cetey  connect  the  fiimer  with  the  fishes.  In  thb  latter 
class,  the  Flying  Fish,  in  its  capability  of  suppoitii^it* 
self  in  the  air,  aeems  to  approach  the  feathmd  tribes, 
while  some  of  these,  as  the  Penguins,  in  their  hahitf 
and  manner  of  life,  bear  some  distant  resemhhinee  Is 
fishes.  Aaaia,  the  Siren  and  the  Fels  so  nearly  i^ 
semble  each  other,  that  it  has  been  disputed  wlKthcr 
the  former  should  be  reckoned  among  the  AmpkSm  m 
the  Fishes;  while  one  species  of  Lizard,  {IfiterU 
itemhricoides),  is  so  like  an  earth-worm,  as  ai^afTodr 
to  connect  the  Amphibia  and  the  Vermes.  Farthrn  ^ 
diminutive  Hummtng4iird  (^lirochAu  cadb)i  sad  tfco 


tton. 


%t 


%% 


NATURAL 

Humble  Bee,  (Apis  terrestris)^  vre  so  nearly  alike, 
both  ID  size  and  manner  of  life,  aa  to  form  n#  yery  ex- 
ceptionable links  of  union  betvreen  the  Urds  and  in- 
sects. 

If  ire  compsre  the  vegetable  tribes  with  some  of  the 
inferior  classes  of  animals,  we  shall  perceive  anany  points 
of  resemblance,  which  may  seem  to  indieale  a  continu- 
ance of  the  same  chain.  Besides  the  Mimi^mfudica  and 
Dionaa  mmseiptda^  already  mentioned,  the  Hedifsarum 
gyranSf  er  moving  plant,  is  a  rettorkaihle  instance  of 
the  mobility  of  vegetables }  the  cnrrioii  Cower  {Sic^" 
Ua  hirsHta)^  and  some  species  of  morei^  hear  the  odoor 
of  patrid  animal  substances  \  while  on  the  other  band, 
the  Mantis  sicc^bUa  might  be  mistaken  ler  a  dried 
leaf;  several  species  oiPennatuia  (sm  pens)  «od  &rto-* 
laria^  for  ferns  j  the  Madrepota  fumgkts  (mushroom 
madrepore),'  for  a  petrified  mosKreom  %  and  llie  Tubu* 
iaria  magnfflcoj  and  AciimeSf  when  expanded^  for  the 
most  beautiful  full-blown  flowers. 

Lastly,  on  eomparing  the  minefml  kingdom  with  the 
classes  of  organized  beings,  we  fed  several  so  neariy 
resembling  stones,  as  scarcely  to  he  dMngaiAed  firom 
them. 

Though  the  view  which  we  have  ^i  von  abew^  ef  the 
circumstances  that  have  lednatoralislsto  form  the  idea 
of  a  regular  diain  of  beings,  id  speMos;  k  will  not 
bear  the  scrutiny  of  a  strict  examina^oo.  The  ivsem- 
blances  which  we  have  pointed  ont,  are  more  apparent 
than  real  >  and  anatomy  and  chemistry,  added  to  a  more 
accurate  acquaintance  with  the  works  of  naturti  have 
proved,  that  those  links  which,  to  soperleial  observers, 
appear  most  sllied,  are  yet  soparaied  by  considerable 
chasms.  In  fiict,  if  we  were  to  admit  these  lesemblai^- 
ces  as  ever  so  accurate,  they  wouM  lead  «s  te  fomii  not 
one  chain,  but  many. 

It  must  he  considered  aa  a  very  dlScidt,  though  a 
very  curious  problem,  to  aaeertala  tke  number  of  s^ 
cies  at  present  known  throughont  the  several  subdivi* 
sions  of  nature.  From  the  diferent  modes  in  which 
different  natuialists  have  diotrihnted  tie  efajiMlU  of  their 
research,  and  from  the  additieoa  that  are  perpetually 
made  to  our  knowledge,  it  may  he  hnpessihle  to  fix  tfaie 
precise  number  of  known  fepecies  at  any  given  time ; 
but  we  may  make  a  tolerably  near  sfptoadnation  to 
the  truth }  and  this  we  -  shall  now  attempt,  going 
throagh  the  several  kutgdoms^  ckmsm^  and  mders^  as 
they  have  been  treated  of  in  the  fcrmer  paifs  of  this 
work. 

I.  IN  THE  ANIMAL  KINGDOM. 


A.BfAK, 

Mmi.    B.  Mammauji. 

I.  Primates, 
2.Brqta, 
3*Ferse, 
4«  Glires, 
K  ^•'Tora, 

■  Vol.  XIV.  Fait.  n. 


jspecies. 


lOO* 


HISTORY- 

6.  Bell  use 

7.  Cete, 

C.  Biros. 

1.  Accipities, 
%,  Picte, 

3.  AnsereSy 

4.  GralloB, 

5.  Gallinar, 

6.  Passores, 

D.  Amihibia. 

X.  Reptiles 

2.  Sei^nts, 

£.  Fishes. 

1.  Apote, 

2.  Jugulares, 

3.  Theractei, 

i.  Biancheosteffi, 
>  (/famomptengii, 

F.  Ihsecti. 

1.  Coleopteray 

2.  Hemiptera, 

3.  Le^dopterii^ 
4*  Neufvptera, 

5.  Hymenoptera, 

6.  Diptera, 

7.  Aptera, 

G.  Worms. 

I*  Intestna^ 

2.  M^nsca, 

3.  Teefcaceat 

4.  Zoej^yta, 

5.  Infasoria, 


6J3 


ly  ClatsiiUii. 


259 

757 
27$ 

I«7 
1038 


»«5 


4fO 

443 
900 


f  See  O/tf. 


2806 1         tTsHwt^ 


401  J 


$SeeEfw 
pstohgjf* 


70 


%^ 

1097 

(036 

?44 


99, 


Ml       ••Tmim. 


14,038  n   a 


406tt 

489*1 


miKtMogy. 

e  See  Coa* 


4229 


So  that  the  number  of  species  la  cMe  kiagdoa  aiay 
be  estimated  at  ibont  22,924,  or  m  r^qad  anmhers  abont 
23,000  (b). 

n.  IN  TJIE  VEGETABWt  KINGDOM.      VtgJSws* 

A.  MOKAHPRIA.  A 

1.  Moifo«mnA9 

2.  Digynia, 

B.  DiAKDKIA. 

I.  Moaegynia^* 
2.pigynia, 

3 


73 
10 


Sjtpe^ei. 


S74 

i 

5^ 


C.  Tmakdm A. 

I.  Monogynia, 

2.Difg^ma, 

S-Tngynia, 


4i* 


4L 


4n 

J4^ 


^mm^ 


>|  M      *  * 


ibject  Thus,  M.  La  Cfpide,  in  a  note  to  the  dtsccurse  delivered  by  him  at  the  dose  of  his  course  of  Nfri 
History,  slates  the  numbers  bf  some  classes  as  Mow* ;  JdwnMaUOf  411$  q^cies  ^  BirdSj  2534  }  BeptikSp 
Setyentsp  x8a>  lbAr#»  99A>  ia  tU  4247. 


634 


GlaMiliCA* 
tion. 


D.  TfTRAKD&IA. 

2.  Mooogynia, 

2.  Digynia, 

3.  Tngynia, 

4.  Tetragynia, 

£•  Pemtandria. 
X.  MonQg3niia, 

2.  Digyoia, 

3.  Trigyaia, 
4«  Tetxag3niia, 

5.  Pentagynia, 

7-  Pplygynia, 

F.  HSXANDRIA. 

X.  MoDogiriiia, 

2.  DtgyDia, 

3.  Trigynia,^ 

5.  Polygynia,  . 

G*  HZPTAHSUA. 
I. 


a.  Digynia, 

3.  Tetnigynia,  - 

4.  HejiUgyiiia, 

H.  OCTANI>RIA. 

I  M^oogynia, 
a-Dif^ynia, 

4«  Tetragynia, 

L  Ekkeakihiia* 

1.  Monogynia^ 
2*  Trigjnua, 
3.  Hexagynia, 

K.  DSCANBRIA. 

X.  Monoffynia, 
2*  Diffynia, 

3.  Tngynia, 

4.  PeRtaftrnia, 

5.  Decagynia, 

L.  DODECANDRIA* 

I*  Monogynia, 
2*  Digynia, 
3-  Tngynia, 
4*  Tetragynia,    . 
5,  Pentagynia, 
Ow  Dodecagynia^ 

M*  ICOSAMDRIA. 

X.  MoBogyniat 
2*  Digynia, 
3.  Tngynia, 
4*  Peatajsynia, 
5-  Polygynia, 

N*  POLTAHDRIA. 

X«  Monogynia^ 

2.  Digynuu 


NATURAL    HISTORY. 

3,  Trigynia, 
.  .  4.  Tetragynlay 

5.  Peatagynia, 

6b  PolygyDia, 


527 
51 


J93  specicfi. 


1537 
65a 

X2I 

8 
»73 

X 

2 


«99 

5 

69 

2 
10 


2494 


3 

a 

z 


377 
II 

95 

xo 


i 


4Ja 

14a 

»5 
7 


100 

6 

138 

I 


»33 
16 

4 
xoa 

9» 


^59 

XI 


7*5 


3» 


493 


49 


9*7 


a7i  speoes. 


34« 


O.  DXDTKAMIA. 

X.  Gymnospennia, 
a.  Angioepermiay 

P.  Tetradtnamia. 
X.  SiltculoMei 

2.  SUiqU068B) 
Q.  MOVADRLPHIA. 

X.  Tjriaadria, 

2.  Pentandria, 

3.  HepUodria, 

4.  OcUndria, 

5.  Decandria, 
&  Endecaodria, 
7»  Dodecandrta* 

.    8  Pdiyandria, 

B.  DXADELPHIA. 

!•  Pentandna,. 

2.  Hexandria, 

3.  OctaQdfia,         r 
4*  Pecandria, 

S..POLTADELFHKA. 
I.  PentaQdria, 
a*  Dodecandria^. 
3^  Icoiandriai 
4*  Pdyandriai 

X  Stkgehxsia. 

.    u  Palygamia  iEqualii, 
a.  PoL  Soperflua, 
3*  Pol.  Fnistianea^ 

4.  Pol.  Necessaria, 

5.  Pol.  Segr^gata^ 

6«  lifonosaniiiL 

V.  Gtnaki>ria. 
I*  Diandriay 
%  Tjriaodri% 
,    3*  TeUandlia, 
4«  Peotandria, 
5.  Hexaodiiaf 
.0.  QcUndria,  • 

J.  Decandria, 
.  Dodecandria, 
9.  PolyaDdiia, 

IT.  Monokcia. 

X.  Monandria,  ^ 

a.  Diaodria, 
3.  Triaodria, 
4*  Tetrandria, 
5.  Pentandria, 
'  6.  Hezandria,       '  - 

2,  Heptandria* 
,  iPoIyandria, 
9.  Monadelphiar 


31 

20 

12 
13" 


441 
640 


x68 


17 
'34 

X20 

a 

51 

4 

33 

33« 


564  species. 


J081 


426 


692 


4a 
65a 


3 
3 

4 
55 


439 

no 

91 
22 

88 


■'I 

X 

4* 
as 

.•X 

7 

I 

SO 


16 
8 

99 

49 

4» 

4 
I 


710 


6S 


"94 


aU 


^2 
78 

10.  Spgaa^f 


.  10.  SyngeoesM, 
II*  Gynaadria, 

W*  DiOECIA. 

I.  Monaiidria, 
2*  Diandria, 
3.  Triandria, 
4«  Tetrandria, 
5*  Pentandria, 

6.  Hesandria, 

7.  Octandriai 

0.  Enneandria^ 
9.  Decandria, 

10.  Dodecandria, 

11.  PolTandria, 

1 2.  Jif  opadelphia, 

^    14.  Cfjoandria, 

X.  Poltgamia. 

1.  MoDoecia, 
X  Dioecia, 
3.  TrioDcia, 

y.  Crtptogamia. 
I.  FiUcM, 
2«  Mosciy 
3«  AlgsB, 
4*  Fimgi, 

Z.  PalmjEi 


NATURAL 
46 
4 

398  species. 

I 
36 

21 

'9 

33 

7 

4 

7 

14 

19 
26 


J 
9 


219 


81 3  »pac«e8. 


1467 


ToUl,  14,807  (c), 


•4 


lU.  IN  THE  MINERAL  KINGDOM. 

Mloerak  are  divided  into  fonr  great  classes,  viz. 
Earths  and  Stokxs,  Salts,  Combustibles,  and 
Mktaixic  Ores. 


Eaeths  and  Ston£S. 
X.  Diamond  genus, 
2»  Zircon, 

3.  SiliceonSy 

4.  Argillaceoos, 

5.  Magnesian, 

6.  Calcareoos, 

7.  Barytic, 

8.  Strontian, 

B,  Salts. 

X.  Sulphates, 

2.  Nitrates, 

3.  Muriates, 
4I  Carbonates, 
5.  Borates, 
^,  Fluates, 


X 

2 
62 
29 

22 

2 
2 


€ 

X 

3 

2 

2 

X 


137  species. 


—        «S 


HISTOBT^ 

C.  Combustibles. 

1.  Sulphur, 

2.  Bituminous, 

3.  Graphite,  »      - 

D.  Metallic  Ores 

are  divided  into  24  genera, 
each  metal  forming  a  genus, 


X 
6 
2 

—        9 


106 


Objects  and 
Q^hj  of 
Natorvl 


Total,    267  species  ••  tsee  m. 

fiervlpQf* 

Hence,  taking  the  whole  number  of  known  animals 
at  23,000,  that  of  vegetables  at  50,000  and  that  of 
minerals  267,  the  whole  number  of  known  species  of 
natural  objects  will  be  7^,267.  %$ 

II.  Though  the  classification  of  natural  bodies  is  ofHinu  9&t 
the  highest  importance  towards  making  us  acquainted *^^^' 
with  unknown  species,  and  distinguishing  them  from 
those  which  We  alreadv  knowj  this  alone  is  not  suffi-' 
cient  to  form  a  naturalist.     His  principal  object  should 
be  to  learn  the  habits,  manners,  and  uses  of  the  objects 
which  he  is  studying ;  and  he  may  perhaps  be  assisted 
in  this  object  by  the  following  observations.  26 

X.  In  Zoology f  or  the  natural  history  of  the  animal ^^^'^'CT* 
kingdom,  it  is  necessarv  to  ascertain  both  the  distinctive 
characters  of  each  individual  animal,  and  its  peculiar 
habits,  properties  and  uses. 

The  naturalist  first  learns  that  the  sheep,  for  instance, 
is  in  the  class  mammalia,  being  one  of  those  animals 
that  suckle  their  youngs  in  the  order  pecora,  because  it 
is  hoofed,  and  has  no  cutting  teeth  in  the  upper  jaw  ^ 
and  that  it  is  distinguished  from  other  animals  of  the  ' 
same  order,  by  its  having  several  blunt  wedge-like  in- 
cisive fore-teeth  in  the  lower  jaw  only,  hollow  reclined 
horns,  and  no  tusks. 

This  information  would  satisfy  many,  who  call  them- 
selves naturalists;  hut  it  is  far  from  being  all  that  is  re- 
quired 5  the  philosophical  investigator  of  Nature  inquires 
into  its  habits }  as  its  food,  its  period  of  gestation,  its 
season  of  lambing,  the  weaUier  and  climate  most  suited 
to  its  health  and  vigour.  He  endeavours  to  learn  what 
produces  the  difference  in  its  fleece,  whether  dimate, 
food,  or  some  peculiarity  in  the  breed  j  and  is  anxious 
to  ascertain  what  variety  is  most  disposed  to  fatten,  and 
what  food  effects  this  speedily }  witb  many  other  very 
useful  particulars* 

The  information  of  the  first  kind  is  of  consequence, 
and  even  necessary  in  many  cases ;  but  that  of  the  lattei* 
is  most  useful. 

If  a  traveller  discovers  an  animal  possessing  any  use- 
{ul  property,  or  producing  anv  useful  drug,  u  be  have' 
not  the  first  kind  of  information,  he  gives  so  confused 
and  inaccurate  a  description  of  it,  that  others,  mistaking 
the  animal,  discredit  the  author's  account,  and  the 
worid  loses  the  benefit  of  his  discovery.  '     ^y 

^  2.  Botany^  or  the  natural  history  of  the  vesetabteftotaay; 
kingdom,  in  the  usual  acceptation  of  the  term,  implies  i^d 

4  L  2  only 


\t  <tkx 


.  (c)  This  number,  drawn  from  the  article  BoT ANT,  comptred  with  the  three  first  volumes  of  Wildenow's  editios 
of  the  Species  Plantarum^  and  with  Persoon^s  edition  of  the  Systema  Vegetabilwm^  of  Linn^  is  certainly  very  far 
below  the  truth.  Many  years  ago,  tlM;  num*ber  of  known  species  was  reckoned  at  above  twenty  thousand,  and 
.•T. —  £j  feasonf'to  bdteve  thit  it  exceeds  fifty  thousand. 


.♦  • 


63^ 


NATURAL   HISTORY. 


ObjecU 
ami  utility 
•f  Natwal 

History. 


MinerftU- 


2p 

iKQitjoC 
IbAftady. 


onty  tbe  knowIeJge  of  the  distincti^  cbaracteiB  of 
plants  y  and  be  who  knows  the  greatest  nurobef,  and  is 
most  accurate  in  detenninmg  the  different  species,  is 
accounted  the  best  botanist. 

This  however  constitutes  but  a  small  part  of  the 
science  ^  there  is  another  distinct  department,  which* 
maj  properly  be  termed  the  philosophy  of  botany, 
which  is  both  more  interesting  and  mons  usefltl.  This 
kicludes  the  knowledge  of  the  structure,  or  the  anatomy 
of  plants  'y  and  the  knowledge  of  the  uses,  or  functions 
of  their  various  parts,  as  of  the  leaves,  the  bark,  the 
pith,  the  roots,  the  juices,  &c«  ^  which  is  called  (he 
physiology  of  plants.  It  includes  also  an  acquaintance 
with  the  soil  and  climate  adapted  to  different  vegetables,, 
their  mode  of  propagation,,  and  the  various  uses  to 
ifhich  tlieir  several  parts  or  productions  may  be  ap^ 

Botany,,  in  the  first  sense,  which  may  be  called  prac- 
tioal  botany,  is  subsevvient,  and  absolutely  necessary  to 
the  study  of  the  philosophy  of  botany  *,  for  no  one  that 
is  unacquainted  with  the  classification  of  plants  can 
either  convey  to  others  his  own  Information,  or  himself 
receive  the  benefit  of  that  of  others,. respecting  either 
the  structure  and  ecenomy  or  the  habits  and  uie  uses 
of  s«)ch* plants^  as  may  have  been  investigated* 

If  medical  virtues  are  discovered  in  any  vegetable 
production  ;  without  the  accuracy  of  the  practical  bo- 
tanist, .  ta>  ascertain  and:  describe  the  particular  plant 
which  affords  it^  the  discovery  is  often  lost ;  or  perhaps,, 
what  is  worse,  the  virtues  ai^  attributed  to  at  different* 
plant,  and  it  is.  only,  by  repeated  failines^  and  in  some 
oases  after  much  mischief,  .that  the  error  is  detected* 

It  is  evident  that  the  same  may  happen  to  the  agri- 
e^dturist,  the  dyer,  or  any  other  artizan«  who  has  dis- 
oevered  in  the  vtigetable  kingdom  the.  means  of  improv- 
ing hi^  art,  hut  has  not  botanioal  knowledge  sufficient 
to  give  ana^scurate  character  of  thftpUnt),to.whioblie* 
is  indebted  for  his  discovery, 

3.  In  MinerahgiK  or  thet  natnral  history-  of   the- 
niioeral  kingdom^  altnost  half  the  students  are  of  that 
ol^s,,  who  cm>tent  themselves  with>  oolleGting|»  and 
being  able,  tor  arrange  systematically  the  minerals  they 
meet  with.     But  in  this  departmeot  of  natural  history,. 
a9  well  as  thj&  other  two,  which  we  have  considered^ 
spinetbing.mQre  than  arrangement  is  ceqairedJ. 

It  is  the  man  who  csn  analyze,  and  sepantte^' the 
coniponent  parts  of  minerar .  pnMltetiona  \  who  kpows  ^ 
tl}e  art  of.  assaying,  and  who  knows  i\priori  the  pro- 
bable site  of  a  quarry,  or  a  mine,  and  can  tell  thie  direc-- 
tion,of  a  stratum  oC,coaI,^fNr  of  marble,  thgt<we  nay  call^ 
a',mineTai(^i8t; 

The  nif^tnral  histor]|»  of  the  mineral  kingdom  inclad^- 

gology,  or  the  data,  upon- which  ace  founded  the.  dift 
pent  (theories  of  the  formation^iof  the  earths.   It  in-- 
eludes  the  knowledto  of  -  those-  facts,  .iipoi>  which  1  the 
ar^  of  minings  Aid  ue  art  of  separaltAg  and  porifying 
metal?,^  founded  \  and  its  object  is  to  teach  likewise.- 
the  properties  of  those  metals,  as  well  as^^  the  earths, 
and  other  mineral  prodnotions,, when  separated! and  in: 
their  simple  state-. : 

With  respect  to*  M  uiUUypfthe  sUid^fff  naiurai' 
Ustory^  we  have  unavoidably  given  many  instances  of  it, . 
ill  considering  ^he  object  of  th^  science*  Wte  need  tbere- 
{^  add.  bat  &w.  others.  . 


The  grazier  knows  the  advantage  of  attending  to  tke  yf^ 
habits  and  distinctive  marks  of  our  domestic  snimab.  ui  «ftf 
It  is  natiml  historr,  though  not  often  studied  scicntifi-  ^I<<M 
cally,  that  teaches  him  what  variety  of  sheep  to  prefer  j  ^^"^^ 
by  what  means  to  obtain  a  variety  of  cows,  remarkable     ^ 
for  their  quantity  of  milk;  how  to  choose  the  stockTtttk 
that  is  best  adapted  to  his  land,  and  what  is  the  bestS>un 
food  for  them  during  winter. 

Mnch  benefit  \i  likely  to  accrue  from  the  atteotioii 
lately  paid  to  the  cultivation  of  what  are  termed  the 
artificial  grasses.  Instead  of  sowing  his  hsj  seeds  in- 
discriminately, the  grazier  may  select  only  sacb  grasses 
as  are,  by  observation,  found  to  -ho  moat  suited  to  bis 
soil  and  cattle.  ., 

The  farmer^s  knowledge  of  the  proper  soccetsion  ofTctke 
crops,  the  best  times  for  sowing  them^  when  to  weed,^*'"^ 
and  with  what  to  manure,  as  well  as  hoW'to  destroy  both 
weeds  and  insects,  is  the  knowledge  of  a  natnndist  *, 
and  surely-  he  who-  is  scientifically  acquainted  with 
the  growth  of  plants,  knowing  what  part  the  seil 
acts  in  iwgetation,^  and  what  is  the  aliment  slost  re- 
quired by  them,  will  haye  great  advantage  over  the 
mere  empirical  farmer,  who  has  no  better  retsoa 
for  what  he  does^  than  that  his  father  did  the  same 
before  him. 

By  studying  the  natural  history  of  iliaeetfl^  we  lesni 
the  habits  of  such  as  are-  noxious  and  injorioos,  aod 
thence  derive  the  means  of  destroying  them.  „ 

Tlie  mineralogist  has  of^en  enriched  iddtvidnal  pio-T«ik 
prietors  of  Idnd,  and*  benefited  his  country,  by  the  dis-tttU|» 
eevery  of  mines  ;  he  is  enabled  to  direct  the  phnmatl"'*'^ 
of  canals  by  wamilig  them  of  obstacles  ;  and  hb  kaov* 
ledge  has-  aided  the  physician  in  ascertaining  the  vir- 
tues of  minerals,  and  of  mineral  waters. 

In'  the  arts,  a  knowledge  of  natural  history  preveiiti||iytt 
that  oenfnsien,  and  thoae  innumerable  errors  tJttt  anit 
be  conmiitted,  when  the  natural  prodnctiooa  which  «t 
employed    cannot   be  accurately  discriminated  fioai 
others.. 

It  is  to  the  naturalist  that  we  are  many  times  indebt- 
ed for  the  introduction  of  foreign  animals  and  fiire^ 
plants  into  our  own  country.  Wheat,  oats,  baikj, 
and  other  vegetables,  which  are  now  become  neoessaiy 
to  our  existence,  were  not  originally  of  British  mwA. 
The  potato^  now  so  general  and  so  useful,  was  first  ia- 
trodiJMsed  into  this  country  by  Gerard,  a  noted  botanist, 
and  was  for  some  time  cultivated  in  his  garden  as  a  ra- 
rity. .  This  sugar-cane,  the  bread-fiiiit  tree,  the  &riaa- 
ceoos  palms,,  uie  flax  and  hemp,  have  all  been  trana> 
ported  by  naturalists*  of  the  present  day,  to  Rgisai 
where*  theyNnever^grew. before. 

Besides  the  above,  and  many  similar  inatanoes  of  sd* 
Tavtage  to  be  derived  from  studying  the  difl&RSt 
bVanches  of  natural  history,  these  two  ineaknlable  be- 
nefits- necesaarily  arise  to  Uie.  student  himself  from  at- 
tending to*  the  whole,  or  any- part  of  the  ocieocr; 
namely,  a  power  (rf  abstracting  the  mind,  and  rcasoa- 
ing  ntethodically'} '  and  a  habit  of.contemplatiiig  the 
Creator  in  his  works  *•  s  ^ 

Oim  4tnfits  de  net  -permit  oa-te  enter  fnAcr  inla-tbedM 
fertile;  topior  of  thb  utilityvand  advantngea  of  natnial''^ 
history^.  Its  utiliW,  in -a  moral  'and  rebgioos  poiatof 
view,  has  been  ably-  illdstrated '  by  Mr  Ray,  ia  his 
>'  Wisdom  of  Gpd  f^  h|:  Bis  Bjbgfey,  ift  tJbe  istiodHy 


NATURAL  HISTORY. 


fH^^^  of  tion  to  bi8  **  Aniditl  Biographjf  >^*  and,  in  jianicular, 
prtwernng  by  Dr  Paley,  ia  hk  "  Natural  Theology  }'*  and  to 
iFCMBaif.  these  workt  we  most  refer  our  readers. 
■  '  ^  III.  We  have  stated  it  to  be  one  o£  the  principal 
Irt  of  pre.  ^^j^^^  ^f  natural  history,  to  teach  the  mode  of  pre- 
ffrnng^spe. serving  specimens.  This  art,  called  by  the  French 
Taxtdermiej  is  exceedingly  curioun,  and  i^onld  well  de- 
serve a  moch  fuller  consideration  than  we  can  here  al- 
lot to  it.  We  shall  confine  our  attention  on  this  sub-, 
jeet  entirely  to  the  animal  kingdom,  and  even  here  we 
most  be  very  brief. 

The  art  of  preparing  itnd  mounting  the  skins  of  ani- 
mals appeam  to  be  pretty  old  ^  but  it  made  no  great 
progress  before  the  17th  century,  when  Rc^aumor  made 
some  attempts  to  preserve  the  specimens  from  the  at- 
tacks of  insects.  In  the  Journal  de  Pki^que  for  i773t 
there  is  a  memoir  addressed  to  the  Royal  Society  of 
Loodeui  by  M.  Kuckban^  on  the  methods  of  preparing 
birds,  which  is  vefy  curietjs,  but  is  liable  to  many  ob- 
Jeetions*  In  thcisame  volume  is  a  memoir  by  M:iudurt, 
principally  respecting  the  means  of  preserving  animal 
Bpectmens  firom'the  attacks  of  insects.  His  preservatives 
are  of  a  potsonons  nature  \  and,  of  course,  their  use  is 
dangerous,  while  they  do  not  appear  Xp  have  been  at- 
tended with  the  expected  success.  The  arsienical  soap- 
ofBecoeur,  nlucfa  celebrated  about  the  same  time,  is 
iiiibie  to  similar  objections. 

Tbe  latest,  and  probably  the  best  work  on  this  sub-. 
ject^  is  that  published  a  few  years  ago  by  M.  Nicolas  \. 
and  from  this  the  following  observations  are  derived/ 

The  iBstrtiments  employed  in  tbe  preparation  of  spe- 
cimens are  much  the  same  as  those  used  by-  abatoteists 
in  their  ordinaiy*  dissections,  consisting  of  sinall  Ichives 
or  sdalpels,  forCeps  or  pincers  of  various  formsj  p^bes,^ 
needles,  and  pins  or  wires. 

The  preservatiipes. employed  by-  M.  Nicolas  to* pro- 
tect the  specimens  from  -insects,  are  p^in'crpiilly'  of  tivt> 
kinds :  I.  Sufphur^  which  he  applies  to  tbe  skins  by 
neano  of  funiigation',  thus  impregnating  them  witksnl-' 
phurous  acid  ;'2«  A- liquor  for  macerating  the  skins,  an- 
ofber  lienor,  ftir  rnbbing  pver  the  hair,  and'a'pomatuin  ' 
fdr  anointing  the  inside  of  tbe  sldn.  Thtjirst  Itquttr  is 
prepared  bv  steeping  a  poil6d  and  a  half  of  powdered  oak. 
bftrk,  and  mnr  onnoes  of  powdered  alum,  in  twenty  Eng- 
lish pints  of  cold  water,  for  tvTo  days,  taking  care  to 
•Iftke  tW  mixture  fIrniB'time  to  time.   Thej^Mnofi/fil  is  ' 
pfepared  'of  a  pound  of  white  soapj  balf  a  pound  of  caos- 
tfe'potash^  four  ounces  of  powdered  alum, .  two  English  ^ 
pints  of  wnier^  fttar  ooncSeff  t»f  oil  of  petr6lenm,  and  t^e 
sine  of  tsanj^birt. .  The»  soap,  cut'iAto  small  'pie<res,  is 
put  \hXo  an  earthen  pipifiin,  over  a  moderiife  ftre ;  the 
^i^ter  poured  over  it ; .  and  'when  the  wfkole  is  formed  ^ 
into  a  sort  of  s^ft  psBtte,  the  ahim  kad  then  the  oil  are 
added y  tbe  whole:  Well  stirred  together,  removed  from- 
tlte  fire, .  ai|d  when  it  is  nektl;^  cold  the  camphire*  is 
aAded^;  being' btfbre  bind'  rubbed  down-  in  a  mortar- 
with  a  little  spirit  of  wine.    The  pumitum,  thns  pre- 


637 


35 


^•jcd. 


3<f 


pieces,  the  same  of  cokeyntk  or  bitter-apple  grossly  ^fode  of 
powdered,  in  two  English  pints  of  spirit  of  wine,  for  four  pretcrving 
or  five  days,  shaking  the  vessel  from  time  to  time,  after  'P^ciincm. 
which  the  liquor  is  to  be  filtered  through  blotting-paper.        *  -^    ' 

M.  Nicolas  has  given  directions  for  preparing  and 
preserving  specimens  of  all  tho  various  classes  of  ani- 
mals. We  shall;  as  far  as  our  limits  permit,  briefly 
follow  him  through  each. 

in  skinning  quadrupeds,  he  proposes  to  make  an  in- DixcctionB 
cision  along  the  middle  a/f  tbe  back,  from  the  haunches  ^  stuffing 
to  tbe  shoulders,  except  in  those  animals  whose  skin  ig  q«"dnipcd«r 
vei7  thick  and  hard,  or  iaset  with  spines,  in  which  the 
opening  must  be  made  at  the'  belly  in  the  usual  nuui- 
ner.     In  detaching- the  skin  from,  the  flesh,  we  must 
occasionally  employ  the  kaife,  and  as  we  proceed,  must 
insert  tow  betwci'n  tbe  skin  and  flesh,  to  prevent  soiling 
the  fur.     When  the  whole  body  is  detached,  and  the 
skill  drawn  down  as  far  as  the  ankles,  the  nose^  afad  the 
tip  of  the  tail,  the  whole  bodv  is  to  be  cut  away^except 
the  bead  and  extremities,  which  are  left  to  give' a  bet- 
ter form  and  Support  to  the  specimen.     All  the  fleshy 
and  fatty  ^rfs,  the  brain,  and  the  eyes,  however,  must 
be  cot  away, 'and  nothing  left  but  the  bones,  the  spaces 
between  which  aOd  the  skin  must  be  stuffed  with  toW  * 
cut  fibe,  and  a  little  soft  clay  nm^t  be  put  witbin  tbe 
orbits,  in  order  to  fiik  the  artifi|:ial  ey^. 

Before  stuffing,  tbe  skin  is  to  be  steeped  for  soversl' 
dajrs,  from  live  to  fifteen,  aecdrdiog  to  tbe  size  of  di»> 
animaK  in  the  Irqnor  first  described,  and  after  steeping"^', 
the  iniiide  is-to  be  ^vell  anoinlkd' with  the  pomatmn. 

When  the  legs  and  head  ar^  sfuJB^d,  the  cavity  of ■ 
the  skull  filled  ^ith  very  ^rfrtvt^  ai^d  the  eyes  fixed, 
n^ires  are  to  be,  passed  tbronigh  the  inside  of  the  bod/, . 
the  extremities,  and  th^  head  and  tail,  in  the  foBo\rh)g 
njanner. .  Three  ivon  wires  of  a  moderate  size,  well  an- 
nealed, at  least  twice  as- long  as  the  animal,  are  to  be 
twisted  together  for  nearty  half  the'  length,  and  vASi^i 
one  'wire  is  left.*straight, , the  otlfer.twb  are  to  be  bent' 
at  eiieh  end,  so  as  to  fomi  a  cross.':    When^the  skin  iS  \ 
tamed,  ready  for  stiifl^ng,  these  wii^^are-to^be  placed'^ 
w^thlh  it  in  such  a  manner,  as  that  the  straight  wire' 
shull  pass  throujg^h  the  head  and  tail,,  and  the  crossing 
wires  through  the^  extremitfesy .  coming  out  at  the  baU } 
of  each  foot  \  and  in  tUs  way  after  the  cavity  is  filled": 
up  with  tow,  and  the  (^n  pait  neatly  stitched,'  tbo  , 

spl-tinien  may.  be  fixed  on  a  hoard  in  its  .natural  posi- 
tioUi  Nbthiuf^  remains  now  but  to- impregnate  the  fckr  • 
with  th^  bitter  liqoorlast  d^crihed,  wJiicn'  is  done  by 
means  of  a  sponge,  vnth  which  the  wfiole  outside  is  to' 
be'  well  w^hed,  then,  covared  with  folds  of  lineui  and' 
d^^  in 'the  shade. .  g 

The  ait  y>f  preserving  birdi  is  perMips  th^-most  >cntf-  SjRctiei^^ 
ons  pitrt  of  the  present  subject,  and  is  that  to  which  diis  for  lU  ~ 
nnist  attention  has  bfe^'  given.    M.  Nicolas  has  ex-^iidt. 
plained  at  somki  length  the  mode  recommended' by  Bf. 
Kuckhan  in  the  Jowfud  dt  'BJi^mque  ;  .that  by  Dr  fiCtt- 
sdm;  in  the  K^ttttaKsi^i  dud  Traveller* 9  Companion  i: 


pinred,^  most  be  kept  in  gfass  vessels,  weK  stopt ;  and, .    tbatof  Manduii, inserted  in  tbil'fiftlt notaber of tht; E'n^ 


wheniiM,  isp  to-be  lowered  with  wAter  to*  the  consist- 
citt«  of  thin  cream,  ahd:  laid'oii.  the'  skina  by  means  of*. 

ThtrliqiAr  employed 'fdir*  pi^toertinj^  the  Aii^ls  pt^ 
fitfed  by  infn^g'an  o«n^'  of  whit^  soap  shred' very' 
•ttOfftir^  Puttees  of  ciutiittM  1)»rfben 'into  very  sbntU' 


cyebpAHe  J#e/AodUbtte;. and  that  of  Bnfresne,  ad6pted^ 
bjh'M;  DaildiXnttd  inserted  "in  hhTra^/d^Qm$tM6^^ 
l^;  9St€t  which' he  details  liis^Wn. . 

He  describes  three  methods  of  preparing  btrds,  ac-^.. 
cdrding  as  we  can  procure  fr^h-klHed  sjpecimens,  Whole « 
driiHl^kSd«  broteg^t  frunt  nbrOMT,  or  d^lt^d  pnMs  of^ 

sct^ralT 


638 


NATURAL  HISTORY. 


Mode  of  several- individtiaU  of  the  same  species.  We  shall  here 
presemng  confine  ourselves  to  the  first  of  these,  as  being  best 
specimcm.  adapted  to  the  generality  of  our  readers. 

'  When  a  fresh-killed  bird  is  procured,  it  is  to  be. 

placed  upon  a  table,  upon  its  back,  with  the  tail  turn- 
ed towards  the  operator,  who,  after  having  separated 
with  his  fingers  the  feathers  which  cover  the  belly  to- 
wards the  right  and  left,  is  to  make  with  a  scalpel,  a . 
longitudinal  incision  through  the  skin,  firom' the  point 
of  the  breast-bone  to  about  the  middle  of  the  belly. 
The  edges  of  the  skin  are  now  to  be  vaised  with  a  pair 
of  flat  pincers,  on  each  side,  carefully  separating  the 
flesh  as  occasion  may  require,  by  the  knife,  and  insert- 
ing a  little  cotton  from  time  to  time,  to  prevent  soiling 
the  feathers.    In  this  way  the  ^kin  is  to  be  detached 
from  the  shoulders  and  neck,  and  as' much  as  possible  of 
the  body  laid  bare,  after  which  a  pretty  strong  thread  is 
to  be  passed  through  the  nostrils,  and  tied  under  the 
lower  mandible,  leaving  the  ends  of  the  thread  when 
tied  together,  at  least  twice  as  lon^  as  the  neck.  Now, 
holding  the  bird  by  the  thread,  with  the  back  turned 
towards  him,  the  operator  is  to  hold  together  the 
feathers  on  the  two  edges  of  the  incision  as  well  as 
those  that  cover  the  breast,  and  pushing  the  head  of  the 
bird  inwards  with  his  thumb  so  as  to  form  the  neck  in- 
to an  arch,  is  to  cut  this  off  near  the  body,  detach 
:  faom  it  the  gullet  and  wind-pipe,  and  all  the  fleshy 
'  parts,  both  of  the  neck  and  head,  by  drawing  the  skin 
as  far  back  as  possible  towards  the  beak,  and  cutting, 
off  the  neck-bones  close  to  the  head  ;  he  is  to  empty  the 
skull  with  a  little  iron  instrument  in  the  form  of  an  ear- 
picker,  and  clean  it  properly  with  cotton.     He  is  now 
to  wrap  cotton  or  tow  about  the  head  and  neck,  and  to 
separate  the  rest  of  the  skin,  cleaving  the  pinions  and 
bones  of  the  wings,  and  legs,  and  the  tail,  as  directed 
for  quadrupeds.    After  this  has  been  done,  the  skin  is 
to  he  turned  out  like  a  glove,  with  all  its  feathers  turn- 
ed inwards,  all  the  natural  openings  of  the  bird,  as  well 
as  any  shot^holes,  &c.  made  in  killing  the  bird,  are  to 
be  stitched  up  with  a  needle  and  fine  thread  ^  then  the 
wjbole  skin  as  well  as  the  bones,  are  to  be  washed  with 
a«  strong  infusion  of  tan  with  a  little  alum,  by  means  of 
a. pencil-brush,  and  the  skin  inclosed  in  a  covered  ves- 
sel that  it  may  not  dry  too  hastily. 

.  In  ten  or  twelve  hours  time  we  may  wash  the  skin 
-and  bones  again  with  the  astringent  liquor.  Twice 
washing  in  this  manner  will  be  sufficient  for  very  small 
birds,  bat  those  of  a  middling  size  will  require  macera^ 
tion  in  the  first  liquor  employed  for  quadrupeds  during 
two  days,  and  four  or  five  days  for  those  of  larger  size. 
The  skins  being  well  impregnated  with  the  astringent 
liquor,  •  are  to  b^  smeared  with  the  soapy  pomatum, 
have  artificial  eyes  fixed  in  the  orbits  by  means  of  wax, 
and  stuffed  and  mounted  much  in  the  same  manner  as 
quadrupeds,  except  that  the  wires  employed  for  this 
purpose  are  rather  diflkrenthr  bended. 

Ureat  nicety  is  required  in  fixing  the  different  parts 

•  of  a  bird  in  its  natural  position,  and  in  arranging  the 

feathers  smoothly  and  evenly.   M.  Nicolas  directs  thin 

plates  of  lead,  to  be  placed  so  .as  to  secure  the  wings  in 

the  proper  position  till  the  whole,  is  completely  arran* 

To  preserve  the  feet  and  legs  of  birds,  he  anoints 
them  with  linseed  oil  mixed  with  camphire,  and  applied 
-aJittlc  warm. 


The  last  operation  consists  in  envelopbg^  Uid  K«4rtf 
with  bandage^  of  muslin  or  fine  linen,  pinned  round  the  procni^ 
neck,  breast,  body,  and  romp,  as  well  to  secure  tiie'P*<^*tti 
fdfathers  in  their  places  during  drying,  as  to  allow  of  "^"^ 
their  being*  drenched  with  the  bitter  liquor  to  pceserrc 
them  from  the  attacks  of  insects.  • 

The  different  orders  of  insects  require  different  modes  laeeu. 
of.  preparation.    The  followins  is  a  summary  of  onr  su« 
thorns  mode  of  preserving  each  kind. 

For  the  coleopUra  and  hem^tera^ — One  of  these  in- 
sects, as  soon  as  caught,  is  to  be  carefully  wrapt  in  very 
fine  paper,  with  ihe  ends  of  the  paper  curled  mond  to 
prevent  the  animal  firom  moving ;  and  this  roll  of  paper 
including  the  insect,  is  to  be  put  into  a  little  box  of 
pasteboard  till  the  insect-hunter  retuma  home.  Each 
insect  is  then  to  be  held  between  the  thumb  and  iine- 
finger  of  the  left  hand,  the  wings  to  be  raised  by  meaos 
of  a  pin,  and.  held  open  with  the  middle  finger,  while 
the  abdomen  of  the  animal  is  slit  open  from  the  back, 
and  the  entrails  abstracted  by  means  of  an  iron  wiie, 
and  the  cavity  as  well  as  the  edges  of  the  wound  are  to  ' 
be  washed  with  the  bitter  spirituous  liquor  described  ia 
N^  36.  by  means  of  a  very  fine  pencil.  Then  a  snail 
cotton  plug  impregnated  with  oil  of  petroleum  is  to  be 
stuffed  into  the  cavity,  with  the  point  of  a  wire,  till  the 
cavity  is  sufficiently  full,  when  the  wings  are  to  be  sof- 
fered  to  return  to  their  natural  situation,  and  the  iaaed 
is  ready  for  mounting.  For  mounting  these  insects, 
M«  Nicolas  emplojrs  little  squares  of  card,  through  the 
middle  and  across  which  be  passes  a  sinali  iron  wire 
well  annealed,  and  about  the  size  of  a  harpsicord  strioc. 
A  very  fine  needle  is  now  to  be  passed  through  the  ani- 
mal, as  near  as  possible  to  the  corselet  j  and  aAer  hs- 
ving  covered  the  upright  iron  wire  with  a  light  ooatiBg 
of  gum-water,  he  passes  it  throuffh  the  hole  made  by 
the  needle,  and  fixes  the  animal  in  such  a  maniier  thit 
its  feet  may  rest  upon  the  card. 

For  the  1epidoptera.^^Hz  recomiDends  them  to  be  pat, 
when  caught,  into  a  triangular  piece  of  paper,  and  after* 
wards  into  a  pasteboard  box  of  the  same  fiwin,  <wsaiag 
with  a  hinge.  For  mounting  these  insects  it  is  sumcieot 
to  perforate  their  bodies  with  a  fine  needle,  armed  with 
a  double  thread  impregnated  with  the  bitter  spintooM 
liquor,  making  the  needle  enter  by  the  Lead  and  onbs 
out  at  the  end  of  the  belly,  and  then  cutting  the  thresd' 
with  scissars.    The  insect  thus  prepared  is  mounted  by. 
means  of  a  card,  as  directed  for  the  coUopttra^  and  a, 
piece  of  wood  about  an  inch  long,  seven  or  eight  liocs- 
broad,  and  a  proper  thickness,  is  placed  hdow  the 
winffs  on  each  side  very  near  the  body,  and  the  wiap 
are  Kept  down  by  means  of  plates  of  lead*  4* 

In  the  preparatum  ofspecimem  ofJUhee^  VL  Nica]ssliA» 
prefers  the  method  of  Mauduit  to  that  given  by  Dr< 
Lettsom  in  the  Naiuraiuft  and  TraveUfr's  CmpB 
nion;  but  as  Mauduit^s  method  requires  much  skill  sad. 
address,  he  recommends  the  foUowing,  especially  6r 
the  flat  kinds  of  fish. 

He  makes  a  longitudinal  incision  with  sdsaais  alMf 
the  bell?  of  the  fish  firom  the  anus  to  the  lower  aaadH 
Ue,  and  then  gradually  and  carefully  separates  the  skin 
from  the  flesh  with  the  assistance  of  the  blade  and  1st 
handle  of  a  scalpel,  till  he  has  laid  bare  one  side  of  the 
animal.  He  then  passes  to  the  other  side,  pnoeediagi 
in  the  same  manner  to  detach  the  skin  from  that  fsi^ 
afker  which  he  separates  the  head  from  the  body  ww  a 


NATURAL 

of  pftir  of  acimrSy  and  cleftrs  away  the  flediy  parts  attached 
pDMenrinif  to  the  bead.     He  now  detaches  the  skin  from  the  back 

•  as  far  as  the  anus,  and  then  laying  the  fish  on  the  table, 

"^  he  passes  the  flat  handle  of  the  scalpel  below  the  skin 
that  covers  the  tail  and  ne^bouring  parts,  in  order  to 
separate  it  completely.  Tnis  done,  he  pushes  the  tail 
inwards,  and  with  the  assistance  of  the  scalpel  and 
drawing  the  skin  very  gently,  he  detaches  this  as  near 
as  possible  to  the  end  of  the  tail,  which  he  then  sepa- 
rates with  scissars,  thns  leaving  the  skin  with  nothing 
attached  to  it  bat  the  head  and  extremity  of  the  tail. 
It  only  remains  now  to  clear  away  the  ears  and  eyes, 
and  properly  clean  the  bead. 

The  skin  is  now  steeped  for  some  days  in  the  tanning 
liquor,  then  laid  on  a  table,  and  when  the  head  is  pro- 
perly arranged,  a  model  of  the  body  of  the'  fish  made 
of  soft  clay,  mixed  with  fine  sand,  is  placed  within  the 
skin,  which  is  made  to  fit  neatly  over  it,  is  then  bound 
with  little  bandages  of  linen,  and  sufiered  to  dry.  When 
the  clay  is  quite  dry  and  hard,  and  the  skin  has  acquir- 
ed so  much  firmness  as  to  retain  its  proper  form,  it  is  to 
be  gently  beaten  all  over  to  break  the  clay,  so  that  it 
may  be  withdrawn  through  the  opening.  When  this 
is  done,  the  whole  inside  of  the  skin  and  head  is  to  be 
.smeared  by  means  of  a  pencil  brash  with  the  soap  po- 
matum. After  which  it  is  to  be  entirely  filled  with 
cut  tow,  and  the  opening  stitched  up  as  neatly  as  po&- 
aible.  Then  artificial  eyes  are  to  be  placed  in  the  or- 
bits by  means  of  soft  wax,  and  the  whole  body  is  to  be 
covered  with  a  coat  of  white  varnish  prepared  by  di- 
gesting fonr  ounces  of  clear  turpentine,  three  ounces  of 
sandaiaci  and  one  ounce  of  mastich  in  tears,  with  eight 
ounces  of  oil  of  turpentine,  and  foun.  ounces  of  spirit  of 
^Y       wine,  in  a  bottle  placed  in  a  water  bath. 

In  prtparmg  Mfcimens  ^  r^iiilf^,-— after  what^has 
been  said  above,  little  direction  will  be  required.  Tlie 
•skin  is  to  be  stript  backwards  as  far  as  the  head,  which 
is  to  be  cut  oflF  and  cleaned  as  in  other  specimens^  after 
which  the  skin  is  to  be  macerated,  anointed  within  with 
pomatum,  stuffed  and  varnished  as  before. 

The  Crustacea^  including  crabs,  lobsters,  star-fish,  and 
'aea-urchios,  require  but  little  preparation.  In  crabs 
the  shell,  and  in  lobsters  the  tail,  is  to  be  separated 
bam.  the  rest  of  the  body  \  as  much  as  possible  of  the 
.neat  is  to  be  picked  out  from  the  body  and  large 
chiws;  the.  whole  interior  is  to  be  saoea^d  with  the 
aoap  pomatum,  and  after  having  united,  the  parts,  the 
whole  is  to  be  suffered  to  dry. 

The  star-fish  and  urohins,  if  taken  alive,  should  be 
killed  by  plunging  them  in  spirit  of  wine,  and  afterw 
wards^  drying  them  iut  the  sun  or  in-  an  oven  moderately 
heated. 

As  to  fvorfftf  the  only  mode  of  preserving  the  moUu^ 
jcOf  or  those  with  naked  bodies,  is  to  keep  them  in  spirits ; 
•ad  of  the  Ustaeea  or  shell-fish,  the  only  part  thought 
:worth  preserving  is  the  shellj  for  the  preparation  of 
which,  see  Conchologt. 

The  above  is  but  an  imperfect  abstract  of  M.  Nico- 
lasV  **  Methode  de  preparer  et  conserver  Its  AnimauM 
dt  iouUs  les  classes^'**  which  is  illustrated  by  plates, 
and  is  well  deserving  the  attention  of  collectors  of  spe- 
cimens. 

There  is  also  an  excellent  essay  on  this  subject  by 
Dufiresne,  under  Taxidermft^  in  the  Nauveau  Die* 
tionaire  tPHiiimre  NatuteUe* 


4* 


HISTORY.  639 

It  will  be  expected  that'  in  this  introductory  article   History, 
on  natural  history,  we  should  say  something  of  its  rise        w 
and  progress.    Much  of  our  observations  on  this  subject  n* .  ^^    ^ 
have  been  anticipated  in  preceding  aiticles  on  the  pHr-p^^„^| 
ticular  branches  of  natural  history,  so  that  little  remains  iiistory. 
for  us  to  do  in  this  place  than  to  give  a  general  sketch 
of  the  early  history  of  this  branch  of  physics.  ^^ 

We  have  reason  to  believe  that  tbe  works  of  nature  Jewish 
have  formed  the  favourite  study  among  the  ingenious  and  ^n^^^* 
inquisitive  from  tbe  earliest  ages  of  tbe  world.  From 
the  continnal  allusions  to  tbe  Creator's  fvorks,  and  tbe 
'beautiful  metaphors  drawn  from  them,  which  abound  in 
the  inspired  writings  of  the  Jewish  prophets  and  poets, 
especially  those  of  Job,  Isaiah,  Daniel  and  David,  we 
know  that  these  sages  were  well  acquainted  with  natu- 
ral history,  as  far  at  least  as  observation  extended.  Solo- 
mon, as  we  are  told,  was  acquainted  with  all  vegetables, 
**  from  the  cedar  of  Lebanon  to  tbe  hyssop  that  spring- 
etb  ou(  of  the  wall  *y^  and  probably  so  wise  a  man  wa^ 
well  acquainted  with  the  other  kingdoms  of  nature. 
Some  writers  have  gone  so  far  as  to  assert  that  Aristotle 
and  .Theophrastus  learned  natural  history  from  the 
writings  of  Solomon,,  though  on  what  data  they  ground 
this  assertion,  we  are  at  a  loss  to  determine. 

The  principal  writers  on  natural  history  among  tbe 
ancients,  whose  writings  have  come  down.  to.  us,  lue  ^6^ 
Aristotle,  Theophrastns,  andiPlinj;  the  eldec  Of  theArutoUs^ 
first  we  may  remark  with  Haller,  that  bis  writings  on 
this  subject  exhibit  a  continued  chain  of  physical  and 
anatomical  facts,  which  fisr  the  most  part  appear  to  hav^ 
•  been  the  result  of  accurate  observation.  |Ie  relied  less 
than  any  of  tbe  ancient  naturalists  on  uncertain^  and 
fabulous  report  \  he  industriously  collected  and  exam- 
ined natural  bodies,  and  appears  to  have  himself  dissec- 
ted many  animals,  especially  fishes,  or  at  least  to  have 
been  present  at  their  dissection.  There  are  even  to  be 
found  in  his  writings,  references  by  letters  to  figures 
which  he  employed  to  illostrate  his  observations.  ^^    . 

Theophrastus  wrote  chiefly  on  tbe  natural  history  ofTheophiib, 
plants  and  CdssiIs,  on  winds,  and  on  fire.     His  works'^** 
have  been  edited -by  Heinsius,  but,  except  in  plants, 
they  do  not  contain  much  that  is  worthy  of  our  obser/- 
vation  more  than  what  is  to  be  found  in  the  writings  of 
Aristotle..  48 

The  natural  history  of  Pliny,  is  a  valuable  nepoaitory  Pliny, 
of  ancient  knowledge,  which,  notwithstanding  all  its  er- 
rors and  extravagances,  we  ma}^  venture  to  call  after  tlm 
panegyric  of  his  nephew,  *^a  comprehensive  and  learned 
work,  little  less  various  than  nature  herself.  The  author, 
in  the  dedication  of  his  work  to  Vespasian,  sensible  of 
the  defects  with  which  it  abounds,  apologises  for  tbeiq, 
from  the  consideration  that  the  path  which  be  .took  had 
been  in  a  great  measure  untrodden,  andvheld  forth  to 
the  tra^veller  few  enticements  \  while  some  parts  of  hia 
subject  had  been  so  often  handled,  that  readers  were 
become  cloyed  with  them :  that  it  was  an  arduous  task 
to  flive  what  is  old  an  appearance  of  novelty  ^  to  add 
weight  and  authority  to  what  is  new  \  to  cast  a  lustre 
upon  subjects  that  have  been  obscured  by  time}' to 
render  acceptable  what  is  become  tfite  and  disgusting ; 
to  obtain  credit  to  doubtful  relations}  and,  in  a  word,  to 
represent  every  thing  according  to  nature,  and  with  all 
its  natural  properties.  His  design  must  be  acknowled^ 
ged  to  be  grand  and  noble,,  and  when  we  consider  that 
the  work  was  composed  in  tbe  midst  of  important 

engagements,^ 


6^0 


NATURAL   HI  ST  OUT. 


Hiktory.    engagements,  «nd  chiefly  at  broken  periods  stolen  from 
'       V.  ■*-'  sleep,  we  shall  not  wonder  that  it  was  imperfectly  exe- 

49       cute^* 
Ancieiiii         The  ancients  had  no  idea  of  methodical  or  sy&te- 
•  deficient  in  Qjatic  distinctions.     As  they  were  acquainted  with  bat 
method.      ^^^  bodies  in  comparison  with  the  moderns,  and  attend- 
ed only  to  those  'which  were  useful  to  man  >  they  di- 
stinguished them  only  by  their  usual  properties,  their 
N         native  country,  their  habitations,  and  the  usefoi  pur- 
poses to  whicfc  they  might  be  applied.     From  the  few 

*  productions  which  they  described,  they  were  not  led  to 
perceive  the  necessity  of  searching  among  them  for  di- 
stinctive marks  or  relations,  which  may  prevent  their 

'being  confounded  with  eadi  other.     They  doubtless 
s^^  believed  that  their  descriptions  were  sufficient,  and  that 
•"the  Yiames  which  they  imposed   would  descend   with 
"their  customs  to  posterity,  without  being  affected  by  the 
-^  disorders  and  alterations  that  have  changed  the  fisice  of 
countries  and  the  seat  of  empires.     But  the  ve\t>liitions 
that  have  desolated  the  fairest  regions  of  the  globe,  by 
insulating  or  displacing  their  inhabitants,  or  by  con- 
''fouhding  them  with  one  another,  and  altering  their 
^language,  have  frequently  almost  extinguished  the  lamp 
'  of  science.     After  many  ages  of  ignorance  and  bar- 
barity, we  find  in  the  lew  works  of  the  ancient  na- 
turalists, which  have  escaped  the  ravages  of  war  and 
the  devastations  of  civil  discord,  little  more  than  tin- 
'certainty  and  ohscority,  with  respect  to  those  species 
which  t^ey  have  described.  Notwithstanding  the  labours 
«t)f  ^  numerons  conunentators,  we  do  not  certainly  know 
what  species  of  plant  is  the  eicuta  employed  by  the 
Greeks  for  die  execution  of  criminals,  and  wfaicb  ter- 
minated the  life  of  Socrates.    We  cannot  be  sore  that 
the  animals,  which  we  find  best  characterized  in  the 
ancient  writings,  bore  the  names  which  we  attribute  to 
them  5  nor  are  we  more  oertain  with  respect  to  the  an- 
-Q       dent  noinenckture  of  minerals. 
Kiiebf  me-     As  long  as  stndious  men  cultivated  the  sciences  only 
*t&o4s.         through  the  medium  of  the  writings  of  the  ancients, 
and  attempted  nothing  beyond  the  interpreUtion  of 
these,  natural  Aw/ofy,  like  every  other  branch  of  physics, 
remained  obscure  and  confuseil,  and  fiction  or  imagina- 
tion took  the  place  of  facts  }  but  when  they  perceived 
^ '  the  advantage  of  studying  nature  herself,  and  interro- 

SLtiqg  her  by  observation,  methods  were  erected,  and 
stinctive  characters  for  the  species  introduced.   This 
Ibrtunate  icvolation  took  place  in  the  i6th  century. 

*  Csesalpinu?  first  attempted  to  reduce  vegetables  to  das- 
ses,  and  distinguish  them  bto  tribes  according  to  their 

*  form.— -Cfesner,  besides  the  fine  hints  that  be  first  save 
of  the  constant  relation  between  the  strocUire  of  the 

'  seed  and  that  of  the  other  parts  of  plants,  was  the  first 

who  attempted  any  systematic  and  methodical  arrange- 

ment  of  animals.    In  the  I7tb  century,  Morison*  Ray, 

and  Rivinns,  improved  on  the  hints  of  Caesalptnus  re- 

^'specting  the  classification  of  vegetables  •,  and  Aldrovan- 

^dtis,  Bh«di^  and  Swammerdam  upon  -those  of  Ctesner 


respecting'anjmals  j  and  in  a  short  time  tfaisfiist  infidie  \f^ 
given  to  the  art  of  arranging  and  distinguisbiog  nutonl  '■  ^  ^ 
bodies  by  constant  characters,  was  commanicated  (s  til 
those  who  were  employed  in  the  study  of  nstiiR. 
Touraefort,  prsfitiog  by  all  the  attempts  towards  netbtd 
and  system  in  the  classification  of  vegetables  that  M 
been  made  before  him,  advanced  a  considerable  step  la 
botany,  by  his  beautiful  method  of  d^stinguishiiig  plan 
according  to  the  form  of  their  flowers  and  (raits,  wludi 
he  publi»ied  towards  the  end  of  the'iyth  ceatary.  ^i 

The  same  year  of  the  i8th  century  (1707)  gsvclineai 
Jbirth  to  two  men  who  have  advanced  the  srienee  tfl^^ 
natural  history  far  beyond  any  of  their  pwdeeeiw^. 
We  need  scarcely  mention  the  names  of  Lina^  ud 
Boffon.    The  Swedish  naturalist  extended  his  edargcd 
views  through  every  branch  of  natural  histoiy  *,  be  s^ 
ranged  in 'his  Stfatema  Watune  and  Sftuma  Vegttaki- 
Hum  all  the  productions  of  natore,  and  distia^uM 
them  by  characters  that  were  precise  and  Mnple ;  k 
created  a  new  language  lor  expressing  with  Wvvitj  all 
these  characters,  and  thus  presented  to  the  view,  as  is 
«  compendious  picture,  all  the  properties  of  bodies. 
Buflbn,  proceeding  in  a  diflferent  road,  treated  amt  co- 
piously die  mast  important  parts  of  nntund  histofy,  aad 
of  the  animals  that  are  most  nearly  allied  tp  nsa,  ia  a 
work  which  the  fire  of  his  genius  and  the  brilliaacy  d 
his  style  have  rendered  a  universal  favourite.   The  mil 
of  Aristotle  and  Pliny,  whose  genius  he  seems  ts  bate 
combined  in  the  greatness  of  his  views  and  exteat  if 
his  plan,  and  altogether  one  of  the  fiint  writcnsfbii 
age,  he  inspired  a  passion  for  the  study  of  natars  is 
numbers,  who  without  his  wmrks  would  never  hsfe  m- 
gaged  in  such  a  study,  and  communicated  to  his  con- 
trymen  that  taste  which  has  ever  since  snrrived  biBL 

Afirer  what  has  been  given  in  the  particular  trestiM 
on  natural  history  in  this  Encyclopcedia,  both  as  ts  (be 
progress  of  the  science,  and  the  principal  works  sn  cacb 
department  of  it,  since  the  tinae  of  Linn^  and  Bofta ) 
it  is  unnecessary  for  us  to  trace  its  progress  bey  sad  Ibit 
period.  The  advances  made  within  these  few  yeais  sk 
immense,  our  stock  of  infimnatioe  is  prodigMarij  is- 
created,  and  the  modes  of  study  grenthr  improved  aaA 
facilitated.  The  labours  of  Curier,  Geoffioy,  Lae^^ 
Dumont,  Domeril,.  Lamarck,  Dovemois,  Soosiii, 
Blochi  SpaUanzani,  Esper,  Jussieu,  Wildenow,  Wcrscr, 
Patrin,  St  Fond,  Brochanjt,  Brongniart,  Kkpislb, 
Fourcroy,  Vauqfuelio,  Shaw,  Latham,  Bancndk,  Giles- 
bjr,  Ellis,  Smith,  Witherii^,  WoedriUe,  Kirwaa,!^ 
fair,  Thomson,  Jameson,  &o.  with  the  assistance  ts  be 
derived  from  the  Armaksde  MuMum  Na$mm^  the  N^ 
UtraUHU  MmeHam^  the  Lmmman  TmmmeHwh  ^  ^ 
splendid  plates  of  Aierian,  Schreber,  Curtis,  Geeeiby, 
Sotheby,  &e.  afbrd  ample  proofs  of  the  indnsliy  am 
success  with  which  this  delightful  field  has  heeo  eaki- 
vated,  and  of  the  rich  harvest  that  has  been  derived 
from  the  united  effMts  of  so  many  mea  of  gsM  aii 
tale&ts. 


VgmA 


NAT  [641 

MaiMtl        VATURAt  Fkikmphy^  ia'comiMiilf  defined  to  be  that 
PfailiMoiiky.bnDch  of  knowledge  which  eeneiden  the  powers  and 
propertiee  of  natural  bodies,  and  their  mutual  actions 
on  one  another.     The  proTinee  of  moral  philosophy  is 
■the  mind  of  man  ;  its  inquiries  and  researches  are  into 
the  itttelleotuaft  world.   Natural  philosophy,  on  the  other 
band,  ia  only  concerned  with  the  material  part  of  the 
creation.  The  Moralist's  bosiness  is  to  inqnire  into  the 
nature  of  virtoe,  the  causes  and  effects  of  vice  \  to 
propose  remedies  for  it,  and  to  point  out  the  mode  of 
attaining  happiness,  which  only  can  be  the  result  of 
virtQons  condoct.  The  Naturalist,  on  the  contrary,  has 
nothing  to  do  with  spirit  ^  his  business  is  solely  about 
body  or  matter ;  and  he  ongbt  to  have  a  solid  and  accu- 
rate knowledge  of  all  material  substances,  together  with 
their  affections  and  properties  \  and  if  possible,  be  is  to 
inrestigate  the  reasons  of  such  and  sueb  appearances.*-^ 
Indeed,  the  first  -  and  principal  part  of  this  science  is, 
to  coHeet  all  the  manifest  and  sensible  appearances  of 
things,  and  reduce  them  into  a  body  of  natural  history. 
Philosophy  has  often  been  said,  and  is  even  now  very 
generally  thought,  to  mean  an  inquiry  into  all  the  causes 
of  things  \  but  experience  informs  us,  that  though  we 
are  acquainted  with  a  good  nnmber  of  effects,  we  can 
trace  but  few  of  their  causes  ;  so  that  philosophy  itself 
will  really  be  found  to  be  iu  general  but  a  collection 
of  &cts.      Still,  however,  it  differs  from  natural  hi- 
story in  its  appropriated  sense  ;  the  business  of  which 
is  only  to  observe  the  appearances  of  natural  bodies 
separafely,  and  from  these  appearances  to  class  them 
with   other  bodies :    natural  philosophy  goes  farther, 
and  recites  the  action  of  two  or  more  bodies  of  the 
same  or  different  kinds  upon  one  another  ;  and  though 
it  can  neither  investigate  nor  point  out  the  causes  of 
those  effects,  whatever  they  arc,  yet,  from  mathema- 
tical reasoning  combined  with  experience,  it  ran  be  de-* 
monstrated,  that  in  such  circumstances  such  effects  mo9t 
always  take  place.     There  are  evidently  two  ways  of 
making  observations  on  the  material  world :  the  first  i<9, 
when  we  view  things  nearly  as  they  happen  to  occur, 
ivithout  any  design  or  intervention  of  our  own  \  in 
which  way,   indeed,   no  great  improvements   can-  be 
expected  in  the  art,  because  chance  having  the  direc- 
tion, only  exhibits  ticcasiofial  Or  extemporary  proper- 
ties.    The  other  method  is,  when,   after  a  thorough 
acquaintance  with  bodies,  we  apply  them  to  other  bo- 
dies equally  known,  diligently  attending  to  the  result, 
and  obser>'ing  whether  any  thing  new  arises.     Such 
seems  to  be  in  general  the  nature  of  our  article  \  nor 
IS  it  our  intention  to  be  mnch  more  particular  at  pre- 
sent.    We  most  therefore  refer  our  readers  respect ivc- 
')y  to  those  parts  of  tlie  subject,  respecting  which  they 
wish  for  more  satisfaction  and  minuter  details.     The 
ancient  and  modern  definitions  of  the  word  pht'loso' 
phy^  together  with  its  origin,  as  well  as  the  manner  of 
philosophizing  in  former  times  as  well  as  at  present, 
with  the  gradual  improvement  of  science,  particularly 
natural,  we  shall  introduce,  we  think,  more  properly, 
under  the  words  PHILOSOPHY  and  Prtsics.  We  need 
only  add,  under  the  present  article,  what  however  is 
well  known,  that  natural  philosoidiy  was  till  lately  di- 
vided only  into  four  parts,  commonly  called  Xhtfomr 
hronc/ie^y  viz.  i.  Mechanics ;  2.  Hydrostatics  ^  3.  Op- 
tica )  and,  4.  Astronomy ;  and  tlieae  are  again  subdivi<K 
ed  into  various  parts.     Modem  discoveries  have  added, 
Tou  XIV.  Part  II. 


] 


NAT 


however,  two  more  parts  to  the  number,  viz.  Magnet-    Kaiurai 
ism  and  £lectricity.     It  is  remarkable,  that  in  the  £n-  Fhiloso^iy 
glish  universities  these  two  latter  branches  are  never        H 
taken  notice  of  in  lecturing  on  natural  philosophy,  the  .  ^^^^''^^^  ^ 
old  division  being  still  retained,  without  any  mention         ' 
of  these  two  important  articles.     The  reason  may  be, 
that  they  are  only  subject  to  experiment,  and  not  yet 
reduced  to  mathematical  reasoning ;  which  is  the  me- 
thod of  teaching  philosophy  in  one  of  those  celebrated 
seminaries.   Of  tliese  branches  of  this  extensive  science, 
it  is  not  our  intention  to  take  even  a  general  view  in 
this  place.     We  roust  therefore  refer  our  readers  to 
each   particular  article,   where   they   will   find   them 
treated  at  considerable  length. 

NATURALISATION,  in  Law,  the  act  of  na:. 
turalizing  an  alien,  or  putting  him  into  the  condition 
of  a  natural-born  subject,  and  entitling  him  to  the 
rights  and  privileges  tliereof.  But  none  can  be  natiN 
ralized  unless  they  have  received  the  sacrament  within 
one  month  before  the  bringing  tn  of  the  bill,  and  taken 
the  oaths  of  allegiance  and  supremacy  in  the  presence 
of  the  parliament.  A  person  who  is  naturalized  may 
have  lands  by  descent,  as  heir  at  law,  as  well  as  obtain 
them  by  pnrchase  *,  but  he  is  disabled  from  being  a 
meml)cr  of  the  privy  council  or  parliament  •,  or  front 
holding  offices,  7  Jac.  I.  cap.  2.  12  Will.  III.  cap.  2. 
All  children  bont  out  of  the  king's  dominions,  whose 
fathers  were  or  are  subjects  of  this  kingdom  at  the  time 
of  their  birth,  are  adjudged  to  be  natural  bom  subjects 
of  this  realm,  except  children  of  parents  attainted  of 
treason,  or  that  are  in  the  actual  service  of  a  foreign 
prince  at  enmity  with  us,  4  Geo.  II.  cap.  21.  Every 
foreign  seaman,  who  in  time  of  war  serves  two  years  on 
board  an  English  ship,  is  ipso  facto  naturalized,  13 
Cveo.  II.  cap.  3.  And  all  foreign  Protestants  and  Jews, 
upon  their  residing  seven  years  in  any  of  the  Briti^i 
colonies,  without  being  absent  above  two  montJis  at  a 
time,  or  serving  two  years  in  a  military  capacity 
there,  are  upon  taking  the  oaths  naturalized  to  all 
intents  and  purposes,  as  if  they  had  been  born  in  this 
kingdom ;  and  therefore  are  admissible  to  all  such  pri- 
vileges, and  no  other,  as  Protestants  or  Jews  born  in 
this  kingdom  are  entitled  to.     See  Alien  and  Dx* 

Hi  ZEN. 

In  France  before  the  Revolution,  naturalization  was 
the  king^s  prerogative  \  in  Enghmd  it  is  oniy  done  by 
act  of  parliament.  In  the  former  of  tboee  places,  before  ^ 
their  government  was  overtomed,  Swiss,  Savoyards, 
and  Scots,  did  not  require  naturalization,  being. repcited 
regnicoleS)  or  natives. 

NATURALS,  among  phvsicians,  whatever  natu- 
rally belongs  to  an  animal,  m  opposition  to  non-natu- 
rals.   See  Non-naturals. 

NATURE,  according  to  Mr  Boyle,  has  eight  dif- 
ferent significations  \  it  being  used,  j .  For  the  autjior 
of  nature,  whom  the  schoolmen  call  Natura  Naiurans^ 
being  the  same  with  God.  2.  By  the  nature  of  a  thing 
we  sometimes  mean  its  essence  ^  that  is,  the  attributes 
which  make  it  what  it  is,  whether  the  thing  he  corpo- 
real or  not  \  as  when  we  attempt  to  define  the  natote 
of  a  fluid,  of  a  triangle,  &€.  3.  Sometimes  we  con- 
found that  which  a  man  has  by  nature  with  what  a^ 
crues  to  him  by  birtb  ^  as  when  we  say,  that  such  a  mam 
is  noble  by  nature.  4.  Sometimes  we  take  nature  for 
an  itternal  principle  of  motion  ^  as  when  we  say,  that 
t  4M  a 


N    A    V 


r 


Natnie     ft  stone  by  batnre  Mis  to  the  earth.     5.  Sometimes  we 
D        uaderstaod  by  nature » the  established  course  of  thiugs, 
,  N*^^    6.  Sometimes  we  take  nature  for  an  aggregate  of 
'         powers  belonging  to  a  body,  especially  a  living  one  j  in 
which  sense  physicians  say,  that  nature  is  strong,  weak, 
or  spent )  or  that,  in  such  or  such  diseases,  nature  left 
to  herself  will  perform  the  cure.     7*  Sometimes  we  use 
the  term  nature  for  the  universe,  or  whole  system  of  the 
corporeal  works  of  God ;  as  when  it  is  said  of  a  phoe- 
nix, or  chimera,  that  there  is  no  such  thing  in  nature. 
8.  Sometimes  too,  and  that  most  commonly,  we  ex- 
press by  the  word  nature^  a  kind  of  semi-deity,  or 
other  strange  kind  of  being. 

If,  says  the  same  philosopher,  I  were  to  propose  a 
notion  of  nature,  less  ambiguous  than  these  already 
mentioned,  and  with  regard  to  which  many  axioms 
relating  to  that  word  may^be  conveniently  understood, 
I  should  first  distinguish  between  the  universal  and  the 
particular  nature  of  things.  Universal  nature  I  would 
define  to  be  the  aggregate  of  the  bodies  that  make  up 
the  world  in  its  present  state,  considered  as  a  principle, 
by  virtue  whereof  they  act  and  suffer,  according  to  the 
laws  of  motion  prescribed  by  the  Author  of  all  things. 
And  this  makes  way  for  the  other  subordinate  notion  j 
since  the  particular  nature  of  an  individual  consists  in 
the  general  nature  applied  to  a  distinct  portion  of  the 
universe  ^  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  it  is  a  particu- 
lar assemblage  of  the  mechanical  properties  of  matter, 
as  figure,  motion,  &c. 
Kingdoms  of  Nature.  See  Kingdoms. 
Conduct  or  Operations  of  Nature*    See  Natural 

History' 

NAVA,  in  Aticieni  G^oiffYip^y,  (Tacitus)  •,  a  river 
of  Belgica,  which  runs  north-cast  into  the  left  or  west 
side  of  the  Rhine.  Now  the- NaAc^  rising  at  the  vil- 
lage  Nahcweiler,  on  the  borders  of  the  bishopric  of 
Triers,  running  through  the  Lower  Palatinate,  the 
dnchy  of  Simmeren,  by  the  small  town  of  Bing,  into 

the  Rhine. 

NAVAL,  something  relating  to  a  ship  *,  whence. 
Naval  Architecture.  See  SHip-Buiidihg. 
Naval  Camp^  in  antiquity,  a  fortification,  consist- 
ing of  a  ditch  and  parapet  on  the  land  side,  or  a  wall 
bmlt  in  the  form  of  a  semicircle,  tod  extended  from 
one  point  of  the  sea  to  uiother.  This  was  sometimes 
defended  with  towers,  and  beautified  with  gates,  through 
which  they  issued  forth  to  attack  their  enemies.  Ho- 
mer hath  left  us  a  remarkable  description  of  the  Gre- 
wtm  fortifications  of  this  sort,  in  the  Trojan  war,  be- 
ginning at  ver.  436.  Iliad  9. 

'  Then,  to  secure  the  naval  camp  and  powers. 
They  raisM  embattled  walls  with  lofty  towers : 
Prom  space  to  space  were  ample  gates  around. 
For  passing  chariots  ;  and  a  trench  profound. 
Of  large  extent  \  and  deep  Tn  earth  below 
Strong  piles  infixed  stood  adverse  to  the  foe. 

Pope's  Transi. 

Towards  the  sea,  or  within  it,  they  fixed  great 
pales  of  wood,  like  those  in  their  artificial  harbours : 
before  these  the  vessels  of  bwden  were  placed  in  sudi 
order  as  that  they  might  be  instead  of  a  wall,  and 
give  protection  to  those  within  ^  in  which  manner  Ni- 
cias  is  reported  by  Thucydides  to  have  encamped 


642    ]  N    A    V 

himself:  but  tWS  aefiou  only  to  have  been  practised  ]|^ 
when  the  enemy  was  thought  superior  in  strength,  ud      | 
raised  great  apprehensions  of  danger  in  them.    Wlwa  ^^ 
their  fortifications  were  thought  strong .  enough  to  de- 
fend them  from  the  assaults  of  enemies,  it  was  fre^ncnt 
to  drag  their  ships  to  shore,  which  the  Greeks  call* 
ed  iMvAuMf,  the  Romans  subducere.    Aroond  the  sliipt 
the  soldiers  disposed  their  tents,  as  appears  every- 
where in  Homer :  but  this  seems  only  to  have  been 
practised  in  winter,  when  their  enemy's  fleet  was  kid 
up  and  could  not  asMult  them  \  or  in  long  sieges,  and 
when  they  lay  in  no  danger  from  their  enemies  bj  set ; 
as  in  the  Trojan  war,  where  the  defenders  of  Trey  ne- 
ver once  attempted  to  encounter  the  Grecians  in  a  sea- 
fight. 

The  adjacent  places  were  usually  filled  with  imn 
and  stews,  well  stocked  with  females,  that  prostituted 
themselves  to  the  mariners,  merehflnta,  and  artificers 
of  all  sorts,  who  flocked  thiUier  in  great  numbers;  tkis, 
however,  appears  to  have  happened  only  in  times  of 
peace. 

Naval  Crotim^  among  the  ancient  Romans,  a  crowa 
adorned  with  figures  of  prows  of  ships,  conferred  on 
persons  who  in  sea  engagements  first  boarded  the  eae* 
my^s  vessel.     See  Crown. 

Naval  Engagement,     See  Tactics,  NavaL 

Naval  Stores^  comprehend  all  tfaoee  particalam 
made  use  of,  not  only  in  the  royal  navy,  but  in  eveiy 
other  kind  of  navigation ;  as  timber  and  iron  for  liiip- 
ping,  pitch,  tar,  hemp,  cordage,  sail  cloth,  gunpowder, 
ordnance,  and  fire  arms  of  every  sort,  ship  chandlfiy 
wares,  &c. 

Naval  Tactics^  the  military  operations  of  fleeCi. 
See  Tactics,  NavaL 

NAVAN,  a  borough  town  of  Ireland,  in  the  couaty 
of  \f eath  and  province  of  Leinster  \  situated  about  25 
miles  north-west  of  Dublin,  on  the  river  Boyne.  It 
consists  of  two  chief  streets,  which  intersect  each  otber 
at  right  angles.— The  tholsel,  or  town  house,  is  a 
handsome  stone  building.  This  place  was  fcMinerly  ia 
great  repute,  and  walled  in  by  Hugh  de  Lacy.  Aa 
abbey  for  regular  canons,  dedicated  to  the  Virgin  Manr« 
was  erected  here ;  but  whether  antecedent  to  the  end 
of  the  1 2th  century  is  not  certain :  about  that  period, 
however,  it  was  either  founded  or  re-edified  by  Joce* 
line  de  Angulo  or  Nangle.  In  the  burial  ground  are 
the  remains  of  many  ancient  tombs.  A  barrack  fsr 
horse  is  now  built  on  the  site  of  the  abbey. 

NA VARREl,  a  provbce  of  Spain,  part  of  the  an- 
cient kingdom  of  Navarre,  erected  soon  after  tbe  is- 
vasion  of  the  Moors ;  and  is  otherwise  called  Vpptr 
Navarre^  to  distinguish  it  from  Lower  Navarre  be- 
longing to  the  French.  It  is  bounded  on  the  sootli 
and  east  by  Arragon,  on  the  north  by  the  f^renecf, 
and  on  the  west  by  Old  Castile  and  Biscay  ;  extcndiag 
from  south  to  north  about  80  miles,  and  from  east  to 
west  about  75.  It  abounds  in  sheep  and  cattle  \  gaaie 
of  all  kinds,  as  boars,  stags,  and  roebucks ;  and  in 
wild  fowl,  hoi-ses,  and  honey ;  yielding  also  sone 
grain,  wine,  oil,  and  a  variety  of  minerals,  medtdaal 
waters,  and  hot  baths.  Some  of  the  ancient  chiefii 
of  this  country  were  called  SobrarboreSf  hwa  tk 
custom,  as  it  is  supposed,  which  prevailed  wmmg 
some  of  those  free  nations,  .of  choosing  and  swesii^ 

tbcir 


N    A    V 


[    «43    ] 


N    A    V 


VaTnrre.  tlietr  pruices  Under  some  particular  tree.  Tlic  nam« 
of  the  province  is  supposed  to  be  a  contraction  of 
Nava  Hf-rea^  signifying,  in  the  language  of  the  Vas- 
cones,  its  ancients  inhabitants,  "  a  laud  of  valleys. ^^ 
—For  the  particulars  of  its  history,  see  the  article 
Spain. 

Navarre,  Pcfer^  an  officer  of  eminence  in  the  i6th 
century,  and  particularly  celebrated  for  his  dexterity  in 
the  directing  and  'springing  of  mines.  He  was  a  na> 
live  of  Biscay,  and  of  low  extraction.  According  to 
Paul  Jove,  who  affirms  that  he  had  an  account  of  the 
matter  from  his  own  mouth,  he  was  first  a  sailor ;  but 
being  disgusted  with  that  employment,  he  sought  his 
fortune  in  Italy,  when  poverty  compelled  him  to  be- 
come footman  to  the  cardinal  of  Ai*raffon.  He  after- 
wards inlisted  himself  a  soldier  in  the  Houstine  army  ^ 
and  having  served  there  for  some  time,  went  to  sea  a- 
gain,  and  distinguished  himself  by  his  courage.  The 
reputation  of  his  valour  having  reached  the  eai-s  of  Gon- 
satvo  de  Cordova,  this  general  employed  him  in  the 
war  against  Naples,  and  raised  him  to  the  rank  of  a 
captain.  Having  contributed  greatly  to  the  taking  of 
that  city  by  very  opportunely  sprmging  a .  mine,  the 
emperor  rewarded  him  for  this  signal  service  with  the 
earldom  of  Alveto,  situated  in  that  kingdom,  and  gave 
Lim  the  title  of  Cozmi  of  Navarre.  Having  the  com- 
mand of  a«)ar%'al  expedition  againsit  the  Moors  in  Afri- 
ca, he  was  at 'first  very  successful,  and  took  possession  of 
Oran,  Tripoli,  and  sonic  other  places ;  but  being  after- 
wards shipwrecked  on  the  island  flf  Gerbes,  the  great 
heats  and  the  Moorish  cavalry  destroyed  a  part  of  his 
army.  Oor  hero  was  equally  unfortunate  in  Italy: 
He  was  made  prisoner  at  the  famous  battle  of  Raven- 
na in  151 2,  and  languished  in  France  for  the  space  of 
two  years.  When  'finding  that  the  king  of  Spam,  who 
had  been  prejudiced  against  him  by  his -courtiers,  would 
do  nothing  towards  his  ransom,  he  went  into  the  service 
of  Francis  [.  who  gave  him  the  command  of  20  com- 
panies of  infantry,  consisting  of  Gascons,  Biscayans^ 
and  the  inhabitants  of  the  Fyrenean  mountains.  He 
distinguished  himself  in  several  successful  expeditions, 
until  the  year  1522,  when  having  been  sent  to  the  relief 
of  the  Genoese,  he  was  taken  by  the  Imperialists.  They 
conducted  him  to  Naples,  where  he  remained  a  pri- 
soner for  three  years  in  the  Castel  del  Ovo.  From  this 
confinement  h®  ^^  released  by  the  treaty  of  Madrid, 
and  afterwards  fought  at  the  siege  of  Naples  under 
Laulric  in  1528:  but  being  again  made  prisoner  at 
the  unfortunate  re^at  firom  Aversa,  he  was  conduct- 
ed a  second  time  to  tlie  Castel  del  Dvo.  Here  the 
]nrince  of  Orange,  having  by  order  of  the  emperor, 
caused  several  persons  of  the  Angrvine  faction  to  be 
beheaded,  our  hero  would  undoubtedly  have  suffered 
the  same  fate,  if  the  governor,  seeing  his  distressed  si- 
tuation, and  feeling  for  the  misfortunes  of  so  great  a 
man,  had  not  saved  him  the  shame  of  this  last  punish- 
ment by  allowing  him  to  die  a  natural  death.  Others 
pretend  that  he  was  strangled  in  his  bed,*  having  ar- 
rived at  a  very  advanced  age.  Papl  Jove  and  Philip 
Tbomasini  have  written  hia  life.  This  last  informs  us, 
that  be  was  of  a  tall  size,  had  a  swarthy  countenance, 
black  eyes,  beard,  and  hair.  A  duke  of  Sessa,  in  the 
last  century,  being  desirous  to  honour  his  memory 
and  that  of  the  marshal  de  Lautree,  caused  a  monu- 
uieot  to  be  erected  to  each  tif  them  in  the  church  of 


Saint-Marie-le-Neuve  at  Naples^  where  they  had  been    Kuvarra 
interred  without  any  funeral  honours. 

Navarre,  Martin^  surnamed  Af&pUcucta^  because 
he  was  born  in  the  kingdom  which  bears  that  name, 
successively  professor  of  jurisprudence  at  Toulouse,  Sa*' 
laraanca,  and  Coirabra,  was  consulted  from  all  quar- 
ters as  the  oracle  of  law.  For  a  part  of  his  knowledge 
he  was  indebted  to  the  schools  of  Cahors  and  Toulouse, 
in  which  he  had  studied.  His  friend  Barthelemi  Ca* 
rewza,  a  Dominican,  and  archbishop  of  Toledo,  hav- 
ing  been  charged  with  heresy  by  the  court  of  inqui- 
sition at  Rome,  Navarre  set  out  at  the  age  of  80  years 
to  defend  him.  Pius  V.  appointed  him  assessor  to 
Cardinal  Francis  Alciat,  vice-penitentiary.  Gregory 
XIII.  never  passed  his  gate  without  sending  for  him, 
and  sometimes  would  converse  with  him  for  an  hour 
together  on  the  street :  be  even  deigned  to  visit  him, 
accompanied  by  several  cardinals.  These  honours  did 
not  render  him  more  haughty.  His  character  became 
so  eminent,  that  even  in  his  own  time  the  greatest 
encomium  that  could  be  paid  to  a  man  of  learning 
was  to  say  that  he  was  a  Navarre:  this  name  tluis 
included  the  idea  tif  erudition,  as  that  of  Roscius  for- 
merly marked  an  accomplished  comedian.  Azpilcucta 
was  the  oracle  of  the  city  of  Rome,  and  of  the  whole 
Christian  world.  For  the  influence  which  he  had  ac- 
quired, he  was  indebted  not  only  to  his  knowledge, 
but  also  to  his  probity  and  virtue.  Faithful  to  the 
duties  which  the  church  prescribed,  his  temperance 
and  frugality  preserved  to  him  a  viuoroas  constitution  j 
and  at  a  very  advanced  age  his  genius  was  equal  to  the 
severest  study.  His  savings  enabled  him  to  give  libe- 
ral assistance  to  the  poor.  His  chai-ities,  indeed,  were 
so  great,  that  his  mule,  it  is  said,  would  stop  as  soon 
as  she  perceived  a  beggar,  He  died  at  Rome  in  1586, 
at  the  age  of  92.  His  work«  were  collected  and 
pfinted  in  6  vols,  folio  at  Lyons  in  1597,  and  at  Ve- 
nice in  itSo2.  They  display ea  mere  learning  than  judge- 
ment, and  are  now  very  seldom  consulted.  Navarre 
was  uncle  by  the  mother^s  side  to  St  Francis  of  Sales. 
See  Sales. 

NAUCRART,  among  the  Athenians,  was  the  name 
given,  to  the  chief  magistrates  of  the  A^^i,  *'  boroughs 
or  town^ips,"  called  N«u»^«(mbi^  because  each  was 
obliged,  besides  two  horsemen,  to  furnish  out  one  ship 
for  the  public  service. 

"NAUCRATES,  a  Greek  poet,  who  was  employed 
by  Artemisia  to  write  a  panegyric  upon  Mausolus.— An 
orator  who  endeavoured  to  alienate  the  cities  of  Lycia 
from  the  interests  of  Brutus. 

NAUCRATIS,  a  city  of  Egypt  on  the  left  side 
of  the  Canopic  mouth  of  the  Nile.  It  was  celebrated 
for  its  commerce,  and  no  ship  was  permitted  to  land 
at  any  other  place,  but  was  obliged  to  sail  directly'lo 
the  city,  there  to  deposite  its  cargo.  It  gave  birth  to 
Athensens.        

NAUCRATITES  Nomos,  in  Anctent  Geography^ 
(Pliny)  ;  a  division  of  the  Delta,  so  called  from  that 
town  Naucratis;  though  Ptolemy  comprises  It  under  the 
Nomos  Saites. 

NAUCYDES,  a  statuaiy  who  lived  about  four  ecu* 
taries  before  the  Christian  era. 

NAVE,  in  Architecturej  the  body  of  a  church, 
where  the  people  are  disposed,  reaching  fitMn  the  bal- 
luster,  or  rail  of  the  door,  to  the  chief  choir.     Some 

4  M  2  derived 


N    A    V 


Hbtc,     derive  the  word  from  the  Greek  mmty  **  *  temple  }** 
Navel     and  others  from  m«(,  **  a  ship,*^  by  reason  the  vault  or 
»        reof  of  a  church  bears  some  resemblance  to  a  ship. 

NAVEL,  in  Anatomy^  the  centre  of  the  lower  part 
of  the  abdomen  ^  being  that  part  where  the  umbtLical 


[    644    1  N    A    V 

vessels  passed  out  of  the  placenta  of  the  mother.   See  KiH 
Anatomy  Index.  Knm 

NAFEL-fFori.    See  Cottledon,  Botany  Indnr. 

NAVEW*    See  Brassica,  Botany  Index, 


NAVIGATION 


TS  the  art  of  condncting  or  carrying  a  ship  from  one 
^  port  to  another. 

HISTORY. 

The  poets  refer  the  invention  of  the  art  of  naviga- 
tion to  Neptune,  some  to  Bacchus,  others  to  Her- 
cules, others  to  Jason,  and  others  to  Janus,  who  is  said 
to  have  made  the  first  ship.  Historians  ascribe  it  to 
the  ^ginetes,  the  Phoenicians,  Tyrians,  and  the  an- 
cient inhabitants  of  Britain #  Some  suppose,  that  the 
first  hint  was  taken  from  the  flight  of  the  kite  j  others, 
as  Oppian  (Z)^  Ptscibus^  lib.  i.),  from  the  fish  called 
nautilus :  others  ascribe  it  to  accident.— Scripture  re- 
fers  the  origin  of  so  useful  an  invention  to  God  himself, 
who  gave  the  first  specimen  thereof  in  the  ark  built  by 
Noah  under  bis  direction.  For  the  raillery  which  the 
good  man  underwent  on  account  of  his  enterprise  shows 
evidently  enough  that  the  world  was  then  ignorant  of 
any  thing  like  navigation,  and  that  they  even  thought 
it  impossible. 

However,  profane  history  represents  the  Phoenicians, 
especially  those  of  their  capital  Tyre,  as  the  first  navi- 
gators ;  being  urged  to  seek  a  foreign  commerce  by  the 
narrowness  and  poverty  of  a  slip  of  groand  they  pos- 
sessed along  the  coasts  ^  as  well  as'  by  the  conveniency 
of  two  or  three  good  ports,  and  by  their  natural  ge- 
nius for  traffic.  Accordingly,  Lebanon,  and  the  other 
neighbouring  mountains,,  furnishing  tbem  with  excel- 
lent wood  for  shiprbuLlding,  in  a  short  time  they 
were  masters  of  a  numerous  fleet ;  and  constantly 
hazarding  new  navigations,  and  settling  new  trades, 
they  soon  arrived  at  an  incredible  pitch  of  opulence 
and  populousness :  insomuch  as  to  be  in  a  condition 
to  send  out  colonies,  the  principal  of  which  was  that 
of  Carthage }  which,  keeping  up  their  Phoenician  spi- 
rit of  commerce,  in  time  not  only  equalled  Tyre  itself, 
but  vastly  surpassed  it  *,  sending  its  merchant  fleets 
through  Hercules's  Pillars,  now  the  straits  of  Gibral- 
tar, along  the  western  coasts  of  Africa  and  Europe  ^ 
and  even,  if  we  believe  some  autliors,  to  America  it- 
self. 

Tyre,  whose  immense  riches  and  power  are  repre- 
serted  in  such  lofty  terms  both  by  sacred  and  profane 
authors,  being  destroyed  by  Alexander  the  Great,  its 
navigation  and  commerce  were  transferred  by  the  con- 
oueror  to  Alexandria,  a  new  city  adnimbly  situated 
for  those  purposes  ^  proposed  for  the  capital  of  the  em- 
pire of  Asia,  which  Alexander  then  meditated.  And 
thus  arose  the  navigation  of  the  Egyptians  ;  which  was 
afterwards  so  much  cultivated  by  the  PtoleoMes,  that 
Tyre  and  Carthage  were  quite  forgotten. 

Egypt  being  reduced  into  a  Roman  province  after 
the  battle  of  Actium,  its  trade  and  navigation  fell  inte 
the  hands  of  Ausustus  ^  in  who^e  time  Alexandria  was 
oi^y  inferior  to  lUme  >  an4  Ae  magazines  of  the  ca- 


pital of  the  world  were  wholly  supplied  with  mercbaa- 
discs  from  the  capital  of  Egypt. 

At  length,  Alexandria  itself  underwent  the  fate  of 
Tyre  and  Carthage ;  being  surprised  by  the  Saracens, 
who  in  spite  of  the  emperor  Heraclius,  overspread 
the  northern  coasts  of  Africa,  Sec  whence  the  lDe^ 
chants  being  driven,  Alexandria  has  ever  since  Wen  in 
a  languishing  state,  though  it  still  has  a  coosidtiablc 
part  of  the  commerce  of  the  Christian  merchants  trad- 
ing to  the  Levant. 

The  fall  of  Rome  and  its  empire  drew  along  witb  it 
not  only  that  of  learning  and  the  polite  arts,  but  that  of 
navigation  ^  the  barbarians  into  whose  hands  it  fell, 
contenting  themselves  with  the  spoils  of  the  industry  of 
their  predecessors. 

But  no  sooneir  were  the  more  brave  among  those  na- 
tions well  settled  in  their  new  provinces,  some  in  Gaul, 
as  the  Franks^  others  in.  Spain,  as  the  Goths j  aod 
others  in  Italy,  as  the  Lombards  ^  but  they  began  to 
learn  the  advantages  of  navigation  and  commerce,  and 
the  methods  of  managing  them,  from  the  people  tky 
subdued  ^  and.  this  with  so  much  success,  that  io  a  lit- 
tle time  some  of  them  became  able  to  give  new  lessons 
and  set  on  foot  new  institutions  for  its  ad-vantage.  TW 
it  is  to  the  Lombards  we  usually  ascribe  the  inveotioB 
and  use  of  banks,  book-keeping,  exchanges,  rechaogch 
&c. 

It  does  not  appear  which  of  the  European  people, 
after  the  settlement  of  their  new  ma&tei'S,  first  betook 
themselves  tu  navigation  and  commerce.  Some  think 
it  began  with  the  French^  though  the  Italians  se^^ 
to  have  the  justest  title  to  it  >  and  are  accordioglj  re* 
garded  as  the  restorers  thereof,  as  well  as  of  the  polite 
arts,  which  had  been  banished  togetlier  from  the  time 
the  empire  was  torn  asunder.  It  is  the  people  of  Italy 
tlien,  and  particularly  those  of  Venice  and  Genoa,  xrbo 
have  the  glory  of  this  restoration  ;  and  it  is  to  their  ad- 
vantageous situation  for  navigation  they  in  great  mei- 
sure  owe  their  glory.  In»the  bottom  of  the  Adriatic 
were  a  great  number  of  marshy  islands,  only  sepaiated 
by  narrow  channels^  but  those  well  screened,  aod  almost 
inaccessible,  the  residence  of  some  fishermen,  who  here 
supported  themselves  by  a  little  trade  in  fish  and  salt, 
which,  they  found  in  some  of  these  ishmds.  Thither 
the  Veneti,  a  people  inhabiting  that  part  of  Italy  alo^ 
the  coasts  of  the  gulf,  retired,  when  Alaric  king  of  tbe 
Gotb^,  and  a&erwards  Attila  king  of  the  Hunt,  n^s- 
ged  Italy. 

These  new  id anders,  little  imaginiog  thatthisva^ 

to  be  their  fixed  residence,  did  not  thisk  of  covposii^ 

any  body  politic  ^  but  each  of  the  72  islaods  of  this 

little  archipelago  continued  a  long  time  under  its  se^ 

veral  masters,  and  each  mtide  a  distinct  c^mmoowealt^ 

When  their  commerce  was  become  considerable  eooigb 

to  give  jealousy  to  theix  neighbouiB,  they  hepnto 

thiak 


History. 


N  A  V  I  G 


think  of  onitiag  into  a  body.  AnS  it  was  tbb  nnion, 
first  begun  in  the  sixth  ceatmryy  hut  not  completed  till 
the  eighth,  that  laid  the  sure  foundation  of  the  future 
grandeur  of  the  state  of  Venice.  From  the  tinaie  of  this 
iinioUy  their  fleets  of  merchantmen  were  sent  to  all  the 
ports  of  the  Mediterranean  ^  and  at  last  to  those  of  £- 
gjpl,  particularly  Cairo,  a  new  cily  built  by  the  Sara* 
cen  princes  on  the  eastern  banks  of  the  Nile,  where 
they  traded  for  the  spices  and  other  products  of  the 
Indies.  Thus  they  flourished,  increased  their  commerce, 
their  navigation,  and  their  conquests  on  the  terra  firma, 
till  the  league  of  Cambray  in  1508,  when  a  number  of 
jealous  princes  conspired  to  their  ruin  ^  which  was  the 
more  easily  e£fected  by  the  diminution  of  their  East  In* 
dia  commerce,  of  which  the  Portuguese  had  got  one 
part  and  the  French  another.  Genoa,  which  had  ap- 
plied itself  to  navigation  at  the  same  time  with  Venice, 
and  that  with  equal  success,  was  a  long  time  its  danger- 
ous rival,  disputed  with  it  the  empire  of  the  sea,  and 
shared  with  it  the  trade  of  Fgypt  and  other  parts  both 
of  the  east  and  west. 

Jealousy  soon  began  to  break  out ;  and  the  two  re- 
publics coming  to  blows,  there  was  alntost  continual 
war  for  three  centuries  before  the  superiority  was  asceiw 
tained  ^  when,  towards  the  end  of  the  14th  century, 
the  battle  of  Cbioza  ended  the  strife ;  the  Genoese, 
who  till  then  had  usually  the  advantage,  having  now 
lost  all }  and  the  Venetians,  almost  become  desperate, 
at  jone  happy  blow,  beyond  all  expectation,  secured 
to  themselves  the  empire  of  the  sea,  and  superiority  in. 
eommerce. 

About  the  same  time  that  navigation  was  retrieved 
Mi>  the  soUtliern  parts  of  Europe,  a  new  society  of  mer- 
chants was  formed  in  the  north,  which  not  only  car- 
ried conunerce  to  the  greatest  peifection  it  was  capable 
of  till  the  discovery  of  the  East  and  West  Imlies,  but 
also  formed  a  new  scheme  of  laws  for  the  regulation 
therefore,  which  still  obtain  under  the  names  of  Uses 
and  Custom*  of  the  Sea.  This  society  is  that  famous 
league  of  the  Hanse  towns,  commonly  supposed  to  have 
begun  about  the  year  1164.     See  Hanse  Towns. 

For  the  modern  state  of  navigation  in  England,  Hoi- 
bind,  France,  Spain,  Portugal,  &c.  see  ComMEitCE, 
COMFAKY,  &c. 

We  shall  only  add,  that  in  examining  tlie  causes 
of  commerce  passing  successively  irom  the  Venetians, 
Genoese,  and  Hanse  towns,  to  the  Portugiiese  and 
Spaniards,  and  from  these  again  to  the  English  and 
Dutch,  it  may  be  established  as  a  maxim,  tliat  the  re- 
lation between  commerce  and  navigation,  or  if  we  may 
he  allowed  to  say  it,  their  union,  is  so  intimate,  that 
the  fall  of  the  one  inevitably  draws  after  it  that  of  the 
other  ^  and  that  they  will  always  ekher  flounsh  or 
dwindle  together.  Hence  so  many  laws,  ordinances, 
statutes,  &c.  for  its  regulation  ;  and  hence  particdarly 
that  celebrated  act  of  navigatioii,  which  an  eminent 
foreign  author  calls  the  palUidmm  or  tuieiar  deity  <f  the 
commerce  of  JEnfrUuid;  which  is  the  standing  rule,  not 
only  of  the  British  among  themselves,  but  also  of  oilier 
naiioos  with  wthom  they  tniffio^ 

The  art  «f  navigation  haa  been  evcee^ngly  im- 
proved in  modem  times,  both  i»ith  Mgard'  l»  the 
form  of  the  vesoefai  themsdv«s,  and  wkh  regard  to  tibe 
nMChods  of  workmg  tkem.  The  use  of  cowers  is  now 
caibelj  aufmaedgd  by  the  impEnioflKBtB  andc  in  the 


A  T  I  O  N.  645, 

fermatien  of  the  sails,^  riggings  &c.  by  which  raeane 
ships  can  not  only  sail  much  fastor  than  formerly, 
but  can  tack  in  any  direction  with  the  greatest  facility. 
It  is  also  very  probable  that  the  ancients  were  neither 
00  well  skilled  in  finding  the  latitudes,  nor  in  steering 
their  vessels  in  places  of  diflicuit  navigation,  as  the 
wiodems.  But  the  greatest  advantage  which  the  mo- 
dems have  over  the  ancients  is  from  the  mariner'^s 
compass,  by  which  tliey  are  enabled  to  find  their  way 
with  as  great  facility  in  the  midst  of  an  immeasurable 
ocean,  as  the  ancients  could  have  done  by  creeping 
along  the  coast,  and  never  going  out  of  sight  of  land. 
Some  people  indeed  contend,  that  this  is  no  new  in- 
vention, bnt  that  the  ancients  were  acquainted  with  it. 
They  say,  that  it  was  impossible  for  Solomon  to  have 
sent  ships  to  Ophir,  Tarshish,  and  Parvaim,  which  last 
they  will  have  to  be  Peru^  without  this  useful  instru- 
ment. They  insist,  that  it  was  impossible  for  the  an- 
cients to  be  acquainted  with  the  attractive  virtue  of.tbe 
magnet,  and  to  be  ignorant  of  its  polarity.  Nay,  they^ 
affirm,  that  this  property  of  the  magnet  is  plainly  men- 
tioned in  the  book  of  Job,  where  the  Foadstone  is  men- 
tioned by  the  name  oitoptm^  or  the  stone  that  turns  itself. 
But  it  is  certain,  that  the  Romans,  who  conquered  Ju- 
dea,  were  ignorant  of  this  instrument  ^  and  it  is  very 
improbable,  that  such  an  useful  invention,  if  once  it 
had  been  commonly  known  to  any  nation,  would  have  - 
been  forgot,  or  perfectly  concealed  from  such  a  prtidcnt 
people  as  the  Romans,  who  were  so  mudi  interested  in^ 
the  discovery  of  it. 

Among  those  who  admit  that  the  mariner*s  com- 
pass is  a  modem  invention,  it  has  been  much  disput- 
ed who  was  the  inventor.  Some  give  the  honour  of 
it  to  Flavio  Gioia  of  Amalfi  in  Campania  *,  who  lived  *  See  5fa. 
about  tlie  beginning  of  the  14th  century;  while  others'*^''*' 
say  that  it  came  from  the  east,  and  wafi  earlier  known  ^*"'^'"'* 
in  Europe.  But,  at  whatever  time  it  was  invented,  it 
is  certain,  that  the  mariner's  compass  was  not  com- 
monly psed  in  navigation  before  the  year  1420.  In 
that  year  the  science  was  eonstderably  improved  under 
the  auspices  of  Henry  duke  of  Vieco,  brother  to  the 
king  of  Portupl.  In  the  year  1465,  Roderick  and 
Joseph,  physicians  to  John  II.  king  of  Portugal,  toge- 
ther with  one  Martin  de  Bohemia,  a  Portuguese,  na-i^ 
tive  of  the  island  of  Fayal,  and  scholar  to  Regiomon- 
tanus,  calculated  tables  of  the  sun^i  declination  for  the 
use  of  sailors,  and  recommended  the  astrolabe  for  taking 
observations  at  sea.  Of  the  instructionf)  of  Martin,  the 
celebrated  Christopher  Columbus  is  said  to  have  availed 
himself,  and  to  have  improved  the  Spaniards  in  the 
knowledge  of  the  art  j  for  the  farther  prop^ress  of  which* 
a  lecture  was  afterwards  founded  at  Seville  by  the  em- 
peror Charles  V. 

The  discovery  of  the  vanatioB  is  daimed  by  Colum- 
bus, and  by  Sebastian  Cabot.  The  former  certainly 
did  observe  thio  variation  without  having  heard  of  it 
from  any  other  person,  on  the  14th  of  September- 
1492,  and  it  is  very  probable  that  Cabot  might  do 
th«  same.  At  that  time  it  was  foand  that  there  was 
DO  vanatton  at  tlie  Aeores,  where  some  geographers 
have  thought  proper  to  place  the  first  meridian  \ 
though  it  hutii  since  bevn  observed  that  the  variacioa 
akers  in  time.—- llie  nseef  the  cross  staft'  now  bc^n, 
to  be  introduced  among  sailors.  This  ancient  i^ietru- 
■Mnt  ia-doBcitbtd  by  Jfohn  Werner  of  Nuremberg,  in 

bis 


646 


NAVIGATION. 


hiS  anndtations  6n  thd  first  book  of  Ptolemy ^s  Geogra- 
phy, printed  in  1514*  Ho  recommends  it  for  observing 
the  distance  between  the  moon  and  some  star,  in  order 
•thence  to  determine  the  longitude. 

At  this  time  the  ait  of  navigation  was  very  imper- 
Tecty  on  account  of  the  inaccuracies  of  the  plane  chart, 
which  was  the  only  one  then  known,  and  which,  by 
its  gross  errors,  must  have  greatly  misled  the  jnarlner, 
especially  in  voyages  far  distant  from  the  equator* 
Its  precepts  were  probably  at  first  only  set  down  on 
the  sea  charts,  as  is  the  custom  at  tfai:i  day :  .but  at 
length  there  were  two  Spanish  treatises  publiidicd  in 
1545  ;  one  by  Pedro  de  Medina  y  the  other  by  Martin 
Cortes,  which  contained  a  complete  system  of  the  art, 
as  far  as  it  was  then  known.     These  seefn  to  have 
been  the  oldest  writers  who  fully  handled  the  art^ 
for   Medina,   in   his   dedication    to  Philip  prince   of 
Spain,  laments  that  multitudes  of  ships  daily  perished 
at  sea,  because  there  were  neither  teachers  of  the  art, 
nor  books  by  which  it  might  be  learned  ^  and  Cortes, 
in  his  dedication,  boasts  to  the  emperor  that  he  was 
.the  first  who  had  reduced  navigation  into  a  compen* 
>  dium,  yaluipg  iiims^lf  much  on  what  he  had  perform- 
u  ed.     Medina  d^nded  th^  plane,  charts  but  he  was 
.  -opposed  by  Cortes,  who  showed  its  errors,  and  en- 
deavoured to  account  for  the  variation  of  the  com- 
]>as8,  by  supposing  the  needle  to  be  influenced  by. a 
magnetic  pole  (which  he  called  the  point  aUraciive)^ 
difierent  from  that  of  the  world  \  which  notion  hath 
been  farther  prosecuted  by  others.     Medina^s  book 
.was  soon  translated  into  Italian,  French,  and  flemish, 
and  served  for  a  long  time  as  a  guide  to  foreign  na«- 
vigators.     However, .  Cortes  >was  the  favounte  aathor 
,  of  the  English  nation,  and  was  translated  in  1561  \ 
.  while  Medina's  work  was  entirely  neglected,,  though 
translated  also  within  a  short  time  of  the  other.     At 
that  time  the  .system  of  navigation  consisted  of  the 
followinflr  particulars,,  and  others  similar :  An  account 
of  the  Ptolemaic  hypothesis,  and  the  circles  of  the 
sphere  \  of, the  roundness  of  tha  earth,  Uhe  longitudes, 
latitudes,  climates,  &c.«and  eclipses. of  the  luminaries) 
a  kalendar  j  the  method  of..£nding  the  prime,  epact, 
moon's  age,  and  Xides  j  a  description  of  the  compass, 
an  account  of.  its  ^variation,,  for  the  discovering  of 
which  Cortea  said  an  'instrument  might  easily  be  con- 
trived ^., tables  of  the  sun's  declination  for  four  years, 
in  ordei;  to  .find  the  latitude  firom  his  meridian  altitude  \ 
,  directions  to.  find. the  same  by  certain  stars;  of  the 
.  course. of ,  the, sun  and  moon  ;  the  length  of  the  days ) 
.  of  time. and  its  divisions ;  the  method  of  finding  the 
hour  of  the  day  and  night  \  and  lastly,  a  description  of 
the  sea  chart,  oa.  which  to  discover  where  the  ship  is, 
they  made  use  of  a  small  table,  that  showed,  upon  an  al- 
*  teration  of  one  degree  of  the  latitude,  how  many  leagues 
t  were  rup  in  each  rhumb,  together  with  the  departure 
.  from  the  meridian,  r  Besides,  some  instruments  were 
.  described,  especially  by  Cortes ;  such,  as  one  to  find  the 
place  and  declination  of  the  snn,.  with. the  days,  and 
place  of  the  moon  \  certain  dials,  the  astrolabe,  and 
croes  staff  \  with  a  complex  machine  to  discover  the 
.  hour  and  latitude  at  once. 

About  the  same   time  were^  made   proposals  for 

.  finding  the  longitude  by  ob^ervataona  of  the  moon.— • 

In  1530,  Gemma  Frisius  advised  the  keeping  of  the 

-tfime  by  means  of  small  clocks  or  watchot,  then,  as  be 


History, 

says,  newly  invented* '  He  also  contrived  a  amt  sdrt 
of  cross  staff,  and  an  instrument  called  the  nauHtal 
quadrant ;  which  last  was  much*  praised  by  William 
Cunningham,  in  bis  Astronomical  Giass^  printed  in  the 
year  1559. 

In  1 537  Pedro  Nunez,  or  Nonius,  published  a  book 
in  the  Portuguese  language,  to  explain  a  difficulty  ia 
navigation  proposed  to  him  by  the  commander  Uoa 
Martin  Alphonso  de  Susa.  In  this  he  exposes  the  er- 
rors of  the  plane  chart,  and  likewise  gives  the  solutioa 
of  several  curious  astronomical  problems^  anxmgst 
which  is  that  of  determining  the  latitude  from  twe 
obscr\'ations  of  the  8un*s  altitude  and  intermediate 
azimuth  being  given.  He  observed,  that  though  the 
rhumbs  are  spiral  lines,  yet  the  direct  course  of  a  skip 
will  always  be  in^he  arch  of  a  great  circle,  whereby 
the  angle  with  the  meridians  will  continually  chaoee : 
all  that  the  steersman  ^  can 'here -do  for  the  preserviig 
of  the  original  rhumb,  is  to  correct  these  deviations  ai 
soon  as  they  appear,  sensible.  But  thus  the  ship  will 
in  reality  describe  a  course  without  the  rhomb  line  iih 
tended  ^  and  therefore  his  calaulations  for  assigning  the 
lHtitude,'\\iiere  any^xhumb  line  crosses  the  sevenl  nc* 
ridians,  will  be  in  some  measure  erroneous.  He  io* 
vented  a  method « of  ^^lividing  a  quadrant  by  meaos  of 
poncentric  circles,  which,  after  being  much  improved 
by  Dr  Hal  ley,  is  used  at  present,  and  is  called  a  ff»> 

In  1577,  Mr  William  Bourne  poblihhed  a  treatiie, 
iu  which,  by  considering  the  irregularities  in  the  mooo'i 
motion,  he  shows  the  errors  of  the  sailors  in  fiodifig 
her  age  by  the  epact,  and  also  in  determining  ihe  hoor 
from  observing  on  what  point  of  the  compass  the  sua 
and  moon  appeared.    Jle  advises,  in  sailing  towardi 
the  high  latitudes,  to  keep  the  reckoning  by  the  globe, 
as  there  the  plane  cliart  is  most  erroneous.   He  despairs 
of  our  ever  being  able  to  find  the  longitude,  unless  the 
variation  of  tlie  compass  should  be  occasioned  by  soaie 
such   attractive  point  as   Cortes   had   imagined;  of 
which,  however,  he  doubts  :  but  as  be  had  shown  how 
to  find  the  variation  at  all  times,  he  advises  to  keep 
an  account  of  the  observations,  as  useful  for  findiog 
the  place  of /the  ship  ^  which  advice  was  prosecuted  at 
large  by  Simon  Stevin,  in  a  treatise  published  at  Lej- 
den  in  1599)  ^^^  substance  of  which  was  the  saioe 
year  printed  at  London  in  English  by  Mr  Edward 
vVright,  entitled  the  Haven-finding  Art.     In  this  aa- 
oient  tract  also  is  described  the  way  by  which  our  sail- 
ors estimate  the  rate  of  a  ship  in  her  cowse,  bv  aa  in- 
strument called  the  ib/.     This  vras  so  named  frooi  the 
piece  of  wood  or  log  that  floats  in  the  water  while  the 
time  is  reckoned  during  which  the  line  that  is  ^tened 
to  it  is  veering  out.    The  author  of  this  oontrivasoe 
is  -not  known  j  neither  was  it  taken  notice  of  till  1607, 
in  an  East  India  voyage  published  by  Purcbu :  hat 
from  this  time  it  became  famous,  and. was  ouch  takes 
notice  of  by  almost  all  writers  on  navigation  ia  crciy 
country  ^  and  it  still  continues  to  be  oaed  as  at  ii^ 
though  many  attempts  have  been  made  to  improve  it, 
and  contrivances  proposed  to  so]^y  its  place }  nuoy  of 
which  have  succeeded  in  quiet  water,  but  proved  osdctf 
in  a  stomy  sea. 

In  1 581  Michael  Coignet,  a  native  of  Aatwcf^ 
published  a  treatise,  in  wmch  he  animadverted  oa  Ut- 
dina.    In  this  he  showed,  that  as  the  ifauobs  sic  ipn 


story. 


NAVIGATION. 


Tftk,  making  endless  revolutions  about  the  poles,  nn- 
meroa^  errors  must  arise  from  their  being  represented 
by  straight  lines  on  the  sea  charts  ^   but  though  he 
hoped  to  find  a  remedy  for  these  errors,-  he  was  of  opi- 
nion that  the  proposals  of  Nonius  were  scarcely  prac- 
ticable, and  therefore  in  a  great  measure  useless.     In 
treating  of  the  sun's  declination,  he  took  notice  of  the 
gradual  decrease  in  the  obliquity  of  the  ecliptic  ^  be 
also  described  thecross  staff  with  three  transverse  pieces, 
as  it  is  at  present  made,  and  which  he  owned  to  have 
been  then  in  common  use  among  the  sailors.     He  like- 
wise gave  some  instruments  of  his  own  invention  ;   but 
all  of  them  are  now  laid  aside,  excepting  perhaps  bis 
nocturnal.     He  constructed  a  sea  table  to  be  used  by 
such  as  sailed  beyond  the  6oth  degree  of  latitude  ;  and 
at  the  end  of  the  book  is  delivered  a  method  of  sailing 
on  a  parallel  of  latitude  by  means  of  a  ring  dial  and 
a  24  hour  glass.     The  same  year  the  discovery  of  the 
dipping  needle  was  made  by  Mr  Robert  Norman  *•   In 
,^     his  publication  on  that  art  he  maintains,  in  opposition 
to  Cortes,  that  the  variation  of  the  compass  was  caused 
by  some  point  on  the  surface  of  the  earth,  and  not  in 
the  heavens :  he  also  made  considerable  improvements 
in  the  construction  of  compasses  themselves  \  showing 
especially  the  danger  of  not  fixing,  on  account  of  the 
variation,  the  wire  directly  under  tUeJleur  de  luce;  as 
compasses  made  in  different  countries  have  it  placed 
differently.     To  this  performance  of  Norman's  is  al- 
ways prefixed  a  discourse  nn  the  %'ariation  of  the  mag- 
netical  needle,  by  Mr  W  illiam  Burrough,  in  which  be 
shows  how  to  determine  the  variation  in  many  different 
ways.     He  also  points  out  many  errors  in  the  practice 
of  navigation  at  that  time,  and  speaks  in  very  severe 
terms  concerning  th'*se  who  had  published  upon  it. 

All  this  time  the  Spaniards  continued  to  publish  trea- 
tises on  the  art.     In  1585  an  excellent  compendium 
was  published  by  Roderico  Zamorano ;  which  contri- 
buted greatly  towards  the  improvement  of  the  art,  par- 
ticularly  in  the  sea  charts.  Globes  of  an  improved  kind, 
and  of  a  much  larger  siz,e  than  those  formerly  used, 
were  qow  constructed,  and  many  improvements  were 
made  in  other  instruments  ^  however,  the  plane  chart 
continued  still  to  be  followed,  though  its  errors  were 
frequently  complained  of.     Methods  of  removing  these 
errors  had  indeed  been  sought  after ;  and  Gerard  Mer- 
cator  seems  to  have  been  the  first  who  found  the  true 
method  of  doing  this,  so  as  to  answer  the  purposes  of 
seamen.    His  method  was  to  represent  the  parallels  both 
of  latitude  and  longitude  by  parallel  straight  lines,  but 
^rradoally  to  augment  the  former  as  they  approached 
tiie    pole.     Thus  the  rhumbs,  which  otherwise  eoglit 
to    have  been   curves,  were   now   also  extended  into 
straight  lines  \  and  thus  a  straight  line  drawn  between 
any    tivo  places  marked  upon  the  chart  would  make 
an     angle  with  the-  meridians,  expressing  the  rhumb 
JeacI ing  from  the  one  to  the  other.     But  though^  in 
X  S^9y  Mercator  published  an  universal  map  constructed 
in  this  manner,  it  doth  not  appear  that  he  was  acquaint- 
ed ^with  the  principles  on  which  this  proceeded  ^  and 
it    is   now  generally  believed,  that  the  true  principles 
on  ivbich  the  construction  of  what  is  called  Mercatar*s 
chart  depends,  were  first  discovered  by  an  Englishman, 
'S'Lt  Edward  Wright. 

~  IVlr  Wright  supposes,  but,  according  to  the  general 
opinion,  without  sufficient  grounds,  that  this  enlarge* 

2 


•  < 


roent  of  the  degrees  of  latitude  was  knoWn  and  men- 
tioned by  Ptolemy,  aild  that  the  same  thing  had  also 
been  spoken  of  by  Cortes.  The  expressions  of  Pto- 
lemy alluded  to,  relate  indeed  to  the  proportion  be- 
tween the  distances  of  the  parallels  and  meridians  \  butf 
instead  of  proposing  any  gradual  enlargement  of  thef 
parallels  of  latitude  in  a  general  chart,  be  speaks  only* 
of  particular  maps  \  and  advises  not  to  confine  a  system 
of  such  maps  to  one  and  the  same  scale,  but  to  plant 
them  out  by  a  different  measure,  as  occasion  might  re- 
quire :  only  with  this  precaution,  that  the  degrees  of 
longitude  in  each  shonld  bear  ^ome  propoHion  to  those 
of  latitude  \  and  this  proportion  is  to'be'deduced  from 
that  which  the  magnitude  of  the  respective  parallels* 
bears  to  a  great  circle  of  the  sphere.  He  adds,  that 
in  particular  maps,  if  this  prop6rtion  be  observed  with 
regard  to  the  pniddle  parallel,  the  inconvenience  will 
not  be  great  though  the  meridians  should  be  straight 
lines  parallel  to  each  other.  Here  he  is  said  only  to 
mean,  that  the  maps  should  in  some  measure  represent 
the  figures  of  the  countries  for  which  they  are  drawn. 
In  this  sense  Mercator,  who  drew  maps  for  Ptolemy's 
tables,  understood  him  ;  thinking  it,  however,  an  im« 
provement  not  to  regulate  the  meridians  by  one  pariil> 
lei,  hot  by  two;  one  distant  from  the  northern,  thc- 
other  from  the  southern  extremity  of  the  map  by  a 
fourth  part  of  the  whole  depth  \  by  which  means,  in 
his  maps,  though  the  meridians  are  straight  lines,  yet 
they  are  generally  drawn  inclining  to  each  other  to-^ 
wards  the  poles.  With  regard  to  Cortes,  he  speaks 
only  of  the  number  of  degrees  of  latitude,  and  not  of 
the  extent  of  them }  nay,  be  gives  express  directions 
that  they  should  all  be  laid  down  by  equal  measurement 
on  a  scale  of  leagues  adapted  to  the  nap. 

For  some  time  after  the  appearance  of  Mercator^s 
map,  it  was  not  rightly  understood,  and  it  was  even   ' 
thought  to  be  entirely  useless,  if  not  detrimental.*— 
However,  about  the  year  1592,  its  utility  began  to 
be  perceived  \  and  seven  years  after,  Mr  Wright  print- 
ed his  famous  treatise  entitled.  The  Correction  of  cer- 
tain Errors  in  Navigation,  where  he  fully  explained  the 
reason  of  extending  the  length  of  the  parallels  of  lati- 
tude, and  the  uses  of  it  to  navigators.     In  1610,  a  se- 
cond edition  of  Mr  Wright's  book  was  published  with 
improvenients.     An  excellent  method  was  proposed  of 
determining  the  magnitude  of  the  earth  ;  at  ^e  same 
time  it  was  judiciously  proposed  to  make  our  commoff 
measures  in  some  proportion  to  a  degree  on  its  surface,, 
that  they  might  not  depend  on  the  uncertain  length  of 
a  barley  corn.     Some  of  his  other  improvements  were,  - 
*'  The  table  of  latitudes  for  dividing  the  meridian  com- 
puted to  minutes ;''  whereas  it  had  been  only  dirided 
to  every  tenth  minute.     He  also  published  a  descrip- 
tion of  an  instrument  which  he  calls  the  sea  rings;  and 
by  which  the  variation  of  the  compass,  altitude  of  the** 
sun,  and  time  of  the  day,  nuiy  be  determined  readily 
at  once  in  any  place,  provided  the  latitude  is  known* 
He  showed  also  how  to  correct  the  errors  arising  from* 
the  eccentricity  of  the  eye  in  observing  by  the  cross- 
staff.     He  made  a  total  amendment  in  the  tables  of  the 
declinations  and  places  of  the  sun  and  stars  from  his 
own  observations  made  with  a  six  foot  quadrant  in  the 
years  1594,  95,  96,  and  97.     A  sea  quadrant  to  take- 
altitudes  by  a  forward  or  backward-  observation  }  and-* 
likewise  with  a  contrivance  for  tke  ready  finding  the^ 

latituds 


647 


648  N  A  V  I  G 

latitude  by  (be  heuA^  of  the  pole  star,  when  not  up« 
cm  the  meridian.  To  this  edition  was  subjoined  a  tran»* 
latioD  of  21amoraoo^8  Coaipendiom  above  mentioned,  in 
which  he  corrected  some  mistakes  in  the  orgina)  ^  ad« 
ding  a  large  table  of  the  variation  of  the  compass  ob- 
served in  very  different  parts  of  the  world,  to  show  that 
it  was  net  occaslonial  by  any  magnetical  pole. 

These  improvements  soon  became  knowi^  abroad.-— 
In  x6o8,  a  treatise  entitled,  Hypomnemata  Mathema* 
tiee^  was  published  by  Simon  Stevin,  for  the  use  of 
Prince  Maurice.  In  that  part  relating  to  navigAtioo^ 
the  author  having  treated  of  sailing  on  a  great  circle, 
and  shown  how  to  draw  the  rhombs  on  a  globe  mecha- 
nically, sets  down  Wright^s  two  tables  of  latitudes  and 
of  rhumbs,  in  order  to  describe  these  lines  more  accu- 
rately, pretending  even  to  have  discovered  an  error  ia 
Wright^s  table.  £ut  all  Stevin*s  objections  were  fnlly 
answered  by  the  author  himself,  who  showed  that  they 
arose  from  the  gross  way  of  calcuUuing  made  use  of 
by  the  former. 

Ia  1624,  ^^  learned  Wellebrordus  Snellius,  pro- 
fessor of  matiiematics  at  Leyden,  published  a  treatise 
of  navigatioa  on  Wright *s  plan,  but  somewhat  obscure- 
ly :  and  as  he  did  not  particularly  mention  all  the  dis* 
xoveries  of  Wright,  the  latter  was  thoug^it  by  some  to 
have  takei^  the  hint  of  all  bis  discoveries  from  Sheliius. 
But  this  supposition  is  long  ago  refuted  :  and  W^right 
enjoys  the  honour  of  those  discoveries  which  is  justly 
his  due. 

Mr  Wright  having  shown  bow  to  find  the  place  of 
the  ship  on  his  chart,  observed  that  the  same  might  be 
performed  more  accurately  by  calculation:  but  con- 
sidering, as  he  says,  that  the  latitudes,  and  especially 
the  courses  at  sea,  could  not  be  determined  so  precise- 
ly, he  forbore  setting  down  particular  examples  ^  as 
the  mariner  may  be  allovred  to  save  himself  this  trou- 
ble, and  only  mark  out  upon  his  chart  the  ships's  way, 
-after  the  manner  then  usually  practised.  However,  in 
.1614,  Mr  Baphe  Handson,  among  his  nautical  que- 
stions subjoined  to  a  traaslation  of  Pitiscus^s  trigono- 
metry, solved  very  distinctly  every  case  of  navigation, 
by  applying  arithmetical  calculations  to  Wrigbt^s  table 
of  latitudes,  or  of  meridional  parts,  as  it  bath  since 
been  called.  Though  the  method  discovered  by 
Wright  for  finding  the  change  of  longitude  by  a  ship 
sailing  on  a  rhumb  is  the  proper  way  of  performing  it, 
Handson  also  proposes  two  ways  of  approximation  to 
it  without  the  assistance  of  Wright^s  division  of  the 
meridian  line.  The  first  was  comiiuted  by  tlie  arith- 
metical mean  between  the  cosines  of  both  latitudes ) 
the  other  by  the  same  mean  between  the  secants  as  an 
alternative,  when  W^right^s  book  was  not  at  band  ^ 
though  this  latter  is  wider  from  the  truth  than  the  first. 
By  the  same  calculations  also  he  showed  how  much 
each  of  these  conipendioms  deviates  from  the  truth,  and 
also  how-  widely  tlie  computations  on  the  erroneous 
principles  of  the  plane  chart  diflEer  from  them  all.  The 
method,  however,  commonly  used  by  our  sailors  is  com- 
monly called  the  tniddle  latitude;  which,  though  it 
errs  more  than  that  by  the  arithmetical  mean  between 
the  two  cosines,  it  preferred  an  acoount  of  its  being 
less  eperoae :  yet  in  high  latitudes  it  is  more  eligible  • 
to  use  that  oi  the  arithmetical  mean  becwecn  the  lo- 
garithmic cosines,  equivalent  to  the  geometrical  mean 
batween  the  coaioes  themselves  ^  a  method  since  pro* 

4 


A  T  I  O  N.  History 

poeed  by  Mr  John  BusaL  The  compntatioii  by  tbc 
middle  latitude  will  always  fall  short  of  the  tme  chaogs 
of  longitude  \  that  by  the  geometrical  mean  will  al- 
ways exceed  \  but  that  by  the  arithmetical  mean  &Us 
short  in  latitudes  above  45  degrees,  and  exceeds  ia  lesser 
latitudes.  However,  none  of  these  methods  will  di&r 
much  from  the  truth  when  the  change  of  ktitude  ii 
sufficiently  small. 

About  this  time  logarithms  were  invented  bj  Joiii 
Napier,  baron  of  Mercbiston  in  Scotland,  and  proved 
of  the  utmost  service  to  the  art  of  navigation.  Frofli 
which  Mr  Edmund  Gunter  constructed  a  table  of  lo- 
garithmic sines  and  tangents  to  every  minute  of  the 
quadrant,  which  lie  published  in  1620.  In  this  voik 
be  applied  to  navigation,  and  other  branches  of  laa- 
thematics,  his  admirable  ruler  known  by  the  name  of 
Gunter^s  scale  *  ;  on  which  are  described  lines  of  lsgi-«&(G^ 
rithms,  of  logarithmic  sines  and  tangents,  of  nieridio-tr'tSsfc 
nal  parts,  &c.  He  greatly  improved  the  sector  for  tbe 
sames  purposes.  He  showed  also  bow  to  take  a  back 
observation  by  the  cross  staflP,  whereby  the  error  ariaisg 
from  tbe  eccentricity  of  the  eye  is  avoided.  Hr  de« 
scribed  likewise  another  instrument,  of  his  own  ioTea- 
tion  called  the  cross  bow^  for  taking  altitudes  of  tk 
sun  or  stars,  with  some  contrivances  for  the  more  ready 
collecting  the  latitude  from  the  observation.  The  difr> 
coveries  concerning  logarithms  were  carried  to  Fnace 
in  1624  by  Mr  Edmund  Wingate,  who  published  tvo 
small  tracts  in  that  year  at  Paris.  In  one  of  these  ke 
taught  the  use  of  Gunter^s  scale  ^  and  in  the  other,  of 
the  tables  of  artificial  sines  and  tangents,  as  modelled 
according  to  Napier's  last  form,  erroneously  attriholed 
by  Wingate  to  Briggs. 

Gunter's  rale  was  projected  into  a  circular  arch  hj^ 
the  Reverend  Mr  William  Ougbtred  in  1633,  and  its 
uses  fiilly  shown  in  a  pamphlet  entitled.  The  CireUs  tf 
Pfvpwtion^  where,  in  an  appendix,  are  well  treated  se- 
veral important  points  in  navigation.  It  has  also  hem 
made  in  the  form  of  a  sliding  ruler. 

Tbe  logarithmic  tables  were  first  applied  to  the 
different  cases  of  sailing  by  Mr  Thomas  Addison,  ia 
his  treatise  entitled.  Arithmetical  Navigatumy  pnilid 
in  1625.  He  also  gives  two  traverse  tables,  with  their 
uses ;  the  one  to  quarter  points  of  the  compass,  the 
other  to  degrees.  Mr  Henry  Gellibrand  puhlithcd  hit 
discovery  of  the  changes  of  the  variation  of  the  oos^ 
pass,  in.  a  sm^ll  quarto  pamphlet,  entitled,  A  distesne 
fttathematical  an  the  variation  of  the  magnetical  Httdk, 
printed  in  1635.  This  extraordinary  pheaooKDoa  be 
found  out  by  comparing  the  observations  made  at  dif* 
fcrcnt  times  near  the  same  place  by  Mr  Borroogh,  Mf 
Gunter,  and  himself,  all  persons  of  great  skill  and  ei- 
perience  in  these  matters.  This  discovery  was  likewia 
soon  known  abroad }  for  Father  Athanasios  Kirchov 
in  his  treatise  entitled,  Magnes^  first  printed  at  Rons 
in  1641,  informs  us,  that  he  had  been  told  it  by  Mr 
John  Greaves  'j  and  tlien  gives  a  letter  of  the  fiusiotf 
Marinus  Mersennus,  containing  a  very  distinct  accost 
of  the  same. 

As  altitudes  of  die  son  are  takra  00  shiptord  by 
observing  his  elevation  above  tbe  virible  horizon ;  W 
obtain  from  tlience  the  sun^  troe  altitade  with  eomct- 
ness,  Wright  observes  it  to  be  necasmr  that  the  dip  «f 
the  visible  horizon  below  the  horiaootal  plane  ytsat% 
throogh  the  obaerver's  eye  should  be  fanoght  iato  the 

accosBtf 


ffirtmy.  N  A  V  I  G 

MMml,  lASA  Mim^t  be  caksnkted  vilboyt  knoiwiDg 
tke  «Mig*ita^  «f  tbe  ew4k  Haaeo  he  wm  Mooed  to 
pMMe  diflbrait  metfcodf  for  finding  tkii )  iMit  ee». 
flam  tbet  dM  vMt  eibolMl  wes  out  ef  kie  f«ieer  to 
cseeuto}  end  dievefere  eo»te«ted  Uieeelf  witii  e  i«de 
attenpt,  IB  seme  meesuie  suflSeient  for  hit  ijorpoee :  ead 
thedinKiiMM  of  the  eerth  dedvoed  bf  bim  oqne^end- 
ed  teiy  ivett  witb  tbe  uBivd  ^vieieM  ef  the  leg  line ) 
boweveri  ee  be  wrote  nol  en  ezyieit  teeetiee  en  nnvkn* 
tMrn,  bat  only  for  tbe  conreeling  raeh  enere  ee  laeveiled 
in  cenerel  Mctieey  tbe  log  hne  did  yet  Ml  nndor  Ub 
netioe.  lu  Bacbeid  Novwoed,  bewever,  pet  in  tae* 
cQCkm  tbe  netbod  recenwnended  by  Mb  Wright  ee  the 
■Mot  perfect  for  Qweenring  tbe  dliiiemimiB  ef  tbe  eevtb, 
ivitb  tbe  tree  l^igtb  of  tbe  digreet  of  a  gmt  drde 
upon  it ;  and,  in  1635,  be  eetneUj  meeenred  tbe  di» 
stance  between  London  and  Yoric }  from  whence,  and 
tbe  eonmier  8ol«titia]  ahitedee  of  tbe  sen  observed  on  tbe 
meridian  at  both  nhMCBi  be  found  a  degree  on  a  great 
eirele  of  tbe  enM  le  eontnin  967,190  Englisb  fo^, 
eqoal  to  J7»300  French  fothems  or  teises :  which  is 
▼ery  exact,  as  appeers  fipom  many  measores  that  hAve 
been  made  sinoe  that  tine.  Of  all  this  Mr  Norwood 
gave  a  full  account  in  bis  treatise  caNed  TAs  iSmmsm's 


^raciice^  pnblished  in  1637.  ^  ^'^  ebows  the 
eon  why  Snellins  bed  foiled  in  his  aitsmpt :  he  pointe 
out  also  Tarioos  nses  of  his  diseevery,  peiiiculeriy  for 
correcting  the  gross  errors  hitherto  committed  in  the 
divisions  of  tbe  h>g  line.  Bat  necessary  amendments 
iiave  been  little  attended  to  hy  sailors,  whose  obstinacy 
in  adhering  to  estoblished  errors  has  been  eomplaiaed  ef 
by  the  best  vrriters  on  naviffation.  This  improrement 
has  at  length,  however,  madte  its  way  into  practice,  and 
fow  navigators  of  repatntion  new  make  ose  ef  the  eld 
measare  of  49  foet  to  a  knot.  In  that  treatise  also  Mr 
Nsuiiped  dsiowhei  hk  own  excdient  method  of  setting 
4wen  and  pceftctiag  aeea  rsekening,  by  •wng  a  traverse 
taUe  •,  vrhich  method  be  had  follewed  and  tanfj^t  for 
many  y«aia.  He  shows  also  how  to  rectify  the  coarse 
W  Ibe  veflialioa  of  the  compass  being  ueniidefed  ^  ae 
also  hew  to  disoeser  caneata,  and  to  mske  proper  al«i 
lowanee  on  their  aoopeot.  This  treatise,  and  anotfaev 
en  trigsnunMiy,  wen  cenlinaally  reprinted,  as  the 
principal  books  for  learning  seientifiadly  the  art  of 
Bmvigatioe*  What  he  had  delivered,  eepeeially  in  the 
latter  of  them,  concerning  this  sabjed,  was  eontreeted 
nea  emnaal  for  sailors,  in  a  very  small  piece  called  his 
Efilom» ;  which  esefiil  perfoimance  bas  gene  throagh 
a  great  nunpher  of  editions.  No  eltemtions  were  ever 
m»4e  in  th^  Seaman^s  Praetioe  till  the  12th  edition  it 
t^Syd,  iirhea  the  foMewing  paragraph  wee 
smaller  oharadev :  *^  Alsnt  the  year  1672^  Mi 
Ficevt  has  pablished  an  aoooaat  in  French,  concerning 
tbe  measme  of  the  eerth,  a  brs^te  whereof  may  be 
in  the  Pbilespphical  TransactienB,  N<*  iia,  where* 


ma 


in  he  conchides  one  degree  to  contain  365,184  English 
foot,  neeHy  agreeing  iritb  Bfr  Norwood's  experiaiPBit  ;** 


and  this  advertisement  is  eentianed  tbroogh  the  sabse^ 
quent  editions  as  late  as  the  year  1732. 

Abent  the  year  1 645,  Mr  Bond  pobiisbed  flO  Norwood*^ 
Bpheme  a  very  great  improvement  in  Wright's  method, 
by  a^nepeKy  in  his  meridien  tine,  whersby  its 
ai%  mere  scienlifoMdly  astigncd  eban  tbe  aathor 
wee  able  to  elect  $  which  was  'from  this  theorem,  that 
^hese  divisiooe  are  nmJogens  to  tbe  eacesses  ef  the  le- 

V«.  XI V.  Part  n.  t 


A  T  I  Q  N. 

garithmic  tangents  of  half  tbe  aespictiVe  latitudes  ang- 
mentod  bv  45  degrees  above  the  logarithm  of  the  ra- 
dius. This  be  after  warjb  eaphined  more  ftdlj  in  the 
third  edition  of  Ganter*s  wsrhs,  priivted  in  1653  % 
vrtwre,  after  observing  that  the  legsrithmic  tangento 
from  4  j^  upwerda  inereaae  in  the  same  manner  thst 
the  secants  added  together  do,  if  evory  half  degree 
be  accounted  as  a  whole  degree  ef  Mercater*a  meri^ 
dional  line.  His  role  for  confuting  tbe  meridional 
parts  belonging  to  any  two  latitades,  supposed  on  the 
same  side  of  the  equator,  b  to  the  following  effect : 
**  Take  tbe  logarithmic  tvigent,  rejeodng  the  vadhis, 
ef  half  each  latitode,  augmented  liy  45  degrees )  di« 
vide  the  diftrsnoe  of  these  numbers  1^  the  logarithm 
mie  tangent  of  45^  30^,  the  redius  being  likewise  t^p 
jected  \  and  the  quotient  will  be  tbe  meridienal  parts 
required,  expressed  in  degrees.'*  This  role  is  the  imuMN 
diate  consequence  from  the  general  theorem.  That  tbe 
degrees  of  latitude  bear  to  one  degree  (or  60  minutes, 
which  in  Wriebt^s  uUe  stands  for  the  meridional  parts 
of  one  degree),  the  same  proportion  as  the  logsrithmio 
tangent  of  balf  any  latitude  augmented  by  45  degrees, 
and  the  radios  neglected,  to  the  like  tangent  of  half  a 
degree  eugmented  by  4$  degrees,  with  the  radius  like* 
wise  rejected.  But  here  was  forther  wanting  the  de. 
monstratien  of  this  general  theorem,  whi<m  was  at 
length  supplied  hy  Mr  James  Gregory  of  Aberdeen  in 
his  Emmrnimtione$  Otomeiriettf  printed  at  London  ia 
1668 ;  and  afterwards  more  concisely  demonstrated, 
togetber  with  a  scientific  determination  of  the  divisor, 
by  Pr  Halley  in  the  Philosophical  Transactions  for 
1^5*  ^°  219.  from  the  consideration  of  the  spirab  into 
which  the  rhumbs  are  transformed  in  tbe  stereographic 
profeetioB  of  the  sphere  upon  tbe  ^ane  ef  the  equi- 
noctial i  and  wbioh  is  rendered  stUI  eprare  simple  by 
Mr  Roger  Cotes,  in  hie  Lsgomcteia,  first  puUisbed  in 
the  Pbikisophical  Transactions  for  1 7 14,  N^  q  W.  It 
IB  mersover  added  in  Gunter's  book,  tlmt  if  ^^  of 
this  division,  which  dose  not  sensibly  difiisr  from  tbe 
legarithmio  tangent  of  45*  i'  30*  (with  Ae  radius  sub- 
tracted  firom  it),  be  used,  the  quotient  will  esbibil  the 
meridienal  pasts  cKpreased  in  IcMieSj  and  this  is  the 
divisor  set  down  in  Nerwood^s  l^iitenie.  After  the 
same  manner  the  meridional  psrti  will  be  foood  in  mi« 
notes,  if  the  like  logarithauc  tangent  ef  45^  1'  $&\ 
diminished  by  the  radius,  be  Ukm  'f  that  is,  the  num- 
ber used  bjr  otbeie  being  X2633,  when  the  legaritlwMe 
tables  consist  of  eight  places  ^  igures  besides  fhe  in- 
dex. 

In  an  edition  of  the  Seaman^s  Kalender,  Mr  Bond 
declared,  that  he  bed  ditcevered  tbe  lengitude  fay  bar* 
ing  found  out  the  true'  theory  ef  the  mageetas  vnria- 
tien'^  and  to  gain  credit  to  his  assertion,  Iw  foretol4# 
that  at  London  in  1657  ^^i^  would  Ve  sm  variatioA 
ef  the  compaw,  and  from  that  tiine  it  would  gradnally 
increase  the  other  way  ^  which  happened  accordinglf* 
Anin,  In  the  Philes^ical  Trinsactions  finr  i(^ 
N^  40.  he  published  a  table  of  the  variation  for  4f 


649 


years  to  coam*  Thus  be  acquired  such  reputation,  that 
nis  treatise,  entitled.  Tie  Langiiude Ftmnd^vt^%  in  1676 
poblisbed  hj  tbe  special  command  of  Cbarles  II.  and 
approved  by  many  cdebvated  mathematicians*  It  waa 
Bot  long,  however,  before  it  met  with  opposition  ^  and 
in  167B  another  treatise,  entitled.  The  Lanj^'ltuie  fmi 
/Wmu/,  mads  ite  appettance  |  and  as  Mr  Bond's  hy- 

4  N  potbcsis 


^5o 


NAVIGATION. 


pothesis  did  not  ia  «ij  mwaaer  answer  its  author's  8aii« 
gaine  expectations,  the  aflUr  was  undertaken  hj  Dt 
Halley.  The  resolt  of  his  specuhition  was,  that  the 
ipagoetic  needle  is  tafloenced  by  four  poles ;  hot  this 
wonderfol  phenomenon  seems  hitherto  to  have  eluded 
all  our  researches.  In  1700,  however,  Dr  Halley  pub- 
lished a  general  map,  with  curve  lines  expressing  the 
paths  where  the  magnetic  needle  had  the  same  varia- 
tion 'y  which  was  received  with  universal  applause.  But 
as  the  positions  of  these  curves  vary  from  time  to  time, 
they  should  frequently  be  corrected  by  skilful  persons  ; 
as  was  done  in  1644  and  1756,  by  Air  William  Moan- 
taine,  and  Mr  James  Dodson,  F.  R.  S.  In  the  Pbi« 
losophical  Transactions  for  1690,  Dr  Halley  also  gave 
a  dissertation  on  the  monsoons  j  containing  many  very 
useful  observations  for  such  as  sail  to  places  subject  to 
these  winds. 

After  the  true  principles  of  the  art  were  settled  by 
Wright,  Bond,  and  Norwood,  the  authors  on  naviga- 
tion became  so  numerous,  that  it  would  be  impossible 
to  enumerate  them.  New  improvements  were  daily 
made,  and  every  thing  relative  to  it  was  settled  with 
an  accuracy  not  only  unknown  to  former  ages,  but 
which  would  have  been  reckoned  utterly  impossible. 
The  earth  being  found  to  be  a  spheroid,  and  not  a  per- 
fect sphere,  with  the  shortest  diameter  passing  through 
the  poles,  a  tract  was  published  ia  1741,  by  the  Rev. 
Doctor  Patrick  Murdoch,  wherein  he  accommodated 


Wright's  sailing  to  uwh  lfc.figifte ;  and  Mr  Colin  Mm« 
lanrin,  the  same  year,  in  the  Fhilosopfaicsl  Trsinaei^ 
tions,  N^  461.  gave  a  rule  for  determining  the  omi* 
dional  parts  of  a  spheroid  j  which  speculation  10  farther 
treated  of  -in  kb  book  of  Fluxions,  printed  it  Uin« 
burgh  in  1742. 

Among  the  later  discoveries  in  navigation,  tbst  of 
finding  &e  longitude  both  by  lunar  observalioss  wai 
by  tiine-keepers  is  the  principal.  It  is  owing  clseijts 
the  rewards  offered  by  the  British  parliament  that  tbU 
has  attained  the  present  degree  of  perfection.  .  We  sr 
indebted  to  Dr  Maskelyne  for  putting  the  first  of  these 
methods  in  practice,  and  for  other  important  inpr^fe- 
ments  in  navigation.  The  time-keepers,  constme4 
by  Harrison  for  this  express  purpose,  were  band  to 
answer  so  well,  that  he  obtained  the  parliamentarj  xt- 
ward. 

The  only  works  that  have,  appeared  of  late  in  nivi- 
gation  are  those  pn  the  longitude  and  navigation  hj  Dr 
Mackay,  of  which  ihe  following  account  is  tnnscnbed 
from  the  Anti^acobin  Review  fm:  September  1804. 

**  This  publication,  (Dr  Mackay ^s  Treatise  on  Na> 
vigation)  and  that  on  the  longitude  by  the  same  aotbnr, 
form  the  most  correct  and  practical  system  of  nsTigi- 
tion  and  nautical  science  hitherto  pioblished  in  tUs 
country  ^  they  mav  be  considered  not  only  of  in^n- 
dual  utility,  but  of  national  importance.^ 


THEORY  OF  NAVIGATION. 


THE  motion  of  a  ship  in  the  water  ts  well  known  to 
depend  on  the  action  of  the  wind  upon  its  sails,  regula* 
ted  by  the  direction  of  the  helm.  As  the  water  is  a 
resisting  medium  and  the  bulk  of  the  ship  very  con- 
siderable, it  thence  follows  that  there  is  always  a  great 
resistance  on  her  fore-part ;  and  when  this  reristance 
becomes  sufficient  to  balance  the  moving  force  of  the 
Wind  upon  the  sails,  the  ship  attains  her  utmost  degree 
of  velocity,  and  her  motion  is  no  longer  accelerated. 
This  velocity  is  diflferent  according  to  the  different 
strength  of  the  wind  }  bot  the  stronger  the  wind,  the 
greater  resistance  is  made  to  the  ship^s  passage  through 
the  water :  and  hence,  though  the  wind  should  blow 
ever  so  strong,  there  is  also  a  limit  to  the  velocity  of  the 
ship:  for  the  sails  and  ropes  can  bear  but  a  certain  force 
of  air^  and  when  the  resistance  on  the  fore-part  becomes 
more  than  equivalent  to  their  strength,  the  velocity  can 
be  no  longer  increased,  and  the  rigging  gives  way. 

The  direction  of  a  ship^s  motion  depends  on  the  po« 
sition  of  her  sails  with  regard  to  the  wind,  combined 
With  the  action  of  the  rodder.     The  most  natural  di<* 
Section  of  the  ship  is,  when  she  runs  directly  before  the 
•wind,  the  sails  are  then  disposed,  so  as  to  be  at  right 
-angles  thereto.     Bot  this  is  not  always  the  case,  both 
on  account  of  the  variable  nature  of  the  winds,  and  the 
situation  of  the  intended  port,  or  of  intermediate  head- 
lands or  islands.     When  the  wind  therefore  happens 
not  to  be  favourable,  the  sails  are  placed  so  as  to  make 
an  oblique  angle  both  with  the  direction  of  the  ship  and 
with  the  wind  ^  and  the  sails,  together  with  the  rodder, 
must  be  managed  in  such  a  manner,  that  the  direction 
of  the  ship  may  make  an  acute  angle  with  that  of  the 


wind  ;  and  the  ship,  making  boards  on  different  tadi^ 
will  by  this  means  arrive  at  the  intended  port 

The  reason  of  the  ship's  motion  in  this  case  is,  tbt 
the  water  resists  the  side  more  than  the  (ore-pait,  ui 
that  in  the  same  proportion  as  her  ]eni;th  esoeedi 
her  breadth.  This  proportion  is  so  considertble,  tbl 
the  ship  continually  flies  off  where  the  fesMrtaaw  ii 
least,  and  that  sometimes  with  great  swiftness.  Ia  llu» 
way  of  sailing,  however,  there  is  a  great  limitation:  6r 
if  the  angle  made  by  the  keel  with  the  direction  of  tk 
wind  be  too  acute,  the  ship  cannot  be  kept  is  ^ 
position  'f  neither  is  it  possible  for  a  large  ship  tonske 
a  more  acute  angle  with  the  wind  than  aboit  6 
points  ;  though  small  sloops,  it  is  said,  may  nake  an 
angle  of  about  5  points  with  it.  In  all  these  com, 
however,  the  velocity  of  the  ship  is  mntly  retarded  1 
and  that  not  only  on  account  of  the  oUi^iiity  of  her  bo* 
tion,  but  by  reason  of  what  is  called  her  iSrr^woy.  IVf 
b  occasioned  by  the  yielding  of  the  water  on  the  he- 
side  of  the  ship,  by  which  means  the  vessel  ac^oises  s 
compound  motion,  ]i^rtly  in  the  direction  of  the  wia^ 
and  partly  in  that  which  is  necessary  for  attaining  the 
desired  port. 

It  is  perhaps  impossible  to  lay  down  any  mathoBS- 
tical  principles  on  which  the  lee-way  of  a  ship  ttM 
be  properly  calculated }  only  we  may  see  in  ginsisl 
that  it  depends  on  the  strength  ot  the  wim,  tk 
roughness  of  the  sea,  ttnd  the  velocity  of  tho  A^ 
When  the  wind  is  not  veiy  strong,  the  lesislanos  « 
the  water  on  the  lee-side  Imts  a  very  mat  ptn^ftKim 
to  that  of  the  current  of  air }  and  therefere  it  ml 
yield  bnt  Ytry  little :  however,  supposing  tho  i^  {^ 


Tlieory.:  N  A  V  I  G 

retnaln  in  the  same  place,  it  in  evident,  that  the  water 
having  once  began  to  yield,  will  continue  to  do  so  for 
some  time,  even  though  no  additional  force  was  ap- 
plied to  it;  but  as  the  wind   continually  applies  the 
same  force  as  at  first,  the  lee-way  of  the  ship  most  go 
on  constantly  increasing  till  the  resistance  of  the  water 
on  the  lee-side  balances  the  finrce  appHed  on  the  other^ 
-   when  it  will  become  uniform,  as  doth  the  motion  of  a 
ship  sailii^  before  the  wind*     If  the  ship  changes  her 
place  with  any  degree  of  velocity,  then  every  time  she 
moves  her  own  length,  a  new  quantity  of  water  is  to 
be  pot  in  motion,  which  hath  not  yet  received  any 
momentom,  and  which  of  consequence  will  make  a 
greater  resistance  than  it  can  do  when  the  ship  remains 
in  the  same  place.    In  proportion  to  the  swiftness  of 
the  ship,  then,  the  lee-way  will  be  the  less :  hot. if  the 
wind  is  very  strofig^  the  f  elocity  of  the  ship  bears  but 
a  small  proportion  to  that  of  the  current  of  air }  and 
the  same  effects  most  follow  as  though  the  ship  moved 
slowly,  and  the  wind  was  gentle }  that  is,  the   ship 
most  make  a  great  deal  of  Tee- way.— The  same  thing 
havens  when  toe  sea  rises  high,  whether  the  wind  is 
strong  or  not }  for  then  the  whole  water  of  the  ocean, 
aa  far  as  the  swell  reaches,  has  acquired  a  motion  in 
a  certain  direction,  and  that  to  a  very  considerable 
depth.    The  mountainous  waves  will,  not  fail  to  carry 
the  ship  very  much  out  of  her  course ;  and  this  devia- 
tion will  certainly  be  according  to  their  velocity  and 
magnitude*    In  all  cases  of  a  rough  sea,  therefore,  a 
great  deal  of  lee-way  is  made.— -Another  circumstance 
also  makes  a  variation  in  the  quantity  of  the  lee-way  ^ 
namely,  the  lightness  or  heaviness  of  the  ship;  it  being 
evident,  that  when  the  ship  sinks  deep  in  the  water,  a 
much  greater  quantity  of  that  element  is  to  be  put  in 
motion  before  she  can  make  any  lee-way,  than  when 
she  swims  on  the  surface.     As  therefore  it  is  impossible 
to  calculate  all  these  things  with  mathematical  exact- 
ness, it  is  plain  that  the  real  course  of  a  ship  is  exceed- 
ingly difficult  to  be  found,  and  frequent  errors  must 
be  made,  which  can  only  be  corrected  by  celestial  oli« 
«         eervations. 

In  many  places  of  the  ocean  there  are  cutrents^  or 
places  where  the  water,  instead  of  remaining  at  rest, 
runs  with  a  very  considerable  velocity  for  a  great  way 
in  some  partioular  direction,  and  which  will  certainly 
carry  the  ship  greatly  out  of  her  course.  This  occa- 
sions an  error  of  the  same  nature  with  the  lee-way : 
and  therefore,  whenever  a  current  ^is  perceived,  its 
direction  and  velocity  ought  to  be  determiued,  and  the 
proper  allowances  made. 

Another  source  of  error  in  reckoning  the  course  of  a 
ship  proceeds  from  the  variation  of  the  compass. 

There  are  few  parts  of  the  world  where  the  needle 
|M>ints  exactly  north  ;  and  in  those  where  the  variation 
ts  known,  it  is  subject  to  very  considerable  alterations. 
By  these  means  the  course  of  the  ship  is  mistaken ;  for 
as  the  sailors  have  no  other  standard  to  direct  them 
than  the  compass,  if  the  needle,  instead  of  pointing 
due  noiih,  should  point  north-east,  a  prodigious  error 
would  be  occasioned  during  the  course  of  the  voyage, 
and  the  ship  would  not  come  near  the  port  to  which 
^he  was  bound.  To  avoid  errors  of  this  kind,  the  only 
method  is,  to  observe  the  sun^s  amplitude  and  azimuth 
as  frequently  as  possible,  by  which  the  variation  of  the 
compass  will  be  perceived,  and  the  proper  allowances 


A  T  I  O  N. 

« 

can  then  be  made  for  errors  in  the  course  which  this 
may  have  occasioned.  ' 

Errors  will  arise,  in  the  reckoning  of  a  ship,  espe- 
cially when  she  6ail»  in  high  latitudes,  from  the  sphe- 
rical figure  of  the  earth  j  for  as  the  polar  diameter 
of  our  globe  is  found  to  be  considerably  shorter  than 
the  equatorial  one,  it  thence  follows,  that  the  farther 
we  remove  from  the  equator,  the  longer  are  tbe  degrees 
of  latitude.     Of  consequence,  if  a  navigator  assigns 
any  certain  number  of  miles  for  the  length  of  a  degree 
of  latitude  near  the  equator,  he  must  vary  t^at  mea- 
sure  as  he  approaches  towards  the  poles,    otherwise 
he  will  imagine  that  he  hath  not  sailed  so  far  as  he 
actually  hath  done.     It  would  therefore  be  necesspry 
to  have  a  table  containing  the  length  of  a  degree  o£ 
latitude  in  every  different  parallel  from  the  equator 
to  either  pole  \  as  without  this  a  troublesome  calcula- 
tion must  be  made  at  every  time  the  navigator  makes 
a  reckoning  of  bis   course.     Such  a  table,  however^ 
bath  not  yet  appeared  \  neither  indeed  does  it  seem  to 
be  an  easy  matter  te  make  it,  on  account  of  the  diffi- 
culty of  measuring  the  length  even  of  one  or  two  de-. 
grees  of  latitude  in  different  parts  of  the  world*     Sit 
Isaac  Newton  first  discovered  this  spheroidal  figure  o£ 
the  earth  ^  and  showed,  fit>m  experiments  on  pendulums,, 
that  the  polar  diameter  was  to  the  equatorial  one  as  229. 
to   230.     This  proportion,   however,  hath  not  been 
admitted  by  succeeding  calculators.    Tbe  French  ma- 
thematicians, who  measured  a  degree  on  the  mendiaa 
in  Lapland,  made  the  proportion  between  the  equa- 
torial and  polar  diameters  to  be  as  i  to  0.9891.     Thosa 
who  measured  a  degree  at  Quito  in  Peru,  made  the 
proportion  i  to  0.99624,  or  266  to  265.     M.  Bouguet 
makes  the  proportion  to  be  as  179  to  178 ;  and  M. 
Boffon,  in  one  part  yi  his  theory  of  the  earth,  makes 
the  equatorial  diameter  exceed  the  polar  one  by  773-  of 
the  whole.     According  to  M.  du  Sejdur,  this  propor- 
tion is  as  321  to  320 ;  and  M.  de  la  Place,  in  his  Me- 
moir upon  the  ^gore  of  Spheroids,  has  deduced  the 
same  proportion.     From  these  variations  it  appears  that 
the  poi(ft  is  not  exactly  determined,  And  consequently 
that  any  corrections  which  can  be  made  with  regard  tof 
the  spheroidal  figure  of  the  earth  must  be  venr  uocertain> 
It  is  of  consequence  to  navigators  in  a  long  voyager 
to  take  the  nearest  way  to  their  port  \  but  this  is  st^arce-^ 
ly  possible  to  be  done.     The  shortest  distance  betweedr 
any  two  points  on  the  surface  of  a  sphere  is  measured 
by  an  arch  of  a  great  circle  intercepted  between  them ; 
and  therefore  it  is  adviseable  to  direct  tbe  ship  along  a 
great  circle  of  the  earth^s  surface.     But  this  is  a'matter 
of  considerable  difficulty,  because  there  are  no  fixed 
mairks  by  which  it  can  be  readily  known  whether  the 
ship  sails  in  the  direction  of  a  great  circle  or  not.     Foe 
this  reason  the^  sailors  commonly  choose  to  direct  their 
course  by  the  rhumbs,  or  the  bearing  of  the  place  by 
the  compass.     These  bearings  do  not  point  out  the 
shortest  distance  between  places  •,  because,  on  a  globe^ 
the  rhumbs  are  spirals,  and  not  arches  of  great  circles. 
However,  when  the  places  lie  directly  under  the  equa* 
tor,  or  exactly  under  the  same  meridian,  the  rhumb  thea 
coincides  with  the  arch  of  a  great  circle,  and  of  ^conse* 
quence  shows  the  nearest  way.     The  sailins  on  the  arch 
ef  a  great  circle  is  called  great  circle  wmng  ;  and  the 
cases  of  it  depend  all  on  the  solution-  of  problems  in 
spherical  triffonooietry. 
^  *  4Na  PBACTICE 


651, 


652 


N  A  V  1  G  AT  ION. 


hax&t 


PRACTICE  OF  NAVIGATION. 


BOOK  I. 

Conkumng  the  'Farwus  Methods  tf  Sailing. 

IMTHODtlGrrON. 

Tbx,  «tt  t>f  iimvigii^i«D  Spends,  vpofi  fttttoaomical 
«nd  ttiaiheiDaticd  prineiples.    Tlie  ^aces  of  the  sua 
gnd  fixed  stan  are  deduced  firom  obseitmtiim  and  cat- 
^alation,  and  anranged  in  tables,  the  use  tif  which  is 
absolutely  neoeasary  in  reducing  obsermtions  taken  at> 
Mia,  for  the  purpose  of  a8oeitdnui|p  the  latitiide  and 
lumgitude  of  the  ship,  and  die  vanation  df  the  oom- 
pass.  The  probleais  in  the  vanotts  sailings  are  resolved 
either  hy  trtgonoaKtmal  ^culation,  or  by  tabl^  or 
fnles  fonned  by  the  assistance  of  trigomnM^tiy.    By. 
matbeuMftics,  the  necessary  tables  are  «onstmcted,  and 
nAcs  inrestigated  fcr  penotttmg  oie  nore  'dtiBcflnt. 
psMs  of  na^gatioa.     For  these  ssrteral  brsnches  of 
science^  and  fbt  logariAinic  taMes,  the  teader  is  re- 
fisrred  to  the  respective  attides  in  diis  'mak.    A  few 
fables  are  given  at  the  end  of  this  a^tide  ^  bnt  as  the- 
dtlmr  tables  necessary  for  ^tim  practice  of  navigation: 
tte  to  be  found  in  ahnoet  eveiy  treatise  dn.  that  snbject, 
h  ibcrefote  seen»  nnneoessary  to  insert  them  in  thb  ^ 
place. 

Chap.  I.  Prdtmnarj  Frhk^s. 
SflCfT.L  ^f  the  tkxtihtde  attdlAmgiti0ie  of  a  Place. 

Tax  skniition  of  a  place  on  the  surfitce^of  the  eafth*, 
is  estimated  by  its  distance  from  two  imMnary  .lines 
kdersecting  era  other  a^  right  angles :  The  one»  of. 
these  is  eaSed  tbe  e^fuator^  «nd  Ae  wifit  ihi^Jirst  ni&* 
ridian*    The  situation  of  the  eqnator  is  fixed,,  bat  that 
•f  the  first  meridian  is  arbitrary,  and  therefore  difievent;. 
motions  assume  diflS&rent first  meridians.  In  Britain,  we- 
esteem  that  ip  be  the  first  meridito  which  passes  throng 
the  royal  observatory  at  Greenwich. 

The«qnatmr  dirides  the  eardi  into-  twoveAval  pa^. 
eaUed  the  mortkem  and  southern  hem£$phereMi  and  thin 
latitiideof  a  place  is  its  distanei^  fipom  the  e^sator,  rec- 
koned -on  s  meridian  in  degrees  and  parts  of  •  desree  ^ 
end  is  either  north  or  sooth,  acenrdiAg  as  it  is  u  the 
northern  or  southern  bemispbeie. 

The  first  oaeridian  bcdng'Continued  round  the  f^obe, . 
divides  it  into  two  e^oal  parts,  called  the  eastern  and 
weetem  hemitpheees ;  and  tbe  longitade  of  a  place  is 
that  portion  of  the^equator  contained  between  tbe  first 
meridian  and  the  meridian  of  the  given  place,  an4  is 
either  east  or  west-}  according  as  it  is  in  tbe  eastern  .or 
western  hemisphere,  respectively  tathe  first  meridian. 

Pros.  I.  Tbe  latitudes  of  two  places  being  given, 
to  &nd  tbe  dftference  of  latknde. 

Bull  Subtract  the  less  latitude  firom  the  greater. 
If  the  latitudes  be  of  the  eame  name,  hot  add  them  if 


of  contraiTV  midthe^ttmainderevsmn  willbethstf- 
ferenee  M  latitttde. 

Eaample  u  Bequired  the  difierenee  ef  lititak  he* 
tween  the  litard,  in  latitude  4;;^  5^  N.^ndCapsflt. 
Vincent^  m  htitude  37^  I'  Nf 
Latitude  of  the  Lizard  49* 

LatituA^of  Cape  8t  Vineeafcr        37 


iKflereaoe  ef  laititude 

Ea.  ft.  What  k,  the  difereace 
Fonehal,  i%  Istilode  3^  3^^t  m 
Hope,  m  kritnde  34^  ^  ft  ^ 

Latitude  of  Funchal 

Lat.  of  Ca^  of  Good  Hope 


la  ■<!= 


ef  latitnde  hdiism 
id  Hm  Ca^  of  Gmi 

3JI  38'N. 


oC  latitude 


34    apS. 

