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A

HISTORY

OF

THE EARTH,

AND

ANIMATED NATURE.

By OLIVER GOLDSMITH. W

ILLUSTRATED WITH COPPER PLATES.

A NEW EDITION ,

WITH CORRECTIONS AND ADDITIONS,

By W. TURTON, M. D.

FELLOW OF THE LINNJEAN SOCIETY,

IN SIX VOLUMES.

V O L. I.

L 0 N D 0 N:

printed for f. wingrave; j. johkson; w.j.andj. richardson; f.
and c. rivington; j. walker; vernor and iiood; loncman,

HURST, REES, AND ORMEJ T. CADELE, ANDW. DAVIES;

s. bagsier; j. and a. arch* and j. mawman.

1805.

/BOSTON COLLEGE LIBBART

CHESTNUT HILL, MASS.

• . • • • ' m;,

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50

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' J- WEIGHT, Printer, St; John’s S<j»ar«*

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ADVERTISEMENT

TO THE

PRESENT EDITION.

OF a work which has so long continued to
give delight and instruction , it would now he
superfluous to appreciate the merits , or discuss
the utility. But as Natural History has been ,
since the original publication , much studied and
much improved ; it was thought that an edition ,
correcting the known errors , and supplying the
deflciences , would make it more gratifying , as
it was more perfect. The whole of Goldsmith's
engagingly descriptive language is preserved ,
and what has been added in this edition , is put
between brackets.

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PREFACE.

1ST atural History, considered in its utmost
extent, comprehends two objects. First,
that of discovering, ascertaining, and naming
all the various productions of nature. Seconds
ly, that of describing the properties, man-
ners, and relations, which they bear to us,
and to each other. The first, which is the
most difficult part of this science, is sys-
tematical, dry, mechanical, and incomplete.
The second is more amusing, exhibits new
pictures to the imagination, and improves
our relish for existence, by widening the pros-
pect of nature around us.

Both, however, are necessary to those who
would understand this pleasing science, in
its utmost extent. The first care of every en-
quirer, no doubt, should be, to see, to visit,
and examine every object, before he pretends
to inspect its habitudes or its history. From
seeing and observing the thing itself, he is
most naturally led to speculate upon its uses,
its delights, or its inconveniencies.

Numberless obstructions, however, are
found in this part of his pursuit, that frustrate
his diligence and retard his curiosity. The
objects in nature are so many, and even those
of the same kind are exhibited in such a va-
riety of forms, that the enquirer finds himself
lost, in the exuberance before him, and, like

■s , a 3

Vi

PREFACE.

a man who attempts to count the stars unas-
sis ted by art, his powers are all distracted in
barren superfluity.

To remedy this embarrassment, artificial
systems have been devised, which grouping
into masses those parts of nature more near-
ly resembling each other, refer the enquirer
for the name of the single object he desires
to know, to some one of those general distri-
butions, where it is to be found by further ex-
amination.

If, for instance, a man should, in his walks,
meet with an animal, the name, and conse-
quently the history of which, he desires to
know, he is taught by systematic writers of
natural history to examine its most obvious
qualities, whether a quadruped, a bird, a
fish, or an insect. Having determined it, for
explanation sake, to be an insect, he ex-
amines whether it has wings; if he finds it
possessed of these, he is taught to examine
whether it has two or four; if possessed of
four, he is taught to observe, whether the
two upper wings are of a shelly hardness,
and serve as cases to those under them ; if
he finds the wings composed in this manner,
he is then taught to pronounce, that this in-
sect is one of the beetle kind : of the beetle
kind, there are several different families, dis-
tinguished from each other by their antennae
or horns ; he examines the insect before him,
and finds that the horns are clavated or
knobbed at the ends ; of beetles, with the
horns thus formed, there are several kinds;
and among those, he is taught to look for the

O ' o

PREFACE*,

• •
vii

precise name of that which is before him. If,
for instance, the knob be divided into plates
at the ends, and the belly be marked with
large triangular white spots on each side* it is
no other than the Cockchaffer, or the May-
bug ; an animal, the noxious qualities of
which give it a very distinguished rank in the
history of the insect creation. In this man-
ner a system of natural history may, in some
measure, be compared to a dictionary of
words. Both are solely intended to explain
the names of things ; but with this difference,
that in the dictionary of words we are led
from the name of the thing to its definition ;
whereas, in the system of natural history, we
are led from the definition to find out the
name.

Such are the efforts of writers, who have
composed their works with great labour and
ingenuity, to direct the learner in his progress
through nature, and to inform him of the
name of every animal, plant, or fossil sub-
stance, that he happens to meet with ; but i^
would be only deceiving the reader, to con-
ceal the truth, which is, that books alone can
never teach him this art in perfection ; and
the solitary student can never succeed.
Without a master, and a previous knowledge
of many of the objects in nature, his book
will only serve to confound and disgust him.
Few of the individual plants or animals, that
he may happen to meet with, are in that pre-
cise state of health, or that exact period of ve-
getation, from whence their descriptions were
taken. Perhaps he meets the plant only

Vlll

PREFACE.

with leaves, but the systematic writer has de-
scribed it in flower. Perhaps he meets the
bird before it has moulted its first feathers,
while the systematic description was made in
its state of full perfection. He thus ranges
without an instructor, confused, and with
sickening curiosity, from subject to subject,
till at last he gives up the pursuit, in the
multiplicity of his disappointments.

Some practice, therefore, much instruc-
tion and diligent reading, are requisite to
make a ready and expert naturalist, who
shall be able, even by the help of a system,
to find out the name of every object he meets
with. But when this tedious, though requi-
site part of study is attained, nothing but de-
light and variety attend the rest of his jour-
ney. Wherever he travels, like a man in a
country where he has many friends, he meets
with nothing but acquaintances and allure-
ments in all the stages of his way. The mere
uninformed spectator passes on in gloomy
^solitude ; but the naturalist, in every plant,
in every insect, and every pebble, finds
something to entertain his curiosity, and ex-
cite his speculation.

From hence it appears, that a system may
be considered as a dictionary in the study of
nature. The ancients, however, who have all
written most delightfully on this subject, seem
entirely to have rejected those humble and
mechanical helps to science. They content-
ed themselves with seizing upon the great
outlines of history, and passing over what w'as
common, as not worth the detail ; they only

PREFACE.

IX

dwelt upon what was new, great, and sur-
prising, and sometimes even warmed the ima-
gination at the expence of truth. Such of
the moderns as revived this science in Eu-
rope, undertook the task more methodically,
though not in a manner so pleasing. Aldro-
vandus, Gesner, and Johnson, seemed desi-
rous of uniting the entertaining and rich de-
scriptions of the ancients with the dry and
sjrstematic arrangement, of which they were
the first projectors. This attempt, however,
was extremely imperfect, as the great variety
of nature was, as yet, but very inadequately
known. Nevertheless, by attempting to car-
ry on both objects at once ; first, of direct-
ing us to the name of the thing ; and then,
giving the detail of its history, they drew out
their works into a tedious and unreasonable
length ; and thus mixing incompatible aims,
they have left their labours, rather to be oc-
casionally consulted than read with delight
by posterity.

The later moderns, with that good sense
which they have carried into every other part
of science, have taken a different method in
cultivating natural history. They have been
content to give, not only the brevity, but also
the dry and disgusting air of a dictionary to
their systems. Ray, Klein, Brisson, and
Linnaeus, have had only one aim, that of
pointing out the object of nature, of disco-
vering; its name, and where it was to be
found in those authors that treated of it in a
more prolix and satisfactory manner. Thus
natural history, at present, is carried on, in

X

PREFACE^

two distinct and separate channels, the one
serving to lead on to the thing, the other
conveying the history of the thing, as sup-
posing it already known.

The following Natural History is written,
with only such an attention to system as serves
to remove the reader s embarrassments, and
allure him to proceed. It can make no pre-
tensions in directing him to the name of every
object he meets with ; that belongs to works
of a very different kind, and written with
very different aims. It will fully answer my
design, if the reader, being already possess-
ed of the name of any animal, shall find here
a short, though satisfactory history of its ha-
bitudes, its subsistence, its manners, its
friendships and hostilities. My aim has
been to carry on just as much method, as was
sufficient to shorten my descriptions by ge^
neralizing them, and never to follow order
where the art of writing, which is but ano-
ther name for good sense, informed me that
it would only contribute to the reader's em-
barrassment.

Still, however, the reader will perceive,
that I have formed a kind of system in the
history of every part of animated nature, di-
recting myself by the great obvious distinc-
tions that she herself seems to have made,
which, though too few to point exactly to the
name, are yet sufficient to illuminate the
subject, and remove the readers perplexity.
Mr. Buffon, indeed, who has brought greater
talents to this part of learning than any
other man, lias almost entirely rejected me-

PREFACE.

Xl

thod in classing quadrupeds. This, with
great deference to such a character, appears
to me running into the opposite extreme :
and, as some moderns have of late spent
much time, great pains, and some learning,
all to very little purpose, in systematic ar-
rangement, he seems so much disgusted by
their trifling, but ostentatious efforts, that he
describes his animals, almost in the order
they happen to come b efore him This
want of method seems to be a fault : but he
can lose little by a criticism which every dull
man can make, or by an error in arrange-
ment, from which the dullest are the most
usually free.

In other respects, as far as this able philo-
sopher has gone, I have taken him for my
guide. The warmth of his style, and the
brilliancy of his imagination, are inimitable.
Leaving him, therefore, without a rival in
these, and only availing myself of his infor-
mation, I have been content to describe
things in my own way ; and though many
of the materials are taken from him, yet I
have added, retrenched, and altered as I
thought proper. It was my intention, at one
time, whenever I differed from him, to have
mentioned it at the bottom of the page ; but
this occurred so often, that I soon found it
would look like envy, and might, perhaps,
convict me of those very errors which I was
wanting to lay upon him. I have, therefore,
as being every way his debtor, concealed my
dissent, where my opinion was different^
but wherever I borrow from him, I take care

Xll

PREFACE*

at the bottom of the page to express m j ob-
ligations. But though my obligations to
this writer are many, they extend but to the
smallest part of the work, as he has hitherto
completed only the history of quadrupeds.
I was, therefore, left to my own reading
alone, to make out the history of birds,
fishes, and insects, of which the arrangement
wras so difficult, and the necessary informa-
tion so widely diffused, and so obscurely re-
lated when found, that it proved by much
the most laborious part of the undertaking.
Thus having made use of Mr, Buffoffis lights
in the first part of the work, I may, with
some share of confidence, recommend it to
the public. But what shall I say to that
part, where I have been entirely left without
his assistance ? As I would affect neither
modesty nor confidence, it will be sufficient
to say, that my reading upon this part of the
subject has been very extensive ; and that I
have taxed my scanty circumstances in pro-
curing books which are on this subject, of
all others, the most expensive.

In consequence of this industiy, I here of-
fer a work to the public, of a kind, which
has never been attempted in ours, or any
other modern language, that I know of. The
ancients, indeed, and Pliny in particular,
have anticipated me, in the present manner
of treating natural history. Like those his-
torians who describe the events of a cam-
paign, they have not condescended to give
the private particulars of every individual
that formed the army ; they were content

PREFACE.

Xlll

with characterising the generals, and de-
scribing their operations, while they left it
to meaner hands to carry the muster-roll.
I have followed their manner, rejecting the
numerous fables which they adopted, and
adding the improvements of the moderns,
wrhich are so numerous, that they actually
make up the bulk of natural history.

The delight which I found in reading Pli-
ny, first inspired me with the idea of a work
of this nature. Having a taste rather classi-
cal than scientific, and having but little em-
ployed myself in turning over the dry la-
bours of modern s3^stem-makers, my earliest
intention was to translate this agreeable
writer, and by the help of a commentary to
make my work as amusing as I could. Let
us dignify natural history ever so much with
the grave appellation of an useful science,
yet still we must confess that it is the occu-
pation of the idle and the speculative, more
than of the busy and the ambitious part of
mankind. My intention, therefore, was to
treat what I then conceived to be an idle
subject, in an idle manner; and not to hedge
round plain and simple narratives with hard
words, accumulated distinctions, ostentati-
ous learning, and disquisitions that pro-
duced no conviction. Upon the appear-
ance, however, of Mr. BufFon's work, I drop-
ped my former plan, and adopted the pre-
sent, being convinced by his manner, that
the best imitation of the ancients was to
write from our own feelings, and to imitate
nature.

XIV

PREFACE.

It will be my chief pride, therefore, if this
work may be found an innocent amusement
for those who have nothing else to employ
them, or who require a relaxation from la-
bour. Professed naturalists will, no doubt,
find it superficial ; and yet I should hope
that even these will discover hints and re-
marks, gleaned from various reading, not
wholly trite or elementary. I would wish
for their approbation. But my chief ambi-
tion is to drag up the obscure and gloomy
learning of the cell to open inspection ; to
strip it from its garb of austerity, and to
shew the beauties of that form, which only
the industrious and the inquisitive have been
hitherto permitted to approach.

CONTENTS

OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

Chap. Page.

I. A Sketch of the Universe . ..... 1

II. A short Survey of the Globe, from the light of

Astronomy and Geography, . . . , 6

III. A view of the surface of the Earth, ... 12

IV. A review ofthe different Theories of the Earth, 16

V. Of FossiUshells, and other extraneous Fossils, 36

VI. Of the internal structure of the Earth, . . 45

VII. Of Caves, and Subterraneous Passages, that

sink, but not perpendicularly into the
Earth, , ... • , ,55

VIII. Of Mines, Damps, and Mineral Vapours, 63

IX. Of Volcanoes, and Earthquakes, , , . 75

X. Of Earthquakes, , . , . . , . 88

XI. Of the appearance of new Islands, and tracts ;

and of the disappearing of others, 104

XII. Of Mountains, . . , , , , 114

XIII. Of Water, 137

XIV. Of the Origin of Rivers, ...... 162

XV. Of the Ocean in general, and of its saltness. 190

XVI. Of the Tides, Motion, and Currents of the

Sea ; with their Effects, . . * 208

XVn. Of the Changes produced by the Sea upon

«

the Earth, 224

XVIII. A summary account of the Mechanical Pro-
perties of Air, . , , 247

XIX. An Essay towards a Natural History of the Air, 257

XX, Of Winds, irregular, and regular, . « ,279

XVI CONTENTS,

XXI. Of Meteors, and such Appearances as result

from a Combination of the Elements, 312

XXII. The Conclusion of the History of the Earth, 342
XXIII. A Comparison of Animals with the inferior

Ranks of Creation, . . . 346

XXIV. Of the generation of Animals, . . 356

XXV. The Infancy of Man, .... 385

XXVI. Of Puberty, . . . . . 39 S

XXVII, Of the Age of Manhood, .... 405

A

HISTORY

THE E A R T H.

i , „

C H A P. I.

A Sketch of the Universe.

The world may be considered as one vast man-
sion, where man has been admitted to enjoy, to
admire, and to be grateful. The first desires of
savage nature are merely to gratify the importu-
nities of sensual appetite, and to neglect the con-
templation of things, barely satisfied with their
enjoyment: the beauties of nature, and all the
wonders of creation, have but little charms for a
being taken up in obviating the wants of the day,
and anxious for precarious subsistence.

Philosophers, therefore, who have testified such
surprise at the want of curiosity in the ignorant,
seem not to consider that they are usually employed
in making provisions of a more important nature ; in
providing rather for the necessities than the amuse-
ments of life. It is not till our more pressing
wants are sufficiently supplied, that we can attend
to the calls of curiosity ; so that in every age

VOL. I. B

$ A HISTORY OF

scientific refinement has been the latest effort of
human industry.