6f      7s^Pl7  nib. 

Pnt>B.  IL  Oiven/Ae  !atitade  of  one  phmt,  and  tk 
dBmrence.  of  latitude  between  it  SBnUanonier  ^msti  Is 
find  the  latitude  of  that  nboe. 

RCTLt.  If  Ao..  given  latitude  and  the  dSbtnee  «f 
Istitude  be  of  the  same  wame,  j4d  tbevi^  but  if  sf  tf 
ferent  names,  subtract  tbem,  and  thfe  sum  or  lemsiaacr 
win  be  the  latitude  required  of  the  same  name  with  (hi 
greater. 

E».  I.  ▲*  ship  from  latitude  3^^*22' N.  saM  ise 
tt»rtb  560  miles— ReqoiRd  tSttt  faititode  come  te  f 
Latitude  sailed  firom        -      .  -         -         39*  isM* 
Difiearence  of  Utitude  50(/      •        -  ^9    2oN. 

Latitude  come  to    •        -        •        -         48   43N. 
Ex.  2.  A  flhip  from  latitude  jr^  t^  M.  sailed  Sj^. 
miles  south— Required  the  latitQue  come  tef 

Latitude  sailed  firom      -        •        -         *     7*  '9^ 
Oifierence  of  latitude  8  J4'  -  314  14  S. 


Latitude  come  to 


«  5i^ 


Frob.  WL  The  loogitsrfes  of  two  plaees  being  p^ 
ven,  to  find  their  difference  of  kmgitnde. 

Brnx.  If  the  longitudes  of  the  given  pbeei  mtd 
the  same  name,  vubtraet  Ae  lem  mm  the  greater,  ml 
i^.  remainder  is  the  Terence  of  KmgiMe :  Wt  if 
the  longitudes  are  of  contrary  names,  dieu  suniis^ 
difference  of  lonjritude.  If  Ais  exceeds  ifto^ 
traet  it  from  36cri  and  theritmainder  i|  ikt 
of  longitude. 

JE.V.  1.  Required  ^  diftrenee  of  hmgitBde  hctvcm 
Edinbni^  and  New  Tofk,  their  lengitodm  hmg  f 
T^'  W.  and  7^  10^  Vf.  respectively? 

Longitude  of  New  York         -         •  74*  irfW* 

Longitude  of  Edinburgh  -  *  J  M*^' 

Difference  of  longitude.        -  •  'P  S^ 

Ex.  2.  What  is  tbe  dHhience  of  Isonlnde  fotueca 
Mtakelyne^s  Isles  in  longitude  i&j^  59^  E-andObie^ 
inlong[tttde3j^5'W? 


Firactide. 

aad       Longitade  of  Olinde 


Swn         • 
Subtnct  from 


NAVIGATION. 

167^  59^  ^     Time  of  new  moon  per  Kant  Aim. 
35      i  ^*      Longitude  of  Saloniqae  in  time 


9*  »i*  3»' 

o      I    33E. 


«s 


3 


360     o 


XKfierenee  of  leogitode        •        -  156    56 

Frob.  IV.  Given  tlw  looj^nde  of  m  ^nee,  and  tlm 
'jiflFerence  of  longitude  between  it  and  another  place^  to 
find  tiie  louRitttde  of  that  place. 

BuLX.  If  the  given  longitude  and  the  difference  of 
longitude  be  of  a  contrary  name,  eubtract  the  leas  from 
the  greater,  and  the  remainder  is  the  longitude  requi- 
red rf  the  same  name  with  the  ereater  quantitr  \  but 
if  thej  are  of  the  same  name,  add  them,  and  Uie  -som 
la  the  longitude  sought,  of.  the  same  name  with  that 
given.  If  this  sum  exceeds  1 80%  subtnct  it  from  360^, 
the  remainder  is  the  required  longitade  of  a  contrary 
name  to  that  given. 

Ex.  I.  A  ship  firomlongitiide  9*^  54' £•  saHed  wester- 
ty  till  the  dlfiertnce  of  longitude  was  23^  18'^— lU* 
ttured  the  longitude  Gome  to  ? 

liongitude  sailed  from  .  •  9^    54'  £, 

Diflbpence  of  longitude         -         -        33      i8W. 


Xioogitttde  come  to        *        -        •  <S     24  W. 

J5«.  ^  The  longttode  saUed  from  is  %f  ^  W.  and 

diSerence  of  longitude  18*  4<?.  W^— Baqmred  the  Ion- 

£*tude  come  to  ? 
ongitude  left 
Difference  of  longitude 


%f    9'W. 
18    46  W. 


Itiongitude  in.        •        -         -        -        43    5i  ^* 

Sect.  II.  Of  the  TUks. 

Tk  theory  of  the  tides  has  been  explained  under 
the  article  Astrdnom  r,  and  will  again  be  &rther  il- 
lustrated under  that  of  TiBsa.  In  this  plaoe^^  therefore, , 
it  remains  only  to  expliiin  the  method,  of  calculating  the 
time  of  high  water  at  a  given  place. 

As  the  tides  depend  upon  the  joint  actions  of  the  sun 
and  moon,  and  therefore  upon  the  distance  of  these  ob- 
jects from  the  earth  and  nom  each  other  }.-and  as,  in 
the  method  generally  employed  to  find  the  time  of  high . 
WBler,  wheAer  by  the  mean  time  of  new  moon,  or  by 
theepacts,  or  tables  deduced,  therefrom,  the  moon^ 
sufposed  to  be  the  sole^aeent,  and  to  have  «n  unifblTO 
motion  in  the  periphaiy  of  a  circle,  whose  centre  is  that 
of  the^arth  ^  it  is  hence  obvious  'diat  method  cannot  be 
aQCurate,  and  by  observation  the  error  is  sometimes 
found  to  exceed  two  boars.  That,  method  is  dierefom 
rejected,  and.. another  gi^^  in  ^which  the  error  wiffl 
seldom  exceed  a  few  minutes,  unless  the  tides  are  g|^t- 
Ij  influenced  by  the  winds. 

Prob<  I.  To  reduce  the  times-of  the  moon's  phases 
as  given  in  the  Nautical  Almanao4o  the  meridian  of  a 
known  place. 

Rqle.  To  the  time  of  the  proposed  phase,  as  givtei 
in  the  Nantital  Almanac,  apply  the  longitude  of  the 
place  in  time,  by  addition  or  subtaaotion,  accordiuff  aa- 
it  is  east  or  west,  and  it  will  give  the  time  of  the  ^ase 
at  the. given  place* 

Hif.  I.  BMuised  the  time  ofjwiajnoanM&Jmttqne. 
in  May  1793? 

3 


Time  of  new  moon  required,  in  May      9^7       4 

Em.  Qm  What  is  the  time  of  the  last  quarter  of  the 
moon  at  Besolntion  bay  in  October  1 793  f 
Time  of  last  quarter  per  Naut.  Aim.    26^     5^  47' 
Longitude  in  time  -  -09    17W. 

Time  at  Besolntion  bay  of  last  q«ar»  n  ■■ 

ter,  October  -         -  -        25     ao    30^ or, 

26th  day  at  8^  30^  A.  M. 

Fbqb.  IL  To  find  the  time  of  high  water  at  a  known 
place. 

Bulk*  In  the  Nautical  Almanac  aeek  in  the  given 
month*  or  in  that  immediately  preceding  or  following 
it,  for  the  time  of  that  phase  which  happens  nearest 
to.the  given  day ;  redooe  the  time  -of  this  phase  to  the 
meridian  of  the  given  place  bj  Prob.  L  and  take  the 
difference  between  the  reduced  time  and  the  noon  of 
tfaeaiven  day. 

^nd  the  equation  answexing  to  tlus  differenoe  in 
Table  YIL  which  ap^ied  to  the  time  of  high  water 
on  the  day  of  new  or  fiiU  moon  at  the  given  plaoe*  aio- 
cording  as  the  table  directs,  w31  give  &e  npproximatn 
time  of  high  water  in  the  afternoon. 

Nowt  take  the  interval  between  the  rsdnoed  time  of 
the  pha^  and  the.  approximate  time  of  high  water  \ 
find  the  oonreefonding^^eqnatios^  whioh  applied  «s  he- 
fore  to  the  syzigy  time  of  high  water,  will  give  the 
time  of  the  anemoon  high  water. 

If  the  time  of  the  morning  high  water  is  j^qmred^' 
increase  the  last  interval  by*i2  hours,  if  the  given  day 
falls  before  tbe  phase,  or.  diminish  it  by  i  a  hemos 
when  after  that  phase ;  and  tha  equation  to  this  tine, 
applied  to  the  syzjgyttime,  gives  the  morning .  tiae  of 
high  water. 

jBx.  1.  Bequired  the  morning  and  afternoon  times  of 
hiffh  water  at  jLeith,  nth  December  1799? 
NearestphasetoiithDecia.istquart.  ^jo^  29^ 


m  time 


-*o    o 


13 


Time  at  Leith  of  xst  quarter. 
Given  day  A      .        •        • 


9  20 

II     o 


i« 

o 


DiflEsreiiee  -  -  -  •  '  3  44 
Timeof  Hi  W.atLeith-^ronjqrs*:  02  80 
Equat.  from  Tab.  to  x^  3^  44'     -    4%p    6    32 


Tides. 


Approximate  time  ofhigh  water 
Bednced  time  of , xst  quarter 


i^^ 


It    8    52 
9  20    x6 


Interval        -         -         -  -        x  X2    36 

Tlmeef  hig^  water  atliriAon  sys.^  2    20 

Equat.  from  the  Tab.  to  i<*  X2^  36^  7      o 


Thne  of  hig^water  it  Leith  9    2oPJit. 

llmeoflLW.atXieithatfuD&diaMe     2    20 
Equat.  to  id  X2h  3ti^«-*X2hssxd  dh  3^      6    22 

H^wi^KtLeith,I>ec  xith,at  S    42A.M. 

The  time  of  high  water  found  by  the  common  me- 
thod is  about  an  hour  and  a  half  fooner. 

Em.  %»  Bequired  the  time  of  bi^  water  at  Funchalt 
xjtb  Nofonber  1793  ? 

Th*. 


N  A  V  I  G  A  T  I  0  I^. 

The  nearest  phase  to  15th  November  is  that  of  full 

moon,  -         -         •;        -         2  7d   8h  46' 

Longitude  of  Funchal  in  time,        -        018  Wt 


Time  of  (nil  moon  at  Funcfaali 
Given  day,  November 


17    7  38 

15    o    o 


Difference,  -         -         -         -         2738 

Time  of  high  ^vrster  at  Funchal  at  full 

and  change,  -  -  -  -  o  12  4 
Equation  mm  the  Table  to  2d  7h  jS' 

before  full  moon,  -        -        •^o     i  35 


Approx.  time  of  high  water,  Nov< 
Reduced  time  of  full  moon, 


15  10  29 
17     7  38 


Interval,  -         •         •         -  11x9 

Time  of  high  water  at  full  and  change,        12     4 
Equation  to.  id  iih  before  full  moon,  o  ^6 


Time  of  high  water,         -        -        -         xx     8P.M. 

Equation  to  id  tih  -{-  I2h=id  23h  is  xh  i^,  and 

X2h  4'— ih  i5'=ioh  49'=rtime  of  high  water  in  the 

forenoon. 

£sm  3.  Required  the  time  of  high  water  at  Duskey 

Bay,  24th  October  1793  ? 

The  nearest  phase  to  the  24th  October  is  the  last  quar- 
ter      -        -        -        -        -         26d  5h  47' 

Longitude  of  Dnskey  Bay  in  time,      -f'O  ^  >     5  ^• 

Reduced  time  of  first  quarter  of  moon    26  16  52 
fiiven  day         -         •        -        -         24     o    o 


Difference,  -»        -        •        -         2  x6  52 

Time  of  high  water  at  full  and  change,         10  57 
Equation,  to  2d   i6h  52'  before  last 

quarter,       -         -         -         -         -f       2  52 


Approximate  time  of  high  water, 
Change  of  equation  to  app.  time  ih  49^ 


X  49 
3 


Time  of  high  water  in  the  afternoon. 
Change  of  equation  to  12  hours. 

Time  of  high  water  in  the  morning. 


20 


I  32 


Sect.  ill.  Ofmeasttring  a  Ship's  Run  in  a  given  Time. 

The  method  commonly  used  at  sea  to  find  the  dis- 
tance sailed  in  a  given  time,  is  by  means  of  a  log-line 
and  half-minute  ^ass.  A  desci^ition  of  these  is  given 
under  the  articles  Log  and  Log-line  \  which  see. 

It  has  been  already  observed,  that  the  interval  be- 
tween each  knot  on  the  line  ought  to  be  50  feet,  in  or- 
der to  adapt  it  to  a  glass  that  runs  30  seconds.  But 
although  the  line  and  glass  be  at  any  time  perfectly  ad- 
justed to  each  other,  yet  as  the  line  shrinks  after  being 
wet,  and  as  the  weather  has  a  considerable  effect  upon 
the  glass,  it  will  therefore  be  necessary  to  examine  them 
from  time  to  time  \  and  the  distance  given  by  them 
must  be  corrected  accordingly.  The  distance  sailed 
may,  therefore,  be  affected  by  an  error  in  the  glass,  or 
in  the  line,  or  in  both.  The  true  distance  may,  how- 
ever, be  found  as  follows. 

Prob.  L  The  distance  sailed  by  the  log,  and  the  se- 


Phcticei 

conds  run  by  the  glass,  being  given,  to  ^d  the  tns  fi-8U^,|. 
stance,  the  line  being  supposed  right. 

Rule.-— Multiply  the  distance  given  by  the  log  lij 
30,  and  divide  the  product  by  the  seconds  run  by  the 
glass,  the  quotient  will  be  the  true  distance. 

Ex*  I.  The  hourly  rate  of  sailing  by  the  log  is  otoe 
knots,  and  the  glass  is  found  to  run  out  in  35  seconds. 
Required  the  true  rate  of  sailing  ? 

9 

35)27o(7.7:=true  rate  of  sailing. 
JElx,  2*  The  distance  sailed  by  the  log  is  73  miles, 
and  the  glass  runs  out  in  26  seconds*    Sought  the  tiae 
distance? 

73 
30 

26)2190(84.2  the  true  distance. 

Prob.  II.  Given  the  distance  sailed  by  the  log,  taj 
the  measured  interval  between  two  adjacent  knots  on 
the  line  }  to  find  the  true  distance,  the  glass  nnmiDg 
exactly  30  seconds. 

*  Rule.  Multiply  twice  the  distance,  sailed  by  tbe 
measured  length  of  a  knot,  point  off  two  figures  to  tbs 
right,  and  the  remainder  will  be  the  true  distance. 

Ex,  I.  The  hourly  rate  of  sailing  by  the  log  is  fire 
knots,  and  the  interval  between  knot  and  knot  mesr 
sures  53  feet.     Required  the  true  rate  of  sailing  ? 
Measured  interval     ^r       53 
Twice  hourly  rate     =       xo 

True  rate  of  sailing   :^  5.3a 
Ex,  2.  The  distance  sailed  is  64  miies,  by  a  \ogAm 
which  measures  42  feet  to  a  knot.     Required  the  tnt 
distance  f 

Twice  given  distance,      —     1 20 
Measured  interval,  42 


True  dbtance, 


53-7^ 


Pbob.  III.  Given  the  length  of  a  knot^  the  nomlKr 
of  seconds  run  by  the  glass  in  half  a  minute,  and  tk 
distance  sailed  by  the  log :  to  find  the  true  distance. 

Rule.  Multiply  the  distance  sailed  by  the  log  Vy 
six  times  the  measured  length  of  a  knot,  and  divide  tbc 
product  by  the  seconds  run  by  the  glass ;  the  qnotieot, 
pointing  off  one  figure  to  the  right,  will  be  the  tne  di- 
stance. 

Ex.  The  distance  sailed  by  the  log  is  159  nules, 
the' measured  length  of  a  knot  is  42  feet,  and  the  gtsss 
runs  33  seconds  in  half  a  minute.  Required  the  cm 
distance  ? 

Distance  by  the  log,  X59 

Six  times  length  of  a  knots4 2x6=^252 


Seconds  run  by  the  glass 
true  distance. 


33)40068(1 214s 


practice. 


CuAPt  n*  Phm  Sluing. 


Plane  MtUing  is  the  art  of  naviniting  a  ship  upon 
^nciples  deduced  from  the  notioD  of  the  earth's  being 
an  extended  plane.  On  this  supposition  the  meridians 
are  esteemed  as  parallel  right  lines.  The  parallels  of 
latitode  are  at  right  angles  to  the  meridians  \  the  lengths 
of  the  degrees  on  the  meridians,  equator,  and  parallels 
of  latitode,  are  everywhere  equal  \  and  the  degrees  of 
longitude  are  rtftekoned  on  the  parallels  of  latitode  as 
ifrell  as  on  the  equator.— In  this  sailing  four  things  are 
principally  concerned,  namely,  the  course^  distance^ 
difftrince  ofiatitude^  and  departure, 

*\be  course  is  the  angle  contained  between  the  meri- 
dian and  the  line  described  by  the  ship,  and  is  usually 
expressed  in  points  of  the  compass. 

The  distance  is  the  number  of  miles  a  ship  has  sailed 
on  a  direct  course  in  a  given  time. 

The  difierence  of  latitude  b  the  portion  of  a  meri- 
dian contained  between  the  parallels  of  latitude  sailed 
from  and  come  tO)  and  is  reckoned  either  north  or 
south,  according  as  the  course  is  in  the  northern  or 
southern  hemisphere. 

The  departure  is  the  distance  of  the  ship  from  the 
meridian  of  the  place  she  leR,  reckoned  on  a  parallel 
of  latitude.  In  this  sailing,  the  departure  and  diflfisr* 
ence  of  longitude  are  esteemed  equal. 
Plate  In  order  to  illustrate  the  above,  let  A  (fig.  t.)  re- 
CCCLX  f  IT.  present  the  position  of  any  given  place,  and  AB  the 
meridian  passing  through  that  place ;  also  let  AC  re- 
present the  line  described  by  a  ship,  and  C  the  point 
arrived  at.  From  C  draw  CB  perpendicular  to  AB. 
Now  in  the  triangle  ABC,  the  angle  BAC  represents 
the  course,  the  side  AC  the  distance,  AB  the  differ- 
ence of  latitude,  and  BC  the  departure. 

In  constructing  a  figure  relating  to  a  ship^s  course, 
let  the  upper  part  of  what  the  figure  is  to  be  drawn  on 
represent  the  norths  then  the  lower  part  will  be  soutk^ 
the  right-hand  side  east^  and  the  left-hand  side  west, 

A  north  and  south  line  is  to  be  drawn  to  represent 
the  meridian  of  the  place  from  which  the  ship  sailed } 
and  the  upper  or  lower  part  of  thiB  line,  according  as 
the  course  is  southerly  or  northerly,  is  to  be  marked  as 
the  position  df  that  place.  From  this  point  as  a 
centre,  with  the  chord  of  60^,  an  arch  is  to  be  describ- 
ed from  the  meridian  towards  the  right  or  left,  ac- 
cording as  the  course  is  easterly  or  westerly  >  and  the 
course,  taken  from  the  line  of  chords  if  given  in  de- 
grees, hut  from  the  Hne  of  rhumbs  if  expressed  in 
points  of  the  compass,  is  to  be  laid  upon  this  arch,  be- 
ginning at  the  meridian.  A  line  drawn  through  this 
point  and  that  sailed  from,  will  represent  the  distance, 
which  if  given  must  be  laid  thereon,  beginning  at  the 
point  sailed  from.  A  line  is  to  be  drawn  from  the  ex- 
tremity of  the  distance  perpendicular  to  the  meridian  ; 
and  hence  the  diiFerence  of  latitude  and  departure  will 
be  obtained. 

If  the  difierence  of  latitude  is  given,  it  is  to  be  laid 
upon  the  meridian^  beginning  at  the  point  representing 


NAVIGATION.  «S5 

the  place  the  ship  left^  and  a  line  drawo  from  the  ex-     puno 
tremity  of  the  difference  of  latitude  perpendicular  to    Sailiag. 
the  meridiao,  till  it  meeU  the  distance  producedt  will 
limit  the  figure. 

If  the  departure  is  given,  it  is  to  be  laid  off*  on  a  pa- 
rallel, and  a  line  drawn  through  its  extremity  will  li- 
mit the  distance.  When  either  the  distance  and  differ- 
ence of  latitude,  distance  and  departure,  or  .difference 
of  latitude  and  departure,  are  given,  the  measure  of 
each  is  to  be  taken  from  a  scale  of  equal  parts,  and  laid 
off*  on  its  respective  line,  and  the  extremities  connect- 
ed.   Hence  the  figure  will  be  formed. 


Prob.  L  Given  the  course  and  distance,  to  find  the 
diflference  of  latitude  and  departure. 

Exan^*  A  ship  firom  St  Helena,  in  latitwle  15^ 
SSf  S.  sailed  S.  W.  by  S.  158  miles.  Bequixed  the  la- 
titude come  to,  and  departure. 

By  Construction* 
Draw  the  meridian  AB  (fig.  2.)»  ^nd  with  the 
chord  of  60^  describe  the  aroh  m  fi,  and  make  it  equal 
to  the  rhumb  of  3  points,  and  through  n  draw  AC 
equal  to  158  miles  }  from  C,  draw  CB  perpendicular 
to  AB  \  then  AB  applied  to  the  scale  fix>m  which  AC 
was  tid^en,  will  be  found  to  measure  131-4  and  BC 
87.8. 

By  Caiculaiwn. 
To  find  the  difficrence  of  latitude. 

As  radius  ... 

is  to  the  cosine  of  the  course    3  points 
so  is  the  distance         -  158 

to  the  difference  of  latitude  13 1.4 

To  find  the  departure. 

As  radius  -  - 

is  to  the  sine  of  the  course  3  points 

so  is  the  distance 


10.00000 

J.91985 
2.19866 

2.X1851 


..I 


10.00000 

9-74474 
2.19866 


to  the  denture 


87.8 


X.94340 

By  Inspection. 
In  the  traverse  table,  the  diffierence  of  latitude  an- 
swering to  the  course  3  points,  and  distance  i  c8  miles, 
in  a  distance  column  is  X3X«4,  and  departure  «7.8* 

By  Gunter's  Scale. 
The  extent  from  8  points  to  5  points,'  the  comple- 
ment  of  the  course  on  the  line  of  sine  rhumbs  (marked 
SR.)  will  reach  from  the  distance  i  c8  to  I3i*4t  the 
difference  of  latitude  on  the  line  of  numbers }  and 
the  extent  from)j^8  points  to  3  points  on  sine  rhumbsi 
will  reach  firom  158  to  87.8,  the  departure  on  num- 
bers (a). 

Latitude  St  Helena         =  ^5^Sf^' 

Difference  of  latitude  -  2  ix  8. 


Latitude  come  to 


18    6  & 


Prob.  II.  Given  the  coarse  and  difierence  of  lati- 
tude, to  find  the  distance  and  departure. 

JitJtotHpie. 


(a)  For  the  method  of  resolving  the  various  problems  in  navintion,  by  the  slidiog  gunter,  the  reader  is  re- 
ferred to  Dr  Mackay*s  Treatise  on  the  Besoriptioii  and  Use  of  £at  lostrument. 


N A VIG AT  I  OU 


Exampk.  A  shtp  from  St  George's,  in  latitude  38^ 
4y  north,  sailed  S£  \  S :  and  the  latitude  hf  observa* 
tion  was  35^  T'  N.  Be^nired  the  distance  ran,  and  de« 
partare  ? 

Latitude  St  George's  38^  45^  N 

Latitude  ooine  to  -  35     7  ^ 

Diferenoeof  btitode        -  3    38=±2f8'mtles. 

Draw  the  portion  of  the  meridian  IftB  (fig.  3.) 
equal  to  218  m. :  from  the  centre  A  with  the  chord  of 
60^  describe  the  arch  m  n,  which  make  equal  to  the 


>^ihumh  of  3t  points :  through  A  n  dnm  die  line  AC, 
and  from  B  £raw  B€  :perpendieidar  to  AB,  amd  let 
it  he  produced  till  it  meets  AC  in  C  Then  the  di- 
stance  AC  being  applied  to4he  scale,  wiH -measure 
282  m.  and  the  departure  BC  iT^milest 

'To  find  Ae  distailce. 


Asxadios        •-•••• 
is  (o  the  secant  of  the  course      -34  points 
so  is  the  diflhrence  of  bUitode    •    2i&nu 

to  the  dtstsnce        -        -        ^282 

To  find  the^  departoxe* 
As  radius        -        -        -        -        - 
istoAe  tangent  of  the  course  jvpoittts 
10  aa  the  difEerenoo  «f  latitude  ts& 


to  the  depattoie 


-     178JJ 


10.00000 

laiiiSz 
-2.33846 

245027 

IO.OOOOO 

9^1417 

a.33ft4fi 

2.2J2J3 


By 


Find  the  giveir  difference  of  latitude  218  m.  in  a  la- 
titude cdumn,  under  the  coarse  of  3^  points  j  opponto 
to  which,  •  in  a  distance,  column,  is  282  miles  \  a  de- 
parture ootdmu'is  178.9^40.  the  distance  and  departure 


JBy  GutUerU  Snle. 

Extend  Hhrconpass  firom  4t  psi^to*  the  oomplenient 
of  the  ooniue,  to  8  points  on  sine  rhomba,  that  estent 
will  nmdk  from  the  diffBrcawo  of  latkode  218  miles,  to 
the  distance  282  miles  in  numbers;  and  the  extent  from 
-4  points  to  the  course  af-  jioints  on  the  line  of  tangent 
rhumbs  (marked  T.  Ro  ^  reach  from  218  miles  to 
278.9,  the  departure  on  nombecs. 

PnoB.  in.  Given  course  and  departure,  to  find  the 
distance  and  difference  of  latitude  P 

Exampkt.  A  ship  from  Pdma,  in  latitude  28^  37^  N. 
sailed  NW.  bv  W.  and  made  X92  miles  of  depaitore : 
Bequiied  die  uistance  run,  and  latitude  come  to? 

By  ConHrudum* 

Make  the  departure  BC  (fig-  4O  ^^  ^  ^9^  miles, 
draw  BA  perpeDdicninr  to  BC,  and  firom  the  ocntse  C, 
with  the  chord  of  6o^  deseribo  the  arch  m  tty  whioh 
make  eqaal  to  the  rhumb  of  3  points,  the  complement 
of  the  course }  draw  a  line  through  C  »,  which  produce 
•tin  it  meets  BA  in  A:  then  tat  distance  AC  being 
mttMned,  mil  be  eq«nd  to  231  m.  nnd^hediflinBoe  el 
Utitttde  AB  will  be  128.3 


ByCakmhiih^ 

To  find  the  distance. 

As  the  sine  of  the  ccwrso  5  points 

is  to  radius        -        *        - 

so  is  the  depaieture  -  192 


lOdOOOOO 

xa8330 


to  the  di^tadce          -        -        230.9        -  X36345 

To  find  die  differsoce  of  btitade. 

A»  the  tangent  of  the  ooorse        5  pouits  10.17511 

is  to  radius        .        •        .        .        •  lO^ooooo 

so  is  the  departure        -        -        192  2.28530 


w 


to  the  diffownce  of  latitude 


X28«3  2.ieli9 


By  Inspection, 

Find  the  departufu  192  m.  in  iU  prq^  oslvsa 
above  the  given  course  5  pdnts;  andmosilelhcKetsis 
the  distance  231  miles,  and  diffeience  tt  latitade  138.31 
respective  columns. 


By  GunUr*s  Scale. 

The  extent  from  5  pointo  to  8  points  on  the  lint  sf 
sine  ihms^  bdng  laid  from  the  departure  19s  m 
numbers,  will  readi  to  the  distance  231  on  the  sum 
line }  and  the  extent  fima  5  pointa  to  4  poiati  m 
the  line  of  tangeat  rhumbs,  will  reach  tarn  the  d^ 
partine  192^  to  the  diffiessnca  of  latitude  128.3  m 


Latitude  of  Palma 
DiflSneaee  of  latitude 


come  to 


28^3 


n 


39  4iN 


Prob.IV.   Given  the  distance  and  diffwuncs  of  hr 
titnde,.to  find  the  coorae  and  depmrtore. 

Exan^  AdiipfiromaplaoeinlatitBde43®i3'N. 
sails  between  the  north  and  east  285  miles  j  and  is  tkta 
hj  observation  found  to  be  in  latitude  ^  s^H:^ 
quired  the  ooucse  and  departure  f 
Latitude  sailed  from      -        -    43^   IS'N 
Latitude  by  observation        «      46    jx  N 


DiflEerenoe  of  latitude 


3     ].8:=i9SsuIsB. 


By  Omstntction, 

Draw  the  portion  of  the  meridian  AB  (fig.  5')^ 
to  198  miles}  from  g  draw  BC  perpendicahur  to  AB: 
then  take  the  distance  285  miles  finm  the  scale,  aai 
with  one  foot  of  the  compsss  in  A  describa  an  uroh  isp 
teraeoting  BC  in  C,  and  join  AC.  With  the  chssd  d 
60^  dtfcribe  the  arab  m  a,  the  poitisn  of  wht A,  csa> 
tamed  between  tlie  distance  and  diSaiunoe  of  Istitedi, 
allied  to  the  line  of  chords,  will  measnre  4^*,  tk 
course  J  and  the  depertore  BC  haiog  measnied  on  tbi 
lino  ef  eqeal  pevts,  will  bo  fimad  equal  to  205  mikt^ 


By  Gdculatum* 
To  find  the  comsse. 


As  the  distance 

is  to  the  difference  of 

so  is  the  radius        * 


^  thn  eosino  of  the  couno 


^85 
198 


2.29000 

10X0000 


IVatctice. 


N  A-  V  I 

To  find  the  departure. 


G  A  T  I  O  N. 


657 


Plcoe 
Sailing-    As  radius 

is  to  the  sine  of  the  course         46*  o' 
so  is  the  distance  •         285 

to  tlic  departure         -  265 


K^^. 


10.00000 
9.85693 
2.45484 

2-3 1 '77 


iBg  Inspection, 

Find  the  given  distance  in  the  table  in  its  proper  co- 
lumn 'y  and  if  the  difierenoe  of  latitude  answering  there- 
to is  the  uuue  as.  that  given,  namely^  198,  then  the  de- 
partore  will .  be  ^nd  in  its  proper  colnmny  and  the 
conrte  at  the  top  or  bottom  of  the  page,  accoisding  as 
the  difference  of  latitude  is  found  in  a  column  marked 
iat,  at  top  or  bottom*  If  the  difference  of  latitude  thus 
found  does  not  agree  with  that  given,  turn  over  till  the 
.nearest  thereto  is  found  to  answer  to  the  given  distance. 
ThU  is  in  the  page  marked  46  degrees  at  the  bottom, 
•which  is  the  course,  and  the  corresponding  departure  is 
J20S  miles. 

By  GunterU  Scale. 

The  extent  from  the  distance  285  to  the  difference  of 
latitude  196  on  numbers,  will  reach  from  90^  to  44°, 
the  complement  6f  the  course  on  sines  j  and  the  extent 
fi-om  90^  to  the  course  46*  on  the  line  of  sines  being 
laid  from  the  distance  265,  will  reach  to  the  departure 
205  on  the  line  of  numbers. 

Prob.  V.  Given  the  distance  and  departure,  4o  find 
the  course  and  difference. tf  latitude. 

Example.  A  ship  from  Fort-Boyal  4n  the  island  of 
Grenada,  in  latitude  J  2^  9^  N,  sailed  260  miles  be- 
tween tbe  sonth  and  west,  and  made  190  miles  of  de- 
^rtiire.:  Bequired  the  coarse  and  latitude  come  to  f 

Bg  €hnstructkm. 
Draw  BC  ^g.  6.)  perpendicular  to  AB,  and  eqnal 
to  the  ^iven  departore  190  miles;  then  from  the  centre 
C,  with  the  distance  260  miles,  «weep  an  arch  inter- 
secting AB  in  A,  and  join  AC.  Now  describe  an 
arch  from  tbe  centre  A  with  the  chord  of  60%  and  the 
portion  m  »  of  this  arch,  contained  between  the  dis- 
tance and  difference  of  latitude,  mcasnred  on  the  line 
of  €horda,  will  be  47^  the  course  \  and  the  difference 
of  latitude  AB  applied  to  the  scale  of  equal  parts,  mek- 
sures  i77t  miles. 

By  CalcU/ation. 
To  find  the  course. 
As  the  distance  -  260 

is  to  the  departdre  •  190 

so  is  radius  -         .  - 


to  the  sine  of  the  course  46^  5/ 

To  find  the  diDcrence  of  latitude. 
As  radius  .  «  • 

is  to  the  cosine  of  the  course      46^  5/ 
so  is  the  distance  -  260 


2.41497 
2.27875 

10.00000 

9-86378 

10.00000 
9.83419 
2^1497 


tothedifierence  of  la^tu^e        177«5      -        2.24916 

By  Inspection. 

Seek  in  the  traverse  table  until  the  nearest  to  Ae  gi- 
ven departiire  is  fonnd  in  the  same  line  with  the  given 
distance  260.  This  is  found  to  he  in  the  page  marked 
47*  at  the  bottom,  which  is  the  course )  and  the  corre- 
fiponding  difference  of  latitude  Is  177.3. 

Vol.  XIV.  Part  IL  t 


By  Gunfer^s  Scale.  Plune 

The  extent  of  the  compass,  from  the  distance  260  to  ^  Soilin 
the  departure  190  on  tbe  line  of  numbers,  will  reach 
from  90^  to  47*,  the  course  on  the  line  of  sines :  and 
the  extent  from  90^  to  43^,  the  complement  of  the 
course  on  sines,  will  reach  from  the  distance  260  to  the 
difference  of  latitude  177-g^  on  the  line  of  numbers. 
Latitnde  Fort  Royal  -  -  12^    9' N 

Difference  of  latitude         -         177      -=:2    57    8 

■  "    ■■■» 
Latitude  in   -         -  •  -  9    1 2  N 

PaoB  VL  Given  diflercnce  of  latitude  and  depaf- 
ture,  sought  course  and  distance. 

Example.    A  ship  from  a  port  in  latitude  7^  56'  S, 

sailed  between  the  south  and  cast,  till  her  departure  is 

132  miles  ^  and  is  then  by  obaervation  found  to  be  in 

latitude  12^  3^  S.     Bequired  the  course  and  distance  ? 

Latitnde  sailed  from         -  7*  56' & 

latitude  in  by  obeervation         12      36. 

Difference  of  latitude         -         4       7=247. 

By  ConHrUciion, 
Draw  the  portion  of  the  meridiail  AB  (fig.  7.)  equal  pig.  7. 
to  the  difference  of  latitude  247  miles  ^  from  B  draw 
BC  perpendicular  to  AB,  and  equal  to  the  given  de- 
parture 132  mites,  and  join  AC :  then  with  the  chord 
of  60^  describe  an  arch  from  the  centre  A  \  and  the 
poctidn  m  f}  of  this  arch  being  applied  to  the  line  of 
chords,  will  measure  about  28  ',  and  the  distance  AC, 
measured  on  the  line  of  equal  parts,  will  be  280  miles. 

By  Caiculaiion. 
To  find  the  course. 
As  the  difference  of  latitude        -        247 
is  to  the  departure  -  -  132 

so  is  radius  .  •  - 


2.39270 

2.12057 
]  0.00000 


to  the  tangent  of  the  course  28*  7'    9.72787 

To  find  the  distance. 
As  radius  .  -  . 

is  to  the  secant  of  the  course       28^^' 
so  is  the  difference  of  latitude     247 


10.00000 

20.0J454 

2.39270 


to  the  distance 


280 


2.44724 


By  Inspection. 
Seek  in  the  table  till  the  given  difference  of  latitude 
and  departurct  .«r  the  nearest  tberetot  are  ibund  toge- 
ther in  their  respective  columns,  which  will  be  under 
28^,  the  required  course  ;  and  the  distance  answering 
thereto  is  280  miles. 

By  Gunter^s  Scale. 
The  extent  from  the  given  difference  of  latitude  247 
to  the  departure  132  on  the  line  of  numbers,  will  reach 
from  4  j^  to  28^,  the  course  on  the  line  of  tangents ; 
and  the  extent  from  62%  the  complement  of  the  course, 
to  90^  on  sines,  will  reach  from  the  difference  of  lati- 
tude 247,  to  the  distance  280  on  numbers. 

Chap.  III.  OfTraverte  Sailing. 

If  a  ship  sail  upon  two  or  more  courses  in  a  given 
time,  the  irregular  track  she  describes  is  called  a  tra^ 
verse  ;  and  to  resolve  a  traverse,  is  the  method  of  redu- 
cing these  several  eourses,  and  the  distances  run,  in- 

4O  to 


659. 


NAVIGATION. 


Tuivene  to  a  i^iiigle  course  aitd  (Hstanoe.  The  method  chiefly  used 
SkiiUaf;.  for  this  jMirpose  at  sea  is  by  inspection,  which  shall 
tlicrcfore  be  principally  adhered  to  ;  and  is  as  follows. 

Make  a  table  of  a  breadth  and  depth  sufficient  to 
contain  the  several  courseii,  &c«  Tliis  table  is  to  bo 
divided  into  six  columns  :  the  courses  are  to  be  put  in 
the  first,  and  the  cor|:c8ponding  distances  in  the  second 
column  ^  the  third  and  fourth  columns  are  to  contain 
the  dilTerenccs  of  latitude,  and  the  two  last  the  depar* 
tureH. 

Now,  the  several  courses  and  their  corresponding 
distances  being  properly  arranged  in  the  tiible,  find 
the  di (Terence  of  lutitacle  and  departure  answering  to 
each  in  the  traverse  table  ;  remembering  that  the  dif- 
ference of  latitude  is  to  be  put  in  a  north  or  south  co* 
kimn,  according  as  the  coarse  is  in  the  northern  or 
southern  hemisphere  }  and  that  the  departure  is  to  be 
pot  in  an  east  column  if  tlie  course  is  easterly,  but  in  a 
west  column  if  the  course  is  westerly :  Observing  also, 
that  the  depariuro  is  less  than  the  difference  of  latitude 
wlien  the  cotrrse  is  less  than  4  points  or  45^  j  otherwise 
greater. 

Add  op  the  columns  of  northing,  soothing,  easting, 
tnd  westing,  and  set  down  the  sum  of  each  at  its  hot* 
tom  J  then  the  difference  between  the  sums  of  the  north 
and  south  colnoms  will  be  the  difference  of  latitude 
made  good,  of  the  same  name  with  the  greater ;  and 
the.  difference  between  the  sums  of  the  east  and  west 
eolumns,  is  the  departure  made  good,  of  the  same  name 
with  the  greater  sum. 

Now,,  seek  in  the  traverse  table,  till  a  difference  of 
latitude  and  departure  are  found  to  agree  as  nearly  as 
possible  with  those  above }  then  the  distance  will  be 
found  on  the  same  line,  and  the  course  at  the  top  or 
bottom  of  the  page,  according  as  the  difference  of  lati- 
tiidc  is  greater  or  Less  than  the  departure. 

In  order  to  resolve  a  traverse  by  construction,  de- 
scribe a  circle  with  the  chord  of  60^,  in  which  draw 
tivo  diameters  at  right  angles  to  each  other,  at  whose 
extremities  are  to  be  marked  the  initials  of  the  cardinal 
points,  north  being  uppermost. 

Lay  off  each  cour»)e  on  the  circumference,  reckoned 
from  its  proper  meridian  \  and  from  the  centre  to  each 
point  draw  lines,  which  are  to  be  marked  with  the  pro- 
per number  of  the  Course. 

On  the  first  radius  lay  off  the  fffst  distance  from  the 
centre  ^  and  through  its  extremity,  and"  parallel  to  the 
•second  radius,  draw  the  second  distance  of  its  proper 
Jength  y  through  the  extremity  of  the  scoond-  distance, 
apd  parallel  to  Hie  third  radius,  draw  the  third  distance 
of  it^  proper  length ;  and  thus  proceed  utitil  all  the  di- 
stances are  drawn ^ 

A  Une  drawn  from  the  extremity  of  the  last  distance 
to  the  centre  of  the  circle  will  repi*esent  the  distance 
m^e  good :  aud,a  line  drawn  from  the  same  point  per- 
pendiculari  to  the  meridian,  produocd,  if  necessary,  will 
Cf  pivsent  the  departure  ^  and  the  portiou-  of  the  meri- 
dian intercepted  between  the  centre  and  departure,  will 
be  the  difference  of  latitude  made  good. 

Examples. 

I;  A  shipJronvFval,  in.lat..38?  32'  N,  sailed  as  fol- 
lows :  ESE  163  miles,  SW  4  W  1 10  miles,  SE  ^  S 
i3o  miles,  and  N  by  E  68  miles.  Required  the  lati^^ 
tmdc. cnmc  to,  the  coyrse,  and  distance  ni>iMe  good.?^ 


By  Inspeetimu 


PtKtkt 

raioa 


Coane. 

IMsL 

163 
no 

180 

68 

Diff.  of  Latitude. 

Dcputnre. 

N 

S 

E 

W 

ESE 
SW^W 

SE4.S  • 
N^E 

S4rfE 

Latitud 
Differci 

Latitud 

66.7 

62.4 
69.8 

M4-J 

150.6 

107.2 
»3-3 

85.0 

66.7 

276.7 
66.7 

'271. 1 
85.0 

85.0 

281             1 210.0 

e  left        - 
ice  of  latitude 

c  come  to 

186.1 

38^  3^' 
3     2> 

35     " 

S. 

By  Cofistruction, 

\Mth  the  diord  of  60""  describe  the  circle  NE,  STV 
(fig.  8.),  the  centre  of  which  rcpresenta  the  place  thel^L 
ship  sailed  from :  draw  two  diameters  N8,  £\V  atrigkt 
angles  to  each  other;  the  one  representing  the  neri* 
dian,  and  the  other  the  parallel  of  latitude  of  the  place 
sailed  from.  Take  each  course  from  the  line  of  rhombs, 
lay  it  off  on  the  circumference  fi'om  its  proper  mrri- 
dian,  and  number  it  in  order  l*  2,  3,  4.  Upoo  tlie 
first  rhumb  Ci,  lay  off  the  first  distance  163  miles  fron 
C  to  A  }  through  it  draw  the  second  distance  AB  pa- 
rallel to  C2,  and  equal  to  1 10  miles  \  through  B  dnir 
BD  equal  to  180  miles,  and  parallel  to  C3  )  and  drsir 
DE  parallel  to  C4,  and  equal  to  68  miles.  Now  C£ 
being  joined,  will  represent  the  distance  made  good} 
which  applied  to  the  scale  will  measure  281  milcv. 
llie  arch  S  »,  which  represents  the  coume,  being  mea- 
sured on  the  line  of  cliords,  will  be  found  eqoal  to4lT*. 
From  E  draw  EF  perpendicular  to  CS  prodaoed; 
then  CF  will  be  the  difference  of  latitude,  and  F£  ibe 
departure  made  good  ^  which  applied  to  the  scale  will  be 
found  to  measure  210  and  186  miles  respectivelj. 

As  the  method  by.  construction  is  scarcely  ever  pnc- 
tised  at  sea,  it,  therefore,  seems  unnecessary  to  ^plyit 
to  the  solution  of  the  following  examples. 

tl.  A  ship  from  latitude  1^  38'  S.  sailed  as  uadcr. 
Required  her  present  latitude,  course,  and  distaixe 
made  good  t 


Conne. 


WNW 

SE^E 

WSWfW 

NJE 


>, 


N44«W 


,UiA'  ut  JLaiiudtr. 


DiiL 


43 
62 


139 

Latitude  kit 


N 


35-« 
29.9. 

84.1 


S 


3>-* 
18.0 


1498I    49.1 
49.1 


i;c|Hul«e 


E       W 


46.6 

12-5 


^9.1 


100.7=^1*  41' 
1   38  8. 


23-9 
7^1 


»5i-3 
59.1 


96.2 


Latitude  come  tq  ♦       Q     3  N. 


I 


■m. 


PttuJtice.  N  A  VI  G  A  t  I  0  K; 

IVvrctse       HI-  T€8l«rJUr  at  ndon  Wfc  Were  in  latkade  13"  12' 
SMiing.    N,  Aad  eioce  then  have  nm  as  fi^llows :  SSE  36  miles, 


650 


8  12  miles,  NW  |  W  28  miles,  \y  30  miles,  SW  42 
miles,  W^N  39  miles,  and  N  20  mi)l:s.     Required  our 

preseot  latitude,  departure^  and  direct  rouiae  aud  di- 
alancc  ? 


Diff.  of  I.atitQdc. 

Dcpartorc 

C!allTU»K 

Disl 

^/%nUmKm» 

l/UI* 

N 

S 

£ 

W 

SSE 

36 

— 

33-3 

3-8 

^^ 

s 

It 

•^ 

12.0 

^— 

-« 

NWiW 

28 

17.S 

... 

... 

21.6 

W 

30 

_ 

.  — 

—   , 

•  SO'O 

SW 

42 

— 

29.7 

« 

29,7 

W^N 

39 

7.6 

— 

38.2 

N 

io 

23.b 

^la* 

13.8 

~ 

45-4 

75-0 

119.5 

45-4 

13-8 

S  74*  W 

no 

25^.63:o**30' 

J0C.7 

Yester 
Presen 

day*8 
t  latil 

latitude     -       J 

Ml. 

3  12N 

udc 

1 

2  42N 

IV.  The  course  pei'  compass  from  Grcigsness  (b)  to 
the  May  is  SW^  S,  distance  58  miles  ;  from  the  May 
to  the  Staples  S^£  ^  E,  44  miles  )  and  from  the  Sta- 
biles to  Flambonlugfa  Head  S^£,  no  itiiles.  Acquired 
the  cou]^  per  compassi  and  distance  from  Greigsness 
to  Flambdrough  Head  P 


CottDCI. 


SWJS 

S^E 


Dist 


1^*1 


J8 

44 
no 


■ 


Diff.  of  Latitnde. 


N 


8 


43'0 

4M 
167,9 


192.3 


Departure. 


E 


14.8 
ai.5 


36.3 


\V 


38-9 


38.9 

36-3 


Hence  tbe'coaree  per  compass  is  nearly 
S  i^W,  and  distance  1924-  miles. 


i.6 


Chap.  IV.   Of  Paralkl  Sailing. 

The  figure  df  tlie  earth  is  spherical,  and  the  meti<* 
dians  gradually  approach  each  other,  and  meet  at  the 
poles.  The  difirei*eDce  of  longitude  t)etween  any  two 
places  is  the  angle  at  the  pole  contained  bettreen  ttie 
inendiana  of  those  places }   or  it  is  the  anJh  of  thtf 


equator  intercepted  bfct^een  the  KsCridiaus  of  the  gtvcu  Paralti! 
places;  and  the  meridian  distance  bcttvcen  tVvo  places  'Sailin^^, 
in  the  skme  parallel,  is  the  arch  thereof  contained 
lietiveen  their  meridianH.  It  behc^  folldws,  thai  Wic 
meridian  distance,  answering  to  the  same  diflcrcucc  of 
longitude,  iVill  Ue  yaridble  with  the  Iktitude  of  the 
parallel  upon  which  it  is  reckoned }  and  the  same 
dificreuce  of  longitude  will  not  answer  to  a  given 
meridian  distance  when  reckoned  upon  diiferent  pa- 
rallels. .;  ^. 

Parallel  sailing. is,  therefore,  the  method  of  finding 
the  distance  between  two  places  lying  in  the  same  pa- 
1^1  lei  \rhose  longitudes  are  knbwn  \  or,  to  find  the  dif- 
ference of  longitude  anstvering  to  a  ^iveik  distance,  ru6 
in  an  east  or  west  directiOti.  This  sailing  is  particular- 
ly useful  in  rtlaking  loW  or  smkll  islands. 

In  order  td  illustrate  the  principles  of  parallel  sail- 
ing, let  CABP  (fig.  5,)  represent  i  section  of  bne'^9  P- 
fourth  part  of  the  earth,  the  arch  AfiP  being  pari 
of  a  meridian  ;  CA  the  equiitorial,  and  CP  the  polar 
semi-axis.  Alsb  let  B  be  the  situati6n  of  any  giveil 
place  on  the  earth  J'  ilnd  join  BC,  tvhlch  will  be  equal 
to  CA  or  CP  (c).  The  arch  AB,  ot  andc  ACB,  i6 
the  measure  of  the  latitude  of  tLe  plaCe  B  )  and  the 
atch  BP,  or  angle  BCP,  is  that  of  its  cohiplcmenV. 
it  BD  be  drawn  f^om  B  perpetiditolar  to  CP,  it  will 
represent  the  cosine  of  latitude  to  the  radius  BC  ol' 
CA. 

-    Now  since  circles  and  similar  ^ttions  of  circlce  al^ 
in  the  direct  ratio  of  their  radii ;  therefore, 
As  tadius 

Is  to  the  cosine  of  latitude  \ 
Bo  is  any  giten  portion  of  the  '(^tiator 
To  a  Similar  pOHion  of  the  given  parallel. 

But  the  difference  of  longitude  is  an  arch  of  the 
ei^uator;  and  the  distahce  between  any  t^o  places  Xm- 
der  the  same  paraHel,  is  a  similar  portion  of  that  ^- 
rlillel. 

Hence  R  :  cdsine  latitude  ::  Diffl  longitude  :  Aistancc. 

And  by  in%'ersion, 
Cosine  latitude  2  R  ::  DistHnce  i  Diff.  6f  longitude. 

Also, 

Diffl  of  longitude  :  Distance  t:  R ':  toa.  latitude. 

Pros.  L  Given  the  latitude  \Df  a  parallel,  and  the 
number  of  miles  contained  ill  a  portion  of  the  eqttat6r, 
to  find  the  miles  contluned  in  a  aimilar  portion  of ,  that 
paralleL 

bs.  I.  RequiiSed  the  hlimber  of  miles  cdntkihed  in  a 
degree  of  longitude  in  latitude  55^  58^? 

By  Construction, 

Draw  the  indefinite  right  Xitit  AB  ffig.  2o.)  \  .make  jm^ 
the  angle  BAC  equal  to  the  fiven  latitude  -^^  58^ 
and  AC  equal  to  thd  number  6f  mile^  contained  in  a 
degree  of  longitude  at  the  equator,  namely  60 :  from 
C  driiw  CB  perpendicular  to  AB  \  and  AB  being 
measured  on  the  line  of  equal  parts,  \4iU  be  found  equal 
to  33*5»  the  miles  required. 

4  O  i  By 


(b)  Grci^^ess  is  about  2^  miles  distant  from  Aberdeen,  in  nearly  a  S£AE4^E  direction. 

(c)  This  IS  not  strictly  true,  as  the  figure  of  the  earth  is  that  of  an  oblate  spheroid  \  ahd  therefore  the  radius 
tof  curvature  is  variable  %Tith  the  latitude.  The  diflierence  between  CAand  CP,  a^ording  to  8iir  leaac  NewtoB*t 
liypotheskis.  Is  ifbodt  7^  ntiles.  ^        - 


66o 

*Pan]ld 

Sailing. 


Tig.  IX. 


NAVIGATION. 

By  C^cuhtwn* 
As  radios  -  - 

is  to  the  cosine  of  latitude,        -     $f  5^'       9*74794 
so  is  miles  in  a  deg«  of  long,  st  eq.         60        1.778 15 


10.00000 


between  the  given  latitude  and  tluit  vsed^  be  apflied  to  iMd 
the  above,  the  same  result  with  that  fiMind  by  cakda-  Si% 
tion  will  be  obtained. 


to  the  miles  in  a  degi  in  the  given  par.  33*58  1.52609 

■  • 

By  Inspection, 
To  ^6^^  the  nearest  degree  to  the  given   latitude, 
and  distance  60  miles,  the  corresponding  difference  of 
latitude  is  33.6,  which  is  the  miles  required. 

By  Gunt€r*s  Scale. 

The  extent  from  90°  to  34^,  the  complement  of  the 
given  latitude  on  the  line  of  sines,  will  reach  firom  60 
to  33.6  on  the  line  of  numbers. 

There  are  two  lines  on  the  oth^  side  of  the  scale, 
with  respect  to  Gunter^s  line,  adapted  to  this  parti- 
cular purpose  \  one  of  which  is  entitled  chords^  and 
contains  the  several  degrees  of  latitude :  The  other, 
marked  M.  L.  signifying  miles  of  longitude^  is  the  line 
of  longitudes^  and  shows  the  number  of  miles  in  a  degree 
of  longitude  in  each  parallel.  The  use  of  these  lines  is 
therefore  obvious. 

Rx,  2.  Required  the  distance  between  Treguier  in 
France,  in  longitude  3°  14'  W,  and  Gaspey  Bay,  in 
longitude  64^  27'  W,  the  common  latitude  being  48^ 
47' N? 

Longitude  Treguier         -         3®  14'  W 
Longitude  Gaspey  Bay  64     27  W 

Difference  of  longitude  6 1     1 3=3673' 

As  radius  ...  i  q.ooooo 

is  to  the  cosine  of  latitude,       48*^  47'       -        9.81882 
so  is  the  difference  of  longitude  3673       -         3*56502 


By  Gunter's  Scale. 
The  extent  from  47^  S',  the  complement  of  latitude 
to  60*  on  the  line  of  sines,  being  laid  the  same  way  from 
the  distance  342,  will  reach  to  the'diflcience  of  lon- 
gitude 4667  on  the  line  of  numbcxs. 

Longitude  Cape  Finisterre    .        -  9^17'W 

Difference  of  longitude  -  7   47  ^ 


Longitude  c^me  to 


17  4W 


Prob.  III.  Given  the  number  of  miles  contained  in 
any  portion  of  the  equator,  and  the  miles  in  a  amilir 
portion  of  a  parallel ;  to  find  the  huitude  of  that  ps- 
rallel. 

Example.  A  ship  sailed  due  east  358  milef,  and  ira» 
found  by  observation  to  have  difiered  her  longitude  8* 
42'.     Required  the  latitude  of  the  parallel  ? 

By  Construction. 
Make  the  line  AH  (fig.  I2.)  equal  to  the  given  di-n^.;^ 
stance  ;  to  which  let  BC  be  drawn  perpendicular,  with 
an  extent  eqoal  to  522^,  the  difference  of  longitude; 
describe  an  arch  from  the  centn:  A,  cutting  BC  in  C ; 
then  the  angle  BAC  being  measured  by  means  of  tbe 
line  of  chords,  will  be  found  equal  to  46°4>  the  re- 
quired latitude. 

By  Calculation. 

As  the  distance               *                358  ^353^' 

is  to  tbe  difference  of  longitude,      522  2.71767 

so  is  radius             ...  icoosco 


to  the  distance 


2420 


9    S  S        to  the  secant  of  the  latitude,  46*^42^         io«  16379 


Prob.  IL  Given  the  number  of  miles  contained  in  a 
portion  of  a  known  parallel,  to  fiad  the  number  of 
miles  in  a  similar  portion  of  tbe  equator. 

Example.  A  ship  firom  Cape  Finisterre,  in  latitude 
42^  52'  N,  and  longitude  9^  17'  W,  sailed  due  west 
342  miles.    Required  the  longitude  come  to  ? 

By  Construction. 
Draw  the  straight  line  AB  (fig.  11.)  equal  to  the 
given  distance  342  miles,  and  make  the  aAgle  BAG 
equal  to  42^  52',  the  given  latitude  :  firom  B  draw  BC 
perpendicular  to  AB,  meeting  AC  in  C  \  then  AC 
applied  to  the  scale  will  measure  466^9  the  difference 
of  longitude  required* ' 

By  Calculation.        ^ 
As  radius  -  -  «-  10.OOOOO 


is  to  the  secant  of  latitude, 
so  is  the  distance 


4*"  5^ 
34a 


JO-I3493 
2-53403 


to  tl|e  diSeicBce  of  longttiide         466<6  2.66896 

By  Inspection. 
The  nearest  degree  to  the  given  latitude  is  43^; 
under  which,  and  opposite  to  171,  half*the  given  di- 
stance in  a  latitude  column,  is  234,  in  ir  distance  cmo- 
lomn,  whicJi  doubled  gives  468,  Uie  difference  of  lon- 
gitude. 
''  If  the  proportional  part  answering  to  tbe  difference 


By  Inspection. 
As  tbe  difference  of  longitude  and  distance  txari 
the  limits  of  tbe  table,  let  therefore  the.  half  of  etch 
be  taken  ^  these  are  261  and  179  respectively.  New, 
by  entering  tbe  table  with  these  quantities,  tbe  lati- 
tude will  be  found  to  he  between  46  and. 4 7  degreei. 
Therefore,  to  latitude  46^,  and  distance  261  miln,  tbe 
corresponding  difference  of  latitude  is  i8i'.3,  ubich 
exceeds  the  half  of  the  given  distance  by  2^.3.  Agsia, 
to  latitude  47%  and  difitance  261,  the  difference  of  lati- 
tude is  170.0,  being  l^o  less  than  tbe  half  of  that 
given :  therefore  the  change  of  distance  aoswcrii^  to  i 
change  of  i^  of  latitude  is  3'.3. 

Now,  as  3'.3  :  2'.3  ::  i* :  42*. 
Hence  the  latitude  required  is  46^  42f. 

By  Guntcr*s  Scale^ 
The  extent  from  522  to  358  on  the  line  of  eon- 
hers,  will  reach  from  90**  to  about  43^4>  ^  cooBplc* 
roent  of  which  ^6y  is  the  latitude  inquired. 

Brob*  IV,  Given  the  number  of  miks  contained  in 
the  ponifni  of  a  knqwn  parallel,  to  find  the  length  sf  a 
similar  portion  of  another  known  parallel. 

Example.  From  two  ports  in  laiitade  33*  58' N, 
distance  348  miles,  two  ships  sail  directly  north  till  they 
are  in  latitude  48^  23^  N.     Required  their  distance? 

By  Construction. 

Draw  tbe  line  CB,  C£  (fig.  13.),  making  aif^I^  *> 

vlth 


Practice. 


NAVIGATION. 


Parallel  ^>^'>  ^^  eqnal  to  the  complements  of  tbc  givea  hitt- 
Sailraic.  todesy  namely,  56^  2^  and  41®  37'  respectively  :  mako 
BD  equal  to  the  given  diatanco  348  miles,  and  perpen- 
dicular to  CP }  now  from  tke  centre  C,  viiih  the  radios 
CB,  describe  an  arch  intersecting  C£  in  E  ;  then  £F 
drawn  from  the  point  £,  perpendiicular  to  CP,  will  re- 
preseot  the  distance  reqntred  ;  which  heing  applied  to 
tbo  scale,  will  measnre  278  i  miles. 

By  Calculation* 

As  the  cosine  of  (lie  latitude  lefb  3I 
is  to  the  cosine  of  the  lat.  come  to  48 
so  is  the  given  distance  -         348 


l'.9, 


F15. 14. 


23 


^91874 
9.82226 
2,54158 


278.6 


2.445ic> 


to  the  distance  required 

By  LispeciioH* 
Under  34%  and  opposite  to  1 74,  half  the  given  dis- 
tance in  a  latitude  column  is  210  in  a  distance  column ) 
being  half  the  difTerem^e  of  longitude  answering  thereto* 
Now,  find  the  difference  of  latitude  to  distance  aio 
miles  over  48^  of  latitude,  which  is  i4o'.5  \  from  which 
I^I  (the  proportional  part  answering  to  23  minutes  of 
latitude)  being  subtracted,  gives  I39'*4  wbich  doubled 
is  278^^,  the  distance  required. 

By  Gunter^s  ScaU. 
The  extent  from  ^6^  2\  the  complement  of  the  la- 
titude left,  to  41°  37',  the  complement  of  that  come 
to,  on  the  line  of  sines,  being  laid  the  same  way  from 
348,  will  reach  to  278^,  the  distance  soi^ht  on  the  line 
of  numbers. 

PnoB.  V,  Given  a  certain  portion  of  a  known  pa- 
rallel, together  with  a  similar  portion  of  an  unknown 
parallel ',  to  find  the  latitude  of  that  parallel. 

Example.  Two  ships,  in  latitude  ^6°  0^  N,  distant 
180  miles,  sail  due  south)  and  having  come  to  the  same 
parallel,  are  now  232  miles  distant.  The  latitude  of 
that  parallel  is  required  ? 

By  Construction, 
Mako  DB  (fig.  14.)  equal  to  the  first  distance  180 
mileH,  DM  equal  to  the  second  232,  and  the  angle 
DBC  equal  to  the  given  latitude  56°  ^  from  the  centre 
C,  with  the  radius  €B,  describe  the  arch  BE }  and 
through  M  draw  ME  pamllel  to  CD,  interaecltngtlie 
arch  B£  in  £ ;  join  £C  and  draw  £F  perpondiculM 
to  CD  :  then  the  angle  F£C  will  he  the  latitude  re- 
quired \   which  being  measured,  will  be  found  equal  to 

43'  53'- 

By  Cakultttion. 

A&  the  distance  00  the  known  parallel  180       a.25527 
is  to  the  distance  on  that  required  232      2.36549 

B4»  is  the  cosine  of  tke  latitude  left         56^  o'  9*74750 

to  the  cosine  of  the  latitude  come  to    43  53    $^5778 

By  Inspection* 
To  latitude  56^,  and  half  the  first  distance  00  in  nt 
latitude  column,  the  corresponding  distance  is  161, 
which  is  half  the  difference  of  longitude.  Now  16 1, 
and  116,  half  the  second  distance,  are  found  to  agree 
between  43  and  44  degrees  j  thenfofe,  to  latitude 
43^  and  diistance  161,  the  corresponding  difcrcace  of 
latitude  is  ii7'.7  ^  the  exoest  of  which  above  11&  is 
I'.J :  and  to  latitude  44%  aaddistanee  161,  the  diflei- 

a 


661 

Middle 
Latitude 


enceof  latitude  is  II5'.8:  hence  Ii7,7-«>ii5.8i 
the  change  answering  to  a  difference  of  1°  of  latitude. 

Therefore,  i'.9  :  I'jj  11  j°  :  53' 

Hence,  the  latitude  is  43^  53', 
By  Gunter*s  Scale. 
The  extent  fiom  i8a  to  232  on  the  line  of  nvm- 
bers,  being  laid  in  the  same  direction  on  the  line  of 
sines,  from  34^,  the  complement  of  the  latitude  sailed 
from,  will  reach  to  46^  /,  the  complement  of  the  lati- 
tude come  to. 

Chap.  V.  Of  Middle  Laiiiudi  Sailing. 

The  earth  is  a  sphere,  and  the  meridians  meet  at  the 
poles }  and  since  a  rhumb*line  makes  equal  angles  with 
every  meridian,  the  line  a  ship  describes  is,  therefore, 
that  kind  of  a  curve  called  a  spiral. 

Let  AB  (fig.  IS")  be  any  given  distance  sailed  upon  pjg.  15. 
an  oblique  rhumb,  PBN,  PAM  the  extreme  meri- 
dians, MN  a  portion  of  the  equator,  and  PCK,  PEL 
two  meridians  intersecting  the  distance  AB  in  the 
points  C£  infinitely  near  each  other.  If  the  arches 
BS,  CD,  and  AH,  be  described  parallel  to  the  equator, 
it  is  hence  evident,  that  AS  is  the  difference  of  lati- 
tude, and  the  arch  MN  of  the  equator,  the  difference 
of  longitude,  answering  to  the  given  distance  AB  and 
course  PAB, 

Now,  since  C£  represents  a  very  small  portion  of  - 
the  distance  AB,  D£  will  be  the  correspondent  per- 
tion  of  a  meridian  :  hence  the  triangle  EDC  may  be 
considered  as  rectilineal.  If  the  distance  be  supposed 
to  be  divided  into  an  infinite  number  of  parts,  each 
equal  to  CE,  and  upon  these,  triangles  be  constructed 
whose  sides  are  portions  of  a  meridian  and  parallel,  it  is 
evident  these  triangles  will  be  equal  and  similar  }  for, 
besides  the  right  angle,  and  bypothenuso  which  is  the 
same  in  each,  the  course  or  angle  CED  is  also  the 
same.  Hence,  by  the  12th  of  v!  Enc.  the  sUm  of  all 
the  hypothenuses  CE,  or  the  distance  AB,  is  to  the 
sum  of  all  the  sides  DE,  or  the  difference  of  latitude 
AS,  as  one  of  the  hypothenuses  CE  is  to  the  corre- 
sponding side  DE.  Now,  let  the  triangle  GIH  (fig* Fig.  1^ 
16.)  be  constructed  similar  to  the  triangle  CDE,  hav- 
ing the  angle  G  equal  to  the  course :  then  as  GH  ; 
GI  ::  CE  ;  JIC  ::  AB  ;  AS. 

Hence,  if  GH  be  made  equal  to  the  given  distance 
AB,  then  GI  will  be  the  corresponding  difference  of 
latitude. 

In  like  manner,  the  sum  of  all  the  hypothenuses  CE, 
or  the  distance  AB,  is  to  the  sum  of  all  the  sides  CD, 
as  CE  is  to  CD,  or  as  GH  to  HI,  because  of  the  simi- 
lar triangles. 

The  several  parts  of  the  same  rectilineal  triangle  will, 
therefore,  represent  the  oomrse,  distance,  difference  of 
latitude,  and  departure. 

Ahhooffh  the  parts  HG,  GI,  and  angle  G  of  the* 
rectilineal  triangle  GIH,  are  eqonl  to  the  correspond- 
ing parts  AB,'  AS,  and  angle  A,  of  the  triangle  A8B 
upon  the  surface  of  the  sphere  ;  yet  HI  is  not  equal  ta 
BS,  for  HI  is  the  sum  of  all  the  arcs  CD ',  but  CD  is 
greater  than  OQ,  aud  less  than  ZX  :  therefore  HI  is 
greater  than  BS,  nod  less  than  AK.  Hence  the  dif- 
ference of  longitiide  MN  cannot  be  inferred  from  the 
departure  reckoned  either  upon  the  parallel  sailed  from, 
or.  ea  that,  cone  Co,  hut  on  some  intermediate  parallel 

TV, 


662 


MiiUk    TV»  SBtb  lliat  (M  ftfdi*  TV  W  <!kactly  eqnal  4o  the  de^ 

lAtitttd«i  parture :  and  in  this  case,  the  diflerencc  of  fongitude 

JMmg^  ^^^„jj  Yie  easily  obtained.     For  TV  is  to  MN  as  the 

sine  FT  to  the  Biae  PM  ^  that  is,  as  the  cosioe  of  lati* 

tude  is  to  the  radius. 

.  The  latitude  4>f  the  ^ndltil  TV  is  not,  howetcr, 
easily  determined  with  accuracy ;  Yarious  ittcthods  have, 
therefore,  been  takeii  in  order  to  obtain  it  Dearly,  vrith 
as  Httle  trouble  as  ]:ossible :  iirsti  by  taking  the  arith- 
metical meau  of  the  two  latitudes  for  that  of  the 
tnean  parallel :  secondly,  by  using  the  arithmetical 
mean  of  the  cosines  of  the  latitudes:  thirdly,  by  using 
the  geometrical  mean  of  the  cosines  of  the  latitudes : 
And  lastly,  by  employing  the  parallel  deduced  from 
the  mean  of  the  meridional  parts  of  the  two  latitddest 
llic  firrit  of  these  methods  is  that  which  is  generally 
used. 

In  order  to  illnstrate  the  computations  in  middle 
•i'igi  17.  latitude  sailtnfir,  let  the  triangle  ABC  (fig.  17.)  rd* 
present  a  figure  in  plane  sailing,  wheiviti  AB  is  the 
dfffeixnce  of  latitude,  AC  the  distance,  BC  the  de- 
parture, and  .the  angle  BAC  the  course.  Also,  let 
the  triangle  DBC  be  a  figure  in  parallel  sailing  in 
which  DC  is  the  di(R;rence  of  longitude,  BC  the  me* 
ridian  distance,  and  the  angle  DCB  the  middle  lati- 
tude. In  these  triangles  there  is,  therefore,  one  side 
BC  common  to  both  ^  and  that  triangle  is  to  be  first 
j^olved  in  which  two  parts  are  gived,  and  then  the 
onknown  parts  of  the  other  triangle  will  be  easily  oh* 
tainedi 

Frob.  I.  Given  ttic  latitudes  and  longitudes  of  two 
places,  to  find  the  course  and  distance  between  .them. 

EAKunple.  Required  the  course  and  distance  from 
ihe  island  of  May,  in  latitude  56^  1 2'  N,  and  longitude 
^^  37'  ^V,  to  the  Naze  of  Norway,  in  latitude  57**  50' 
N,  and  longitude  7®  2/  E  ? 

Latitude  isle  of  May       -       ^ff^  1 2'  N       *       56°  1 2' 
Latitude  Naze  of  Noritay     57   50  N       -       57   50 


^'ig.  x8. 


NAVIGATION.  Practia. 

chorda^  trill  be  found  cqttal  to  73*  I4',  the  ftquilt4 
ooarse. 

By  Calculation. 
To  find  the  coune  (d)i 
As  the  difference  of  latitude     •     98'        **       '•99^23 
is  to  the  difiercnce  of  longitade   604         •*       2*78104 
80  is  the  cosine  of  middle  latitude  57^  i'      •     9*73591 


«M«. 


^Hi 


Difference  of  latitude    * 
Middlcjatitude 
Longitude  isle  of  May 
Longitude  Naze  of  !Norway 

Difference  of  loi^gittffle 


1   38=98'    -    1x4 

57 
2  37W 

7  27E 


2 
I 


1 9    4=604' 


By  Construction* 
Draw  the  right  lifie  AD  (fig.  1 8.)  to  represent  the 
meridian  of  the  May  \  with  the  chord  of  60°  describe 
the  arch  mn^  upon  which  lay  off  the  chord  of  32^  59, 
the  complement  of  the  middle  latitude  from  mto  nx 
from  D  through  n  draw  the  line  DC  ^quai  to  604',  the 
difference  of  longitude,  and  from  C  draw  CB  parpen-* 
dicular  to  AD  :  make  fiA  equal  to  98'^  the  difference 
af  latitude,  and  join  AC }  w^bich  applied  to  the  scale 
will  measure  343  miles,  the  distanee  sought :  and  the 
angle  A  being  measotvd  by  means  of  the  line   of 


to  the  tangent  of  the  cosine     *   75    24  -     10.52572 

To  find  the  distance. 

As  raditis          -             -             -          -  10.00006 

is  to  the  eccant  of  the  course      73*  24'  -     10.5441! 

so  is  the  difference  of  latitude            98^  -       1-99123 


to  tlie  distance 


2-53534 


343 
By  Inspection, 

To  middle  'latitnde  57%  and  151  Otit-^mrth  of  (k 
difference  of  longitude  in  a  distance  column,  the  cam- 
spending  difference  of  latitude  is  82.2. 

Kow  24.5,  one  fourth  of  the  difference  of  latitadc« 
and  82.2,  taken  in  a  departure  colufnn,  are  found  ta 
agree  neatest  in  table  marked  6^  points  at  the  bottwb, 
AVhich  Is  the  course  \  and  the  corresponding  dbtance 
8j^  multiplied  by  4  gives  343  ftillcs,  the  distance  re^ 
qniredi 

By  GuntcrU  Scale. 

The  extent  ffom  98  the  diflbrcnce  of  latitude,  U 
604  the  difference  of  longitude  on  numbers,  being  hud 
the  same  tVay  frOm  33^,  the  eomplemefit  of  the  middle 
latitude  on  sines,  will  reach  to  a  certain  point  beyond 
the  termination  of  the  line  on  the  scale.  Now  drc 
extent  hcttveen  this  point  and  ^^  On  sines,  will  rcacb 
from  45^  to  73*  24',  the  course  on  the  line  of  tangents. 
And  the  extent  from  73^  24'  the  course,  to  $f  th( 
complemeiit  of  the  middiie  latitude  on  the  line  of  sines, 
being  laid  the  same  way  from  604  the  difference  of 
longitude^  will  reach  to  343  the  distance  ou  the  line  of 
numbers. 

The  true  course,  therefore,  from  the  island  of  May 
to  the  Naz«  of  Ndrwa^r  is  N  73®  2a'  E,  ENEjE 
nearly  \  but  as  the  variation  at  the  May  is  2\  points 
west,  theifeforcy  the  codrse  per  tompass  from  the  Mav  is 

Pros.  II*  Given  bne  ktitdde,  eourae,  and  distance 
sailed,  to  find  the  dtber  latitnde  and  difference  of  ka- 
gitude; 

Example,  A  ship  from  Brest,  in  latitude  48°  23' K, 
and  longitude  4<»  30'  W,  mailed  SW^^V  238  miles,  fie- 
quired  the  latitude  and  longitude  come  to  P 

By  Construction, 
With  the  course  and  distance  construct  the  triao|^ 
ABC  (fig.   17.),  and   the  difference   of  latitude  ABj{g.i;L 
being  measured^  wHl  %e  foimd  equal   to  142  miles! 
hence  the  latitude  come  to  is  46°  l'  N,  and  the  middle 
latitude  47^  X2'.     Now  make  the  angle  DCB  efol 

to 


(d)  For  Rt  r^ooaine  tmd.  lat. ::  Diff.  of  long.  :  Departure  5 
And  diff.  of  lat  :  Dep. ::  B*  :  Tangent  ooorae. 
-Hence  diSl  of  lat. :  cosine  mid.  lat. ::  diff.  of  long. :  tang;'oooc8e} 
-Or  diffi  of  lat. :  diff.  of  loog.  n  cosine  mtd.  lat.  ;  tsBg.^coutae. 


tactice. 

liiUle   to  47^  I2'i  Bad  DC  being  measared,  will  be  281,  the 
ttitude  difference  of  longitude :  hence  the  longitude  come  to  is 

By  Calculation, 

To  find  the  difference  of  latitude. 

As  radiu»             ...  lO.OOOop 

is  to  the  casine  of  the  course,         4^  9*775^3 

$0  is  the  distance,         -             238         -  2.37658 


NAVIGATION. 


66z 


to  the  difference  of  latitude     id  1.8 
Latitude  of  Brest,      48^  23'  N 
Difference  of  lat.  2   22  S 


2.15161 

48°  23'  N 

half  z    II  S 


Lat  come  to  46^    x'  N.  Mid.  lat.    47    12 

To  find  the  difference  of  longitude  (e). 
As  the  cosine  of  Mid.  Lat.  47^  1 2'  9*83215 

is  to  the  sine  of  the  coarse  ^\  points    •9.9048^ 

so  is  the  distance  -  238  2.3 7656 


2.44926 
4'*30'W 
4  4^W 

9  iiW. 


to  the  difference  of  longitude     281.3 
Longitude  of  Bre^t 
Difference  of  longitude 

Longitude  come  to  *  « 

j9y  Inspection* 

To  tlie  course  4^  points,  and  distance  238  miles, 
the  difference  of  latitude  is  141. 8,  aad  the  departure 
191.1.  .Hence  the  latitude  conoie  to  is  46^  i'  N,  ant 
middle  latitude  47®  12'.  Then  to  middle  latitude 
47^  12',  and  departure  191. i  in  a  latitude  column,,  the 
corresponding  distance  is  281^,  which  is  the  difference 
of  longitude. 

The  extent  from  8  points  to  3^  j^Dihts, '  the  com- 
plement of  the  course  on  sine  rhumbs,  being  laid  the 
same  way  from  the  distance  238,  will' reach  to  the  iRfi 
ferencc  of  latitude  142  on  the  line  of  numbers  ^  and 
the  extent  from  42°^  48'  the  couiplementof'  the  middle 
latitude,  to  53^  26^  the  course  on  the  line  of  sines,  will 
reach  f^om  the  distance  238  to  the  difference  of  longi- 
tude 281  on  numbers. 

Pros.  IIL  Given  both  latitudes  and' course,  reqair<^ 
cd  the  distance  aod  difference  of  longitude  ?' 

JExample*  A  ship  from-  St  Antonio,  in  latitude 
J  7''  <y  N,  and  loegitttde  24''  25'  W,  saiied.NW  \  N, 
till  by.observatiott  her  latitude  is  found  to  be  at?  34'N. 
Required  the  distance  sailed,  and  longitude  come  to  ? 


I^atitude  St  Antonio  17°  O  N 

I^atitude  by  observation  '  2834N' 


I^iflTerence  of  lat. 


It  34=r694m. 
Middle  lati 


17®  oN 
2834N 

45  34- 
22  47 


JLatitvde 
SaOiog. 


measured,  :inU  be  fcaad  e^oai  to  S64  and  558  respec-    Middle 
tively. 

By  Calculation^ 

To  find  the  distance. 
As  radius,  -  -  • 

is  to  the  secant  of  the  course     3^  points 
so  is  the  difference  of  lat.      694 


10.00000 
iao95i7 
2.84130^ 

2.9365J 


To  the  distance  -  864 

To  find  the  difference  of  longitude. 
As  the  cosine  of  middle  latitude      22^  47'       9.9647I 
is  to  the  tangent  of  the  course  3^  points  9.07020 

so  is  the  difl'erence  of  latitude        65M-  2.84136 


To  the  difference  of  longitude 
Longitude  of  St  Antonio 
Diftrence  of  longitude 

Longitude  come  to 


558-3 


2.74684, 
24°  25*  W 
9    18W 

33   43''* 


By  Construction* 

Cdostmct  the   triangle  A^C  (fig.  19.),  witb  the 
^iven  course  and  difference  of  latitude,  and  make  the 
;ftng-le    SCD  equal  to  the  middle-  latitude.     Now  the 
JistaQce .  AC  and  difference  of-  lotigitudci  DC.  being.    Te  the  distance 


By  Imped wn* 

To  course  3^  points,  and  difference  of  latitude  231.3^ 
one  third  of  that  given,  the  departure  is  17 1.6  and  di- 
stance 288,  which  multiplied  by  3  is  864  miles. 

Again  to  the  middle  latitude  22^  47/,  or  23^,'  and 
departure  271.6  in  a  latitude  colomn,  the  distance  is 
1 86,  which  multiplied  by  3  is  558,.  the  difference  of  • 
longitude. 

By  Guntcr^s  Scale, 

The  extent  from  47  points,  the  complement  of  the 
course,  to  8  points  on  the  line  of  sine  rluimbs,  will 
reach  from  the  difference  of  latitude  694  to  the  distance 
864  on  numbers }  and  the  extent  from  the  course  36?  34' 
to  67^  23',  the  Domplement  of  middle  latitude  on  sines^^ 
will  reach  from  the  distance  864  to.  the  difference  o(.' 
bogitude  558  OB  number^. 

Prob.  rV.  Given  one  latitude,  cdur8e,and  departure^ . 
to  find  the  other  latitude,  distance,  and  di&ience  of 
longitude. 

Example.  A  ship  from  hutitode  26^  30^  N,  and  lon- 
gitude 45^  30'  W|  sailed  Nf^N  till  her  departure  ia 
216  miles..  Required  the  distance nii^  and  latitude  and 
lengitade  come  to  ? 

By  Construction, 

With  the  course  and  departure  construct  the  triangle 
ABC  f  fig.  20.),  and  the  distance  and  difference  of  la-  j^^^ 
titude  bemg  measured,  will  be  found  equal  to  340  and 
263  respectively.  Hence  the  latitude  come  to  is  30^  S2>^; 
and  middle  latitude  28^^42'.  Now  make  the  angle 
BCD  equal  to  the  middle  latitud^^  and  the  difference 
of  longitude  DC  applied*  to  tbe  scale  will  measure  246'. 

By  Calculation^ 

T6  find  the- distance.. 
As  the  sine  ef /the  course         3v  points  • 
is  to  radius  -  -  - 

so  is  the  departure        -         2l6<' 


ao. 


9.8023& 
2000000 

2-33445 


34P-5 


2.53tt< 


% 


(K).Thfa  proportion  is  obvious,  bj^conaidcring  the  whole  figure  as  an  oblique-angled  plane  triangle. 


664  N' A  V  1  G  A^  T  1  O  N.  PiatUca 

Midaie  ^0  fiml  tlie  diSkrexxe  of  Ifttitodf.       '  To  find  tlie  d2flei<Dti<re  ortoojriinde^  ^^ 


lAtitade  As  tlie  tangent  of  the  course     3^  points 
Sailtng;    ]$  to  radius  -  .  -  . 


Fig.  a  I. 


80  is  the  departure 


216 


9.9141^     As  the  €Osifie<>f  middle  latitude     42*    6*        9^87339  I^mtt^ 
]  o.GOOOO     is  to  the  sine  of  the  coarse  50  39         9-8^834 

2.33445     so  is  the  distance  -  -  246  2.39093 


to  the  difference  of  lat.      263.2 
Latitude  sailed  from      26^  30'N 
Difference  of  latitude      4    23  N 


half 


2.42028 

26*^  3a'N 

2    12N 


Latitude  come  to  30     53  N.  Mid.  ]at»  28    42 

To  find  the  differcuce  of  longitude. 


As  radius 

is  to  the  secant  of  the  mid.  lat.  28^  4Z' 

so  is  the  departure  -  216 

to  the  difference  of  longitude  246*2 

I^ongitude  left  -  -  - 

Difference  of  longitude 


JO.OOCOO 

J  0.05693 

2-^3445 
a.3913* 
45^  30'W 
4    6£ 


Longitude  come  to  -  -  41    24  W 

By  Inspection 

Under  the  course  3^  points,  and  opposite  to  108, 
half  the  .departure,  the  distance  is  170,  and  difference 
•of  latitude  131^$  which  doubled,  give  340  and  263 
for  the  distance  and  difference  of  latitude  respectively. 

Again,  to  middle  latitude  28^  42',  and  departure 
108,  the  distance  is  123  \  which  doubled  is  246  the 
difference  of  longitude^ 

By  GunterU  Scale* 
The  extent  from,  the  course  3J-  points,  -en  sine 
rhumbs,  to  jthtt^departnre  21-6*4^  numbers,  will  reach 
from  8  points  on^sine  rhumbs  to  about  340,  the  distance 
on  numbers  \  and  the  same  extent  will  reach  from  a\ 
points,  the  complement  of  the  coarse)  to  263,  the  dif- 
ference of  latitude  on  numbers ;  and  tlie  extent  from 
-.'^t^  iS' the  complement  of  the  middle  latitude,  to -90^ 
on  sines,  will  reach  from  the  departure '2t6  to  the  dif- 
ference of  longitude  246  on- cumbers. 

Prob.  V.  Given  botir  latitilifea^od  distance  \  to  find 
the  course  and  difference  of  longitude. 

Example,  From  Cape  Saible,  inr  latitude  43^  H'N, 

'  and  longitude  65^  39^  W,-»^8faip  sailed  246  miles  on  s 

direct  oopvse  between  the  sonth  andeasC  and  is  then 

by  observation  in  latitude  40^  48'N.     Bequired  the 

course  and  longitude  in  ? 

Latitude  Cape  Sable,        43*  24'N  43°  2^ 

Latitude  by  obser^^atioUt  40  48  N  40  48  N 

'  Difference  of  latitude,         2  36=156',  sum  24    12 

Middle  latitude       42     6 

By  Constmcium, 

Make  AB  (£§•  21.)  eqnalta  156  miles  ^  draw  BC 

perpendicular  to  AB,  and  make  AC  eqmd  to  246 

miles.    Draw  CD,  making  with  CB  an  angle  of  4!^ 

'^  the  middle  latitude.     ^^w.-DC  will  be  found  to 

measure  256,  and  the  CiDune  or  angle  An  will  jiie«Biiie 

5t>*^  39'- 

By  Calctilaiwn, 

To  find  the  course. 

As  the  distance  •  246 

is  to  the  difference  of  latitdde     156 

-fio  is  radius,  ... 

to  the  cosine  of  ihe  course,        50^  39^ 


2.39093 
2.19312 

10^0000 


to  the  difference  of  longitude 
Longitu&  Cape  Sable, 
Difiererice  of  longitude 


256.4 


2.40888 
4    i6£ 


Longitude  come  to  -  -  -  61    23W 

By  Irnpection, 

The  distance  246,  and  difierence  of  latitude  156,  sre 
firand  to  correspond  above  4  i  points,  and  the  dcpartore 
is  190.1.  Now,  to  the  middle  latitude  42^,  and  de* 
parture  190.1  in  a  latitude  column,  the  eorrespoodisg 
distance  is  256)  which  is  the  difference  af  longitude  r»* 
^uin^d* 

By  Guntcr^s  Scale. 

The  extent  from  246  miles,  the  distance,  to  1 56,  ihe 
difference  of  latitude  on  nomlxTS,  will  reach  from  9:^ 
to  about  39'''x,  the  complement  of  the  couise  00  tin 
line  of  sines :  and  the  extent  from  48%  the  coropleneot 
of  the  middle  latitude;,  to  |0°y,  the  course  oa  m^ 
«rill  reach  &om  the  distance  246m.  to  the  differeocc  of 
Jongitude  256m.  on  nnmbers. 

PitOB.  VI,  Given  both  latitades  and  depattnrt; 
Mmgjiii  ihe  course,  distance,  and  diference  of  kogi* 
tilde. 

Example^  A  shi^  from  Cape  St  Vincent,  in  latitodc 
37^  2'N,  longitude  9^  2'VV,  satis  betwe<m  the  sooth  sad 
west;  the  latitude  come  to  is  18^  16^,  and  depaitsrc 
638  miles.  Beqnired  the  coane  and  distance  run,  sod 
longitude  come  to  ? 

Latitude  Cap^  St  Mncent,  37®    ^N  3jf"  i 

Latitude  come  to        -        18    16N  j8  16 


Difference  of  latitude  J  8   46s  2 1 26  sam  55   iS 

Middle  latitude  17   39 

By  Constmctftm. 

Make  AB  (fig.  22.)  equal  to  the  difference  of  Iiti'|%  u. 
tude  1 1 26  miles^  aud  BC  equal  to  the  departure  838, 
and  join  AC  ^  draw  CD  so  as  to  make  an  aMie  Tritb 
CB  equal  to  the  middle  latitude  27^  39^.  llien  tfce 
coarse  being  measured  on  ohordii  is  about  36°|»  sod 
the  distance  and  diflerencc  of  lengitadie,  measured  ss 
the  line  of  eqnal  parts,  will  he  foond  to  be  1403  sod 
946  i^peclively. 

By  Calculation. 

To  find  the  course. 
As  the  .difference  of  latitude        J 1 26 
Is  to  the  depaitufe        -        -       838 
so  is  radius        •         •  .  - 


to  the  tangent  of  the  conne      36P  3^ 

To  find  the  distanoe. 
AsradiBs        .... 
is  to  Uie  secant  of  the  conrse    36^  39^ 
BO  is  the  diffierenoe  of  latitude         1 1 26 


^PS4 
2.92324 

JO.00000 

9.87170 

louooooo 

3-05'54 


9.80219     to  the  distance 


1403 


Fhurtice. 


To  find  the 


mule 
T^tftndff  As 

^|5»r^ii  to  the  secant  of  mid.  kt  rf  ^ 
so  IS  the  departure        ^        838 


N  A  V  I  G 

of  longitude. 


4< 


»1f.i5. 


a; 


10.00000 

10.05266 

2.92324 


A  T  I  O  N-  665 

To  find  the  difference  of  longitude*  Middle 

As  radius  -  •  -  lO.OOOOO  Latitude 

is  to  the  secant  of  mid.  lat.       47®  25'  1 0. 1 6963  .  SaiHng. 

so  is  the  departure         -         -       210  2.32222 


to  the  difference  of  longitude 
Longitude  Cape  St  Vincent 
Difference  of  longitude 

Lon^tnde  come  to 


946  ^•i>7590 

9*  2'W 

15  46W 

24  48W 

By  Inspection. 
One  tenth  of  the  difference  of  latitude  11 2.6  and 
of  the  departure  83.8,  are  found  to  affree  under  3!: 
points,  and  the  corresponding  distance  is  140,  which 
multiplied  hy  10  gives  1400  miles.  And  to  middle 
latitude^  27^Tt  ^^^  2^9*5  ^^^  fourth  of  the  departure 
in  a  latitude  column,  the  dutance  is  236.5 ;  which  mul- 
tiplied hy  4  is  946,  the  difference  of  longitude. 

By  GunterU  Scale. 
The  extent  from  the  difference  of  latitude  1x26  to 
the  departure  838  on  numbers,  will  reach  from  45^ 
to  36^j  the  course  on  tangents  ^  and  the  extent  from 
5^*f  the  complement  of  the  course  to  90*  on  sines, 
will  reach  from  11 26  to  1402  the  distance  on  numbers. 
Lastly,  the  extent  from  62°f  the  complement  of  the 
middle  latitude,  to  90^  on  sines,  will  reach  from  the 
dlepartnre  838  to  &  difference  of  longitude  946  on 
from  hers. 

Prob.  VII.  Given  one  latitude,  distance,  and  depar- 
ture, to  find  the  other  latitude,  course,  and  difference 
of  longitude. 

Example.  A  ship  from  Bourdeaux,  in  latitude  44? 
50^  N,  and  longitude  o**  35^  W,  sailed  between  the 
north  and  west  374  miles,  and  made  210  miles  of  west- 
ing. Required  the  course,  and  the  latitude  and  longi- 
tude come  to  ? 

Su  Construction. 
With  the  given  distance  and  departure  make  the 
triangle  ABC  (fig  23.).  Now  the  course  being  mea- 
sured on  the  line  of  chords  is  about  34®},  and  the  dif- 
ference of  latitude  on  the  line  of  numbers  is  309  miles: 
hence  the  latitude  come  to,  is  49^  59^  N,  and  middle 
latitude  47^  25'.  Then  make  the  augle  BCD  equal 
to  47^^  25^,  and  DC  being  measured  will  be  310  nules, 
the  differenoe  of  longitude. 

By  Calculation^ 
To  nnd  the  course. 
As  the  distance  -  374 

is  to  the  departure  -  210 

so  is  radius         -         - 


2.57287 

2.j[2222 

X  0.00000 


to  the  sine  of  the  course  34^  lo' 

To  find  the  diA*rence  of  latitude. 
As  radins  ... 

is  to  the  eoaine  of  the  course        34^  lo' 
so  is  the  distance        -        •         374 


to  the  diSerence  of  latitude 
Latitude  of  Bourdeaux  44^  5 
Difcrenee  of  latitude         5      9N 


JS^' 


half 


9-74935 

xo.ooooo 

9.91722 
^•57287 

2.40059 

44^  50^ 
2    33 


LaOtude  come  to  49     59NMid.kt.47     25 

Vol,  XIV,  I*art  11.  ^ 


to  the  difference  of  longitude       310.3 
Longitude  of  Bourdeaux 
Diflerence  of  longitude 


2.49185 
0°  35'W 
5    loW 

5    45W 


Longitude  in  -  -  -  - 

By  Inspection. 

The  half  of  the  distance  187,  and  of  the  departure 
105,  are  found  to  agree  nearest  under  34%  and  the 
difi[erence  of  latitude  answering  thereto  is  155  9  which 
doubled  is  310  miles. 

Again,  to  middle  latitude  47^  25',  and  departure 
105  in  the  latitude  column,  the  corresponding  distance 
is  155  miles,  which  doubled  is  310  miles,  the  diflerence 
of  longitude. 

By  Crunter*s  Scale. 

Tiie  extent  from  the  distance  374  miles  to  the  depar- 
ture 210  miles  on  the  line  of  numbers,  will  reach  from 
90°  to  34^  lo',  the  course  on  the  line  of  sines ;  and 
the  extent  from  90^  to  55^  50',  the  complement  of  the 
course  on  sines,  will  reac^  from  tbe  distance  374  to  the 
difference  of  latitude  309  ihiles  on  numbers. 

Again,  the  extent  from  42^  35^,  the  complement  of 
the  middle  latitude,  to  90^  on  sines,  will  reach  from 
the  departure  210  to  tbe  difference  of  longitude  310  on 
numbers. 

Pa  OB.  VIII.  Given  one  latitude,  departure,  and  dif- 
ference of  longitude,  to  find  the  other  latitude,  course, 
and  distance. 

Example.  A  ship  from  latitude  54*  £&  N,  longitude 
i^  lo'  W,  sailed  between  the  north  and  east,  till  by 
observation  she  is  found  to  be  in  longitude  5^  26'  £, 
and  has  made  220  miles  of  easting.  Required  the  lati- 
tude come  to,  course,  and  distance  run  ? 
Longitude  left         -         -         -  !•    10^ 

Longitude  come  to  *•  5     26  £ 

Difference  of  longitude  -  6    36=396 

By  Construction* 
Make  BC  (fig.  24.)  equal  to  the  departure  220,  and  pig.  24, 
CD  equal  to  the  differenoe  of  longitude  396 :— then 
the  middle  latitude  BCD  being  measured,  will  be  found 
equal  to  59^  15^:  hence  the  latitude  come  to  is  57^  34% 
and  difference  of  latitude  1 58^.  Now  make  AB  equal 
to  158,  and  join  AC,  which  applied  to  the  scale,  will 
measure  271  miles.  Also  the  course  BAC  being  mea- 
sured on  chords  will  be  found  equal  to  S4^y^ 


By  Calculation. 
To  find  the  middle  latitude. 


As  tbe  depaiture 

is  to  the  diff.  of  longitude 

so  is  radius 

To  tbe  secant  of  mid.  lat. 

IHuble,  mid.  lat. 
Latitude  left 

Latitude  come  to 
Diff.  of  latitude 


220 
39^ 


2.34242 

2.59769 

10.00000 


56®  15*      10.25527 


112  30 
54  56 
57    34 


4P 


a    38=158  milet 


To 


6^6 


NAVIGATION. 


Practitt 


Miifdie  To  find  the  course. 

liatiuido    As  the  diiTerence  of  latitude         158 
^"'^'"g*  ^  is  to  the  departure         -  220. 

so  is  radius         ...         - 

• 

to  tlie  tangent  of  the  course     54°  19'^ 

To  End  the  distance. 
As  radius  ... 

is  to  the  secant  of  the  course    54°  19' 
so  is  the  diffei*ence  of  latitude        1 58 


tp  the  distance 


Fig.  25. 


2.19866 

2.3424a 

IQ.OOOQO 

10.14376 

iO.OQOQ9 

10.23410 
2.19866 

2.43276 


270.9 

By  Inspection, 

As  the  differences  of  longitude  and  departure  exceed 
the  limits  of  the  tables,  let,  therefore,  their  halves  be 
taken  ^  these  are  198  and  110  respectively.  Now 
these  ai*e  found  to  agree  exactly  in  the  page  marked  5 
points  at  the  bottom.  TVhcnce  the  middle  latitude  is 
56^  15',  and  difference  of  latitude  158  miles. 

Again,  the  difference  of  latitude  158  and  depar- 
ture 220  will  be  found  to  agree  nearly  above  54° 
the  course,  ^nd  the  distance  on  the  same  line  is  271 
miles.. 

By  Gunter^s  Scale. 

The  extent  from  tbe  difference  of  longitude  396  to 
tbe  departure  220  on  numbers,  will  reach  from  90^  to 
33°  45',  the  complement  of  the  middle  latitude  on  sines  ^ 
and  hence  the  difference  of  latitude  is  158  miles.  Now 
the  extent  from  158  to  220  on  numbers,  wi!l  reach 
from  45^  to  54^j-  on  tangents  ;  and  the  extent  fi*om  the 
complement  of  the  course  35°y  to  90^  on  sines,  will 
reach  from  tbe  difference  of  latitude  1 58  to  the  distance 
271  on  numbers. 

Prob.  IX.  Given  the  course  and  distance  sailed,  and 
difference  of  longitude  \  to  find  both  latitudes. 

Example*  A  ship  from  a  port  in  north  latitude,  sailed 
S  E  ^S  438  miles,  and  diff'ered  her  longitude  7°  28'. 
Required  tbe  latitude  sailed  from,  and  that  come  to  ^ 

By  Construction*. 
With  the  course  and  distance  construct  tbe  triangle 
ABC  (fig.  25.),  and  make  DC  equal  to  448  tbe  gi- 
ven difference  of  longitude.  Now  tbe  middle  latitude 
BCD  will  measure  48°  58',  and  tbe  difference  of  lati- 
tude AB  3^24  miles  :  hence  the  latitude  lefl  is  51^  40^, 
and  that  come  to  46°  i(/. 

By  dalculation, 

'To  find  the  difference  of  latitude. 

As  radius               -               -              -  1 0^0000 

i^  to  the  cosine  of  the  course         3^  pts.  ^86979 

so  is  the  distance             -            438'  2.64147 

to  tbe  difference  of  latitude      324.5  2.51126 

To  find  the  middle  latitude.. 

As  the  difference  of  longitude     448  2.65128 

is  to  the  distance         -         -       438  2.64147 

.80  is  the  sine^of  the  course     -       3^  pts.  9.82708 

to  the  consine  of  mid.  latitude      48^  58^  9.81727 

half  difference  of  latitude  2    42    - 


By  Inspection.  \jnaaik 

Ta  the  course  ^\  points,  and  half  the  distance  219  v^f^ 
miles,  the  departure  is  1 47.0,  and  difference  of  lali- ^'^^ 
tude  162.2^  wbicli.doubled  is  324.4.     Again,  to  half 
the  difference  of  longitude  224  in  a  distance  colomo, 
the  difference  of  latitude   is   149.9  ^^^^  4^^  ^ 
146.9  over  49^ 

Now,  as  30  :  29  ::  60'  :  58'. 
Hence  the  middle  latitude  is  48^  5S':  the  latitude  sail- 
ed from  is  therefore  51®  40',  and  latitude  ccme  to  46^  i 6'. 

By  Gunfer^s  Scale* 
The  extent  from  8  points  to  4^  points,  tbe  comple- 
ment of  the  course  on  sine  rhumbs,  will  reach  from  tLe 
distance  438  miles  to  the  difference  of  latitude  32450a 
numbers.  And  the  extent  from  the  difference  of  longi- 
tude 448,  to  the  distance  438  on  numbers,  will  reacli 
from  the  course  42°  1 1'  to  the  complement  of  tbe  roltl- 
dle  latitude  41^  2'  on  sines.  Hence  the  latitude  left  i& 
51°  40',  and  that  come  to  46°  16'. 

Pros.  X.  To  determine  the  difference 'of  longitoile 
made  good  upon  compound  courses,  by  middle  ktitode 
sailing. 

LiuLE  I.  With  the  several  courses  and  distances  (ioi 
the  difference  of  latitude  and  difparture  made  good,  uul 
the  sbip^s  present  latitude,  as  in  traverse  sailing. 

Now  ent^r  the  traverse  table  with  the  given  mitUls 
latitude,  and  the  departure  in  a  lacitude  column,  dir 
corresponding  distance  will  be  the  difference  of  loogi- 
tiide,  of  the  same  name  with  the  departure. 

Example.  A  ship  from  Cape  Clear,  in  latitade  51* 
18'  N,  longitude  9^  46' W,  sailed  as  follows  :—8\V^S 
34  miles,  W^N  63  miles,  NNW  48  miles,  and  N£iE 
85  miles.    Required  the  latitude  and  longitude  come  \»1 


Coorses. 

Dist 

Ciff  of  Latitude 

Dep^iiturr. 

N 

S 

E 

w 

WAN 

NNW 

N£;E 

N  34°  W 
Latitude  0 

54 

48 
85 

.79 
Cap< 

12.3 
44.4 

53-9 

44.9 

65-7 

3C.0 

61.8 
184 

110.6 
44.9 

44.9 

:i    6N 

51  18N 

65-7 

1 10.2 
65.7 

44-5 

65.7= 

i  Clear 

Latitude  come  to 

Sum         .          .           i( 

Middle  latitude 

< 

Now^  to  middle  latitude  51 

parture  44.5  in  a  latitud 

ence  of  longitude  is  72  ii 

Longitude  of  Cape  C 

Difference  of  longitu 

52  24N 
^3  42 

*»  51'  or 
e  columi 
n  a.dista 
lear 
de 

• 

52",  and  it- 

a,  tbe  £ta- 

oteeoiatoB. 

946W 

I  12  W 

Longit 

ude  c( 

>me  to 

10°  j8'W 

Latitude  sailed  from 
Latitude  come  to 


51 
46 


40 
16 


The  above  method  is  not  always  practised  to  UL 
the  difference  of  longitude  made  good  in  ibe  cobtk 
'  1  •       of 


Practice. 


N  A  V  I  G 


tfercatjr*!  of  A  day*8  nm  ^  and  wiD,  no  doubt,  give  the  difference 
Sailing,  of  longitude  tolerably  exact  in  any  probable  run  a  ship 
may  make  in  that  time,  especially  near  the  equator. 
But  in  a  high  latitude,  Trben  the  distances  are  consi- 
derable, this  roetliod  is  not  to  be  depended  on.— To  il- 
lustrate this,  let  a  ship  be  supposed  to  sail  from  latitude 
57*  N,  as  follows :  E  240  miles,  N  240  miles,  W  240 
miles,  and  S  240  miles :  then,  by  the  above  method, 
the  ship  will  be  come  to  the  same  place  she  left.  It 
will,  however,  appear  evident  from  the  following 
consideration,  that  this  is  by  no  means  the  case ;  for 
}ct  two  ships,  from  latitude  61°  N,  and  distant  240 
miles,  sail  directly  south  till  they  arc  in  latitude  57°  N; 
now  their  distance  l>cing  computed  by  Problem  IV. 
of  Parallel  Sailing,  wilt  be  269.6  miles ;  and,  there- 
fore, if  the  ship  sailed  as  above,  she  will  be  29.6  miles 
west  of  the  place  sailed  from ;  and  the  error  in  longi- 
tude will  be  equal  to  240  X  secant  61** — secant  57** 
=  29.6  X  secant  57®= 54.4. 


A  T  I  O  N.  667 

Theorems  might  be  investigated  for  computing  tbe  Klcrcator*^ 
errors  to  which  the  above  method  is  liable,     lliese  cor-    Sailing, 
rections  may,  however,  be  avoided,  by  using  the  follow- 
ing method. 

Rule  II.  Complete  the  traverse  table  as  before,  to 
which  annex  five  columns  y  the  first  column  is  to  con- 
tain the  several  latitudes  the  ship  is  in  at  the  end  of 
each  course  and  distance  ;  the  second,  the  sums  of  each 
following  pair  of  latitude  ^  the  third,  half  the  sums,  or 
middle  latitudes ;  and  the  fourth  and  fifth  columns  arc 
to  contain  the  difFercnces  of  longitude 

Now  find  the  diflerence  of  longitude  answering  to 
each  middle  latitude  and  its  corresponding  departure, 
and  put  them  in  the  cast  or  west  difFcrence  of  longi* 
tude  columns,  according  to  the  name  of  the  departure. 
Then  the  difFcrence  of  the  sums  of  tbe  cast  and  west 
columns  will  be  the  diflcrence  of  longitude  made  good, 
of  the  same  name  with  the  greater. 


Example,     A  ship  from  Halliford  in  Iceland,  in  lat.  64*^  30'  N,  long.  27**  15' W,  sailed  as  follows  :  SSW  46 
miles,  SW61  miles,  S&W  59  mites,  SE&E  86  miles,  S^E-^E  79  miles.     Required  the  lat.  and  long,  come  to? 


Traverse  Table. 


Counics. 


Dist. 


SSW 

sw 

S^AV 

SEAE 

S^EfE 


46 
61 

59 
86 

76 


Difi*.  of  Lat. 


Depai  lure. 


Longitude  Table. 


N 


42.5 

57-9 
47.8 

72.7 


W 


Succcsjtivc 
Ladtudeii 


264.0 


i 


71-5 

22.0 


17.6 

43-  I 
»i-5 


64°  30' 
63     48 


63 
62 

6i 

60 


5 

7 

19 
6 


Sums. 


Miildle 
Lfttitudcs. 


128°    18' 
126     53 
125      12 
123      26 
121      25 


64' 

^3 
62 

61 

60 


9' 
27 
36 

43 
43 


DifT.  of  Longitude 


E 


150.9 

4^o 


W 


By  Rule  I. 
Latitude  Halliford 
Diflerence  of  latitude 


93'S 
72.2 

21.3 


72.2 


64°  30'N 
4    24  S 


Difference  of  longitude 
Longitude  Halliford 

Longitude  in 


195.1 
161.8 


34-1 
27.15 

26.41 


40.4 
96.4 
25.0 


161.8 


W 


Latitude  in         -  -         -         60      6  N 

Sum         -  -  -  124    36 

Middle  latitude  -  -         62     18 

Now,  to  middle  lat.  62  18,   and  departure 
21.3,  the  diiFercncc  of  long,  is  46  E. 
*  Long.  Halliford         -  -  27   1 5  W 


Jjongitude  in         -         -         -  16  29 

The  error  of  comm.  method,  in  this  Ex.  is  1 2*. 


Chap.  VL  OfMercatot's  Sailing. 

It  was  observed  in  Middle  Latitude  Sailing,  that  the 
difference  of  longitude  made  upon  an  oblique  rhumb 
could  not  be  exactly  determined  by  usiag  the  middle 
latitude.  In  Mercator's  sailing,  the  diiEerence  of  lon- 
gitude is  very  easily  found,  and  the  several  problems  of 
sailing  resolved  with  the  utmost  accuracy,  by  the  assist* 
ance  of  Mercator^s  chart  or  equivalent  tables. 


In  Mercator's  chart,  the  meridians  are  straight  lines 
parallel  to  each  other  ^  and  the  degrees  of  latitude, 
which  at  the  equator  are  equal  to  those  of  longitude, 
increase  with  the  distance  of  the  parallel  from  tlie  equa- 
tor. The  parts  of  the  meridian  thus  increased  are  call- 
ed meridional  parts,  A  table  of  these  parts  was  first 
constructed  by  Mr  Edward  Wiiglit,  by  the  continual 
addition  of  the  secants  of  each  minute  of  latitude. 

For  by  parallel  sailing, 
-R :  Cos.  of  lat ::  part  of  equal. :  similar  part  of  parallel. 

4  P  2  And 


668  N 

Mercator*!      And  faec^ose  the  equator  wni 
Sailing,     are  equal  ^  therefore, 

»  K :  COS.  lat. ::  ^rt  of  meridian :  aimilar  pftrt  of  parallel. 
Or  ^c.  lat. :  R ::  part  of  merid. :  similar  part  of  parallel. 
-J  secant  latitude    R 

'  part  of  meridian  '"*'  part  of  parallel ' 
But  in  Mercator^s  chart  the  parallels  of  latitude  are 
equal,  and  radius  is  a  constant  quality.  If,  therefore, 
the  latitude  he  assumed  successively  equal  to  *  i',2',  3^^ 
&c.  and  the  corresponding  parts  of  the  enlarged  meri- 
dian be  represented  by  a,  6,  r,  &c. }  then, 

secant  i'     ^       secant  2'     __       secant  y     .  « 

part  of  mer.  a  ""  part  of  mer.  ^.""  part  of  roer.  c.  * 
Hence  secant  1' :  part  of  mer.  a  ::  secant  2'  :  part  of 
mer.  b  ::  secant  3'  :  part  of  mer.  c,  &c. 

Therefore  by  12th  V.  Euclid. 
Secant  i' :  part  of  mer.  a  ::  secant  i' -{-secant  2'-|-se- 
cant  3',  &c. :  parts  of  a-|-&-|-  mer.  r,  &c. 

That  is,  the  meridional  parts  of  any  given  latitude 
are  equal  to  the  sam  of  the  secants  of  the  minutes  in 
that  latitude  (e). 

Since  CD  :  LK  ::  R  :  secant  LD,  fig.  15. 

And  in  the  triangle  C£D, 

ED  :  CD  ::  R  :  tangent  CED ; 

Therefore,  ED  :  LK  ::  R* ;  secant  LD  x  tangent  CED 

H  j-ir^ED  X  sec.  X  LD  X  tang.  CED^ 

R* 
ED  X  sec.  LD      tang.  CED 


A  V  I  G  A  T  I  O  N. 

on  the  globe 


But 


R 

ED  X  9ez.  LD 
R 


R 


is  tlic  enlarged  portion  of  the 


meridian  answering  to  ED.     Now  the  sum  of  all  die 

..     EDxaecantLD  ,.       ^      . 

quantities ^ corresponding  to  the  sum 

of  all  the  ED^s  contained  in  AS,  will  be  the  meridional 
parts  answering  to  the  diflerence  of  latitude  AS*;  and 
MN  is  the  sum  of  all  the  corresponding. portions  of  the 
equator  LK. 

_.  CED 

Whence  MN=  mer.  diff.  of  lat.  X  tangent  — ^ — • 

That  is,  the  difference  of  longitude  is  equal  to  the  me- 
ridional difference  of  latitude  multiplied  by  the  tangent 
of  the  course,  and  divided  by  the  radius. 

This  equation  answers  to  a  right-angled  rectilineal 
triangle,  having  an  angle  equal  to  the  course  ;  the  -ad- 
jacent side  equal  to  the  meridional  difference  of  latitude^ 
and  the  opposite  side  the  difference  of  longitude.     This 
triangle  is,  therefore,  similar  to  a  triangle  constructed, 
with  the  course  and  difference  of  latitude,  according  to 
Plate  '  ^^  principles  of  plane  sailing,  and  the  homologous  sides 
CCCLXIV.  will  be  proportional.     Hence,  if,  in  fig.  26.  the  angle 
iig.  26.     A  represents  the  course,  AB  the  difference  of  latitude, 
and  if  AD  be  made  equal  to  the  meridional  difference 
of  latitude ;   then  DE,  drawn  perpendicular  to  AD, 
meeting  the  distance  produced  to  E,  will  be  the  differ- 
lence  of  longitude. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  observe,  that  themeiidional 
difference  of  latitude  is  found  by  the  same  xules  as  the 


ftirtk*. 

proper  difference  of  t«tkiide }  chat  b,  if  tht  giiCB  h  Mmmi 
titodes  be  of  the  same  name,  the  difference  of  the  ew-  Ui^ 
responding  meridional  parts  will  be  the  meridional  ^if- ^ 
ierence  of  latitude  ;   b«t  if  the  latitudes  are  of  a  c«> 
trary  denomination,  the  sum  of  these  parts  will  be  the 
meridional  difference  of  latitude. 

Pros.  L  Given  the  latitudes  and  longitudes  of  tw» 
places,  to  find  the  course  and  daqtance  between  them. 

jEJx.  Required  the  course  and  distance  between  Cipe 
Finisterre,  in  latitude  42^  ^Tf  N.  longitude  9^  if  ^', 
and  Port  Praya  in  the  island  of  St  Jago,  in  hXitxnk 
14*  54'  N,  and  longitude  23®  29'  W  ? 

I^t.  Cape  Finbterre  42^  52'     Mer.  parts    2852 

Latitude  Port  Praya  14   54 


Difference  of  lat.  =27   58 

1678 
Longitude  Cape  Finisterre 
Longitude  Port  Praya 


Mer.  parts      904 
Mer.  diff.  Itt.  194& 


9" 
^3 


17'W 
29  W 


14   12=852. 


Diffl  longitude 

By  Construction* 
Draw  the  straight  line  AD  (fig.  26.)  to  represent  the l^-^- 
meridian  of  Cape  Finisterre,  upon  which  lay  t6  Afi, 
AD  equal  to  1678,  and  1948,  the  proper  andneri^ 
onal  differences  of  latitude  ^  from'D  draw  DE  perpes- 
dicttlar  to  AD,  and  equal  to  the  difference  of  bmgitii^ 
852,  join  AE,  and  draw  EC  parallel  to  DE  *,  then  the 
difference  AC  will  measure  1831  miks,  and  the  conn 

BAC  23^37'. 

By  Calculation. 

To  find  the  course. 

As  the  meridian  di&rence  of  lat.     1948  -    328959 

is  to  the  difference  of  longitude     -     852  -    3*95044 

so  is  radius       .         -        .        .         -  icooooo 


to  the  Ungent  of  the  course  23*  37' 

To  find  the  distance. 

As  radius 

is  to  the  secant  of  the  coarse,      23^  37' 
so  is  the  difference  of  latitude        1678 


to  the  distance 


1831 


9.64085 

lOOOOOO 

10x3798 


By  Inspectwrim 
As  the  meridian  difference  of  latitude  and  difleienoe 
of  longitude  are  too  large  to  be  (band  in  the  tables,  U 
the  tenth  of  each  be  taken  -,  these  are  194J  aa^  85.2 
re^ctively.  Now  these  are  found  to  agree  neare^m- 
der  24^$  and  to  1 67.8,  one-tenth  of  the  prsper^fc- 
ence  of  latitude,  the  distance  is  ahont  183  miks,  iMA 
multiplied  by  10  is  1830  miles. 

By  Gunter*^  Scale. 
The  extent  1948,  the  meridional  difference  •!  !•»• 
tode,  -lo  852,  the  difference  of  longitude  00  tbe  fae 
of  numbers,  will  reach  bm  45**  ^  ^3^*  37**  ^ 


(e)  This  is  not  strictly  true  j  for  instead  of  taking  the  sum  of  the  secanto  of  every  minute  in  the  £MmM  * 
the  girefl  parallel  from  the  equator,  the  sum  of  the  secants  of  every  point  of  liUitadc  shodd  he  taken. 


IfaMitof^tOii  the  line  of  teiiMnte.    And  the  extent  bom  66^  23^ 
SMliog.    the  couiplemeDt  of  the  course  to  90°  00  sinesy  ^iil  xeach 
from  1678,  the  proper  difierence'of  latitadei  to  183I9 
the  di^taoice  oa  die  line  of  numbers. 


Wig.  a7« 


pROB.  II.  Given  the  course  and  distaoce,  sailed  from 
a  place  whose  situation  is  known,  to  find  the  latitude 
and  longitude  of  the  place  come  to. 

Exampic.  A  ship  from  Cape  Hinlopen  in  Virginia,  in 
latitude  38°  4/  N,  longitude  75°  4'  W,  sailed  267  miles 
N£^N.     Required  the  ship^s  present  place  ? 

By  Constructnm, 
With  the  course  and  distance  sailed,  construct  the 
triangle  ABC  (fig.  27.)  y  and  the  difference  of  latitude 
AB  being  measured,  is  222  miles  :  hence  the  latitude 
come  to  is  42^  2^  ^$  >uid  the  meridional  difference  of 
latitude  293.  Make  AD  equal  to  293}  and  draw 
!D£  perpendicular  to  AD,  and  meeting  AC  produced 
In  £ :  then,  the  difference  of  longitude  D£  being  ap- 
plied to  the  scale  of  equal  parts  will  measure  196}  the 
longitude  come  to  is  therefore  7 1^  48'  W. 

JSy  Caktilation, 

To  find  the  difference  of  latitude. 

As  radius  -  -  zo. 00000. 

is  to  the  cosine  of  the  course,  -    3  points    -     9*91985 

80  is  the  distance        -  267  -         2.42051 

to  the  difference  of  latitude  -   222         -  2.34636 

Iiat.Cape  Hinlopen  =:  38°  47'  N.  Mer.  parts  2528 
Difference  of  lat.      -     3  42  N. 


N  A  V  i  G  A  T  I  0  Nf.  €69 

E^campk^  A  ship  from  Port  Canso  in  Nova  ScoUa,  Mefcator*s 
in  latitude  45''  20'  N,  V>ngitude  60°  55^  TV,  sailed  S£    ^uling^ 
J  S,  and  by  observation  is  found  to  be  in  latitude  41®         ' 
14'  N.    Required  the  distance  sailed,  and  longitude 
come  to  P 

Lat.  Port  Canso      *•     45°  20'  N  -  Mer.  parts  •  3058 
Lat.  in  by  observation  41  14  N  -  Mer.  parts  -  2720 


Latitude  come  to    -      42  29  N.  Mer.  parts  2821 


Meridional  difierence  of  latitude 
To  find  the  difference  of  longitude. 
As  radius         .         -         .         -         - 
is  to  tangent  of  the  course,  3  peints 

so  is  the  mer.  diff.  of  latitude  -  293 


293 

10.00000 
9.82489 
2.46687 


to  the  difference  of  longitude  -     195.8-      -    2*29176 
Longitude  Cape  Hinlopen  75®    4'  W 

Difference  of  longitude         -  3    16  E 


Longitude  come  to 


71     48  W. 


By  Inspection, 
To  the  course  3  points,  and  distance  267  miles,  the 
difference  of  latitude  is  222  miles  :  hence  the  latitude  in 
is  42^  29^,  and  the  meridional  difference  of  latitude 
293.  Again,  to  course  three  points,  and  146.5  half  the 
roer.  difference  of  latitude,  the  departure  Li  97.9,  which 
doubled  is  195.8,  the  difference  A  longitude. 

By  GunterU  Scaie. 
The  extent  from  8  points  to  the  complement  of  the 
course  5  points,  on  sine  rhombs,  will  reach  from  the 
distance  267  to  the  difference  of  latitude  222  on  num- 
bers ^  and  the  extent  firom  4  points  to  5  pmnts  on 
tangent  rhumbs,  will  reach  from  the  meridional  differ- 
ence of  latitude  293  to  the  difference  of  longitude  196 
on  numbers. 

pROB,  lil*  Given  the  latitudes  and  bearing  of  two 
places }  to  find  their  distance  and  difference  of  longi- 
tude. 


Difference  of  lat.     -      4     6=246   Mer.  diff.  lat.  338 

By  Construction. 
Make  AB  (fig.  20.)  equal  to  246,  and  AD  equal  Fig.  18. 
^^  33S }  draw  A£,  making  an  angle  with  AD  equal 
to  3^  points,  and  draw  BC,  D£  perpendicular  to  AD. 
Now  AC  being  applied  to  the  scale,  will  measure  332, 
and  D£  306. 

By  Calculation* 

To  find  the  distance. 

As  radius  ■  -  .       -  .      •         10.00000 

is  to  the  secant  of  the  course,    -  3I  points  -  10.130I1 

so  is  the  difference  of  latitude     -  .246  -     -       2.39093 

to  the  distance  -  332      -         2.521x4 

To  fiud  the  difference  of  longitude.  ' 
As  radius  -  -         io.ooooa 

is  to  the  tangent  of  the  course,  -  3^  points  -  9.95729 
so  is  the  mer.  diff.  of  latitude  -  338     -     -         2.52092 

to  the  difference  of  longitude  -  306.3  -     -      2.48621 
lH>ngitude  Port  Canso        -     6c9  sf  ^ 
Difference  of  longitude    •  §     6E» 

Longitude  in  -  -   53  49^    . 

By  Inspection, 
Under  the  course  3)-  points,  and  opposite  to  half 
the  difference  of  latitude  123  in  a  latitude  column  is 
166  in  a  distance  colunm,  which  doubled  is  332  the 
distance ;  and  opposite  to  169,  half  the  meridional  dif- 
frrence  of  latitude  in  a  latitude  column,  is  153  in  a  de- 
parture colunon,  which  doubled  is  306,  the  di&rence  of 
longitude. 

By  GunterU  Scaler 

The  extent  from  the  complement  of  the  eonrse  4f 
points  to  8  points  on  sine  rhumbs,  will  reach  from  the 
difference  of  latitude  246  m.  to  the  distance  332  on 
numbers }  and  the  extent  A^m  4  points,  to  the  course 
3^  points  on  tangent  rhumbs,  will  reach  from  the  me- 
ridional difference  of  latitude  338  to  the  difference  of 
lonjntude  ^66  on  numbers. 

Prob.  IV.  Given  the  latitude  and  longitude  of  the 
place  sailed  from,  the  course  and  depasture }  to  find- 
the  distance,  and  the  latitude  and  longitude  of  the 
place  come  to> 

Example,  A  ship  sailed  from  Sallee  in  latitude 
33°  c8'  N,  loMritude  6^  20^  W,  the  corrected  coufte 
was  NW^ Wf  >V,  and  departure  420  miles.  Required 
the  distance  run,  and  the  latitude  and  longitude  come 
to? 

By  Gmstruction* 
With  the  course  and  departure  construct  the  triangle 
ABC  .(fig.  29.)$  now  AC  and  AB  being  measured,  j«|g^  2^. 
will  be  found  to  be  equal  to  476  and  224  respectively : 

hence 


Lat.  of  St  Mary's, 
lint,  come  to 

Difference  of  lat. 


676  NAVIGATION. 

Merest or*s licnce  ttie  latitude  come  to  is  37^  42'  N,  and  meridional 
Sailing.  diff<^rence  of  latitude  276.  Make  AD  eqpal  to  276  ^ 
and  draw  DE  pci|)endicalar  thereto,  meeting  the  di- 
stance produced  in  £  ^  tlien  DK  applied  to  the  scale 
will  be  found  to  measure  516'.  The  longitude  in  is, 
therefore,  14*  56' W, 

By  Calculation* 
,  To  find  the  distance. 

As  radius  ... 

is  to  the  cosecant  of  the  course     5^  pts     - 
80  is  the  departure  -  420       • 


36-  57'N 
49  i7N 

13    o 

780 


Practice. 

Mer.'puts    3470  Mm*^, 
Men  puts    2389  Snfa^ 

Mer.diff.latlo8i 


10.00000 

10.05457 

2.62325 


to  the  distance  -  476.2 

To  find  the  difference  of  latitude. 
As  radius  - 

is  to  the  co-tangcnt  of  the  course,  57  pts     - 
so  is  the  departure  -  420       - 


2.67782 

10.00000 
9.72796 
2.62325 


to  the  difference  of  latitude 
Lat.  of  Sallee  33**  58' N 
Diff.  of  lat.        3    '44  N 


-      224.5  2  351" 

Mer.  parts    2169 


Lat. 


in 


37    42  N       Mer.  parts  2445 


Mer.  difference  of  latitude  -         276 

To  find  the  difference  of  longitude. 

As  radius  -  -  .  lo.ooooo 

is  to  the  tangent  of  the  course     5-}-  pts     -      10.27204 

60  is  the  mer.  diff.  of  latitude      276       -  2.44091 


to  the  difference  of  longitude 
Longitude  of  Sallee 
Diffiprence  of  longitude 


5*6.3 


.     2.71295 
6°  20'W 
8   36W 


Longitude  in         -  -  *4   56  W 

By  Inspection. 
'  Above  ^\  points  the  course,  and  opposite  to  2io 
half  the  departure,  are  238  and  IJ2^  which  doubled, 
ive  have  4761  and  224,  the  distance  and  difference  of 
latitude  respectively.  And  to  the  same  course,  and 
opposite  to  138,  half  the  meridional  difference  of  lati- 
tude, in  a  latitude  column,  is  258  in  a  departure  co- 
lumti;  which  being  doubled  is  516,  the  difference  of 
longitude. 

By  Gunter^s,  Scale, 

The  extent  from  5-J-  points,  the  course  on  sino 
rhumbs,  to  the  departure  420  on  numbers,  will  reach 
from  eight  point's  on  sine  rhumbs  to  the  distance  476  on 
numbers;  and  from  the  complement  of  the  course  2}- 
points  on  sine  rhumbs,  to  the  difference  of  latitude  224 
on  numbers. 

Again,  the  extent  from  difference  of  latitude  224  to 
the  meridional  difference  of  latitude  276  on  numbers, 
will  i*each  from  the  departure  420  to  the  difference  of 
longitude  516  on  the  same.line. 

Prob.  V.  Given  the  latitudes  of  two  places,  and 
their  distance,  to  find  the  course  and  difference  of  lon- 
gitude. 

Example.  A  ship  from  St  Mary*s,  in   latitude  36® 

57'  N,  longitude  25°  gf  W,  bailed  on  a  direct  course  be- 

tween  the  north  and  east  1162  miles,  and  is  then  by 

observation  in  latitude  49°  57'. N.    Required  the  course 

•steeredi  and  longitude  come  to  ? 

4 


By  Construction. 
Make  AB  (fig.  30.)  equal  to  780,  and  AD  equal  ris^^A 
to  1081 J  draw  BC,  DE  perpendicular  to  AD*,  make 
AC  equal  to  1162',  and  through  AC  draw  ACE. 
Then  the  course  or  angle  A  being  measured,  will  be 
found  equal  to  47^  50',  and  the  difference  of  longitude 
D£  will  be  1 194. 


By  Calculation. 
To  find  the  course. 
As  the  distance  1 162 

is  to  the  difference  of  latitude,         780 
so  is  radius  ... 


3.06521 

2.89209 

10.00:^:0 


to  the  cosine  of  the  course        -     47**  50'    -    9.82683 

To  find  the  difference  of  longitude. 
As  radius         -  -  -  lo.ooccc 

is  to  the  tangent  of  the  course,     47°  50'  10.04302 

so  is  the  mer.  diff.  of  latitude     1081     -  3*033^3 


to  the  difference  of  longitude 
Longitude  of  St  Mary's 
Difference  of  longitude 


II 94       -       3.07685 
25°  9'W 
19    54E 


Longitude  in  -  -  S    ^S^^^ 

By  Inspection. 
Because  the  distance  and  difference  of  latitude  ci* 
cced  the  limits  of  the  table,  take  the  tenth  of  each ; 
these  are  11 6. 2  and  78.0:  No%t  tlieac  are  found  to 
agree  nearest  above  4}  points,  which  is  therefore  ttie 
course  \  and  to  tliis  course,  and  opposite  to  108.1,  one 
tenth  of  the  meridional  difference  of  latitude,  in  a  la- 
titude column,  is  119*3  in  a  departure  column,  irhidi 
multiplied  by  10  is  1 193,  the  difference  of  longitude. 

By  Gunier^s  Scale. 
The  extent  from  the  distance  X162  ni.  to  the  diflcr- 
ence  of  latitude  780  m.  on  numbers,  will  reach  from 
90°  to  42°  I  o'  in  the  line  of  sines.  And  the  extent  45% 
to  the  course  47°  50^  on  the  line  of  tangents,  will  rcadi 
from  the  meridional  difference  of  latitude  1081  to  tbir 
difference  of  longitude  1 1 94  on  numbers. 

Frob.  VI.  Given  the  latitudes  of  two  places,  and 
the  departure,  to  find  the  course,  distance,  and  difference 
of  longitude. 

Exatnple.  From  Abefdcen,  in  latitude  57°  9'  N, 
longitude  2°  8'  W,  a  ship  sailed  between  the  south  and 
east  till  her  departure  is  1 46  miles,  and  latitude  cone 
to  53®  32'  N.  Required  the  course  and  distance  mn, 
and  longitude  come  to  ? 

Latitude  Aberdeen   57°    9'N     Mer.  parts       4199 
Latitude  come  to      53  32N     Mer.  parts        3817 

Difference  of  latitude  3  37=2x7'  Mi^r.  diff.  Ut  38a 

By  Construction. 
With  the  difference  of  latitude  217  m.  and  dcp«rtiiftf%-5*» 

746  ro.  construct  the  triangle  ABC  (fir.  3i.)9  ^'^^ 

AD 


NAVIGATION. 

Mcrcator*t  AD  equal  to  382^  draw  DE  parallel  to  BC,  and  pro- 
Sailing,    duce  AC  to  £ :  Then  the  course  BAG  will  measure 
33^  56',  the  distance  AC  261%  and  the  difference  of 
longitude  D£  257. 

By  CakuUUton, 

To  find  the  course. 

Ay  the  difference  of  latitude         217         -       3.33646 

is  to  the  departure         -         -     146       -         2«i6435 

so  is  radius         .....         10.00000 


^1% 

longitude  D£  will  measure  224' :  hence  the  longitude  Meicator*« 
in  is  IQ^  30^  £•  Sailing. 


K?.  3»* 


By  Calculatidn: 
To  find  the  course. 


As  the  distance 
is  to  the  departure 
50  is  radius 


2S2 
173 


2.40140 
2.23805 

10.00000 


to  the  tangent  of  the  course     -     33**  56' 

To  find  the  distance. 
As  radius         -         -         _         -  - 

is  to  the  secant  of  the  course   -   33*^  ^6' 
so  is  the  diQercncc  of  latitude      217 

'to  the  distance         -         -  261.5      - 

To  find  tlie  difierence  of  longitude. 
A5  the  difference  of  latitude         217 
is  to  the  mer.  diff.  oT  latitude       382 
bo  is  the  departure       -       -  146 


to  the  diflTercncc  of  longitude 
Jjongitude  of  Aberdeen 
DiSerence  of  longitude 


257 


9.82789 

10.00000 

10.08109 

2.33646 

2.41755 

2.33646 
258206 
2^.16435 

2.40995 
2^  8'  W 


Longitude  come  to         -         -         •         -         29£ 

By  Inspection,  ^ 

The  difference  of  'latitude  217,  and  departure  146, 
arc  found  to  agree  nearest  under  34^,  and  the  corre- 
sponding distance  is.  262  miles.  To  the  same  course, 
and  opposite  to  190.7,  the  nearest  to  191,  half  the  me- 
ridional difference  of  latitude,  is  128.6  in  a  depar- 
ture column,  which  doubled  is  257,  the  difference  of 
longitude. 

By  Gtjntcr*3  Scale, 
The  extent  from  the  difference  of  latitude  217,  to 
the  departure  146  on  numbers,  will  reach  from  45*^  to 
about  34^,  the  course  on  the  line  of  tangents  \  and  the 
same  extent  will  reach  from  the  meridional  difference 
of  latitude  382  to  257,  the  diflerence  of  longitude  on 
numbers.^ Again,  the  extent  from  the  course  34^  to 
90  on  siner.,  will  reach  from  the  departure  146  to  the 
distance  261  on  numbers. 

Prob.  Vll.  Given  one  latitude,  distance  and  depar- 
ture \  to  find  the  other  latitude,  course,  and  difference 
of  longitude. 

Example.  A  ship  from  Naples,  in  latitude  40^  51'  N, 
longitude  14°  14'  £,  sailed  252  miles  on  a  direct  ooursc 
between  the  south  and  west,  and  made  173  miles  of 
westing.  Required  the  course  made  good,  and  the  la^- 
tude  and  longitude  come  to  ? 

By  Construction. 
With  the  distance  and  departure  make  the  triangle  • 
ABC  (fig.  32.)  as'  formerly.-— Now  the  course  BAC 
being  measured  by  means  of  a  line  of  chords  will  be 
found  eqtial  to  43^  21',  and  the  difference  of  latitude 
applied  to  the  scale  of  equal  parts  will -measure  183': 
hence  the  latitude  come  to  is  37^  48'  N,  and  meri- 
dional difference  of  latitude  237.— Make  AD  equal 
to  237,  and  complete  the  figure,  and  the  diferene*  of 


to  the  sine  of  the  course      -       43^  21'      -  9*83665 

To  find  the  difference  of  latitude. 

As  radius         -         ...         -  10.00000 

is  to  the  cosine  of  the  course         43^  21'     -  9.86164 

so  is  the  distance         -         -        252         -  2.40140 


to  the  difference  of  latitude  183.2       -       2.26304 

Latitude  of  Naples         40^  51'  N.  Mer.  parts      2690 
Difference  of  latitude       3     3    3* 


Latitude  come  to     -       37  4^  -^^  Mer.  parts        2453 


Meridional  difference  of  latitude 

To  find  the  diflerence  of  longitude. 


As  radius 

is  to  the  tangent  of  the  course     43^ 


21' 


4  17  £     so  is  the  mer.  diff.  of  latitude 


to  the  difference  of  longitude 
Longitude  of  Naples 
Difference  of  longitude 


237 
223.7 


237 

lO.OOOCO 

9-97497 
2-37475 

2.34972 

i4°i4'E 
344W 


Longitude  in         -         -  ->  -  I030p« 

By  Inspection, 
Under  43^  and  opposite  to  the  distance  252  m.  the 
departure  is  171.8,  and  under  44%  and  opposite  to  the 
same  distance,  the  departure  is  175.0. 

Then  as  3.2  :  1.2  : :  60'  :  22'. 
Hence  the  course  is  43°  22'.  \ 

Again,  under  43^  and  opposite  to  1 1 8.5,  half  the 
meridional  difference  of  Is^titudc  in  a  latitude  column, 
is  II 0.5  in  a  departure  column^  also  under  44°  and 
opposite  to  118.5  ^^  ii4*4* 

Then  as  3.2  :  1.2  ::  3.9  :  1.5. 
And  110.54-1.5=112,  which  doubled  is  224,  the 
difference  of  longitude. 

By  Gunter^s  Scaic, 
The  extent  from  the  distance  252  on  numbers,  to 
99^  on  sines,  will  reach  from  the  departure  173  on 
numbers,  to  the  course  43f  on  sines  ^  and  the  same  ex- 
tent that  will  reaeh  from  the  complement  of  the  course 
46^7  on  sines  will  reach  to  the  difference  of  latitude 
1 03  on  numbers.— Again,  the  extent  from  45®  to  43°;)- 
on  tangents  will  reach  from  the  meridional  difference 
of  latitude  237,  to  the  difference  of  longitude.  224,  on 
numbers. 

Prob.  VIII.  Given  one  latitude,  course,  and  differ- 
ence of  longitude :  to  find  the  other  latitude  and  dis- 
tance. 

Example,  A  ship  from  Tereera,- in  latitude  38^  45^  N, . 
longitude  27^  6'  W,  sailed  on  a  direct  course,  which, 
when  corrected,  was  N  ^i^Ys^  and  is  found  by  obsenra- 
tion  to  be  in  longitude  18^  24'  W.     Beqtiired  the  lati- 
tade  come  to,  and  distance  sailed  ^  - 

Longitude 


672 

M«rcAtof^i  Longitude  of  Tercera 
Siutin?-    Longitude  id 


NAVIGATION* 


Btartkc 


2f  eyn 
18  24W 


>%•«> 


Di&rence  of  longitude 


8  42=522 


By  Construction. 
Make  die  iij(ht-angled  triangle  ADE  (fig.  33.)  ha- 
ying the  angle  A  equal  to  the  course  32^9  and  the  side 
jDE  equal  to  the  difference  of  longitude  522:  then 
AD  will  measure  835,  which  added  to  the  meridional 
parts  of  the  latitude  left,  will  give  those  of  the  latitude 
come  to  48^  46^  ^  hence,  the  difference  of  latitude  b 
Sol  :  make  AB  equal  thereto^  to  which  let  BC  he 
drawn  perpendicular;  then  AC  applied  to  the  scale 
will  measure  708  miles. 

By  CalcukUum. 

To  £nd  the  meridional  difference  of  latitude. 

As  radius  -  .  -  .         10.00000 

is  to  the  co-tangent  of  the  course     32^  &      10.20421 

so  is  the  difference  of  longitude         5  22         2.71767 

to  the  mer.  diflbrence  of  latitude       8352         2.92188 
liatitude  of  Tercera     30^  45^  N      Mer.  parts      2526 

Mer.  diff.  of  lat.         835 

Latitude  come  to    -    48  46N     Mer.  parts 


Difference  of  latitude  10     i=:6oi  miles. 

To  find  the  distance. 
Asndiii*  ... 

is  tb  the  secant  of  the  course     -     32^  o' 
80  is  the  difference  of  latitude    -    601 


to  the  distance 


10.00000 

-  10.07158 

2.77887 


707.7  -  2,85045 

By  Inspection. 

To  course  32^,  and  opposite  to  130.5,  one  fourth  of 
the  given  diflnrence  of  longitude  in  a  depaiture  column, 
the  difference  of  latitude  is  208.8,  which  multiplied 
hj  4  is  835,  the  meridional  difference  of  latitude; 
hence  the  latitude  in  is  48^  46'  N,  and  difference  of  la- 
titude 601  • 

Again,  %o  the  same  course,  and  opposite  to  200,  one 
third  of  the  differente  of  latitude,  the  distance  is  236, 
which  multiplied  by  3  gives  708  miles. 

By  Gunter*s  Scate. 
The  extent  from  the  course  32%  to  45^  on  tangents, 
will  reach  from  the  difference  of  longitude  522  to  the 
meridional  difference  of  latitude  835  on  norabers.— 
And  the  extent  from  the  complement  of  the  course  58^ 
to  QO^  on  sines,  will  reach  from  the  difference  of  lati- 
tude 601,  to  the  distance  708  miles  on  numbers* 

pROB.  IX.  To  find  the  diflkrence  of  longitude  made 
good  upon  compound  courses. 

Rule.  With  the  several  courses  and  distances,  com- 
plete the  Traverse  Table,  and  find  the  difference  of  la- 
titude, departure,  and  course  made  good,  and  the  lati- 
tude come  to  as  in  Traverse  Sailing.  Find  also  the 
meridional  dijflhrence  of  latitude. 
^  Now  to  the  course  and  meridional  difference  of  la- 
titude, in  a  latitude  column,  the  corresponding  depar- 
ture will  be  the  difference  of  longitude,  which  apf^ied 
to  the  longitude  left  will  give  the  ship^s  present  longi- 
tude. I 


tlsampie,     A  ship  from  port  St  Julian,  in  fititodencmigii 
9^  lOTS,  longitude   68^  44' ^»   sailed  as  (Ulows;  8t%. 
iSE  53  miles,  SE*S  74  miles,  E  bjr  N  68  m.  SE^EJE*— v^ 
47  miles,  and  £  84  miles,    Bequired  the  ship's  {le- 
sent  place  ? 


$ 


Counei* 


ESE 

SE^yS 

EiyN 
SE^EiE 


Dist. 


S72'E 


53 

u 

47 
84 


DtCTLaL 


N 


'3-3 


197 


•3-3 


8 


20.3 
61.5 

22.1 


103.9 
13-3 


I>q»itBre.         t 


49.0 
41. 1 
66.7 

4»-5 
84.0 


W 


282.3 


1 


Latitude  lefl. 
Latitude  come  to 


90.6=1^31' 

49  10  Sm.pt  3397 

50  41  Sm.pt3539 


Mer.  difference  of  latitude         -         -        142 
Now  to  course  72^,  and  opposite  to  71,  half  the 
mer.  difference  of  latitude  in  a  latitude  column,  t 
218.7  in  a  departure  column,  which  doubled 
437,  the  difference  of  Itmgitude. 
Longitude  of  Port  St  Julian     -      68^  44^ 
Difference  of  longitude  -  7    17^ 


Longitude  come  to 


61    27  W 


Although  the  above  method  is  that  usually  enplof- 
ed  at  sea  to  find  the  difference  of  longitude,  vet  as  it 
has  been  already  observed,  it  is  not  to  he  depended  en, 
especially  in  high  latitudes,  long  distances,  and  a  €oii> 
siderable  variation  in  the  courses*  in  which  case  tbefol- 
lowing  method  becomes  necessary. 

Rule  IL  Complete  the  Traverse  Table  as  befere, 
to  which  annex  five  columns.  Now  with  ibe  latitode 
left,  and  the  several  differences  of  latitude,  find  tk 
successive  latitudes,  which  are  to  be  placed  in  the  6nt 
of  the  annexed  columns  ;  in  the  second,  the  meridioail 
parts  corresponding  to  each  latitude  is  to  be  put ;  vti 
in  the  third,  the  meridional  differences  of  latitude. 

Then  to  each  course,  and  corresponding  meridienal 
difference  of  latitude,  find  the  difference  of  looritade, 
hy  Prob.  ^I.  which  place  in  the  fourth  or  fifth  co- 
lumns, according  as  the  coast  is  easterly  or  westerly; 
and  the  difference  between  the  sums  of  these  cohmM 
will.be  the  diflSBience  of  longitude  made  good  upon  tk 
whole,  of  the  same  name  with  the  greater. 

Remarks. 

i«  When  the  course  is  north  or  sooth,  there  it  w 
difference  of  longitude. 

2.  When  the  course  is  east  or  west,  the  dificRBce 
of  longitude  cannot  be  found  by  Mercator's  Sailing ; 
in  this  case  the  following  rule  is  to  be  used. 

To  the  nearest  degree  to  the  given  latitode  tsto 
as  a  course,  find  the  distance  answering  to  the  deper^ 
ture  in  a  latitode  column :  this  distance  will  be  tk  tf- 
ference  of  longitude. 


ftactice.  NAVIGATION.  -  673 

Mfrcater'i      £«•  l>  Tism  ili^s  Ago  we  took  our  departure  from  Faro-head,  in  latitude  58^  4^^  ^»  ^^^  longitude  4®  ^o'  W,  ntereator'g 

Stfling.    nnd  since  haTe  sailed  as  follotrs :  NW  32  miles,  W  69  miies,  Wl4  W  93  miles,  W^  77  miles,  SW  56  miles,  ^Sailing- 

'  and  TV^  S  49  miles.— Required  our  present  latitude  and  longitude  P  ' 


i 

Fraterse  Table. 

Longitude  Table. 

Contob 

Dbt 

Dir.  of  JUt 

l^partnre. 

SncccKiTe 

Mcrid. 

Merid. 

Diff  of  I/onginde. 

Latitudet. 

Puru. 

DJff.  Lat 

N 

8 

£ 

W 

£ 

W 

58»4cy 

4370 

• 

NW 

3a 

22.6 

22.6 

59     3 

44IJ 

45 

45.0 

W 

69 

69.0 

59     3 

44i5 

0 

134.0 

WNW 

93 

35-6 

85.9 

59    38 

4484 

69 

106.5 

w»s 

]l 

15.0 

75-5 

59    23 

4454 

i° 

rcLo 
80.0 

SW 

41.0 

41.0 

58    42 

4374 

80 

WJS 

49 

7.2 

48.5 

58    3J  1    436* 

13 

88.0 

S8.2 

63.2 

c8.2 

34a-5 

664.5 

Longttnde  of  Faro  head 

Dimfence  of  longitude             •             i 

4*^  50*  W. 

I      4tV. 

Wi»8 

343 

5-0 

- 

Longitude  in             -              •              i 

5  54  w. 

JEx.  2.  A  sbip  from  latitude  ^'8^  15^  N,  longitude  28^  14^  £,  sailed  the  following  coiirses  and  distances.  Tbe 
latitude  come  to  is  required,  and  the  longitude,  by  both  methods  :  the  bearing  and  distance  o^  Hacluit^s  bead- 
land,  in  latitude  79*  $5'  ^f  longitude  11°  sf  ^t  »•  >^*®  required  ? 


Travi:rse  Table. 


Connet. 


SW 

NWfW 

N&£ 

NW4N 


DisL 


15^ 


9 

lie 


DiflLofjUt 


N 


58.9 

56-4 
107.9 

45.0 


268.2 

Mi-3 


8 


67.9 


734 


Depannrei 


21.5 
26.3 


M^-3 


Latitude  left 
DiC  of  latitude 


126.9 

By  RubE  L 

78^  lY  N. 
a      7  N. 


w 


142.3 

07.9 
68.8 


LoKGiTUDE  Table. 


Latitiideft. 


33-4 


47.8 


3IM 
47.8 


78^15' 

79  M 

68  6 

79  ^ 

80  50 

81  35 

80  22 


Mend. 
Paiti. 


t 


817 
20 

7774 
8056 

8676 

8970 

8504 


iC  JUt 


303 

34* 
282 

620 


DiC  of  Longitude. 


123.6 
166.7 


290.3 


264.6 

Mer.pts.  78x7 


w 


731-7  , 

346.0 
343-6 

218.0 


««39'3 
290^3 


IMaa^ 


Lati  oonfe  to     -     80    22  N.        Mei.  pt^.  ^504' 


Longitude  left 
Diflterence  of  longitude 

Longitude  in'  * 


MHridion^  4KfF.>  of  hitttiAie 
.  As  jdifctence  of  1st.    -     1 26J9 ; 
is  to  mM  diff.' of'lat.     -  687 
so  is  the  depiuiore     -     264:6 


to  diff.'of  longitiir 


Longkodejeft' 


2f  52*  W; 

28  14  £. 


687 
2.10546 
2.83696 

2.42256  ^ 

3.15666 


Loi^tade^n^   -    4'  22"E. 

Thk  evrsr  of  thift'BiMad^iin'th^'preseiitieEam^, 
ris  therefore  i^  23^ 


1349.0 

28*  14'  B. 
22   29  W. 

5  45  E. 

To  find  the'  betfringf  and  ^  diitknci  tit  Haduit*8 
bevd^hmdo 

Lat.  H.  H. = 79«  55'N.  M.  P.  8347  LoA.  xi**  55'E. 
fsu  =80  22'N.M.P.8504Lon.  5  45  £• 

o  27M.O* L.  r$fV[  Lo6  10 


Lat. 
Diff;  lat. 


370 


Now  t6  78^  half  tbe  meridional  difference'  of  la- 
titiMe,^  andf  x8f5.o  liiif  the  diflSfifetac^'  of  longitude, 
tbbK9iMilf8er67^,  aiflc^opl^bdte  to'the  dlffiMreUfce  of  lati- 
tude 27,  the  distance  is  69  mites.^-^Henee  Hnieloh^s 
bead-land  bears  S  67^  £,  distant  69  miles. 


^mim 


Vol.  Xiv.  Part  n. 


4Q 


Chap. 


674 


NAVIGATION. 


Method  of 
resolving  Ckap.  VIL  Containing  tie  Method  of  resolving  tie 

the  Pro-       several  Problems  of  Mercator^s  Sailings  by  the  A<s^ 
Mcrcator*8       sistance  of  a  Table  of  Logarithmic  Tangents* 

Prob  I.  Given  one  latitude,.  disUocc^,  and  difier- 
ence  of  longitude  \  to  find  the  coarse,  and  other  lati- 
tude. 

RvLE.  To  the  arithmetical  complement  of  the  loga- 
rithm of  the  distance,  add  the  logarithm  of  the  differ- 
ence of  longritude  in  minutes,  and  the  log.  oosine  of 
the  given  latitude  \  the  sum  rejecting  radios  wil^'be  the- 
log.  sine  of  the  approximate  course. 

To  the  given  latitude  taken  as  a  course  in  the  tra- 
verse table,  add  half  the  difference  of  longitude  in  a 
distance  colamn  ^  the  corresponding  departure  will  be 


Practice. 

the  first  correction  of  the  course,  which  ii  lubtractiTe  }ktU< 
if  the  given  latitude  is  the  least  of  the  two^  otherwue,  mlii^ 
additive.  ^J^ 

In  Table  A,  under  the  complement  of  the  course,  ^ 
and  opposite   to  the  first  correction  in  the  side  co-  Sdar 
lumn,  is  the  second  correction.     In  the  same  table  find^ 
the  number  answering  to  the  course  at  the  top,  and  dif- 
ference of  longitude  in  th«  side  column  j  and  such  port 
of  this  number  being  taken  as  is  found  in  Table  B  op- 
posite to  the  given  latitude,  will  be  the  third  correc- 
tion.    Now  these  two  corrections,  subtracted  from  die 
course  corrected  by  the  first  correction,  will  give  tbc 
true  course. 

Now  the  course  and  distance  being  known,  tbe  dif- 
ference of  latitude  is  found  as  formerly. 


- 

Table  A. 

Table  B. 

Arc. 

lO" 

20° 

30° 

40° 

50^ 

60° 

70° 

80° 

90° 

Lat. 

'  2 

3 

4 

5 
6 

7 
8  ^ 

3' 

12 

*7 

47 

74 
107 

'4J 
190 

I 
6  ' 

13 

^3 

36 

52 
70 

92 

1' 

4 
8 

14 
*3 
33 

58 

1' 

2 

6 
10 
j6 
22 

30 
40 

0' 
2 

4 
7 

IX 

16 
21 
28 

0* 

I 

3 

i 

II 
19 

0' 
I 

2 

3 
5 

7 

9 
12 

0 

X 

1 

2 

3 
t 

0 
0 
0 
0 
0 
0 
0 

0^ 
xo 
20 

30 
40 

60 

80,  &c. 

I 

T 

I 

T 

W  I  t 

i 
i 

Example.  Fronr  latitude  50®  N,  a  ship  sailed  290 
miles  between  the  south  and  west,  and  differed  her  lon- 
gitude 5^.    Required  the  course^  and  latitude  come  to? 


Distance 

Diff*.  of  longitude 

Latitude 


290*  ar.  CO.  log. 
300  log. 

50°  o'co. 


7-53  76« 
2.47712 

9.80807 


} 


Approximate  course-    -     41    4,1     sine     -     9.82279 
To  lat.  50^,  and  half  difiL.  long.  150  in  a  didt. 

col.  the  first  com  in  a  dep.  col.  is  115     .  .^i   55 
Approximate  course      -      41    41 
Cor.         ...  "^    SS 

It  table  A  to  co.  course  48^  and  ist  corr. 

1^  jy  the  second  direction  is 
To  course  41^  and  diff*.  long.  5^,  the  nom-l 

ber  i»  ^5,  of  which  ^  (Tab.  B)  being  > 

taken,  gives  J  — .^-i- 

Ti-uc  course        -  -         -  -         Sw  43  51 W 

To  find  the  difference  of  latitude. 

As  radius        .....  10.00000 

is  to  tbe  cosine  of  the  course     43^  33'      *  9.8(Sb20 

so  is  the  distance         -         -         290       •  2;46240 


to  the  difference  of  latitude 
Latitude  left 
Difference  of  latitude  * 


210.2 


tl 


SO 
3 


2260 

o'N 
30  S 


Latitude  come  to        -         -         -         -         46    30N 
This  problem  was  proposed,  and  resolved,  by  Mr 
Robert  Hues  in  his  Treatise  on  the  Globes^  pcinted  at 
London  in  the  year  X639,  p.  j8i. 


It  was  afterwards  proposed  by  Dr  Halley,  in  the  se- 
cond* volume  of  tbe  Miscellanea  Curiosa^  p.  34.  in  tfe 
following  words : 

A  ship  sails  from  a  given  lAtitude^^and^  havit^rvns 
certain  number  of  leagues^  has  altered  ker  longiuide  h^a 
given  angle ;  it  is  required  to  find  the  course  steered. 
And  be  then  adds-— 7!n«  solution  hereof  would  he  very 
acceptable^  if  not  to  the  public^  at  least  to  the  author  if 
this  tracts  being  likely  to  open  some  further  liglU  into  tie 
mysteries  of  geometry. 

Since  that  time,  this  problem  has  been  solved  in  aa 
indirect  manner,  by  several  vrriters  on  navigation,  aid 
others  :— As  Monsieur  Bouguer,  in  his  Nouveau  Traitf 
de  Navigation  ;-^\t  Robertson,  in  the  second  voIudc  of 
his  Elements  of  Navigation  ;  Mr  Emerson,  in  his  7W 
ry  of  Navigation^  which  accompanies  his  Mathematictl 
Principles  of  Geography  i^M.r  Israel  Lyoos^  intheN<ia- 
tieal  Almanack  for  1772 ;  and  Monsteor  Bezont,  in  hb 
Traill  de  Navigation;  and  lately,  Baroa  Maseres,  with 
the  assistance  of  Mr  Attwood,  has  given  the  first  direct 
solution  of  this  problem.  For  a  comparisoa  of  the  fs- 
rious  solutions  which  have  hitherto  been  raadn  of  thi» 
problem,,  the  reader  is  referred  to  that  by  Dr  Mackay, 
in  tlie  fourth  and  sixth  volnmes  of  Buvn  Mascici^ 
Scriptores  Logarithmid, 

It  was  intended  in*  this  plaoe  to  have  given  nJes,  Is 

nmke  allowance  foF  the  spheroidal  figure  of  the  caitk : 

but  as  the  ratio  of  the  polar  to  tbe  equatorial  seoii-^uni 

is   not   as  yet  determined  with  sufficient  aecnrary, 

neither-  is   it  known  if  both  hemispheres  be  sinilir 

figures  \  therefore  these  rules  woald  be  gioooded  4M  a»> 

sumption  only,  and  might  probably  err  more  firoai  tfo 

Ooth 


Practice.  NAVIGATION. 

Obliqno    trutb  than  those  adapted  to  the  spherical  hypothesis. 
Sailing.    This  therefore  is  supposed  to  be  a  sufficient  apology  for 
not  iqsertlng  them. 


67, 


•r«-34- 


^•35- 


Chap.  VHI.  Of  Oblique  Siillng.    ' 

'Obliciue  sailing  is  the  application  of  oblique-angled 
pkae  triangles  to  the  solution  of  problems  at  sea.  This 
sailing  will  be  found  particularly  useful  in  going  along 
shore,  and  in  surveying  coasts  and  harbours,  &c. 

Es.  I.  At  I  ih  A.  M.  the  Girdle  Ness  bore  WNW, 
and  at  2h  P.  M.  it  bore  N W&N :  the  course  during 
the  interval  S^W,  five  'knots  an  hour.  Required  the 
distance  of  the  ship  from  the  Ness  at  each  station  ? 

By  Construction^ 

Describe  the  circle  NE,  SW  (fig.  34.),  and  draw 
the  diameters  NS,  £W,  at  right  angles  to  each  other : 
firom  the  centre  C,  which  represents  the  first  station, 
draw  the  WNW  line  CF  \  and  from  the  same  point 
draw  CH,  S&W,  and  equal  to  15  miles  the  distance 
sailed.— From  H  draw  HF  in  a  N W^N  direction,  and 
the  point  F  will  represent  the  Girdle  Ness.  Now  the 
distances  CF,  HFwiU  measure  19.1  and  26«5  miles 
respectively. 

3y  Calculation. 

In  the  triangle  FCH  are  given  the  distance  CH  J'5 
miles,  the  angle  FCH  equal  to  9  points,  the  interval 
between  the  S5W  and  WNW  points,  and  the  angle 
CHF  equal  to  4  points,  being  the  supplement  of 
tlie  angle  contained  between  the  S6W  and  NW6N 
points  ;  hence  CFH  is  3  points  :  to  find  the  distances 
CF,  HF. 

To  find  the  distance  CF. 
As  the  sine  of  CFH      -      3  points         -       9.74474 
is  to  the  sine  of  CHF    -      4  points        -       9.84948 
so  is  the  distance  CH  15  miles         -         -       1.17609 


to  Ihe  distance  CF         -  '9*07 

To  find  the  distance  FH. 
As  the  sine  of  CFH      -      3  points 
is  to  the  sine  of  FCH        -       points 
so  is  the  distance  CH       -     15  miles 


to  the  distance  FH 


1.28083 

9-74474 
9.99157 

1.17609 

26.48        1.42292 

Ex,  2.  The  distance  between  the  S£  point  of  the 
island  of  Jersey  and  the  island  of  Brehaut  is  13  leagues : 
and  the  correct  bearing  and  distance  of  Cape  In-ehel 
from  the  island  of  Brehaut  is  S£^£  26  miles.  It  is  al- 
so known  that4he  8E  point  of  Jersey  bears  NN£  from 
Cape  Frehel :  firom  whence  -the  distance  of  these  two  is 
reqnired,  together  with  the  bearing  of-  the  same^point 
from  the  island  of  Brehaut  ? 

By  Construction* 

Describe  a  circle,  (fig.  ^£,)  and  draw  two  diameters 
at  right  angles,  the  extremities  of  which  will  represent 
the  cardinal  points,  north  being  uppermost.— Let  the 
centre  B  represent  Breliaot,  from  which  draw  the  S£5E 
line  BF  equal  to  26  miles,  and  the  point  F  will  repre- 
sent Cape  Frehel,  from  which  draw  the  NN£  line  FI  j 
make  BT  equal  to  39  miles :  Then  FI  applied  to  the 
scale  will  measure  34^  miles,  and  the  inclination  of  BI 
to  the  meridian  will  be  found  equal  to  63°^- 


JBy  Calculation* 

In  the  triangle  BIF  are  given  BI  and  BF  equal  to 
39  miles,  and  26  miles  respectively ;  and  the  angle 
&FI  eqnal  to  7  points  :  To  find  the  side  FI,  and  angle 
FBL 

To  find  the  angle  BIF. 
As  the  distance  BI  -  39         -        i. 591 06 

is  to  the  distance  BF         -  26         -       1.4 1497 

so  is  the  sine  of  BFI        -  7 8°  45*    -    9'99^S7 


Oblique 
Suilju|r. 


to  the  sine  of  BIF 
Sum 

Angle  FBI 
£BF 

Difference,  or  £BI 


40   50    .     9.81548 
"9  35 


60  25 
33  45 

26  40 


Bearing  of  Jersev  from  BrehautN  63  20  £• 

1  o  find  the  distance  FI. 
As  the  sine  of  BFI        -       7^**  4/        -       9*991 57 
is  to  the  sine  of  FBI      -      60    25         -       9*93934 
so  is  the  distance  BI         -  39  miles        1.59106 

to  the  distance  FI         -         -       34-58      -      1^*53883 

Ex,  3*  At  noon  Dungeness  bore  per  compass  'NbW, 
distance  5  leagues  ^  and  having  run  NW6W  7  knots 
an  hour,  at  5  P.  M.  we  were  up  with  Beachyhead. 
Required  the  bearing  and  distance  of  Beacl^head  from 
Dungeness  ? 

^     By  Construction. 

Describe  a  circle  (fig.  36.)  to  represent  the  horizon  5 
from  the  centre  C  draw  the  N5W  line  CD  equal  to  *'^*  ^^' 
1^5  miles  \  and  the  NW^W  line  CB  eqnal  to  35  miles; 
join  DB,  which  applied  to  the  scale  will  measure  about 
267  mile^t  'f  and  the  inclination  of  DB  to  the  meridian 
will  be  found  equal  to  N  79*iW. 

By  Calculation* 

In  the  triangle  DCfi  are  given  the  distances  CD, 
CB  equal  to  15  and  35  miles  respectively }  and  the  an- 
gle BCD  equal  to  4.  points  }  to  find  the  angles  B  and 
D,  and  the  distance  BD. 

To  find  the  angles. 
Distance  CB&35,  sum  of  the  ang.  16  points. 
CD=i5,  angleC        -        4 


Sum 
Difference 


50,  angles  B  and  D  1 2 

20,  half  sum         -      6  pts.  rs  67^  3c' 


As  the  sum  of  the  distances         -     50 
is  to  ibeir  difference  -  20 

so  is  the  tang,  of  half  sura  angles  ^7  30 

to  the  tangent  of  half  their  diff.  44     o 

Abgle  CDB 


1.69897 
1*30103 

^0-38378 
9.98484 


Sup^ement 
Angle,  NCD 


III  30 

68  30 
II  ij 


Magnetic  bearing  -         N79  45  W.     Or  by  al- 

lowing 2i  points  of  westerly  variation,  the  true  bearing 
of  Beadhyhead  from  Dungeness  will  be  W^  nearly. 

4  Q  a  To 


6y&  '  N 

Oblique  ^^0  ^^  ^  distance. 

SiuAinfr.    As  the  sine  of  CDB         -         I  ri^  30^ 
is  tp  the  sine  o£  BCD         -        45^ 
•0  Is  the  distance  BC         -         35 


^57- 


to  the  distance  BD 


26.6 


1.42487 

Ex,  4.  Running  1^.  Channel  £^  per  compass  at  the 
rate  of  5  knots  an  hour.  At  1 1*'  A.  M.  the  Eddistone. 
lighthouse  bore  N^E^E.andthe  Start  point  NE&E^E  ^ 
«nd  at  4  P.  M.  the  Eddistone  bore  N W&N,  and  the 
6tart  N^E.  Required  the  distance  and  bearing  of  tha. 
Start- from  the  Eddistone,  the  variation  being  2^  points 
W? 

By  Conttruction, 

Let  the  point  C  (Bg.  37.)  represent  the-^rst  station, 
from  which  draw  the  N&E^E  line  CA^  the  N£6£ jE 
line  CB,  and  the  E6S  line  CD,  which  make  eqnal  to  2$ 
miles  the  distance  run  in  the  elapsed  time  \  then  from 
D  draw  the  NE6N  line  DA  intersecting  CA  in  A, 
which  repfesents  the  Eddistone  \  and  from  the  same 
point  draw  the  N^E  line  DB  cutting  CB  in  B,  whidr 
therefore  represents  the  Start. .  Now  the  distance.  AXt 
applied  to  the  scale  will  measure  29^,  and  the  bearing 
per  canvass  B AF  will  measure  73^-f* 

By  Calculation. 

In  the  triangle  CAD  are  given  CD  equal  to  2$ 
mates,  the  angle  CAD  equal  to  4^  poiala,  the  distance 
bftveeo  NiEiE  and  NWiN,  and.  the  angle  ikD^i 
^ual  to  4  |N)ijits,  the  diataace  between  thp  NW^N  aad 
WAN  points  \  to  find  ibe  distance  GA.  . 
As  the  sine  of  CAD*  4^  points  -  9*96979 
is  to  the  sine  of  CDA  4..  points  -  9.84948 
so  is  the  distance  CD       25    miles         -         1*39794 

toi  the  distance  €>A         23.8^^  -^  ^'JV^^ 

In  the  triangle  BCD,  are  given  the  distance  CD  25 
miles,  the  ande  CBO"  4t  points  the  interval  between 
NE^E]^  and  N|£,  and  CDB  7^  points,  the  distance 
hetw^n  W6N  and  N|E  >  to  find  the  distance  OD. 
Aslfaesine  of  CBD-.  -  4^  points.  9.88819 
is  to  the  sine  CDB  -         7^.  points^         9-9S)947 

so  is  the  distance  CD        -        25  wles  ^ -39794 


A  V  I  G  A  T  I  O  N.  Pndkb 

the  variation  2^  pointa  bebg  allowed  to  the  left  cf  Qtfn 
ESE^E,  gives  £^N,  the  true  bearing  of  the  Siait  bm  Sd^ 
the  Eddistone. 

To  find  the  distance* 

As  the  sine  of  CAB           87^  26^         -  999956 

is  to  the  sine  of  ACB         45     o'          -  9*84948 

so  is  the  distance  CB        -      3  2.3  1*10922 


9.96868 

9.84948 
1.54407 


to  the  distance  CB  -         3^.3         -         1*50929 

In  the  triapg^eXAB,  the>  distances  CA,  CB,  ar^. 
given,  together  widi  the  ioduded  angle  ACB,  equal  to 
4  points,  the  lUitaoce  between  N&EJE  and  NE^E^E-, 
to  find  the  angle  QAB  and^distance  AB;^ 
Distence  GB  32,5        Angle  ACB        -        5=45^  o' 

Di^ton^CA  23^86    Sum  of  CABaiid.ABC  135  o 


■T"*! 


Sym.  56.16    Half 

Dtffei«m«fr        8.4^ 

Aa  the  aumof  the  distances 

is  .to  tJ^'iJP  difference 

S9  is  the  tangent  of- half' 

sum  angles 
to  the  tangent,  of .  half- 

diff.  angles  t 

Angle  CAB 
Apgle  CAff 


56.16 
&44. 

6730 
19  56'] 

87  26 ; 
14   4. 


69  30 

I -74943 
0-9,2634 


to  the  distance  AB 


22.86 


'•359M 

Ex,  5.  A  ship  from  a  port  in  latitude  57^  9'N,  1ob« 
gitude  2^'5/  W,  sailed  82  miles  on  a  direct  coone,  tod 
spoke  a  ship>ihat  bad  run  100  auleB  from  a  port  in  k: 
titude  56®  21'  N,  famgitnde  2^  5</  Ww-^-Bcqniied  tk 
course  of  each  sh^  and  tbclatitiide  lad  loegitode  cqk 
to? 

Latr  57®  9'N  Mer.  parts  4199  Lon.  2®    gf  W 

56  21  N  M   i    ■■         4112  «-     2    pVf 


mm 


DtfLoflat     48     '  Mer*  diClaL  87  Diff.  hw.  41 

By  Gnuintctwim* 

Wkh  the  meridional  difference  of  latitude,  the 
f^rence  of  longitude,  .and  difference  of  latitude, 
struct  the  triaogles  ADE,  ABC  (fig^  38O  m  in  He^l1(  jL 
cator's  Sailing  ^  then  A  will  rquresent  tlie  northt^naeit, 
and  C  the  southernmost  'port,    Tlie  distance  AC  tp- 
pUed  to  the  scale  will  measQre  53..mile^  and  the  boir- 
wf  BCA  Witt  be  if^.    Ffwn  the  points  AsmIC, 
with  distances  equal  to  82  and  100  miles,  respectively, 
descnhe  anshes  intersecting, each  other  in  M,whid 
will  thefolore  be  the  place  of  mef tiqg.— Now  the  sngle . 
ABM,  the.ship*s  .coui^  fironv^he  sootbemmost  poit, 
will  measure.  ,N  8o^j>£  \  and  the  other  ship's  couise, 
or  angle  BAM,  will  lie  67*^,  or  ESE.     Fran  M 
draw  the  parallel  MNP,  and  AN  will  be  the  diftr- 
ence  of  latitude  made  bj^tbe  one  ship»  and  CP  thatjkr 
the  other  abi{i :  -hence  either  of  these  being  measwed 
and  applied  to  its  correspondent  latitude,  will  give  j6' 
38^,  the  latitude  in.     Make  AF^equal  to  57,  the  vw^ 
ridional  difference  of  latitude  between  the  northenuDOit  • 
port  and  latitude  in :  from  F  draw  FGperpeodiciilar* 
tq  AF,  apd  produce  AM  to  G,  dien  FG  will  be  tbe 
diffistence  of  longitude,  which  ^applied  to  the  scale  irill : 
mea^ore  139 :  hence  the  longitnde^iq^  is  o^  10^  £• 

9t  Cakulaiifm.^ 


I»  the  triangle  ADE,  ABO;  afe  giv«n  A&ensl 
to.&7,  D£  equal  te  41,  and  AB  equal  to  48$  to  nai 
the  ao^le-BACand  distance  AC. 

To  find  the  bearing  of  the  ports. 
Aathemeiidionaldlff.'^f  lat.  .    87        -        i«9395> 
i&  lo  the  diff.  of4oBg«         -         41         -        r.oi27S. 
so  is.radius .  -        -  -         -         to.00000^ 


to  the  taqgent  of  the  bearing  25^  14'  9^131^ 

To  fiitd  tbe  distanee  of  the  foiti* 
Aaradiuf  ...  19.000OO 

is  te  the  secant  of  tbe  7      «  q  ,^ 
hearing         -  \  ^^  *C        " 

so  is  the  di{[^qf  .latitude  4$- 


^68iH 


Beaft9g  ^t  compass  &  73  22  £  o»  £S£i£|  uid 


to  the  distanee  53iO^- 

In  the  triai^le  AMC,  the  three  sidc^ 
find  the  angles*.' 


i-7a479 
glials 


Praetiee. 

ObKqae 


navigation: 


Tofind  the  angle  ACM. 
82 


Slim 

Half        . 
Difference 


Angle  ACM 
Angle  BAC 


100 
53.06 

435.06 

53-53 


27  29 

5458 
25  14 


ar*  CO*  rag* 
ar.oo.log. 

log. 


-    8«ooooo 

a.07015 
1-55059 


'9-89597 
cosine  9*94798 


So^ithenimostl   N.80.2E 
ship's  course  3 

To  find  the  angle  MAC. 
As  AM  -  -  -  82  - 
istoMC  ...  100  * 
so  is  the  sine  of  ACM    -      54  58 


2.00000 
9.91319 


within  six  points  of  the  wind.    Bequired  the 
and  distance  on  each  tack  f 


By  Construction, 
Draw  the  SSW  line  CB  (fig.  39.)  «S|iiaiio49  miles.  1%.  39* 
Make  the  angles  ACB,  ABC,  each  equal  to  6  points. 
H«nce  the  fitst  csewse  wiH  he  W,  Mid  thto  Mecond  S£  : 
also  the  dktanee  CA,  or  A6,  ^plied  t<ft  the  6eale». 
will  measure  62I  raileSi  tiw  distance  to  be  eailed  o» 
each  board. 

By  Cakulaiion. 
From  A  draw  AD  perpendicular  to  BC  ^  then  in 
the  triangle  ADC  ate  given  CD  equal  to  24  miles  ;  . 
afid  the  angle  ACD,  equal  to  6  points,  to  find  the  di« 
stance  AC. 

As  radius  -  -  lo.ooooo 

is  to  the  secant  of  C         -         6  points     -      X0.41716 
so  Is  CD  24  miles      <-       i.38o2X  - 


toCA 


62.7 


'•79737 


to  the  sine  of  MAC 
Angle  BAC 


93    3 
25  14 


Northernmost  ship's  1         g  g  j.  ^^  ^gj. 

course  J  /  -r^r     » 

In  the  risht-angled  triangle  AMN,  given  AM,  and 
the  angle  MAN,  to  find  tile  diftrences  of  latitude 

AN. 

As  radius  •        .        .        •        •        10.00000 

is  to  the  cosine  ofl      ^r  ^  .^  -,  r-.»./v% 

the  course         J     ^'^9         '  9-51100 

sa  i»  ^e  distance  82        -        -        z*9i38x 


9,99938  Es»  %  The  wind  at  N W,  a  sh^>  bound  to  a  port  64 
miles  to  the  windward^  proposes  to  reach  it  on  three 
boards  ;  two  on  the  starboard|  and  one  on  the  larboard 
tack,  and  each  within  5  points  of  the  wind*  Bequired* 
the  course  and  distance  on  each  tack  ?  , 


to  the  diff.  of  lat. 
Latitude  of  nor-1 
therumost  port  j 

Latitude  in 


30.5)$^  149081 

57    9      Mer.pnrtsb-        4199 


$6  38;     Mler*,part»         4x42 


difierence  of  latitude  -  52 

To  find  the  difference  of  longitude  FG 

10.00000- 

xa3896o 

1.75587 


Bf  Cotutructionm  . 
Dram4he  NW  line  CA  (fig.  40.)  equal  tft  64  M^ }  Wig.  40 
fitMB  C  draw  .CB  WAS,  and  from  A  draw  AD  paral- 
Id  thereto,  and  in.  an  opposite  direction  y  hiieet  AC  in  . 
£,  and  draw  BED  p«ndlet  lo  the  N6£  rhumb,  meet-  . 
ing.  €B,  AD  in  the  points  B  and  D ;  th^  CBs  AD 
applied  to  tjie  scafe  will  measure  367  mil^,  and  9Ds  . . 

2C;3=71t  miles. 

By  Cakulatwn* 
From  B  draw-^BF  perpendicular  to  AC$  then,  in 
the  triangle  BFC  are  given  the  angle  BCF  equal  to   . 
5  points,  and  CF  ^uai  to  one-fe^ith  of  '^  ^       '^ 
findCB. 

As  radiue  ..----- 
is  to  the  seoaat  of  BQF  -  5poinU  - 
so  is  CF         •        •        •>  16  m.  . 


Ju  radius 

10  b  the  mer.  diff.  of  lat.  57 


toCB 


3«-25 


^16  m.  to 

XO.P0006 

XO.25526 

X.t04l2 

'•55938 


t»the  diff.  of  long. 
liOngitode  left 
DUference  of  longitude 

LongHnde  in 


139,8 


2^.  9'W 

2'  20  £ 


O     XI 


2.14547 


Chap.4X^'  Of  JFhdidard  Sailing, 

WiHDWAaB  sailing  is,  when  aship  hy  reason  of  a 
coDtrarj  wind  is  oblig^  to  sail  oa.difiereot  tacka  in^Mw.. 
der  to  g%m  her  intendsd  pofit  (  and  the  ohjent  ot*  this 
sailing  is  to  find  the  pvu^cr  coua^aad diHano^  to ba 
run  on  ea^  tack. 

J^.  X.  A  ship  is  bound  t6  a  port  48  miles  dinctlj 
toithe  windward,  the  wind  being  SSw,  which  it  is  ia- 
lended  to  reach  on  two  boards  ^  and  the  ship  can.  lie 

3 


E0;  3.  A  ship  which  «an  lie  within  5}  points  of  the 
wind,  is  bound  to  a  p<ttt'  36- miles  to  the  windwbrA,  the  ,• 
wind  being  N£&N,  which  it  is  intenditfd  to  reich  oh 
four  boards,  the  fint  being  nathe  laHfdard  Uck.    1^- 
qmred  ^  course  and  di^tknci^  od  each  ? 

JBjf  Construction^  . 

Diasr  tht  N£»K  Uae  6Af  (figw  ^y  eqoal'  to  361^.41' 
miliSy  and  hiiiof  it  in  Bybmm  C  and  B  draw  lines  pan 
rallel  to  the  £^:  xftfrnib^  and  front  A  and  B  draW 
lines  p«ralfel  la  the  SSEfE  pointy  meeting  the  Sohoet 
in  the  points  D  and  £.  Now  the  diitwiees  AD,  BD, 
B£,  and  CE,  are  equal }  and  anv  one  of  them  applied 
to  the  acale  will  measure  X9.1  mues. 

Ikf  Caiculatiou, 
From  £  draw  £r  peipeadioalar  to  AC  }  and  in  ibt 
triangle  CF£  ace  ffiven  Ct'zzpni.  ani  the  angfe  FCS 
=5»  fointi,  to  finid  C£. 

AA4. 


•1 


678 


NAVIGATION. 


Practice, 


Windward  As  radios 
Sailing,     is  to  the  secant  of  F€£ 
so  is  CF 

to  tlie  distance  C£ 


Fq;.  42. 


^>«*  43- 


10.00000 
5f  points  10.32661 
9  miles  0.95424 

19.1  miles         1.28085 

Es,  4.  A  ship  bound  to  a  port  bearing  N^W  distant 
40  miles,  with  the  wind  at  N6E^£y  intends  to  reach 
it  on  two  boards.  Required  the  coarse  and  distance 
on  each  tack,  the  ship  Ijing  within  5f  points  "of  the 
wind? 

By  Construction. 

Draw  the  1*73 W  line  CA  (fig.  42.)  equal  to  40 
miles  'f  and  because  the  wind  is  N^EfE,  and  the  ship 
can  lie  within  5f  points  of  the  wind,  the  course  on  the 
larboard  tack  will  be  E^N,  and  on  the  starboard  NW. 
Therefore,  from  the  centre  C  draw  the  E3N  tine  CB, 
and  from  it  draw  the  NW  line  AB,  meeting  CB  in 
B  ;  then  CB  and  AB  applied  to  the  scale  will  measure 
26.7  and  48.1  m.  respectively. 

JSy  Calculation, 

'In  the  triangle  ACB,  given  AC=r40  miles,  and  the 
apgles  A,  B,  and  C,  equal  to  3,  5,  and  8  points  respec- 
tively, to  find  AB  and  BC. 

To  find  the  distance  CB. 
As  the  sine  of  B  -  -  5  points     9*91985 

is  to  the  sine  of  A         -  -  3  points     9.74474 

so  is  the  distance  CA         -  40  miles      1.60206 


to  the  distance  CB         -         -  26.73        <  •42695 

To  find  the  distance  AB. 
As  the  sine  of  B  -  -  5  points    9*91985 

is  to  the  sine  of  C        -  -  8  points  10.00000 

so  is  the  distance  CA  -  40  miles       i  .60206 


to  the  distance  AB 


48.11 


1. 68221 


.JEx,  5.  A  ship  close  hauled  within  5  points  of  the 
wind,  and  making  one  point  of  leewaj,  is  bound  to  a 
port  bearing  SSW  distant  54  miles,  the  wind  being 
S6E  :  It  is  mtended  to  make  the  port  at  three  boards, 
the  first  of  which  must  be  on  the  larboard  tack  in  order 
to  avoid  a  reef  of  rocks.  Required  the  course  and  dis- 
tance on  each  tack  ? 

By  Construction* 

'Draw  the  SSW  line  CA  (fig.  43.)  equal  to  54  m. 
and  as  the  wind  is  S^E,  and  the  ship  makes  her  course 
good^within  5  points  of  the  wind,  therefore  the  course 
on  the  larboard  tack  will  be  SW3W,  and  on  the  star- 
board EbS  :  hence  from  C  draw  the  SW3W  line  CB, 
and  from  A  draw  AD  parallel  thereto ;  bisect  CA  in 
£,  and  draw  BED  parallel  to  the  EbS  line  ^  then  will 
CJB  and  AD  be  the  distances  on  the  larboard  tack, 
which  applied  to  the  scale,  each  will  be  found  to  mea- 
sure 37.4  >  and  the  distance  on  the  starboard  tack  6D 
will  oieasure  42.4  miles. 

By  Calculation. 

The  triangles  CBE,EAD  are  equal  and  similar : 
bence  in  the  first  of  these  are  given  C£,  equal  to  27 
miles,  half  the  distance  between  the  ship  and  port ;  the 
angles  C,  B,  and  E,  equal  to  3,  4,  ami  9  points  re- 
spectively, to  find  CB  and  BE.   * 

4 


To  find  CB,  the  distance  on  tbe  larboard  tack.       c«f« 
As  tbe  sine  of  B  7         -  4  points    9-84948  ^'^ 

is  to  the  sine  of  £         -  -  9  points    9*99 157 

80  is  the  distance  C£  -         27  miles      >  •43 136 


to  the' distance  BC        -        -         37*45        ^'57345 
To  find  BE  half  the  distance  on  the  starboard  tack. 
As  the  sine  of  B         •         -  4  points    9.84948 

is  to  the  sine  of  C         -  -  3  points    9-74474 

■80  is  the  distance  CE  -  27  miles      1-43136 


to  the  distance  BE 


21.21 


1.32663 


Whole  distance  AC  -  42*42 

Ex,  6.  A  ship  plying  to  the  windward,  with  tbe 
wind  at  NNE,  after  sailincr  5 1  miles  on  each  of  two 
tacks,  is  found  bj  observation  to  have  made  ^6  milei 
of  difference  of  latitude.  How  near  the  wind  did  sbc 
make  her  way  good  P 

By^  Construction, 
Mvke  CA  (fig.  44.)  -equal  to  36  miles;  dnwABl«-4f 
perpendicular  to  CA,  and  draw  the  NNE  line  CB, 
meeting  AB  in  B  ;  make  CD,  BD  each  equal  to  51 
miles,  and  these  being  measured,  will  be  found  equal  t$ 
6  points. 

By  Calculation, 
In  the  triangles  CAB,  BCD,  are  given  AB  equal  tt 
36  m.  CD=Bl)=5i,  and  the  angle  ACB  equal  to  2 
points  y  to  find  the  angle  BCD. 
As  the  distance  CD  -  51  ^•7Q7J7 

is  to  the  diff.  of  latitude  CA      -       18  '•25527 

so  is  the  secant  of  ACB  -  2  points  10.03438 

to  the  cosine  of  BCD         -  67*  32'       9.5820^ 

Chap.  X  Of  Current  Sailing. 

The  computations  in  the  preceding  chapters  have 
been  performed  upon  the  assumption  that  the  water  bas 
no  motion.  This  may  -no  doubt  answer  tolerably  well 
in  those  places  where  the  ebbings  and  flowings  are  re* 
gular,  as  then  the  effect  of  the  tide  will  be  noirlj  com* 
terbalanced.  But  in  places  where  there  is  a  ^n>"<»ytt> 
current  or  setting  of  the  sea  towards  the  sansc  point,  ai 
allowance  for  the  change  of  the  ship's  place  aiisiog 
therefrom  must  be  m«de :  And  the  method  of  resolving 
•these  problems,  in  which  the  effect  of  a  current,  «r 
heave  of  the  sea,  is  taken  into  consideration,  is  calkd 
current  sailing. 

In  a  calm,  it  is  evident  a  ship  will  be  carried  in  the 
direction  and  with  the  velocity  of  the  current.  Hence, 
if  a  ship  sails  in  tbe  direction  of  the  current,  her  rate 
will  be  augmented  by  the  rate  of  the  cnnrent }  but  if 
sailing  directly  against  it,  the  distance  made  good  will 
be  equal  to  the  difference  between  the  ship's  rate  as  giv- 
en  by  the  log  and  that  of  the  current.  And  the  aW 
lute  motion  oi  tbe  ship  will  bea-head,  if  her  rate  ex- 
ceeds that  of  the  current  ^  but  if  less,  the  ship  «iH 
make  stern  way.  If  the  ship's  course  be  obliqoe  to  the 
current^  the  distance  made  good  in  a  given  tioM  will 
be  repr«'^ented  by  the  third  side  of  a  triangle,  wbeitof 
the  distance  given  by  the  log,  and  the  drift  of  the  car* 
rent  in  the  same  time,  are  the  other  sides  ^  andthetrw 
coursi*  will  be  the  angle  contained  between  the  meridiia 
and  tbe  line  actually  described  by  the  ship. 


FbU 


Practice.  N  A  V  I  G 

CorrtDt       £s,  X.  A  ship  eailed  NNE  at  tbe  rate  of  8  knots  an 
Sultag.   hour,  dHvinfr  i8  hours,  in  a  current  setting  NW^WaJ 

miles  an  hour.    Required  the  course  and  distance  made 

good? 

By  Construction. 
COCLXV.      13,^  ^,j^  j^j^£  ,j^^  ^^  ^g^  ^^^  ^^^^j  to  ,8  j^  g 

^^^*  =144  miles  5  and  from  A  dx>w  AB  parallel  to  the 
NWAW  rhnmb,  and  equal  to  i8K2J=45  miles:  now 
BC  being  joined  will  be  the  distance,  and  NCB  the 
course.  The  first  of  these  will  measure  159  miles,  and 
the  second  6^  23'. 

By  Calcufation. 
In  the  triangle  ACB,  are  given  AC^i44  miles,. 
AB=45  miles,  and  the  angle  CABizo  points,  to  find. 
BAG  and  BC. 

To  find  the  course  made  good. 

Ang,  BAC=i9  ptssrioi®  15^ 


«-4^- 


Dist.  AC 
Dist.  AB 

Sum 
Diff. 


144 

45 

189 
99 


B+C 
B+C 


As  the  sum  of  the  sidef 

is  to  the  difference  of  tbe  sides 


189 
99 


78  45 

39  ^^i 

2.27646 
1.99563 


so  is  the  tan.  of  half  sura  angles       39  22^      9.91417 
to  the  tan.  of  half  diff.  angles     -       23  15^    9-633.34 


Angle  ACB 
Angle  ACN 


16     7 
22  30 


Course  made  good  N     6  23 

To  find  the  distance. 
As  the  sine  of  ACB         -         16°     7'      - 
is  to  the  sine  of  CAB       -       loi   15 
so  is  the  distance  AB     -  45       " 


to  the  distance  CB 


9-4434  » 

9-99»57 
1.653  2 1 


159  -        2.20137 

JSjt.  2.  A  ship  from  a  port  in  latitude  42°  52'  N, 
sailed  S^WyW  1 7  miles  in  7  hours,  in  a  current  set- 
ting between  the  north  and  west  \  and  then  the  same 
port  bore  £N£,  and  the  ship^s  latitude  by  observation 
was  42P  42*  N*  Required  the  settii^  and  dfift  of  the- 
current  ? 

Bu  Construction^ 
Draw  the  S^W^W  line  CA  {fig.  46.)  eqpal  to  17 
miles,  and  make  CB  equal  to  10  miles,  the  difference 
of  latitude :  through  B  draw  the  parallel  of  latitude 
BD,  and  draw  the  WSW  line  CD,  intersecting  BD 
in  D  :  AD  being  joined,  will  represent  the  drift  of  the 
current,  which  applied  to  the  scale  will  measure  20.2, 
and  the  angle  DAE  will  be  its  setting,  and  will  be 
found  equal  to  72^. 

By  Coleuhtion* 
In  tbe  triaBffle  CBD,  given  CBsio-  miles,  and  the 
angle  BCD=:o  points ;  to  find  the  distance  CD.   - 

As  radius 10.00000 

IB  ta  the  secant  of  BCD      >  -      6  points       10.41710 
so  J8  tbe  diff.  of  lat.  CB         -     10  railea        r.ooooo 


to  the  distance  CD  -         26.13  x.4i7io 

Again,  In  the  triangle  ACD  are  given  the  distance 
AC=X7  miles,  CDs:  26. 13,  and  the  angle  ACD  44 
poinu  \  to  find  the  remaining  parts. 


A  T  I  a  N. 

To  find  the  setting  of  the  current- 
Distance  DCs.  26.13     Angle  ACD=r4i-  points. 
Distance  AC=:i7.  o    CAD+CDA  ii^ 


675 


Corveat 
SftiKog. 


Sum 


43-3         C^±£»^=5i=644r. 


Difference    -      9.13^ 
As  the  sum  of  the  sides 
is  to  the  differ,  of  the  sides 
so  is  tang,  half  sum  angles 

to  tang,  half  diff.  angles 


43-13 
64^41' 

24  6 


1.63478 

0.96047, 

10.32509 

9.65078> 


9.99990 
9.88819. 
1.41710 


Angle  CAD  -  -  88  47 

Angle  CA£  =  ACB  =  i^  p.  =  16  62 

Setting  of  the  current  EAD  rr  71  55 

To  find  the  drift  of  the  current. 
As  the  sine  of  CAD      -       88'' 47" 
is  to  the  sine  of  ACD     -  47  points 

so  is  the  distance  CD      -     '26.13 

to  tbe  drift  of  current  AD       20.2        -  ^ '30539 

20.2 
Hence  the  hourly  rate  of  the  current  is  ■     '   s:2.9 

knots. 

Ess  J,  A  ship,  from  latitude  38^  20^  N,  sailed  24 
hours  in  a  current  setting  NW^N,  and  by  account  is  in 
latitude  38^  42'  N,  having  made  44  miles  of  easting ; 
but  tbe  latitude  by  observation  is  38^  58'  N.  Required* 
tbe  course  and  distance  made  good,  and  tbe  drift  of  the 
current. 

By  Construction, 

Make  C£  (fis.  47.)  equal  to  22  miles,  the  difference  Fig.  47^ 
of  latitude  by  D,  R,  and  £A=:54  miles,  the  depar- 
ture, and  join  CA  ^  make  CD^aS  miles,  the  differ- 
ence of  latitude  by  observation  ;  draw  tbe  parallel- of 
latitude  DB,  and  from  A  draw  the  NW&N  line  AB, 
intersecting  DB  in  B,  and  AB  will  be  the  drift  of  the 
current  in  24-  hours :  CB  being  joined,  will  be  the  dis- 
tance made  good,  and  tbe  angle  DCB  the  true  course. 
Now,  AB  and  CB  applied  to  tbe  scale,  will  measure 
19.2  and  50.5  respectively:  and  the  angle  DCB  will, 
be  4i®i. 

By  Calculation, 

From  B  draw  BF  perpendicular  to  AE,  then  in  the 
triangle  AFB  are  given  BF=  1 6  miles^  and  the  angle 
AB]^3,  points }  to  find  AB  and  AF. 

To  find  the  drift  of  tbe  current  AB. 
As  radius  ...  lo.ooooo 

is  to  tbe  secant  of  ABF    -     3  points     -       10.08015^ 
so  is  BF        ...     16  miles     -  i. 20412 


to  the  drift  of  the  current  AB  19.24 

I&nee-  the  hourly  rate^-^-^:=0.8. 

To  find  AF. 
As  radius        .         -         -         .         . 
is  to  the  tangent  of  ABF.   -     3  points 
so  is  BF        -         -        -      16  miles 

to  AF        -        -        -  10.69 

Departure  by  account  £A    -  44. 


1.28427 


XO.OOOOO 

9.82489^ 

1. 2041 2 

I.0290I 


True  Aeparture        £F=:DB=33.3i 


Now, 


6$fy  NAVIGATION 

CafTCBt'      Now,  in  Ae  triaogle  COfi  are  gWen  the  difference 
S«flai^    of  Utitnde  Mii*  depaHnre  ^  to  find  the  eonrse  and  di- 
'  stance. 

To  find  thp  course. 

A«  thff>  ^ilbwDoe  of  latk«de  CD     38.  -      x.57978 

18  to  the  departure  DB         •          33*3^  '     ^'S^^SJ 

so  is  radius        .        .        «        -        .  x  0.00000 


Vig.4S. 


to  tiie  tangent  of  the  course    -    41^  14' 

To  fitid  the  distance. 
As  radius        •  -      . 
is  to  the  secant  of  the  course    -    4-1^  14' 
"SO  is  the  difference  of  latitude    -    38 


9.94279 

xo.oooob 
XO.-12376 

J-i7978 


lo  the  distance        -        -      -       50*53     -    '1*70354 

Ejp.  4.  In  the  Straits  of  Sundm  at  1  V*  if*  Peering 
S£^  at  the  rate  of  5  knots  an  hoUTy.*!  pMped  close  hy 
'the  smali  islands  off  Hog  point.  Al  6,  not  hanng 
changed  our  course,  came  to  anchor  op»  the  Java  shore. 
Upon  setting  the  said  island  from  this  anchoring  pUce, 
I  find  it  b«irs-dne  north,  its  distance  by  the  chart  being 
22  miles.  It  follows  firotn  hence,  that  our  course  has 
been  affected  by  a  cinrrent.  -Required  its  velocity  and 
*  >n  ? 


By  Conitruciu>fU 
Turn  A  (fig.  48.)  drasp  the  8E&S  line  AB^ao, 
which  will  repi^sent  the  sbip^s  apparent  tn^clL  thfough 
the  water  j.  draw  AC  equal  to  22  viles  sooth,,  and 
C  will  be  the  ship's  reaLplape  ^  and  BC  being  joined 
will  be  the  current's  dnft  in  foov  hoO^s  j  which  ap- 
plied to  the  scale  will  measure  12.3  j  from  A  dt»w 
AD  parallel  to  BC,  and  the  angle  CAD  will  be  the 
direction  of  the  conrent,  and  wi)l  be  found  to  mea- 
sure 64^T» 

By  Cfdeutmtht^ 
In  the  trianele  AfiC,  given  ABs20  m.  AC=22  m. 
and  the  included  angle  A=g3  points  \  to  find  the  re^ 
maining  parts* 

To  find  the  setting  of  the  current. 
Distance  ACs22  nh     Included  angle  ^^3  points. 


ABcs2o 


B+C^nj 


Sum        -        42 

Difibrence    -     2 
•As  the  sum  of  the  sides 
is  to  the  diQu  of  the  sides 


B+C 


.=56ip=573^7i 


42        -        1*62325 
-       2       -         0.30103 
so  is  the  tang,  of  half  sum  angles  73^  7'^^    -    10.51806 


te  tang,  of  half  diC  angles  ^'SSi  9-^95^4 

Setting  of  the  current  S  64  1 2W,or  SW^WJW. 

To  find  the  drift  of  the  current. 

9»9544fr« 

9-74474 
1.30103  ^ 

1.09x37 


As  the  sine  of  ACB 
is  to  the  sine  of  BAC 
80  is  the  distance  AB 


64?  12^ 

33  45 
20- 


totbaveloeity  of  cor.  B€      12  34 
and.^rT~=:3.f,  its  hourly  rate. 

Example.  5.    A  ship-bqun^  ^T*^  ^n^.  tir.  ^\%\mi^ 
lying  21  miles  to  the  Sj^^EiE,  and  the  flood  tide  set- 
ting NEJE  2t  mij^s^  ai).|«|ip^,  JHwr^LAfttCPWBtti 


Pnic6ce 

she  must  steer,  and  the  fistance  ftin  by  the  log  it  6   i^, 
knots  an  hour  to  reach  her  port  ?  acnu 

By  Coftstruction,  m^^ 

In  the  position  of  the  SEAE^E  rhumb,  draw  DC   Sd^{ 
:92i  miles  (fig.  49.)}  draw  D£  NEfEsSf  miks;  *>i^ 
from  E  with  6  miles  cot  DC  in  F  ^  draw  DB  paraM  ^ 
to  £F,  meeting  CB  drawn  parallel  to  DE :  then  thcu^^ 
distaneeDB  applied  to  the  scale  will  measure  i9^,aQdE%.4f 
theeoox^  SDB  will  be  SEfS. 

ByCakuUuion. 
In  the  triangle  DBF,  given  D£=:2i  nules,  £F 
=:;6  roilea  and  the  angle  £DF=r6  points  j  to  find  tU 
^uigie  DFEsCBD. 

As  the  hourly  rate  of  sailing       -       6m.        0.77815 
is  to  the  hourly  rate  of  current  2fm.      0*39794 

so  is  the  sine  of  £DF^6  point        67^  30'     9.96563 


itfh 


to  the  sine  of  DFE        -        -        22  38      9-5854I 
Angle       -       SDC=5t  points  =61    52 


Course  SDB        ...        39   i4=SEiS. 

In  the  triangle  DBC,  dven  DC^2X  miles,  tbe 
ande  BDC=DFE:=:22P  38',  and  the  angfe  DCRs: 
]>EF=:6  pointo ;  to  find  the  distance  DB. 

Ae  tte  sine  of  DBC  -  89^  52f  -  9.99999 
is  to  the  sine  of  DCB  -  67  30  -  9.96562 
so  is  the  tme  distance  DC  21  m.         1.32223 

to  the  distance  by  the  log  DB.         21  m.         r.28785 

Chap.  XI.   Instruments  proposed  to  solve  tbe  varieia 
Problems  in  Sailings  independent  of  Cole 


Various  methods^  besides  those  already  given,  have 
been  proposed  to  save  the  trouble  •£  calculation^-* 
One  of' these  methods  is  by  means  of  an  insOttncit 
composed  of  rulers,  so  disposed  aa  ta  form  a.right- 
angied  triangle^  ^havin^  nnaihere  in.  a-  regnlar  pngr^ 
sioB  marked  on  their  sides:  These  iimtinwurts  ht 
made  of-dtSnentnaftafials)  6ach:88  pa|ieivweDd^.fani% 
&c«and'«re  difiensntly  eonsimcted,.  accetdiiy  to  ths 
fancy  of  the  inventor.  Among  instmments  o£  this 
kind,  that  by  John  Cooke,  Esq,  seems  to  be  the  heft. 
A  number  of  other  instruments,  very  diflerently  cm- 
structed,  have  been  proposed' for  the  same  purpose j 
of  these,  however,  we  shallonHr  take  notice  of  the  red* 
angiilAr  instrument,  by  A.  AUck&y,  LLJ);  FJLiliE. 
&c. 

I.  Q/'.CooftE^s  TFuu^^mhr-I$uenmmm. 

Description^  The  stock  a  6c  d  (fig.  50.)  is apa-|^^ 
rallelopiped  :  The  length  from  a  to  ^  is  two  feet,  the 
breadth  from  ato  d  two-  inchoa»  omi  the  depth  u  sae 
inck  and  a.ha|f«  Tim  slook  is  porlraatodJe^^itaii- 
nally,  so  as  tor  be:  cafsitl»;of ■  eontajniag: wHhin  it  r^ 
adcylisdbdeal  piece  of  wood  one  inch  diameter  $  gku\ 
a»afeil«ns  oncthotonrface  of  tfa»  siedn  «ho«Ni*^sr* 
ter  of  an  inck  wide^  which  disctooes^  omi  twsiflh'  fsrt 
of  .thaaur&ce  of  the  cylinder  contained  ;  the  edge  dc 
is. divided  into  twdvo^parts,  each  of  these  io<OThd 
iiHiOrisii(«paiAsra«A  eMhiohlhe»«fiaMBtotcn 
The  sm6Gw:e>tof.th»t  cylinder  is  disMded  li 
into  twelve  parts^  aad:eiiieMkioSith«i*i»; 


Ptactice. 


N  A  V  I  G 


tion. 


.  Kg-  5'- 


Tnstni-  portion  oF  a  line  of  meridional  parts  22  feet  long, 
i^ents  to  which  contains  the  meridional  parts  for  every  minute 
•olre  Pro-  from  the  equator  as  far  towards  the  pole  as  navigation 
.  ^^12  is  practicable ',  and  the  smallest  division  on  it  is  not  less 
*^lioJJ*^'than  ^j;th  of  an  inch.  By  rolling  and  sliding  this  cy- 
Calcala-  Under,  any  part  of  any  line  on  it  may  be  brought  into 
any  position  which  may  be  required  ;  the  box  t  is  en- 
grooved  into  the  edge  of  the  stock,  a  b^  so  that  it  may 
move  freely  from  aX»  b;  a  limb  from  this  box  extends 
to  k^  which  serves  to  mark  that  degree  of  the  perpei^ 
dicular  1 1  which  is  parallel  to  the  centre  of  the  semi- 
circle m;  i  I  js  two  feet  long,  and  graduated  on  both 
edges  as  the  stocky  it  is  perpendicular  to  the  stock, 
and  is  fixed  in  the  box  i',  by  which  it  may  be  moved 
from  a  to  ^  ;  o  /?  »  is  a  semicircle  of  six  inches  radius, 
engraved,  as  appears  in  the  plate,  which  slides  freely 
from  c  to  d  in  a  groove  in  the  edge  of  the  stock  c  d; 
m  f  is  the  index  moving  on  the  centre  m,  the  edge  of 
which  marks  the  course  on  the  semicircle  j  it  is  two 
feet  long,  and  divided  into  72  parts  ^  and  these  are 
subdivided  in  the  same  manner  as  those  on  the  stock 
and  perpendicular,  to  which  they  are  equal ;  r  is  a  ver- 
nier attached  to  the  index  to  show  minutes ;  iS  is  a  ver- 
nier composed  of  concentric  semicircles,  which  slides 
along  the  edge  q  m,  to  the  intersection  of  the  perpen- 
dicular and  index,  where  it  serves  as  a  vernier  to  both; 
below  «  is  a  small  piece  of  ivory,  with  a  mark  on  it  to 
point  out  the  degree  of  the  line  d  c,  which  is  perpendi- 
cnlarly  under  the  centre  of  the  semicircle.  Fig.  51. 
is  a  view  of  the  back  part  of  the  instrument. 

Use,  The  method  of  working  every  case  which 
•ocurs  ID  navigation,  is  to  make  the  instrument  similar 
to  that  ideal  triangle  which  is  composed  of  the  differ- 
enee  of  latitude,  d^partdre,  and  distance ;  or,  to  that 
composed  of  the  meridional  difference  of  latitude,  dif- 
ference of  longitude,  and  enlarged  distance  j  or,  to  that 
composed  of  the  difference  of  longitude,  departure, 
and  sine  of  the  middle  latitude ;  which  is  done  by 
means  of  the  data  procured  from  the  compass,  log-line, 
and  qnadrant :  whence  it  follows,  from  the  nature  of 
similar  triangles,  or  from  the  relation  which  exists  be- 
tween the  uSes  of  triangles  and  the  sines  of  their  op- 
posite angles,  that  the  parts  of  the  instrument  become 
proportional  to  those  which  they  represent ;  and  will 
ascertain  the  length  of  the  lines,  or  the  extent  of  the 
aneles  sought,  by  its  gradations. 

In  the  practice  of  this  instrument,  a  small  square  is 
necesary  in  order  to  bring  the  centre  of  the  semicircle 
perpendicularly  over  the  meridional  degree  correspond- 
ing to  the  latitude. 

Piafie  Satltng. 

PROB.  I.  The  course  and  distance  sailed  being  giVen, 
to  find  the  difference  of  latitude  and  departure. 

Example*  A  ship  from  latitude  24^  18'  N,  sailed 
NW5N  168  miles.  Required  the  latitude  come  to, 
and  departure  ? 

Set  the  centre  of  the  semicircle  perpendicularly  over 
the  given  latitude  24^  i8\  and  the  index  to  the  course 
3  pomts  'f  move  the  perpendicalar  nntil  it  cut  the  in- 
dex at  the  given  distance  168  >  then  at  the  point  of  in- 
tersection on  the  perpendicular  is  93.3  miles,  the  de- 
parture, and  on  the  base,  by  the  edge  of  the  box,  is 
!26^  38',  the  latitude  come  to. 

Vol.  XIV«  Part  IL  + 


A  T  1  O  N. 

Prob.  IL  Both  latitudes  and  course  given,  to  find 
the  distance  and  departure. 

Example,  Let  the  latitude  sailed  from  be  43®  50'N, 
that  come  to  47^  8'  N,  and  the  course  NNE.  Required 
the  distance  and  departure  ? 

Move  the  centre  of  the  semicircle  to  the  latitude  left 
43^  50',  and  the  edge  of  the  1m)x  to  the  latitude  come 
to  47^  8'  *,  fix  the  index  at  the  given  course  2  points  : 
then  at  the  point  of  intersection  of  the  index  and  per- 
pendicular is  the  distance  214  miles  on  tlie  index,  and 
the  departure  82  miles  on  the  perpendicular. 

pROBvIII.  Given  the  coarse  and  departure,  to  find 
the  distance  and  difference  of  latitude^ 

Example.  Let  the  latitude  sailed  from  be  32^  S^'N, 
the  course  SW68,  and  the  departure  200  miles.  Re- 
quired the  distance  and  latitude  come  to  ? 

Move  the  centre  of  the  semicircle  to  the  latitude  * 
left  32^  38',  set  the  index  to  the  given  course  3  points, 
and  move  the  perpendicular  till  the  given  departure 
200  cuts  the  index  ^  at  this  point  on  the  index  is  360 
miles,  and  the  edge  of  the  box  will  cut  the  latitude 
come  to  27**  39'N. 

Prob.  IV.  Given  the  difference  of  latitude  and  di- 
stance, to  find  the  course  and  departure. 

Example.  Let  the  latitude  left  be  17^  lo'N,  the 
latitude  come  to  21^  40'  N,  and  the  distance  sailed  on 
a  direct  course  between  the  north  and  west  300  miles. 
Required  the  course  and  departure  P 

Move  the  semicircle  and  box  to*  the  given  latitudes, 
and  the  index  until  the  distance  found  thereon  meets 
the  perpendicular }  then  at  the  point  of  contact  on  the 
perpendicular  is  130.8,  the  departure,  and  on  the  semi- 
circle by  the  index  is  25^  50^,  the  course. 

Prob.  V.  The  distance  and  departure  given,  to  find 
the  course  and  difference  of  latitude. 

Example*  The  distance  sailed  is  246  miles  between 
the  south  and  east,  the  departure  is  138  miles,  and  the 
latitude  left  5 1^'  id  N.  Required  the  course  and  lati- 
tude come  to  f 

Set  the  centre  4>f  the  semicircle  to  51^  10',  the  lati- 
tude sailed  from  y  find  the  distance  246  on  the  index, 
and  the  departure  138  on  the  perpendicular^  then 
move  both  till  these  points  meet,  and  the  course  34*  lo* 
will  be  found  on  the  semicircle  by  the  index,  and  the 
latitude  in  47®  47'  N,  by  the  edge  of  the  box. 

Prob.  VI.  Both  latitudes  and  departure  given,  to 
find  the  coarse  and  distance. 

Example.  A  ship  trooi  latitude  43^  10'  N,  sailed 
between  the  north  and  west  till  she  was  in  latitude  47^ 
14'  N|  and  has  made  170  miles  of  departure.  Requires! 
the  course  and  distance  ? 

Move  the  centre  of  the  semicircle  over  43^  10',  and 
the  edge  of  the  box  to  47^  14'  ^  find  tlie  departure  OA 
the  perpendicular,  and  bring  the  edge  of  the  indtic 
thereto ;  now  at  tbe  point  of  intersection  is  the  distance 
297.4  miles  on  the  index,  and  the  cour^  34^  52^  ou 
the  semicircle. 

Traverse  Sailing. 

Example.  A  ship  from  latitude  46*  48' N,  sail- 
ed SSW^W  24  miles,  8bW  36  miles,  and  Si£  40 

4  R  milc9*  • 


6^1 


IitKtni- 
nsenti  to 
solve  Pro- 

blenii 

in  SfttUiig, 

withooi 

Celcula- 

tioa. 


682 


NAVIGATION. 


loitra- 

menu  to 

«olTe  fro- 

blcmi 

in  Sailing, 

without 

Calcttl»- 

tion. 


miles.     Required  tlie  latitude  iii|  together  with  the  di- 
rect course  and  distance? 

Set  the  semicircle  to  the  latitude  sailed  from  46^  48', 
and  the  index  to  the  course  SSW^Wj  mark  the  di- 
stance 24  on  the  indexy  and  bring  the  perpendicular  to 
meet  it}  then  the  index  will  cut  the  departure  11.3 
on  the  perpendicular,  and  the  perpendicular  will  cut 
the  latitude  46^  27^  N  on  the  hase.  For  the  next  course 
and  distance,  bring  the  semicircle  to  the  latitude  mark- 
ed by  the  perpendicular,  and  lay  down  tbe  course  BbW  : 
if  it  be  towards  tbe  first  meridian,  move  the  last  marked 
departure  until  it  meets  the  index,  and  the  limb  of  the 
box  will  r.iark  the  present  departure  f  bat  if  the  course 
be  from  the  first  meridttm,  bring  the  last  departure  1 1.3 
to  tile  limb  of  the  box,  the  index  will  mark  the  depar- 
ture made  good  1 8.3  on  the  perpendicular^  and  the  la* 
titude  arrived  at  40°  52'  will  be  marked  on  the  base  by 
the  perpendicular :  proceed  in  the  same  manner  with 
all  the  courses  of  which  the  traverse  consists,  then  the 
difference,  of  latitude  1°  36'  will  be  intercepted  between 
the  latitude  sailed  from  46^  48',  and  the  latitude  come 
to  45^  I  z'  last  marked  by  the  perpendicular ;  and  also 
the  departure  made  good  will  be  intercepted  between 
that  point  on  the  perpendicular  where  the  first  depar- 
ture commenced,  find  that  where  the  last  terminated. 
Now,  with  the  idiffi^i^etice  of 'latitude  1^  36^  and  the  de- 
part ure,' the  ^rourse  will  lie'S  99  30' W,  abd  distance.py 
miles^'by  last 'problem  ih-PlsiHe  Sailing. 

PanOlel  SaUmg. 

^ROB.  I.  The  difference  of 'longittide  between  two 
places  in  one  parallel  of  latitude  given,  to  find  the  dis- 
tance between  them. 

Example.  'Liit  the  eonHhon  ktttndebe  4^®  ^o'  N, 
mid  the  diffierence  of  longitude  3^  30'.  Required  the 
distance? 

Set  the  index  to  40^  36',  the  complement  of  the  la- 
titude on  the'be'nrieiii^le  ^  'hlark  Hie  difference  of  longi- 
tude In  talka  dta  die  ihd^^'then  <tiTote  Hre'pei^n- 
diculAr'bntil  it'meks  the  teiteinition'of  (he  difference 
of  longitude  on  the  index,  and  the  part  of  tlie  ik^rpen- 
dicuFar  intcl-bepted'beiSit^n'  the  !lmb  oPtbe  liox^ild  the 
|>oint  briAtersectilm'\«'ail>e  the'  distanee'^^4  Mrtles. 

PliOB.'II.  -The  dtstaaco  between  two  places  in  one 
parallel  of  latitude  g^tea^  t&fiad  the  difference  of  lon- 
gitude between  them. 

Bximple.  Let  <he  latitude 'of  the  g&veti  ^avaUel  be 
49°  30'  N,  the  distance  sailed  i3<Si4  £  Required  the 
difference  of  longitude  ? 

Set  ^the  index  to  the  complement  of  the  latitude 
40^  30',  and  mark  the  distance  sailed  on  'the  perpendi- 
cular ^  then  move  it  until  it  mebts  the  index,  and  the 
point  of  intersection  will  show  the  difference  of  longi- 
tode  21  c/  or  3^  30'  on  the  index. 

Prob.  Itl.  Given  tfacT  dtMance  satM  ona  paraUel, 
and  the  diffei%nte>bf  t<»(igitode,'to  ^d  the  iatiMde  of 
that  iparallel. 

Example.  The  distance  sailed  doe  east  is  I3<S*4,  and 
the  difference  of  longitude  3^  30'.  Required  the  lati- 
tude of  the  parallel  ? 

Find  the  difference  bf-loBgitu'de  2io«n  tbe  index, 
and  the  ^stance  136.4'  on^the  perpendicular^  and  more 

i 


both  until  these  numbers  meet,  and  the  compleoient  of  1,,^. 
the  latitude  4^  jo'  will  be  shown  by  the  index  oa  the  acati  n 
semicircle.  loifc  h». 

Vim 

Mercator^s  and  Middle  Latitude  Sailiftg.  »  *jN 

FlKOB.  L  The  latitudes  and  longitudes  of  two  pltcei  Ukdi. 
given,  to  find  the  direct  cpurse  and  distance  betwces    ^ 
them.  ^^ 

Example.  Required  the  course  and  distance  be- 
tween  two  places  whose  latkodes  and  loagitodes  ire 
SO^  30'  N,  19^  o'  W,  and  54*  30'  N,  15"  30^  W,  it- 
spectively  ? 

ByMercator*8  Sailing* 
To  find  the  course. 

Move  the  centre  of  the  semicircle  peipendicultilT 
over  the  meridional  degree  answering  to  latitude  jr 
50'  N,  then  move  the  box  until  the  edge  of  tbe  pci- 
pendicular  cuts  the  meridional  jiarts  of  the  other  Itti- 
tude  54^  3c/  N,  and  move  the  index  until  it  cuts  die 
difference  of  longitude  3^  30'  on  the  perpendicular,  sad 
the  index  will  mark  the  course  30  10',  «r  NN£|£ 
neai'ly  on  the  semicircle. 

To  find  the  distance. 

Screw  the  index  to  this  course,  and  move  the  centre 
of  the  semicircle  to  the  latitude  50^  jo'  N,  aodtbe 
edge  of  the  perpendicular  to  the  latitude  54^  30^  K, 
then  the  perpendicular  will  cut  -the  distance  254.7  oa 
the  index. 

%  Middle  LaHiude  Saikng. 
To  find  the'departore. 

Move  the  centre  of  the  semicirele  to  the  ktitiilie 
50^  50',  andUhe  edge  of  «the  index  to  the  complement 
of  tbe  middle  latitude  37^  •^O'' on 'the  oemieirele;  thea 
mote'the'box  ittitilthe  edge  of  theperpeniiicQlar  iattr- 
seets  the 'termination  of  the  difference  of  fengitode  310 
aoileson  the  index,  which  point  of  tnteraection  willaaik 
the  departure  118  on  tfaeperpendteular. 

'  To  find  the' course  and  dtstanee. 

Move  the  edge  of  tbeperpendioolarto  Ibe  other h- 
titude  54^  3&',  and  the  index  vn^l  it  cuts- the  dcftf- 
ture  '1 28  on  the  perpendicular  \  then  will  tibe  peipeadi- 
eolar mark  the  distance  on  the  index  '254^7  nules,sad 
the  index  will  mark  the  eourae  oh  theaemieiicle  30*  10^, 
er  NNE^E  neariy. 

Frob.  II.  Both  latitudes  and  cooraek  given,  to  M 
the  distance  and  diflbrence  of  longitude. 

Example.  'A  6hip  •  firom  latitude  $6^  JO^N,  laagi> 
tude  19''  o'  W,.8ailed  N  30''  ic/  £,  ontil  the  is  io  bti- 
tude  54°  3c/  N.  Required  the  distance  and  diifereaoe 
of  longitude  ?. 


By  MefxakirU 

To  find  the  di&rence  of  longitude* 
'Movelbe  box  and  semicircle  as  in  theforaMrfi^ 
blem  to  the  meridional  parts  of  the  given  latitndcs,  thca 
set  the  index  to  the  course,  and  it  will  mark  the  di&r* 
ence  of  longitude  3^  3^  on  th^  perpendicular  r  Heaee 
the  longitude  in  is  15    30'W. 

To  find  tbe  distance. 
'Move  the  perpendicular  and  semicirole  to  the^  gim* 
latitudes,  and  put  the  index  to  tbe  given  conne)  Ika 
the  perpendicniar  will  cut  the  distance  254^7  ndta^ea 
f}t4t,  index* 


Practice. 


NAVIGATION. 


mIvc  Prok- 


By  Middle  Latitude  SaiUng. 
To  6nd  the  ^tftance  and  departure. 

MoTe  tbeaemiciaxle  and  perpendicular  tolhe  given 

in  ftiSiur,  ^^^t°^9  <^nd  tlie  index  to  the  cour&e  \  t^en  the  per- 
withMt'  pendicular  will  show  the  departure  128  mtles,  and  the 
Cdcob^  index  the  distance  254.7  "ules  at  the  point  of  intersec- 
tion. 

To  find  the  diflerence  of  longitude. 
Set  the  index  to  the  complenient  of  the  middle  lati- 
tude on  tlM»  semicircle,  and  mo%'e  the  box  until  the  ter- 
mination of  the  departnre  on  the  perpendicular  meets 
^he  index,  which  will  mark  the  difference  of  longitude 
'thereon  210  m.  or  3^  30'.. 

Prob.  III.  Both  latitudes  and  dibtance  given,  to 
find  the  course  and  difTerence  of  longitude* 

Example.  From  latitude  50^  50'  N,  longitude  19^  o' 
TV,  a  ship  sailed  254.7  miles  between  the  north  and  east, 
and  by  observation  is  in  latitude  54®  30^  N.  Required 
the  course  and  difference  of  longitude  ? 

BvMercatar*s  Sailing. 
To  find  the  course. 
Move  the  perpendioular  and  semicircle  to  the  £plven 
latitttdes,  and  the  index  until  the  distance  sailed  mark- 
ed on  it  meets  the  perpendicular  *,  then  the  index  will 
mark  the  course  N  30^  lo'  £  cfn  the  semicircle.' 
To  find  the  differenee  of  longitude. 
Screw  the  index  ^0  the  eoorse,  move  the  >  perpendi- 
cular and  semicircle  to  the  meridional  parts  of  the  given 
latitudes,  and  the  space  intercepted  between  the  limb 
of  the  box  and  the  index  will  be  the  difference  of  lon- 
gitude 3®  30'' 

By  Middle  Latitude  Sailing' 
To  bnd  the  departure  and  coui£e« 
Move  the  seoNcivcle  and  perpendicolar  to  the  givcp 
latitudes,  and  the  index  until  the  distance  sailed  on  it 
cuts  the  perpendicular }  then  the  perpendicolar  will 
show  the  departure  128  miles,  and  the  semicircle  the 
€M»e  N  30<>  lo"  £. 

To  find  the  difference  of  longitude. 

Set  the  index  to  37^  20',  the  complement  of  the 

middle  latttode  on  the  semicircle,  and  move  the  pespen- 

dicuiar  until  4he  tenninatMa  of  the  departure  on  it  cuts 

'the  index :  then  the  point  of  inteisection  will  mark  the 

difference  of  longitude  210  miles  on  the  index. 

Prob.  IV.  Both  latitudes  and  departure  given,  to 
find  the  course,  distance,  and  difference  of  longitude. 

Example.  Let  the  latitude  and  longitude  sailed  from 
be  56^  40"  S  and  28®  $s!  ^  respectively,  the  latitude 
come  to  61^  20^8,  and  departnre  172  miles.  Required 
the  GOuffse,  dLstancf,  and  .difference  of  longitude  ? 

By  Mercaiar^sSaifittg. 

To  find  the  course  and  distance. 

Move  the  perpendicular  and  semicircle  to  the  gtv^n 

iaiitude  (h)  ;  then  move  the  index  till  it  meets  the 

extremity  of  the  departure  on  the  perpendiculat  j  the 


683 

distance  will  be  marked  on  the  index  329,  and  the     iiuLrn. 
course  S  31^  35'  £,  or  SS£^E  nearly,  on  the  semi-  mcnts  to 
circle.  'ol^®  Pioiu 

To  find  the  difference  of  longitude.  .    i*^^'  ,^ 

Move  the  perpendicular  and  semicircle  to  the  men-  witboat ' 
dional  parts  of  the  given  latitudes,  and  the  index  will  Ca!cula- 
cut  the  diffeccnce  of  longitude  on  the  perpendicular  ^^•^> 
i""  35'- 

By  Middle  Latitude  Sailing. 
The  course  and  distance  are  found  as  beibre* 
To  find  the  difference  of  longitude. 
Set  the  index  to  31%  the  complement  of  the  middle 
latitude  on  the  semicircle,  and  move  the  perpendicular 
nntil  the  departure  marked  on  it  cuts  the  index,  and 
this  point  of  intersection  will  mark  the  difference  of 
longitude  on  the  index  335  .m.  or  5^  35'. 

Prob.  V.  One  latitude,  course,  aud  distance  given, 
to  find  the  di&rence  of  latitude  and  difference  of  lone 
gitpde. 

Example.  Let  the  latitude  left  be  $6^  40^  8,  lon- 
gitude 28®  55'  E,  the  courses  3i®35'£,  and  distance 
329  m.  Required  the  latitude  and  longitude  come  to  ^ 

By  Mercator^s  Sailing. 

To  find  the  latitude  come  to. 

Set  the  semicircle  to  the- latitude  sailed  from,  and 

the  index  to  tjie  co^rse,  and  bring  the  ^rpendicular 

tOitbe  distance,  which  at  tbp  same  time  will  nv^rk  the 

UtitMde/^oime  to.6i^  20^  S. 

To  Slid,  tbe,differcnce  of  longit«4ef 
3cfiew  the  index  to  the  <oui»e,  and  move  t]ie  semi- 
circle and  perpendicolar  to  tbe  meridional  parte  of 
both  latitudes  yih^  the  ia4ex  will  cut  t^e.diQerenpe  of 
longitude  on  the  perpendicular  5^  35'. 

By  Middle  Latitude  Sailing. 

The  latitude  arrived  at  is  found  as  above. 

To  find  tbe  departure. 

The  semicircle  and  perpendicular  being  set  to  both 

latitudes,  and  the  index  to  the   course,  it  will  shoir 

the  departure  172.7  on  the  perpendicular. 

To  find  the  difference  of  longitude. 
Set  the  index  to  31®  the  complement  of  the  middle 
latitude  on  the  semicircle,  and'move  the  perpendicular 
until  the  departure  nmiked  on  it  cuts  the  index,  and 
the  division  on  the  index  at  the  point  of  ifitersecCion 
.will  be  the  difference  of  loogitnde  335. 

Prob.  VL  One  latitude,  course,  and  departnre  given, 
to  find  the  distance,  difference  of  latitude,  and  difer- 
ence  of  longitude. 

Example.  Let  the  latitude  sailed  from  be  $6^  40' 
Nf  Ipngttude  28«  35*  W,  tbe  course  N  310  35'  W, 
and  departure  172.7.  Required  the  distance,  and  the 
latitude  aQd  longitude  come  to  ? 

By  Mercator*s  Sailing. 
To  find  the  distance  and  latitude  come  to. 
Move  the  semicircle  to  the  latitude  left,  and  tlie  in- 
dex to  tbe  course  ^  mark  the  departure  on  the  perpen- 

4  R  2  dicular. 


(h)  In  southern  latitudes,  tbe  end  of  tbe  cylinder  where  the  numbers  begin  must  be  tinned  towards  the  north 
pointed  out  by  tbe  semicircle  ^  and  in  northern  latitudes,  it  must  be  reversed. 


684 


Tnstni- 
metits  to 
solve  Pro- 
blems 
m  Sailins^, 
without 
Calcula- 
tion. 


N  A  V  I  G 

(licular,  and  move  it  until  the  termination  thereof 
meets  tlie  index,  then  the  point  of  iiitersection  will 
show  ttic  distance  3  29  miles  on  the  index,  and  the  per  • 
pendiciilar  will  show  the  latitude  arrived  at  61^  20' N 
on  the  base. 

To  find  the  diflcrence  of  longitude. 
Screw  the  index,  and  move  the  perpendicular  and 
semicircle   to  the   meridional  parts  of  both  latitudes, 
then  the  index  will  cut  the  diffeience  of  longitude  5^  35' 
on  the  perpendicular. 

By  Middle  Latitude  Sailing. 

Find  the  distance  sailed  and  latitude  in  as  abovei 
and  the  diflference  of  longitude  a9  in  Problem. IV^  by 
middle  latitude  sailing. 

Frob.  VII.  One  latitude,  the  distance  sailed,  and 
departure  given,  to  find  the  course,  difference  of  lati- 
tude, and  difference  of  longitude. 

Example.  The  latitude  sailed  from  is  48^  30' N, 
and  loBgitbde  14^40'  W^  the  distance  run  is  345  miles 
between  the  south  and  east,  and  the  departure  20p 
miles.  Required  the.coiirse,  and,  the  latitude  and  lon- 
gitude come  to  ?' 

By  Mercator*9  Sailing* . 

To  find  the  course  and  latitude  come  te. 

Move  the  semicircle  to  the  latitude  left,  mark  the 
distance  on  the  index,  and  the  departure  on  th^  perpen- 
dicular, move  both  until  these  points  meet  ^  then  will 
the  index  show  the  course  S  95^  26'  £  on  the  semicircle, 
and  the  latitude  conie  to  43^  49'  on  the  base. 

The  difference  of  longitude  is  found  as  in  the- preced- 
ing problem. 

By  Middle  Latitude  Satlihg. . 

The  course  and  latitude  come  to  are  found  as  above, 
and  the  difference  of  longitude  as  in  Problem  IVv  by 
middle  latitude  sailing. 

II.  O/Dk  Mackat^s  Rectangular  Instrument. 

Plate  Description.  Fig.  52.  is  a.  representation  of  thid  in-. 

CCCLXVI  stroment,  of  about  one-third  of  the  original  size.^- 
Fig.  52.  rp|,g  length  C A  is  divided  into  100  equal  parts,  and 
the  breadth  CB  into  70  >^  but  in  this  plate  every  se- 
cond division  only  is  marked,  in  order  to  avoid  con- 
.  filsion  *,  through  these  divisions  parallels  are  drawn,  ter- 
minating at  the  opposite  sides  of  the  instrument.  Upon 
the  upper  and  right  hand  sides  are  two  scales  j  the  first 
contains  the.  degrees  of  the  quadrant,  and  the  other 
the  points. and  quarters  of  the  compass.  M  is  an  in- 
dex moveable  about  the  centre  C,  and  divided  in  the 
same  manner  as  the  sides  (1).  Fig.  ^^.  is  a  portion 
of  the  enlarged  meridian,  so  constructed  that  the  first 
degree  is  equal  to  three  divisions  on  the  instrument  y 
and  therefore,  in  the  use  of  this  line,  each  divisipn  on 
■  the  instrument  is  to  be  accounted  20  minutes.  The 
size  of  the  plate  would  not  admit  of  the  continuation  of 
the  line. 

Use.  From  a  bare  inspection  of.  this  instrument,,  it  ^ 


A  T  I  0  N.  Practice 

is  evident  that  any  triangle  whatever  nay  be  formed   ^^ 
on  it.     Id  applying  it  to  nautical  problems,  the  coone  MMito 
is  to  be  found  at  top,  or  rigfat-hcnd  side,  in  the  ooloma  *^hk 
of  degrees  or  points,  according  as  it  is  expiesaed )  the  .  ^ 
distance  is  to  be  found  on  the  index,  the  diflerence  of  J^ 
latitude  at  either  side  column,  and  the  departure  at  the  Gik4. 
head  or  foot  of  the  instrument.     The  numbers  in  tkeae     <"* 
columns  may  represent  miles,  leagues,  &e.  ^  but  whea 
used  in  conjunction  with  the  enlarged  meridional  line, 
then  10  is  to  be  accounted   xoo  miles,  20  ia  to  bf 
esteemed  200  miles,  and  -so  on,  each  nnmber  being  in- 
creased in  a  tenfold  ratio  j  and  the  intermediate  nos^ 
bers  are  to  be  reckoned  accordingly. . 

IHane  Sailing. 

Prob.  I.  The  course,  and  distance  sailed  given,  t# 
find  the  difference  of  latitude,  and  departure^ 

Krample.  Let  the  course  be  NF-f-N,  distance  44 
miles.  Required  the  difference  of  latitudie  and  depar- 
ture ? 

Move  the  index  until  the  graduated  edge  be  over  3^ 
points,  and  find  the  given  distance  44  miles  on  the  in- 
dex :  this  distance  will  be  found  to  cnt  the  pandlel  of 
'  34  miles,  the  difference  of  latitude  in  the  side  coIobb, 
and  that  of  28  miles,  the  departure  at  the  top. 

Prob.  JI.  Given  the  course  and  difference  of  Uti- 
tnde,  to  find,  the  distanee.and  departure. 

Example.  Required  the  distance  and  departure  »- 
swering  to  the  course  28^,  and  difference  of  latitude  60 
miles  ? 

Lay  the  index  over  the  eiven  course  28^ :  find  ds 
difference  of  latitude  6&  miles  in  the  side  column  *,  iti 
parallel  will  cut  the  index  at  68  miles,  the  distance  and 
the  corresponding  departure  at  the  top  is  32  miles. 

Prob.  III.  The  course  and.  departure,  given,  to  find 
the  distance  and  difference  of  latitude. 

Example.  Let  the  course  be  SSW  and  the  depsi- 
ture  36  miles.  Required  the  distance  and  difference  of 
latitude  ? 

Lay  the  index  over  two  points  ^  find  the  depaitsK 
at  the  top,  and  its  parallel  will  cut  the  index  at  ^ 
miles  the  distance,  and  the  difference  of  latitude  on  the 
side  column  is  87  miles. 

PaoB.  IV.  Given  the  distance  and  difference  of  la- 
titude, to  find  the  course  and  departure. 

Example.  The  distance  is  35  leases,  and  thoiif* 
ference  of  latitude  30  leagues.  Required  the  coone 
and  departure?' 

Bring  35  leagues  on  the  index  to  the  parallel  of  ^ 
leagues  in  the  side ',  then  the  departure  at  the  top  ii  1° 
leagues,  and' the  course  by  the  edge  of  the  index  on  tie 
line  of  rhumbs  is  a^  points. 

Prob.  V. .  Given  the  distance  and  departure,  to  W 
the  course  and  difference  of  latitude. 

Example.  Let  the  distance  be  58  miles,  and  the  J^ 

paitse 


(1)  In  the  original  instrument  are  two  slips,  divided  like  the  side  and  end  of  the  instrument.     One  of  tki*. 
slips  is  moveable  in  a  direction  parallel  to  the  side  of  the  instrument,  and  the  other  parallel  to  the  cnd«. 


Practice. 


I99tni- 
nents  to 
•olre  Pro- 
blems 
is  Sailing, 
without 
CalcoU- 
tioa. 


pcrture  15  miles.     Require^  the  course  and  diflerence 
of  latitude  ? 

Move  the  index  nntil  j8  found  thereon  cuts  the  pa* 
rallel  of  15  from  the  top  :  this  will  be  found  to  inter- 
sect the  parallel  of  56  miles,  the  difference  of  latitude  j 
and  the  course  by  the  edge  of  the<niler  is  15^. 


Frob.  VI.  The  difference  of  latitude  and  departure 
being  given,  to  find  the  course  and  distance. 

Example.  Let  the  diiFerence  of  latitude  be  30 
miles,  the  departure  28  miles.  Required  the  course 
and  distance  ? 

Bring  the  index  to  the  intersection  of  the  parallels  of 
30  and  28  \  then  the  distance  on  the  index  b  41  miles^ 
and  the  course  by  its  edge  is  43^. 

Traverse  Sailing. 

YvoA  the  difference  of  latitude  and  departure  answer- 
ing to  each  course  and  distance  by  Problem  I.  of  Plane 
Sailing,  and  from  thence  find  the  diflerence  of  latitude 
and  departure  made  good  \  with  which  find  the  course 
and  distance  by  the  last  problem. 

An  example  is  unnecessary. 

Parallel  Sailing, 

pROB.  I.  Given  the  diflerence  of  longitude  between 
two  places  on  the  same  parallel,  to  find  the  distance 
between  them. 

Example^  Let  the  latitude  of  a  parallel  be  48*^  and 
the  diflerence  of  longitude  between  two  places  on  it  3^ 
40^*    Required  their  distance  ? 

Put  the  index  to  48°,  the  given  latitude,  and  fii^d 
the  diflerence  of  longitude  220  on  the  index,  and  the 
corresponding  parallel  from  the  side  will  be  147,-  the 
distance  required. 

Paob.  it.  The  latitude  of  a  parallel,  and  the  distance 
between  two  places  on  that  parallel,  being  given,  .to 
find  the  difference  of  longitude  between  them. 

Example.   The  latitude  of  a  parallel  is  56%  and  the 
distance  between  two  places  on  it  200  miles.   Requined  '. 
their  difference  of  longitude  ? 

Put  the  index  to  the  given  latitude,  and  find  the 
distance  in  the  side  column,  and  the  intersection  of  its  * 
parallel  with  the  index  will  give  358,  the  diflbrence  of  ; 
longitude  sought. 


NAVIGATION. 

the  enlarged  meridian,  which  laid  off  from  C  upwards 
will  reach  to  500  ^  now  find  the  difference  of  longitude 
302  at  the  top,  and  bring  the  divided  edge  of  the  in- 
dex to  the  intersection  of  the  corresponding  parallels, 
and  the  index  wUl  show  the  couise  31°  8^  on  the  line  of 
degrees  \  then  find  the  difference  of  the  latitude  375  on 
the  side  colunrn,  and  its  parallel  will  intersect  the  index 
at  438,  the  distance. 


685 


Inttrn- 

mcntf  to 

•olve  Pro-; 

blcaif 

IB  Sailing 

without 

Calcnbu 

tioa. 


By  Middle  Latitude  Sailing. 
Put  the  index  to  41®  18',  the  complement  of  the 
middle  latitude  on  degrees,  and  the  difference  of  lon- 
gitude 302  on  the  index  will  intersect  the  parallel  of 
227,  the  departure,  in  the  side  column.  Now  move 
the  index  to  the  intersection  of  the  parallels  of  375 
and  227,  the  first  being  found  in  the  side  column,  and 
the  other  at  top  or  bottom  ^  then  the  distance  answer- 
ing thereto  on  the  index  will  be  438,  and  the  course  ou 
the  scale  of  degrees  is  41^  lo'. 

Prob.  II.  Given  one  latitude,  course,  and  distance, 
to  find  the  other  latitude  and  difference  of  longitude. 


titude  and  longitude*  come  to  I 


By  Mercatar'^s  Sailing. 
Put  the  index  to  tbe  course  2i  points,  and  find  the' 
distance  500  miles  thereon  5  then  the  corresponding 
difference  of  latitude  will  be  44X  miles,  and  the  depar- 
ture 23 5t  miles,  hence  the  latitude  in  is  46^  49'  N. 
Now  take  the  interval  between  the  latitudes  of  39^  22', 
and  46^  43'  on  the  enlarged  meridian,  which  laid  offfirom 
Or  wiJIyreach  to  about  605,  the  parallel  of  which  will  in- 
tersect the  vertical  parallel  of  the  difference  of  longitude 
323  at  the  edge  of  the  index :  hence  the  longitude  i 
u  17»  31' W.. 

By  Middle  Latitude  Sailing. 
Find  the  difference  of  latitude  and  departure  as  be- 
fore, and  hence  the  latitude  in  is  46^  43'  N,  and  the 
middle  latitude  43®  3'. .  Now  put  the  index  to  43^  3', 
and  the  horizontal  parallel  of  the  departure  23J|t  will 
intersect  the  index  at  322,  the  difference  of  longitude. 


Prob.  III.  Given  the  distance  and  difference  of  lon- 
gitude between  two  places  on  the  saone  parallel,  to  find 
the  latitude  of  that  parallel. 

Example.  Th»  number  of  miles  in  a  degree  of  lon- 
gitude is  46.5.    Required  the  latitude  of  tbe  parallel  ? 

Bring  60  on  the  index  to  cututhe  parallel  of  ifi.^ 
from  the  side,  then  the  edge  of  the  index  will  give  39^ 
11',  the  latitude  requiredv 

Middle  Latitude  and  Mercator'*s  Sailing.  . 

PliOB.  I.  The  latitudes  and  longitudes  of  two  places 
b«ing  giTon,^  to  find  tbe  course'  and  distance  between 
them. 

Example.  Required,  the  course  and  distance  between 
Genoa,  in  latitude  44®  25'  N,  longitude  .8®  36'  £,  and 
Palermo,  in  latitude  38**  xo'  N,  longitude  13®  38'  £? 

By  Mercator's  Sailings 
Take  tbe  interval  between  38®  i^-and  44?  25'  on 


Prob.  Ill,  Both  latitudes  and  course  given,  to  find 

*  th^  distance  and  difference  of  longitude. 

Ej^ample.  The  latitude  sailed  fit>m  is  22^  54'  S,  and 
longitude  42^  40'  W,  the  course  is  S£  by  E,  and  lati- 
tude come  to  26^  8^  S.  Reqpired  the  distance  sailed, 
and  longitude  in  f   - 

By  Mercator*s  Sailing* 
Bring  the  index  to  5  points,  the  given  course,  and 
the  parallel  of  194,  the  difference  of  latitude  found  in 

*  the  side  column,  will  intersect  the  index  at  349,  the 

*  distance ;  and  it  will  cut  the  vertical'  parallel  of  290, 
the  departure. 

Tike  the  interval  between  the  given  latitudes  22^ 
54'  and  26^  8^  on  the  enlarged  meridian  j  lay  off  that 
extent  from  the  centre  on  the  side  column,  and  it  will 
reach  to  213  :  the  parallel  of  this  number  will  intersect 
the  vertical  parallel  of  319,  the  difference  of  longitude. 
Hence  the  loogitQde  in  is  37^  21' W. 


6815 


Invtrn*  By  Middle  Latitude  Saiiing* 

menu  to        With  the  ^ven  course  and  diflference  of  latitude  find 

***^^[®J^^'  the  distance  and  departure  as  before  j  then  bring  the 

in  Sailinir   '^^^^^  ^^  ^^^  middle  latitude  24^  31'}  find  the  departure 

without*  290  in  the  side  coUimo,  and  its  parallel  will  intersect 

Calcula-   the  index  at  3^9,  the  difference  of  longitude. 


NAVIGATION.  Practia. 

long.  9^  17' Wy  the  departure  250  miles  W,  and  tfaesctCk^ 
latitude  come  to  36^  18'  N.     Required  the  course  lod' 
distailce  bailed,  and  the  longitude  come  to  ? 


tioa. 


"^  Prob.  IV.  One  latitude,  cogrse,  and  departure, 
given,  to  find  the  other  latitude,  distance,  and  differ- 
ence of  longitude.  ■ 

Example*  The  latiUide  and  longitude  left  are  20^ 
'a.c/  N,  and  49°  17'  W,  respectively  \  the  ceurse  is 
aS£|N,  and  departure  212  miles.  Required  the  lati- 
"tude  and  longitude  come  to,  and  distance  sailed  ? 

By  Mercator^s  Siiiitrtg* 

Put  the  Index  to  the  given  course  3}  points,  and 

^he  vertical  parallel  bf  2X2  will  cut  the  index  at  356, 

the  distance,  and  the  horizontal  parallel  of  286,  the 

difference  of  latitude ;  the  latitude  come  to  is  therefore 

.^5^  i6'N. 

Now  take  the  interval  between  the  latitudes  20®  30^, 
flXii  ^^  i6f,  on,  the  enlarjged  meridian,  which  laid  off 
.from  the  centre, C  will  reach  to  3IX  ;  and  this  parallel 
;^ill  intersect  the  vertical  paralFel  of  the  (tifference  of 
•longitude  230,  at  the  edge  of  t&e  Index.  Hence  ihe 
longitude  in  ia  45*  27'  W. 

By  Middle  Latitude  Sailif^. . 

^     Pind  tlte  distfuice  aOd  difference  of  latitude  as  direct- 

*cd  'at)ove  J  tbeta  bring  the  index  to  22**  53',  the  middle 

'    if^tjtude,  and  the  horizontal  parallel  of  2X2,  the  de- 

\par^.ure,  Will  in'terkect  the  index  at  230,  the  difference 

of  longitude. 

,    Prob.  V.  Both  latitudes  and  distance  'giten,  to  find 
llie  course  and  difference  of  longitude. 

•  '  * 

Example,     The  distance  sailed  is  500  miles  between 

tie  north  and  west ;  the  latitude  and  longitude  left  are 

40*  10'  N,  HQd  ff  20'  W  respectively,  and  the  latitude 

^in  is  46*^  40^  N.   Required  the  course  and  longitude  in  ? 

By  Mercator^s  Satltng, 
Bring  the  distance  500  on  the  index  to  intfersect  the 
horizontal  parallel  of  the  difference  of  latitude  390  j 
then  the  course  38'  44^  Is  found 'on  the  line  bf  degrees 

Uy  the  edge  of  the  , index,  and  the  vertical  parallel  of         .  .  ,        -      ^    ' 

the  above  point  of  intersection  is  that  answering  to  313,     bring  the  Index,  and  the  horizontal  parallel  of  Jjdi 
the  departure.  the  departure,  will  intersect  the  index  at  383,  Ae  of- 

,  Take  the  interval  between  the  latitudes  40®  xo',  and 
.4j6*  40',  which  lay  off  Crom  the  centre  C,  and  iu  ho- 
rizontal parallel  will  Intersect  the  vertical  parallel  of 
43  X,  the  difference  of  longitude,  by  the  edge  of  the 
index,  it  being  in  the  same  position  as  before.  Hence 
•the  longitude  In  is  16^  3X' W. 


By  Mercator*s  Sailing, 

Fiild  the  point  of  intersection  of  the  horizontal  panl- 
lei  of  394,  the  difference  of  latitude,  and  the  vextical 
parallel  of  250,  the  departure  ;  to  this  point  bring  tbe 
index,  and  the  corresponding  division  thereon  wiU  be 
467  miles,  and  the  course  on  the  scale  of  degrees  by 
die  edge  of  the  index  will  be  3  2^  24'. 

Take  the  interval  between  the  latitudes  on  the  en- 
larged meridian  \  which  being  laid  off  from  the  centre 
will  reach  to  5x2:  now  the  horizontal  parallel  of  513 
will  cut  the  vertical  parallel  of  325,  the  difference  if 
longitude,  at  the  edge  of  the  indfex.  The  longitude 
come  to  is  therefore  14®  42'  W. 

By  Middle  Latitude  Sailing. 
The  course  and  distance  are  to  be  found  In  the  sum 
manner  as  above.  Then  bring  the  index  to  39?  35', 
the  middle  latitude,  and  the  horizontal  parallel  of  250 
will  intersect  the  edge  of  the  index  at  324!*  die  dificr- 
ence  of  longitude. 

Prob.  VII.  Given  one  latitude,  diataape,  tnd  de« 
partuie,  to  find  the  other  latitude,  course,  and  diie^ 
ence  of  longitude. 

Example,  A  ship  firom  latitude  52^  3^'^!  l^Bgi- 
tude  X70  6'tV^,  sailed  586  miles  between  the  sooth  aait 
west,  and  made  336  miles  of  departure :— -Required  ik 
course,  and  the  latitode  and  longitude  come  to  ? 

By  Mercator^s  Sailing. 

Moie  the  index  till  the  distanoe  586  iMetseeti  Ck 
vertical  parallel  of  the  .departure  336  }  then  the  com- 
spending  horizontal  parallel  will  be  .480,  the  difimce 
of  latitude^  and  the  course  35^.  Ilence  the  latitat 
in  Is  24**  38'  N. 

Now  take  the  interval  between  the  latitudes  00  tk 
enlarged  meridian,  whijch  laid  off  from  the  centre  wiD 
reach  to  547,  the  horizontal  parallel  of  which  will  est 
the  vertical  parallel  of  38J,  the  difference  of  hngito^ 
The  lon^tude  in  Is  therefore  23®  29  *W. 


By  Middle  Latitude  SaHit^. 
Find  the  course  and  difference  of  latitude  as  beisie, 
and  hence  the  middle  latitude  Is  28^  38^  to  wUd 


ference  of  longitude. 

It  seems  unnecessary  to  enlarge  any  finiher  en  tk 
use  of  this  itaBtrament,  as  the  above  will  make  it  sit 
ficiedtly  nnderstodd. 


Sy  Middle  Latitude  Saaif^.  , 
.  The  course  and  departure  are  found  as  formerly, 
and  the  miildle  latitude  Is  43**  25^,  to  which  brinff  the 
edge  of  tlie  Index,  and  the  horizontal  parallel  of  3x3, 
the  departure,,  will  intersect  the  index  at  43  x,  tbe  dif- 
ference of  longitude* 

« 
.     ?ROB.  VI.  Both  latitudes  and  departure  given,  to 
>£nd  the  course,  distance,  and  difference  of  longitude. 

Example.  Let  the  Utitude  sailed  from  be  42*  52' N, 


Chap.  Xn.   Of  Sea-Cbaffj. 

Tll£  charts  usually  employed  In  the  practice  of  si* 

vigation,  are  of  two  kinds,  namely,  Plane  aad  Her* 

eatar'e  Charts,    The.  first  of  these  Is  adaplsd  to  icfR* 

sent  a  portion  of  the  eaith^s  surface  near  the  fM[mtm\ 

and  the  last  for  all  portions  of  the  earth^s  surface.  Fv 

a  particular  description  of  these,  reference  has  abcs^ 

l»een  made  from  the  article  Chart,  to  those  of  Plans 

and  Mercator  :  and  as  these  charts  are  partindirf^ 

describi^d  under  the  above  articles,  It  Is  thexdke  w* 

ficient  In  this  place  |o  desecibe  their  yme. 

Vm 


Pmctice. 


NAVIGATION. 


Use  of  tie  Fhfie  Chart. 

Prob.  I.  To  find  the  latitude  of  a  place  on  the  chart. 

BuL£.  Take  the  least  distance  between  the  given 
place  and  the  nearest  parallel  of  latitude  \  now  this 
distance  applied  the  same  way  on  the  graduated  meri- 
dian,  from  the  extremity  of  the  parallel,  will  give  the 
latitude  of  the  proposed  [dace. 

Thus  the  distance  between  Bonavista  and  the  par^il- 
lel  of  z  5  degrees,  being  laid  from  that  parallel  upon  the 
graduated  lueridian,  will  reach  to  i6^  s'j  ^  latitude 
required. 

Prob.  TI.  To  find  the  course  and  distance  between 
tiffo  given  places  on  the  chart. 

Rule.  Lay  a  ruler  ever  the  given  places,  and  ti^ke 
the  nearest  distance  t^etween  the  centre  of  any  of  the 
conipasses  on  the  chart  and  the  edge  of  the  ruler  j  move 
this  extent  along,  so  as  one  point  of  the  compass  may 
touch  the  edge  of  the  rule,  and  the  straight  line  joining 
their  points  may  be  perpendicular  thereto  \  then  will 
the  other  point  show  the  course :  The  interval  between 
the  places,  being  applied  to  the  scale,  will  give  the  re* 
quired  distance. 

Thus  the  course  from  P^lma  tp  St  Vioceut  will  be 
foand-to.be  about  SSiVY^W,  i^od  the  distance  13°-^  or 

795™- 

Paob.  hi.  The  conne  and  di^tapce  mM  from  a 
luMHfn  place  beifiggtven,  t»find  the  ship's  ,^^ice  on  the 


BuuL.  /Lay.a  ToleroTer  the  pla^e  sailed  ff^my  J>a- 
nlleLto  the. rhumb,  expressing  ^he  given  course  ^  t^e 
the  distai^ce  from  the  8<»Ie,>  jmd  (ay  it  oflF  from  t)ie 
given  place  by  the  edge  of  the  ruler  j  and  it  will  ^ive- 
the  point  representing  the  ship's  present  place. 

Thus,  suppose  a  ship  had  sailed  8^&W  160  miles 
iroflU'Cape^nlfnas  \  then  by  proceeding  as. abpve,  it  will 
be  fMDd  that  sho^  is  iii>  latitude  A""  ^^ -N. 

(Rie  various  other  pnoblemsrthat  may  be  1090!  ved  by 
meana  of  this  cluurt  require,  no.  CnrAer  explatMktion,  be- 
ing oiihr  tbe  csonstroetion  of  the  lemaining  |ix!0blems  in 
Plane  oailing.  on  ihe  chart. 

Use  <>f  Mercator^s  Chart* 

The  method  of  finding  the ,  latitude  and  longitude  of 
a  place,  and  the  coorse  of  bearing  between  ttro  given 
places  by  thif  chart,  is  .performed  oxaotiy  in.  tbe  man- 
ner as  in  the*  Plane.  ChMrt,.  whicb  see» 

PkoB.'L  ^find  the  distaoM  .between  tmo jpf^ 
flaecs  on  the  chart. 

Cas£  L  When  tinmen  .j^acesaro  uadec  die  same 
meridian. 

Rule.  'The«diiFerenceor  sum- of  their  latitudes,  ac-< 
cording  as  they  arc^  oa  tlicsame  or  on  o|ipoiite.  si^  of 
At  cqaalor,  will  be  thetdiatcnce  xeqiiired. 

Cask.  IL •  When  ithe.giTca  places  are  nnder  .th<2  M9ie 
faraUel. 

:Aui»c.'If  that.pamUel  be  the  equator,  the  differppoe 
or  eom^of  .tkeir  looghodes  .is.:tfae  distance;  othejcwise, 
take  half  the  interval  between  the  places,  lay  it.off  ,qp- 
•wards  andidoiwn wards. on  the  meridian  firom  the « given 
.yandlel,  and  .the  inttn^cpted  degrees  wtll.be  .the>  distance 
-heivstenitbe  pbcee- 


Or,  take  an  equal  extent  of  a  few  degrees  from  the 
meridian  on  each  side  of  the  parallel,  and'the  number  of 
extents,  and  parts  of  an  extent,  contained  between  the 
places,  being  multij^lied  by  the  length  of  an  extent^  i^il! 
give  the  required  distance. 

Case  III.  When  the  given  places  differ  both  in  lati- 
tude and  longitude.  .  '      .    4. 

Rule.  Find  the  difference  of  latitude  between  the 
given  places,  and  take  it  from  the  equator  or  graduated 
parallel ;  then  lay  a  ruler  over  the  two  places,  and  move 
one  point  of  the  compass  along  the  edge  of  the  ruler  un- 
til the  other  point  just  touches  a  parallel  5  then  the  dis- 
tance between  the  place  where  the  point  of  the  compass 
rested  by  the  edge  of  the  ruler,  and  the  point  of  inter- 
section of  the  ruler  and  parallel,  being  applied  to  the 
equator,  will  give  the  distance  b^w^en'tlie  places  in 
degrees  and  parts  of  a  degree,  which  multijplied  by  60- 
will  reduce  it  to  miles. 

Prob.  II.  Given  the  latitude  and  longitude  in,  to* 
find  the  ship^s  place  on  the  chart.       '    "        '"*    • 

RvLE.  Lay  a  ruler  over  the  given  latitude,  and  lay 
off  the  given  longitude  from. the  first  meridian  by  the 
edge  of  the  ruler,  and  the  shijp^s  preseift  place  w^l  be- 
obtained.  ••«•'-   *  ^      ..  .. 

Prob.  IO.  ,  Given  tl^e  ^course  ^sailed  from  a  known 
plaqe,  and  the  latitune  jn,  id  ^find  thie  ship's  preseqt 
place  on  ^he  (fbart. 

iRuLE.  Xaj  a  ruler  over  tbe^pja^e  saijed  from,  in  ^he 
diiection  9f  ^he  given  course,  and  its.ii)tersection.w,rt1i 
the  piirallol  of  latitu^^Arriv^^  at  ^ll  be^ the  ship's  ^re- 
s^pt.place. 

Pi^OBVflV.  Given ,the  latitude  of  the^pjace  I^ft  and . 
the  coprse  ^d  distance  sailed,  to  find  ^tie^hipVpresent 
place  on  the  chart. 

Rule.  The  ruler  being  laid*  over  the  place  sailed' 
from,  and  in  the  directieirof  the  given  course,, take  the* 
jdis^l^nce  sailed  from  the  eqi;iator,  put  one  point  of  the 
compass  at  the,ii^tersecti9n  of  any  parallel  wjth.tlie  ru- 
ler, apd  the  9\\\^Y  point  of  the  compass  will  reach  to  a 
certain  pla^e.  by.  the  edge  of  the  ruler.  »Now'tbis  point 
remaining, in  the  same, position^  draw  iii  the  otd'er  point 
pi ,  the  ponypfiss  until  it  just  touch  the  above  ^par^ll^ b 
3irhen  sweeped  round:  apply.this  extent  to  the  equator,. 
^odit>vill  give  the  di&rence  of  latitude.     Hence  the- 
latitude  in  will  be  known,  and  ttie  intersection  of  the 
c4>rresponding  parallel  with  the  edge  of  the  ruler  will  be 
the  f|hip*s  prefsent,  plape. 

/The  'o^ber , problems  of  ^l^ercf  tor's  Sailing  m§y  be 
yery  easily  resolved  by  this,  chart  j  but  as  they  are  of' 
less  use  than  those  given,  they  are,  tnerefore^  oniittea^ 

and.  may  serve  as  an  exercise  to  the  student. 

••  .  •    •  •♦ 

Contarnwg  the  method  of  finding  the  Latitude  and: 
^Longitude  of  a  Ship  at  Sea^  and  the  l^ariation  of  (he 
the  Compass, 

Chap.  I.  OfHbdi^^s  Qfnadrani, 

HadLEX^s  qpadrant  is  the  chief  instrument  in  use  at* 
.present  for  obsfBxviog  Altitudes  at  sea.  The  form  of 
)tbie  insU^^it,^  i^j^cffUJ^g  to.  the  present  mode^  of 

construction^ 


^7 


Method 
or  finding 
tho'JJtttt- 
tude  mid 
Londtade 

at  Sea: 


688 


NAVIGATION. 


JVIethod 
of  finding 
the  Lati* 

•  lode  and 
Longitude 

•  at  Sea. 

Plate 

cccLxvn 


constnictioDy  is  an  octagonal  sector  of  a  circle,  and 
therefore  contains  45  degrees  ^  but  because  of  the 
double  reflection^  the  limb  is  divided  into  '90  degrees. 
See  Astronomy  and  Quadrant.  Fig.  54.  represents 
a  quadrant  of  the  common  constructioui  of  which  the 
following  are'  the  principal  parts. 

I.  .AnCy  the  frame  of  the  quadrant. 

*2.  BC,  the  arch  or  linih. 

3*  D,  the  index ;  a'i,  the  subdividing  Bcafe. 

'4.  £,  the  index-glass. 

5.  F,  the  fore  horizon-glass. 
'6.  G,  the  back  horizon-glass. 
'  7.  K,  the  coloured  or  dark  glasses. 

8.  HI,  the  vanes  or  sights. 

Of  the  Frame  of  the  Quadrant. 

The  frame  of  the  quadrant  consists  of  an  arch  BC, 
firmly  attached  to  the  two  radii  AB,  AC,  'which  are 
bound  together  by  the  braces  LM,  in  order  to  strength- 
en ity  and  prevent  it  from  warping. 

OfthelndesJ}. 

The  index  is  a  flat  bar  of  brass,  and  turns  on  the 
centre  of  the  octant :  at  the  lower  end  of  the  index 
there  is  an  oblong  opening  ^  to  one  side  of  this  open- 
ing the  vernier  ncale  is  fixed,  to  subdivide  the  divi- 
l^ions  of  the  arch  ;  at  the  end  of  the  index  there  is  a 
^iece  of  brass,  which  bends  under  the  arch,  carrying 
a  spring  to  make  the  subdividing  scale  lie  close  to  the 
'divisions.  It  is  also  furnished  with  a  screw  to  fix  thQ 
index  in  Any  desired  position.  The  best  instruments 
liave  an  adjusting  screw  fitted  to  the  index,  that  it  may 
be  moved  more  slowly,  and  with  greater  regularity 
and  accuracy,  than  by  the  hand.  It  is  proper,  how- 
ever, to  observe,  that  the  index  must  be  previously 
fixed  near  its  right  position  by  the  above-mentioned 
screw. 

Of  the  Index  Glass  E. 

Upon  the  index,  and  near  its  axis  of  motion,  is  fixed 
a  plane  speculum,  or  mirror  of  glass  quicksilvered.  It 
is  set  in  a  brass  frame,  and  is  placed  so  that  its  face  is 
perpendicular  to  the  plane  of  the  instrument.  This 
mirror  being  fixed  to  the  index  moves  along  with  it, 
and  has  its  direction  changed  by  the  motion  thereof  ^ 
and  the  intention  of  this  glass  is  to  receive  the  image 
of  the  son,  or  any  other  object,  and  reflect  it  upon 
either  of  the  two  horizon-glasses,  according  to  the  na- 
ture of  the  observation. 

The  brass  frame  with  the  glass  is  fixed  to  the  index 
by  the  screw  c  ;  the  other  screw  serves  to  re-place  it  in 
a  perpendicular  position,  if  by  any  accident  it  has  been 
deranged. 

Of  the  HoTiXon-Glasses  F,  G. 

On  the  radius  AB  of  the  octant  are  two  small  spe* 
-  culums :  the  surfitce  of  the  upper  one  is  parallel  to  the 
index-glass,  and  that  of  the  lower  one  perpendicular 
thereto,'  when  0  on  the  index  coincides  with  0  on  the 
limb.  These  mirrors  receive  the  reflected  rays,  and 
transmit  them  to  the  observer. 

The  horizon-glasses  are  n4it  entirely  quicksilvered  ; 
the  upper  one  F  is  only  silvered  on  its  lower  half,  or 
that  next  the  plane  of  the  quadrant,  the  other  half  be- 
ing left  transparent,  and  the  back  part  of  the  firame 

3 


Practkt 


cutaway,  that  nothing  may  impede  the  sight  tbroi»ii  m^i^ 
the  unsilvered  part  of  the  glass.  The  edge  of  the  (oil  rfHa; 
of  this  glass  is  nearly  parallel  to  the  plane  of  the  in-  ^I^ 
strument,  and  ought  to  be  very  sharp,  and  without  a  ?J?J|[ 
flaw.  The  other  horizon-glass  is  silvered  at  both  emis.  ^^ 
In  the  middle  there  is  a  transparent  slit  throngh  which  < 
ilie  horizon  may  be  seen. 

Each  of  these  glasses  is  set  in  a  brass  frame,  to  which 
there  is  an  axis  pacing  through  the  wood  work,  anil  is 
fitted  to  a  lever  on  the  under  side  of  the  qoadrtnt,  \j 
which  the  glass  may  be  turned  a  few  degrees  on  its  uii, 
in  order  to  set  it  parallel  to  the  index-glass.  The  lever 
has  a  contrivance  to  turn  it  slowly,  and  a  button  to  fix 
it.  To  set  the  glasses  perpendicnlar  to  the  plane  of  the 
instrument,  there  are  two  sunk  screws,  one  before  and 
one  behind  each  glass  :  these  screws  pass  throagh  the 
plate  on  which  the  frame  is  fixed  into  another  pbte) 
so  that  by  loosening  one  and  tightening  the  other  of 
these  screws,  the  direction  of  the  frame  with  iti  mir* 
ror  may  be  altered,  and'  set  perpendicular  to  the  plane 
of  the  instmment* 

Of  the  Coloured  Glasses  K. 

There  are  usually  three  coloured  passes,  two  of 
which  are  tinged  red  and  the  other  green.  They  are 
used  to  prevent  the  solar  rays  firom  hurting  the  eye  at 
the  time  -o£  observation.  These  glasses  are  set  in  a 
frame,  which  turns  on  a  centre,  so  that  they  may  he 
nsed  separately  or  together  as  the  brightness  of  the 
snn  may  require.  The  green  glass  is  paitieolarly  ntt« 
ful  in  observations  of  the  moon }  it  may  be  also  vtei 
in  observations  of  the  sun,  if  that  object  be  very  fiunt 
In  the  fere-observation,  these  glasses  are  bed  asinfig. 
54.  'f  but  when  the  back  observation  is  used,  they  are 
removed  to  N. 

Of  the  two  Sight  Vanes^  H,  L 

Each  of  these  vanes  is  a  perforated  piece  of  hnM, 
designed  to  direct  the  sight  parallel  to  the  plane  of  the 
quadrant.  That  which  is  fixed  at  I  in  need  jbr  the  ftie, 
and  the  other  for  the  back,  observatioo.  The  vane  I 
has  two  holes,  one  exactly  at  the  height  of  the  silvaei 
part  of  the  horizon-glass,  the  other  a  little  higher,  t» 
direct  the  sight  to  the  middle  of  the  transparent  put  of 
the  mirror. 

Of  the  divisions  on  the  Limb  of  the  QpadretiL 

The  limb  of  the  quadrant  is  divided  firom  rifffatto  left 
into  90  primary  divisions,  which  are  to  be  coDStdere^m 
degrees,  and  each  degree  is  subdivided  into  three  eqvi 
parts,  which  are  therefore  of  20  minutes  each :  the  in- 
termediate minutes  are  obtained  by  means  of  the  soJe 
of  divisions  at  the  end  of  the  index. 

Of  the  Vernier y  or  Suhdividmg  Seaie, 

'  The  dividing  scale  contains  a  space  equal  to  li  £• 
visions  of  the  hmb,  and  is  divided  into  20  equal  paita 
Hence  the  difference  between  a  divisiim  en  the  dJirii- 
ing  scale  and  a  division  on  the  limb  is  one-twentieth  ef 
a  division  on  the  limb,  or  one  minute.  Hie  degree  aW 
minute  pointed  out  by  the  dividing  scale  nay  he  etfflj 
found  thus. 


Observe  what  minnte  on  the  dividing  scale 
with  a  division  on  the  limb :   this  divimm  being  n^M 
to  the  degree  and  piiH  of  a  degree  on  the  limh^ 


Practice. 


NAVIGATION. 


Method    ^i*tely  preceding  the  first  dlviston  on  the  dividing  scale, 

oTfindiDK  will  be  the  degree  and  minate  required. 

the  IaU-      Thns  suppose  the  fourteenth  minute  on  the  dividing 

J^*|^|^J^  scale  coincided  with  a  division  on  the  limby  and  that  the 

^^S!uu    piveeding  division  on  the  limb  to  o  on  the  vernier  was 

mJ  56®  40' ;  hence  the  division  shown  by  the  vernier  is 

56^  54'.     A  magnifying  glass  will  assist  the  observer  to 

read  off  the  coinciding  divisions  with  more  accuracy* 


6S9 


V 


ts  ffHadk^^s  QvadranL 

The  adjnstments  of  the  quadrant  consist  in  placing 
the  mirrors  perpendicular  to  the  plane  of  the  instru- 
ment. The  fore  horizon-glass  most  be  set  parallel  to 
the  speculomf  and  the  planes  of  the  specolom  and  back 
horizon-glass  produced  must  be  perpendicular  to  each 
other  when  the  index  Is  at  o* 

Adjustment  I.  To  set  the  index-glass  perpendicu* 
lar  to  the  plane  of  the  quadrant. 

Method  I.  Set  the  index  towards  the  middle  of  the 
limb,  and  hold  the  quadrant  so  that  its  plane  may  be 
nearly  parallel  to  the  horizon  :  then  look  into  the  in* 
dex-glass  J  and  if  the  portion  of  the  limb  seen  by  re* 
flection  appears  in  the  same  plane  with  that  seen  direct- 
ly, the  speculum  is  perpendicular  to  the  plane  of  the  in- 
strument* If  they  do  not  appear  in  the  same  plane,  the 
error  is  to  be  rectified  by  altering  the  position  of  the 
screws  behind  the  firame  of  the  glaw. 

Method  2.  This  is  performed  by  means  of  the  two 
adjusting  too*s,  fig.  $£^  ^6^  which  are  two  wooden 
frames,  having  two  lines  on  each,  exactly  at  the  same 
distance  from  the  bottom. 

Place  the  quadrant  in  a  horizontal  position  on  a 
tables  put  the  index  about  the  middle  of  die  arch }  turn 
back  the  dark  glasses;  place  one  of  the  above-mention- 
ed tools  near  one  end  of  the  arch,  and  the  other  at  the 
opposite  end,  the  side  with  the  lines  being  towards  the 
indes-gbas  \  then  look  into  the  index-glass,  directing 
the  sight  parallel  to  the  plane  of  the  instmoient,  and 
one  of  the  tools  will  be  seen  by  direct  vision,  and  the 
other  by  reflection.  By  moving  the  index  a  little,  they 
may  be  brought  exactly  to|;ether.  If  the  lines  coin* 
cide,  the  position  of  the  mirror  is  right }  if  not,  they 
roust  be  made  to  coincide  by  altering  the  screws  behind 
the  frame,  as  before. 

Adjustmekt  IL  To  set  the.fore  horizon-glass  per- 
pendicular to  the  plane  of  the  instrument. 

Set  tlie  index  to  0 ;  hold  the  plane  of  the  quadrant 
parallel  to  the  horizon  y  direct  the  sight  to  the  hori* 
zon,  and  if  the  horizons  seen  directly  and  by  reflec- 
tion are  apparently  in  the  same  straight  line,  the  fore 
horizon-glass  is  perpendicular  to  the  plane  of  the  in- 
strument }  if  not,  one  of  the  horizons  will  appear 
higher  than  the  other.  Now  if  the  horizon  seen  by 
reflection  is  higher  than  that  seen  directly,  release  the. 
nearest  scraw  in  the  pedestal  of  the  glass,  and  screw  up 
that  oh  the  farther  side,  till  the  direct  and  reflected 
horizons  appear  to  make  one  continued  straight  line. 
But  if  the  reflected  horizon  is  lower  than  that  seen  di- 
rectly^ unscrew  the  farthest,  and  screw  up  the  nearest 
screw  till  tha  coincidence  of  the  horizons  is  perfect,  ob- 
serving to  leave  both  screws  equally  tight,  and  the  fore 
horizon-glass  will  be  perpendicular  to  the  plane  of  the 
^oadranL 

ADJusTHfENT  III.  To  Set  the  fore  horizon-glass 
parallel  to  the  index-glass,  the  index  being  at  o* 

Vol,  XIV.  Part  IL 


Set  0  on  the  index  exactly  to  0  on  the  limb,  and  fix    Metbod 
it  in  that  position  by  the  screw  at  the  under  side  ^  hold  of  fiodioip 
the  plane  of  the  quadrant  in  a  vertical  position,  and  ^  ^^ 
direct  the  sisht  to  a  well-defined  part  of  the  horizon  ;  j^j^t^^^ 
then  if  the  horizon  seen  in  the  silvered  part  coincides  ^^sea» 
with  that  seen  through  the  transparent  part,  the  horizon-  <i  1    y     ■ » 
glass  is  adjusted  }  but  if  the  horizons  do  not  coincide, 
unscrew  the  milled  screw  in  the  middle  of  the  lever  on 
the  other  side  of  the  quadrant,  and  turn  the  nut  at 
the  end  of  the  lever  until  both  horizons  coincide,  and 
fix  the  lever  in  this  position  by  tightening  the  milled 
screw. 

As  the  position  of  the.  glass  is  liable  to  be  altered  by 
fixing  the  lever,  it  will  therefore  be  necessary  to  re-ex- 
amine it)  and  if  the  horizons  do  not  ooincide,  it  will'. 
be  necessary  either  to  repeat  the  adjjQStment,  or  rather 
to  find  the  error  of  adjustment,  or,  as  it  is  usually  cal-* 
led,  the  tfider-error ;  which  may  be  done  thus  : 

Direct  the  sight  to  the  horizon,  and  move  tho  index 
until  the  reflected  horizon  coincides*  with  that  seen  di- 
rectly ;  then  the  difference  between  0  on  the  limb  aftd 
0  on  the  vernier  is  tha  index  error  j  which  is  additive 
idien  the  beginning  of  the  vernier  is  to  the  right  of  • 
on  the  limb,  otherwise  subtractive. 

Adjustmekt  IV.  To  sot  the  back  horizon -^ass  pcs^ 
pendicular  to  the  plane  of  the  instrument. 

Put  the  index  to  0^  hold  the  plane  of  the  quadrant 
parallel  to  the  horizon,  and  direct  the  sight  to  the  ho- 
rizon through  the  b^tck  sight  vane.  Now  af  the  re- 
flected horizon  is  in  the  same  straight  line  with  that  seea. 
through  the  transparent  part,  the  glass  is  perpendicular 
to  the  plane  of  the  instrument  If  the  horizons  do  not 
unite,  torn  the  sunk  screws  an  the  pedestal  of  the  glass 
until  they  are  apparently  in  the  same  straight  line. 

Adjustment  V.  To  set  the  back  horizon-glass  per- 
pendicular to  the  plane  of  the  index-glass  ^educed,  the 
index  being  at  0. 

Let  the  index  be  put  as  much  to  the  right  of  0  as 
twice  the  dip  of  the  horizon  amounts  to.}  hold  tba 
quadrant  in  a  vertical  position,  and  apply  the  eye  to  the. 
back  vane }  then  if  tiie  reflected  horizon  coincides  with 
that  seea  directly,  the  ^ass  is  adjmted  }  if  they  do  not 
coincide,  the  screw  in  the  middle  of  Uie  lever  on.  the 
other  side  of  the  quadrant  roust  be  released,  and  tho 
not  at  its  extremity  turned  till  both  horizons  coincide. 
It  may  be  observed,  that  the  reflected  horizon  wiH  b« 
inverted  ^  that  is,  the  sea  will  be  apparently,  uppennost, 
and  the  sky  lowermost. 

•  As  this  method  of  adjustment  is  esteemed  trouble- 
some, and  is  often  found  to  be  very  difficult  to  perform 
at  sea,  various  contrivances  have  therefore  been  pi-opo- 
fed  to  render  this  adjustment  more  simple.  Some  of 
these  are  the  following. 

ff.  Bfer  DolloMd*s  method  of 
zon-glass. 

In  this  method  an  index  is  applied  to  the  back  hori- 
zon-glass, by  which  it  may  be  moved  so  as  to  be  paral- 
lel to  the  index-glass,  when  0  on  the  vernier  coincides 
witho  on-  the  limb.  When  thia  is  eflected,  the  index 
of  the  ba4*k  horizon-glass  is  to  be  moved  exactly  96* 
fit)m  its  former  position,  which  is  known  by  means  of  a 
divided  arch  for  that  purpose  y  and  then  the  plane  oT 
the  back  horizon-glass  will  be  perpendicular  to  dte  plane 
of  the  Index-glass  produced* 
f  48  3.  Mr 


ihebaollhor> 


6^ 


NAVIGATION. 


Method 
of  findini; 
th«  I^ati- 

todc  and 

Longitude 

at  Sea. 


^»8-S7- 


\ 


2.  ^Tr  Blair^s  method  of  adjusting  the  back  hori- 
zon-glass. 

All  that  is  required  in  this  method  is  to  polish  the 
lower  edge  of  the  index-glass,  and  expose  it  to  view. 
The  back  horiz^on -glass  is  adjusted  by  means  of  a  re- 
flection froni  this  polished  edge,  in  the  very  same  me- 
tliod  as  the  fore  horizon-glass  is  adjusted  by  the  com- 
mon method. 

In  order  to  illustrate  this,  let  RIHE  (fig.  57.)  re- 
present a  pencil  of  rays  emitted  from  the  object  R,  in^ 
cident  on  the  index-glass  I,  horn  which  it  is  reflected 
to  the  fore  horizon-glass  H,  and  thence  to  the  eye  at  £. 
By  this  double  reflection,  an 'image  of  the  object  is 
formed  at  r.  .  RH£  represents  another  pencil  from  the 
same  object  R,  coming  directly  throagfa  the  fore  hori- 
zpn-glass  to  the  eye  at  £  ^  so  that  the  double  reflected 
image  r  appears  coincident  with  the  object  R  itself,  seen 
directly. 

trben  this  coincidence  is  perfect,  and  the  object  R 
so  very  distant  as  to  make  the  angle  IRH  insensible,  the 
position  of  the  specuKimis  1  and'H'will  difler  insensibly 
fronii  parallel iRm;  that  is,  the  quadrant  will  be  adjusted 
for  the  f9re  observation.  Now  It  is  from  the  ease  and 
accuracy  with  which  this  adjustment  can  at  any  time 
be  made,  that  tlie  fore-observation  derives  its  superio- 
rity over  the  back  observation.  But  by  grinding  the 
edge  of  the  index-glass  perpendicular  to  its  reflecting 
surface,  and  polishing  it,  the  observation  is  rendered  ca- 
pable of  an  adjustment  equally  easy  and  accurate  as 
the  fore  horizon  glass:  for  by  a  pencil  of  rays  emitted 
from  the  object  S,  incident  on  the  reflecting  edge  of  the 
index-glass  D,  thence  reflected  to  the  back  horizon- 
glass  B,  and  from  that  to  the  eye  at  ^,  an  image  will 
be  formed  at  s  ;  which  image  being  made  to  coincide 
with  the  object  S  itself,  seen  ISirectly,  ascertains  the 
position  of  the  back  horizon-glass  relative  to  the  index- 
glass,  with  the  same  precision,  and  in  a  manner  equally 
direct,  as  the  former  operation  does  that  of  the  fore 
horizon-glass. 

Directions  for  adjusting  the  Back  HoriTsan^Glass* 

The  method  of  adjusting  the  quadrant  for  the  back- 
observation  is  this.  If  it  is  to  be  done  without  making 
use  of  the  telescope,  place  the  index  at  0,  and,  ap- 
plying the  eye  to  the  hole  in  the  sight  vane  (k),  or 
tube  for  directing  the  sight,  direct  it  through  the 
back  horizon-glass  to  the  horizon,  if  that  is  the  ob- 
ject to  be  used  for  adjusting.  Tlie  two  horizons  are 
then  to  be  made  to  coincide,  holding  the  quadrant  first 
in  a  vertical  and  then  in  a  horizontal  position ;  by 
which  means  both  adjustments  will  be  effected  as  in  the 
fore-observatioo. 

.  There  will  be  no  diflSculty  in  finding  the  reflected 
horizon,  if  the  observer  first  directs  his  eye  to  that  part 
of  the  horizon-glass  where  he  observes  the  image  of 
the  polished  edge  of  the  index-glass,  which  ^11  ap« 


Pnctke. 

pear  double.  When  the  direct  horizon  is  made  to  ap-  y^ 
pear  in  this  case,  the  reflected  one  will  be  seen  dosebj  rffi^ 
it,  unless  the  instrument  wants  a  great  adjustment.  Id  tW  Ui. 
this  case,  a  little  motion  of  the  back  horizon-glass  back-  ^^ 
wards  and  forwards  will  presently  bring  it  in  view.       ^"$^ 

When  the  horizon,  or  any  obscure  terrestrial  »!>-* 
ject,  is  to  he  made  use  of  for  adjusting  by  means  of 
the  reflecting  edge,  there  is  a  precaution  to  be  takeo, 
without  which  the  observer  will  sometimes  meet  with 
what  will  appear  an  unaccountable  diflicnlty ;  for  if  the 
sky,  or  other  object  behind  him,  should  haj^n  to  W 
pretty  bright,  he  will  not  be  able  to  discern  the  borizoo 
at  all.  This  arises  from  the  image  of  the  object  be- 
hind him,  which  is  reflected  from  the  silvered  snrfitee 
of  the  index-glass,  appearing  to  coincide  with  the  ho- 
rizon 'j  in  which  case,  the  bright  picture  of  the  for« 
mer,  which  is  formed  in  the  bottom  of  the  eye,  pre- 
vents the  fainter  impression  of  the  latter  from  being 
perceived.  This  will  be  avoided  either  by  apply- 
ing a  black  screen  over  the  'silvered  surface  of  the 
index-glass,  or,  without  being  at  this  trouble,  bj 
standing  at  a  door  or  window,  so  that  only  the  dark 
objects  within  can  be  reflected  from  the  index-glass : 
but  if  the  observation  is  to  be  made  in  the  opea  air, 
a  hat,  or  any  such  dark  obstacle,  held  before  the  sllw- 
ed  surface  of  the  index-glass,  will  vqry  effectually  it* 
move  this  inconvenience. 

It  may  be  remarked,  that  some  observers,  instead 
of  making  the  principal  adjustment,  place  the  speculang 
parallel,  by  moving  the  index  without  altering  tbe 
position  of  the  horizon-glass :  and  the  difference  be- 
tween 0  on  the  vernier  and  0  on  the  limb  is  the  index 
error,  which  must  be  subtracted  from  all  angles  mea- 
sured by  the  back-observation,  when  o  on  the  index, 
is  to  the  right  of  Q  on  tbe  limb  5  and  added  when  to  (be 
lefl. 

3.  Mr  Wright^s  method  of  adjusting  tlie  back  iMfi- 
zon 'glass  of  his  improved  patent  ^aadnuit 

F>g*  5^*  Is  ^  representation  of  tlie  quadraot  com-f^  <l^ 
plete  in  all  its  parts  for  use.  A,  is  the  reflecting  nr- 
face  of  the  index-g)ass,  which  is  made  of  the  nsoal 
length,  and  1^  of  an  inch  broad.  Tbe  bottom  part 
is  covered  in  front  by  the  brass  frame,  and  the  reflec- 
ting surface  is  -r^  on  the  back.  B,  the  fore  hoiizH- 
glass,  placed  as  usual :  O,  the  back  horizon-glass,  noir 
placed  under  tbe  fore  sijrht-vane  on  tbe  first  radios  of 
the  quadrant  I :   C,  the  sight-vane  of  the  fore  horizoa- 

flass :  D,  the  sight- vane  of  the  back  horizon-glass : 
^,  the  coloured  glasses  in  a  brass  frame,  in  the  proper 
place  for  the  fore  observation :  F,  a  hole  in  tbe  frame 
to  receive  the  coloured  glasses  when  an  observatioo  is 
to  be  taken  with  the  back  horizon-glass  in  the  commoa 
way,  by  turning  the  back  to  the  sun  :  G,  a  bole  in  tbe 
frame  of  the  farthest  radius  K,  to  receive  the  coloured 
glasses  when  an  observation  is  to  be  takeo  by  tbe  new 
method  \  which  is  by  lookiug  through  the  lower  hole 
in  the  sight-vane  of  the  back  horizon-glass,  directly 

at 


(k)  Besides  the  hole  in  the  sight-vane,  commonly  made,  there  must  be  another  nearer  to  the  horizon-giass,  and 
so  placed  that  an  eye  directed  through  it  to  the  centre  of  the  horizon-glass  shall  there  pereeive  tbe  image  of  tbi 
polished  edge  of  the  index-glass.  This  hole  must  not  be  made  small  like  tbe  other,  but  eqval  to  the  ordinary  b» 
-ff  the  pupil  of  the  eye,  there  being  on  some  occasions  no  light  to  spare.        ^ 


Practice. 


NAVIGATION. 


,  Metbod 

of  findinfr 

the  Lati. 

tnie  knd 

iKMSgitude 

at  Sc  . 


5> 


Tig.6om 


W^6z. 


^6t. 


at  tbe  san  in  the  line  of  sight  DN ;  the  horizon  from 
behind  ^iW  then  be  reflected  from  the  back  of  the  in- 
dex-glaiid  to  the  horizon-glass,  and  from  thence  to  the 
eye.  (See  fig.  62.)  H,  »  brass  clamp  on  tbe  upper 
end  of  the  index,  having  a  milled  screw  underneatli, 
which  fastens  the  round  plate  to  the  index  when  re- 
quired. (See  fig.  59.].  IK,  the  graduated  arch  of  the 
quadrant  divided  into  ^  degrees :  L,  the  braas  index 
which  moves  over  the  graduated  arch :  M,  tbe  vernier 
ta  subdivide  the  divisions  on  the  arch  into  single  mi- 
nutes of  a  degree. 

Fig.  59.  shows  the  upper  part  of  the  index  L  '«n  a 
larger  scale,  with  part  of  the  brass  frame  that  fastens 
the  index-glass,  and  the  three  adjusting  screws  D  to 
adjust  its  axis  vertical  to  the  plane  of  the  quadrant : 

B,  the  centre  on  which  the  milled  plate  O  moves  over 
tbe  index:  The  dotted  liae  BF  is  the  distance  it  is 
required  to  move :  K,  the  adjusting  sci^w  to  stop  it  in 
its  proper  place  for  adjusting  the  back  observation- 
glass  :  G,  a  piece  of  brass  fastened  to  the  index  op- 
posite to  the  clamp  H,  to  keep  the  plate  O  always  close 
to  the  index  L. 

Fig.  60.  represents  the  parallel  position  of  the  in- 
dex and  horizon  glasses  after  adjustment  by  the  sun : 
BC,  a  ray  from  the  sun  incident  on  the  index-glass 

C,  and  from  thence  reflected  to  the  fore  borizon-fflAM 

D,  and  again  to  the  eye  at  £,  in  the  line  D  £,  where 
the  eye  sees  the  sun  at  A  by  direct  vision,  and  the 
image  by  reflection,  in  one }  the  parallel  lines  A£  and 
BC  being  so  near  to  each  other,  that  no  apparent 
angle  can  be  observed  in  the  planes  of  the  index  and 
horizon-glass,  when  adjusted  by  a  distant  object. 

In  fig.  61.  the  index-glass  is  removed  45  degrees 
from  the  plane  of  the  fore  horizon-glass,  and  fixed  in 
its  proper  place  for  adjusting  the  back  horizon-^lass 
jiarallel  to  its  plane,  in  the  same  manner  as  the  fore 
horizon-glass  is  adjusted. 

In  &g,  62.  the  index-glass  (after  the  adjustment  of 
the  fore  and  back  horizon-glasses)  is  carried  forward 
by  the  index  on  the  arch  93  degrees,  and  makes  an 
angle  of  45^  with  the  plane  of  tbe  fore  horizon-glass, 
and  is  at  right  angles  to  the  plane  of  the  back  hori- 
zon-glass. The  eye  at  £  now  sees  the  sun  in  the  ho- 
rizon at  H,  reflected  by>the  index  and  horicon  glasses 
from  the  zenith  at  Z,  the  image  and  object  being  90 
degrees  dbtant.  The  back  horizon  K  is  now  reflected 
from  the  back  surface  of  the  index-glass  C  to  the  ho- 
rizon-glass M,  and  from  thence  to  tbe  eye  at  D,  in 
a  right  line  with  the  fore  horizon  F*  In  order  to  make 
an  exact  contact  of  the  fore  and  back  horizons  at  F, 
the  index  must  be  advanced  beyond  the  90th  degree 
on  the  arch,  by  a  quantity  equal  to  twice  the  dip  of 
the  horizon. 

The  quadrant  is  adjusted  for  the  fore  observation  as 
usual,  having  previously  fixed  the  index-glass  in  its 
proper  place  by  the  milled  screw  at  H,  as  represented 
In  fig.  59. 

To  adjust  the  ^uttdrantjbr  the  Back-observafum, 

Fasten  the  index  to  90^  on  the  limb ;  loosen-the  screw 
31  (fig.  59.),  and  turn  the  plate  O  by  the  milled  edge 
until  the  end  of  the  adjusting  screw  K  touch  the  edge 
of  the  clamp  M ;  and  by  means  of  a  distant  object 
pbserve  if  the  glasses  are  then  parallel,  as  at  fig.  60. :  if 
'fhey  are,  fi»ten  the  screwH  }  if  not,  .with  a  screw-dri- 


ver turn  the  screw  K  gently  to  the  right  or  left  to  m&ke 
them  perfect,  and.  then  fasicn  tbe  screw.  Now  remove 
the  index  back  to  O  on  the  limb,  and  the  index-glass 
will  be  parallel  to  the  back  horizon  glass  £,  fig.  61.^ 
If  not,  make  them  so  by  tuining  tbe  adjusting  screw 
of  the  glass  £,  the  eye  being  at  the  upper  hole  in  the 
sight-vane  13,  and  the  sight  directed  to  the  horizoi), 
or  any  distant  object  in  the  direction  DN  (fig.  58.). 
Now  the  index  remaining  in  this  position,  the  index- 
glass  is  to  returned,  to  stop  at  tbe  pin  £,  and  it  will 
be  parallel  to  the  fore  horizon-glass  as  at  first :  then 
the  quadrant  will  be  adjusted  for  both  methods  of  ob- 
servation. 

To  ohterve  the  Sun^t  Altitude  by  the  Back-^Aservation, 

Remove  the  coloured  glasses  to  G  (fig.  58.),  and 
look  through  the  lower  hole  in  the  sight-vane  JD,  in 
the  line  of  direction  DN,  directly  to  the  sun,  and  move 
the  index  forward  on  the  arch  exactly  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  in  the  fore-observation :  make  the  contact  of 
the  sun^B  limb  and  the  back  horizon  exact,  and  the 
degrees  and  minutes  shown  by  the  index  on  the  limb 
is  the  sun^s  zenith  distance.  It  may  be  observed,  that 
the  horizon  will  be  inverted.  If  the  sun's  lower  limb 
be  observed,  the  semidiameter  is  to  be  subtracted  irom 
the  zenith  distance^  but  if  the  upper  limb  is  observed, 
the  semidiameter  is  to  be  added. 

The  observation  may  be  made  in  the  usual  manner^ 
by  turning  the  back  to  the  sun.  In  this  case  the  co- 
loured glasses  are  to  be  shifted  to  F,  and  proceed  ac- 
cording to  the  directions  formerly  given. 

Ute  ofHadlefa  Quadrant. 

The  altitude  of  any  object  is  determined  by  the  po- 
sition of  the  index  on  the  limb,  when  by  reflection  that 
object  appears  to  be  in  contact  .with  the  horizon. 

If  the  object  whose  altitude  is  to  be  observed  be  the 
sun,  and  if  so  bright  that  its  image  may  be  seen  in  the 
transparent  part  of  the  fore  liorizon-glass,  the  eye  i^ 
to  be  applied  to  the  upper  hole  in  the  sight  vane  ^ 
othenvise,  to  the  lower  hole  :  and  in  this  case,  the  qua- 
diant  is  to  be  held  so  that  the  sun  may  be  bisected  by 
the  line  of  separation  of  the  silvered  and  transpai*cnt 
parts  of  the  glass.  The  moon  is  to  be, kept  as  nearly 
as  possible  in  the  same  position  ^  and  the  image  of  tbe 
star  is  to  be  observed  in  the  silvered  part  of  the  glass 
adjacent  to  the  line  of  separation  of  the  two  parts. 

There  are  two  diflerent  methods  of  taking  observa- 
tions with  the  quadrant.  In  the  first  of  these  the  face 
of  the  observer  is  directed  towards  that  part  of  the  ho- 
rizon  immediately  under  the  sun,  and  is  therefore  call- 
ed tht  fire-observation.  In  the  other  method,  the  ob- 
server's back  is  to  the  sun,  and  it  is  hence  called  the 
back'observation*  This  last  method  of  observation  is  to 
be  used  only  when  tbe  horizon  under  the  sun  is  ob- 
scured, or  rendered  indistinct  by  fog  or  any  other  im- 
pediment. 

In  taking  the  sun's  altitude,  whether  by  the  fore  or 
hack  observation,  the  observer  must  turn  tiie  quadraat 
about  upon  tbe  axis  of  vision,  and  at  the  same  time 
turn  himself  about  upon  .his  heel,  so  as.toJieep  the  sun 
always  in  that  part  of  the  horizon-glass  which  is  at  the 
same  distance  as  the  eye  from  the  plane  of  the  quadrant. 
In  this  way  the  reflected  sun  will  describe  an  arch  of 
a  parallel  circle  round  the  true  sun,  whose  convex  side 

4  S  2  wiU 


691 


Method 
of  finding 
the  Lati- 
tude and 
lK)D}>ilude 

at  Sea. 


6^2 


of  finding 
the  J^uti- 

ludc  and 
IxMigitndc 

Ht  Sea 


N  A  V  I  G 

Will  lie  downwards  in  ibe  forc^observatlon  and  up- 
wards in  the  back  ^  and  conseqnentlyf  when  by  moving 
the  index,  the  lowest  point  of  the  arch  in  the  fore  ob- 
servation, or  highest  in  the  back,  is  made  to  touch  the 
horizon,  the  quadrant  will  stand  in  a  vertical  plane, 
and  Uie  altitude  above  the  visible  horizon  will  he  pro- 
perly observed.  .The  reason  of  these  operations  may 
be  thus  explained  :  The  image  of  the  sun  being  always 
kept  in  the  axis  of  vision,  the  index  will  always  show 
on  tlie  quadrant  the  distance  between  the  sun  and  any 
object  seen  directly  which  its  image  appears  to  touch  ; 
therefore,  as  long  as  the  index  remains  unmoved,  the 
image  of  the  son  will  describe  an  arch  everywhere  equi- 
distant from  the  sun  in  the  heavens,  and  consequently 
a  parallel  circle  «bout  the  siui,  aa  a  pole.  &icb  a, 
translittion  of  the  sun^s  image  can  only  be  produced  by 
the  quadrant^B  being  turned  about  upon  a  line  drawn 
from  the  eye  to  the  sun,  as  an  axis.  A  motion  of  rota- 
tion upon  this  line  may  be  resolved  into  two,  one  up- 
on the  axis  of  vision,  and  the  other  upon  a  line  on  the 
quadrant  perpendicular  to  the  axis  of  vision  ^  and  con- 
sequently a  proper  combination  of  these  two  motions 
-will  keep  the  image  of  the  sun  constantly  in  the  axis 
of  vision,  and  cause  both  jointly  to  run  over  a  parallel 
circle  about  the  sun  in  the  heavens  :  but  when  the  qua- 
drant is  vertical,  a  line  thereon  perpendicular  to  the 
axis  of  vision,  becomes  a  vertical  axis  ;  and  as  a  small 
motion  of  the  quadrant  is  all  that  is  wanted,  it  will 
never  differ  mnch  in  practice  from  a  vertical  axis.  The 
observer  is  directed  to  perform  two  motions  rather 
than  the  single  one  equivalent  to  them  on  a  line  drawn 
Irom  the  eye  to  the  snn  :  because  we  are  not  capable, 
while  lookmg  towards  the  horizon,  of  judging  how 
to  turn  the  quadrant  about  upon  the  elevated  line  go- 
ing to  the  sqn  as  an  axis,  by  any  other  means  than  by 
combining  the  two  motions  above  mentioned,  so  as  to 
keep  the  son^s  image  always  in  the  proper  part  of  the' 
horizon-glass.  "When  the  sun  is  near  the  horizon,  the 
line  going  from  the  eye  to  the  sun  will  not  be  far  re- 
moved from  the  axis  of  vision  ^  and  con^qnently  the 
principal  motion  of  the  quadrant  will  be  performed 
on  the  axis  of  vision,  and  the  part  of  motion  made  on 
the  vertical  axis  will  be  but  small.  On  the  coutrary, 
when  the  sun  is  near  the  zenith,  the  line  going  to  the 
sun  is  not  far  removed  from  a  vertical  line,  and  conse- 
qutotly  the  principal  motion  of  the  quadrant  will  be 
performed  on  ft  vertical  axis,  by  the  observer's  turning 
himsolf  about,  and  the  part  of  the  motion  made  on  the 
axis  of  vision  will  be  but  small.  In  intermediate  alti- 
tudes of  the  son,  the  motions  of  the  quadrant  on  the 
axis  of  vision,  and  on  the  vertical  axis,  will  be  more 
equally  divided. 

Observations  taken  with  the  quadrant  are  liable  to 
errors,  arising  from  the  bending  and  elasticity  of  the 
index,  and  the  resistance  it  meets  with  in  turning 
round  its  centre  :  whence  the  extremity  of  the  index, 
on  being  pushed  aFong  the  arch,  will  sensibly  advance 
befope  the  index-glass  begins  to  move,  and  may  h% 
seen  to  recoil  when  the  force  acting  on  it  is  removed. 
Mr  Hadley  seems  to  have  been  apprehensive  that  his 
instrument  would  be  liable  to  errors  from  this  cause  j 
and  in  order  to  avoid  them,  gives  particular  directions 
that  the  index  be  made  broad  at  the  end  next  the  cen- 
tre, and  that  the  centre,  or  axis  itself,  have  as  easy  a 
laotion  as  is  consistent  with  steadiness  ^  that  is,  an  e&* 

4 


A  T  I  O  N.  fnOet. 

tire  freedom  from  loosenesd,  or  shake^  as  the  wniam  n^y 
term  it.  By  strictly  complying  with  these  directioai  •!  Sai^ 
the  error  in  question  may  indeed  be  greatly  dimiQisbed^  ^^ 
so  far,  perhaps,  as  to  fender  it  nearly  insensible,  vhcre  Z*!^ 
the  index  is  made  strong,  and  the  proper  medium  be-  ttSa 
tween  the  two  extremes  of  a  shake  at  the  centre  od  ooe' 
hand,  and  too  much  stiffness  there  on  the  other,  is  uice- 
]y  hit  \  but  it  cannot  be  entirely  corrected.  For  to 
more  or  less  of  bending  the  index  will  always  be  sob- 
ject )  and  some  degree  of  resistance  will  remain  at  the 
centre,  unless  the  friction  there  could  be  totally  teiaoT- 
ed,  which  is  impossible. 

Of  the  reality  of  the  erra*  to  which  he  is  liable 
from  this  cause,  the  observer,  if  he  is  provided  witk  a 
quadrant  furnished  with  a  screw  for  moving  the  iodex 
gradually,  may  thus  satisfy  himself.  After  fintdiii^ 
the  observation,  lay  the  quadrant  on  a  table,  and  sotc 
the  angle  )  then  cautiously  loosen  the  screw  vbicb  la- 
stens  the  index,  and  it  will  immediately,  if  tbe  qua- 
drant is  not  remarkably  well  constructed,  be  seen  to 
start  from  its  former  situation,  more  or  less  according 
to  the  perfection  of  the  joint  and  the  strength  of  t&r 
indes^  This  starting,  which  is  owing  to  the  iadex 
recoiling  after  being  released  frtim  the  confined  state 
it  was  in  during  the  observation,  will  sometimes  aniMit 
to  several  minutes  \  and  its  direction  will  be  oppesite 
to  that  in  which  the  index  was  moved  by  the  screw 
at  tbe  time  of  finishing  the  observation.  d%A  bow  hr 
it  affects  the  truth  of  the  observation,  depends  on  tbe 
manner  in  which  the  index  was  moved  in  setting  it  to 
0,  for  adjusting  the  instrument ;}  or  in  finishing  the  ob> 
servations  necessary  for  finding  tbe  index  error. 

The  easiest  and  best- rule  to  avoid  these  errors  secsn 
to  be  this :  In  all  observations  made  by  Hadley^s  qna- 
drant,  let  the  observer  take  notice  constantly  to  fiaisb 
his  observations,  by  moving  the  index  in  the  sanoe  dU 
rection  which  was  used  in  setting  it  to  o  for  adjosting^ 
or  in  the  observations  necessary  for  finding  the  index 
error.  If  this  rule  is  observed,  the  ertt>r  arisiog  fitm 
the  spring  of  the  index  will  be  obviated.  For  as  tbt 
index  was  bent  the  same  way,  and  in  the  same  degite 
in  a^usting  as  in  observing,  the  troth  of  the  obsern- 
tioBS  will  not  be  affected  by  this  bending. 

To  take  Altitudes  by  the  Fore-ohservatioo. 

L  Of  the  Sun. 

Turn  down  either  of  the  coloured  {[huses  bcfos 
the  horizon-glass,  according  to  tbe  brightness  sf  tbt 
sun ;  direct  the  sight  to  that  part  of  the  horizon  wM 
is  under  tbe  suri,  and  move  the  index  until  the  colev- 
ed  image  of  the  sun  appear  in  the  horiaoa-glass;  tsca 
give  the  quadrant  a  slow  vibratory  motion  about  tbe 
axis  of  vision  }  move  the  index  until  the  lower  or  op* 
per  limb  of  the  sun  is  in  contact  with  the  boriiss, 
at  the  lowest  part  of  the  arch  desciihrd  by  tifes  ■•- 
tion  V  and  the  degrees  and  minutes  diown  by  the  iadex 
on  the  limb  will  be  the  altitude  of  the^swi. 

II.  Of  the  Moon. 

Put  the  index  to  o,  turn  down  the  green  glt»» 

place  the  eye  at  the  lower  hole  in  the  sight-vaae,  ssd 

observe  the  moon  in  tbe  silvered  part  of  the  ^^•|^^*' 

glass  \  move  th«  iodibx  gradually,  and  Mhiw  the  mO 

redeoted  image  notil  the  enlightened  limb  is  in  c«^ 

lam 


PtactUe.  N  A  V  I  G 

MetlMd  with  the  boriioa,  at  the  lower  put  of  the  acch  describ- 
oTftading  ed  by  the  vibratory  motion  as  before^  and  die  index 
ttide^  wIU  show  the  altitude  of  the  observed  limb  of  the  moonw. 
jAmgitudo  ^^  the  obsenratjoa  la  made  ia  the  daj-time,  tbecolourtd 

At  Sea.     glass  is  onnecessary. 

III,  Of  a  Stat  or  Pkmet. 

The  Index  being  put  to  o,  dbect  the  sight  to  the 
star  through  the  iovrer  bole  In  the  sight-vane  and  traos- 
porent  part  of  the  horiztoa-i^lass }  move  the  plane  of 
the  quadrant  a  very  little  to  the  left^  and  the  imi^  ef 
the  star  will  be  seen  in  the  silvered  part  of  the  gbws* 
Now  move  the  Index,  and  the  image  of  the  star  will 
appear  to  descend :  continue  moving  the  index  gradoal- 
ly  until  the  star  is  in  contact  with  the  horizon  at  the 
lowest  part  of  the  arch  described ;  and  the  degrees  and 
niinutes  shown  by  the  index  on  the  limb  will  he  the  al- 
titude of  the  star. 

To  take  Altitudes  by  the  Back-observation^. 

L  Of  the  Sun. 

Put  the  stem  of  the  coloured  glasses  into  the  perfo- 
ration between  the  horizon-glasses^  turn  down  either 
according  to  the  brightness  of  the  sun,  and  Md  the 
funrfrant  vertically;   then   direct  the  siglit  through 
the  hole  in  the  back  sight-vane,  and  the  transparent^ 
slit  m  the  borizon-glasa  to  that  part  of  the  horizon^ 
which  is  opposite  to  the  sun  \  now  move  the  index ^ 
till  the  son  is  in  the  silvered  part  of  the  ghtfs,  and  by 
giving  tiie  quadrant  a  vibratory  motion,  the  axis  of 
which  is  that  of  vision,  the  image  of  the  sun  will  dc- 
ecribe  an  arch  whose  convex  side  is  upwards  \  bring 
the  limb  of  the  sun,  when  in  the  upper-  part  of  this . 
areh,  in  contact  with  the  horizon  \  and  the  index  will 
show  the  altitude- of  the  other  limb  of  the  sun. 

ir.  Of  the  Moon. 

The  nltitnde  of  the  moon  is  observed  ih-the  same 
manner  as  that  of  the  sun,  with*  this  difference  only,  that 
the  use  of  the  eolonred  glass  is  unnecessary  unless  the  • 
moon  is  very  bright  y  and  that  the  enlightened  limb, 
whether  it  be  the  upper  or  lower,  is  to  be  brought  in 
contact  with  the  horizon. 

III.  Ofa  Star  or  Planet. 

Look  directly  to  tlie  star  throogh  the  vane  and  trana- 
parent'  slit  in  the  horizon-glass  ;  move  the  index  until 
the  opposite  horizon,  with  respect  to  the  star,  is  seen  in 
the  silvered  part  of  the  glass  ^  and  make  the  contact 
perfect  as  formerly.  If  the  altitude  of  the  star  is  known 
nearly,  the  index  may  be  set  to  that  altitude,  the  sight 
directed  to  the  opposite  horizon,  and.  the  observation 
■Bade  as  before. 

Sect.  II.  Of  finding  the  Latitude  of  a  Plate. 

The  observation  necessary  for  asoertaintng  the  lati- 
toda  of  a  plaoe,  is  that  of  tlie  meridional  ahitnde  of  a 
known  oelestial  objeot ;  or  two  altitudes  when  the  oh- 
jeot  is  ont  of  the  meridian.  The  latitude  is  deduced 
with  man  certainty  and  with  less  tronble  from  the  first 
of  these  methods,  than  fromnbe  second  \  and  the  sun, 
for  various  reasons,  is  the  obj<^t  most  proper  for  thn 
purpose  at  sea.    It,  however,  {req^rQtly  hanpsni,.  that 


A  T  I  O  N.  693 

by  the  inlespositioo  of  cloods,  the  sua  is  ohscmped  at   llsthod 
noon  \  and  by  this  means  the  meridian  altitude  is  lost,  of  findia^ 
In  this  case,  therefore,  the  method  by  double  altitudes  ^^^ 
becomes  necessary.    The  latitude  may  bo  doduoed  firom  ^^^^^^^^ 
three  altitnifes  of  an  unknown  object,  or  from  double    at  Sea. 
altitudes,  the  apparent  times  of  ehservatioo^  being  grven. 

The  altitude  of  the  limb  of  an  object  observed  at  sea, 
requires  four  sepuale  corrections  ht  order  to  oibtaia  uie 
true  altitude  of  its  centre  :  those  are  for  eemidiemuter^. 
dipf  refraetiotif  and  parallax,  f  See  AsTBOWOKT,  and 
the  respective  articles).  The  Srst  and  last  of  these* 
corrections  vanish  when  the  observed  object  is  a  &ted 
star. 

"When  the  altitude  of  the  lower  limb  of  any  object  is^ 
observed,  its  semidiameter  is  to  lie  added  thereto  in  or- 
der to  obtain  the  central  altitude  ^  but  if  the  opper 
limb  be  observed,  the  semidiameter  is  to  be  subtracted. 
If  the  altitude  be  taken  by  the  back-observation,  the 
contrary  rule  is  to  be  applied.  The  dip  is  to  be  sub-- 
traeted  from,  or  added  to,,  the  observed  altitadoi  ae^ 
cording,  as  die  fore  or  back  observation' Is  used.  The 
refraction  is  always  to  be  subtracted  from,  and  the  pa- 
rallax added  to,  the  observed  altitude. 

Prob.  I.    To  xedttoe  the  -sun^s  declinatiow  tO'  aay^ 
given  meridian. 

Rule.  Find  the  number  in  Table  IX.  answering  to 
the  longitude  in  the  table  nearest  to  that  given,  and  toc^ 
the  nearest  day  of  the  month.  Now,  if  the' longitude 
is  west,  and  the  declination  increasing,  that  is,  from . 
the  20th  of.  March  to  the  22d  of  Inne,  and  from  thib- 
l2d  of  September  to  the  22d  of  December,  the  above 
number  is  to  be  added  to  the  declination  :  during  the 
other  part'  of  the  year,  or  while  the  deeUnatibn  is  de* 
creasing,  this  number  is  tOtbe  subtracted.  In  east  lon- 
gitude, the  contrary  rule  is  to  be',applied. 

Hi.  It   Required  the  sun*s  declination  at  noon  1 6th 
April  r&io,  in  longitude  84*  W  ? 
Sun's  declination  at  noon  at,  Greenwich      '  9°  59.2' N. 
Number  from  Table  IX.         -        •  +    5*o 

Reduced  declination-         -        •         -  10   4*2 

£:t.  2.  Required  the  sun's  dedinatioii.  at  noon  Old. 
March  1793,  in  longitode  151^  £  P 
Son's  declination  at  noon  at  Greenwich 
£^nation  from  Table  X»  •  - 


o^  ia'N 
—  10 


Sodnoed 'declination 


43  N 


Pros.  II.  Given  the  sun's  meridian  altitude,  io  find, 
the  latitude  of  the  place  of  observatiOOw 

Rule.  The  sun's  semidiameter  is  to  be  added' to». or 
subtracted  from,,  the  observed  altitude,  according  aa  the' 
lower  or  opper  limb  is  observed  ^  the  dip  answering  to 
the  height  from  Table  V.  is  to  be  subtractdi  if  the 
fore^observation  is  used  ^  otherwsBo^  it  is  to-be  added  ; 
and  the  rafraction  answering  to  the  altitude  from 
Table  IV.  is  U  be  subtracted :  heace  the  true  altilndo 
of  the  smi*s  centre  will  be  obtained.  CaU  tho  akituda 
south  or  north,  according  as  tho  son  is  aoulb  or  north 
at  the  time  of  obosrvation>  which*  sabtsaatcd  firom  ^, 
mil  give. tho  zcmth  dittance  of  a^oon^vsy  deaomMm- 
tion. 

Reduce  thie  tan's  dodinatioa  tO'  tho  mevidioA  of  the 

{laocof  ohsarattioui  by  £aob^  L  y  thoa  tha^iooi  or  di^ 

forenoe 


6P4 


NAVIGATION. 


MetW    ference  of  the  tenitli  distance  and  declination,  accord* 

of  finding  iog  as  they  are  of  the  same  or  of  a  contrary  dcnomina- 

tttd/lSld  ^'®"'  ^^  ^  ^^®  latitude  of  the  place  of  observation,  of 

XoB^todc  ^^^  •""*  """"*  ^^^^  '^«  greater  quantity. 

atSca.         gj.^  ,^  October  19.  1810,  in  longitude  $2''  E,  the 

meridian  altitude  of  the  sun's  lower  limb  was  48^  53'  8, 

'  hei^t  of  the  eye  18  feet     Required  the  latitude  ? 

Obf.alttim*8lower Umb48<»5yS    StinVdec.  ip-Octnoon. 90 51'S 
-Scmidiameter  +0  16  Eqnatioa  IVOile  1X«—   2 

Dip  and  refiraction  — o    5  Reduced  declin.      p   498 

^Tnie  alt  ran*!  centra    49    4S    Zenith distaaca    -    40  5dN 

Irfititade    31     7  N 

Ea.  2.  November  16.  1812,  in  longitude  158®  W, 
'  the  meridian  altitude  of  the  sun's  lower  limb  was  87^ 
37'  N,  height  of  the  eye  10  feet.    Required  the  lati- 
tude? 

OlMLalt.8on'slow.limb  87^37^.  Sun's  dec  noon.  18^48^ 
Semidiameter        +016        Equation  Ub.-f  o    8 

Dip  and  refract.  «— 'O  -  3       Reduced  dec. '  19    j6 

\Tnie  alt.  son's  centre  87  50  N^Zenith'^distance  a  10  S 

"Latitude    21  ^6S 

Efe»  3.  December  19.  1811,. being  nearly  under  the 
meridian  of  Greenwich,  the  altitude  of  the  sun's  upper 
limb  at  noon  was  4^  30'  S,  height  of  the  «ye  20  feet. 
^  Required  the  latitude  ? 

't)bserved  altitude  of  the  sun's,  upper  limb      >  4°  30'  S 
Sun's  semidiaroeter  -  *  -O   16 

'  Dip  and  refraction         -  •         •         0   15 


True  altitude  of  the  sun's  centre 

Zenith  distance 

Declination 


*  MM 


3  59  S 
86  iN 
2$   25  S 


Latitude  -  .  .  62  36N 

Ex.  4  August  2^.  x8i2,-in  longitude  107«  E,  the 
1  meridian  altitude  of  the  sun's  bwer  limb  by  the  back 
observation  was  6t^^  8'^N,  %ind  the  height  of  the^ye  14 
•feeL    Required  the*latitudeP 

Observed  altitude  sun's  upper  limb         -         61^  8'N 
Sun's  semidiameter         ...        ...^  x6 

-  Dip         -  -  .  , 

*  Refraction    - 


+0    3* 


w 


True  altitude  of  son's  centre 
^Zenith  distance 
Reduced  dedinatioii 


60  55N 
29    58 
II  26N 


Latitude  .  -  -  .         17  39S 

The  dip  in  Table  V.  answers  to  lui  entirely  open  and 
nnobstnicted'  famzou.  It,  however,  frequentty  hap. 
pens,  that  the  sun  is  over  the  land  at  the  time  of  obser- 
vation, and  the^ship  nearer  to  the  land  than  the  visible 
horizon  would  be  if  unconfitoed.  Li  this  case,  the  dip 
will  be  different  from  what  it  would  otherwise  have 
^n,  and  is  to  be'Ukea  from  Table  VL  in  which  the 
heiffht  is  expressed  at  the  top,  and  the  distance  from  the 
-land  in  the  side  column  in  nautical  miles«.«i>Seamen,  in 
^nerali  can  estimate  the^tance  of  any  object  from 


Practice, 

the  ship  with  sufficient  exactiiess  fdr  this  futpose,  espe-  BCcty 
cially  when  that  distance  is  not  greater  than  nx  miles  ^  tffa^ 
which  is  the  greatest  distance  of  the  visible  horizoB  ^^ 
from  an  observer  on  the  deck  of  any  ship.  ^  ^ 


atSii 

Prob.  IIL  Given  the  meridian  altitude  of  a  txed^— r« 
star,  to  6nd  the  latitude  of  the  place  of  ofaeervatloo. 

RuL£.  Correct  the  itltkudet>f  the  star  by  dipaail 
refraction,  and  find  the  zenith  distance  of  the  star  ts 
formerly  ^  take  the  declination  of  the  star  fnxn  Ta- 
ble XL  and  reduce  it  to  the  time  of  observation.   Nov, 
the  sum  or  difference  of  the  zenith  distance  and  dedi* 
'  nation  of  the  star,  according,  as  they  are  of  the  same  or 
-  of  a  contnuy  nafiie,>wili  be  the  latitude  of  the  pfaue  of 
observation. 


Ex.  I.  Deoemberi.  fSio,  the  meridian  altitude  of 
Sinus  was  59®  jc/  S,  height  of  the  eye  14  feet.  Re- 
quired  the  latitude  ? 

Obseived  altitude  of  Sinus  •  590  jo9 

Dip  and  refraction  -  -  .-o     4 

True  altitude  -   . 

Zlenith  distance  ... 

.Declination  «•    .        —  • 


itoMfti 


Xatitude 


59  4^8 

30  14  N 

16  28S 

13  4^N 


Es.  2.  February  17.  1797,  ^  neridian  altitadcof 
Procyon  was  fi^  15'  N,'  the  height  of  the  e je  10  &eL 


71 


3 


7» 

iiN 

18 

48S 

J 

43  » 

Required  the  latitude  ? 
^^Observed  altitude  of  Procyon 
Dip  and  refraction        <- 

True  altitude 
•  Zenith  distance 
Declination 

Latitude  -  -  •  *       ^3     5^ 

Prob.  IV.  Given  the  meridian  altitude  of  a  planet, 
•to  find  the  latitude  of  the  place  of  observation. 

^  RcLE.^  Compute  the  true  altitude  of  the  pbnet  aa 
directed  in  last  problem  (whith  is  siiffidently  actorate 
for  altitudes  taken  at  sea)  j  take  iu  declinatioo  froa 
the  Nautical  Almanac,  p.  iv.  of  the  oionth,  and  it- 
'doce  it  to  the  time  and  meridian  of  the  place  of  obeer- 
vation ;  then  the  sum  or  diffierence  of  the  zenith  dis- 
'taflce'  and  declination  of  the  planet  will'  he  the  latitode 
as  before. 

Ex.  I.  August  7.  i8r2,  the  meridian  altitude  of  Sa^ 
•turn  was  68®  42^  N,   and  height  of  the  eye  15  lect. 
Required  the  latitude  ? 
Observed  altitude  of  Saturn  -  68*  42'N 

Dip  and  refraction  ;  -  .      ^^^    4 

True  altitude 
Zenith  distance 
Declination 


Latitude        •  •  -•  •446S 

Ex.  2.  October  15.  1812,  the  meridian  altitude  of 
Jupiter  was  81®  yS,  height  of  the  eye  18  keU    t^ 

\/DSCITCm 


quired  the  latitude  ? 


Practice. 

lleUiod   Ol>Berved  altitode  of  Jupiter 
of  finding       Dip 
the  LaU-  '^ 

Ungi^e  True  altitude 
attka  , 

■■    V  "  ^  Zenith  distance 
Declinatiou 

Latitude 


N  A  V  I  G 

3 


81     2  8 


8  58N 
19    4  S 


10    6  S 


Ditto, 

Ml.  XX. 


PkOB.  V.  Given  the  meridian  altitude  of  the  moon, 
to  find  the  latitude  of  the  place  of  observation. 
J>rMM€^  Rule.  Take  the  number  f  answering  to  the  ship^s 
l!9*'^^]P*' longitude,  and  daily  variation  of  the  moon's  passing  the 
TwrffMilr  ^^^'^^  »  which  being  applied  to  the  time  of  passage 
lUk  XX. '  given  in  the  Nautical  Almanac,  will  give  the  time  of 
tlic  moon's  pn38age  ov«r  the  meridian  of  the  ship. 

Reduce  this  time  to  the  meridian  of  Greenwich ;  and . 
by  means  of  the  Nautical  Almanac  find  the  moon's  de- 
clination, horizontal  parallax,  and  semidiaroeter  at  the 
reduced  time* 

Apply  the  semidiameter  and  dip  to  the  observed  alti- 
tude of  the  limb,  and  the  apparent  altitude  of  the  moon's 
centre  will  he  obtained  \  to  which  add  the  correction 
answering  to  the  apparent  altitude  and  horizontal  paral- 
lax, t,  and  the  som  will  be  the  true  altitude  of  the 
moon's  centre  ;  which  subtracted  from  90^,  the  remain- 
dci;  is  tlie  zenith  distance,  and  the  sum  or  difference  of 
the  zenith  distance  and  declination,  according  as  they 
are  of  the  same  or  of  a  contrary  name,  will  be  the  lata- 
tude  of  the  place  of  observation. 

E.V.  I.  December  24.  179a,  in  longitude  30^  W, 
the  meridian  altitude  of  Jthe  moon's  lower  limb  was 
81^  J  y  N,  height  of  the  eye  12  feet^  Required  .-the 
latiCade  ? 

Time  of  pass,  over  the  mer.  of  Greenwich  =:9h  19V 
£qpation  Table  XX.         -         -         -         -IrO     4 

Time  of  pass,  over  mer.  ship 
Xiongitude  in  time         .... 

Reduced  time  .... 

Moon's  dec.  at  midnight,  TaUe  IX. 
£q.  to  time  from  midnight 

Reduced  declination 

Moon^'s  hor.  par.         ... 

Moon's  semidiameter 

Augmentation         .... 


9  *3 

2    0 

11  23 

=14°  53V 
—  04 

1449N 

15  .6' 
+  0  14 

Ang.  semidiameter 


15  20 


A  T  I  O  N.  695. 

Observed  altitude  of  the  moon's  lower  fimb     81®  X5'N   Mediod 


Semidiameter 

Dip  .... 

Apparent  altitude  of  the  moon's  centre 
Correction    •         - 

True  altitude  of  moon's  centre 
Zenith  distance  -  -  - 

Declination  .s  •  . 


+ 

_  o 


O  15  of  Hading 
4  the  JLati-' 
^        tnde  and 


A  .  .  Loogttnde' 

8x    27N     at  Sea. 
+   08 


81 
8 


35  N 
25  S 
49N 


Latitude  -  -  -  -  6   42N 

Remark.  If  the  object  be  on  the  meridian  below,  the 
pole  at  the  time  of  observation,  then  the  sum  of  the  true 
altitude  and  the  complement  of  the  declination  is  the 
latitude,  of  the  same  name  as  the  declination  or  altitude. 
Ex,  r.  July  2.  1812,  in  longitude  15^  W,  the  alti- 
tude of  the  sun's  lower  limb  at  midnight  was  8^  58^1 
height  of  the  eye  18  feet.  Required  the  latitude  ? 
Obst^rved  altitude  sun's  lower  limb'  -  8°-  58' 
Semidiameter         ....  .|.o     16 

Dip  and  refraction         -         -  •        '  — o     lo'' 


True  altitude 'of  son's  oentre 

Compl.  decHo.  Ttduce4  to  time  and  place 


9   4N 


Latitude 


76      iN 


Prob.  VJ.  Given  the  latitude  by  account,  tbe  de- 
cKnation  and  two  observed  altitudes  of  the  sun,  and  the 
interval  of  time  between  them,  to  find  the  true  latitude 

Rule*  To  the  log.  secant  of  the  latitude  by  accoimt, 
add  the  log.  secant  of  the  sun's  declination  \  the  sum, 
rejecting  20  firom  the  index,  is  the  b^^artthm  ratio.  To 
thia  add  the  log.  of  difference  of  the  natural  sines  of 
the  two  altitudes,  and  the  log.  of  the  half  elapsed  time 
from  its  proper  column. 

Find  this  sum  in  column  of  middle  time,-  and  take 
out  the  time  answmng  thereto  \  the  diflSerence  between 
which  and  the  half  elapsed*  time ~will  be  the  time  firom 
noon  when  the  greater  altitude  was  observed. 

Take  the  log*  answering  to  this  time  firom  column  of 
rising,  firom  which,  subtract  the  log.  ratio,  the  remainder 
is  the  logarithm  of  a  natural  number  j  which  being 
added  ta  the  natand  'sine  -of  the  greater  altitude,  the 
sum  is  the  natural  cosine  of  the  meridian -zenith  di* 
stance  }•  frOm  which  and*  the  sob's  declination  the  lati- 
tude is  obtained  as  formeriy. 

If  the  latitude  thus  found  differs  considerably  firom  < 
that  by  account,  the  operation  is  to4>e  repeated,  using 
the  computed  latitude  in  plfce  of  that  by  account  (l). 

Esampie  u 


(l)  This  method  is  only  an  approximation,  and  ought  to  be  used  under  certain  restrictions  v-  namelvy 
The  observations  must  be  taken -between  nine  o'dock  in  the  forenoon  and  three  in  the  afternoon.     If  both  ob-  > 
servations  be  in  the  forenoon,  or  both  in  the  afternoon,  the  interval  must-not  be  less  than  the  distance  of  the  time  - 
of  observation  of  the  greatest  altitude  from  iKMm.     If  one  observation  be  in  the  forenoon -and  the  other  in  the  af- 
ternoon, the  interval  must  not  exceed  four  hours  and  a  half  j  and  in  all  cases,  the  nearer  the  greater  altitude  is  ' 
to  noon  the  better. 

If  the  sun's  meridian  zenith  distance  be  less  than  the  4atitade,  the  limitations  are  still  more  contracted.   If  the  » 
latitude  be  double  the  meridian  zenith  distance,  the  observations  must  be  taken  between  half  past  nine  in  the 
morning  and  half  past  two  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  interval  must  not  exceed  three  hours  and  a  half.   The  obser- 
vations must  be  taken  still  nearer  to  noon,  if  the  latitude  exceed  the  zenith  distance  in  a  greater  proportion.  See 
Maskelyne's  British  Mariner's  Guide,  Dr  Mackay's  Treatises  on  the  Longitude  and  Navigation,  &ۥ  and  Be-^  r 
quisite  TableS|  2d  edit. 


6^  N  A  V  IG  AT  I  ON. 

McA^r  Sxmmple  u  3vAf  9.  1:8x2^  ia  ktitsde  by  accoimt 
of  .tedisg*  27^  N.  at  loh  29'  A.  M»  per  watch,  the  canrecto^  al- 
^^'  tJtnde  of  the  sun  was  65^  44',  and  at  I2h  31',  the  alti- 

TiiiiLiiB*t  ^^^^  ^"^  '^  ^''     Required  the  true  latitude  P 
^iig^i^    Ihneii per  wat. Alt  K. Smei.  JLst. by  ftcc. 37^ o' Secuit c.097^5 
loh  25,'  6j^  24'  90924  DecliaatioD  %t  28  Secaat  C03428 


Pnctict 

As  the  latitude  by  computation  difllen  1*  sS*  inm  Mdi^ 

that  by  account,  the  operation  must  be  repeated.  iTfaAf 

Conputed  latitude       51^  i^      Secant       0.20348^^1^ 

Declination         -         9   37       Secant       0.00615  ^^ 


-la   3« 


t 


2 
I 

31     ic 


74     8    96190  Logarithm  rati* 

Differ  526^       Loganthm 

Half  elspied  tame 

Middle  time 


fi 


2f      so 


Nataral  awnber 
Oreateit  altiiiide 

Bte.  xeaiihlifit. 
JPerHnatiaa 

JLatttaAe 


BSiti« 


I«o§,iati» 


624 
74^8'NnAe    96x90 

14  50  N  oatiae  968x4 

22  %& 


>72t48 

4-4J340 

2^2740 
CJ3"93 

««79547 


36  58  N. 

£flb2.  October  17.  18 12,  in  lalitnde  4a|^H'M; 
by  Tf^nnt,  at  oh  38'  P*  M.  the  correct  altitude  of 
ton  aiin^s  centre  was  36^  y,  a»d  at  2h.,4fi'  P.  1£  the 

akitade  ma  2a®  49^.    Bel|oirad  the  latitode  ? 
l^et^p^  wat  Alt  N.  Sines  Lat  by  acc.430 24'  Secant  0.13872 
36^  5'  58896  Declinadon  9    18  Secaat  0.00575 

24  49  41972  Logailtlun  ratio         -        ^•14447 

4»)s850 

4-53««3 

3-i2i^ 
ai4447 

«*Jflr737 


MM^ 


DUbr.  169*4       Ijo^ 
Half  elapMd  time 
.     Middle  yhut 


37  20 


R!ttiia 


Natural  Nambcr 
Gre'atett  altitude 

*Mer.  aea.  disWuice 


L90.  ratio 

36^5'N.  one  58896 

53  15  K  €0210059845 
918 


Xatitnde        •  -        43  57  N* 

£«•  3*  la  ladtode  49®  48'^.  by  aaoomit^  the saa^s 
dedinatMm  being  9*  37^  S«  at  oh  32^  P.M.  nor  watch, 
the  idtatode  of  tho  son's  lower  limb  was  28^  32',  and 
at  2h  41'  it  was  19®  25^,  tho  height  of  tba  eya  la  fieet. 
Bequiffod  the  true  latitude  } 

Fiist  obseraad  altit«      aS^  yaf  Second  altitwde  19®  25^ 
Semidiameter  -|-o   i6'  Somidianietor  -fo    i^ 

Dip  and  refrootion     -^     5   DipandrsAf.  — o     6 


«i^ 


True  altitado  28  43   True  altitnde      19  35 

Time  prr  wat.  Alt  N.  Sinet.  Lat  by  ace  49^  48'  Secant  o.  19013 
oh  32'  28^43' 48048  Declination  9  37  Secant  0.006x5 


2  41              19  35  335i8^^'>atio 

2  9      Bilbeneo   14530       Im^* 

I  4  30"           ^       Ualfelaptedtifna 

I  57  o           -         Middle  time 


32    30 
yataralimmbar 


Riling 


«39 


0.7962.8 

4*  162*7 

0*55^7 
4.91492 

300x64 
2.S0536 


Mer.  leo.  dift  6cP  52'  N.codne 48667 
Decliaalion      9  37  S.      ' 

lAtitBde  51  151^* 


Lonrithm  ratio 

Difference  of  nat«  sines     14530 


Half  elapsed  time 
Middle  timo 
Rising 


a20963 

Log.    4.16227 

ih  4'  30^    Log.    0.55637 


I  40    20 
o  35   SO 


Log.    4.92S27 
Log.    3/58630 


Nataral  number 
Gr.  altitade 


753    2.87667 
28<^  43^  N.  sine     48048 


Mer.  zen.  dist.   60  47  N.  cosiae  48801 
Decliaation  9  37 

Latkada  51   10 

As  this  latitude  differs  only  ^  finoin  that  iittd  ia  tfce 
computatioB,  it  amy  therefcre  be  depeoded  npan  as  tke 
tiae  ladtnde. 

PaoB.  VIL  GivoB  the  latkudo by  acooont,  ^9m\ 
declination,  two  observed  altitades,  the  eiapaed  tisM, 
aad  the  coarse  aad  distanee  ran  botw<een  the  observi- 
tioas  y  to  find  the  ship's  latitude  at  tha  time  of  obsena- 
tion  of  the  grealer  altitude. 

Rule.  Find  the  angle  contained  between  the  sb^'s 
course  and  the  snn's  bauing  at  the  time  of  obaerfitiflB 
of  the  least  altitude^  with  which  enter  the  TrsTcne 
Table  as  a  course,  and  the  difference  of  latitode  is- 
swering  to  the  distance  made  good  will  be  the  leductioa 
of  altitude. 

Now,  if  the  least  altitnde  be  observed  in  the  fist- 
noon,  the  reduction  of  altitude  is  to  be  applied  there- 
to by  addition  or  subtraction,  according  as  the  aigfe 
between  the  ship^s  course  and  the  sun's  bearing  it  km 
or  more  than  eight  points.  l£  the  least  altitude  be 
observed  in  the  aftenoon,  the  contrary  rule  is  to  be 
used. 

The  diftrence  of  longitude  in  time  between  tbe 
observations  is  to  be  applied  to  the  elapsed  time  by 
addition  or  subtraction,  accordiag  as  it  is  east  or  wert. 
This  is,  however,  in  many  cases  so  inconsiderable  ss  Is 
be  aeglected. 

With  the  corrected  altitudes  and  interval,  the  lati- 
tude by  account  and  sun's  declination  at  the  time  of  ^ 
servation  of  the  greatest  altitude,  tho  computatasa  is  ts 
be  performed  by  the  last  problem. 

Zx.  U  July  6*  L793^  in  latitude  58^  14'  N  by  a^ 
count,  and  longitude  16*  £,  at  I  oh  54'  A«  M.  per 
waldi,  -the  altitude  of  the  sun's  lower  firob  was  ^^  I'ff 
and  at  lb  1/  F.  M.  the  altitude  was  52*  51',  aalbctf- 
ihg  per  compass  8W£W;  tbe  ship^  course  duriog  tbe 
elapsed  time  was  S^W^W,  and  tbe  hourly  rate  of  nil- 
iag  8  knots,  tbe  height  of  the  eye  16  feet  Befoiitd 
the  true  latitude  at  the  time  of  observation  ^  the  great- 
er altitnde  ? 

Son's  bear  at  2d«  ob.  S W&W.  Interval  bet.  observ.  A  a/ 
Ship's  coartfe  S6Wil¥J)ist.nm=:dia3x8=i9» 


CiMitatlwd  angle'  ^^  points. 


Nsv 


Practice.  N  A  V  I  G 

Method        Now  to  course  3f  points,  and  disUince  19  miles,  the 
ofindlng  difference  of  latitude  is  14.7  or  15  miles. 
****  ^^i  ^^"^  observed  alt.  53**  17'  Second  observed  alt.  52*  51' 
L^ritode  Semidiameter        +0  16  Semidiaraeter  +0   i& 

at  Sea'    Dip  and  refract.  — o     4  Dip  and  refraction  — o     4 


'5 


True  altitude  53  29  Redaction 


Reduced  altitude  52 ,  48 
T;meofob.ofgr.alt.ioh54'  A.M.  Sun's  dec.  22**  39^. 
Longitude  in  time     i     4  £q.  to  r.  t.-|-      i 

Reduced  time  9  50    A.M.  Red.  decl.  22  40  N. 

Time  per  wat  Alt  N.  Sine*  LaL  by  ace  58°  14'  Secant  0.17  S63 
t6h  54'  :)3^29'  80368  Declination  ax  40  Secant  ao349C 


n 


a     a3 

1     II     30 


5a  48   79653  Logarithm  ratio 

Differ.  715        Logarithm 

Half  elapsed  time 


5    3« 


l^atoral  number 


Middle  time 
Rising 


liOg.  ratio 


aooi 


Grealest  altitnde      53^  2</S.  one  80368 


o-3«354 

a-8S43i 
0.51x94 

3.68079 

3.61469 
0-31354 

3-30HS 


M er.  zenith  dist 
Declination 

Latitude 


34    33  N   co«.  82369 
aa    40  N. 


57     «3  N. 

Since  the  computed  latitude  differs  bo  much  from 
that  by  account,  it  will  be  necessary  to  repeat  the 
./Operation. 

Computed  latitude  57^  13'.  Secant    0.26643 

Declination  22  40  Secant    0.03491 


Lo^ritbm  ratio 

Difference  of  natural  sines  715 

Half  elapsed  time  ih  11'   30" 


0.30134 
Log.  2.85431 
Log.    0.51294 


Middle  time 

Rising 
Logarithm  ratio 


5     20       Log.    3.66859 


10 


Log.    3.61686 
0.30134 


Natural  nnttber  •          -           2068 

Oreatfest  altitude  53^  29'N.  sine  80368 

Mer.  zen.  dist*  *  34   29  N.  cos.  82436 

Declination  22  40N. 


3-3»5J2 


Latitude  57     9  N. 

As  this  latitude  differs  only  4  miles  from  that  used 
in  the  computatioriy  it  may  therefore  be  depended  on  as 
the  true  latitude 

Remark,  If  the  sun  come  very  near  the  zenith,  the 
sines  of  the  altitude  will  vary  so  little  as  to  make  it  uu- 
oertain  which  ought  to  be  taken  as  that  belonging  to 
the  natural  sine  of  the  meridian  altitude.  In  this  case, 
the  following  method  will  be  found  preferable. 

To  the  log.  rising  of  the  time  from  noon  found  as 
before,  add  the  log.  secant  of  half  the  sum  of  the  esti- 
mate meridian  altitnde,  and  greatest  observed  altitude  \ 
from  which  subtract  the  log.  ratio,  its  index  being  in- 
creased by  10,  and  the  remainder  will  be  the  log.  sine 
'    Vol.  XIV.  Part.  IL  t 


A  T  I  O  N. 

of  an  arch  ^  which  added  to  the  greatest  altitude  will 
give  the  sun's  meridian  altitude. 

Ear,  2.  December  2ist  1793,  in  latitude  22°  40'  S, 
by  account  at  nh  57'  the  correct  altitude  of  the  sun's 
centre  was  89°  10',  and  at  i  lb  4'  40",  the  altitude  was 
88°  50^.     Required  the  true  latitude  ? 

Tiin:i;Mrwat  Alt  N.  Sines.  I  At  by  ace  2  3^40/ Secant  ao349t 
iih  57'   o"  89°  ic'  999^9  Declination  23  28  Secant  0.03749 

4  40    88    50   99979  Logarithm  ratio        -         0.07240 


697 

Method 

of  finding; 

the  Lati- 

tiide  and 

l«oa:;itade 

at  Sea. 


12 

o 
o 


7  10    Differ.  10         liog. 

3  50  Half  elapsed  time 


o  50 


Middle  tinte 
RisiJig 


030 

Comp.  of  lat.  by  ace.     67^   20' 
Declination        •  23     28 


1.00000 
1.776^3 

2.849Q3 
9.932S4 


Sum 


90    48 

Estimate  mer.  altitude  89     1 2  7  go  ,  ,.  3^^.  ,  ,  .84609 
Greatest  altitude  89     10  J   ^  ^     ^ 


Logarithm  ratio  -{-  5 

Arch 

Greatest  altitude     - 


Meridian  altitude 


o     17 
89     10 


12.77893 
5.07240 

sine  7-70^53 


89     27     zen.  dist.      o®  33' N 
declinat.     23    28  S 


latitude      22  SS  ^ 
This  differing  from  the  assumed  latitude,  the  work 
must  be  repeated. 