But human curiosity, though at first slowly ex-
cited, being at last possessed of leisure for indulg-
ing its propensity, becomes oiie of the greatest
amusements of life, and gives higher satisfactions
than what even the senses can afford. A man of
this disposition turns all nature into a magnificent
theatre, replete with objects of wonder and sur-
prise, and fitted up chiefly for his happiness and
entertainment: he industriously examines all

things, from the minutest insect to the most
finished animal ; and, when his limited organs can
no longer make the disquisition, he sends out his
imagination upon new enquiries.

Nothing, therefore, can be more august and
striking than the idea which his reason, aided by
his imagination, furnishes of the universe around
him. Astronomers tell us, that this earth which
we inhabit forms but a very minute part in that
great assemblage of bodies of which the world is
composed. It is a million of times less than the
sun, by which it is enlightened. The planets also,
which, like it, are subordinate to the sun’s influence,
exceed the earth a thousand times in magnitude.
These, which were at first supposed to wander in
the heavens without any fixed path, and took their
name from their apparent deviations, have long
been found to perform their circuits with great
exactness and strict regularity. They have been
discovered as forming with our earth a system of
bodies circulating round the sun, all obedient to
one law, and impelled by one common influence.

Modern philosophy has taught us to believe, that,

THE EARTH.

3

when the great Author of nature began the work
of creation, he chose to operate by seoond causes ;
and that, suspending the constant exertion of his
power, he endued matter with a quality by which
the universal oeconomy of nature might be con-
tinued without his immediate assistance. This
quality is called attraction ; a sort of approxima-
ting influence, which all bodies, whether terrestrial
or celestial, are found to possess ; and which in all
increases as the quantity of matter in each in-
creases. The sun, by far the greatest body in our
system, is, of consequence, possessed of much
the greatest share of this attracting power ; and
all the planets, of which our earth is one, are, of
course, entirely subject to its superior influence.
Were this power, therefore, left uncontrolled by
any other, the sun must quickly have attracted
all the bodies of our celestial system to itself; but
it is equally counteracted by another power of
equal efficacy ; namely, a progressive force, which
each planet received when it was impelled for-
ward, by the divine Architect, upon its first for-
mation. The heavenly bodies of our system being
thus acted upon by two opposing powers ; namely,
by that of attraction , which draws them towards
the sun ; and that of impulsion, which drives them
strait forward into the great void of space ; they
pursue a track between these contrary directions ;
and each, like a stone whirled about in a sling,
obeying two opposite forces, circulates round its
great centre of heat and motion.

In this manner, therefore, is the harmony of our
planetary system preserved. The sun, in the midst,
gives heat, and light, and circular motion to the

B 2

4

A HISTORY OF

planets which surround it: Mercury, Venus, the
Earth, Mars, J upiter, Saturn, and Herschel or the
Georgium Sidus, perform their constant circuits
at different distances, each taking up a time to
complete its revolutions proportioned to the great-
ness of the circle which it is to describe. The
lesser planets also, which are attendants upon
some of the greater, are subject to the same laws ;
they circulate with the same exactness ; and are,
in the same manner, influenced by their respective
centres of motion.

Besides those bodies which make a part of our
peculiar system, and which may be said to reside
within its great circumference ; there are others,
that frequently come among us, from the most
distant tracts of space, and that seem like danger-
ous intruders upon the beautiful simplicity of na-
ture. These are comets, whose appearance was
once so terrible to mankind, the theory of which
is better understood at present : we know that
their number is much greater than that of the pla-
nets; and that, like these, they roll in orbits, in
some measure obedient to solar influence. Astrono-
mers have endeavoured to calculate the returning
periods of many of them ; but experience has not,
as yet, confirmed the veracity of their investiga-
tions : indeed, who can tell, when those wanderers

have made their excursions into other worlds and

•

distant systems, what obstacles may be found to
oppose their progress, to accelerate their motions,
or retard their return ?

But what we have hitherto attempted to sketch,
is but a small part of that great fabric in which
the Deity has thought proper to manifest his wis-

THE EARTH. 5

dom and omnipotence. There are multitudes of
other bodies dispersed over the face of the heavens,
'that lie too remote for examination : these have no
motion, such as the planets are found to possess,
and are, therefore, called fixed stars ; and, from
their extreme brilliancy and their immense distance,
philosophers have been induced to suppose them
to be suns, resembling that which enlivens our sys-
tem ; as the imagination also, once excited, is sel-
dom content to stop, it has furnished each with
an attendant system of planets belonging to itself,
and has even induced some to deplore the fate of
those systems, whose imagined suns, which some-
times happens, have become no longer visible.

But conjectures of this kind, which no reasoning
canascertain, norexperiment reach, are rather amus-
ing than useful. Though we see the greatness and *
wisdom of the Deity in all the seeming worlds that
surround us, it is our chief concern to trace him in
that which we inhabit. The examination of the
earth, the wonders of its contrivance, the history
of its advantages, or of the seeming defects in its
formation, are the proper business of the natural
historian. A description of this earth, its animals , .
vegetables, and minerals, is the most delightful
entertainment the mind can be furnished with, as
it is the most interesting and useful. I would
beg leave, therefore, to conclude these common-
place speculations, with an observation, which, I
hope, is not entirely so.

An use, hitherto not much insisted upon, that
may result from the contemplation of celestial mag-
nificence, is, that it will teach us to make an allow-
ance for the apparent irregularities we find below.

b 3

6

A HISTORY OF

* Whenever we can examine the works of the Deity
at a proper point of distance, so as to take in the
whole of his design, we see nothing but uniformi-
ty, beauty, and precision. The heavens present us
with a plan, which, though inexpressibly magni-
ficent, is yet regular beyond the power of inven-
tion. Whenever, therefore, we find any apparent
defects in the earth, which we are about to consi-
der, instead of attempting to reason ourselves into
an opinion that they are beautiful, it will be wise
to say, that we do not behold them at the proper
point of distance, and that our eye is laid too close
to the objects, to take in the regularity of their
connexion. In short, we may conclude, that God,
who is regular in his great productions, acts with
- equal uniformity in the little.

CHAP. II.

A short Survey of the Globe, from the Light of
Astronomy and Geography.

All the sciences are, in some measure, linked
with each other, and before the one is ended, the
other begins. In a natural history, therefore,
of the earth, we must begin with a short account
of its situation and form, as given us by astrono-
mers and geographers : it will be sufficient, how-
ever, upon this occasion, just to hint to the imagi-
nation, what they, by the most abstract reason-
ings, have forced upon the understanding. The
earth we inhabit is, as has been said before, one of
those bodies which circulate in our solar system ;

THE EARTH.

7

it is placed at a happy middle distance from the
centre ; and even seems, in this respect, privileged
beyond all other planets that depend upon our
great luminary for their support. Less distant
from the sun than Herschel, or the Georgium Sidus,
Saturn, Jupiter, and Mars, and yet less parched up
than Venus and Mercury, that are situate too near
the violence of its power, the earth seems, in a pe-
culiar manner, to share the bounty of the Creator : '
it is not, therefore, without reason that mankind
consider themselves as the peculiar objects of his
providence and regard.

Beside? that motion which the earth has round
the sun, the circuit of which is performed in a
year, it has another upon its own axle, which it
performs in twenty four hours. Thus, like a cha-
riot wheel, it has a compound motion ; for while it
goes forward on its journey, it is at the same time
turning upon itself. From the first of these two
arise the grateful vicissitude of the seasons ; . from
the second, that of day and night.

It may be also readily conceived, that a body
thus wheeling in circles, will most probably be it-
self a sphere. The earth, beyond all possibility
of doubt, is found to be so. Whenever its shadow
happens to fall upon the moon, in an eclipse, it
appears to be always circular, in whatever position
it is projected : and it is easy to prove, that a bo-
dy, which in every position makes a circular sha-
dow, must itself be round. The rotundity of the
earth may be also proved from the meeting of
two ships at sea : the top masts of each are the
first parts that are discovered by both, the un-
der parts being hidden by the convexity of the
v ' B 4

A HISTORY OF

8

globe which rises between them. The ships, in this
instance, may be resembled to two men who ap-
proach each other on the opposite sides of a hill ;
their heads will first be seen, and .gradually, as they
come nearer, they will come entirely into view.

However, though the earth’s figure is said to be
spherical, we ought only to conceive it as being
nearly so. It has been found, in the last age, to
be rather flatted at both poles, so that its form is
commonly resembled to that of a turnip. The
cause of this swelling of the equator is ascribed
to the greater rapidity of the motion with which
the parts of the earth are there carried round ; and
which, consequently, endeavouring to fly ofh act
in opposition to central attraction. The twirling
of a mop may serve as an homely illustration;
which, as every one has seen, spreads, and grows
broader in the middle, as it continues to be turned
round.

As the earth receives light and motion from the
sun, so it derives much of its warmth and power
of vegetation from the same beneficent source.
However, the different parts of the globe partici-
pate of these advantages in very different propor-
tions, and accordingly put on very different
appearances ; a polar prospect, and a landscape at
the equator, are as opposite in their appearances
as in their situation.

The polar regions, that receive the solar beams
in a very oblique direction, and continue for one
half of the year in night, receive but few of the
genial comforts which other parts of the world
enjoy. Nothing can be more mournful or hide-
ous than the picture which travellers present of

THE EARTH.

9

those wretched regions. The ground,* which is
rocky and barren, rears itself in every place in
lofty mountains and inaccessible cliffs, and meets
the mariner’s eye at forty leagues from shore.
These precipices, frightful in themselves, receive
an additional horror from being constantly co-
vered with ice and snow, which daily seem to ac-
cumulate, and to fill all the vallies with increasing-
desolation. The few rocks and cliffs that are
bare of snow, look at a distance of a dark brown
colour, and quite naked. Upon a nearer approach,
however, they are found replete with many differ-
ent veins of coloured stone, here and there spread
over with a little earth, and a scanty portion of
grass and heath. The internal parts of the coun-
try are still more desolate and deterring. In 'wan-
dering through these solitudes, some plains appear
covered with ice, that, at first glance, seem to
promise the traveller an easy journey.'}' But these
are even more formidable and more unpassable
than the mountains themselves, being cleft with
dreadful chasms, and every where abounding with
pits that threaten certain destruction. The seas
that surround these inhospitable coasts, are still
more astonishing, being covered with flakes of
floating ice, that spread like extensive fields, or
that rise out of the water like enormous mountains.
These, which are composed of materials as clear
and transparent as glass, £ assume many strange
and fantastic appearances. Some of them look
like churches or castles, with pointed turrets ; some
like ships in full sail ; and people have often given

* Krantz’s History of Greenland, p. 3<

+ Ibid. 27.

f Ibid. 22.

to

A HISTORY OF

themselves the fruitless toil to attempt piloting the
imaginary vessels into harbour. There are still
others that appear like large islands, with plains,
valleys, and hills, which often rear their heads two
hundred yards above the level of the sea; and al-
though the height of these be amazing, yet their
depth beneath is still more so ; some of them being
found to sink three hundred fathom under water.

The earth presents a very different appearance
at the equator, where the sun-beams, darting di-
rectly downwards, burn up the lighter soils into ex-
tensive sandy deserts, or quicken all the moister
tracts with incredible vegetation. In these re-
gions, almost all the same inconveniencies are felt
from the proximity of the sun, that in the former
were endured from its absence. The deserts are
entirely barren, except where they are found to
produce serpents, and in such quantities, that some
extensive plains seem almost entirely covered with
them.*

It not unfrequently happens, also, that this dry
' soil, which is so parched and comminuted by the
force of the sun, rises with the smallest breeze of
wind ; and the sands being composed of parts al-
most as small as those of water, they assume a si-
milar appearance, rolling onward in waves, like
those of a troubled sea, and overwhelming all they
meet with inevitable destruction. On the other
hand, those tracts which are fertile, teem with ve-
getation even to a noxious degree. The grass
rises to such an height, as often to require burn-
ing ; the forests are impassable from underwoods,

* Adanson’s Description of Senegal.

\

THE EARTH.

II

and so matted above, that even the sun, fierce as it
is, can seldom penetrate. * These are so thick, as
scarcely to be extirpated ; for the tops being so
bound together by the climbing plants that grow
round them, though an hundred should be cut at
the bottom, yet not one would fall, as they mu-
tually support each other. In these dark and tan-
gled forests, beasts of various kinds, insects in as-
tonishing abundance, and serpents of surprising
magnitude, find a quiet retreat from man, and are
seldom disturbed, except by each other.

In this manner the extremes of our globe seem
equally unfitted for the comforts and conveniencies
of life ; and, although the imagination may find an
awful pleasure in contemplating the frightful pre-
cipices of Greenland, or the luxurious verdure of
Africa, yet true happiness can only be found in
the more moderate climates, where the gifts of na-
ture may be enjoyed without incurring danger in
obtaining them.

It is in the temperate zone, therefore, that all
the arts of improving nature, and refining upon
happiness, have been invented : and this part of
the earth is, more properly speaking, the theatre of
natural history. Although there be millions of
animals and vegetables in the unexplored forests
under the line, yet most of these may for ever con-
tinue unknown, as curiosity is there repressed by
surrounding danger. But it is otherwise in these
delightful regions which we inhabit, and where
this art has had its beginning. Among us there is
scarcely a shrub, a flower, or an insect, without its

* Linnaei Am. vol. vi. p. 67.

A HISTORY OF

particular history ; scarcely a plant that could be
useful, which has not been propagated ; nor a weed
that could be noxious, which has not been points
ed out.

EN we take a slight survey of the surface
of our globe, a thousand objects offer them-
selves, which, though long^known, yet still demand
our curiosity. The most obvious beauty that every
where strikes the eye, is the verdant covering of
the earth, which is formed by an happy mixture
of herbs and trees of various magnitudes and uses.
It has been often remarked that no colour refreshes
the sight so much as green ; and it may be added,
as a further proof of the assertion, that the inha-
bitants of those places where the fields are continu-
ally white with snow, generally become blind long
before the usual course of nature.

This advantage, which arises from the verdure
of the fields, is not a little improved by their
agreeable inequalities. There are scarcely two
natural landscapes that offer prospects entirely re-
sembling each other ; their risings and depressions,
their hills and valleys, are never entirely the same^
but always offer something new to entertain and
refresh the imagination.

But to increase the beauties of the face of na-
ture, the landscape is enlivened by springs and
lakes, and intersected by rivulets. These lend a
brightness to the prospect; give motion and cool-

CHAP. III.

A View of the Surface of the Earth.

i

THE EARTH.

13

ness to the air ; and, what is much more important,
furnish health and subsistence to animated nature.

Such are the most obvious and tranquil objects
that every where offer: but there are objects of a
more awful and magnificent kind ; the Mountain
rising above the clouds, and topped with snow;
the River pouring down its sides, increasing as it
runs, and losing itself, at last; in the ocean ; the
Ocean spreading its immense sheet of waters over
one half of the globe, swelling and subsiding at
well-known intervals, and forming a communica-
tion between the most distant parts of the earth.

If we leave those objects that seem to be natural
to our earth, and keep the same constant tenor,
we are presented with the great irregularities of
nature. The burning mountain ; the abrupt pre-
cipice ; the unfathomable cavern ; the headlong
cataract ; and the rapid whirlpool.

If we carry our curiosity a little further, ancl
descend to the objects immediately below the sur-
face of the globe, we shall there find wonders still
as amazing. We first perceive the earth, for the
most part, lying in regular beds or layers, every
bed growing thicker in proportion as it lies deeper,
and its contents more compact and heavy. W6
shall find, almost wherever we make our subter-
ranean enquiry, an amazing number of shells that
belonged to aquatic animals. Here and there, at
a distance from the sea, beds of oyster-shells,
several yards thick, and many miles over ; some-
times testaceous substances of various kinds on
the tops of mountains, and often in the heart of
the hardest marble. These, which are dug up by
the peasants in every country, are regarded with

14

A HISTORY OF

little curiosity ; for, being so very common, they
are considered as substances entirely terrene. But
it is otherwise with the enquirer after nature, who
finds them, not only in shape but in substance,
every way resembling those that are found in the
sea ; and he, therefore, is at a loss to account for
their removal.