Latitude         -         22^  55*         -         secant     O.03571 
Declination  23    X 8         -         secant     0.03749 


Logarithm  ratio 
Difference  of  natural  sines 
Half  elapsed  time 


Middle  time 

Rising 
Comp.  of  lat. 
Declination 

Sum 

Mer.  alt. 
Greatest  alt. 


Log.  ratio  -|-5 


67^    5' 
23    28 

90  33 


0.07320 
I®  log.     1. 00000 

3'  50"  1.77^^3 

o  50  2.84983 

3    o  0.93284 


Arch  -  o   21 

Greatest  altitude     89    lO 


Merid.  altitude        89   31 


i8't  sec.  11.91827 

12.85111 
5.07320 

7.77791 


zen.  dist.  o*  29' 

Declination    23    28 


Latitude         22   59  S 

If  the  work  be  repeated  with  this  last  latitude,  the 

latter  oart  only  may  be  altered. 

*^        ^  4T  latitude 


698 


Method    Lfttifaide 

•f  finding   DecIiniaUon 

the  l4itir 

tilde  uid   1^ 
Lottgitnde  ^^^'  "**'•  *'^* 

Bt8en« 

Greatest  altitude 

Sum 

Half 
Kising 

Arch 

OrR&test  ahitade 

Meridian  altitude 
Zmitfa  distance 
Declination 

Latitude 


23    28 


IbTAVlGATIOM, 


■ecsnt   0.0359a 
secant    0^3749 


^    31         l<>g*  ratio    0.07341 
89    10    ar»coni.-»'5    492659 


178   41 

89     20i 

Qh3'o" 


0  22 

89 

IQ 

89 

aa 

0 

28 

»i 

28 

secant    1*93972 

0.93284 

■*  ■         ■ 

•"M^     7«799'5 


23  aS. 


pROB.  VIII.  Given  the  altitudes  of  two  known  stars, 
eWrved  at  the  same  or  at  diferent  tiaws  ^  and  Hal  dif- 
ferent times,  the  interval  between  the  -oliiervatMme^  to 
^nd  -the  4atitude. 

BuiX.  If  bath  altitudes  be  observed  at  the  same 
time,  call  the  difference  between  their  right  ascensions 
the  reduced  interval. 

But  if  the  altitudes  be  taken  at  SiSerent  times,  .re- 
duce the  interval  between  the  observations  to  sidereal 
time,  by  adding  thereto  the  ptroportional  part  answer- 
ing to  the  intervd,  and  3^  j&%  the  daily  acceleration 
of  the  6xed  stars.  Now  to  the  right  ascension  of  the  first 
observed  star,  add  the  interval  in  sidereal  time,  and  the 
difference  between  this  sum  and  the  right  ascension  of 
the  other  star  will  be  the  reduced  interval. 

To  the  logarithm  rising  of  the  reduced  taterval^  add 
the  logarithmic  cosines  of  the  stars  declinations;  subtract 
the  natural  number  answering  to^fhe  sum  of  these  loga> 
rithms  from  the  natural  cosine  of  the  difference  or  sum  of 
the  stars  declinations»  according  as  tbey  are  of  (hesaoae 
or  of  a  contrary  name,  and  the  remainder  will  be  the 
Natural  sine  of  arch  first. 

To  the  logarithmic  cosine  of  arch  first  add  the  loga- 
rtcfamic  secant  of  declination  of  the  star  having  the  least 
]iolar  distance,  and  tlie  logarithjn  half  elapsed  time  of 
the  reduced  interval,  the  sum  will  be  the  logarithm, 
half  elapsed  time  of  arch  seoond. 

From  the  natural  cosine  ofthe  dtfference  between  ardh 
first  and  the  altitude  of  the  starliavinff  the  greatest  polar 
distance,  subtract  the  natural  sine  of  the  altitude  of  Che 
otlnr  star,  and  find  the  legaricfam  of  the  remainder  j  to 
which  add  the  logarithm  seoant  of  arch  first,  and  the  lo- 
jgarithmic  secant  of  the  altitude  of  the  star  having  the 
greatest  polar  distance,  the  sum  will  be  the  logarithm 
rising  of  arcb  third.  The  difference  ^between  arches 
second  and  third  is  arch  fourth. 

To  the  logarithm  rising  of  arch  fourth  add  the  loga- 
rithmic cosines  of  the  declination  and  altftnde  of  the  star 
having  the  greatest  polar  distance ;  subtract  the  corre- 
sponding natural  number  from  the  natural  cosine  of  the 
difference  between  the  altitude  and  declination,  the  po- 
lar distance  being  less  than  90®;  otherwise,  from  their 
sum,  and  the  remainder  'will  be  the  natural  sine  of  the 
flititiide. 

Ex.    January  ist  T793,  the  Irve  altitude  of  Capel- 


la  was  69^  23V 
of  Sirius^  was  16^ 

Kigfct 

Sight 

Interval 
fntecval 

CapeUa's  declin* 
Sirittf 's  declia*. 


nwhct 

at CbtfttMeiastoiittlttiraeidlitBde  i^^ 
15^.     Eequirod  the  lialitaie  ?  rfUi» 

efCapeHa        ^    t'  zf  i^Uti* 

6    $6-   L  '^^ 


1H34'  $& 

45°  4<5'  ^ 
16   27  S 


I    34  36 
rising        $igMfjO 
cosine 
cosine 


9^60 
9.98185 


Sun 


Arch  first 
Capella^  declin. 
interval 

Arch  second 
Arch  first 
8trttt8*8  altitude 

Oifl^rence 
Capella^s  altitude 


62   13  N  4:o6]ne  46613 

5599 


24    i^iNaine 

45   4fi 
ih34'  36" 

I    II  28 
16   19 


3-74815 


4tai4Qos.  91^6000 

secatit       a.15640 

H.  £..  time  0.39670 

H.£«AiaBe  0.51310 

secant    0.040GO 
secant    0.01785 


7    54  ^*  <^os^Dc  9905 1 
69    23  N.  sine     93596 


Arch  third 
Arch  second 

Arcb  fourth 
6irius*s  decltn. 

altitude 

fisoi 


i«iitilude 


lb  21'  .20*' 
I    II    28 


545S      3-73^ 
rising       3.794^ 


•F 

ja 

I« 

rj 

c6 

rp 

fisiog 


32  46NG08. 84CM 

85 

37      9Nsine84DOS 


1.967^1 
9^85 
9^115 


*^3W* 


GftAls  II.    Ootttainiog   the  Method  rf  JhAig  lk 
Longitude-  at  Sea  by  Lunar  Oiservatwu* 

Sect.  1.  Introductianm, 

The  observations  necessary  to  detavniae  4he  Issgt- 
tade  by  this  method  are,  the  distance  between  the  saa 
«nd  mooBf  or  the  moon  and  a  fixed  star  ■ear  the  sdjp> 
tic,  together  with  the  altitude  of  ewsk.  The  Urn 
used  in  the  Nautical  Almanack  for  this  poipose  aietk 
following :  namely,  «  ArtM^  Aldebaran^  Pstttr,  J^ 
guius^  Spiea  Ftrgims,  AfO&peOf  m  A«gittUe^  IkmedkmA^ 
and  m-  Pegati;  and  the  distances  of  the  moon's  oestre 
from  the  sun,  and  firom  one  or  «iore  of  these  Ston» 
&re  eodtained  in  the  viii.  ix.  x.  and  %u  pafes  tf  the 
month,  at  the  beginning  of  every  thMPd  hear  sffsr 
rent  time,  by  the  meridian  of  Greenwich.  IW  di- 
stance between  the  moon  and  the  snii^  er  oae  ef  tk«e 
stars,  is  observed  with  «  sextant^  awl  the  akitadtf  of 
the  uhjects  are  taken  as  osoal  with  n  Hadlej^s  fsa- 
drant. 

In  the  practice  of  this  stethod,  st  wOl  he  imi 
convenient  to  be  provided  with  three  assistaets;  tvt 
of  these  are  to  take  the  altitudes  ef  the  sun  aad  sMei, 
pr  moon  and  star,  at  the  same  time  the  principal  shtv* 
ver  is  taking  the  distance  betweea  the  ohjcdi;  sarf 
tlie  third  assistant  is  to  observe  the  tiaoe,  ani  viiit 

divs 


Practice. 


NAVIGATION. 


699 


tiom. 


OrCiidin}^  down  the  obAervations*     In  order  to  ohtahi  accuracy, 
tlie  t«oni2  it  will  be  necessary  to.  observe  several  distances,  and 
tade  at  Sea  f^  corresponding  altitudes ;  the  intervals  of  time  be- 
^aJjf'^^  ^tween  them  being  as  short  as  possible  *,  and  the  sum  of 
each  divided  by  the  number  will  give  the  mean  di- 
stance and  mean  altitudes  ^  from  which  the  time  of  ob- 
servation at  Greenwith  is  to  be  eomputod'  bj  the  rtiles 
to  be  explained. 

If  the  son  or  star  from  which  the  moon^s  distance 
IS  observed  be  at  a  proper  distance  from  the  meridian, 
the  time  at  the  ship  may  be  inferred  from  the  altitude 
observed  at  the  same  time  with  the  distance :  ia  thi« 
4aae,  the  wmtch  is  not  necessary  \  but  if  that  object  be 
near  the  roeridiair,  the  watch  is  absolutely  necessary, 
in  order  to  connect  Ifhe  observations  for  ascertaining 
<the  apparent  time  nt  the  ship  and  at  Greenwich  with 
«ach  other. 

An  observer  witbont  any  assistants  may  very  easily 
take  nil  the  observations,  by  first  taking  the  altitudes 
m(  the  objects,  then  the  distance,  ftnd  again  their  altir 
tndes,  and  reduce  the  altitudes  to  the  time  of  observa- 
tion of  the  distance  ;  or,  by  a  single  observation  of  the 
distance,  the  apparent  time  being  known,  the  longitode 
may  be  determined. 

\Bct  of  observations  of  the  distance  between  the 
moon  and  a  star,  aud  their  altitudes,  may  be  taken 
with  accuracy  during  the  time  of  the  evening  or 
nomiag  twilight  ^  and  the  observer,  though  not  much 
acquainted  with  the  starSf  will  not  find  it  difficult  to 
distinguish  the  star  from  which  the  moon's  distance  is 
to  be  observed.  For  the  time  of  observation  nearly,  and 
the  ship's  longitttde  by  account  being  knowu,  the  esti- 
mate time  at  Greenwich  may  be  found  ;  and  by  enter- 
ing the  Nautical  Almanac  with  the  reduced  time,  the 
iKrtance  between  the  moon  and  given  star  will  be 
foand  nearly.  Now  set  the  index  of  tlie  sextant  te 
this  disttnce,  nnd  hold  the  plane  of  the  instrument  so 
as  to  be  nearly  at  right  angles  to  the  line  joining  the 
jnoon*s  cusps,  direct  the  sight  to  the  moon,  and  fay 
giving  the  sextant  a  slow  vibratory  motion,  the  axis 
of  which  being  that  of  visioo,  the  star,  which  is  usual- 
ly one  of  the  brightest  in  that  part  of  the  liearens^ 
will  be  seen  in  the  transparent  part  of  the  horizon 
ghtfs. 


I  • 


ir 


/ 


Sect.  IL  Of  the  Sextant 


This  instrument  is  constructed  for  the  express  por^ 
|M6e  of  measnring  with  accuracy  the  angular  distance 
^betwetn  the  sun  and  moon,  or  between  the  moon  and 
a  fixed  star,  in  order  to  ascertain  the  longitude  of  a 
^  place  by  lunar  observations.     It  is,  therefore,  made 

*  'vnth  more  care  than  the  quadrant,  and  has  some  addi^ 

^  tional  appendages  that  are  wanting  in  that  instrument. 

f  Plais  Fig.  63.  represents  the  sextant,  so  framed  as  not  to 
.^CLavin.  be  liable  to  bend.  Tlie  arch  A  A  is  divided  into  120 
t  degrees  }  each  degree  is  divided  into  three  parts ;  each 

f  of  these  parts,  therefore,  contains  20  minutes,  which 

f  are  again  subdivided  by  the  vernier  into  every  half  mi* 

nnte  or  30  seconds.    'Aie  vernier  is  numbered  at  every 
I  fifth  of  the  longer  divisions,  from  the  right  towards  the 

r  left,  with  5,  io»  15,  and  30  \  the  first  division  to  the 

t  Tight  being  the  beginning  of  the  scale. 

t  In  order  to  observe  with  accuracy,  and  make  the 

f  images  come  predaely  in  contact,  an  adjusting  screw 


B  is'  ardded  to  the  index,  which  may  thereby  be  mov-  of  fiadint; 
ed   with  greater  accuracy  than  it  can  be  by  hand  y  tbe  lion)>i. 
but  this  screw  does  not  act  until  the  index  is  fixed  by***^  •*^^* 
the  finger  serew  C.     Care  shenld  be  taken  not  to  force  oi^^^l^ 
the  adjusting  screw  when  it  arrives  at  either  extemity     tiont. 
of  its  adjustment.     When  the  index  is  to  be  moved  ^''  '  v     "-^ 
any  considerable  quantity,  tbe  screw  C  at  the  back  of 
the  sextant  must  be  loosened  ;  bat  when  the  index  is 
brought  nearly  to  the  division  required,  this  back  serew 
should  be  tifirhtened,  and  then  tbe  index  may  be  moved 
gradually  by  the  adjusting  screw. 

There  are  four  tinged  glasses  D,  each  of  whisii  is  set 
in  a  separate  frame  that  turns  on  a  centre.  They  are 
used  to  defend  tbe  eye  from  the  brightness  of  the  solar 
image  and  the  glare  of  liie  moon,  and  may  be  ased  se- 
parately or  together  as  occasion  requires. 

There  are  three  more  such  glasses  placed  behind  lite 
horizon  glass  at  £,  to  weaken  tbe  rays  of  the  sun  or 
moon  when  they  are  viewed  directly  through  the  ho- 
rizon glass.  Tne  paler  glass  is  sometimes  used  in  ob- 
serving altitudes  at  sea,  to  take  off  tbe  strong  glare  of 
the  horizon. 

The  frame  of  the  index  glass  I  is  firmly  fixed  by  a 
strong  cock  tn  the  centre  plate  of  the  index.  3*be 
horizon  glass  F  is  fixed  in  a  .frame  that  turns  on  the 
axes  or  pivots,  which  move  in  an  exterior  frame ;  the 
holes  in  which  tbe  pivots  move  may  be  tightened  by 
fi>nr  screws  in  the  exterior  firame.  G  is  a  screw  by 
which  the  horizon  glass  may  be  set  perpendicular  to 
the  plane  of  the  instroment :  should  this  screw  beoonie 
loose,  or  move  too  easy,  it  may  be  easily  tightened'  by 
taming  the  capstan  headed  screw  H,  which  is  on  ono 
side  of  the  socket  through  which  the  stem  of  the  fin- 
ger screw  passes. 

The  sextant  is  furnished  with  a  plain  tube  (fig.  64.)  Fi^;  64. 
without  any  glasses ;  and  to  render  the  objects  stilt 
more  distinct,  it  has  two  telescopes,  one  (fig.  €$•)  re-  f  |^.  ^ 
presenting  tbe  objects  erect,  or  in  their  natural  posi- 
tion :  the  longer  one  (fig.  66.)  shows  them  inverted  ;  p,'g.  ^. 
it  has  a  large  field  of  view,  and  other  advantages,  and 
a  little  use  will  soon  aocnstom  the  observer  to  the  in*> 
verted  position,  and  tbe  instnraient  will  be  as  readily 
managed  by  it  as  by  the  plain  tube  alone.  By  a  te- 
lescope the  contact  ^f  the  images  is  more  perfectly 
distinguished  ^  and  by  the  place  of  the  imaged  in  th^ 
field  of  the  telescope,  it  is  easy  to  perceive  whether 
the  sextant  is  held  in  the  proper  place  for  obseiwatioiik 
By  sliding  the  tube  diat  contains  the  eye-glasses  in  the 
inside  of  the  other  tube,  the  object  is  suited  to  different 
eyes,  and  made  to  appear  perfectly  distinct  and  well 
defined. 

The  telescopes  are  to  be  screwed  into  a  circular 
ring  at  K ;  ibis  ring  rests  on  two  points  against  an 
exterior  ring,  and  is  held  thereto  by  two  screws  :  by 
turning  one  or  other  of  these  screws,  and  tightening 
tbe  other,  the  axis  of  the  telescope  may  be  set  parallel 
to  the  plane. of  the  sextant.  The  exterior  ring  is  fixed 
on  a  triangular  brass  stem  that  slides  in  a  socket,  and 
iiy  means  of  a  screw  at  the  back  of  the  qoadrant  may 
be  raised  or  loweied  so  as  to  move  the  centre  of  the 
telescope  .to  point  to  that  part  of  the  horizon  glass 
which  shall  be  judged  the  mest  fit  for  oboervation. 
Fig.  67.  is  a  circular  head,  with  tinged  glasses  to  screw  Fag.  ^7. 
on  tbe  eve  end  of  either  of  the  telescopes  or  the  plain 
tube.     The  glasses  are  contained  in  a  circular  plate 

4  T  a  which 


700 

Of  finding 
the  Longi- 
tude at  Sea 
bylAinar 
Observa- 
tions. 

rig.  68, 


NAVIGATION 


wliich  ba.4  feur  holes  ^  three  of  these  are  fitted  with 
tinged  glasses,  the  fourth  is  open.  By  pressing  the  fin- 
ger against  the  projecting  edge  of  thiJ  plate,  and  turn- 
ing it  round,  the  open  hole,  or  an  j  of  the  tinged  glasses, 
may  be  brought  between  the  eye-glass  of  the  tdescope 
and  the  eye. 

Fig.  68.  is  a  magnifymg  glass,  to  assist  the  observer 
to  read  off  the  angle  with  more  accuracy  :  and  fig.  69. 
a  screw-driver. 

Mr  Hoppe  of  Church -street,  Minories,  London,  has 
lately  contrived  a  sextant,  with  two  arches,  which  is, 
therefore,  preferable  to  the  common  sextant. 

Adjustments  of  the  Sextant, 

The  adjustments  of  a  sextant  are,  to  set  the  mirrors 
perpendicular  to  its  plane  and  parallel  to  each  other 
when  the  index  is  at  zero,*  and  to  set  the  axis  of  the 
telescope  parallel  to  the  plane  of  the  instrument.  The 
three  first  of  these  adjustments  are  performed  nearly  in 
the  same  manner  as  directed  in  the  section  on  the  qua- 
drant :  as  however  the  sextant  is  provided  with  a  set  of 
coloured  glasses  placed  behind  the  horizon  glass,  the  in- 
dex error  may  be  more  accurately  determined  by  mea- 
suring the  sun^s  diameter  twice,  with  the  index  placed 
alternately  before  and  behind  the  beginning  of  the  divi- 
sions :  half  the  difference  of  these  two  measures  will  be 
the  index  error,  which  must  be  added  to,  or  subtracted 
from,  all  observations,  according  as  the  diameter  mea- 
sured with  the  index  to  the  left  of  0  is  less  or  greater 
than  the  diameter  measured  with  the  index  to  the  right 
of  the  beginning  of  the  divisions. 

A(f/ustment  IV.  To  set  the  Axis  of  tlie  Telescope  pa- 
rallel to  the  Plajie  of  the  Instrument. 

Turn  the  eye  end  of  the  telescope  until  the  two  wires 
are  parallel  to  the  plane  of  the  instrument ;  and  let  two 
distant  objects  be  selected,  as  two  stars  of  the  first  mag- 
nitude, whose  distance  is  not  less  than  93°  or  100°^ 
make  the  contact  of  these  objects  as  perfect  as  possible 
at  the  wire  nearest  the  plane  of  the  instrument  >  fix  the 
index  in  this  position  ^  move  the  sextant  till  the  objects 
are  seen  at  the  other  wire,  and  if  the  same  points  are  in 
contact,  the  axis  of  the  telescope  is  parallel  to  the  plane 
of  the  sextant  \  but  if  the  objects  are  apparently  sepa- 
rated, or  do  partly  cover  each  other,  correct  half  the 
error  by  the  screws  in  the  circular  part  of  t^ie  sup- 
porter, one  of  which  is  above  and  the  other  between 
the  telescope  and  sextant :  turn  the  adjusting  screw  at 
the  end  of  the  index  till  the  limbs  are  in  contact  ^  then 
bring  the  objects  to  the  wire  next  the  instrument  ^  and 
if  the  limbs  are  in  contact,  the  axis  of  the  telescope  is 
adjusted  \  if  not,  proceed  as  at  the  other  wire,  and 
continue  till  no  error  remains. 

It  is  sometimes  necessary  to  know  the  angular  dis- 
tance between  the  wires  of  the  telescopej  to  find 
which,  place  the  wires  perpendicular  to  the  plane  of 
the  sextant,  hold  the  instrument  vertical,  dinect  the 
sight  to  the  horizon,  and  move  the  sextant  iu  its  own 
plane  till  the  horizon  and  upper  wire  coincide  *,  keep 
the  sextant  in  this  position,  and  move  the  iudex  till  the 
reflected  horizon  is  covered  by  the  lower  wire  :  and  the 
division  shown  by  the  index  of  the  limb,  corrected  by 
the  index  error,  will  be  the  angular  distance  between 
the  wires.  Other  and  better  methods  will  readily  oc- 
cur to  the  observer  at  land. 


Use  of  the  Sextant, 


Pnctict 

tbelAp. 

TV  hen  the  distance  between  the  moon  and  the  fim^*<^ 
or  a  star  is  to  be  observed,  the  sextant  most  be  held  n  ? 
that  its  plane  may.  pass  through  the  eye  of  the  observfr    tkii 
and  both  objects  j  and  the  reflected  image  of  the  moti 
luminous  of  the  two  is  to  be  brought  m  contact  with 
the  other  seen  directly.     To  efiect  this,  therefore,  it  is 
evident,  that  when  the  brightest  object  is  to  the  right 
of  the  other,  the  face  of  die  sextant  roust  be  held  up- 
wards ;  but  if  to  the  lefC,  downwards.  When  the  face  of 
the  sextant  is  held  upwards,  the  instrument  should  be 
supported  with  tlie  right  band,  and  the  index  moved 
with  the  left  hand.     But  when  the  face  of  the  seitast 
is  firom  the  observer,  it  should  be  held  with  the  left 
hand,  and  the  motion  of  the  index  regulated  bj  tlie 
right  hand. 

Sometimes  a  sitting  posture  will  be  found  very  con- 
venient for  the  observer,  particularly  when  the  reflec- 
ted object  is  to  the  right  of  the  direct  one  ^  in  this  case, 
the  instrument  is  supported  by  the  right  hand,  the  el- 
bow may  rest  on  the  right  knee,  the  right  leg  at  tlie 
same  time  resting  on  the  left  knee. 

If  the  sextant  is  provided  with  a  ball  and  socket, 
and  a  staff,  one  of  whose  ends  is  attached  thereto,  snd 
the  otlier  rests  in  a  belt  fastened  round  the  body  of  the 
pbserver,  the  greater  part  of  the  weight  of  the  m^ftni- 
ment  will  by  this  means  be  supported  by  bis  bodj. 

To  observe  the  DlHance  between  the  Moon  and  mf 

Celestial  Object. 

I.  Between  the  Sun  and  Moon. 

Put  the  telescope  in  its  place,  and  the  wires  parallel 
to  the  plane  of  the  instrument  ^  and  if ,  the  sun  ii 
very  bright,  raise  the  plate  before  the  silvered  part  of 
the  speculum  ^  direct  the  telescope  to  the  traospareot 
part  of  the  horizon  glass,  or  to  the  line  of  sepantion 
of  the  silvered  and  transparent  parts  according  to  tlie 
brightness  of  the  sun,  and  turn  down  one  of  the  co- 
loured glasses  \  then  hold  the  sextant  so  that  its  pltse 
produced  may  pass  through  the  sun  and  moon,  having 
its  face  either  upwards  or  downwards  according  as  tiic 
sun  is  to  the  right  or  left  of  the  moon  ;  direct  the  si|ht 
through  the  telescope  to  tlie  moon,  and  move  the  ra- 
dex  till  the  limb  of  the  sun  is  nearlv  in  contact  vith 
the  enlightened  limb  of  the  moon  \  now  fasten  the  is- 
dex,  and  by  a  gentle  motion  of  the  instrumeot  make 
the  image  of  the  sun  move  alternately  past  the  oiooa ) 
and,  when  in  that  position  where  the  limbs  are  oeaxtft 
each  other,  make  the  coincidence  of  the  limbs  perfect 
by  means  of  the  adjusting  screw  :  this,  being  effected, 
read  off  the  degrees  and  parts  of  a  degree  shown  bj  the 
index  on  the  limb,  using  the  n^agnifying  glass  \  and 
thus  the  angular  distance  between  the  nearest  limbs  of 
the  sun  and  moon  is  obtained. 

2.  Between  the  Moon  and  a  Star. 

Direct  the  middle  of  the  field  of  the  telescope  to  the 

line  of  separation  of  the  silvered  and  traiksparent  parts 

of  the  horizon  glass  ^  if  the  moon  is  vei-y  bright*  turn 

down  the  lightest  coloured  glass ;  and  bold  the  scxtuit 

so  that  its  plane  may  be  parallel  to  that  passing  throogk 

the  eye  of  the  observer  and  both  objects  ^  its  &ce  heiag 

upwards  if  the  moon  is  to  the  right  of  the  star,  hot  if  Iw 

the  left,  the  face  is  to  be  held  from  the  obscncr*,  w» 

, direct  the  sight  through  the  telescope  to  the  star,  sm 

move 


Practice* 


N  A  V  I  G 


Oftadinir  move  tlie  index  till  the  moon  appears  by  the  reflection 

tlie  I^ngi-to  be  nearly  in  contact  with  the  ^tar  ^  fasten  the  index, 

tide  at  Seai^n  j  ^m^  ^li^  adjustinff  screw  till  the  coincidence  of  the 

Oteei^  star  and  enlightened  Umb  of  the  n^oon  is  perfect :  and 

tjoiu.     the  degrees  and  parts  of  a  degree  shown  by  the  index 

will  be  the  observed  distance  between  the  nioon^s  en* 

lightened  limb  and  the  star.  ^  ^ 

The  contact  of  the  limbs  must  always  be  ob^entd  in 

the  middle  between  the  parallel  wires. 

It  is  sometimes  difficult  for  those  not  mucU  accus- 
tomed to  observations  of  this  kind,  to  find  the  reflect- 
ed image  in  the  horizon  glass  :  it  will  perhaps  in  this 
case  he  found  more  convenient  to  look  directly  to  the 
object,  and,  by  moving  the  index,  to  make  its  image 
coincide  with  that  seen  directly. 

Sect.  III.  Of  the  Ctrcvlar  Instrument  of  Reflection, 

«  - 

This  instrument  was  proposed  with  a  view  to  cor- 
rect the. error  to  which  the  sextant  is  liable  \  particu- 
larly the  error  arising  from  the  inaccuracy  of  the  divi- 
sions  on  the  limb.  It  consists  of  the  following  parts  j 
a  circular  ring  or  limb,  two  moveable  indices,  two  mir- 
rors, a  telescope,  <;oloured  glasses,  &c. 

The  limb  of  this  instrument  is  a  complete  circle  of 
metal,  and  is  connected  with  a  perforated  central 
plate  by  six  radii :  it  is  divided  into  720  degrees  ^  each 
degree  is  divided  into  three  equal  parts  ^  and  the  divi- 
sion is  carried  to  minutes  by  means  of  the  index  scale 
as  usual. 

The  two  indices  are  moveable  about  the  same  axis, 
which  passes  exactly  through  the  centre  of  the  instru- 
ment :— the  first  index  carries  the  central  mirror,  and 
the  other  the  telescope  and  horizon  glass  \  each  index 
being  provided  with  an  adjnsting  serf  w  for  regulating 
its  motion,  and  a  scale  for  showing  the  divisions  on  the 
limb. 

The  central  mirror  is  placed  on  the  first  index  im- 
mediately above  the  centre  of  the  instrument,  and  its 
plane  makes  an  angle  of  about  30^  with  the  middle 
line  of  the  index.  The  four  screws  in  its  pedestal  for 
making  its  plane  perpendicular  to  that  of  the  instru- 
ment have  square  heads,  and  arc  therefore  easily  turn- 
ed either  way  by  a  key  for  that  purpose. 

The  horizon  glass  is  placed  on  the  second  index  near 
the  limb,  so  that  as  few  as  possible  may  be  intercepted 
of  the  rays  proceeding  from  the  reflected  object  when 
to  the  left.  The  perpendicular  position  of  this  glass 
is  rectified  in  the  same  manner  as  that  of  the  horizon 
glass  of  a  sextant,  to  which  it  is  similar.  It  has  another 
motion,  whereby  its  plane  may  be  disposed  so  as  to 
make  a  proper  angle  with  the  axis  of  the  telescope,  and 
a  line  joining  its  centre,  and  that  of  the  central  mirror. 

The  telescope  is  attached  to  the  other  end  of  the 
index.  It  is  an  achromatic  astronomical  one,  and  there- 
fore inverts  objects^  it  has  two  parallel  wires  in  the' 
common  focus  of  the  glasses,  whose  angular  distance  is 
between  two  and  three  degrees  \  and  which,  at  the  time 
of  observation,  must  be  placed  parallel  to  the  plane  of 
the  instrument.  This  is  easily  done,  Ly  making  the 
mark  on  the  eye-piece  coincide  with  that  on  the  tube. 
The  telescope  is  moveable  by  two  screws  in  a  vertical 
direction  with  regard  to  the  plane  of  the  instrument, 
but  is  not  capable  of  receiving  a  lateral  motion. 

There  are  two  sets  of  coloured  glasses,  each  set  con- 

1 


tions. 


A  T  I  O  N.  70* 

taining  four,  and  diflerlng  in  shade  from  each  other.  Of  finding 
The  glasses  of  the  larger  set,  which  belongs  to  the  cen-thc  Longi^ 
tral  mirror,  should  have  each  about  half  the  degree  of^JJy  |"„*„„ 
^shade  with  which  the  correspondent  glass  of  the  set  obscrva- 
belonging  to  the  horizon   mirror   is  tinged.       These 
glasses  are  kept  tight  in  their  places  by  sinall  pressing 
screws,  and  make  an  angle  of  about  85^  with  the  plane 
of  the  instrument ;  by  which  means  the  image  from  the 
coloured  glass  is  not  reflected  to  the  telescope.     When 
the  angle  to  be  measured  is  between  j°  and  34°,  one 
of  the  glasses  of  the  largest  set  is  to  be  placed  before 
the  horizon  glass. 

The  handle  is  of  wood,  and  is  screwed  to  th^back 
of  the  instrument,  immediately  under  the  centre,  with 
which  it  is  to' be  held  at  the  time  of  observation. 

Fig.  70.  is  apian  of  the  instrument,  wherein  the  limb  Fig.  7c. 
is  represented  by  the  divided  circular  plate  j  A  is  the 
central  mirror  \  a  o,  the  places  which  receive  the  stems 
o  a  of  the  gl^,  pg.  73.  j  EF,  the  first  or  central  index 
with  its  scale  and  adjusting  screw  j  MN,  the  second 
or  horizon  index  j  GH,  the  telescope  j  IK,  the  screws 
for  moving  it  towards  or  from  the  plane  of  the  instru- 
ment; C,  the  plane  of  the  coloured  glass,  fig.  72.^ 
and  D,  its  place  in  certain  observations. 

Fig.  71.  is  a  section  of  the  instrument,  wherein  t|j«yi»,  71, 
several  parts  are  referred  to  by  the  same  letters  as  in 
fig.  70.;  Fig.  72.  represents  one  of  the  horizon  colour- 
ed glasses  ;  and  fig.  73.  one  of  the  central  coloured 
glasses  :  Fig.  74.  is  the  key  for  turning  the  adjusting 
screws  of  the  mirrors :  Fig.  75.  is  the  handle  :  Fig.  76. 
a  section  of  one  of  the  radii  towards  its  middle  :  Fig. 
77.  is  used  in  some  terrestrial  observations  for  diminish- 
ing the  light  of  the  direct  object,  whose  place  at  the 
time  of  observation  is  D  :  Fig.  78.  is  the  tool  for  ad- 
justing the  central  mirror ;  and  for  rectifying  the  po- 
sition of  the  telescope  with  regard  to  the  plane  of  the 
instrument,  there  is  another  tool  exactly  of  the  same 
size.  The  height  of  these  is  nearly  equal  to  that  of 
the  middle  of  the  central  mirror. 

Adjustments  of  the  Circular  Instrument. 

I.  To  set  the  horizon  glass  so  that  none  of  the  rai^ 
from  the  central  mirror  shall  be  reflected  to  the  telescope 
from  the  horizon  mirror j  without  passing  through  the 

coloured  glass  belonging  to  this  last  mi/Tor»^-^P\sice  the 
coloured  glass  before  the  horizon  mirror;  direct  the  tele- 
scope to  the  silvered  part  of  that  mirror,  and  make  it 
nearly  parallel  to  the  plane  of  the  instrument ;  move  the 
first  index  ;  and  if  the  rays  from  the  central  mirror  to 
the  horizon  glass,  and  from  thence  to  the  telescope,  have 
all  the  same  degree  of  shade  with  that  of  the  coloured 
glass  used,  the  horizon  glass  is  in  its  proper  position  ; 
otherwise  the  pedestal  of  the  glass  must  be  turned  until 
the  uncoloured  images  disappear. 

II.  Place  the  two  adjusting  tools  on  the  limb,  about 
350^  of  the  instrument  distant,  one  on  each  side  of  the 
division  on  the  left,  answering  to  the  plane  of  the  cen- 
tral mirror  produced :  then  tlie  eye  being  placed  at 
the  upper  edge  of  the  nearest  tool,  move  the  central 
index  till  one  half  only  of  the  reflected  image  of  this 
tool  is  seen  in  the  central  mirror  towards  the  left,  and 
move  the  other  tool  till  its  half  to  the  right  is  hid  by 
the  same  edge  of  the  mirror  \  then,  if  the  upper  edges 
of  both  tools  are  apparently  in  the  same  straight  line, 

the 


702 


NAVIGATION. 


tioiis« 


Of  Bndltig  the  ttotral  mitror  is  perpetidicnlar  te  the  piftne  of  the 

the  LongU  instrament  j  if  not,  bring  them  into  this  position  bv  the 

*bT  l!Iii^  «crcw8  in  the  pedestal  of  the  mirror. 

Obserra.       ^^  ^^  ^'  '^  hornon  tnirtor  perpendiciilar  to  ttie 

plane  of  the  instrument. — ^Thc  central  mirror  being  prc- 

'  Ttously  Adjusted,  direct  the  dight  tfanrogb  the  telescope 

to  any  wel!-defined  distant  object  5  then  if,  by  moving 

the  central  iiidex^  the  reflected  image  passes  eicactly  over 

the  direct  pbject,  the  mirror  is  perpendicular ;  if  not,  its 

position  most  be  rectified  by  mekns  of  the  screws  in  the 

pbdestiil  of  the  glass. 

A  planet,  or  star  of  the  first  magnitude,  will  be  found 
m  Ten  proper  object  for  this  purpose. 

lY.  To  make  the  Hne  ofcollimatmn  paraUel  to  the 
plane  of  the  instrument — ^Lay  the  instrument  horizon- 
tally on  a  table  *,  place  the  two  adjjusting  tools  on  the 
limb,  towards  the  extremities  of  one  of  the  diameters  of 
the  instrument  \  affd  at  about  15  or  20  feet  distant  let 
.  a  well  defined  mark  be  placed,  so  as  to  be  in  the  same 
sU-aight  line  with  die  tops  of  the  tools ;  then  raise  or 
.  lower  the  telescope  till  the  plane,  passing  through  its 
axis  and  the  tops  of  the  tools,  is  parallel  to  the  plane 
of  the  tffstrument,  and  direct  it  to  the  fixed  objects^ 
turn  either  or  both  of  the  screws  of  the  telescope  till* 
the  mark  is  apparently  in  the  odddle  between  the  wires  j 
then  is  the  telescope  acdjufifted  j  and  tiie  di&rence,  if 
any,  between  the  divisions  pointed  out  by  the  indices 
of  the  screws  will  be  the  error  of  the  indices.  Hence 
this  adjustment  may  in  future  be  easily  nftde. 

In  this  process  the  eye  tube  most  be  jo  pfaced  as  to 
obtain  distinct  vision. 

V.  To  find  that  division  to  whith  the  second  indexheing 
jfaced  the  mirrors  wll  beparoBel^  the  centralindet  tee- 
ing at  zero. — Having  placed  the  first  index  exactly  to 
0,  direct  the  telescope  to  the  horiton  mirror,  so  that 
its  field  may  be  bisected  by  the  line  of  separation  of 
/  the  silvered  and  transparent  parts  of  that  mirror,;  hold 
the  instrument  vertically,  and. move  the  second  index 
until  the  direct  and  reacted  horizons  agree ;  and  the 
division  shown  by  the  index  will  be  that  required. 

This  adjustment  may  be  performed  fcy  neaooring  the 
sun^s  diameter  in  contrary  directions,  or  by  making 
'  tbe  reflected  and  direct  images  of  a  star  or.  planet  to 
i  coincide. 

Use  of  the  Circular  Instrument, 
To  observe  the  Distance  between  the  Sun  and  Moon. 

I.  The  son  being  to  the  right  of  the  moon. 

Set  a  proper  coloured  glass  before  the  central  mir- 
*  ror,  if  the  distance  between  the  objects  is  less  than  35®  5 
but  if  above  that  quantity,  place  a  coloured  glass  be- 
fore the  horizon  mirror :  make  the  mirrors  parallel,  the 
first  index  being  at  0,  and  hold  the  instrument  so  that 
its  plane  may  be  directed  to  the  objects,  with  its  face 
downwards,  or  from  the  observer :  direct  the  sight 
through  the  telescope  Co  the  moon  y  move  the  second 
index,  according  to  the  order  of  the  divisions  on  the 
limb,  till  the  nearest  limbs  of  the  sun  and  moon  are 
abnost  in  contact :  fasten  that  index,  and  make  the 
coincidence  of  the  limbs  perfect  by  the  adjusting  screw 
belonging  thereto ;  tlien  invert  the  instrument,  and 
inove  the  central  index  towards  the  second  by  a  quan- 
tity equal  to  twice  the  arch  passed  over  by  that  index: 
direct  the  plane  of  the  instrument  to  the  objects :  look 

\2 


Piadkft 

directly  to  tbe  moon,  and  the  sun  wDl  be  seen  in  At  or  w^ 
field  of  the  telescope :  ^ten  the  cential  iaici,  saitkiiiv. 
make  the  contact  of  the  same  two  limbs  exact  by  mtmm^^^ 
of  the  a^usting  screw :  Then  ball  the  ai^  slknm  \j  g~ 
the  central  indi^  will  bo  tbe  diACance  belwcto  the  near-  ^^ 
est  Ihnbs  of  the  snn  and  nfoen. 

II.  The  sun  being  to  tbe  (eft  ^  tbe 

Hold  the  instrunient  with  its  fate  apwardi,  so  Ihat 
Its  plane  may  pass  thn^ugfa  both  objects  ;  direct  tbe  le« 
lescope  to  m  moon,  and  make  its  limb  evincide  with 
the  nearest  fimb  of  tlie  snn^s  rejected  image,  by  bo> 
ving  the  second  index  :  now  pot  tbe  ioRtrumeot  in  aa 
opposite  position ;  direct  ito  plane  to  tke  objects,  ad 
the  sight  to  the  moon,  the  central  index  being  pnn- 
ously  moved  towards  the  second  by  a  ^antity  equal  tt 
twice  the  measured  distance  ;  and  make  tbe  same  tws 
limba  that  were  before  observed  coiocidt  exactly,  bjr 
turning  the  adjusting  screw  of  the  first  index  :  then  half 
the  angle  shown  by  tbe  first  index  will  be  fba  aagibr 
distance  between  the  observed  limbs  af  the  sun  ad 
moon.  This  instrument  has  of  hite  been  gv«iitly  m> 
proved  by  Captain  Rfendoza. 

To  observe  the  Afmefor  tk'stanee  betmeen  the  Mam 
and  a  IrsedStar  ot  FAmet. 

L  Tbe  star  being  lo  tbe  right  of  the  osooo. 

In  this  cMe  tbn  star  is  lo  be  considered  as  tbe  ducct 
object  y  and  the  cnlagblened  liosb  of  tke  moonH  it- 
flected  image  is  to  be  bmught  in  contact  with  the  itar 
or  planet,  both  by  a  direct  and  inverted  poaitioa  of  the 
iosCnunent,  exa^  in  the  same  manner  as  descriU  ia 
tiw  last  articlew  If  the  moon's  image  ia  vciy  bsigiit, 
the  ligfctest  tinged  glass  is  la  be  osed. 

II.  The  star  beiDg  to  the  left  of  the  moon. 

Proceed  in  tbe  same  nutnaer  as  directed  for  obserr* 
ing  the  distance  between  the  sun  and  moon,  the  oa 
beng  to  tbe  right  of  tbe  Hioon»  usiag  the  ligMe«t 
tinged  glass^  if  necessary. 

Sect.  IV.  Of  the  J^tcthod  ^determimmg  the  Lonptudt 

from  Ol^ervatiyn* 

P&OB>  I.  To  convert  degrees  ot  parts  of  the  eqnaUtf 

into  time. 

Buix.  Multiply  the  degrees  .and  farts  of  a  degree 
by  4,  be^nning  at  the  lowest  denomination,  and  the 
product  will  be  the  corresponding  time.  Ohservi^ 
that  minutes  multiplied  by  4  prodoce  seconds  of  tint, 
and  degrees  multiplied  by  4  give  roinates. 

Ejh  1.  Lei  26*^  45*  he  reduced  to  ttme. 

4 


■tairtM. 


lb  47'  o^=rliaia  reqnired. 


Ea.  2.  Redoce  83®  3/  to  time. 

4 


Gorre8pondingtinie=5     34   28 

Prob.  II.  To  convert  time  into  degrees.         ^^ 
BuL£.  Multiply  the  given  time  by  io>  to  nh«* 

add  the  half  of  tbe  product*    The  sum  will  he  the  wr- 

lesponding  degrees. 


hactice. 


N  A  V  I  G 


;* 


30  44  40 
Haftf  =  35  22  ao 


£x.  2.  Seduce  8h  42'  3^^  4o  degrees* 

8h  42'  3&' 


so 

87    6 
43  S3 

0 
0 

Asisirer.  130  39     o 

PitOB.  II L  Given  the  time  oader  any  known  meridi- 
Mi,  to  fiad  the  corresponding  time  at  Gtetiawidi, 

RuL£.  Let  the  given  time  be  reckoned  from  the  pre- 
ceding noon,  to  which  the  longitude  of  the  place  in 
time  is  t»  be  applied  by  addition  or  subtraction,  accord- 
ing aa  il  -is  east  or  west  ^  and  the  sum  or  difference  <«ritt 
be  the  corresponding  time  at  Greenwich. 

JSx.  1/  What  time  at  Greenwich  answers  to  A  15' 
at  a  ship. in  longitude  76^  45^^^ 

Time  at  ship         -         -  6h  1 5' 

l«ongitude  in  time        -  5       7'W. 

Time  at  Greenwich  11     22 

Ex,  2.  Required  the  time  at  Greenwich  answering* 
to  5h  46"  39"  of  May  1st,  at  Canton,  whose  longitude  is 
Ji3*2[ij"E? 

Time  at  Canton,  May  ist,  5ri  46'  39^ 

Longitude  in  time  -  7    32     9£ 

Tine  at  Gremwicb,  Aprii30.  22    >4  30 
Prob.  IV.  To  reduce  the  time  at  Greenwich  to  that 
teder  aay  given  meri^iati. 

EuLS.  Beckon  the  given  4fme  ffom  ^e  preceding 
Men,  to  which  add  the  longitude  in  lime  If  east,  %ut 
Bubtratt  tt  if  west ;  and  the  sum  or  remainder  will  be 
fbe  corrasponding  time  tinder  the  given  meridian. 

Ex,  I.  What  Is  the  expected  time  of  the  beginning 
of  the  luaar  eclipse  of  February  25.  1793,  at  a  ship  in 
bmgitode  109^  48'  £  ? 

Beg.  of  eclipse  at  Greenwich  per  Nant;  Aim.  ph  S3'  45' 
Stiip's  longitude  in  time  •         -  -  7    19  1 2 

Time  of  bennning  of  eclipse  at  ship,  16    42  57 

Ex,  2.  At  what  time  may  the  immersion  of  the  first 
sflteUke^if  Jupiter  be  observed  at  Port  St  Julian,  in  lon- 
gitttde  6^  44'  W,  which,  by  the  Nautical  Almanack, 
kappeiu  at  Greenwich  24th  starch  1 792, at  1 7h  53^ i^? 
App.  time  of  immersion  at  Greenwich  J  7h  53'  x'^ 
Longitude  of  Port  St  Julian  in  time         4     34  56  W. 

App.  time  of  immer.  at  Port  St  Julian  13  18  5 
Prob.  V.  To  find  the  equation  af  equal  ahitiides. 
Bulk.  To  the  cosecant  of  half  the  interval  ef  time 
in  degaecs  add  the  Uagent  of  the  Mtude,  and  to  the 
caUagent  of  hM  the  interval  add  the  tanmt  of  the 
^declination.  Now  if  the  altitude  and  deoTinatton  be 
of  a  contrary  name,  add  the  corrcRponding  natival 
numben ;  but  if.  af  the  same  naoia,  subtract  ^em.-— 
Then  to  the  ar.  co.  log.  of  this  sum  or  differenca  add 


A  T  I  O  M.  703 

the  piDpovtiimal  logaiitfam  of  «M-Iaurdk  of  «be  interval  Ofiadi^ 
expresaedtn  tame,  and  the  pn^rtaoaalkwrtthmaf  tfae  the  I^ngU 
dally  wanatwn  «f  ^ledinatM  •,  the  sum  wdl  be  ^^f^^g'^JST 
poitanal  logarithm  of  tim  equatioa  m£  «qaaialtit«dea  ia 
minutes  aad  aeoonds,  which  mn  lo  >ba  esteened  socands 
and  thirds. 

Exmn^  Let  the  ktiilude  of  the  place  of  aftiser- 
ifwtian  be  57®^  N,  the  tuberval  af  time  betsveen  Iha 
observations  of  the  equal  altitudes  5k  i/,  ibe  aoa*i»4k* 
clination  17^48'  S,  and  the  daily  change  of  dedina- 
tion  1^6'  i^'i  I  iReqairad  the  cqoatiaaaf  equal  alti- 
todes? 

Half  the  intervaiss  A  38^4^3^  37^ 
$  int=39^  37^  cost  0.19541  «ataiig.  <e^820^ 

Lat.      57     9  tao.    0.18997  dec.  17^  48^  te.  9*50659 


0-3^539  2-4288 
3879 


9.5686S 


Sum     ,    «         -  -         -2.8167    •rxM.la.9.5503 

One  fourth  interval         -  ih  19^  15^'  PJLiO.3563  - 

Daily  variatian  of  declination        1^  i9^$P.L.i«< 


Equation  af  aqual  altitudes  2o''  1 4"'  P.L.o.945^ 

ftiOB.  VI.  To  find  the  error  of  a -watc^  by  «qoal  ad* 
titudes  of  the  sun. 

Rule.  In  the  morning,  when  the  sm  is  more  than 
two  houra  distant  from  the  meridian,  let  a  set  of  obser- 
vations be  taken,  consisting,  for  ^  sdieaf 'greater  ac- 
auracy,  ofirt  ieast  three  altitudes,  which,  together  with 
the  correaponding  times  per  watch,  are  la  be  wieic  re- 
gularly, the  time  of  each  observation  Mag  increased 
by  1 2  boors,  in  the  afternoon,  observe  the  instants 
when  the  sun  comes  to  the  same  attitudes,  and  write 
down  each  opposite  la  ita  respeoli^w  altitfide.  Now  half 
tha  sum  of  any  two  times  aaswaring  to  the  same  akitiide 
will  be  the  time  of  noon  per  watch  uncorrected.  Fiadl 
the  mean  af  all  the  times  of  noon  thus  deduoed  -firoq^ 
each  correepoadtag  pair  -of  observations,  to  which  the 
equation  of  aqosi -altitudes- is  to  be  applied  by  addttiea 
or  subtraction  according  as  the  sun  is  receding  firom  or 
approaching  to  the  elevated  pole,  and  the  sum  or  differ- 
ence will  be  the  time  per  watch  of  apparent  noon,  the 
difference  between  which  and  noon  will  be  the  error  of 
the  watch  far  apparent  time  ^  and  the  watch  will  be 
fast  or  slowasoording  as  the  time  of  noon  thereby  is 
more  or  less  than  12  hours; 

Example,  January  29. 1786,  in  lat.  57^  ^  N,  the  fol- 
lowing equal  altitudles  of  the  sun  were  observed  :  Re- 
quired the  error  of  the  watch  P 
Alt.=«*    5'    Time2ih35'     8«A.M.  2h  55' 43"P.M. 
8     10  -        36      8        -       54  42 

8  '  20  -        3S      9        -       52  41.2 

8    25         -        39     12.5     -       51  38 


21   37 


37-5 
9-37 


Dun  •  •  - 

Time  of  noon  per  watch  uncorrected 
Equation  of  equal  ahttades 

Time  per  watch  of  apparent  noon 
Watohfast 


4« 

2 

53  41-05 

21 

37 

9-37 

H 

30  50.42 

12 

«5 

25.2 

SO 

0 

20.2 

1^ 


15 

'5 


5- 
5- 


The 


^ 


704 

Of  finding      The  mean  time  of  noon  per  watch  is  found  by  aj^ 
the  Iiongi-plyiog  the  equation  of  time  with  a  contrary  sine, 
tnde  at  .Sea     Jn   practice  it  will  be  found  convenient  to  put  the 
ObaerTeu   ^'^^^^  ®^  ^^  quadrant  to  a  certain  division,  and  to  wail 
'  tioDs.      ^  either  limb  of  the  sun  attains  that  altitude. 

pROB.  VII.  Given  the  latitude  of  a  place,  the  alti- 
tude and  declination  of  the  sun,  to  find  the  apparent 
time,  and  the  error  of  the  watch. 


NAVIGATION.  Practia. 

Rule.  If  the  latitude  and  declination  are  of  differ-  of  life 
ent  names,  let  their  sum  be  taken  j  odierwise,  their  tkLsp. 
difference.  From  the  natural  cosine  of  this  sam  or^c^^ia 
difference  subtract  the  natural  sine  of  the  corrected  al-  ^^" 
titude,  and  find  the  logarithm  of  the  reroalnder;  to 
which  add  the  log.  secants  of  the  latitude  and  declina- 
tion :  the  sum  will  he  the  log.  rising  of  the  horary  di- 
stance of  the  object  from  the  meridian,  and  hence  the 
apparent  time  will  be  known* 


Ex.  I.  September  15.  1792,  in  latitude  33°  56'  S,  and  longitude  18^  22'  £,  the  mean  of  the  times  per  watck 
was  8h  \t!  10''  A.  M.  and  that  of  the  altitudes  of  the  flunks  lower  limb  24°  48'^  height  of  the  eye  24  feet.  Re- 
quired the  error  of  the  watch  ? 

Obs.  alt.  Sun's  lower  limb       -         24°  48'  Sun's  declin.  at  noon  per  Nautical  Almanack         2^  40^.5  S 

Semidiameter  .         .         .       .^    16.0  Equation  to  3h  48  A.  M.  -  -  -|-     3.7 

Dip     -  -  .  -  —      4.7  to  18^  22'  £a»t         -  -  -       +,    '•* 


Correction 

True  altitude  Sun's  centre 
liatitude         -  - 

Declination 

Sum 

Sun's  altitude 


"" 

1.9 

24 

57-4 

33 

J6 

2  ' 

4J-4 

36 

24 


41.4 

57-4 


Reduced  declination 


secant 
secant 

nat.  cosine  80 188 
nat.  sine     42193 


2  454s 

0.08109 
0.000  jo 


Sun's  meridian  distance 

Apparent  time 
Time  per  watch 


3h  48'  51" 

8   II     9 
8   12  10 


Difference    37995 


rising 


log 


4-57973 
4.6613a 


watch  the  ilti- 
the  watch  for 


Watch  fast  -  -  i      i 

Ex.  2.  May  6.  1793,  in  latitude  id^  4'  N,  and  longitude  38^  30'  W,  at  4h  37'  4''  P.  M.  per  1 
tude  of  the  sun's  lower  limb  was  25^  6%i,  and  height  of  the  eye  18  feet.  Required  the  error  of 
apparent  time  ? 

Altitude  sun's  lower  limb      -       =  25^  6^.1         -         Sun's  declin.  per  Nautical  Almanack  16°  44'.3 

Seinidiameter  -  .  ..{-   i^.p         .  Equation  to  4h  37' P.  M.         -  -  +34 

Dip         -  .  -  —     4.1         .  to38»30'\^  -  .  -  +      li 


Correction 

True  alt.  sun's  centre 
Latitude     - 
Declination 

Difference 
Sun's  altitude     - 


~    '9 

25  16.0 
{(^   4.0  N 
16  49.5  N- 

39  »4-5 
25  16.0 


Reduced  declination 


secant 
secant 

nat.  cosine     77448 
nat.  sine        42683 


16   49.5 


a253i9 
0.019CO 


Difference 


34765 


Apparent  time 
Time  per  watch 

Watch  slow 


4h  38'  12" 
4    S7     4 

I      8 


rising 


4-54"4 
4-81333 


Prob.  VIII.  Given  th^  latitude  of  a  place,  the  al- 
titude of  a  known  fixed  star,  and  the  sun's  right  ascen- 
sion, to  find  the  apparent  time  of  observation  and  error 
of  the  watch. 

Rule.  Correct  the  observed  altitude  of  the  star,  and 
reduce  its  right  ascension  and  declination  to  the  time 
of  observation. 

With  the  latitude  of  the  place,  the  true  altitude  and 


declination  of  the  star,  compute  its  horary  distance  Im 

the  meridian  by  last  problem  \  which  being  added  ts, 

or  subtracted  from,  its  right  ascension,  according  a»  it 

was  obberved  in  the  western  or  eastern  hemisphere,  the 

sum  or  remainder  will  be  the  right  ascension  of  the  ok* 

ridian. 

From  the  right  ascension  of  the  meridian  ^nbtrad  tie 

sun's  right  ascension,  as  given  in  the  Nautical  AIb^* 

Back 


* 

DepHrtiJFo 


XAVIGATION. 


.  Ill  ni  - 


PIATECCCIJUU. 


—  nt 


T£^,8. 


A  ri^,j 


111 


y7'> 


JY^.io,  A 


D     r       T 


r  'D  T 


.?K^.  ^. 

P 

\ 

•A 

<^,;9-.y 

^>>-l)      ...\t 

'"t'-'-x "'\ 

N   " 

'  k  li it 

Jfy,J4f. 


JF^^IS 


JTt\/>jQ. 


\>^^./  .««^j 


NAVIGATION. 


PLATE  CCCLXN. 


itfi.^. 


.xojr/.;):  7/.^. 


NAVICrATlON 


p/^rnuvrLxi: 


/ 


NA\u;A'noN. 


i'L.rri:cccix.vi. 


s  !      I   i 


^ 


NAVIGATION. 


PLATE  CCCLSVa. 


»        1 


»     \  <  ' 


»  J  '  •  * 

.'  .     ♦     *   ■• 


/ 


NAVIGATION. 


3=3 


PLATE  CCCLXfW. 

fy.m 


f 
HI 


^■9g.  _   f^-jo. 


1 


« 


Practice. 


NAVIGATION. 


Of  iiadinj(  nack  for  the  noon  of  the  given  clay :  and  the  remainder 

the  JLion^.  ^ill   be  the  approximate  time  of  observation ;   from 

tu<Je  at  Sea  ^|jjch  subtract  the  proportional  part  of  the  daily  va- 

Obserra-  nation  of  right  ascension  answering  thereto,  and  let 

lions       the  proportional  part  answering  to  the  longitude  be 

added  or  subtracted,  according  as  the  longitude  is  east 

or  west,  and  the  result  will  be  the  apparent  time  of 

observation  ^  and  hence  the  error  of  the  watch  will  be 

known. 

Ex.  I.  December  12.  1792,  in  lat.  37^  46'  N,  and 
longitude  2X°  15^  E,  the  altitude  of  Arcturus  east  of 
the  meridian  was  34^  6^.4,  the  height  of  the  eye  lO 
feet.     Required  the  apparent  time  of  observation  P 

Obsw ved  alt«  of  Arcturus  34°  6'.4 
Dip  and  refraction       •      —  4 .4 


Obs.  alt.  of  Procyon 
Dip  and  refraction 

True  altitQde 

Latitude 

Declination 

Difference 
Altitude  of  Procyon 


19°  58' 


19  51 
53  24 

5  45 


^^5 


secant 
secant 


Of  finding 

the  Loogi- 

tode  at  S^ 

by  JL»unar 

Observa- 

0.22459      Uoni.    . 

0.00219 


47  39  nat.  cos.  6*^^66 
19  51  nat.  sine  33956 

Difference  334x0  4.52388 


Trbe  altitttde 


Declination 

Dnrevenc^ 
Aldtade  of  A^turos 


34   2.0 

37  46^N  -   scfc.  0.10209 

20  14.4  N  -    sec  0.02778 


Procyon^s  merid.  dist  4**  16'  24" 
right  as.        -  7    28    24 

Right  as.  of  merid.      1 1  44  48 
Sun^s  right  as.       -       20  47    22 


rising      4.75066 


tj  3f.6N.  CO.  95358 
34     2.0 N. sine  55968 

I»iftrenc€  3939^4  59539 


Approximate  time 
£q.  to  ap.  time 
£q.  to  long* 


1457    a6 
2    36 

..—   o   17 


Apparent  time      -      14  54  33 
Tilhe  per  watch    -      14  58   38 


AxtttBcmU  merid.  dist.     4^  8'  10^    -    risiifg  4.72526 
right  as.    -     14    6  13 

Bight  as.  of  merid. 
San's  right  as. 

Approximate  time 
£q.  to  approx.  time 
£^.  to  kngitiMbff 

Afk  time  ef  obs*  16  33  17 

£t.  2.  January*  29.  1702,  in  latitade  53*  24'^N, 
and  lonsritude  25°  t8^  W,  by  actotinf^  at  14b  58^  38'^ 
the  altittfder  of  Frocyoff  west  on  the  meridian  was  19® 
58* ',  height  of  the  eye  20  feet.  Reqdired  the  er«r  ot 
the  iratch  ? 


Watch  fast 


045 


958 

<7  11 

3 
59 

16  36 
—    3 

4 

3 
16 

pROfi.  tX,  Given  the  altitnde  of  the  moon,  the  lati- 
tude of  a  place,  and  the  apparent  time  at  Greenwich ; 
to  find  the  apparent  time  at  the  place  of  ob.servation. 

Rule.  Correct  the  altitude  of  the  moon^s  limb  by 
Problem  V.  p.  731,  and  reduce  its  right  ascension  and 
dedinatiod,  and  the  sun's  right  ascension,  to  the  Green- 
wich time  of  observation.  Now  with  the  latitude  of 
fher  pUc'e,  the  dcdination  and  altitude  of  the  moon, 
compote  its  meridian  distance  as  before :  Which  being 
applied  (0  iC^  right  ascension  by  addition  or  subtraction, 
according  as  it  is  in  the  western  or  eastern  hemisphere,* 
wiH  give  th^  right  as<iensioil  of  the  meridian.  Then 
the  sun's  rigbt  asCenSiott  subtracted  frbm  the  right  as-, 
een^idn  or  the  m^ridiaA,  will  give  the  apparent  time  of 
obsfertaCion. 


Examph,   Marc*  5.  1792,  in  lltitnde  5i*38'  N,  at  ii*  29'' 7*^  KM.  per  watch,  tlie  altitude 
ver  limb  was  37^  3 1^  the  height  of  the  eye  being  ic3  feet,  add  the  time  at  Greenwich  13*^  43^ 


+   15 
—     3 

+  4» 


lower 

error  of  the  watch  f 

Altitude  of  thv*  moon's  lower  limb ^3 7°  31' 

Semidiameter 

Dip  . 

Correction 

Corrected  alt.  of  moon's  centre 

Latitude 

DeeltnatioD 

Difibreiiee  • 

MMnrV  altit«d0 

Mbon^s  mcrldiah  distance 
Hglft  ascension 

Right  ascension  of  meridian 
Sun's  right  ascension 

Apparent  time  at  ship 
Time-  per  watch 

Wateh  slow 

.    Vol.  XIV.  Part  II. 


Moon's  right  ascension  at  Green,  time 

declination 
Sun's  right  asoensfOQ  » 


38  25 

51 38N 

17     oN 

setarif 
setaot 

H  3* 
3«  ^S 

Natr  <tosine 
Nat.  sine 

Diffefi^nce 

8228^ 
62138 

20143 

3°  14'  36'' 
7   32  54 

rising 

* 

10  37  30 
23     2    0 

>*   35  30 
11   29    7 

of  the  moon^s 
Required  the 


7*  ly  54'? 
17*^   o  N 


O.20fl2 
6.01940 


4-53064 


23 


.u 


4U 


Pkob. 


7o5  N  A  V  I  G 

Of  finding  Prob.  X.  Giveu  the  apparent  distance  between  the 
the  Lonf^-  moon  and  the  sun  or  a  fixed  star,  to  find  the  true  di- 
tude  at  Sea  stance. 

Obsernu       BujLE.  To  ihc  logarithmic  difference  answering  ta 
ttoat.     the  moon^s  apparent  altitude  and  horizontal  parallax, 
add  the  logarithmic  sines  of  half  the  sum,  and  half  the 


A  T  I  O.N.  Prac&e. 

difference  of  the  apparent  dbtance  and  di£Eereoce  oC  ottat^ 
the  apparent  altitudes  ^  half  the  sum  will  be  the  loga-ik  Li 
rithmic  cosine  of  an  arch :  now  add  the  logarithm  iiiie8^5 
of  the  sum  and  difference  of  this  ardi,  and  half  the  ^-  ^ 
ference  of  the  true  altitudes,  and  half  the  sum  will  be 
the  logarithmic  cosine'of  half  the  true  distance. 


^ 


Example,  Let  the  apparent  altitude  of  the  moon^s  centre  be  48^  22',  that  of  the  sun^s  27^  43',  the  appiitot 
ntral  distance  81®  23'  40",  and  the  moon V  horizontal  parallax  58'  45^'.     Bequired  the  true  distance  ? 
pparent  altitude  sun^s  centre         -  27^  43'    o"     Apparent  altitude  moon's  centre        -        48®  22f    0* 


central 

Apparent  altitude  sun's  centre 

Correction 

Sun's  true  altitude 
Sun's  apparent  altitude 

Moon's  apparent  altitude 

Difference 
Apparent  distance 

Sum 


Half  difference  true  alljtndes 
Arch 

Sum 

Difierenoe  •- 


ay 
27 

41 
43 

so 

48 

22 

20 
81 

39 
23 

40 

102 
60 

2 
44 

40 
40 

10 
5« 

39 

47 

33 
29 

o"     Apparent  altitude  moon's  centre 
40       Correction 

Moon's  true  altitude 
Sun's  true  altitude 


Difference 

Half        - 
Logarithmic 

Half        . 
Half        .. 


f 


22^    0* 
38    26 


62       7       2 

40   47  s6 

40    32   16 

2 


Ibie  distance 


8x 


4  32» 


'  PtiOB«  XI.  To  find  the.  time  at  Greenwich  an- 
swering to  a  given  distance  between  the  moon  and 
the  sun,  or  one  of  the  stars,  used  in  the  Nautical. Al- 
manack. 

Bulk.  If  the  guren  distance  is  foun4  in  the  Naptn 
cal  Almanack  opposite  to  the  giV«n  da]f  of  the  months 
or  to  that  which  immediately  precedes  or  follows  it, 
the  time  is  found  at  the  top  of  the  page.  But  if  this 
distance  is  not  found  exactly  in  the  ephemeris,  sub- 
tract the  pn^.  1(^.  of  the  difference  between  the  di- . 
stances  which  immediately  precede,  and  follow  the  givr 
en  distance  from  the  prop.  log.  of  the  difference  be- 
tween  the  given  and  preceding  distances  j  the  remain- 
der wiH  be  the  prop.  log.  of  tte  excess  of  the  time  cor* 
xe8p<mding^to  the  given  distance,  above  that  answering 
to  the  preceding  distance:  And  hence  the  apparent 
time  at  Greenwich  is  known. 

Esample.  September  2l.  1792^  the  true  distance  bcr. 
tween  the  centres  of  the  sun  and  moon  was  68^  i^  8'^ 
Bequilred  the  apparent,  time  at  Greenwich  {. 


GiTcn  diftance     6S^  13'   8" 

Bitt.  at  t^  boon  67    5327      Biitzo®  19' 41' 

BitU at ziL  hoars  6^    30    6      DiiC=ri   36  39 


Szceu 
Preceding  time 

Apfv  time  at  Greenwich 


o  3^  $9 
poo 

^^— ^  ■  ■    ■ 

9  3^  39 


P.)«g.  961S 
Jf,  log.  a7oi 

P.  log.  69 IX 


5i*»    1'  20" 
30    22  20, 


Sine 
Sine 


cosine 


sine 


sme 


cosine 


49     o  26 

27    41  20 

31     19     (< 
10    39,33 

9«4<3*- 

9.890639 
9.703820 

19.589097 
9794548 

9.946417 
9.815183 

19.761^00 

Q,88o8oo 


PR03^  XII.  The  latitude  of  a  place  and  its  loogits^ 
bj  account  being  given,  together  with  the  distance  be- 
tween, and  the  altitude  of  the  moon  and  the  son,  oriK 
of  the  stars  in  the.Nautical  Almanack  y  to  find  the  Iroe 
lonntude  of  the  {Iftce  of  observation. 

fiuLE.  Reduce  the  estimate  time  of  ohsenatisB  ta 
the.  meridian  of  Greenwich  by  Problem  III,  and  to  tkii 
time,  take  from  the  Nautical  Almanack,  page  7.oftk; 
month,  the  moon^s  horizontal  parallax  and  scmiHitf- 
ter.  Increase  the  seipidiameter  by  the  angmeotitioB 
answering  t9.  the  moon^s  altitude. 

Find  the  apparent  apd  true  altitudes  of  ea/A  el^RtV 
centre,  an^  the-apparent  central  distance ;  with  wbich 
compute  the  true  distance  by  Problem  X.  and  tad  tk 
apparent  time  at  Greenwich  answering  thereto  by  the 
last  problem. 

If  the  sun  or  star  be  at  a  proper  distance  froa  tk 
meridian  at  the  time  of  obsenration  of  the  dirtaaec^ 
compute  the  apparent  time  at  the  ship*  If  not,  the  cr^ 
ror  of  the.  watchimay  be  found  from  observatMOS  tske» 
either  before  or  after  that  of  the  distanoe ;  or  theappa* 
rent  time  may  be  inferred  from  the  mocm^  aldlafc 
taken  with  the  distance,  by  Problem  IX. 

The  difference  between  the.  apparent  times  of  <ter- 
▼ation  at  the  ship  and  Greenwich,  will  be  the  Im^ts^ 
of  the  ship  in  time ;  which  is  east  or  west  aocordng  H 
the  time  at  the  ship  la  Jater  or  eaifier  than  .the  Gf^c^ 
wich  time. 


Ex.  I.    March  17.  1792,  in  latitude  34*  53' N;  and  longitude  bv  account  27^  W,  abont  9h.  A.XLlfce 
distance  between  the  nearest  limbs  of  the  s«n  and  moon  was  68^  3'j^ }  the  altitude  ot  the  sonVkwer  limb  53*  18^ 

thit 


Practice* 


NAVIGATION. 


or4bidiii|  that  of  the  fhwmU  upper  limb  31*  3';  and  the  height  of  the  ejre  12  feet.    Bequired  the  tnie 
OsLMgi-^p? 

«         -         9h  o'    A.M 

I  48 


«^«^^Tiiiie  «t  ship 
'  LoDgituile  in  time 


Diet  son  and  moon*8  nearest  limbs 
8on*s  semidiameter 


Bedoeed  time 

Altitude  moon*s  upper  limb 

Ang.  semidiameter 
Dip        .  - 

Apparent  altitude 
Correction  -  • 

Moon's  true  altitude 


Son's  apparint  altitude 
Moon's  apparent  altitude 

Difference 
Apparent  distance 

Snm  "  -         - 

Dinerence 

Half  difference  true  altitudes 
Arch        •  •  • 

Sam  •  i*  • 

Diflerence 


Half  true  distance 


Trae  distance 
Distance  at  XXI  hours 
Distance  at  noon 

Proportional  part 
time 


Apparent  time  at  Greenwich 
Latitude         -         34*53'*oN 
DecKnation       -      ^  57  '9^ 


Snm 

Sun's  altitude    - 

Difference 

Uroe  from  noon 


Apparent  time 
App.  time  at  Green. 

IiKmgStude  in  time 


35  50  .9 
33  ^-5 


10  48  A.  M 

3«  3  o 

—  16  10 

-  3  18 

30  43  ^3 
+  49  aS 


3«  3a  49 


33*3o'48" 
30  43  23 

2  47  25 
68  35  40 

71  23  i 
65  48  15 

o  58  20 

55  54  '2 

56  52  32 
54  55  5« 


34  6  53 

2 

68  13  46 

69  II  20 
67  32  38 


Secant 
Secant 


Nat  cosine 
Nat  sine 


3h  r  ^3'' 

20  52  47 
22  45    o 

I  52  i3=28*3^Mr, 


Moon's  semidiameter 
Augmentation 


Apnaren 
Alutnde 


t  central  distance 
sun's  lofrer  limb 


Son's  semidiameter 
Dip 

Son's  apparent  altitude 
Correction 


Son's  true  altitude 
Moon's  true  altitude 

Diffuence 
Half 


Half 

Half 


Difference 
Diffierenoe 


8x0 
55^ 


I? 


25876 


difference 


35*  41' 3a"* 
3»  54    7i 


^ 


<S°J/34" 
I  384a 

I  45    9 
21    o    o 

22  45     O 


Ksing 


707 

longitude  of  the  Offiadiac 

theLoagt. 
68®    9f  irit^^tiaem 


Sine 
Sine 


Cosine 


P.  log. 

P.  log. 

Perl^. 


^  16  xo 
+    09 

68  35  40 
33  18 


tioBf. 


+ 

x6  6 
318 

33  30  48 
-0  I  19 

33  89  ap 
31  3a  49 

I  56  40 

O  58   20 


9996336 

Sine        9*765991 
Sine         9-734964 

I9-49739* 
Cosine        9<748o45 


9.922972 
9.912998 

«9-83597S 
9.917987 


495« 
2oia 


234c 


0.08601 

0.0000< 


4.41291 

449899 


4U2 


.^..O* 


70? 


N  A-V  1  O-A  T  PON; 


Pcictict 


Of  ikndiiig      Example.  2.  3eptei^ber  2*  1792,  in  ii^ityie  13^  sf  ^1  ^^^  loi)git»4«  l^y  «efoeiit  |6^  £,  »evei^I  o)»§arva|iow«f  0(i^ 
Lhc  I«on|i-  the  mo0n  and  Altair  were  taken  >  the  mean  of  the  times  per  watch  was  1°  1 8'  §9^  A.  M.  that  of  the  disUnee  be-tk  bt^ 


Uc 
ttideat 


Me  AC  B^t^epn  J^t^ir  and  the  moon's  i^earest  Ijmh  j8^  ^f  26"  9  tbr  mean  of 'the  altitude  of  the  moou's  lower  Jojib  70^  SJ*;*"***** 
Obterva^  and  that  of  Altair  25®  27'.4 ;  height  of  th^  c;ye  13  feet*     Bequired  tbe  time  Jongitod^  ?  Obim» 


tiont. 


Time  per, watch 
Longitude  in  time' 


i»»i8'  59"  A.  M. 
3"  44    o 


E^duced  time        -       9  34  59 
Altitude  moon      -      7o*^33' 
Semidiameteranddip— o  13 

Apparent  alt.  moon     70  20 
Correction       -  +^'9  4^ 


True  altitude  moon     70  39  40 
Moon's  apparent  alt.  70  20 

ft 

Altair's  apparent  alt.  25  24 


Difference 
Appi^vnt  distance 

Sum 
Difference 

llalf  diff.  true  alt. 
Arch 

Sum 
Difllbfenee 


44  56 
59     '  j4 

103  57  54 
»4    5  54 

22  38  50 
72     I  57 

94  40  47 
49  ^3    7 


Half  true  distance      29  33  48^ 

2 


True  distance  59     7  37 

DistanceatIXhour8  58  51   17 
.^- atXIIhoun6o  24  34 

Proportional  part 
Preceding  time 

Apparent  time  at  Qi^nwich 
Latitude  -         13  57      N 

Declination  8  19.8  N 


Difference 
Altitude  Altair 

!Diffisrence 


5  37-a 
25  ^2. 


D^stapf^e  moon  and  ^Altiiir 
AvgPllPDtod  semidiamet^ 

Apmf^Ut  <»ntral  di^t^n^ 
Altitude  of  Altair 
Dip  .  . 


Apparent  altitude  Al^ir 
Refraction 

True  altitu4e  Altair 
Moon^s  true  altitude 

Difference         ^ 

Half 

Logarithmic  differenoe 


Half 
Half 


510  58'  57" 
7       a  57 


Difference 
Difference 


Nat.  cosine 
Nat.  sine 


0°  \(f  20* 
I    33    17 

o    3'    3^ 
900 

9' 31    3^ 
Secant 

Secant 


99519 

42841 

56678 


Altair's  meridian  distance     •     4^  23'  14" 
J  right  ascension      -      19  40  40 


RWag 


Right  ascension  meridian 
Sun's  riffht  ascension 


o     3  54 
10  46  17 


Sine 
Sine 


Cosine 

Sine 
Sino 


Cosine 


.   A 


P.  log. 
p.  log. 

p.  log. 


^0  45*  a6FWv«rf 
4*0  t6  18 


59    •  W 

aj  a? -4 
— 0    3-4 

25  24    0 
— 0     2    0 

25   22     0 

70  39  40 

45  »7  40 

22  38  50 
9.993101 

'  9.89642S 
9.088919 

18.9:18448 
9.489224 

9.998548 
9.880301 

18.978448 
9-9394*4 


1.041a 
0.2855 

0.7567 


0.01300 
o.o04lSi 


4'7534» 

4.7710a 


Apparent  time  at  ship  13    17  37 

Apparent  time  at  Greenwich      9   31  31 

Longitude  in  time  -  4  46     6  =s  56*  31^  East. 

For  various  other  methods  of  determining  the  longitude  of  a  plaoei  the  reades  is  referred  to  ThrMttfciy** 
Treatise  on  the  Theory  and  Practice  pf  finding  the  Longitude  at  Sea  or  Land. 

I  Crap. 


Practice. 

Vaifatiofi 


^N  A  V  IG 


•^«h«  Cbaf.  IlL  OJth*  Variation  of  the  Compass. 

The  variation  of  the  compass  is  the  deviation  of  tlie 
points  of  the  mariner *»  compass  from  the  correspond* 
ing  points  of  the  horizon  \  and  Is  denominated  cast  or 
west  variation,  according  as  the  north  point  of  the  com- 
pass is  to-  the  east  or  west  of  the  true  north  point  of  the 
horizon. 

A  particular  account  of  the  variation,  and  of  the  se- 
veral instruments  used  for  determining  it  from  obser- 
vation,  may  he  seen  under  the  articles  Azimuth,  Com* 
PASS,  and  Variation  :  and  for  tlie  roetliod  of  com- 
municating magnetism  to  compass  needles,  see  Magne- 
tism. 

Prob.  I.  Given  the  latitude  of  a  place,  and  the 
sun^S  magnetic  amplitude,  to  find  the  variation  of  the 
compass. 

Rule.  To  the  log.  secant  of  the  latitude,  add  the 
log.  sine  of  the  sun's  declination,  the  sum  will  be  the 
log.  cosine  of  the  true  amplitude  \  to  be  reckoned  from 
the  north  or  sooth  according  as  the  declination  is  north 
or  south. 

The  difference  between  the  true  and  observed  ampli* 
tudes,  reckoned  firom  the  same  point,-  and  if  of  the  same 
name,  is  the  variation  >  but  if  of  a  different  name,  their 
sum  is  the  variation. 

If  the  observation  be  made  in  the  eastern  hemi- 
sphere, the  variation  will  be  east  or  west  according 
as  the  observed  amplitude  is  nearer  to  or  more  remote 
from  the  north  than  the  true  amplitude.  The  contrary 
rule  holds  good  in  observations  taken  in  the  western 
hemisfhore. 

Ex.  I.  May  15.  1794,  in  latitude  33^  10'  N,  longi- 
tude 18'  W,  about  jh  A.  M.  the  sun  was  observed  to 
rise  £5N.    Required  the  variation  ? 
Sua^sdec.  May  15.  at  noon     18®  j8'  N. 
Equation  to  7n  from  noon    — o      4 
■  ■I      ,-toi8^W  +0      I 


Reduced  declination 
Latitude 

True  amplitude 


18  SS 
33  *o 


Sine      9.51080 
Secant  0.07723 


N  67  13  £  Cosine  9.58803 


AT  i  ON. 

True  amplitude 
Observed  amplitude 

Variation 


N  (>7  13  £  Come  9.58803 


NCJ7 
N78 


zx  32  ^  i^faich  IS  ic««f, be- 
cause the  observed  amplitude  is  more  distant  firom  the 
north  Unm  the  true  amplitude  \  the  observation  being 
made  in  the  eastern  hemisphere. 

Ex.  2.  December  20.  17939  in  latitude  31°  38'  S, 
longitude  83^  \V,  tlie  sun  was  curved  to  set  SW.  So* 
quired  the  variation  P 

Latitude         -  '       31*  38^  Secant        0.06985 

Declination  23    28  Sine  9.60012 


True  amplitude    S  62     7  W 
Observed  ampl.    S  45     o  W 


Cosine        9*6^997 


Variation  -  177;  which  is  east^  as  the  observ- 
ed amplitude  is  fiirtber  fiom  the  north  than  the  true  am- 
plitude, the  observation  being  made  at  sunsetting. 

It  may  be  remarked,  that  the  sun's  amplitude  ought 
to  be  observed  at  the  instant  the  altitude  of  its  lower 
limb  is  equal  to  the  sum  of  2  5  minutes  and  the  dip  of 
the  horizon.  Thus,  if  an  observer  be  elevated  18  feet 
above  the  surface  of  the  sea,  the  amplitude  should  be 
taken  at  the  instant  the  altitude  of  the  snn^s  lower  limb 
is  19  minutes. 

Prob.  II.  Given  the  magnetic  azimuth,  the  altitude 
and  declination  of  the  sun,  together  with  the  latitude 
of  tbe  place  of  observation  >  to  find  the  variation  of  the 
compass. 

Rule.  Reduce  the  sun's  declination  to  the  time  and 
place  of  observation,  and  compute  the  true  altitude  of 
the  sun's  centre. 

Find  the  sum  of  the  sun's  polar  distance  and  altitude 
aud  the  latitude  of  the  place,  take  the  difference  be- 
tween the  half  of  this  sum  and  the  polar  distance. 

To  the  log.  secant  of  the  altitude  add  the  log.  secant 
of  the  latitude,  the  log.  cosine  of  the  half  sum,  and  the^ 
log.  cosine  of  the  difference  \  half  the  snm  of  these 
will  be  the  log.  sine  of  half  the  $un's  true  azimuth,  to  be 
reckoned  from  the  south  in  north  latitude,  but  from  the 
north  in  south  latitude. 

The  difference  between  the  true  and  observed  azi- 
muths will  be  the  variation  as  fiM*merly. 


Ex.  I.  November  x8.  1793,  In  latitude  50^  22'  N,  longitude  24^  30'  W,  about  three  quarters  past  eight  A.  M. 
the  altitude  of  the  sun's  lower  limb  was  8^  lo',  and  bearing  per  compass  S,  23^  18'  £ :  height  of  the  eye  20  feet^ 
Required  the  variation  of  the  compass  ? 


Snn's^eclin.  i8th  Nov.  at  noos 
Equation  to  3ib  firom  noon 
— ~  to  24®  30'  W 

Reduced  declination 

Polar  distance 

Altitude 

Latitude 

Sum 

Half 

Difierencc 


Half  true  aztmutb 


+ 


25'^S 
2 
z 


19  24 

X09  24 
8  16 

50  22 

168      2 
84      I 

25   23 


22  43 


Observed  alt.  sun's  lower  limb 

Semidiameter 

Dip  and  refraction 

True  altitude 


Secant 
Secant 


Cosine 
Cosine 


Sine 


+  16 

—    10 

8  16 


0.00454 
0.19527 


9.01803 
9-955^1 

19.17375 
9.58687 


Half 


Half  true  azimuth 


True  azimuth 
Observed  azimuth 


N  ^A  V  I  G  A  T  I  O  N. 

22^  43'  -  Sine 


9.58687     gy^, 


Variation 


S  45    26  E. 
8  23     18  E. 

22      8  W. 


ft,  •  a 

Ex*  2«    January  3*  1794*  in  latitude  33®  $7^  N,  ,5^  if  E  longitude,  about  half  past  three  the^  aHitode,  of 
the  sun's  lower  limb  41®  i8^  and  azimuth  S  50*  25'' W,  the  height  of  the  eye  being  20  feet 


Hftriation  ? 

Snn*8  declination  at  noon 
Equation  te  time  from  noon 
iM  to  longitude 

Reduced  declination 

"^Polar  distance 
Altitude 
Latitude 

-  Sum  •  *^ 

Half 
'Dtflerenee 


2i«  24'  8. 
+      a 

21      24  S 

III       24 
41       28 

33    5* 


True  azimuth 
'Observed  azimuth 

Variation 


i«6 
9i 

44 
22 

18 

2 

17 

*3 
2 

S.34 
8,50 

46  w. 
25  w. 

»5    39  W- 


Chap.  IV.  (y ^i  S&>V  Journal. 

A  JOO&NAL  is  a  regular  and  exact  register  of  all  the 
various  transactions  that  happen  aboard  a  ship  whether 
at  sea  or  land,  and  more  particulariv  that  which  concerns 
a  ship^s  way,  firom  whence  her  place  ^  noon  or  any 
other  time  may  he  justly  ascertained. 

That  part  of  the  account  which  id  kept  at  sea  is  cal- 
led sea  work ;  and  the  remarks  taken  down  while  the 
ship  is  10  port  are  called  harbour  Work. 

At  sea,  the  day  begins  at  noou,  and  ends  at  the  noon 
of  the  following  day:  the  first  12  hours,  or  those  con- 
tained between  noon  )md  midnight,  are  denoted  by 
P.  M.  signifying  after  mid  day;  and  the  other  12  hours, 
or  those  from  midnight  to  noon,  are  denoted  by  A.  M« 
signifying  before  mid  day.  A  day^s  work'  marked 
Wednesday  March  6.  began  on  Tuesday  at  noon,  and 
ended  on  Wednesday  at  noon.  The  days  of  the  week 
are  usually  represented  by  astronomical  characters. 
Thus  0  represent  Sunday  ^  ]^  Monday  ^  ^  Tuesday  \ 
9  Wednesday  >  %  Thursday  j  $  Friday  ^  and  ^  Sa- 
turday. 

When  a  ship  is  bound  to  a  port  so  situated  that  she 
will  be  out  of  sight  of  land,  the  bearing  and  distance 
of  the  port  must  be  found*  This  may  he  done  by  Mer- 
cator^s  or  Middle-latitude  Sailine  \  but  the  most  expe- 
ditious method  is  by  a  charL  If  islands,  capes,  or  head- 
lands intervene,  it  will  be  necessary  to  find  the  several 
courses  and  distances  between  each  successively.  The 
true  eoUk'se  between  the  places  must  be  reduced  to  the 
course  per  compass,  hy  allowing  the  variation  to  the 


Observed  alt.  sun^s  lower  litnb 
Sun^s  semidiameter  •* 

'Dip  and  refraction 

True  altitude 


Secant 
Secant 


Bequired 

=41^  iff 
4.  16 
~     6 


Cosine 
Cosiue 


Sine 


41    28 


0.12531 
0,08075 


8.76881 
9-975i» 

18.95048 

947524 


right  or  left  of  the  true  course,  according  as  it  is  nut 
or  east. 

At  the  time  of  leaving  the  land,  the  bearing  of  sooie 
known  place  is  to  be  observed,  and  its  diataoce  is  madly 
found  by  estimation.  As  perhaps  the  distance  ika 
found  will  be  liable  to  some  error,  particulariy  in  hazy 
or  foffgy  weather,  or  when  that  distance  is  considenUe, 
it  wul  therefore  be  proper  to  use  the  following  methsi 
for  this  purpose. 

Let  the  bearing  be  observed  of  the  place  firom  which 
the  departure  is  to  he  taken  \  and  the  ship  havmg  raa 
a  certain  distance  on  a  direct  course,  the  hearinrcithe 
same  place  is  to  be  again  observed.  Now  bavng  soe 
side  of  a  plain  triangle,  namely  the  distance  sailed,  and 
all  the  angles,  the  other  distances  .may  be  found  by 
Prob.  I.  of  Oblique  Sailing. 

The  method  of  finding  the  course  and  distaace  aikd 
in  a  given  time  is  by  the  compass,  the  log-Une,  and  half- 
minute-glass.  These  have  been  already  described.  Im 
the  royal  navy,  and  in  ships  in  the  service  of  the  East 
India  Company,  the  log  is  hove  once  every  hour  \  hat 
in  most  other  trading  vessels  only  cv^  two  hoars. 

The  several  courses  and  distances  sailed  in  the  co«se 
of  24  hours,  or  between  noon  and  noon,  and  whateicr 
remarks  are  thought  worthy  of  notice,  are  sot  down  with 
chalk  on  a  board  painted  blacky  caJled  the  hg-bemd^ 
which  is  usually  divided  into  six  columns  :  the  first  co- 
lumn on  the  left  hand  contains  the  hours  fima  noea  ts 
noon  \  the  second  and  third  the  knots  and  parts  «f  a 
knot  sailed  every  hour,  or  every  two  hours,  acooidai!^ 
as  the  log  is  marked ;  the  fouru  cohuDB  ooDtaias  the 
courses  steered^  the  fifth  the  winds)  andia  tbesiatChthe 


ftactice.  N  A  V  I  G 

SUp't     varioas  remaTlls  and  phenomena  are  written.     The 
Joani^L  log-board  is  transcribed  every  day  at  noon  into  the 
^        'log-book,  which  is  ruled  and  divided  after  the  same 
manner. 

The  courses  steered  most  be  corrected  by  the  varia* 
tton  of  the  compass  and  leeway.  If  the  variation  is 
west,  it  must  be  allowed  to  the  left  hand  of  the  course 
steered  ^  but  if  east,  to  the  right  hand,  in  order  to  ob- 
tain the  true  course.  The  leeway  is  to  be  allowed  to 
the  right  or  left  of  the  course  steered,  according  as  the 
ship  is  on  tbe  larboard  or  starboard  tack.  The  method 
of  finding  the  variation,  which  should  be  determined 
daily  if  possible,  is  given  in  the  preceding  chapter }  and 
the  leeway  may  be  understood  from  what  follows. 

When  a  ship  is  close  hauled,  that  part  of  the  wind 
which  acts  upon  tbe  boll  and  rigging,  together  with  a 
considerable  part  of  tbe  force  which  is  exerted  on  the 
sails,  tends  to  drive  her  to  the  leeward.  But  since  the 
bow  of  a  ship  exposes  less  surface  to  the  water  than  her 
side,  the  resistance  will  be  less  in  the  first  case  than  in 
tbe  second  ^  the  velocity  in  the  direction  of  her  head 
will  therefore  in  most  cases  be  greater  than  the  velocity 
in  the  direction  of  her  side}  and  the  ship^s  real  course 
will  be  between  the  two  directions.  The  angle  formed 
between  the  line  of  her  apparent  conrse  and  £e  line  she 
really  describes  throogh  the  water  is  called  tbe  angle  of 
leeway^  or  simply  the  leeway, 

Tliere  are  many  circumstances  which  prevent  the  lay- 
ing down  rules  for  the  allowance  of  leeway.  The  con- 
etcnction  of  dlflferent  vessels,  their  trim  with  regard  to 
the  nature  and  quantity  of  their  cargo,  the  position  and 
magnitude  of  the  sail  set,  and  the  velocity  of  the  ship, 
together  with  the  swell  of  (he  sea,  are  all  susceptible  of 
gceat  variation,  and  very  much  affect  the  leeway*..  The. 
following  rules,  are,  however,  usually  given  for  this 
purpose. 

1.  When  a  ship  is  close  hauled^  has  all  her  sails  set, 
the  water  smooth,  with  a  light  breeze  of  wind,  she. is , 
then  supposed  to  make  little  or  no.  leeway. 

2.  Allow  one 'point  when  the  top-gallant  sails  are 
handed. 

a.  Allow  two  points  when  under  close  reefed  top- 
sails. 

4.  Allow  two  points  and'lk  half  when  one  top-sail  is 
handed. 

5.  Allow  three  points  and  a  half  when  both  top-sails 
are  handed. 

6.^  Allow  four  points  when  the  fore  course  is  handed. ' 
7«  Allow  five  points  when  under  the  main-sail,  only* 
8.  Allow  six  points  when  under  balanced  mizen. 
p.  Allow  seven  points  when  under  bare  poles. 
These  allowances  may  be  of  some  use  to  work  up  the  ^ 
^y*s  work  of  a  journal  which  has  be^  neglected  \  but  >> 
a  pmd«nt  narigator  will  never  bo  guilty  of  this  neglect.  '^ 
A  very  good  method  of  estimating  tbe  leeway  is  to  ob- 
serve tM  bearing  of  the  ship'a  wake  as  frequently  as  ., 
may  be  judged  necessary  \  which-  may  be  conveniently  . 
enoQi^  done  by  drawing  a  imall  semicircle  on  the  tafie- 
rel,  with  its  diameter  at  right  angles  to  the  ship^s  length, 
and  dividing  its  circumference  into  points  and  quarters. 
The  angle  contained  between  the  semidiameter  which 
points  right  aft,.and  thatwhich  points  in  the  direction 
of  the  wake,  b  the  leeway.     But  the  best  and  most  ra- 
tional way  of  bringing  the  leeway  into  the  day^s  log  b 
l4>  have  i^compMS  or  semicircle  on  the  taferelp  as  before 


A  T  I  O  N.  711 

described,  with  a  low  crutch  or  swivel  in  its  centre  \  af-  Sh^'t 
ter  heaving  the  log,  the  line  may  be  slipped  into  tbe  Jminial. 
crutch  just  before  it  is  drawn  in,  and  the  angle  it  makes 
on  the  limb  with  tlic  line  drawn  right  aft  will  show  tbe 
leeway  very  accurately  \  which  as  a  necessary  article, 
ought  to  be  entered  into  a  separate  column  against  tbo' 
hourly  distance  on  tbe  log-board. 

In  hard  blowing  weather,  with  a  contrary  wind  and 
a  high  sea,  it  is  impossible  to  gain  any  advantage  by* 
sailing.  In  such  cases,  therefore,  the  object  is  to  avoid 
as  much  as  possible  being  driven  back.  With,  thb  io#- 
tention  it  is  usual  to  lie  to  under  no  more  sail  than  19 
sufficient  to  prevent  the  violent  rolling  which  the  vessel 
would  otherwise  acquire,  to  the  endangering  ber  roasts, 
and  straining  her  timbers,  &c.  When  a  ship  is  brought 
to,  the  tiller  is  put  close  over  to  the  leeward,  which 
brings  her  head  round  to  the  wind.  The  wind  havings 
then  very  little  power  on  the  sails,  the  sliip  loses  hex\ 
way  through  the  water  j  which  ceasing  to  act  on  the- 
rudder,  her  head  falls  off  from  the  wind,  the  sail,  which 
she  has  set  fills,  and  gives  her  fi^^b  way  through  tbe  wa- 
ter \  which,  acting  on  the  rudder  brings  her  head  again 
to  the  wind.  Thus  the^^ship  has  a  kind  of  vibratorr 
motion,  coming  up  to  tbe  wind  and^fallin^r  off  firom  it. 
again  alternately.  Now  the  middle  point  between  those 
upon  which  she  comes  up  and  falb  off  is  taken  for  ben 
apparent  course  j  and  the  leeway  and  variation  b  to  be 
allowed  from  thence,  to  find  the  true  course. 

The  setting  and  daft  of  currents,  and  the  heave  of 
the  sea  are  to  be  marked  down.  Tliese  are  to  be  coiv 
reoted  by  variation  only. 

The  >  computation  made  from  the  several  conrses 
corrected  as  above,  and  their  corresponding  distances, 
is  called  a  ddy'*s  work;  and  the  ship^s  place,  as  deduced 
therefrom,  is  called^bor  place  by  account^  or  dead  reo* 
honing^ 

It  b  almost  constantly  found  -that  the  latitude  by  ac- 
count does  not  asree  with  that  by  observation.  From 
an  attentive  consideration  of  the  nature  and  form  of  the 
common  log^tbat  its  place  is  alterable  by  the  weight  of 
the  line,.bv  currents,  aadi>tber  causes,  and  also  the  er- 
rors to  which  the  course  is  liable,  from  the  very  often 
wrong  position  of  the  compass  in  the  binnacle,  the  vari- 
ation not  being  well  ascertained,  an  exact  agreement  of 
tbe  latitudes  cannot  be  expected.  - 

When  the  difference  of  longitude. -b  to  be  found  by 
dead  reckoning,  if  .then  the  latitudes  by  account  and 
observation  disagree,  several  writers  on  navigation  have 
proposed  to  apply  a  conjectural  correction  to  the  depar- 
ture or  difference  of  longitude.  Thus,  if  the  course  be 
near  the  meridian,  the  error  is  wholly  attributed  to  the 
distance,and  the  departure  b  to  be  increased  or  diminish- 
ed aceordiogly:  if  near  the  parallel,  the  course  only  is 
supposed  to  be  erroneous ;  and  if  the  course  b  towards 
the  middle  of  the  quadrant,  the  course  and  distance  are 
both  assumed  wrong.  This  last  correction  will,  accord- 
ing to  diflferent  authors,  place  the  ship  upon  opposite 
sides  of  her  meridian  by  aecoont.  As  these  corrections 
are,  therefore^  no  better  than  goessing,  they  should  be 
absolutely  rejected* 

If  tbe  latitudes  are  not  found  to  ame,  the  navigator 
ought  to  examine  his  logoline  and  half-minute-glass,  and 
correct  the  dbtance  accordingly.  He  is  then  to  consi- 
der if  the  variation  and  leeway  have  been  properly  as- 
certained ^  iCiiQt,  the  course  are  again  to  be  corrected, 

3  .  and 


71^  N  A  V  I  G 

Ship's  a&d  no  other  ftlteration  frfaatever  is  to  be  made  on  tbem, 
Jouniftli  He  ia  next  to  observe  if  the  ship's  place  has  been  aflect^ 
ed  b J  a  cDirent  ov  heave  of  the  sea,  and  to  allow  for 
them  according  to  the  best  of  his  judgment.  B  j  ap- 
plying these  corrections,  the  latitodes  tvill  generally  be 
found  to  agree  tolerably  irell  y  and  the  longitnde  is  not 
to  receive  any  farther  alteration. 

It  irill  be  proper,  however,  for  the  navigator  to  de- 
termine the  longitude  of  the  ship  iirom  observation  as 
often  as  possible  ;  and  the  Teckoning  is  be  carried  forv 
ward  in  the  usual  manner  from  the  last  good  observa- 
tion ;  yet  it  will  perhaps  be  very  satisfactory  to  keep  a 
separate  account  of  the  longitude  by  dead  reckoning. 

General  Rules  for  working  a  Day*s  Work. 

Correct  the  several  counes  for  variation  and  leeway  \ 
place  them,  and  the  corresponding  distances,  in  a  table 
prepared  for  that  purpose.  From  whence,  by  Traverse 
Sailing,  find  the  differenoe  of  latitude  and  departure 
made  good  \  hence  the  corresponding  coarse  and  dis« 
taocr,  and  the  ship's  present  latitude,  will  be  known. 

Find  the  middle  latitude  at  the  top  or  bottom  of  the 
Traverse  Table,  and  the  distance,  answering  to  the  de-' 
paitnre  found  in  a  latitude  column,  will  be  the  differ- 
ence of  longitude :  Or,  the  departure  answering  to  the 
course  made  good,  and  tlie  meridional  difierence  of  Ja- 


A  T  I  O  N.  Pradke. 

titude  in  a  latitude  column,  is  the  difference  of  kcgi.   5^-, 
tude.     The  sum,  or  difference  of  which,  and  the  loDgt-  Job^ 
tude  left,  according  as  they  are  of  the  same  or  of  a  con* 
trary  nnme,  will  be  the  ship's  present  longitude  of  tin 
same  name  with  the  greater. 

Compute  tlie  difference  of  latitude  between  the  ship 
and  the  intended  port,  or  any  olber  place  whose  bearing 
and  distance  may  be  required  :  find  also  the  meridisad 
difference  of  latitude  and  the  difference  of  loogitn^. 
Now  the  course  answering  the  meridional  diflerenoe  of 
latitude  found  in  a  latitude  cohmiiy  and  the  diSeieBoe 
of  longitude  in  a  departure  column,  will  be  the  beanng 
of  the  place,  and  the  distance  answering  to  the  diler- 
ence  of  latitude  will  be  the  distance  of  the  ship  Inm 
the  proposed  place.  If  these  numbers  exceed  the  liniu 
of  the  Table,  it  will  be  necessary  to  take  aliqool  parts 
of  them  ;  and  the  distance  is  to  be  moltiplied  by  the 
number  by  which  the  diflerenoe  of  ladtode  is  divided. 

•  It  will  sometimes  be  necessary  to  keep  an  accovti^ 
the  meridian  distance,  especially  in  the  Baltic  or  Medi- 
terranean trade,  where  charts  ave  used  in  which  theloi- 
gitude  is  not  nwrked.  The  meridian  dtstanoe  on  fhs 
first  day  ia  that  day's  departore  >  and  any  other  dtyit 
is  eqnal  to  the  sun  or  difference  of  the  pKceding  dv^^ 
meridian  distance  and  the  day^  departure,  aeeoidiBg  ss 
they  ars  of  the  same  or  of  a  contrary  deoominatios. 


A  JootVAL 


\ 


h^ctice. 


NAVIGATION. 


7^r 


9^p"^     A  Journal  of  a  Voyage  from  London  to  Funchal  in  Madeh*a,  in  his  Majesty's  Ship  the 
''•'^*^  ResolutioB»  A— ^ M  Commander,  anno  1793. 


SliipN 


Days  of  month 


b  Sept.  28. 


(2)  Sept.  29. 


^    Sept.  30. 


Winds, 


SW 


sw 


SW 

Variable. 


g  Octob.  I. 


\f  Octob.  2. 


Ot  Octob.  y 


$  Octt)b.4. 


»  ^ 


SSW 

sw 


BcMnarks  on  boani  his  Majesty^s  ship  jieiiolution,  1 793. 


irfMMaMi^MMfa 


.^m. 


Stron^r  gales  and  heavy  rain.     At  3  P.  M.  sent  down  ttpgallant  yards  5  at  1 1 
A.  M«  tbe  pilot  came  on  board. 


Moderate  and  clcmidy,  with  rain.  At  10  A.M.  ca^t  loose  from  the  sheer  hulk  at 
Dcptford  ;  got  up  topjrallant  yards,  and  made  sail  down  the  ritcr.  At  ndon  running 
through  Blackwidl  reach. 


m     ti         I 


The  first  part  nloderate,  the  latter  itqually,  with  rain.  At  half  past  one  an- 
chored at  the  Galleons,  and  moored  ship  with  near  a  wh<fle  cable  each  way  ib 
5  fathoms,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off  shoi«.  At  3  A.M.  strong  gales  t  got  dowli 
topffallant  yards.  A.  M.  the  people  employed  woikiiig  up  junk.  Bent  the  sheolt 
cable. 


Variable. 

N&£ 


N 


Fresh  gales  and  squally.  P.  M.  received  the  remainder  ^f  th^  boatswatn^s  and 
carpcnter^s  stores  oti  i^oard.  The  clerk  of  the  cheque  mu^red  the  ship^s  con^- 
pany. 


Variable  weather  with  rain.  At  noon  weighed  and  made  sail  >  at  5  anchored  in 
Long-reach  in  8  fathoms,  x  Received  the  powder  oip  board.  At  6  A.  M.  weighed 
and  got  down  the  river.  At  10  A.  M.  past  the  Nore:  brought  too- and  hoi&ted  in 
the  boats ;  double  reefed  tbe  topsails,  and  made  sail  for  the  Downs.  At  noon  run- 
ning for  the  fiats  f>f  Margate. 


N 
NNE 


First  part  stormy  weather ;  latter  moderate  and  cleai*.  At  4  P.  M.  got  through 
Margate  Roads.  At  5  rsn  through  tbe  Downs  ;  and  at  6  xoeliored  in  Dover  Road, 
in  10  fathoms  muddy  ground.  Dover  Castle  bore  norths  and  the  South  Fureland 
N£/^Et£  offshore  i^  miles.  Discharged  the  pilot.  Efeploy^d  maikiiig  points,  &i. 
for  the  sails.     Scaled  the  guns. 


^  ii 


i»i*i 


■«i 


>rf<. 


.^UaA- 


Moderate  and  fair.  Employed  working  up  junk.  Received  from  Deal  a  cutter 
of  17  feet,  with  iftaterials.  A.  M.  strong  gales  and  squally,  trith  rain;  got  down 
tApf^llant  yards. 


Hours, 


I 

a 

3 

4 

I 

7 
8 

9 
10 

II 

12 

I 

a 

3 

4 

5 
6 


9 

10 

II 

12 


Kn» 


4 
6 

7 

7 

7 
6 

6 

6 

6 

6 

6 

6 

6 

6 

6 

6 

7 

7 

7 

7 
8 


Fa. 


5 

5 
6 


Courses, 
ii  >    I     I 


ws%v 


Winds. 


NNE 


^*N 


NE 


^m.m    m 


Remarks,   ^   Ootob.  5.  i^^3* 


Fresh  gales  with  raiii. 

Hove  short. 

Weighed  and  made  sail* 


Shortened  stii.'^'Biiiigeiess  light  N£££. 


Fmh  bi«e«es  and  clooly. 


Ditto  weather. 

Gt>t  up  t6pgatlsAt  yarjsk 
f^t  sttkdding  Sails. 
Ditto  weathef . 


St  Alban^s  Head  NjJEX 


Vol.  XIV.  Part  U, 


IZZl 

A  Jfwmai 


714 


NAVIGATION. 


JooniBl. 

A  Journal frwn  Englafid  towards  Madeira, 

— V— ^ 

Hours. 

Kn. 

Fa. 

Cxrarses. 

Winds. 

Remarks,  0  October  6.  1793.            < 

I 

2 

8 
8 

W*N 

NE 

A  fresh  steady  gale. 

3 
4 

8 
8 

a 

Do.  weatber. 

5 
6 

8 
8 
8 
8 
8 
8 

• 

Spoke  the  Ranger  of  London,  from  Carolioa. 
Took  in  studding  sails. 

Do.  weather. 

1 

a 

II 

12 

8 
8 

Eddistone  light  N6W.                                 | 
Do.  weather.                                                  1 

I 

8 

5 
5 

- 

Eddistone  tight  NE. 

' 

3 
4 
5 

vv«s 

Do.  weather. 

6 

• 

Set  lower  studding  sails.                                ( 

J 

4 
6. 

• 

Fresh  breeze  and  clear  weather. 

9 

3 

lO 

5 

% 

II 

12 

2 

• 

Do.  weather. 

f 

CoaT8< 

i. 

Dist. 

D.L. 

57 

Dep. 

74 

N.  Latitude  by 

D.  Long 

AV.  Lon.  by 

W.  Var. 

1 

■ 

Ace. 

Ob«. 

■ 

.     Ace. 

1 

Obs. 

1 

S.  S^^'i 

W. 

93 

49°  11' 

49-9' 

ii4'W 

6"  18' 

aipts. 

Pnwia 


As  there  is  ho  land  in  sight  this  day  at  noon,  and  from  the  course  and  distance  run  since  the  last  beariogfiftk 
Eddistone  light  was  taken,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  any  part  of  England  will  be  seen,  the  departore  is  tkn- 
fore  taken  from  the  Eddistone  \  and  the  distance  of  the  ship  from  that  place  is  found  by  resolving  an  obliipic-iogM 
plane  triangle,  in  which  all  the  angles  are  given,  and  one  side,  namely,  the  distance  run  (16  miles)  between  tk 
observations.  Hence  the  distance  of  the  Eddistone  at  the  time  the  last  bearing  of  the  light  was  taken  vitt  W 
fbiHid  equal  to  1 8  miles  \  and  as  the  bearing  of  the  Eddistone  fi-om  the  ship  at  that  time  was  NE,  the  diip^  bear- 
ing firom  the  Eddistone  was  SE.  Now  the  variation  2}  points  W,  being  allowed  to  the  left  of  SW,  gives 
S^W^W,  the  true  course.  The  other  courses  are  in  like  manner  to  be  corrected,  and  inserted  in  the  following 
table,  toother  with  their  respective  distances,  beginning  at  10  o'clock  A..  M.  the  time  wlien  the  last  bcario^^f 
the  Eddistone  was  taken.  The  difference  of  latitude,  departure,  course,  and  distance  made  good,  are  to  be  mU 
by  Traverse  Sailing. 

Diff.  oi  Lat. 


Courses. 


SAWiW 

W^SiS 

SWJW 

S  52}°W 
Latitude 


Dist 


18 
22 

58 


N. 


Ji 


S. 


17.0 

5-3 
34-6 


Departure. 


E. 


ddistone 


56.9=57m. 
.        58     8N 


W. 


6.1 
21.3 
46.6 


74.0 


Latitude  by  account  -  49  iiN. 

Sum        ....         99  19 
Middle  latitude  -         -         49  40 

Now  to  middle  latitude  as  a  course,  and  the  depar- 
ture 74111.  in  a  latitude  column,  the  diiference  of  long. 


in  a  distance  column  is  1 14       =r 
Longitude  of  Eddistone 


54^. 
4    24  "W. 


Longitude  in  by  account      -      6    18W. 


Ahmnd 


J 


NAVIGATION. 

A  Journal  ftvm  England  towards  Madeira. 


Hours. 

Kq. 

Fa.            Courses. 

Winds. 

Remarks^  ])  October  7.  X793. 

X 

6 

5 

wsw 

NE 

Fresh  breezes. 

2 

6 
6 

5 

5 

Sounded  62  ^  fine  sand. 

3 
4 

3 

Moderate  and  cloudy. 

5 

5 

Unbent  the  cables,  and  coiled  them. 

6 

5 

N 

Took  in  studding  sails. 

7 

5 

8 

4 

7 

Do.  weather. 

9 

4 

5 

10 

4 

5 

t 

II 

4 

12 

4 

- 

Do.  weather. 

I 

4 

2 

4 

^ 

3 

4 

1 

4 

4 

• 

Light  breeze. 

5 

3 

SW5W 

NW 

6 

3 

A  sail  S6£. 

7 

3 

8 

3 

Hazy  weather. 

9 

3. 

sw 

Var. 

• 

10 

3 

II 

3 

12 

2 

1 

Do.  weather. 

N.  Lat 

itucie  by 

TV.  Long,  by 

Porto  Sanctons       1 

Caurflfi 

>« 

Dist 

D.L. 

Dep. 

D.  Long 

W.  Var 

! 

^i/WUAOV 

i« 

^^A«9b 

-A^*4i4« 

Ace. 

Obs. 

Ace. 

Obs. 

•  »  .       »   1*4. 

by  ace. 

Bearing. 

Distance. 

S.38"^ 

WT. 

?9 

78 

92 

47"  ;i' 

?3W. 

70  51' 

24  pts. 

S25°4W. 

974  m. 

The  courses  being  corrected  for  variation,  and  the  distances  summed  up,  the  work  will  be  as  under. 

Diff.  of  Lat. 


Courses. 


SWiS 

SSW^W 

S^WiW 


S  38<>  W 


Dist. 


77 
12 

II 


N. 


S. 


Departure.     I 


MMirtai 


57-0 
10.3 

10.4 


E. 


W. 


51-7 

6,2 

3-7 


99  JlllU  ^   ^'-^ 

1^8' 

Yesterday's  lat.  by  obser.  =49  9  N 

Latitude  by  account  =^47  5I  N 

Sum         -  -  -         97    o 

Middle  latitude  -  48  30 

To  middle  latitude  487^,  and  departure  61.6  in  a 
latitude  column,  the  corresponding  difference  of  longi- 
tude in  a  distance  column  is  93'       =  '^ 
Yesterday's  longitude 

Lon|ritndc  in  by  account 


1*'  33'  W; 
9    18  W. 

7    51  W. 


ft  is  now  necesisaiy  to  find  the  bearing  and  distance  of  the  intended  port,  namely,  Funchal  \  but  as  that  plaoo 
IS  on  the  uppotiite  side  of  the  island  with  respect  to  tlie  ship,  it  is  therefore  fliore  proper  to  find  the  bearing  of  the  ease 
or  west  end  of  Madeira ;  the  east  end  is,  however,  preferable.  But  as  the  small  island  of  Porto  Sancto  lies  a  little  t<i 
the  N£  of  the  east  end  of  Madeira,  it  therefbra  seems  more' eligible  to  fiod-lke  1>earing  and  distance  of  that  island. 

To>find  the  bearing  and  distance  of  Porto  'Sancto. 
Latitude  of  ship  47^  51'N.  Mer.  parts     3278  Longitude  of  sbtp  7^51'^. 

Lat:  of  Porto  Sancto      32   58  N.  Mcr.  parts     2097  Xon.  of  Fortp  Sancto  16   25  W. 

Difference  of  ktitnde  14   5^=893.       M.  D.  Lat.    Xi8t  Difference  of  long.         8    i4=rci4. 

The  course  answering  to  the  meridional  difierence  of  latitude  and  difference  of  longitude  is  about  li^i  and  the 
illHtance  corresponding  to  the  difference  of  latitude  isp74  miles.  Now  as  Ptrto  Sancto  lies  to  the  southward  and 
westward  of  the  ship,  the  course  is  therefore  S  23^7  W  :  and  the  variation,  becadse  W,  being  allowed  to  the  right 
hand,  gives  SW|  W  nearly,  the  bearing  per  compass  \  and  which  is  the  course  that  ought  to  be  steered. 

4^2  A  Jwmol 


yi6 


SJiip's 
JournaU 


NAVIGATION. 

A  Journal frani  England  towards  Madura, 


Hours. 

Kn. 

Fa. 

• 

Courseft. 

Winds. 

'Retnark^y  ^  October  8.  I793.              ^ 

I 

2 

3 

2 
I 

.  SW 

• 

NW 
Variable. 

Little  vind  and  oloady. 

Tried  the  current,  and  found  non^. 

*  4 

5 
6 

7  Skip's  head  to 
r       the  SW 

J 

. 

Calm. 

7 
8 

9 

lO 

I 

^       Ship^s  head 
I  from  SW  to  SSE 
3           WSW 

S 

Calm  'y  a  long  swell  from  the  SW. 

11 

12 

I 

I 
2 
2 

1 

Light  nirs  and  hazj. 

2 

3 

4 

J   * 
6 

2 

2 

3 

3 

W 

^      QftW 

Modenite  wind  and  cloudy. 
Set  top^Uant  sails. 

^ 

• 

9 

10 

11 

12 

WfN 

SSW 

By  double  altitudes  of  the  sun,  the  latitude 
was  found  to  be  47*  28'  N. 

Coarw 

»• 

^ 

Diet. 

D.L. 

Dep. 

N.L« 

tilodeby 

D.  LoBfi 

W.  Leg.  by 

W.Var* 

Forto  SanctoS 

Ace 

0[>a. 

Acc. 

Okm. 

Bearing.  Dbtanoe. 

S6i^' 

(^ 

i» 

2^ 

« 

47°  ^8' 

47^  18' 

67' W. 

8038' 

2  points. 

S2l*W|     932 

The  several  courses  corrected  will  be  as  under. 


Courses. 


SSW 

aw 

WSW 
W^SJS 

S6i*^W 


Dist. 


3 

23 
22 

'5 


Diff.  of  Latit. 


N. 


S.         E. 


2.8 
9.2 
8.4 
4.4 


Departure. 


W. 


24.8  =  25 


I.I 

9.2 

20.3 
144 


Yesterday^a  latit«id«.       47     51 


45-0 


Latitude  bj  Mconnt       47     26 

Siwi         .         -        .  77 

Mj4dlel^tQde      -        47    39 
To  middle  latitude  37<t°»  ^Dd  departmc^  45'  in  a 
latitude  eolamn,  the  difference  of  longitude  in  a  di* 
stanoa  column  is  67'       =         i^  7'W. 

Yesterday's  longitade       7  JiW* 

I  Longitude  in  by  account  8  58  W. 


Latitude  of  ship 
Lat.  of  Forto  SaoctQ 


To  find  the  baaong  and  distiuica  of  Porto  Stiwto, 


47°  28.N. 
32    58  N. 


Mef.  piMTU    3244 
Mer.  puts    2097 


9f  j^W. 
16    35  W. 


Difference  of  latitude         14     ^zzhno    M;  D.  lat     1147  D«  longitude   7     27=447 

Hence  the  bearing  of  Portia  3wM:tq  ift  S  ;ti^  W,  and  dsstaii«e  9^2  mile9.    Tht  course  per  ^Tfrr  i« 

8W  n^arl^r. 

4^. 


EVactice. 


S]Up*f 
JoanuU* 


NAVIGATION. 


717 


Hours, 

TCn. 

■Fa. 

5 

4 
6 

Courses. 

"    ^finds. 

Remarks,  9   iktober  9.  1793. 

I 

2 

3 

4 

5 
6 

m 

SE^S 

SWAS 

Squfiily  with  rain. 

In  first  reef  topsails. 

Dark  gloomy  weather.     Tacked  ship. 

In  2d  reef  topsails,  and  down  top-^gallant  ^acds. 

7 
8 

9 

10 

11 
12 

I 

'  9 

3 

] 

3 

6 

5 

up  SE&S  off  ES£ 
upWSWoffWNW 

• 

Stormy  weather ;  in  fore  and  mizen  top*8ails  and  3d 
reef  main  top-sail.     Handed  the  main  top-sail,  t^ent 
the  main  stay-sail,  and  brought  to  witiv  it  and  the 
mizen  ^  reefed  the  mainsail  *,  at  10,  wore  and  lay  to* 
under  the  mainsail,  got  down  top-gallant  nmsts ',  at 
1 2  set  the  foresail,  and  balanced  the  nijzen. 

2 

3 

3 

3 

WNW 

sw 

< 
The  sea  stove  in  several  half  ports. 

4 

5 
6 

I 

9 
10 

3 
4 
4 
3 

J 

2 

W^N 

• 

8WiS 

The  swell  abates  a  little. 

• 

The- swell  abates  fast; 

3 
3 
4 

4 
4 

W 

ssw 

Up  top-gallant  mast& 
Set  the  top-sails. 

1  1 

12 

5 
5 

Clear  weather  ^  good  observation. 

Coutte. 

Dist. 

D.L. 

41 

N.  Lai 

Utude  by. 

D.LfiDg- 

tV.  Jjong.  by 

\V.  Var. 

Porta  Saocto'k 

Aoc. 

Ob, 

Ace.      Obs* 

1 

Bearing. 

Distance. 

WiNtN  ■ 

-3 

12 

47*  40' 

1  4f  S?* 

61' 

fS9f 

^points 

xiKve  19  no  feeway  alloweti  nntil  two"  w  c lock ■  *  .  At.  wneff  tiie* TOt^ sal  1  ant  safn^  av^  loaoB  '1^9  woh^  3  *♦  y^fM^' 
point  isalbwed  $  f>om  3  t#  6^  one  and  a  ht}£  points  aro  aUawed  ;  from  6  to  8^  on&  and  three-fourth  points  are 
allowed  *,  from  8  («  9,  three  points  $  fnm  9>t»  io^  ^mit  and^ »  half  pointe  ^  from  10  ta  1 2,  five  points }  from  12 
to  10  A.  M*  three  and  a  half  pobts  j  and  iWm  thence  to  noon  tve  poinia  le^iniay  are  allowed.  Now  the  several 
coones  hetog  corrected  by  variadoo  and  kemy  will  he  as  under ;  but  ea  tW  coBreeted  courses  firov  2  ta  3  P.  M* 
and  from  10  to  1 2  A.  M.  are  tkesame^  namely,  west;  this,  Uiercfofc^is  iDScrted  in  the  table,  together  with  the 
sum  of  the  distances,  as  a  single  course  and  distance.  In  like  manner  the  courses  from  1 2  to  2,  and  from  5  to  8  < 
being  the  same,  are  inserted  as  a  single  course  and  distance. 


m            >      ** 

Difi;efLat. 

Depertnre.. 

lViairc*a 

Dist. 

■ 

■   N. 

.    S. 

lu- 

w. 

WAS 

10  ' 

2jO 

9.8 

w 

^5-5 

^5  5 

WfN- 

5-4 

0.5 

J4 

ZbSiS 

10.6 

3-» 

10. 1 

£^iS 

8 

1.9 

7.a 

E 

3 

.  3-<^ 

NE*E 

1 

.      0.6 

0.8 

NWAW 

2 

I.I 

*-7 

NWaViW 

17.2 

8.1 

% 

NWfW 

I 

7.0 

WANiN 

7-4 

2.1 

7-' 

>9-4 

7.0 

21.7 

63.2 

WANfN 

43 

7.0 

21.7 

12.4 

41.5 

Yest^  lalitede    47  28  Nv 

Lat  by  account  47  40  N. 

To  middle  latitude  37^  34',  and  departure  41.5  the 

diffierenc^  of  longitude  is  6i'=i^  I'W. 
YeMerday'0  longitude        8  5SW« 

Longitude  in  by  account    9  59  ^V* 

Ship*^ 
Journai. 


4  T^urmti 


7i8 


.  Slup*s 
Journal. 


NAVIGATION. 

A  Journey  from  Englaml  towards  Madeira. 


Practice, 


JomiL 


Hoars. 


I 

2 

3 

4 

5 
6 

7 
8 

9 

10 

II 

12 

I 
2 

3 

4 

5 
6 

7 
8 

9 

10 

II 

12 


Kn. 


5 

5 
6 

6 

6 

6 


Fa. 


3 
7 


Courses. 


■fci*«B«a««*Ai 


w 


"VYinds. 


ssW 


6 

4 
5 

2 


3 

4 
6 

3 
4 


wsw 


SWAW 


- 


Reioarksi  %  October  lo.  1793. 


■JM 


Fresh  gales  with  rain. 


Do.  weather. 

Out  3d  reef  topsails. 

Lost  a  log  and  line. 

Do.  weather. 


Do.  weather. 


SS£ 


SE^S 


Course. 


S  74*  W. 


Dist 


108 


D.L. 


36 


Dep. 


104 


N.  Tiatitude  by 


Ace. 


47  V 


Obs. 


Moderate  and  cloudy,  out  all  ree&i 

Sprung  fore  topgallant  yard,  got  up  another. 

Do.  weather. 
A  sail  N£. 

Employed  working  op  junk. 
A  swell  from  the  N W,  which  by  estimation  has 
.  .  set  ship  7  miles  in  the  opposite  direction. 


D.Xong. 


153'  w. 


W.  Long,  by 


Ace. 


12**  31' 


Obs. 


W.  Var. 


2  Points. 


Porto  Sanctons 


Bearing. 


Sl2«W, 


Distance. 


87001. 


■■I. 


iWMM»a 


Two  points  leeway  are  allowed  on  the  first  coarse,  one  on  the  second  j  and  as  the  ship  is  7  points  from  die 
wind  on  the  third  course,  there  is  no  leeway'  allowed  on  it.  The  opposite  point  to  NW,  that  from  nvhich  tlie 
IS  well  set,  with  the  variation  alloived  t^n  it,  is  the  lastxonrse  in  the  Trayerse  Table. 


Courses. 


<  ■  1. 1 


W 

SW6W 

SWAS 
ESE 

S74  w 


Dist 


86.2 

12.3 
24.7 

7 
108 


DiflF.  of  Lat. 


N. 


& 


6.8 
20.5 

1-7 


Departure. 


E. 


6.5 


6.5 


W. 


86.2 
10.2 

13-7 


ird.i 
6.5 


103.6 


Latitude  of  ship 
Lat.  Port  Sancto 


30.0 
Yesterday's  latitude      4739 

Latitude  by  account       47     9 
Sum         -         -  48 

Middle  latitude  47  24 

To  middle  latitude  47  24,  and  departure  i03.1S,the 
difference  of  longitude  is  153'         =  2°  33'W. 

Yesterday's  longitude  -  9   59  ^' 

12    32 W. 

To  find  the  bearing  and  distance  of  Porto  SanetO. 
47^  9'         Mer.  parts         -         3216         Longitude 
32  58         Mer.  pai'ts         -         2097         Longitude 


12**  32^V 
16   25  W 


Difference  of  latitude         14  11=851' M.  D.  hit.  11 19         D.  Longitude  353=233 

Hence  the  bearing  of  Porto  iSancto  is  S  12^  W,  kcA  distance  870  miles  ^  the  coursb  per  compass  is  thexciff« 
mbout  SW6W.  ... 

AJoMTMi 


Practice. 


NAVIGATION. 


719 


— > ' 

A  JmitTudfrom  England  to  Madeira. 

Ship*f 
Jounud. 

y — ^ — 

ta 

Hours* 

Kd. 

Fa. 

Courses. 

Winds. 

Bemarks^    $  October  xi.  1793. 

\ 

• 

I 

4 

SW6S 

ESE 

Moderate  wind  and  fair  weather. 

• 

2 

3 

Shortened  sail  and  set  up  the  topmast  rigging. 

3 
4 
5 

2 
i 

Do.  weather. 

Variation  per  annplitude  2i°  W. 

6          4| 

6 

* 

7 

4 

4 

s  * 

• 

r 

8 

4 

5 

A  fine  steady  breeze. 

9 

10 

5 

•# 

E 

By  an  observation  of  the  moon^s  distance  from 

5 

«t  Fegasi,  the  ship^s  longitude  at  half  past  8 

11 

5 

was  12^  28' ^V. 

12 

5 

2 

Clear  weather. 

I 

5 

7 

* 

2 

6 

3 

6 

ENE 

4 

6 

Do.  weather. 

* 

5 

6 

2 

6 

6 

• 

7 

6 

3 

• 

8 

6 

•^ 

Set  studding  sails,  &p. 

9 

7 

xo 

• 

I 

One  sail  in  sight* 

II 

■ 

12 

8 

Do.  weather,  good  observation. 

f 

N.  Latitude  by 

W.  Long,  by 

W.Vm. 
Obserred. 

Porto  Saiicto*8 

Course. 

Dist. 

DX. 

Dep 

D.  Long 

Ace. 

'     Obs. 

Ace. 

Obs. 

Bearing. 

Distance. 

Si2°4yw. 

128 

125 

28 

45"  4' 

44*59 

41*^  W. 

13"  '3' 

"'59' 

ii" 

S  !»•  W. 

737  miles. 

The  observed  variation  21  **  being  aHowed  to  the  left  of  SW^  gives  S'12*'  45' W,  the  corrected  course,  and 
the  distance  summed  up  is  1 27.9,  or  1 28  miles.  Hence  the  difference  of  latitude  is  1 24.8,  and  "the  departure 
28^2.  The  latitude  by  account  is  therefore  45^  4'  N,-  and  the  middle  latitude  46^  6',  to  which,  and  the  depar- 
ture 28.2  in  a  latitude  column,  the  difference  of  longitude  in  a  distance  column  is  41'"^^;  which  being  added  to  * 
12^  32'  W,  the  yesterday^s  longitude  gives  13^  13'  W,  the  longitude  in  by  account.  But  the  longitude  by  ob- 
servation was  X  2^  28'  W  at  half  past  ^  P.  M.  ^  since  that  tinie  the  ship  has  run  96  miles  j  hence  the  departure  ^ 
in  that  interval  is  21.2  m.  Now  half  the  difference  of  latitude  47  m.  added  to  44^  59^,  the  latitude  by  observa- 
tion at  noon,  the  sum  45^  46'  is  the  middle  latitude  \  with  whichand  the  departure  21. 2,  the  difference  of  lon- 
gitude is  found  to  be  31'  W ;  wfaicb,  therefore,  added  to  12^ '28',  the  longitude  observed,  the  sum  is  12^  59*  ^9 
the  longitude  by  observation  reduced  to  noon. 


Latitude  ship 
Lat.  Porto  Sancto 

Difference  of  latitude 


To  find  the  bearing  and  distance  of  Porto  Sancto. 

44^.  S^  N.     Mer.  parts     -     3028         Longitude 
32   58  N.     Mer.  parts  •  -     2097  .       Longitude 


12^  ssf  w 

16    25  W 


12  ^   1=721  M.  D.lat.  931    D.  Longitude         *    *     3   26=:2o6' 

Hence  tlie  bearing  of  Porto  Sancto  is  S  12^  W,  and  distance  737  miles.    The  course  to  be  steered  is  there* 
fore  S  zf  W,  or  SmS  nearly. 


A  Journal 


720 


Sliip's 
JoBrnal. 


N  A  V  I  G  A  T  I  ON. 

A  Hmmaijrom  Enghnd  to  Madeira. 


Practkt 


Hours* 


I 


I 

2 

3 

4 

5" 
6 

7 
8 

9 

lO 
IZ 
12 

I 
2 

3 
4 

J 

7 
8 

9 

10 

II 

12 


Kn.    Fa. 


8 

7 
8 

8 

8 

8 


Cparse* 


8 
8 
8 

7 
8 


6 

4 

5  j 

3 

4 

2 

6 

J 


SWiS 


Wioda. 


E*N 


KeoMriUy  ^  October  12. 1795. 


3 

2 


8  13°  51' W. 


ENE 


Fresh  gales,-  and  cloud  v. 

Do.  weather. 

Hauled  down  studding  sails. 

Do.  weather. 


A  steady  gale  and  fine  veadier. 


Do.  weather. 


Out  studding  sails  alow  and  aloft. 
Variation  per  azimuth  20®  t/f  W, 
A  sail  in  the  SW  quarter. 

Sailroaker  altering  a  lower  studding  sail. 
Fine  weather,  and  cloudj. 


.183 


D.L.  Deph 


17S 


43 


N»  Latitode  by 


Acc^ 


42^1' 


Obs. 


13*  JjOttg. 


W.  Long,  -by 


Aoc. 


5^W.    14°  12^13^  58' 


Obs. 


W.  Var. 
Obs. 


20*  14' 


Porto  Sanctons 


Bearing. 


St2(»f4' 


Distance. 


J55«- 


The  course  corre<;ted  by  variation  is  S  23  Ji^Wy  and  the  distaoco  xnu  is  183  imlos;  boace  tho  diSereaee  «r 
latitude  is  I77*9r  and  Uie  depoctufo  42.8. 

Yesterday^s  latitode  by  observatioa  44^  S9'^'  Mev*  parts  -  -  3028 

DiiFerenco  of  latltirfe  -  2    jd  S. 


Latitude  ia  by  aocaoat 


i<  ii«i    tf 


42     .1 


N. 


Mer.  paits 


2783 


Meridional  differenee  of  latitude  -  ->  -  -  -  -  -  245 

Now  to  course  13-}-%  and  maridional  diffenenoe  of  latitode  245  ia  a  latitude  cokmHa^  the  differcaice  of  loogitak 
in  a  departure  column  is  59'W :  hence  the  longitudes  of  yesterday  by  account  aad  observatioB,  redooed  to  tk 
noon  of  this  day,  will  be  14''  12'W  and  13^  58'  respectively. 


Latitude  ship 
Lat.  Porto  Sancto 


To  find  the  bearing  and  di9tance  of  Porto  Sancto. 
42^  I'N.  Mer.  parts        -         2783     Longitude 

3258N.  Mer.  parts        -         2097     Longitude 


Difference  of  latitude        9    3^=543       M.  D.  latitu^  686    D.  Longitude 


16    25  W 
2    27:ri47- 


The  meridional  ^fference  of  latitude  and  difierence  of  longitude  inll  be  Jbaud  to  agree  nearest  under  12,  tk 

•correct  bearing  of  Porto  Sancto  ^  and  the  variation  being  allowed  to  the  right  hand  of  S  r2^'W,  gives  S  527* 

W,  the  bearing  per  compass;  and  the  distance  answering  to  the  difference  of  latitude  543,  under  12  degrees,  is 


AJwnd 


i^ractice. 


8hip*s 
Journal. 


n 


oiin. 


Kn.     Pa. 


I 

a 

3 

4 

J 
6 

7 
8 

9 

lO 

II 

12 

1 

3 

4 

5 
6 

1 

9 

lO 

II 

12 


8 
8 
8 
8 
8 
8 
8 

7 
7 
7 
7 

7 


7 
7 

.7 

i 

8 
8 
8 
8 

1. 


Course. 


S6W4W 


5 
6 


5 
4 

2 


t; 


uises. 


NAVIGATION. 

A  JoKmolfiom  Ef^hmd  towards  Madeirc 

Renutiiis,  ©  October  13.  i793« 


SWiS 


WiaJs. 


eKe 


ESE 


^ii^ 


A  steady  gale,  and  fine  weather. 

At  34  minutes  past  three,  the  distance  between  the 
nearest  limbs  of  the  sun  and  moon,  together  with 
the  altitude  of  each,  were  observed  \  from  whence 
the  ship's  longitude  at  that  time  is  14^  l' W. 

Hauled  in  the  lower  studding-sails. 
At  9^  22',  by  an  observation  of  the  moon's  distance 
from  «  Pegasii  the  longitude  was  14®  id  W. 

Fresh  gales,  and  clear. 


Dist 


184 


D.L. 


178 


Dep. 


N.  Latitude  by 


Do.  weather. 


Variation  per  amplitude  19^  51' W. 

Do.  per  azimuth  19^  28' W.     8et  studding-sails. 

Carried  away  a  fore-top-mast-studding-«ail  boom,  got 

up  another. 
Fresh  gales.     Took  in  studding^-sails, 


Ace. 


45  I   39°  3^ 


Obs. 


D.XfQng. 


W'W. 


W.  Long,  by 


Ace. 


ic*>  iii 


Obs. 


'4^52^ 


W.  Var. 
by  Obfc 


lipte. 


Forto  Sancto's 


Bearing. 


Distance. 


721 

Ship's 


The  mean  of  the  variation  is  about  i^-  points  W :  hence  the  course  corrected  is  S&WjpW  ^  with  which  and  the 
distance  run  184  miles,  the  difference  of  latitude  is  178.5,  and  the  departure  44<7«     • 

Yesterday's  latitude         -         -  "       -         42®     I'N.  Mcr.  parts  ...  2783 

Difference  of  latitude  --2588. 


Latitude  in  by  account 


39      3N. 


Mer.  parts 


^549 


Meridional  difference  of  latitude  ......  .  234 

Now,  to  course  i^  points,  and  meridional  difference  of  latitude  234,  the  diffisrence  of  longitude  is  about  59  m.) 
whieh,  added  to  the  yesterday's  longitude  by  account  14^  12'W,  the  sum  15^  ii'lV  is  the  longitude  in  by  ac- 
count at  noon.     The  longitudes  by  observation  are  reduced  to  noon  as  follow : 

The  distance  run  between  noon  and  3^  34'  P.  M.  is  29  miles  ^  to  which,  and  the  course  x^  points,  the  difier* 
ence  of  latitude  is  -  -  28' 

Yesterday's  latitude  at  noon  -  -         42*     I'N. 


Latitude  at  time  of  observation 
Latitude  at  noon 


41    33 N. 

39     3N. 


Mer.  parts 
Mer.  parts 


2746 
2549 


Meridional  difference  of  latitude  -  -  -  -  -  «  -*-  197 

Then,  to  course  x^  points,  and  meridional  difference  of  latitude  197  in  a  latitude  column,  the  difference  of 

longitude  in  a  departure  column  is  49' Wj  which  added  to  14°  x'W,  the  longitude  by  observadon,  the  sum 

14^  jo'W  is  the  longitude  reduced  to  noon. 
Again,  the  distance  run  between  the  preceding  noon  and  9^  22'  P.  M.  is  75  miles :  hence  the  corresponding 

difference  of  latitude  is  72.8,  or  73  miles  \  the  ship's  latitude  at  that  time  is  therefore  40^  48' N. 

Latitude  at  time  of  observation  •  40*  48'  N  Mer.  parts  ...  ^686 

Latitude  at  noon        -        -        •         -  39     3  ^  Mer.  parts  -  •  ^549 

Meridional  difference  of.  latitude  -  -  -  -  -  -  *137 

Now,  with  the  corrected  course,  and  meridional  difference  of  latitude,  the  difference  of  lonsitudo  is  34'  W  ;  ^ 

which  added  to  40^  20'  W,  the  sum  is  14^  54' ^9  ^^s  reduced  longitude.    The'  mean  of  ff bicA  and  the  fonner 

reduced  longitude  is  X4^  52'  W«  the  correct  longitude. 

Vox..  XIV.  Part  TI.  t  4  Y  A  Journal 


722 

S1dp*8 
JmrnaL 


NAVIGATION. 

A  Jfmmaljrmn  England  towards  Madnra. 


Hours. 

Kb. 

Fa. 

Cttoxaes. 

Will«l8. 

.             Remarks^  ^  October  14^  1793. 

X 
2 

3 

4 

8 

7 
7 
7 
7 
.7 

5 
J 

4 

X 

SW6S 

ssw 

EM 

Fresh  gales  and  hazy,  single  reefed  ti^sails. 

Got  down  topgallant  yards. 

Do.  weather,  and  a  coofased  sirell  nmiiing. 

I 

2 

5 

More  moderate. 

9 

lO 

6 
5 

ft 

Variable 

IX 
12 

X 

5 
4 
3 

• 

# 

Do.  with  lightning  all  round  the  conpus. 

2 

3 
4 
5 

3 
3 
4 
5 

5 

sw^ 

SE«3 

Squally,  with  rain. 

6 

7 
8 

9 

xo 

XX 
12 

4 

2 
2 

3 
3 

4 

5 

J 

5 
S 

sw 
vvsw 

SSE 
£ 

Moderate  weather  j   out  reef,  and  op  top> 
gallant  yurds. 

At  I  ih  xcy  A.M.  the  latitude  from  dooblealu- 
tndes  of  the  sun  was  37^  ic/.  Clear  weather. 

Course 

• 

Dist. 

D.L. 

Defk 

N.  Latitude  by 

D.  Long 

W.  Long,  by 

W.Var. 

Forto  Sanctt*s 

Ace. 

Obs. 

Ace      Obs. 

Bearing. 

Ditfaoct 

1     Si6*W 

ii6 

III 

32 

37°  12' 

37' 8' 

41'  W. 

15*  52':  X  5®  33' 

x^  pts. 

S  lo^W. 

254  m. 

As  the  the  ship  is  close  hauled  from  2  o^clock  A.  M.  x^  points  leeway  are  allowed  upon  that  course  and  tpooit 
OA  the  two  following  courses. 


Courses. 


S^WiW 

SJW 

ssw^w 

SW|8 
SWAWJW 

S  16^  w 


Dist. 


Diff.  of  Lat. 


N. 


30 

54. 

'9 

9-5 
116 


S. 


29.1 

53-9 
J  6.8 

6.8 

4.9 


Departure. 


E. 


I 


W. 


7-3 
2.7 

9»a 


Yesterday^s  latitude 
Latitude  in  by  account 


3^-2 


|rii.5=i<>5X' 

i2_3lM.  lat.38°7' 
37  '2J.  "^     ^ 


To  middle  latitude  38%  and  departure  32.2  in  a  la 
titude  column,  the  di£Ference  of  longitude  in  a  distance, 
column  is  41^ 

Yesterday's  Ion.  by  account  ij^li'W.byob.  14^52^. 
Difference  of  longitude  41  W.  41  W. 

Longitude  in » 


j_22 


IS^M 


w. 


The  latitude  by  observation  at  j  ^h  10'  A.  M.  is  37°  xo',  and  from  that  time  till  noon  the  ship  has  na  absot  ^ 
4^  miles.  Hence  the  corresponding  difference  of  latitude,  is  two  miles,  which  subtracted  from  the  latitode  obscrre^ 
gives  37®  8',  the  latitude  reduced  to  noon. 

To  find  the,  bearing  and  distance  of  Porto  Sancto. 

Latitude  of  ship         -  37*  8^^  -         Mer.  parts.  2403         -         Longitude         -         if^Sf^ 

Latitude  of  Port  Sancio       32  58  N.  .         Mer.  parts.   2097         -         Longitude         •         16  2$^ 

Difierenoe  of  latitude  4  10=250  M.  D.  lat.      306  Diff.  longitude  JT" 

Hence  ^t  beaang  of  Port  Sancto  is  8  10*^ W,  or  SSWJW  nearly,  ptnr  compass,  and  the  distaAce  is  au"^ 


E¥ftctic6« 


Hours. 


X 

2 

3 

4 

J 
6 

I 

9 

lO 

II 

12 
I 
2 

3 

4 

J 

6 

I 

9 

lO 

II 

12 


Kn. 


4 
4 
3 
3 
3 
3 
3 
3 
4 
4 
3 
3 
3 
4 
3 

2 
2 

3 
3 
3 
4 
5 
5 
5 


Fa. 


NAVIGATION. 

A  Journal  from  England  towards  Madeira, 


7^3 


6 

4 


5 
3 


4 
6 


Coursed. 


WW 


W^N 


W 

WNW 
NW^W 


Si£ 


Winds. 


SAW 


HemarkSy  ^October  15.  1793. 


SWJ8 


Variable. 


SW*W 


Coune.       Dial 


s,  6y  W.     s6 


D.L. 


21 


Dep. 


i* 


N.  Latitude  by 


Moderate  and  clear  weather. 

Employed  working  points  and  rape-bands. 
Ditto  weather. 


Fine  clear  weather. 


Ditto  weather* 


JoumaL 


Aoc« 


36°  4/ 


Obs. 


Variation  per  mean  of  several  arimnths  18^  o'  W. 
Ditto  weather.     Tacked  ship. 

Sail-makers  making  wind-sails. 

A  fine  steady  breeze.     Cloudy. 


D.  Loagt 


65^  W. 


W.  Liong.  by 


Ace. 


16°  ir 


Obs. 


i^b 


16^38' 


W.Var. 
by  Obs. 


d>i»«i 


18^ 


Forte  Sanctons 


Bearing. 


SJE. 


Distance. 


229 


Half  a  point  of  leeway  is  allowed,  on  each  course  \  hut  as  the  yariation  is  expressed  in  degrees,  it  will  be  more 
oonyenient  and  accurate  to  reduce  the  several  courses  into  one,  leeway  only  being  allowed  upon  them.  The  course 
thus  found  is  then  to  be  corrected  for  Yariation^  with  trhich  and  the  distance  made  good  the  difference  of  latitude 
and  depaiture  sre  to  be  found. 

Diff.  of  Latitude.  Depart 


Courses. 


W48 
W5NiN 

WiN 

NW^WlW 

NW4W 

S&EfE 


S86**W. 
Var.     18  W. 


Dist. 


18 

27 

7 

2 

12 

20 


5<5 


TT 


7.8 
0.7 
0.9 
7.6 


17.0 


1.8 


1 9. 1 


are. 


X 


5.8 


20.9 
17.0 


3-9 


5-8 


17.9 

25.8 

7.0 

1.8 

9-3 


5.8 


56.0 


Tr.  GOUT.  S68  W.  to  which  and  the  distance  56  m.  the  difference 
of  latitude  is  ^i  m.  and  the  departure  51.9  m.  Hence  the  la- 
titude in  at  nooil  is  36^  47'  W,  and  middle  latitude  36°  58^  to 
which  and  the  departure  51.9  in  a  latitude  column^  the  differ- 
ence of  longitude  in  distance  column  is  6$^  W. 
Yesterday's  long,  by  ace.  if  52'W.  By  obs.  if  33'W. 
Difieience  of  longitude  i      5  W.  i     5  W. 


Longitude  in 


16 


il 


16  38  W. 


To  find  the  bearinir  and  distance  of  Porto  Sancto. 
Latitode  ship  36*  ^t  oLet.  parts     2376  Lon^tude 

Lat.  of  Porto  Sancto     32  50  N.  Mer.  parts     2097  Longitude 

Dist.  of  latitode  3   49  =  229.       M.  D.  Lat.      279  D  .Longitude 

feknoe  tht  coune  is  SyE,  distance  229  ndles  \  and  the  course  per  compass  is  SiW^W  nearly* 

4  Y2 


i6<>38'W. 
16   25  W. 


o  1^ 


AJoumSl 


724 

Sliip*! 
Joiraal. 


NAVIGATION. 

A  Journal frwn  England  towards  Madeira* 


Praetict 


Hoon. 


I 

2 

3 

4 

5 
6 

I 

9 
xo 

XI 
X2 

X 
2 

3 

4 

J 

6 

9 

lO 

II 

12 


Kn. 

6 
6 


Fa. 


8 
8 
8 
8 
8 
8 
8 

9 
9 
9 

9 
9 

1 


Connes. 


8^E 
8 


4 
6 


Wmdfl. 


8W«W 
W 


Seinarksy   {f  October  i6.  1793. 


Fresh  gales* 


Do.  and  cloudy. 


8^W 


NW 


A  steady  fresh  gale« 


Do.  weather. 


8*WiW 


N 


NEAE 


Do.  weather. 


Variation /ler  amplitude  i-^  points  W. 
People  employed  occasionally. 


Do.  weather.     Observed  sun^s  meridian  altitude. 


Course* 


88»E 


DisLD.L. 


186 


185 


Dep. 


26 


N.  Latit.  by 


Ace. 


O    ^4» 


33°  4* 


Obs. 


33*  46' 


D.  Long. 


31' E. 


W,  Long,  by 


Ace. 


i6*  26' 


Obs. 


16^7' 


W.  Var. 
Obs. 


If  pts. 


Porto  Sanctons 


Bearing. 


8  17^  W. 


Distsnee. 


50  mOei. 


Half  a  point  of  leeway  is  allowed  -on  the  first  course  \  which,  and  the  others,  are  corrected  for  ▼aziation  as  assiL 


Diff.  of  Lat. 

Departure. 

i<Aiim^a 

DlBt. 

X/UUXoCo. 

MJUiVm 

N. 

s. 

E. 

W. 

8EAS 

12^ 

10.3 

6.9 

8*E4E. 

43- 

41.2 

'2-5 

8|E 

6s. 

64.7 

6.4 

8 
88''E 

68.5 
18.6 

68.5 

^ 

184.7 

25.8 

3*^ 

1 

Yesterday's  latitude 

3<»   47  N. 

Latitude  by  account 

33   4>N. 

Sum         .         .         . 

70   29 

Middle  latitude 

3J    »5 

To  middle  latitude 

and  the  departure,  the  differ- 

ence  of  longitude  in  a 

distance  colaroa  ii  31'  £. 

Yesterday's  long,  by  ac 

c.a6°  57'W.byob8.  i6«  jS'W. 

Difference  of  long. 

•     0  3 

i£.      •        0  3i£. 

Longitude  in 

16     2< 

SW. 

16 

7W.I 

To  find  the  bearing  and  distance  of  Porto  Sancto. 
Latitude  of  ship      -      33^  46'Nk        Mer.  parts        -         2155        Longitude 
Lat.  Port  Sancto       -     32    58  N.        Mer.  parts         -         2097         Longitude 

Difference  of  latitude  48  Mer.  diff.  lat.  58  Diff.  long. 

Hence  the  bearing  o£  Porto  Sancto  is  S  x  7^  w,  distance  50  miles*. 


i6*  yw 

16  ajW 


dJmn-i 


Practioet 

SUpN 

Joiinuu* 


NAVIGATION. 

A  Journal  from  England  towards  Madeira.' 


7^S 

sup's 
JoornaJ. 


Hours* 


X 

2 

3 

4 

5 
6 

7 
8 

9 

10 

II 

12 

I 
2 

3 
4 

9 

lo 

II 

12 


Kb.   Fa. 


5 

J 
5 

J 

5 
6 

6 

i 

7 

7 
6 

6 

5 

6 

7 
6 


Coone. 


ssw 
s 


ssw 


Various. 

NNW 
NWAN 


Wbds. 


NEAE 


This  joaraal  is  performed  bj  inspection  agreeable  to 
tbe  precepts  given.  Otbtr  methods  might  have  been 
nsed  for  Uie  same  purpose  \  for  which  the  two  instm* 
ments  already  described  and  explained  seem  well  adap- 
ted. We  eannotf  however,  omit  recommending  tbe 
sliding  gunter,  which  will  be  found  very  ezpeditions, 
not  only  in  performing  a  day's  work,  but  also  in.  re- 
solving most  other  nautical  problems..  See  SlidisO' 
Gunter. 

It  will  be  found  very  satisfactory  to  lay  down  tbe 
ship's  place  on  a  chart  at  the  noon  of  each  day,  and 
her  situation  with  respect  to  the  place  bound  to,  and 
the  nearest  land,  will  be  obvious.  The  bearing  and  di- 
stance of  the  intended  or  any  other  port,  and  other  re^ 
^uisites,  may  be  easily  found  by  the  chart  as  already 
explained  ;  and  indeed,  every  day's  work  may  be  per- 
fornncd  on  the  chart  \  and  thus  the  use  of  tables  super- 
seded. 

EXPLANATION  of  thb  TABLES. 

Table  I.  To  rtduce  points  of  the  compass  to  degrees^ 

and  conversely, 

Tbe  two  first  and  two  last  columns  of  this  table  oon*- 
tain  the  several  points  and  quarter-points  of  the  com- 
pass 'y  the  third  eolumn  contains  the  corresponding  num- 
ber of  points  and  quarters;  and  the  fourth,  the  degrees 
&c.  answering  thereto..  The  manner  of  using  tbb  table 
is  obvioos. 


Semarks,  k  October  27.  1793. 


Moderate  wind  and  clear. 

Saw  the  island  of  Porto  Sancto,  SW6S. 

Hauled  up  to  round  the  east  end  of  Porto  Sancto. 

Bent  the  cables. 


Squally  weather. 
Port  Sancto  SW6S. 


Ditto  with  rain.    Porto  Sancto  NE. 
The  Deserters  SW6S. 


The  Deserters  WSW.  3  or  4  leagues. 
Hauled  up  round  the  east  end  of  the  Deserters. 
Violent  squalls  ;  clewed  up  at  all  times. 

Running  into  Fuocbal  Roads. 

Anchored  in  Funchal  Roads,  with  the  best  bower 
in  30  fathoms  black  sand  and  mod.  Brazen  head 
E^S,  Loo  Rock  NW,  the  Great  Church  NNE, 
and  the  southerroost  Deserter  SE^S  y  off  shore  two- 
thirds  of  a  mile.  Saluted  the  fort  with  13  guns;  re- 
turned by  ditto.  Found  he>e  his  majesty's  ship  Ve- 
nus, and  7  English  merchants. 


Table  II.  The  mUes  and  parts  of  a  mile  in  a  degree 
of  longitude  at  every  degree  ofkuitude. 

The  first  column  contains  degrees  of  latitude,  anA 
the  second  the  corresponding  miles  in  a  degree  of  lon- 
gitude \  the  other  columns  are  a  continuation  of  the 
first  and  second..  If  the  given  latitude  consists  of  de- 
grees and.  minutes,  a  ptoportional  part  of  the  differ*^ 
enoe  between  tbe  miles  answering  to^  the  given  and 
following  degrees  of  latitude  is  to  be  subtracted  from 
the  miles  answering  to  tbe  given  degree. 

Example,  Required  tbe  number  of  miles  in  a  degree 
of  longitude,  in  latitude  57^  9'  ? 

The  difference  between  the  miles  answering  to  the- 
latitudes  of  57^  and  58^  is  0.S9. 
I1ien  as  60' :  9^ ::  aSo  :  0.13 
Miles  answering  to  57^  32.68 

Milesanswering  to  57^9^  32.55 
This  table  may  be  used.in  Parallel  and  Middle  Lati^ 
lude  Sailing. 

Table  III.  Of  the  SunU  Semidiameter. 

This  table  contains  the  angle  subtended  by  the  sun's, 
semidiameter  at  the  earth,  for  every  sixth  day  of  the 
year.  The  months  and  days  are  contained  in  tbe  first 
column,  and'  the  semidiameter  expressed  in  minutes  and 
seconds  in  the  second  column..  It  is  useful  in  correct- 
ing altitudes  of  the  sun's  limb,  and  distances  between, 
the  son's  limb  and  the  moon*. 

Table: 


jt6 


NAVIGATION. 


ExpW  tABLE  iV.    0/the  Aef ruction  in  Altitude. 

tion  of  the  ^        ^  "^  •' 

Tables.        The  refraction  is  necessary  for  correcting  altitudes 
and  distances  observed  at  sea  v  it  is  always  te  be  sub- 
tracted from  the  observed  altitude,  or  added  to  the  ze- 
nith distance.     This  table  is  adapted  to  a  mean  state  of 
the  atmosphere  in  Britain,  namely,  to  29.6  inches  of 
the  barometer^  and  50^  of  the  thermometer.     If  the 
'  height  of  the  mercury  in  these  instruments  be  different 
'  firom  the  mean,  a  correction  is  necessary  to  reduce  the 
'  tabular  to  tbe  true  refraction.     See  ReFRactiok. 

Tables  V.  VL  Of  the  Dip  of  the  Horizon. 

The  first  of  these  tables  contains  the  dip  answering  to 
a  free  or  unobstructed  horizon  ;  and  the  numbers  there- 
in, as  well  as  in  the  other  table,  are  to  be  subtracted 
from  the  observed  altitude  when  the  fore-observation  is 
used  ^  but  added,  in  the  back-observation. 

When  the  sun  is  over  the  land,  and  the  ship  neater  it 
than  the  visible  horizon  when  unconfined  \  in  this  case, 
the  sun's  limb  is  to  be  brought  in  contact  with  the  line 
of  separation  of  the  sea  and  land  ;  the  distance  of  that 
place  frt>m  the  ship  is  to  be  found  by  estimation  or  other^f 
wise  \  and  the  dip  answering  thereto,  and  the  height  of 
eye,  is  to  be  taken  from  Table  VL 

Table  VII.  Of  the  C&rrecttbn  tb  be  applied  to  the  time 
of  high  water  at  fuU  amd  change  ythemoom^  to  find 
the  time  of  high  water  on  aenf  other  day  of  the  moon. 

The  use  of  this  table  la  foUy  explained  at  Section  It. 
Chap.  I.  Book  L  of  this  article. 

Tables  VIII.  TX^lLOfthe  SunU  Declination^  &c« 

The  first  of  these  tables  aoatains  the  sun's  declinatioD, 
expressed  in  degrees,  miontes,  aad  tenths  of  a  ainute, 
for  (bur  successive  years,  namely,  17939  i794f  ^795* 
and  1 796 :  and  by  means  of  Table  X.  may  easily  be 
reduced  to  a  future  period  \  observing  that,  after  the 
28th  of  February  1000,  the  declination  answering  to 
tho  day  preoeding  that  given  is  to  be  taken. 

Ex*  x«  Bequiied  the  sun^s  declination  May  i.  x8x6  ? 

Mayx.  1 81 2  is  four  yean  after  the  same  day  in  181 2. 
ISnn's  declination  May  i.  x8i2        •  if  6^.7  N 

Equation  from  Table  X.        -  •        ^-o   o  Js 


Sun's  declination  Biay  x».  1799 


»5   7-3N 


iTKUtti 

Ex,  IL  Required  the  son^s  declinatkni  Aognst  2a  £b^ 
1805  r  ^d^ 

The  given  year  is  12  years  after  1793,  and  the  time 
is  after  the  end  of  Febmary  1 800. 
Noir,  Sun's  det.  August  19.  1793        -        ij"  j4'.6 
Equation  from  Table  X.  to  1 2  years  i— o     i  .9 

Sun's  declination  August  20.  1805         "        '^32-7 

The  declination  in  Table  VIII.  is  adapted  to  the  me- 
ridian of  Greenwich,  and  Table  iX.  is  intended  to  re- 
duce it  to  any  other  meridian,  and  to  any  given  tisK 
of  the  day  under  that  meridian.  The  titles  at  the  tof 
and  bottom  of  this  table  4knxX  when  the  lednctioo  ii  to 
be  added  or  subtracted. 

Table  XI.  Of  the  Bight  Ascensions  and  DecUsotimt 

of  Fixed  Stars. 

This  table  <Mmtains  the  right  ascensions  and  declios- 
ti<»is  of  60  principal  fixed  stars,  adapted  to  the  begianiig 
of  the  year  X793.  Columns  fourUi  and  sixth  oontiiii 
the  annual  variation  arising  frx>m  the  precession  of  tk 
equinoxes,  and  the  proper  motion  of  the  stars ;  wbicfa 
serves  to  reduce  the  place  of  a  star  to  a  period  1  kw 
years  after  the  epoch  of  the  table  with  somcient  sccs- 
racyi  When  the  place  of  a  star  is  wanted,  after  tke 
beginning  of  X703,  the  variation  in  right  asoeosioB  is 
additive ;  and  that  in  declination  is  to  he  applied  te* 
cording  to  its  sign.  The  contrary  role  is  to  be  used 
y/fhetk  die  given  time  is  hefbre  X793. 

ExatHpk.  Required  th^  right  ascension  and  dedios- 
tion  of  Bellatrix,  May  u  1798  P 

Right  ascension  January  1. 1793     ^^       5^  H'  3* 
Variation  s  ^^^lixsip  =    +0     o  17 


Right  Astetwion,  May  i.  175^ 

Declination 

Variation  =  4f')(  5^  y. 


=        5    U  ao 
=:    +0     0  ax 


Declinstioa  May  x.  X798  :=       6     9  14  N 

The  various  other  tables  necessary  in  the  practioe  «f 
navigation  are  to  be  found  in  roost  treatises  on  tbit 
subject.  Those  used  in  this  article  are  in  UtclsjH 
Treatises  on  the  Longitude  aad  Navigation. 


Tabu 


FESctice» 


N  A  V  I  G  AT  ION. 


Table  1.  jfb  reduce  Fointsofthe  Compass  to  Degrees^  and  conversely. 


North-eaaT 
Quadraot. 


North. 
NJE 

N4E 
NJE 


NAEJE 

nae;e 

NAE^E 


nne 

NNEJE 
NNE-tE 
NNEiE 


South-east 
Quadrant. 


South. 
S^E 
SJE 
S^E 


S^E 
S^EiE 
S^EfE 
S*EJE 


SSE 
SSEiE 
SSE}£ 
SSEiE 


NEAN 
NEiN 
NE4-N 
NEjN 


NE 
NEiE 
NEiE 
NEiE 


SEAS 

SEjS 
SEiS 
SEiS 


Points. 


o 

o 
o 
o 


o 

■ 

* 

i 


I 

I 
I 


9 

JL 

a 


2      O 

2      i 
a      i 


D.   M.   8. 


o 

2 

5 
8 


0 

48 

37 
26 


o 

45 
30 
»5 


II 

M 
16 

'9 


15 
3 

4> 


o 

45 
30 
'5 


M 


SE 

8E{E 
SEfE 
SEiE 


3  t) 

3  i 

3  4 

3  i 


NEAE 
NEAEfE 
NEAEiE 
NEAEiE 


ENE 
EANiN 
EANiN 
£6NiN 


.. 


4 
4 
4 
4 


o 

♦ 

X 
2 
1 


22 

25 
28 

30 


18 

7 
56 


o 
45 

»5 


33 
36 

39 
42 


45 

33 
22 

II 


o 

45 
30 


South-west 
Quadrant. 


South. 
S}W 
S}W 

s^w 


SAW 
SAWfW 
SAWfW 
SAW^W 


SSVV 
SSWiW 
SSWfW 
SSWJW 


North-west. 
QuadranL 


Tabli:  irr.  Sun's  Semidia. 


North. 

NfW 
NiW 


NAW 
NAWjW 
NAWiW 
NAW^W 


SEAE 
SEAEiE 
SEAEtE 
SEAE^E 


EAN 
EiN 
EfN 
EiN 
East. 


ESE 

EAS^S 
EAS^S 
E^SjS 


5 
5 
5 
5 


o 
I 


45 
47 
50 
53 


o 

48 

37 
26 


o 

45 
30 

'5 


EAS 
EiS 
EfS 
EjS 
East. 


6 
6 
6 
6 


X 

1 


7 

7 

7 

7 
8 


O 


56  15 

59-  3 

61  52 

64  41 


o 

45 
30 
»5 


SWAS 
SWJS 

SWiS 
SWiS 


sw 
sw^w 

SWfW 

sw^w 


NNW 

NNWJW 

NNWfW 

NNWiW 


NWAN 
NWiN 
NW^N 
NWjN 


NW 
NWfW 
,  NWf W 
NWJW 


67 

70 

73 
75 


30 
18 

7 
56 


o 

45 
30 
15 


78 
81 

84 

87 
90 


45 

33 
22 

II 

o 


o 

45 
30 

*5 

o 


SWAW 
SWAWiW 
SWAWiW 
SWAWiW 


wsvv 

WASIS 
-WASfS 
WAS;S 


WAS 

Wis 

WiS 
WJS 

West. 


NWAW 

NWAWJW 
NWAW^W 
NWAWiW 


WNW 

WANiN 
WAN4N 
WAN  iN 


WAN 
WiN 
WIN 
WiN 
West. 


Table  II.  The  Miies  and  Parts  of  a  Mile  in  a  Degree  of  Longitude  at  every 

Degree  ff  Latitude, 


D.L.I 


I 

2 

3 
4 
5 


7 
8 


Miles. 


59-99 

59-97 

59-9* 
59.86 

59-77 


D.L. 


9 
10 


II 

J2 

13 
.14 


59.67 
59-56 

59-44 
59.26 

59.08 


16 

'7 
18 

'9 

20 


Miles. 


58.89 
58.68 
58.46 
58.22 

57-95 


21 

22 

23 

24 
25 


57.67 
57-36 
57.06 

56.73 
56.38 


D.L 


Miles.  laL. 


P 


3» 

.32 
33 
34 
35 


26 

27 
28 

29 

30 


56.01 

55-63 

55-23 
54.81 

54-38 


36 

37 

38 

39 

40 


51-43 
50.88 

50.32 

49-74 
49- « 5 


5^93 
53-46 

52.97 
52.47 
5^.96 


4' 
42 

43 
44 

45 


48.54 

4792 
47.28 

46.62 
45-95 


46 

49 
50 


Miles.  |D.L. 


45.28 

44-9? 
4388 

43.16 
42.43 


51 
52 

53 
54 
SS 


41.68 
40.92 
40.15 

3936 
38.57 


SI 

58 

?9 

60 


37-76 

36.94 
36  II 

35.26 
4 -4' I 


61 
62 

63 

64 

^S 


Miles. 


67 

68 

69 

70 


29.09 
28.17 
27.24 
26.30 
25.36 


24.41 

23-45 
2248 

21.50 

20.52 


76 

77 
78 

80 


33-55 
32.68 

3179 
3090 

30.00 


7« 
72 

73 
74 

2L 


19.54 
18.54 

'7-54 
X6.53 


8t 
82 

84 
85 


14.51 
12.48 

11.45 

10.42 


9-38 
8.35 

732 
6.28 

5-23 


86 

87 
88 

89 

22- 


4.18 

3-M 
2.09 

1.05 

0.00 


s 
o 


9 
C 
« 


(2H 


JS3 
O 


e 


♦-9 


&> 

s 


u 

4> 


D.L.,  MUeH.  I      E 


ex, 
CO 


J! 
O 


I 
7 

25 


E 

> 


I 
17 

'3 
»9 

25 


I 

7 

'3 
»9 
25 


I 

7 

>3 
»9 
25 


I 

7 
13 
»9 

25 


1 

7 

^3 
»9 
25 


I 

7 

13 
>9 
25: 


1 

7 

>3 
19 
25 


I 

7 
13 
19 
25 


I 

7 
13 
«9 
25 


I 

7 

>3 
^9 
25 


u 


a 
S 


7 
'3 


Semidiani. 


»UD*S 


6' 

6 

6 

6 

6 


»9 
*9 

18 

17 


6 
6 
6 
6 
6 


6 
6 
6 
6 
6 


6 
6 

5 

5 
5 


5 
5 

5 
5 


5 
5 

5 
5 


16 

*5 

M 

13 
12 


10 

9 

7 
6 

4 


2 
I 

59 
56 


54 
53 
52 

5> 

50 


48 

47 
47 
47 


5  47 

5  47 

5  4 

5  4 

5  48 


5  49 

5  50 

5  5> 

5  52 

5  53 


SS 
56 

5« 

59 
1 


3 

4 
6 

8 
9 


II 

14 

'5 
16 


17 
18 
18 

19 
J9 


727 


728 


App 
Alt. 


'lABLE  IV. 

Refraction  in  Altitude. 

App. 


NAVIGATION. 

Tablet. 


Pnctxt 


Rcfntc 


D.  M. 


M.S. 


Alt. 


D.  M. 


RefriM^. 


^Refrac 


M.  S.  1  D. 


Height 
of  c*e. 


M.S. 


Feet. 


Dip  of  the  Hofwon, 


Dip  of 

llorixon, 


M.  S. 


I 

2 

3 

4 

5 
6 

9 

lO 


o 

I 
1 
1 
z 

2 
2 
2 

2 

3 


57 

21 

39 

'I 

20 

3' 

4« 

5^ 
I 


Height 
of  eye. 

eet. 


II 
12 

>3 

'4 

»5 
i6 

*7 
i8 

19 

20 


ofti 

Dip 


ot 
Horizon. 


M.  S. 


3 
3 
3 

3 
3 
3 
3 
4 
4 
4 


10 

18 
26 

34 
42 

49 

3 
10 

16 


i  Icight 
of  eye. 

Feet. 


21 

22 
23 

24 

25 
26 

27 

28 

29 

30 


l>lpu: 
Horizon 


f  |H( 
nl  of 


Height 
eye. 


M.S. 


4 
4 
4 

4 
4 
4 
4 
5 
5 
1. 


22 

28 

34 

40 

46 

58 

3 

9 

M 


Feet. 