Yet not one part of nature alone, but all her
productions and varieties* become the object of
the speculative man’s enquiry: he takes different
views of nature from the inattentive spectator ;
and scarcely an appearance, how common soever,
but affords matter for his contemplation : he en-
quires how and why the surface of the earth has
those risings and depressions which most men
call natural ; he demands in what manner the
mountains were formed, and in what consists their
’ uses ; he asks from whence springs arise, and how
rivers flow round the convexity of the globe; he
enters into an examination of the ebbings and
flowings, and the other wonders of the deep ; he
acquaints himself with the irregularities of nature,
and endeavours to investigate their causes; by
which, at least, he will become better versed in
their history. The internal structure of the globe
becomes an object of his curiosity; and, although
his enquiries can fathom but a very little way,
yet, if possessed with a spirit of theory, his imagi-
nation will supply the rest. He will endeavour to
account for the situation of the marine fossils that
are found in the earth, and for the appearance of
the different beds of which it is composed. These
have been the enquiries that have splendidly em-
ployed many of the philosophers of the last and

4

THE EARTH.

' IS

present age* ; and, to a certain degree, they must
be serviceable. But the worst of it is, that, as
speculations, amuse the writer more than facts,
they may be often carried to an extravagant
length; and that time may be spent in reasoning
upon nature, which might be more usefully em-
ployed in writing her history.

Too much speculation in natural history is cer- *
tainly wrong; but there is a defect of an opposite
nature that does much more prejudice; namely,
that of silencing all enquiry, by alledging the be-
nefits we receive from a thing, instead of investi*
gating the cause of its production. If I enquire
how a mountain came to be formed, such a reasoner,
enumerating its benefits, answers, because God -
knew it would be useful. If I demand the cause
of an earthquake, he finds some good produced by
it, and alledges that as the cause of its explosion.
Thus, such an enquirer has constantly some ready
reason for every appearance in nature, which serves
to swell his periods, and give splendour to his
declamation : every thing about him is, on some
account or other, declared to be good ; and he
thinks it presumption to scrutinize its defects, or
endeavour to imagine how it might be better.
Such writers, and there are many such, add very
little to the advancement of knowledge. It is
finely remarked by Bacon that the investigation
of final causes^ is a barren study ; and, like a vir-

* Buffon, Woodward, Barnet, Whislon, Kircher, Bourqnat,
Leibnitz, Steno, Ray, &c.

+ Investigatio causarum finalium sterilis est, et vcluti. virgo
Deo dedicata, nil parit.

16

A HISTORY OF

gin dedicated to the Deity, brings forth nothing.
In fact, those men who want to compel every
appearance and every irregularity in nature into
our service, and expatiate on their benefits, com-
bat that very morality which they would seem to
promote. God has permitted thousands of na-
tural evils to exist in the world, because it is by
their intervention that man is capable of moral
evil ; and he has permitted that we should be sub-
ject to moral evil, that we might do something to
deserve eternal happiness, by shewing we had recti-
tude to avoid it.

%

CHAP. IV.

A Review of the different Theories of the Earth .

Human invention has been exercised for
several ages to account for the various irregu-
larities of the earth. While those philosophers
mentioned in the last chapter see nothing but
beauty, symmetry, and order ; there are others,
who look upon the gloomy side of nature, enlarge
on its defects, and seem to consider the earth, on
which they tread, as one scene of extensive deso-
lation*. Beneath its surface they observe minerals
and waters confusedly jumbled together ; its dif-
ferent beds of earth irregularly lying upon each
other ; mountains rising from places that once
were levelf, and hills sinking into vallies ; whole
regions swallowed by the sea, and others again

* Buffon’s Second Discourse,
f Senec. Qwest. lib. vi. cap. 21.

THE EARTH.

17

rising out of its bosom : all these they suppose to
be but a few of the changes that have been wrought
in our globe ; and they send out the imagination,
to describe its primaeval state of beauty.

Of those who have written theories describing
the manner of the original formation pf the earth,
or accounting for its present appearances, the
most celebrated are Burnet, Whiston, Woodward,
and Button. As speculation is endless, so it is
not to be wondered that all these differ from
each other, and give opposite accounts of the
several changes, which they suppose our earth to
have undergone. As the systems of each have
had their admirers, it is, in some measure, incum-
bent upon the natural historian to be acquainted,
at least, with their outlines; and indeed, to know
what others have even dreamed, in matters of
science, is very useful, as it may often prevent us
from indulging similar delusions ourselves, which
we should never have adopted, but because we
take them to be wholly our own. However, as
entering into a detail of these theories is rather
furnishing an history of opinions than things, I
will endeavour to be as concise as I can.

The first who formed this amusement of earth -
making into system, was the celebrated Thomas
Burnet, a man of polite learning and rapid ima-
gination. His Sacred Theory , as he calls it,
describing the changes which the earth has under-
gone, or shall hereafter undergo, is well known
for the warmth with which it is imagined, and
the weakness with which it is reasoned, for the
elegance of its style, and the meanness of its phi-
losophy. The earth, says he, before the deluge,

VOL I. C

18

A HISTORY OF

was very differently formed from what it is at
present : it was at first a fluid mass ; a chaos com-
posed of various substances, differing both in
density and figure : those which were most heavy
sunk to the centre, and formed in the middle of
our globe a hard solid body ; those of a lighter
nature remained next ; and the waters, which were
lighter still, swam upon its surface, and covered
the earth 'on every side. The air, and all those
fluids which were lighter than water, floated upon
this also ; and in the same manner encompassed
the globe ; so that between the surrounding body,
of waters, and the circumambient air, there was
formed a coat of oil, and other unctuous sub-
stances, lighter than water. However, as the
air was still extremely impure, and must have
carried up with it many of those earthy particles
with which it once was intimately blended, it soon
began to defecate, and to depose these particles
upon the oily surface already mentioned, which
soon uniting, the earth and oil formed that crust
which soon became an habitable surface, giving
life to vegetation, and dwelling to animals.

This imaginary antideluvian abode was very
different from what we see it at present. The
earth was light and rich ; and formed of a sub-
stance entirely adapted to the feeble state of in-
cipient vegetation : it was an uniform plain, every
where covered with verdure ; without mountains,
without seas, or the smallest inequalities. It had
no difference of seasons, for its equator was in
the plain of the ecliptic, or, in other words, it
turned directly opposite to the sun, so that it en-
joyed one perpetual and luxuriant spring. How-

THE EARTH.

19

ever, this delightful face of nature did not long
continue in the same state, for,' after a time, it
began to crack and open in fissures : a circum-
stance which always succeeds when the sun
exhales the moisture from rich or marshy situa-
tions. The crimes of mankind had been for some
time' preparing to draw down the wrath of
Heaven ; and they, at length, induced the Deity
to defer repairing these breaches in nature. Thus
the chasms of the earth every day became wider,
and, at length, they penetrated to the great abyss
of waters; and the whole earth, in a manner, fell
in. Then ensued a total disorder in the uniform
beauty of the first creation, the terrene surface of
the globe being broken down : as it sunk the

waters gushed out in its place ; the deluge became
universal; all mankind, except eight persons,
were destroyed, and their posterity condemned to
toil upon the ruins of desolated nature.

It only remains to mention the manner in which
he relieves the earth from this universal wreck,
which would seem to be as difficult as even its first
formation. “ These great masses of earth falling
into the abyss, drew down with them vast quanti-
ties also of air ; and by dashing against each other,
and breaking into small parts by the repeated vio-
lence of the shock, they, at length, left between
them large cavities filled with nothing but air.
These cavities naturally offered a bed to receive
the influent waters; and in proportion as they
filled, the face of the earth became once more
visible. The higher parts of its broken surface,
now become the tops of mountains, were the first
that appeared ; the plains soon after came forward,

c Q

20

A HISTORY OF ,

and, at length, the whole globe was delivered
from the waters, except the places in the lowest
situations ; so that the ocean and the seas are still
a part of the ancient abyss that have not had a
place to return. Islands and rocks are fragments
of the earth’s former crust ; kingdoms and con-
tinents are larger masses of its broken substance ;
and all the inequalities that are to be found on the
surface of the present earth, are owing to the ac-
cidental confusion into which both earth and
waters were then thrown.”

The next theorist was Woodward, who, in his
Essay towards a Natural History of the Earth,
which was only designed to precede a greater
work, has endeavoured to give a more rational ac-
count of its appearances; and was, in fact, much
better furnished for such an undertaking than any
of his predecessors, being one of the most assidu-
ous naturalists of his time. His little book, there-
fore, contains many important facts, relative to
natural history, although his system may be weak
and groundless.

He begins by asserting that all terrene sub-
stances are disposed in beds of various natures,
lying horizontally one over the other, somewhat
like the coats of an onion; that they are replete with
shells, and other productions of the sea : these
shells being found in the deepest cavities, and on
the tops of the highest mountains. From these
observations, which are warranted by experience,
he proceeds to observe, that these shells and ex-
traneous fossils are not productions of the earth,
but are all actual remains of those animals which
they are known to resemble ; that all the beds of

THE EARTH. 21

the earth lie under each other, in the order of their
specific gravity ; and that they are disposed as if
they had been left there by subsiding waters. All
these assertions he affirms with much earnestness,
although daily experience contradicts him in some
of them ; particularly we find layers of stone
often over the lightest soils, and the softest earth
under the hardest bodies. However, having taken
it for granted, that all the layers of the earth are
found in the order of their specific gravity, the
lightest at the top, and the heaviest next the
centre, he consequently asserts, that it will not
improbably follow, that all the substances of
which the earth is composed were, once, in an
actual state of dissolution. This universal disso-
lution he takes to have happened at the time of
the flood. He supposes that at that time a body
of water, which was then in the centre of the
earth, uniting with that which was found on the
surface, so far separated the terrene parts as to
mix all together in one fluid mass ; the contents
of which afterwards sinking according to their
respective gravities, produced the present appear-
ances of the earth. Being aware, however, of an
objection that fossil substances are not found dis-
solved, he exempts them from this universal dis-
solution, and, for that purpose, endeavours to
shew that the parts of animals have a stronger co-
hesion than those of minerals ; and that, while
even the hardest rocks may be dissolved, bones
and shells may still continue entire.

So much for Woodward; but of all the systems
which were published respecting the earth’s forma-
tion, that of Whiston was most applauded and most

c 3

22

A HISTORY OF

opposed. Nor need we wonder ; for being sup-
ported with all the parade of deep calculation, it
awed the ignorant, and produced the approbation
of such as would be thought otherwise, as it im-
plied a knowledge of abstruse learning, to be even
thought capable of comprehending what the
writer aimed at. In fact, it is not easy to divest
this theory of its mathematical garb ; but those
who have had leisure, have found the result of our
philosopher’s reasoning to be thus: he supposes
the earth to have been originally a comet ; and he
considers the history of the creation, as given us in
scripture, to have its commencement just when it
was, by the hand of the Creator, more regularly
placed as a planet in our solar system. Before that
time, he supposes it to have been a globe without
beauty or proportion ; a world in disorder ; subject
to all the vicissitudes which comets endure ; some
of which have been found, at different times, a
thousand times hotter than melted iron : at others,
a thousand times colder than ice. These alternations
of heat and cold, continually melting and freezing
the surface of the earth, he supposes to have pro-
duced, to a certain depth, a chaos entirely resem-
bling that described by the poets, surrounding the
solid contents of the earth, which still continued
unchanged in the midst, making a great burning
globe of more than two thousand leagues in dia-
meter. This surrounding chaos, however, was far
from being solid : he resembles it to a dense
though fluid atmosphere, composed of substances
mingled, agitated, and shocked against each other ;
and in this disorder he describes the earth to have
been just at the eve of creation.

THE EARTH.

23

But upon its orbit’s being then changed, when it
was more regularly wheeled round the sun, every
thing took its proper place ; every part of the sur-
rounding fluid then fell into a situation, in propor-
tion as it was light or heavy. The middle, or central,
part, which always remained unchanged, still con-
tinued so, retaining a part of that heat which it re-
ceived in its primeval approaches towards the sun :
which heat, he calculates, may continue for about
six thousand years. Next to this fell the heavier
parts of the chaotic atmosphere, which serve to
sustain the lighter : but as in descending they
could not entirely be separated from many watery
parts, with which they were intimately mix-
ed, they drew down a part of these also with them ;
and these could not mount again after the surface
of the earth was consolidated : they, therefore,
surrounded the heavy first descending parts, in the
same manner as these surround the central globe.
Thus the entire body of the earth is composed in-
ternally of a great burning globe : -next which, is
placed a heavy terrene substance, that encom-
passes it ; round which also is circumfused a body
of water. Upon this body of water, the crust of
earth on which we inhabit is placed : so that, ac-
cording to him, the globe is composed of a number
of coats, or shells, one within the other, all of dif-
ferent densities. The body of the earth being
thus formed, the air, which is the lightest substance
of all, surrounded its surface ; and the beams of
the sun darting through, produced that light
which, we are told* first obeyed the Creator’s com-
mand.

cf 4

24

A HISTORY OF

The whole economy of the creation being: thus
adjusted, it only remained to account for the
risings and depressions on the surface of the earth,
with the other seeming irregularities of its present
appearance. The hills and vallies are considered
by him as formed by their pressing upon the in-
ternal fluid, which sustains the outward shell of
earth, with greater or less weight: those parts of
the earth which are heaviest, sink into the subja-
cent fluid more deeply, and become vallies : those
that are lightest, rise higher upon the earth’s sur-
face, and are called mountains.

Such was the face of nature before the deluge;
the earth was then more fertile and populous than
it is at present ; the life of man and animals was
extended to ten times its present duration ; and all
these advantages arose from the superior heat of
the central globe, which ever since has been cool-
ing. As its heat was then in full power, the genial
principle was also much greater than at present :
vegetation and animal increase were carried on
with more vigour ; and all nature seemed teeming
with the seeds of life. But these physical advan-
tages were only productive of moral evil; the
warmth which invigorated the body increased the
passions and appetites of the mind ; and, as man
became more powerful, he grew less innocent. It
was foujnd necessary to punish this depravity ; and
all living creatures were overwhelmed by the deluge
. in universal destruction.

This deluge, which simple believers are willing
to ascribe to a miracle, philosophers have long been
desirous to account for by natural causes : they
have proved that the earth could never supply from

/

THE EARTH.

25

any reservoir towards its centre, nor the atmo-
sphere by any discharge from above, such a quan-
tity of water as would cover the surface of the
globe to a certain depth over the tops of our
highest mountains. Where, therefore, was all this
water to be found ? Whiston has found enough,
and more than a sufficiency, in the tail of a comet;
for he seems to allot comets a very active part in
the great operations of nature.

He calculates, with great seeming precision, the
year, the month, and the day of the week on which
this comet (which has paid the earth some visits
since, though at a kinder distance) involved our
globe in its tail. The tail he supposed to be a va-
porous fluid substance, exhaled from the body of
the comet, by the extreme heat of the sun, and in-
creasing in proportion as it approached that great
luminary. It was in this that our globe was in-
volved at the time of the deluge; and, as the
earth still acted by its natural attraction, it drew
to itself all the watery vapours which were in the
comet’s tail; and the internal waters being also
at the same time let loose, in a very short space
the tops of the highest mountains were laid under
the deep.

The punishment of the deluge being thus com-
pleted, and all the guilty destroyed, the earth,
which had been broken by the eruption of the
internal waters, was also enlarged by it ; so that
upon the comet’s recess, there was found room
sufficient in the internal abyss for the recess of
the superfluous waters whither they all retired,
and left the earth uncovered, but in some respects
changed, particularly in its figure, which, from

A HISTORY OF

26

being round, was now become oblate. In tins
.universal wreck of nature Noah survived, by a
variety of happy causes, to re-people the earth,
and to give birth to a race of men slow in believ-
ing ill-imagined theories of the earth.

After so many theories of the earth, which have
been published, applauded, answered, and for-
gotten, Mr. Buff on ventured to add one more to
the number. This philosopher was, in every re-
spect, better qualified than any of his predeces-
sors for such an attempt, being* furnished with
more materials, having a brighter imagination to
find new proofs, and a better style to clothe them
in. However, if one so ill qualified, as I am, may
judge, this seems the weakest part of this admi-
rable work ; and I could wish, that he had been
content with giving us facts instead of systems ;
that, instead of being a reasoner, he had contented
himself with being merely an historian.

He begins his system by making a distinction
between the first part of it and the last ; the one
being' founded only on conjecture, the other de-
pending entirely upon actual observation. The
latter part of his theory may, therefore, he true,
though the former should be found erroneous.

The planets, says he, and the earth among the
number, might have been formerly (he only offers
this as conjecture) a part of the body of the sun,
and adherent to its substance. In this situation,
a comet falling in upon that great body might
'have given it such a shock, and so shaken its
whole frame, that some of its particles might
have been driven off like streaming sparkles from
red hot iron ; and each of these streams of fire.

THE EARTH.

21

small as they were in comparison of the sun, might
have been large enough to have made an earth
as great, nay many times greater, than ours. So
that in this manner the planets, together with the
globe which we inhabit, might have been driven
off from the body of the sun by an impulsive
force : in this manner also they would continue to
recede from it for ever, were they not drawn back
by its superior power of attraction; and thus, by
the combination of the two motions, they are
wheeled round in circles.

Being in this manner detached at a distance
from the body of the sun, the planets, from hav-
ing been at first globes of liquid fire, gradually
became cool. The earth also having been impel-
led obliquely forward, received a rotatory motion
upon its axis at the very instant of its formation;
and this motion being greatest at the equator, the
parts there acting against the force of gravity,
they must have swollen out, and given the earth
an oblate or flatted figure.

As to its internal substance, our globe havingy
once belonged to the sun, it continues to be an
uniform mass of melted matter, very probably
vitrified in its primaeval fusion. But its surface is
very differently composed. Having been in the
beginning heated to a degree equal to, if not
greater, than what comets are found to sustain,
like them it had an atmosphere of vapours float-
ing round it, and which, cooling by degrees, con-
densed and subsided upon its surface. These
vapours formed, according to their different den-
sities, the earth, the water, and the air; the heavier

28

A HISTORY OF

parts falling first, and the lighter remaining still
suspended.

Thus far our philosopher is, at least, as much
a system-maker as Whiston or Burnet; and, in-
deed, he fights his way with great perseverance
and ingenuity through a thousand objections that
naturally arise. Having, at last, got upon the
earth, he supposes himself on firmer ground, and
goes forward with greater security. Turning his
attention to the present appearance of things upon
this globe, he pronounces from the view that the
whole earth was at first under water. This water
he supposes to have been the lighter parts of its
former evaporation, which, while the earthy parti-
cles sunk downwards by their natural gravity,
floated on the surface, and covered it for a consi-
derable space of time.

“ The surface of the earth,” says he*, “ must
have been in the beginning much less solid than
it is at present; and, consequently, the same
causes, which at this day produce but very slight
changes, must then, upon so complying a sub-
stance, have had very considerable effects. We
have no reason to doubt but that it was then
covered with the waters of the sea; and that
those waters were above the tops of our highest
mountains, since, even in such elevated situations,
we find shells and other marine productions in very
great abundance. It appears also that the sea con-
tinued for a considerable time upon t}je face of the
earth : for as these layers of shells are found so

* Theorie de la Terre, vol. i. p. HI.

29

THE EARTH.

very frequent at such great depths, and in such
prodigious quantities, it seems impossible for such
numbers to have been supported all alive at one
time; so that they must have been brought there
by successive depositions. These shells also are
found in the bodies of the hardest rocks, where
they could not have been deposited, all at once,
at the time of the deluge, or at any such instant
revolution ; since that would be to suppose, that
all the rocks in which they are found were,
at that instant, in a state of dissolution, which
would be absurd to assert. The sea, there-
fore, deposited them wheresoever they are now
to be found, and that by slow and successive
degrees.

It will appear, also, that the sea covered the
whole earth, from the appearance of its layers,
which lying regularly one above the other, seem
all to resemble the sediment formed at different
times by the ocean. Hence, by the irregular
force of its waves, and its currents driving the
bottom into sand-banks, mountains must have
been gradually formed within this universal cover-
ing of waters ; and these successively raising
their heads above its surface, must, in time, have
formed the highest ridges of mountains upon
land, together with continents, islands, and low
grounds, all in their turns. This opinion will
receive additional weight by considering, that in
those parts of the earth where the power of the
ocean is greatest, the inequalities on the surface
of the earth are highest : the ocean’s power is
greatest at the equator, where its winds and tides
are most constant ; and, in fact, the mountains

30 A HISTORY OF

at the equator are found to be higher than in any
other part of the world. The sea, therefore, has
produced the principal changes in our earth :
rivers, volcanoes, earthquakes, storms, and rain,
having made but slight alterations, and only such
as have affected the globe to very inconsiderable
depths.”

This is but a very slight sketch of Mr. Buf-
fon’s Theory of the Earth ; a theory which he
has much more powerfully supported, than hap-
pily invented ; and it would be needless to take
lip the reader’s time from the pursuit of truth in
the discussion of plausibilities. In fact, a thou-
sand questions might be asked this most ingenious
philosopher, which he would not find it easy to
answer ; but such is the lot of humanity, that a
single Goth can in one day destroy the fabric
which Caesars were employed an age in erecting.
We might ask how mountains, which are com-
posed of the most compact and ponderous sub-
stances, should be the first whose parts the sea
began to remove ? We might ask, how fossil-
wood is found deeper even than shells ? which
argues, that trees grew upon the places he sup-
poses once to have been covered with the ocean.
But we hope this excellent man is better em-
ployed than to think of gratifying the petu-
lance of incredulity by answering endless ob-
jections.

[Other theories have since been formed, en-
deavouring to throw light on this most intricate
subject ; the principal of which are those of Dr.
Hutton and Mr. Whitehurst.

Dr. Hutton supposes the earth to have existed

THE EARTH. 3 1

from eternity, and that there is to be found in it
no vestige of a beginning, no prospect of an end.
He regards it as a fabric erected in wisdom, the
purpose of whose creation is that it may be a ha-
bitation for living animals.

He considers it as composed of three principal
parts, properly adapted together: a solid or terres-
trial part, supported by a central body ; an aque-
ous part, reduced to a spherical form by gravita-
tion, and made oblate by the earth’s centrifu-
gal force ; and an atmosphere, surrounding the
whole, evidently necessary for innumerable pur-
poses of life and vegetation. The powers by
which it is suspended he supposes to be the gra-
vitating and projecting forces by which the pla-
nets are guided ; the influence of light and heat,
cold and condensation, and electricity and magne-
tism.

The component parts of the world he supposes
to be in an alternate state of production and de-
cay ; and that, from a view of the present con-
struction and operations of nature, we may easily
understand what has formerly passed in the ori-
ginal formation of the globe ; and what will even-
tually succeed in future ages.

The solid parts of the earth, he thinks, were
formed at the bottom of the sea ; and that these
have been made prominent, either by the eleva-
tion of these consolidated masses above the level
on which they were formed, or by lowering the
level of the sea. These materials, at first soft
and plastic, he considers to have been consoli-
dated by subterraneous heat and fusion, produc-

32 A HISTORY OF

ing, by their different combinations, all the dif-
ferent minerals and solid parts of the earth.

The strata formed at the bottom of the ocean
are necessarily horizontal in their position, or
nearly so ; and continuous in tjieir horizontal di-
rection and extent. They may change and gra-
dually assume the nature of each other, so far as
concerns the materials of which they are form-
ed ; but there cannot be any change, fracture,
or displacement naturally in the body of a stra-
tum ; but if these strata are cemented by the
heat of fusion, and ejected with an expansive
force acting below, we may expect to find eve-
ry species of fracture, dislocation, and contor-
tion in those bodies, and every degree of depar-
ture from a horizontal towards a vertical po-
sition. The strata of the globe are actually
found in every possible position ; for, from hori-
zontal they are frequently found vertical ; from
continuous they are broken and separated in eve-
ry possible direction ; and from a plane they are
bent and doubled. It is impossible they could
have been formed by the known laws of nature,
in their present state and position. And here
the apparent irregularity and disorder of the mi-
neral regions are as instructive, with regard to
what had been transacted in a former period of
time, as the order and regularity of these same
regions are conclusive, in the relation to the
place, in which a former state of things had pro-
duced that which, in its changed state, we now
perceive.

We are now to conclude that the land on which

1

THE EARTH. 33

we dwell had been elevated from a lower situa-
tion, by the same agent which had been employ-
ed in consolidating the strata, in giving them
stability, and preparing them for the purpose of
the living world. This agent is matter actuated
by extreme heat, and expanded with amazing
force. If this has been the case, it will be rea-
sonable to expect that some of the expanded
matter might be found condensed in the bodies
which have been heated by that igneous vapour ;
and that matter, foreign to the strata, may have
been thus introduced into the fractures and sepa-
rations of those indurated masses. We have but
to open our eyes to be convinced of this truth :
look into the sources of our mineral treasures;
ask the miner from whence the metal has come
into his vein ? not from the earth or air above ;
not from the strata which the vein traverses. —
There is but one place from whence these mine-
rals may have come, and that is the bowels of the
earth ; the place of power and expansion ; the
place from whence must have proceeded that in-
tense heat, by which loose materials have been
consolidated into rocks, as well as that enormous
force, by which the regular strata have been bro-
ken and displaced.

Our land has two extremities, — the tops of the
mountains on one hand, and the sea-shore on the
other. It is the intermediate space between these
two, that forms the habitation of man and ani-
mals. While there is a sea, shores, and high
ground, there is that which is required in the sys-
tem of the world; take these away, and there
would remain an aqueous globe, in which the

VOL. I.

D

34

A HISTORY OF

world would perish. But in the natural opera-
tion of the world, it is necessary that the present
land should be worn away and wasted, exactly in
proportion as new land shall appear; or, con-
versely, that an equal portion of new land should
always be produced as the old is made to disap-
pear. In this manner a due proportion of land
and water is always preserved upon the surface
of the globe, for the purpose of a habitable
world.

Mr. Whitehurst supposes, with Linnaeus, that
the globe we now inhabit was originally in a state
of fluidity ; and that, not owing to any dissol-
vent principle or subsequent solution, but to the
first assemblage of its component parts. Whence
it is presumed, that the earth had a beginning,
and has not existed from eternity; though the
precise number of ages it has existed, have not
yet been actually determined. This he endea-
vours to prove by its oblate spheroidal form,
which may easily be conceived of a fluid globe,
but not of a solid one. The fluidity of the
earth, says he, and the infinitely divisibility of
matter, evidently shew that the component parts
of air, earth, water, &c. were uniformly blended
together, none being heavier or lighter than ano-
ther ; whereby they composed an uniform mass or
pulp, of equal consistence in every part, from its
surface to its centre : consequently the new form-
ed globe, in its chaotic state, was unfit for ani-
mal or vegetable life, and its inhabitants were not
created till the earth was become suitable to the
nature of their existence. The component part*
*>f this cljaos were subterraneous, or endowed

THE EARTH.

35

with peculiar laws of elective attraction ; where-
by similar bodies are disposed to unite and form
select bodies of various denominations, as air,
water, earth, &c. ; hy means of which principles,
the chaos was progressively formed into a habi-
table world.

The atmosphere, sea, and land, being thus
formed for the reception of the animal and vege-
table kingdoms, in successive periods of time,
we have now to consider the order in which they
were severally created. First, since it appears
that the ocean became perfectly pure and fit for
animal life, before the primitive islands were
formed, therefore we have endeavoured to prove,
from a series of undeniable facts, that marine
animals were first formed ; and being extremely
prolific, they increased and multiplied so exceed-
ingly, as to replenish the sea from pole to pole.
The ocean being thus stocked with inhabitants,
prior to the formation of the primitive islands,
many of them became enveloped and buried in
the mud, by the continual action of the tides ;
particularly all the species of shell-fish, which are
least able to defend themselves from such inter-
ments. Therefore, since the remains of marine
animals are imbedded at various depths in the
earth, from one to that of several thousand feet,
and this in all parts of the world hitherto explor-
ed, they bear sufficient testimony that these ma-
rine bodies were thus entombed at successive pe-
riods of time ; and, likewise, that they were cre-
ated prior to the primitive islands, and conse-
quently prior to any terrestrial animals. It may
be needless further to observe, that these beds of

n 2

36

A HISTORY OF

marine shells plainly evince that they were gene-
rated, lived, and died, in the very beds wherein
they were found, and were not brought from dis-
tant regions by a flood or floods of water ; con-
sequently such beds were originally the bottom of
the ocean.

To these, as to all other human theories, mate-
rial and unconquerable objections might be made;
but our business here is not discussion or refuta-
tion, but merely to lay before our readers the
reasonings and inductions of those who have
formed them.]

CHAP. V.

Of Fossil-shells , and other extraneous Fossils.

We may affirm of Mr. Buffon, that which
has been said of the chymists of old ; though he
may have failed in attaining his principal aim, of
establishing a theory, yet he has brought toge-
ther such a multitude of facts, relative to the
history of the earth, and the nature of its fossil
productions, that curiosity finds ample compensa-
tion even while it feels the wknt of conviction.

Before, therefore, I enter upon the description
of those parts of the earth, which seem more na-
turally to fall within the subject, it will not be
improper to give a short history of those animal
productions that are found in such quantities, ei-
ther upon its surface, or at different depths be-
low it. They demand our curiosity, and, indeed.

THE EARTH. 31 .

there is nothing in natural history that has af-
forded more scope for doubt, conjecture, and
speculation. Whatever depths of the earth we
examine, or at whatever distance within land we
seek, we most commonly find a number of fossil-
shells, which being compared with others from
the sea, of known kinds, are found to be exactly
of a similar shape and nature.# They are found
at the very bottom of quarries and mines, in the
retired and inward parts of the most firm and
solid rocks, upon the tops of even the highest
hills and mountains, as well as in the vallies and
plains; and this not in one country alone, but
in all places where there is any digging for mar-
ble, chalk, or any other terrestrial matters, that
are so compact as to fence off the. external inju-
ries of the air, and thus preserve these shells from
decay.

These marine substances, so commonly diffus-
ed, and so generally to be met with, were for a
long time considered by philosophers as produc-
tions, not of the sea, but of the earth. “ As
we find that spars,” said they, “always shoot
into peculiar shapes, so these seeming snails,
cockles, and muscle-shells, are only sportive
forms that nature assumes amongst others of its
mineral varieties ; they have the shape of fish,
indeed, but they have always been terrestrial sub-
stances, f”

With this plausible solution mankind were for
a long time content; but, upon closer inquiry,

* Woodward’s Essay towards a Natural History, p. 16.

+ Lowthorp’s Abridgment, Phil. Trans, vol. ii. p. 426.

D 3

38

A HISTORY OF

they were obliged to alter their opinion. It was
found that these shells had, in every respect, the
properties of animal and not of mineral nature.

They were found exactly of the same weight
with their fellow shells upon shore. They answered
all the chymieal trials in the same manner as sea
shells do. Their parts, when dissolved, had the
same appearance to view, the same smell and taste.
They had the same effects in medicine when in-
wardly administered ; and, in a word, were so ex-
actly conformable to marine bodies, that they had
all the accidental concretions growing to them,
(such as pearls, corals, and smaller shells) which
are found in shells just gathered on the shore.
They were, therefore, from these considerations,
given back to the sea ; but the wonder was, how
to account for their coining so far from their own
natural element upon land*.