35 
40 

45 

50 

SS 
60 

70 

80 

90 

100 


Uipcf 


Bf.8. 


5  39 

6  2 

6  24 

644 

7  4 
7  23 
7  59 
83* 
9  3 
9  33 


Table  VL 


Dip  of  the  Sea  at  different  distances  from  the  Observer* 
Ij.eight  of  the  eye  above  the  8ea  in  iert. 


8 


09 


.a 

Q    .S 


1 


o 
o 
.oi 
I  o 
1 
1 

2 
2 

3 

3 

4 

5 
6 


Dip. 


M. 


1 
1 


X 

ft 


o 
o 
o 


II 
6 

4 

4 

3 

3 
2 

2 

2 
2 

2 
2 
2 


10 


Dip. 


22 
II 

8 
6 

5 
4 
3 
3 
3 
3 
3 
3 
3 


»5 


Dip. 


M. 


34 

»7 
12 

9 

5 
5 
4 
4 
4 
4 
4 


20 


25 


Dip. 


M. 


45 
22 

15 
12 

9 
8 

6 

6 

5 

5 
4 
4 
4 


Dip. 


56 
28 

>9 

'5 
12 

10 

8 

\ 

6 

5 
5 

5 


30 

T5I^ 


M. 

"ST 

34 

»7 

M 
II 

10 

8 

7 
6 

6 

5 
5 


35   I  40 


Dip. 


M. 


79 
39 

27 

20 

16 

»4 

II 


DiF 


Ti: 


7 
7 

6 
6 


90 

45 

3^^ 

23 

«9 

«5 
12 

10 

8 

7 

7 
6 

6 


Table  VII. 


The  Correction  to  be  applied  to  the  time  of  High-voaUr  at  Fwm 
and  Change  of  the  Moony  to  find  the  time  (f  ELigh-wateronata^ 
other  day. 


Inteiral 
of, 
Time. 


1).  H 


O 

o 
I 

o 


o 

6 

12 

18 


I 
I 
I 
I 


o 

6 

12 

18 


After  New 

or 
Full  Moon. 


A  Id  live. 


I  J.  M. 


O 

o 


o 
8 


Before 
istor  3d 
Quarter. 


Additive. 


H.  M 


After 
iKt  or  3d 
Quarter. 


Additive. 


II.    VI. 


Before  K«« 

or 
Fan  Mom 


SabtFactivc 


H.  M 


0 

»7 

0 

36 

0 

36 

0 

4J 

0 

54 

I 

2 

2 
2 
2 

2 


O 

6 

12 
18 


5     6 
4  51 

4  37 
4  2t3 


3 
3 

3 
3 
4 


o 

6 

12 

18 

o 


I 

I 
I 
1 


II 

»9 

28 

37 


3  5<5 

3  44 
3  32 


5    6 
S  22 

5  40 

6  o 


I  46 

1  54 

2  3 
2  12 

2  21 


3  21 
3  " 

3     ^ 

2  50 


6  20 

6  39 

6  58 

7  18 


2  40 

3  30 
3  21 

a  13 


7  37 

7  56 

8  14 

847 

9  * 
9  >7 
9  3» 


»    4 

a  16 
319 

2  ;8 


:akx 


Practice. 


NAVIGATION. 


720 


Tablx  VIIL    Sttn's  Decbnationjbr  i8og,  being 

the  first  after  leap  year. 

Sam 

Janokrjr. 

Fchnuuy.       Hii&rch. 

April. 

M.y. 

Jane. 

^oly. 

AufHllt. 

Sifepieinbci-. 

October 

November 

i>cccuiucr 

I 

23*  i'68 

If  fS^  7"  3/*  8 

4-29'7N 

15*  a'oN 

22°    2'5N 

if  8'8N 

i8»  5'7N 

8"»  2i'9N 

3"  7'4«i 

i4-24'3« 

2i°48'7S. 

a 

22  56.4 

16  50.3      7  14.3 

4  54-8 

15  20.0 

22   10.6 

23    4-7 

17  50.  J 

8    0.0 

3  30.7 

'4  43-5 

21  57.9 

a 

22  50.8 

16  32.8 

6  5M 

5  '5.8 
538-7 

»5  37-9 

22   18.3 

23    0.1 

«7  350 

7  38.1 

3  54-0 

»5     2.4 

22    6.6 

4 

22  44.7 

16  15.0 

6  28.4 

«5  55-4 

22   25.6 

22  55.2 

17  19.2 

7  16.0 

4  *7-3 

15  21.1 

22  14.9 

5 

22  38.2 

»5  59-9 

6    1.5 

6    1.5 

16  12.7 

22  32.4 

22  49.9 

'Z    I'l 

6  53.8 

4  404 

«5  39-6 

22  22.8 

€ 

22  31.2 

15  38.tf 

^♦2i 

6  24.2 

16  29.7 

22  38.9 

22  44.1 

16  46.8. 

6  31.4 

i    3-6 

»5  57.7 

22  30.3 

I 

22  23.8 

15  19.9 

S  18.8 

6  46.8 

16  46.5 

22  45.0 

22  38.0 

16  30.2" 

6    9.0 

5  26.7 

16  15.7 

22  37.3 

a2  15.9 

15    I.I 

4  Ji-4 

7    9-3 

17    2.9 

22  50.7 

22  31.5 

16  13.3 

5  46-4 

5  49-7 

'6  33-3 

22  43-9 

9 

22    7.6 

»4  4»-9 

*  3«-« 

7  31-7 

17  19.1 

22  56.0 

22  24.6 

'^  ^^-l 

5  23.8 

6  12.6 

16  50.7 

17  7.8 

22  50.0 

10 

21  58.9 

14  sa.6 

4    8.6 

7  53.9 

»7  35-0 

23      0.9 

22  17.3 

IS  38.8 

5    1.0 

6  35.4 

22  S5.7 

II 

21  49.7 

14    2.9 

3  45-0 

8  16.0 

17  50.6 

23      5.3 

22    9.6 

ij  21.2 

4  38-2 

6  58.2 

17  24.6 

23      0.9 

:  la 

21  40.1 

»3  43« 

3  ai-i 

8  38.0 

18    5.9 

23    9-4 

22    1.5 

»5    3-3 

4  >5-3 

7  20.9 

17  41.0 

23    S'^ 

*3 

21    30.1 

13  »3-«' 

»  57  9 

8  59.9 

18  30.9 

23    13.x 

21  53.0 

14  4 J.  I 

3  52.3 

7  43-4 

8  5-9 

17  57.2 

23-  XO.O 

»4 

21    19.7 

13    a-7 

2  34.3 

9  21.6 

1835.6 

23    16.4 

21  44*2 

14  26.7 

3  29.3 

18  13.X 

23  13.8 

»J 

21      8.9 

'3  4a-3 

2  10.6 

9  43- » 

18  50.0 

23  ^9*2 

21  35.0 

14    8.1 

3    6.2 

8  28.2 

18  28.6 

23  17.2 

i6 

20   57.0 

12   21.5 

I  46.9 

10    4.5 

19    4.1 

23  21-7 

21  25.4 

»3  49-3 

2  43.0 

8  50.4 

18  43.9 

23  20.0 

M 

20  40.0 

12     0.6 

I  33.2 

to.  25.7 

19  17.9 

23   23.7 

21  15.5 

13  30-3 

2   19.8 

9  12.5 

18  58.7 

23  22.5 

«o  33-9 

u  39« 
II  18.3 

0  59.5 

(0  46.7 

»9  3''3 

23   25.3 

^«     5.3 

13  11.0 

I  j6.6 

9  34*5 

>9  »3-3 

23  24.5 

'9 

20   2I.J 

0  35-7 

II     2-5 
11  28.3 

19444 

23    26.5 

20  54.6 

12  51.5 

I  33-3 

9  56.3 

19  27.5 

23  26.0 

ao 

20   8.7 

10  56.9 

0  12.0 

19  57> 

23    27.3 

20  43.6 

I  a  31.9 

I  10.0 

10  18.0 

«9  41-3 

23  27.0 

ai 

19  Ji-J 

10  3j.a 

0  11.6N 

II  48.8 

20    9.5 

23   27.7 

20  32.3 

r2  12.0 

0  46.6 

'o  39-5 

19  54.8 

23  27.6 

aa 

19  42.0 

10  13.5 

0  3J-3 
0  58.9 

12    9.0 

20  31.6 

23    27.7 

20  20.6 

II  51.9 

0  23.2 

II    0.9 

20    7-9 

23  *7-7 

»3 

19  28.0 

9  5^-5 

12  29.-1 

ao  33.3 

23    27.2 

20      8.5 

II  31-7 

0      0.2S|II    20.0 

20  29.7 

23  27.3 

«4 

19  13-8 

9  ^5 

I  22.5 

12  49.0 

20  44.7 

23    26.3 

19   56.2 

II  11.3 

0  23.6 

II  43.0 

20  33.0 

23  26.4 

«5 

18  59.2 

9    7-3 

I  46.1 

13      8.7 

20  55.7 

23    25.0 

«9  435 

to  50.7 

047.0 

12    3.9 

20  45.0 

23  25.x 

a6 

1844.2 

18  28.9 

8  44.9 

2    9.7 

13    48.2 

21    6.4 

23    23.4 

»9  30-5 

10  29.9 

I  10.4 

12  24.6 

20  56.6 

23  23.3 

S 

8  22.4 

»33» 

«3  47-4 

21  16.7 

23   21.3 

19  17.1 

to    9.0 

»  33-9 

12  45.0 

21     7.9 

23  21.0 

18  13.2 

7  59-8 

a  56.6 

14    64 

21  a6.6 

23    18.8 

19    34 
18  49.5 

9  47-9 

»  57-3 

'3    5.3 

21  18.7 

23  ^8.3 

a9 

«7  57-3 

3  20.0 

14  2J.2 

21  36.1 

23   '5.9 

9  26.6 

2  20.7 

'3  *J.4 

21  29.1 

23  15.1 

3© 

17  41.0 

3  43-3 

«4  43-7 

2'  45-3 

23    ".5 

18  35.2 

9    5* 

2  44.0 

13  4.?.2 

21  39.1 

23  "-5 

31  |i7  a4.4 

4    6.5 

|4«  54-1 

18  20.6 

843.6 

14    4.9 

23    7.3 

Table  VIIL     2%r  S 

•tmU  DeeH 

nation  for  18 10,  bein^ 

|(f  the  second  after  tea 

;i  year,                                         | 

Di>T* 

1  Jaattafy.   |  FeRniary. 

Match. 

April. 

M.y. 

June 

July. 

AU)(Ust 

September 

October. 

November.  |  Deceonber.  | 

I 

23^    TfjS. 

I7*ii'68. 

7«42f78. 

4»  24'oN 

i4^r5N 

22°  o'5N 

23°  9'7N 

18°  9'3N 

8°2/iN 

3°   J'8S. 

14°  19'6S. 

2I<»  46^48. 

a 

22  57.7 

><S  54-5 

7  »9< 

4  47-» 

15  15.6 

22      8.6 

23    5-7 

17  54.2 

8    5.3 

3  25.1 

14  38.8 

21    S5.7 

3 

22  52.t 

16  37.0 

6  57.0 

5  10.1 

15  33-5 

22   16.4 

23    1.3 

17  38-7 

7  43.4 

3  48.4 

»4  57-8 

22     4-5 

4 

22  46.2 

16  19.3 

6  34.0 

5  33- « 

'1  ^i-* 

22   23.7 

22  56.4 

17  23.0 

7  21.3 

4  "-7 

15  x6.6 

22   12^ 

5 

**  39-7 

16    1-3 

6  10.9 

1  ^|-9 

16    8.5 

22  30.7 

22  51.2 

17    7.0 

6  59.1 

4  34-9 

>5  35.« 

22  20.9 

6 

22  32.9 

'5  430 

5  47-7 

6  18.7 

16  25.6 

22  37.3 

22  45-5 

16  50.7 

6  36.8 

4  58.0 

»5  53-3 

22  28.5 

i 

22   25.6 

»5  44-4 

s  245 

641.3 

16  42.4 

22  43-5 

22  39-5 

16  34.2 

6  14.4 

5  21-1 

16  11.3 

22  ^S'^ 

22   17.8 

»5    56 

5     »•» 

7    3-9 

16  58.9 

22  49-3 

22  33.0 

16  17.4 

5  5'-9 

5  44.« 

6  7.0 

16  29.0 

2242,3 

9 

22     ^,6 

14  46.5 

4  37-7 

7  26.3 

'7  «5.2 

22  54-7 

22  26.7 

16    0.3 

5  29.3 

i^  46.5 

22  48.5   , 

lO 

22      I.O 

14  27.2 

4  >4-2 

7  48.5 

17  3»-« 

22  59.7 

22  X9.0 

«5  4.^o 

5    66 

6  29.9 

>7    3.<5 

22  54-3 

11 

21    51.9 

«4    7-7 

3  50-7 

8  10.7 

17  46.8 

23    4.3 

22    II.4 

«5  25.4 

4  43.8 

^  52.6 

17  20.4 

22  59-6  , 

12 

21    42.6 

«3  47-9 

3  a7-4 

8  32.7 

18    2.2 

23     8.4 

22     3-5 

15    4-7 

4  20.9 

^  7  15.3 

17  37.0 

23    ^5 

23  8.9 

'3 

21    32.5 

13  479 

3    3« 

8  54.5 

18  17.3 

23  12.2 

21  55-Jf 

14  49.5 

3  58.0 

7  37.9 

8  0.4 

17  53-2 

18  9.2 

'4 

2l    22.2 

«3    7-7 

2  40.0 

9  16.3 

18  32.0 

^3  >J.6 

21    46.4 

14  31.2 

^  3  3S^^ 

23  12.9 

»5 

21    II.J 

12  47.2 

2   16.3 

9  37-8 

18  46.5 

23  18.5 

21    37.3 
21    27.8 

'4  '2.7 

^  *iS 

8  22.7 

18  24.8 

23  16.4 

lo  ai    O.J 

12  26.6 

1    52.7 

9  59'^ 

19    0.6 

23  21.1 

'3  53.9 

2  48.8 

8  44.9 

18  40.1 

23  *9-4 

17  ao  48.8 

•  a    jJ 

I    29.* 

10  20.4 

»9  M-5 

23  23.2 

21    ]8.0 

13  35.0 

2  25.6 

9    70 

18  55.0 

23  21,9 

18 

20  36.9 

"  44-7      »    5-3 

10  41.5 

19  2S.0 

23  24.9 

21       7.8 

13  15.8 

2   2.3 

9  29.0 

19    9.7 

23  24.0 

»9 

ao  24.C 
ao  11.8 

II  23.5     0  41.6 

XX     2.4 

19  41.1 

23  26.2 

20  57-3 

12  56.3 

I  39.' 

9.  509 

19  24.0 

23  25.5 

20 

II    2.1 

0    18.0 

II  23.1 

19  54.0 

23  27.1 

20  46.3 

12  36.7 

«  15-7 

TO    12.6 

»9  37.9 

23  26.8 

2t 

19  58.7 

to  40.6 

0      5.7 

ti  43.6 

20    6.4 

23  27.6 

20  35.1 

12  16.9 

0  52.4 

10   34.2 

»9  S^'5 

23  27.5 

22 

'9  45-3 

10  1B.9 

0  29.3 

12    4.0 

20  18.6 

23  27.7 

20  23.5 

12  5^.9 

0  29.0 

10  ss^^ 

20    4.7 

23  27.7 

23 

»9  3>-5 

9  57.0 

0  i3.o 

12  24.1 

20  30.4 

23  27.3 

20  II. 5 

II  36.7 

0    $.6 

IX   16.8 

20  17.5 

23  274 

^4 

'9  ^7-3 

9  34-9 

I  16.7 

12  44.0 

20  41.9 

23  26.5 

»9  59-3 

II  16.3 

0  17.8S. 

"  HI 

20  30.0 

23  26.7 

26    1 

19    2.8 
18  47.9 

9  12.8 

I  40.7 

»3    3-7 

20  53.0 

23  25.4 

19  46.6    1 

10  55.7 

0  41.3 

II  58.8 

20  42.1 

23  25-5 
23  23.8 

2    3.8 

13  23.3 

*r    3-7 

23  23.8    : 

'9  33-7 

10  35.0 

1     4.7 

12  19.5 

20  53.8 

s; 

[8  32.^ 

8  l8.o 

2  27.3 

»3  4a<5 

21  14.1 

23  21.8    \ 

19  20.3    1 

to  14.0 

I  28.2    i 

12  40.0    : 

21     j;.x 

^3  21.5 

r8  17.1 

8    5.4 

2  50.7 

14    1.6 

21  24.1 

n  '9-4  1 

19    6.8 

9  S3'<^ 

I  51.6    ] 

t3    0.4    \ 

21  16.0    ' 

23  X9.0 

9  1 

r8    t.2 

3  »4» 

14  20.5 

21  33.8 

23  x6.6    1 

'I  ^^9 

9  3'-7 

2  ic.o    1 
2  38.4    1 

13  20.5    : 

21  26.6    : 

y  15-9 

ro  I 

[7  4C.O 

3  37-5 

'4  39.1     : 

21  43.0 

n  »3-4    J 

t8  38.7 

9  »o.3 

'3  304    ^ 

21  3<5.7    ' 

23  12.4 

k*E 

4    0.7   1 

i 
4 

21  52.0 

h 

t8  24.x 

8  48.8 

1 

r4'  0.1 

ii^„^-4 

v«[; 

.Hiv.V 

MtU. 

+ 

4Z 

^rABIX 

730 


NAVIGATION. 


Practice. 


J 

Table  VIIL   6W 

'j  declination  Jhr  181 1,  ^eiVi^  the  third  after  teap  year. 

1 

Day«i.     jHnuai-y.    | 

Kchrunry 

March. 

April. 

May 

June. 

July* 

August. 

September 

OclotMrr. 

Movcmber.  J 

Occtmlr' 

1  23" 

3'9S- 

i7-i5'7S. 

7*»48'28. 

4»i8'4N 

i4°53'iN 

23°IO'6N 

i8**i2'8S. 

8°32'3S. 

2*^  Sfi'iS. 

I4®14'8S,21»44- 

2  22 

58.9 

16  58.6 

7  25.4 

4  4I-J 

15  i>-3 

22     6.7 

23      6.7 

n  57.8 

8  10.6 

3  '9-4 

14  34.1    21  534  . 

3 

22 

53-5 

16  41.3 

7     2.6 

5    4-6 

15  29.2 

22    14.6 

23      2.3 

17  42.4 

7  48.7 

3  42.7 

«4  531    2 

'2    2-ii 

4 

22 

47-7 

16  23.6 

6  39.6 

J  a7-5 

15  46.9 

22   22^ 

22   57.6 

17  26.8 

7  26.6 

4    S9 

15  11.9   22  i:.^ ' 

5 

22 

4"-3 

15     5-7 

6  16.5 

5  50-4 

16    4.3 

22    29.1 

22   52.4 

17  10.9 

7    4-5 

4  29.2 

15  3a5    22  ig.91 

6 

22 

34-6 

»5  47-5 

5  53-4 

$  '3-» 

16  21.4 

22   35.8 

22  46.9 

i^  54-7 

6  42.2 

4  52.3 

15  48.8    22  26.t{ 

7 

22 

27.4 

15  29.0 

5  30-' 

6  3J.8 

16  38.3 

22  42.0 

22  41.0 

16  38.2 

6  19.9 

5  15-4 

16    6.9    2 

^  35-9 

8 

22 

19.7 

15  ICX3 

5    6.8 

6  58.3 

16  54.9 

22  47-9 

22   34.6 

16  21.5 

5  57-4 

5  38.4 

16  24.6   22  4s.: ' 

9 

22 

1 1.6 

14  51-3 

4  43-5 

7  *o-7 

17  IX. 2 

22  534 

22    27.9 

16    4.5 

5  34-8 

6     1-3 

16  42.1    22  4;.: 

10 

XI 

22 

3-1 

14  32.0 

4  20.4 

7  43-0 

17  27.3 

22   58.5 

22   20.8 

15  47.2 

5  1 2.1 

6  24.2 

>6  59:3    "  5»'i 

21*' 

54-2 

14  12.5 

3  5^-5 

8    5.2 

17  43-0 

23      3.2 

22    13.3 

15  29.7 

4  49-3 

6  47.0 

17   16.3    j22  58.5  , 

12 

21 

44.8 

13  52.8 

3  330 

8  27-3 

'7  58.4 

23     7-4 

22      5.4 

15  11.9 

4  26.5 

7    9-7 

«7  32-9    ^ 

^3   3-? 

13 

21 

35-^ 

13  32.9 

3     9-5 

8  49.2 

'2  ^l'^ 

23  "-3 

21    52-2 
21   48.5 

H  53-9 

4    3-5 

7  32-3 

«7  493    ^ 

y  7-y 

»4 

21 

24.8 

13  12.7 

3  45-9 

9  '0  9 

18  28.5 

23  14.8 

«4  35-6 

3  40-6 

7  54-9 

18    5.3    : 

13 11., 

15 

21 

14.1 

12  52.3 

2  22.2 

9  32-5 

18  43.0 

23  17-9 

21  39-5 

14  17.2 

3  17-5 

8  173 

18  21.0    23  155 1 

16 

21 

3-1 

12  31.7 

I  S^'^ 

9  54-0 

18  57.2 

23  20.5 

21  30.1 

13  58.5 

2  54-3 

8  39-5 

18  364    . 

23  !«•: 

17 

20 

51-7 

12  10.9 

»  34-9 

10  1 5.3 

19  II. I 

23  22.7 

21  20.4 

»3  39-5 

2  31.2 

9    1-7 

18  51.4    : 

13  21.3 

18 

20 

39-9 

II  49.9 

I  II. 2 

10  36.4 

19  24.7 

23  24.5 

21  10.3 

13  20.3 

2    7-9 

9  23.7 

19    6.1    : 

23  2].; 

^9 

20 

27.9 

II  28.8 

0  47-5 

'0  57-3 

19  37-9 

23  25.9 

20  59.8 

13      I.O 

I  44.6 

9  45-^ 

19  20.5 

23  2i.i 

20 

20 

15.0 

II     7.4 

0  23.8 

II  18.1 

19  50.9 

23  26.9 

20  48.9 

12  41.4 

I  21.3 

10     7.4 

*9  34.5 

23  26.5 

21 

20 

0.0 

10  45.9 

0    0.0 

II  38.7 

20    3-5 

23  27.5 

20  37.8 

12  21.6 

0  57.9 

10  29.0 

19  48.2 

23  2:4 

22 

^9 

48.6 

10  24.2 

0  23.6N 

II  59.0 

20  X5.7 

23  27.7 

20    26.2 

12    1.6 

0  34-5 

10  50.4 

20    1.5    : 

y  *:•: 

^3 

19 

34-9 

10     2.3 

0  47.2 

12  19.3 

20  27.6 

23  27.4 

20    14.4 

II  41.5 

0  II. I 

II  ii«7 

20  144    : 

nr,y 

24 

'9 

20.8 

9  403 

I  10.9 

I  a  39-3 

20  39.2 

23  26.8 

20      2.2 

II  21. 1 

0  12.3S. 

II  32.8 

20  27.1    23  2^9 

25 

'8 

6.3  • 

9  18.1 

I  34-5 

12  59.0 

20  50.4 

23  25.7 

19   49.6 

II    0.6 

0  35-7 

II  53.8 

20  39.2     2j  Iji 

26 

18 

S^S 

8  55.8 

2  5S.0 

13  18.6 

21     1.2 

23  24.2 

19   36.7 

10  39.9 

0  59.1 

12  14.5 

20   51.0 

23  24-i 

a? 

18 

36.3 

'^  33-4 

2   2X.6 

13  380 

21  11.7 

23  22.2 

19    23.5 

10  19.0 

I  22.5 

12  35-0 

21      24 

23  Hi 

28 

i8 

20.9 

8  10.9 

2  45.1 

'3  57-> 

21  21.8 

23  20.0 

19   lO.O 

9  58.0 

I  45-9 

12  55.4 

21    134 

23  ic- 

29 

18 

5.0 

^ 

3     8-5 

14  16.0 

21  31.5 

23  17-3 

18   56.2 

9  36.8 

2    9-3 

13  15.6 

21   24.0 

23  It,- 

3^ 

17 

48.9 

3  3»-9 

'4  34-7 

21  40.9 
21  49.9 

23  14-2 

18   42.0 

9  ^S'S 
8  54.0 

2  32.7 

«3  55-5 

21    39.2 

23  13: 

3^ 

»7 

32.5 

3  5V2 

1 

18    27.6 

23    94 

23   9^ 

1 

\BLE  VIJ 

11.   Sun's. 

Declinatio) 

ijhr  1812, 

,  being  leap  year. 

^ 

Dayw.    January,  | 

February. 

March. 

April. 

May.       1 

June.     ) 

July. 

1    Au^>>t. 

September. 

October. 

N4neBte. 

iDctrl^;* 

I 

23 

4'9S. 

i7*'i9'8a. 

7  3»'o^- 

4"35'7N 

15°  6'7N 

22°  4'6N 

23°  7'6N 

1 8*   i'5N 

8*^  i5'9N 

3  i3'7S. 

14  29^38, 

21' jl^ 

2 

23 

0.0 

17     2.8 

7    8.2 

4  58.8 

15  24.7 

22  12.5 

23    3-3 

17  46.2 

7  54-0 

3  37-0 

14  48.J 

2:   :-i 

3 

22 

54.8 

>6  45-5 

6  45-3 

5  21.8 

15  42.4 

22  20.1 

22  58.7 

17  30.6 

7  32.0 

4    0-3 

15    74 

22  V 

4 

22 

49.0 

16  27.9 

6  22.2 

5  44-7 

15  59-9 

22  27.3 

22  53.6 

^l  H'l 

7    9-9 

4  23-5 

15  26.0 

22  IV 

5 

22 

42.9 

16  10.1 

5  59  I 

6    7.5 

16  17.1 

22  34.0 

22  48.2 

16  58.6 

6  47.7 

4  46.7 
i     9-8 

15  444 

2a  ^-^ 

6 

22 

36.2 

15  51.9 

5  35-9 

6  30.2 

16  34.0 

22  40.4 

22  42.3 

16  42.2 

6  25.3 

16     2.5 

2*  :— 

7 

22 

29.1 

»5  33-5 

5  12.6 

6  52.8 

16  50.8 

22  46.4 

22  36.1 

16  25.5 

6    2.8 

5  32.9 

16  20.3 

22  3y: 

8 

22 

21.6 

15  14.8 

4  49-2 

7  15-2 

17    7.2 

22  52.0 

22  29.5 

16    8.6 

5  40-3 

5  55-8 

»6  37-9 

22  4f- 

9 

22 

13.6 

14  55-9 

4  25.8 

7  37-6 

17  23.3 

22  57.2 

22  22.4 

15  51.4 

5  17.6 

6  i8^ 

16  55.2 

22  JU 

10 

22 

5-« 

M  36.5 

4     2.3 

7  59-8 

>7  39-' 

23     2.0 

22  15.0 

«5  33-9 

4  54-8 

6  41.5 

17  12.2 

22  5T-; 

II 

21 

563 

'4  '7-3 

3  38.8 

8  21.9 

17  54.6 

23    6.3 

22    7-3 

15  16.2 

4  32.0 

7    4-3 

17  28.9 

25    i2 

12 

21 

47.0 

»3  57-6 

3  15-2 

8  43-8 

18     9.9 

23  10.3 

21  59.0 

14  58.2 

4     9-1 

7  26.9 

17  45-3 

2;    M 

13 

21 

37-3 

«3  37-7 

a  51.6 

9    5-6 

18  24.8 

23  13-9 

21  50.5 

14  40.0 

3  46.1 

I  ^^i 

x8     14 

•3  i^ 

M 

21 

27.2 

*3  »7-5 

%  27.9 

9  27.3 

18  39.4 

23  17-0 

21  41.6 

14  21.6 

3  23.0 

8  11.8 

18  17.2 
18  32.6 
18  47.7 

15 

21 

16.7 

12  57.2 

2    4-3 

9  48.8 

»8  53.7 

23  19-7 

21  32.3 

14     2.9 

2  59.9 

8  34-x 

16 

21 

5-7 

12  36.7 

I  40.6 

10   lO.I 

19    7-7 

23  22.x 

21  22.7 

13  44.0 

2  36.8 

8  56.3 

23  ::- 

«7 

20 

54-4. 

12  15.9 

I  16.9 

10  31.3 

19  21.3 

23  24.0 

21  12.6 

13  25.0 

2  13.6 

9  18.4 

19     2.5 

23 :;-: 

18 

20 

42.6 

II  55.0 

0  53.2 

10  52.2 

>9  34-7 

23  26.5 

21     2.3 

13     5-7 

I  503 

9  40-3 

19  17.0 

23 ::» 

'9 

20 

3^'S 

"  33-8 

0  29.C 
0    5-8 

II  13.0 

19  47-7 

23  26.6 

20  51.5 

12  46.2 

I  27.0 

10     2.0 

19  31.3 

2;x- 

20 

20 

18.0 

II  12.5 

II  33-6 

20    0.3 

23  27.3 

20  40.4 

12  26.4 

I     3-7 

10  23.7 

19  44.8 

fii 

21 

20 

^'a 

10  51.0 

0  17.9N 

II  54.0 

20  12.7 

23  27.6 

20  29.0 

12    6.$ 

0  40.3 

10  45.1 

19  58  a 

:;  i'A 

22 

19 

51.8 

10  29.4 

0  41.5 

12  14.3 

20  24.6 

23  27.4 

20  17.2 

II  46.4 

0  16.9 

II     6.4 

20    1 1.2    ji?  2"0 

23 

19 

3«-2 

10     7.6 

I     5.2 

12  34-3 

20  36.3 

23  26.9 

20    5.1 

II  26.1 

0    6.5 

II  27.6 

20    23.9 

:i  • - 

24 

19  24.1 

9  45-6 

I  28.8 

12  54.2 

20  47.5 
20  584 

23  25.9 

19  52.7 

"     5-7 

0  29.9 

IX  48.6 

20   36.1 

2;r- 

9 

25 

«9 

9.8 

9  23-5 

I  52.3 

«3  13-8 

23  24.5 

19  39-9 

10  45*0 

0  53-3 

12    9.4 

20   48.0 

26 

18 

SS'O 

?     l'^ 

2  15.8 

»3  33-2 

21      9.0 

23  22.7 

19  26.8 

10  24.2 

I  16.7 

12  30.0 

ao  59.3 

,1 

18 

40.0 

8  389 

2  39-3 

>3  52.3 

21    19.2 

23  20.5 

19  13-3 

10    3.2 

I  40.1 

12  50^ 

21  loJS  \::^t 

18 

24.6 

8  16.4 

3     2.7 

'4  "-3 

21    29.0 

23  17-9 

18  59.6 

9  42.0 

2    3-i 

13  10.6 

21  214   :i  '•'^ 

29 

18 

8.9 

7  53-8 

3  26.1 

14  30.0 

21    38.5 

23  14-8 

>8  45-5 

9  20.7 

2  26.9 

13  30.6 

21  31.7  K  H 

30 

«7 

52.9 

- 

3  49-4 

14  48.5 

21    47.6 

23  "-4 

18  31.1 

8  59-3 

2  50-3 

*3  S^^ 

21  41^ 

iLa 

31 

17 

!<6.s 

1 

4  12.6 

• 

21    56.3 

18  16.4 

837-7 

r 

14  10.0 

1^^ 

^  .^ 

rrftctice* 


NAVIGATION. 


731 


Table  IX.  To  reduce  the  Sun's  Declination  to  any  other  Meridian^  and  to  any  given  Time  under  that  Meridian. 

.  t 

9S 

.5.5 

Longitude. 

s  a 

mm  •« 

.S.S 

-5  •« 

•5*5 
21 

£3' 

T3^ 

20* 

3o« 

40^    SO- 

60° 

70° 

o'o 

8o» 
o'o 

90« 

100' 

no" 

'  I20»|l30 

"140* 
o'o 

'    IJO 

o'o 

fi6o''  170" 

"180 

00  •< 

I   2 

at 

o'o 

o'o 

o'o 

o'o 

o'o 

o'o 

o'o 

o'o 

o'o 

o'o 

o'o 

o'o    o'o 

O'o 

2 

I 

20 

aa 

0.0 

0.0 

0.0 

0.0 

0.0 

0.1 

O.I 

0.1 

0.1 

0.1 

0.1 

0.1 

0.2 

0.2 

.    0.3 

.     0.2 

0.2 

0.2 

20l      22 

.23 

0.0 

0.0 

0.1 

o«i 

O.I 

0.1 

0.2 

0.2 

0.2 

0-3 

0-3 

0-3 

0-3 

0-3 

0.4 

0.4 

0.4 

0.4 

19       23 

II 24 

0.0 

0.1 

0.1 

O.I 

0.2 

0.2 

0.2 

0.3 

0-3 

0.4 

0.4 

0.4 

0,5    0.5 1  0.4 

0.6 

0.6    0.6 

.'8   .24 

0.1 

0.1 

0.1 

0.2 

0.2 

0-3 

0-3 

0.4 

0.4 

0.5 1  0.5 

0.6 

0.6    0.7 

0.7 

0.8 

0.8    0.9 

s>: 

f  S2( 

■ 

> 

|i6 

lad 

0.1 

O.I 

0.2 

0.2 

0-3 

0.4 

0.4 

o-J 

0.5 

0.6 

0.8 

0.7 

0.8 

0.8 

0,9 

1.0 

1.0 

J.I 

^le 

•►^2< 

) 

O^i 

o.x 

0.1 

0.2 

0-3 

0.4 

0.4 

0.5 

0.6 

°'l 

0.8 

0.9 

0.9 

1.0 

I.I 

1.2 

1.2 

'•3 

'i 

r    2-i 

r 

M 

28 

O.X 

0.2 

0.2 

0-3 

0.4 

0.5 

0.6 

0.7 

0.8 

0.9 

0.9 

1.0 

I.I 

1.2 

»-3 

1.4 

1.4 

'•^ 

^A 

\       2S 

«3 

39 

0.x 

0.2 

0-3 

0.4 

0.5 

0.6 

0.7 

0.8 

0.9 

1.0 

I.I 

1.2 

1-3 

1.4 

»-J 

1.6 

'•7 

1.8 

'3 

»9| 

12 

30 

O.X 

0.2 

0-3 

0.4 

0.5 

0.5 

0.6 

0.7 

0.8 

0.9 

1.0 

I.I 

1.2 

»-3 

1.4 

»J 

1.6 

»-7 

1.9 

2.0 

12 

11 

3: 

11 

31 

O.I 

0.2 

0*4 

0.7 

o.d 

1.0 

I.I 

1.2 

1-3 

I-J 

1.6 

»-7 

1.8 

1.9 

2.1 

2.2 

I 

10 

I 

O.X 

03 

0.4 

0-5 

0.7 

0.8 

0.9 

I.I 

1.2 

»-3 

»-5 

1.6 

1-7 

1.9 

2.0 

2.1 

2-3 

2.4 

IC 

2 

9 

2 

O.X 

0-3 

0.4 

0.6 

0.7 

0.9 

1.0 

1.2 

»-3 

1-5 

1.6 

1.8 

1.9 

2.0 

2.2 

2-3 

2.5 

2.6 

9 

3 

1; 

r^ 

0.1 

0-3 

0.5 

0.6 

0.8 

0.9 

I.I 

'•3 

1.4 

1.6 

»-7 

1.9 

2.1 

2.2 

2.4 

2-J 

2-7 

2.8 

. 

4 

0.2 

0.3 

0.5 

0.7 

0.8 

1.0 

1.2 

1.4 

1-5 

'•7 

1.9 

2.0 

2.2 

2.4 

2.6 

2.7 

2.9 

3-1 

c    7 

-g*  ^ 

8  <S 

i  ^ 

0.2 

0.4 

0.5 

""•2 

0.9 

1. 1 

»-3 

1.4 

1.6 

1.8 

2.0 

2.2 

2.4 

2-J 

2.7 

2-9 

3« 

3-3 

A    6 

-^  6 

Q   -^ 

4   6 

0.2 

0.4 

0.6 

0.8 

1.0 

1.2 

1.4 

'•J 

;:2 

1.9 

2.1 

2-3 

2-J 

2.7 

2.9 

3-' 

3-3 

3-5 

5 

4 

2 

0.2 

0.4 

0.6 

0.8 

1.0 

1.2 

1.4 

1.6 

2.0 

2.3 

2-J 

2.7 

2.9 

3-» 

3-3 

3-5 

3-7 

4 

•  8 

3 

0.2 

0.4 

0.6 

0.9 

I.I 

1-3 

1-5 

»-7 

1.9 

2.2 

2.4 

2.6 

2.8 

3-0 

3-2 

3-J 

3-7 

3-9 

3 

9 

2 

9 
10 

0.2 

0.4 

0.7 

0.^ 

I.I 

1.4 

1.6 
»-7 

1.8 

2.0 

2-3 

2.5 

2-7 

3-0 

3-2 

3-4 

5-6 
3-8 

3-9 

4.1 

2 

H 

1 

0.2 

0.5 

0.7 

0.9 

1.2 

1.4 

1.9 

2.1 

2.4 

2.6 

2.9 

3-1 

3-3 

3-6 

4.1 

4-3 

1 

11 

3<^ 

II 

0.2 

0-5 

0.7 

1.0 

1.2 

»-5 

1-7 

2.0 

2.2 

2-J 

2.7 

3-0 

3-2 

3-J 

3-7 

4.0 

4.2 

4-5 

3^ 

12 

.*s 

12 

0-3 

0.5 

0.8 

1.0 

'•3 

1.6 

1.8 

2.1 

2-3 

2.6 

2.9 

3-» 

3-4 

31 

3-9 

4-2 

4.4 

4-7 

30 

>3 

^2« 

a*7 

§14 

-0.3 

0.5 

0.8 

I.I 

1.4 

1.6 

1.9 

2.2 

2.4 

2.7 

3-0 

3-3 

3-J 

3.8 

4.1 

4-3 

4.6 

4.9 

•^g 

.^4 

0-3 

0.6 

0.8 

I.I 

1.4 

;.? 

2.0 

2.3 

2.5 

2.8 

3J 

3-4 

3'Z 

4.0 

4-2 

4-J 

4.8 

5-» 

^2H 

■s^^ 

§26 

1'^ 

0-3 

0.6 

0.9 

1.2 

'•5 

2.0 

2-3 

2.6 

2.9 

3-2 

^•l 

3-8 

4.1 

4-4 

4-7 

5.0 

5-3 

327 

>^i6 

Z^5 

^4 

>^i6 

0-3 

0.6 

0.9 

1.2 

1-5 

1.8 

2.1 

2.4 

H 

3-0 

3-3 

3l 

3-9 

4.3 

4.6 

4.9 

5-2 

S'S 

26 

>7 

'Z 

0-3 

0.6 

*  0.9 

»-3 

1.6 

1.9 

2.2 

2-5 

2.8 

3-1 

3-J 

3-8 

4.1 

4.4 

4-7 

J-o 

5-3 

5-7 

^5 

18 

23 

18 

0-3 

0.6 

1.0 

Jf-3 

1.6 

1.9 

2-3 

2.6 

2.9 

3-2 

3.6 

3-9 

4.2 

4-J 

4.9 

J-2 

5-5 

5.« 

24 

»9 

22 

19 

0.3 

0.7 

1.0 

1.3    »-7 

2.0 

2-3 

2.7 

3-0 

3-3 

3-7 

4.1 

4-3 

4-7 

J-o 

J-4 

5-7 

6.0 

23 
22 

2C 
21 

21 

20 

0-3 

0.7 

1.0 

J. 4 

M 

2.1 

2.4 

2.8 

3-> 

3-4 

3.8 

4.1 

4-J 

4.8 

J-2 

J-J 

5-9 

6.2 

20 

21 

0.4 

0.7 

I.I 

1.4 

2.1 

2-J 

2.8 

3-2 

3-J 

3-9 

4-3 

4.6 

J-o 

J-3 

J-7 

6.0 

6.4 

21 

22 

.'9 

22 

0.4 

0.7 

I.I 

1-5 

1.8 

3.1 

2-5 

2.9 

3-3 

3-6 

4.0 

4-4 

4-7 

J'l 

J-J 

J-8 

6.2 

6.6 

20 

23 

si  id 

>.23 

i»4 

0.4 

0.7    I.I 

»-5 

1.9 

2.2 

2.6 

3-0 

3-4 

^•2 

4.1 

4J 

4-9 

J-2 

J-6 

6.0 

6.4 

6.7 

•'? 

24 

Si? 

0.4 

0.8 

I.I 

i-i 

1.9 

a-3 

2-7 

3-» 

3-4 

3-8 

4.2 

4.6 

J-o 

J-4 

J-7 

6.1 

6.S 

6.9 

Sj^iS 

>-2S 

SI6 

IJI 

o«4 

Q.8 

1.2 

1.6 

2.0 

2.3 

^•?. 

3« 

i-s 

i-9 

4-3 

4.8 

J-' 

J-J 

J-9 

6.3 

H 

7-« 

2*7 

.^26 

Z^5 

0.4 

0.8 

1.2 

1.6 

2.0 

2.4 

2.8 

3-2 

3-6 

4.0 

4.4 

J-2 

^i 

6.0 

6.4 

6.8 

7.2 

16 

27 

^ 

0.4 

0.8 

1.2 

1.6 

2«I 

2-J 

2.9 

3J 

37 

4.1 

4-J 

4-9 

J-3 

J-8 

6.2 

6.6 

7.0 

7-4 

»i 

28 

«3 

04 

0.8 

'•3 

»-7 

2.1 

2-5 

2-9 

3-4 

3-8 

4.2 

4.6 

5.0 

J-J 

J.-9 

il 

6.7 

7-1 

7.6 

14 

29 

11 

30 

0.4 

0.9 

>-3 

'•7 

2.2 

2.6 

3-» 

.3-5 

3-9 

4.4 

4.8 

J-2 

J-7 
J-9 

6.1 

6.4 

6.6 

7.0 

7-4 

7-9 
8.2 

12 

.  10 

31 

2 

C   9 

I 

0.4 

0.9 

1.4 

1.8 

2.3 

2.7 

3-2 

3-^ 

4.1 

4-i 

5.0 

J-4 

6.8 

7-3 

7-7 

1 ' 

§  s 

3 

0.5 

0.9 

1.4 

1.9 

a.3 

2.8 

3-3 

3-8 

4.2 

H 

J-2 

^•t 

6.1 

6.6 

7.0 

7-5 

8.0 

t'^ 

£   8 

"    4 

S 

O.J 

I.O 

1.4 

1.9 

2.4 

2.9 

3-4 

3-9 

43 

4.8 

J-3 

5.8 

6.3 

6.8 

7-3 

8.0 

8.2 

8.7 

-^   6 

6 

g   3 

tl 

0.5 

1.0 

1-5 

2.0 

2.5 

3-0 

3-5 

4.0 

4-5 

5-0 

J-J 

6.0 

6.5 

7.0 

7-J 

l'^ 

9.0 

4 

u   8 

Z    I 

0.5 

1.0 

'1 

2.0 

2.5 

3-» 

3.6 

4.1 

4-6 

5-» 

J.6 

6.1 

6.7 

7-2 

7-7 

8.2 

S-' 

9-2 

2 

s  10 

30 

1" 

0.5 

1.0 

1.6 

2.1 

2.6 

« 

3-» 

^. 

4.2 

4.8 

5-3 

J.8 

6.i 

6.8 

7-3 

Z'9 

8.4 

8.9 

9J 

30 

s'l2 

aaS 

;Z;i3 

0-5 

I.I 

1.6 

2.1 

2.7 

3-2 

4-3 

5-4 

J-9 

6.5 

7.0 

7-J 

8.1 

8.6 

9.1 

9-7 

28 

I26 

S24 

^5 

0.5 

I.I 

1.6 

2.2 

2.7 

3-3 

3-8 

4.4 

4.9 

S-S 

6.0 

6.6 

7.2 

7-7 

8.2 

8.8 

9-3 

9.9 

-•26 

16 

17 

0.6 

I.I 

'•7 

2.2 

2.8 

3-4 

3-9 

4-5 

5-0 

5-6 

6.2 

6.7 

7-3 

2:? 

8.4 

9.0 

9.6 

1 0.1 

^21 

18 

T18 

30 
23 

0.6 

I.I 

»-7 

2.3 

2.9 

3-5 

4.0 
4.1 

4.6 

C.2 

5.8 

6.3 

6.9 

7-J 

8.7 

9.2 
9'S 

9.8 

10.4 

21 

0.6 

1.2 

1.8 

2.4 

3-0 

3  5 

4-7 

5-3 

J-9 

6.J 

7-» 

7-7 

S-3 

8.9 

1 0.0 

10.6 

^.18 

*:24 

p4 

26 

0.6 

1.2 

1.8 

2.4 

3-0 

3.6 

4.2 

4.8 

5'4 

6.0 

6.6 

7.2 

1-9 

8.J 

9.1 

9-7 

10.3 

10.9 

1^5 

1*7 

1" 

I 

0.6 

1.2 

1.8 

2-5 

3-1 

3-7 

4-3 

4.9 

5-5 

6.2 

6.8 

7-4 

8.0 

8.6 

9-2 

9.8 

10.5 

II. I 

<  12 

1^30 

cS   9 

4 

0.6 

1.2 

1.9 

«-5 

3» 

3-7 

4.4 

5-0 

J.6 

6.3 

6.9 

U 

8.1 

8:8 

9.4 

10.0 

10.0 

'»-3 

9 

<    2 

6 

7 

0.6 

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1.9 

a-5 

3-2 

3-8 

4.4 

5-1 

5-7 

6.3 

7.0 

8.2 

8.9    9.J 

1 0.1 

10.8 

11.4 

6 

5 

S3   3 

10 

06 

1-3 

1.9 

2.6 

3-2 

3-8 

4-5 

5-» 

5.8 

6.4. 

7.0 

7-7 

8.3 

9.0    9.6 

10.3 

10.9 

I  I.J 

3 

M*     8 

-230 

^'3 

0.6 

1-3 

1.9 

2.6 

3-» 

3-9 

4-J 

5-2 

^•S 

6.5 

7-1 

'•2 

8.4 

9.0 

9-7 

10.3 

1 1.0 

11.6 

^3' 

1" 

S14 

|»7 

■|i6 
|i9 

*22 

0.7 

»-3 

t.9 

2.6 

3-2 

3-9 

4-J 

J-2 

5.8 

6.5 

7-» 

7-! 

8.4 

9.1 

9-7 

10.4 

II.Q, 

11.7 

■S28 
I23 

f-24 

0.7 

'•3 

2.0 

2.6 

3-4 

3-9 

4-5 

5-2 

5-9 

6.5 

7-2 

7.8 

8.J 

9.1 

9.8 

10.4 

II. I 

11.7 

*'7 

^2 

0.7 

'•3 

2.0 

2.6 

3-3 

3-9 

4.6 

5-2 

5-9 

6.5 

7-2 

7-8 

8.J 

9.1 

9.8  1 

[0.4 

II. I 

.1.7 
12": 

*?.  22 

oH 

iH 

2'»0 

2*^4 

3-1 

4-0 

4''4  5-4 

&'o 

6-4  7ni 

8''o 

8"^ 

9'"i  > 

io''o'i 

1 0*^4  II HI 

Time  from  Noon, 

5| 

0*0 

1 

<s 

^•5 

732 


Table  X.  Change  ofSun^sDec. 


^     ^       Complete  Years. 

o     " 


t8 

Q 


I 

7 

25 


9 
0 


el 

J 


■«1 


9 


I 

9 


o 


s 

2, 


Ji 

B 

I 


170 
130 

'9 


o 
o 


I 

7 

1910 
25 


o'— I 

O      .2 

o  -3 
.4 
•4 


•5 
•5 

.6 


250    .7 


1 

7 


130 

*9 

25 


1 

7 


•7 

'7 
o    ,7 

7 
^+•7 


o 
o 


o 

o 


•7 

•7 

•7 
.6 

.6 


8 


12 


16 


o'— 3 
o    .4 

o    .6 

o    .7 

o    .S 


o 

o 


.6 
•5 


130 
X90 

250 


70 

»3^ 
190 

250- 


1  o 
70 

130 

X9I0 

^5 


1 

7 


13 

i9|o 

250 


1 

7 


I    ^3p    -7 


5^ 

3 


•4 

•3 


•30 
.2 

.1 


.op    .oi 

.  1  O—  1 


.1  o 

.2  3 

•30 
.40 


o 
o 
o 


•5 

•5 
.6 

.6 

•7 


o 
o 


•7 
•7 


190    .7 
250+7 


o 
o 


7 

»3P 
»9 
A5 


o 
o 


70 

130 

190 

250 


7P 

>3 

1910 

a? 


•7 

•7 

•7 
.6 

.6 


.0 
•I 
.2 

•21 


o'-.4|o'_6 
0 


o 
o 
I 
I 


•7 

•9 

.1 

•3 


•5 

.6 

•7 
•9 


3^ 


2 
•4  a 


•4 
•4 


+  4*+* 


•1 
•01 


2 
2 
2 

2 
.02 


•9 
.2 


2 
2 


.0 
.1 
•I 
•I 


•4* 
.4  2 

•3^ 

•31 
.21 


•I 
•I 

•o 


'I 

.8^2 


•o 

•  2 

•3 

•5 
.6 


2 
2 
2 
2 


•7 

-.2 

.8 
2+  8 


2 
2 
2 

2 


Table 


NAVIGATION, Pncfa. 

XI.  2^«  /{t]^A/  Ascensions  imd  Declinations  of  the  Frine^fiaei  SitmA 
adapted  to  the  besrinnin^  of  the  Tear  1810. 


beginning  of 


Names  of  Stars. 


DediaatioB.   I  v 

>ir. 


y  Pcgasi 
/SCeti 

Alrucabah,  pole  star 

Mirach 

Acheroar 

Almaach 

Menkar  -• 

AJgol 

Algenib 

Aldebaran 


■r. 


O 
O 


•5 

•4 

.20 


3 


'3 

•4 
.60 

•7« 


•5 

•5 
•4 
•4 


.2 
.2 
.1 

.0 
.1 


o 
I 
2 

3 
3 


•4 
•4 
•4 

+  4 


2 
.62 
.41 
•21 

.0 


o 
o 


.8 

•5 

•30 


o    .1 

O — 21 


•7 

•9 

.1 

•3 


2 

2 
2 
2 


2+ 


.1 

.1 

.1 

I 


.81 

•7 
.6 

•i 

•4 


3 
•I 

•9 
.6 


Capella 

Rigel 
^  Taari 

BellatriK 
}  Orionis 
f  Orionis 
^  Orionis 
«  Colambae 

Betelguese 
fi  Cams  Majoris 


1 

o 


•o 

•7 

•4 
•I 


•4^ 

o 


.6 


•2 


•5 
.6 

.8 
•92 

.02 


2 
2 
2 


.0 
.2 


.6 


•4 
•4 


•3P 

•3 

.2 


.1 

.0 

•9 

.8 

•7 


o 

O—  I 


*4P 

•3 
.1 


2 
2 


•1 

.0 
.02 


.8 


.6 

•5 

•3 
.2 

.0 


o 

o 


2 

2 
2 
2 


Canopus 

Sirioa 
}  Canis  Majoris 

Castor 

Procyon 

Pollux 
^  Navis 
y  Naviff 

Acobens 
fi  Navis 


Alphard 

Regnlos 
n  Navis 
^  Ursae  Majoria 

Dubbe 
/•  Leonis 
y  Ursae  Majoris 
m  Cracb 
y  Crncb 
/ft  Crvcis 


.8 
.8 

•9 
2+8 


2 
2 


2 
2 


Aliath 

Spica  Virginis 
^  Ursse  Majoris 

Benetnach 
fi  Centauri 

Arctoms 
«.  Centauri 

Alpbacca 
,r  /ft  Scoipii 

Antares 


.8 

•7 
.6 


2 
2 
I 
I 
I 


.2 

•o 
.8 

•i 
•3 


.50 

•30 

o 


.1 

0 —  i]p 


.0 

•7 
•4 

3 

21 


Ras.  Algetbi 

Has.  Alhague 

Vega 

Altair 

Deneb 

Gruis 

Fomalbant 

Scheat 

Markab 

«  Aii4remecl8B 


i 


N    A    V 


r    733    1 


N    A    V 


t 

r 


Navigft-       NAriGATiON  of  the  AjicietUs.    See  Phoenicia  and 
tioo.      Trade, 
InUad  Na-     Inland  Natigatioh^  the  method  of  conveying  com- 
^ingrtioB,   „mj;^^  f^P^jpj  jju^  j^j^  ^f  ^  country  to  another  by 

means  of  riTert,  lakes,  canals^  or  arms  of  the  sea.    See 
CakaIm 

We  have  already,  under  Cakal,  taken  notice  of  a 
method  proposed  by  Dr  Anderson  of  raisiog  and  lower- 
ing vessels  by  means  of  mechanical  powers,  instead  of 
daans  and  locks.  We  shall  deseribe  another  mechani- 
cal contrivance  proposed  by  Mr  Leach  for  the  same 
pnrpose.  This  machiner  j  is  compounded  of  an  inclined 
plane  and  wheel  in  axis.  The  inclined  pbine  is  a  pa- 
rallelogram whose  length  reaches  from  the  end  of  one 
canal  to  the  beginning  of  another,  or  to  the  sea  or  na- 
vigable river,  to  which  the  vessel  is  next  to  be  convey* 
ed  ^  the  breadth  ought  to  be  22-}  feet.  It  may  be 
made  of  good  oak  or  deal  plank,  and  sufficiently  strong 
to  bear  the  weight  to  be  laid  upon  it  j  and  it  must  be 
very  strongly  supported  by  beams  of  oak  or  other 
wood.  It  ought  to  be  divided  in  the  middle  by  a 
ledge  or  rib  of  1 2  inches  square,  the  side  ribs  being 
nine  by  12  inches.  The  elevation  must  depend  upon 
eCCLiXIX  P*'^^'^'^  circumstances.     Fig.  i.  shows  the  inclined     as 


ig.i. 


1" 

• 


J' 


2f4&a. 


< 


part  of  the  machine  ;  AB  being  the  wooden  part  just 
described,  placed  between  the  side  of  the  hill  W  and 
the  navigable  river  F.  According  to  the  dimensions 
already  given,  the  two  paths  A  and  B  on  which  the 
vessels  move  are  exactly  ten  feet  wide.  G  represents 
the  canal,  brought  perhaps  from  the  distance  of  several 
miles  to  the  t(^  of  the  precipice.  WW.  At  the.  end 
of  the  canal,  and  quite  across  faom  R  to  B,  must  be 
built  a  very  strong  wall ;  in  which  are  two  sluices 
with  flood  gates  at  K  and  L,  to  let  out  the  water 
occasionally.  Between  the  head  of  the  plane  "AB, 
and  the  end  of  the  caoal  G,  is  a  horizontal  platform 
divided  into  two  parts,  as  is  represented  in  the  hguco. 
by  the  letters  HI. .  At  th^  end  of  the  canal  are  six 
rollers  Mvand  N,  of  use  in  carrying  the  boats  and 
lighters  in  and  ont  of  the  canal.  Neai^  the  end  of  the 
canal,  at  S,  and  T^  are  two  other  sluices,  with  their 
flood-gates,  for  letting  out  a  quantity  of  fluid  to  drive 
the  other  part  of  the  machine.  O  and  P  represent  the 
two  ends  of-  the  towing  paths,  one  on  ^ach  side  of  the 
canal. 

Fig.  2.  shows  the- vehicle  by  which  the  lighters  apo 
conveyed  up  and  down  the  iadiaed  plane,,  by  the  two 
paths  A  and  B,  fig.  i,  AA  (fig.  2.)  represents  part 
of  the  inclined  plane,  fi  the  vehicle  in  the  position  in 
which  it  rolls  up  and  down  the  two  paths.  C  is  the 
body  of  the  vehicle,  which  is  made  hollow^  to  con- 
tain a  quantity  of  water  occasionallf  used  as  a  coun- 
terbalance for  its  corresponding  venicle.  DDD  are 
tkree  rollers  between  the  bottom-  of  the  vehicle  and 
the  plane,  for  the  pnrpose  of  rolling  the  boats  up  and 
d^wn.  HHH  are  six  rollers ;  four  by  the  horizontal 
part  of  the  vehicle  on  which  the  boat  £  is  to  rest  in 
its  passage  up  and  down  the  plane ;  the  other  two  rol- 
lers are  in  a  moveable  part,  which  is  fiutened  to  the 
body  of  the  vehicle  with  a  pair  of  very  strong  hinges : 
and  in  the  passage  of  the  vehicle  up  and  dow»  the 
it  tnrn^  up  between  the  head  of  the  boat  and 
ne,  preventing  the  former  from  rubbing  against 
ine.     When  the  vehicle  gets  up  to  the  top^  this 

3 


moveable  part  fitlls  down  on  the  platform  marked  Hf ,  lalsnd  Mi.. 
becoming  parallel  with  the  borizontal  part  of  the  vc-  vigrtion. 
hide  }  after  which  it  serves  for  a  launch  and  passage 
to  place  the  boat  upon  the  rollers  MN  (fig.  i.)  at  the 
end  of  the  canal.  This  passage  part  of  the  vehicle, 
together  with  the  three  rollers  at  the  end  of  the  canal, 
is  likewise  of  great  use  in  towing  a  boat  out  of  the 
canal,  in  order  to  place  it  on  the  borizontal  part.  At 
tbe  bottom  of  the  cavity  of  the  vehicle  is  a  large  hole 
F,  with  a  valve  opening  inwardly.  Through  this  hole 
the  water  enters  when  the  vehicle  sinks  into  the  naviga- 
ble river  F,  for  the  purpose  of  receiving  a  boat  on  the 
top  or  horizontal  part  of  tbe  vehicle,  till  it  is  quite 
full,  and  then  will  sink  entirely  under  water,  while  the 
boat  is  towed  in  on  the  horizontal  part.  A  small  rope 
K  is  fastened  to  the  valve,  on  purpose  to  lift  it  up  and . 
to  keep  it  so,  while  the  vehicle  and  boat  are  ascending 
up  the  plane  out  of  the  canal }  that  so  the  water  may 
discharge  itself  till  as  much  as  is  necessary  be  got  out, 
or  till  it  becomes  an  equal  balance  for  the  correspond- 
ing vehicle  and  its  contents,  which  are  descending  by 
tbe  other  path.  Hence  we  see,  that  everj  machine 
must  have  tnro  of  these  vehicles  furnished  with  rollers 

already  described,  and  so  constructed  that  one  may 
be  as  nearly  as  possible  a  connterbalance  to  the  other. 
As  it  is  necessary  that  the  vehicles  should  be  water  tight,  ^ 
the  insides  of  them  must  be  caulked  >very  tight  j   and 
they  should   be  capacious  enough  to  hold  as  much  . 
^vater  as  will  balance  tba  largest  boat  with  its  con^ 
tents.     Here  it  may  be  observed,  that  every  vessel 
will  be  balanced  by  as  many  cubic  feet  of  water  as  it 
displaces  by  being  pot  into  the  water  when  loaded.  . 
The  quantity  may  .easily  be  known,  by  observing  how 
fas  the  boat  sinks  in  the  water,  and  calculating  the 
bulk  of  the  part  immersed. 

The  machine  which  puts  the  vehicles  in  •motion,  noay 
either  be  constrqeted  with  an  under-shot  or  breast-water 
wheel :  or  by  an  over-shot  water  wheel :  or  by  two 
walking-wheels,  for  men  to  walk  in  as. in  c«anes,  &c. 

Fig.  5«.  shows  a  front  view  of  the  under-shot  watei^Fig*  Z* 
wheel  movement ;   where  A  is  the  end  of  the  axis  or 
cylinder  of  the  cog  or  spur  wheel  ^  tlie  diameter  of 
which  axis  is  four  feet,  and  its  length  not  less  than 
22  feet,  as  it  mnst  be  extended  quite  across  the  canal 
from  one  side  to  the  other,  and  placed  on  the  top  of 
very^strong  supporters  on  each  side  ef  the  canal,  about 
seven  feet  above  the  surface  of  the  ivater,  as  the  load- 
ed boat  is*to  pass  backwards  and  forwards  under  the 
cylinder,  and  at  a  convenient  distance  from  the  wall 
RR  (fig.  I.) }   and  placed  between  tbe  two  sluices  S 
and  T;  on  the  end  of  which  cylinder  is  the  cog- 
wlieel  B  (fig.  3.).    The  wheel  B  is  supposed  to  be 
20  feet  of  diameter,  having  on  its  edge  1 20  cogs  >  and 
underneath  the  cog-wheel  is  the- breast-water  one  C, 
24  feet  in  diameter,  from  the  tip  of  one  aller-board 
to  the  tip  of  its  opposite.     On  the  end  of  the  axis  of    - 
the  water-wheel  I)  is  a  trundle  two  Ceet  and  a  half 
in  diameter,  with  15  rounds  and  staves  contained  there- 
in.    This  must  be  placed  between  the  two  sluices  S 
and  T,  to  let  the  water  out  of  the  canal  ^  which,  fall- 
ing on  the  float^hoards,  will  ton  the   wheel   round 
from  the  right  hand  towards  the  left,  when  the  sluice 
en  tbe  left  hand  of  the  wheel  is  opened }  but  the  con- 
trary way  when  that  of  the  right  is  opened.p«>The  water 

faUingj. 


N    A    V 


C    734    ] 


N    A    U 


Fig.  I. 


lig.  4- 


f  uUnd  NTa.  falling  upon  the  boards  passes  along  xrith  the  wheel  in 
.vigation.    the  circular  C|ivity  EGF,  and  is  discharged  at  G,  what- 
'         ever  way  the  wheel  may  turn. 

To  the  axis  or  cylinder  of  this  machine,  which  most 
always  be  horizontal,  are  fixed  a  pair  of  strong  ropes  ^ 
the  ends  of  each  pair  fastened  to  the  upper  part  of 
the  cylinder ;  it  being  necessary  that  they  should  act 
in  contrary  directions.  Each  must  extend  the  whole 
length  of  the  plane,  and  their  strength  must  be  pro- 
portioned to  the  weight  necessary  to  be  sustained.  The 
two  vehicles  already  mentioned  are  fastened  to  the  other 
ends  of  the  ropes  j  so  that  one  pair  of  the  ropes  are 
wound  up  by  the  cylinder  turning  one  way,  and  the 
other  by  its  turning  the  contrary  way.  Thus  when 
one  of  the  vehicles  is  at  the  upper  part  of  the  path  A, 
ready  to  discharge  its  boat  and  cargo  into  the  upper 
canal,  the  other  boat  will  be  at  the  foot  of  the  path  B, 
all  under  water  in  the  lower  canal,  and  ready  for  the 
reception  of  a  boat  to  be  towed  in  on  the  horizontal 
part  of  it  J  so  that  as  one  vehicle  rolls  up  on  one  side  of 
the  plane,  the  other  will  roll  down  on  the  other  side, 
and  vice  versa. 

Fig.  4.  shows  the  movement  by  means  of  an  over- 
shot water-wheel.  It  consists  of  a  water-wbeel  C, 
and  two  spur  or  cog-wheels  A  and  B.  The  water- 
wheel  is  18  feet  in  diameter,  and  has  two  rows  of 
buckets  placed  contrariwise  to  one  another,  that  it 
may  turn  round  in  contrary  directions,  according  as 
the  one  or  the  other  sluice,  S,  or  T,  is  opened.  On  its 
axis  F  is  a  trundle  of  three  feet  djameter,  having  18 
rounds  or  staves  which  fall  into  the  cogs  of  the  se- 
cond spur-wheel  B,  causing  it  to  turn  round  in  a  di- 
rection contrary  to  that  of  the  water-wheel.  This 
second  wheel  is  likewise  18  feet  in  diameter,  with  a 
trundle  of  three  feet  having  18  rounds  or  staves.— «> 
The  diameter  of  the  upper  spur-wheel  A  is  also  18 
feet,  but  the  diameter  of  its  axis  is  six  feet.  On  the 
edge  of  the  wheel  are  108  cogs.  These  fall  in  between 
the  staves  of  the  axis  of  the  other  spur-wheel  j  and 
thus  the  third  wheel  turns  round  the  same  way  with 
the  water  wheel  C.  The  cylinder  of  this  upper  spur- 
wheel  must  be  placed  across  the  canal  betwixt  tlie  two 
sluices,  on  very  strong  supporters,  as  explained  in  the 
former  movement,  and  the  two  pair  of  ropes  in  the 
same  manner^ 

The  movement  of  the.  walking  wheel  is  shown  (fig. 
5.).  A I  and  A 2  are  two  wheels  for  men  to  walk  in, 
each  of  them  24  feet  in  diameter.  Bi  and  B2  are 
the  axes  or  cylinders  of  the  two  wheels,  of  equal 
lengths  \  viz.  1 1  feet  each,  and  four  in  diameter.-"*- 
At  one  end  of  each  of  the  two  cylinders  Ci  and  C2,  is 
a  wheel  of  the  same  diameter  with  the  cylinder.  On 
the  edges  of  these  wheels  are  teeth  of  an  equal  num« 
ber  in  each  wheel  *,  and  as  the  teeth  of  the  wheels  mu- 
tually fall  into,  each  other,  the  revolutions  of  both 
must  be  performed  in  the  sapie  time.  By  this  con- 
trivance also  the  cylinders  will  turn  diRorent  ways  ^  and 
the  ropes  on  the  two  different  cylinders  will  constantly 
one  pair  be  wound  up,  and  the  other  wound  down,  by 
the  natural  moving  of  the  machine.  DDD  is  the  frame 
that  supports  the  whole,  which  roust  be  made  very  firm 
and  secure. 

.  Let  us  now  suppose,  that  there  is  a  boat  in  the  up- 
per canal' to  be  brought  down,  but  none  to  go  up  for 
a  balance.    In  this  case,  as  one  of  the  vehicles  must  be 

I 


f^iffS- 


cbk 


at  the  top  to  receive  the  boat,  the  other  will  le  at  thebUBdVt. 
bottom  to  take  in  water.  Let  then  any  of  the  move-  ^ip^ 
roeots  just  described  be  set  to  work,  and  it  is  pUin, 
that  as  the  upper  vehicle  with  its  boat  descends,  the 
under  vehicle  will  ascend  with  the  water  ;  the  valve  be- 
ing in  the  mean  time  lifted  up  till  a  sufficient  qoantitj 
of  water  has  flowed  out,  to  make  the  one  nearly  a  cosn- 
terbalance  to  the  other  \  so  that  the  vessel  may  slide 
down  gently  and  .without  any  violence. 

If  it  happens  that  a  boat  is  to  go  up  while  none  is 
to  come  down,  one  of  the  vehicles  being  at  the  foot 
of  the  plane  under  water,  and  in  readiness  to  have  the 
boat  towed  upon  its  horizontal  part,  one  of  tlte  bluicts 
at  K  or  L  is  to  be  opened,  and  a  quantity  of  water  let 
into  the  cistern  of  the  upper  vehicle  sufficient  to  cou- 
terbalance  the  boat  with  the  contents  which  is  to  is- 
cend.  This  being  done,  the  machine  is  set  to  work,  tbe 
valve  of  the  under  vehicle  kept  open  till  the  water  is  all 
discharged  j  and  then  the  beat  will  roll  op  to  the  top  of 
the  plane. 

From  this  description  of  the  canal  and  machinciy 
for  raising  and  lowering  the  vessels,  the  reader  ran  be 
at  no  loss  to  understand  the  principles  on  whirli  it 
depends.  It  weald  be.  superfluous  to  adduce  examplet, 
or  follow  our  author  through  his .  calculations  relative 
to  particular  cases.  We  shall  only  observe,  that  tbe 
difference  of  time  in  which  vessels  may  be  railed  or 
lowered  by  the  machinery  just  described,  in  coaiparifOB 
with  what  can  be  done  in  the  common  way  by  dans 
and  locks,  must  give  a  very  favourable  idea  of  the  new 
method.  According  to  Mr  Leaches  com  potations,  a 
boat  with  its  cargo  weighing  10  tons  might  be  laised 
by  the  walking  machine  in  12  or  14  minutes,  by  tbe 
under-shot  wheel  in  15  minutes,  and  by  the  over-sfaot 
wheel  in  30  minutes  \  and  that  through  a  space  of  do 
less  than  30  fathoms  measured  on  the  inclined  plane,  oe 
114  feet  perpendicular. 

NAVIGATORS  islands.     See  Opouv. 

NAULUM,  in  Roman  antiquity,  a  piece  of  monrf 
put  into  the  mouth  of  a  person  deceased,  to  enable  bin 
to  pay  Charon  the  ferryman  for  his  passage.  It  was  to 
be  of  the  current  coin  of  the  reigning  emperor  \  so  that 
from  this  money  the  time  of  the  person ^s  death  may  be 
known.  The  sum  for  poor  men  was  a  farthing,  bat 
the  rich  in  general  were  very  liberal  to  Charon,  as 
appears  from  the  number  of  coins  oflen  found  in  tbe 
neighbourhood  of  Rome  on  opening  the  graves  of  great 
men.  ,  Charon  was  looked  upon  as  a  very  morose  aod 
obstinate  old  fellow,  who  would  not  carry  over  any  nan 
without  his  fare  :  and  hence  the  proverbial  use  of  that 
verse  in  Juvenal, 

Furor  est  post  omnia  perdere  tuntlam. 

A  similar  custom  took  place  among  the  Greeks:  Tbe 
money  put  into  the  month  of  the  deceased  w»$  by  then 
called  A«y«>ai.  * 

NAUM ACHIA.  in  antiquity,,  a  sliow  or  spectacle 

among  the  ancient  Romans,  rppresenting  a  seafi^* 

These  mock  sea  fights  arc  supposed  to  have  ori|{ioa(ed 

at  the  time  of  tbe  first  Punic  war,  when  the  Konnos 

first  instructed  their  men  in  the  knowledge  of  naval 

affairs.     Afterwards  they  were  intended  to  entertain 

the  populace,  as  well  as  to  improve  the  seamen.    Tbcy 

were  often,  like  other  shows,  exhibited  at  tbe  expcoce 

of  individuals,  to  increase  their  popularity. 

b 


IN1<AND  NAVIGATION. 

Fiff.i 


PLATE  CCCLiXZS.. 


DAY     X  E  T , 


^EArTO^S'IAX  PHILOSOPHY 


.f 

irn 

^ 

/ 

M 

/' 

N    A    U  [    735 

K^nnneUa     Zo  these,  spectacles  they  sometimes  strove  to  excel 
11        each  other  in  Bwlftness^  and  sometimes  engaged  in  a 

.^•"P^™*".  warlike  manner.  The  naamachise  of  Cladius  indeed 
was  a  most  savage  diversion.  The  combatants  used 
to  destroy  each  other  to  amuse  a  tyrant  and  a  cruel 
mob.  As  they  passed  before  him,  they  nsed  this  me- 
lancholy greeting,  *'  Ave  Imperator^  mon'tttrt  te  salu" 
tantJ*^  The  emperor  replied,  "  Avete  vosJ*'*  This 
they  understood  aar  an  answer  of  kindness,  and  a  grant 
of  their  lives ;  hut  they  soon  discovered  that  it  pro- 
ceeded from  wanton  cruelty,  and  barbarous  insensibi- 
lity. In  the  time  of  tho  emperor  Domitian,  such  a 
vast  number  of  vessels  engaged  as  would  have  noarly 
formed  two  regular  fleets  for  a  real  fight,  and  the 
channel  of  water  was  equal  in  magnitude  to  a  natural 
river.  The  emperor  Heliogabalus  is  reported  to  have 
filled  the  channel  where  the  vessels  were  to  ride  with 
wine  instead  of  water.  Tritons  and  sea  monsters  were 
frequently  exhibited  during  the  engagement.  Suetonius 
and  Dio  Cassius  inform  us,  that  at  one  of  these  sea  fights 
of  Domitian  a  violent  shower  fell  >  the  emperor,  how- 
ever, continued  till  the  end  of  the  engagement,  often 
changing  his  clothes,  nor  would  he  suffer  any  on&  to  de- 
part ^  and  as  the  rain  continued  for  several  hours,  many 
were  seized  with  distempers,  and  some  even  died,  Suet. 
cap.  4.  Dio.  lib.  Ixvii.  Naumachise  were  also  places 
fitted  up  for  these  shows,  a  sort  of  circi  or  amphitheatres, 
with  seats  and  porticoes,  &c.  There  were  several  of 
them  at  Ronie  ^  three  built  by  Augustus,  one  by  Clau- 
dius, another  by  Domitian,  and  another  by  Nero : 
which  served  for  the  reverse  of  his  medals.  Claudius 
used  the  lake  Fucinus  as  a  naumachia. 

NAUMBURG,  a  town  of  Germany,  in  the  circle, 
of  Upper  Saxony,  capital  of  the  county  of  Saxe-Naum- 
burg,  situated  on  the  siver  Sala,  in  JL,  Long.  ii.  20. 
N.Xat.  51.  12. 

NAUPACTUS,  or  Naupactum,  in  Ancient  Geo- 
graphic^ a  city  of  ^tolia,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Evenus. 
The  word  is  derived  from  mvi  and  Twyfvfu^  because  it 
wa9  there  that  the  Heraqlidse  built  the  first  ship  which 
carried  them  to  Peloponnesus.  It  first  belonged  to 
the  Locri  Ozolae,  and  afterwards  fell  into  the  hands 
of  the  Athenians,  who  gave  it  to  the  Messenians,  who 
had  been  driven  from  Peloponnesus  by  the  Lacedae- 
monians. It  became  the  property  of  the  Lacedsemo- 
nians  after  the  battle  of  :£gospotomos,  and  it  was  re- 
stored to  the  Locri.  Philip  of  Macedon  afterwards 
took  it,  and  gave  it  to  the  ^tolians  ^  from  which  cir- 
cumstance it  has  generally  been  called  one  of  the  chief 
cities  of  their  country.  £.  Long.  22.  20.  N.  Lat. 
33.  o. 

There  was  on  the  shore  a  temple  of  Neptune,  and 
near  it  a  cave  filled  with  offerings,  and  dedicated  to 
Venus,  where  widows  resorted  to  request  new  husbands 
of  the  goddess.     Pausan.  lib.  x,  p.  898. 

NAuPLIA,  in  Ancient  Geography^  a  maritime  city 
of  Peloponnesus.  It  was  the  naval  station  of  the  Ar- 
gives.  The  fountain  Canathos  was  in  its  neighbourhood. 
•  NAUPLIU9,  in  fabulous  history,  a  son  of  Neptune 
and  Amymonc,  king  of  Eubcea.  He  was  the  father  of 
the  famous  Palamedes,  who  was  so  unjustly  sacrificed 
to  the  artifice  and  resentment  of  Ulysses  by  the  Greeks 
at  the  Trojan  war.  The  death  of  Palamedes  highly 
enraged  Nauplius }  and  to  revenge  the  injustice  ofthe 
Grecian  princes,   he  ^endeavouied  to  debauch  their 


]  N    A    U 

wives,  and  ruih  their  characters.  When  the  Greeks  Naoplttti 
returned  from  the  Trojan  war,  Nauplius  *was  pleased  ^  i 
to  see  them  distressed  in  a  storm  on  the  coasts  of  Eu-  ,  ^^'gopy* 
boea  *,  and  to  make  their  disaster  still  more  universal, 
he  lighted  fires  on  such  places  as  were  surrounded  with 
the  most  dangerous  rocks,  that  the  fleet  might  be  ship* 
wrecked  upon  the  coast.  This  had  the  desired  ef- 
fect }  but  Nauplius  was  so  disappointed  when  he  saw 
Ulysses  and  Diomedes  escape  from  the  general  distress, 
that  he  threw  himself  into  the  sea.  According  to 
some  mytbologists  there  were  two  persons  of  this  name : 
one  a  native  of  Argos,  who  went  to  Colchis  with  Ja- 
son. He  was  son  of  Neptune  and  Amymone.— -The 
other  was  king  of  Euboea,  and  lived  about  the  time  of 
the  Trojan  war.  He  was,  as  some  observe,  son  of  Cly- 
tonas,  one  of  the  descendants  of  Nauplius  the  Argonaut. 
The  Argonaut  was  remarkable  for  his  knowledge  of 
sea  aflairs  and  of  astronomy.  He  built  the  town  of 
Nauplia,  and  sold  Aoge  daughter  of  Aleus  to  King 
Teuthras,  to  screen  her  from  her  father^s  resentment.    • 

NAUPORTUS,  or  Nauportum,  in  jfncient  Geo- 
graphy^  a  town  on  a  cognominal  river,  towards  its 
source,  in  Pannonia  Superior.  The  reason  of  the  name, 
according  to  Pliny,  is  that  the  ship  Argo,  afler  coming 
up  the  Danube,  the  Save,  and  the  Laubacb,  was  thence 
carried  on  men's  shoulders  over  the  Alps  into  the  A- 
driatic.  The  river  Nauportus  rises  in  the  Alps,  near 
Longaticum,  at  the  distance  of  six  miles  from  the  town 
Nauportum  )  which  was  a  colony  of  the  Taurisci,  a 
people  on  the  confines  of  Norieum.  Now  Upper  Lou* 
bach  in  Carinthia,  on  the  river  Laobach.  £•  Long* 
14.  40.  N.  Lat.  46.  28. 

NAUSCOPY,  the  art  of  discovering  the  approach. 
of  ship»  or  the  neighbourhood  of  land  at  a  considerable 
distance.  This  pretended  art  was  discovered  by  M. 
BottineaO,  employed  in  the  king  and  company's  service 
in  the  island  of  France,  from  the  year  1782  to  1784  ) 
tlie  account  of  it  is  as  follows : 

**  This  knowledge  is  not  derived  either  firom  the  un- 
dulation of  the  waves,  or  from  the  subtility  of  sight,  or 
from  any  particular  sensation ;  but  merely  from  obser* 
vation  of  the  horixon^  which  discovers  signs  indicating 
the  proximity  of  ships  or  of  land. 

'*  On  the  approximation  of  a  ship  toward  the  land, 
or  towards  another  ship,  tliere  appears  in  the  atmo- 
sphere a  meteor  of  a  particular  nature,  visible  to  every 
one  without  any  painful  attention^  It  is  not  by  any 
kSnd  of  accident  that  this  meteor  appears  under  these 
circumstances }  on  the  contrary,  it  is  the  necessary  re- 
sult of  the  approximation  of  one  vessel  towards  another, 
or  towards  the  land.  The  existence  of  the  meteor^  and 
the  knowledge  of  its  different  modifications,  are  what 
constitute  the  certainty  and  the  precision  of  my  infor- 
mation. 

*^  If  I  am  asked,  how  it  is  possible  that  the  approach 
of  a  ship  towards  land  should  give  birth  to  any  meteor 
whatsoever  in  the  atmosphere,  and  what  connexion  there 
can  be  between  two  objects  at  such  a  distance  firom  each 
other  ?  I  reply,  that  I  am  not  obliged  to  give  an  ac- 
count of  the  hows  and  the  wherefores :  that  it  is  sufli- 
cient  for  me  to  have  discovered  the  fact,  without  being  « 
obliged  to  account  &r  its  principle.'' 

The  writer  concludes,  by  desiring  to  be  called*  on  for 
experimental  proois,  and  by  promising  in  future  a  com- 
plete treatise  of  Nauscopy,  with  maps,  plates,  &c. 

This 


N    A    W 


[ 


Nmim^,  This  complete  tteattse,  ss  far  u  we  kaow,  has  not 
Naivttitk'  1^  beea  piiblialied>  nor  do  we  expect  ever  to  iee such 
j**^  ,a  treatise  od  tbe  subject  as  will  MUiify  the  minds  of 
*^"  those  who  are  persaaded  that  erery  eiract  must  haire 
aa  adequate  caase.  The  iHioie  seems  to  be  the  work 
of  fiuicT* 

NAUSEA,  er  Sickvess;  a  retebing  or  propensitr 
and  endeayour  to  xromity  arisbg  firom  somethiag^wfaich 
irritates  the  stomach* 

NAUniiUSy  a  genus  of  animals  belonging  to  the 
lOrder  of  vermes  testacea.    See  Conchologt  index. 

NAVY,  the  fleet  er  shipping  of  a  prinee  or  stale. 
See  Maaiive, 

The  management  of  the  Brithh'rojral  ttAvy,  under  the 
kird  hioh  adnund  of  Ofeat  Britain,  is  intrusted  to  prin-^ 
cipal  officers  and  commimioners  of  the  n*vf ,  who  bold 
their  places  by  patent*  The  principal  officers  of  the  navy 
are  four,  vil.  tiM  tieaSurer,  'Whose  business  it  is  to  re- 
ceive money  out  of  the  eache^uer,  and  to  pay  all  tbe 
charges  of  the  navy,  by  warrant  from  the  principal 
officen:  cemptfoUer,  who  attends  and  eoatreuls  all 
peyment  el  wages,  is  to  knew  the  ^iwies  of  stores,  tor 
eiramine  and  audit  all  aceounts,  &e. :  surveyor,  wha 
is  to  know  the  states  of  alt  stoics,  and  see  wants  sup« 
plied  ^  to  estimate  repittS,  dmrge  boatswains,  &c.  with 
what  stores  they  receive,  tad  at  the  end  of  each  voyage 
to  state  and  audit  accounts :  clerk  of  the  acts,  wh<^ 
husiuess  it  is  to  record  all  orders,  contracts,  bills,  war* 
rantJ,  Ac. 

Hie  coramissieners  of  ttie  navy  are  five ;  The  first 
eteeotes  that  part  4i  the  oemptroHer's  duty  which  re« 
laCes  to  the  comptrolling  the  victnatter^s  accoonts ;  the 
second,  Another  part  or  tbe  said  comptroller's  do^  re- 
lating to  the  account  of  the  storekeepers  of  the  yard  f 
the  third  has  the  direction  of  the  navy  at  the  port  of 
^Portsmouth  j  the  fourth  has  the  same  St  Chatham ;  and 
Ihe  fifUi  at  Plymouth.  There  are  also  other  commission- 
ers at  large,  the  number  more  or  less  according  to  tbe 
exigencies  of  public  affairs  ^  and  since  the  increase  of 
the  royal  itAvy,  these  have  several  clerks  under  them, 
with  salaries  allowed  by  the  king. 

The  victualling  of  the  roj/al  navy  hath  farmerly 
been  undertaken  by  contract^  but  is  now  managed  by 
commissioners,  wbo  hold  their  office  on  Tower-hill, 
London*  The  navy^  office  is  where  the  whole  business 
cuttceinhig  die  navy  is  managed  by  the  priticipal  of- 
ficers and  commissioners. 

Hie  royal  navy  of  Great  Britain  is  noW  in  a  very 
'flourishing  state,  having  been  diligently  kept  up  in  late 
reigns,  as  the  natural  strength  of  the  kingdom.  When 
it  is  complete,  it  is  divided  into  three  squadrons,  di- 
tinguished  by  the  coleurs  of  the  flags  carried  by  the 
respective  admirals  belonging  to  the  same,  vit.  rr^, 
white ,  and  blue;  the  principal  commander  of  which 
bears  the  title  of  admirtd;  and  each  has  under  him  a 
vice  admiral  and  a  rear  admiral,  who  are  likewise  flag' 
offioers. 

Navy  Exercise.    See  Ex£xci$£. 

Nakt  Discifiine^  Cr  Jtegtdations.  See  MARtTiitie 
Shtte. 

N  A  WORTH  CASTLt,  in  Cumberland,  I  or  miles 
from  Carlisle,  near  the  Gelt.  This  castle  is  stHl  entire 
and  inhabited.  It  is  a  large  pile,  square,  and  built 
round  a  court.  On  the  north  it  stands  over  the  ri- 
ver Ithing,  at  a  great  height,  the  banks  simgged  with 


736    ]  N    A    X 

wood«  The  whole  house  is  a  very  irregukr  Wying; 
the  rooms  numerous,  accessible  by  16  statrcsies,  uub 
most  frequent  and  sudden  ascents  and  descents,  tu^^m 
The  great  hall  faas^  a  gallery  at  one  end,  aderned  wA 
hat  vast  crests  earv£i  in  wood,  viz.  a  grifiia  saddd- 
phin,  with  the  sc^lops}  an  unicora,  and  an  «i  uilk 
a  coronet  round  his  neck.  In  front  ii  a  figure  in  ussd 
of  an  armed  man  J  two  others,  perhaps  vasstk,  in  alMt 
jackets  and  caps.  The  top  and  upper  end  of  tlw  nmi 
is  painted  in  squares,  representing  the  Saxon  kiM  lod 
heroes.  This  castle  was  built  l^  one  o£  tbe  Dicns 
About  the  reign  of  Henry  III.  In  the  gardea  wslh 
were  stones  with  Roman  inscriptions,  which  the  hte 
earl  of  Carlisle  gave  to  Sir  Thomas  Robinson,  and  uoe 
by  him  rsmoved  to  his  museum  at  Rooksby:  Oa  saesf 
these  stones  is  this  inscription,^dSrirtim  cenhtm  mnifMS- 
ginta  Briianorum  ;  whence  its  appears  that  the  Aoonsiy 
when  in  possession  of  Britain,  sometimes  indulged  ik 
national  troops  with  the  &vonr  of  ganisoning  their  sen 
territories. 

NAXIA,  or  Naxos,  a  considerable  idaad  of  ^ 
Archipelago,  25  miles  in  length,  and  88  in  cifOm- 
ference.  The  whole  island  is  covered  with  ormge, 
olive,  lemon,  cedar,  citron,  pomegranate,  fig,  ssJ 
mulberry  trees  *,  and  there  are  a  great  many  sprisp 
and  brooks.  Tliis  island  has  n6  harbour;  and  jet 
they  carry  on  a  considerable  trade  in  barley,  wine,  i^ 
cotton,  silk,  flkx,  cbeese,  salt,  oiten,  sheep,  dsIibIi 
and  oil.  They  biirn  only  oil  of  raastich,  though  diw 
oil  is  exceedingly  cheap.  It  is  inhabited  both  by  Greeb 
and  Latins,  who  live  in  great  dread  of  the  Tsrkf ; 
for  when  the  meanest  of  their  ^ips  appear  here,  they 
always  wear  red  caps  like  galley«slave»,  and  tiefliUt 
before  the  loivest  officer;  but  as  soon  as  they  tie 
gone,  they  pot  on  their  caps  of  velvet.  Tbe  lidia 
are  so  vain,  that  when  they  return  out  of  the  csostnr 
they  have  40  women  in  their  train,  half  on  fiiot  ssd 
half  on  asses,  one  of  whom  carries  a  napkin  sv  tso^ 
another  a  petticoat,  another  a  pair  of  stockings  oi 
So  on ;  which  is  a  very  ridiculous  sight  to  straBgeti 
There  are  four  archbishops  sees  in  this  island,  tod  s 
great  many  villages  \  but  so  thin  of  propk,  thtt  the 
whole  island  does  not  Contain  abov«  8000  infaabitsatt. 
Tbe  highest  mountain  is  Zm,  which  signifies  *'the 
mountain  of  Jupiter.^  There  are  btit  few  aDtl^mttes, 
except  some  small  remains  of  the  temple  of  Bacdw*. 
Some  say  they  have  mines  of  gold  and  silver ;  h«v- 
ever,  there  is  one  of  emery,  which  is  so  commoo  here 
and  so  cheap,  that  tbe  English  often  baUast  iSbat  ships 
tbenewith. 

NAXOS,  or  Naxia,  a  considerable  town,  and  ttfth 
tal  of  the  isle  of  Naxos,  over  against  the  isle  of  Pins, 
with  a  castle  and  two  archbishops  sees,  the  one  Greek 
and  the  other  Latin.  Tbe  greatest  nsrt  of  the  hr 
habitants  are   Ghreeks.     £•  Long,    25.  51.  N.  Lit 

37-  8. 
NAXUS,  now  Naxia,  fitrmerly  Stnmgj^y  Dk, 

iyionysias^  CeMipoNi,  and  LitHe  Sxify.    It  ivas  eaOed 

Stfrmgyky  from  a  Greek  word,  signifying  ^nrasd,** 

though  in  reality  it  is  rather  square  than  reund.    The 

names  of  IMi  or  Divine^  and  Dhnysras^  were  gives 

it  as  being  consecrated  in  a  pecniiar  manner  to  tbe  &- 

bulous  god  Dionysus  or  Bacchus.      Tbe  sppellitMS 

of  CaHipoiisy  Pliny  and  Solions  derive  firom  the  metie^ 

polis  of  tiMS  island,  fiyrmcrly  a  most  beaoiifti  ott* 

wUcb 


Cadi 
I 


MAX 


[    737    ] 


Vf   A    Z 


Kaksfc    vUcIi  ig  tbe  import  of  tbo  ^rord  CnUipoU*.     The 
great  fertility  ef  the  country  g»ve  rise  to  tJie  wiine 
of  Lttfle  Sicifyy  Nftxos  being  the  most  fruitful  of  aU 
tbe   CycladeSy   a»  Antbanerus  informs  qb,  and  bo 
lets  fertile  than  SicUy  itself.     I^  for  tbo  name  of 
NaxuSf  some  assert  tibat  it  was  borrowed  from  ooe 
Naxuf,  voder  whose  conduct  the  Cariaos  poesessed  thenif> 
•elves  of  the  island  \  others  pretend  it  Deceived  its  name 
from  NazQSy  the  son  of  Endymion^  Stepbaaus^  Siai^aSy 
and  PhavorinuSy  derive  the  name  of  jNiurctf,  from  tbo 
Greek,  word  fto^rai,  signifying,  '*  to  aacrifice/*  and  will 
have  it  to  haj^e  been  so  cilled  from  the  many  sacrifices 
bffered  here  to  Bacchus.     With  these  Bocbart  agrees, 
as  to  its  being  called  Ntueos  from  the  sacrifices  per- 
formed here  in  faononr  of  Bacchus,  but  will  have  the 
word  naxof  to  be  a  corruption  of  the  PhoBnician  nasca^ 
or  flfcM,  signifying  "  a  sacrifice,  offering.'^    Naxos 
IS,  acc««^ing  to  Pliny,  75,  but  reckoned  by  the  pre- 
sent inbabitanti  100  miles,  in  compass.     It  has  Paros 
to  the  west,  Myconos  and   Doles  to  the  north,  and 
los  to  the  south.    This  iaUnd  is  the  most  fruitful  of 
Ihe  Archipelago,  and  was  fi»rmerly  famed  lor  the  ex- 
cellent wines  it  produced.     Archilochus,  as  quoted 
by  Athensus,  compares  them  to  the  nectar  of  the 
gods;  and  Asclepiades,  cited  by  Stephanns,  assures 
us«  that   Bacchus  took  more  delight  in  Naxos  than 
in  any  other  place  whatsoever,  haviqg  hiniflelf  taught 
the  inhabitants  to  cultivate  their  vines.     The  wine 
of  Naxos  maintains  to  this  day  its  ancient  reputation, 
being  by  some  deemed  the  best  of  the  Levant.     Be- 
sides wMe,  this  island  abounds  with  all  sorts  of  deli- 
cious fruits,  the  plains   being  covered  with  orange, 
olive,  lemon,  cedar,  citron,  pomegianate,  mulberry, 
and  fig  trees.    It  was  formerly  famous  for  quarries  of 
that  sort  of  marble  which  the  Greeks  called  opMeSf 
from  its  being  (j^neeo,  and  speckled  with  white  spots 
like  the  skin  of  a  serpent.    The  best  emerald  is  foood 
here  on  the  mountains  near  the  westem  coast,  whence 
the  neighbouring  cape  is  called  by  the  Italiaae  capo 
smer^UOf  4>r  the  emerald  qspe.    As  to  the  inhabitants 
of  Naxos,  Dioderns  relates  that  the  island  was  first 
peopled  hf  the  Thraeians.     These  were  in  a  little 
time  subdued  by  a  body  of  Thessalinns,  who,  having 
possessed  the  island  for  the  space  of  8OO  years  and 
upwards,  were  compelled  to  abandon  it  by  a  drought 
and  frmioe* 

After  the  Trojan  war,  the  Carians  settled  hem,  and 
called  the  island  ^a«o«,  from  their  king,  who  was  the 
son  of  PolemoB.  lie  was  sueoeeded  by  Us  son  Lea- 
oipfus,  and  Leuoippus  by  his  son  SmiMNlins,  in  whose 
reign  Theseus,  coming  out  of  Crete,  landed  here  witk 
Arwdne,  whom  he  was,  in  his  sleeps  commanded  kj 
Bacchns  to  leave  in  this  island.  In  process  of  time  a 
colony  of  Giidians  and  Bbodiaas  seUled  here  under 
the  condnct  of  Hippothons  and  Xnfehns :  and  last  of  all 
the  lonians,  who,  in  time,  possessed  the  whole  island  ( 
whence  the  Naxians  are,  by  Herodotus,  called  lomams^ 
and  ranged  among  the  Aihenian  colonies.  £.  Long. 
26.  5.  N.  Lat.  36.  30.  It  is  about  105  miles  in  cir«- 
cumference,  and  aboot  ,^0  broad- 

Naxus,  in  AfumtU  Geogrofhf^  a  town  of  Crete,  fa- 
mous for  its  bones,  called  4^  Nasuts,  Another  of 
Sicily,  built  by  the  Cbalcidians  ;  situated  on  the  south 
riide  of  Mount  Taurus,  destroyed  by  Dieoysius  the, 

Vol,,  XrV^  Part  U.  t 


tyrant :  from  itf  mine  TmiromiMmn,  built  by  TiaM#    ir«ast 
leon,  either  arose  or  way  tnoraaaai*  (Ilntareh).  d 

NAYB£$,  the  iMbiity  #ihe  Malabar  coast.  Wo,*^^*^ 
may  with  truth  affinn  that  they  are  the  eldest  nobility  ^ 
in  the  would  $  Cor  the  onost  ancient  writers  mention 
them,  and  quote  tbe  law  that  permits  ibe  Nayvela^ 
dies  to  have  many  bvsbends  j  every  one  being  allowed 
four.  Their  houses,  wbidi  stand  aingle,  have  as  many 
doors  as  the  lady  ha»  hnsbands.  ^htm  one  of  them 
visits  her,  be  walks  round  the  house,  striding  with 
his  sabre  on  bis  buckler  j  he  then  openr  his  door, 
and  leaves  a  domestic  with  his  arms  in  a  kind  of 
porch,  who  serves  to  inform  others  that  the  lady  is 
^BgAg^d*  It  is  said,  that  one  day  in  the  week  the 
four  doors  are  all  opened,  and  all  her  husbands  visit 
her,  and  dine  together  with  her.  Each  husband  gives 
a  sum  of  money,  or  poKion,  at  the  time  of  marriage ; 
and  the  wife  only  has  the  charge  of  the  children.  The 
Nayres,  even  the  Samorin,  and  the  other  princes, 
have  no  other  heirs  than  tbe  children  of  their  sisters. 
This  law  was  established,  that  the  Nayres,  having  no 
&mily,  might  be  always  ready  to  march  against  the 
enemy.  When  the  nephews  are  of  age  to  bear  arms, 
they  follow  their  uncles.  The  name  qI  father  is  un- 
known to  a  Nayre  child.  He  speaks  of  the  husbands 
of  his  mother  and  of  his  uncles,  but  never  of  his 
father. 

NAZARETH,  a  little  city  in  the  tribe  of  Zebu- 
Inn,  in  Lower  Galilee,  to  the  west  of  Tabor,  and  to 
the  east  of  Ptolemais.  Eusebius  says,  it  is  15  miles 
from  Legion  towards  the  east.  This  city  is  much  ce- 
lebrated in  the  Scriptures,  for  having  been  *the  usual 
place  of  the  residence  of  Jesus  Christ  for  the  first  33 
yean  of  his  life,  Luke  ii.  51.  It  was  there  our  Sa- 
viour became  incarnate,  where  he  lived  in  obedience 
to  Joseph  and  Mary,  and  from  whence  be  took  the 
name  df  a  Nazarean.  After  he  had  begun  to  execute 
his  mission,  he  preached  there  sometimes  in  the  syna- 
gogoe.  Id.  iv.  16.  But  because  his  countrymen  had 
no  laith  in  him,  and  were  ofieaded  at  the  meanness  of 
his  original,  he  did  not  many  miracles  there,  Matth.  xiii. 
54,  58.  nor  would  he  dwell  therein ;  oo  he  fixed  his  ha*  , 
bitation  at  Capernaum  for  the  latter  part  of  his  life.  Id* 
iv.  13.  The  city  of  NaiLaeelh  was  situated  «pon  an 
eminence  \  and  on  one  side  there  was  a  precipice,  from 
whence  the  Nazareans  one  day  had  a  design  of  throw- 
ing down  our  Sarionr,  because  he  upbraided  them  witk 
their  incredulity,  Luke  iv.  2^ 

St  Epiphanius  says,  that  in  bis  time  Nazareth  waa 
onfy  a  village,  and  that  to  tbo  reign  mA  Constantino  it 
was  inhabited  by  Jews  alone,  enclusive  of  all  Christians* 
Adamnanns,  a  writer  of  the  seventh  age,  says,  that  in 
his  time  Acre  were  two  great  cburdbes  to  be  seen  at 
Nazareth,  one  in  the  midst  of  tbe  city,  boilt  npon  two 
arches,  in  the  place  where  onr  fiavtour^s  house  had  - 
stood.  Under  tlw  two  arches  now  mentioned,  was  a 
very  fine  fountain,  which  furnished  water  to  the  whole 
city,  and  from  whence  water  was  drawn  also  by  the 
help  of  a  pulley  for  tJhe  «se  of  the  church  above.  Tbei 
second  choreh  of  Nazareth  was  built  in  a  place  where 
the  house  stood  wherein  the  angel  Gabriel  revealed  to 
the  virgin  Mary  Cbe  mystery  of  our  Lord^s  incarnation  % 
and  we  are  assured  that  the  choreh  of  the  Incarnation, 
which  is  supported  by  two  arches,  is  still  in  being  to 

J  A  this 


N    A    Z 


[    738     ] 


N     A    Z 


NaxarAli,  Uiif  day*  Mr  Maondiell  Uih  us,  that  there  is  a  con- 
Nazan'te.  vent  built  over  what  is*  8aid  to  be  the  place  of  annuncU 
atien  ^  for  the  chamber  where  she  received  the  aofiePe 
•alntation  was  aboot  500  years  ago  removed  from  Na- 
zarethf  and,  according  to  the  Koman  legends,  trans- 
poHed  by  angels  to  Loretto,  then  a  small  viUage  in 
the  pope's  dominions,  now  become  a  bishop^s  see- 
However,  Calmot^s  opinion  (which  is  certainly  the 
true  one)  upon  the  different  translations  of  this  famous 
house  of  Loretto,  is,  that  they  were  no  other  than  so 
many  different  buildings  made  upon  the  model  of  tl^e 
church  of  Nazareth,  just  as  in  several  places  sepulchres 
have  been  built  upon  the  model  of  that  at  Jerusalem. 
Mariti  tells  ii«,  that  in  the  eastern  part  of  the  city 
stands  the  church  dedicated  to  the  Blessed  Virgin :  the 
zeal  of  the  Coenobites  raised  it  from  the  ruins  of  that 
which  had  been  destroyed  by  the  Saracens.  It  is  a 
very  handsome  building,  and  consists  of  three  naves } 
in  the  middle  of  which  is  the  principal  altar  }  to  which 
there  is  an  ascent  by  two  magnificent  stairs,  much  ad* 
mired  for  their  iron  ballustrades,  the  work  of  an  inge- 
nious monk  of  the  convent.  The  descent  to  the  grot- 
to or  annunciation  chapel  below  is  bv  steps  of  beauti- 
ful marble,  cut  with  great  taste.  Two  beautiful  co- 
lumns of  oriental  nranite  strike  the  eye  of  the  observer 
in  the  entrance.  They  appear  to  have  been  construct- 
ed both  to  support  and  ornament  the  grotto.  The  al- 
tar of  this  subterranean  chapel  is  extremely  elegant ; 
and  the  different  kinds  of  marble  with  which  it  is  or- 
namented, receive  an  additional  lustre  from  the  com- 
bined liffht  of  several  silver  lamps  presented  by  Chri- 
stian princes.  On  solemn  festivals,  the  walls  and  the 
pilasters  are  ornamented  with  various  pieces  of  tapes- 
try, representing  the  mysteries  of  the  virgin  ^  a  su- 
perb present  from  the  House  of  Austria.  In  the 
western  part  of  the  city  stands  a  Christian  church, 
built,  as  it  is  said,  on  the  site  of  the  ancient  synagogue 
where  Jesus  showed  the  Jews  the  accomplishment  of 
the  prophecies  in  his  person.  This  place  served  a  lon^ 
time  as  a  shelter  for  flocks,  but  at  present  it  is  in  good 
repair.  In  the  neighbourhood  may  be  seen  a  fountain 
of  excellent  water,  which  is,  however,  esteemed  by  the 
people  on  another  account.  They  conjecture  that  it 
Was  contiguous  to  the  habitation  of  the  virgin,  and 
that  it  was  used  by  her.  At  some  distance  is  a  hirge* 
stone  of  a  ronnd  form,  called  Ckrist^s  Tabic.  It  is 
pretended  that  he  came  hither  more  than  once  with  his 
disciples  to  eat.  The  inhabitants  of  Nazareth  pay  it  a 
kind  of  worship,  burning  perfumes  and  incense  around 
it.  It  is  situated  in  35^  £.  Long,  and  in  32^  N.  Lat.  ^ 
and  formerly  held  the  third  rank  under  the  patriarch  of 
Jerusalem.  At  present  it  is  part  of  the  domains  of  the 
ohief  of  Acre.  The  ancient  city,  after  the  ravages  of 
fanaticism,  was  reduced  to  a  miserable  hamlet,  con- 
taining only  a  few  Arab  huts.— Under  the  protection 
of  Daher  Omar,  however,  it  recovered  very  consider- 
ably, and  is  now  of  far  more  importance. 

NAZARITE,  or  Nazarcak,  or  Naxarines^  a 
term  which  may  signify,  1.  One  that  is  of  Nazareth, 
or  any  native  of  this  city.  2.  It  was  given  to  Jesus 
Christ  and  his  disciples,  and  is  commonly  taken  in  a 
sense  of  derision  and  contempt  in  such  authors  as  have 
written  against  Christianity.  3.  It  has  been  taken  for  a 
sect  of  heretics  called  Nazareans.  4.  For  a  Nazarite,  a 
man  that  has  laid  himself  under  the  obligation  of  a  vow 


to  observe  the  roles  of  Nazaritesbip,  whether  it  be  fv  Kuuiic. 
his  whole  lile,  as  Ranwon  and  John  the  Bapdst,  or  oaly 
for  a  time,  as  thoee  mentioned  in  Numbers  vi.  18, 19, 
20.  Amos  ii.  11,  12.  Lastly,  The  oame  Nazarite,  in 
some  passages  oi  Scripture,  denotes  a  man  of  particiiUtr 
distinction  and  great  dignity  in  the  court  of  some  prince. 
But  we  most  speak  of  th^  several  sorts  of  Nazariles 
something  more  distinctly. 

Tlie  name  6f  Nazarene  belongs  to  Jesus  Christ,  not 
only  beeanse  of  his  having  lived  the  greatest  part  of  hU 
life  at  Nazareth,  and  because  this  city  has  always  been 
considered  as  his  country,  but  also  because  the  im- 
phets  had  foretold  that  he  should  be  called  a  Nazarene, 
Matth.  ii.  23.  **  And  he  came  and  dwelt  in  a  city 
**  called  Nazareth,  that  it  might  be  fulfilled  which  vas 
^  spoken  bythe  prophets.  He  shall  be  called  a  Nazi- 
^  rene.**  We  find  no  particular  place  in  the  prophets 
in  which  it  is  said  that  the  Messiah  shonld  be  called  s 
Nazarene  j  and  St  Matthew  only  quotes  the  prophets 
in  general.  Perhaps  he  woold  insinuate,  that  the  cod- 
secration  of  the  Nazarites,  and  the  great  parity  of 
which  they  made  profession,  was  a  type  and  a  sort  of 
prophecy  of  those  of  our  Saviour,  or  else  that  the 
name  Tia  Naxir  or  Naxarite  given  to  the  patriarch 
Joseph,  Gen.  xlix.  26.  Deut.  xxxiii.  16.  was  a  pro- 
phecy which  was  to  be  fulfilled  in  the  person  of  Jesos 
Christ,  of  whom  Joseph  was  a  figure.  Lastly,  St 
Jerome  was  of  opinion,  that  St  Matthew  here  alludes 
to  that  passage  of  Isaiah  xi.  I.  and  (x.  2r.  ''And 
**  there  shall  come  forth  a  rod  out  of  the  stem  of  Jese, 
*'  and  a  branch  (in  Hebrew  NeTier)  shall  grow  oot  of 
**  his  roots.*'  lliis  branch  or  Neisrr,  and  this  rod,  are 
certainly  intended  to  denote  Jesus  Christ,  by  the  geoeni 
consent  of  all  the  fathers  and  interpreters. 

When  the  word  Nazarean  is  put  for  the  hereties 
known  by  this  name,  it  denotes  Christians  ccmveited 
firom  Judaism,  whose  chief  error  consisted  in  defend- 
ing the  necessity  or  expediency  of  the  works  of  the 
law,  and  who  obstinately  adhered  to  the  practice  of 
the  Jeivish  ceremonies.  The  name  of  Nazarenes  at 
first  had  nothing  odious  in  it,  and  it  was  often  ginn 
to  the  first  Chnstians.  The  fathers  frequently  men- 
tion the  gospel  of  the  Nazarenes,  which  diflen  no- 
thing from  that  of  St  Matthew,  which  was  either  is 
Hebrew  or  Syriac,  for  the  use  of  the  first  converts,  hot 
was  afterwards  corrupted  by  the  Ebionites.  T^ese 
Nazareans  preserved  this  first  gospel  in  its  primitrre 
purity.  Some  of  them  were  still  in  being  in  the  time 
of  St  Jerome,  who  does  not  reproach  them  with  any 
error.  They  were  very  zealous  observers  of  the  law 
of  Moses,  hut  held  the  traditions  of  the  Pharisees  in 
very  great  contempt. 

Nazarite,  when  put  to  signify  those  under  the  an- 
cient law  who  made  a  vow  of  observing  a  more  than 
ordinary  degree  of  purity  (Numb.  ubi.  ett.\  denotes  a 
man  or  woman  who  encage  themselves  by  a  vow  to 
abstain  fixim  wine  and  all  intoxicating  liquon,  to  let 
their  hair  grow  without  outting  or  shaving,  not  to  enter 
into  any  house  that  was  polluted  by  having  a  dead 
corpse  in  it,  nor  to  be  present  at  any  funeral.  And  if 
by  chance  any  one  should  have  died  in  their  piescfwe, 
they  began  again  the  whole  ceremony  of  their  conse- 
cration and  Nazariteship.  This  ceremony  generally 
lasted  eight  days,  sometimes  a  month,  and  sometimes 
their  whole  lives.     Wlien  the  time  of  their  Nazarite- 


N    A    Z 


[    739    ] 


N    E    A 


urite.  ship  ^^  accomplished,  the  priest  brought  the  person 
to  the  door  of  the  temple,  who  there  offered  to  the 
Lord  a  be  lamb  for  a  burnt-offering,  a  she  lamb  for  an 
expiatoj^  sacrifice,  and  a  ram  for  a  peace-offering, 
TUj  o&red  likewise  loaves  and  cakes,  with  wine  ne- 
cessary for  the  libations.  After  all  this  was  sacrificed 
and  offered  to  the  Lord,  the  priest  or  some  other  shaved 
the  head  of  the  Nazarite  at  the  door  of  the  tabernacle, 
and  burnt  his  hair,  throwing  it  upon  the  fire  of  the  al- 
tar, Then  the  priest  put  into  the  hand  of  the  Naza- 
rite the  shoulder  of  the  ram  roasted,  with  a  loaf  and  a 
cake,  which  the  Nazarite  returning  into  the  hands  of 
the  priest,  he  offered  them  to  the  Lord,  lifting  them  up 
in  the  presence  of  the  Nazarite.  And  from  this  time 
he  might  again  drink  wine,  his  Nazariteship  being  now 
accomplished. 

As  to  those  that  were  perpetual  Nazarites,  as  were 
Samsen  and  John  the  Baptist,  it  appears  that  they  were 
consecrated  to  their  Nazariteship  by  their  parents,  and 
continued  all  their  lives  in  this  state  without  drinking 
wine  or  cutting  their  hair. 

Those  that  made  a  vow  of  Nazariteship  out  of  Pa- 
lestine, and  could  not  come  to  th^  temple  when  their 
vow  was  expired,  contented  themselves  with  observing 
the  abstinence  required  by  the  law,  and  after  that  cut- 
ting their  hair  in  the  place  where  they  were :  as  to  the 
offerings  and  sacrifices  prescribed  by  Moses,  which 
were  to  be  offered  at  the  temple  by  themselves,  or  by 
others  for  them,  they  deferred  this  till  they  could  have 
a  convenient  opportunity.    Hence  it  was,  that  St  Paul 
being  at  Corinth,  and  having  made  the  vow  of  a  Naza^ 
rite,  he  had  his  hair  cut  off  at  Cenchrea,  and  put  off 
folfilling  the  rest  of  his  vow  till  he  should  arrive  at  Je- 
rusalem, Acts  xviii.  x8.    When  a  person  found  that  he 
was  not  in  a  condition  to  make  a  vow  of  Nazariteship, 
or  had  not  leisure  to  perform  the  ceremonies  belonging 
to  it,  he  contented  hioiself  by  contributing  to  the  ex- 
pence  of  the  sacrifice  and  offerings  of  those  that  had 
made  and  fulfilled  this  vow ;  and  by  this  means  he  be- 
came a  partaker  in  the  merit  of  such  Nazariteship. 
When  St  Pkul^came  to  Jemsalem,  in  the  year  of  Christ 
58,  the  apostle  St  James  the  Less,  with  the  other  bre- 
thren, said  to  him.  Acts  xxi.  23,  24.  that  to  quiet  the 
minds  of  the  converted  Jews,  who  had  been  mformed 
that  he  everywhere  preached  up  the  entire  abolition  of 
the  law  of  Moses,  he  ought  to  join  himself  to  four  of 
the  faithful  who  had  a  vow  of  ^fazariteship  upon  them^ 
and  contribute  to  the  charge  of  the  ceremony  at  the 
shaving  of  their  heads  j  by  which  the  new  converts 
would  perceive  that  he  continued  to  keep  the  law,  and 
that  what  they  had  heard  of  him  was  not  true. 

The  Hebrew  word  Nbssf'r,  or  Nazarite,  which  is  made 
use  of  to  express  a  man  exalted  to  great  dignity,  as  it  is 
said  of  the  patriarch  Joseph,  Gen.  xlix.  26.  and  Dent; 
xxxiii.  16.  ^'  that  he  was  separated  from  his  brethren,^' 
as  it  is  in  our  tra^islation  >  or  as  the  Vulgate  and  others 
understand  the  Hebrew,  ^  that  he  was  a  Nazarite 
among  his  brethr«*n/'  is  variously  understood.  Some 
think  that  the  Hebrew  word  t^P,  Nazir^  in  these  pla- 
ces, signifies  one  who  is  crowned,  chosen,  separated,  or 
distinguished  :  the  word  *T^a,  Ntmtr^  signifies  a  crown. 
The  Septuagpnt  translate  this  word  a  chief,  or  him  that 
is  honoured.  Calmet  thinks  that  this  was  a  term  of 
tlignity  in  the  courts  of  eastern  princes,  and  that  at  this 
dsLy  in  the  court  of  Persia  the  word  Nazir  signifies  the 


superintendant  general  of  the  king^s  household,   the  NaznHte 
chief  officer  of  the  crown,  tlie  high  steward  of  his  fa-         fl 
mily,  treasures,  and  revenues  ^  and  that  in  this  sense  NcapoM. 
Joseph  was  the  Nazir  of  the  court  of  Pharob.     Le 
Clerc  translates  the  Na%ir^  a  prince,  and  calls  Joseph 
**  the  prince  of  his  brethren,''  in  the  two  places  already . 
quoted.     Mr  Pool  declares  in  favour  of  this  last  trans- 
lation.    See  Joseph*  Cfiardin,  Chrysost,  St  Jeromcy  &fc, 

NAZI  AN  ZEN.     See  Gregohy  Nazian%en. 

NAZIM,  the  lord  lieutenant,  viceroy,  or  governor 
of  a  province  in  Hindostan  \  the  same  as  Subahdar,  or 
Nabob. 

NEALED,  among  seamen,  is  used  when  the 
sounding  is  deep  water  close  to  the  shore  j  as  also  when 
the  shore  is  sandy,  clayey,  oozy,  or  foul  and  rocky 
ground. 

NEALING,  or  rather  Annealing,  a  term  used 
for  the  preparing  of  several  matters,  by  heating  or. 
baking  them  in  the  oven,  or  the  like. 

NEALi2fG  of  glassy  is  the  baking  of  glass,  to  dry, 
harden,  and  give  it  the  due  consistence,  after  it  h^  been 
blown,  and  mshioned  into  the  proper  works.«-This  is 
usually  performed  in  a  kind  of  a  tower  called  the  leer^ 
built  over  the  melting  furnace.     See  Glass. 

Nealing  of  glass  is  also  used  for  the  art  of  staining 
glass  with  metalline  colours.  **  One  fine  use  of  silver 
(says  Mr  Boyle)  was  only  discovered  sinpe  the  art  of 
annealing  upon  glass  came  to  be  practised.  For  prer 
pared  silver,  or  even  the  crude  metal,  being  burnt  on 
a  glass  plate,  will  tinge  it  of  a  fine  yellow  or  golden 
colour.  And  there  are  several  mineral  earths,  and 
other  coarse  matters,  of  use  in  this  art,  which  by  means 
of  fire  impart  transparent  colours  to  glass,  and  some- 
times very  different  ones  from  those  of  the  bodies  them; 
selves. 

Nealing  of  steely  is  the  heating  it  in  the  fire  to  a 
blood*red  heat,  and  then  taking  it  out,  and  letting  it 
cool  gently  of  itself.  This  is  done  to  tnake  it  softer, 
in  order  to  engrave  and  punch  upon  it.  See  Temper- 
ing and  Engraving. 

NsJLiNQ  is  also  used  for  the  art  or  act  of  burning 
or  baking  earthen  or  other  ware  in  an  oven.  The 
miners  at  Mendip,  when  they  meet  with  a  rock  they 
cannot  cut  through,  anneal  it  by  laying  on  wood  and 
coal,  and  contriving  the  fire  so  that  they  quit  the  mine 
before  the  operation  begins,  it  being  dangerous  to  en- 
ter it  again  before  it  be  quite  cleared  of  the  smoke. 

Nealjsg  of  tile  is  used  in  ancient  statutes  for  the 
burning  of  tile.  The  word  is  formed  of  the  Saxon 
oiuelan^  aecendere,  to  light,  bum. 

NEAP  or  Neef  tides,  are  those  tides  which  hap- 
pen when  the  moon  is  in  the  middle  of  the  second  and 
Tourth  quarters.  The  neap  tides  are  low  tides,  in  re- 
spect of  their  opposites  the  spring  tides.  As  the 
highest  of  the  spring  tides  is  three  days  after  the  full 
or  change,  so  the  lowest  of  the  neap  is  four  days  before 
the  full  or  change.  On  which  occasion  the  seamen  say 
that  it  is  deep  neap. 

NEAPED.  When  a  ship  wants  water,  so  that  bh^ 
cannot  get  out  of  the  harbour,  off  the  ground,  or  but  of 
the  dock,  the  seamen  say  she  is  neaped^  or  beneaped. 

NEAPOLIS,  in  Ancient  Gcogt^aphy^  a  city  of  the 
Higher  Egypt,  in  the  Nomos  PanopoUtanus,  between^ 
Thebae  to  the  south,  and  Panopolis  to  the  north,  on 
the  east  side  of  the  Nile  ^  otherwise  called  Caaite,     \ 

5  A  2  second 


K    E"   C 


i    740    ] 


NEC 


Keapottff  seeond  Neafiotis  of  Babylonia,  ntuafed  Mar  the  Eu- 
II  phrates  on  the  aonth  sfde.«**-A  tbird  of  Campania,  an 
Nepetiity.  i^ncicnt  town  and  a  colony  from  Cufflx*  (See  Vclleius, 
Pliny,  Strabo)  j  accounted  a  Greek  city,  and  a  great 
stickier  for  Greek  Usages,  (See  Livy,  Tacitns).  Its 
hot  baths  were  in  nothing  inferior  to  those  of  Baite,  ac- 
cording to  Strabo  ^  at  two  miles  distance  from  it  stands 
the  monument  of  Virgil,  held  in  religious  veneration 
by  learned  posterity.  The  Younser  Pliny  relates,  that 
VirgiPs  birth  day  was  more  religiously  observed  by  Si- 
lius  Italicds  than  his  own,  especially  at  Naples,  where 
he  resorted  to  his  tomb  as  to  a  temple.  The  city  is 
washed  by  the  river  Sebethus.  Virgil  feigns  the  nymph 
Sebethis  to  preside  over  the  stream.  Now  Napies^  ca- 
pital of  the  kiligdora  of  that  name.  See  NArLES.-— 
A  fom*tb,  Neapolis  of  Caria,  near  the  Meander, 
( Ptolemy ).-^A  hflh,  an  inland  town  of  Cyn^naica, 
situated  between  Ptolemais  and  Arsinoe,  (Ptolemy)  > 
and  to  be  distinguished  from  the  Csenopolis,  or  Nea- 
polis, on  the  eaU  border  of  the  same  province,  (id.) 
A  siitth  of  Ionia,  (Strabo) ;  which  belonged  first  to 
the  Ephesians,  bnt  aften^ards  to  the  Samians,  who. 
exchanged  Marathesium,  a  more  distant  city,  for  a 
nearer. — A  seventh,  Neapolis  of  Macedonia  Adjecta, 
aituated  at  the  distance  of  1 2  miles  to  the  east  of  Phi- 
lippi,  (Antonine). — An  eighth,  Neapolis  of  Pisidia^ 
on  the  borders  of  Galatia,  situated  between  Amblada 
and  Pappa,  (Ptolemy).— A  ninth  of  Samaria,  the 
ancient  Sichem^  which  see ;  so  called  upon  its  restora- 
tion by  the  Homans,  (Coin,  Pliny,  Josephus)^— A 
tenth  of  Sardinia,  sitnated  on  the  sooth-west  side  of 
the  island,  30  miles  to  the  north  of  Metalla  *,  now 
called  Nm/M/i.-^An  eleventh,  of  the  Begio  Syrtica, 
called  also  LeptiB.^^A  twelfth,  of  Zeugitana  on  the 
Mediterranean,  to  the  east  of  Clypea,  ami  south  of  the 
Promontoriuio  Mercurii. 

NEAT  or  Nxt  freight^  the  weight  of  a  commo- 
dity alone,  demr  of  the  cask,  bag,  case,. or  even  filth. 
See  Net. 

NEBEL,  or  Nabiajm,  a  musical  instrument  among 
the  Jews.    See  NaBlum. 

NEBIO,  or  Nebbio,  a  ruined  city,  on  the  north 
side  of  the  island  of  Corsica,  with  a  bishop^s  see,  whose 
bishop  resides  at  San  Fiorenzo,  from  which  it  is  a  mite 
distant. 

NEBO,  in  Ancient  Geography^  a  very  high  moun- 
tain, a  part  of  the  mountains  of  Abarim,  and  "their 
tiighest  top,  whither  Moses  was  ordered  to  ascend  to 
take  a  view  of  the  land  of  Canaan,  and  there  die.  Si- 
tuated in  the  land  of  Moab  over  against  Jericho :  With 
a  cognominal  town  at  its  foot  (Isaiah)  belonging  to  the 
Beubenites,  which  afterwards  returned  to  the  Moab- 
ites  \  in  Jerome's  time  desolate  \  eight  mUes  to  the 
sooth  of  Heshbon. 

Nebo,  or  Nabo,     See  Nabo. 

NEBUCHADNEZZAR.      See  NabuchaDnez- 

ZAR. 

NEBULY,  or  Nebulee,  in  Heraldry^  is  when  a 
coat  is  charged  with  several  little  figures,  in  form  of 
Words  running  within  one  another,  or  when  the  outline 
of  a  Hordure,  ordinary,  &c.  is  indented  or  waved. 

NECESSITY,  whatever  is   dose   by  a  cause   or 

^wer  that  is  irresistible  j  in  which  sense  it  is  opposed 

to  freedom.    Man  is  a  necessary  agent,  if  all  his  actions 

be  so  determined  by  the  causes  preceding  each  action, 


that  not  one  past  action  could  possibly  not  have  cane  Hm^ 
to  pass,  or  have  been  otherwise  than  it  hath  been} 
one  future  action  can  possibly  net  come  to  pais,  or  be 
otherwise  than  it  shall  be.  But  he  is  a  free  agent, 
if  be  be  able,  at  any  time,  onder  the  circuantanees  and 
causes  he  then  is,  to  do  different  thtngs ;  or,  in  ether 
words,  if  he  be  not  unavoidably  determined  io  eterf 
point  of  time,  by  the  circumstances  he  is  in,  aod  tlte 
causes  he  is  under,  to  do  that  one  thing  he  docs,  isd 
not  possibly  to  do  any  other  thing,  livhetber  mao  n 
a  necessary  or  a  free  agent,  is  a  question  whidi  has 
been  debated  with  much  ingenuity  by  writers  of  die 
first  eminence,  from  Hobbes  and  Clarke,  to  Friealey 
and  Gregory.  See  Metaphysics,  Part  IIL  chap.  ?. 
and  Predestination. 

Necessity,  in  Mythology,  a  power  superior  to  all 
other  powers,  and  equally  irresistible  by  gods  sad  hj 
Herodotus,  as  he  is  quoted  by  Cudwoith, 


men. 


tions  an  oracle  which  declared  that  **  God  hbuMlf 
could  not  shun  his  destined  fate.**  Aod  aoMOgthe 
fragments  of  Philemon  coUected  by  Le  Clerc,  11  the. 
following  sentence : 

**  We  are  subject  to  kin^,  kings  to  the  gods,  and  QU  * 
to  Necessity.**  Hence  it  is,  UmI,  ib  the  Iliad,  wo  M 
Jove  himself,  the  aire  of  gods  a^^  nen,  regretting  thit 
he  was  restrained  by  NeceMtty^  from  .reo^aing  mi£i- 
vourite  son  fi:pm  the  sword  of  Patroclaa.  .  Nay  to  nch 
a  height  was  this,  impiety  cairied  in  the  earliest  ageiif 
Gieeoe,  that  we  find  Hesiod  and  Hdmer  tenchin^  that 
the  gods  themselves  west  generaticd  by  Necemty,  «t 
Niglit  and  Chaos. 

Tbis^ower,  though  always  represenled  as  Uiad  mk 
unintelligent^  was  however  worshipped  aa  a  goddeH, 
bearing  in  I*er  hand  large  iron  nails,  wedgesi  aacheo, 
and  melted  lead  *,"  as  emblems  of  the  inflexible  seifritj* 
of  her  DAtuie.     «'  In  the  city  of  Cwbth  she  hid  a^'* 
temple,  in  which  the  goddess  Videttce  likewise  leaM,^^ 
and  into  which  no  person  was  ever  permitted  to  cstff 
but  the  priest  who  officiated  tio  jocrwf  .**  tf^>"' 

Learned  mtn  have  exercised  their  iBgeadity  in  vaiiaDv^ 
attempts  to  trace  thisportaatoos  notion  to  its  ocigiac^^ 
Some,  who  wished  to  interpret  it  in  a  pioos  seaec,  hsis 
supposed .  that  the  gods  who  are  subject  to^«res«l^ 
were  only  those  who  were  the  ministers  of  the  svpitni 
nmmen  ;  and  that  by  necessity  itself  wa3  meant  asthisg 
more  than  divine  providenoe*  But  this  is  not  csaiirt 
ent  with  {ieeiod  and  Homer*s  Generation  of  the  Go^ 
or  with  the  epithets  steva  neceeeiiaSf  dura  mouAn^ 
by  which  this  power  was  perpetually  dastiifgwbed. 
Others,  and  among  them  Mosheim,  have  jMppoied  tkt 
this  roonstrons  fa)Je  was  invented  by  the  Pagan  prierti, 
and  diligently  inculcated  upon  the  minds  of  the  pesplr, 
in  order  to  excuse  the  villanies  of  the  objects  of  their 
worship.  For,  says  he,  who  conid  be  ind^aoat  at  Ja> 
piter*s  nnmberless  adolterio^,  after  it  was  kaowa  thst 
in  all  his  actions  he  was  the  servant  of  blind  nsssoitf : 
In  the  thefta  of  Mercury^  the  whoredoms  of  fM%  asd 
the  frequent  squabbles  of  the  other  gods,  there  csoM  he 


no  moral  turpitude,  if  they  were  under  the  i 
a  superior  power. 

t^umina  cum  videos  duris  olmosiafaiis^ 
Invidia  possis  exonerare  deos  %• 


Ji\l»^ 


nis^T*- 


NEC 


[    741     ] 


NEC 


Kecenitj.  This  acconnt  of  the  malter  is  at  least  as  plausible  as 
any  other  which  is  usually  given  ^  but  the  real  case 
undoubtedly  was,  that  when  men  *'  did  not  like  to  re- 
tain God  in  their  knowledge,  God  gave  them  over  to 
a  reprobate  mind  to  do  those  things  which  are  not  con- 
venient 'j  when  their  foolish  heart  was  darkened,  and 
professing  themselves  to  be  wise,  they  became  fools.^ 
See  Par€£. 

Necessity,  in  Law^  as  it  implies  a  defect  of  will, 
•xcuses  from  the  eoilt  of  crimes.    See  Crime. 

Compuision  ana  inevitable  necessity  are  a  constnunt 
upon  the  will,  whereby  a  man  is  urged  to  do  that  which 
bis  judgment  disapproves  \  and  which,  it  is  to  be  pre-» 
sumed,  his  will  (if  left  to  itself)  would  reject.  As 
punishments  are  therefore  only  inflicted  for  the  abuse 
of  that  firee  will  which  God  has  given  to  man,  it  is 
bighlj  just  and  equitable  that  a  man  should  be  excused 
ibr  those  acts  which  are  done  through  unavoidable 
force  and  compulsion. 

I.  Of  this  nature,  in  the  first  place,  is  tbe  obliga- 
tion of  civil  subfectioitf  whereby  the  inferior  is  eon- 
strained  by  the  superior  to  act  contrary  to  what  his 
own  reason  and  inclination  woqM  Bugffest:  as  <  whan 
a  legislator  establishes  iniquity  by  a  law,  and  cpm- 
atands  the  subject  to  do  an  act  contrary  to  religion  or 
sound  morality.  Haw  far  this  excuse  will  be  admitted 
injbro  c^nscieHtut^  or  whether  th^.iaferior  in  this  case 
is  not  bound  to  obey  the  divine  rather  than  the  hu- 
man law,  it'  is  not  our  business  to  decide  )  though 
among  the  casuists,  it  is  believed  the  question  will 
hardly  bear  .a  doubt.  But,  however  .that  maybe, 
obedience  to  the  laws  itf  being  is  undoubtedly  a  suffi- 
cient extenuation  of  civil  guilt  before  the  municipal 
tribunal.  The  sheriflF  who  burnt  Latimer  and  Bidley, 
in  the  bigotted  days  of  Queen  Mary,  was  not  liable  to 
punishment  from  Elizabetli  for  executing  so  horrid  an 
office  *y  being  justified  by  thoj  commands  of  that  ma- 
gbtracy  which  endeavoured  to  restore  SuperstJtioQt  un- 
der the  holy  auspices  of  its  merciless  sister.  Persecu- 
tion. 

As  to-  persons  in  private  relations,  the  principal 
ease  where  constraint  of  a  superior  is  allowed  as,  an 
excuse  for  criminal  misconduct,  is  with  regard  to  the 
matrimonial  subjection  of  the  wife  to  Jber  husband : 
for  neither  a  son  nor  a  servant  are  excused  from  tliecoaH 
mission  o;f  any  crime,  whether  capital  or  otherwise,  by 
the  command  or  coercion  of  the  parent  or  master; 
though  in  some  cases  the  command  or  authoritv  of 
the  husband,  either  express  or  implied,  will  .privilege 
the  wife  from  punishment,  even  from  capital  ofieiMes. 
And  thereibre,  if  a  «vomaQ  commit  theft,  burglary,  or 
other  civil  offences  against  the  law  of  society,  by  the  . 
coercion  of  her  husband,  or  even  .in   his. company, 
which  the  law  construes-  a  coercion,  ahe  is  not  guilty 
of  any  crime  j  being  considered  as  acting  by  compul- 
aion,  and  not  of.  her  own  will.    This  doctrine  is  at 
least   looo  years  eld  in  this  kingdom,  being  to   be.- 
found  among  the  laws  of  Kioff  Ina  the  West  Baxon. 
And  it  appears,  that  among  Ae  northern  nations  on . 
tbe  continent,  this  privilege  extended  to  any  woman 
transgressing  in  conceit  with  a  ipan,  and  to  any  servant 
that.  jDommitted  a  joint  offience  with  a  fireeman :  the 
male  or  fireeman  only  was  punished,  the  female  or  slave 
dismissed  j  proculdubw  quod  aitervm  libertaa^  aiterum 
nffcesn(4Bi  impeHer^.    Bnt  (besides  that,  in  our  law. 


which  is  a  stranger  to  slavery,  no  impunity  is  given  to 
servants,  who  are  as  much  free  agents  as  their  masters) 
even  with  regard  to  wives,  this  rule  admits  of  an  ex- 
ception in  crimes  that  are  ma/a  in  se^  and  prohibited 
by  the  law  of  nature ;  as  murder,  and  the  like :  not 
only  because  these  are  of  a  deeper  dye,  but  also,  since 
in  a  state  of  nature  no  one  is  in  subjection  to  anotlier, 
it  would  be  unreasonable  to  screen  an  offender  ftoni 
the  punishment  due  to  natural  crimes,  by  the  refine- 
ments and  subordinations  of  civil  society.  In  treason 
also  (tbe  highest  crime  which  a  member  of  society 
can,  as  such,  be  guilty  of),  no  plea  in  coverture  shall 
excuse,  the  wife;  no  presumption  of  the  husband^s 
coercion  shall  extenuate  her  guilt ;  as  well  because  of 
the  odiousness  and  dangerous  consequence  of  the  crime 
itself,  as  because  the  husband,  having  broken  through 
the  most  sacred  tie  ^  social  community  by  rebellion  a- 
gainst  the  state,  has  no  right  to  that  obedience  from  a 
wife,  which  he  himself  as  a  subject  has  forgotten  to  pay. 
In  inferior  -misdemeanours  also,  we  may  remark  another 
exception,  that  •  wife  may.  be  indicted  and  set  in  tbe 
pillory  with  her  husband,  ibr  keeping  a  brothel :  .  for 
',  this  is  an  offence  touching  the  domestic  economy  or  go- 
vernment of  the  house,  in  which  the  wife  has  a  princi- 
pal share ;  and  is  also  such  an  offence  as  the  law  pre- 
sumes to  be  generally  conduoted  by  the  intrieues  of  the 
female  sex.  And  in  all  cases  where  the  wife  offends 
alone,  without  the  company  or  coercien  of  her  husband, 
she  is  responsible  for  herofence  aajnuch  as  any  femme- 
sole.  • 

2.  Another  species  of  txmipulsion  or  necessity  is  wliat 
our  law  calls  durteeper  minae;  or  threats  and  menaces, 
which  induce  a  fear  of  death  or  other  bodily  harm,  and 
which  take  away  for  that  reason  the  guilt  of  many 
crimes  and  misdemeanours,  at  least  before  the  human 
tribunal.     But  then  that  fear  which  compels  a  man  to 
do  an  uuwarrantable  action  ought  to  be  just  and  well 
grounded  5  snch,  **  qui  cadere  pansit  in  virum  consume 
temy  non  timidum  et  meikuloium^  M  Bracton  expresses 
it  in  the  words  of  the  civil  law*.   Therefore  in  time 
:  of  war  or  rebellion,  a  man  may  be  justified  in  doing 
.  mauT  treasonable  acts  by  compokion  of  the -enemy  or 
rebels,  which  would  adniit-of  no* excuse-  in  the  time  of 
peace.    This,  however,  seems  only,  or  jit  least  prindpal- 
Jy,  to  hold  as  to  positive  crimes,  so  created  by  the  laws 
of'^pciety,  and  which  therefore  soeiety  may  excuse  ;  but 
not  as  to  natural  ofiences,  so  declared  bv  the  law  of 
God,  wherein  human  magistrates  are  only  tbe  exeon- 
tioners  of  divine  punishment.    And  therefore  though  a 
man  be  violently  assaulted,  and  hath  no  other  possible 
means  of  escapine  death  but  by  killing  an  innocent  per- 
.  son^this  fear  and  foro^  shall  not  acquit  him  of  murder; 
for  be  ought  rather  to-  die  himself  than  escape  by  the 
murder  of  an  innocent.    But  in  snch  a  case  he  is  per- 
mitted to  kill  the  assailant ;  for  there  the  laHof  nature, 
and  self-defence  its  primary  canon,  have  made  him  his 
own  protector.  - 

3.  There  is  a  third  species  of  necessity,  which  may 
be  distinguished  from  the  actual  compulsion  of  exter- 
nal force  or  fear  ;•  being  the  result  of  reason  and  reflec- 
tion, which  act  upon  and  constrain  a  man's  will,  and 
oblige  him  to  do  an  action  which  without  such  obli-  ^ 
gation  would  be  criminal.  And  that  is,  when  a  man 
has  his  clioice  of  two  evils  set  before  him,  and  being 
under  a  necessity  of  choosing  pne,  he  chooses  the  least 

pernicious  . 


Vecciuty. 


NEC 


[    742     ] 


NEC 


Necessity,  pemiciotis  of  the  two.  Here  ilie  nlW  cannot  be  said 
6vely  to  exert  itself,  being  rather  passive  than  active  ; 
OTy  if  actiTCy  it  is  rather  in  rejecting  the  greater  evil 
than  in  choosing  the  less.  Of  this  sort  is  that  neces- 
aity,  where  a  man  by  the  commandment  of  the  law  is 
bound  to  arrest  another  for  any  capital  offence^  or  to 
disperse  a  riot,  and  resistance  is  made  to  his  authority: 
it  is  here  justifiable,  and  even  necessary,  to  beat,  to 
wound,  or  perhaps  to  kill  the  offenders,  rather  than 
permit  the  murderer  to  escape,  or  the  riot  to  conti- 
nue. For  the  preservation  of  the  peace  oi  the  king^ 
dom,  and  the  aj^rehending  of  notorious  malefactors, 
are  of  the  utmost  consequence  to  the  public  j  and 
therefore  excuse  the  felony,  which  the  killing  would 
otherwise  amonnt  to. 

4*  There  is  yet  another  case  of  necessity,  which  has 
occasioned  great  speculation  among  the  writers  upon 
general  law  ^  viz.  whether  a  man  in  extreme  want  of 
food  or  clothing  may  justify  stealing  either,  to  relieve 
his  present  necessities.     And  this  both  Grotius  and 
Fnffendorff,  together  with  many  other  of  the  foreign 
jurists,  hold  in  the  affirmative  ^  maintaining  bj  many 
ingenious,  humane,  and  plausible  reasons,  that  in  such 
cases  the  community  of  goods,  by  a  kind  (tf  tacit  con- 
cession of  society,  is  revived.     And  some  even  of  our 
lawyers  have  held  the  same  >  though  it  seems  to  be  an 
unwarranted  doctrine,  borrowed  from  the  notions  of 
some  civilians  ^  at  least  it  is>  now  antiquated,  the  law  of 
England  admitting  no  such  excuse  at  present*     And 
this  its  doctrine  is  agreeable  not  only  to  the  sentiments 
of  many  of  the  wisest  ancients,  ]nrticnlarly  Cicero, 
who  holds.  That  suum  cuique  incmnmodtimferendum  est, 
potius  auam  de  aUerms  ^mmnodis  detrahendum  ;  but  also 
to  the  Jewish  law,  as  ceitified  by  King  Solomon  him- 
self: ^*'  If  a  thief  steal  to  satisfy  his  soul  when  he  is 
'hungry,  he  shall  restore  sevenfold,  and  shall  give  all 
the  substance  of  his  house  :^'  which  was  the  ordinary 
•punishment  for  theft  in  that  kingdom.     And  this  is 
«foanded  upon  the  highest  reason  :  for  men^s  properties 
would  be  under  a  strange  insecurity,  if  liable  to  be  in- 
vaded according  to  the  wants  of  others  \  -of  which 
wants  no  'man  can  possibly  l»e  an  adequate  judge  but 
the    party   himself  who  pleads  them.      In  England 
especially,  there  would  be  a  peculiar  impropriety  in 
admitting  so  dubious  an  abuse :  for  by  the  laws  such 
sufficient  provision  is  made  for  the  poor  by  the  power  of 
the  civil  magistrate,  that  it  is  impossible  that  the  most 
needy  stranger  should  ever  be  reduced  to  the  necessity 
of  thieving  to  support  nature.     The  case  of  a  stranger 
is,  by  the  way,  the  strongest  instance  put  to  Baron 
Puffendorff,  and  whereon  he  builds  his  principal  ai^ 
guments :    which,  however  they  may  hold   upon  the 
continent,  where   the  parsimonious   industry .  of  the 
natives  orders  every  one  to  work  or  starve,  yet  must 
lose  all  their  weight  and  efficacy  in  England,  where 
charity  is  reduced  to  a  system,  and  interwoven  in  our 
very  constitution.     Therefore  our  laws  ought  by  no 
means  to  be  taxed  with  being  unmerciful  for  denying 
this  privilege  to  the  necessitous  \  especially  when  we 
consider,  that  the  king,  on  the  representation  of  his 
ministers  of  justice,  hath  a  power  to  soften  the  law, 
and  to  extend  mercy  in  cases  of  peculiar  hardship.   An 
advantage   which  is   wanting   in  many  states,  parti- 
cularly those  which  are  democrat ical  :  and  these  have 
in  its  stead   introduced  and  adopted,  in  the  body  of 

I 


the  law  itself,  a  multitude  of  circumstances  tnding  to  js^,^ 
alleviate  its  rigour.  But  the  founders  of  oar  ooostilo- '  |  ' 
tion  thought  it  better  to  vest  in  the  crown  the  power  4  ^nt 
pardoning  particular  objects  of  compassion,  than  tt 
countenance  and  establish  theft  by  one  general  midliitift- 
guisbiuff  law. 

NECHO,  king  i»f  Egypt,  began  hut  reign  690  B.  C. 
and  was  killed  eight  years  after  by  Sabacoo  king  of 
Eshiopia.  Psaromiticus  his  sod  succeeded  him,  toA 
was  the  father,  as  Herodotus  informs  us,  of  Necho  IL 
who  reigned  in  the  616  B.  C.  This  Necho  II.  is  oe« 
lebrated  in  history  for  attempting,  thooj^  in  vsis,  to 
cut  a  canal  from  the  Nile  to  the  Arabian  golf.  He 
carried  his  arms  as  far  as  the  Euphrates,  and  e«- 
^uered  the  city  of  Carchemish.  This  prince  is  not  only 
known  in  Scripture  under  the  name  of  Nechoy  but  aks 
in  profane  history.  He  no  sooner  succcedeid  to  tlie 
crown  than  he  raised  great  land  armies,  and  fitted  oot 
vast  fleets,  as  well  upon  the  Mediterranean  as  upon  tk 
Bed  sea :  he  gave  battle  to  the  Syrians  near  the  dty 
of  Migdol  ^  routed  them,  and  made  himself  nwler 
of  the  city  of  Cadytis.  The  learned,  however,  are  sot 
agreed  about  this  city  Gidytis.  Some  will  have  it  to 
be  Cades  in  Arabia  Petrsea,  others  Jemsskai;  tsd 
others  say  it  is  the  city  of  Cedes,  or  Kedesh,  in  Gtljke» 
in  the  tribe  of  Nftphtali. 

The  Scriptures  aquaint  us  with  the  whole  expedi- 
tion of  Necho  in  all  its  particulars,  2  Kings  xxiii.  2j^ 
&c.  and  2  Chr.  xxxv.  20,  21,  &c.  In  the  year  of  tie 
world  3394*  this  prince  baring  drawn  out  his  traj 
into  the  field  to  make  war  with  the  Assyrians  or  Br 
hylonians,  and  to  take  the  city  of  Carchemish,  other- 
wise called  Cireusium^  upon  the  Euphrates,  Josiak  kisg 
of  Judah,  who  was  a  tributary  to  the  king  of  BabylM, 
marched  to  oppose  his  passage.  Necho,  who  bad  m 
designs  against  him,  sent  to  tell  him,  **  What  hsTe  I  to 
do  with  you,  king  of  Judah  ?  It  is  not  against  yos  tbt 
I  am  come  forth,  but  against  another  people,  agsisA 
.whom  the  Lord  has  commanded  me  to  make  var. 
Leave  off  therefore  to  set  yourself  against  me,  for  fcv 
the  Lord  should  punish  you  for  your  resistance***  Ait 
.  Josiah  would  uot  hearken  to  the  remonstrances  of  No- 
cho,  but  gave  him  battle  at  Megiddo,  where  he  reccfi- 
ed  the  wound  of  which  he  died.  The  people  of  Je- 
rusalem set  up  Jehoahaz  for  king  of  Judah,  and  NecW 
soon  passed  forward,  without  making  any  longer  staj 
in  Judea. 

But  at  his  return  from  his  expedition,  which  im 
very  snocessful,  he  halted  at  Riklah  in  Syria;  aW 
sending  for  Jehoahaz  king  of  the  Jews,  he  deposed 
himi  loaded  him  with  chains,  and  sent  bin  i>te 
Egypt.  Then  coming  to  Jerusalem,  he  set  up  Elis- 
kim,  or  Jehoiakim,  in  hb  place,  and  exacted  the  paj* 
ment  of  lOO  talents  of  silver  and  one  talent  of  giM 
from  the  country.  Jeremiah  (xlvi,  2.)  acqaaistt « 
that  the  city  of  Carchemish  was  taken  from  Necho  hj 
Nebochadnezzar  king  of  Babylon,  in  the  fourth  jf»s 
of  Jehoiakim  king  of  Judah  ;  80  that  Necho  did  sot 
enjoy  his  conquest  above  four  years.  Jowpbu  add^ 
that  the  king  of  Babylon  pursuing  Ks  victory,  hroagK 
under  his  dominion  all  the  country  which  is  hetatct 
the  Euphrates  and  Egypt,  excepting  Judea.  Thas 
Necho  was  again  reduced  within  the  limita  of  hit  0** 
country. 

NECK,  in  Anatomy^  Is  the  slender  part  situated  W- 

tatct 


NEC 


[    743    ] 


NEC 


N«ek 

n 


cy. 


lo, 

S,  IS. 


f^  JLab.i. }  a. 


tween  tho  bead  aod  trunk  of  the  body.    See  Ana< 

TOMY. 

NECROLIUM,  a  word  used  by  some  of  tho  alcbe* 
mical  writers  to  express  a  remedy  almost  always  capa* 
b)e  of  averting  deatb,  and  continning  life  to  its  utmost 
period. 

NECROLOGY,  necroiogium^  formed  of  n»(K» 
"  deady^'  and  X«y»s,  ^*  discourse  or  enumeration/*  a 
book  anciently  kept  in  churches  and  monasteries, 
wherein  were  registered  the  benefactors  of  the  same, 
the  time  of  their  deaths,  and  the  days  of  their  comme- 
moration >  as  also  the  deaths  of  the  priors,  abbots, 
religious,  canons,  &c.  This  was  otherwise  called  ca-' 
Under  and  obituary. 

NECROMANCY,  the  art  of  revealing  future  evenU 
by  a  pretended  communication  with  the  dead. 

This  superstitious  and  impious  imposture  appears 
to  have  had  its  origin  at  a  very  early  period  in  Egypt, 
and  to  have  been  thence  propagated  in  every  nation 
with  the  manners  of  which  history  has  made  us  ac- 
quainted. The  conquests  of  Sesostrb  might  introduce 
it  into  India}  the  Israelites  would  naturally  borrow 
it  from  the  people  among  whom  they  sojourned  400 
years  \  and  it  would  easily  find  its  way  into  Phoenicia, 
from  the  vicinity  of  that  country  to  the  land  of  its 
nativity.  From  the  Egyptians  and  Phoenicians  it 
was  adopted,  with  the  other  rites  of  paganism,  by  the 
Greeks  \  and  it  was  imported  into  Rome  with  Grecian 
literature  and  Grecian  manners.  It  was  not  however 
confined  to  the  pagan  nations  of  antiquity  :  it  spread 
itself  through  all  the  modem  nations  of  Europe,  and 
took  such  dieep  root  as  to  be  long  retained  even  after 
those  nations  were  converted  to  the  Christain  faith. 

Of  its  early  antiquity  we  have  complete  evidence  in 
the  writings  of  Moses,  where  it  is  severely  condemne4 
as  an  abomination  to  the  Lord  *  \  and  though  it  appears 
to  have  been  even  then  spread  into  Phoenicia,  we  might 
yet  conclude  its  birthplace  to  have  been  Egypt,  because, 
at  their  exody^  the  Israelites  were  corrupted  only  by 
Egyptian  superstitions,  and  because  necromancy  seems  to 
be  one  of  those  whoredoms  which  the  prophet  Ezckiel 
represents  his  countrymen  as  having  hrou^t  with  them 
from  Egypt,  and  continued  to  practise  till  they  were 
carried  captives  into  Babylon. 

If  from  sacred  we  proceed  to  consult  profane  authors, 
we  shall  find  them  not  only  affirming  Egypt  to  have 
been  the  birthplace  of  necromancy,,  but  in  some  degree 
accounting  for  the  origin  of  so  impious  a  delusion. 
From  Diodorus  the  Sicilian  t  we  learn  that  the  Gre- 
cian fable  of  Charon  the  ferryman  of  hell,  of  Styx^  Co- 
cytuSf  the  Elvsian  Fields^  Tartarus^  the  judgment  of 
Minos  and  Rhadamanthus^  &c.  with  the  whole  scenery 
of  the  infernal  regions,  were  imported  from  Egypt  into 
Greece.  The  ancient  Egyptians,  and  indeed  all  the 
people  of  the  east,  made  use  of  caves  for  burying  places, 
which  were  well  suited  to  the  solemn  sadness  of  the  sur- 
viving firiends,  and  proper  receptacles  for  those  who 
were  never  more  to  behold  the  light.     In  Egypt^  many 


of  tliose  subterraneous  cavities  being  dugout  of  the  na-  Keciomaa* 
tural  rock,  still  remain,  and  command  the  admiration      cy. 
of  travellers  j  and  near  to  the  pyramids  in  particular '    '  v       ' 
Uiere  are  some  apartments  of  a  wonderful  fabric,  which 
though  they  extend  in  length  4400  feet,  and  are  about 
30  feet  in  depth,  appear  to  havebeeii,  if  not  entirely 
dug,  at  least  reduced  to  form  by  the  chissel  or  pickaxe 
of  the  artist. 

From  the  practice  of  burying  in  such  caverns  sprung 
the  opinion  that  the  infernal  mansions  were  situated 
somewhere  near  the  centre  of  the  earth,  which  by  the 
Egyptians  was  believed  to  be  not  very  distant  from  its 
surface  J.     In  these  dreary  mansions,  it  was  very  easy  *j^a2S^oV 
for  such  adepts  as  the  priests  of  Egypt  to  fi&bricate  Ere-  M^Ao- 
bus,  Tartarus,  the  Elysian  Fields,  and  all  those  scenes /o«;y. 
which  were  displayed  before  the  initiated  (see  Myste- 
ries), and  by  them  described  to  the  million  of  the  peo- 
ple.   As  it  was  in  those  dark  abodes  that  necromancy 
was  practised,  it  would  be  no  difficult  matter  for  such 
'  magicians  as  withstood  Moses  to  impose  so  far  upon  the 
credulous  vulgar,  as  to  make  them  believe,  that  in  con* 
sequence  of  their  invocations  they  actually  saw  the 
ghosts  of  their  friends  ascend  out  of  the  earth.     It  ap- 
pears from  the  book  of  Exodus,  that  the  Israelitish  wo- 
men were,  even  in  the  wilderness,  well  acquainted  with 
the  use  of  the  mirror,   which  was  therefore  undoubted- 
ly known  to  the  Egyptians.     But  a  mirror  of  a  parti- 
cular form  and  properly  illuminated  at  the  instant  re- 
quired, might  be  easily  made  to  reflect,  in  a  cavern 
from  which  all  other  light  was  carefully  excluded,  the 
image  of  the  deceased,  who  was  called  upon  by  the  ne- 
cromancer >  and  we  can  readily  conceive,  that  with  re- 
spect to  the  question  to  be  proposed,  a  person  might  be 
concealed,  prepared  to  give  such  ambiguous  answers  ' 
as  would  satisfy  the  inquirer,  and  at  the  same  time  save 
the  credit  of  the  oracle.     The  terrified  imaginationa 
of  the  spectators  would  aid  the  delusion,  and  make  a 
very  slight  resemblance  pass  for  the  ghost  or  %imku  of 
their  departed  friend ;  or  the  necromancer  might  assign 
plausible  reasons  why  a  spectre,  after  having  dwelt  tor 
some  time  in  the  infernal  regions,  should  lose  something 
of  its  resemblance  to  the  body  which  it  animated.  Socn 
juggling  tricks,  though  performed  by  artisu  less  aceom- 
plished  than  Jannes  and  Jambres,  have  gained  credit  ^ 

among  people  much  more  enlightened  than  the  Egyp- 
tians can  possibly  have  been  when  the  science  of  necto* 
mancy  was  invented  by  their  priests. . 

That  the  Israelites,  notwithstanding  the  prohibition 
of  their  legislator,  continued  to  practise  the  rites  of  ne- 
cromancy, is  apparent  from  SauPs  transaction  with  the 
witch  of  Endor  (see  Magic).  From  the  same  trans*' 
action,  it  is  likewise  apparent  that  the  witches  of  Israeli 
and  therefore  in  all  probability  the  necromancers  of  £- 
gypt,  pretended  to  evocate  the  ghosts  of  the  dead  by  a. 
demon  or  famUiar  fpirit^  which  they  bad  at  their  com- 
mand to  employ  upon  every  emergency.  This  demon 
was  called  OB  \  and  therefore  Saul  desires  his  servants 
to  find  him  a  woman  who  was  mistress  of  an  OB  (a).. 

It 


^  (a)  The  original,  or  radical,  signification  of  this  word  occurs,  in  Job  xxxii.  ver.  19.^  where  Eliho  compares 
his  belly  to  new  bottles,  which  lie  calls  oboth^  the  plural  of  ob.     But  as  bottles  were  then  made  of  leather,  new 
bottles  filled  with  wine  and  ready  to  burst,  as  Eliliu  describes  them,  would  of  course  be  of  a  form  nearly  globu- 
lar. 


N    E    C 


I    74+    1 


NEC 


*  Chap. 
xjdx.  4« 


Necronai!-  It  >>  probable  tbat  those  wretched  impostors  bad  in 
cy.  their  pay  some  persons  who  occasionally  acted  the 
part  of  the  demon,  and  when  the  execution  of  the 
plot  required  their  agency,  emitted,  by  means  of  a 
cavity  dog  for  that  purpose,  a  low  hollow  voice  from 
below  the  gronnd*  Hence  we  find  Isiiiah,  in  his  de^ 
nunciatlons  against  Ariel  *,  saying,  *'  Thou  sbalt  be 
brought  down,  «nd  sbalt  speak  out  of  the  ground }  and 
thy  speech  shall  be  low  out  of  the  dost,  and  thy  voice 
shall  be  as  of  one  that  hath  a  fiimiliar  spirit  (an  ob)  out 

'  of  the  ground,  'and  thy  speech  shall  "whisper  out  of  the 
dust.'' 

But  though  the  Egyptian  priests  were  ^undoubtedly 
the  inventors  of  the  whole  mystery  of  necromancy,  and 
though  it  was  from  them  imported  into  Greece  bf  the 

-SCLtl  or  priests  <if  Ddditma,  it  does  not  appear  that  the 

Giecian  necnmancers  pretended  to  be  masters  of  OBS 

/     or  familiar  spicks.     Mopsos,  Orpfaens,  Linos,  £umet- 

pnsp  &c.  who  ekher  travelled  into  Egypt  in  quest  of 

knowledge,  or-were  actually  natives  of  diat  eoontiy,  in- 

'  strocted  the  early  Greeks-  in  this  occult  science  :  but 

'  whatever  might  he' the  practice  of  these  apoisCles  them- 
selves, their  disciples  professed  to  do  all  the  feats  of  m»- 

•:gic  by  perfocming  ceitain  rites,  by  eftring  certain  sa- 
ewficea,  hy  mnttenng  a  certain  form  of  words,  by 
channa,  spelk^  and  ocoroisills.     By  these  they  pretend- 

'  ed  to  evocate  the  dead  as'  oeitafinly  as  the  Egyptians 

•  and  Jews  did  by  timt/amSiar  ipiritt.  By  a  small  dis- 
play ef  nriticai  Jeaminff  this  might  he  easily  proved 

•.  from  the  popolaT  Mory  of  Orpheos  aniTEnrydice,  which 
ceitaiidy  was  founded  on  one  ef  these  necromantic  de- 

•  ceptioM  exhihked  n  a  cave  near  Dodona,  where  the 
priests  had  a  hades  or  infernal  mansion,  in  humble  imi- 

'  tatton  of  those  ^wkh  whi^  the^'first  of  them  were  well 
ao^ainted  in  Egypt,     it  is  indeed  evident,  without 
^  the  aid  of  criticism :  no' man  of  any  letters  is  ignorant, 
that  whatever  snpentitions  of  this  kind  prevailed  among 
the  fiemans  were  borrowed  from  the  Greeks.     But  we 
all  know  that  Virgil  makes  one  of  his  shepherds,  by 
-means  •f  ccrtnia  heths,  poisons,  and  senseless  charms, 
raise  up  ghosts  from  the  bottoms  of  their  graves  ^  and 
Lttcian  1ms  jnfaricated  a  story  of  this  kind,  which  may 
be  oowidered  as  an  exaot  parallel  lo  the  witch  of  En- 
f  Lib.vi«    dor.    Jnst  before  the  battle  of  Pharsalia  he  makes  f 
▼er.  570.  etyovngPompey  travel  by  night  to  a  Thessalian  sorceress, 
'^'  and  anxiously  inquire  m  her  the  issoe  of  the  war.    This 

female  necromancer,  by  a  tedious  process  of  charms  and 
incantatioos,  conjures  up  the  ghost  of  a  soldier  who  had 
been  lately  shun.  The  phantom,  after  a  long  preamble, 
denonnoes  a  prediction  much  of  the  same  kind  with  that 
which  the  kmg  of  Israel  received  frtmi  Samuel  at  En- 
dor;  and  thflo^  we  have  elsewhera  'shown,  that  no- 
thing hot  the  spirit  of  God  could  have  foreseen  the  in- 
evitable destrnction  of  Saul,  his  sons,  and  his  army,  (see 


Magic),  it  i^ns  very  easji^  for  any  nan  of  tdehUe  as-Kcosi^ 
gacity  to  foresee  the  defeat  of  Pompey's  raw  and  bb&     ^ 
ciplined  troops  by  the  hardy  veteraas  of  the  vjctsiiow 
CsBsar. 

It  would  be  endless  to  emmierate  all  the  fallseiMi 
evocations  of  ghosts,  -  and  the  ambiguous  respooan  »• 
turned  by  diose  pretended  spirits,  of  which  we  bsfe 
accounts  from'  the  poets  and  historians  of  the  oekfaritdl 
nations  of  antiquity.  We  shall  tboefore  proceed  to 
mention  a  few  which  occur  in  the  fabnioos  hbttry  of 
more  modem  nations,  and  then  leave  the  sabject  to  tU  * 
meditation  of  our  resulers.  In  Mallet's  Nofthera  As- 
tiquities,*we  have  the  following  account  of  a  accrois* 
tic  exploit,  between  which,  and  the  descent  of  the  ts- 
eient  heroes  into  heH,  it  is  impossible  not  to  rennrk  s 
striking  similitude. 

^  Odin  the  sovereign  of  man  arises.  He  saddles  hb 
horse  Sleipner  \  he  mounts,  and  is  conveyed  to  die  isb* 
terraneous  abode  of  H^tu  The  dog  which  gnards  the 
gates  of  death  meets  him.  His  breast  and  his  jswt  ue 
stained  with  blood.  He  opens  his  voracious  moolh  to 
bite,  and  barks  a  long  time  at  the  fether  of  sngie. 
Odm  pursues  his  way  \  and  the  infernal  cavern  reoomdi 
and  trembles  under  his  horse's  hoofs.  At  Icagdi  le 
reaches  the  deep  abode  of  death,  and  stops  near  ^ 
eastern  gate,  where«5tands  the  tomb  of  the  prophetm. 
He  sings  with  a  voice  adapted  to  call  up  the  deid;  Is 
looks  towards  the  nor)d ;  be  engraves  Runic  dmfaden 
on  her  tomb  \  he  otters  mysterious  words }  and  he  de- 
mands an  answer,  until  the  prophetess  is  constrsiscd  to 
arise 'and  thos  utter  the  words  of  the  dead.*-^  ¥ilotf 
this  unknown  that  dares  to  disturb  my  repooe,  isd 
drag  me  from  the  grave,  in  which  f  have  been  dcsd  m 
long,  all  covered  with  snow,  and  moistened  with  Ik 
rains  ?••  &c. 

The  Gaelic  draids  pretended  to  be  masteit  of  Ae 
same  secret.  This  is  orident  from  the  name  of  ancotf 
of  divination,  not  uncommon  among  the  Scotch  B^ 
landers  so  lately  as  in  the  beginning  of  die  i8tfc  oes* 
tury.  By  a  gentleman  excellently  versed  io  the  a^ 
qui  ties  of  tbat  people,  and  a  steady  friend  to  the  writs 
of  this  article,  we  have  been  iofbnned,  that  not  ansy 
yet^rs  ago  some  of  the  Highlanders  relied  implicitly  sp 
on  certain  oracular  responses,  called  in  their  Isi^oi^ 
taghairm.  This  word  seems  to  be  compounded  of  f^ 
which  in  some  parts  of  the  Highlands  is  stiQ  med  to 
denote  a  spirit  or  ghost,  and  gkatrm^  whidi  dgpifes 
calling  upon  or  invoking.  Tc^Aauyn^  theiefcre,  is  ito 
original  unport,  is  necromancy  in  die  most  proper  fei* 
of  that  woid. 

There  were  different  kinds  of  fogAntViM,  of  whic&nie 
was  very  lately  practised  in  Skycm  The  divioer  cofl^ 
ed  himself  with  a  cow's  hide,  and  repaonsd  aX  aigftt  to 
some  deep-sounding  cave,  whither  the  person  vbo  cos- 

■died 


lar.  Hence  it  ma^  he  infeired  that  the  original  import  of  o^  was  round  or  glohular :  hut  B  and  p  being  Iskiik, 
are  ofUn  changed  into  each  other  j  and  therefore,  from  the  Hebrew  ob  is  derived  the  Greek  mf^y  oeubu^  tsV^ 
video^  and  the  Xiatin  op^^  a  name  nnder  which  the  eardi  was  worshipped.  Vpie  was  a  name  of  Diana  or  ^ 
moon  :  the  father  of  one  of  the  Dianas  was  likewise  Upi9  ;  but  this  VpU  was  undoubtedly  the  sun.  Now  ike  dif* 
ferenoe  'between  upis  and  opu  is  nothing  \  hence  we  are  led  to  believe,  that  as  they  are  all  derived  firosi  s^  ^ 
word  was  emjdoycd  by  the  early  idolaters  of  Egypt  to  denote  the  first  and  greatest  of  Pagan  gods,  the  son.  If  ^ 
those  wrrtfihes  who  pretended  ttf  be  mistresses  of  obs^  were  exactly  the  same  kind  of  impostors  with  the  Pftb^fl^ 
ses  of  the  Greeks* 


NEC 


C    745    ] 


NEC 


I9^rrfim«D.  aiilted  b^D  MIowed  foon  after  wilboQt  any  lUtenilioes. 
cy.  41  the  mottib  of  tbe  «»ve  he  propoBed  4loud  the  ques* 
tieiw  of  nbkb  be  w^led  solatiooa ;  aod  tlie  man  with* 
ixk  prononneed  the  rceponsee  in  a  tone  of  voice  similar 
to  that  with  wbieb  the  otS|  or  pietended  derooot  of  an- 
tiquity* gave  from  beacatb  the  groand  their  oracular 
aimferf.  That  in  tlie  Utter  dlays  of  t^ghairmt  the 
C^lic  diviners  pretend  to  evocate  gbostSi  and  from 
tbem  to  eztoit  solutions  of  difficulties  propoeedy  we 
bava  no  positive  avidenoe ;  bat  that  soeb  was  the  ori- 
ginal pretence  there  can  be  little  doqhty  when  we  re« 
fleet  either  upon  the  place  where  this  species  of  divioa- 
tion  was  practised,  or  upon  the  import  of  the  word  bj 
which  it  was  denominated. 

As  we  have  been  led  to  mention  toghmrmf  we  shall 
beg  leave  to  make  a  few  observations  on  another  spe- 
cies of  it«  called  taghairm  an  ui^^  or  ^*  taghairm  by 
water.'*  This  too  was  last  practiwd  in  the  Isle  of  Skye, 
by  a  man  of  the  name  of  M^Cuidkean^  whose  ancestors 
had  long  been  famous  for  the  art.  He  lived  near  a 
beautiul  cascade  on  a  sbmII  river  ;  and  when  consulted 
an  any  matter  of  consequenoe,  he  covered  his  whole 
body  with  a  cow's  hide,  that  necessary  implement  of 
Highland  divination^  and  placed  himself  between  the 
water  of  the  cascade  and  the  rock  over  which  it  flowed* 
Then  another  man  with  a  heavy  pole  pave  repeated 
strokes  to  the  water,  and  the  diviner  behind  it  crying 
out  now  and  then  in  Gaelic,  **  Is  this  a  stock  o  am  ?** 
This  operation  was  cootimied  till  M'Coidbean  was  pei^ 
ceived  to  be  frantio  or  furious,  when  he  was  considered 
as  in  a  condition  to  answer  the  most  important  ques* 
lions.  He  was  frequentiy  consulted  about  fiiturity  \ 
and  though  he  could  not,  in  the  prsper  sense  of  the 
word,  bo  called  a  necromamctr,,  his  responses  were  list- 
ened to  as  proceeding  ficom  something  more  than  hu- 
maa.  A  degree  of  phreoxy,  either  real  or  aflbcted, 
seems  to  have  accompanied  the  predictions  of  certain 
kinds  of  diviners  in  idl  i^jes  ;  and  we  cannot  help  re- 
■uwking  the  similaiity  between  the  madness  of  M^Cuid* 
heao  ami  that  of  the  Sibyl  in  the  sixth  book  of  the  JE« 
neid}  though  we  cannot  suppose  the  one  to  have  been 
borrowed  from  the  others 

At^  Pkccbi  nondum  patiens^  immanis  in  antro 
Bacchatur  voUm^  magmtm  stpectore  posst't 
Excusisse  l)eum :  tanto  mogis  iUefatigat 
Os  rabidum^Jtra  corda  domans^Jingitque  jpretnendo. 

Struggling  in  vain,  impatient  of  her  load. 
And  laboring  nnderneath  the  ponderous  god ; 
The  more  she  strove  to  shake  him  from  ber  bieast. 
With  more  and  far  superior  foiTe  he  pressM. 

DuTDEir. 

That  all  these  pretences,  wbeth^  ancient  or  modem, 
to  the  power  of  divination  by  means  of  fomiliar  spirits, 
or  by  the  art  of  necDomaaejr,  imtt  groundless  as  well 
as  impious,  it  would  bo  anronting  tfie  understandinga 
of  our  readers  to  ofisr  any  nreoC  Under  the  arti«do 
Magic  we  hare  said  eaeuyi  oa  the  subject,  and  per- 
haps more  than  eooqgh,  to  tbeso  who  know  that  do* 
UNUS,  if  thi^  have  any  existence,  and  the  departed 
spirit!  of  good  and  bad  meuy  are  aU  under  the  controul 
of  Him  who  govems  the  intellootual  as  wdl  as  material 
world  by  fixed  and  equal  laiws^^-Tbeee  ietails  of  super- 
atitioa,  however,  will  not  ha  useless,  if,  by  showing 
Vox.  XIV.  Part  IL  + 


bow  poor  and  wretched  a  creature  man  becomes  when  Ncciomau. 


<^y 


Left  to  his  own  inventions,  they  shall  make  any  one 

grateful  for  the  benefiu  of  good  government,  and  the  jjg,j|J[ri„„, 

blesfttngii  of  revealed  religion*  «      ^  -    ■ 

NECROPOLIS,  a  suburb  of  Alexandria  in  EgypU 
It  signifies  **  the  City  of  the  Dead  »*'  wherein  there 
were  temples,  gardens,  and  superb  mausoleums.  Here 
Cleopatra  13  said  to  have  applied  the  aspic  to  her  breast, 
to  prevent  being  led  in  triumph  by  Augustus,  who  en* 
deavoured  to  save  her* 

NECROSIS,  NKfMSf,  in  Medicine^  a  complete  mor- 
tification  of  any  part )  called  also  nderaHo  and  iphth 

.  NECTANEBUS,  or  Ncctavabis,  a  king  of  £« 

Spt,  who  defended  his  country  against  the  Persians. 
is  grandson  of  the  same  name  made  an  alliance  with 
Agesiians  king  of  Sparta,  and  with  his  assistance  hd 
qiMUed  a  rebeUion  of  his  subjects.  Some  time  after  he 
Was  joined  by  the  Sidonians,  Phcniicians,  and  inhabi- 
tants of  Cvprvs,  who  had  revolted  fimm  the  king  of 
Persia.  This  powerful  confederacy  was  soon  attacked 
by  Darius  the  king  of  Persia,  who  marched  at  the  head 
of  his  troops.  Nectanebus,  to  defend  his  frontiers 
against  so  dangerous  an  enemy,  levied  ao,ooo  meioe- 
nary  soldiers  m  Greeoe,  the  same  number  in  Libya, 
and  6o,ooo  were  furnished  in  Egypt.  This  numerous 
body  was  not  equal  to  the  Persian  forces,  and  Necta* 
nebus,  defoated  in  a  battle,  gave  up  all  hopes  -of  re- 
sistance,  and  fled  into  Ethiopia,  vrhae  he  found  a  safe 
asvlom.  Hia  kingdom  of  Egypi  became  from  that  time 
tnbutanr  to  the  ung  of  Persia. 

NECTAR,  among  ancient  poets,  the  drink  of  the 
fobuJous  deities  of  the  heathens }  in  contradistinotion 
from  their  solid  food,  which  was  called  ambrwia. 

NECTARINE,  a  firuit  differing  in  nothing  from 
the  common  peach,  of  which  it  is  a  species,  but  in 
kaviag  a  smoother  rind  and  a  firmer  pulp.    See  Per* 

Sl€A. 

NECTARIUAL  from  nectar,  the  fobled  **  driok 
of  the  gods  }**  denned  by  Linnaeus  to  he  a  part  of  the 
coroUa,  or  appendage  to  the  petals,  appropriated  for 
containing  the  honey,  «  species  of  vegetable  salt  under 
a  fluid  form,  that  ooxes  from  the  plant,  and  is  the  prin« 
cipal  food  of  bees  and  other  insects. 

Notwithstanding  this  definition,  which  seems  to  con- 
sider the  nectarium  as  neeessary  a  part  of  the  corolla 
as  the  petals,  it  is  certain  that  all  flowers  are  not  pro- 
vided with  this  appendage,  neither  indeed  is  k  essen- 
tial to  fiructificatwn. 

There  is,  bcridea,  a  manifest  impropriety  in  terming 
the  Dsotarium  a  pert  of  the  oscoUa.  Linnseus  might,  Mikie^t 
vitb  equal  peopriety,  have  termed  it  a  part  or  appen-'®^*  ^^^^ 
dage  of  tiM  wTamina,  calyx,  or  pointal,  as  the  appear* 
auce  in  qocation  is  coAned  to  no  psirticular  part  of 
the  flower,  but  ia  aa  various  in  peint  of  situation  as  of 
form.  The  truth  iSf  the  term  mckirium  u  exceedingly 
va^  ;  and,  if  any  determinate  meaning  can  be  affixed 
to  it,  is  expresrive  of  aU  the  siugnlarities  which  are  ob- 
eerved  ia  the  diHerent  parts  of  £wers. 

The  tube,  or  lower  part  of  flowers  with  one  petal, 
Linnsens  oonriders  aa  a  true  nectarium,  because  it  is 
generally  found  ^  to  contain  the  sweet  liquor  formerly 
mentioned.  This  liquor  Pontedera  compares  to  that 
called  amt$£o$  in  precnaot  animalai  which  enters  the 
fertile  or  impregnatM  seeds :  hut  that  this  is  not  at 

5  B  leASt 


NEC 


[    746    1 


NEE 


Nectarimn.  l^^^t  its  sole  use,  is  evident  from  this  circoouianoe,  that 
*  V  '^ the  honey  or  liquor  in  question  is  to  he  found  in  flowers 
where  there  are  either  no  seeds,  or  those  which,  from 
the  want  of  male  organs,  cannot  be  impregnated. 
Thus  the  male  flowers  of  nettle  and  willow,  die  female 
flowers  of  sea-side  laurel  and  hlack  bryony,  the  male 
and  fiemale  flowers  of  clotia,  kiggelairia,  and  butcher's 
broom,  ail  abound  with  the  honey  or  nectar  alluded 
to. 

Vaillant  was  of  opinion,  that  the  nectarium  was  an 
essential  part  of  the  corolla  ;  for  which  reason  he  distin- 
guished the  singular  appearances  iu  fennel  flower  and 
columbine  by  the  name  of  petals :  the  coloured  leaves 
which  are  now  termed  the  petals  he  denominates  the 
flower  cup. 

That  the  nectarioro,  however,  i:i  frequently  distinct 
from  the  petals,  is  evident  both  from  the  well  known 
examples  just  mentioned,  as  likewise  from  the  flowers 
of  monkshood,  hellebore,  isopyrum,  fennel  flower  of 
Crete,  barrenwort,  grass  of  Famassus,  chocolate  nut, 
cherleria,  and  sauvagesia. 

These  general  observations  being  premised,  we  pro* 
eeed  to  take  a  nearer  and  more  particular  view  of  the 
principal  diversities,  both  in  form  and  situation,  of  thb 
striking  appendage  to  the  flower*  i.  In  many  flowers 
the  neotarium  is  shaped  like  a  spur  or  horn ;  and  that 
either  in  flowers  of  one  petal,  as  valerian,  water  mil- 
foil (utricularia)i  butterwort,  and- calves-snooty  or  in 
such  as  have  more  than  one,  as  larkspur,  violet,  fiimi- 
tory,  balsam,  and* orchis.  2«  In  the  following  plants, 
the  neotarium  is  properly  a  part  of  the  corolla,  as  ly- 
ing within  the  substance  of  the  petals  :  ranunculus, 
lOy,  iris,^  crown  imperial,  water  leaf,,  mouse  tail,  ana- 
nas, or  pine  apple,  dogVtooth  violet,  piperidge  bosh, 
vallisnesia,  hermannia,  uvularia,  and  swertia.  3.  The 
neotarium  is  frequently,  placed  in  a  series  or  row  with-^ 
in  the  petab,  though  entirely^  unoonneoted.  with  their 
substance.  In  this  situation  it  often  resembles  a- cup, 
as  in  narcissus.  A  nectaiium  of  this  kind  is  said  hy. 
Linnssos  to  crown  the  corolla.  The  following  are  ex- 
amples: daflbdil,  sea  dafledil,  campion,  viscous  cam- 
pion, swallow-wort^  stapelia,  cvoanchum,  nepenthes, 
oherleria,  balsamTtree,  African  spiraea,  witch-hazel,  olax^ 
and  passion-flower.  4.  In  Indian-cress,  buckler,  mas- 
tard,  Barbadoes  cherry,  and  monotropa,  the  nectnrium 
is  situated  upon  or  makes  part  of  the  calyx;  5.  The 
nectarium  in  bastard  flower^fenoe  is  seated  upon  the  an- 
therse-or  tops  of.  the  stamina  ^ whence  the  name  ademaft- 
'  thera^  or  glandular  antAera^  which  has  been  given  to^ 

this  genus  of' plants.  In  tl»e  following  list  it  is  placed 
upon  the  filaments  *,  bean-caper,  bay^  fraxinella,  nurvel 
of  Peru,  bell-flowery  lead-wort,  roella,  and  commelioa* 

6.  In  hyacinth,  flowering-rush^  stock  July  flower,  and* 
rocket,  tlie  nectarium  is  placed  upon  Uie  seed-bod». 

7.  In  honey-flower,  orpine,  buckwheat,  collinsonia,-  la- 
thnea,.  navel  wort,  mercury,  dutia,  kigselaria,  sea^de 
laurel,  and  African  spinea,.  it  is  atta<£ed  to  the  com- 
mon receptacle.  Lastly,  In  ginger,  nettle,  .dyer^s  weed^ 
heart-seed,costus, turmeric^. grewia,  bastajd  orpioe,  va- 
nelbe,  shewi-tree,  and  willow,  the  nectarium  is  of  a 
very  singular  construction,  and  cannot  properly  frdl  under 
anv  of  the  foregoing  headft. 

In  discriminating  the  genera,  the  nectarium  often, 
furnishes  an  essentialxharacter. 
Plants  which  have  the  nectarium  distinct  from  the- 

5 


petals,  that  is,  not  lodged  within  their  sabsluce,  imKi 
affiraed  by  lamuens  to  be  generally  poisonous.  Tk 
fdiowing  are  adduced  as  examples :  monkshood,  hdle- 
bore,  coTumbtne,  fennel-flower,  grass  of  Pamsnoi,  bsr- 
ren-woit,  oleander,  marvel  of  Pern,  bean-caper,  neca- 
lent  swallow-wort,  fraxinella,  and  honey-flower. 

NECUIA,  in  fiotany,  a  name  given  by  the  aoeicflt 
Greeks  to  a  species  of  mullein. 

The  Greeks  and  Romans  both  used  the  itiUu  of  t 
peculiar  kind  of  mullein,  called  tkryalHs  by  Nicaoder, 
for  the  making  of  wicks  of  lamps.  We  have  a  kiod  of 
mullein  called  lychnites^  and  candle-wick  molleiB,  fisa 
the  Xif^Mvif  of  Diosoorides  \  but  it  is  not  eettain  tbit 
ours  is  the  same  plant. 

The  ancients  used  the  stalks  of  many  difierent  pbab 
for  the  wicks  of  their  candles  and  lamps.  The  nak, 
stripped  of  its  bark,  was  as  commonly  in  use  with  tka 
as  with  us  for  that  purpose  ;  and  they  also  used  the  net- 
tle, this  mullein,  and  many  other  plants,  whose  stslb 
were  composed  of  tough  filaments,  for  the  sane  fv* 
pose  \  beatitig  them  out  like  hemp,  and  when  dry  dip> 
ping  them  in  melted  resin,  and  other  such  inflsamabk 
substances.  When  thus  prepared,  they  are  resdilj  is- 
flammable,  like  our  flambeau  ',  and  this  nmlleio,  \msw% 
stalks  more  long  and  large,  and  more  firm  than  til  tfar 
others,  was  used  to  make  those  lights  with  which  tkcr 
set  fire  to  the  funeral  pile,  for  consuming  the  tihcitf 
their  dead  friends. 

NECYDALIS,  a  genus  of  insects  belengiag  to  tk 
order  of  coleoptera.    Dee  Entomology  Index. 

NEEDHAM,  John  Tubcrville,  was  bon  afc 
London  the  loth  of  September  in  the  year  1713.  Bm 
parents  were  descended  from  ancient  and  noUe  hm- 
lies.  His  fiither,  who  had  once  possessed  a  coasidenhk 
patrimony  at  Hilston,  in  the  connty  of  MooBosdi, 
was  of  the  younger  and- Catholic  branch  of  theNcfd* 
ham  family:  the  head  of  the  elder  and  Prolcilmt 
blanch  was  Lord  Kilmory, .created  vtseoont  ia  tkeyesr 
1625.  The  father  of  Mr  Needham  died  yoong,  ssd 
left  but  a  small  fortune  to  his  foor  childiea.  Bi» 
eldest  .'son,  who  is  the  subject  of  this  article,  |nsM0- 
ted  his  studies  under  the  secular  clergy  of  the  EagUr 
college  of  Dooay,  where  he  took  orders^  tsoght  ik^ 
toric  for  several  years,  gave  eminent  proofr  of  ssgicitf 
and  genius^  and  snipassed  all  the  other  professaisif 
tittit  seminary  in  the  knowledge  of  experimenttl  ^ 
losopfay.  In  1740,  he  was  engaged  by  his  sspemn 
in  the  service  of  the  English  mission,  and  was  rstnrt- 
ed  with  the  direction  of  the  school  erected  stTvr- 
ford,,  near  Winchester,  for  the  education  of  die  Bo- 
man  Gkthplic  youth.  In  1744,  be  was  affoiiicd 
professor  of  philosophy  in  the  Ei^lish  college  st  1» 
bon,  where,  on  account  of  his  bad  health,  he  reasia* 
ed  only  15  mondis*  After  bis  return,  he  psswd  mv^ 
ral  years  at  London  and  Paris,  which  were  priacipslly 
employed  in  microscopical  observatioiiB,  and  ia  other 
branches  of  experimental  philosophy.  The  resohs  d 
these  observations  •  and  experiments  were  pobliM'  is 
the  Fhilos<^hical  Traaaaetions  of  the  Bsyal  Society 
of  London  in  1749,  and  in*  a  vnhmse  in  1200  stlV 
ris  in  1750*^  and- an  acoonot  of  theno  was  also  giii» 
by  M.  de  Buflbn,  in-tbe  first  vdnmes  of  \m  Nstwil 
History.  There  was  an  intimate  coaaexisB  betwem 
this  illustrious  French  naturalist  and  Mr  Nudkn: 
they  made  tb«ir   exporinKBts   and  obaonalMSf  is* 

giikr't 


I 


NEE 


[    747    ] 


NEE 


gjIgQ^  getbcr ;  tboagh  the  resoUs  and  sjsimms  i? hich  they  de- 
ecdie.  doced  from  the  same  objects  and  operations  were  to- 
tally different.  Mr  Needbam  was  admitted  to  a  place 
in  the  Royal  Society  of  London  in  the  year  17479 
and  in  the  Antiquarian  Society  some  time  alter.  From 
.  the  jear  1 751  to  1 767  he  was  chiefly  employed  in 
finishing  the  education  of  several  English  and  Irish 
iioblemen,  by  attending  them  as  tutor  in  their  travels 
through  France,  Italy,  and  other  countries.  He  then 
retired  from  this  wandering  life  to  the  Englbh  semi- 
nary at  Parid,  and  in  1 760  was  chosen  by  the  Royal 
Academy  of  Sciences  in  that  city  a  corresponding 
member. 

When  the  regency  of  the  Austrian  Netlierlands,  in 
order  to  the  revival  of  philosophy  and  literature  in  that 
country  formed  the  project  of  an  Imperial  academy, 
which  was  preceded  by  the  erection  of  a  small  literary 
society  to  prepare  the  way  for  its  execution,  Mr  Need- 
ham  was  invited  to  Brussels  by  Giunt  Cobentzel  and 
the  president  Neny,  and  was  appointed   successively 
chief  director  of  both  these  foundations.       He  held 
this  place,  together  with  some  ecclesiastical  preferments 
in  the  Low  Countries,  until  bis  death,  which  happened 
the  3otb  of  December  1781.     **  His  piety,   temper- 
ance, and  parity  of  manners  (we  follow  the  expres- 
sions of  the  abb^  Mann)  were  eminent :  bis  attach- 
ment to  the  d<x:trines  and  duties  of  Christianity  was  in- 
violable.     His  zealous  opposition  to  modern  infidels 
was  indefatigable,  and  even  passionate.     His  probity 
was  untainted.     He  was  incapable  of  every  species  of 
daplicity ',  his  beneficence  was  universal,  and  his  un- 
fiuspicioiis  candour  rendered  him  often  a  dupe  to  per- 
fidy.^*    These  and  other  good  qualities  the  panegyrist 
attributes  to  his  deceased  friend  ^  and  the  learned  au- 
thors of  the  Monthly  Review,  to  whom  Mr  Needbam 
was  known,  admit  the  justness  of  the  panegyric.     He 
was  undoubtedly  (say  they),  both  an  honest  man  and  a 
worthy  citizen  ^  hut  though  his  death  be  a  real  loss  to 
the  literary  world,  yet  he  died  seasonably  for  himself^ 
for  had  he  lived  to  see  Joseph  II.  and  the  Great  mak- 
ing so  firee  with  the  jNunt,  patches,  and  trinkets  of  the 
mother  church,  confiscating  her  lands,  abolishing  her 
convents,  suppressing  her  holidays,  introducing  common 
sense  into  her  worship,  erecting  political  conductors  to 
disperse  the  thunder  of  the  Vatican,  and  achieving  maqy 
other  things  in  this  style  of  improvement,  it  would  have 
vexed  full  sore  his  feeling  heart.     For  this  honest  man 
was  narrow  even  to  superstition  and  bigotry  in  his  reli- 
gious system  ^  and  we  never  knew  a  man  in  whom  there 
was  such  an  unaccountable  mixture  of  implicit  faith 
and  philosophical  curiosity  as  in  Mr  Needbam.     He 
was  a  keen  and  judicious  qbseryer  of  nature,  had  a  pe- 
culiar dexterity  in  confirming  his  observations  by  expe- 
riments, and  he  was  always  occupied  (sometimes  indeed 
with  too  much  fancy  and  precipitation)  in  generalizing 
facts,  and  reducing  them  to  his  system.     ^*  His  pen 
(says  Abbe  Mann)  was  neither  remarkable  for  fecun- 
dity nor  method :  his  writings  ai;e  rather  the  .  great 
lines  of  a  subject  expressed  with  cneqjy,  and  thrown 
upon  paper  in  a  hurry,  than  finished  treatises.^'     His 
works  are  well  known  both  in  Britain  and  in  France. 

NcEDHA9tf,  a  town  in  Suffolk,  7.3  miles  bom  Lon- 
don, i>tandb  on  the  Orwell,  9  miles  from  Ipswich.  Its 
.jwpulation  in.1811  was  1301* 

NfllilSLE,  a  very  commpn  little  instrnment  or  uten- 


sil made  of  steel,  pointed  at  one  end,  and  pierced  at  the    Nee^rc. 
other,  used  in  sewing,  embroidery,  tapestry,  &c. 

Needles  make  a  very  considerable  article  in  com- 
merce, though  there  is  scarce  any  commodity  cheaper, 
the  consumption  of  them  being  almost  incredible.— 
The  sizes  are  from  N^  x*  the  largest,  to  N®  25,  the 
smallest.  In  the  manufacture  of  needles,  German  and 
Hungarian  steel  is  of  most  repute. 

In  the  making  of  them,  the  first  thing  Is  to  pass  the 
steel  through  a  coal  fire,  and  under  a  hammer,  to  bring 
it  out  of  its  square  figure  into  a  cylindrical  one.  This 
done,  it  is  drawn  through  a  large  hole  of  a  wire*draw- 
ing  iron,  and  returned  into  the  fare,  and  drawn  through 
a  second  hole  of  the  iron  smaller  than  the  first  ^  and 
thus  successively  from  hole  to  hole,  till  it  has  acquired 
the  degree  of  fineness  required  for  that  species  of 
needles  j  ob^eri'ing  every  time  it  is  to  be  drawn,  that 
it  be  greased  over  with  lard,  to  render  it  more  manage- 
able. The  steel,  thus  reduced  to  a  fine  wire,  is  cut  in 
pieces  of  the  length  of  the  needles  intended.  These 
jpieces  are  flattened  at  one  end  on  the  anvil,  in  order 
to  form  the  head  and  eye  :  they  are  then  put  into  the 
fire  to  soften  them  farther ;  and  thence  taken  out  and 
pierced  at  each  extreme  of  the  flat  part  on  the  anvil, 
by  force  of  a  puncheon  of  well-tempered  steel,  and  laid 
on  a  leaden  block  to  bring  out,  with  another  puncheon, 
the  little  piece  of  tteel  remaining  in  the  eye.  The 
corners  are  then  filed  off  the  square  of  the  heads,  and 
a  little  cavity  filed  on  each  side  of  the  flat  of  the  head^ 
this  done,  the  point  is  formed  with  a  file,  and  the  whole 
filed  over :  they  are  then  laid  to  heat  red  hot  on  a  long 
narrow  iron,  crooked  at  one  end,  in  a  charcoal  fire  4 
and  when  taken  out  thence,  are  thrown  into  a  bason  of 
cold  water  to  harden.  On  this  operation  a  good  deal 
depends  ^  too  much  heat  bums  them,  and  too  little 
leaves  them  soft )  the  medium  is  learned  by  experience. 
When  they  are  thus  hardened,  they  are  laid  in  an  iron 
shovel,  on  a  fire  more  or  less  brisk  in  proportion  to  the 
thickness  of  the  needles  ^  taking  care  to  move  them 
from  time  to  time.  This  serves  to  temper  them,  and 
take  off  their  brittleness  j  great  care  here  too  must  be 
taken  of  the  degree  of  heat.  They  are  then  straighten- 
ed one  after  another  with  the  hammer,  the  coldness  of 
ithe  water  used  in  hardening  them,  having  twisted  the 
greatest  part  of  them. 

The  next  process  is  the  polishing  them*  To  do  thio, 
they  take  12,000  or  15,000  needles,  and  range  them 
in  little  heaps  against  each  other  on  a  piece  of  new 
buckram  sprinkled  with  emery  dust.  The  needles  thus 
disposed,  ^mery  dust  is  thrown  oyer  them^  which  is 
«gain  sprinkled  with  oil  of  olives  ^  at  last  the  whole  is 
made  up  into  a  roll,  well  bound  at  both  ends.  This 
roll  is  then  laid  on  a  polishing  table,  and  over  it  a  thick 
plank  loaded  with  stones,  .which  two  men  work  back- 
wards and  forwards  a  day  and  a  hal^.or  two-  days, 
successively  j  by  which  means  the  roll  thus  continually 
agitated  by  the  weight  and.motion  of  the  pl^nk  ov^r 
it,  the  needles  withinside  .being  rubbed,  against  each ' 
other  with  oil  and  emesy,  are  insensibly  polished.  AjC* 
ter  polishing  they  are  taken  out,  and  the  filth  washed 
off  them  with  hot  water  and  sojip :  they  are  then  wi- 
ped in  hot  bran,  a  little  moistened,  placed' with  the 
needles  in  a  ronnd  box,  suspended  in  the  air  by  a  corct 
which  is, kept  stirring  till  :Ae  bran  and  neddleii  be  di^j^«. 
The  needles,  thus  wiped  in  two  or  three  different  jl)rai»99 

«       J  B  2  arc 


NEE 


t    748     ] 


NEE 


PliU 

cccuux 

fig*  I. 


Needk.  u^  taken  out  and  pat  In  wooden  vessels,  to  haye  the 
good  separated  from  those  whose  points  or  eyes  have 
been  broken  either  in  polishing  or  wiping ;  the  points 
are  then  all  turned  the  same  way,  and  smoothed  with 
an  emery  stone  tnroed  with  a  wheel.  This  operation 
finishes  them,  and  there  remains  nothing  but  to  make 
them  into  packets  of  250  each.  Needles  were  fint 
made  In  England  by  a. native  of  India,  in  1545,  but  the 
art  was  lost  at  his  death  ;  it  was,  however,  recovered  by 
(/hristopher  Greening  in  1560,  who  was  settled  with 
his  three  children,  Elizabeth  John,  and  Thomas,  bj 
Mr  Bamar,  ancestor  of  the  present  Lord  MUtoo,  at 
Long  Crendon  in  Bocks,  where  the  mann&ctory  has 
been  carried  on  from  that  time  to  the  present  day. 

Dippingr-NsEDLSf  or  Inclinatorv  Needle  jtL  magnetical 
needle,  so  hung,  as  that,  instead  ot  playing  horizontally, 
and  pointing  out  north  and  south,  one  end  dips,  or  in- 
clines to  the  horizon,  and  the  other  points  to  a  certain 
degree  of  elevation  above  it. 

The  dipping-needle  was  invented  In  the  year  X576, 
by  one  fiobert  Norman,  a  compass-maker  at  Wapping. 
The  occasion  of  the  discovery,  according  to  his  o\m  ac- 
count, was,  that  it  bring  fab  custom  to  finish  and  hang 
the  needles  of  bis  compasses  before  he  touched  tbem,  he 
always  found,  that  innntdtately  after  the  touch,  the 
north-point  would  bend  or  incline  downward,  under  the 
horizon  ^  insomuch  that,  to  balance  the  needle  again, 
he  was  always  forced  to  put  a  piece  of  wax  on  the  south 
end  as  a  connterpoise.  The  constancy  of  this  effect 
led  him  at  length  to  observe  the  precise  quantity  of  the 
dip,  or  to  measure  the  greatest  angle  which  the  needle 
would  make  with  the  horizon  ^  and  this  at  London  he 
found  to  be  71^50'.  In  1723  Mr  Graham  made  a 
at  many  observations  on  the  dipping-needle,  and 

und  the  angle  to  be  between  74  and  75  degrees. 
Mr  Nairn,  in  1772  found  it  to  be  somewhat  above 
72*.  It  Is  not  certain  whether  the  dip  varies,  as  well 
•s  the  horizontal  direction,  in  the  same  place.  The 
trifling  difference  between  Mr  Norman  and  Mr  Naime 
would  lead  as  to  imagine  that  the  dip  was  unalterable  'y 
but  Mr  Graham,  who  was  a  very  accnrate  observer, 
makes  the  difference  more  considerable.  It  Is  certain, 
however,  firom  a  great  number  of  experiments  and  ob- 
servations that  the  dip  b  variable  in  different  latitudes, 
and  that  it  increases  in  going  northwards.  It  appears 
firom  a  table  of  oboenrations  made  with  the  marine  dip- 
ping-needle in  a  voyage  towards  the  north  pole  in  1 733, 
that  in  hit.  60. 18.  the  dip  was  75^ ;  and  in  lat.  70.  45. 
it  was  77^  52'  J  In  lat.  80.  T2.  it  was  81*  52^ }  and  m 
lat.  80.  27.  it  was  82^  2V' 

^^evctal  antiiors  have  enckavoured  to  apply  tbu  dis- 
eovery  of  iSie  dip  to  the  finding  of  the  latitude ;  and 
Mr  Bond  attempted  to  apply  It  to  the  finding  of  the 
longitode  also^  but  for  want  of  observations  and  es- 
perimenfs  he  couM  not  make  any  pflnogress.  The  af- 
-fair  was  fiurther  prosecuted  by  Mr  'Whiston,  trho  pub- 
lidied  a  treatise  on  the  longitude,  and  for  some  time 
imagined  it  was  possible  to  find  It  exactly  by  means^'d^ 
ihe  dip  of  the  needle:  yet  he  at  last  despaired  of  9t,  tat 
tl»  fenowing  reasons ;;  X.  The  weidtiiess  of  the  magne- 
tic power.  2.  The  concussion  of  the  ship,  which  he 
fiMiod  i€  exceedingly  (Kfficult  to  avoid  so  much  as  was 
flocessarr  ibr  the  accuracy  of  the  experiments.  3.  The 
principal  objection  was  an  Irregularity  In  the  motfons 
of  dl  magnetie  needles,  bodrhomontal  and  dipping, 


grej 
foui 


by  which  they,  within  the  compafs  of  about  a  degice,  ^^ 
vary  uncertainly  backward  and  forward ;  evea  soiie- 
times  in  a  few  hours  time,  without  any  erideot  cane. 
For  a  particular  account  n>f  these  variatioiia,  bolii  of 
the  horizontal  and  Hipping  needle,  see  the  sitide  Va- 

RIATIOK. 

Mr  Naime  made  a  dipping  needle  in  1772  f«r  the 
Board  of  Longitude,  which  was  used  in  iht  foyige 
towards  the  north  pole.  This  is  represented  it  fi^.  tfi^t. 
The  needle  AA  is  12  inches  long,  and  Itsaxn,  tbe 
ends  BB  of  which  are  made  of  gold,  alloyed  with  cd^ 
per,  rests  on  fiiction  wheeb  CCCC,  of  fov  tncbn 
diameter,  each  end  on  two  frictum  wheels;  nM 
wheels  are  balanced  with  great  care.  The  ends  of  tbe 
axis  of  the  firictlon  wheels  are  likewise  of  gold  tlhye^ 
with  copper,  and  moved  in  small  holes  otdeiBbeH 
metal;  and  opposite  to  the  ends  of  the  axes  of  the 
needle  and  the  friction  wheels,  are  flat  agates,  set  is 
at  DDD,  finely  polished.  The  magnetic  neede  ti- 
brates  within  a  circle  of  bell  metal,  £££,  divided  is- 
to  degrees  and  half  degrees;  and  a  line,  passing  tbnogb 
the  middle  of  the  needle  to  the  ends,  points  to  the  dm- 
sions.  The  needle  of  this  instrument  was  bahrnced  be- 
fore it  was  made  magnetical ;  but  by  means  of  a  aim, 
the  ends  of  which  are  FFFF,  (contrived  by  tbe  le- 
verend  Mr  Mitchell)  fixed  on  the  axis  of  the  oee&, 
on  tbe  arms  of  which  are  cut  very  fine  screws  to  receive 
small  buttons,  that  may  be  screwed  neaier  or  fartber 
from  the  axis,  the  needles  may  be  adjusted  both  irajsto 
a  great  nicety,  after  being  made  magnetical,  by  refer- 
sing  the  poles,  and  changing  the  sides  of  tbt  Bee&. 
CG  are  two  levels,  by  which  the  line  of  0  degrees  sf 
the  Instrument  Is  set  horizontal,  by  means  of  tbe  fw 
adjusting  screws  LLLL ;  H  is  the  perpendlcnbr  nit, 
hy  which  the  Instrument  may  be  tnmed,  that  tbe  i- 
vided  fiice  of  the  circle  may  front  the  east  or  tot; 
to  this  axis  may  be  fixed  an  index  I,  which  poiotiron 
opposite  line  on  the  horizontal  plate  K  wheo  tbe  ia- 
strument  is  turned  half  ronnd ;  MMMM  aie  soevi 
which  hold  the  glass  cover  to  keep  the  needle  froa 
being  disturbed  by  the  wind.  When  this  needle  ii 
constructed  fbr  sea,  it  Is  snspended  by  an  oniwisd 
joint  on  a  triangular  stand,  and  adjusted  veitieaOy  Ij 
a  plumb  line  and  button  above  the  divided  drtle  nd 
the  dovetail  work  at  the  upper  90 ;  and  the  dirisioai 
on  the  circle  are  adjusted  so  as  to  be  perpendicaisr  to 
the  horizon  by  the  same  plumb  line,  and  an  adjsiniBg 
screw';  and  when  it  is  adjusted,  a  pointer  aaacied  U  » 
screw,  which  serves  to  move  the  divided  circle,  iiixcd 
at  the  lowest  90.  Whenever  the  instmment  is  sscd  to 
find  the  dip,  U  must  be  so  placed  that  (he  needfe  nj 
vibrate  exactly  in  the  magnetic  meridian. 

Magnetical  Nbedla,  In  Navmition^  a  needle  (Mckd 
with  a  loadstone,  and  sustained  on  a  pivot  or  eeatit; 
on  which  playing  at  liberty,  it  directs  itself  to  certak 
points  in  or  under  the  horizon ;  whence  the  Bagaeth 
cal  needlb  is  of  two  kinds,  viz.  homontal  or  incliii^* 
Bee  the  article  Magkct. 

Horizontid  needles  are  those  eqmOy  halaneed  oa  each 
tfde  of  the  pivot  that  sustains  tbtm,  and  which,  |hywg 
horizontally  trltb  their  two  extremes,  point  oat  tlK  aera 
and  Bontb  points  of  the  horizon.  For  their  ifflicaM 
and  use,  see  the  article  CoffTASS. 

In  the  construction  of  tbe  horizontal  needle,  a  fxm 
ofpnxe^eel  is  provided;  of  alengthnolcxcn^rn 


\ 


NEE 


[749    ] 


Needier  inchesy  lest  its  wid|bt  should  Itaptsde  its  volubility } 
-^very  thin,  to  take  its  verticitjr  tlie  better^  and  not 
pierced  with  any  holes,  or  the  like,  for  ornament  sake, 
which  prevent  the  equal^e  diflfiislon  of  the  magoetio 
virtue.  A  perforation  b  then  made,  in  the  middle  of 
its  length,  and  a  brass  eap  or  head  soldered  on,  whose 
inner  cavity  is  conical,  so  as  to  play  freely  on  a  style 
or  pivot  lieaded  with  a  fine  steel  point  The  north 
point  of  the  needle  in  onr  hemisphere  is  made  a  little 
lighter  than  the  southern  j  the  touch  always  destroying 
the  balance,  if  well  adjusted  before,  and  rendering  the 
north  end  heavier  than  the  southy  and  thus  occasioning 
the  needle  to  dtp. 

The  method  of  giving  the  nee^e  its  verticity  or  di* 
recti ve  faculty  has  beeq  shown  already  under  the  ar- 
ticle Magnet  ;  but  if,  after  touching,  the  needle  be 
out  of  its  equilibrium,  something  must  be  filed  off  from 
the  heavier  side,  till  it  balance  evenly. 

Needles  in  sea  compasses  are  msually  made  of  a  rhora- 
boidal  or  oblong  form  ^  we  have  given  their  structure 
already  under  the  article  Compass. 

The  needle  is  not  found  to  point  |>recisely  to  the 
noftb^  except  in  very  few  places  $  but  deviates  from  it 
more  or  less  in  different  places,  and  that  too  at  differ* 
cut  times ;  which  deviation  is  called  its  decimation  or 
varutiion  front  the  meridian*  See  the  article  Varia- 
TICK. 

'  Surgeons  Nesdles  are  generally  made  crooked,  and 
their  points  triangular ;  however,  they  are  of  different 
forms  and  sizes,  and  bear  different  aaoies,  according  to 
the  purposes  they  are  used  for* 

Ino  largest  are  acedles  foi  amputation ;  the  nezt^ 
needles  for  wonndsj  the  finest,  needles  for  sutures. 
They  have  others,  very  short  and  flat,  for  tendons  ^ 
others,  still  shorter,  and  the  eye  placed  in  the  middle^ 
for  tying  together  of  vessels,  &e.  Needles  for  coach- 
ing cataracts  are  of  various  kinds ;  all  of  which  have 
a  bmall,  broad,  and  sharp  point  or  tongue,  and  some 
with  a  sukos  at  the  point.  Surgeons  have  sometimes 
jtoed  two  needles  in  this  operation ;  one  with  a  sharp 
point  for  perforating  the  coats  of  the  eye,  and  anotbet 
with  a  more  obtuse  point  for  depressing  or  counhing 
the  opaque  crystalline  lens  y  but  care  should  be  taken 
in  the  use  of  any  of  thesey  tihat  they  be  first  well  po- 
lished with  cloth  or  leather,  before  they  are  applied  to 
the  eye. 

Mr  Warner  observes,  that  the  blade  of  the  conelmig 
■eedle  should  bo  at  least  a  third  part  larger  than  those 
generally  used  upon  this  occasion,  as  great  advantage* 
will  be  round  in  the  depressing  of  the  ci^taract,  by  tbe 
increased  breadth  of  Che  bhide  of  that  instrumenf* 
The  handle,  also,  if  made  somewhat  shorter  than  . 
usual,  will  enable  the  operator  to  perform  with  ^aleF 
steadiness  than  he  can  do  with  a  larger  handled  instni- 

It  is  to  be  observed,  that  needles  of  sHver  pierce 
more  easily  in  stitching  artexies  after  an  ampotadon,. 
Aan  those  madls  of  steel'.  , 

Nsauus  Fishk  See  SlrKowAtHOs,.  IcShrmroLOGT 
Ittehx, 

N£E0t£8|  sharp  pointed  rocks  nortik  of  the  isle  of 


N    E    G 

There  were  of  these  lofbr  v^bite  rocks  formerly    Kee41e 
three,  but  about  14  years  ago  the  tallest  of  them,  call-        || 
ed  LoVa  Wife^  which  rose  I  So  feet  above  low  water  N^g**^' 
mark,  and  in  its  shape  resembling  a  needle,  being  un- 
dermined by  the  constant  efforts  of  the  waves,  was 
thrown  down,  and  totally  disappeared. 

NEEDS,  or.St  Neots,  six  miles  from  Huntingdon,. 
58  miles  from  London,  sO  called  from  the  monument  of 
a  saint  of  that  name  in  it,  who  was  burnt  by  the  Danes, 
is  a  large  well  built  toWn,  having  a  handsome  strong 
chnrob,  with  a  very  fine  steeple,  and  a  stone  bridge  over 
the  Ouse.     Its  population  in  181 1  was  1988. 

NpEDWOOD  FOREST,  in  Staffordshire,  between 
the  Trent,  Dove,  and  Biythe,  and  near  Utoxeter,  is 
said  to  exceed  all  the  forests  in  England  in  the  excel- 
lence of  its  Soil  and  the  fineness  of  its  turf. 

N£  EXEAT  BEGNO,  in  Law,  is  a  writ  to  re« 
strain  a  person  from  going  out  of  the  kingdom  with^ 
out  the  king*s  license.  F.  N.  B*  85.  It  may  be  di« 
rected  to  the  sheriff,  to  make  the  party  find  surety  that 
he  will  not  depart  the  realm,  and  on  refusal  to  com- 
mit him  to  prison  :  or  it  may  be  directed  td  the  party 
'himself)  and  if  he  then  goes,  he  may  be  fined.  And 
this  writ  is  granted  on  a  suit  being  commenced,  against 
a  man  in  the  chancery,  when  the  j^laintiff  fears  the  de- 
fendant will  fly  to  some  other  country ;  and  thereby 
avoid  tbe  iusUce  and  equity  of  the  court  \  which  hatk 
been  sometimes  practised :  and  when  thus  granted,  the 
party  must  give  bonds  to  the  master  of  die  ndls,  in  the 
penalty  of  ioobl«  o#  some  other  large  sum,  for  yielding 
obedience  to  it )  oi^  satisfy  tbe  cotrt,  by  answer,  affida- 
vit, or  otheniise,  that  he  hath  no  design  of  leaving  the 
kingdom,  and  give  security. 

NEFASTI  DIES,  in  Roman  antiquity,  an  appella-  . 
tion  given  to  those  days  wherein  it  was  not  allowed  t» 
administer  justice,  or  bold  courts.  Thej  were  so  called- 
because  non  fori  licehat^  the  praetor  was  not  allowed  to. 
pronounce  the  three  solemn  words  or  fiirmnlas  of  the  ■ 
law,  c/b,  dico,  addieop  I  give,  I  appoint,  I  adjudge* 
These  da^s  were  distinguished  i»  the  >odlendhr  by  Uie 
letter  N.  for  n^iutttej  or  N.  P*  Nefa$tus  Prima,  when 
the  day  was  only  nefiutus  in  the  forenoon,  or  fint  part. 
The  days  of  a  mixed  kind  were  called  intercisi* 

NEOAPATAN,  a  town  of  Asia,,«^in  the  peninsula 
on  this  side  the  Ganges,  and  «n  tha^eoast  of  Coroman- 
del.  It  was  firbt  a  colony  df  the  Portuguese,  but  was 
taken  from  them  by  the  Dutch,  and  new  forms  part  of 
the  British  territory.  It  is  situated  in  E.Loiig*  79.  lo.  . 
N.  Lat.  II.  15. 

NEGATION,  in  Zt^,  an  act  of  the  mind  affirm- 
ing .one  thing  to  be  different  from  another;  as  that  tbe 
soul  is  not  matter.     See  Logic. 

NEGATIVE',  in  general,  something  that  implies  a 
negation ;  thus  we  say^r  negative  quantities,  negative 
powers,  negative  signs,  &o. 

NsBATirs  Sign.  The^use  of  the  negative  sign,  in 
algebra,  is  attended  with  several  consequences  that  at 
first  sight  are  admitted  with  diificulfy,  and  has  some- 
times gfven  occasion  to  notidns  that  seem  to  bave  no  * 
real  foundation.  This  sign  impH^^  that  the  real  va-. 
lue  of  the  qCiantity  represented  by  the  letter  to  irhicb- 


'W^ht.  They  are  situated  at  the  wnstem  extremi^f  of  it  is  prefixed  is  to  be  subtracted  j-  and  it  serves,  with 
Ifce^  ishrod,  which  is  an  acute  point  of  high  landy  froni^  the  positive  sign,  to  keep  in  view  what  elements  .or 
wflich'  they  h«ve  beea  dkjnbed  by  tMa  washing  d£  the    parts  enter  mto  the  composition  of  qu^mtitiesy  and  in* 

what. 


N    E    G 


C    750    ] 


N    E    G 


Ne^atite  Wfi^t  ratnnery  ifhether  as  increments  or  decrements, 
Sigiiu.     (that  tSy  whether  bj  addition  or  subtraction),  wbitfh  is 
of  the  greatest  use  in  this  art. 

In  consequence  of  thiS|  it  serves  to  express  a  qttan« 
tity  of  an  opposite  quality  to  the  positiTe,  as  a  line  in 
a  contrary  position  ;  a  motion  with  an  opposite  direc* 
tion  ;  or  a  centrifugal  force  in  opposition  to  gravity } 
and  thus  often  saves  the  trouble  of  distinguishing  and 
demonstrating  separatety,  the  various  cases  of  propor- 
'tionSy  and  preserves  their  analogy  in  view.     But  as 
•the  proportions  of  lines  depend  on  their  magnitude 
only,  without  regard  to  their  position,  and  motions 
and  forces  are  said  to  be  equal  or  unequal,  in  any 
given  ratio,  without  regard  to  their  directions ;  and,  in 
general,  the  proportion  of  quantity  relates   to  their 
magnitude  only,  without  determining  whether  they  are 
to  be^considered  as  intrements  or  decrements  ^  so  there 
is  no  ground  to  imagine  any  other  proportion  of  — & 
'and  +a  (or  of —i  and  i)  than  that  of  the  real  mag« 
nitude  of  the  quantities  represented  by  b  and  a,  whether 
these  quantities  are,  in  any  particular  case,  to  be  added 
or  subtracted.     It  is  the  same  thing  to  subtract  the  de- 
erement,  as  to  add  an  equal  increment,  or  to  subtract 
«-&  from  a— -6,  as  to  add  -:^^  to  it :  and  because  mul- 
tiplying a  quantity  by  a  negative  number  implies  only 
a  repeated  subtraction  of  it,  the  multiplying  -— ^  by 
— ^13,  is  subtracting  — -^  as  often  as  there  are  units  in 
n ;  and  is  therefore  equivalent  to  adding  4-^  so  many 
'  times,  or  the  same  as  adding  -{-it  b.    But  if  we  infer 
from  this,  that  1  is  to  — 4>  as  -^  to  »  &,  according  to 
the  nde,  that  unit  \b  to  one  of  the  &ctors  as  the  other, 
factor  is  to  the  product,  there  is  no  ground  to  imagine, 
that  there  is  any  mystery  in  this,  or  any  other  meaning 
than  that  the  real  magnitudes  represented  by  1,11,  6, 
and  n  b  are  proportionaL    For  that  rule  relates  only  to 
the  magnitude  of  the  factors  and  product,  without  de- 
termining whether  any  factor,  or  the  product,  is  to  be 
-  added  or  subtracted.     But  this  likewise  must  be  deter- 
mined in  algebraic -computations  ;  and  this  is  the  pro- 
per use  of  the  rules  concerning  the  signs,  without  which 
the  operation  could  not  proceed.     Because  a  quantity 
to  he  subtracted  is  never  produced  in  composition  by 
any  repeated  addition  of  a  positive,  or  repeated  sub- 
traction of  a  negative,  a  negative  square  number  is 
never  produced  by  composition  firam  the  root.     Hence 
V-— I,  Or  the  square  root  of  a  negative,  implies  an  ima- 
ginary quantity  \  and  in  resolution,  is  a  mark  or  cha- 
racter of  the  impossible  cttses  of  a  problem,  unless  it  is 
'  compensated  by  another  imaginary  symbol  or  supposi- 
tion, when  the  whole  expression  may  have  a  real  sig- 
nification.     Thus  iJ^tjZZi^  and  i — i^ — i,  taken 
separately,  are  imaginary,  but  their  sum  is  2  3  as  the 
conditions  that  separately  would  render  the  solution  of 
a  problem  impossible,  in  some  cases  destroy  each  others 
effect  when  conjoined.     In  the  pursuit  of  general  con- 
clusions, and  (^  simple  forms  representing  them,  ex- 
pressions of  this  kind  must  sometimes  arise  where  the 
imaginary  symbol  is  compensated  in  a  manner  that  is 
not  always  so  obvious. 

By  proper  substitutions,  however,  the  escpression  may 

be  transformed .  into  another,  wherein  each  particular 

term  may  have  a  real  signification  as  well  as  the  whole 

'expression.     The  theorems  that  are  sometimes  briefly 

^discovered  by  the  use  of  this  symbol,  may  be  demon- 


strated without  it  by  the  inverse  operation,  or  smm  yin^j/^ 
other  way  *,  and  though  such  symbols  are  of  some  use    Sn 
in  the  computations  by  the  method  of  fluxions,  its  evi-      I 
dence  cannot  be  said  to  deptSd  upon  arts  of  tkiia  kJaJLi  ^ 
See  Algebra  and  Fluxiovs. 

Negative  Electricity.  See  the  artide  Euctri- 
CITT,  ptusim.    See  also  PosiTirs  Electricity, 

NEGINOTH.  Tliis  term  is  read  befiwe  ssme  of 
the  Psalms,  as  Psalm  Izvii.  It  signifies  striag  tntra- 
ments  of  music^  to  be  played  on  by  the  fiogeis,  or  wo- 
men  musicians  ^  and  the  titles  of  these  Psalms  where 
this  word  is  found,  may  be  thns  translated,  A  ptalm  ^ 
David  to  the  master  of  musiCf  who  presides  over  tm 
string  instruments. 

NEGOMBO,  a  sea  port  town  of  Asia,  on  tbevut 
coast  of  Ceylon.  It  has  a  fort  built  by  the  Portug;iMie, 
which  was  taken  from  them  by  the  Dutch  in  i(i40t 
£.  Long.  80.  25.  N.  LaL  17.  o. 

NEGRIL  roiKT,  the  roost  westeriy  ptmontory  of 
the  island  of  Jamaica. 

N£GRO,  Homo  pelli  ntgra,  a  name  given  to  s 
variety  of  the  human  species,  who  are  entirely  bisd, 
and  are  found  in  the  torrid  zone,  espedally  in  thtf 
part  of  Afirica  which  lies  within  the  tropics.  In  iho 
complexion  of  Negroes,  we  meet  with  many  vitioBi 
shades }  but  they  Ukewise  differ  far  firato  other  nei  it 
all  the  features  of  their  face.  Round  cheekB,  higli 
cheek-bones,  a  forehead  somewhat  elevated,  a  rimt, 
broad,  flat  nose,  thick  lips,  small  ean,  ugliness,  sa4 
irregularity  of  shape,  characterize  their  extensl  ap- 
pearance. The  negro  women  haye  the  loins  greatly  do* 
pressed,  and  very  large  buttocks,  which  gives  the  bad 
the  shape  of  a  Middle.  Vices  the  most  notorious  aeca 
to  be  the  portion  of  this  unhap[nr  race  ;  idleness,  tres^ 
chery,  revenge,  cruelty,  impudence,  stealing,  lyiig^ 
profonity,  debauchervy  nastiness,  and  intempenuice,ai« 
said  to  have  extinguished  the  principles  of  naUnal  laV| 
and  to  have  silenced  the. teproofs  of  <:onscieBoe.  Thej 
are  strangers  to  every  sentiment  of  compassiiiB,  tad  are 
an  awful  example  of  the  corruption  of  man  when  left  It 
himself. 

The  origin  of  the  negroes,  and  the  cause  of  tkeir 
remarkable  difference  irom  the  rest  of  the  human  spa* 
cies,  has  much  perplexed  the  natnralists.  MrBoyls 
has  observed,  that  it  cannot  be  produced  by  the  kat 
of  the  climate :  for  though  the  heat  of  the  son  nsf 
darken  the  colour  of  the  skin,  yet  experience  does  Mt 
show  that  it  is  suflicient  to  produce  a  new  hladcnesi  like 
that  of  the  neeroes. 

In  Africa  itself,  many  nations  of  Ethiopia  are  sst 
black  ^  nor  were  there  any  blacks  originally  is  Ao 
llVest  Indies.  In  many  parts  of  Asia  imder  the  sane 
parallel  with  the  African  region  inhabited  hj  tk 
blacks,  the  people  are  but  tawney.  He  adds,  that  thfot 
are  negroes  in  Afiriea  beyond  the  southern  tropic ;  aid 
that  a  river  sometimes  parts  nations,  one  of  which  is 
black,  and  the  other  only  tawney.  Dr  Barriere  alleges 
that  the  gall  of  negroes  is  black,  and  being  mixed 
with  their  blood  is  deporited-  between  the  akin  aid 
scarf-skin.  However,  Dr  Mitchell  of  Virginia,  in  tha 
Philosophical  Transactions,  N^  476,  has  codcafsoivd 
by  many  learned  arguments  to  prove,  that  the  wAt 
ence  of  the  sun  in  hot  countries,  and  the  insnncr  t 
lUe  of  their  inhabitants,  are  the  lemote  causes  of  il' 
colour  of  the  negroes,  Indians, '&C     Lord  Ksb* 


N    E    G  [75 

Negro,  on  tiie  olher  lauidy  and  sach  philoaophen  ua  he,  whose 
i.  "^  flonias  and  imaatoatioii  are  too  lively  to  submit  to  a 
dry  Mid  painfol  investigation  of  facts,  have  contended 
that  no  physical  cause ,  is  sufficient  to  change  the 
ookmr,  and  what  we  call  the  regular  featores  of  white 
men,  to  the  dark  hue  and  deformity  of  the  woolly- 
hnded  negro.  Their  arguments  have  been  examined 
with  much  acuteness  and  ingenuity  by  Dr  Stanhope 
Smith  of  New  Jersey,  Dr  Hunter,  and  Proficssor 
Zimmerman,  who  have  made  it  in  a  high  degree  pro- 
bable, that  the  action  of  the  son  is  the  original  and 
chief  cause  of  the  black  colour,  as  well  as  distorted 
features  of  the  negro.   See  Amsrica,  N^  48— 51.  and 

COMPLEXIOV. 

True  negroes  are  found  in  no  quarter  of  the  jdobe 
where  the  heat  at  the  climate  is  not  very  great,.  They 
exist  nowhere  but  in  the  torrid  zone,  and  only  in  three 
regions  situated  in  that  zone,  viz.  in  Senegal,  in  Guinea, 
and  on  the  western  shores  of  Africa,  in  Nnbia,  and  the 
Papons  land,  or  what  is  called  New  Guinea.  In  all 
these  regions  the  atmosphere  is  scorching,  and  the  heat 
excessive.  The  inhabitonts  of  the  north  are  whitest  *,. 
and  as  we  advance  southwards  towards  the  line,  and 
those  countries  on  which  the  son's  rays  fall  more  per- 
pendicularly, the  complexion  gradually  assumes  a  dask- 
er  shade.  And  Che  same  men,  whose  colour  has  been 
rendered  black  by  the  powerful  action  of  the  sun,  if 
they  remove  to  the  north,  gradually  become  whiter  (at  . 
least  their  posterity),  and  lose  their  burnt  colour. 
Whites  when  transported  into  the  burning  regions  of 
the  torrid  aooe,  are  the  first  sobjeot  to  fever  jx  the  skin 
of  the  face,  hands,,  and  feet,  becomes,  burnt,  hardens, 
and  falls  oflFin  scales.  Hitherto*  the  colour  of  negroes 
appears  to  be  only  localt  extrinsic,  and  accidental,  and 
their  short  frizzled  anel  sparse  hair  is  to  he  accounted, 
for  in  the  vciy  same  manner* 

Climate  possesses  great  and  evident  influences  on  the 
hair,  not  only' of  men^  but  ef  all  other  animals.  If  in 
one  case  these  transmutations  are  acknowledged  to  be 
consistent  with  identity  of  kind,  they  ought  not  in  the 
other  to  be  esteemed  criterionsoC  different  species.  Na- 
ture has  adapted  the  pliancy  of  her  work,  to  the  sitoa- 
tinns  in  which  she  may  reqiiire  it  to  be  placed;  The 
beaver  and  sheep  removed-  to  the  warm  latitodes  exr 
change,  the  one  its  fur,  and  the  other  its  wool,  for  a 
coarse  hair  that  preserves  the  animal  in  a  more  moderate 
temperature.  The  coarse  and*  black,  shag  of  the  bear  is 
converted,  in  the  arctic  regions,  into  the  finest  and 
whitest  fur.  The  colour  of  the  hair  is  likewise  changed 
by  climate.  The  bear  is  white  under  the  arctic  circle  ) , 
and,  in  high  northern  latitudes,  foxes,  hares,  and  rabbits, 
are  found  white.  Similar  effeots  of  climate  are  discern- 
ible on  mankind*.  The  hair  of  the  Danes  is  generally 
red  J  of  the  English,  fisir  or  brown  ^  and  of  the  French,, 
commonly  black.  The  hair  of  all  people  of  colour  is 
black,  and  that  of  the  African  negroes  is  likewise  sparse 
and  curled  in  a  manner  peculiar  to  themselves  ^  but  this 
peculiarity  is  analogous  te  the  effect  which  a  warm  cli- 
mate has  on  almost  every  other  animal.  Cold,  by  ob- 
structing the  perspiration,  tends  to  throw,  out  the  per- 
spirable matter  accumulated  at  the  skin  in  an  additional 
coat  of  hair.  A  warm  climate,  by  opening  the  pores, 
evaporates  this  matter  before  it  can  be  coocreteu  into 
the  substance  of  hair )  and  the  laxness  and  aperture  of 
the  pores  render  the  hair  liable  to  be  easily  eradica- 


I     ]  N    E    G 

ted  by  innumerable  incidents.  Its  curl  may  result 
in  part  from  the  nature  of  the  secretion  by  which  it  is 
nourished,  and  in  part  from  external  heat  That  it 
depends  in  some  degree  on  the  quality  of  the  secretion 
is  rendered  highly  probable  from  its  appearance  on  the 
chin  and  other  parts  of  the  human  body.  Climate  is  as* 
much  distinguislied  by  the  nature  and  proportion  of  the-^ 
secretions-  as  by  the  degree  of  heat.  (See  Physiolo- 
gy, sect.  6.).  Whatever  be  the  nutriment  of  the  hair,, 
it  is  evidently  combined  in  the  torrid  zone  of  Africa- 
with  some  fluid  of  a  highly  volatile  or  ardent  quality, 
which  produces  the  rank  smell  of  many  African  nations. 
Saline  secretions  tend  to  curl  and  to  bum  the  hair.  The 
evaporafetoa-of  any  volatile  spirit  would  render  its  sur- 
face dry  and  dispMod  to  contract  ^  whilst  the  centre  con- 
tinning  distended  by  the  vital  motion,  these  opposite 
dilatations  and  contractions  would  necessarily  produce  a 
curve,  and  make  the  hair  grow  involved.  External  and 
violent  heat  parching  the  extremities  of  the  hair,  tends 
likewise  to  involve  it*  A  hair  held  near  the  fire  in- 
stantly ooila  itself  up.  Africa  is  the  hottest  country  on 
the  globe  'y  and  the  inflnence  of  its  heat,  either  external 
o»  internal,  or.  both,  in  giving  the  peculiar  form  to  the 
hair  of  the  natives,  appears,  not  only  firom  its  sparseness- 
and  its  curl,  but  from  its  colour..  It  is  not  of  a  shining, 
but  of  an. adust  black;  and  its  extremities*  tend  to. 
brovm,  as  if,  it  had  been  scorched  hf  the  fire. 

The  peculiarities  of  the  negro ieatures  and.  form  may.* 
likewise  be  accountedrfisKfrom  the  excassive  heat  of  the  • 
climate  and  the  state  oft  Afirican  society.     Being  sava- 
ges, they  have  no  arte  to  protect  them  from  the  rays  of . 
aburning.sun.     The  beat  and  serenity  of  the  sky  pre- 
serying  the  lives  of  the  children  without  much  care  0^: 
the  parente,  they  seem  of  course  to  be,  in  the  interior 
parte  of  the  country,  negligent  of  their  offspring.    Able  - 
themselves  to  endure  the  extaemes  of  that  ardent  climate, . 
they  inure  their  children  to  it  finora  their  most*  tender 
age.    They  suffer  them  to  roll  in  the  dust  and  sand  he- 
neath  the  direct  rays  of  a  vertical  sun.     The  mother, 
if  she  be  engaged,  lays  down  the  infant  on  the  first  spot- 
she  finds,  and  is  seldom  at  the  pains  to  seek  the  miser- 
able shelter  of  a  barren  shrub,  which  is  all  that  the  in- 
terior country  affords.     When  we  reflect  on  the  influ- 
ence of  a  elare  of  light  upon  the  eye,  and  en  the  con- 
tortions of  countenance  produced  by  our  eJOTorte  to.  re-, 
pel  or  prevent  it,  we  need  not  wonder,  that  the  pUant 
features  of  a  negro  infant  should,  by  constant  exposure, . 
acquire  that  permanent  imgularity  which  we  term  their.- 
characteristic  ugliness.     But  besides  the  climate,  food 
and.  clothing  and  modes  of  life  have  prodigious  effected 
on  the  human  form  and  featores.    This  is  apparent  even 
in  polished  societies,  where  the  poor  and  labouring  part: 
ofthe  community  are  much  more  coarse  in  their  features, 
and  ill.  formed  in  their  limbs^  than  persons  of  better  for- 
tune and.  more  liberal  means  of  subsistepqe.    llVbat  an« 
immense  difference  exisU  in  Scotland,  for  instance,  be-.- 
tween  the  chiefs  and  the  oommonalty  of  the  Highland  t 
clans  ?.  If  they  had  been  separately  found  in  different* 
countries,  they  would  have  been  ranged,  by  some  philo- 
sophers under  different  species*    A  similar  distinction . 
Ukes  place   between  the  nobility  and  peasantry   oL 
France,  of  Spain,  of  Itely,  and  of  Germany. 

That  food  and  clothing,  and  the  different  modes  of 
life,  have  as  great  an  influence  upon  the  shapes  and  fea- 
tures of  the  Afincans  as  upon  the  natives  of  Europe,  is , 

evidenti 


Kegra. 


N    E    G 


[    752    ] 


N    E    G 


Nogro:  evident  £roin  tbe  different  appearances  of  the  negroes  in 
the  soutliem  republics  of  America  according  to  the  sta- 
tions in  which  they  are  employed.  **  The  field  slaves 
(says  Dr  Smith)  are  iMidly  fed,  clothed,  and  lodged. 
They  live  in  small  hnts  on  the  plantations,  where  they 
labour  remote  from  the  society  and  example  of  their 
superiors.  Living  by  tfaemselveSy  they  retain  many  of 
the  customs  and  manners  of  their  African  ancestors. 
The  domestic  servants,  on  the  other  hand,  who  are  kept 
near  the  persons,  or  employed  in  the  families -^f  their 
masters,  are  treated  with  great  lenity  >  their  service  is 
light  'y  they  are  fed  and  clothed  like  their  superiors ; 
they  see  their  manners,  adopt  their  habits,  and  insensi- 
bly receive  the  same  ideas  of  elegance  and  beauty.  The 
field  slaves  are,  in  consequence,  slov)^  in  changing  the 
aspect  and  figure  of  Africa.  The  domestic  servants 
Lave  advanced  far  before  them  in  acquiring  the  agree- 

*  able  and  regular  features,  and  the  expressive  countenance 
of  civil  society.  The  former  are  frequently  ill-shaped. 
They  preserve,  in  a  great  degree,  the  African  lips, 
nose,  and  hair.  Their  genius  is  dull,  and  their  coun- 
tenanee  sleepy  and  stupid.  The  latter  are  straight  and 
well  proportioned  \  their  hair  extended  to  three,  four, 
and  sometimes  even  to  six  or  eight  inches  ;  the  size  and 
shape  of  the  mouth  handsome,  their  features  regular, 
their  capacity  good,  and  their  look  animated.'*^ 

Upon  the  whole,  we  hope  that  the  reader,  who  shall 

csndidiy  weigh  in  hisi  own  mind  what  we  have  said  at 

present  and  under  the  article  Complsxiok,  will  agree 

with  us,  that  the  black  eolour  in  the  torrid  zone,  the 

^sparse  crisp  hairs  of  the  negroes,  and  the  peculiarities  of 

;  their  features  and  form,  proceed  from  causes  altogether 

.  extrinsic  ',  that  theydepead  onlocal  temperature  and  the 
state  of  society  ^  and  that  they  are  ap  accidenjkal  as  the 

%  various  shades  of  colour  which  characterise  thcT  different 
nations  of  Europe.  If  the  whites  be  considered  as  the 
stock  whence  all  others  have  sprung,  it  is  easy  to  con- 
ceive how  they  have  degenerated  into  negroes.  Some 
have  conjectured  that  the  complete  change  may  have 
taken  place  at  the  end  of  threo  centuries,  ^whilst  others 
have  thought  that  it  could  not  be  effected  in  less  than 
double  that  periiid.    Soch  conjectures  can  be  formed 

-  fvom  no.  certain  data  ;  and  a  much  greater  length  of 
time  is  undoubtedly  /iieeessary  .before  negroes,  when 
transplanted  into  our  temperate  countries,  can  entirely 
lose  their,  black  colour.  ^  By  crossing  the  breed  with 
whites,,  every  tl^nt  of  the  negro  ^our  may  be  expelled 
we  belike,  from  the.  fifth  ,generation  (a). 
>fiut<the  most  serious  charge  brought  against  the  ' 

.poor  negroes  is,  .^t  of  the  vices  said  to  be  natural 


:iii 


to  them.  If  they  be,  iqdeed,  sodi  as  their  enetuM  ^m,^ 
lepreMsnt  them,  treacherous,  cruel,  revengeCal,  n^'-  ^_ 
intediperate,  by  a  necessity  ef  nature^  they  Qwt  be  s 
diflferent  race  from  the  whites ;  for  thongfa  all  tbeie 
vices  abound  in  Europe,  it  is  evident  that  tbey  prtciMl 
not  from  nature,  but  from  wreng  edoeatioD,  wkkh 
gives  to  the  youthfcd  mind  sncb  deep  hnpresiisBB  ss  so 
future  exertions  can  completely  eradicote.  Let  « is- 
quire  coolly  if  the  vices  of  the  oegfoes  may  not  hs«e  s 
similar  origin. 

In  every  part  of  Africa  with  which  the  nstioii  of 
Europe  have  any  commerce,  slavery  prnrsils  sf  tkt 
worst  kind.     Three-fourths  of  the  people  are  shivei  to 
the  rest,  and  the  children  are  bom. to  no  other  inbent- 
anee.     **  Most  parts  of  the  coast  di&r  in  their  go-f^^', 
vermnents ;  some  are  absolute  monaKhie8,.whihlodMnttti^^ 
draw  near  to  an  aristocracy.     In  both  theavtborityoftfrKB'' 
tbe  chief  or  chiefe  is  mlimited,  evSendtag  tedile,  sad  it^ 
is  exercised  as  often  as  criminal  cases  require,  nlsii^ 

>  death  is  commuted  ^  into  slavery  ^  in  ^hich  case  tbe  s^ 
fender  is  sold,  and  if  the  shipping -wilt  not  boy  tbe  oi* 
minal,  he  is  immediately^  put  to^death.  Fathcmofficc 
condition  have  power  to  sell  their  children,  bot  tUi 
power  is  very  seldorf  enforced.  In  Congo,  boirevff, 
a  father  t  will  sell  a  soU'Or  daughter,  or  perbapi  '^t  jfii 

^for  a  piece  of  cloth,.ikxollar  or  girdle  of  coral  or  betds,  ^y^ 
aUd  often  fer  a  bottle  of  wine  or  brandy.    A  bmbttdfttot 

',may  have  as  many  wives  as  he  pleaaes,  andrepodiile«r^>a 
even  sell  tbenii,  though  with  diiid,  at  his  pleasure.  Tk^^f 

.  wives  and  concubines,  thongfa  it  be  a  capital  crint  6r 
the  former  to  break  the  conjugal  fnilh,  have  a  m  to 

•  rid  themselves  of  their  husbands,  if  tbey  have  set  tieir 
affections  upon  a  new  gallant,  by  aecnriag  then  fi 

-some  crime  for'which-  the  punishment  is  death.    Iss 

.-word,  the  bulk  of  the  people  in  every  state  of  Afria 
are  bom  slaves  to  great  men,  reared  as  soch,  beM  is 
property,  and  as  propety  sold  (see  Slavery).  'There ^^^^ 
are  indeed  many  circumstances  by  which  a  free  ibss|^^ 
nmy  become  a  slave:  such  as  betng  in  debt,  aa^selArM 
able  to  pay  ^  and  in  some  of  soch  cases,  if  the  Mt  Wk^ 
large,  not  only  the  debtor,  bnt  his  family  likewise,  be- 
come the  slaves  of  his  creditor,  and  may  be  soM.   A* 
doltery  is  commonly  punished  in  the  same  maBUcr,  belli 
the  offending  parties  being  sold,  and  the  pwchssef 
ney  paid  to  the  injured  husband.     Obi^  or  pretceM 
witchcraft  (in  which  all  the  negroes  finnly  believe,  lee 
Witchcxaft),  is  anotheri  and  a  very  common  since, 
for  which  slavery  is  a^udged  the  lawfisl  poniehnest'i 
and  it  extends  to  all  the  family  of  tlM  ofender.  Iheie 
are*  various  other  crimes  which  subject  the  oiMer  sb4 


■^c 


f^m 


Xa)  I*  a  white  man  with  a  negro  woman,  or  negro  man  with  a  white  wonuui,  produce  a  mulatto,  half  ubite 
and  half  bhMsk,  or  pf  a  vellow-blackish  colour,  with  black,  short  frizzled  hair.  2.  A  white  man  with  a  nnhtts 
woman,  or  a  negro  with  a  mulatto  woman,  produce  «  qutukwny  three-fourths  white  and  one-fourth  black,  cr 
three-fourths  black  and  one-fourth  white,  or  of  a  lighter  yellow  than  the  former.  In  America,  they  gitc  tke 
name  of  cabres  to  those  who  are  descended  firom  a  black  man  and  a  mulatto  woman,  or  a  mulatto  man  and  a  bbck 
woman,  who  are  three-feurths  black  and  one-fourth  white,  and  who  are  not  so  black  as  a  negro,  bat  Utcto 
than  a  mulatto.  3.  A  white  man  with  a  quadroon  wonaan,  or  a  negro  with  a  quadroon  woman,  produce  a  ma^ 
580,  seven-eighths  white  and  one-eighth  black,  or  seven4iffhtlis  black  and  one-eighth  white«  ^  A  white  msa  vith 
a  mestizo  woman,  or  a  negro  with  a  mestizo  woman,  produce,  the  one  almost  a  peHect  white,  the  other  sfanei|t 
a  perfect  black,  called  a  qtmieroon^  This  is  the  last  gradation,  there  being  no  visible  diflereoee  between  ^  fait 
quinteroons  and  the  whites :  and  the  children  of  a  wbte  and  qointeroon  consider  themselves  as  fiee  from  aO  tat^ 
.4>f  the  negto  race* 


KEG 


[    753    ] 


NEC 


Kcgn^  tii9  children  to  be  solcl;  tnil  it  19  mote  than  probaUe, 
thtt  if  tlim  were  no  bujers,  tbe  poor  wretclieo  woiikl 
be  murdered  without  mercy. 

In  8och  ft  stale  of  society,  what  dispositions  can  be 
looked  for  in  tbe  people,  btit  cruelty,  treachery,  and 
revenge?  Even  in  the  civilized  nations  of  Eorope, 
bless^  with  tbe  lights  of  law,  science^  and  religion, 
some  of  the  lower  orders  of  the  community  consider  it 
as  a  very  trivial  crime  to  defraud  tlteir  superiors ;  whilst 
almost  all  look,  up  to  them  with  stupid  malevolence  or 
rancorous  envy.  That  a  depressed  people,  when  tber 
(^t  power  into  their  hands,  are  revengefbl  and  croel, 
rbe  present  age  affords  a  dreadfol  proot  in  the  conduct 
of  the  demagogues  of  a  neigbbouring  nation )  and  is  il 
wonderful  that  tbe  negroes  of  Africa,  nnacquainted 
with  moral  principles,  Umded  by  the  cruellest  and  most 
^fcbsurd  superstitions,  and  whose  customs  tend  to  eradi- 
cate from  the  mind  alt  natural  affection,  should  some*' 
times  display  to  their  lordly  masters  of  Eompean  ex- 
traction the  same  spirit  that  has  been  so  generally  dia* 
played  by  the  lower  orders  of  Frenchmen  to  their  ec- 
clesiastics, their  nobles,  and  the  fiunily  of  their  murder' 
ed  sovereign  f  When  we  considler  that  the  majority  of 
the  negroes  groan  under  the  cruellest  slavery,  both  in 
their  own  country,  and  in  every  other  where  they  are 
to  be  (bund  in  considerable  numbers,  it  can  excite  no 
surprise  that  they  are  in  general  treacherous,  cruel,  and 
vindictive.  Such  are  the  caprices  of  their  tyrants  at 
home,  that  they  could  not  preserve  their  own  lives  or 
tbe  lives  of  their  families  for  any  length  of  time,  but  by 
a  perpetaal  vigilance^  whtch  must  neces«rily  degene* 
rate,  first  into  cunning,  and  afterwards  into  treachery  ; 
and  it  is  not  conceivable  that  habits  formed  in  Afiricar 
^oold  be  instantly  thrown  off  in  the  West  Indies,  where 
they  are  the  property  of  men  whom  some  of  them  must 
ConsidieT  as  a  dtferent  race  of  beinffs. 

But  the  truth  is,  that  the  ill  qualities  of  the  negroes 
have  been  greatly  eicanerated.  Mr  ^dwar^,  in  liia 
valuable  History  af  theWest  Indies,  assures  us  that  the 
Mandingo  negroes  display  such  gentlenesa  of  dispesi^ 
tion  and  demeanor,,  aa  wooM  seem  tbe  result  of  eariy 
education  and  discipline,  Were  it  not  that,  generally 
.^qiealdng,  tbey  are  more  proae  to  theft  than  any  of  the 
African  tribes.  It  hses  been*  supposed  that  this-  proper* 
sity,  among  other  vices,  is  mrtura!  to  a  slate  of  slaveryi 
which  degnides  and  corrupts  the  human  mind  in  a  dc 
plorable  manner;  but  why  tlie  Mandlngoes  should'  have 
become  more  vicions  in  this*  respect  than  the  rest  of  the 
natives  of  Africa  rn  the  same  comfition'  of  Kfe)  is  a  que'* 
stwn  he  cannot  answer. 

**  The  circumstances  wfiith  (according  to  the  sanM^ 
author)  dbtrngutsh  the  Koromantyn  or  Oold<  Coast  ne** 
groes  from  alt  otbenr,  are  firmness  both  of  body  and 
mind ;  a  forociousness  of  disposition ;  but  withal,  ac-* 
tivity,  courage,  and  a  stubbornness^  or  what  an*  ancient 
Roman  woufd  have  deemed  an  elevation  of  soul,  which 
prompts  them  to  enterprises  of  diftculty  and  danger, 
and  enables  them  to  meet  death,  in  its  most  fiorrit) 
shape,  with  fortitude-  or  indifferenee.  They  sometittiea 
take  to  labour  with  great  promptitude-  and  alaerity,  miA 
have  constitutions  well  adapted- for  it  \  formany  of  them 
have  undoubtedly  been  slaves  in  Africa.  Bbt  as- 1^ 
Ciold  Coast  is  inhabited  by  tariotta  tribes,,  which  are 
^og^g^d  in  perpetual  warfore  and  hostility  with  emth 
other,  there  cannot  be  a  donbttfintmany  of  tiUeaplSves' 

VeL.  XIV.  Part  IL  i 


taken  in  b«ttle,  and  sold  in  the  Enropt an  seltieineAts,  Ks|ta. 
were  of  free  condition  in  their  native  ooutryi  and  per«  ^ 
haps  the  ownen  of  slaves  thenoelves.  It  is  dot  wondtf- 
foi  that  soch  men  sbonld  endeavoVTi  even  by  means  the 
most  desperate,  to  regain  the  freedom  of  which  diey 
tmre  been  deprived )  nor  do  I  conceive  that  any  further 
circumstances  are  necessary  to  prompt  them  to  action^ 
than  that  af  being  sold  Into  captivity  in  a  distant  coon- 
try.  One  cannot  sorely  hot  lament  (says  oor  author) 
that  a  people  thus  naturally  intrepid,  should  be  sunk 
into  so  deplorable  a  state  of  barfaanty  aad  superstition  > 
and  that  their  spirits  should  ever  be  broken  down  by 
the  ^eke  of  slavery.  Whatever  may  lie  alleged  con- 
cerning their  ferocioiHness  and  implacability  in  their 
preaent  notions  of  right  and  wrong,  I  am  persuaded  that 
they  pessesa  qualities  which  are  capable  of,  and  well  de* 
Serve,  cultivation  and  improvement. 

^  Very  difierent  foom  the  Koromantyns  are  the  ne- 
piroea  imported  firom  the  Bight  of  Benin,  and  known 
in  the  West  Indies  by  tbe  name  of  Eboca.  80  great 
is  their  constitntional  timidity  and  despondency  of  mind, 
as  to  occasion  them  very  frequently  ta  seek,  in  a  vo- 
hmtary  death,  a  refuge  horn  their  own  mekncholy  re- 
fteclioQs.  They  require  thevefoee  the  ^eadesl  and 
mildest  treatment  to  reconetfte  them  Do  their  sitaation  y 
hot  if  their  eonftdenee  be  onne  oMaimd,  they  manifest 
as  great  fidelity,  aieetion,  and  gratitode,  m  can  rea- 
sonably be  expected  ffoiia  Niea  in  a  state  of  slavery. 
Tlie  females  of  this  nation  are  better  labouroia  than  the 
men,  probably  from  having  been  aHMPo  hardly  treated 
in  Africa* 

»  lite  natives  of  Wbtd^yi,  whov  in  *^  ^est  Indies^ 
are  generally  eaHedi  Pi^Mttas,  are  unqnestisnabty  the  most 
do^e  and  best  di^pmeted  skfves  thai  are  impmrted  firoOi 
any  pwi  of  Afirioa.  WifhoiiH  th»s  fierce  aad  savi^ 
mannera  of  the  Koroinanty*  negroesy  they  are  afio 
haf^ly  exempt  feom  the  timid  and  desf^oading  temper 
of  the  £boe&  The  eheerM  aegnieseence  with  which 
these  people  appl^  to  the  fesbouts  ol  the  fiekl»  and  tliei^ 
conslitntione^aptitlidie  for^ack  employment,  arise,  with- 
out dionbt,  fnm  the  gres*  atteeftinnr  paid  to  agricalture 
in  their  natiti»  eonnlry.  BdtiMan  speaks  wi&  rapture 
of  the  improved  sfitte  ol  th(S  aoiK  the  nwoibct  of  vittagee, 
and' the  industrfy  riches,  and  obMgiag  manaers  of  tbe 
natives.  Be  obaerveai  hotievef ,  fmit  Ihey  aia-  modi 
greaOer  thievea  than  those  of  the  €ohl  Coast,  and  very 
tmlike  them  in*  anotber  respret,  namely,  in  the  dMad 
of  paiHv  and  the  apprehension  of  deathb^  They  are*, 
says-  he,  so  very  appiehenrive  of  deathv  that  they  are 
un^Niwg  to  hear  if  mentioned,  for  fear  tkot  ahsae 
shottM  hasfieti  fcir  end  $  and  no  man  ^res  taspeak  of 
death  in  the  piesenee  of  the  king,  01^  My  great  inafl, 
nmfer  the  penalty  of  suftring'  it  himsdlf,  an*  a  punish- 
ment for  hcs  presumption.  Herehiteo  fardier,  that  they 
are  ad^ted  to  gaming  beytmd  any  people  of  Africa- 
All  these  propensities  are  observable  m  the  character  of 
the  Pbpows  in  a-sfiate  of  shivery  i*  the  West  ladies. 
t^tit  pnniehmene  which  eaoiteo  the  Koreinaiitya  to  re- 
bel, and  drives  the  £bo»neg^  to- suicide,  is  received  by 
the  Fapaws  an  the  chaatisemear  of  le^  :iuchority,  tni 
which  it  in  tieir  duty  to  submit  patiently.  The  case 
seems  to  be,  llhai  the  generwHty  of  these  people  arc  i;3  a 
state  of  absolute  slavery  in  Africa,  and;  baring  been> 
Mabitnatedi  to  a  life  of  labe^,  thny  mibmit  to  a  cbange 
of  situation  with  little  relmftmice.^ 

5  C  Having 


N    E     G 


[    754    ] 


N    E    G 


'Negro.  Having  recited  such  observatian^  a»  oecurred  to  liim 
(fn  contemplating  the  various  ti'ibes  of  negroes  from  each 
other^  Mr  Edwards  thus  estimates  their  general  charac- 
ter, influenced  as  they  ase  bj  circumstances  whicli  soon 
eflfkce  the  native  and  original  impressions  which  distin- 
guish one  nation  from  another  when  newly  impoited 
into  the- West  Indies. 

**  Notwithstanding  wJiat  has  been  related  of  the  firm- 
ness and  courage  of  the  natives  of  the  Gold  Coast,  it  is 
eertain.  that  tlte  negroes  in  general  in  our  islands  (snch 
of  thenk  at  least  as  have  been  any  length  of  time  in  a 
state  of  servitude)  are  of  a  distrustful  and  cowardly  dis« 
position.     So  degrading  is  the  nature  of  slavery,  that 
ibrtitude  of  mind  is  lost  as  free  agency  is  restrained. 
To  the  same  cause  probably  must  be  imputed  their  pro- 
pensity to  conceal  or  violate  the  truth  ^  which  is  so 
general,  that  the  vice  of  falsehood  is  one  of  the  most 
prominent  features  in  their  character.     If  a  negro  is 
asked  even  an  indifferent  question  by  his  master,  he  sel- 
dom gives  an  immediate  reply ;  but,  affecting  not  to 
understand  what  is  said,  compels  a  repetition  of  the 
question,  that  he  may  have  time  to  consider,  not  what 
IS  the  true  answer,'  but  what  is  the  most  politic  one  for 
bim  to  give.   The  proneness  observable  in  many  of  them 
to  the  vice  of  theft  has  already  been  noticed }  and  I  am 
afimid  (says  our  author),  that  evil  communication  makes 
it  almost  general.     It  is  no  easy  matter,  I  confess,  to 
discriminate  those  circumstances  which  are  the  result  of 
proximate  causes,  from  those  which  are  the  effects  of 
national  customs  and  early  habits  in  savage  life ;  but  I  am 
afraid  that  cowardice  and  dissimulation  have  been  the 
properties  of  slavery  in  all  ages^  and  will  continue  to  be 
so  to  the  end  of  the  world.   It  is  a  situation  that  neces- 
sarily suppresses  HMiny  of  the  best  affections  of  the  human 
heart.— If  it  calls  forth  any  latent  virtues,  they  are 
tJiose  of  sympathy  and  compassion  towards  persons  in 
the  same  condition  of  life  j  and  accordingly  we  find 
that  the  negroes  in  general  are  strongly  attached  to 
their  countrymen^  but  above  all,  to  such  of  their  com- 
panions as  came  in  the  same  ship  with  them  from  Afri- 
ca. This  is  a  striking  circumstance  :  the  term  shipmate 
is  understood  among  them  as  signifying  a  relationship 
of  the  most  endearing  nature  5  perhaps  as  recalling  the 
time  when  the  sufferera  were  cut  off  together  frpm  their 
common  country  and  kindred,  and  awakening  recipro- 
cal sympathy  from  the  remembrance  of  mutual  afflic- 
tion.    But  their  benevolence,  with  a  very  few  excep- 
tions, extends  no  further.     The  softer  virtues  are  sel- 
dom found  in  the  bosom  of  the  enslaved  African.     Give 
him  sufficient  authority,  and  he  becomes  the  most  re- 
morseless of  tyrants.     Of  all  the  degrees  of  wretched- 
ness endured  by  the  sons  of  men,  the  greatest,  assured- 
ly, is  the  misery  which  is  felt  by  tliese  who  are  unhap- 
pily doomed  to  be  the  slaves  of  slaves  ^  a  most  unnatural 
relation,  which  sometimes  takes  place   in   the  sugar 
plantations.     The  same  observation  may  be  made  con- 
cerning their  conduct  towards  the  animal   creation. 
Their  treatment  of  cattle  under  tlieir  direction  is  bioital 
beyond  belief.     Even  the  useful  and  social  qualities  of 
tbe  dog  secure  to.  him  no  kind-  usage  from  an  African 
master.  One  of  the  most  pleasing  traits  in  their  charac- 
ter's the  respect  and  attention  which  they  pay  to  their 
aged  countrymen*     The  whele  body  of  negroes  on  a 
plantation  must  be  reduced  to  a  deplorable  state  of 
ivretclbedaess,  if  at  i^ny  time,  they  suffer  their  aged 

4 


companions  to  want  the  common  necessaries  of  life,  or  Ke^ 
even  many  of  its  comforts,  as  far  as  they  can  procuit^'^^^ 
them.  They  seenf  to  be  actuated  on  these  occisioosby 
a  kind  of  involuntary  impulse,  operating  as  a  primitive 
law  of  nature,  which  scorns  to  wait  the  cold  dictates  of 
reason  :  among  them,  it  is  the  exercise  of  a  commai 
duty,  which  courts  no  observatioUj  and  looks  for  no 
applause.*' 

As  the  colour  and  features,  and  moral  qoalitles  of 
the  negroes,  may  be  thus  easily  accounted  for  by  tlie  In- 
fluence of  clinute  and  the  modes  of  savage  life,  so  there 
is  good  reason  to  believe  that  their  intellectual  endov* 
ments  are  equal  to  those  of  the  whites  who  ha?e  been. 
found  in  the  same  circumstances.  Of  those  imttativt 
arts  in  which  perfection  can  be  attained  only  in  an  im* 
proved  state  of  society,  it  is  natural  to  suppose  that  tbcy. 
have  but  little  knowledge  y  but  the  fabric  and  coloun 
of  the  Guinea  cloths  are  a  proof  of  their  native  inge- 
nuity. In  the  West  Indies  many  of  them  are  espeil 
carpenters,  some  watchmakers,  and* one  or  two  bate 
successfully  practised  pbysic  ^  while  others  have  Rguied 
both  in  Latin  and  English  poetry,  so  that  we  cannot 
doubt  but  that  '^  God,  who  made  the  world,  hath  ma^ 
of  one  blood  all  nations  of  men,*'  and  animated  tbcia 
with  minds  equally  rational. 

NEGROLAND,  or  Nigritia,  a  country  of  AlH- 
ca,  lying  next  to  Guinea  towards  the  north,  and  ex- 
tending from  1 8^  of  west  to  23^  of  east  loogitidf, 
and  from  9°  to  20^  of  north  latitude.  On  tbe  noitk 
it  is  bounded  by  Zaara  or  tbe  Desert ;  on  tbe  east,  by 
countries  unknown  j  on  the  sooth,  by  Guinea  j  and  on 
the  west,  by  the  Atlantic  ocean  \  and  is  watered  \tf 
the  great  river  Niger  os  Sene^l,  which  runs  tbroi^ 
it  from  east  to  west.  The  Europeans  have  settlements 
on  the  coasts  of  this  con^try^  especially  near  tbt 
mouths  of  the  Niger  and  Gambia,  vhich  last  ii  sip* 
posed  to  be  a  branch  of  the  fbrroer.  A  great  many 
nations  inhabit  the  banks  of  the  rivers  \  some  Paga»^ 
some  Mohammedans,  of  different  languages,  and  inde- 
pendent of  one  another.  The  country  is  fruitful,  esp^ 
cially  along  the  rivers)  abounding  in  rice,  Guinea 
grain,  and  Indian  corn,  where  it  is  cultivated^  and 
with  cocoa  nuts,  plantains,  pulse,  palm  trees,  aad  tro- 
pical fruits  \  nor  is  it  destitute  of  cattle,  and  a  \mVj 
of  other  animab,  particularly  such  as  abound  in  Gnfc 
nea.    See  Guinea. 

Negroland  is  fertilized  by  the  overflowing  nf  ^ 
rivers  the  Senegal  and  Gam^ia^  as  Egypt  is  by  tbe 
Nile.  It  hath  not  yet  been  ascertained  whether  tbe 
Gambia  is  a  branch  of  the  Senegal  or  not.  As  &r 
as  the  Europeans  have  penetrated  up  the  coontiy,  tli^f 
appear  to  be  distinct  >  and  the  Mandineo  negroes 
report  that  the  Gambia  has  a  different  origin.  Tbe 
entrance  into  Senegal  river,  is  narrow  and  some- 
what difiEu:ult,  by  reason  of  its  immoveable  bar,  and 
sandy  shoals,,  as  well  as  the  several  islands  at  tbe 
mouth  of  it,  and  the  several  canals  and  marshes  tbal 
elog  it :  but  afler  sailing  up  eight  or  ten  leagues,  it  la 
found  broad  and  deep,  and  fit  to  carry  large  vessels  >  and, 
excepting  about  five  or  six.  leagues  on  each  side  above 
the  mouth,  which  is.  sandy  and  barren  ground,  the 
banks  are  covered'  with  stately  trees  and  village,  snd 
thfi  country  in  general '  is  fertile  and  well  watcitd  v 
for,  like  the  Nile,  this  river  overflows  its  banks  fsr 
many  leagues,  and  enriches  the  land  to  a  great  df> 


N    E    G 


[    755    ] 


N    E    H 


V«grokiid  gree,  though,  for  want  of  skill,  the  inhahitants  do 
11  not  reap  the  advantages  trhich  they  might  obtain  from 
KcgriiprmL|^  fertility.  The  people  on  both  sides  of  the  river 
live  as  near  to  it  as  they  can,  and  feed  great  herds  of 
cattle,  sotrinjr  large  and'  small  millet,  the  former  of 
which  is  called  bv  us  Turkey  wheat^  in  great  quantities, 
and  with  gr^at  increase.  If  the  river  fails  of  over- 
flowing  at  its  usual  season,  a  great  scarcity  ensues  in 
'  the  adjacent  country  \  and,  even  when  it  overflows 
regularly,  it  breeds  such  vast  flights  of  grashoppers 
and  insects,  as  quite  darken  the  air,  and  frequently 
devour  the  whole  produce  of  the  soil :  in  which  case 
the  people  kill  those  insects  and  eat  them  \  which  thc^ 
do  either  by  pounding  in  leather  bags,  and  then  boil- 
ing them  in  milk,  or  which  is  reckoned  the  more  de- 
licious method,  by  frying  or  broiling  them  over  a  light 
hiaze  in  a  fryingpan  full  of  holes.  Thus  the  legs 
and  wings  of  the  insects  arc  burnt  off*,  and  the  rest  of 
the  body  is  sufficiently  roasted  to  be  eaten  as  a  dainty, 
which  they  look  upon  to  be  very  wholesome  and  nou- 
rishing. 

To  the  east,  north-cast,  and  south-east  of  the  island 
of  Senegal,  the  country,  as  far  as  it  is  known,  is 
overrun  with  woods  and  marshes :  the  Senegal,  Gam- 
bia, and  Sherbro,  passing  tlirou^  it  in  their  way  to  the 
Atlantic  ocean.  The  Niger  nse«  near  the  Senegal, 
and  runs  eastward,  but  its  termination  is  unknown. 
During  the  rainy  montlft,  which  begin  in  July,  and  con- 
tinue to  October,  they  lay  the  whole  country  under  wa- 
tery and  indeed  the  sodden  rise  of  these  rivers  is  Incredi- 
ble to  such  as  are  not  acquainted  with  the  violent  rains 
that  fall  between  the  tropics.  At  Galam,  900  miles 
from  the  mouth  of  the  Senegal,  the  waters  rise  150  feet 
perpendicular  from  the  bed  of  the  river.  At  the  island 
of  Senegal,  the  river  rises  gradnally,  during  the  rainy 
season,  above  20  feet  perpendicular  over  part  of  that 
iflat  coast)  which  of  itself,  so  freshens  the  water  that 
ships  lying  at  anchor,  at  the  distance  of  three  leagues 
from  its  mouth,  generally  make  use  of  it,  and  fill  their 
water  there  for  their  voyage  home.  When  the  rains  are 
at  an  end,  which  soon  happens  in  Octolier,  the  intense 
heat  of  tjje  sun  usually  dries  up  those  stagnating  waters 
which  lie  on  the  higher  parts,  and  the  remainder  from 
lakes  and  marshes,  in  which  are  found  all  sorts  of  dead 
animals.  At  hi<it,  those  too  are  quite  dried  up  *,  and 
then  the  effluvia  that  arise  are  almost  quite  insuppmt- 
able.  At  this  seasen  the  winds  blow  so  hot  from  the 
land,  that  they  may  be  compared  to  the  -heat  proceed- 
ing from  the  month  of  an  oven,  and  they  bring  with 
them  an  intolerable  smell.  The  wolves,  tigers,  lions, 
and  other  wild  beasts,  then  resort  to  the  river,  steep- 
ing their  body  under  water,  and  only  their  snout  above 
it  for  the  sake  of  breathing.  The  birds  soar  to  an  im- 
mense height  in  the  air,  and  fly  a  vast  way  over  the 
sea,  where  they  continoe  till  the  wind  changes,  and 
comes  from  the  west. 

Neorobs^  White,    See  Heliofmobi  and  Albiko. 

NECROMANCY.    Sec  Necromancy. 

NKGROPON T,  anciently  Eubaui,  an  island  of  the 
Archipelago,  stretching  along  the  eastern  coast  of 
Achaia  or  Livadia,  from  which  it  is  separated  by  a 
narrow  channel  called  the  Euripus,  This  strait  is  so 
narrow,  that  the  island  is  joined  to  the  continent  by  a 
bridge  thrown  over  it  *,  and  here,  it  is  thought,  there 
wus  formerly  an  isthmus.     The  irregularity  of  the  tides 


in  the  Euripus  hath  from  the  remotest  antiquity  been  Nfgroptnt, 
very  remarkable,  and  this  irregularity  is  found  to  be  NcbcniiMb* 
connected  with  the  age  of  tSe  moon.     From  the  three '  ' 

last  days  of  the  old  moon  to  the  eighth  day  oP  the  new 
moon,  and  from  the  14th  to  the  2dth  liay  inclusive, 
they  are  regular ,  but  on  the  other  days  they  are  ir- 
regular, flowing  12,  13,  or  14  times  in  the  space  of 
.  24  hours,  and  ebbing  as  often.  The  island  is  90  miles 
long  and  25  broad  in  the  widest  part  \  and  produces 
corn,  oil,  fruit,  and  cattle,  in  great  abundance.  The  on- 
ly place  in  the  island  worth  notice  is  the  capital,  which 
is  also  called  Ncgropont ;  and  which  is  availed,  and  con- 
tains about  1 5,000  inhabitants  j  but  the  Christians  are 
said  to  be  much  more  numerous  than  the  Turks.  The 
captain  bashaw,  or  admiral  of  Turkey,  who  is  also  go- 
vernor of  the  city,  the  island,  and  the  adjacent  con- 
tinent of  Greece,  resides  here  :  and  the  harbour,  which 
is  very  safe  and  spacious,  is  seldom  without  a  fleet  of 
galleys,  ready  to  be  put  to  sea  against  the  pirates  and 
the  Maltese.  A  part  of  the  bridge  between  the  city 
and  the  coast  of  Greece,  consists  of  a  draw  bridge  no 
longer  than  just  to  let  a  galley  pass  through. 

NEHEMIAH,  or  Neemias,  son  of  Hachaliah,  was 
bom  at  Babylon  during  the  captivity,  (Neh.  i.  1,2, 
&c.).  He  was,  according  to  some,  of  the  race  of  the 
priests,  but  according  to  others,  of  the  tribe  of  Judah 
and  the  royal  family,  lliose  who  maintain  the  first 
opinion,  support  it  by  a  passage  in  Exra,  (x.  10.)  where 
he  is  called  a  priest ;  but  those  who  believe  that  he  was 
of  the  race  of  the  kings  of  Jndah,  say,  ist,  That  Ne- 
hemiah  having  governed  the  republic  of  the  Jews  for  a 
considerable  time,  there  is  great  probability  he  was  0^ 
that  tribe  of  which  the  kings  always  were.  2dly,  Ne- 
hcmiah  mentions  his  brethren  Hanani,  and  some  other 
Jews,  who  coming  to  Babylon  during  the  captivity,  ac- 
quainted him  with  the  sad  condition  of  their  country. 
3dly,  The  office  of  cupbearer  to  the  king  of  Persia, 
to  which  Nehemiah  was  promoted,  is  a  mrthcr  proof 
that  he  was  df  tin  ilhistrious  family.  4thly,  He  excuses 
himseh  from  entering  into  the  inner  part  of  the  temple, 
probably  because  he  was  only  a  laic,  (Nth.  ^i.  1  x .) 
*'*  Should  'such  a  man  as  I  flee  ?  And  who  is  (here 
that,  being  as  I  am,  wonid  go  into  the  temple  to  save 
his  life?" 

The  Scripture  (Ezra  ii.  63.  Nehem.  vii.  65.)  calls 
him  «Twnrn  tirshatha^  that  is  to  say,  "  cop-bearer,j"  for 
he  had  this  employment  at  the  court  of  Artaxerxes 
liongimanus.  He  had  an  exceeding  great  tenderness 
for  the  coOntry  of  his  fathers,  though  be  bad  never  (»een 
it ;  and  one  day,  as  some  Jews  newly  come  from  Jeru- 
salem acquainted  him  with  the  miserable  estate  of  that 
city,  that  its  wall  yrcre  heat  down,  its  gates  bomt,  and 
the  Jews  were  become  a  reproach  among  all  nations  ; 
he  was  sensibly  affected  with  tliis  relation  \  he  fasted, 
prayed,  and  hnmbled  himself  before  the  Loi'd,  that  he 
would  be  favourable  to  the  design  he  had  then  conceiv- 
ed of  asking  the  king's  permission  to  rebuild  Jerusalem. 
The  conrse  of  his  attendance  at  court  being  xome,  he 
presented  the  cop  to  the  king  according  to  custom  ^ 
"hot  with  a  countenance  sad  and  dejected  *,  which  the 
king  observing,  entertained  some  suspicion,  as  if  he 
might  have  had  some  bad  design  \  but  Nehemiah  (ii.) 
discovering  the  occasion  of  his  disquiet,  Artaxerxes 
gave  him  leave  to  go  to  Jerusalem,  and  repair  its  walls 
and  gates  \  bnt,  however,  upon  this  condition,  that  he 

5  C  2  should 


N    E    H  [     756 

Nebemiali.  fihottld  return  to  court  at  a  time  appointed.  Letters 
were  m^ide  out,  directed  to  the  governors  beyond  tl\e 
£uphrates,  with  orders  to  fomish  Nebemiah  with  tim- 
bers necessary  for  coveriilg  the  towers  and  gates  of  the 
city,  and  the  house  designed  for  Nebemiah  himself,  who 
was  now  appointed  governor  of  Jadea,  in  the  year  of 
the  world  3350. 

Nebemiah  being  arrived  at  Jerusalem  with  the  king*s 
commission,  went  round  the  cityj  and  having  viewed 
the  oondition  of  the  walls,  assembled  the  chief  of  the 
people,  produced  his  commission,  and  exhorted  them  to 
undertake  the  reparation  of  the  gates  and  walls  of  the 
city.  He  found  every  person  ready  to  obey  him  ^ 
whereupon  he  immediatelv  began  the  work.  The 
enemies  of  the  Jews  observmg  these  works  in  such  for- 
wardness, made  use  of  all  the  means  in  their  power  to 
deter  Nebemiah  from  this  undertaking,  and  made  seve- 
ral aCtempts  to  surprise  him  'j  but  finding  that  their  de- 
signs were  discovered,  and  that  the  Jews  kept  upon  their 
guard,  they  bad  recourse  to  craft  and  stratagem,  endea- 
vouring to  draw  him  into  an  ambuscade  in  the  fields, 
where  they  pretended  they  would  finish  the  dispute  at  an 
amicable  conference :  but  Nehemiah  gave  them  to  un- 
derstand, that  the  work  he^  had  begun  required  his  per* 
sonal  attendance  y  and  therefore  he  could  not  conie  lo 
them.  He  sent  the  same  answer  to  fi)ur  several  mes- 
sages that  they  sent  one  after  another  on  the  same  sub- 
ject, (/</•  iv.  and  vi.). 

Sanballat,  the  chief  of  the  enemies  of  the  Jews,  to- 
gether with- his  associates,  wrote  word,  that  a  report  was 
spread  that  the  Jews  were  boilding  the  widls  of  Jerusa- 
lem only  with  a  design  to  make  it  a  place  of  strength, 
to  support  them  in  an  intended  rovolt }  that  it  was  said 
also  that  Nehemiah  had  suborned  fiUso  prophets  to.fii- 
vour  his  designs,  and  to  eneoarage  the  people  te  choose^ 
him  king ;  and  to  stop  the  course  of  these  rumours,  he 
advised  him  to  come  to  him,  that  they  ai*g^  confer  to- 
gether, and-  take  such  resolutions  as  should  be  foundi 
convenient.  Nehemiah  gave  himself  no  trouble  on  this. 
«ccbunt,  but  returned  for  answer,  that  all  those  accusi^ 
tioos  were  false  and  made,  at  random.  About  the  same 
time  he  discovered,  that  a  false  prophet  called  SAe* 
tnaiah^  had  been  corrupted  by  his  enemies^  and  that 
some  of  the  chief  of  the  city  were  secretly  in  opnfedo-. 
ncy  withlbem.  Yet  all  this  did  not  discourage  him  \ 
he  went  on  with  his  work,  and  happily  completed  it  ii^ 
two  and  fifty  days  after  it  had  been  begun. 

Then  he  nude  a  dedication  of  the  walls,  of  the 
towers,  and  of  the  gates  of  Jerasalem,  with.the  solem- 
nity and  magnificenoe  that  such  a  work  required. .  He 
separated  the  priests,  the  Levites,  and  the  princes  of  the 
people,  into  two  coanpanies,  one  of  which  walked  to 
the  south  and  the  other  to  the  north,  on  the  top  of  the 
walls.  These  two  companies  were  to  meet  at  the  ten»-  • 
pie.  The  procession  was  accompanied  with  ronsioboth 
Yocal  and  instrumental :  and  when  they  w/ere  all  come 
to  the  temple,  they  there  read  the  law,  offered  sacrifices, 
and  made  great  rejoicings.  And  as  the  feast  of  taber- 
nacles happened  at  the  same  time,  it  was  celebrated 
with  great  suienmity,  (Ji/.  viii.)*  Nehemiah  observing 
that  the  compass  of  the  city  was  too  large  tor  its  inha- 
bitants, be  ordered  that  the  ohief  of  the  nation  should 
fix  their  dwelling  in  the  city  ^  and  caused  them  to  draw 
lots,  hy  which  a  tenth  part  of  the.  whole  people  of  Ju- 
dfih  were  to  dwell  at  Jerusalem,  (iit/.  xi.).  Then  he  ap- 

,     3 


3 


N    E    H 


plied  himself  to  the  refomuition  of  such  abuaes  u  lad  K 
crept  into  the  administration  of  the  public  «0ain.  He 
curbed  the  inhumanity  of  the  great  ones,  who  hdd  in 
a  state  of  slavery  the  sons  and  daughters  of  tbott  wk 
were  poor  or  unfortnnate,  keeping  their  lands  id  pot- 
session,  which  these  poor  people  hi^  been  obliged  eitWr 
to  mortgage  or  to  sell  to  the  rich.  Another  abuse  tbae 
was,  which  Ezra  had  in  vain  attempted  to  redrew,  tliat 
they  had  contracted  marriages  with  stmnee  and  idola- 
trous women.  Nebemiah  nndertook  to  dissolve  thcie 
numriages,  succeeded  in  it,  and  sent  away  all  such  wo- 
men as  had  been  taken  against  the  express  commsiid  of 
the  law,  (Z</.  ix.).  Havmg  likewise  observed,  thst the 
priesU  and  Levites  were  oUi^ed  to  take  refiige  vkeiv- 
ever  they  could,  ainl  so  the  ministry  of  the  temple  v« 
not  attended  or  performed  with  that  decency  it  oogbt, 
because  they  did  not  reeeive  the  revenues  that  the  liv 
had  appointed  for  tbeir  subsistence  \  he  obliged  the  peo- 
ple punctually  to  pay -the  ministers  of  theliord  wbst 
was  due  to  them,  and  enjoined  the.  priests  and  Levita 
duly  to  attend  on  their  respective  duties,  and  to  dii- 
cha^  their  fimctions,  (Idl  xiii.  10, 1 1,  &c).  He  «• 
fi>rced  the  observation  of  the  sabbath^  which  had  bees, 
much  neglepted  at  Jerusalem,  and  would  notpenut 
strangers  to  come  in  to  buy  and  sell,  but  kept  the  gates 
of  the  city  shot  a)l  that  day.  And,  to  perpetosle  as 
much  as  wm  possible  these  good  regulations  which  he 
bad  newly  established,  he  engagedthe  chief  nes  of  tk 
nation  soleowly  to  renew  the  covenant  with  the  Lad. 
This  ceremony  was  performed  in  the  temple,  and  as  is- 
stnunent  was  drawn  np^  which  was  sunned  by  thepris- 
cipal  men,  both  priests  aqd^peopk  {Td.  ix*  x.),  ia  tlr 
year  of  the  world  3551. 

We.  read  in  the  books. of  liiaccabeas  (2  Mace  I 
19,  20,  21.  &c.),  that  Nehemiah  sent  to  seanjhfvtk 
holy  fire,  which  before  the.  captivity  of  Babyl^  the 
priests  bed.  hid  in  a  dry  and,  deep  pit  \  but  not  fiodiig 
any  fire  there,  but  instead  thereof  a  thick  and  middy 
water,  he  sprinkled  (his  upon  the  altar  \  wbersepoa  che 
wood  which  had  been  sprinkled  with  this  water  toA 
fire  presently .  as  soon  as  the  sun  began  to  tnear. 
Which  miracle  coming  to  the  knowledge  of  the  kiag 
of  Persia,  he  caused  the  place  to- be  eocompoased  vid^ 
walls  where  the  fire  .had  been  bid,  and  Ranted  grest£h 
vours  and  privileges  to  the  priests.  LL  is  recorded  is 
the  same  books,  {z  Mace.  ii«  13,  14.),  t||at  Ncheamh 
erected  a  librarv,  wherein  he  placed  whatever  he  csiU 
find,  either  of  tlie  books  of -the , prophets,  of  I)avid,  w 
of  such  princes  an  had  made  preaenta  to  tht.tewpk* 
Litftly,  he  returned  to  Babylon  (ZqL  v,  14.  and  xiiL  (•) 
according  to  ihe  promise  he  had  made  to  King  Aits> 
xerxes,  about  the  thirty-second  year  of  this  piistt, 
in  the  vear  3563.  From  thence  he  retnmed  agaia  to 
Jerusalem,  where  he  died  in  peace,  ahont  the  year  358Q1 
leaving  governed  the  people. of  Judah  fee  ahoottluitj' 
years. 

The  book  which  i»  the  English  BiUe,  as  also  « the 
Hebrew,  has  the  UMM^tNekemmi^  in  the  Latin  Bible 
is  called  the  book  of  E^dras;  and  it  must  he  oanfaacd, 
that  though  this  author,  speaks  in  the  first  perBon,aBd 
though  at  first  reading  one  would  think  that  he  had 
writ  it  day  by  day  as  the  transactiona  occnrrcd,  yet 
there  are  some  things  in  this  book  which  coold  sot 
have  been  written  by  Nehemiah  himself;  forezaapfe 
memorials  are  quoted  wherein  were  registered  theaanes 

of 


N    £    L 


[    757    ] 


N    £    L 


Ncboi^h  of  tbe  ft\%at$  m  the  time  of  Joaatiwn  the  mh  of  Ella- 


ttOI 


NeboD. 


thib,  uhI  even  to  the  timee  of  the  high  |irtest  Jaddw, 
who  met  Alexaoder  the  GreAL  IWae  therefor^  must 
have  heen  added  afterwards. 

It  may  well  he  questioned,  whether  this  Nehemiah 
be  the  same  that  is  mentioned  in  Ezra,  (iL  a.  and 
Neh.  ▼!••  7.)  »s  one  that  returned^  from  the  Babylo- 
aish  captivity  under  Zerubbabel  *,  since  from  the  first 
year  of  Cyrus  to  the  twentieth  of  Artaxerxes  Longi- 
manus,  there  are  no  less  than  ninety-two  years  inter- 
vening 'f  so  that  Nehemiah  must  at  this  time  have  been 
a  very  old  man,  upon  the  lowest  computation  an  hun- 
dred, consequently  .utterly  incapable  of  being  the  king*8 
cnp-bcarer,  i>C  takiof^  a  journey  from  Shushan  to  Jem* 
aalem,  and  of  behaving  there  with  all  the  courage  and 
activity  that  is  reoonM  of  hjm.  Upon  this  presump- 
tion, therefore,  we  may  conclude  that  this  -ivas  a  difier- 
rat  person,  though  of  tbe  same  name,  and  that  Tir- 
ahatba  (the  other  name  bv  which  he  is  called,  Ezra  iL 
63.  and  Neh,  vii.  65.)  deaotos  the,  title  of  his  office, 
ar»d  both  in  the  Per^au  and  Chaldeau  tongues  was  the 
general  name  given  to  the  king^s  deputies  and.gover- 


NEHOW,  one  of  the  8andwi«:h  islands,  discovered 
by  Captain  Cook  in  his  last  voyage  to  the  Pacifie 
ocean  :  these  islands  are  eleven  in  Dumber,  airf  are  sita- 
ated  from  i8<^  44'.to  tx^  i^  N.  Lat.  and  froR^i54<»  56^ 
to  i6o<>  a4'  W.  Long. 

NEIGHBOUR^  {i.  One  who  dwelU.or  is  sealed 
near  to  another  (a  Kings  iv.  3.)*  2.  EcVery  man  to 
whom  we  have  an  opportunity  of  doing  good  (Matt. 
xxiL  39. )•  3.  A  fellow  labourer  of. one  and  die  same 
people  (Acti  viL  27.)*  4*  A  friend  (Job.  xvi.  ii.)* 
At  the  time  of  our  Saviour,  the  Pharisees  had  restrain- 
ed the  word  neighbour  to  signify  those  of  their  own  na- 
tion only,  or  their  own  friends  j  being  of  opinion  that 
to  hate  their  enemy  was  not  forbidden  by  their  law.. 
But  our  Saviour  informed  them,  that  the-  whole  world 
Wbere  their  neighbours ;  that  they -ought  not  to  do  to 
another  what  tbey  would  not  have  dons  to  themselves ; 
and  that  this  charity  ought  to  be  extended  even  to  their 
OQemies,  (Matt.  v.  43.  Luke  x.  29,  &c»). 

NEIS8E,  a  town  of  Silesia,  containing  7000  people, 
and  the  residence  of  the  bishop  of  Breslaw,  who  has  a 
magnifieent  palace  here.  The  air  is  veiy  wholesome, 
and  provisions  are  cheap  ^  the  inhabitants  carry  on  a 
great  trade  in  wine  and  linen.  This  place  soiSgred  great- 
ly by  an  inundation  and  fiire  in  1729.  It  was  taken  by 
the  Prussians  in  174 if  who  augmented  the  fortifica- 
tions, and  built  a  citadel  to  whidi  they  gave  tbe  name 
ol  Prussia,  It  is  seated  00  a  river  of  tha^same  name,, 
in  E.  Long.  17.  35.  N.  Lat.  50.  32. 

NEIUS IIOK9,  in  Anekni  Geography,  at  the  foot  af , 
which  stood  Ithaca^  a  town  of  the  isUnd  of  that  name, 
(Homer). 

NELSON,  The  Sight  Honourable  ViscouMr,  one  of 
the  most  celebrated  naval  connnandeni,  was  the  sen- of 
the  reverend  EdflMin4Neknn,  and  was  bom  at  Bomfanm  , 
Thorpe,  in  Norfi»lk,  where  bis  fiithcr  was  sector,  in  the 
year  1 758.  He  received  bis  education  at  the  school  of 
Korth  Walaham  y  bat  we.  are  unacquainted  with  the 
particnlars  relative  to  his  childhood,  and  vrfaether  the 
progress  he  made  in  his  studies  waa  in  any  respect  ex- 
traordimlry.  It  is  certain,  however,  thai  he  dtsosivered 
%  strong  predilection  for  the  naval  pinfession  al.a  very 


early  period,  and  having  quitted  school  at  the  age  of    Kdwr. 
twelve  years,'  went  on  board  the  Raisonable  of  64  gubs, 
commanded  by  his  mother's  fatother.  Captain  Maurice 
Suckling. 

In  tbe  month  of  April  1773,  a  voyage  of  discovery  . 
to  the  north  pole  was  undertaken  by  the  honourable 
Coastantine  John  Pbipps,  afterwards  Lord  Mulgrave,  . 
in  consequence  of  an  application  by  the  Royal  ^ciety 
to  Lord  Sandwich  \  and  altbougfa-ihe,  instructions  which 
were  iMued,  .prohibited  all  boys  from  being  received  on 
board,  yet  the  enterprising  spirit  4>f  Horatio  Nelson 
earnestly  solicited  to  be  ajipointed  cockswain  to  Captain  . 
Lutwidge,  rather  than  submit  to  be  left  behind  \  and 
his.  unsubdued  spirit  so  forcibly  struck  the  captain,  that 
his  wish  was  complied  with. 

'When  the  ship  returned  to  England-  in  the  month  of 
October  I773»  Mr  Nelson^baving. received  information.-) 
that  a  squadron  was  fitting  out  for  tbe  East  Indies,  em- 
ployed all  his  interest  to  be  appointed  to  one  of  the 
ships.  It  was  not  long  before  he  was  placed  in  the  Sea- 
hone  of  20  gutts^  comnmnded  by  the  celebrated  Captain 
Farmer,  and  stationed  in  the  fore-top  to  keep  watch, 
but  soon  after  removed  to  the  quarter-deck. 

He  obtained  tbe  profissBional  order  of  lieutenant  on 
the  8th  of  April,  1777,  and  received  has  commission 
the  next  day,  as  second  of  the  Lowestoffe  of  32  guns. 
Captain  William  Locker,  in  which  ship  he  arrived  at 
Jamaica  \  but  feeling  tbatjiis  glowing  mind  was  circum- 
scribed in  .so  Jmalla  fingate^  he  requested*  the  com- 
mand of  a  schooner,  which .  acted  as  tender  to  the 
Lowestofie,  thus  availing  bimself  of  the  opportunity  of 
becoming  an  experienced  pilot  for  every  intrioate  pas- 
sage thM^h  the  islands,  situated  on  the  northern  side 
of  Hispaaiola. 

When  Sir  Peter  Parker  arrived  at  Jamaica  in  the 
year  177S,.  Lieutenant  Nelson  was  nominated  by  that 
gallant  admiral  to  be  the  third,  of  his  own  iag  ship, 
the  Bristol,  and  bjr  rotation  soon  became  the  first. 
In  this  ship  hb  services  terminated  in  the  rank  of  a 
lieuteoanlw* 

On  the  iith  of  Juno,  1779^  he  obtained  the  rank  of 
post-captain ;  and  daring  the  nine  vyears^:  he  had  been   . 
in  the  service  he  not  only  became  an  able  officer  by  his   . 
constant  attention  to  every  part  of  his  duty,  •  and  his   . 
keen  observation,  but  he  also  laid  the  fonndation  of  be- 
ing a  pilot  of  distinguished  eminence*    Tbe  first  ship  to   • 
which  he  was  appointed  after  being  made  a  post  cap^ 
tain,  was  the  Hinchinbreke.    On  the  arrival  of  Count 
at  Jiispaniob^  as  an  attack  upon  Jamaica  was 


immediately  apprehended,  Ci^tain  Nelson  was  intrusted 
with  the  command  of  the  batteries  of  Pdrt-Roynl,  with 
the  concurring  approbation  of  tbe  British  admiral  and 
general.  In  the  montb  of  January  1780,  it  t^as  re- 
solved on  to  reduce  Fort  Juan,  on  the  river  St  John, 
in  the  gplf  of  Mexiou,  when  Captain  Nelson  was  made 
choica  of  to  command  the  naval  department,  and  that 
of  the  military  vras  committed  to  Major  Poison.  In 
aacomplisbing  the  object  of  this  arduous  and  interesting 
undertaking,  Nelson^s  usual  intrepidity  was  again  ex- 
hibited. Having  quitted  the  ship- under  his  command, 
her  superintended  the  tmasportingof  the  troops  in  bonis, 
300  miles,  up  n  river,  wUch  none  but  Spaniards  had 
ever  navigated  rince-  the  time  of  tbe  buccaneers. 

His  great  and  vigorous  exertions  were  represented  by 
Major  Poison  to  General  Dalling  in  their  true  colours, 


nor 


N    E    L 


[    758    3 


N    E    L 


Nelson,  nor  was  hin  gallantry  passed  over  by  that  officer  in 
.silcQcc.  After  storming  an  ont-work  belonging  to  the 
enemy,  lie  constructed  batteries,  and  fought  the  Spa- 
niard^ y  and  it  is  to  bis  conduct  in  the  reduction  of  FoK 
Joan  that  the  success  of  Britain  has  been  justly  and 
*chiefly  ascribed.  lie  was  next  appointed  to  the  Janus, 
at  that  time  stationed  at  Jamaica  ^  on  bis  arrival  at 
which  place  every  medical  assistance* was  given  bim 
which  his  situation  required  ;  bnt  as  bis  health  still  con- 
tinued on  the  decline,  he  deemed  it  expedient  to  return 
to  England  in  his  majesty's  ship  Lion,  the  honourable 
William  Cornwall  Is  commander,  to  whose  unremitting 
care  and  attention  be  owed  the  preservation  of  his  life. 
He  obtained  the  command  of  the  Albemarle  in  the 
month  of  August  1781,  which  put  bis  delicate  con- 
stitution to  the  severest  trial,  as  he  was  stationed  during 
the  whole  of  the  ensuing  winter  in  the  north  seas. 

He  sailed  from  Quebec  in  the  month  of  October^ 
1782,  with  a  convoy  to  New  York,  where  he  had  an 
opportunity  of  joining  the  fleet  under  Sir  Samuel 
Hood  }  and  in  the  month  following  he  sailed  with  him 
to  the  West  Indies,  wbere  he  was  honourably  employed 
until  the  termination  of  hostilities.  He  soon  after  re- 
ceived orders  to  repair  to  England,  being  directed  to 
attend  in  his  way,  his  royal  highness  Prince  William 
Henry  on  his  visit  to  the  Havannah.  When  be  reach- 
ed England,  the  Albemarle  was  paid  oflF  at  Ports- 
mouth on  the  3i6t  July,  1783.  During  the  autumn  of 
that  year  he  paid  a  visit  to  France,  where  he  continued 
till  the  spring  of  the  ensuing  year,  when  he  received 
the  command  of  the  Boreas  frigate  of  28  guns,  and  his 
destination  was  the  Leeward  Islands,  where  he  con- 
tinued until  June  1787,  and  was  then  ordered  to  repair 
to  England.  In  the  month  of  March  the  same  year 
be  was  married  to  the  amiable  and  accomplished  widow 
of  Dr  Nesbit,  of  the  island  of  Nevis.  When  the  Boreas 
frigate  was  paid  off  at  Shcemess  on  the  3Cth  Novem- 
ber, 1787,  he  retired  to  the  parsonage-house  of  Bnrb- 
^am  Thorpe,  which  had  been  conferred  upon  him  by 
his  father  for  a  place  of  residence,  there  to  enjoy  the 
consolations  which  rcsnlt  from  domestic  felicity. 

He  again  came  forward  on  the  30th  of  January 
1 793,  to  shine  forth  more  eonspicuous  as  a  naval  officer 
than  he  had  ever  done  before,  at  which  time  he  re- 
ceived the  command  of  the  Agamemnon  of  64  guns, 
being  soon  placed  under  the  orders  of  that  truly  great 
and  illustrious  character,  Lord  Hood,  who  at  that  pe- 
riod was  destined  to  command  in  the  Mediterranean. 
The  unlimited  confidence  reposed  in  him  by  this  noble 
and  gallant  admiral,  is  an  incontestable  evidence  of  the 
high  estimation  in  which  his  courage  and  naval  abilities 
were  held.  If  his  superior  designed  to  attack  batteries, 
or  cut  ships  out  of  the  harbours  in  which  they  were 
moored  ^  if  troops  were  to  be  landed  in  perilous  situa- 
tions, or  passages  of  extreme  difficulty  to  be  explored, 
the  great  Nelson  took  the  lead  on  every  such  occasion, 
seconded  by  the  brave  officers  and  crew  belonging  to 
4  he  Agi^niemnon.  Tonlon,  Bastia,  and  Calvi,  witnes- 
sed his  gallant  and  intrepid  deportment,  of  which  Lord 
Hood  did  not  fail  to  make  honourable  mention.  At 
the  siege  of  .Calvi  Captain  Nelson  lost  the  sight  of  his 
right  eye,  a  ebot  from  the  battery  of  the  enemy  having 
struck  that  of  which  he  had  the  conunand,  and  driven 
«ome  particles  of  sand  against  hia  face  with  irresistible 
impetuosity. 


When  Lord  Hood  left  his  station  in  the  Mediter*  Kf«^ 
•ranean  in  the  month  of  October,  1794,  the  amaaai^  ■  »*j 
devolved  on  Admiral  Holham,  who  honoured  vat  beto 
with  an  equal  share  of  bis  confidence  and  esteem.  Oi 
the  13th  and  14th  of  March,  and  13th  of  July  1795, 
be  again  rendered  himself  x^onspicuous  in  the  actioos 
which  then  took  place  with  the  French  fleet;  and 
soon  after  be  was  chosen  by  Admiral  Hotham  to  co- 
operate with  Geneval  De  Vins,  on  the  coast  of  Genoa, 
in  which  service  he  continued  so  long  as  Hotham  re- 
gained the  command,  who  was  superseded  by  Sir  Joha 
Jervis.  This  officer  so  much  applauded  the  coudnct  of 
Captain  Nelson,  tliat  he  received  the  honour  of  wraring 
a  pendant  of  distincticn  ;  and  in  the  month  of  May  Ik 
^as  removed  from  the  Agamemnon  to  the  Captain  of 
.  74  g^it^*  ^°  ^^  X  itb  of  August  be  bad  a  captain  ap- 
pointed under  him. 

From  April  to  October  1795,  Commodore  Neboa 
w^  continually  employed  in  the  most  active  and  ar* 
duous  service,  the  blockade  of  Legboni,  tbe  taking  «f 
Porto  Ferrajo,  with  the  island  of  C)aprea,  and  finally  i& 
the  evacuation  of  Bastia.  In  December  1796  lie  hoist- 
ed his  bruad  pendant  on  board  La  Mincrrc  fiigalt, 
and  was  dispatched  with  that  ship,  and  La  Bknche,  to 
Porto  Ferrajo,  to  bring  tbe  naval  stores  left  there  to 
Gibraltar,  wjiich  the  fleet  iras  in  mocb  want  of.  l^Me 
tm  this  service  in  the  night  of  the  1 7th  December,  ke 
fell  in  with  two  Spanish  frigates^  one  of  which  he  ia- 
mediately  attacked,  and  ordered  tbe  Blanche  to  bar 
^own  to  engage  the  other.  About  half  past  ten  tk 
commodore  brought  his  ship  to  close  action,  which  cos- 
tinned  without  interruption  till  half  past  one,  wbei  tbe 
Spanish  frigate  of  40  guns,  28  of  which  were  18 
pounders,  struck  to  La  Minerve. 

After  various  other  active  and  important  services  dnr 
ing  the  three  preceding  months.  Sir  Horatio  Neboa, 
in  April  1797,  hoisted  his  flag  on  board  the  Captain  of 
74  guns  as  rear-admiral  of  the  blue,  and  in  the  end  of 
May  he  shifted  his  flag  from  the  Captain  to  the  The- 
seus, when  he  was  appointed  to  the  command  of  tbe 
inner  squadron  at  the  blockade  of  Cadiz.  While  on 
this  service  he  exhibited  another  remaikable  proof  if 
his  undaunted  personal  courage.  In  tbe  attack  oe  tbe 
Spanish  gun-boats  in  July,  he  was  boarded  in  his  barge, 
which  had  only  the  usual  con^lement  of  10  men,  aad 
the  cockswain.  The  commander  of  the  Spanish  g«- 
boats,  in  a  barge  with  30  men  and  officers,  mde  1 
desperate  attack  on  the  admiral  and  his  brave  coa|a- 
nions.  The  conflict  remained  long  donbdul,  bntaftrt 
18  of  the  Spaniards  were  killed,  and  almost  the  iHiok 
of  the  remainder  wounded,  the  rear-admiral  aad  bii 
brave  crew  succeeded  in  carrying  this  superioe  force. 

On  the  1 5th  of  July  tbe  same  year,  Admiral  Ndns 
was  detached  with  a  small  squadron  to  attack  the  tool 
of  Santa  Cruz  in  the  island  of  Tcneriffe.  A  dieasaaid 
men,  including  marines,  were  landed  in  the  eoone  of  ft 
dark  night,  made  themselves  ma-sters  of  the  town,  and 
retained  possession  of  it  for  seven  hours ;  but  fiadisg  it 
impossible  to  storm  tbe  citadel,  they  prepared  kr  tbcir 
retreat,  which  the  Spaniards  allowed  them  to  make  no- 
molested,  agreeable  to  tbe  stipulations  which  had  beta 
entered  into.  In  this  unfortunate  attad^  the  beaive 
Nelson  lost  his  arm  by  a  canium  shot. 

But  a  more  splendid  scene  of  the  life  of  oar  hot  k 
now  opening.     On  the  13th  of  April  175^  betn^dr- 

ticbcd 


N    E    L 


C    759    I 


N    E    L 


Kelson,  tached  from  Earl  St  Vincent^s  fleet,  in  pbrsnlt  of  the 
Freoch  to  the  coast  of  Egypt,  with  12  Rail  of  the  line 
and  one  ^  gun  ship,  while  the  eneroy^s  fleet  consisted 
of  r3  sail  of  the  line  and  four  frigates,  protected  by  the 
batteries  on  the  shore,  and  several  gnn-boats.  This  me* 
morable  action-  commenced  at  sanset,  and  terminated 
glorioosly  for  the  honour  of  our  hero  and  that  of  the 
British  navy.  Nine  sail  of  the  line  fell  into  the  hands 
of  the  conqueror,  two  were  burnt,  and  two  effected 
ibcir  escape.  The  brave  Nelson  was  wounded  in  the 
action,  believing  himself  to  have  been  shot  through  the 
head ;  but  after  his  wound  was  examined  by  the  sor* 
geon,  it  was  happily  found  not  to  be  mortal,  a  cir- 
cumstance which  diffused  the  most  lively  satisfaction 
through  the  whole  fleet.  To  the  honour  of  this  great 
man  it  ought  to  be  mentioned,  that  even  under  the 
eonviction  of  approaching  dissolution,  he  prepared  for 
the  interesting  change  with  calmness  and  fortitude,  de* 
sired  his  chaplain  to  recommend  him  to  Lady  Nelson, 
appointed  the  brave  Hardy  to  the  rank  of  post-captain 
and  to  the  command  of  a  ship,  and  took  an  affectionate 
leave  of  Captain  Louis. 

The  French  admirals  ship,  L*Orient,  was  blown  up 
during  the  action.  From  the  mainmast  of  this*  ship 
Captain  Hallowell  ordered  a  coffin  to  be  constructed, 
which  was  presented  to  Admiral  Nelson^  and  gratefully 
accepted  by  tlie  hero,  as  a  token-  of  affcctiouate  regard. 
For  some  months  be  had  it  placed  npright  in  his 
cabin }  but  in  consequence  of  the  enti'eaties  of  an  old 
fiervai^t,  the  admiral  was  at  length  prevailed  on  to  al- 
low it  t€^  be  removed.  Our  readers  will  not  be  sur- 
prised that  Lord  Nelson  should  now  be  regarded  as  the 
great  defenoe  of  tlie  empire,,  and  the  support  of  Iter  na- 
tional glory.  It  is  to  bis  gallantry  and  naval  skill  that 
we  are  iddebted  for  the  victory  of  Copenhagen,  and 
ihe  annihilation  of  that  formidable  northern  confede- 
racy which  menaced  the  prosperity,  the  commerce,  the 
veiT  existence  of  the  rest  of  Europe. 

One  of  the  most  important  services  which  Lord  Nelr 
son  performed,  was  the  pursuit  of  the  combined  fleets 
of  France  and  Spain  to«4he  West  Indies.     This  fleet 
had  sailed  from  Cadiz  on  the  loth  of  April,  and  it  was 
at  first  conjectured  that  Egypt  was  the  place  of  their 
destination.     In  consequence  of  this  conjeclure,  Lord 
Nelson  sailed  in  pursuit  of  the  enemy  for.  the  coast  of 
£g3(pt  'y  and,  having  misled  his  object,  after  reconnoi- 
tring that  coast,  he  passed  the  straits  of  Gibraltar^  and 
ancboKfd  in  Lagos  bay  on  the  loth  of  May }  soon  after 
which  he  sailed  for  the  West  Indies  with  ten  ships  of 
the  line-}  arrived  off  fiarbadoes  on  the  4th  of  June  ^  and 
having  touched  at  Tobago,  Trinidad,  and  Grenada,,  at 
the  latter  of  which  places  he  was  informed^  that  the 
combined  fleet  had  been  seen  on  the  6th  off  Dominica } 
he  reached  Antigua  on  the  1 2th,  where  he  received  in- 
formation that  the  enemy  had  been  seen  on  the  Sth 
standing  to  the  northward.     Lord  Nelson,  without  the 
loss  of  a  moment,  continued  the  pursuit  of  the  enemy  on 
their  return  to  Europe,  where  they  arrived  about  the 
end    of  July.}    and  after    taking  iu  provisions  and 
water  at  Gibraltar,  and  reconnoitring  the  harbour  of 
Cadiz  *f  he  returned  to  England,  where  he  arrived  in 
the  Victory,  on'  the  1  Sth  of  August,  after  having  been 
engaged  for  nearly  four  months  in  one  of  the  most  ar- 
duous, and,  at  the  same  time,  one  of  the  most  important 
and  bene&cial,  although,  in  its  immediate  object,  unsuc- 


cessful enterprises,  for  which  his  life  was  distinguished^.  Nelson. 
His  lordship  had  now  been  absent  from  England  more 
than  two  years,  on  the  Mediterranean  station. 
/  The  concluding  scene  of  this  extraordinary  man's 
J  naval  career,  kindles  emotions  of  admiration  and  re- 
gret >  and  at  once  excites  both  transport  and  extremet 
of  sorrow.  Perhaps  no  action,  in  point  of  splendour 
and  magnanimity,  can  equal  that  which  deprived  his 
country  of  one  ot  the  greatest  heiroes  it  ever  producedtf 
Britons  appear  to  be  sensible  of  its  vast  importance ^  yet 
it  is  not  improbable  that  posterity  will  consider  it  as  still 
more  splendid,  their  bve  and  admiration  not  being 
damped  by  the  poignant  recollection,  that  they  personal- 
ly saw  the  man  by  whose  loss  it  was  accomplished. 
When  Lord  Nelson  perceived  that,  in  consequence  of 
his  manceuvres,  he  had  reduced  the  enemy  to  the  abso- 
lute necessity  of  engaging  him,  he  exclaimed  in  the 
presence  of  Captain  Hardy  and  the  other  officers  who 
surrounded  him  on  the  quarter  deck  }  "  Now  they  can- 
not escape  us^  I  think  we  shall  at  least  make  sure  of 
twenty  ot'  them. — I  shall  probably  lose  a  leg,  but  that 
will  be  purchasing  a  victory  cheaply. ''  But  alas ! 
amidst  the  inexpressible  satisfaction  and  delight,^  which  -. 
a  victory  so  splendid  could  not  fail  to  inspire,  he  has 
left  us  to  lament  that  it  was  purchased  by  the  loss  of  a  ^ 
life  so  incomparably  valuable. 

His  lordship's  flag  ship  fell  on  board  the  Redoubtable,, 
by  which  means  he  was  exposed  to  the  fire  of  the  mus- 
ketry from  the  tops  ^  and  the  insignia  of  his  grandeur  and. 
dignity,  it  is  supposed,  singled  him  out  to  the  aims  of  the 
enemy,  which  in  the  issue  were  too  fatally  successful. . 
His  secpetary  was  cut  in  two  by  his  side  with  a  chain 
shot,  and  soon  after  a  ball  grazed  bis  lordship's  shoul- 
der, entered  his  left  breast,  and  passed  through  bis 
longs.     He  lived  about  three  hours  after  this  tragical 
event,  during  which  he  remained  perfectly  recollected, 
and'  he  displayed  the  same  heroic  magnanimity  in  the 
arms  of  death,  which,  had-  so  eminently  distinguish- 
ed him  tlirough  the  whole  of  his  career.      His  last 
words  to  Captain  Hardy  were,  *'  I  know  I  am  dyingv 
I-  coiild  have  wished  to  survive  to  breathe  my  last  upon 
^British  ground)  but  the  will  of  God  be  done !"     In  a 
few  moments  he  expired.     His  last  signal  ought  not, 
and  will  not  be  forgotten,  which  was  by  telegraph,— 
*'  That  England  expected  every  man  would  do  bis  du- 
ty."   He  spoke  in  raptures  concerning  the  event  of  the 
day  only  a  short  time  before  his  dissotution,  and  sent 
word  to  Admiral  CoUingwood,  desiring  that  be  would . 
make  his  affectionate  farewell  to  all  his  brother  seamen 
throughout  the  fleet.     In  this  manner  died,  in  the  47th 
year  of  his  age,  the  greatest  commander  that  perhaps 
ever  adorned  the  British  navy,  leaving  behind  him  a 
name  dear  to  Great  Britain,  and  an  example  of  heroism 
which  will  inspire  his  companions  in  arms  to  emulate 
his  virtues,  that  they  too  may  live  in  the  remembrance 
of  a  grateful  posterity. 

His  singular  plan  of  attack  on  this  memorable  occa-t 
sion  was- communicated  by  his  lordship  to  all  his  cap- 
tains,, who  unanimously  gave  it  as  their  opinion  that  it 
could  not  possibly  fail  of  success,  being  concerted  with 
such  consummate  wisdom ;  and  they  even  pledged  their 
lives  for  the  fnvourable  result  of  it.  His  titles  were. 
Viscount  Nelson,  and  Duke  of  Bront^.— The  united 
parliament  voted  him  a  pension  of  joool.  a  year,  to  con-, 
tinue  doring  his  own  life  and  his  two  next  heirs  }  the 

East 


K    E    M 


C 


KekM    EMtlm^M  GMBpany maile  hiiB  a  prosent  of  lO^oooL^  the 

R        grmwi  atgnior  gave  bim  a  ^ianuNid  aigrette  wQrtk  4000!.  \ 

Neineau  fj^^  emperor  of  Rusaia  gave  kim  a  diamond  box  wortb 

'^°^*'    9  jool,  ^  ihe  king  of  Naples  made  bim  pvesenis  to  tbe 

amount  of  5000I.  togetker  witb  tbe  dukedQm  of  Bixmt^ 

and  am  estate  of  5000I.  per  annttm.    Tkus  aU  Earo^ 

censpimd  te  testiry  tbe  estimation  in  wkieh  they  ke)d 

this  dutiligoishsd  bsro  ^  and  the  numerous  m^mmients 

which  have  keen,  and  stiU  are  erecting  to  his  memofy 

throoghoiit  the  Briti^  empire,  will  continue  lasting 

evidences  of  the  esteem  in'^rbich  be  "tvas  held  kj  his 

grateful  oonntry.    Parliament  ahe  voted  a  snm  for  the 

purchase  of  an  estate  for  his  heira^  and  his  mi^sly  ceo* 

fevred  the  title  of  earl  on  his  immediate  successor. 

Nor  fveve  his  talents  vhoHy  coniiaed  to  the  knihr- 
ledge  of  navii^  tactics^- fer  it  is  known  that  ms  a  senalor 
he  was  highly  respcctahle,  although  he* enjoyed  lew  op* 
pertonities  of  coming  forward  in  ihet  capacity,  l^hee 
he  did,  his  speeches  were  hea^d  by'theii  lordships  with 
respect,  and  the  most  profound  attention*  Tbe  lew 
specimens  we  have  of  his  abilities^  a-^iticiiftn,  dffbrd 
no  meas  proof  that  if  he  had  devoted  as  much  of  his 
time  to  those  studies  as  he  did  to  his  peculiar  professioo, 
he  would  have  made  a  distinguished  figtire  in  the  house 
of  peers. 

NEMAUSIS,  or  K^£Mausi/M,  10  Ancteni  Geogra" 
f'^jT,  the  capital  of  the  Arseemici  in  Gallia  Narhooen- 
sis }  a  ookmy,  (€ot»)«  with  tbe  surname  of  Amgus$&^ 
(Inscriptteu).  In  it  stands  a  Roman  amphitheatre^ 
which  is  still  almost' entire%  Now  Nufms  in  Langnedoe. 
N£M£A  (Straho,  Livy ) ;  a  river  of  Achaia,  run- 
ning between  Sicyen  and  CcHrinth,  the  eommoftbonn- 
'  dary  of  both  tenriieries,  and  falling  into  the  Corinthian 
hay. 

M£M£Ay  in  Ancient  CfeograpMfi  sitaated  between 
XteonsB  and  Pbilus  in  ArgoKs  ^  whsther  town,  district, 
or  other  thing,  uncertaiu ;  there  a  grove  stood  in  which 
tbe  Argives  celebrated  the  Nemean  games,  and  there 
happened  all  the  fabulous  circumstances  of  the  Nemean 
lion.  The  district  Nemea  is  sidled  Bembmadikf  (V^ 
ny)}  a  viHage,  Bemhina^  standing  near  Nemea,  (mnt> 
ho).  Stephanus  phices  Nemea  in  EUs  ;  though  net  im 
Elis,  hut  OR  its  borders  ;  Tliny,  erteaeonsly  m  Aroadda* 
In  tike  adjoining  mountain  ia  stil^  shown  the  den  of  the 
lion,  distant  1 5  stadis^  from  the  plaee  Nnwa^  (Pausa- 
nias)  ;  in  which  stands  a  considerable  tempts  of  Jupiter 
Nemseus  and  Cleonceus,  from  the  vtctnity  ef  these  two 
places.  This  place  gave  name  te>  the  Nem8Mi>  ganMS, 
•eelehrated  every  thiid  year*    ^ 

NEMEAN  GAMES,  so  calkd  60m  Nemea,  a  vil- 
lage between  tiie  cities  of  Cleeass  and  Vhiltts,  wh^e 
they  were  celebrated  every  third  year*  The  exereises 
were  chariots-races,  and  aH  the  parts  ef  the  Pentalhlumw 
These  games  were  instituted  ia  memoiy-  of  Ophelles  or 
Archemorus  the  son  of  Enphetes  amt  Creusa,  and  who 
was  nursed  by  Hypsipele  j  who  lieaving  him  hi  »  mea>- 
dow  while  she  went  to  show  the-  besiegers  of  Thebes  a 
ftmntain,  at  her  return  fbrnid  bim  dsad,  and  »  serpent 
twined  abont  1^  neok:  whence  the  fhmtain,  befcvs 


760    1  "N    E    M 

eatted  X«a|g»i,'  was  bamed  Arckemorus;  sai  the  cm ^ 

tains,  to  eemibrt  Hypsipele,  iastitnted  dieie  gaaMs^  G«9 
Othcffs  ascribe  their  institution  to  Hemdes,  after  Ui  ^  I 
victory  ever  the  Nenwan  lion.    Others  allow,  tbattbcy  " 
were  instituted  fint  in  honour  of  Archemerei ;  bot  ia- 
termitted,  and  revived  again  by  Heresies.    Tbe  vidcn 
' were'crew&ed  with  pmley,  an  herb  used  at  fsaoih, 
and  feigned  to  hdve  spnuig  from  Archemoras's  Uooi 
The  Argitet  jftrerided  at  these  games. 

NEMESIANUS,  Aurklius  Oltmpios,  1  Litb 

^poet  who  Was  bom  at  Carthage,  and  flonrisbed  tbssl 

the^Vear  ^81,  under  the  en^ror  Cams,  and  his  mm 

Cahnusaod  Nnmerian:  the  last  of  wbich  ewpenn 

was  so  fond  of  poetry,  that  he  contested  the  gbey  wilk 

Nemesianus,  who  had  written  a  poem  npsn  fiibi^  mi 

maritime  afiiirs.     We  have  still  remaining  a  poeai  e( 

'e«r  author  called  Cumgeiicon^  and  four  celiacs :  tWf 

'Were  published  by  Panlus  Manutius  in  1538;  b^  Bw- 

thelet  in  1613  }  at  Levden  in  1653  y  with  the  aotcs  sf 

Janos  Vlitias.     Giraldi  hi^  preserved  afngncattf 

Nemesianus,  which  was  ceomMinicated  te  him  hj  Sm- 

nazarius,  to  whom  we  are  obliged  for  our  poet^s  mkii 

Cn*  having  found  them  written  in  Gothic  characten,  k 

procuced  them  to  he  put  into  the  Roman,  and  then  mi 

them  to  Panlus  Manntiaai     Akhesgh  tins  poos  hskh 

acf  aired  soom  reputation,  it  is  gientty  inferior  to  thoe 

of  Oppian  and  Gratian  upon  the  same  subjecl ;  jtt  N^ 

mesianusV  style  is  natnnu  em>ug^  and  has  some  4eM 

ef  elegance.  The  world  was  so  much  possestcd  wia« 

opinion  of  his  poem  in  the  eighth  century,  that  it  wm 

read  among  the  clasrics  in  the  pobfic  schools,  paiticnhr* 

ly  in  the  time  ef  Chariemagne,  as  appears  fron  a  Una 

of  the  celebrated  Hinemar  hishep  of  Rheims,  ts  hi 

nephew  Hinemar  ef  Laon. 

NEMESIS,  in  Pagan  worship,  the  danghterof  Ji- 
piter  iriid  Necessity,  ee,  aococding  to  others^  ef  Olctsmi 
and  Nox,  had  the  care  of  revenging- the  enmoseM 
human  justice  left  unpunished;  She  was  ahs  oW 
ifdrosAro,  because  Adrastue  king  of^  Arges  finC  rsini 
tat  altar  to-  her }  and  XMamnumm^  Item  her  hsfiof  s 
magnificent  tempfe  at  Rhamnas>  is  Attica.  She  hd 
likewise m  tempfe  ait  Rome  in  tbe  €«pilel.  8ht  iil^ 
presented  with  a  ster»  osuntenaaoe,  holding  a  ehif  ii 
one  hand  and  a  pair  of  scalee  in  the  ether. 

NEMESIUS,.  a  Gredt  phileeopher  who  ceAnni 
Christianity,  and  was  made  hishepef  Emem  in  Aar- 
eia,  where  he  had  his  hirtii ;  he  flwrishcd  ie  Ihe  bfgii- 
ning  ef^l^  fifth  century.  -There  iea  wodt  of  hiieitHtt 
entitted  D9  Namra  HsmiidB^  in  which  hersfctM  Aeh> 
tality  of  die  Steica  and  the  errors  of  tbe  If  amcheeiiAe 
ApelianKriets,  and  the  Ennominne  j  hnt  he  eipomn  the 
opinie»  of  Origen  coneeming  the  pre-exist  ence  tfMnh 
(a).  This  treatise  was  tvanriated^ l^  Valb,  aa^  ffiit- 
ed'  in  1 1^^.  Another  version  wns  aftcmar^  wtk  ft, 
it  hy  Ellbhodius^  and  printed  in  16651  it  is  ahs  isMl- 
ed  m  the  BAUMbcb  Fmtturn^  in  Greek  sad  Lstasi 
Lastly,  Another  edilMo  was  published  at  OtM  n 
1671,  folio^  witb  ar  tearned  prelno^  whereia  lie  e£lff 
end^nvours  Vb  prove,  from  a  passage  in  thii  hook,  M 

Ik 


•M*^^ 


('a)  It  SB  much  move  probable  thai  he  and  Origen  both  broujiht  dieir  opinton  with  them  fnm  the  achooh  ■ 
phifosofby,  than  thai  either  of  ibem  borrowed,  it  Crom  the  other.    See  BfETAraTStcs,.  Tvtt  IIL  Chap.  IV. 


N    E    O  [76 

VeoMufli  the  circulfttioB  of  the  blood  was  known  to  Nemcsius  j 
w      U        which,  however,  was  since  shown  to  be  a  mistake  hj 
Neemcnia,  Jjy  Frcind,  in  his  History  of  P Ay  sic. 
'  '     NEMINE  COVTRASICENTE,  "  Donc  contradicting 

it  ;**  A  term  chiefly  used  in  parliament  when  any  thing 
is  Carried  without  opposition. 

N£MOURS,  a  town  in  France,  in  the  department 
of  Seine  and  Marne,  containing  3469  inhabitants  in 
1800.  It  is  seated  on  the  river  Loing,  in  £•  Long  2. 
45.  N.  Lat  48.  15. 

NENAGH,  a  post  and  fair  town  of  Ireland,  in  the 
eonntyof  Tipperary,  and  province  of  Mnnster,  75  miles 
from  boblin.  It  is  situated  on  a  branch  of  the  river 
Shannon  which  runs  into  Lough- Dcrg.  Here  stand 
the  mins  of  an  old  castle  called  Nenagh-ronnd.  Also 
those  of  an  hospital  founded  in  the  year  1 200,  for  ca- 
nons following  the  rule  of  St  Augustin.  It  was  dedi- 
cated to  St  John  the  Baptist,  and  was  usually  called 
Tcachon,  or  St  John's  house.  In  the  reign  of  •Henry 
III.  a  firiary  for  conventual  Franciscans  was  also  found- 
ed here,  and  esteemed  the  richest  foundation  of  that  or* 
der  in  the  kingdom.  Here  is  a  barrack  for  two  troops 
of  horse.  This  town  was  burnt  on  St  Stephen's  day, 
'3489  by  the  Irish.     The  fairs  held  here  are  four. 

NENIA,  or  Nania,  in  the  ancient  poetry,  a  kind 
•f  funeral  song  sung  to  the  music  of  flutes  at  the  obee* 
quies  of  the  dead.  Authors  represent  them  as  sorry 
eompositions,  sung  by  hired  women  mourners  called 
Prttfiae,  The  first  rise  of  these  Nenia  is  ascribed  to 
the  physicians.  In  the  heathen  antiquity,  the  goddess 
•f  tears  and  funerals  was  called  Nenia  i  whom  some 
•appose  to  have  given  that  name  to  the  funeral  song, 
and  others  to  have  taken  her  name  from  it. 

NE0CE8ARIA,  (Plinv),  a  town  of  Pontus  on  the 
south  or  the  le^  side  of  the  Lycus.  About  the  year 
342,  when  Leontius  and  Sallustius  were  consuls,  it  was 
entirely  ruined  by  a  dreadful  earthquake,  no  edifice 
having  withstood  the  violence  of  the  shock,  except  the 
church  and  the  bishop's  habitation,  who  was  saved,  with 
the  clei^  and  some  other  pious  persons,  while  the  rest 
of  the  inhabitants  were  buried  in  its  ruins. 

NEOMAGUS,-  (Ptolemy);  Noviomagus,  (An- 
toDine)  ;  a  town  of  the  Regni  in  Britain:  now  thought 
to  be  Guildford  in  Surry,  TLhuyd)  ;  or  Croydon,  ('Fal- 
bot).  But  Camden  takes  it  to  be  Woodcote,  two  miles 
to  the  south  of  Croydon,  where  traces  of  an  ancient 
town  are  still  to  be  seen. 

NlOMAGDS,  (Ptolemy);  .Nbt;M)fitfl',^^(Antonine);  a 
town  of  the  Treviri  on  the  Moselle.  Now  Numagen 
14  miles  east,  below  Triers. 

Neomagus,  (Ptolemy)  ;  Noviomagus  Lexoviorum^ 
(Aotonine) ;  a  town  of  Gallia  Celtica.  Now  Liseux^ 
in  Normandy. 

Neomagus,  (Ptolemy)  ;  Noviomagus  Nemetum^ 
(Antonine).  Now  Spire^  a  city  of  tbe  Palatinate,  on 
the  left  or  west  side  of  the  Rhine. 

Neomagus,  (Ptolemy)  ;  a  town  of  Gallia  Narbo- 
nensis,  on  the  confines  of  the  Tricastini.  Now  Nyons 
in  Dauphine. 

NEOM £NIA«  or  Noumenia,  a  festival  of  the  an- 
cient Greeks,  at  the  beginning  of  every  lunar  month, 
which,  as  the  name  imports,  was  observed  upon  the  day 
of  the  new  moon,  in  honour  of  all  ibe  gods,  but  espe- 
cially Apollo,  who  was  called  Neometiios^  because  the 
sun  is  the  fountain  of  light  1  and  whatever  diatinction 

YOL.  XIV.  Part  IL  f 


r      ]  N     E      P 

•  of  times  and  seasons  may  be  taken  from  other  planets,  Keovenia 
,  vet  they  are  all  owing  to  him  as  the  original  of  those 
borrowed  rays  by  which  they  shine.  The  games  and 
public  entertainments  at  these  festivals  were  made  by 
the  rich,  to  whose  tables  the  poor  flocked  in  great  num- 
bers. The  Athenians  at  these  tiroes  offered  solemn 
prayers  and  sacrifices  for  the  prosperity  of  their  coui)- 
try  during  the  ensuing  month.     See  Games. 

The  Jews  had  also  tbeir  neomenia,  or  feast  of  tbe  new 
moon,  on  which  peculiar  sacrifices  were  appointed :  and 
on  this  day  they  had  a  sort  of  family  entertainment  and 
rejoicing.  The  most  celebrated  neomenia  of  all  others 
was  that  at  the  beginning  of  tbe  civil  year,  or  first  day 
of  tbe  month  Tisri,  on  which  no  servile  labour  was  per- 
formed :  they  then  oflered  particular  burnt  sacrifices, 
and  sounded  the  trumpets  of  the  temple.  The  mo4em 
Jews  keep  the  neomenia  only  as  a  feast  of  devotion, 
which  any  one  may  observe  or  not  as  he  pleases. 

NEOPHYTES,  "  new  plants  ;"  a  name  given  by 
the  ancient  Christians  to  those  heathens  who  had  newly 
embraced  the  faith ;  such  persons  being  considered  as 
regenerated,  or  bom  anew  by  baptism.  The  term  neO' 
phytes  has  been  also  used  for  new  priests,  or  those  just 
admitted  into  orders,  and  sometimes  for  the  novices  in 
monasteries.  It  is  still  applied  to  the  converts  made  by 
the  missionaries  among  the  infidels. 

NEPA,  a  genus  of  insects  belonging  to  the  order  of 
hemiptera.    See  Entomology  Index. 

NEPAL,  a  kingdom  of  India,  to  the  north-cast  of 
the  city  of  Patna,  inclosed  among  the  secondary  branch* 
es  of  the  Hiramaleh  mountains,  of  great  extent  from 
east  to  west,  but  scarcely  exceeding  a  degree  of  lati- 
tude in  breadth.  The  height  of  the  country  above  the 
sea,  as  indicated  \j  the  barometer,  is  not  less  than 
4000  feet ;  yet  Colonel  Kirkpatrick  found  the  thermo- 
meter on  one  occasion  at  87^.  But  the  neighbouring 
mountains  afford  the  inhabitants  every  variety  of  cli- 
mate, firom  tbe  heat  of  Bengal  to  the  cold  of  Russia. 
The  high  grounds  are  very  healthy ;  in  the  valleys 
fever  prevails ;  guttural  tumours  or  goitres  are  found  in 
both.  Iron  and  copper  abound  in  this  country.  Though 
stones  are  found,  the  houses  are  built  of  brick,  ce- 
mented with  'mud.  The  cattle  are  similar  to  those  of 
Bengal,  and  the  honey  is  excellent.  The  soil  is  fer- 
tile, and  besides  wheat,  rice,  and  sugar,  yields  the 
Zooral  a  species  of  yam,  and  the  Kuraila  a.  kind  of 
wild  asparagus,  which  form  a  considerable  part  of  the 
subsistence  of  the  poorer  inhabitants. 

The  inhabitants  consist  principally  of  the  two  supe- 
rior classes  of  Hindoos,  and  a  race  called  Newars,  who 
are  probably  of  Chinese  or  Tartar  origin.  The  former, 
who  compose  the  army,  engross  all  situations  of  trust, 
and  are  found  dispersed  all  over  the  country.  The 
Newars  are  confined  almost  entirely  to  the  valley  of 
of  Nepal  Proper.  The  latter  are  divided  into  several 
castes  or  orders.  The  total  population  is  estimated  at 
about  half  a  million.  The  Newars  are  a  peaceable  and 
industrious  people,  of  a  middle  size,  with  broad  should- 
ers and  chests,  very  stout  limbs,  round  and  flat  faces,  but 
open  and  cheerful.  The  Newar  women  change  their, 
husbands  as  often  as  they  please  on  the  slightest  preten- 
ces. The  religion  of  the  country  is  the  same  as  the 
Hinduism  of  Bengal.  The  government  is  despotic.  Tbn 
trade  is  inconsiderable,  being  crushed  by  monopolies. 
Khatmandu,  the  capital,  is  supposed  to  contain  about 

'5  D  50,060 


N    E    P  [9 

5OyOO0  kibaliitanU*  It  abomids  in  wooden  templos, 
which  an  80  nuraorous,  that  Cohmd  Kirkpatrtok  w^^ 
there  are  almoBt  aa  many  of  them  as  of  houses. 

NEPENTHES,  a  genns  of  planto  beloDging  to  the 
■gynandbia  clam ;  and  in  the  natund  method  ranking 
aoooag  those  of  which  the  oider  is  douhtfol.  See  Bo- 
tAHT  Lides. 

NEPETA,  Catmint,  or  Nep^  a  genus  of  plants  be- 
longing to  the  didjfiamia  class,  and  in  the  natural  me- 
^od  ranking  under  the  42d  order,  VerticiliaUe.  See 
'BOTAKT  Iwkx, 

N£:PHELIUM,  a  genus  of  plants  helongbg  to  the 
monoBcia  elass.  •  See  Botamt  Index* 

NEPHEW,  a  term  relative  to  uncle  and  aunt,  sig- 
Bifying  a  brother's  or  sister's  son  ^  who,  according  to 
the  civil  law,  is  in  the  third  degree  of  consanguinity, 
hut  according  to  the  canon  in  the  second. 

NEPHRITIC,  something  that  relates  to  the  kid- 
•cys.     See  KlDN£T. 

NxraMiric  Wood^  (lignum  nephriticum}^  a  wood  of 
a  very  dense  and  compact  texture,  and  of  a  fine  grain, 
hrooght  to  us  from  New  Spain  in  small  blocks,  in  its 
natural  state,  and  covered  with  its  bark.  This  wood 
is  said  to  be  a  good  diuretic  \  and  we  are  told  it  is  used 
among  tlie  Indians  in  all  diseases  of  the  kidneys  and 
bladder,  and  in  suppression  of  urine,  from  whatever 
oaose.  It  is  also  recommended  in  fevers,  and  in  ob- 
structions of  the  viscera.  The  way  of  taking  it  among 
the  Indians  is  only  an  infusion  in  cold  water.  These 
uses  are  not  however  properly  ascertained.  See  Gui- 
umDiVA,  Botany  Indtx. 

NxpBMiTic  iStoflr.  See  Nxphrite  or  Jade,  MiN£« 
AALOOT  Index. 

NEPHRITICS,  in  PAarmary,  medicines  proper  for 
diseases  of  the  kidneys.  See  Materia  Medica  Index. 

NEPHRITIS,  or  inflammation  of  the  kidneys.  See 
Medicine  Index. 

NEPOS,  Cornelius,  a  celehnited  Latin  biogra- 
pher, who  flourished  in  the  time  of  Julius  Csesar,  and 
Kved,  according  to  St  Jerome,  to  the  sixth  year  of 
Augustus.  He  was  an  Italian,  if  we  may  credit  Ca- 
tullus, and  bom  at  Hostilia,  a  small  town  in  the  terri- 
tory of  Verona,  in  Cisalpine  Gaul.  Ausonius,  however, 
will  have  it  that  be  was  horn  in  the  Oanls.  licander 
Alberti  thinks  Nepos^s  country  was  Verona.  Cicero 
and  Atticus  were  friends  of  onr  author )  who  wrote  th$ 
lives  of  the  Greek  historians,  as  he  himself  attests  in 
that  of  Dion,  speaking  of  Philistos.  What  he  says,  also, 
in  the  Hvee  of  Cato  and  Hannibal,  proves  that  he  had 
also  written  the  lives  of  the  Latin  eaptains  and  historians* 
He  wrote  some  other  excellent  works  which  ^ve  lost. 

All  Aat  we  have  left  of  his  at  present  is,  ««  The 
Lives  of  the  itlnstrions  Greek  and  Roman  Captains  ^** 
which  were  a  k>ng  time  ascribed  to  ^milios  Probus, 
who  published  them,  as  it  is  said,  under  his  own  name, 
lo  insinuate  himself  therebv  into  the  favour  of  the  em- 
peror Theodosios  ^  but,  in  tne  course  of  time,  the  fraud 
has  been  discovered,  although  several  learned  persons 
have  confounded  the  two  authors.  This  piece  has  been 
translated  into  French  by  the  Sieur  de  Claveret,  with  a 
dedication  to  the,  dnke  of  Longneville,  in  1663  f  ^^ 
afpiin  by  M.  lie  Gras^  then  of  the  congregation  of  tlie 
Oratory  at  Paris,  lyap,  lamo.  We  have  an  excel- 
lent translation  of  it  into  English,  by  several  hands  at 
(Uiord,  which  has  gepe  tbroiigb  aereml  edkions.. 


62      ]  N     E     P 

NEPTUNE,  in  Pagan  worship,  the  god  of  As  jj^.^ 
aea,  was  the  son  of  Saturn  and  Vesta  or  Ops,  sod  Ibev— yw 
brother  of  Jupiter  and  Pluto.  He  assisted  Jopitrr  b 
hb  expeditions ;  on  which  that  gad,  when  he  snivcd 
at  the  supreme  power,  assigned  him  the  sea  asd  tkc 
islands  for  his  empire.  He  was,  however,  expdicd 
from  heaven  with  Apollo  for  conspiring  agaiiMt  Jo- 
piter,  when  they  were  both  employed  by  LssomiIos 
king  of  Phrygia  in  boildii^  the  walls  of  Troy )  hit 
that  prince  dismissing  Neptune  vrithoot  a  rewsnl,  hr 
sent  a  sea  monster  to  lay  waste  the  country,  on  vfaieh 
he  was  obiige^l  to  expose  his  daughter  Hesione.  He 
is  said  to  have  been  the  first  inventor  of  horseflMoaki| 
and  chaiiot  racings  on  which  account  Milhri<lite» 
king  of  Pontiis  threw  chariots  drawn  by  four  bsnci 
into  the  sea  in  honour  of  this  god  ^  and  tlie  Robsbi 
instituted  horse  races  in  the  circus  at  his  festival,  du- 
ring which  all  other  horses  left  working,  and  tkc  Boiet 
were  adorned  with  wreath?  of  flowers. 

In  a  contest  with  Minerva  he  produced  a  hone  b? 
striking  the  earth  with  his  trident ;  and  on  aaothrr 
occasion,  in  a  trial  of  skill  with  Minerva  and  Volcu, 
produced  a  boll,  whence  that  animal  was  sacrificed  to 
him.  His  favourite  wife  was  Araphytrite,  wboa  be 
long  courted  in  vain,  till  sending  a^  dolphin  to  inter- 
cede for  him,  he  met  with  succesn  ;  on  which  he  n» 
warded  the  dolphin  by  placing  him  among  the  itm. 
He  had  also  two  other  wives,  one  of  whom  was  cstbd 
Salasid  from  the  salt  water ;  the  other  VcmHa  hm 
the  ebbing  and  flowing  of  the  tides.  He  had  Kk^ 
wise  many  concubines,  by  whom  he  had  a  great  uiaibif 
of  children.  He  is  represented  with  black  hair,  witb  a 
garment  of  an  azure  or  sea  green  :  imlding  his  trideil 
in  his  baud,  -and  seated  in  a  large  ahell  ^wn  bjr  ks 
horses  :  attended  by  the  sea  gods  Palemon,  GkaWy 
and  Phorcys,  aod  the  tea  goddesses  Thetis,  Mclita,aid 
Panopsea,  and  a  long  train  of  tritons  and  sea  nyofki.  • 

This  deity  was  known  in  Egypt  by  the  name  sf  (^ 
nohfi^  or  Cannes,  and  was  worshipped  as  the  mmm 
aqnarttm  or  spirit  of  the  Nile.  His  emblem  was  ik  fi- 
gure of  certain  vases  or  pitchers,  with  which  the  Egvp* 
tians  filtrated  the  water  of  the  sacred  river,  m  omr 
to  purify  and  render  it  fit  for  use.  From  the  mmlk 
of  each  of  these  vase*,  which  were  charged  with  la^ 
roglyphics,  arose  the  head  and  sometimes  the  hesd  asd 
hands  of  a  man  or  woman.  Such  are  the  emblcns 
which  still  remain  of  the  Egyptian  Neptune  orCsas- 
bus ;  and  it  was  by  this  emblem  that  the  tntckr  ged 
of  Egypt  vanquished  the  god  of  Cbaldea  in  the  ridical- 
ous  manner  mentioned  by  Rnflinu«  in  his  Ecdcsisitial 
History*.  •U^i 

^The  Chaldeans  (says  he)  who  adored  the  k^ttf^^ 
carried  their  god  into  various  countries* that  he  mwht 
try  bis  strength  in  contests  with  other  gods.  He 
vanquished,  as^we  may  easily  conceive,  the  iangsf 
macte  of  gold,  silver,  brass,  and  wood,  &c  hy  niaang 
them  to  ashes  y  and  thus  the  wcurship  of  fire  was  ewtj- 
where  established.  The  priest  of  Canohos,  nowiihi^ 
as  became  him,  to  admit  the  superiority  of  stiaagr 
gods,  contrived  to  make  his  god  vanquish  the  god 
of  Chaldeea  in  a  pitched  battle.  The  vasca  which  sme 
worshipped  as  the  emblems  of  Canohns,  being  nwd  fit 
filtering  the  waters  of  the  Nile,  were  of  coarse  aer- 
forated  on  all  sides  with  very  small  holes,  xh0 
flikbful  priest  having  stop^  all  the  hales  in  one  sf 


N  E  n 


t 


1 


VeplAae  ^^  trith  trax,  aild  paint^  tbe  rase  of  difierent  co« 
II  lours  for  a  reason  irliich  th«  reader  will  admit  to  be  a 
Nero,  good  One,  filled  it  op  ttith  water,  and  fitted  to  its  month 
the  head  of  an  idol.  This  emblem  'of  Caaobos  was 
then  placed  in  a  small  fire  brought  br  die  Chaldeans  as 
the  emblem  of  their  god  ;  and  tbos  the  gods  of  Egypt 
and  Chaldea  were  forced  into  battle.  The  contest, 
however,  was  of  short  dnratton.  The  heat  melt- 
ing the  wax  made  xmy  for  the  water  to  run  out,  which 
'qnickir  extinguished  the  fire  \  and  thus  Canobtn  van- 
quished the  god  of  tlie  Chaldeans.^^  Hidicitlous  as  this 
0tory  is^  it  is  perfectly  suitable  to  the  genios,of  Paga- 
tiism^  and  the  mean  artifices  of  the  Pagan  priesthood  \ 
bnt  we  suspect  that  the  historian  labe«ired  aardcr  one 
vnntake,  and  substituted  the  Chaldeans  instead  of  the 
Persians.    See  Polytheism. 