As this naturally gave rise to many conjectures,
it is not to be wondered that some among them
have been very extraordinary. An Italian, quoted
by Mr. BufFon, supposes them to have been de-
posited in the earth at the time of the crusades,
by the pilgrims who returned from Jerusalem :
who, gathering them upon the sea-shore, in their
return, carried them to their different places of ha-
bitation. But this conjecturer seems to have but
a very inadequate idea of their numbers. At Tou-
raine, in France, more than an hundred miles from
the sea, there is a plain of about nine leagues
long, and as many broad, from whence the pea-
sants of the country supply themselves with marie

* Woodward, p. 43-

THE EARTH.

39

for manuring their lands. They seldom dig deeper
than twenty feet, and the whole plain is composed
of the same materials, which are shells of various
kinds, without the smallest portion of earth be-
tween them. Here then is a large space, in which
are deposited millions of tons of shells, that pil-
grims could not have collected, though their
whole employment had been nothing else. En-
gland is furnished with its beds, which though not
quite so extensive, yet are equally wonderful.
“ * Near Reading, in Berkshire, for many suc-
ceeding generations, a continued body of oyster-
shells has been found through the whole circumfe-
rence of five or six acres of ground. The foun-
dation of these shells is a hard rocky chalk ;
and above this chalk, the oyster-shells lie in abed
of green sand, upon a level, as nigh as can possi-
bly be judged, and about two feet thickness.”
These shells are in their natural state, but they
were found also petrified, and almost in equal
abundancef in all the Alpine rocks, in the Pyre-
nees, on the hills of France, England, and Flanders.
Even in all quarries from whence marble is dug, if
the rocks he split perpendicularly downwards, pe-
trified shells, and other marine substances, will be
plainly discerned.

“ About a quarter of a mile from the river Med-
wayj, in the county of Kent, after the taking off
the coping of a piece of ground there, the work-
men came to a blue marble, which continued
for three feet and a half deep, or more, and then
beneath appeared a hard floor, or pavement, com-

* Phil- Trans, vol. ii. p. 427. t. Buffon, vol. i. p. 407.
f Phil Trans, p. 426.

40

A HISTORY OF

posed of petrified shells crowded closely together.
This layer was about an inch deep, and several
yards over; and it could be walked upon as upon
a beach. These stones, of which it was com-
posed, (the describer supposes them to have always
been stones) were either wreathed as snails, or bi-
valvular like cockles. The wreathed kinds were
about the size of a hazle nut, and were filled with
a stony substance of the colour of marie ; and they
themselves, also, till they were washed, were of the
same colour ; but when cleaned they appeared of
the colour of bezoar, and of the same polish.
After boiling in water they became whitish, and
left a chalkiness upon the fingers.”

In several parts of Asia and Africa, travellers
have observed these shells in great abundance. In
the mountains of Castravan, which lie above the
city Bar ut, they quarry out a white stone, every
part of which contains petrified fishes in great
numbers, and of surprising diversity. They also
seem to continue in such preservation, that their
fins, scales, and all the minutest distinctions of their
make, can be perfectly discerned*.

Prom all these instances we may conclude, that
fossils are very numerous ; and, indeed, indepen-
dent of their situation, they afford no small enter-
tainment to observe them as preserved in the
cabinets of the curious. The varieties of their
kinds are astonishing. Most of the sea shells
which are known, and many others to which we
are entirely strangers, are to be seen either in their
natural state, or in various degrees ofpetrifactionf.

* BufFonj toI. i. p. 408. f Hill, p. 646.

41

THE EARTH.

In the place of some we have mere spar, or stone,
exactly expressing all the lineaments of animals,
as having been wholly formed from them. For it
has happened that the shells dissolving by very
slow degrees, and the matter having nicely and ex
actly filled all the cavities within, this matter, after
the shells have perished, has* preserved exactly and
regularly the whole print of their internal surface.
Of these there are various kinds found in our pits;
many of them resembling those of our own shores ;
and many others that are onty to be found on the
coasts of other countries. There are some shells
resembling those that are never stranded upon our
coasts*, but always remain in the deepf : and
many more there are which we can assimilate with
no shells known amongst us. But wefind not only
shells in our pits, but also fishes and corals in great
abundance ; together with almost every sort of
"marine production.

It is extraordinary enough, however, that the
common red coral, though so very frequent at sea,
is scarcely seen in the fossil world ; nor is there
any account of its having ever been met with. But
to compensate for this, there are all the kinds of
the white coral now known ; and many other kinds
of that substance with which we are unacquainted.
Of animals there are various parts: the vertebras
of whales, and the mouths of lesser fishes ; these,
with teeth also of various kinds, are found in the
cabinets of the curious ; where they receive long
Greek names, which it is neither the intention nor
the province of this work to enumerate. Indeed,

* Littorales.

+ Pelagii.

42

A HISTORY OF

few readers would think themselves much im-
proved, should I proceed with enumerating the
various classes of the Conicthyodontes, Polylep-
toginglimi, or the Orthoceratites. These names,
which mean no great matter when they are ex-
plained, may serve to guide in the furnishing a
cabinet ; but they are of very little service in fur-
nishing the page of instructive history.

From all these instances we see in what abun-
dance petrifactions are to be found : and, indeed,
Mr. BufFon, to whose accounts we have added
some, has not been sparing in the variety of his
quotations, concerning the places where they are
mostly to be found. However, I am surprised
that he should have omitted the mention of one,
which, in some measure, more than any of the rest,
would have served to strengthen his theory. We
are informed, by almost every traveller*, that has
described the pyramids of Egypt, that one of
them is entirely built of a kind of free-stone, in
which these petrified shells are found in great
abundance. This being the case, it may be conjec-
tured,as we have accounts of these pyramids among
the earliest records of mankind, and of their being
built so long before the age of Herodotus, who
lived but fifteen hundred years after the flood, that
even the Egyptian priests could tell neither the
time nor the cause of their erection ; I say it may
be conjectured that they were erected but a short
time after the flood. It is not very likely, therefore,
that the marine substances found in one of them,
had time to beformed into a part of the solid stone,

* Hasselquist, Sandys.

THE EARTH.

43

either during the deluge, or immediately after it;
and, consequently, their petrifaction must have
been before that period. And this is the opinion
Mr. Buffon has so strenuously endeavoured to
maintain ; having given specious reasons to prove
that such shells were laid in the beds where they
are now found, not only before the deluge, but
even antecedent to the formation of man, at the
time when the whole earth, as he supposes, was
buried beneath a covering of waters.

But while there are many reasons to persuade
us that these extraneous fossils have been de-
posited by the sea, there is one fact that will
abundantly serve to convince us that the earth
was habitable, if not inhabited, before these ma-
rine substances came to be thus deposited ; for
we find fossil-trees, which no doubt once grew
upon the earth, as deep, and as much in the body
of solid rocks, as these shells are found to be.
Some of these fallen trees also have lain at least as
long, if not longer, in the earth, than the shells,
as they have been found sunk deep in a marly
substance, composed of decayed shells, and other
marine productions. Mr. Buffon has proved
that fossil-shells could not have been deposited
in such quantities all at once by the flood ; and
I think, from the above instance, it is pretty
plain, that howsoever they were deposited, the
earth was covered with trees before their depo-
sition ; and, consequently, that the sea could not
have made a very permanent stay. How then
shall we account for these extraordinary appear-
ances in nature ? A suspension of all assent is
certainly the first, although the most mortifying

44 A HISTORY OF

conduct. For my own part, were I to offer a
conjecture, and all that has been said upon this
subject is but conjecture, instead of supposing
them to be the remains of animals belonging to
the sea, I would consider them rather as bred in
the numerous fresh-water lakes that, in primasval
times, covered the face of uncultivated nature.
Some of these shells we know to belong to fresh *
waters : some can be assimilated to none of the
marine shells now known* ; why, therefore, may
we not as well ascribe the production of all to
fresh waters, where we do not find them, as we do
that of the latter to the sea only, where we never
find them ? We know that lakes, and lands also,
have produced animals that are now no longer
existing; why, therefore, might not these fossil
productions be among the number ? I grant
that this is making a very harsh supposition;
but I cannot avoid thinking, that it is not at-
tended with so many embarrassments as some of
the former; and that it is much easier to believe
that these shells were bred in fresh water, than
that the sea had for a long time covered the tops
of the highest mountains f.

* Hill’s Fossils, p. 641.

[+ Though it would be absurd to attempt explaining all the
difficulties of this natural phenomenon, yet it appears sufficiently
accounted for by the operation of the general deluge. In this
vast conflict of sea and land, the earth was softened by an inces-
sant rain of six weeks’ duration, and the sea rising on all sides,
poured in upon every part of its surface, all its light and move-
able contents, with an impetuosity unmeasurable by any modern
parallel. Great numbers of these shells, inhabiting near the
sea coasts in .their various stages of growth, would naturally

THE EARTH,

45

CHAP. VI.

Of the internal Structure of the Earth.

.HAVING, in some measure, got free from the
regions of conjecture, let us now proceed to a de-

change their habitations, and be impelled by this force to the
tops of mountains and other elevated places. The flood, ac-
cording to Scripture, was forty days in arriving to its full height,
remained stationary five months, and it was not till near the
end of the eleventh month that the tops of the trees became
visible above the surface of the water. Here was time for the
spawn and smaller ones to grow to maturity : and as they possess
but little locomotive power, and as the water was slow' and
gradual in its retreat, there must have remained behind immense
masses distributed on various parts of the earth. By the con-
tinuance of such a body of water so long a time upon the earth,
it must have become soft and easily penetrable. These helpless
animals, therefore, brought with the ocean at its first eruption,
were probably buried in the mud, and by the gradual mouldering
of the softer parts of the earth, were sometimes covered to a great
depth. Here, in many places, they may have been consolidated
by petrifaction and the growth of calcareous matter over
them.

At the time when these shells were deposited, the same
wreck of nature w ould overthrow and leave with them old and
decayed trees, and different parts of the vegetable creation. A
few, likewise, of the larger inhabitants of the ocean, unable to
make their escape, would be left behind, and partake of the.
same general ruin. In the mountain of Canne, half a league
from Maestrict, wrere found the remains of a crocodile, wrell
preserved, in a stratum of sand stone : the remains of another
were also found in a stratum of stone at Blenheim.

The question, likewise, why so few or no corals are to be
found on land, is upon these principles easily answered. Coral
rocks require a great length of time for their production and
accumulation : they are strongly fixed to the places where they
grow ; and cannot, therefore, without a force which must be
more than adequate to the cause assigned, be removed from their
situation, and placed on land.]

46 A HISTORY OF

scription of the earth as we find it by examina-
tion, and observe its internal composition, as far
as it has been the subject of experience, or exposed
to human enquiry. These enquiries, indeed, have
been carried but to a very little depth below
its surface, and even in that disquisition men
have been conducted more by motives of avarice
than of curiosity. The deepest mine, which is
that at Cotteberg in Hungary*, reaches not more
than three thousand feet deep; but what propor-
tion does that bear to the depth of the terrestrial
globe, down to the centre, which is above four
thousand miles ? All, therefore, that has been said
of the earth, to a deeper degree, is merely fabu-
lous or conjectural : we may suppose with one,
that it is a globe of glass f ; with another, a
sphere of heated iron J ; with a third, a great mass
of waters § ; and with a fourth, one dreadful vol-
cano || : but let us, at the same time, shew our
consciousness, that all these are but suppositions.

Upon examining the earth, where it has been
opened to any depth, the first thing that occurs,
is the different layers or beds of which it is com-
posed ; these all lying horizontally one over the
other, like the leaves of a book, and each of them
composed of materials that increase in weight in
proportion as they lie deeper. This is, in general,
the disposition of the different materials where the
earth seems to have remained unmolested ; but
this order is frequently inverted ; and we cannot
tell whether from its original formation, or from

* Boyle, vol. iii. p. 240. + Buffon.

J Whiston. § Burnet. || Kircher.

I

THE EARTH.

47

accidental causes. Of different substances, thus
disposed, the far greatest part of our globe consists,
from its surface downwards to the greatest depths
we ever dig or mine #.

The first layer, most commonly found at the
surface, is that light coat of blackish mould, which
is called by some garden earth. With this the
earth is every where invested, unless it be washed
off by rains, or removed by some other external
violence. This seems to have been formed from
animal and vegetable bodies decaying, and thus
turning into its substance. It also serves again
as a store-house, from whence animal and vegeta-
ble nature are renewed; and thus are all vital bless-
ings continued with unceasing circulation. This
earth, however, is not to be supposed entirely
pure, but is mixed with much stony and gravelly
matter, from the layers lying immediately be-
neath it. It generally happens, that the soil is
fertile in proportion to the quantity that this pu-
trified mould bears to the gravelly mixture ; and as
the former predominates, so far is the vegetation
upon it more luxuriant. It is this external cover-
ing that supplies man with all the true riches he
enjoys. He may bring up gold and jewels from
greater depths ; but they are merely the toys of a
capricious being, things upon which he has placed
an imaginary value, and for which fools alone
part with the more substantial blessings of life.
It is this earth, says Pliny f, that, like a kind
mother, receives us at our birth, and sustains us

* Woodward, p. 9.

t Plin, Hist. Nat. lib. 2. cap. 63.

4» A HISTORY OF

when born. It is this alone, of all the elements
around us, that is never found an enemy to man.
The body of waters deluge him with rains, op-
press him with hail, and drown him with inunda-
tions. The air rushes in storms, prepares the
tempest, or lights up the volcano; but the earth,
gentle and indulgent, ever subservient to the
wants of man, spreads his walks with flowers, and
his table with plenty ; returns with interest every
good committed to her care; and, though she
produces the poison, she still supplies the anti-
dote ; though constantly teazed more to furnish
the luxuries of man than his necessities, yet, even
to the last, she continues her kind indulgence,
and, when life is over, she piously covers his re-
mains in her bosom.

This external and fruitful layer which covers
the earth, is, as was said, in a state of continual
change. Vegetables, which are naturally fixed
and rooted to the same place, receive their adven-
titious nourishment from the surrounding earth
and water: animals, which change from place to
place, are supported by these, or by each other.
Both, however, having for a time enjoyed a life
adapted to their nature, give back to the earth
those spoils, which they had borrowed for a very
short space, yet still to be quickened again into
fresh existence. But the deposits they make are
of very dissimilar kinds, and the earth is very
differently enriched by their continuance. Those
countries that have for a long time supported
men and other animals, having been observed to
become every day more barren ; while, on the
contrary, those desolate places, in which vege-

THE EARTH.

49

tables only are abundantly produced, are known
to be possessed of amazing fertility. # “ In re-
gions which are uninhabited,” says Mr. Bwffon,
“ where the forests are not cut down, and where
animals do not feed upon the plants, the bed of
vegetable earth is constantly increasing. In
all woods, and even in those often cut, there is a
layer of earth of six or eight inches thick, which
has been formed by the leaves, branches and
bark, which fall and rot upon the ground. I have
frequently observed, on a Roman way which
crosses Burgundy for a long extent, that there
is a bed of black earth, of more than a foot
thick, gathered over the stony pavement, on
Which several trees, of a very considerable size,
are supported. This I have found to be nothing
else than an earth formed by decayed leaves and
branches, which have been converted by time
into a black soil. Now, as vegetables draw
much more of their nourishment from the air
and water than they do from the earth, it must
follow, that in rotting upon the ground, they
must give more to the soil than they have taken
from it. Hence, therefore, in woods kept a
long time without cutting, the soil below in-
creases to a considerable depth; and such we
actually find the soil in those American wilds
where the forests have been undisturbed for ages.
But it is otherwise where men and animals have
long subsisted ; for as they make a considerable
consumption of wood and plants, both for firing
and other uses, they take more from the earth

* Bnffon, toI. i. p. 35-3.