N£R£iDS,  in  the  Pa^a  theology,  sea  nymphs, 
daughters  of  Nereus  and  Doris.-^llie  Nereid^  were 
esteemed  very  handsome  \  insomncb  that  Cassiope,  the 
wife  of  Cephens  king  of  Ethiopia,  having  triumphed 
over  all  tbe  beaaties  of  the  age,  and  daring  to  vie  with 
the  Nereids,  they  were  so  enraged  that  thej  sent  a  pro- 
digions  sea  monster  into  the  ooontryi  and,  to*  appease 
them,  she  was  commanded  by  the  oracle  to  expose  her 
daughter  Andromeda,  bound  to  a  rock|  to  be  devoured 
by  the  monster.  In  ancient  monuments,  the  Nereids 
ve  represented  riding  upon  sea  horses  ^  sometimes  with 
ttn  entire  human  form,  and  at  other  times  with  the  tati 
of  a  filth. 

NER£IS,  li  genns  of  animals  belonging  to  the  ordet 
of  vefmes  mollusca*    See  Helminthologt  Index. 

NEREUS,  in  fiibulous  history,  a  marine  deity,  was 
^9on  of  Oceanns  and  Thetis.  He  settled  in  the  j&gean 
sea,  was  considered  as  a  prophet,  and  had  the  powei^ 
of  assuming  what  form  he  pleased^  He  itiarried  his 
sister  Doris,  by  Whom  he  had  50  daughters  called  the 
HtrriiUy  who  constantly  attended  on  Neptone,  and 
when  he  Went  abroad  surrounded  his  chariott 

NERI,  Anthokt,  a  learned  writer  who  published 
a  cnrioos  book  printed  at  Florence  1612,  in  4tO|  with 
this  title,  DeW  Arte  Verraria  Libn  VII. ;  or  tJk  Art 
x>f  Gkusmaking, 

NERIUM,  a  genus  of  plants  belonging  to  the  pent<- 
andria  class  \  and  in  the  natural  method  ranking  tinder 
tbe  joth  order,  Contartit.  See  Botaky  and  DyeiKG 
ImieJF* 

NERO,  Claudius  Domitius  Cjesar,  a  celebrated 
tloman  emperor,  son  of  Cains  Domttius  Ahenobarbos 
and  Agrippina  tbe  daughter  of  Germantcus*  He  was 
adopted  by  the  emperor  Claudius,  A.  D.  50,  and  four 
years  after  hfe  succeeded  him  on  the  throne.  In  the 
beginning  of  his  reign  he  showed  sevetal  marks  of  the 
greatest  kindness  and  condescension,  affiibilityf  com- 
plaisance, and  popularity.  The  object  of  his  adinini-' 
stration  seemed  to  be  the  good  of  his  people )  and  when 
he  was  desired  to  sign  his  name  to  a  list  of  matefac* 
t«r<  that  were  to  be  executed,  he  exclaimed,  fTould 
to  Aeaten  I  could  not  fcrite  !  He  hated  flattery  \  and 
when  the  senate  had  libentllj  commended  the  wisdom 
of  Ms  government,  he  desired  them  to  keep  their 
pnises  till  he  descried  them.  These  promising  virtues 
soon,  however,  pre^wd  to  be  artificial :  Nero  soon  dis* 
played  the  real  propensities  of  his  nature.  He  deliver^ 
ed  himself  from  the  sway  of  his  mother,  and  at  last 
ordered  her  to  be  murdered.   This  unnatoral  act  of  bar* 


63    1  K    E    ft 

bdrtty  might  Astonisli  some^  bnt  N«ro  bad  bfs  devottd 
adherents  ^  and  when  he  dtclsred  that  he  bad  taken 
away  his  mother's  life  to  sate  himself  from  ruini  the 
senate  applauded  his  measures,  and  the  people  signified 
their  approbation*  Many  of  his  courtiers  sbtrcd  her 
iitthappy  fate )  and  Nero  sacrificed  to  his  fary  or  ca- 
price all  sneh  as  obstructed  bis  pleasure  or  diverted  his 
inclination*  In  the  night  he  generally  went  from  his 
palace  to  visit  the  meanest  taverns,  and  all  the  scenes 
of  debauchery  which  Rome  contained.  In  this  noc- 
turnal riot  be  Was  fond  of  insulting  the  people  in  the 
streets  %  and  lus  attempts  to  oftr  violence  to  the  wife 
of  a  Romari  senator  nearly  cost  him  his  life.  He  alsd 
turned  aetor,  and  openly  appeared  on  the  Roman  stage 
tn  the  meanest  characters.  In  his  attempts  to  excel  in 
music,  and  to  conquer  the  disadvantages  of  li  hoarse 
disagreeables  voice,  be  moderated  his  meals,  and  ofteil 
passed  tlie  day  %rithont  eating.  The  Olympian  games 
attracted  his  notice :  he  went  into  Oi-eece,  and  pre* 
sented  himself  a  candidate  for  the  pnblic  bonoor.  He 
was  defeated  in  wrestlings  but  the  flattery  of  the 
spectators  adjudged  Inm  tho  victory,  and  he  retoirncd 
to  Rome  with  all  the  splendour  and  pomp  of  an  eastern 
conqnerori  drawn  in  the  chariot  of  Augustus,  and  nC- 
tended  by  %  band  of  musicians,  actors,  and  stage  daif- 
eers  from  every  part  of  the  empire.  These  private 
and  pnblic  amusements  of  the  emperor  were  indeed 
iotiocent ;  his  character  only  Was  injured,  and  not  the 
lives  of  tlie  people.  His  conduct,  however,  soon  be- 
came  mote  abominable :  he  disguised  himself  in  the 
habit  of  a  woman,  and  was  publicly  married  to  one  of 
his  ounuchs.  This  violence  to  nature  and  decency 
was- soon  exchanged  for  another:  Nero  resumed  his 
sex,  and  celebrated  his  nuptials  with  oi(e  of  his  mean- 
est catamites:  and  it  was  00  this  occasioh  that  ono 
of  the  Romans  observed  that  the  world  would  have 
be«n  happy  if  Nero's  father  had  had  such  a  wife.  But 
his  eroc^y  was  now  displayed  in  a  still  higher  degree, 
for  he  sacrificed  to  his  wantonness  his  wife  Octavi* 
Poppsea,  and  the  celebrated  writers  Seneca,  Locan^ 
Petronios,  &c»  Nor  did  the  Christians  escape  his 
barbarity.  He  bad  heard  of  tbe  burning  of  Troyi 
and  as  he  wished  to  renew  that  dismal  scetie,  he  caosrd 
Rome  to  be  set  on  iire  in  diftrent  plates.  The  eoH* 
flagration  became  soon  universal,  and  doriAg  nine  sue^ 
cessive  days  the  fire  cOntiliued.  All  Was  desolation  : 
nothing  Was  beard  but  the  lamentations  of  mothers 
whose  children  had  perished  in  the  flames,  the  groans 
of  the  dyin^,  and  the  continoal  fall  of  palaces  and 
buildings.  Nero  ^as  the  only  one  who  enjoyed  tho 
general  constemiktion.  He  plibced  himself  on  the  top 
of  a  high  tower,  and  he  sung  on  his  lyre  the  destmc^ 
tion  of  Troy,  a  dreadful  scene  which  his  barbarity  had 
realized  before  his  eyesi  He  attempted  to  avert  the 
public  odium  from  his  head  bv  a  pretended  comniiseni' 
tion  of  the  miseries  of  his  snbjects.  He  began  to  repair 
tbe  streets  and  pnbKc  buildings  at  his  own  ex  pence.  He  ^ 
built  himself  a  celebrated  palate,  which  he  called  his 
golden  house.  It  was  liberally  adorned  with  gold,  with 
precious  stones,  and  with  every  thing  rare  and  exqui* 
site.  It  contained  spacious  fields,  artificial  lakes,  woodsi 
gardens,  orchards,  and  Whatever  exhibited  a  beautiful 
scene.  The  entrance  of  this  edifice  could  adn^it  a  large 
colossus  of  the  emperor  120  feet  high  ^  the  galleries 
were  each  a  mile  longi  and  the  whole  was  covered  with 

5  D  1  goldt 


Kft<S. 


N    E    R  [ 

Ker».      gold.     The  roofs  of  the  diniog  balls  represented  the 
firmament,  in  motion  as  well  as  in  figure ;  and  conti* 
nuallj  turned  round  night  and  day,  showering  down 
all  sorts  of  perfumes  and  sweet  waters.    When  this 
grand  edifice^  which,  according  to  Pliny ,  extended 
all  round  the  city^  was  finished,  Nero  said,  that  now 
be  could  lodge  like  a  man.     His  profusion  was  not  less 
remarkable  in  all  his  other  actions.     When  he  went 
a  fishing  his  nets  were  of  gold  and  silk.     He  never  ap- 
peared twice  in  the  same  garment ,  and  when  he  took 
a  voyage,  there  were  thousands  of  servants  to  take  care 
of  his  wardrobe.      This  continuation   of  debauchery 
and  extravagance  at  last  roused  the  people.      Many 
conspiracies  were  formed  against  him ;  but  they  were 
generally  discovered,  and  such  as  were  accessory  suf- 
fered the  severest  punishments.     The  most  dangerous 
conspiracy  against  Nero's  life  was  that  of  Piso,  from 
which  he  was  saved  by  the  confession  of  a  slave.     The 
conspiracy  of  Galba  proved  more  successful,  who,  when 
he  wa^  informed  that  his  plot  was  known  to  Nero,  de- 
clared himself  emperor.     The  unpopularity  of  Nero  fa- 
voured his  cause  j   he  was  acknowledged  by  all  the 
Roman  empire,  and  the  senate  condemned  the  tyrant 
to  be  dragged  naked  through  the  streets  of  Rome,  and 
Vbipped  to  death,  and  afterwards  to  be  thrown  down 
from  the  Tarpeian  rock  like  the  meanest  malefactor. 
This,   however,  was    not  executed  ;    for  Nero  pre- 
vented it  by  a  voluntary  death.     He  killed  himself, 
A.  D.  68,  in  the  3  2d  year  of  his  age,  after  a  reign  of 
of  13  years  and  eight  months.     Rome  was  filled  with 
acclamations  on  the  occasion ;  and  the  citizens,  more 
strongly  to   indicate   their  joy,   wore   caps,   such  as 
were  generally  used  by  slaves  who  had  received  their 
freedom.      Their  vengeance   was  not  only  exercised 
against  the  statues  of  the  deceased  monster,  but  many 
of  his  friends  were  the  object  of  the  public  resentment } 
and  many  were  crushed  to  pieces  in  such  a  violent 
manner,  that  one  of  the  senators,  amid  the  universal 
joy,  said  that  be  was  afraid  they  should  soon  have 
cause  to  wish  for  Nero.    The  tyrant,  as  he  expired, 
requested  that  his  head  might  not  be  cut  oflf  from 
his  body,  and  exposed  to  the  insolence  of  the  popu- 
lace,   but  that  the   whole  might  be   burned   on   the 
funeral  pile.   His  request  was  granted  by  one  of  Galba^s 
freedmen,  and  his  obsequies  were  performed  with  the 
usual  ceremonies.     Though  his  death  seemed  to  be  thiS 
source'  of  general  gladness,  yet  many  of  his  favourites 
lamented  his  fall,  and  were  grieved  to  see  that  their 
pleasures  and  amusements  were  stopped  by  the  death 
of  this  patron  of  debauchery  and  extravagance.     Even 
the  king  of  Parthia  sent  ambassadors  to  llome,  to  con- 
ilole  with  the  Romans,  and  to  beg  that  they  would 
honour  and  revere  the  memory  of  Nero.     His  statues 
also  crowned   with   garlands   of  flowers  ;    and 


were 


many  imagined  that  he  was  not  dead,  but  thaft  he 
would  soon  make  his  appearance  and  take  vengeance 
his  enemies.     It  will  be  sufficient  to  observe,  in 


on 


finishing  the  character  of  this  tyrannical  monster,  that 
\he  name  of  Nero  is  even  now  used  emphatically  to  ex- 
press a  barbarous  and  unfeeling  oppressor.  Pliny  calls 
him  the  common  enemy  and  fury  of  mankind  j  and  so 
indeed  he  has  been  called  by  all  writers;  who  exhibit 
Nero  as  a  pattern  of  the  most  execrable  barbarity  and 
unpardonable  wantonness.  The  same  Pliny  furnishes  us 
with  this  singular  anecdote  of  him  :    **  Nero  had  or- 


764    ]  N    E    S 

dered  himself  to  be  painted  under  the  figiuv  sf  t  c»> 
lossus,  upon  cloth  or  canvas^  1 20  feet  in  height.^  He 
adds,  **  that  this  preposterous  picture,  when  it  wst  fi- 
nished, met  with  its  fate  from  lightning,  ubicb  con- 
sumed it,  and  involved  likewise  the  most  beautiful  put 
of  the  gardens  where  it  was  placed  in  the  oooflagn. 
Uon.»' 

NERVA,  CocCEius,  a  Roman  emperor  afler  Do- 
mitian,  who  was  the  last  of  the  12  Ctesais.  He  wis  a 
native  of  Namia  in  Umbria }  his  family,  however,  ivai 
originally  of  Crete.  Dion  Cassius  says  be  was  bonoii 
the  1 7th  of  March,  in  the  1 8th  year  of  Tiberios*irn(^ 
and  of  the  Christian  era  the  3  2d.  Nero  in  the  12th  year 
of  his  reign  made  him  praetor,  and  erected  a  statne  &r 
him  in  the  palace  on  account  of  his  "ponas  (for  he  wn 
one  of  the  best  poets  of  his  age),  some  of  which  vexe 
inscribed  to  him.  He  was  consul  in  71  with  Vcspuiio, 
and  in  90  with  Domitian. 

Ancient  authors  uniformly  celebrate  him  as  a  prince 
of  a  most  mild  and  humane  temper,  of  great  modmtioa 
and  generosity,  who  looked  on  bis  office  as  empenr, 
.not  as  if  it  was  for  his  own  advantage,  but  for  tint  of 
his  people  ;  and  whilst  he  reigned^  which  was  howem 
but  for  a  short  time,  he  made  the  happinesi  of  hb  sulk 
jects  his  only  end  and  pursuit.  He  narrowly  eocapeJ 
death  under  Domitian ;  was  naturally  of  a  weak  ui 
timorous  disposition  j  and,  as  some  say,  addicted  to  ex- 
cessive drinking.  The  Romans  unanimously  chose  bin 
emperor  y  and  they  had  no  cause  to  repent  of  (ktr 
choice,  for  he  was  constantly  attentive  to  what  csoU 
make  them  happy ;  he  was  generous,  merciful,  w^&r 
interested.  An  instance  of  his  great  lenity  appean  ia 
his  pardoning  Calpurnius  Crassus  who  conspir»l  agaioit 
him.  In  short,  he  omitted  nothing  that  miglit  contii- 
bute  to  the  restoring  of  the  empire  to  its  former  lame: 
recalling  those  who  had  been  banished  for  religioo,  ui 
redressing  all  grievances  that  came  to  his  knowledge. 
He  however  found  his  strength  failing,  and  tint  it 
would  be  impossible  for  him  to  finish  his  desigiii,  ia 
consequence  of  which  he  adopted  Trajan.  After  Ui 
death,  whicfi  happened  in  the  year  98,  he  was  naked 
among  the  gods.  He  was  the  first  Roman  enperor  of 
foreign  extraction. 

NERVES,  in  Anatomy^  certain  white  glisteniig 
cords,  proceeding  from  the  brain  and  spinal  numv, 
and  dividing  into  very  small  branches,  which  are  fcit 
off  throughout  all  purts  of  the  body  \  and  which  in 
found  to  be  the  organs  of  sensation  and  motion.  See 
Anatomy  Index* 

NERVOUS  FLUID.  See  Akatomy  Index. 
NESS  US,  in  fabulous  history,  a  celebrated  Ccstaor, 
son  of  Ixion  and  a  Cloud.  He  offered  violence  to  D^ 
janira,  whom  Hercules  had  intrusted  to  his  care,  with 
orders  to  carry  her  across  the  river  Evenns.  Hcrcolo 
saw  the  distress  of  his  wife  from  the  opposite  sboit  if 
the  river,  and  immediately  he  let  fly  one  of  his  poisos- 
ed  arrows,  which  struck  the  Centaur  to  the  heart.  Nes- 
sus,  as  be  expired,  gave  the  tunic  he  then  wore  to  De- 
janira,  assuring  her  that  from  the  poisoned  blood  whick 
had  flowed  from  his  wounds,  it  had  received  the  ■om' 
of  calling  a  husband  away  from  unlawfiil  loves.  Deji' 
nira  received  it  with  pleasure,  and  this  moomfol  preseat 
jcaused  the  death  of  Hercules.  A  river  which  sepa- 
rates Thrace  from  Macedonia.  It  b  also  called  Vmf% 
Nestos,  and  Nestus, 

VEST. 


N    E    S  [ 

NEST.    See  Nidus. 
Eatabie  Birds  Nssts.    See  B/bds  Nests, 
NESTOR,  io  fabulous  history,  a  son  of  Neleus  and 
Chloris,  nephew  to  Pelias  and  grandson  to  Neptune. 
He  bad  eleven  brothers,  who  were  all  killed  witli  his 
father  by  Hercnles.     His  tender  age  detained  htm  at 
home,  and  was  thb  cause  of  his  preservation.     The  con- 
queror spared  his  life  and  placed  him  upon  the  throne 
of  Pylos.     He  married  Eurydice  the  daughter  of  Clv- 
menus  \  or,  according  to  others,  Anaxibia  the  daugh- 
ter  of  Atreos.     He  soon  distinguished  himself  in  the 
field  of  battle  ^  and  was  present  at  the  nuptials  of  Peri- 
thous,  when  a  bloody  engagement  took  place  between 
the  LapithsB  and  Centaurs.     As  king  of  Pylos  and 
Messenia  he  led  his  subjects  to  the  Trojan  war,  where 
he  distiaguished  himself  among  the  rest  of  the  Grecian 
chiefs,  by  eloquence,  address,  wisdom,  justice,  und  un- 
common prudence.     Homer  displays  his  character  as 
the  roost  perfect  of  all  his  heroes  ^  and  Agamemnon  ex* 
claims,  that  if  he  had  20  generals  like  Nestor,  be 
should  soon  see  the  walls  of  Troy  reduced  to  ashes.  After 
the  Trojan  war  Nestor  retired  to  Greece,  where  he  en- 
joyed in  the  bottom  of  his  family  the  peace  and  tranquil- 
lity which  were  due  to  his  wisdom  and  to  his  age.   The 
manner  and  the  time  of  his  death  are  unknown  :  the 
anciiiats  are  all  agreed  that  he  lived  three  generations 
of  men  \  which  length  of  time  is  supposed  to  be  300 
years,  though  more  probably  only  90  years,  allowing 
30  years  for  each  generation.  From  that  circumstance, 
therefore,  it  was  usual  among  the  Greeks  and  the  La- 
tins, .when  they  wished  a  long  and  happy  life  to  their 
friends,  to  wish  them  to  see  the  years  of  Nestor.      He 
had  many  children  ^  two  daughters,  Pisidice,  and  Po- 
lycaste ;  and  seven  sons,  Pei'seus,  Straticus,  Aretus, 
Echephron,  Pisistratus,  Antilochus,  and  Thrasymedes. 
Nestor  was  one  of  the  Argonauts,  according  to  Vale- 
rius Flaccus,  V.  380,  &c.-— A  poet  of  Lycaonia  in 
the   age  of  the  emperor  Severus.     He  was  father  to 
Pisander,  who  under  the  emperor  Alexander  wrote 
some  fabulous  stories.    '      One  of  the  body  guards  of 
Alexander. 

Nestor,  whose  secular  name  is  not  known,  was  a 
native  of  Russia,  and  the  earliest  historian  of  the  north. 
He  was  bom  in  1056  at  Bielozero  ^  and  in  the  19th 
year  of  his  age  he  assumed  the  monastic  habit  in  the 
convent  of  Petcherski  at  Kiof,  and  took  the  name  of 
Nestor,  He  there  made  a  considerable  proficiency  in 
the  Greek  language :  but  seems  to  have  formed  his 
style  and  manner  rather  from  the  Byzantine  historians, 
Cedrenus,  Zonaras,  and  Syncellus,  than  from  the  an- 
cient classics.  The  time  of  Nestor's  death  is  not  ascer- 
tained }  but  he  is  supposed  to  have  lived  to  an  advan- 
ced age,  and  to  have  died  about  the  year  1115. 

His  great  work  is  his  Chronicle,  to  which  he  has 
prefixed  an  introduction,  which  after  a  short  sketch  of 
the  early  state  of  the  world,  taken  from  the  Byzantine 
ivriters,  contains  a  seographical  description  of  Russia 
and  the  adjacent  regions  ;  an  account  of  the  Sclavonian 
nations,  their  nunners,  their  emigrations  from  the 
banks  of  the  Danube,  their  dispersion,  and  settlement 
in  the  several  countries  wherein  their  descendants  are 
now  established.  He  then  enters  upon  a  chronological 
series  of  the  Russian  annals,  from  the  year  858  to  about 
1 1 13.  His  style  is  simple  and  unadorned,  such  as  suits 
a  mere  recorder  of  facts  ^  but  his  chronological  exact* 


765    ]  N    E    S 

ness,  though  it  renders  his  narrative  dry  and  tedious,     jtjeiitur, 
contributes  to  ascertain  the  era  and  authenticity  of.theNestorianf. 
events  which  he  relates. 

It  is  remarkable  (says  MrCoxe,  from  whom  we 
have  taken  this  narrative),  that  an  author  of  such  iro- 

girtance,  whose  name  frequently  occurs  in  the  early 
ussian  books,  should  have  remained  in  obscurity  above 
6oo  years ;  and  been  scarcely  known  to  his  modem 
countrymen,  the  origin  and  actions  of  whose  ancestors 


he  records  with  such  circumstantial  exactness.    A 


copy 


of  his  Chronicle  was  given  in  1668  by  Prince  Radzivii 
to  the  library  of  Konigsburg,  where  it  lay  unnoticed 
till  Peter  the  Great,  in  his  passage  through  that  town, 
ordered  a  transcript  of  it  to  be  sent  to  Petersbiirgh.  But 
it  still  was  not  known  as  the  performance  of  Nestor  : 
for  when  MuUer  in  1732  published  the  first  part  of  a 
German  translation,  he  mentioned  it  as  the  work  of  the 
abbot  Theodosius  of  Kiof  ^  an  error  which  arose  from 
the  following  circumstance  ;  The  ingenious  editor  not 
being  at  that  time  sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  Scla- 
vonian tongue,  employed  an  interpreter,  who,  by  mis- 
taking a  letter  in  the  title,  supposed  it  to  have  been 
written  by  a  person  whose  name  was  Theodosius.  This 
ridiculous  blunder  was  soon  circulated  and  copied  by 
many  foreign  writers,  even  long  after  it  had  been  can* 
didly  acknowledged  and  corrected  by  MuUei:. 

NES TORIANS,  a  sect  of  ancient  Christians,  stiU 
said  to  be  subsisting  in  some  parts  of  the  Levant } 
whose  distinguishing  tenet  is,  that  Mary  is  not  the 
mother  of  God.  They  take  their  name  Irom  Nesto- 
rius  bishop  of  Constantinople,  who^  doctrines  were 
spread  with  much  zeal  through  Syria,  Egypt,  and 
Persia. 

One  of  the  chief  promoters  of  the  Nestorian  cause 
was  Barbumas,  created  bishop  of  Nisibis,  A.  D.  435, 
Such  was  \iU  zeal  and  success,  that  the  Nestorians, 
who  still  remain  in  Chaldea,  Persia,  Assyria,  and  the 
adjacent  countries,  consider  him  alone  as  their  parent 
and  founder.     By  him  Pherozes  the  Persian  monarch 
was  persuaded  to  expel  those  Christians  who  adopted 
the  opinions  of  the  Greeks,  and  to  admit  the  Nestorians 
in  their  plac«,  putting  them  in  possession  of  the  princi- 
pal scat  of  ecclesiastical  authority  in  Persia,  the  see  of 
Selencia,  which  the  patriarch  of  the  Nestorians  has  al- 
ways filled  even  down  to  our  time.— Barsumas  also 
erected  a  school  at  Nisibis,  from  which  proceeded  those 
Nestorian  doctors  who  in  the  fifUi  and  sixth  centuries 
spread  abroad  their  tenets  through  Egjrpt,  Syria,  Ara- 
bia, India,  Tartary,  and  China. 

He  differed  considerably  firom  Nestorius,  holding 
that  there  are  two  persons  m  Jesus  Christ,  as  well  as 
that  the  Virgin  was  not  his  mother,  as  God,  but  only 
as  man. 

The  abettors  of  this  doctrine  refuse  the  title  Nesto- 
rians )  alleging  that  it  had  been  handed  down  from  the 
earliest  times  of  the  Christian  church. 

In  the  tenth  century,  the  Nestorians  in  Chaldea, 
whence  they  are  sometimes  called  Chaldeans^  extended 
their  spiritual  conquests  beyond  Mount  Imaus,  and  in- 
troduced the  Christian  religion  into  Tartary  properiy 
so  called,  and  especially  into  that  country  called  Karit^ 
bordering  on  the  northern  part  of  China.  The  prince 
of  that  country,  whom  the  Nestorians  converted  to  the 
Christian  faith,  assumed,  according  to  the  vnlgar  tradi- 
tion, the  name  of  John  afler  bis  baptism,  to  which  he 

added 


K    E    S 


t    766    ] 


N    E    S 


Kcalonar.s, 
N  vstorius. 


aiddtd  the  sufname  of  Presbyter^  from  a  principle  of 
modesty  \  ivlience  it  is  snid  his  successors  were  each  of 
tliem  called  Prestcr  John  until  the  time  of  Gcngis 
Khan.  But  Rtosheim  observes,  that  the  famous  Prester 
John  did  not  begin  to.  reign  in  that  part  of  Asia  before 
the  conclusion  of  the  lith  century.  The  Nestorians 
formed  so  considerable  a  body  of  Christians,  that  the 
missionaries  of  Borne  were  industrious  in  their  endea* 
\Q\iv9,  to  reduce  them  under  the  papal  yoke.  Inno- 
cent IV.  in  1246,  and  Nicolas  lY.  in  1278,  ased  their 
utmost  efforts  for  this  purpose^  but  without  success.  Till 
the  time  of  Pope  Julius  III*  the  Nestorians  acknow" 
Icdged  but  one  patriarch,  who  resided  first  at  Bagdad^ 
and  afterwards  at  Mousul ;  but  a  division  arising  among 
them,  in  1551  the  patriarchate  became  divided,  at 
least  for  a  time,  and  a  new  patriarch  was  consecriited 
by  that  pope,  whose  sucfcessors  fixed  their  residence  in 
the  city  of  Ormus  in  tbe  mountainous  part  of  Persia, 
^here  they  still  continue,  distinguished  by  the  name  of 
'Simeon  ;  and  so  far  down  as  the  last  century,  these  pa- 
triarchs petsevei*ed  in  their  communion  with  the  church 
of  Borne,  but  seem  at  present  to  have  withdrawn  them- 
selves from  it.  The  great  Nestorian  pontiffs,  who  form 
the  opposite  parly,  and  look  with  a  hostile  eye  on  this 
little  patriarch,  have  since  the  year  1 559  been  distin-' 
guished  by  the  general  denomination  of  Ellas,  and  re- 
side constantly  in  the  city  of  Mousul.  Their  spiritual 
dominion  is  very  extensive,  takes  in  a  great  part  of  A* 
1^ia,  aod  comprehends  also  within  its  circuit  the  Arabian 
Nestorians,  and  also  the  Christians  of  St  Thomas,  who 
dwell  along  the  coast  of  Malabar.  It  is  observed,  to 
the  lasting  honour  of  the  Nestorians,  that  of  all  the 
Christian  societies  established  in  the  £ast|  they  have 
•been  the  most  careful  and  successful  in  avoiding  a  mul- 
titude of  superstitious  opinions  and  practices  that  have 
infected  the  Greek  and  Latin  churches.  About  the 
middle  of  the  17th  century,  the  Bomish  missionaries 
^ined  over  to  their  communion  a  small  number  of  Ne- 
*^orians,  whom  they  formed  into  a  congregation  or 
'church  \  tbe  patriarchs  or  bishops  of  which  reside  in  the 
xity  of  Amida,  or  Diarbekir,  and  all  assume  the  deno^ 
mination  of  Joseph.  Nevertheless  the  Nestorians  in  ge- 
neral persevere  to  our  own  times  in  their  refusal  to  en- 
ter into  tbe  communion  of  the  Bomish  church,  notwith- 
standing the  earnest  entreaties  and  alluring  offers  that 
have  been  made  by  the.pope^s  legate  to  conquer  their 
inflexible  constancyt 

NESTOBIUS,  from  whom  the  sect  of  Nestorian 
Christians  derive  their  name,  was  bom  in  Germanica  a 
city  of  Syria.  He  received  his  education  at  Antioch, 
where  he  was  likewise  baptized  \  and  soon  after  his  bap- 
tism he  withdrew  himself  to  a  monastery  in  the  suburbs 
<t>f  that  city.  Upon  his  being  admitted  to  the  order  of 
priesthood,  he  quickly  acquired  so  great  reputation  by 
the  eloquence  of  his  preaching,  and  the  regularity  of 
his  life,  that  by  the  emperor  Theodosins  he  was  deem- 
ed a  fit  pers9n  to  fill  the  second  see  in  the  Christian 
church,  and  was  accordingly  consecrated  bishop  of  Con- 
stantinople in  the  year  429. 

In  one  of  his  first  sermons  after  his  promotion,  he 
^publicly  declared  bis  intention  to  make  war  upon  here-- 
4ics;  and  with  that  intolerant  spirit  which  has  so  often 
"disgraced  the  preachers  of  the  mild  religion  of  Jesus,  he 
'Called  upon  the  emperor  to  free  the  earth  ft^m  heretics^ 
tproousing  ^o  give  him  ^aven  as  a  reward  for  his  zeal. 


To  this  spirit  oil  motive  he  added  onr,  that,  tiisagli  Xotab 
carnal,  he  possibly  jttdged  of  equal  force  i— »"  Jmb  ^  ■  y  ^ 
with  me  (said  he)  tn  war  against  ibem,  aod  I  wHl  assist 
you  against  the  Persians.*^  Althoogb  tbe  wiser  tt4 
better  part  of  bis  audience  were  amazed  to  see  a  ion, 
before  he  had  tasted  (as  the  historian  *  expresKs  ki»<Shcnii. 
self)  the  water  of  his  city,  declare  thst  he  wooid  per* 
secute  all  who  were  not  of  his  opinion  \  yet  the  majaii- 
ty  of  the  people  approved  of  this  disc««ne,  and  encoo* 
raged  him  to  execute  his  purpose.  Accordiogly,  fin 
days  after  his  consecration,  he  attempted  to  deaMhih 
the  church  in  which  the  Arians  secretly  held  their  as- 
semblies \  and  he  succeeded  so  far  in  ku  design,  tkt 
these  people,  growing  desperate,  set  it  en  fiiedie» 
selves,  and  consumed  with  it  some  of  dK  neighboonDg 
houses.  11 1  is  fire  excited  great  coiaaiotionB  is  tW 
city,  and  Nestorios  was  ever  afterwards  called  as  »• 
cendtary* 

From  the  Arians  he  turned  his  persecntasn  agaisit 
the  Novatians,  but  was  stopped  in  his  career  by  the  is* 
terposition  of  the  emperor.  He  then  let  loose  his  forj 
upon  those  Christians  of  Ana^  XyiAa,  and  fivw,  «W 
celebrated  the  feast  of  Easter  upon  the  14th  day  sf  tk 
moon  \  and  for  this  unimportant  deviation  firoai  the  Ca^ 
tholic  practice,  many  of^  those  people  were  mndeid 
by  hb  agents  both  at  Miietimi  and  8nrdn.^->0iie  on* 
not  be  sorry  that  such  a  relentless  penccnter  sfaooldhia^ 
self  be  afterwards  condemned  as  a  kentic,  fisr  hsU^p 
an  opinion  which  no  man  who  speaks  or  thiaki  wal 
philosophic  accuracy  will  now  veotnro  to  contnfot 
Thb  obnoxious  tenet,  winch  produced  a  scfaisn  ia  tk 
charch,  and  was  condemned^br  a  gvsoeiml  coondl,  vai 
nothing  more  than  that  ^  the  v  irgin  Mary  caonst  wA 
propriety  be  called  the  mother  of  God.**  The  fevj/nt 
being  accustomed  to  hear  this  expression,  were  sMdi 
inflamed  against  their  bishop,  imagining  that  he  had  »• 
vived  the  error  of  Fauius  iSamoietenus  and  Pkatiamf 
who  taught  that  Jesus  Christ  was  a  mere  man.  Xht 
monks  declared  openly  against  him,  and,  with  sssk  of 
the  most  considerable  men  of  Constaotiaople,  separated 
themselves  from  his  conmiunion.  Several  biahops  wistt 
to  him  earnest  persuanves  to  acknowledge  tkiit  Ifaiy 
Was  the  mother  of  God  j  and  when  be  wooid  not  cob* 
ply,  they  procured  his  condemnation  in  the  comcil  if 
Epbesus,  which  deprived  him  of  his  see.  He  then  n- 
tired  to  his  ancient  monastery  at  A  at  inch,  whence  he 
was  taken  fotir  years  afterwards  bf  the  emperor's  «dcr, 
and  banished  in  435  to  Tarsus.  That  city  heiag  takia 
and  destroyed  by  the  Barbarians,  be  was  nmifti  to 
Panopolis,  a  city  of  Thebais ;  where  be  was  not  osier' 
ed  to  remain  long,  bat  was  compeHed  to  go  firoto  phas 
to  place,  till,  being  in  one  of  bis  jouraeys  nMrtallf 
bruised  by  a  fall,  death  relieved  him  from  tbe  fiay  of 
his  persecutors. 

If  we  examine  such  of  his  writings  as  remain,  m 

shall  find  that  he  was  very  onjosdy  condeomed.    It  af^ 

peats  that  be  rejected  the  emnrs  ofEhtbrn^  Pavba  Sh 

motetentis^  and  Photimuf  that  he  maintained  iaczproo 

terms,  that  tbe  divine  Word  was  nnted  to  the  hwaa 

nature  in  Jesus  Christ  in  thcmost  strict  acd  iatiaiii 

sense  possible  ;  that  these  two  nat»ea»  in  this  state  of 

union,  make  but  one  Christ  and  one  pexson }  that  tk 

properties  of  tbe  Divine  and  h— lan  natares  aisy  M 

be  attributed  to  this  person)  and  diat  Jesas  Christ  wtj 

be  said  to  have  been  bom  of  a  TirgiBr  ^  ^^  ssfavd 

asd 


NET 


[    7<57    ] 


NET 


MS 


and  dieil )  but  he  never  would  admit  that  God  coald 
be  said  to  have  been  bom,  to  have  suffered,  or  to  havo 
died.— When  we  consider  that  every  person  partakes  of 
tbe  sobstaoce  of  his  mother,  and  that  it  is  this  which 
constitutes  the  parental  and  filial  relation  between  them, 
it  IS  indeed  sarprising  that  the  expression  **  Mother  of 
God'*  should  ever  have  been  admitted  into  the  Christian 
churcb,  or  that  any  man  who  understands  the  meaning 
of  the  words  should  condemn  Nestorius  for  not  having 
used  tbem. 

NESTUS,  or  Nessus,  a  river  which  separates 
Thnice  from  Macedonia.  It  falls  into  the  JEgnn  sett 
near  the  island  Thasos.  It  is  eometimes  called  News 
and  Neiaus. 

NET,  a  device  for  catching  fish  and  fowl.     See  the 
article  Fishery. 

The  taking  fowls  by  nets  is  the  readiest  and  most 
advantageous  of  all  others,  where  numbers  are  to  be 
taken*    The  making  tbe  nets  is  very  easy,  and  what 
every  true  sportsman  ought  to  be  able  to  do  for  himself. 
All  the  necessary  tools  are  wooden  needles,  of  which 
there  should  be  several  of  different  sizes,  some  round 
and  others  flat ;  a  pair  of  round  pointed  and  flat  scis- 
sars  ;  and  a  wheel  to  wind  off  the  thread.     The  pack- 
thread is  to  be  of  different  strength  and  thickness,  ac« 
cording  to  the  sort  of  birds  to  be  taken  \  and  the  gene- 
ral size  of  the  meshes,  if  not  for  very  small  birds,  b 
two  inches  from  point  to  point.     The  netd  should  nei- 
ther be  madt>  too  deep  nor  too  long,  for  they  are  then 
difficult  \fi  manage^  and  th^  most  be  verged  on  each 
side  with  twisted  thread.     The  natural  colour  of  the 
thread  is  too  bright  and  pale,  and  is  therefore  in  many 
cases  to  be  altered.     The  most  usual  colour  is  the  rus- 
set \  which  is  to  be  obtained  by  plunging  the  net,  after 
it  is  made,  into  a  tanners  pit,  and  letting  it  lie  there 
till  it  be  sufficiently  tinged :  this  is  of  a  double  service 
to  the  net,  since  it  preserves  the  thread  as  well  as  alters 
the  colour.     The  green  colour  is  given  by  chopping 
some  green  wheat  and  boiling  it  in  water,  and  then 
soaking  tbe  net  in  this  green  tinctore.    The  yellow  co- 
lour is  given  in  the  same  manner  with  the  decoction  of 
eelandine  \  which  gives  a  pale  straw-colour,  which  is 
the  colour  of  stubbie  in  tbe  harvest-time.     The  brown 
nets  are  to  be  used  on  ploughed  lands,  the  green  on 
^rass  grrounds,  and  the  yellow  on  stubble  lands. 

Day-NETy  among  fowlers,  a  net  generally  used  for 

taking  such  small  birds  as  play  in  the  air,  and  will 

stoop  either  to  prey,  gig,  or  the  like ;  as  larks,  linnets, 

iMMitings,  &c.    The  time  of  the  year  for  nsing  this  net 

is   froni  August  to  November  \  and  the  best  time  is 

-very  early  in  the  morning:  and  it  is  to  be  observed, 

^bat  tbe  milder  the  air,  and  the  brighter  tbe  sun  ii,  the 

l^etter  will  be  tbe  sport,  and  of  longer  continuance. 

"Xise  place  where  this  net  slioold  be  laid,  oaght  to  be 

^|»in  champaign,  either  on  short  stubbles,  green  leaa^ 

;>r  fiat  meadows,  near  corn  fields,  and  somewhat  remote 

FVom  towns  and  villages :  you  must  be  sure  to  let  your 

m«t   li^  close  to  the  ground,  that  the  birds  creep  not 

^sit  and  make  their  esca^.— Tbe  net  is  made  of  a  fine 

p^^^  thread  with  a  small  mesh,  not  exceeding  half  aa 

^eb  aqoaie }  it  most  be  three  fisthoms  ki^,  and  but 

»wB9  broad :  it  must  be  verged  about  with  a  small  but 

Kroog*    cord  ^  Mid  the  two  ends  extended   i^n  two 

K3BaJI   l««g  P<d^»  suitable  to.  the  breadth  o|.  tbe  net. 


with  four  stakes,  tail-strings,  and  drawing-Uncs.-^This 
net  is  composed  of  t;ro,  whidi  must  be  exactly  alike  ;  Vi 
and  are  to  be  laid  opposite  to  one  another,  so  even  and 
close,  that  when  they  are  drawn  and  pulled  over,  the 
sides  must  qiect  and  touch  each  other.  You  must  stake 
this  net  down  with  strong  stakes,  very  stiff  on  their 
lines,  so  that  you  may  with  a  nimble  touch  cast  tbem 
to  and  fro  at  pleasure  \  then  fasten  your  drawing-cord' 
or  hand-lines  (of  which  there  must  be  a  dozen  at  leasts 
and  each  two  yards  long)  to  tbe  u|^>er  end  of  the  fore* 
moot  staves :  and  so  extend  them  of  such  a  straitnes^^. 
that  with  a  little  strength  they  may  rise  up  in  the  nets 
and  cast  thrm  over. 

Your  nets  being  thus  laid,  place  your  gigs,  or  play 
ing-wantons,  about  20  or  3c  paces   beyond,   and  as 
much  on  this  side  your  nets  :  the  gigs  must  be  fastened 
to  the  tops  of  long  poles,  and  turned  into  tbe  wind,  so- 
as  they  may  play  to  make  a  noise  therein.    These  gigar^ 
are  a  sort  of  toys  made  of  long  goose-feathers^  Tike, 
shuttle-cocks,  and  with  little  small  tunnels  of.  wood 
running  in  broad  and  flat  swan-quills,  made  round  like 
a  small  hoop  \  and  so,  with  longer  strings  fastened  to  % 
pole,  will,  with  any  small  wind  or  air,  move  after  such 
a  manner,  that  birds  will  come  in  great  flocks  to  plajc 
about  them. 

When  you  have  placed  your  gigs,  then«^ace  Tonrr 
stale  'y  which  is  a  small  stake  of  wood,  to  prick  dowa-^ 
into  tbe  earth,  having  in  it  a  mortice-hole,  in  whicli- 
a  small  and  slender  piece  of  woml,  about  two  feet 
Jong,  is  fastened,  so  as  it  may  move  up  and  down 
at  pleasure :  and  fasten  to  this  longer  stick  a  small  line^ 
which,  running  through  a  hole  in  the  stick  ahove-menr- 
tinned,  end  so  coming  up  to  the  place  where  you  are 
to  sit,  you  may,  by  drawing  the  line  up  and  down  with; 
your  right  hand,  raise  up  the  longer  stick  as  yoo  tee- 
occasion. 

Fasten  a  live  lark,  or  such  like  bird,  to  this  longer 
stick,  which,  with  the  line  making  it  to  stir  up  atid 
down  fay  your  pulling,  will  entice  the  birds  to  como  to 
your  net. 

There  is  another  stale,  or  enticement,  to  dhnron* 
these  birds,  called  a  looking-glass ;  which  is  a  roynd' 
stak^  of  wood,  as  big  as  a  man^s  arm,  made  very  sharp, 
at  the  end,  to  thrust  it  into  the  ground  :  they  nudLe  it 
very  hollow  in  the  upper  part,  above  five  fingers  deep^ « 
into  which  hollow  they  place  a  three-square  piece  of  ? 
wood  about  a  foot  long,  and  each  two  inches  broad, . 
lying  upon  tbe  top  of  the  stake,  and  going  with  a  foot 
into  the  hollowness  :  which  foot  must  have  a  great  knob 
at  the  top,  and  another  at  tbe  bottom,  with  a  deep 
sknderness  between  ;  to  which  slendtmess  you  are  to  • 
fasten  a  small  packthread,  which,  running  through  a.. 
hole  in  the  side  of  the  stake,  must  come  up  to  tbe  place 
where  you  sit.     The  three  square  piece  of  wood  whichr. 
lies  onthe  top  of  tbe  stake,  must  beef  such  a  poise  and^ 
evenness,,  and  the  foot  of  the  socket  so  smooth  and 
round,  that  it  may  whirl  and  turn  round  upon  the  least 
touch ;  winding  the  packthread  so  many  times  about 
it,  which  being  suddenly  drawn,  and  as  suddenly  let 
go,  will  keep,  the  engine  in  a  constant  rotatory  mo- 
tion:   then  fasten  with   glne  on  tbe  uppermost  flat 
squares  of  the  three-square   piece,  about   ao  small 
pieces  of  looking-g^ass,  and  paint  ail  the  square  wood . 
betiiL<een  them  of  a  light  and  lively  red;   whirh,  itkx 

that- 


Kct. 


Ket, 
Nether- 
lands. 


Plate 


NET  [768 

the  continual  motion, 'will  give  such  a  reflection,  that 
the  birds  will  plaj  about  to  admitation  until  tlfey  are 
taken. 

Both  this  and  the  other  stale  are  to  be  placed  in  the 
middle  between  the  two  nets,  about  two  or  three  feet 
ilistance  from  each  other  \  so  that  in  the  falling  of  the 
nets,  the  chords  may  not  touch  or  annoy  them  :  neither 
must  they  stand  one  beftx'e  or  after  another  ^  the  glass 
being  kept  in  a  continual  motion,  and  the  bird  very 
often  fluttering.     Having  placed  your  nets  in   this 
manner,  as  also  your  gigs  and  stales,  go  to  the  further 
end  of  your  long  drawing  lines  and  stale  lines  ^   and 
having  placed  yourself,  lay  the  main  drawing  line  across 
your  Siigfa,  and,  with  your  left,  pull  the  stale  line  to 
show  the  birds  ^  and  when  you  perceive  them  to  play 
near  and  about  your  nets  and  stales,  then  pull  the  net 
over  with  both  hands,  with  a  quick  but  not  too  hasty 
motion  ^  for  otherwise  your  sport  will  be  spoiled. 
See  Plate  CCCLXIX.  where  A  show's  the  bodies  of 
GCCLXDLthe  main  net,  and  how  they  ought  to  be  laid.     B,  the 
tail  lines,  or  the  hinder  lines,  staked  to  the  ground. 
C,  the  fore  lines  staked  also  to  the  ground.     D,  the 
bird  stale.'  £,  the  looking-glass  stale.      G,  the  line 
which  draws  the  bird  stale.     H,  the  line  that  draws 
the  glass  stale.     I,  the  drawing  double  lines  of  the 
nets,  which  pulls   them   over.     K,  the  stakes  which 
stake  down  the  four  nether  points  of  the  nets  and  the 
two  tail  lines.     L,  the  stakes  that  stake  down  the  fore 
Unes.     M,  the  single  line,  with  the  wooden  button  to 
pull  the  net  over  with.     N,  the  stake  that  stakes  down 
the  single  line,  and  where  the  man  should  sit ;  and  O, 
the  gig. 

Net^  Neat^  in  commerce,  something  pure,  and  nn- 
adulterated  with  any  foreign  mixture. 

Thus  wines  are  said  to  be  net  when  not  falsified  or 
balderdashed  \  and  coffee,  rice,  pepper,  &c.  are  net 
when  the  filth  and  ordures  are  separated  from  them. 
See  Neat. 

A  diamond  is  said  to  be  net  when  it  has  no  stains  or 
flaws ;  a  crystal,  when  transparent  throughout. 

Net  is  also  used  for  what  remains  after  the  tare  has 
been  taken  out  of  the  weight  of  any  merchandise,  i.  e. 
when  it  is  weighed  clear  of  all  package.    Sec  Tar£. 

'Thus  we  say,  a  barrel  of  cochineal  weighs  450 
pounds  \  the  tare  is  50  pounds,  and  there  remain  net 
400  pounds. 

NsT  Produce,  a  term  used  to  express  what  any  com- 
modity has  yielded,  all  tare  and  charges  deducted. 

The  merchants  sometimes  use  the  Italian  words  netto 
jnvcechito,  for  net  produce. 

NETHERLANDS,  anciently  called  Beigw,  but 
since  denominated  Low  Countries  or  Netherlands,  from 
their  low  situation,  are  situated  between  2^  and  7°  of 
east  longitude,  and  between  50^  and  53^  30'  of  north 
latitude :  and  are  bounded  by  the  German  sea  on  the 
north,  Germany  on  the  east,  by  Lorrain  and  France  on 
the  south,  and  by  another  part  of  France  and  the  Bri- ' 
tish  seas  on  the  west^  extending  near  300  miles  in 
length  from  north  to  south,  and  200  miles  in  breAdth 
from  east  to  west.  They  consist  of  1 7  provinces  j  i  o  of 
which  were  called  ilte  Austrian  and  French  Net Aer/ands^  . 
and  the  other  seven  the  United  Provinces,  The  whole 
united  were  erected  into  a  kingdom  at  the  peace  of 
Paris  in  1 8 14. 

The  greatest  part  of  the  Netherlands  was  conquered 

X 


] 


NET 


by  the  Romans  ^  and  that  part  which  lies  towtr^  j^^^ 
Gaul  continued  in  their  subjection  till  the  decline  of  luriL 
that  empire  \  after  which  the  Franks  became  mastcn ' 
of  it  ^  and  under  the  French  mooaichy,  it  was  put  of 
the  kingdom  of  Metz  or  Aostrasia. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  x  5th  century  Masimiliao  of 
Austria,  son  of  the  emperor  Ferdinand  HI.  acquired, 
by  marrying  the  only  daughter  of  the  duke  of  BargnB- 
dy,  the  duchies  of  Brabant,  Limbnrg,  and  Luxemboig; 
the  counties  of  Flanders,  Burgundy,  Hainaolt,  Hol- 
land, Zealand,  and  Namur  \  and  the  lordship  of  Fnes- 
land.    Philip  of  Austria,  son  to  Maximilian  sod  Miry, 
liNurried  Jane  the  daughter  of  Ferdinand  king  of  Ani- 
gon  and  of  Isabella  queen  of  Castile  \  by  which  mctin 
their  son  Charles  inherited  not  only  almost  all  Spiin 
and  the  great  countries  then  lately  discovered  in  Ame- 
rica, but  also  those  noble  provinces  of  the  Netberiaiuli, 
and  was  chosen  emperor  under  the  name  of  Charks  V, 
Towards  the  latter  end  of  the  X527,  he  added  to  Ma 
dominions  the  temporalities  of  the  bishoprick  of  Utiecbt 
on  both  sides  of  the  Yssel  \  and  Henry  of  Bavarii,  be- 
ing distressed  through  war  with  the  duke  of  Go^lde^ 
land^  and  tired  with  the  continued  rebellion  of  his  on 
subjects,  surrendered  to  the  emperor  the  temponlities 
of  his  diocese,  which  was  confirmed  by  the  pope,  and 
the  states  of  the  country.     In  x  536,  Charles  V.  boogk 
of  Charles  of  Egmond  the  reversion  of  the  dacby<tf 
Guelderland  and  of  the  county  of  Zutpheo,  in  case  tint 
prince  should  die  without  issue.     The  same  year  the  ci- 
ty of  Groningen  took  the  oath  of  allegiance,  and  ssb- 
mitted  to  Charles  V.  and  in  x  543  be  pot  a  ganiflon  is- 
to  the  city  of  Cambray,  and  built  a  citadel  there.  Hav- 
ing thns  united  the  1 7  provinces,  as  it  were  in  one  b»> 
dy,  he  ordered  that  they  should  continue  for  ever  ooder 
the  same  prince,  without  being  ever  separated  or  dis- 
membered \  for  which  purpose  he  published  in  Nowa- 
ber  1549,  ^^^  ^^^  consent  and  at  the  request  of  the 
states  of  all  the  provinces,  a  perpetual  and  irrevocaUe 
edict  or  law,  by  which  it  was  enacted,  that  in  order  ts 
keep  all  those  provinces  together  uiider  one  tad  the 
same  prince,  the  right  of  representation,  with  regard  ts 
the  succession  of  a  prince  or  princess,  should  takepltoe 
for  ever  both  in  a  direct  and  collateral   line,  notwidk 
standing  the  common  laws  of  some  provinces  to  the 
contrary.     Charies  had  even  a  mind   to  incorporate 
these  provinces  with  the  Germanic  body,  and  to  sake 
of  them  a  circle  of  the  empire,  under  the  title  of  the  cir- 
cle of  Burgundy,  in  order  thereby  to  engage  the  priaces 
of  the  empire  to  concern  themselves  for  the  picteiWL- 
tion  of  those  provinces.     But  the  Netherlands,  always 
jealous  of  their  liberty,  did  not  seem  to  like  that  inosr- 
poration  \  and  when  they  were  demanded  to  pay  their 
share  towards  the  expences  of  the  empire,  they  refused 
it :  whereupon  die  princes  of  Germany  refused,  in  their 
turn,  to  take  any  part  in  the  wars  in  Flanders,  aad 
looked  upon  those  provinces  as  by  no  means  beWagiBg 
to  the  Germanic  body. 

Philip  of  Austria  and  his  son  Charles,  who  were  h«B 
in  the  Netherlands,  had  for  the^e  provinces  that  natural 
affection  which  men  use.  to  have  for  their  native  coua- 
try  \  and,  knowing  how  jealous  the  inhabitants  were  •( 
their  liberty,  and  of  the  privileges  {rmnted  to  thc«  hy 
their  former  princes,  they  took  grt^at  care  to  preserve 
them  and  suffered  willingly  that  the  stales,  who  «<n 
the  guardians  of  the  people's  liberty  and  pririk^ 

sboaU 


NET  [7 

KeUier.  Aould  in  a  manner  share  the  supreme  autliority  with 
Uodt.  them.  Philip  II.  son  to  the  emperor  Cliarles  V.  had 
'  'V  '  ■ ' not  the  same  affection  for  the  Netherlands,  nor  those 
generous  tseotiments  which  his  father  had  endeavoured 
to  inspire  him  with.  Being  bom  in  Spain  of  a  Fortu- 
goese  woman,  be  had  no  regard  hut  for  his  native 
country^  and,  when  he  removed  out  of  the  Nether- 
lands, he  left  them  to  the  weak  government  of  a  wo- 
man, to  the  proud  and  haughty  spirit  of  Cardinal  de 
Grenviile,  and  to  the  wild  ambition  of  some  lords  of 
these  provinces,  who  availing  themselves  of  the  impru- 
dent conduct  and  continual  blunders  of  the  council  of 
Spain,  found  tbclr  private  interest  in  the  disturbances 
they  could  not  fail  to  produce.  Philip  II.  abo,  instead 
of  the  mild  and  moderate  measures  which  his  predeces- 
sors had  successfully  employed  on  many  occasions,  as 
best  suiting  the  genius  and  temper  of  the  people,  had 
recourse  to  the  most  violent  and  cruel  proceedings ; 
which,  far  from  curing  the  evil,  served  only  to  exaspe- 
rate it  the  more  and  render  it  incurable.  The  Spa- 
niards, whom  he  sent  thither,  being  bom  and  educated 
in  an  absolute  monarchy,  jealous  of  the  liberties  and 
envious  of  the  riches  of  the  people,  broke  through  all 
their  privileges,  and  used  them  almost  after  the  same 
manner  as  they  liad  done  the  inhabitants  of  their  new 
and  ill-gotten  dominions  in  America.  This  treatment 
occasioned  a  general  insurrection.  The  counts  Hoom, 
Egmont,  and  the  prince  of  Orange,  appeared  at  the 
'head  of  it,  and  Luther^s  reformation  gaining  ground 
about  the  same  time  in  the  Netherlandn,  bis  disciples 
joined  the  malecontents :  whereupon  King  Philip  in- 
troduced a  kind  af  inquisition  in  order  to  suppress 
them,  and  many  thousands  were  put  to  death  by  that 
court,  besides  those  that  perished  by  the  sword ;  for 
these  persecutions  and  encroachments  had  occasioned  a 
.civil  war,  in  which  several  battles  were  fonght.  The 
.conots  Hoom  and  Egmont  were  taken  and  beheaded : 
but  the  prince  of  Orange,  retiring  into  HoUand,  with 
.the  assistance  of  England  and  France,  preserved  Hoi- 
land  and  some  of  the  adjacent  provinces,  which  entered 
into  a  treaty  for  their  mutual  defence  at  Utrecht  in  1 579, 
and  they  have  ever  since  been  styled  the  United  Ptrh 
trinces;  but  the  other  provinces  were  reduced  to  the 
obedience  of  Spain  by  tlie  duke  of  Alva  and  other  Spa- 
nish generals.  However,  their  ancient  privileges  were 
in  a  great  measure  restored  ;  every  province  was  allow- 
ed its  great  council  or<  parliament,,  whose  concurrence 
was  required  to  the  making  of  laws,  and  raising  money 
for  the  government,  though  these  assemblies  were  too 
^ften  obliged  to  follow  the  dictates  of  the  court. 
,  The  emperor  Joseph  II.  endeavoured  to  deprive  them 
even  of  the  form  of  their  free  constitution^  and  he 
might  very  probably  have  succeeded,  had  he  not  at- 
tempted at  the  same  time  a  reformation  of  the  cimrcb. 
The  Austrian  Netherlands  are  wholly  Catholic,  and  so 
^igotted  to  the  Romish  supentition,  that  though  they 
4iad  tamely  submitted  to  many  encroachments  of  the 
arohducal  house  on  their  civil  rights,  no  sooner  did  the 
monarch  encroach  upon  the  property  of  the  holy  mother 
•church  than  thry  resisted  his  authority,  and  claimed  all 
their  ancient  privileges  political  and  religious. 

The  Spaniards  continued  possessed  of  almost  eight 
of  these  provinces,  until  the  duke  of  Marlborough^ 
^neral  of  the  allies,  gained  the  memorable  victory  of 
.    Vou  XIV.  Part  IL  f 


69    ]  NET 

Kamillics.    After  which  Brussels  the  capital,  and  p;rcat    NVtlir. 
part  of  tliese  provinces,  acknowledged  Charles  VI.  (af-      l«r.d!» 
tenvards  emperor)  their  sovereign  5  and  his  daughter,        jl. 
the  late  empress  queen,  remained  possessed  of  them  till  t         '  *^^ 
the  war  that  followed   the  death  of  her  father,  when 
the  Fi*cnch  made  an  entire  conquest  of  them,  except 
part  of  the  province  of  Luxemburg  j  but  they  were  re- 
stored by  the  peace  of  Aix-la-Chapelle  in   1748,  and 
tiie  French  retained  only  Artois,  the  Cambresis,  part 
of  Flanders,  part  of  Hainault,  and  part  of  Luxemburg. 

These  provinces  were  overrun  by  the  French  in  1 794, 
and  formally  ceded  to  them  by  the  treaty  of  Campo 
Formio  in  1797*  They  ke|it  possession  of  them  till 
.1814,  when  they  were  separated  from  France,  and  along 
with  the  seven  Dutch  provinces,  formed  into  a  king- 
dom under  the  prince  of  Orange,  who  assumed  the  title 
of  king  of  tlie  Netherlands,  fiy  the  new  constitution 
promulgated  in  1815,  the  people  of  the  two  countries 
were  to  be  represented  in  an  assembly  called  the  Statcs- 
Gcncml,  whose  sittings  were  to  be  held  'alternately  in 
a  toYvn  in  Holland  and  a  town  in  Belgium.  The  States 
x:onsist  of  two  chambers  \  the  deliberations  of  the  lower 
are  public,  those  of  the  upper  private.  The  constitution 
guarantees  the  liberty  of  the  press,  the  right  of  petition- 
ing, and  the  independence  of  the  judges. 

The  soil  is  generally  fruitful,  but  differs  in  the  se- 
veral parts.  The  climate  also  differs  in  the  several 
provinces  \  in  those  towards  the  south  it  does  not  dif- 
fer much  from  that  of  England,  though  the  seasons 
are  more  regular.  In  the  northern  provinces  the  win- 
ter is  generally  very  sharp,  and  the  summer  sultry  hot  \ 
but  the  extreme  cold  and  excessive  heat  seldom  con- 
tinue above  five  or  six  weeks.  The  air  is  reckoned 
very  wholesome,  but  is  subject  to  thick  fogs  in  win- 
ter, through  the  nv>istnes8  of  the  country,  which 
would  be  very  noxious,  were  it  not  for  the  dry  easterly 
winds,  which,  blowing  off  a  long  continent  for  two 
or  three  months  in  the  year,  clear  the  air,  and  occasion 
very  sharp  frosts  in  January  and  Februarys  during 
which,  the  ports,  rivers,  and  canals  are  commonly  shut 
up.  The  face  of  the  country  is  low  and  flat  -,  for,  ex- 
cept some  small  hills  and  a  few  rising  grounds  in  Utrecht 
and  Giielderland,  and  in  the  parts  lying  towards  Ger- 
many, there  is  no  hill  to  be  seen  in  the  whole  17  pro- 
vinces. This  is  the  reason  why  they  have  been  called 
the  Low  Countries.  French  Flanders  abounds  in  grain, 
vegetables,  flax  and  cattle,  but  is  in  want  of  wood. 

For  the  Dutch  Netherlands,  sec  United  Provinces. 

NETHJNIMS,  among  the  Jews,  the  posterity  of  the 
Gibeonites,  who  were  condemned  by  Joshua  to  be  hew- 
ers of  wood  and  drawers  of  water  for  the  house  of  God. 

NETOPION,  a  name  given  by  the  ancients  to  a 
very  fragrant  and  costly  ointment,  consisting  of  a  great 
number  ef  the  finest  spicy  ingredients.  Hippocrates, 
in  his  Treatise  on  the  Diseases  of  Women,  frequently 
prescribes  the  netopion  in  diseases  of  the  uterus  ^  and  in 
other  places  he  speaks  of  its  being  poured  into  the  ear 
as  a  remedy  for  deafness  ^  these  compositions,  by  their 
attenuating  qualities,  dividing  the  viscous  and  thick 
humours.  The  word  netopion  is  also  sometimes  used  to 
express  the  unguentum  Egyptiacum^  and  sometimes 
simply  for  oil  of  almonds. 

NETTINGS,  in  a  ship,  a  sort  of  grates  made  of 
small  ropes  seiztd  together  with  rope  yam  or  twine,  and 

S  E  fixed 


N    E    V 


[     770    ] 


N    -E    V 


N 
« 


N«uings  fix<^  oa  the  quarters  an<l  ia  the  tops  }  they  are  some* 
R        times  stretched  apon  the  ledges  from  the  waste  trees  to 
Neva,     (lie  t[qq£  treesy  from  the  top  ef  the  forecastle  to  the 
poopy  and  sometimes  are  laid  in  the  waste  of  a  ship  to 
serve  instead  of  gratings. 

NETTLE.     See  Urtica,  Botany  Index. 

Sea-NETTLB.  See  MCDUSA,  Helmxnthoi^GY  Jffo 
des^  aad  AifmAL-Fiower. 

NETTLE'Tree.     See  Celtis,  Botant  Index, 

NCTTUNO.  a  handsome  town  of  luly,  in  the 
Campagaa  di  Roma.  It  is  but  thinly  peopted^  though 
seated  in  a  fertile  soil.  The  inhabitants  are  almost  aU 
hunters.     £•  Long.  I2.  57.  N.  Lat.  41.  30. 

NEVA,  a  river  at  Petersburg  in  Kussia.  The 
vieviQs  upon  the  banks  exhibit  the  grandest  and  most 
lively  scenes.  The  river  is  in  most  places  broader  thaa 
the  Thames  at  Loodoo.  It  is  deep,  rapid,  and  trans- 
parent as  crystal,  and  its  banks  are  lined  oa  each  side 
with  a  continued  range  of  handsome  boildiags.  On 
the  north  side  the  fortress,  the  academy  -of  sciences 
and  that  of  art  are  the  most  stitking  objects  ^  on  the 
opposite  side  are  the  imperial  palace,  the  admiralty^ 
the  mansions  of  many  Russian  nobles,  aad  the  English 
line,  so  called  because  (a  few  faouaes  excepted)  the 
whole  row  is  occupied  by  the  English  merchaatsu  In 
front  of  these  buildings,  on  tlie  south  side,  is  the  quay, 
wluch.  stretches  for  three  miles^  eagcept  whnre  it  is  inr 
termpted  by  the  admiralty  i  a»d  the  Neva,  ^during  the 
whole  of  that  space,  has  been  lately  embanked  at  the 
expence  of  the  empress,  by  a  wall,  pampet,  and  pave- 
ownt  of  hewn  granite }  a  most  elegant  and.  durable  mo- 
aameot  of  imperial  mngnificeBoe.  There  is  a.eomvMi- 
nicatiott  between  the  opposite  sides  of  the  ri«ee  by  a 
bridge  of  pontoons,  which,  when  any  thing  ia  appa^ 
bonded  from  the  force  of  ice  rushing  down  the  streiun, 
eao  be,  and  is  generally  indeed,  removed^  The  gfeat 
depth  of  the  river,  it  appeavs,  prevents  the  boildia^  of 
a  ^one  Inridge  \  and,  if  itcould  be  built^.thero  is  no  rea» 
sop  to  suppose  it  could  posaibly.resi8t  the  foroe  of  those 
vast  shoals  of  ice  which  in  the  beginning  nf  winter  come 
down  this  n^pid  river.  Afk  attempt,  heivever,  has  bs^n 
made  to  remedy  this  tneonvenience  \  and  a  Bnswan 
peasant  has  actually  projected  iha  plaaef  thrwiqg  a. 
wooden  bridge  of  one  arch  across  it,  which^  ie  its  nar- . 
jfoitest  part,  is  980  feet  ia  breadth.  As  we  think  thii  is 
s^, matter  of  very  considenLble  importanoe,  as  well  as^  ef 
curiosity,  we  shall  give  the  following  copious  aoceuntef ' 
the  plan  and  its  author,  in  Mr  Coxe's  own  w^rds  \  who 
tells  us  that  the.  a^ist;  had  then  executed  a  model  9.8 
fret  in.length,  which  he  saw:  and  examined  ««ith  censi? 
derable  attention. 

**  The  bridge,  is  upon  the  same,  prtnuaiple  with  that 
ef  Sbaffhausffli,  excepting  that  the  meohaaiam  is  mere 
eomplicatedy  and.  that  the  road  is  not  so  level,     I  shall 
attempt  to  describe  it  by.  supposing  it  finishedi  as  that^ 
will  convey  the  best  idea  of  the  plaa*     The  bridge  is 
soofed  at. the  top,  and  covered  at  the  sides  ^  it  is  formed^ 
by  feur  frames  of  topber,  two  on  eaeh  side,  composed  ef 
various  beaom  or  trusses,  which  support  the  whole  mar . 
ehine.     The  road  is  not,  as  is  usual,  carried  over  the 
top  ef  th^  arch,  but  is  suspended  ta  the  middle. 

**  The  following  propqrtions  I  aoted  down  with  the 
firsatest  exactness  at  the  \lve»  when  they  wiere  explain- 
ed to  me  by  the  artu^t... 


Length  of  the  abutment  en  the  north  ead,      658  ied 
Span  of  the  arch,  -  -  980 

Length  of  the  abutment  on  the  sonth  end,      658 
Length  of  the  whole  structure,  including  the 

abutments,  ...  225^ 

The  plane  of  the  read  upon  its  first  ascent 

makes  an  an^e  of  five  degrees  with  the 

ordinary  surface  of  the  river. 
Mean  level  of  the  river  to  the  top  of  the 

bridge  in  the  centre. 
Ditto  to  the  bottom  of  the  bridge  in  the 

centre,  .... 

Height  of  the  bridge  finom  the  bottom  to  the 

top  in  the  centre. 
Height  from  the  bottom  of  the  bridge  in  the 

centre  to  the  road, 
Height  firom  the  bottom  of  ditto  tn  the 

waterx,  -  -  -         .    - 

Height  from  the  water  to  the  spring  of  the 

arch,  •  -  .  . 

80  that  there  is  a  difference  of  35  feet  betwea  tk 
road  at  the  spring  of  the  arch  and  the  road  at  tk 
centre ;  in  other  words,  an  ascent  ef  35  feet  m  hlf 
960,  or  in  the  space  of  490  feet,  wbic^  is  litde  bwr 
than  eight-tenths  of  ^  an  inch  to  a  feot. .  The  bridge  is 
broadest  towards  die  sides,  and  dimioisfaes  towaidi  tk 
centre* 

168  fat 


Not 


168. 


42 


7 
56 


42 
28 


In  the  broadest  part  it  is 
In  the  centre  or  narrowest . 
The  breadth  of  the  road  is 

*'The   artist  informed  me,  th»t  te  complete  tk 
bridge  would  rta^uire  499650  iron  natla,  1 2,908  Isefe 
tiees,  5503  beaaM  to  stxep^then  them:  and  tkst  it 
would  cost  300,000  rafales  or  6q,oooL    He  spab 
of  this  bold  project  with  the  uanal  wai^nth.of  geaiai^ 
ajid  is  perfet^y-  convinced,  thflkt  it  wonM  he  pnotidbk. 
I  must  ow.n  tlmt  I  am  of  the  same  epjnjan,  thwA  i 
hazerd  it  with  great  diffidence.     What  a  aoUe  dbct 
-would  be  produeed .  by  a  bridge  etrikiag  across  tk 
Neva,  with*an  a^ch  980  fiset  wide,  aaid  towcriag  168 
feet  from  the  surface  of  the  water !   71w  iimvfim 
of  such  a  Jntm^  seems  almost  chinerical ;  and  yet  1^ 
00  inspection  of.  the  BM>del  we  bcronM  rrenfikd  talk 
idea.     But  whether  the  execntieai  ef  thk  atapcate 
werk  may  be  deemed  possible  or  not,  the  modld  itoetf - 
is  uEorthy.of  attention,  and  refleets  the  higjiest 
en  the  iaventive  feculties  of  that  nninipiwied 
It  as  so  compactly  .constructed,  and  of  audi  nmfe 
dtty,  that  it  has  supported  3540  pood,  er  f  27^401 
without  having  in  the  kaat  swerved  fjDom  its  duatiMt 
which-I  am  told  is  fiir  more,  in  proportion  to  ito  oae^ 
than  the  bridge  if  completed  wouM  -have  eeoana  la 
ausCaan  from  Ihe  presaoie  of  the  cerciagee  added  ia  itt. 
ewn  weight* 

**The  person  who  prajected  this  plan  b  a  omam. 
Rnsaian  peasant.  This  extraordinary  genioa  was  ap- 
prentice to  a  shopkeeper  at  Niafanei  Nevi^gnrad:  aff^ 
aite  le  his  4welliiig  was  a. wooden  dock,  which  cs> 
cited  his  curiosity.  By  repeated  exaaniatation  haesa- 
prehended  the  internal  stcnctnre,  apd  withont  any  aa- 
sistance  formed  one  exactly  similar  in  ita  propaitisB 
and  materials.  His  success  in  this  first  essay  urge' 
him. to  undertake  the  conatryctiim  of  naelal  ckcka  aad 


uL 


N    E    U  [77 

Kc%ft  Watches.  The  emprets,  beftring  of  tbede  wotidiprful  ex* 
B  ertioQS  of  his  native  gtniiv,  took  him  uader  her  pro^ 
^^^^  tection,  and  seot  him  to  England }  from  whence,  oo 
account  of  the  difficulties  atteadiug  his  ignoMnce  of 
the  laaguage,  he  soon  retomrd  to  Ruseia*  I  saw  a 
repeating  watch  of  his  workmanship  at  the  Academy 
of  Sciences :  it  is  ahont  the  bigness  of  an  esg )  in  the 
inside  is  represented  the  tomb  of  oar  Savio«r»  with 
the  stone  at  the  entrance,  and  the  centtnels  upon  duty : 
suddenly  the  stone  is  removed,  the  ceotiaels  fall  down, 
the  angels  appear,  the  i^omen  enter  the  sepalchre,  and 
the  same  chant  is  heard  which  is  performed  on  Easier- 
eve*  These  mpe  trifling,  although  curions  peformances  ; 
but  the  very  planning  if  the  b^dge  was  a  most  sablime 
conception.  This  person,  whose  name  is  KvUhifh 
hears  the  appearance  of  a  Russian  peasant :  he  has  a 
long  beard,  and  wears  the  common  dress  of  the  coun- 
try* Ho  receives  a  pension  from  the  empress,  and  is 
encouraged  to  follow  the  bent  of  his  mechaiiical  ge-* 
nius  (a), 

N£V£L,  or  Nkbel,  in  the  Jewish  antiquities,  a 
kind  of  musical  intrument.     See  Nablum. 

NEV£BS,  a  town  of  France,  in  the  department  of 
Nievre,  and  situated  in  E.  liong.  3. 14.  N.  Xm.  46.  591 
on  the  river  Loire,  which  here  receives  the  rivulet 
Nievre.  It  contained  10,150  inhabitants  in  i8oo«  It 
is  a  place  of  great  antiquity,  supposed  to  be  Csesar's  No:* 
viodunum  in  ^duis,  v^bere  he  erected  magazines  hr 
his  armicf.  Francis  1.  made  it  a  duchy  and  peerage  in 
1521,  in  favour  of  Francis  of  Cleves,  to  whom  it  fcuM 
by  marriage.  It  devolved  afterwards  to  the  house  of 
Aflantua,  and  then  to  the  Palatine  family,  who  b  1651 
sold  it  to  Cardinal  Mazarint*  The  cardinal  obtained 
a  title  of  duke  and  peer  for  his  Aephew  Philip  Mancini, 
in  whose  family  it  continued  till  tlie  late  revolution. 
The  town  is  fortified  with  i^allsi  defended  with  many 
high  lowers  and  deep  ditches,  and  is  the  seat  of  a  bi^* 
shopric,  suffragan  of  Sens,  as  likewise  of  a  bailiwio  anA 
thamber  of  aocoontst  There  was  a  stottie  bridge  on  the 
Loire,  which  watt  carried  away  by  the  ice,  and  has  been  - 
taplaoed  by  a  wooden  one/  This  to^  is  ftunous  for 
ily  manufiicture  of  glass,  earthen  firare,  cloth,  and 
cutlery.  In  the  centre  of  Nevers,  on  Ae  sUmtnit  of  a 
hill,  is  built  the  palace  of  the  ancient  dukes.  It  ^p^ 
pears  to  have  been  k^onstrUcted  in  the  aiateenth  centuryi 
and  axhihits  a  model  of  the  beauty  and  delicacy  of 
Gothic  arcbileoture*  The  apartments  are  hang  with 
tapestry  of  200  yeate  old»  wb^h  baVe  an  air  of  gro« 
tesque  and  rude  magni&ceoee. 

NEUCH^TTEL,  a  town  bf  S*isserlMd»  capitll 
of  a  county  of  the  same  namei  There  are  several  an- 
cient ruins  near  it,  Which  sho^  its  former  extent  i  stnd 
there  are  two  large  cborchns,  besides  a  castle  where  the 
governor  resides.    The  totim  ^ontais^  ahont  3000  ha- 


I    ]  N    E    U 

habitants,  tt  is  situated  partly  Oft  a  small  plain,  he-  Noacbst^ 
tween  Mount  Jura  and  the  lake  of  Neuchattel,  which  te|. 
is  17  miles  long  and  five  broad  (  the  aide  of  the  har- 
bour is  the  usual  walk  of  the  inhabitants.  Part  of  it 
too  is  built  upon  the  side  of  the  mountain  ',  whence 
some  of  its  streets  are  very  steep.  In  this  soiall  place 
several  public  works  have  lately  been  executed,  which 
Mr  Coxe  thinks  aie  bt  beyond  the  rtvennee,  or  even 
the  wants,  of  snob  a  little  stale*  Among  theie  he  in* 
stances  a  soperb  causeway  and  a  town-house  **  built 
(says  be)  of  stch  solid  materials,  as  if  it  was  intended  to 
survive  to  the  meet  distant  posterity,  and  to  rival  the 
duration  of  the  moch-famed  Roman  capitok**  At  the 
beginning  of  the  i8tb  oentnry,  commerce  was  very 
little  followed  in  this  town,  owing  to  an  absurd  opi- 
nion which  prevailed  among  the  inhabitants^  of  its  be- 
ing disgraceful  ^  but  this  prejudice  is  now  extinguish- 
ed, and  the  town  in  a  much  more  flourishing  situation 
than  before*  The  chief  article  of  exportation  is  wine, 
Whidh  is  much  esteemed }  and  manufactures  of  printed 
Uneos  and  cottons  have  been  established  with  consider^ 
able  snccessk  The  flourishing  state  of  .Neudiattcl  is 
principally  owing  to  the  benefactions  of  Mr  David 
Pnry,  late  banker  of  the  court  at  Lisbon.  He  was 
bom  at  Neuchattel  in  1700  ^  but  having  received  his 
education  there,  he  quitted  it  in  great  poverty,  and  re- 
paired  to  Geneva,  where  he  served  his  apprenticeship^ 
but  in  what  line  is  not  mentioned.  From  Geneva  he 
tHrent  te  LtHidon,  where  he  acted  as  ck^  to  a  dealer 
in  precious  stones,  and  acquired  great  reputation  by 
estimating  the  value  of  diamonds  at  s^t^  After  a 
long  residence  in  England  he  went  to  Liabon,  where 
he  carried  on  a  vt^ry  extensive  cortimerce  ;  and  having 
been  appointed  oourt-bankcr,  his  fortune  rapidly  in- 
ereased.  His  generosity,  however,  kept  pace  with  his 
Wealth ;  aiid  he  not  pnty  remitted  large  sums  to  Neu- 
chattel while  living,  but  kft  his  countzy  his  heir  when 
ha  died.  Hi^  contributions  in  all  are  estiMatted  by  Mr 
Coxe  at  too,OQoL  \  a  considerable  part  of  which  hak 
been  employed  in  eeHslnietlng  the  public  works  already 
ikentiotted.  Neuchattel  has  a  grand  and  little  council : 
the  fiiat  is  c^Miposed-of  40  persons,  with  two  masleie  of 
the  keys  J  the  little  oowioil  eoosists  of  34  measbers, 
t^ttm^beading  the  *ayor,  who  in  presidoBt.  These  two 
c<suncils  assemble  rtgulariy  cvofy  month*  The  eccle- 
siastics likewise  assemble  every  months  to  consult  on 
affairs  belonging  t4>  the  churdi,  and  in  611  «p  the  places 
qf  mittisteia  that  die.  They  chooee  a  dean  every  year. 
Who  is  presideiit  of  the  general  assemblies,  which  are 
called  ehsses  ;  and  sometimes  he  is  ooofinned  in  this 
d^nity.    £.  Long.  7.  xo.  N,  Lat.  4t-  $• 

Nc^GsaTTSi;^  a  sovereign  coimty  'Of  Swisseriaiid, 
bpunded  on  the  West  by  the  Franehe  Ccmpte,  on  the 
north  bjr  the  bishopric  of  Basie,  and  on  the  east  and 

5  £  9t  south 


(a)  We  have  given  the  detail  in  Mr  Cmie^s  own  words,  as  it  appears  to  ua  to  deserve  attention  on  ac- 
count of  the  greatness  of  the  project,  whidi  would  have  excited  admiration  hiid  it  been  attempted  by  one  en- 
lightened by  science  and  libeMd  arts,  much  more  when  it  comes  thtoiigh  the  homble  medium  of  a  Russian  peasant. 
It  wee  never  executed,  as  we  are  just  informed  by  a  gentlenwn  who  left  St  Petersbu^jh  xbont  the  beginning 
of  June  1793  \  but  the  medel  ceaMuns,  and  is  still  dbown.  The  same  gentleman  (we  quote  his  6\i'n  words) 
adds,  **  that  every  mechanic  thinks  it  practicable  \  and  that  tlie  general  belief  is,  that  the  empress  would  have 
buik  it,  had  she  not  fbimd  use  for  all  her  money  in  carrying  on  lier  warlike  «nd  diplomatic  transactions  with 
other  tfovfts.** 


N    E     V 


C 


Neuchiitlel  &<>u^h  ^j  the  cantons  of  Berne  and  Friburg.  This 
n  principality  of  Neuchattel  and  Vallc^ngin  extend  from 
Neviti.  the  lake  of  Neuchattel  to  the  borders  of  Tranche 
Compte,  being  in  length  about  i  a  leagues,  and  six  in 
breadth.  ■  The  plain  with  the  lower  part  of  the  moun- 
tains is  occupied  byjhe  district  of  Neuchattel,  but 
Vallengin  is  totally  enclosed  by  Jura.  Parallel  chains 
of  these  mountains  run  from  east  to  west,  forming  se- 
veral valleys  in  the  most  elevated  parts.  The  lower 
grounds  of  this  chain  consist  of  arable  lands  and  vine- 
yards ^  the  higher  of  large  tracts  of  forest,  which  in 
many  parts  have  been  cleared  and  converted  into  pas- 
ture grounds,  intermixed  with  fields  of  barley  and  oats. 
The  inhabitants  are  numerons,  and  remarkable  for 
their  genius,  politeness,  and  active  industry.  It  contains 
three  cities,  one  town,  90  villages,  and  about  300  houses 
dlspei*sed  in  the  mountains.  The  inhabitants  are  all 
Protestants,  except  two  Roman  catholic  villages :  and 
in  1529  they  entered  into  a  strict  alliance  with  the  can- 
tons of  Berne,  Fribnrg,  Suleure,  and  Luccm.  The  air 
is  healthy  and  temperate,  but  the  soil  not  everywhere 
equally  fertile :  however,  there  are  large  vineyards, 
which  produce  white  and  red  wine,  which  las.t  is  excel- 
lent. The  pastures  on  the  mountains  feed  a  great  num- 
ber of  cattle  'y  there  are  plenty  of  deer  in  the  forests  ^ 
the  lakes  and  rivers  abound  with  fish.  The  mildness  of 
the  government,  and  agreeable  situation  of  the  inhabi- 
tants in  general  in  these  districts  is  evident  from  the 
great  increase  of  population  in  the  space  of  32  years. 
In  1752  they  contained  only  28^017  subjects  and  43 iS. 
aliens:  but  in  1784  the  number  was  augmented  to 
31,576  subjects  and  9704  aliens  j  being  an  increase 
of  near  a  fourth  part  in  that  time.  The  facility  with 
which  the  burghership  of  Neuchattel  is  acquired,  may 
also  be  accounted'  one  of  the  means  of  augmenting  its 
population^  for  between  the  years  1760  and  1770, 
the  magistrates  admitted  41  persons  to  this  privilege; 
from  1770  to  1780,  46;  from  1780  to  1785,  51  ;  in 
all  138 ;  many  of  whom  had  children  before  they  pur- 
chased their  hurghership,  and  38  of  them  were  foreigners, 
either  German,  French,  or  Dutch.  This  country  has 
experienced  similar  changes  with  the  rest  of  Swrtzer* 
land  during  tlie  usurpation  of  the  French. 

NEUFCHATTEAU,  a  commercial  town  of  France, 
in  the  department  of  the  Vosges,  containing  2700  in- 
habitants. It  formerly  had  an  abbey  of  the  nuns  of  St 
Clair,  a  commandery  of  Malta,  and  several  convents  of 
monks  and  nuns.  It  is  seated  in  a  fertile  soil,  which 
produces  com,  wine,  and  all  the  necessaries  of  life,  on 
the  river  Mouzon.     £.  Long.  5.  45.  N.  Lat.  48.  20. 

#NEVIS,  one  of  the  Caribbee  islands,  lying  about 
seven  leagues  north  of  Montserrat,  and  separated  from 
St  Christopher's  by  a  narrow  channel.  It  makes  a 
beautiful  appearance  from  the  sea,  being  a  large  coni- 
cal mountain  covered  with  fine  trees,  of  an  easy  ascent 
on  every  side,  and  entirely  cultivated.  The  ctrcumfc- 
lence  is  about  2i  miles,  with  a  considerable  tract  of 
level  ground  all  around.  The  climate  in  the  lower 
part  is  reckoned  to  be  warmer  than  Barbadoes,  but  it 
is  more  temperate  towards  the  summit.  The  soil  is 
very  fine  in  the  lower  part,  but  grows  coarser  as  we 
ascend.  The  productions  are  nearly  the  same  with 
those  of  St  Cbristopbcr^s.  There  are  three  pretty  good 
roads  or  bays,  with  small  towns  in  their  vicinity  ; 
Charles  Town,  More  ton  bay,  and  Newcastle.     This 


772    T  N    E    U 

pleasant  island  was  settled  under  the  aospicei  of  Btr  Xevw 
Thomas  Warner  from  St  Christopher's.  His  socoes-  | 
sor,  Goveraor  Lake,  was  considered  as  the  Solon  of  ^^^> 
this  little  country,  in  which  he  disposed  of  eveiy  thiop 
with  such  prudence,  wisdom,  and  justice,  u  ptwuiM 
him  a  high  reputation  with  the  French  as  well  as 
English.  In  the  Dutch  war  they  met  with  some  di* 
sturbance  from  the  French  ;  but  by  being  cotered  by 
an  English  squadron,  the  enemy  were  obliged  to  desist 
from  their  intended  invasion,  after  a  smart  eogtgt- 
ment  in  sight  of  the  island.  Sir  William  Sta^.e(oa 
sometimes  resided  here,  and  Sir  Nathaniel  Johnson  coo- 
stantly,  at  which  time  the  inhabitants  of  Nevis  w«y 
computed  at  30,000.  In  the  war  immediately  ifter 
the  Revolution,  they  exerted  themselves  gallantlr,  and 
bad  two  regiments  of  300  men  each.  In  tint  of 
Queen  Anne  they  behaved  equally  well,  though  tbey 
were  less  fortunate  ^  for  the  French  landing  with  a 
superior  force,  and  having  inveigled  most  of  their 
slaves,  they  were  forced  to  capitulate.  About  4000 
of  these  slaves  tlie  French  carried  awaj  and  sold  to 
the  Spaniards,  to  work  in  their  mines.  The  paHia- 
ment,  after  making  due  inquiry  into  the  losses  they 
had  sustained,  voted  them  about  a  third  part  of  t&e 
sum  in  which  they  had  suflfered.  These  losses  by  wv, 
an  epidemic  disease,  and  repeated  hurricanes,  exceed- 
ingly diminished  the  number  of  the  people.  They  aie 
now  thought  not  to  exceed  20CO  or  3000  if  bites,  mi 
6000  blacks.  There  is  here  a  lieutenant  gofenor. 
with  a  council,  and  an  assembly,  which  is  compMcd 
of  three  members  from  each  of  the  five  parishes  into 
which  the  island  is  divided.  The  commodities  aie 
cotton  and  sugar  \  and  about  20  sail  of  ships  are  as- 
nually  employed  in  this  trade. 

NEURADA,  in  Botany^  a  genos  of  plants  being- 
ing  to  the  decandria  class,  and  in  the  natural  awtkat 
ranking  under  the  I3tb  order,  SmccuUtUtt,  SceBo- 
TANT  index. 

NEUROGRAPHY,  signifies  a  descriptioo  of  the 
nerves.     See  Anatomy. 

NEUROPTERA,  the  name  of  one  of  the  oideis  inta 
which  the  class  of  insects  is  divided  according  to  the 
Linnaean  classification.     See  Ektomologt  Imhr. 

NEUTER,  a  person  indiOerent,  who  has  espooied 
neither  party,  and  is  neither  friend  nor  Ibe. 

A  judge  ought  to  be  neuter  in  the  causes  he  judges; 
in  questions,  where  reason  appears  neuter,  a  numsMd 
ever  incline  to  the  side  of  the  unhappy. 

Neuter,  in  Grammar^  denotes  a  sort  of  gender  of 
nouns,  which  are  neither  masculine  nor  feminine.   Set 

GCNDKR. 

The  Latins  have  three  kinds  of  genders,  DtscoKBe, 
feminine,  and  neuter.  In  En^isb,  and  other  moden 
tongues,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  neuter  noons.  8k 
Noun. 

Verbs  Neutes^  by  some  grammarians  called  intrf 
sitive  verbs^  are  those  which  govern  nothiog,  sod  that 
are  neither  active  nor  passive.     See  Verb. 

When  the  action  expressed  by  the  verb  has  no  ohjert 
to  fall  *Dpon,  but  I  be  verb  alone  supplies  the  wbale  idea 
of  the  action  ;  the  verb  is  said  to  hie  neuUr :  as,  I  ilKf» 
thou  yawnest,  he  sneeres,  we  walk,  ye  inn,  they  stand 
still. 

Some  divide  verbs  neuter  into,  <•  Such  ^  ^  "^ 
signify  any  action,  but  a  quality  j  ss  o/ftrl,  *'it  b  whittt 


or 


•    N    EW  [    773    J 

Neuter  or  a  sitnatioOy  as  sedit^  **  he  sits  ;*'  or  have  some  relation  conRtracled  for  tUo 
to  place  ^  as  adest^  '.*he  is  present;^'  or  to  some  other 
state  or  attribute,  as  regnat^  **  he  roles,**  &c.  And, 
2.  Those  that  do  signify  actions,  though  those  such  as 
do  not  pass  into  any  subject  different  from  the  actor  \  as 
to  dine,  to  sup,  to  play,  &c« 

But  this  latter  kind  sometimes  cease  to  be  ftettterj 
:ind  commence  active  \  especially  in  Greek  and  Latin, 
when  a  subject  h  given  them  \  as,  vivere  vitam,  anibu^ 
iare  vtam^  pngnare  pugnani.  Thus  the  old  Fi-ench 
poets  say ^Sotipirer son  tounncnti  the  English,  to  sigh  his 
tuoes^  &c. 

But  this  is  observed  only  to  obtain  where  something 
particular  is  to  be  expressed,  not  contained  in  the  verb: 
as,  vivere  vitam  beatam^  to  live  a  happy  Hie  ^  pugnare 
bonam  pugfmm^  to  fight  a  good  fight,  ^c. 

According  to  the  abbot  de  Dangeau,  verbs  neuter 
may  be  divided  into  active  wad  passive;  the  first,  those 
that  form  their  tenses  in  English,  by  the  auxiliary  verb 
to  have  ;  in  French,  by  avoir.  The  second,  those  that 
form  them  in  English  with  the  verb  to  be  ;  in  French 
Ar^.-»Thus,  to  sleep,  to  yawn,  dormir  and  etemuer^ 
are  neuters  active^^^To  come,  and  to  arrive,  are  neuters 
passive. 

Neutral  Salts^  in  Cfiemisiry^  componnded  of  an  acid 
with  any  other  substance  capable  of  uniting  with  it  and 
destroying  its  acidity,  as  sulphuric  acid  and  soda,  or 
Glauber's  salt,  muriatic  acid  and  soda,  or  common  salt. 

NEUTRALITY,  the  state  of  a  person  or  thing 
that  is  neuter,  or  that  takes  part  with  neither  side. 

NEW-ABBCY,  situated  near  Kilcullen  bridge  in  the 
county  of  Kildare,  and  province  of  Leinster  in  Ireland. 
It  was  founded  by  Rowland  Eustace,  of  a  great  and  an- 
cient family  in  this  county  \  the  tower  is  still  standing, 
and  some  part  of  the  abbey ;  the  ruins  of  the  rest  have 
contributed  to  build  several  dwellings  near  it.  In  the 
inside  Rowland  Eustace  and  bis  lady  lie  buried  \  their 
figures,  clothed  in  armour,  are  to  be  seen  there.  Near 
this  is  a  handsome  seat  of  the  Carter  family,  on  the  op-^ 
posite  side  of  the  river  Liffity. 

NEWARK  upon  Trcnt^  in  the  county  of  Netting* 
ham,  is  a  great  thoroughfare  in  the  York  road,  1 24 
miles  from  London.  Jt  has  bridges  over  the  Trent, 
which  forms  an  island  here,  by  dividing  itself  into  two 
streams  two  miles  above  the  town,  which  meet  again 
two  miles  below  it.  A  magnificent  castle  was  built 
here  in  the  reign  of  King  Stephen,  which  held  out 
stoutly  in  the  barons  wars  for  King  John,  who  died 
here,  October  19.  1216;  and  it  also  stood  out  for 
King  Charles  I.  to  the  last  *,  but  after  he  had  put  him- 
self into  the  bands  of  the  Scots  armv  then  before  it, 
the  governor  by  his  order  surrendered  it,  after  which  it 
was  demolished.— It  was  situated  near  the  river  *,  the 
walls  of  the  towers  are  very  thick,  and  of  a  very  great 
height  \  and  were  there  no  historical  testimony,  these 
remains  are  sufficient  evidence  that  it  was  formerly  of 
great  importance.  In  the  court  before  these  ruins  is 
a  very  fine  bowling  green.  The  toivn  being  subject  to 
iouodiations  firora  the  river  Trent,  and  often  from  that 
circumstance  made  impassable,  a  turnpike  road,  at  the 
instigation  of  a  publican,  was  made  about  twenty  years 
ago,  so  high  as  to  be  passed  with  safety  in  the  greater  I 
floods,  by  arches  of  brick  being  made  in  several  places 
to  carry  off  the  water,  constructed  by  Mr  Smeaton,  at 
(he  ex|M(nce  of  1 2,oool.  Near  the  town  there  is  a  bridge 


N    E    W 

same  purpose,  made  mostly  upon  Xewirk 
dry  land,  consisting  of  uine  arches.     Its  church,  which        | 
is  reckoned  one  of  the  finest  in  the  kingdom,  was  built  Ncwcattio 
by  Henry  VI.  and  has  a  lofty  spire.     The  population  .^°  ^"^' 
in  181 1  T^as  7236. 

NEWBOROUGH,  or  Newburgh,  ia  the  isle  of 
Anglesey,  North  Wales,  distant  from  London  254 
miles,  though  but  a  small  town,  situated  over  against 
Caernarvon  in  North  Wales,  about  17  miles  south- 
%vcst  from  Beaumaris,  is  governed  by !  a  mayor,  two 
bailiff-)  and  a  recorder.  Its  Welsh  name  is  RMssir^  or 
Mkosuair, 

NEWBURG,  the  name  of  several  towns  of  Ger- 
many, two  of  which  are  the  chief  towns  of  duchies  of 
the  same  name  }  one  in  Bavaria,  and  the  other  in  the 
Palatinate. 

NEWBURY,  a  town  in  the  county  of  Berks  in 
England,  16  miles  from  Reading,  and  56  from  Lon- 
don, arose  on  the  decay  of  Spinham-Land.  Notwith- 
standing its  name  signifies  New-Borough^  it  is  as  old 
almost  as  the  Conquest.  It  made  so  much  broad 
cloth  formerly,  that  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  here 
flourished  John  Winscomb,  commonly  called  Jack  of 
Newbury^  one  of  the  greatest  clothiers  that  ever  was 
in  England,  who  kept  100  looms  in  his  houses  and 
in  the  expedition  to  Fiowden  Field  against  the  Scots, 
marched  with  100  of  his  own  men,  all  armed  and 
clothed  at  his  own  expence  'y  and  he  built  all  the  west 
part  of  the  ehurch.  Also  Mr  Kenric,  the  son  of  a 
clothier  here,  though  afterwards  a  merchant  in  Lon- 
don, left  4000I.  to  the  town,  as  well  as  7500L  to 
Reading,  to  enoooFage  the  woollen  manufactory.  It 
niakes  a  great  quantity  of  shalloons  and  druggeti,  but 
not  near  so  much  broad  cloth  now  as  formerly  ^  yet  it 
is  a  flourishing  town,  with  spacious  streets,  and  a  large 
market  place,  in  which  is  the  guild-hali.  Ia  the  neigh* 
bourhood,  on  the  banks  of  the  Kennet,  there  is  a  stra- 
tum of  petrified  wood  dug  out  for  firing,  wliere  they  fre- 
quently find  trunks  of  large  oaks  yet  undecayed,  with- 
petrified  hazel  nuts,  fir  cones,  &c.  with  the  bones  and 
horns  of  stags,  antelopes,  &c.  tusks  of  boars,  and  heads 
of  boavcrs.  The  river  Kennet,  which  abounds  with* 
excellent  trout,  eels,  and  cray-fish,  runs  through  the 
town.  It  was  made  a  corporation  by  Queen  Elizabeth,- 
and  is  governed  by  a  mayor,  high  steward,  aldermen, 
&c.    Ihe  population  in  181 1  was  4898^ 

NEWCASTLE-tiff</rr-£tW,  a  town  in  England, 
in  the  county  of  Stafford,  on  a  brancb  of  the  Trent,  is 
1 5  miles  north  of  Stafford,  33  south  south-east  of  War- 
rington, and  149.  from  London  :  had  a  castle,  now  in' 
ruins  ^  and  is  so  called  from  an  older  castle,  which  for- 
merly stood  two  miles  off,  at  Chesterton-nnder-Line* 
It  was  incorporated  by  King  Henry  I.  and  again  bjr 
Queen  Elizabeth  and  King  Charles  IL  and  is  governed 
by  a  mayor,  two  justices,  two  iMiiliffs,  and  24  common 
counciL  The  population  in  x8ii  was  61 75.  The 
clothing  trade  flourishes  here  ;  but  its  chief  manu- 
factory b  hats,  here  being  an  incorporated  company  of 
felt^roakers.  A  great  quantity  of  stone  ware  is  made 
near  this  place. 

Newcastle  on  Tyne^  the  capital  of  the  county  of 
North omberland  in  England,  1 5  miles  north  of  Dur- 
ham, 94  north  of  York,  63  south  by  east  of  Berwick, 
60  east  of  Carlisle,  and  271  from  London,  stands  at  the 
end  of  the  Ficts  wall,  on  the  north  side  of  the  T3mp, 

over 


NEW 


t    774    ] 


NEW 


Newcaille  9V€t  vAAA  it  baa  a  stately  bridge  ioto  the  bishopric 
on  lyne.  of  Durham,  in  which  its  suburb  called  Gateside  is  situ- 
ated }  for  tho  liberties  of  Newcastle  extend  no  farther 
than,  the  great  iron  gate  upon  the  bridge,  which  has  the 
arms  of  the  bishop  of  Duniam  carved  on  the  east  side 
aild  those  of  Newcastle  oo  the  west  side.     W.  Long. 
'!«  27.  K.  Lit.  S5^  5*     I^  i>  Emitted  to  have  been  a 
Boman  station,  thoogfa  no  evidence  at  present  appears, 
evoept  at  Pandon-gate,  >rhose  superstfuctnte  is  of  dif- 
ferent workmanship  and  model  from  any  othets  of  the 
tbwu,   the 'arches  bebig' circular.     The  ^arpettter^s 
tower  is  also  of  Roman  originals    'In  the  Saxons  time 
it  was  called  Moncarter^  'frmn  the  monks  here,  -Who  all 
-fled  when  it  was  depopnUted  by  the -Danes }  mnd  after- 
wards Ntweastk^  fi^m  m  castle  built  here  by  William 
the  Conqueror's  son^  Robert|  'iii  H>8o,  to  de^nd  the 
country  aeasBst  the  Scots,  whose  kings  had  this  town  be- 
fore the  Norman' eonqvesi,  and  sometimes  resided  here. 
— •Sovernl  motmateries  and  houses  were  built  here  soon 
-after  die  castle ^  "aod  it  Was  greatly  eslarged  and  en- 
ridwd'  hy^-a  good  trade  to  the  coasts  of  Germany,  and 
by  the  sale  of  its  coal  to  other  parts  of  England  j  for 
i^ich,  and  fl>r  other  aserchandise,   it  is  become  the 
^great  emparimn  of  the  north  of  England,  it  being  the 
neatest  and  largest  town  in  those  parts,  next  to  x  erk. 
Xn  the  reign  of  Edtiwd  L  it  Was  blinit  by  the  Scots } 
but  a  very  rich  bai*gher^  Who  Was  taken  prisoner,  soon 
ransomed  himself  wr  a  good  sum  of  money,  and  be* 
gan  the  first  fbrtifiealions  of  the  place,  which  he  ex- 
tended from  SaMlgate  (bo  Pampedon,  and  thence  to 
the  Aostin  friars  gate  \  which  the  townsmen  finished, 
and  eaGompaned  with  stout  walla,  which  extended  two 
miles,  wherein  are  seven  gates  and  maoy  turrets,  with- 
several  casemates  bomb-proof*     To  which  two  other 
gates  were  added  in  more  modem  times,  via.  Bridge- 
gate  and  Sand-gate :  the  wall  between  them  was  af« 
terwards  removed  to  open  the  quay.     Edward  III. 
granted  the  corporation  the  duties  and  customs  of  the 
town  for  seven  yeara,  to  enable  them  ie  complete  the 
ibrtifioation.     u  is  ^  borough  at  least  as  uncieot  as 
King  Richard  II.  who  granted  that  a  aword  should  be 
earned  before  the  mayor )  and  King  Henry  VL  made 
it  a  town  and  county  incorporate  of  itwlf,  indepeu" 
dent  of  Northumberland.    Henry  VU«  buiU  a  mona- 
stery here  for  the  Franciscans.     Besides  which,  it  had 
several  religious  foundations,  several  of  which  structures 
have  been  eonverted  to  companies  halls  and  private 
Msidences.     In  the  reian  of  Henry  VIII.  this  place 
is  said  to  have  exceeded  in  the  strength  and  magnifi- 
oenoe  of  its  woiks  all  the  cities  of  England,  and  most 
places  in  Europe.     The  town  is  governed  by  a  mayor, 
12  aldermen,  a  recorder,  aherifi',  town  clerk,  a  clerk  of 
the  chambers,  two  coroners,  eight  chamberiainS|  a 
sword-bearer,  a  water  bailiff,  and  seven  Serjeants  at 
mace.    Its  situation,  especially  the  most  busy  part  of 
it  towards  the  river,  is  very  uneven,  it  being  built  on 
the  declivity  of  a  steep  hill,  and  the  houses  very  dose. 
The  castle  oveilooks  the  whole  town.    That  part  built 
by  Robert  was  of  great  strength,  and  square,  and  sur- 
rounded by  two  walls  \  the  square  was  62  fiiet  by  54, 
and  the  walls  13  feet  thick,  within  which  was  a  cha- 
pd.    The  ontward  fiirtifications  are  nosr  dimmed,  and 
their  site  crowded  with  buildings*    The  tower  remains 
entire,  and  aitoated  on  a  lofty  eminence,  and  its  prin- 
cipal enlBance  is  to  the  south.    This  castle  belongs  to 

3 


the  county,  and  makes  no  part  of  the  libeiiics>-It  ii  Ke««^ 
now  the  county  prison,  and  in  the  great  hall  tl^  jodm  odTjm. 
hold  the  assizes.  Here  Balkd  king  of  Scotkad  did  ho- ' 
mage  to  King  Edward  I.  in  1 392 :  as  did  Edward  Biliol 
in  1334  to  King  Edward  III,  Hc«e  is  a  magaifkfot 
etchange  and  a  custoitihouse ;  and  a  very  fine  quay. 
There  is  a' handsome  mansion  house  for  the  mayor,  vbo 
'is  allowed  loool.  a-year,  for  his  table,  besides  a  csack 
a\id  barge*  The  old  bridge  was  carried  away  is  a 
'flood,  and  the  present  was  erected  about  1775,  of  oise 
noble  elliptic  arches.  With  the  old  bridge  22  bosw 
Were  thrown  down,  and  six  lives  lost.  It  was  orinQd- 
ly  built  of  wood  \  but  having  been  destroyed  by  fire  in 
1248,  was  rebuilt  of  stone,  and  consisted  of  lasiehcii 
three  of  which  on  the  north  side  were  closed  v^  sod 
served  for  cellars :  this  was  again  rebuilt  about  14JO1 
and  was  crowded  with  wooden  buildings  }  but  nrar  tlie 
middle  was  a  tower  with  an  iron  gate,  used  as  a  tomi 
prison.  A  strong  building  crossed  the  bridge,  wbick 
was  used  as  a  magazine.  On  the  sooth  front  vti  s 
statue  of  King  Charles  II.  The  water  which  destnjr. 
ed  this  bridge,  on  Noveniber  11.  1771,  wasnpaiidt 
of  12  feet  above  high  water  mark  in  spring  tidcs^— Oi 
removing  the  foundations  of  the  piers  of  the  old  Wi^ 
to  erect  the  present,  by  observations  made,  and  bkUs 
feund^  paft  of  it  is  supposed  to  have  exisled  fioai  tW 
time  of  the  Romans.  It  is  computed  that  abeve  6000 
keehnen  are  employed  here,  who  have  formed  diesir 
selves  into  a  friendly  society  \  and  by  their  oira 
tributioiis,  built  a  noble  hospital  cootainiog  50 
hers,  for  such  o^  their  fraternity  as  are  poor, 
or  past  their  labour  >  and  it  is  supported  1^  the  ess- 
tribution  ef  those  that  are  in  health*  Ths  lova  b 
extremely  populous  \  and,  notwithstanding  the  Bskir 
tude  of  those  etnployed  in  and  about  (be  coal  ^ 
with  which  the  toWn  is  in  a  manner  aurromided,  bs 
abundance  of  poor )  but  it  has  also  many  weahl^  ia- 
habitants,  and  it  is  said  they  pay  above  4000!.  s*^ 
to  their  i^ief.  It  is  observed,  that  this  town  hss  tk 
greatest  public  revenue  in  its  own  right  as  a  osipon* 
tion,  of  any  town  in  EngUod,  it  beieig  compoted  st  os 
less  than  Soool.  a-year.  In  x  774f  the  receipts  of  tk 
corporation  were  20,360!.  9s.  od.  ^  aad  their  dtsbane* 
ments  about  1994451*  The  number  of  inhabilaati  is 
181 1  was  27,587,  exclusive  of  a  number  of  seamen  aW 
caiiaot  be  accnrately  estimated.  Here  are  four  chwcki 
or  chapels.  That  of  St  Nichohs  is  the  mother  chls«i^ 
a  curious  fabric,  built  cathedral-wise  by  ]>avid  kiiig  <( 
Scota,  240  feet  long,  75  hroad»  and  psoprntionsWy 
hioh,  with  a  tower  steeple  194  feet  in  height,  if  C^ 
thic  architecture ;  also  8t  AndrewV^  St  JohaX  sstf 
All  Sainta,  lately  rdbuUt  on  the  site  of  tlie  old  stnr* 
ture,  of  a  circular  form.  Here  are  also  seveial  ncci- 
ing  houses,  and  font  charity  schools  for  300cfaiidreif 
a  fine  ball  foe  the  siir||cons,  and  a  large  prison  caUid 
Newgaie  i  alao  an  hospital  for  Inoatica,  another  fiv^ 
lying-iB  of  married  womeo^  as  well  aa  a  fund  raiH 
for  the  relief  of  thoae  who  are  delivered  at  their  ova 
bouses.  Here  is  a  well  endowed  a»d  iar^e  infinmf7t 
and  an  aasembW  room  that  attmcta  attention,  csntsia- 
ing  every  usefiil  apartment,  and  a  haO  room  93  fcct 
by  40 :  The  firont  is  ornamented  with  six  Ionic  pillsn^ 
&C.  In  another  part  of  the  town  is  a  new  theslir. 
Here,  is  a  very  neat  set  of  baths*  A  finee 
school  was  granted  by  James  I.  firom  an  old 


NEW 


[    775    3 


NEW 


Neweaitlc  ^  St  Mftiy*s  hospital,  hi  the  ve^rj  room  of  whose 
on  Tync   chapel  is  the  electioii  of  the  offioen  of  the  corporation. 
There  were  formerly  several  palaces  in  this  city,  viz.  Pam- 
pedon  hall,  Lamley  place,  £arl*s  Place,  Northumber- 
land house,  Westmoreland  place,  &c.     The  free  ma^ 
sons  hare  lately  erected  an  elegant  hall,  richly  oma* 
meated,  to  hold  their  lodge  in,  near  High  friar  chair, 
capable  of  holding  above  4000  of  that  ancient  frater- 
nity.    Here  is  an  hospital  for  39  decayed  freemen 
ancl  their  widows  ^  and  another  for  three  clergjmen*8 
Widows  and  thtee  merchants  widows.     The  Maidens 
liospital,  boilt  in  17539  is  endowed  with  2400I.  for  six 
maiden  women  and  six  poor  OMn.    Dr  Thomlin,  a  pre- 
bendary of  St  Panrs,  and  rector  of  Whicham  in  the 
bishopric  of  Durham,  gave  a  library,  of  above  6000 
▼akuble  books  to  the  corporation,  and  settled  a  rent 
charge  of  5I.  a-year  for  ever  for  baying  new  ones  ^ 
and  Sir  Walter  filacket,  formerly  one  of  its  represen- 
tatives ta  parliament,  built  a  neat  repository  for  them, 
and  settled  25I.  a-year  for  ever  on  a  librarian.     The 
upper  or  north  part  of  the  town,  inhabited  by.  the  politer. 
sort  of  people,  is  much  pleasanter  than  thiit  pail  next 
the  river,  and  has  three  level,  well  built,  and  spacious 
streets.    The  river  all  the  way  op  firam.  Shields  to 
Newcastle  is  broad,  the  channel  safe,  and  the  tide 
ftows  with  a  stroi^  current  to  the  town,  and  far  be- 
yond it.     In  the  beginning  of  the  civil  wars,  this  town 
was  taken  and  plundered  by  the  Sca^^k  famUicM^  who 
here  sold  their  king,  Charles  1.  for  200,ooqI.  in  hand^ 
and  security  for  as  much  more.     The  glass  works  ar& 
▼ery  curioBs,  and  have  more  business  of  the  fine  sort- 
than  most  other  places  :  the  duty  on  this  article  drawn 
by  government  is  said  to  amoont  to  200,oool.  annually* 
Besides,  it  has  a  considerable  manufacturei  of  broad  and 
narrow  doths,  and  several  soap  boileriea;   and  this- 
place  is  (aoMms  for  grindstones,  for  which  there  is  snch 
a  denwnd,  that  scarce  a  ship- stirs  without  them  S  fvom 
wlience  came  the  proverb,  ^  That  a  Scotsman  and  a» 
Newcastle  grindstone  travel  all  the  world.ovcr.'*^  Ships 
fit  for  the  coal  trade  are  huik  here  to  porfeetioa,  with' 
great  strength.    Here  is  %  eonsidenible  maaiiBietory  of' 
hardware  aad  wrought  iron,  after  the  manner  of  that  at  - 
Sbefteld^p— -Its  markets  are  on  Tuesdays  and  Saturdays. . 
Its  lairs  in  August,  which  last  nine  days,  aiud.Octobor 
29th,  which  last  nine  day^.   By  an  act  of  Queen  Mary, 
the  price  of  the  carriage  of  goods  hith^  frornXondon. 
by  waggons  was  settled  at  -id.  per  lib;     London  akne . 
is  said  to  consume  at  least  766,887  chaldnms  of  itS' 
coal  every  year  j  but  as  ibr  the  fish  vended  in  th*t 
city  by  tlie  name  of  l^tw^oMtk  wahum^  it  is  more  pro- 
perly called  Artoiidb  saAwsa,  the  firesh  salmon  being 
taken  near  50  miles  farther,  as  far  as  the  Tweed,  aad 
brought  on  the  backs  of  horses  to  Shields^  where  it. 
is  cured,  pickled,  and  sent  on  board  for  London.     It 
is  worth  remembering,  that  at  tlie  assizes  heva  in  1743, 
two  old  men  werO/smpoena*d  hither  as  witnesses  frsin 
a  neig^ibouring  village,  viz.  one  135  yeais  of  age,  and 
hb  son  95,  both  hearty,  and  having  their  sight  aad 
hearing*,  and  that  in,  1744,  one  Adam  Tumbull  died 
in  this  towu  aged  1 1 3,  who  had  had  four  wives,  the 
last  of  whom  %t  had  nwrried  when  he  was  near  100 
years  old. 

The  annual  amonnt  of  the  revenue  of  customs  at 
this,  fort,  which  Mr  Bnmd  in  his  Hist^  of  New- 


Coaitway*. 

Over  sea. 

Plantationir. 

494,488 

42,808 

2844 

505. '37 

1516 

J79.929 

48.737 

3852 

552,827. 

47.213 

2360 

castle  states  at  41,0001.  is  now  very  considerably  up-  Nsweaatk 
wards  of  70,000!.  on  Tyne, 

The  coals  carried  out  of  it  annually  (on  an  average  Ncwcaitle. 
from  1785  to  1 791)  were  nearly  448,000  Newcastle        ^ 
chaldrons^   the  weight  of  which  is   1,187,200  tons. 
The  following  are  the  exports  of  coals  from  the  Tyoe 
for  the  years  annexed. 

Years, 
1802 
1803 
1804 
1805 

The  number  of  persons  employed  in  the  coal  trade  of 
tlie  rivers  Tyne  and  Wear  in  1792  exceeded  64,000. 

The  manufacture  of  earthen  ware  is  greatly  increas- 
ed, and  carried  on  to  great  perfection  in  its  neighbour- 
hood, in  seven  potteries  \  and  their  produce  exported  > 
hence  to  foreign  parts^  as  well  as  to  the  .difierent  ports 
of  this  kingdom  \  some  of  which  potteries  constantly 
employ  upwards  of  100  persons,  men,  women,  and 
children. 

NeW'Worfci  of  oonsidtfrahk  extent  for  the  mana&c- 
tare  of  iron  have  been  established  \  as  also  a  very  capi- 
tal manufactory  for  white  lead,  milled  lead,  &c  In- 
dependent of  Ted  and  white  lead,  the  quantity  of  lead 
exported  from  the  ri^cr  Tyne  during  four  years  was  as  . 
foUows. 


T«a». 

Toot. 

Cwt. 

1802 

8609 

18 

1803 

6364 

6 

1804 

10352 

2. 

i8q5 

9J^5 

3: 

The  trade  with  the  West  India  islands  is  inereasing, 
and  may  in  time  become  very  considerable}  as  tSs 
port  has  great  advantages,  in  being  able  to  supply 
on  the. cheapest  terms  maay  articles  wanted  in  those 
isfamds ;  sudi  as  coals^  griadstoaes,  lia:ie,  bricks,  tiles, 
iron  waves,  &c.  \  and  is  most  -advantageoasly  situated 
for  the  n^x  porta tion  of  the  West  India  produce  to 
the  ports  oa  Uie  Baltic,  to  Germany,  the  United  Pro- 
vinees,  Flanders,  and  pari  of  Franco  \  and  moreover, 
tho  xifik  of  navigation^  and  the  rate  of  insurance,  not 
being  greater  thira  between  those  islands  and  Liver- 
pool, and  some  other  ports  on  the  western  coast  of  this 
kingdoom 

The  population  of  Newcastle  in  1811  was  27,587, 
aad  It  is  daily  incraasiag  in  inhahitants  aad  onaleace. 
It  has  long  been  noted  mr  hospitality  and  good  living. 
Great  .improvements  have  he^  made  ia  the  town,  by 
opeaing  nev-stioets,  and  paving  the  pnacipal  ones,  in 
the  same  annaer  a»  in  London*  To  tho  list  of  public 
edifices  of  modern  ereotioa,  and  mentioned  above,  vix. 
the  grand  assembly  rooms,  and  the  elegant  theatra, 
whiu  were  built  by  subscription,  and  the  superb  parish 
chnrch  of  AH  Saints,  built  at  a  very  great  expeace  by. 
the  parishioneffs,  may  be  added  a  commodious  riding 
house,  built  aba  by  sabsctiafcioB. 

Newcastle,  a  boroagh  town  of  Ireland,  in  the 
cooaty  of  Dablm,  aad  province  of  Leinstcr,  whkh  for*  . 
merlv  ratanied  two  memben  to  parliament,  and  -holds 
two  mirs,  j^h  of  May  and  8th  of  October. 

NEWCAsaitE  is  also  the  noma  irf«  lyudsoao  town  • 

iA( 


reft 


NEW  t    776 

Itfeweastle  tn  the  county  of  Limerick  and  province  of  Munster, 
li  on  the  high  road  to  Kerry,  114  miles  from  Dublin. 
Here  was  a  religious  house  possessed  by  the  knights 
P  templars.  It  is  said,  they  used  some  barbarous  customs 
which  greatly  disgusted  the  Irisli,  who,  watching  a  fa« 
▼curable  opportunity,  attacked  a  number  of  the  knights 
riding  out  together  and  put  them  to  death  ^  the  place 
is  still  remembered  where  their  remains  were  interred. 
This  order  was  suppressed  in  the  famous  council  of 
Vienna*  22d  of  March  1 3 1 2.  Newcastle  consists  of  a 
large  square  where  markets  and  fairs  are  held  ^  on  the 
northern  side  stands  a  market  house,  with  an  assembly 
room  ;  on  the  south  side  is  the  church,  which  is  the 
Deatest  in  the  county :  it  was  finished  in  1777  at  the 
sole  expence  of  Lord  Courtenay.  It  stands  close  to 
the  walls  and  fortifications  of  the  knights  templars,  of 
which  one  of  the  castles  is  -fitted  up  for  Lord  Courte- 
nay's  agent. 

Newcastle,  a  town  in  Aramca,  35  miles  below 
Philadelphia,  on  the^  west  bank  of  Delaware  river. 
It  was  first  settled  by  the  Swedes  about  the  year  1627, 
»nd  called  Stockholm,  '  It  was  afterwards  taken  by  the 
Dntcb,  and  called  New  Amsterdam.  When  it  fell  in- 
to the  hands  of  the  Knglish,  it  was  called  by  its  pre- 
sent name.  It  contained  2438  inhabitants  in  iSoo, 
including  235  slaves,  and  was  formerly  the  seat  of  go- 
vernment. This  is  the  first  town  that  was  settled  on 
Delaware  river. 

Newcastle,  Duke  of.    See  Cavendtsh. 

New  England.    See  England^  New. 


WL 


]  NEW 

found  in  that  roost  curious  and  venerable  record.  }itwu 
.Wishing  to  discover  the  original  extent  of  the  forest, 
we  extracted,  for  our  own  information,  all  that  relates' 
to  it  in  that  ancient  sur^^ey.  The  extract  is  far  toe 
voluminous  for  insertion.  Tlte  names  of  many  of 
•the  places  having  been  changed  since  that  tinte,  it  u 
difficult  to  ascertain  with  precision  what  were  then  tlx 
limits  of  the  forest.  The  oldest  peranibolation  «c  have 
;met  with  is  among  the  Pleas  of  the  Forest,  in  the 
ei^th  year  of  King  Edward  I.  preserved  in  tiie 
Chapter-house  at  Westminster.  The  hoondaries  that 
described  include  all  the  country  from  SoutlumjitoB 
river  on  the  east  to  the  Avon  on  tlie  west,  foilowiag 
the  sea  coast  as  far  as  the  southern  bounilaiy  between 
those  rivers,  and  extending  northwards  as  far  as  North 
Chadcford,  or  North  Charford,  on  the  west,  and  to 
Wade  and  Orebrngg,  or  Owerbridge,  on  the  east  *,  aii4 
the  greatest  part,  if  not  the  whole,  of  that  extensive 
district,  is  mentioned  in  Doomsday  book  to  be  the 
forest  belonging  to  the  crown*  Another  peraoibola. 
tion  was  however  made  in  tlte  29th  of  the  same  king, 
which  le&ves  out  a  great  part  of  the  country  contain- 
ed within  the  former.  This  penunbalatioo,  which  ii 
preserved  in  the  Tower  of  London,  confines  the  foicst 
to  limits  which,  as  far  as  we  can  trace  them,  appear  to 
have  been  followed  in  the  22d  year  of  Cbairiet  JL 
when  the  forest  was  again  perambulated.  By  iht 
Ckarta  de  Foresta^  all  lands  not  belooging  to  the  cran 
which  had  been  afforested  by  Henry  II.  Richaid  I. 
or  King  John,  were  to  be  disaflbrested ;  but  as 


New  Forest  of  Hampshire  in  England,  is  a  tract  of    provision  was  made  for  the  reduction  of  the  more  as- 


at  least  40  miles  in  compass,  which  had  many  populous 
towns  and  vilUges,  and  36  mother  churches,  till  it 
was  destroyed  and  turned  into  a  forest  by  William  the 
•Conqueror.  There  are  nine  walks  in  it  j  and  to  every 
one  a  keeper,  under  a  lord  warden,  besides  two  ran- 
gers, and  a  bow-bearer.  As  this  large  tract  lay  many 
ages  open  and  exposed  to  invasions  from  foreigners. 
King  Henry  VIII.  built  some  castles  in  it :  and  it  has 
now  several  pretty  towns  and  villages.  It  is  situated 
4n  that  part  of  Hampshire  which  is  bounded  on  the 
east  by  Southampton  river,  and  on  the  south  by  the 
British  channel.  It  possesses  advantages  of  situation, 
^with  respect  to  the  convenience  of  water  carriage  and 
nearness  to  the  dock  yards,  superior  to  every  other 
forest,  having  in  its  neighbourhood  several  ports  and 
places  of  shelter  for  shipping  timber,  among  which 
I/ymington  is  at  the  distance  of  only  two  miles^  Bew- 
ley  about  half  a  mile,  and  Redbridge  three  or  four 
miles  from  the  forest  ^  and  the  navigation  to  Ports- 
mouth, the  most  considerable  duck  yard  in  this  king- 
dom, is  only  about  30  miles  from .  the  nearest  of  those 
places.  This  is  the  only  forest  belonging  to  the 
crown  of  which  the  origin  is  known.  I>oomsday- 
book  contains  the  most  distinct  account  of  its  aifore- 
station  by  William  the  Conqueror :  tbe  contents  of 
every  field,  farm,  or  estate  aflforestcd,  in  hide<i,  cacu- 
eates,  or  virgates,  by  which  the  extent  of  land  was 
then  computed,  together  with  the  names  of  the  hun- 
dreds and  villages,  and  of  the  former  proprietors 
(which  are  for  the  most  part  Saxon),  the  rent  or  yearly 
value  of  each  possession,  and  the  tax  which  liad  been 
paid  for  it  to  tbe  crown  during  the  reign  of  £dward 
the  Confessorj  before  the  inhabitants  were  expelled, 
-and  that  part  of  tbe  country  laid  waste,  are  all  to  be 

1 


cient  afforestations,  it  is  easy  to  account  for  the  great 
diminution  of  this  forest  in  the  reign  of  Edward  L 
who  was  not  a  prince  likely  to  submit  to  any  eacrcach' 
ment  on  his  rights.  The  perambulation  of  tbe  22i 
of  Charles  II.  is  the  last  which  we  find  on  record:  it 
contains  the  present  legal  bounds  of  the  forest,  and 
was  given  to  the  surveyors  as  their  guide,  in  taking  the 
plan  which  tliey  have  made  lately  by  direction.  Fnn 
that  plan,  with  the  approbation  of  the  lords  conoii- 
sioners  of  his  majesty  ^s  treasury,  an  eograving  was  node. 
According  to  the  last-mentioned  perambulation  and  the 
plan,  the  forest  extends  from  Godshill  on  the  aoitb- 
west  to  tbe  sea  on  the  sooth-east,  about  20  miles ;  and 
from  Hardley  on  the  east  to  Ringwood  on  the  veit, 
about  15  miles ;  and  contains  within  those  liai^ 
about  92,365  acres  statute  measure.  The  whole  of 
that  quantity,  however,  is  not  forest  land,  or  now  tbe 
property  of  the  crown :  there  are  several  mason  aad 
other  considerable  freehold  estates  within  the  pennho- 
lation,  belonging  to  individuals,  to  the  amount  of  ahool 
24,797  acres ;  about  625  acres  are  copyhold  or  cnto* 
mary  lands  belonging  to  bis  majesty^s  manor  of  Lvad- 
hurst}  about  1004  ^cr^^  ^'^  lease-bold  under  the 
crown,  granted  for  Certain  terms  of  years,  and  fofnag 
part  of  the  demised  land  revenue,  under  the  maoagt- 
ment  of  (he  surveyor-general  of  crown  lands}  aboat 
901  acres  are  purpresturrs  or  encroachments  oatbe 
forest  \  about  1 193  aores  more  are  enclosed  lands  heU 
by  the  master-keepers  and  gix)om- keepers,  with  their 
respective  lodges  \  and  the  remainder,  being  ahoit 
63,845  acres,  are  woods  and  waste  lands  of  the  foretf. 
To  perpetuate  the  spot  where  William  Sufus  va^ 
killed  by  tbe  glance  of  an  aiTOw  shot  at  a  sta^  a  Iri* 
angular  stone  was  erected  in  1745-     George  nLw* 

ittrd 


NEW 


t    7 


fo.  sited  Uiift  spot  ifi  17&9*  In  August  1782^  aculiiHis 
A  ancient  golden  crowi  was  found  beve  by  a  {aborning 
)  man  digging  tur^  It  waiglied  ahofve  an  oilnee  of  gold* 
'^  and  bad  on  one  aldr  an  engraving  t&f  out  Saviour,  and 
on  the  other,  ibe  Udder,  spear^  mlUi  and  other  emblems 
of  his  sufferings*  <« 

Neht  U<dlaud,    Sec  Holla  XD^  Nbw^ 
New  Yorlu    five  YoxKf  Ntw. 
NKfT  Zealand*    See  Zkalaud^  Ntw. 
Nbw  Years  Gtfu^  presents  made  on  the  first  day 
of  the  new  year.     Nonius  MarceUus  refrrs  the  origin 
of  this  custom  anieoff  the  Boraans  to  Tatins  kiag  of 
the  Sabines,  who  reigned  at  Rone  conjointly  witli 
Romulus,  and  who  having  considered  as  a  good  omen 
a  present  of  some  branches  out  in  a  wood  oonsecrated 
to  Stremfif  the  goddess  of  strength,  which  he  received 
on  the  first  day  of  the  new  year,  authorized  this  cu- 
stom afterwards,  and  gave  to  these  presents  the  name 
of  strrnte*    Honvever  this  may  he,  the  Romans  on  that 
day  celebFateda  festival  in  honour  of  Janus,  and  paid 
their  respects  sit  the  same  time  to  Juno  j  but  they  did 
not  pass  it  in  idleness,  lest  they  should  become  indo« 
lent  during  the  rest  of  the  year.     They  sent  presents 
to  one  another  of  figs,  dateS|  honey,  &lc.  to  show  their 
friends  that  they  wished  for  a  happy  ^d  agreeable 
rrfe.     Clients,,  that  Ib  t«  say,  those  who  were  imder 
the  protection  of  the  great,  cacried  presents  c^  this 
kind  to  their  patrons,  adding  to  them  a  small  piece  of 
Hilver.     Under  Au^gostus,  the  senate,  the  knights,  nad 
fbe  people,  presented  such  gifts  to  ham,  and  in  his  ah- 
Kence  drposited  them  in  the  capitoL     Of  the  snccecd- 
ine  primBes  some  ndopted  this  custnn  and  others  aW- 
li^d  it }  but  it  alwaya  contiBoed  among  the  people. 
The  early  Christians  oondemned  it,  because  it  apprared 
to  be  n  raliok  of  Pagaaisn  and  a  spmes  of  supersti- 
tiau  'j  but  when  it  began  to  have  no  other  object  than 
that  of  being  a  mark  of  veneration  and  esteem,  the 
t^hurcb  ceased  to  dinapprove  it. 

N£W£L,  in  architecture,  is  the  upright  post 
which  a  pair  of  winding  stairs  toin  about  %  this  is 
proyerly  a  cylinder  of  stone^  which  bears  on  tks 
ground,  and  is  formed  by  the  end  of  the  steps  of  the 
^wiadioB  stairs. 

N£  WFIDLEfi^SA,  a  hU^e  in  Hnngary,  17  miles 
in  Imigtih  and  6  in  breadtht 

N£WFOUNDLAND,,  a  lar^  island  of  Nortb 

America,  belonging  to  Great  Bntain^  Y/i^g  hetween 

46.  50.  and- ji.  30.  N.  Lat..and  between  53.  30.  and 

58.  20b  W.  Long,  from  Londonu    The  fsnn  i»  that  of 

ao  irregkjdar  triaaglci,  the  base  or  south  side  bein«  80 

^leagufts  iaeximit  \  the  eafst  side  is  the  longeet  \  aad  the 

whole  circnmference  about  150  leagues.     It  is  bounds 

ed  oa  the  north  by  the  stsaits  of  Belieiiie,  which  separ 

rate  ii  firam  Labcedmr  \  oa  the  fnst  and  souA  it  hadi 

the  Atlantic  oeenn,  add  on  the  ^»est  tho  g^lf  of  St 

IjavrreBcn«  The  climate  is  rather  sevfyre  (  aiA  the  soU,, 

&t.  lemat  on  Ae  sea  const,  which  is  all  that  we  know  qf 

it,  in  poor  and  barreiv    A  fow  kitchen  vegetables^  with 

strawberries- end,  inspbsrmea,,  are  all  its  .produoet.  Tho 

iioantxj  witkia  hwd  is  mouitainnnsii  and  idioands  with 

tinnber ;  there  axe  sevmsl  riven  which  are  plentifully 

stored  with  varions^sort^  o(fish>  ahundnnne  of  deep  bays, 

ami  many  geodports»    St  Jobn^s  and  Plaoentie^  are  the 

two  priad^  mitiemenlSi  and  at  eaob.of  these  these  is 

a  £awt  ^  the  nmnher  of  peopb  who  remnin  bens  in  jt}ie 

Vol..  XIV.  Part  II.  t 


!uu(\ 


77    1  NEW 

winter  liath  beeu  computf d  at  4000.  The  French,  liv  Nen-foand- 
the  treaty  of  Utrecht»  were  permitted  to  fish  Irom  Cape 
fionaviata  oa  the  east  side  round  the  north  of  the  island 
to  Point  Rich  on  the  west )  and  by  the  treaty  of  Paris, 
they  are  allowed  the  isles  of  St  Pierre  and  Miquelon, 
upon  which  they  are  to  dry  their  fish,  but  not  to  erect 
fortifications  of  any  kind. 

The  great  importance  of  this  place  arises  from  its 
fishery,  which  is  in  part  carried  on  by  the  inhabitants 
at  the  several  harbours,  which  are  about  20  in  number, 
who  take  vast  quantities  of  cod  near  the  coast,  whidi 
they  bring  in  and  cure  at  their  leisure,  in  order  to  have 
it  ready  for  the  ships  when  they  arrive.  But  the  great 
and  extensive  fishery  is  on  tfafe  banks  at  some  distance 
from  the  island.  The  great  bank  lies  20  leagues  from 
the  nearest  point  of  land,  from  the  latitude  41^  to  49^, 
stretching  300  miles  in  length  and  75  in  breadth.— 
To  the  east  of  this  lies  the  False  Bank  %  the  next  is 
styled  Vert^  or  the  Green  Bank^  about  340  miles  long, 
and  120  over ;  then  Banqnero,  about  the  same  size  v 
the  shoals  of  Sand  Isknd,  Whale  Bank,  and  the  Bank, 
of  St  Peter^s,  with  several  nthcss  of  less  note,  aU 
abounding  with  fish. 

The  cod  are  caught  only  by  %  hook}  an  expert 
fisher  will  take  ftom  150  to  300  and  upwards  in  a  day; 
for  the  fish  never  bite  in  the  night:  the  labour  is 
very  great«  The  season  is  from  May  to  October,  in 
the  height  of  which  there  are  from  500  to  700  sail 
upon  the  hanks  at  a  time.  The  fish  canght  in  the 
spriog  months  are  best;  they  are  cured  in  very  differ- 
ent wagrs*  Some  are  styled  white fish^  others  mudjish, 
which  are  stowed  and  salted  in  the  hold,  and  will  not 
keep  long ;  but  the  best  and  most  valuable  are  the  df  iod 
cod*  The  qnaatity  taken  is  prodigious:  yet  in  some 
seasons  and  in  different  places  vanes  considerably,  as , 
the  fish  frequently  change  their  stations.  Thej^^^fV?^ 
ships^  as  they  are  called,  lie  upon  the  hanks,  with  the 
help  of  their  boats  take  and  <:ave  their  own  fish,  and  as 
soon  as  they  are  full  sail  for  a  maiLet.  The  sack  ships 
proceed  directlv  to  the  island,  where  they  purchase 
nsh  firomtiie  inhabitants  <either  by  baiter  or  bills  of  ex* 
chaage.  The  principal  markets  for  cod  are  Spain, 
Portugal,  Italy,  and  the  West  Indies.  The  mlue  of 
this  fishery  is  connoted  at  some  hundrod  diousand 
pounds  annually  }  empky mg,  besides  several  hundred 
ships^-^ome  thousands  of  searo<b,  and  affording  a  main- 
tenance to  a  smmhsr  of  tradesmen  of  different  occupa- 
tions, bv  which  many  lnr|ge  towna  on  the  west  side  of 
England  aecumniata  much  wealth,  and  at  the  same  time 
imntribnte  in  many  im^ectg/ta  the  ben^  of  the  public. 

The  great  utility  of  this  ^shery  was  very  eariy  seen, 
and  very  vmoEQUsly  pucsued },  fiir  in  the  beginning  of 
the  reifpi  oC  Kiqg  James  I.  we  had  two  hundred  and 
fifiy  siul  em^^cd  therein.  It  is  compnted,  that 
three  quintals  of  wet  fish  make  one  quintal  of  drii^  cod. 
Besides,  the  Kvexa  of  every  faiindrid  quintals,  make  a 
boghead  of  oil;  and  esdnsive  of  these  there  ase  many 
lefner  sidvaatag^.that^  ia  dtnuautioa  oC  the  expence. 
Tim  fisheq^  as.  we  have  said  abowe,  produces  diyferent^ 
ly  in  diffimni  seasono ;  hut  it  is  judged  ta  be  a  very 
good^nn  when  it  prodaoea  300,000  qiiintab  oCfiah  and 
3qpo.hamls  of  oil,  both  e^padly  aaleaUe  aad  vakmhle 
commoditi^  A^  every  ship  cairiea  twnlie,  and  each 
of  their  boats  ei^  men,  and,  aa  ^Kse  rstni  home  in 
sis  months,  there  cannot  hat%  man  aoUe  nursery  fer 

5  F  seamen. 


NEW 


r  778  ] 


NEW 


Newfiiund-  seamen.  The  artificers  and  traders  employed  iii  build- 
Jand.  ingy  victualling,  and  repairing  these  vessels,  are  very  nu- 
»  ^  merous  in  the  respective  ports  from  which  they  sail. 
These  circumstances  justify  the  particular  attention  paid 
by  government  to  this  branch  of  the  public  service  ^  in 
respect  to  tfhich  that  they  may  be  well  informed,  an  an- 
nual and  very  distinct  account,  by  which  the  whole  is 
seen  at  one  view,  is  delivered  by  the  proper  officer  to 
the  governor  of  Newfoundland,  that  is,  to  the  commo- 
dore of  his  majesty^s  squadron.  Mr  Pennant,  in  the 
appendix  to  his  Arctic  Zoolof^,  gives  us,  from  what 
appears  to  be  very  good  authority,  the  following  account 
of  this  island. 

"  Within  the  circuit  of  60  miles  of  the  southern 
^  |iart,  the  country  is  hilly,  but  not  mountainous.  The 
iiills  increase  in  height  as  they  recede  from  the  sea  5 
tlieir  course  is  irregular,  not  forming  a  chain  of  hills, 
but  rising  and  falling  abruptly.  The  coasts  are  high, 
and  the  shores  most  remarkably  bold.  The  same  may 
be  said  of  almost  every  part  of  this  vast  island.  The 
country  is  much  wooded,  and  the  hills  (such  as  have 
not  flat  tops  to  admit  the  rain  to  stagnate  on  them)  are 
clothed  with  birch,  with  hazel,  spruce,  fir,  and  pine,  all 
small ;  which  is  chit  fly  owing  to  the  inhabitants  taking 
off*  the  bark  to  cover  the  fish  stages.  This  peninsula  is 
80  indented  by  the  fine  and  deep  bays  of  Piccentia,  St 
Mary,  Conception,  and  Trinity,  that  it  may  be  pene- 
trated in  all  parts,  which  is  done  for  the  sake  of  fowling, 
or  the  procuring  of  spars  for  masts,  oars,  &c.  The 
island  is  on  all  sides  pierced  with  deep  bays,  which  pen- 
insulate  it  in  many  places  by  isthmuses  most  remarkably 
narrow. — The  mountains  on  the  sooth-west  side,  near 
the  sea,  are  very  high,  and  terminate  in  lofty  headlands  j 
8uch  are  Chapeau  Rouge,  a  most  remarkably  high  pro- 
montory, Cape  St  Marj^s,  and  Cape  le  Hone.  Such  in 
general  is  the  formation  of  the  island  ;  on  the  north- 
cast,  most  of  the  hills  in  the  interior  part  of  the  conn- 
try  terminate  pyramidically,  but  form  no  chain.  The 
interior  parts  of  the  coon^  consist  chiefly  of  morasses, 
or  dry  barren  hummocks,  or  level  land,  with  freqoent 
lakes  or  ponds,  and  in  some  places  covered  with  stunted 
blftck  spruce.  The  rivers  of  Newfoundland  are  unfit 
for  navigation,  but  they  are  of  use  in  floating  ^own 
the  wood  with  the  summer  floods.  Still  the  rivers  and 
the  brooks  are  excellent  guides  for  the'  hunters  of 
beavers  and  other  animals,  to  penetrate  up  the  country, 
which  as  yet  has  never  been  done  deeper  than  30  miles. 
Near  the  brooks  it  is  that  timber  is  commonly  met 
with,  but  seldom  above  three  or  four  miles  inland,  and 
in  valleys  j  the  hills  in  the  northern  district  being  na- 
ked and  ban-en. 

**  In  some  parts  of  Newfoundland  there  is  timber  suf- 
ficiently large  for  the  building  of  merchant  ships  :  the 
hulk  is  made  of  juniper,  and  the  pine  furnishes  masts 
and  yards)  but  as  yet  none  has  been  found  large 
enoagh  for  a  mast  for  a  large  cutter.  The  fishery  is 
divided  into  two  seasons ;  that  oti  the  shore,  or  the 
shore  season,  commences  about  the  2oth  of  April,  and 
ends  about  the  loth  of  October  3  the  boats  fish  in  from 
four  to  20  fathoms  of  water.  The  roost  important,  the 
bank  fishing  season,  begins  the  loth  of  May,  and  con- 
tinues till  ^e  last  of  September,  and  is  carried  on  in  30 
to  45  fathoms  deep  of  water.  Ranking  vessels  have 
sailed  from  St  John^s  to  the  bank  as  early  as  the  1 2th 
of  April.     Ax  first  tliey  use  pork  or  birds  for*  a  bait  5 


but  as  they  catch  fish,  they  supply  themselves  with  a  dieflxeufca 
fish  called  clams,  which  is  found  in  the  belly  of  the  cod.     lad 
llie  next  bait  is  the  lobster  •,  after  that  the  herriag  and      I 
the  launce,  which  last  till  June,  when  the  capelaD  cones  ^*™* 
on  the  coa:st,  and  is  another  bait.     In  Augu&t  the  sqoid ' 
comes  into  use,  and  finally  the  herring  again.    The 
greatest  number  of  cod  fish  taken  by  a  single  fishernno 
in  the  season  has  been  1 2,coo,  but  the  average  is  7000. 
The  largest  fish  which  has  been  taken  was  four  feet 
three  inches  Jong,  and  weighed  46  pounds.    A  bink- 
ing  vessel  of  10,000  fish  ought  to  be  filled  in  thm 
weeks,  and  so  in  proportion  3  and  80  quintals  (ii2lb. 
each)  for  a  boat  in  the  same  time. 

**  In  1785,  541  English  vessels  fished  on  the  bank,  t 
number  exceeding  that  of  the  French.  A  beap  of 
dried  fish,  20  feet  long  and  ten  wide,  and  foor  deepi, 
contains  300  quintals.  Such  a  heap  settles,  in  the 
course  of  48  hours  after  it  is  made,  about  ^,  Ai  ex- 
traordinary splitter  will  split  five  quintals  of  fish  in  an 
hour.  The  average  in  that  time  is  two.  There  is  no 
fishing  during  winter,  on  account  of  the  indenemy 
of  the  season.  It  is  supposed  that  the  fisli  in  a  great 
measnre  quit  the  banks  before  that  time,  as  in  genenl 
they  are  very  scarce  when  the  fishing  vessels  go  opoo 
the  banks  early  in  the  spring. 

**  There  are  a  few  small  towns  on  the  coasts,  vhicb 
have  gardens  sown  with  English  palse  3  but  many  of 
the  inhabitants  quit  the  country  in  winter. 

**  An  admiral  or  some  sea  officer  is  generally  goirer- 
nor  of  Newfoundland.'* 

NEWMARKET,  in  Carobridgesbiie,  13  miles  fiom 
Cambridge,  13  fiinn  St  Edmundsbory,  and  6ofion 
Jjondon,  is  a  town  with  one  long  street,  the  north  aide 
in  Suffolk,  the  south  side  in  Cambri<lgeshire.  It  ii  a 
healthy  place,  and  a  great  thoroughfare  in  the  road  fnn 
London  to  Norfolk;  but  stands  mostly  by  the  fame 
races  eveiy  year  in  April  and  October,  here  being  the 
finest  course  in  England ;  on  which  there  is  a  hooae  kr 
the  king  when  he  comes  to  the  races,  which  was  boilt 
by  Charles  II.  The  king  gives  a  plate  ortwoewfy 
year,  besides  those  given  by  the  nobility  ;  and  wagcn 
are  laid  upon  the  horses,  which  are  seldom  under  500L 
and  often  above  loocl.  Here  are  two  coffeehouses,  at 
which,  every  night  and  morning  during  the  races,  there 
is  gaming,  as  there  is  also  at  the  houses  of  the  nohiHty 
and  gentry.  Here  are  also  cock  matches.  Here  is  a 
little  chapel,  which  is  a  chapel  of  ease  to  the  mother 
church  at  Ditton ;  and  another  in  the  Suffolk  side, 
which  is  parochial.  The  town  was' burnt  in  1683,  hot 
soon  rebuilt  J  and  in  181 1  contained  191 7  inbahiuots. 
NEWROSS,  a  -  borough  town  in  the  county  of 
Wexford,  and  province  of  Leiilster  in  Ireland,  67  niks 
from  Dublin.  This  town  was  formeriy  walled,  aid 
some  of  the  gates  still  remain.  It  lies  on  the  riTer 
Barrow,  which  is  here  very  deep,  and  ships  of  hordea 
can  coQ|fe  up  to  the  quay  even  when  the  tide  ii  oot 
The  church  is  large,  but  the  cwitomboaoe  and  quay 
are  both  small,  and  sometimes  overflooded  many  feet. 
It  is  one  of  the  staple  ports  fi>r  ezpoKiag  wool,  ^ 
its  trade  is  but  inconsiderable  ^  beef  iuhI  hotter  are  the 
principal  articles  exported.  Here  is  a  barrack  ftr  a 
troop  of  horse,  and  a  good  ferry  into  the  cooBty  of 
Kilkenny.  Near  this  town  is  a  charter  school,  k 
is-  also  a  post  town,  and  gives  titk  of  earl  to  the  hm^ 
]y  of  Gore;    It  was  formerly  fortified,  and  adaned 


NEW 


K«wnMs  with  natty  religious  booaes^  amobg  which  was  a  Croucli- 
•  H  ed  friary,  built  on  the  summit  of  a  hill  iu  the  town  ^ 
Kctvtoit.  ^  |)u|  one  of  the  friai-s  having  killed  a  principal  inhabi- 
tant, the  whole  body  of  the  people  anMc,  put  Ibo  friars 
to  deaths  and  totally  dertroyed  the  friary  j  on  the  site 
of  which  the  monastery  of  St  Saviour,  for  conventual 
Francificans,  was  afterwards  erected  by  Sir  John  Deve- 
reux  ;  and  the  east  end  of  this  last  building  is  now  the 
parish  church.  A  friary  for  Ereroitesi  following  the 
rule  of  6^  Augostincy  was  also  founded  here  in  tiie  rei^ 
of  Edward  ill. 

NEWSPAPERS,  periodical  publications,  daily, 
weekly,  &o.  for  the  purpose  of  conuntmicatioa  to  the 
world  every  thing  of  importance^  whether  political  or 
literary,  &c.  which  is  going  on.  They  have  tended 
much  to  the  disseminatioa  of  learning,  and  have  served 
many  otlier  valuable  purposes }  and  while  they  are  car- 
ried on  with  candour,  impartiality,  and  ability,  they  are 
unquestionably  a  great  national  benefit.  When  this, 
however,  is  not  the  case,  And  it  often  happens,  they  dis- 
grace their  authors,  and  are  hi^<i:hly  ii^urious  to  the  pub- 
lic* Tbey  were  first  published  in  England,  Aii^ust  23. 
1 642*  Journal  de  Spavcins^  a  French  paper,  was  first 
published  in  1665,  though  one  was  printed  in  England, 
under  the  title  of  the  Public  Intelligencer^  by  Sir  Bo- 
gei^  L'Esirange,  1663,  which  he  dropped,  on  the  pub- 
lication of  the  first  I^ndon  Gazette.  Newspapers  and 
pamphlets  were  prohibited  by  royal  procUmation  1680. 
Though  at  -the  Revolution  prohibitions  of  thia  kind 
were  done  away,  and  the  press  set  at  liberty,  yet  news- 
papers were  afterwards,  made  objects  of  taxation,  and 
for  this  purpose  were  first  stamped  in  171 3*  The  number 
of  them,  howevter,  gradually  increased )  and  there  were 
printed  in  the  whole  kingdom  during  the  years  -1775, 
12,680^000  J  2776,  12,830,000  J  1777,  13,150,642-, 
1778,     13,540,059  >     1779,     14,106,842  J      1780, 

i4»ai7»37M   »78^  i4.397»6ao>  1782^  »5»272,5i9- 

Tbey  are  now  still  more  numerous.    The  average  num- 

.her  of  newspapers  printed  in  England  at  the  close  of 

tbe  reign  of  Geoige  II.  was  9,464,790.     The  number 

in  1790,  was  14,035,639-,  in  179^  »t^««  M»oo5»7^<5- 
CJudmert*  Life  of  liuddimaft^  P>  442* 

NEW  Style,  fir^t  used  in  England  in  1753,  ^^ 
introduced  into  the  western  world  by  Pope  Gregory 
.XIII.    See  Chronology,  N^  24. 

NEWT,  or  Eft,  the  common  lizard.    See  Lacer- 

TA,  ErPETOLOOY  index. 

NEWTON,  Sir  Isaac,  one  of  the  greatest.  phUo- 

sophers  and  mathematicians  the  World  has  ever  prodit- 

ccd,  was  the  only  child  of  Mr  John  Newton  of  Colea- 

woilh,  not  far  from  Grantham  in  Lincolnshire,  who  bad 

an  estate  of  about  laol.  per  annum,  which  he  kept  iti 

.his  own  hands.    Ho  was  bom  at  that  pla^  on  Christ^ 

mas  day  1642.    His  father  dying  when  he  was  youn^, 

his  motber^s  brother,  a  clergyman  of  tbe  name  oiAy^ 

comgk^  or  Ashew^  who  lived  near  her,  and  directed  all 

her  affisirs  after  the  death  .of  Mr  Newton,  pnt  her  sOn 

io  school  at  Granthaim     When  ho  had  finished  his 

school  leambg,  his  mother  took  hink  home,  intsnd- 

sng,  as  she  ha4  no  other  child,  to  have  the  pleasure  of 

hit  compafny }   and  that  he,  as  his  father  had  done, 

should  occupy  his  own  estate.     But  hit  uncle  hanpen- 

4og  to  find  him  in  a  hay  loft  at  Grantham  woriung  a 

•mathenatical  problem,  and  having  otherwise  observed 

Abe  hoy*«  nwnd  to  be  tmcpoMBonly  hoot  upon  learoiag. 


X    119    ] 


NEW 


be  prevailed  upon  her  to.  part  with  him  \  and  she  seat 
him  to  Trinity  College  in  Cambridge,  where  btrr  brother, 
having  himself  beeu  a  member  of  it,  had  still  many 
friendi!*  Isaac  was  soon  taken  notice  of  by  Dr  Isaac 
Barrow  \  who,  observing  his  bright  genius,  contracted 
a  great  friendship  for  him.  M.  de  Fontenelle  tells  us, 
*'  That  in  learning  mathematics  he  did  not  study  Eu- 
clid, wlio  seemed  to  him  too  plain  and  simple,  and  us- 
worthy  of  taking  up  his  time.  He  understood  him  al- 
most before  be  read  htm  \  and  a  cast  of  his  eye  upon  the 
coutents  of  his  theorems  was  sufficient  to  make  him  ma- 
ster  of  them.  He  advaneed  at  once  to  the  geometry  of 
Ues  Cartes,  Kqpler's  Optics,  &c«  It  is  cettain  that 
he  had  made  his  gitat  discoveries  in  geometry,  and  laid 
the  foundation  of  his  two  famous  works,  the  Principia 
and  Optics^  by  tlie  time  he  was  24  years  of  age." 

In  1664,  he  took  the  degroe  of  bachelor  of  alls)  and 
in  1668  that  of  mastery  being  eleetod  the  year  before, 
fellow  of  his  college.  Ho  had  before  this  time  disco^ 
vored  the  method  of  fluxions  ^  and  in  1669  ^^  '^^^ 
chosen  professor  of  mathematics  in  the  university  of 
Cambridge,  upon  the  resignation  of  Mr  Balrow.  The 
same  year,  and  the  two  following,  he  read  a  course  of 
optical  lectures  in  Latin,  in  the  public  schools  of  the 
university  \  an  English  translation  of  which  was  print* 
ed  at  Ijondon  in  1728,  in  SvOf  as  was  the  Latin  ori- 
ginal tbe  next  year  in  4to.  From  the  year  1671  to 
2679,  ^^  ^^^^  ^  correspondence  by  letters  with  Mr 
Henry  Oldenburg  secretary  of  the  Boyal  Society,  and 
Mr  John  Collins  fellow  of  that  society  \  which  letters 
Contain  a  variety  of  curious  observations. 

Concerning  the  origin  of  his  discoveries,  we  are  told 
that  as  he  sat  alone  in  a  garden,  the  falling  of  some 
apples  from  a  tree  led  him  into  a  speculation  on  the 
power  of  gravity  \  that  as  this  power  is  not  diminished 
at  the  remotest  distance  from  the  centre  of  the  earth  tti 
which  we  can  rise,  it  appeared  to  him  reasonable  to 
conclude,  that  it  must  extend  much  farther  than  was 
usually  thought  \  and  pursuing  this  speculation,   by 
comparing  the  periods  of  the  several  planets  with  their 
distances  from  the  son,  he  foiind,  that  if  any  power 
like  gravity  held  them  in  their  courses,  its  strength 
must  decrease  in  the  duplicate  proportion  of  the  in* 
crease  of  distance.    This  inquiry  was  dropped  \  but  re- 
sumed again,  and  gave  rise  to  his  writing  the  treatise 
which  he  published  in  1687,  under  the  namo  of^Xsh 
themaiical  Principles  of  Natural  PkHoeophy  /  a  work 
lodged  ppon  as  the  production  of  a  celestial  intelligence 
riLther  than  of  a  man^     The  very  samo  year  in  which 
.this  great  work  was  published,  the  university  of  Cara^ 
bridge  was  attacked  by  King  James  II.  when  Mr  Nei^ 
ton  was  ono  of  its  most  zealous  defenders,  and  was  ac- 
cordingly nominated  one  of  the  delegates  of  that  uni- 
versity to  the  high-commission  court  ^  and  the  noitt 
year  he  was  chosen  one  of  their  members  for  the  con- 
vention parliament,  in  which  he  sat  till  it  was  dissolved* 
In  1696,  Mr  Montague,  then  thancellor  of  the  exche- 
quer, and  afterwards  earl  of  Halifax,  obtained  for^him 
of  the  king  the  office* of  warden  6f  the  minCr^  in  which 
employment  he  was  of  signal  service,  when  the  money 
was  called  in  to  -be  recoined.    Three  y^ars  itfter,  he 
was  appointed  master  of  the  mint  j  a  place  of  very  con- 
aiderable  profit,  which  he  held  till  kis  ileath.    In  1699, 
he  was  elected  one  of  the  members  of  the  Boyal  Aca- 
demy of  Seieicea  at.Piurie.   In  1701,  he  .ws»  »  sfcond 

5  F  a  time 


f<^wtan. 


NEW  [78 

Newton,  time  chosen  member  of  psiiiament  for  the  university  of 
Cambridge.  In  1704,  he  publlshecl  his  Opitcs  f  which 
is  »  piece  of  philosophy  so  new,  that  the  science  may  he 
considered  as  entirely  indebted  to  onr  aotfaor.  In  1 705, 
he  was  knighted  by  Queen  Anne*  In  1707,  he  pub- 
lished his  Antkmctka  UmverMlis.  In  171 1,  his  Ana- 
iysis  per  Qjuantiiatttm  Series^  Fintcumes  et  Differtntias^ 
&Lc^  was  poblished  by  William  Jones,  Esq.  In  1712, 
seteral  letters  of  his  were  pablished  in  the  Commercnim 
EpiHoUtum.  In  the  reign  of  CSeorge  I.  he  was  bet- 
ter known  at  oonrt  than  before.  The  princess  of 
Wales,  afterwards  qneen  consmt  of  England,  need 
frequently  to  propose  qoeotions  to  him,  and  to  declare 
that  she. thought  herself  happy  to  lite  at  the  same  time 
with  him,  and  hafo  the  pleasure  and  ad?«itages  of  his 
conversation.  He  had  written  a  treatise  of  ancient 
chronology,  which  he  did  not  think  of  publishing  ^  but 
•  the  princess  desired  an  abstract,  whidi  she  would  never 
part  with.  However,  a  copy  of  it  stde  abroad,  and 
was  carried  into  France,  where  it  was  translated  and 
printed,  wtlh  some  observations,  whfch  were  afterwards 
answered  by  Sir  Isaac.  But,  in  1728,  the  Chronology 
itself  was  published  at  London  in  quarto  \  and  was  at- 
tacked by  several  persons,  and  as  zealously  defend^  by 
Sir  Isaac^s  friends.  The  main  design  of  it  was  to  fiml 
out,  from  some  tracts  of  the  most  ancient  Greek  astro- 
nomy, what  was  the  position  of  the  colures  with  respect 
to  the  fixed  stars,  in  tlie  time  of  Chiron  the  centanr. 
As  it  is  now  known  that  these  stars  have  a  motion  in 
longitude  of  one  degree  in  72  years,  if  it  be  once  known 
through  what  fixed  stars  the  cola  re  passed  in  Chiron*s 
time,  by  taking  the  distance  of  these  stars  from  those 
through  which  it  now  passes,  we  might  determine  what 
nomber  of  years  has  elapsed  since  Chiron^s  time.  As 
Chiron  Iras  one  of  the  Argonanis,  this  would  fix  the 
time  of  that  famous  expedition,  and  consequently  that 
of  tlie  Trojan  war;  the  two  great  events  upon  which 
all  ancient  chronology  depends.  Sir  Isaac  places  them 
500  years  ncgrer  the  birth  ef  Christ  than  other  chro- 
Bologers  have  done. 

This  gipit  man  had  all  along  enjoyed  a  settled  and 
equal  state  of  health  to  the  age  of  80,  when  he  began 
to  be  afflicted  with  an  incontinence  of  urine.  However, 
fcr  the  five  foUuwing  years,  he  bad  great  intervals  of 
case,  which  be  procured  by  the  observance  of  a  strict 
regimen.  It  was  then  believed  that  he  certainly  had 
the  stone;  and  when  the  paroxysms  werrso  violent, 
that  large  drops  of  swesA  ran  down  his  face,  he  never 
uttttnd  the  least  eomplaint,  or  expressed  the  smallest  de- 
gree of  inipatience  \  but,  as  soon  as  he  had  a  moment^ 
easCi  would  smile  and  taik  tnth  his  usual  clieerfulness. 
THl  then  he  always  read  and  wrote  several  hours  in  a 
day.  He  had  the  perfect  nse  of  all  his  senses  snd  tm* 
derstandiuff  tiM  t^  dsy  befnre  he  ^d,  which  was  on 
the  20th  of  March  1726-7,  in  the  Sfdi  year  of  his  a^. 
He  lay  in  stule  in  tlw  Jeiasaieni  chamber  at  ¥i^«M- 
$t<tr,  and  on  the  aSth  of  March  his  body  was  eonveyed 
into  WuBtminsier  abbey  \  the  pall  htim}^  enpported  by 
the  kird  dhaneettor,  theJtikcs  ef  Montrsse  and  llo»- 
baift4s  and  the  «arie  <f  BenAroke,  #essex,  and  Mnio^ 
cledeM.  The  bishop  of  MocAiesiet  read  (he  foncstrt 
aarviee,  hein^  attended  by  all  the  dergy  of  Hie  dmreh. 
The  corpse  was  interred  just  -at  tiM  enftrance  tffte  the 
flhofar,  wherem  noUe monument  is  eKCledtohisineninry. 

6hr  Lmt  «FW  of  u  midllinf  sMiirei  and  i»  the  hSNer 


o    ]  NEW 

part  of  his  life  somewhat  inclined  to  he  iat.   HisegaB-  Kwta 
tenance  was  pleasing,  and  at  the  same  time  noenUs.  W^ 
He  never  made  nse  of  spectacles,  and  kst  hot  sae  tsotb 
during  his  whole  life. 

His  temper  is  said  to  have  been  so  equal  sial  wM, 
that  no  accident  cooM  disturb  it.  Of  this  the  Moa- 
ing  remarkable  instance  b  reUted.  Sir  Issae  lud  1 
favourite  little  dog,  which  he  called  Diamomd;  nH 
being  one  day  called  out  of  his  study  into  die  sett 
room.  Diamond  was  left  behind.  When  Sir  lane  r- 
turned,  having  been  absent  but  a  few  miaotes,  ke  biA 
the  moitifieation  to  find,  that  Diamond  having  dmnni 
down  a  lighted  candle  ansong  some  papen,  the  sesrij 
fimshed  labour  of  many  years  was  in  flames^  and  slsNit 
consumed  to  ashes.  This  loss,  as  Sir  Isaac  urn  Ika 
very  fiur  advanced  in  years,  was  inutrievable;  yetuidk 
out  once  striking  this  dog,  he  only  rebuked  lam  uiA 
this  exclamation,  ^  Oh  !  Diamond  \  Diamond  1  thos 
litUe  knowest  the  misehief  thou  hast  done  \'" 

He  was  a  great  lover  of  peane,  dM  wsoM  istkcr 
have  chosen  to  remau\  in  obsourity  than  to  ban  the 
calm  of  lifi^  ruffled  by  those  storms  and  disputes  uhid 
genius  and  learning  always  draw  upon  those  Uutsit 
peculiarly  eminent  for  them.  In  contempUtiag  kii  ^• 
nios  it  presently  beoomes  a  doubt,  which  of  these  oh 
dowments  had  tke  greatest  share,  sagacity,  penctiaCim, 
strength  or  diligence :  and  after  aH,  the  mark  tist 
seems  most  to  distinguish  it  is,  that  he  hinttelf  wtk 
the  jttstest  estimation  of  it,  declaring,  thal^  if  he  In4 
done  the  world  any  service,  it  waa  due  to  notbmg  kst 
industry  and  patient  thought  j  that  he  kept  the  ish- 
ject  under  consideration  oointantiy  before  hisi,  ssd 
waited  till  the  fiist  dawning  opened  grsdually,  hf 
little  and  little,  into  a  foil  and  cleiw  light.  It  is  nirf, 
that  when  be  had  any  mathematical  prohlemi  sr  m- 
lutions  in  hia  mind,  he  would  never  qoit  the  islyvc 
on  any  acconnt.  Dinner  has  been  often  three  ksvs 
ready  for  him  before  he  could  be  brought  to  table :  ud 
his  man  often  said,  when  he  has  been  getting  sp  is  s 
momtag,  he  Inis  sometimes  begun  to  dress,  smI  wOk 
one  leg  in  his  breeches  sat  down  again  on  the  he^ 
where  he  has  remained  for  hours  befiwe  he  git  Ui 
clothes  00.  From  his  love  of  peace,  no  doubt,  siwr 
that  unusual  kind  of  hMror  which  he  had  forsH^ 
pntes ;  a  steady  unbroken  attention,  liee  frem  thMp 
frequent  recoiiings  inseparably  incideiit  So  otheti,  sss 
his  peculiar  felicity ;  |^e  knew  it,  and  he  knew  tk  vs- 
Ine  of  it.  No  wonder  then  that  oMitruVftsy  was  Isok- 
ud  on  as  his  bane.  When  some  bbjectiona»  bastiij  mk 
to  his  disooveries  concerning  light  and  culsnii,  iidsei^ 
him  to  lay  aside  tfio  detngn  he  had  of  paUMisg 
Ins  optic  ketnrea,  wo  find  him  rslieciing  on  thit  ^ 
pote,  iiiio  which  he  was  nmwoidably  drawn  therefey,is 
these  terns :  **  I  Mained  my  own  impradanee  f^P^ 

tf^  with  so  real  a  blosiiiurnsmyVMt*^'**"^* 
shadotv.^  It  is  true  this  ahndow  (aa  Mr  Fenimdh 
idwemes)  did  net  escape  hi»  sAerwni^  nordidiisMt 
him  dbat  quiet  which  he  so  Moob  voked,  butfNwd 
i»  much  a  real  happiness  to  him  as  hia  qsnst  itself^  yrt 
thin  was  a  liapphsass  of  his  asm  making :  he  ^  s 
wsidution,  firum  these  dsspotesi  Uft  lo  publish  say  ui«e 
aboMt  that  themiy  till  he  had  put  it  nbtse  the  fsaih 
•f  oontMvefsy,  by  the  enaciest  cspeitasms  mi  ths 
uirictoss  demonatmtiona )  and  aonotdiafily  it  has  as«» 

teen  «nlled  in  question  iinae.    Intbe  saostenftfti^ 

m 


NEW 


[    781     J 


N    E    M' 


t«p.  i^r  be  bad  sent  the  maftuscript  of  bis  Principta  to  tbe 
Royal  iSociety,  witb  his  eonsent  to  tbe  jurioting  of  it 
by  tliero,  upon  Mr  Hookas  injuriously  injusting  that 
.  himself  had  demonstrated  Kepler's  problem  before  our 
autkor,  he  determined,  rather  than  be  involved  again 
'  in  a  O9atroversy»  to  suppress  the  Uiird  book,  and  icas 
very  hardly  prevailed  upon  to  alter  that  resolution.  It 
is  true,  tlic  public  was  thereby  a  ffainer ;  that  book, 
which  is  Meed  no  more  than  a  corollary  of  some  pro« 
poaitians  in  the  first,  being  originally  drawn  up  in  the 
popular  way,  ^vith  the  design  to  publish  it  in  tluU  form^ 
whereas  he  was  now  convmoed  that  it  would  he  best 
not  to  let  it  go  abraad  without  n  strict  demonstration. 

After  all,  notwithstanding  his  anxious  care  to  avoid 
etery  oooasion  of  bneaking  his  inteoic  application  to 
study,  he  was  at  a  great  distance  from  being  steeped  in 
philosopby:  on  the  contrary,  he  could  lay  aside  his 
thoughts,  though  engaged  in  the  most  intricate  resear- 
ches, when  his  other  a&irs  required  his  attendance  j 
.  and  as  soon  as  he  had  leisure,  resume  the  subject  at  the 
•  point  wheip  he  had  left  oiF.  Tbii  he  seems  to  have 
done  not  so  much  by  any  extraordinary  strength  of 
niemoiy,  m  by-  the  force  of  bis  inventive  faeuky,  to 
which  cveiy  thing  opciied  itself  again  witli  ease,  if  no- 
thing intervened  to  ruffle  him.  The  readiness  of  his 
invention  made  hiii  not  think  of  putting  his  memory 
much  to  trhd :  but-  this  was  the  efispriag  of  «  vi- 
f^jsrons  intenseness  of  thought,  out  of  which  he  was  but 
•  oommon  man*  He  spent  therefore^  the  prime  of  his 
age  in  thoae  abstruse  researches,  when  his  situation  in 
n  college  gAte  him  leisure,  and  even  while  study  was  his 
proper  profession*  But  as  soon  mb  he  was  removed  to  • 
the  mint,  he  applied  bimiielf  chiefly  to  the  bnsiness  of' 
.  that  ofioe  )  and  so  far  <|ttittied  mathematics  and  philo* 
aophy,  as  not  to  engage  in  any  pursuits  of'  either  kind 
nt'terwaids. 