VOL. I.

E

50

A HISTORY OF

' than they return to it : it follows, therefore, that
the bed of vegetable earth, in an inhabited coun-
try, must be always diminishing ; and must, at
length, resemble the soil of Arabia Petrea, and
other provinces of the East, which having been
long inhabited, are now become plains of salt and
sand ; — the fixed salt always remaining, while the
Other volatile parts have flown away.”

If from this external surface we descend deep-
er, and view the earth cut perpendicularly down-
wards, either in the banks of great rivers, or
steepy sea-shores, or, going still deeper, if we
observe it in quarries or mines, we shall find its
layers regularly disposed in their proper order.
We must not expect, however, to find them of
the same kind or thickness in every place, as they
differ in different soils and situations. Sometimes
marie is seen to he over sand, and sometimes un-
der it. The most common disposition is, that
under the first earth is found gravel or sand, then
clay or marie, then chalk or coal, marbles, ores,
sands, gravels ; and thus an alternation of these
substances, each growing more dense as it sinks
deeper. The clay, for instance, found at the
depth of a hundred feet, is usually more heavy
than that found not far from the surface. In a
well which was dug at Amsterdam, to the depth
of two hundred and thirty feet, the following
substances were found in succession : * seven feet
of vegetable earth, nine of turf, nine of soft clay,
eight of sand, four of earth, ten of clay, four of
earth, ten of sand, two of clay, four of white

* Varcnius, as quoted by Mr. Buffon, p. 358.

, THE EARTH. 51

sand, one of soft earth, fourteen of sand, eight
of day mixed with sand, four of sea-sand mixed
with shells, then a hundred and two feet of soft
clay, and then thirty-one feet of sand.

In a well dug at Marly, to the depth of a hun-
dred feet, Mr. Buffon gives us a still more exact
enumeration of its layers of earth. Thirteen of
a reddish gravel, two of gravel mingled with a
vitrifiable sand, three of mud or slime, two of
marie, foul* of marly stone, five of marie in dust
mixed with vitrifiable sand, six of very fine vitri-
fiable sand, three of earthy marie, three of hard
marie, one of gravel, one of eglantine, a stone
of the hardness and grain of marble, one of gra-
velly marie, one of stony marie, one of a coarser
kind of stonv marie, two of a coarser kind still,
one of vitrifiable sand mixed with fossil-shells,
two of fine gravel, three of stony marie, one of
coarse powdered marie, one of stone calcinable
like marble, three of grey sand, two of white
sand, one of red sand streaked with white, eight
of grey sand with shells, three of very fine sand,
three of a hard grey stone, four of red sand
streaked with white, three of white sand, and fif-
teen of reddish vitrifiable sand.

In this manner, the earth is every where found
in beds over beds ; and, what is still remarkable,
each of them, as far as it extends, always main-
tains exactly the same thickness. It is found,
also, that, as we proceed to considerable depths,
every layer grows thicker. Thus, in the adduced
instances, we might have observed, that the last
layer was fifteen feet thick, while most of the
others were not above eight; and this might have

e 2

52 A HISTORY OF

gone much deeper, for aught we can tell, as be-
fore they got through it the workmen ceased
digging.

These layers are sometimes very extensive, and
often are found to cover a space of some leagues
in circumference. But it must not be supposed
that they are uniformly continued over the whole
globe without any interruption ; on the contrary,
they are ever, at small intervals, cracked through
as it were by perpendicular fissures ; the earth re-
sembling, in this respect, the mucldy bottom of
a pond, from whence the water has been dried
off by the sun, and thus gaping in several chinks,
which descend in a direction perpendicular to its
surface. These fissures are many times found
empty, but oftener closed up with adventitious
substances, that the rain, or some other acciden-
tal causes, have conveyed to fill their cavities.
Their openings are not less different than their
contents, some being not above half an inch
wide, some a foot, and some several hundred
yards asunder ; which last form those dreadful
chasms that are to be found in the Alps, at the
edge of which the traveller stands, dreading to
look down at the immeasurable gulph below*
These amazing clefts are well known to such as
have passed these mountains, where a chasm fre-
quently presents itself several hundred feet deep,
and as many over, at the edge of which the way
lies. It often happens, also, that the road leads
along the bottom, and then the spectator observes
on each side frightful precipices several hundred
yards above him ; the sides of which correspond

THE EARTH.

53

so exactly with each other, that they evidently
seem torn asunder.

But these chasms, to be found in the Alps, are
nothing to what Ovalle tells us are to be seen in
the Andes. These amazing mountains, in com-
parison of which the former are but little hills,
have their fissures in proportion to their great-
ness. In some places they are a mile wide, and
deep in proportion; and there are some others,
that, running underground, in extent resemble a
province.

Of this kind also is that cavern called Elden-
hole, in Derbyshire; which, Dr. Plot tells us,
was sounded by a line of eight and twenty hun-
dred feet, without finding the bottom, or meet-
ing with water ; and yet the mouth, at the top, is
not above forty yards over.* This immeasurable
cavern runs perpendicularly downward ; and the
sides of it seem to tally so plainly as to shew that
they once were united. Those who come to visit
the place, generally procure stones to be thrown
into its mouth; and these are heard for several
minutes, falling and striking against the sides
of the cavern, producing a sound that resem-
bles distant thunder, dying away as the stone
goes deeper.

Of this kind, also, is that dreadful cavern de-
scribed by iElian ; his account of which the rea-
der may not have met with.'}' “ In the country
of the Arrian Indians, is to be seen an amazing
chasm, which is called, The Gulph of Pluto.
The depth and the recesses of this horrid place.

* Phil. Trans, vol. ii. p. 370.
t iEliani Var. Hist. lib. xvi. cap. 16.

E 3

54

A HISTORY OF

are as extensive as they are unknown. Neither
the natives, nor the curious who visit it, are able
to tell how it was first made, or to what depths
it descends. The Indians continually drive thi-
ther great multitudes of animals, more than three
thousand at a time, of different kinds, sheep, hor-
ses, and goats ; and, with an absurd superstition,
force them into the cavity, from whence they
never return. Their several sounds, however, are
heard as they descend ; the bleating of sheep, the
lowing of oxen, and the neighing of horses, issu-
ing up to the mouth of the cavern. Nor do these
sounds cease, as the place is continually furnished
with a fresh supply.”

There are many more of these dreadful perpen-
dicular fissures in different parts of the earth ;
with accounts of which Kircher, Gaffarellus, and
others, who have given histories of the wonders
of the subterranean world, abundantly supply us.
The generality of readers, however, will consider
them with less astonishment, when they are in-
formed of their being common all over the earth :
that in every field, in every quarry, these perpen-
dicular fissures are to be found ; either still gap-
ing, or filled with matter that has accidentally
closed their interstices. The inattentive specta-
tor neglects the inquiry, but their being common
is partly the cause that excites the philosopher’s
attention to them : the irregularities of nature he
is often content to let pass unexamined, but when
a constant and a common appearance presents
itself, every return of the object is a fresh call to
his curiosity; and the chink in the next quarry
becomes as great a matter of wonder-as the chasm

THE EARTH.

55

in Elden-hole. Philosophers have long, therefore,
endeavoured to find out the cause of these per-
pendicular fissures, which our own countrymen,
Woodward and Hay, were the first that found to be
so common and universal. Mr. Buflfon supposes
them to be cracks made by the sun, in drying* up
the earth immediately after its immersion from
the deep. The heat of the sun is very probably
a principal cause ; but it is not right to ascribe
to one only, what we find may he the result of
many. Earthquakes, severe frosts, bursting wa-
ters, and storms tearing up the roots of trees,
have, in our own times, produced them ; and to
this variety of causes we must, at present, be
content to assign those that have happened before
we had opportunities for observation.

CHAP. VII.

\

Of Caves and subterraneous Passages that sink ,
but not perpendicularly , into the Earth.

Xn surveying the subterranean wonders of the
globe, besides those fissures that descend perpen*
dicularly, we frequently find others that descend
but a little way, and then spread themselves often
to a great extent below the surface. Many of
these caverns, it must be confessed, may be the
production of art and human industry ; retreats
made to protect the oppressed, or shelter the
spoiler. The famous labyrinth of Candia, for
instance, is supposed to be entirely the work of

e 4

56 A HISTORY OF

art. Mr. Tournefort assures us, that it bears the
impression of human industry, and that great
pains have been bestowed upon its formation.
The stone-quarry of Maestricht is evidently made
by labour: carts enter at its mouth, and load
within, then return and discharge their freight
into boats that lie on the brink of the river
Maese. This quarry is so large, that forty thou-
sand people may take shelter in it : and it in gene-
ral serves for this purpose, when armies march that
way ; becoming then an impregnable retreat to
the people that live thereabout. Nothing can be
more beautiful than this cavern, when lighted up
with torches ; for there are thousands of square
pillars, in large level walks, about twenty feet
high ; and all wrought with much neatness and
regularity. In this vast grotto there is very little
rubbish ; which shews both the goodness of the
stone, and the carefulness of the workmen. To
add to its beauty, there also are, in various parts
of it, little pools of water, for the convenience
of the men and cattle. It is remarkable, also,
that no droppings are seen to fall from the roof,
nor are the walks any way wet under foot, except
in cases of great rains, where the water gets in
by the air-shafts. The salt-mines in Poland are
still more spacious than these. Some of the ca-
tacombs, both in Egypt and Italy, are said to be
very extensive. But no part of the world has a
greater number of artificial caverns than Spain,
which were made to serve as retreats to the Chris-
tians, against the fury of the Moors, when the
latter conquered that country. However, an ac-
count of the works of art does not properly be-

THE EARTH.

57

Ions; to a natural history. It will be sufficient to
observe, that though caverns be found in every
country, far the greatest part of them have been
fashioned by the hand of nature only. Their size
is found beyond the power of man to have effect-
ed ; and their forms but ill adapted to the conve-
niences of a human habitation. In some places,
indeed, we find mankind still make use of them
as houses ; particularly in those countries where
the climate is very severe* ; but in general they are
deserted by every race of meaner animals, except
the bat : these nocturnal solitary creatures are usu-
ally the only inhabitants ; and these only in such
whose descent is sloping, or, at least, not directly
perpendicular.

There is scarcely a country in the world with-
out its natural caverns ; and many new ones are
discovered everyday. Of those in England, Oakey-
hole, the Devil’s-hole, and Penpark-hole, have
been often described. The former, which lies on
the south side of Mendip-hillsf, within a mile of
the town of Wells, is much resorted to by travel-
lers. To conceive a just idea of this, we must
imagine a precipice of more than a hundred yards
high, on the side of a mountain which shelves
away a mile above it. In this is an opening not
very large, into which you enter, going along upon
a rocky uneven pavement, sometimes ascending,
and sometimes descending. The roof of it, as
you advance, grows higher ; and, in some places,
is fifty feet from the floor. In some places, how-
ever, it is so low that a man must stoop to pass.

* Phil. Trans, vol. ii. p. 368.

f Ibid.

58

A HISTORY OF

It extends itself, in length, about two hundred
yards ; and from every part of the roof, and the
floor, there are formed sparry concretions of various
figures, that by strong imaginations have been
likened to men, lions, and organs. At the farthest
part of this cavern rises a stream of water, well
stored with fish, large enough to turn a mill, and
which discharges itself near the entrance.

Penpark-hole, in Gloucestershire, is almost as
remarkable as the former. Captain Sturmey des-
cended into this by a rope, twenty-five fathoms
perpendicular, and at the bottom found a very
large vault in the shape of a horse-shoe. The
floors consisted of a kind of white stone enamel-
led with lead ore, and the pendant rocks were
glazed with spar. Walking forward on this stony
pavement, for some time, he came to a great river,
twenty fathoms, broad, and eight fathoms deep;
and having been informed that it ebbed and flowed
with the sea, he remained in his gloomy abode for
five hours, to make an exact observation. He did
not find, however, any alteration whatsoever
in its appearance. But his curiosity was ill rer
quited ; for it cost this unfortunate gentleman his
life : immediately after his return, he was seized
with an unusual and violent head ache, which
threw him, into a fever of which he died soon after.

But of all the subterraneous caverns now
known, the grotto of Antiparos is the most re-
markable, as well for its extent, as for the beauty
of its sparry incrustations. This celebrated ca-
vern was first discovered by one Magni, an Italian
traveller, about a hundred years ago, at Antiparos,

THE EARTH.

59

an inconsiderable island of the Archipelago*. The
account he gives of it is long and inflated, but
upon the whole amusing. “ Having been inform-
ed,” says he, “ by the natives of Paros, that in
the little island of Antiparos, which lies about
two miles from the former, of a gigantic statue,
that was to be seen at the mouth of a cavern in that
place, it was resolved that we, (the French con-
sul and himself) should pay it a visit. In pursu-
ance of this resolution, after we had landed on
the island, and walked about four miles through
the midst of beautiful plains, and sloping wood-
lands, we at length came to a little hill, on the side
of which yawned a most horrid cavern, that with
its gloom at first struck us with terror, and almost
repressed curiosity. Recovering the first surprise,
however, we entered boldly ; and had not pro-
ceeded above twenty paces, when the supposed
statue of the giant presented itself to our view.
We quickly perceived, that what the ignorant na-
tives had been terrified at as a giant, was nothing
more than a sparry concretion, formed by the
water dropping from the roof of the cave, and
by degrees hardening into a figure that their fears
had formed into a monster. Incited by this ex-
traordinary appearance, we were induced to pro-
ceed still farther, in quest of new adventures, in
this subterranean abode. As we proceeded, new
wonders offered themselves ; the spars, formed into
trees and shrubs, presented a kind of petrified

* Kircher Mund. Subt. 112. I have translated a part of Kir-
cher’s description, rather than Tournefort’s, as the latter was
written to support an hypothesis.

60

A HISTORY OF

grove ; some white, some green ; and all receding
in due perspective. They struck us with the more
amazement, as we knew them to be mere pro-
ductions of Nature, who, hitherto in solitude,
had, in her playful moments, dressed the scene, as
if for her own amusement.

“ But we had as yet seen but a few of the
wonders of the place; and were introduced only
into the portico of this amazing temple. In one
corner of this half illuminated recess, there ap-
peared an opening of about three feet wide, which
seemed to lead to a place totally dark, and that
one of the natives assured us contained nothing
more than a reservoir of water. Upon this we
tried, by throwing down some stones, which rum-
bling along the sides of the descent for some time,
the sound seemed at last quashed in a bed of water.
In order, however, to be more certain, we sent in
a Levantine mariner, who, by the promise of a
good reward, with a flambeaux in his hand, ven-
tured into this narrow aperture. After continuing
within it for about a quarter of an hour, he re-
turned, carrying some beautiful pieces of white
spar in his hand, which art could neither imitate
nor equal. Upon being informed by him that the
place was full of these beautiful incrustations, I
ventured in once more with him, for about fifty
paces, anxiously and cautiously descending by a
steep and dangerous way. Finding, however, that
we came to a precipice which led into a spacious
amphitheatre, if I may so call it, still deeper than
any other part, we returned, and being provided
with a ladder, flambeaux, and other things to ex-
pedite our descent, our whole company, man by

1

THE EARTH.

61

man, ventured into the same opening, and de-
scending one after another, we at last saw ourselves
all together in the most magnificent part of the'
cavern.