The  amiable  quality  of  modesty  is  representod^as 
standing  foremost  in  the  character  of  this  grant  man's 
miad  and  mnoners*    It  was  in  reality  greater  than  can 
be  easily  imagined,  or  will  he  readily  believed  ^  yet  it 
always  continued  so  without  nny  alteration,  though 
the  whole  world,  says  Fontenelle,  conspired  ag^nst  it  j 
and  let  us  add,  thoi^  he  was  thereby  robbed  of  his 
invention  of  ioxions,     Nichdlas  Mercator  puhlishiag 
hia  Logan't^moteeMd  in  1668,  where  he  gave  the  qua- 
drature of  the  hyperbola  by  nn  infinite  Scries,  which  was 
the  first  appeafance  in  tbe  learand^  wolrld  of  a  series  of 
this  sort  drawn  frnm  the  pnrticulnr  ilnture  of  the  cnrve, 
and  that  in  a  manner  vary  new  and  abstracted }  Dr  Bar- 
ffow,  then  at  Camhridgei  where  Mr  Newton,  at  that  time 
about  26  yeara  of  age,  maided,  reeollected  thai  be  bad 
UMt  With  the  same  thing  in  the  writings  of  that  yeung 
gentleman ;  and  there  not  noa&ned  to  the  hypeiMn 
only,  but  extended,  by  general  fermsi  to  all  sorts  of 
Qurves,  even  such  as  are  meehnnicnl  9  to  their  quadra- 
tures, their  reotificalmnai  and  their  centres  of  gravity  } 
to  the  oolids  formed  hv  their  rotations^  and  to  the  s*- 
jpet  fioies  of  those  seliii  (  so  that,  when  their  delermi^ 
natioos  were  peesibK  the  aeries  slopped  at  a  oertaiti 
point,  or  at  least  their  snms  were  given  by  stated  rniesc 
and,  if  the  nbiolnte  delerminatiatt  wore  impossible^ 
they  could  yet  be  infinitely  mpprextmated  (  which  ia 
the  hajqiiestnnd  mast  re&neid  method^  pays  Mr  Fonta^ 
•elle,  of  mtppiying  tbe  defecto  nf  human  knoHled^ 
Ihat  man's  imagination  could  possibly  invent*    To  be 

Z 


master  of  so  fruitful  and  general  a  theory  was  a  mine  of  Newton, 
gold  to  a  geometrician  ^  but  it  was  a  greater  glory  to  ^       ^     ■■ 
luive  been  the  discoverer  of  so  8ux)»rising  and  ingenious 
a  system.     So  that  Mr  Newton  finding,  by  Merca- 
tor^s  book,  that  he  was  in  tbe  way  to  it,  and  that 
others  might  follow  in  his  track,  should  naturally  have 
been  forward  to  open  bis  treasures,  and  secure  tbe  pro- 
perty, which  consisted  in  making  tbe  discovery  ^  but^ 
he  contented  himself  with  his  treasure  which  he  had    * 
found,  without  regarding  the  elory*      What  an  idea 
does  it  give  us  of  bis  unparalleled  modesty,  when  ^» 
see  him^  declaring,^  that  be  thought  Mercator  had  en- 
tirely dbcovered  bis  secret,  or  that  others  would,  be- 
fore he  was  of  a  proper  age  for  writing  ?  His  MS.  up- 
on infinite  series  was  communicated  to  none  but  Mr. 
John  Collins  and  the  lord  Brounker;  and  even  that 
had  not  been  complied  with,  but-  for  Dr  Barrow,"  wha  « 
would  not  su&r  him  to  indulge  his  modesty  so  much  ^ 
as  he  desired* 

It  is  further  observed,  concerning  this  part  of  his 
character,  that  he  never  talked  either  of  himself  or 
others,  nor  ever  behaved  in  such  a  manner  as  to  give 
the  most  malicious  censurers  the  least  occasion  nven  to- 
suspect  him  of  vanity.     He  was  candid  and  aflable,  and  . 
always  put  himself  upon  a  level  with  his  company*  ^e 
never  thought  either  his  merit  or  his  reput«tion  suffi- 
cient to  excuse  him  from  any  of  the  common  offices  of 
soetal  life  }  no  singularities,  either  natural  or  aflfected, ' . 
distinguished  him  from  other  men*    Though  he  was 
firmly  attached  to  the  church  of  England,  he   was 
averse  to  tlie  persecution  of  the  non-conformists*    He 
judged  of  men  by  their  manners^  and  the  true  schis- 
matics, in  his  opinion,  were  the  vicious  and  the  wicked. 
Not  that  he  confined  his  principles  to  natural  religion,    . 
for  he  was  thoroughly'  persuaded  of  the  truth  of  reve- 
lation }  and  amidsl  the  pt9i  varietjr  of  books  which  he 
had  constantly  before  him,  that  which  he  studied  with 
the  greatest  application  was  tbe  Bible :  and  he  under- 
stood the  natuin  and  force  of  moral  certainty  ns  well  ^ 
as  he  did  that  of  a  strict  demonstration^- 

Sir  Isaac  did  not  neglect  thi^opportunities  of  doing   ^ 
good,  when  the  revenues  of  his  patriasony,  and  a  pro-   < 
Stable  employment,  improved  by  a  prudent  economy,  ^ 
put  it  in  his  power.'  We  have  two  remarkable  instances 
of  his  bounty  and  generosity  ^  one  to  Mr  M'Lanrin, 
professor  of  mathematics  $A  Edinburgh,  to  whom  he 
offered  aol*  per  annani,  and  the  other  to  his  niece  Bar- 
ton, on  whom  be  settled  an  annuity  of  lool.    Whefei 
decency  upon  any  occasion  required  expence  and  ehow,    . 
he  was  magnificent  without  grudging  it,  and  with  a 
very  good  gruce  ^  at  all  otiier  times,  that  pnuip  which 
seeou  great  to  low  minds  only,  wal  utterly  retrenched, 
and  the  expenoe  reserved  for  better  uses.    He  never 
manried,  and  perhaps  be  never  had  leisuvs  to  think  ot 
it.     Being  immessed  in  profound  studies  during  the 
prime  of  his  md,  andaAefWarda  es^ged  in  an  en^loy- 
ment  of  great  importance,  and  even  quite  takai  ap  with 
the  omnpany  which  his  merit  drew  to  him,  he  wni  not    . 
senaiUe^f  any  vacancy  inlifog  or  of  tbe  wantof  anoni^ 
panion  at  home.    He  left  jaiOOoK  at  hia  death ;  hot 
made  no  will,  which  Mr  Fontenelle  tells  ns  was  becausa 
he  thoofht  a  legacy  was  no  gift.     As  lo  bis  works,.  . 
besides  what  were  published  ia  hie  Ufetkne,. there  were 
found  after  his  death,  among  his  pepers,  several  discoms 
ses  upon  eubjects  of  antiquity,  history,  divinity,  chemi- 

stry,. 


NEW 


[    782    1 


NEW 


^  Vewtf.n,   st»y.  and  matliematics,  several  of  which  were  published 
•NcvrtoTriinat  different  times. 

Philosophy.  Neivtosi AS  Philosophy^  the  doctnile  of  the  universe, 
^  and  particularly  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  their  laws,  af- 
j  fections,  &c.  as  delivered  by  Sir  Isaac  Newton. 
DitTcrent  1'he  term  Newtonian  Philosophy  is  applied  Very  dif- 
opinions  ferently  \  whence  divers  confused  notions  relating 
conceniing  thereto.  Some  authors  ondcr  this  philosophy  include 
^oih  ^'^   *'*®  corpujicular  philosophy,  considered  as  it  now 

stands  corrected  and  reformed  by  the  discoveries  and 
improvements  made  in  several  parts  thereof  by  Sir 
Isaac  Newton.  In  which  sense  it  is  that  Graveeande 
calls  his  elements  of  physics,  Introductio  adPhilasophiatn 
Netotomanam,  And  iti  this  sense  the  MeWtonian  is  the 
same  with  the  new  philosophy  \  and  stands  contradistin- 
guished from  the  Cartesian,  the  Peripatetic,  and  the 
ancient  Corpuscular. 

Others,  by  Newtcftnan  phi/osophf^  mean  the  method 
"^or  order  which  Sir  Isaac  Newton  observes  in  philosA- 
phfling'^    vifi.  the  reasoning  and  drawing  of  conclu- 
sions directhy  A*om  phenomena,  exclusive  of  all  previous 
■hypotheses  I  the  beginning  f]H>m  simple  principles  ^  de- 
'ducing  tlie  fliSt  powers  and  laws  of  nature  from  a  few 
select  phenomena,  and  then  applying  those  laws,  &c. 
to  account  for  other  things.     And  in  this  sense  the 
Hettotonian philosophy  is  the  same  with  the  e^tperinienial 
philosophy^  and  stands  opposed  to  the  attcient  corpuscU" 
-lar* 

Others,  by  NeUftonian  philMiphy,  mean  that  where- 
in physical  bodies  are  considered  mathematically,  and 
'Where  geometry  and  me<*hanios  are  applied  to  the  96- 
iution  of  the  appearances  of  nature.  In  which  sense  the 
Newtonian  is  the  same  with  the  mechanical  and  mathe- 
-fnatical  philosophy. 

Others  a<^ait^,  by  Newtonian  phUosoply^  understand 
that  part  t)f  physical  knowledge  which  Sir  Isaac  NeW- 
•ton  has  handled,  improved,  and  deraonUrated,  in  his 
^finapia. 

Others,  lastly,  by  Ne-wtonian  phihsopky^  mean  the 
new  principles  which  Sir  Isaac  Newton  has  brought 
into  philosophy ;  the  new  system  founded  thereon  ^ 
and  the  new  solutions  of  phenomena  thence  deduced ; 
■t>r  that  which  characterizes  and  distinguishes  his  philo- 
sophy from  all  others.— •-Which  is  the  sense  wherein  we 
shall  chiefly  consider  it. 

As  to  the  history  of  this  philosophy,  We  have  no- 
thing to  add  to  what  has  been  given  in  the  preceding 
article.  It  Wfts  first  made  public  in  the  year  1687, 
by  the  author,  then  a  fellow  of  Trinity  College,  Cam- 
bridge, and  in  the  year  17139  i^published  with  consi- 
'derable  imprOVements.-*-Seve):al  authors  have  since  at- 
tempted to*  make  it  plainer  \  by  setting  aside  many  of 
the  more  sublime  mAtbemfttical  researches,  and  substi- 
tuting either  more  obvious  reasonings  or  experiments 
in  lieu  thei^of ',  particularly  Whiston  in  his  Pntlcct, 
Phys.  Jfa^AfiTMrf.jGntvesande  in  Element,  et  Instit4  and 
Dr  Pemberton  in  his  VieWi 

The  whole  of  the  Nettftonian  philosophy ^  as  delivered 
by  the  authof ,  is  contained  in  hts  PHndpia  or  Mafhe- 
Dcftnitidm  ^^^^**calPr%nciples  of  Natural  Philosophy.  He  founds  his 
-on  which  System  on  the  following  definitions  : 
-thephilo-  I.  The  quantity  of  matter  is  the  measure  of  the 
'^P^^y^  same,  arising  from  its  density  and  bulk  conjunctly.— 
•     Thus  air  of  a  double  density,  in  a  double  spacCi  is 


quadruple  in  Quantity  ;  in  a  triple  space,  sextuple  in) 
quantity,  8cc.  f 

2.  The  quantity  of  motion  is  the  measure  of  tk 
same,  arising  from  the  velocity  and  quantity  of  mt- 
ter  conjunctly.  This  is  evident,  because  tbeoiotisB 
of  the  whole  is  the  motion  of  all  its  parts  ;  am!  tiim> 
fore  in  a  body  double  in  quantity,  with  equal  velKitr, 
the  motion  is  double,  Ste* 

3<  The  vis  insita^  or  innate  force  of  anttter,  19  i^«&i 
power  of  resisting,  by  which  every  body,  as  noch  ts^^ 
in  it  lief«,  endeavours  to  persevere  in  ilft  ptesentiUte,"^ 
whether  it  be  of  rest,  or-  moving  unifonnJ j  forwaz^  in 
a  right  line.— *This  definition  is  proved  to  be  just,  osh 
by  the  difficulty  we  find   in   moving  any  tiiiog  onttf 
its  place  \  and  this  difficulty  \b  by  some  reckooMl  lo 
proceed  only  from  gravity.     They  cooteul,  tbt  in 
those  cases  where  we  Can  prevent  toe  force  of  grafih 
from  acting  upoti  bodies,  this  power  of  retistiace  be^ 
comes  insensiblci  and  the  greatest  quantities  of  Batter 
may  be   put  in  motion  by  the  very  least  force.   This 
there  have  been  balanees  formed  so  exacts  tint  wka 
loaded  with  200  weight  in  each  scale,  they  wooU  toni 
by  the   addition  of  a  single  dracbm.    In  this  ctie 
40olb.   of    matter  was    put  in   motion  liy  s  sii^ 
drachm,  i.  e.  byrrTo^  p<^  of  its  own  quantity:  afld 
even  this  small  weight,  they  say,  is  only  neeowy  sa 
account  of  the  inaccoraey  of  the  machine  :  ss  tkt  we 
have  fko  reason  to  suppose,  that,  if  the  frtdiBa  cmU 
be  entirely  removedf  it  would  take  mofv  foreetsaivc 
a  tun  Weight  than  a  grain  of  sand.    This  oijcctieB, 
however,  is  not  taken  notice  of  by  Sir  Isaac :  ani  he 
besstows  on  the  resbting  power  above  mentieiMd  tke 
name  of  vis  inertiae;  a  phrase  which  is  perhapi  aot  a«41 
chosen,  and  with  which  inferior  writers  have  eodeaniw- 
ed  to  make  their  readcts  merry  at  the  expeace  of  New- 
ton. ^  force  of  inactivity^  it  has  been  said,  is  tfentkss 
force  \  and  Analogous  to  a  black  ttAdte^  acsU  heut^  and 
a  tempestuous  calm. 

Bat  objections  of  more  importance  have  been  msuk 
to  the  whole  of  this  doctrine  than  those  which  Bcicfy 
respect  the  term  vis  inertias.     '*  An  endeavoor  to  it- 
main  at  rest  (We  are  told  *)  is  unnecessary,  whikt  ns-'ta 
thing  attempts  to  disturb  the  rest.     It  is  Iftevise  ■B^-f^ 
possible  to  be  conceived,  as  it  implies  a  coiitnidictiBa.^-J 
A  man,  by  opposing  force  to  force,  may  cndeaiMry^Briii 
not  to  be  moved  }  but  thio  opposition  is  an  ^a^attmjMtm 
to  fnovCf  not  with  a  design  to  move,  but  by  cmsier-^"^ 
acting  another  force  to  prevent  being  noted.    An 
endeavour  not  to  move  therefore  caa&ot  exist  iabs-^r 
dies,  because  it  is  absurd  f  and  if  we  appeal  to  €kc, 
we  shall  find  every  body  in  an  actaal  and  coestaiit  o- 
deavour  to  move.*^     It  has  been  likewise  ohairrcd, 
and  we  think  jnstly,  that  *'*'  if  bodies  oould  cvninmria 
move  by  any  innate  force,  they  might  alio  h^m  te 
move  by' that  force.     For  the  same  came  which  caa 
move  a  body  with  a  giveti  velocity  at  ooe  time,  oirid 
do  it,  if  present,  at  any  other  time  \  and  tbeiefisR  if 
the  force   by  which  bodies  continue  in  laotim  were 
innate  and  essential   to  them,  they  wosld   begia  to 
move  of  themselves,  which  is  not  tme.''      Newma 
indeed  says   that  this   innate   force  is  the  caase  d 
motion  under  certain  circumstances  only,  <v  wfaeo  the 
body   is  acted  upon  by  a  force   impresied  ak  tJitr^ 
But  if  this  impressed  force  do  not  «aitifiiie  a»  mi 

5  • 


NEW 


[     783     ] 


NEW 


fewtoninn  u  begin  i\\e  motion,  if  it  cease  tlie  instant  that 
^iloftophy.the  impression  is  over,  and  the  body  continae  to 
move  by  its  vis  inertiep^  why  is  the  body  ever  stopped  ? 
**  If  in  the  beginning  of  the  motion  the  body,  by 
its  innate  force,  overcomes  a  certain  resistance  of  fric- 
tion and  air,  in  any  following  times,  the  force  being 
undiminished,  it  will  overcome  the  sam^  resistance  for 
ever.  These  resistances,  therefore^  could  never  change 
the  state  of  a  moving  body,  because  they  cannot 
change  the  quantity  of  its  motive  force.  But  this  is 
contrary  to  universal  experience.*'  For  these  reasons 
we  are  inclined  to  think  that  bodies  are  wholly  pas- 
sive \  that  they  endeavour  nothing  \  and  that  they  con- 
tinue in  motion  not  by  any  innate  force  or  wm  inntOy 
but  by  that  force,  whatever  it  be,  which  begins  the 
motion,  and  which,  whilst  it  remains  with  the  moving 
body,  is  gradually  diminished,  and  pit  last  overcome  by 
opposite  forces,  when  the  body  of  course  ceases  to 
move. 

4.  An  impressed  force  is  an  action  exerted  upon  a 
body,  in  order  to  change  its  state,  eitlier  of  rest  or  of 
moving  uniformly  forward  ia  a  right  line. — ^I'his  force 
consists  in  the  action  only;  and  remains  no  longer 
in  the  body  when  the  action  is  over.  For  a  body 
maintains  every  new  state  it  acquires  by  its  vis  inertite 

only. 

It  is  here  implied,  and  indeed  fully  expressed,  that 
motion  is  not  continued  by  the  same  power  that  pro- 
duced it.  Now  there  are  two  grounds  on  which  the 
troth  of  this  doctrine  may  be  supposed  to  rest. 

*'  Firwty  On  a  direct  proof  that  the  impreseied  force 
does  not  remain  in  the  body,  either  by  showing  the 
natnre  of  the  force  to  be  transitory  and  incapable  of 
more  than  its  first  action ;  or  that  it  acts  only  on  the 
sorface,  and  that  the  body  escapes  from  it  \  or  that  the 
force  is  sonsewhere  else,  anil  not  remaining  in  the  body. 
But  none  of  these  direct  prooiifi  are  offered. 

''  Secondly^  It  may  rest  on  an  indirect  proof,  that 
there  is  in  the  nature  of  body  a  sufficient  cause  for 
the  continoance  of  every  new  stale  acquired )  and 
that  therefore  any  adventitious  force  to  continue  mo- 
tion, though  necessary  for  its  production,  is  super-- 
finous  and  inadmissible.  As  tins  is  tbe  very  ground 
on  which  the  supposition  stands,  it  ought  to  hrave  been 
indubitably,  certain  that  the  innate  force  of  tbe  body 
is  sufficient  to  perpetuate  ihe  molioa  it  has  once  ac- 
quired, before  the  other  agent,  by  which  the  motion^ 
was  commttnica(ted,  had  been  dismissed^  from  tlie  office. 
But  the  innate  fefce  of  body  has  been  shown  not 
to  be  that  which  continues  its  motion  ^  and  there*- 
fore  the  proof,  that  the  impressed  force  does  not  re- 
main in  the  body,  fails.  Nor  indeed  is  it  in  this  case 
desirable  to  soppoit  the  proof,  because  we  should  tlien- 
be  left  without  any  reason  for  the  continuance  of  mo- 
tion*.** When  we  mention  an  impressed  force,  we 
JZ^mmtimt  nwao  such  a  force  as  is  communieaced  either  at  the 
l^ft,  £c«.     snrfaoe  of  tbe  body  or  by  being  diffiised  through,  tbe 


5.  A  centripetal  foree  is  that  by  wbiah*  bodies  are- 
drawn,  impelled,  or  any  way  tend  towards  a  point,  a» 
to  a  oentre.-^TIie  quantity  of  any  centripetal  fiiFce  may 
be  considered  as  of  three  kinds,  absokite,  accderative, 
and  motive. 

6.  The  absolute  qnantity  ef  a  centrifugal  force  is  tbe 
Bcasure  of  tbe  same,  proportional  to.  the  efficacy  of  the- 


cause  that  propagates  it  from  the  centre,  through  the  NcwtMinn 
spaces  ronnd  it.  Phitoaophy. 

7.  The  aCcelerative  quantity  of  a  centripetal  force-is        '   ' 
tbe  measure  of  the  same,  propoitional  to  the  velocity 
which  it  generates  in  a  given  time. 

8.  II1C  motive  quantity  of  a  centripetal  force  is  a 
measure  of  the  same,  proportional  to  the  motion 
which  it  generates  in  a  given  time.  This  is  always 
known  by  the  quantity  of  a  force  equal  and  contrary 
to  it,  that  u  just  sufficient  to  hinder  the  descent  of  tlie 
body. . 

Scholia. 

I.  Absolute,  true,  and  mathematical  time,  of  itself,  of  time. 
and  from  its  own   nature,  flow^  equably,  without  re- 
gard to  any  thing  external,  and,  by  another  name,  is 
called  duration.  Relative,  apparent,  and  common  time, 

is  some  sensible  and  external  measure  of  duration, 
whether  accurate  or  not,  which  is  commonly  used  in- 
stead of  true  time  \  such  -as  an  hour,  a  day,  a  month,  a 
year,  &c. 

II.  Absolute  space,  in  its  own  nature,  ■  without  re-  Space. 
^rd  to  any  thing  external,  remains  always  similar  and 
immoveable.  Relative  space  is  some  moveable  dimen- 
sion or  measure  of  tbe  absolute  spacer  \  and  whicb  v» 
vulgarly  taken  for  immoveable  space.  Such  is  the  di- 
mension of  a  subterraneous,  an  aeriat,  or  celestial  space, 
determined  by  its  position  to  bodies,  and  which  is  vul- 
garly taken  for  immoveable  space  >  as  tbe  distance  oP 

a  subterraneous,  an  aerial,  or  celestial  space,  deter- 
mined by  its  position  in  respect  of  the  earth.  Abso-^ 
lute  and  relative  space  are  the  same  in  figure  and  mag- 
nitude \  but  they  do  not  remain  always  numerically 
tbe  same.  For  if  t^  earth,  for  instance,  moves,  a  space- 
of  our  air  which^  relatively  and  in  respect  of  the 
earth,  remains  always  the  same,  will  at  one  time  be  one 
part  of  the  absolute  space  into  which  the  earth  parses  \ 
at  another  time  it  will  be  another  part  of  the  same  \ 
and  so,  absolutely  understood,  it  wiU*  be  perpetually 
mutablev  ^ 

III.  Plaoe  is  a  part  «f  space  whicb  a  Body  takes^Place  d^ 
up  \  and  is,  according  to  the  space,  eitlier  abMolute  or^i^^ 
relative.     Our  author  says  it  is  ptvrt  of  space  \  not  the 
situation,  nor  the  external  surface  of  the  body.     For- 

the  ph&ces  of  equa^  solids  are  always  equal  y  but  their - 
superficies,  by  reason  of  their  dissimilar  figures,  are  of- 
ten unequal;     P^itioos  properly  have  no*  qnantity,  nor 
are  they  so  much  the  places  themselves  as  the  proper- 
ties of  places.     The  motion  of  the  whole  is  the  samet  • 
thing  with  the  sum  of  tbe  motions  of  the  parts  ^  that 
is,  the  translation  of  the  whole  out  of  its  place  is  the* 
same  thing  with  the  sum  of  the  translations  of  the  parts' 
out  of  their  places :   and  therafbre  tbe  place  of  the 
whole  is  the  same  thing  with  the  sum  of  the  places  of> 
the  paris  \  and  for  thai  reason-  it  is  internail,  and  in  the- 
whole  body. 

IV.  Absolute  motion'  is  tbe  translation  of  a  Body  ^^  jtj^tinm 
from  one  absolute  place  into  another,  and  relative  mo-- 

tion  the  translation  from  one  relative  place  into  ano^ 
tfaer.  Thus,  in  aship  under  sail^  the  relative  place  of 
a  body  is  that  part  of  the  ship  which  tlie  body  pos^ 
sesses,  or  that  part  of  its  cavity  which  the  body  fills^ 
and  which  therefore  moves  together  with  tbe  shipj- 
and  relative  rest  is  the  continuance  of  the  body  in  the* 
same  part  of  the  ship,  or  of  its  cavity*     But  real^ 

ab^olutft. 


8 
.'•Imniitabi- 
lity  of  tifl»e 


NEW  I    784    ] 

absolute  rest  is  the  continuadcc  of  tlit*  boiljr  ia  the 
same  part  of  that  hnmoTpable  space  in  which  the  ship 
itself,  its  cavity,  and  all  that  it  contaiosy  is  moveo. 
'Wherefore,  if  the  earth  is  really  at  rest^  the  body 
which  relatively  rests  iu  the  ship  will  really  and  ab^o- 
liitely  move  with  the  same  velocity  which  the  ship  has 
oa  the  earth.  Bat  if  the  earth  also  moves,  llie  true 
liod  absolute  motion  of  the  body  will  arise,  partly  from 
the  true  motion  of  the  earth  in  immoveable  ^p«ce  ; 
iMKly  from  the  relative .  motion  of  the  ship -^m  the 
earth  :  and  if  the  body  moves  also  relatively  in  the. 
ship,  its  true  motion  will  arise  partly  from  the  true  mo- 
tion of  the  earth  in  immoveable  space,  and  partly  from 
the  relative  motions  as  well  of  the  ship  on  the  earth  as 
of  the  body  in  the  ship  ^  and  from  these  relative  mo« 
tions  will  arise  the  relative  motion  of  the  body  on  the 
earth.  As  if  that  part  of  the  earth  where  the  ship  is, 
was  truly  move4  towards  the  east,  with  a  velo«uty  of 
IQOIO  parts  J  while  the  ship  itself  with  a  fresh  gais  is 
carried  towards  the  west,  with  a  velocity  expressed  fay 
10  of  these  parts ;  but  a  sailor,  walks  in  the  ship  to- 
wards the  east  witk  OBepai<<>f;the  said  velocity :  then 
the  sailor  4ipiQ  be  moved  -truly  and  absolutely  in  im- 
moveable  space  towards  the  east  with  a  velocity  of 
XOOl  part9  •  uud  relatively  on  the.,  earth-  towards  the 
west,  with  a  velocity  of  9  of  thoae  parls* 

Absolute  time,  in  astroaomy,  is  distii^whed*  ftom 
relative,  by  the  equation. or  coireotioR  of  the  vulgat 
time.  For  tbs  natiuitl  days  are  truly  unequal,  though 
they  are  commonly  coiB^idered  as  equaU  ^Ad  used  for  a 
measure  of  time :  astronomers  correct  this  inequaMly 
for  their  giore  accurais  deducing  of  cthe  celestial  dM- 
tions.  It  may  be  that  there  i|  M»tjmxk  tUng  aa  ati 
equable  motion  whereby  time  majr  hatt^eurately  mea* 
sured^  AU  motions  may.  be  aocelerfAed  or  r^atded*) 
but  the  true  or  equable  progrsfs  of  ahsoloter  time  is 
liable  to  no  change*  The  deration  or  pcrseveraoee  of 
the  eiiisteoce  of  tbinn  remains  the  same*.  wJielber  the 
motions  are  smHi  or  slow^  -^g  •^jxene  ajt  jallj^  jusd.  tbere^ 
fore  ought  to  be  distinguished  ^from  what  -  are  ovij 
sensible  measures  th^ieof,  aa|l  out  o{  vhteh  we  ceMcct 
it  by  means  of  the .  astroQomieal  equation.  The  ne* 
cessity  of  which  equation  f^t^  detaimining  the  timea  rf 
a  phenpmenou  is  evince^  as  well  from*tke  experiments 
of  the  pendulwu  clock  4wi  hy  .eclipsea  of  the  satfllUteB  of 
Jupiter. 

..As  the»urder  of  the-  p^rts  of  time  is  immutohk^  so 
jalse^is  the  order  of  the  parts  ofspaee.  Si^pose  thoae 
parte,  t^he  momi  out  of  theiy  places,  and  they  will  hm 
moved  (if -we  may  be  alloared  the  expresejoo.)  oul  of 
themselves.  >For  times  and  spaces  arOf  as  it  were» 
tihe  f  laces  joi  theaMeWes  aa  of  all  elher  things.  All 
thiegaare  placed  in  time  as  to  order  of  aucoession }  aad^ 
in  space  as  tp  order  of  situalio«i.  in  is  from  their 
essence  or  aat«re  that  tkfj  are  places^  and  thaft  the 
primary  places  of  diings  should  he  moveable  ii  absurd., 
l^se  are  therefiiHre  the  absoluta  phmes  j  aad  transla- 
tifim  oat  of  those  places  are  the  only  ahsolttle  ■»» 
liaos. 

But  heeapse  tjie  parte  of  ^aea  caupal  be  seen,  er 
distiuffoisbed  from  e«e  aoother  by  the  senaes,  thetdnre 
ia  tkek  stead  we  use  sensible  measures  of  them.  For, 
firom  the  positions  apid  difltsiaecs  of  things  from  asy 
1)odyi  codpidered  as  immoveaUe,  we  define  all  places 
JMid  thee;  with  respect  to  sueh  plMes^  "Ve  estimate  all 


NEW 


motions,  coudidering  bodies  as  traasfeired  from  wmesv.^^ 
tff  iho»e  places  into  others.  And  ^,  instead  of  ab^niMi^ 
l^te  places  and  actions,  we  use  rehitive  ones;  asd'^'v*" 
that  without  any  incenveaience  in  comman  Jkin: 
but  in  philosophical  disquisitions  We  ought  to  aktnct 
irom  our  senses,  and  consider  things  theaieehn  4^ 
stiact  from  what  are  only  sensible  measures  af  tlKSi 
For  it  may  be,^  that  theee  is  no  body  really  at  iia, 
to  which  the  places  and  motioas  of  others  nay  k  iv* 
fenred. 

But  we  may  distinguish  rest  and  nMtiao,  aMale 
and  relative,  one  from  the  other,  by  their  pmpettici, 
•caoses,  and  eiTectA.  It  is  a  property  of  re«t,  tkat 
!iadiei$  realty  at  revt  do  retyt  in  respect  of  each  otWr. 
And  therefore,  as  it  is  possible,  that  in  the  renote  tt- 
gioas  af  die  fixed  stars,  or  pethapi  far  faeyand  tbo^ 
there  may  be  some  body  absolutely  at  rest,lihaagb  itk 
impossible  to  know  from  the  pesttiom  ot  bodies  (a  sae 
another  in  our  regions,  whether  any  of  tliesc  do  ksc^ 
the  same  position  tu  that  remote  body  ;  it  followf,  Ait 
absolute  rest  canaot  be  determined  from  the  posttim  if 
bodies  in  our  regions. 

It  is  a ^Miperty  of  metioB,  ^hat  the  parts  «Uonb» 
retaia  given  positions  to  their  wholes  do  pwtake  of  tbeti"'^ 
motion  of  their  wholea.  For  all  parts  of  rewlvag]^^ 
bodies  endeavour  to  recede  firom  the  axis  of  motias  ttmm^ 
and  the  impetus  of  bodies  moving  fisrwards  ames  hmmm 
the  joint  impetus  of  all  the  pacts.  Tberefare  if  m-^ 
jieandiag  bodies  are  moved,  those  that  are 
aft  rest  witUn  them  will  partake  of  their 
UpoR  which  account  the  true  and  ahselaie  OHtioa  of 
A  body  eaaftot  be  determiaed  hj  the  traaslatisi  of  it 
hwn  these  only  which  seem  te  rest;  fertheataad 
bodies  ought  aat  only  to  appear  at  nst,  bat  to  hs 
really  at  test  Far  otherwise  all  iaeloded  basics,  ho* 
side  their  tnuwlatian  from  aear  the  awTDoadiagoac^ 
partake  likewise  of  ibeiv  tn|e  matkms;  aadtkoo^ 
that  translatioa  waa.  not  amde,  they  wsould  net  icdij 
be  at  rest,  hul  only  seem  ta  he  ao.  For  the  m* 
rounding  bodies  stand  in  the  Kka  ralatioB  la  the  la^ 
rosmded^  a«  the  eskeior  part  of  a  whole  daeo  to  tk 
intevior,  or  as  the  shell  decs  to  the  ikeraeli  bat  if 
the  shell  movea^  the^  kernel  will  aka  awve,  m  btiif 
part  of  the  whole,  wiftboot  any  raaaoval  from  near  tko 
dbelU 

A  pii^perty  near  idsio  ta  the  peeeediag  is,  tbt  if 
a  place  ia  moved,  whatever  is  placed  thereia  aovcs 
akng  with  it^  mi  tharefeie  a  body  which  iaiisto^ 
firom  a  place  ia  motion,  aaatakea  aha  of  the  ■atimsf 
ita  place.     Upon  whaGi  aocauat  all  mstiam 
plaoea  b  matiea,  ara.  no  other  tlwa  paste  af 
and  absolute  motiaaa;  aad  evcsy  entire 
compoaed  of  dia  motion  of  the  bod^  eoi  af  its  isift 
place,  and. the  mation  of  this  plam  eat  of  it*  fhvy 
a«d  so  on^  until  we  aome  to  soma  iniaanaeahii  pbcc^si. 
in  theabo«e»4MeotiaiKdaxaaapleof  thaaailic;.  VksR- 
fare  eatiae  and^oakita  aMtsana  caia  ha  aa  elhofaiiB 
determined  than  liy  immoveable  places.     Now,  le 
other  pHmea  aoe  immwreabie  hat  thaaa  that  kwm  m- 
fioityr  to  infinity!  de^  ai  setaiD^ 

mata*  unwyaad^  and  da  thasdbjr 

tiJoaiot^eoMr  4p0cir. 

The  caasea  hj  iMA  tsmt  and  mktiia 

distingoisfaed.  ona  frnm.  the  uthg|  ■■•.  the 

iccned 


NEW 


[    785    ] 


NEW 


10 

Abiolate 
ftodrela- 


yewUDMA  |»i^e<sed  opim  bodies  to  generate  motion.  True  mo- 
PhiloMiphy.  tion  ir  neither  generated  nor  altered^  but  by  some  foree 
impressed  upon  the  body  moved :  bnt  relative  motion 
may  be  generated  or  altered  without  any  force  impres- 
sed upon  the  body.  For  it  is  suffieient  only  to  impress 
some  force  on  other  bodies  with  which  the  former  is 
compared,  that  by  their  giving  way,  that  relation  may 
be  changed,  in  which  the  relative  rest  or  motion  of  the 
other  body  did  consist.  Again,  True  motion  suffers  al- 
ways some  diange  from  any  force  impressed  upon  the 
moving  body  ■,  but  relative  motion  does  not  necessarify 
undergo  any  changes  by  such  force.  For  if  the  same 
forces  are  likewise  impressed  on  those  other  bodies  with 
which  the  comparison  is  made,  that  the  relative  position 
may  be  preserved }  then  that  condition  will  be  preserv- 
ed, in  which  the  relative  motion  consists.  And  the^ 
fore  any  relative  motion  may  be  changed  when  tlie  true 
motion  remains  unaltered,  and  the  relative  may  be  pre- 
served when  the  true  motion  suffers  some  change.  Upon 
which  account  true  motion  does  by  no  means  consist  in 
such  relations. 

The  effects  which  distinguish  absolute  from  relative 
motion  are,  the  forces  of  receding  from  the  axis  of 
Ai!^i^iS^  circular  motion.  For  there  are  no  such  forces  in  a 
eSl^  circular  motion  purely  relative  j  but  in  a  true  and  ab- 

solute circular  motion,  they  are  greater  or  less  accord- 
ing to  the  quantity  of  the  motion.  If  a  vessel  hung 
by  a  long  cord,  is  so  often  turned  about  that  the  cord 
is  strongly  twisted,  then  filled  with  water,  and  let  go, 
it  will  be  whirled  about  the  contrary  ^vay ;  and  while 
the  cord  is  untwisting  itself,  the  surface  of  the  water 
will  at  first  be  plain,  as  before  the  vessel  began  to  move  ; 
bnt  the  vessel,  by  gradually  communicating  its'  motion 
to  the  water,  will  make  it  begin  sensibly  to  revolve, 
and  recede  by  little  and  little  from  the  middle,  and  as- 
cend to  the  sides  of  the  vessel,  forming  itself  into  a  con- 
cave figure ;  and  the  swifter  the  motion  becomes,  the 
higher  will  the  water  rise,  till  at  last,  performing  its 
revolutions  in  the  same  times  with  the  vessel,  it  be- 
comes relatively  at  rest  in  it.  This  ascent  of  the  wa- 
ter shows  its  endeavour  to  recede  from  the  axis  of  its 
motion  ;  and  the  tiue  and  absolute  circular  motion  of 
the  water,  which  is  here  directly  contrary  to  the  rela- 
tive, discovers  itself,  and  may  be  measured  by  this  en- 
deavour. At  first,  when  the  relative  motion  in  the 
water  was  greatest,  it  produced  no  endeavour  to  recede 
from  the  axis;  the  water  showed  no  tendency  to  the 
circumference,  nor  any  ascent  towards  the  sides  of  the 
vessel,  but  remained  of  a  plane  surface  ^  and  therefore 
its  true  circular  motion  had  not  yet  begun.  But  after* 
wards,  when  the  relative  motion  of  the  water  had  de- 
creased, the  ascent  thereof  towards  the  sides  of  the  ves- 
sel proved  its  endeavour  te  recede  from  the  axis ;  and 
this  endeavour  showed  the  real  circular  motion  of  the 
water  perpetually  increasing,  till  it  had  acquired  its 
greatest  quantity,  when  the  water  rested  relatively  in 
the  vessel.  And  therefore  this  endeavour  does  not  de- 
pend upon  any  translation  of  the  water  in  repect  of  the 
ambient  bodies  ^  nor  can  true  circular  motion  be  de- 
fined b?  such  translations.  There  is  only  one  real  circu- 
lar motion  of  any  one  revolving  body,  corresponding  to 
only  one  power  of  endeavouring  to  recede  from  its  axis 
of  motion,  as  its  proper  and  adequate  eAect ;  but  rela- 
tive motions  in  one  and  the  same  body  are  innume- 
rablCf  according  to  the  various  relations  &t  bean  to  ex* 
.  Vol.  XIV.  Part  II. 


ternal  bodies ;  and,  like  other  relations,  are  altogether  Xewtoniuu 
destitute  of  any  real  effect,  otherwise  than  they  may  PbiloKophy. 
perhaps  participate  of  that  only  true  motion.  Anil 
therefore,  in  the  system  which  supposes  that  oar  hea- 
vens, revolving  below  the  sphere  of  the  fixed  stars, 
carry  the  planets  along  with  them,  the  several  parts  of 
those  heavens  and  the  planets,  which  are  indeed  rela- 
tively at  rest  in  their  heavens,  do  yet  ideally  move.  For 
they  change  their  position  one  to  another,  which  ne%'er 
happens  to  bodies  truly  at  rest  ^  and  being  can-ied  to- 
gether with  the  heavens,  participate  of  their  motions, 
and,  as  parts  of  revolving  wholes,  endeavour  to  recede 
from  the  axis  of  their  motion. 

Wherefore  relative  quantities  are  not  the  quantities 
themselves  whose  Inames  they  bear,  but  those  sensible 
measures  of  them,  either  accurate  or  inaccurate,  which 
are  commonly  used  instead  of  the  measured  quantities 
themselves.  And  tlien,  if  the  meaning  of  words  be 
determined  by  their  use,  by  the  names  ttme^  space^  p/acc^' 
and  motion^  their  measures  are  properly  to  be  under- 
stood 'y  and  the  expression  will  be  unusual  and  purely 
mathematical,  if  the  measured  quantities  themselves  are 
meant. 

It  is  indeed  a  matter  of  great  difficulty  to  discover, 
and  effectually  to  distinguish,  the  true  motions  of  par- 
ticular bodies  from  those  that  are  only  apparent :  be- 
cause the  parts  of  that  immoveable  space  in  which  those 
motions  are  performed,  do  by  no  means  come  under 
the  observation  of  our  senses.  Yet  we  hai'e  some  things 
to  direct  us  in  this  intricate  affair  \  and  these  arise 
partly  from  the  apparent  motions  which  are  the  dif- 
ference of  the  true  motions,  partly  from  the  ibrceb 
which  are  the  causes  and  effects  of  the  true  motions. 
For  instance,  if  two  globes  kept  at  a  given  distance 
one  from  the  other  by  means  of  a  cord  that  connects 
them,  were  revolved  about  their  common  centre  of 
gravity  ^  we  might,  from  the  tension  of  the  cord,  dis- 
cover the  endeavour  of  the  globes  to  recede  from  the 
axis  of  motion,  and  from  thence  we  might  compute 
the  quantity  of  their  circular  motions.  And  then,  if 
any  equal  forces  should  be  impressed  at  onee  on  the 
alternate  faces  of  the  globes  to  augment  or  diminish 
their  circular  motions,  from  the  increase  or  decrease 
of  the  tension  of  the  cord  we  might  infer  the  incre- 
ment or  decrement  of  their  motions}  and  thence 
would  be  found  on  what  faces  those  forces  ought  to 
be  impressed,  thattlie  motions  •of  the  globes  might  l»c 
most  augmented ;  that  is,  we  might  discover  their 
hindermost  faces,  or  those  which  follow  in  the  circular 
motion.  But  the  faces  which  follow  being  known, 
and  consequently  the  opposite  ones  that  precede,  we 
should  likewise  know  the  determination  of  their  mo- 
tions. And  thos  we  might  find  both  the  quantity  and 
determination  of  this  circular  motion,  even  in  an  im- 
mense vacuum,  where  there  was  nothing  external  or 
sensible  with  which  the  globes  might  be  compared. 
But  now,  if  in  that  space  some  remote  bodies  were  pla- 
ced that  kept  always  a  given  position  one  to  another^  as 
the  fixed  stars  do  in  our  regions  \  we  could  not  indeed 
determine  from  the  relative  trasslation  of  the  globes  a- 
mong  those  bodies^  whether  the  motion  did  belong,  to 
the  globes  or  to  the  bodies.  But  if  we  observed  the 
cord,  and  found  that  its  tension  was  that  wry  tension 
which  the  motions  of  the  globea  required,  we  might  con- 
clude the.  motion  to  be  in  the  globesi  and  the  bodiea  to 
t  5G  be 


NEW 


C     786    ] 


MEW 


II 
J«aw«  of 

flDotion. 


12 


Inw, 


NewuaiaQ  be  at  vent ;  and  then,  Ifistly,  from  lie  UaniJatioQ  of  the 
lliilosopby.  globes  among  the  bodies,  we  should  find  the  detemuDa- 
tion  of  tbeir  motions. 

Having  thus  explained  himself.  Sir  Lsaac  proposes  to 
show  how  we  are  to  collect  the  trae  motions  from  their 
causes,  effects,  and  apparent  differences;  and  vice  versa^ 
how  from  the  motion,  either  true  or  apparent,  we  may 
come  to  the  knowledge  vf  their  causes  and  effects.  In 
order  to  this,  he  lays  down  the  following  axioms  or 
laws  of  motion. 

I.  Every  body  perseveres  in  its  state  of 

HEST,  OR  OF  UNIFORM  MOTION  IN  A  RIGHT  LINE,  UN« 
LESS   IT   IS  COMPELLED   TO  CHANGE  THAT  STATE  BT 

FORCES  IMPRESSED  UPON  IT.—Sir  Isaac^s  proof  of  this 
axiom  is  as  follows :  ^  Projectiles  persevere  in  their 
motions,  so  far  as  they  are  not  retarded  Sy  the  resistance 
of  the  air,  or  impelled  downwards  by  the  force  of  gra- 
vity. A  top,  whose  parts,  by  their  cohesion,  are  perpe- 
tually drawn  aside  from  rectilinear  motion,  does  not 
cease  its  rotation  otherwise  than  as  it  is  retarded  by  tlie 
nir.  The  greater  bodies  of  the  planets  and  comets, 
meeting  with  less  resistance  in  more  free  spacer,  preserve 
their  motions,  both  progressive  and  circular,  for  a  much 
Objections  longer  time.^'— Notwithstanding  this  demonstration, 
to  the  first  however,  the  axiom  hath  been  violently  dispoted.  It 
hatli  been  argued,  that  bodies  continue  m  their  state  of 
motion  because  they  are  subjected  to  the  continual  im- 
pulse of  an  invisible  and  subtile  fluid,  which  always 
pourd  in  from  behind,  and  of  ivhich  all  places  are  full. 
It  hnth  been  affirmed,  that  motion  is  as  natmral  to  this 
fluid  as  test  is  to  all  other  matter.  It  is  said,  moreover, 
that  it  h  impossible  we  can  know  in  what  manner  a  body 
would  be  inflnenced  by  moving  forces  if  it  was  entirely 
destitute  of  gravity.  According  to  what  we  can  ob- 
serve, the  momentum  of  a  body,  or  its  tendency  to  move, 
depends  very  much  on  its  gravity.  A  heavy  cannoo- 
ball  will  fly  to  a  much  greater  distance  than  a  light  one, 
though  both  are  actuated  by  An  equal  force,  it  is  by 
no  means  clear,  therefore,  that  a  body  totally  destitute 
of  gravity  Vould  have  any  proper  momentum  of  its 
own  'y  and  if  it  bad  no  momentum,  it  could  not  con- 
tinue its  motion  for  the  smallest  space  of  time  after  the 
moving  power  was  withdrawn.  Some  have  imagined 
that  matter  was  capable  of  beginning  motion  of  itself, 
and  consequently  that  the  axiom  was  false  >  becaase  we 
see  plainly  that  matter  in  some  cases  hath  a  tendency 
to  change  from  a  state  of  motion  to  a  state  of  rest,  and 
from  a  state  of  rest  .to  a  state  of  motion.  A  paper  ap- 
peared on  this  subject  in  the  first  volume  of  the  Edin- 
burgh Physical  and  Literary  Essays }  bat  the  hypo- 
thesis never  gained  any  groond. 

2.  The  ALTERATION  OF  MOTION  IS  XVER  PROPOR- 
TIONAL TO  THE  MOTIVE  FORCE  IMPRESSED  >  AND  IS 
MADE    IN  THE  DIRECTION   OF   THE  RIGHT  LINE   IN 

^HICH  THAT  FORCE  IS  IMPRESSED.-— Thos,  if  any 
force  generates  a  certain  %aaatity  of  motion,  double 


force  will  generate  a  double  quantity,  wbelher 
fwce  be  impressed  all  at  once,  or  in  successive  nwoMnts.! 
To  this  law  no  objection  of  consequence  has  ever 
made.  It  is  founded  on  this  self-evident  tmtli,  tint 
every  effect  most  be  proportional  to  its  caiMe,  Mr 
Young,  who  seems  to  be  very  ambitious  of  detecting 
the  errors  of  Newton,  finds  fault  indeed  with  die  ei- 
pressions  in  which  the  law  is  stated ;  bat  he  owns,  tint 
if  thus  expressed,  2'Ae  aiteratum  ofmotmn  ispropcrtmad 
to  the  actions  or  i^sisiance  whkh  producei  iV,  and  it  in  * 
the  direction  in  which  the  actions  or  resietawes  are 
madcy  it  would  be  unexceptionable. 

3.  To  EVERT  ACTION  THERE  ALWAYS  IS  OFPOSCD 
AN  £<iUAL  RC-ACTION:  OR,  THE  MUTUAL  ACTIOX  OF 
TWO  BODIES  UPON  EACH  OTHER  IS  ALWAYS  EQUAL, 
AND  DIRECTED  TO  CONTRARY  PARTS. — ^Tbisaxisaiiso^^ 

also  disputed  by  many.  In  the  a  bore- mentioned  papers  tktoi 
in  the  Physical  Essays,  the  author  endeavoun  to  mskcb** 
a  distinction  between  re-action  and  resistance;  lad 
the  'same  attempt  has  been  noade  by  Mr  Yonsfr. 
*^  When  an  action  generates  no  motion  (sajs  be)  it  ii 
certain  that  its  effects  have  been  destroyed  by  a  con- 
trary and  equal  action.  When  an  action  genenlestvs 
contrary  and  e^ual  motions,  it  is  ahio  evident  ihit  or 
tual  actions  were  exerted,  equal  and  contiary  to  ndi 
other.  All  eases  wliere  one  of  these  conditioas  ii  sot 
found,  are  exceptions  to  the  truth  of  the  law.  If  t  fii- 
ger  presses  against  a  stone,  the  stone,  if  it  docs  notjicM 
to  the  pressure,  presses  as  much  upon  the  finger  j  but  if 
the  stone  yields,  it  re-acts  less  than  the  finger  acts;  and 
if  it  shoold  yield  with  all  the  momentum  that  the  fbice 
of  the  pressure  ought  to  generate,  which  it  would  do  if 
it  were  not  impeded  by  friction,  or  a  medium,  it  voiid 
not  re-act  at  all.  80  if  the  stone  drawn  bj  a  bww^ 
follows  after  the  horse,  it  does  not  re-act  so  niiichatk 
hone  acts  \  but  only  so  much  as  the  velocity  if  ik 
stone  is  diminished  by  friction,  and  it  is  the  le^dka 
of  friction  only,  not  of  the  stone.  The  stone  does  not 
re-act,  because  it  does  not  act ;  it  resists,  hot  mslaaee 
is  not  action. 

*'  In  the  loss  of  motion  from  a  fltriking  1iody,-c^ail 
to  the  gain  in  the  body  struck,  tbeiv  is  a  plain  anhtion 
without  requiring  any  re-action.  The  rootiea  kU  k 
identically  that  which  is  Jotmd  in  the  other  body  ^  tkk 
supposition  accounts  for  the  whole  phenomenea  in  tk 
most  simple  roaaner.  If  it  be  not  adontted,  bat  ik 
solution  by  re-action  is  insisted  opon,  it  will  be  incss* 
bent  on  the  party  to  account  for  the  i^ole  elect  if 
commantcation  of  motion  :  otherwise  he  will  lie  wdtt 
the  imputation  of  rejecting  a  solution  which  ia  siopk, 
obvious,  and  perfect  $  for  one  complez,  minataml,  isd 
incomplete.  However  this  may  be  dctennined,  it  aiB 
be  allowed,  that  the  circomstanoes  meationcd,  nM 
no  ground  for  the  inference,  that  aeticm  and  n^mA^ 
are  equal,  since  appearances  anay  he  cxphuned  k  sa^- 
ther  way.**  (a.) 

Otko 


(a)  If  there  be  a  perfect  reeiptocity  betwixt  an  impinging  body  and  a  body  at  rest  mftaiiiiiw  its  mfttktj 
mav  we  not  at  our  pkasure  consider  either  body  as  the  agent,  and  the  other  as  the  resistaat  ?  Let  a  nnns; 
body.  A,  pass  from  north  to  soudi,  an  eqiial^  body  B  «t  rest,  which  receives  the  stroke  of  A,  act  opoa  A  btm 
south  to  north,  and  A  resist  io  a  contrary  direction,  both  inelastic :  let  the  motion  reciprocally  comnsaaicatcd 
be  called  six.  Then  B  at  rest  commanicates  to  A  six  degrees  of  motion  towards  the  north,  and  leeeivei  mt 
degrees  toward*  the  south.     B  having  no  other  motion  thaa  4he  sia  d^ma  it  coamtuiicatcd,  will,  by  ^ 

5  •^ 


01*1^1  Others  grunt  that  Sir  Isaac^s  axiom  as  very  tnie  in 
(phy.  respect  to  terrestrial  substances  )  hot  they  affirm,  that, 
**^  in  these,  both  action  and  re-action  are  the  effects  of 
gravity.  SoWanoes  void  of  gravity  would  have  no 
momentum  j  and  without  this  they  con  Id  not  act }  thej 
should  be  moved  by  the  least  force,  and  therefore  could 
not  resist  or  re-act.  If  therrifore  there  is  any  fluid  which 
vt  tbe  cause  of  gravity,  though  such  fluid  conld  act  up- 
on terrestrial  substances,  yet  these  could  not  re-act  up* 
on  it  ^  because  they  have  no  force  of  their  own,  but 
depend  entirely  upon  it  for  their  momentum.  In  this 
manner,  say  they,  we  may  conceive  that  the  planets 
circulate,  and  all  the  operations  df  nature  are  carried 
on  by  means  of  a  subtile  fluid  }  which  being  perfectly 
active,  and  the  rest  of  matter  altogether  passive,  there 
is  neither  resistance  nor  loss  of  motion.  See  Mo- 
tion. 

From  the  preceding  axiom  Sir  Isaac  itraws  the  fol* 
lowing  corollaries. 

I.  A  body  by  two  forces  conjoined  will  describe  the 
diagonal  of  a  parallelogram  in  the  same  time  that  it 
Would  describe  the  sides  by  those  forces  apart. 

3.  Hence  we  may  explain  the  composition  of  any 
one  direct  force  out  of  any  two  obliaue  ones,  viz.  by 
making  the  two  oblique  forces  the  sides  of  a  paralMo- 
gram,  and  tbe  direct  one  tbe  diagonal. 

3.  The  quantity  of  motion,  which  is  collected  by 
taking  the  sum  of  the  motions  directed  towards  the  same 
parts,  and  the  difference  of  those  that  are  directed  to 
contrary  parts,  suffers  no  change  from  the  action  of  bo- 
dies among  themselves :  because  the  motion  which  one 
body  loses  is  communicated  to  another ;  and  if  we  sup- 
pose friction  and  tbe  resistance  of  the  air  to  be  absent, 
the  motion  of  a  number  of  bodies  wliich  mutually  im- 
pelled one  another  would  be  perpetual^  and  its  quantity 
always  equal. 


N    E    W 


787    ] 

4.  The  common  centre  of  gravity  of  two  or  more  Kewteainit 
bodies  do  not  alter  its  state  of  motion  or  rest  by  the  Philosophy. 
actions  of  the  bodies  among  themselves  j  and  therefore  *       '       ' 
the  common  centre  of  gravity  of  all  bodied  acting  upon 
each  other  fesdcludlng  outward   actions  and    impedi- 
ments) is  eiuicr  at  rest,  or  moves  nniformly  in  a  right 
line. 

5.  The  motions  of  bodies  ineluded  in  a  giv^  space 
are  the  same  among  themselves,  whether  that  space  is 
at  rest|  or  moves  uniformly  forward  in  a  right  line 
without  any  circular  motion.  The  truth  of  this  is  evi- 
dently shown  by  the  experiment  of  a  ship  )  inhere  all 
motions  happen  after  the  same  manner,  whether  th« 
ship  is  at  rest,  or  proceeds  nniformly  forward  in  a  straight 
line. 

6.  If  bodies,  anyhow  mOved  amdttg  themselves,  are 
urged  in  tbe  direction  of  parallel  lines  by  equid  accele- 
rative  forces,  they  will  all  continue  to  move  aniong 
themselves,  ader  the  same  manner  as  if  they  had  been 
urged  by  no  such  forces* 

Tbe  whole  of  die  mathemntical  part  of  the  Kewto^ 
nian  philosophy  depends  on  the  following  lemmas  j  of 
which  the  first  is  the  principal. 

Lem.  I.  Qnantities,  and  the  ratios  of  quantities^ 
which  in  any  finite  time  converge  continnally  to  equa- 
lity, and  before  that  time  abroach  nearer  the  orie  40 
the  other  than  by  any  given  differenee,  become  ulti- 
mately equal.  If  yon  deny  it }  suppose  them  to  be  nlti* 
mately  unequal,  and  let  D  be  th^  ultimate  differencci 
Therefore  they  cannot  approach  neater  to  equality  than 
by  that  given  difference  D  }  which  is  against  the  stip^ 
position.  1^ 

Concerning  the  meaning  of  tiiis  lemitta  philosophers  Ol^ectione 
are  not  agreed  ^  and  unhappily  it  is  the  very  fundamen-  to  the  first 
tal  position  on  which  the  whole  of  the  system  rests.  1^"'"'*\ 
Many  objections  have  been  raised  to  it  by  people  who 

5  G  2  supposed 


m  ■' 


equal  and  contrary  loss  and  gain,  remain  in  cquilibrio.  Let  tbe  original  motibn  of  A  have  been  twelve,  then  A 
having  received  a  contrary  action  equal  to  six,  six  degrees  of  its  motion  will  be  destroyed  or  in  cquilibrio  ;  con- 
sequently, a  motive  force  as  six  will  remain  to  A  towards  the  south,  and  B  will  be  in  eqnilibrio,  or  at  rest.  A 
will  then  endeavour  to  move  with  six  degrees,  or  half  its  original  motion,  and  B  will  remain  at  rest  as  before. 
A  and  B  being  equal  masses,  by  the  laws  of  communication  three  degrees  of  motion  will  be  communicated  to  B| 
or  A  with  its  six  degrees  will  act  with  three,  and  B  will  rc-act  also  with  three.  B  then  will  act  on  A  from 
south  to  north  equal  to  three,  while  it  is  acted  Upon  or  resisted  by  A  from  north  to  sooth,  equal  also  to  threci  ami 
B  will  remain  at  rest  as  before  ^  A  wilt  also  have  its  six  degrees  of  motion  reduced  to  one  half  by  the  contrary 
action  of  B,  and  only  three  degrees  of  motion  will  remain  to  A,  with  which  it  will  yet  endeavour  to  move  ;  and 
finding  B  still  at  rest,  the  same  process  will  be  repeated  till  the  whole  motion  of  A  is  reduced  to  an  infinitely 
small  quantity,  B  all  the  while  remaining  at  rest,  and  there  will  be  no  communication  of  motion  from  A  to  B^ 
which  is  contrary  to  experience* 

Let  a  body,  A,  whose  mass  is  twelve,  at  rest,  be  impinged  upon  first  by  B,  hating  a  mass  as  twelve,  and  a 
velocity  as  four,  making  a  momentum  of  48  ;  and  secondly  by  C,  whose  mass  is  six,  and  velocity  eighty  making 
a  momentum  of  48  equal  to  B,  the  three  bodies  being  inelastie.  In  the  first  case,  A  will  become  possessed  of  n 
momentum  of  24,  aod  24  will  remain  to  B  ^  and,  in  the  second  case,  A  will  become  possessed  of  a  momentum 
of  32,  and  16  wilt  remain  to  C,  both  bodies  moving  with  eqnal  velocities  after  the  shock,  in  both  cases,  by  the 
laws  of  percasnion.  tt  is  required  to  know,  if  in  both  cases  A  resists  eqtialiy,  and  if  B  and  C  act  equally  f  it 
the  actions  and  1  t'sistances  ate  equal,  how  does  A  in  one  case  destroy  24  parte  of  B*s  motion,  and  in  the  other. 
case  32  parts  of  C^<;  motion,  by  an  equal  resistance?  And  how  does  B  communicate  in  one  case  24  degrees  ojf 
motion,  and  C  32.  by  equal  actions  P  If  th^  actions  and  resistances  are  unequal,  it  is  asked  bow  tbe  same  mass 
can  resist  differently  to  bodies  impinging  upon  it  with  equal  momenta,  and  how  bodies  possessed  of  equal  mo* 
menta  can  exert  different  actions,  it  being  admitted  that  bodies  resist  proportional  to  their  masses,  and  that -their 
power  of  overcorning  resistance  is  proportional  to  their  momenta  ? 

It  is  incu-.bent  on  those  who  maintain  the  doctrine  of  universal  re-action,  to  free  it  fitnn  these  difficulties  and 
apparent  contradictions. 


NEW 


Newioiiitn  6uppoK)d  iliemsclves  capable  of  understanding  it.  Tkej 
Philosophy,  say,  that  it  is  impossible  we  can  come  to  an  end  of  any 
"■^^  infinite  series,  and  therefore  that  the  word  tiltimate  can 
in  tills  case  liuve  no  meaning.  In  some  cases  the  lemma 
is  evidently  false.  Thus,  suppose  there  are  two  quanti- 
ties of  matter  A  and  B,  th?  one  containing  half  a  pound, 
and  the  other  a  third  part  of  on<*.  Let  both  be  conti- 
nually divided  by  2;  and  though  their  ratio,  or  the 
proportion  of  the  one  to  the  other,  doth  not  vary,  yet 
the  difference  between  tbem  perpetually  becomes  less, 
as  well  as  the  quantities  themselves,  until  both  the  dif- 
ference and  quantities  themselves  become  less  than  any 
assignable  quantity :  yet  the  difference  ivill  never  total- 
ly vanish,  nor  the  quantities  become  equal,  as  is  evident 
from  the  two  following  series  : 

TftffT  t  t  »  T  O-^ 

T    T    T    T3    TT    inr    T«T    TT7    T"    T^TTj  ^^• 

D.-"^    IBT  TJ  TT    TF    "915    T-ffT    TffT    T5T    TTT7»  ^^* 

I'htts  wc  see,  that  though  the  difference  is  continual- 
ly diminishing,  and  that  in  a  very  large  proportion, 
there  is  no  hope  of  its  vanishing,  or  the  quantities  be- 
coming equal.  In  like  manner,  let  us  take  the  proper* 
tions  or  ratios  of  quantities,  and  we  shall  be  equally  un- 
successful* Suppose  two  quantities  of  matter,  one  con- 
taining 8  and  the  other  lo  pounds  \  these  quantities  al- 
ready have  to  each  other  the  satio  of  8  to  lo,  or  of  4 
to  5  ;  but  let  us  add  •  2  continually  to  each  of  them, 
and  though  the  ratios  continually  come  nearer  to  that 
of  equality,  it  is  in  vain  to  hope  for  a  perfect  coinci- 
dence,    Ihus, 

8  10  12  14  16  18  20  22  24,  &c. 
10  12  14  16  18  20  22  24  26,  &c. 

'Ratio  ±       *        •        '        •_piOiifa     fUf, 

For  this  and  his  other  lemmas  Sir  Isaac  makes  the 
following  apology  :  **  These  lemmas  are  premised,  to 
avoid  the  tediousness  of  deducing  perplexed  demonstra- 
tions ad  absurdum^  according  to  the  method  of  ancient 
geometers.  For  demonstrations  are  more  contracted  bv 
the  method  of  indivisibles  :  but  because  the  hypothesis 
of  indivisibles  seems  somewhat  harsh,  and  therefore  that 
method  is  reckoned  less  geometrical,  I  chose  rather  to 
reduce  the  demonstrations  of  the  following  propositions 
to  the  first  and  last  .sums  and  ratioa  of  nascent  and  eva- 
nescent quantities,  that  is,  to  the  limits  of  those  sums 
and  ratios  \  and  so  to  premise,  as  short  as  I  could,  the 
demonstrations  of  those  limits.  For  hereby  the  same 
thing  is  performed  as  by  the  method  of  indivisibles  \ 
and  now  those  principles  beingdemonstrated,  we  may 
use  them  with  more  safety. — -Therefore,  if  hereafter  I 
should  happen  to  consider  quantities  as  made  of  parti- 
cles, or  should  use  little  curve  lines  for  right  ones  >  I 
would  not  be  understood  to  mean  indivisibles,  but  eva- 
nescent divisible  quantities  \  not  the  sums  and  ratios  of 
determinate  parts,  but  always  the  limits  of  sums  and 
ratios  \  and  that  the  force  of  such  demonstrations  al- 
ways depends  on  the  method  laid  down  in  the  foregoing 
lemmas. 

"  Perhaps  it  ..may  be  objected,  that  there  is  no  ulti- 
mate proportion  of  evanescent  quantities,  because  the 
proportion,  before  the  quantities  have  vanished,  is  not 
the  *  ultimate,  and,  wben  they  are  vanished,  is  none.-* 
But  by  the  same  argument  it  may  be  alleged,  that  a 
lody  arriving  at  a  certain  place,  and  there  stopping, 


[      788       ] 


NEW 


»5 
answered. 


has  no  ultimate  velocity  j  because  the  velocity  Icbre  KchimIii 
the  body  comes  to  the  place  is  not  its  ultimate  veloci-fiuM^^ 
ty  ^  when  it  is  arrived,  it  has  npoe.  But  the  aosver  n  """V^ 
easy  :  for  by  the  ultimate  velocity  is  meant  that  witb 
which  the  biody  is  moved,  neither  before  it  arrives  at 
its  place  and  the  motion  ceases,  nor  after  \  bat  at  tbe 
very  instant  it  arrives,  that  is,  that  velocity  with  vhjcb 
the  body  arrives  at  its  last  place,  and  with  which  the 
motion  ceases.  And  in  like  manner,  by  the  uhionle 
ratio  of  evanescent  quantities  is  to  be  understood  tlie  »• 
tio  of  tbe  quantities,  not  before  they  vanish,  nor  after* 
wards,  but  with  whidi  they  vanish.  In  like  nasocr, 
the  first  ratio  of  nascent  quantities  is  that  with  whidi 
they  begin  to  be.  And  the  first  or  last  sum  is  that 
with  which  they  begin  and  cease  to  be  (or  to  be  aeg* 
mented  and  diminished).  There  is  a  Umit  which  tbe 
velocity  at  the  end  of  the  motion  may  attain,  bot  not 
exceed  *,  and  this  is  the  ultimate  velocity.  And  theiv 
is  the  like  limit  in  all  quantities  and  proportioos  that 
begin  and  cease  to  be.  And,  since  such  limits  arc  cer- 
tain and  definite,  to  determine  the  same  is  a  problem 
strictly  geometrical.  But  whatever  is  geometrical  ve 
may  be  allowed  to  make  use  of  in  determiaing  and 
demonstrating  any  other  tiling  that  is  likewise  geosie- 
trical. 

"  It  may  also  be  objected,  that  if  the  ultimate  ratioa 
of  evanescent  quantities  are  given,  tbeir  ultimate  mag- 
nitudes will  be  also  given  \  and  so  all  quantities  wDl 
consist  of  indivisibles,  which  is  contrary  to  what  Eu- 
clid has  demonstrated  concerning  incommeosurahlcs,  is 
the  1 0th  book  of  his  Elements.  But  this  objection  i^ 
founded  on  a  false  supposition.  For  those  oltinate 
ratios  with  which  quantities  vanish  are  not  truly  tbe 
ratios  of  ultimate  quantities,  but  limits  towards  wbicb 
the  ratios  of  quantities  decreasing  continuallj  ap- 
proach.** 

Lem.  II.  If  in  any  figure  A  o  c  E  ♦e™"'**^-^ 
by  the  right  line  A  0,  A  £,  and  the  curve  a  tY^  .^ 
there  be  inscribed  any  number  of  parallelograms 
A  5,  B  c,  C  </,  &c.  comprehended  under  eqnal  bsM 
AB,  BC,  CD,  &c.  and  the  sides  B^,  Cc,  Di/, 
&c.  parallel  to  one  side  A  a  of  the  figure  \  sad  tbe 
parallelograms  aK5/,  ^Lcm,  cMi/ii,  &c.  are  oooi- 
pleted.*?rhen  if  the  breadth  of  those  paralkkigrans 
be  supposed  to  be  diminished,  and  tbeir  number  aqg- 
mented  in  infinitvm  ;  the  ultimate  ratios  which  the  n- 
scribed  figure  AK  ^  L  c  M  i/  D,  the  circumscribed  li- 
gure  Aalb  mc n  J o  £, and  curvilineal  figure iLahcdY\ 
will  have  to  one  another,  are  ratios  of  equality.— For 
the  difference  of  the  inscribed  and  circumscribed  fifURS 
is  the  sum  of  the  parallelograms  K/,  L  ik,  M  a, Do; 
that  is  (from  the  equality  of  all  tbeir  bases),  tbe 
rectangle  under  one  of  their  bases  K  ^,  and  the  nm 
of  their  altitudes  A  a,  that  is,  the  rectangle  AB  /  «• 
—But  this  rectangle,  because  its  breadth  AB  is  sop> 
posed  diminished  tn  infinitum^  becomes  less  tbaa  aaj 
given  space.-  And  therefore  by  Lem.  I.  the  figures 
inscribed  and  circumscribed  become  ultimately  eqoal 
the  one  to  the  other  ^  and  much  more  will  the  interme- 
diate curvilineal  figure  be  ultimately  equal  to  either.^ 

Lem.  III.  The  same  ultimate  ratios  are  also  ratios 
of  equality,  when  the  breadths  AB,  BC,  CD,  &c  oC 
the  parallelograms  are  unequal,  and  are  all  diminished 
in  infinitum. — ^The  demonstration  of  this  diflcis  bot  lit- 
tle from  that  of  the  former. 

la 


NEW 


t    789    3 


NEW 


MciMTtOBtaQ 

Philosophy. 


Fig  «• 


In  his  succeeding  lemmas,  Sir  Isaac  goes  on  to  prove, 
in  a  manner  similar  to  the  above,  that  the  ultimate  ra- 
tioa  of  the  sine,  chord,  and  tangent  of  arcs  infinitely  di- 
minished, are  ratios  of  equality,  and  therefore  that  in 
all  our  reasonings  about  these  we  may  safely  use  the 
one  for  the  other  :«*tbat  the  ultimate  ibrm  of  evanes- 
cent triangles  made  by  the  arc,  chord,  and  tangent,  is 
that  of  similitude,  and  their  ultimate  ratio  is  that  of 
equality  f  and  hence,  in  reasonings  about  ultimate  ra- 
tios, vre  may  safely  use  these  triangles  for  each  other, 
whether  made  with  the  sine,  the  arc,  or  the  tangent.-— 
He  then  shon^  some  properties  of  the  ordinates  of  cur- 
vilinear figures  J  and  proves  that  the  spaces  which  a 
body  deseribes  by  any  finite  force  urging  it,  whether 
that  force  is  determinate  and  immutable,  or  is  conti- 
nually augmented  or  continually  diminished,  are,  in  the 
very  beginning:  of  the  motion,  one  to  the  other  in  the 
duplicate  ratio  of  the  powers*  And,  lastly.  Having 
added  some  demonstrations  concerning  the  evanescence 
of  angles  of  contact,  he  proceeds  to  lay  down  the  ma- 
thematical part  of  his  system,  and  which  depends  00 
the  following  theorems  : 

THEOit.  1.  The  areas  which  revolving  bodies  de- 
scribe by  radii  drawn  to  an  inunoveable  centre  of  force, 
lie  in  the  same  immoveable  planes,  and  are  proportional 
to  the  times  in  which  they  are  described.— For,  sup- 
pose the  time  to  be  divided  into  equal  parts,  and  in  the 
first  part  of  that  time,  let  the  body  by  its  innate  force 
describe  the  right  line  AB  (fig.  2.; }  in  the  second  part 
of  that  time,  the  same  would,  by  Law  i.  if  not  hinder* 
cd,  proceed  directly  to  c  along  the  line  B  c=:AB  j  so 
that  by  the  radii  AS,  BS,  c  S,  drawn  to  the  centre,  the 
equal  areas  ASB,  BS  c,  would  be  described.  But, 
when  the  body  is  arrived  at  B,  suppose  the  centripetal 
force  acts  at  once  with  a  great  impulse,  and  turning 
aside  the  body  from  the  ritfht  line  B  r,  compels  it  after- 
wards to  continue  its  motion  along  the  right  line  BC. 
I>raw  c  C  parallel  to  BS,  meeting  BC  in  C  ^  and  at 
the  end  of  the  second  part  of  the  time,  the  body,  by 
G>r.  f .  of  the  I^wa,  will  be  found  in  C,  in  the  same 
plane  with  the  triangle  ASB.  Join  SC  j  and  because 
SB  and  c  C  are  parallel,  the  triangle  SBC  vrill  be 
equal  to  the  triangle  SBC,  and  therefore  also  to  the 
triangle  SAB.  By  the  like  argument,  if  the  centripe- 
tal force  acts  successively  in  C,  D,  £,  &c.  and  makes 
the  body  in  each  single  particle  of  time  to  describe  the 
riglit  Hues  CD,  D£^  £F,  &c.  they  will  all  lie  in  the 
same  plane  j  and  the  triangle  SCD  will  be  equal  to  the 
triangle  SBC,  and  SDE  to  SCD,  and  SEF  to  SDE. 
And  therefore,  in  equal  times,  equal  areas  are  describ* 
ed  in  one  immoveable  plane }  and,  by  composition,  any 
sums  SADS,  SAFS,  of  those  areas  are,  one  to  the 
other,  as  the  times  in  which  they  are  described.  Now, 
let  the  number  of  those  triangles  be  augmented,  and 
their  size  diminished  m  infinitum ;  and  then,  bv  the 
preceding  lemmas,  their  ultimate  perimeter  ADF  will 
be  a  curve  line  :  and  therefore  the  centripetal  force  by 
which  the  body  is  perpetually  drawn  back  from  the 
tangent  of  this  carve  will  act  continually  \  and  any  de- 
scribed areas  SADS,  SAFS,  which  are  always  propor- 
tional to  the  times  of  description,  will,  in  this  case  also, 
be  proportional  to  those  times.     Q.  £•  D. 

Cor.  I.  The  velocity  of  a  bod^  attracted  towards  an 
immoveable  centre,  in  spaces  void  of  resistance,  is  re- 
ciprocally as  the  perpendicolar  let  fall  fSrom  that  centre 


on  the  right  line  which  touches  the  orbit.  For  the  ve-  Ncwioniao 
locities  m  these  places.  A,  B,  C,  D,  £,  are  as  the  Philosophy. 
bases  AB,  BC,  DE,  EF,  of  equal  triangles  \  and  these  ' 
bases  are  reciprocally  as  the  perpendiculars  let  fall  upon  . 
them. 

Cor.  2.  If  the  chords  AB,  BC,  of  two  arcs,  succes- 
sively described  in  equal  times  bv  the  same  body,  in 
spaces  void  of  resistance,  are  completed  into  a  parallelo- 
gram ABCV,  and  the  diagonal  BV  of  this  parallelo- 
gram, in  the  position  which  it  ultimately  acquires  when 
tho&e  arcs  are  diminished  in  infinitum^  18  produced  both 
ways,  it  will  pass  through  the  centre  of  force. 

Cor.  3.  If  the  chords  AB,  BC,  and  DE,  EF,  of 
arcs  described  in  equal  times,  in  spaces  void  of  resist- 
ance, are  completed  into  the  parallelograms  ABCV, 
DEFZ,  the  forces  in  B  and  £  are  one  to  the  other  in 
the  ultimate  ratio  of  the  diagonals  B  V,  EZ,  when  those 
arcs  are  diminished  in  infinitum.  For  the  motions  BC 
and  £F  of  the  body  (by  Cor.  i.  of  the  Laws),  are  com- 
pounded of  the  motions  Be,  BV  and  Ysf^  EZ  \  but 
BV  and  EZ,  which  are  equal  to  C  c  and  Yf^  in  the 
demonstration  of  this  proposition,  were  generated  by 
the  impulses  of  the  centripetal  force  in  B  and  £,  and 
are  therefore  proportional  to  those  impulses. 

Cor.  4*  The  forces  by  which  bodies,  in  spaces  void 
of  resistance,  are  drawn  back  from  rectilinear  motions, 
and  turned  into  curvilinear  orbits,  are  one  to  another  a<i 
the  versed  sines  of  arcs  described  in  equal  times;  which 
versed  sines  tend  to  the  centre  of  force,  and  bisect  the 
chords  when  these  arcs  are  diminished  to  infinity.  For 
such  versed  sines  are  the  halfs  of  the  diagonals  meu« 
tioned  in  Cor.  3. 

Cor.  5.  Aud  therefore  those  forces  are  to  the  force 
of  gravity,  as  the  said  versed  sines  to  the  versed  sinea 
perpendicular  to  the  horizon  of  those  parabolic  arcs 
which  projectiles  describe  in  the  same  time. 

Cor.  6.  And  the  same  things  do  all  hold  good 
(by  Cor.  5.  of  the  laws)  when  the  planes  in  which  the 
bodies  are  moved,  together  with  the  centres  of  force, 
which  are  placed  in  those  planes,  are  not  at  rest,  but 
move  uniformly  forward  in  right  lines. 

Theor.  II.  Every  body  that  moves  in  any  curve 
line  described  in  a  plane,  and,  by  a  radius  drawn  to  a 
point  either  immoveable  or  moving  forward  with  an 
uniform  rectilinear  motion,  describes  about  that  point 
areas  proportional  to  the  times,  is  urged  by  a  centripe- 
tal force  directed  to  that  point. 

Case  I.  For  every  body  that  moves  in  a  curve  line 
is  (by  Law  i.)  turned  aside  from  ita  rectilinear  course 
by  the  action  of  some  force  that  impels  it  \  and  that 
force  by  which  the  body  is  turned  off  from  its  rectili- 
near course,  and  made  to  describe  in  equal  times  the 
least  equal  triangles  SAB,  SBC,  SCD,  &c.  about  the 
immoveable  point  S,  (by  Prop.  40.  E.  i.  and  Law  2.) 
acts  in  the  place  B  according  to  the  direction  of  a  line 
parallel  to  C  *,  that  is,  in  the  direction  of  the  line  BS  \ 
and  in  the  place  C  according  to  the  direction  of  a  line 
parallel  to  d  D,  that  is,  in  the  direction  of  the  line  CS, 
&c.  \  and  therefore  acts  always  in  the  direction  of  lines 
tending  to  the  immoveable  point  S.     Q.  E.  D. 

Case  II.  And  (by  Cor.  5.  of  the  laws)  it  is  indif- 
ferent whether  the  superficies  in  which  a  body  describes 
a  curvilinear  figure  be  quiescent,  or  moves  together 
with  the  body,  the  figure  described^  and  its  point  S^ 
uniformly  forward  in  right  lines. 

Cor, 


NEW 


[    79<5    1 


NEW 


Xevrtonian  CoR.  I.  In  non-reststmg  spaces  or  mediaias,  if  the 
rhiiosophy.  areas  are  not  proportional  to  the  times,  the  forces  are 
not  directed  to  the  point  in  which  the  radii  meet ;  bat 
diviate  therefrom  in  ctmsequentia^  or  to?rards  the  parts 
to  which  the  motion  is  directed,  if  the  description  of 
the  areas  is  aceelerated )  hot  in  aniecedentia  if  retard- 
ed. 

Cor.  2.  And  even  in  resisting  mediann,  if  the  de« 
'scription  of  the  areas  is  accelerated,  the  directions  of 
the  forces  deviate  firom  the  point  ill  which  the  radii 
meet,  tovrarda  the  parts  to  which  the  motion  tends* 

Scholium. 

A  body  may  he  urged  by  a  centripetal  force  com* 
•pounded  of  several  forces.  In  which  case  the  meaning 
of  the  proposition  is,  that  the  force  which  results  out 
of  all  tends  to  thft  point  S.  Bnt  if  any  force  acts  per« 
petually  in  the  direetiofl  of  lines  perpendicular  to  the 
'described  surface,  this  force  will  make  the  body  to  de* 
viate  from  the  plane  of  its  motion,  but  will  neither  aug- 
ment nor  diminish  the  quantity  of  tlie  described  sur- 
face ;  and  is  tlierefore  tiot  to  ht  neglected  in  the  com< 
position  of  forces. 

Theor.  III.  Every  body  that,  by  a  radius  drawn 
to  the  centre  of  another  body,  howsoever  moved,  de- 
scribes areas  about  that  centre  proportional  to  the  timeSy 
is  urged  by  a  force  compounded  of  the  centripetal  forces 
tending  to  that  other  body,  afld  of  all  the  aocelerativo 
force  by  which  that  other  body  is  impelled.— The  de- 
monstration of  this  is  a  natural  consequence  of  the  theo* 
•i^m  immediately  preceding. 

Hence,  if  the  one  body  L^  by  a  radius  drawn  to  the 
other  body  T,  describes  areas  proportional  to  the  times, 
and  from  the  whole  force  by  which  the  first  body  L  is 
urged,  (whether  that  force  is  simple,  or,  according  to 
Cor.  2.  of  the  laws,  compounded  of  several  forces),  we 
subduct  that  whole  accelerative  force  by  which  the 
other  body  is  urged ;  the  whole  remaining  force  by 
which  the  first  body  is  urged  will  tend  to  the  other 
body  T,  as  its  centre. 

And  vice  versa^  if  the  remaining  force  tends  nearly 
to  the  other  body  T,  those  areas  will  be  nearly  proper^ 
tionul  to  the  times. 

If  the  body  L,  by  a  radius  drawn  to  the  other  body 
T,  describes  areas,  which,  compared  with  the  times,  are 
very  unequal,  and  that  other  body  T  be  either  at  rest, 
or  moves  uniformly  forward  in  a  right  line^  the  action 
of  the  centripetal  force  tending  to  that  other  body  T 
IS  either  none  at  all,  or  it  is  mixed  and  combined  with 
Yerr  powerful  actions  ^f  other  forces  ^  and  the  whole 
force  contponndcd  of  them  all,  if  they  are  many,  is  di- 
tected  to  another  (immoveable  or  moveable)  centre* 
The  same  thing  obtains  when  the  other  body  is  actu- 
ated by  any  other  nation  whatever';  provided  that 
-centripetal  force  is  taken  which  remains  ahtt  sub- 
-ducting  that  whole  force  acting  upon  that  other  body 
T. 

SCHOUUV. 

Because  the  equable  description  of  area#  mdicates 
that  a  centre  is  respected  by  that  force  with  which  the 
body  is  most  affvctod,  and  by  which  it  is  drawn  back 
from  its  rectilinear  motion,  and  retained  ^n  its  orbit,  we 
%ay  always  be  allowed  to  ose  the  equable  description  of 


areas  as  an  indication  of  a  centre  about  Which  til  cir-KcvtM 
lar  motion  is  perfoitned  in  free  spaces*  ] 

Theox*  IV.  The  centripetal  forces  of  bodies  nUdi' 
by  equable  motions  describe  diSezent  circles,  tend  ts  the 
centres  of  the  same  circles;  and  are  one  to  the  ether 
as  the  squares  of  the  arcs  described  in  equal  tinei  api 
plied  to  the  radii  of  circles.— For  these  forces  tend  to 
the  centres  of  the  circles^  (by  Theor.  2.  and  Csr.  it 
Theor.  i.)  and  are  to  one  another  as  theveised  nnasf 
the  least  arcs  described  in  equal  times  (by  Cor.  4. 
Theor  i.),  that  is,  as  the  squares  of  the  sane  aNsi^ 
plied  to  the  diameters  of  the  circles,  by  one  of  the  ha* 
mas  'j  and  therefore,  since  those  arcs  are  as  arcs  deiaib* 
ed  in  any  equal  tines,  and  the  diameters  are  ai  tbe  rs* 
dii,  the  forces  will  be  as  the  squares  of  any  area  ^enA 
ed  in  the  same  time,  applied  to  the  radii  of  the  ciieki. 
Q.  E.  D. 

Coa.  I.  Therefore,  since  those  arcs  are  u  then* 
of  the  bodies,  the  centripetal  forces  aie  is  s 
ratio  compounded  of  the  duplicate  ratio  of  the  vdei* 
cities  directly,  and  of  the  simple  ratio  of  the  wSa  m* 
verselj. 

Cor.  3.  And  sinee  the  periodic  times  are  in  a  ntii 
compounded  of  the  ratio  of  the  radii  directly,  sod  the 
ratio  of  the  velocities  inversely  \  the  centripetal  fenei 
are  in  a  ratio  corapoanded  of  the  ratio  of  Uie  ra^  4i* 
rectly,  and  the  duplicate  ratio  of  the  periodic  tisaeii^ 
versely. 

Cor.  3.  TVhenca,  if  the  periodic  times  are  eqoal,  lai 
the  velocities  therefore  as  the  radii»  the  centripetal  iinei 
will  he  equ^l  among  themselves  \  and  the  eontrsiy. 

Cor.  4.  If  the  periodic  times  and  the  veladtiei  an 
both  in  the  subduplicate  ratio  of  the  radii,  the  ccstii. 
petal  forces  will  be  eqoal  among  themselves^  8b4  tk 
contrary. 

CoR.  5*  If  the  periodic  times  are  as  the  n£,  as^ 
therefore  the  velocities  equal,  the  centripetal  fonei mil 
he  reciprocally  as  the  ladii  \  and  the  contrary. 

CoR.  6.  If  the  periodic  times  are  in  the  8es9oi|iicafe 
ratio  of  the  radii,  and  therefore  the  velocities  reci|m* 
caily  in  the  subduplicate  ratio  of  the  radiif  the  ^ci^ 
petal  forces  will  be  in  the  duplicate  ratio  of  the  ndi 
inversely  \  and  the  contrary. 

Cor.  7.  And  mriversally,  if  the  period  time  ii  ts 
any  power  B*'  of  the  radius  R,  and  therrfore  thevckci- 
city  reciprocally  as  the  power  B<^^  of  the  ladSna,  the 
centripetal  force  will  he  reciprocally  as  tiae  power  R**^ 
of  the  radius  \  and  the  contrary. 

Cor.  6.  The  same  thinss  aQ  hold  coacemiogthi 
times,  the  velocities,  and  forces,  by  which  bsdaea  ^« 
scribe  the  similar  parts  of  any  simihn'  fignres,  that  hsm 
tlioir  centres  in  a  atmilar  position  within  those  figoRii 
as  appears  by  applying  the  demonatraf ions  of  the  pncO" 
ding  cases  to  those.  And  the  application  is  cas^,  hj 
only  substituting  the  equable  description  of  areas  nths 
place  of  equable  motion,  and  using  the  distances  of  tk 
bodies  from  the  ceotres  instead  of  the  radii. 

Cor*  9*  From  the  same  demonstration  it  Itkrmis 
follows,  that  the  arc  which  a  body  oattfomily  revohrim 
in  a  circle  by  means  of  a  given  centripetal  ibree  do- 
scribes  in  any  time,  is  a  mean  proportional  hetwecaths 
diameter  of  tbe  circle,  and  the  space  wlMch  the  aasis 
body,  falling  by  the  same  given  force,  would  deoocfli 

through  in  the  same  given  tune. 

•*Bv 


NEW  t    79 

Newtoniati  **  By  means  of  the  preceUing  proportion  aud  its  co> 
FhiloMpby.  rollaries  (says  8ir  Isaac )«  we  may  discover  the  propor- 
^  V  ■'  tion  of  a  centripetal  force  to  any  other  knoit-n  force^ 
such  as  that  of  gravity.  For  if  a  body  by  means  of  its 
gravity  revolves  in  a  circle  concentric  to  the  earth,  tliis 
gravity  is  the  centripetal  force  of  that  body.  But  tVom 
the  descent  of  heavy  bodies,  the  time  of  one  entire  re* 
volution,  as  well  as  the  arc  described  in  any  given  time, 
is  given  (by  Cor.  9.  of  this  theorem).  And  by  such 
propositions  Mr  Huygens,  in  his  excellent  book  Ve  HJO' 
rofogif*  OscUiatormy  has  compared  tlie  force  of  gravity 
with  the  centrifugal  forces  of  revolving  bodies. , 

The  preceding  proposition  may  also  be  demonstrated 
in  the  following  manner.  In  any  circle  suppose  a  poly- 
gon to  be  inscribed  of  any  number  of  sides.  And  if  a 
body,  moved  with  a  given  velocity  along  the  sides  of 
the  polygon,  is  reflected' from  the  cirale  at  the  several 
angular  points  *,  the  force  with  which,  at  every  reflect 
tion  it  strikes  the  circle,  will  be  as  its  velocity :  and 
therefore  the  snm  of  the  forces,  in  a  given  time,  will  be 
M  that  velocity  and  the  number  of  reflections  conjunct- 
ly I  that  is  (if  the  species  of  the  polygou  be  given),  as 
the  length  described  in  that  given  time,  and. increased 
or  diminished  in  the  ratio 'of  the  same  length  to  the  ra- 
dius of  the  circle  \  that  is,  as  the  square  of  that  length 
applied  to  the  radios  \  and  therefore,  if  the  polygon, 
by  having  iU  sides  diminished  iji  infirttiium^  coincides 
with  the  circle,  as  the  square  of  the  arc  described  in 
a  given  time  applied  to  the  radius.  This  is  the  centri- 
fugal force,  with  which  the  body  impels  the  circle  ; 
and  to  which  the  contrary  force,  wherewith  the  circle 
continually  repels  the  body  towards  the  centre,  is  equal. 
On  these  principles  hangs  the  whole  of  Sir  Isaac 
Newton^s  mathematical  philosophy.  He  now  shows 
iiow  to  find  the  centre  to  which  the  forces  impelling 
any  body  are  directed,  having  the  velocity  of  tbo  body 
given  :  and  finds  the  oentrifiigal  force  to  be  alvrays  as 
the  versed  sine  of  the  nascent  arc  directly,  and  as  the 
square  of  the  time  inversely  \  or  directly  as  the  square 
of  the  velocity,  and  inversely  as  the  ckwd  of  the  nas- 
eent  arc.  From  these  premises  he  deduces  the  method 
of  finding  the  centripetal  force  directed  to  any  given 
point  when  the  body  revolves  in  a  circle  \  and  this 
whether  the  central  point  is  near  or  at  an  immense 
distance  ^  so  that  all  the  lines  drawn  from  it  may  be 
taken  for  parallels.  The  same  thing  he  shows  with  re- 
gard to  bodies  revolving  in  spirals,  ellipses,  hyperbo- 
las, or  parabolas.— -Having  the  figures  of  tlie  orbits 
^ven,  he  shows  also  how  to  find  the  velocities  and 
moving  powers  ^  and,  in  short,  salves  all  the  most  dif- 
ficult problems  relating  to  the  celestial  bodies  with  an 
aalonishing  degree  of  mathematical  skill.  These  pro- 
blems  and  demonstrations  are  all  contained  in  the  first 
lNX>k  of  the  Principia : '  but  to  give  an  account  of  them 
here  would  far  exceed  our  limits  j  neither  would  many 
of  them  be  intelligible,  excepting  to  first-rate  mathe- 
maticians. 

^  In  the  second  book.  Sir  Isaac  treats  of  the  proper- 
ty       ties  of  fluids,  and  their  powers  of  resistance  :  and  here 
^^^  ^"5.   he  lays  down  such  principles  as  entirclj  overthrow  the 
c^reuoa'  ^^^""^  ^^  ^^  Cartes's  vortices,  which  was  the  h^ 
't^P  shionable  system  in  his  time.    In  the  third  book,  he  be- 

gins particularlv  to  treat  of  the  natural  phenomena,  and 
apply  them  to  the  mathematical  principles  formerly  de- 
monstrated ^  and,  as  a  necessary  preliminary  to  this  part. 


I     ]  NEW 

he  lays  down  the  following  rules  for  reasoning  in  nutu-  XewtMiiaa 
ral  philosophy.  Pbilosopby. 

J.  We  are  to  admit  no  more  causes  of  natural  things 
than  such  as  arc  both  true  and  sufficieiU  to  explain  their 
natural  appearances. 

2.  Thei'cfore  to  the  same  natural  eflccts  wc  must  al* 
ways  assign,  as  far  as  possible,  the  same  causes. 

3.  The  qualities  of  bodies  which  admit  neither  in* 
tension  or  remission  of  degrees,  and  which  are  found 
to  belong  to  all  bodies  within  the  reach  of  our  expcri- 
mentN,  arc  to  be  esteemed  the  universal  qualities  of  alt 
bodies  whatsoevor. 

4*  In  experimental  philosophy,  we  are  to  look  upoa 
propositions  collected  by  general  induction  from  pheno- 
mena as  accurately  or  very  nearly  true,  notwithstanding 
any  contrary  hypotlieses  that  may  be  imagined,  till 
Much  time  as  other  phenomena  occur,  by  which  they 
may  either  be  made  moreaccttrate,or  liable  to  exceptions* 

The  phenomena  first  considered  are,  i.  That  the  sa- 
tellites of  Jupiter,  by  radii  drawn  to  tlie  centre  of  their 
primary,  describe  areas  proportional  to  the  times  of 
their  description ;  and  that  their  periodic  times,  the 
fixed  stars  being  at  rest,  are  in  the  sesquiplicate  ratio  of 
their  distances  from  its  centre.  3.  The  same  thing  U 
likewise  observed  of  the  phenomena  of  Saturn.  3.  The 
five  primary  planets,  Mercury,  Venus,  Mais,  Jupiter, 
and  Saturn,  with  their  several  orbits  encompass  the  sun* 
^  The  fixed  stars  being  supposed  at  rest,  the  periodic 
timet  of  the  five  primary  planets,  and  of  the  earth, 
about  the  son,  are  in  the  aesquiplicate  uoportion  of 
their  mean  distances  from  the  sun.  5.  The  primary 
planets,  by  radii  drawn  to  the  earth,  describe  areas  no 
ways  proportionable  to  the  times :  but  the  areas  which 
they  describe  by  radii  drawn  to  the  sun  are  proporw 
tiooal  to  the  times  of  description.  6.  The  moon,  by  a 
radius  drawn  to  the  centre  of  the  earth,  describes  an 
area  proportional  to  the  time  of  description.  All  these 
phenomena  are  undeniable  from  astronomical  observa- 
tions, and  are  explained  at  large  under  the  article 
AsTROKOMY.  The  mathematical  demonstrations  are- 
next  applied  by  Sir  Isaac  Newtoo  in  the  following 
propositions : 

Paor.  I.  The  fiirces  by  which  the  satellites  of  Ju- 
piter are  continually  drawn  oflf  from  rectilinear  motions^ 
and  retained  in  their  proper  orbits,  tend  to  the  centre 
of  that  planet ;  and  are  reciprocally  as  the  squares  of 
the  distances  of  those  satellites  from  that  centre.  The 
former  part  of  this  proposition  appears  from  Theor.  2«. 
or  3.  and  the  latter  from  Cor.  6.  of  Tlieon  5.  j  and 
the  same  thing  we  are  to  understand  of  the  satellites  of 
Saturn. 

Prop.  II.  The  forces  by  which  the  primary  planeta 
are  eontinoally  drawn  off  from  rectilinear  motions,  and 
retained  in  their  proper  orbits,  tend  to  the  son ',  and 
are  reciprocally  as  the  squares  of  the  distances  from  the 
sun*s  centre.  The  forri.er  part  of  this  proposition  ia 
manifest  from  Phenomenon  5.  just  mentioned,  and 
from  llieor.  2.  j  the  latter  from  Phenomenon  4.  and 
Cor.  6.  of  Theor.  4.  But  this  part  of  the  proposition 
is  with  great  accuracy  dedacible  from  the  quiescence  of 
the  aphelion  points.  For  a  very  small  aberration  from 
the  rociprocai  duplicate  proportion  would  produce  a. 
motion  of  the  spsides,  sensible  in  tvery  single  revolution^ 
and  in  many  of  them  enormoosly  great. 

Prop.  III.  The  force  by  which  the  moon  is  retained 

ia 


NEW 


[    792    ] 


NEW 


Kenlonian 
■Philosophy. 


la  its  orlitt,  tends  towards  the  earthy  and  is  reciprocally 
as  the  square  of  the  distance  of  its  place  from  the  centre 
of  the  eatth.  The  former  part  of  this  proposition  is 
evident  from  Ptieiioro.  5.  and  Theor.  2. }  the  latter  from 
Phenom.  6.  and  Theor.  2.  or  3.  It  is  also  evident  from 
the  very  slew  motion  of  the  moon^s  apogee  ^  wliich,  in 
every  single  revolution,  amomiting  but  to  3°  3'  m  con- 
sequential  roaj  he  neglected:  and  this  more  fully  ap- 
pears from  the  next  proposition. 

Prop.  IV.  The  moon  gravitates  towards  the  earth, 
and  by  the  force  of  gravity  is  continually  drawn  off 
from  a  rectilinear  motion,  and  retained  in  its  orbit.-~ 
The  mean  distance  from  the  moon  to  the  earth  in  the 
syzigies,  in  semidiameters  of  the  latter,  b  about  6oj-. 
Let  us  assume  the  mean  distance  of  60  semidiameters  in 
the  syzigics ;  and  suppose  one  revolution  of  the  moon  in 
respect  of  the  fixed  stars  to  be  completed  in  27^  7^  43', 
as  astronomers  have  determined ;  and  the  circumference 
of  the  earth  to  anumni  to  123,249,600  Paris  feet. 
Now,  if  wc  imagine  the  moon,  deprived  of  all  motion, 
to  be  let  go,  so  as  to  descend  towards  the  earth  with  the 
impulse  of  all  that  force  by  which  it  is  retained  in  its  or- 
bit, it  will,  in  the  space  of  one  minute  of  time,  describe  in 
its  fall  1 5^  Paris  feet.  For  the  versed  sine  of  that  arc 
which  the  moon,  in  the  space  of  one  minute  of  time, 
describes  by  its  mean  motion  at  the  distance  of  60  se- 
midiameters of  the  earth,  is  nearly  i  JtV  Pax'is  feet  \ 
or  more  accurately,  15  feet  one  inch  and  one  line  ^* 
Wherefore  since  that  force,  in  approaching  to  the  earth, 
increases  in  the  reciprocal  duplicate  proportion  of  tlie 
distance  ;  and,  upon  that  account,  at  the  surface  of  the 
earth,  is  60  X  60  times  greater  than  that  at  the  moon;  a 
body  in  our  regions,  falling  with  that  force,  ought,  in 
the  space  of  one  minute  of  time,  to  describe  60  X  60  X 
15^'^  Paris  feet  y  and  in  the  space  of  one  second  of  time 
to  dciicribe  I  JtV  of  those  feet  \  or,  more  accurately,  15 
feet  I  inch  i  line  7.  And  with  this  very  force  we  ac- 
tually find  that  bodies  here  on  earth  do  really  descend. 
^-^For  a  pendulum  oscillating  seconds  in  the  latitude  of 
Paris,  will  be  three  Paris  feet  and  87  lines  in  length, 
us  Mr  II uy gens  has  observed.  And  the  space  which 
a  heavy  body  describes  by  falling  one  second  of  time, 
IS  to  half  the  length  of  the  pendulum  in  the  duplicate 
ratio  of  the  circumference  of  the  circle  to  its  diame- 
ter;  and  is  therefore  15  Paris  feet  i  inch  i  line  ^. 
And  therefore  the  force  by  which  the  moon  is  retained 
in  its  orbit,  becomes  at  the  very  surface  of  the  earth, 
equal  to  the  force  of  gravity  which  we  observe  in  heavy 
bodies  there.  And  therefore  (by  Rule  i.  and  2.)  the 
force  by  which  the  moon  is  retained  in  ks  orbit  is  that 
very  same  force  which  we  commonly  call  gravity.  For 
were  gravity  another  force  difierent  from  that,  then  bo- 
dies descending  to  the  cailh  with  the  joint  impulse  of 
Imth  forces  would  fall  with  a  double  velocity,  and,  in 
tbe  space  of  one  second  of  time,  would  describe  30^ 
Paris  feet ;  altogether  against  experience. 

The  demonstration  of  this  proposition  may  be  more 
diiTuscly  explained  after  the  following  manner :  Sup- 
pose several  moons  to  revolve  about  the  earthy  as  in 
the  system  of  Jupiter  or  Saturn,  the  periodic  tihies  of 
those  moons  would  (by  the  argument  of  induction) 
observe  the  same  law  which  Kepler  found  to  obtain 
among  the  planets  \  and  therefore  their  centripetal  for- 
ces would  be  reciprocally  as  the  squares  of  the  distan- 

4 


ces  from  tbe  centre  of  the  earth,  by  Prop.  I.    Nofr,  if  )f« 

the  lowest  of  these  were  very  small,' and  were  tooevFUMyk 
tbe  earth  as  almost  to  touch  the  tops  of  the  highest^ 
mountains,  the  centripetal  force  thereof,  letainiig  it 
in  its  orbit,  would  be  very  nearly  equal  to  the  wei^i 
of  any  terrestrial  bodies  that  should  be  found  spn 
the  tops  of  these  mountains  j  as  may  be  known  fron 
the  foregoing  calculation.  Therefore,  if  the  same  little 
luoon  should  be  deserted  by  its  centrifugal  force  thit 
carries  it  through  its  orbit,  it  would  diescend  to  the 
earth  \  and  that  with  the  same  velocity  as  heavy  U- 
dies  do  actually  descend  with  upon  the  tops  of  thoie 
very  mountains,  because  of  tbe  equality  of  forces  Unt 
oblige  them  both  to  descend.  And  if  the  force  bj 
which  that  lowest  moon  would  descend  were  difcmt 
from  that  of  gravity,  and  if  that  moon  were  to  gnvitite 
towards  the  earth',  as  we  find  terrestrial  bodies  ilo « 
the  tops  of  mountains,  it  would  then  descend  with 
twice  the  velocity,  as  being  impelled  by  both  these 
forces  conspiring  together,  llierefore,  since  both  these 
forces,  that  is,  the  gravity  of  heavy  bodies,  ind  the 
centripetal  forces  of  the  moons,  respect  the  ceatr%  if 
the  earth,  and  are  similar  and  equal  between  tbemsdwt^ 
they  will  (by  Rule  i.  and  2.)  have  the  samecaose. 
And  therefore  the  force  which  retains  the  mooa  io  iti 
orbit,  is  that  very  force  which  we  comrnonly  call  gn- 
vity;  because  otherwise,  this  little  rmmu  at  the  top  of 
a  mountain  must  either  be  without  gravity,  or  fall  tvin 
as  swifUy  as  heavy  bodies  use  to  do. 

Having  thus  demonstrated  that  the  moon  is  retiioei 
in  its  orbit  by  its  gravitation  towards  the  earth,  it  is 
easy  to  apply  tbe  same  demonstration  to  the  niotioM  of 
the  other  secondary  planets,  and  of  the  primary  pbaets 
round  the  sun,  and  thus  to  show  that  gravitation  prevaSg 
throughout  the  whole  creation  ^  af^er  which.  Sir  iaae 
proceeds  to  show  from  the  same  principles  that  (k 
heavenly  bodies  gravitate  towards  each  other,  aad  000- 
tain  different  quantities  of  matter,  or  have  difincat 
densities  in  proportion  to  their  bulks. 

Prob.  V.  All  bodies  gravitate  towards  every  pbuiet; 
and  the  weights  of  bodies  towards  the  same  planet,  at 
equal  distances  from  its  centre,  are  proportional  to  the 
quantities  of  matter  they  contain. 

It  has  been  confirmed  by  many  experiment^  that 
all  sorts  of  heavy  bodies  (allowance  being  made  fcr 
the  inequality  of  retardation  by  some  small  rcststaaot 
of  the  air),  descend  to  the  earth  from  equal  hc^^  is 
eqtial  times  \  and  that  equality  of  tiines  we  maj  ^ 
tinguish  to  a  great  accuracy  by  the  help  of  pms* 
lums.  Sir  Isaac  Newton  tried  the  thing  in  geld,  d- 
ver,  lead,  glass,  sand,  common  salt,  wood,  water,  ui 
wheat.  He  provided  two  wooden  boxca,  rouDd  aa4 
equal,  filled  the  one  with  wood,  and  suspended  u 
equal  weight  of  gold  in  the  centre  of  oscillatioo  of  the 
other.  The  boxes  hanging  by  equal  threads  of  ii 
feet,  made  a  couple  of  pendulums,  perfectly  equal  ii 
weight  and  figure,  and  equally  receiving  the  resMtaacr 
of  tlie  air.  And  placing  the  one  by  the  other,  he  ob- 
served them  to  play  together  forwards  and  barkwarB, 
for  a  long  time,  with  equal  vibratiooa.  And  therr- 
fore  the  quantity  of  matter  in  the  gold  was  to  the 
quantity  of  matter  in  the  wood,  as  the  action  of  the 
motive  force  (or  vis  tnotrix)  upon  all  the  gold,  to  the 
action  of  the  same  upon  all  the  wood  ^  that  ia,  as  the 


NEW  C     793    ]  NEW 

the  weifcbt  of  tbe  other.     And     tellites  towards  the  sun,  at  equal  distances  from  the  sun,  Kcwtoniau 

arc  as  their   several  quantities  of  mutter  j    and   the  Hiilosopliy. 
weights  of  the  moon  and  of  tho  earth  towards  the  sun, 


weiffht  of  the  one  to 

Philotophy.  the  like  happened  in  the  other  bodies.  By  these  expe- 
riments, in  bo«Ues  of  the  same  weight,  he  could  mani- 
festly have  discovered  a  diflPerence  of  matter  less  than 
the  thousandth  part  of  the  whole,  had  any  such  heen. 
But  without  all  doubt,  the  nature  of  gravity  towards 
the  planets,  is  the  same  as  towards  the  earth.  For 
should  we  imagine  our  terrestrial  bodies  removed  to  the 
orb  of  the  moon,  and  there,  together  with  the  moon, 
deprived  of  all  motion,  to  be  let  go,  so  as  to  fall  to- 
gether towards  the  earth }  it  is  certain  from  what  we 
have  demonstrated  before,  that  in  equal  times,  they 
would  describe  equal  spaces  with  tbe  moon,  and  of 
consequence  are  to  the  moon  in  quantity  of  matter, 
as  their  weights  to  its  weight.  Moreover,  since  the 
satellites  of  Jupiter  perform  their  revolotions  in  times 
which  observe  tbe  sesquiplicate  proportion  of  their  di- 
stances from  Jupiter^s  centre,  their  accelerative  gravi- 
ties towards  Jupiter  will  be  reciprocally  as  the  squares 
of  their  distances  from  Jupiter's  centre  ;  that  is,  equal 
at  equal  distances.  And  therefore,  these  satellites,  if 
supposed  to  fall  towards  Jupiter  from  equal  heights, 
would  describe  equal  spaces  in  equal  times,  in  like  man- 
ner as  heavy  bodies  do  on  our  earth.  And  by  the  same 
argument  if  the  circumsolar  planets  were  supposed  to 
be  let  fall  at  equal  distances  from  tbe  sun,  they  would, 
in  their  descent  towards  the  sun,  describe  equal  spaces 
in  equal  tiroes.  But  forces,  which  equally  accelerate 
unequal  bodies,  must  be  as  those  bodies :  that  is  to  say, 
the  weights  of  the  planets  towards  the  sun  must  be  as 
their  quantities  of  matter.  Further,  That  the  weights 
of  Jupiter  and  his  satellites  towards  the  sun  are  pro- 
portional to  the  several  quantities  of  their  matter,  ap- 
pears from  the  exceeding  regular  motions  of  the  satel- 
lites. For  if  some  of  the  bodies  were  more  strongly 
attracted  to  the  sun  in  proportion  to  their  quantity  of 
matter  than  others,  the  motions  of  the  tatclUtes  would 
be  disturbed  by  that  inequality  of  attraction.  If,  at 
equal  distances  from  the  sun,  any  satellite,  in  propor- 
tion to  tbe  quantity  of  its  matter,  did  gravitate  to- 
wards the  sun,  with  a  force  greater  than  Jupiter  in'  pro- 
|x>rtion  to  his,  according  to  any  given  proportion,  sup- 
pose d  to  e  i  then  the  distance  between  tbe  centres  of 
tbe  sun  and  of  the  satellite's  orbit  would  be  always 
greater  than  the  distance  between  the  centres  of  tbe  sun 
and  of  Jupiter  nearly  in  the  subduplicate  of  that  pro- 
portion. And  if  tbe  satellite  gravitated  towards  tbe 
sun  with  a  force  less  in  the  proportion  of  e  to  d,  the  di- 
stance of  the  centre  of  the  satellite's  orb  from  the  sun 
would  be  less  than  the  distance  of  the  centre  of  Jupiter's 
from  tlic  sun  in  the  sulMluplicate  of  the  same  proportion. 
Therefore,  if,  at  equal  distances  from  the  sun,  the  acce- 
lerative gravity  of  any  satellite  towards  the  sun  were 
greater  or  less  than  tbe  accelerating  gravity  of  Jupiter 
towards  the  sun  but  by  r^Vv  P^^  ^^  ^he  whole  gravity  \ 
tbe  distance  of  the  centre  of  the  satellite's  orbit  from 
the  sun  would  be  greater  or  less  than  the  distance  of  Ju- 
|)iter  from  tlie  sun  by  tq^t^  part  of  the  whole  distance  \ 
that  is,  by  a  fifth  part  of  tbe  distance  of  the  utmost  sa^ 
tellite  from  the  centre  of  Jupiter  \  an  eccentricity  of 
the  orbit  nbich  would  be  very  scnisible.  But  the  orbits 
of  the  satellites  are  concentnc  to  Jupiter ;  Uiercfore  the 
accelcrati^'e  grailties  of  Jupiter,  and  of  all  its  satelliteSy 
luwards  the  sun,  are  -equal  among  tbf  mselvos.  And  by 
the  same  ar^rumcnt,  the  wcigl)^.  of  Saturn  and  of  bis  sn- 
Vol.  XIV.  Part  II. 


are  either  none,  or  accurately  proportional  to  the  masses 
of  matter  which  they  contain. 

But  further,  the  weights  of  all  tbe  parts  of  every 
planet  towards  any  other  planet  are  one  to  another  as 
the  matter  in  the  several  parts.  For  if  some  parts  gra- 
vitated more,  others  less,  than  in  proportion  to  the  quan- 
tity of  their  matter ;  then  the  whole  planet,  according 
to  the  sort  of  parts  with  which  it  most  abounds,  would 
gravitate  more  or  less  than  in  proportion  to  the  quantity 
of  matter  in  the  whole.  Nor  is  it  of  any  moment  whe*- 
ther  these  parts  are  external  or  internal.  For  if,  as  an 
instance,  we  should  imagine  the  terrestrial  bodies  with 
us  to  be  raised  up  to  the  orb  of  tlie  moon,  to  be  there 
compared  with  its  body  \  if  tbe  weights  of  such  bodies 
were  to  the  weights  of  the  external  parts  of  the  moon 
as  the  quantitii^s  of  matter  in  the  one  and  in  the  other 
respectively,  but  to  the  weights  of  the  internal  parts 
in  a  greater  or  less  proportion  j  then  likewise  tho 
weights  of  those  bodies  would  be  to  tbe  weight  of  the 
whole  moon  in  a  greater  or  less  proportion  y  against 
what  we  have  showed  above. 

Cor.  j.  Hence  the  weights  of  bodies  do  not  de- 
pend upon  their  forms  and  textures*  For  if  the  iveights 
could  be  altered  with  the  forms,  they  would  be  great- 
er or  less,  according  to  the  variety  of  forms  in  equal 
matter  *j  altogether  against  experience* 

Cor.  2.  Universally,  all  bodies  about  the  earth  gra- 
vitate towards  the  earth ;  and  the  weights  of  all,  at 
equal  distances  from  the  earth's  centre,  are  as  the  quan- 
tities of  matter  which  they  severally  contain.  This  is 
the  quality  of  all  bodies  within  the  reach  of  our  expe« 
riments^  and  therefore  (by  Role  3.)  to  be  affirmed  of 
all  bodies  wliatsoever.  if  ether,  or  any  other  body, 
were  cither  altogether  void  of  gravity,  or  were  to  gra- 
vitate less  in  proportion  to  its  quantity  of  matter; 
then,  liecause  (according  to  Aristotle,  Des  Cartes,  and 
others)  there  is  no  difference  betwixt  that  and  other 
bodies,  but  in  mere  form  of  matter,  by  a  successive 
change  from  form  to  form,  it  might  be  changed  at  last 
into  %  body  of  the  same  condition  with  tlxose  which 
gravitate  most  in  proportion  to  their  quantity  of  mat- 
ter \  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  heaviest  bodies,  ac- 
quiring the  first  form  of  that  body,  might  by  decrees 
quite  lose  their  gravity.  And  therefore  the  weights 
would  depend  upon  the  forms  of  bodies,  and  with  those 
forms  might  be  changed,  contrary  to  what  was  proved 
in  the  preceding  corollary. 

Cor.  3.  All  spaces  are  not  equally  full.  For  if  all 
spaces  were  equally  full,  then  the  specific  gravity  of  the 
fiuid  wiiicb  fills  the  regionr^of  the  air,  on  account  of 
the  extreme  density  of  the  matter,  would  fall  nothing 
short  of  the  specific  gravity  of  quicksilver  or  gold, 
or  any  other  the  most  dense  body,  and  therefore,  nei* 
ther  gold,  nor  any  other  body,  could  ..jscend  in  air* 
For  bodies  do  not  descend  in  fluids,  unless  they  are 
spticifically  heavier  than  the  fluids.  And  if  the  quan- 
tity of  matter  in  a  given  space  can  by  any  rarefaction 
be  diminished,  what  should  hinder  a  diminution  to  in- 
finity ? 

Cor.  4.  If  all  the  solid  particles  of  all  bodies  are  of 
the  same  density,  nor  can  be  rarefied  without  porcs^ 
a  void  spacfi  or  vacuum  muist  be  granted.     [  By  bodies 

5H  of 


NEW 


r    794    ] 


NEW 


Newtcmion  of  tbe  same  density,  our  author  means  those  idiose  viWs 
ThiXotaghy.tnertut  are  in  the  proportion  of  their  balks.] 
'  Prob.  YL  That  there  is  a  power  of  gravity  tend- 

ing to  all  bodies,  proportional  to  the  sevenU  quantittes 
of  matter  ivhich  they  conlaiiu 

That  all  the  planets  mutually  gravitate  one  timards 
another,  ife  have  proved  before:  ae  iveil  as  that  the 
kixe  of  gravity  toirards-  ewry  one  of  them,  eottsnlersd 
apart,  is  reciprocally  as  the  square  of  the  distance  of 
places  from  the  centre  of  the  planet.  And  thence  it 
follows  that  the  gravity  tending  towards  all  the  pla- 
nets is  proportional  to  the  matter  which  they  con- 
tain. 

Moreover,  since  all  tite  patts  of  any  planet  A  gra- 
vitate towards  any  other  planet  B,  and  the  gravity  of 
evei^  part  is  to  the  gravity  of  the  whole  as  the  matter 
of  the  part  to  the  matter  of  the  whole  ^  and  (by  Law  3.) 
to  every  action  corresponds  an  equal  le-action  :  there- 
fore the  planet  B  will,  on  the  other  hand,  gravitate  to« 
wards  all  the  parts  of  the  planet  A  ^  and  its  gravity 
towai*ds  any  one  part  will  be  to  the  gravity  towanis 
the  whole,  as  the  matter  of  the  part  to  the  matter  of 
the  whole.  Q.  £.  D. 

Cor.  I.  Therefore  the  force  of  gravity  toitards  any 
whole  planet,  arises  from,  and  is  compounded  of,  the 
forces  of  gi^Wty  towards  all  its  parts.  Magnetic  and 
electric  attractions  afford  ns  examples  of  this.  For  all 
attraction  towards  the  whole  arises  from  the  attractions 
towards  the  several  pat'ts.  The  thing  may  be  easily  un- 
derstood in  gravity,  if  we  consiiler  a  greater  planet  as 
fbrmed  of  a  nnmher  of  lesser  planets,  meeting  together 
in  one  globe.  For  hence  it  would  Appear  that  the 
force  of  the  whole  must  arise  from  the  forces-  of  the 
component  parts.  If  it  be  objected,  tlmt,  according 
to  this  law,  all  bodies  with  ns  most  mutually  gravitate 
one  towards  another,  whereas  no  such  gravitation  any- 
where appears  *,  it  is  answered,  that,  since  the  gravita- 
tion towards  these  bodies  is  to  the  gravitation  towards 
the  whole  earth,  as  these  bodies  are  to  the  whole  earth, 
the  gravitation  towards  them  «Mi9t  be  £sr  less  than  to 
fall  under  the  observation  of  our  senses.  [The  expe*- 
riments  with  regard  to  the  attraction  of  mountains, 
however,  have  now  further  elucidated  this  point.] 

Cor.  2.  The  force  of  gravity  towards  the  several 
equal  particles  of  any  body,  is  reciprocally  as  the  square 
of  the  distance  of  places  from  the  particles, 

Prob.  VII.  In  two  spheres  mutually  gravitating 
each  towards  the  other,  if  the  matter,  in  places  on  atf 
sides  round  about  and  equidistant  from  the  ceMres,  is 
similar ;  the  weight  of  either  sphere  towards  the  other 
will  be  reciprocally  as  the  square  of  the  distance  be- 
tween their  centres. 

For  the  demonstration  of  thio,  see  the  Prmc^plki^ 
Book.  I.  Prop.  Ixitv.  and  Ixicvi. 

Cor.  I.  Hence  we  may  fittd  and  compare  together 
the  weights  of  bodies  towards  different  ^danets.  For 
the  weights  of  bodies  revolving  in  circles  aboot  pta* 
nets  are  as  tlie  diameters  of  tile  cireles  directly,  and 
the  squares  of  their  periodic  times  recipiN)cally  j  and 
their  weights  at  the  surfttccs  of  the  planets,  or  at  any 
other  distances  from  their  centres,  irt  (by  this  prop.) 
greater  or  less,  in  the  reciprocal  duplicate  proportion 
of  Ae  distances.  Thus  from  the  periodic  times  of  Vc- 
flus,  f  evolving  about  the  sun,  in  a24d.  i6^h. ;  of  the 
auttnost  circttiiijovial  satellite  t^volvingabeut  J«f  iter^  in 


x6d.  16^.  'y  of  the  Huygenian  «iti4lite  aboot  lUtam^^^^  ♦ 
in   i5d.  22^.  'y  and  of  the  moon  aboot  the  Mith  israZk 


27d.  7h^  43' ;  compared  with  llie  mean  diBtaotesf  Vc 
nus  from  the  sun,  and  with  the  greatest  hehsontnc 
elongations  (^  tlio  outmoftt  eircimijovial  sateiliti  frwi 
Jnpiter^s  centre,  9^  16"  y  of  the  Huygeiriaii  satellite 
from  the.  centre  of  Saturn,  3'  4^  $  and  of  the  OHisn  iroh 
the  earth,  lof  33'' ;  by  computation  our  astlrar  fisn^, 
that  the  weight  of  equal  bodies^  at  equal  distsaces  km 
the  centres  of  the  sun,  of  Jupiter,  c^  Saturn,  and  of  tfe 
earth,  towards  the  sun,  Jupiter,  Saturn,  and  die  esf^ 

were  OHO  to  another  as  tsVv»  tAt,  «>d -nrmY  re- 
spectively. Then,  because  as  dbe  distaULCs  are  iacme^ 
or  diminished,  tlie  weights  are  diminished  or  n€iet«(>ii 
in  a  duplicate  ratio ;  the  weights  of  equal  bedies  to 
wards  the  sun,  Jupiter,  8atum,  and  the  earth,  tt  tbe 
distances  zoooo,  997,  791,  and  109,  from  their  cestm, 
that  is,  at  their  very  superficies,  \nll  be  as  10000,943, 
529,  and  435  respectively. 

Cor.  a.  Hence  likewise  we  discover  the  qoastity  «f 
matter  in  the  several  phwiets.  For  their  quantitie)  of 
matter  are  as  the  forces  of  gravity  at  equal  <liflaBee> 
from  their  centres,  that  is,  in  tbe  sun,  Jupiter,  Stton, 
and  the  earth,  as  1,  rzArT»  TEnm  a»d  nrfrtr^  "^P"' 
tively.  if  the  parallax  of  tbe  sun  be  taken  greater « 
less  than  ic"  30%  the  qaantity  of  matter  in  dieevth 
most  be  augmented  or  dimioisfaed  in  the  tripKcale  of 
that  pruportien. 

Cor.   3.  Hence  also  we  find  tbe  densittei  ef  Ae 
planets.     For  (by  Prop,  hcxii.  Book  1.)  l!ie  neiglits  of 
equal  and  similar  bodies  towards  simihrr  spbeivs,  ik, 
at  the  surfaces  of  those  spheres,  as  tbedtameters  sf  ik 
spheres.      And    therefore  the   densities  of  diMahr 
spheces  are  as  those  weights  applied  to  the  disacfcn 
of  the  spheres.     But  the  true  diameters  of  ^  bub,  Ju- 
piter, Saturn,  and  the  earth,  were  one  te  aaotkr  » 
1 0000,  997,  791,  and  109  'y  and  the  weighs  tovirds 
the  same,  as  loooo,  943,  529,  and  435  respectirc)? ; 
and  therefore  their  densities  are  as  1 20,  94!,  67,  wi 
400.     The  density  of  the  eaith,  which  comes  out  \ff 
this  compotstion,  does  not  depend  upon  the  panlUx 
of  the  sun,  but  it  is  determined  by  tlie  paralhix  of  the 
moon,  and  therefore  is  here  truly  dc'fificd.    The  an 
therefore  is  a  little  denser  than  Jupiter,  sad  Japter 
than  Saturn,  and  the  earth  four  times  denser  than  ik 
son  }  for  the  sun,  by  its  great  heat,  is  kept  io  a  toit  if 
a  rarefied  state.     The  moon  also  is  denser  tliao  de 
earth. 

CoA.  4.  The  smaller  the  planets  are,  they  are  rtf- 
teris  paribus^  of  so  much  the  greater  density.  Forw 
the  powers  of  gravit>'  on  their  several  sorfrces  tnut 
nearer  to  equality.  They  are  likewise,  tteteris  parihs^ 
of  the  greater  density  as  they  9Te  nearer  to  the  ais. 
60  Jupiter  is  more  dense  than  Saturn,  and  tbe  eutk 
than  Jupiter.  For  the  planets  were  placed  at  dilcr- 
eat  distances  from  the  sun,  that,  accordiag  to  tkir 
degrees  of  density,  they  mi^t  enjoy  a  greater  or  has 
proportion  of  the  son^s  heat.  Our  water,  if  it  wen 
removed  as  fitf  as  the  orb  of  Saturn,  wouM  be  c«a* 
*ferted  into  ice,  and  in  the  orb  of  Mercury  wsaU 
quickly  fi^  away  in  vapour.  For  the  light  of  tbe  sna, 
to  which  Its  heat  is  propoi^nal,  is  seven  times  denser 
in  the  orb  of  Mercury  than  with  us :  and  by  tbe  tbcr- 
mometor  Sir  It^aac  found,  that  a  sevenfold  beat  of  our 
summer  sua  will  make  water  boil.    Nor  are  we  to  doaki, 

dM 


NEW 


C    795    1 


NEW 


Newtonian  tbat  the  matter  of  Mercury  is  adapted  tu  its  heat,  and 
Philoiophf,  is  therefore  more  dense  than  the  matter  of  our  earth  j 
NewtoD.  since,  in  a  denser  matter,  the  operations  of  nature  re- 
quire a  stronger  heat. 

It  is  fthown  in  the  scholium  of  Prop.  xxii.  Book  IT.  of 
the  Prinripia^  that,  at  the  height  of  2do  mile«  above  the 
earth,  the  air  is  more  rare  than  it  is  at  the  superficies  of 
the  earth,  in  the  ratio  of  30  to  0,0000000000003998, 
or  as  75,000000000000  to  I  nearly.  And  hence  the 
planet  Jupiter,  revolving  in  a  medium  of  the  same  den- 
sity with  that  superior  air,  would  not  lose  by  the  re- 
sistance of  the  medium  the  1 000000th  part  of  its  mO'^ 
tion  in  1 000000  years.  In  the  spaces  ntar  the  earthy 
the  resistance  is  produced  only  by  the  air,  exhalations, 
and  vapours.  When  these  are  carefully  exhausted  by 
the  air  pump  from  under  the  receiver,  heavy  bodies  fall 
within  the  receiver  with  perfect  freedom,  and  with- 
out the  least  sensible  resistance  ;  gold  itself,  and  the 
lightest  down,  let  fall  together,  will  descend  i^itfa  equal 
velocity  ^  and  though  they  fall  through  a  space  of  four, 
9ix,  and  eight  feet,  they  will  come  to  the  bottom  at 
the  same  time  -,  as  appears  from  experiments  that  have 
often  been  made.  And  therefore  the  celestial  regions 
being  perfectly  void  of  air  and  exhalations,  the  planets 
and  comets  meeting  no  sensible  resistance  in  those 
fipaces,  will  continue  their  motions  through  them  for 
an  immense  space  of  time. 

Newtok,  Thmnas^  lord  bishop  of  Bristol  and 
dean  of  St  PauPs  London,  was  born  on  the  first  of 
January  1704.  His  father,  John  Newton,  was  a 
considerable  brandy  and  cyder  merchant,  who,  by  his 
industry  and  integrity,  having  acquired  what  he  thought 
a  competent  fortune,  left  off  trade  se\*eral  years  before 
he  died. 

He  received  the  first  part  of  his  education  in  the  free 
school  of  Litchfield  \  a  school  which,  the  bishop  ob- 
serves with  some  kind  of  exultation,  had  at  all  times 
^ent  forth  several  persons  of  note  and  eminence  ;  from 
Bishop  Bmaldridge  and  Mr  Wollaston,  to  Dr  Johnson 
unA  Mr  Garrick 

From  Litchfield  he  was  removed  to  Westminster 
'School,  in  1 7 1 7,  under  the  care  of  Dr  Freind  and  Dr 
Nicoll. 

During  the  time  he  was  at  Westminster,  there  were, 
he  observes,  more  young  men  who  made  a  distinguish- 
crd  figure  afterwards  in  the  worlds  than  perhaps  at  any 
i}ther  period,  either  before  or  since.  He  particularly 
mentions  William  Murray,  the  late  earl  of  Mansfield, 
with  whom  he  lived  on  terms  of  the  highest  friendsfajp 
to  the  last. 

He  continocd  six  years  at  Westminster  school,  five 
of  which  be  passed  in  the  college.  He  afterwards  went 
to  Cambridge,  and  entered  at  Trinity  college.  Here  he 
eon^tantly  resided  eight  months  «t  least  in  every  year, 
till  he  had  taken  his  Bachelor  of  Arts  degree.  Being 
chosen  fellow  of  his  college,  he  came  afterwards  to 
settle  in  London.  As  it  had  been  his  inclination  from 
Ji  child,  and  as  he  was  also  "designed  for  holy  orders, 
he  had  sufficient  time  to  prepare  himself,  and  composed 
some  sermons,  fhat  he  might  have  a  stock  in  hand 
when  he  entered  on  the  ministry.  His  title  for  orders 
was  his  fellowship}  «nd  be  was  ordained  deacon  in 
December  1729,  and  priest  in  February  following, 
by  Bishop  Gibson. 

At  his  first  setting  out  ia  his  office,  he  was  curate  at 


8t  Gcorgc^s  Hanover-sqnare  \  and  continued  for  seve- 
ral years  assistant  preacher  to  Dr  Trcbeck.  His  first 
preferment  was  that  of  reader  and  afternoon  preacher 
at  Grosvenor  Cluipel,  in  South  Audley  sti*eet. 

This  introduced  him  to  the  family  of  Lord  Tyrcon- 
net,  to  whose  son  he  became  tutor.  He  continued  in 
this  situation  for  many  years,  very  much  at  bis  ease, 
and  on  terms  of  great  intimacy  and  rricndsbip  with  Lord 
and  Lady  Tyrconnel,  ^  without  so  much  (says  he)  as 
an  nnkind  woi-d  or  a  cool  look  intervening.*' 

In  the  spring  of  1 744,  he  was,  through  the  interest 
of  the  earl  of  Bath  (who  was  his  great  friend  and  pa* 
tron,  and  whose  friendship  and  patronage  were  retom-f 
ed  by  grateful  acknowledgements  and  the  warmest  en- 
comiums), presented  to  the  rectory  of  8t  Mary  Le  Bow; 
so  that  he  was  40  years  old  before  he  obtained  any 
living. 

At  the  commencement  of  1745,  he  took  his  doctor's 
degree.  In  the  spring  of  1747  be  was  chosen  lecturer 
of  St  George^s,  Hanover-square,  by  a  must  respectable 
vestry  of  noblemen  and  gentlemen  of  high  distinction. 
In  August  following  he  married  his  fii*8t  wife,  the  eld- 
est daughter  of  Dr  Trebeck  \  an  unaffected,  modest, 
decent  young  woman,  with  whom  he  lived  very  happy 
in  mutual  love  and  hnrmony  for  near  seven  years. 

In  1749  he  published  his  edition  of  Milton's  Para- 
dise Lost,  i^hich,  (says  be,  very  modestly)  it  is  hoped 
hath  not  been  ill  received  by  the  public,  having,  in 
1775,  gone  through  eight  editions.  After  the  Para- 
dise Lost,  it  Was  judged  (says  he)  proper  that  Dir 
Newton  should  also  publish  the  Paradise  Regained,  and 
other  poems  of  Milton ;  but  these  things  he  thought 
detained  him  from  other  more  material  studies,  though 
he  had  the  good  fortune  to  gain  by  them  more  than 
Milton  did  by  all  his  works  put  together.  But  his 
greatest  gain  (he  says)  was  their  first  iiztroducing  him 
to  the  friendship  and  intimacy  of  two  such  men  as  Bi- 
shop Warburton  and  Dr  Jortin,  whose  works  will  speak 
for  them  better  than  any  private  commendation. 

In  1754  he  lost  his  father  at  the  age  of  183  ;  and 
within  a  few  days  his  wife,  at  the  age  of  38.  This 
was  the  severest  trial  he  ever  underwent,  and  almost 
overwhelmed  him.  At  that  time  he  was  engaged  iu 
writing  his  Dissertations  on  the  Prophecies  ^  and  hap- 
py  it  wsis  for  him  :  for  in  any  affliction  he  never  found 
B  better  or  more  effectual  remedy  than  plunging  deep 
into  study,  and  fixing  bis  thoughts  as  intensely  as  be 
possxfjly  could  upon  other  subjects.  The  first  volume 
was  published  the  following  winter  \  but  the  other  did 
not  appear  till  three  years  afterwards  ;  and  as  a  reward 
for  his  past  and  an  incitepnent  to  future  labours,  he 
was  appointed,  in  the  mean  time,  to  preach  fioyle^s 
lecture.  The  bishop  informs  us,  that  1 250  copies  of 
the  Dissertations  were  taken  at  the  first  impression,  and 
1000  at  every  other  edition  :  and  ^  though  (says  he) 
some  things  have  been  since  published  upon  the  same 
subjects,  yet,  they  still  hold  up  their  head  above  water, 
and  having  gone  through  five  editions,  are  ai^ain  pre« 
pared  for  another.  Abroad,  too,  their  reception  hath 
not  been  unfavourable,  if  accounts  from  thence  may  be 
depended  upon.*'  They  were  translated  into  the  Uer- 
man  and  Danish  languages  \  and  received  the  warAiest 
encomiums  from  persons  of  learning  and  raok. 

In  the  spring  of  1757,  he  was  made  prebendary  of 
Westminster,  m  the  room  of  Dr  Green,  and  promoted 

i  H2  to 


Newton. 


N    E     X 


[    79<5    ] 


N    G    0 


to  tbc  deanery  of  Salisbury.  In  October  following^  he 
was  made  sub-almoner  to  his  majesty.  This  he  owed 
to  Bishop  Gilbert.  He  married  a  second  wife  in  Sep- 
tember 176 1.  She  was  the  widow  of  the  Rev.  Mr 
Hand,  and  daughter  of  John  Lord  Viscount  Lisburn. 
In  the  same  month  he  kissed  bis  majesty^s  hand  for  his 
bishopric. 

In  the  winter  of  1764,  Dr  Stone,  the  primate  of 
Ireland,  died.  Mr  Grcnvillc  scat  for  Bishop  Newton, 
and  in  tlic  most  obliging  manner  desired  his  acceptance 
of  the  primacy.  Having  maturely  weighed  the  matter 
in  Iiis  mind,  he  declined  the  oflfer. 

In  1768  he  was  made  dean  of  St  Paulas.  His  ambi- 
tion was  now  fully  satisfied  ^  and  he  firmly  resolved  ne- 
ver to  ask  for  any  thing  more. 

From  this  time  to  his  death,  ill  health  was  almost 
his  constant  companion.  It  was  wonderful  that  such  a 
poor,  weak,  and  slender  thread  as  the  bishop's  life, 
should  be  spun  out  to  such  an  amazing  length  as  Jt  real- 
ly was.  In  the  autumn  of  1781  (usually  the  most  fa- 
vourable part  of  the  year  to  him)  he  laboured  under  re- 
peated illnesses :  and  on  Saturday  the  9th  of  February 
1782,  be  began  to  find  his  breath  much  affected  by 
the  frost.  His  complaints  grew  worse  and  worse  till 
the  Thursday  following.  He  got  up  at  five  oVlock, 
and  was  placed  in  a  chair  by  the  fire ;  complained  to 
his  wife  how  much  he  had  suffered  in  bed,  and  repeat- 
ed to  himself  that  portion  of  the  Psalms,  '^  O  my  God, 
I  cry  unto  thee  in  the  day  time,**  &c.  &c.  About  six 
o*clock  he  was  left  by  his  apothecary  in  a  quiet  sleep. 
Between  seven  and  eight  he  awoke,  and  appeared  ra- 
ther more  easy,  and  took  a  little  refreshment.  He  con- 
tinued dozing  till  near  nine,  when  he  ordered  his  ser- 
vant to  come  and  dress  him,  and  help  him  down  staii^s. 
As  soon  as  he  was  dressed^  he  inquired  the  hour,  and 
bid  his  servant  open  the  bhutter  and  look  at  the  dial  of 
St  PauPs.  The  servant  answered,  it  was  upon  the 
stroke  of  nine.  The  bishop  made  an  effurt  to  take  out 
his  watch  'y  with  an  intent  to  set  it  j  but  sunk  down  in 
bis  chair,  and  expired  without  a  sigh  or  the  least  visi- 
ble emotion,  his  countenance  still  retaining  the  same 
placid  appearance  which  was  so  peculiar  to  him  when 
ulivc.  Of  his  numerous  works,  his  Dissertations  on 
the  Prophecies  are  by  much  the  most  valuable.  His 
learning  was  undoubtedly  very  considerable  ^  but  he 
seldom  exhibits  evidence  of  a  very  vigorous  mind.  On 
one  occasion,  indeed,  he  appears  to  have  thought  with 
freedom  *,  for  we  believe  he  was  the  first  dignitary  of 
the  church  of  Engl^ind  who  avowed  his  belief  of  the 
final  restitution  of  all  things  to  harmony  and  happi- 
ness. 

NE^VTYA,  a  port  little  known,  on  the  coast  be- 
tween Goa  the  capital  of  the  Portuguese  settlements  in 
Indi^,  and  the  English  settlement  of  Bombay.  Mr 
Bcnfiel  conjectures  it  to  be  the  Nt'trias  of  Pliny  ^  near 
which  the  pirates  cruized  for  the  Romaa  ship.  The 
same  writer  places  it  near  to  15.®  52' 30"  north  lati- 
tude, and  73**  1 6*  30"  east  lon^itud^. 

NEXr,  among  the  Boroans,  persons  free  bom,  who 
for  debt  were  reduced  to  a  state  of  slavery.  By  the 
laws  of  the  twelve  tables  it  was  ordained,  that  insolvent 
debtors  should  be  given  up  to  their  creditors  to  be 
bound  in  fetters  and  cords,  whence  they  were  called 
Next;  and  though  they  did  not  entirely  lose  the  rights 
«f  freemen,  yet  they  were  often  treated  more  harshly 


than  the  slaves  themselves.     If  any  one  Mras  indebted    v 
to  several  persons,  and  could  not  within  60  days  find      1 
a  cautioner,  his   body  according  to  some,  but  accord-  Ng»Lk 
ing  to  others  his  cfiects,  might  be  cut  in  pieces,  and 
divided  among  his  creditors.     The  latter  opinion  seems 
by  much  the  most  probable,  as  Livy  mentions  a  law  by 
which  creditors  hud  a  right  to  attach  the  goods  but  not 
the  pci'sons  of  their  debtors. 

NEYTHECHT,  a  town  of  Upper  Hungary,  capi- 
tal of  a  county  of  the  same  name,  with  a  bisbop^s  ste ; 
seated  on  the  river  ^'/V;v,  40  miles  north-east  of  Prcs- 
burg.     E.  Long.  1 7.  49.  N.  Lat.  48.  28. 

NGAN-KING-FOU,  a  city  of  China,  and  capi- 
tal  of  the  western  part  of  the  province  of  Kiang-oan. 
It  is  governed  by  a  particular  viceroy,  who  keeps  a 
large  garrison  in  a  fiirt.  built  on  the  banks  of  tiie  river 
Yang-tse-kiang.  Its  situation  is  delightful  *,  its  com* 
roerce  and  riches  i-endrr  it  very  considerable  ;  and  eveiy 
thing  that  goes  from  the  southern  part  of  China  to 
Nan-king  must  pass  through  it.  All  the  country  be- 
longing to  it  is  level,  pleasant,  and  fertile.  It  has  un- 
der its  jurisdiction  only  six  cities  of  the  third  class. 

NGO-KIA,  a  Chinese  drug,  of  which  the  compo- 
sition will  no  doubt  appear  as  singular  as  the  nuRKrous 
properties  ascribed  to  it.  In  the  province  Cbang-toof, 
near  Ngo-hien,  a  city  of  the  third  class.  Is  a  vdl 
formed  by  nature,  which  is  reckoned  to  be  serentj 
feet  in  depth,  and  which  has  a  communication,  as  tlie 
Chinese  say,  with  some  subterranean  lake,  or  otber 
large  reservoir.  The  water  drawn  from  it  is  exceed- 
ingly clear,  and  much  heavier  than  common  ^  and  if  it 
be  mixed  with  muddy  water,  it  purifies  it  and  rea- 
ders it  limpid,  by  precipitating  all  its  impurities  to  the 
bottom  of  the  vessel.  This  water  is  employed  in  ma- 
king the  ngo-kia,  which  is  nothing  else  bat  a  kind  of 
glue  procured  from  the  skin  of  a  black  ass. 

The  animal  is  killed  and  flayed,  and  the  skin  is  steep* 
ed  for  five  days  in  w^ter  drawn  from  this  well  it 
the  end  of  that  time,  it  is  taken  out  to  be  scraped  and 
cleaned  ^  it  is  afterwards  cut  into  small  pieces,  which 
are  boiled  over  a  slow  fire,  in  the  same  kind  of  water, 
until  it  is  i*educed  to  a  jelly,  which  is  strained,  while 
warm,  through  a  cloth,  to  free  it  from  all  the  gross 
matter  which  could  not  be  melted.  liVhea  this  ghie 
is  cool,  and  has  acquired  a  consistence,  it  is  foined 
into  square  cakes,  upon  which  the  Chinese  imprint  cha- 
racters and  coats  of  arms,  or  the  signs  of  their  shops. 

This  well  is  the  only  one  of  the  kind  in  China  *,  it 
is  always  shut,  ani}  sealed  by  the  governor  of  the  place 
with  his  own  seal,*  until  the  customary  day  of  ma- 
king the  emperor's  glue.  This  operatioo  generally  lasts 
from  the  autumnal  harvest  till  the  month  of  MarcL 
During  that  time,  the  neighbouring  people  and  mer- 
chants treat  for  the  purchase  of  the  glue  with  those 
who  guard  the  well,  and  with  the  people  who  mke 
it.  llie  latter  manufacture  as  much  of  it  as  they 
can,  on  their  own  account,  with  this  difference, 
that  it  is  not  so  pure,  and  tliat  the j  are  less  scnipohms 
in  examining  whether  the  ass  be  fat,  or  of  a  very 
black  colour:  however,  all  the  glue  made  here  iaas 
much  esteemed  at  Peking  as  that  which  the  osaodarin^ 
who  are  on  the  spot  transmit  to  court  and  to  their 
friends. 

As  this  drug  is  in  the  greatest  request,  acd  as  the 
quaotity  of  it  made  at  Nj[o-hicii  is  not  safficicnt  to 


N    I    A 


[    797    ] 


N     I     A 


Ni:o-liifl,  supply  the  tvbolc  empire,  there  are  not  wanting  pvopla 
>iHgara.  who  counterfeit  it  elsewhere,  and  who  manufacture 
a  spurious  kind  from  the  skins  of  mules,  horses,  and 
cameU,  and  sometimes  even  from  old  boots  y  it  is, 
however,  very  easy  to  distinguish  that  which  is  j^e- 
Duine  'y  it  has  neither  a  bad  smell  nor  a  disagreeable 
taste  when  applied  to  the  mouth  ^  it  is  brittle  and 
friable,  and  always  of  a  deep  black  colour,  sometimes 
inclining  to  red.  The  qualities  of  the  counterfeit 
kind  arc  entirely  dilTerent ;  both  its  taste  and  smell 
arc  disagreeable,  and  it  is  viscous  and  flabby  even 
when  made  of  the  skin  of  a  hog,  wbicli  is  that  which 
imitates  the  true  kind  the  best. 

The  Chinese  attribute  a  great  number  of  virtues  to 
this  drug.  They  assure  us  that  It  dissolv<;s  phlegm, 
facilitates  tho  play  and  elasticity  of  the  lungs,  gives  a 
free  respiration  to  those  who  breathe  with  diflSculty ; 
that  it  comforts  the  breast,  increases  the  blood,  stops 
dysenteries,  provokes  urine,  and  strengthens  children  in 
the  womb.  Without  warranting  the  truth  of  all  these 
properties,  it  appears,  at  least,  certain,  by  the  testi- 
mony of  the  missionaries,  that  this  drug  is  serviceable 
in  all  diseases  of  the  lungs.  It  is  taken  with  a  de- 
coction of  simples,  and  sometimes  in  powder,  but  very 
seldom. 

NIAGAR.!,  a  fort  of  North  America,  which  was 
taken  from  the  French  in  1759*  According  to  the 
treaty  of  17949  it  was  delivered  up  by  Britain  to  the 
United  States  in  1 796.  It  is  situated  on  a  small  penin- 
sula formed  by  the  river  Niagara  as  it  flows  into  the 
lake  Ontario.  About  six  leagues  from  the  fort  is  the 
greatest  cataract  in  the  world,  known  by  the  name  of 
the  WaUrfatt  of  Niagara.  The  river  at  this  fall  runs 
from  SSE  to  NNW  \  and  the  rock  of  the  fall  crosses  it 
not  in  a  right  line,  but  forms  a  kind  of  figure  like  a 
hollow  semicircle  or  horse  shoe.  Above  the  fall,  in  the 
middle  of  the  river,  is  an  island  about  800  or  1000 
feet  long ;  the  lower  end  of  which  is  just  at  the  perpen- 
dicular edge  of  the  fall.  On  both  sides  of  this  island 
runs  all  the  water  that  comes  from  the  lakes  of  Canada  ^ 
viz.  Lake  Superior,  Lake  Michigan,  Lake  Hnroii,  and 
Lake  Erie,  which  have  some  large  rivers  that  open 
themselves  into  them.  Before  the  water  comes  to  this 
bland,  it  runs  but  slowly  compared  with  its  motion 
afterwards,  when  it  grows  the  most  rapid  in  the  world, 
running  with  a  surprising  swiftness  before  it  comes  to 
the  fall.  It  is  perfectly  white,  and  in  many  places  is 
thrown  high,  up  into  the  air.  The  water  that  runs 
down  on  the  west  side  is  more  rapid,  in  greater  abun- 
dance, and  whiter,  than  that  on  the  cast  side;  and 
seems  almost  to  outfly  an  arrow  in  swiftness.  When 
you  are  at  the  fall,  and  look  up  the  river,  you  may  sec 
that  the  water  is  everywhere  exceedingly  steep,  almost 
like  the  side  of  a  hill  \  but  when  you  come  to  look  at 
the  fall  itself,  it  is  impossible  to  express  the  amazement 
it  occasions.  The  height  of  it,  as  measured  by  mathe- 
matical instruments,  is  found  to  be  exactly  137  feet  \ 
and  when  the  water  is  come  to  the  bottom,  it  jumps 
back  to  a  very  great  height  in  the  air.  The  noise  may  be 
heard  at  the  distance  of  45  miles,  but  sefdom  further ; 
nor  can  it  be  heard  even  at  Fort  Niagara,  which  is  only 
six  leagues  distant,  unless  Lake  Ontario  is  calm.  At 
that  fort  it  is  observed,  that  when  they  hear  the  noise 
of  the  fall  more  loud  than  ordinary,  they  are  sure  that 
a  north*east  vind  will  follow  \  which  ia  the  more  sur- 


prising, as  thp  fort  lies  south-west  from  the  fall.  At 
some  times  the  fall  makes  a  much  gr<*atcr  noise  than  at 
others  \  and  this  is  held  for  an  iniallible  sign  of  ap- 
proaching rain  or  other  bad  weather. 

From  the  place  where  the  water  falls  there  arises 
abundance  of  vapour  like  very  thick  smoke,  insomuch 
that  w!:cn  viewed  at  a  distance  you  would  think  that 
the  Indians  had  set  the  forests  on  fire.  These  vapours 
rise  high  in  the  air  when  'it  is  culm,  but  are  dispersed 
by  the  wind  when  it  blows  hard.  If  you  go  into  this 
vapour  or  fog,  or  if  the  wind  blows  it  on  you,  it  is  so 
penetrating,  that  in  a  few  moments  you  will  be  as  wot 
as  if  you  bad  been  under  water.  Some  are  of  opinion 
that  when  birds  come  flying  into  this  fog  or  smoke  of 
the  fall,  they  drop  down  and  perish  in  tlic  water  \  either 
because  their  wings  are  become  wet,  or  that  tlie  nois<? 
of  the  fall,  astonishes  them,  and  they  know  not  where 
to  go  in  the  darkness :  but  others  think  that  seldom- 
or  never  any  bird  perishes  there  in  that  manner  \  be- 
cause among  the  abundance  of  birds  found  dead  bt- 
low  the  fall,  there  are  no  other  sorts  than  such  as 
live  and  swim  frequently  in  the  water  \  as  swans,  geese,, 
docks,  water  hens,  teal,  and  the  like.  And  very 
often  great  flocks  of  them  are  seen  going  to  destruc- 
tion in  this  manner  :  they  swim  in  the  river  above  the 
fall,  and  so  are  carried  down  lower  and  lower  by  tho 
water  ;  and  as  water  fowl  commonly  take  great  delight 
in  being  carried  with  the  stream,  they  indulge  them- 
selves in  enjoying  this  pleasure  so  long,  till  the  swift- 
ness of  the  water  becomes  so  great,  that  it  is  no  longer- 
possible  for  them  to  rise,  but  they  are  driven  down  tbc- 
precipice  and  perish.  They  are  observed,  when  they 
draw  nigh  the  fall,  to  endeavour  with  all  their  might 
to  take  wing  and  leave  the  water ;  but  they  cannot. 
In  the  months  of  September  and  October  such  abun- 
dant quantities  of  dead  water  fowl  are  found  every 
morning  below  the  fall,  00  the  shore,  that  the  garrison 
of  the  fort  for  a  long  time  live  chiefly  upon  them. 
Besides  the  fowl,  they  find  also  several  sorts  of  dead 
fish,  also  deer,  bears  and  other  animals  which  have 
tried  to  cross  the  water  aboTc  tlie  fall ;  the  larger 
animals  are  generally  found  broken  to  pieces.  Just 
below,  a  little  way  from  the  fall,  the  water  is  not  ra- 
pid, but  goes  all  in  circles,  and  whirls  like  a  boiling- 
pot  ;  which  however  does  not  hinder  the  Indians  go- 
ing upon  it  in  small  canoes  a-fishine  ^  but  a  little  fur- 
ther, and  lower,  the  other  smaller  falls  begin.  When 
you  arc  above  the  fall,  and  look  down,  your  head  be- 
gins to  turn  \  even  such  aa  have  been  here  numberle&i 
times,  will  seldom  venture  to  look  down,  without  at  the 
same  time  keeping  fast  hold  of  seme  tree  with  one 
band. 

It  was  formerly  thought  impossible  for  anybody 
living  to  come  at  the  island  that  is  in  the  middle  of 
the  fall  'f  but  an  accident  that  happened  about  50 
years  ago  made  it  appear  otherwise.  The  history 
IS  this :  Two  Indians  of  the  Six  Nations  went  out 
from  Niagara  fort  to  hunt  upon  an  island  that  is  in  the 
middle  of  the  river,  or  strait,  above  the  great  fall,  on 
which  there  used  to  be  abundance  of  deer.  They  took, 
some  French  brandy  with  them  from  the  fort,  which 
they  tasted  seveial  times  as  they  were  going  over  the 
carrying  place  \  and  when  they  were  in  their  canoe, 
they  took  now  and  then  a  dram,  and  so  went  along 
up  the  strait  towards  the  island  where  they  proposed 

tOto 


Xia(;anu 


N    I    A  [798 

Niagara,  to  tiant^    but  growing  glccpy,   ttiey  laid   themselves 
down  in  the  canoe,  which  getting  loose  drove  back 
with  the  stream,  farther  and  fiitrther  down,  till  it  came 
nigh  that  island  that  is  in  the  middle  of  the  fall.     Here 
one  of  them,  awakened  by  the  noise  of  the  fall,  cries 
out  to  the  other,  that  they  were  gone  :  Yet  they  tried 
if  possible  to  save  life.     This  island  was  nighest,  and 
with  nmch  working  they  got  on    shore   there.      At 
first  they  were  glad ;  but  when  they  had  considered 
every  thing,  they  thought  themselves  hardly  in  a  bet- 
ter state  than  if  they  had  gone  down  the  fall,  since 
they  had  now  no  other  choice,  than  either  to  throw 
themselves  down  the  same,    or  perish  with  hunger. 
But  hard  necessity  put  them  on  invention.     At  the 
lower  end  of  the  island  the  rock  is  perpendicular,  and 
no  water  is  running  there.     Tlie  island  has  plenty  of 
wood  y  they  went  to  work  then,  and  made  a  ladder 
or  shrouds  of  the  bark  of  the  lind  tree  (which  is  very 
tough  and  strong)  so  long  till  they  could  with  it  reach 
the  water  below ;  one  end  of  this  bark  ladder  they 
tied  fast  to  a  great  tree  that  grew  at  the  side  of  the 
rock  above  the  fall,  and  let  the  other  end  down  to>the 
water.     So  they  went  down  along  their  new  invented 
stairs,  and  when  they  came  to  tlie-  bottom  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  fall  they  rested  a  little ;  and  as  the  water 
next  below  the  fall  is  not  rapid,  as  before  mentioned, 
they  threw  themselves  out  into  it,  thiftking  to  swim 
on  shore.     We  have  said  before,  that  one  part  of  the 
fall  is  on  one  side  of  the  island,  the  other  on  the  other 
side.     Hence  it  is,  that  ^he  waters  of  the  two  cata- 
racts running  against  each  other,  turn  back  against  the 
rock  that  is  just  under  the  island.     Therefore,  hardly 
had  the  Indians  begun  to  swim,  before  'the  waves  of 
the  eddy  threw  them  baok  with  -  violence  against  the 
rock  from  whence  they  came.  '  They  tried  'it  several 
-•times,  but  at  last  grew  wctry  ■,  and  hy  being  olVen 
-  thrown  against  the  rock  they  were  much  bruised,  and 
the  skin  torn  off  their  bodies  in  many  places*      So 
they  were  obb'ged  to  climb^  stairs  again  to  the  island, 
not  knowing  what  to  'do.     Afler  some  time  they  per- 
ceived Indians  on  the  shore,  to  whom  they  cried  out. 
'  These  saw  and-pitied  them,  but  gave  them  little  hope 
or  help:  yet  they  maDde  haste  down  to  the  fort,  and 
#old  the  commandant  where  two  of  their  brothers  were. 
He  persuaded  them  to  try  all  possible  means  of  reliev- 
ing the  two  poor  Indians  ^  and  it  was  done  in  the  fol- 
I  lowing  manner : 

The  water  that  mns  on  the  eaKt  side  of  this  island  is 
shallow,  especially  a  Httle  above  the  inland  towards  the 
eastern  dhore.  The  commandant  caused  poles  to  be 
made  and  pbiated  with  iron ;  two  Indians  took  upon 
them  to  walk  to  this  island  by  the  help  of  these  polcn, 
to  save  the  other  poor  creatures,  Or  perish  themselves. 
They  took  leave  of  all  their  friends,  as  if  they  were 
going  to  death.  'Each  had  two  such  poles  in  his 
hands,  to  set  to  the  bottom  of  the  stream,  to  keep 
them  steady  :  and  in  this  manner  reached  the  island : 
and  having  given  poles  to  the  two  poor  Indians  there, 
they  all  returned  safely  to  the  main  Und.  These  two 
Indians  (who  in  the  above-mentioned  manner  were  first 
iirought  to  this  island)  were  nine  davs  on  the  island,  and 
mlroost  ready  to  starve*  to  death.  Now  since  the  road  to 
this  island  has  been  found,  the  Indians  go  there  often  to 
kill  deer,  which  have  tried  to  cioss  the  river  above 
the  fall,  and  are  driven  npon  it  by  the  stream.     On 


]  N    I    A 

the  '.vest  side  of  this  island  are  some  small  islanch  et  X'i^xi 
rocks,  of  no  consequence.  The  east  side  of  the  river  is  ^ 
almost  perpendicular,  the  west  side  more  sloping,  b 
former  times,  a  part  of  the  rock  at  the  fall  wbicb  is  m 
the  west  side  of  the  island,  hung  over  in  sodi  t  mao* 
ner,  that  the  water  which' fell  perpendicularly  from  it, 
U  fl  a  vacancy  below,  so  that  people  could  go  oodrr 
between  the  rock  and  the  water  ^  but  the  prooiiiwiii 
part  some  years  since  broke  off  ami  fell  dowD.  The 
breadth  of  the  fall,  as  it  runs  in  a  semicircle,  is  irc- 
koned  to  be  about  300  feet.  The  island  is  iq  the 
middle  of  the  fall,  and  from  it  the  water  on  eadi  side 
is  almost  the  same  breadth  ;  the  breadth  of  the  tilio^ 
at  its  lower  ^nd  is  about  100  feet.  Below  the  fall, 
in  the  holes  of  the  rocks,  are  great  plenty  of  ech, 
which  the  Indians  and  French  catch  with  their  hands 
without  any  other  means.  Every  day  when  the  nm 
shines,  you  see  here  from  ten  o^clock  in  the  Bioniing 
to  two  m  the  afternooo,  below  the  fall,  and  mder 
you,  where  yon  stand  ut  the  side  of  the  fall,  a  glo- 
rious rainbow,  and  somcCcmes  two,  ane  within  die 
other.  The  more  vapours,  the  brigliter  and  clearrr 
is  the  rainbow.  When  the  wind  carries  the  vapoors 
from  that  place,  the  raitlbow  is  gone,  but  appevs 
again  as  soon  as  new  vapours  come.  From  the  faU 
to  the  landing  above  it,  where  the  canoes  from  Lake 
Erie  put  ashore  (or  firom  the  fall  to  the  upper  end  of 
the  carrying  place),  is  half  a  mile.  I^wer  the  ca- 
noes dare  not  come,  lest  they  sbouM  be  obliged  ta 
try  the  fate  of  the  two  Indians,  and  peihaps  vilh 
less  success,  lliey  have  often  found  below  die  fall 
pieces  of  human  bodies,  perhaps  draokea  In&ai, 
that  have  unhappily  come  down  to  the  fall.  The 
French  say,  that  dbcy  have  often  thrown  whole  gieit 
trees  into  the  water  above,  to  see  them  tmnMe  dosi 
the  fall :  they  went  down  with  snrprising  snifbess, 
but  could  never  be  seen  afterwards ;  whence  it  vas 
thought  there  was  a  bottomless  deep  or  alyss  jwt  under 
the  M.  The  rock  of  the  fall  consists  of^  a  gray  lime- 
stone. For  an  interesting  account  of  this  celebrated 
fall,  the  reader  is  referred  to  Vdncy's  or  Hall's  Tra- 
vels in  America. 

Having  mentioned  the  Six'  Katmns  wliich  lire  en  the 
banks  of  the  Niagara,  wc  shall  here  add  a  few  partics- 
lars  relative  to  tfcose  nations  which,  as  they  seem  not  to 
be  well  understood  even  in  America,  are  probably  ^ 
less  known  in  Einrope.  The  infomnttion  which  wc  halt 
to  give  was  communicated  to  the  Royal  Society  of  L«- 
don  by  Mr  Richard  M^Causland  surgeon  to  the  Sdi  it* 
gimint  of  fbot,  who,  writing  from  the  best  authority, 
informs  us,  that  each  nation  is  divided  into  three  trite, 
of  which  the  principal  are  called  the  turtle  trAe^  tie 
woiftriiej  and  the  bear  tribe. 

Each  tribe  has  two,  three,  or  more  chiefi^  am 
9achems;  and  this  distinction  is  always  hereditary  b 
the  family,  but  descends  along  the  female  line:  ^ 
instance,  if  a  chief  dies,  one  of  his  sister's  sons,  or  oae 
of  his  own  brothers,  will  be  appointed  to  sueeeid 
bim.  Among  these  no  preference  is  given  to  pwn- 
mity  or  primogeniture  j  but  the  sachem,  dothig  ws 
lifetime,  pitches  upon  one  whom  be  supposes  to  haw 
more  abilities  than  the  rest )  and  b  thb  choice  he 
frequently,  though  not  always,  consntts  Ae  prioa- 
pal  men  of  the  tribe.  If  the  successor  happens  tok 
a  child,  the  offices  of  the  post  arc  perfemed  hy 


N    I    A 


[    799    ] 


NIC 


Niagara,   o^  his  friends  until  be  is  of  sufficient  age  to  act  iiim- 
sclf. 

£ac1i  of  these  posts  of  sacliem  has  a  name  which  is 
peculiar  to  it,  and  which  never  changes,  as  it  is  al- 
ways adopted  by  the  successor :  nor  does  the  order  of 
precedency  of  each  of  these  names  or  titles  ever  vary. 
NeverthelfjSs,  any  sachem,  by  abilities  and  activity, 
may  acquire  greater  power  and  influence  in  the  nation, 
than  those  who  rank  before  him  in  point  of  precedency  j 
but  this  is  merely  temporary,  and  dies  with  him. 

Each  trilie  has  one  or  two  chief  warriors  ^  which 
dignity  is  also  hereditary,  and  has  a  peculiar  name  at- 
tached to  it. 

These  are  the  only  titles  of  distinction  which  are 
fixed  and  permanent  in  the  nation  j  for  although  any 
Indian  may  by  superior  talents,  either  as  a  counsellor 
or  as  a  warrior,  acquire  influence  in  the  nation,  yet  it 
U  not  in  his  power  to  transmit  this  to  his  family. 
-  The  Indians  have  also  their  great  women  as  well  as 
their  great  men,  to  whose  opinions  they  pay  great  de- 
ference :  and  this  distinction  is  also  hereditary  in  families. 
They  do  not  sit  in  eotmcil  vr'ixh  tfie  Naehems,  but  have 
separate  ones  of  their  own.— When  war  is  declared,  the 
sachems  and  great  women  generally  give  up  the  manage- 
ment of  public  r.£Fairs  into  tbe  hands  of  the  warriors. 
It  may  however  so  happen,  that  a  sachem  may  at  the 
same  time  he  ako  a  chief  ^varrior. 

Friendship  seems  to  have  been  instituted  with  a  viei^ 
towards  stretigthening  the  union  between  the  several 
nations  of  the  confederacy ;  and  hence  friends  arc  called 
t\\c  sNiews  of  t/ic  Si\v  xSalions,  An  Indinn  has  there- 
fore generally  one  or  more  friends  in  each  nation.  Be- 
sides the  attachment  ^Hiich  subsists  during  the  lifetime 
of  the  two  friends,  whenever  one  of  them  happens  to  -be 
killed,  it  is  incumbent  on  tlie  survivor  to  replace  him, 
by  prcs'entnig  to  his  family  either  a  scalp,  a  prisoner,  or 
a  belt  consisting  of  some  thousands  of  wampum  j  and 
this  ceremony  is  performed  by  every  friend  of  the  de- 
ceased. 

The  purpose  and  foundation  of  war  parties,  therefore, 
is  in  general  to  procure  a  prisoner  or  scalp  to  replace 


the  friend  or  relation  of  the  fndian  who  is  the  head  Xiaprnm^ 
of  the  party.  An  Indian  who  wishes  to  replace  a  Nicaea. 
fi  iend  or  relation  presents  a  belt  to  his  acquaintance  j  ' 
and  as  many  as  choose  to  follow  him  accept  this  belt, 
and  become  his  party.  After  this,  it  is  of  no  con- 
sequence whether  he  goes  on  the  expedition  or  re- 
mains at  home  (as  it  often  happens  that  he  is  a  child  ^) 
he  is  still  considered  as  the  head  of  the  party.  The 
belt  he  presented  to  his  party  is  i-eturned  fixed  to  tbe 
scalp  or  prisoner,  and  passes  along  with  them  to  the 
friends  of  the  person  he  replaces.  Hence  it  happens, 
that  a  war  party,  returning  with  more  scalps  or  pri- 
soners than  the  original  intention  of  the  party  requi- 
red, will  often  give  one  of  these  supemumerary  scalps 
or  prisoners  to  another  war  party  whom  they  meet  go- 
ing out^  upon  which  this  party,  having  fulfilled  the 
purpose  of  their  expedition,  will  sometimes  i*etum  with- 
out going  to  war. 

NICiEA,  in  AncteM  Geography^  the  metropolis  of  * 
Bithynia;  situated  on  the  lake  Ascanius,  in  a  large 
and  fertile  plain  *,  in  compass  i6  stadia:  first  built  by 
Antigooiis,  the  son  of  Philip,  and  thence  called  Anti* 
go/tea  ;  afterwards  completed  by  Lysimacbus,  who  call- 
ed it'Nifr^a,  after  his  consort  the  daughter  of  Antipaten  . 
According-  to  Stephanus,  it  was  originally  a  colony  of 
the  Bottisei,  a  people  of  Thrace,  and  called  Ancore ; 
and  afterwiM'ds  eafled  Nictga,     Now  Nice  in  Asia  the 
Less*.     Famooe  for  the  first  general  council. — ^A  se-«  Seejy^^* 
«ond  Nkaa^  (Diodorus  Siculus),  of  Corsica.— -A  third, 
of  the  Hither  India,  (Arrian)  ^  situated  on  the  west 
side  of  the  Hydaspes,  opposite  to  Bucephale,  on  the  east  ' 
side.— A  fourth  Nidea^   a  tovrn  of  Liguria,   at   the 
Mantin^e  Alps,  on  the  east  side  of  the  river  Paulon, 
near  it»  mouth,  which  runs  between  the  Varus  and  Ni. 
cam,  (Mela).     A  colony  «f  the  Massilians,  (Stephar^ 
nus)  ;  the  last  to^vn  of  Italy  to  the  west.     Now  Ni^isa 
or  NicCf  capital  of  the  county  of  that  flame,  on  the  Me- 
diterranean.—A  fifth,  of  Locris^  (Strabo)  j  a  town  near 
Thermopyhe^  one  of  the  keys  of  that  pass.     It  stood -• 
on  the  Sinus  Maliacua. 


END  OF  THE  FOURTEENTH  VOLUME. 


DIBECTIONS  FOR  placing  the  PLATES  of  Vol.  XIV. 


Part  I. 


Plate  CCCXXXVIL— CCCXLV.  to  face 
CCCXLVL—CCCL. 
CCCLL— CCCLUI. 


76 

^54 


Part  U. 


CCCLIV.— CCCLXII. 
CCCLXIIL— CCCIrXVIII. 
CCCLXIX. 


55a 
702 

734