“ Our candles being now all lighted up, and the
whole place completely illuminated, never could
the eye be presented with a more glittering, or a
more magnificent scene. The roof all hung with
solid icicles, transparent as glass, yet solid as mar-
ble. The eye could scarcely reach the lofty and
noble ceiling ; the sides were regularly formed
with spars ; and the whole presented the idea of a
magnificent theatre, illuminated with an immense
profusion of lights. The floor consisted of solid
marble, and in several places, magnificent columns,
thrones, altars, and other objects appeared, as if
nature had designed to mock the curiosities of
art. Our voices, upon speaking or singing, were
redoubled to an astonishing loudness; and upon
the firing of a gun, the noise and reverberations
were almost deafening. In the midst of this grand
amphitheatre rose a concretion of about fifteen
feet high, that, in some measure, resembled an al-
tar; from which, taking the hint, we caused mass
to be celebrated there. The beautiful columns
that shot up round the altar, appeared like candle-
sticks ; and many other natural objects represented
the customary ornaments of this sacrament.

“ Below even this spacious grotto, there seemed
another cavern ; down which I ventured with my
former mariner, and descended about fifty paces by
means of a rope. I at last arrived at a small spot
of level ground, where the bottom appeared differ-
ent from that of the amphitheatre, being composed

62

A HISTORY OF

of a soft clay, yielding to the pressure, and in
which I thrust a stick to about six feet deep. In
this, however, as above, numbers of the most
beautiful crystals were formed : one of which,
particularly, resembled a table. Upon our egress
from this amazing cavern, we perceived a Greek
inscription upon a rock at the mouth, but so obli-
terated by time that we could not read it. It
seemed to import that one Antipater, in the time
of Alexander, had come thither ; but whether he
penetrated into the depths of the cavern, he does
not think fit to inform us.”

Such is the account of this beautiful scene, as
communicated in a letter to Kircher. We have
another, and a more copious description of it by
Tournefort, which is in every body’s hands; but I
have given the above, both because it was com-
municated by the first discoverer, and because it
is a simple narrative of facts, without any reason-
ing upon them. According to Tournefort's ac-
count, indeed, we might conclude, from the rapid
growth of the spars in this grotto, that it must
every year be growing narrower, and that it must,
in time, be choaked up with them entirely; but no
such thing has happened hitherto, and the grotto,
at this day, continues as spacious as we ever knew
it.

This is not a place for an inquiry into the seeming
vegetation of those stony substances with which
this and -almost every cavern are incrusted. It
is enough to observe, in general, that they are
formed by an accumulation of that little gritty
matter which is carried thither by the waters,
and which in time acquires the hardness of mar-

THE EARTH.

63

bie. What in this place more imports us to
know is, how these amazing hollows in the earth
came to be formed. And I think, in the three
instances above-mentioned, it is pretty evident,
that their excavation has been owing to water.
These finding subterraneous passages under the
earth, and by long degrees hollowing the beds in
which they flowed, the ground above them has
slipt down closer to their surface, leaving the
upper layers of the earth or stone still suspended.
The ground that sinks upon the face of the waters
forming the floor of the cavern ; the ground, or
rock that keeps suspended forming the roof :
and, indeed, there are but few of these caverns
found without water, either within them, or near
enough to point out their formation.

CHAP. VIII.

Of Mines, Damps , and Mineral Vapours.

rn

JL IIE caverns, which we have been describing-
generally carry us but a very little way below the
surface of the earth. Two hundred feet at the
utmost, is as much as the lowest of them is found to
sink. The perpendicular fissures run much deeper;
but few persons have been bold enough to venture
down to their deepest recesses : and some few
who have tried, have been able to bring back no
tidings of the place, for unfortunately they left their
lives below. The excavations of art have con-
ducted us much farther into the bowels of the
globe. Some mines in Hungary are known to be

64 A HISTORY OF

a thousand yards perpendicular downwards ; and
I have been informed, by good authority, of a
coal-mine in the north of England, an hundred
yards deeper still.

It is beside our present purpose to enquire into
the peculiar construction and contrivance of
these, which more properly belongs to the history
of fossils. It will be sufficient to observe in this
place, that as we descend into the mines, the va-
rious layers of earth are seen, as we have already
described them ; and in some of these are always
found the metals or minerals, for which the mine
has been dug. Thus frequently gold is found
dispersed and mixed with clay and gravel* ;
sometimes it is mingled with other metallic bodies,
stones or bitumens ; and sometimes f united with
that most obstinate of all substances, platina, from
which scarce any art can separate it. Silver is
sometimes found quite purej, sometimes mixed
with other substances and minerals. Copper is
found in beds mixed with various substances,
marbles, sulphurs, and pyrites. Tin, the ore of
which is heavier than that of any other metal, is
generally found mixed with every kind of matter :
lead§ is also equally common ; and iron we well
know can be extracted from all the substances
upon earth.

The variety of substances which are thus
found in the bowels of the earth, in their native
state, have a very different appearance from what
they are afterwards taught to assume by human

* Ulloa, vol. ii. p. 470. f Ulloa, ibid.

J Macquer’s Chemistry, vol. i. p. 316.

^ Hill’s Fossils, p. 628.

THE EARTH. G5

' industry. The richest metals are very often less
©•littering and splendid than the most useless
marcasites, and the basest ores are in general the
most beautiful to the eye.

This variety of substances, which compose the
internal parts of our globe, is productive of
equal varieties both above and below its surface.
The combination of the different minerals with
each other, the heats which arise from their
mixture, the vapours they diffuse, the fires which
they generate, or the colds which they sometimes
produce, are all either noxious or salutary to ,
man ; so that, in this great elaboratory of nature,
a thousand benefits and calamities are forging,
of which we are wholly unconscious; and it is
happy for us that we are so.

# Upon our descent into mines of considerable
depth, the cold seems to increase from the
mouth as we descend; but after passing very
low down, we begin, by degrees, to come into a
warmer air, which sensibly grows hotter as we
go deeper, till, at last, the labourers can scarcely
bear any covering as they continue working.

This difference in the air was supposed by
Boyle to proceed from magazines of fire that key
nearer the centre, and that diffused their heat
to the adjacent regions. But we now know that
it may be ascribed to more obvious causes. ' In
some mines the composition of the earth all
around is of such a nature, that, upon the admis-
sion of water or air, it frequently becomes hot,
and often bursts out into eruptions. Besides

* Boyle, vol. iii. p. 232.

F •

VOL. I#

66

A HISTORY OF

thb, as the external air cannot readily reach the
bottom, or be renewed there, an observable
heat is perceived below, without the necessity
of recurring to the central heat for an explana-
tion.

Hence, therefore, there are two principal causes
of the warmth at the bottom of mines : the
heat of the substances of which the sides are
composed ; and the want of renovation in the
air below. Any sulphureous substance mixed
with iron, produces a very great heat, by the
admission of water. If, for instance, a quantity
of sulphur be mixed with a proportionable share
of iron filings, and both kneaded together into a
soft paste, with water, they will soon grow hot,
and at last produce a flame; This experiment,
produced by art, is very commonly effected within
the bowels of the earth by nature. Sulphurs and
irons are intimately blended together, and want
only the mixture of water or air to excite their
heat; and this, when once raised, is communi-
cated to all bodies that lie within the sphere of their
operation. Those beautiful minerals called mar-
casites and pyrites, are often of this composition ;
and wherever they are found, either by imbibing
the moisture of the air, or having been by any
means combined with water, they render the
mine considerably hot*.

The want of fresh air, also, at these depths, is,
as we have said, another reason for their being
found much hotter. Indeed, \yithout the assist-
ance of art, the bottom of most mines would,

* Kircher Mund. Subt. vol. ii. p. 216.

THE EARTH.

61

from this cause, be insupportable. To remedy
this inconvenience, the miners are often obliged
to sink at some convenient distance from the
mouth of the pit where they are at work, an-
other pit, which joins the former below, and
which, in Derbyshire, is called an air shaft.
Through this the air circulates ; and thus the
workmen are enabled to breathe freely at. the
bottom of the place ; which becomes, as Mr. Boyle
affirms, very commodious for respiration ; and
also very temperate as to heat and cold*. Mr.
Locke, however, who has left us an account of the
Mendip mines, seems to present a different pic-
ture. “ The descent into these is exceeding dif-
ficult and dangerous ; for they are not sunk like
wells, perpendicularly, but as the crannies of the
rocks happen to run. The constant method is to
swing down by a rope, placed under the arms, and
clamber along, by applying both feet and hands
to the sides of the narrow passage. The air is con-
veyed into them through a little passage that runs
along the sides from the top, where they set up
some turfs, on the lee- side of the hole, to catch
and force it down. These turfs being removed to
the windy side, or laid over the mouth of the hole,
the miners below presently want breath, and faint;
and if sweet smelling-fiowers chance to be placed
there, they immediately lose their fragrancy,
and stink like carrion.” An air so very putrify-
ing can never be very commodious for respi-
ration.

Indeed, if we examine the complexion of most

* Boyle, vol. iii. p. 238.

Q

1-

68

A HISTORY OF

miners, we shall be very well able to form a judg-»
ment of the unwholesomeness of the place where
they are confined. Their pale and sallow looks
shew how much the air is damaged by passing
through those deep and winding ways, that are
rendered humid by damps, or warmed with
noxious exhalations. But although every mine
is unwholesome, all are not equally so. Coal-
mines are generally less noxious than those of
tin; tin than those of copper; but none are so
dreadfully destructive as those of quicksilver.
At the mines near the village of Idra, nothing-
can adequately describe the deplorable infirmi-
ties of such as fill the hospital there : emaciated
and crippled, every limb contracted or convulsed,
and some in a manner transpiring quicksilver at
every pore. There was one man, says Dr. Pope*
who was not in the mines above half a year, and
yet whose body was so impregnated with this mi-,
neral, that putting a piece of brass money in his
mouth, or rubbing it between his fingers, it imme-
diately became as white as if it had been washed
over with quicksilver. In this manner all the
workmen are killed, sooner or later ; first becom-
ing paralytic, and then dying consumptive : and
all this they sustain for the trifling reward of
seven-pence a day.

But these metallic' mines are not so noxious
from their own vapours, as from those of the
substances with which the ores are usually united,
such as arsenic, cinnabar, bitumen, or vitriol.
From the fumes of these, variously combined,

* Phil. Trans, vol. ii. p. 578,

THE EARTH.

69

and kept enclosed, are produced those various
damps that put on so many dreadful forms, and
are usually so fatal. Sometimes those noxious
vapours are perceived by the delightful fragrance
of their smell*, somewhat resembling the pea-
blossom in bloom, from whence one kind of
damp has its name. The miners are not de-
ceived, however, by its flattering appearances ;
but as they have thus timely notice of its com-
ing, they avoid it while it continues, which
is generally during the whole summer season.
Another shews its approach by the burning of
the candles, which seem to collect their flame
into a globe of light, and thus gradually lessen,
till they are quite extinguished. From this, also,
the miners frequently escape ; however, such as
have the misfortune to be caught in it, either
swoon away, and are suffocated, or slowly reco-
ver in excessive agonies. Here also is a third,
called the fulminating damp, much more dan-
gerous than either of the former, as it strikes
down all before it, like a flash of gunpowder,
without giving any warning of its approach.
But there is another, more dangerous than all
the rest, which is found in those places where
the vapour has been long confined, and has
been by some accident set free. The air rushing
out from thence, always goes upon deadly er-
rands ; and scarce any escape to describe the
symptoms of its operations.

Some colliers in Scotland, working near an old
mine that had been long closed up, happened

* Phil. Tran?, vol. p. ii. 375.

F 3

70

A HISTORY OF

inadvertently to open a hole into it, from the pit
where they were then employed. By great good
fortune, they at that time perceived their error,
and instantly fled for their lives. The next day,
however, they were resolved to renew their work
in the same pit, and eight of them ventured down,
without any great apprehensions; but they had
scarcely got to the bottom of the stairs that led
to the pit, but coming within the vapour, they
all instantly dropped down dead, as if they had
been shot. Amongst these unfortunate poor men,
there was one whose wife was informed that he
Was stifled in the mine ; and as he happened to be
next the entrance, she so far ventured down as to
see where he lay. As she approached the place,
the sight of her husband inspired her with a deT
, sire to rescue him, if possible, from that dreadful
situation ; though a little reflection might have
shewn her it was then too late. But nothing
could deter her ; she ventured forward, and had
scarcely touched him with her hand, when the
damp prevailed, and the misguided, but faithful
creature, fell dead by his side.

Thus, the vapours found beneath the. surface
of the earth are very various in their effects upon
the constitution : and they are not less in their
appearances. There are many kinds that seem-
ingly are no way prejudicial to health, but in
which the workman breathe freely ; and yet in
these, if a lighted candle be introduced, they
immediately take fire, and the whole cavern at
once becomes one furnace of flame. In mines,
therefore, subject to damps of this kind, they are
obliged to have recourse to a very peculiar con-

THE EARTH.

71

trivance to supply sufficient light for their opera-
tions. This is by a great wheel, the circumfe-
rence of which is heset with flints, which strik-
ing against steels placed for that purpose at the
extremity, a stream of fire is produced, which
affords light enough ; and yet which does not set
fire to the mineral vapour.

Of this kind are the vapours of the mines about
Bristol: on the contrary, in other mines, a single
spark struck out from the collision of flint and
steel, would set the whole shaft in a flame. In
such, therefore, every precaution is used to avoid
a collision ; the workmen making use only of
wooden instruments in digging : and being cau-
tious, before they enter the mine, to take out
even the nails from their shoes. Whence this
strange difference should arise, that the vapours
of some mines catch fire with a spark, and others
only with a flame, is a question that we must be
content to leave in obscurity, till we know more
of the nature both of mineral vapour and of fire.
This only we may observe, that gunpowder will
readily fire with a spark, but not with the flame
of a candle : on the other hand, spirits of wine
will flame with a candle, but not with a spark ;
but even here the cause of this difference, as yet,
remains a secret.

As from this account of mines, it appears that
the internal parts of the globe are filled with va-
pours of various kinds, it is not surprising, that
they should at different times reach the surface,
and there put on various appearances. In fact,
much of the salubrity, and much of the unwhole-
someness of climates and soils, is to be ascribed

f 4

72

A HISTORY OF

to these vapours, which make their way from the'
bowels of the earth upwards, and refresh or taint
the air with their exhalations. Salt-mines being
naturally cold, * send forth a degree of coldness
to the external air, to comfort and refresh it : on
The contrary, metallic mines are known, not only
to warm it with their exhalations, but often to
destroy all kinds of vegetation by their volatile
corrosive fumes. In some mines dense vapours
are plainly perceived issuing from their mouths,
and sensibly warm to the touch. In some places,
neither snow nor ice will continue on the ground
that covers a mine ; and over others the fields are
found destitute of verdure.']' The inhabitants,
also, are rendered dreadfully sensible of these
subterraneous exhalations, being affected with
such a variety of evils proceeding entirely from
this cause, that books have been professedly writ-
ten upon this class of disorders.

Nor are these vapours, which thus escape to the
surface of the earth, entirely unconfined; for ’they
are frequently, in a manner, circumscribed to 'a
spot. The grotto Del Cane, near Naples, is an
instance of this ; the noxious effects of which
have made that cavern so very famous. This
grotto, which has so much employed the atten-
tion of travellers, lies within four miles of Na-
plesj and is situated near a large lake of clear
and wholesome water. J Nothing can exceed the
beauty of the landscape which this lake affords ;
being* surrounded with hills covered with forests

* Phil. Trans, vol. ii. p. 523. + Boyle, vol. iii. p. 238.

t Kirchcr Mund. Subt. vol. i. p. 191.

THE EARTH.

73

of the most beautiful verdure, and the whole
bearing a kind of amphitheatrical appearance.
However, this region, beautiful as it appears, is
almost entirely uninhabited; the few peasants
that necessity compels to reside there, looking
quite consumptive and ghastly, from the poison-
ous exhalations that rise from the earth. The
famous grotto lies on the side of a hill, near
which place a peasant resides, who keeps a num-
ber of dogs, for the purpose of shewing the ex-
periment to the curious. These poor animals al-
ways seem perfectly sensible of the approach of
a stranger, and endeavour to get out of the way.
However, their attempts being perceived, they
are taken and brought to the grotto ; the noxious
effects of which they have so frequently experi-
enced. Upon entering this place, which is a lit-
tle cave, or hole rather, dug into the hill, about
eight feet high and twelve feet long, the observer
can see no visible marks of its pestilentkil vapour;
only to about a foot from the bottom, the wall
seems to be tinged with a colour resembling that
which is given by stagnant waters. When the
dog, this poor philosophical martyr, as some have
called him, is held above this mark, he does not
seem to feel the smallest inconvenience; but when
his head is thrust down lower, he struggles to get
tree for a little; but in the space of four or five
minutes lie seems to lose all sensation, and is ta-
ken out seemingly without life. Being plunged
in the neighbouring lake, he quickly recovers,
and is permitted to run home seemingly without
the smallest injury.

This vapour, which thus for a time suffocates,

74

A HISTORY OF

is of a humid kind, as it extinguishes a torch,
and sullies a looking-glass ; but there are other
vapours perfectly inflammable, and that only re-
quire the approach of a candle to set them blaz-
ing. Of this kind was the burning well at
Brosely, which is now stopped up ; the vapour of
which, when a candle was brought within about
a foot of the surface of the water, caught flame
like spirits of wine, and continued blazing for
several hours after. Of this kind, also, are the
perpetual fires in the kingdom of Persia. In that
province, where the worshippers of fire hold their
chief mysteries, the whole surface of the earth,
for some extent, seems impregnated with inflam-
mable vapours. A reed stuck into the ground
continues to burn like a flambeau; a hole made
beneath the surface of the earth, instantly be-
comes a furnace, answering all the purposes of -
a culinary fire. There they make lime by merely
burying the stones in the earth, and watch with
veneration the appearances of a flame that has
not been extinguished for times immemorial. —
How different are men in various climates ! This
deluded people worship these vapours as a deity,
which in other parts of the world are considered
as one of the greatest evils.

i

, ■

1

THE EARTH.

75

CHAP. IX.

Of Volcanoes and Earthquakes.

Mines and caverns, as we have said, reach
but a very little way under the surface of the
earth, and we have hitherto had no opportunities
of exploring further. Without all doubt the
wonders that are still unknown surpass those that
have been represented, as there are depths of
thousands of miles which are hidden from our
enquiry. The only tidings we have from those
unfathomable regions are by means of volcanoes,
those burning mountains that seem to discharge
their materials from the lowest abysses of the
earth. # A volcano may be considered as a can-
non of immense size, the mouth of which is of-
ten near two miles in circumference. From this
dreadful aperture are discharged torrents of flame
and sulphur, and rivers of melted metal. Whole
clouds of smoke and ashes, with rocks of enor-
mous size, are discharged to many miles distance;
so that the force of the most powerful artillery
is but as a breeze agitating a feather in compari-
son. In the deluge of fire and melted matter
which runs down the sides of the mountain,
whole cities are sometimes swallowed up and con-
sumed. Those rivers of liquid fire are sometimes
two hundred feet deep; and, when they harden,
frequently form considerable hills. Nor is the

* Buffon, vol. i. p. 291.

76

A HISTORY OF

danger of these confined to the eruption only ;
but the force of the internal fire struggling for vent,
frequently produces earthquakes through the whole
region where the volcano is situated. So dreadful
have been these appearances, that men’s terrors
have added new horrors to the scene, and they
have regarded as prodigies, what we know to be
the result of natural causes. Some philosophers
have considered them as vents communicating
with the fires of the centre, and the ignorant as
the mouths of hell itself. Astonishment produces
fear, and fear superstition : the inhabitants of Ice-
land believe the bellowings of Iiecla are nothing
else but the cries of the damned, and that its
eruptions are contrived to increase their tortures.

But if we regard this astonishing scene of terror
with a more tranquil and inquisitive eye, we shall
find that these conflagrations are produced by very
obvious and natural causes. We have already been
apprized of the various mineral substances in the
bosom of the earth, and their aptness to burst
out into flames. Marcasites and pyrites, in par-
ticular, by being humified with water, or air, con-
tract this heat, and often endeavour to expand
with irresistible explosion. These, therefore, being
lodged in the depths of the earth, or in the bosom
of mountains, and being either washed by the ac-
cidental influx of waters below, or fanned by air,
insinuating itself through perpendicular fissures
from above, take fire at first by only heaving in
earthquakes, but, at length, by bursting through
every obstacle, and making their dreadful discharge
in a volcano.

THE EARTH.

77

These volcanoes are found in all parts of the
earth : in Europe there are three that are very
remarkable; iEtna in Sicily, Vesuvius in Italy, and
Hecla in Iceland. iEtna has been a volcano for
ages immemorial. Its eruptions are very violent,
and its discharge has been known to cover the earth
sixty-eight feet deep. In the year 1537, an eruption
of this mountain produced an earthquake through
the whole island, for twelve days, overturned
many houses, and at last formed a new aperture
which overwhelmed all within five leagues round.
The cinders thrown up were driven even into Italy,
and its burnings were seen at Malta at the distance
of sixty leagues. There is nothing more awful,
says Kircher, than the eruptions of this mountain,
nor nothing more dangerous than attempting to
examine its appearances, even long after the eruption
has ceased. As we attempt to clamber up its steepy
sides, every step we take upward, the feet sink
back half way. Upon arriving near the summit,
ashes and snow, with an ill-assorted conjunction
present nothing but objects of desolation. Nor
is this the worst, for, as all places are covered over,
many caverns are entirely hidden from the sight,
into which, if the enquirer happens to fall, he
sinks to the bottom, and meets inevitable des-
truction. Upon coming to the edge of the great
crater, nothing can sufficiently represent the tre-
mendous magnificence of the scene. A gulph
two miles over, and so deep that no bottom can
be seen ; on the sides pyramidical rocks starting
out between apertures that emit smoke and flame;
all this accompanied with a sound that never ceases,
louder than thunder, strikes the bold with horror,

T8 A HISTORY OF

and the religious with veneration for him that has
power to control its burnings.

In the descriptions of Vesuvius, or Hecla, we
shall find scarcely any thing but a repetition of the
same terrible objects, but rather lessened, as these
mountains are not so large as the former. The
crater of Vesuvius is but a mile across, ascordine:
to the sameauthor; whereas that of .-Etna is two.
On this particular, however, we must place no
depen dance, as these caverns every day alter ;
being lessened by the mountains sinking in atone
eruption, and enlarged by the fury of another. It
is not one of the least remarkable particulars res-
pecting Vesuvius, that Pliny the naturalist was
suffocated in one of its eruptions; for his curiosity
impelling him too near, he found himself involved
in smoke and cinders when it was too late to re-
tire ; and his companions hardly escaped to give
an account of the misfortune. It was in that
dreadful eruption that the city of Herculaneum
was overwhelmed, the ruins of which have been
lately discovered at sixty feet distance below the
surface, and, what is still more remarkable, forty
feet below the bed of the sea. One of the most
remarkable eruptions of this mountain was in the
year 1707; which is finely described by Valetta, a }
part of whose description I shall beg leave to
translate.

“ Towards the latter end of summer, in the year
1707, the mount Vesuvius, that had for a long time
been silent, now began to give some signs of com-
motion. Little more than internal murmurs at
first were heard, that seemed to contend within the
lowest depths of the mountain ; no flame, nor even

THE EARTH.

19

any smoke, was as yet seen. Soon after some smoke
appeared by clay, and a flame by night, which
seemed to brighten all the campania. At intervals
also it shot off substances with a sound very like
that of artillery, but which, even at so great a
distance as we were at, infinitely exceeded them
in greatness. Soon after it began to throw up
ashes, which becoming the sport of the winds, fell
at great distances, and some many miles. To this
succeeded showers of stones, which killed many
of the inhabitants of the valley, but made a
dreadful ravage among the cattle. Soon after a
torrent of burning matter began to roll down the
sides of the mountain, at first with a slow and
gentle motion, but soon with increased celerity.
The matter thus poured out, when cold, seemed,
upon inspection, to be of vitrified earth, the whole
united into a mass of more than stony hardness.
But what was particularly observable was, that,
upon the whole surface of these melted materials,
a light spongy stone seemed to float, while the
lower body was of the hardest substance, of which
our roads are usually made. Hitherto there were
no appearances but what had been often remarked
before: but on the third or fourth day, seeming
flashes of lightning were shot forth from the mouth
of the mountain, with a noise far exceeding: the
loudest thunder. These flashes, in colour and
brightness, resembled what we usually see in tem-
pests, but they assumed a more twisted and ser-
pentine form. After this followed such clouds of
smoke and ashes, that the whole city of Naples,
in the midst of the day, was involved in nocturnal
darkness, and the nearest friends were umable to

so

A HISTORY OF

distinguish each other in this frightful gloom. If
any person attempted to stir out without torch-
light he was obliged to return, and every part of
the city was filled with supplications and terror ;
at length, after a continuance of some hours,
about one o'clock at midnight, the wind blowing
from the north, the stars began to be seen ; the
heavens, though it was night, began to grow
brighter ; and the eruptions, after a continuance
of fifteen days, to lessen. The torrent of melted
matter was seen to extend from the mountain down
to the shore ; the people began to return to their
former dwellings, and the whole face of nature
to resume its former appearance.”

The famous bishop Berkley gives an account of
one of these eruptions in a manner something dif-
fering from the former. *“ In the year 171 7, and
the middle of April, with much difficulty I reached
the top of mount Vesuvius, in which I saw a vast
aperture full of smoke, which hindered me from
seeing its depth and figure. I heard within that
horrid gulph certain extraordinary sounds, which
seemed to proceed from the bowels of the moun-
tain, a sort of murmuring, sighing, dashing sound,
and between whiles a noise like that of thunder or
cannon, with a clattering like that of tiles falling
from the tops of houses into the streets. Some-
times, as the wind changed, the smoke grew thin-f
ner, discovering a very ruddy flame, and the cir-
cumference of the crater streaked with red and
several shades of yellow. After an hour’s stay,
the smoke being moved by the wind, gave us short

* Phil. Trans, vol. ii. p. 209.

3

THE EARTH. 81

and partial prospects of the great hollow : in the
flat bottom of which I could discern two furnaces
almost contiguous; that on the left seeming about
three yards over, glowing with ruddy flame, and
throwing up red-hot stones, with an hideous
noise, which, as they fell hack, caused the clat-
tering already taken notice of. May 8, in the
morning, I ascended the top of Vesuvius a second
time, and found a different face of things. The
smoke ascending upright, gave a full prospect
of the crater, which, as I could judge, was
about a mile in circumference, and a hundred
yards deep. A conical mount had been formed
since my last visit, in the middle of the bottom,
which I could see was made by the stones,
thrown up and fallen back again into the crater.
In this new hill remained the two furnaces already
mentioned. The one was seen to throw up every
three or four minutes, with a dreadful sound, a
vast number of red-hot stones, at least three
hundred feet higher than my head, as I stood
upon the brink ; but as there was no wind, they
fell perpendicularly back from whence they had
been discharged. The other was filled with red-
hot liquid matter, like that in the furnace of a
' glass-house ; raging and working like the waves
of the sea, with a short abrupt noise. This mat-
ter would sometimes boil over, and run down
the side of the conical hill, appearing at first red-
hot, but changing colour as it hardened and
cooled. Had the wind driven in our faces, we
had been in no small danger of stifling by the
sulphureous smoke, or being killed by the masses
of melted minerals, that were shot from the bot-

/ VOL. I. G

82 A HISTORY OF

tom. But as the wind was favourable, I had an
opportunity of surveying this amazing scene for
above an hour and a half together. On the fifth
of June, after a horrid noise, the mountain was
seen at Naples to work over ; and, about three
days after, its thunders were renewed so, that
not only the windows in the city, but all the
houses shook. From that time it continued to
overflow, and sometimes at night were seen co-
lumns of fire shooting upward from its summit.
On the tenth, when all was thought to be over,
the mountain again renewed its terrors, roaring
and raging most violently. One cannot form a
juster idea of the noise, in the most violent fits
of it, than by imagining a mixed sound, made up
of the raging of a tempest, the murmur of a
troubled sea, and the roaring of thunder and ar-
tillery, confused all together. Though we heard
this at a distance of twelve miles, yet it was very
terrible. I therefore resolved to approach nearer to
the mountain; and accordingly, three or four of
us o-ot into a boat, and were set ashore at a little
town, situated at the foot of the mountain. From
thence we rode about four or five miles, before
we came to the torrent of fire that was descend-

\

ing from the side of the volcano ; and here the
roaring grew exceeding loud and terrible as we
approached. I observed a mixture of colours in
the cloud, above the crater, green, yellow, red,
blue. There was likewise a ruddy dismal light in
the air, over that tract where the burning river
flowed. These circumstances, set oflf and aug-
mented by tire horror of the night, made a scene
the most uncommon and astonishing I ever saw;

THE EARTH.

83

which still increased as we approached the burn-
ing river. Imagine a vast torrent of liquid fire,
rolling from the top down the side of the moun-
tain, and with irresistible fury bearing down and
consuming vines, olives, and houses ; and divided
into different channels, according to the inequa-
lities of the mountain. The largest stream seemed
half a mile broad, at least, and five miles long.
I walked so far before my companions up the
mountain, along the side of the river of fire, that I
was obliged to retire in great haste, the sulphureous
steam having surprised me, and almost taken
away my breath. During our return, which was
about three o’clock in the morning, the roaring
of the mountain was heard all the way, while we
observed it throwing up huge spouts of fire and
burning stones, which falling resembled the stars
in a rocket. Sometimes I observed two or three
distinct columns of flame, and sometimes one only,
that was large enough to fill the whole crater.
These burning columns, and fiery stones, seemed
to be shot a thousand feet perpendicular above
the summit of the volcano : and in this manner
the mountain continued raging for six or eight
days after. On the eighteenth of the same month
the whole appearance ended, and the mountain
remained perfectly quiet, without any visible
smoke or flame.”

The matter which is found to roll down from
the mouth of all volcanoes in general, resembles
the dross that is thrown from a smith’s for<re.
But it is different, perhaps, in various parts of
the globe ; for, as we have already said, there
is not a quarter of the world that has not its

c 2

84

A HISTORY OF

volcanoes. In Asia, particularly in the island's
of the Indian ocean, there are many. One of
the most famous is that of Albouras, near Mount
Taurus, the summit of which is continually on
lire, and covers the whole adjacent country with
ashes. In the island ofTernate there is a vol-
cano, which, some travellers assert, burns most
furiously in the times of the equinoxes, because
of the winds which then contribute to increase
the flames. In the Molucca islands, there are
many burning mountains ; they are also seen in
Japan, and the islands adjacent; and in Java
and Sumatra, as well as in other of the Philippine
islands. In Africa there is a cavern, near Fez,
which continually sends forth either smoke or
flames. In the Cape de Verde islands, one of
them, called the Island del Fuego, continually
burns; and the Portuguese, who frequently at-
tempted a settlement there, have as often been
obliged to desist. The Peak of Teneriffe is, as
every body knows, a volcano that seldom desists
from eruptions. But of all parts of the earth,
America is the place where those dreadful irregu-
larities of nature are the most conspicuous. Ve-
suvius, and ./Etna itself, are but mere fire-works,
in comparison to the burning mountains of the
Andes ; which, as they are the highest moun-
tains of the world, so also are they the most for-
midable for their eruptions. The mountain of
Arequipa, in Peru, is one of the most celebrated ;
Carassa, and Malahallo, are very considerable ;
but that of Cotopaxi, in the province of Quito,
exceeds anv thing we have hitherto read or heard
of. The mountain of Cotopaxi, as described by

THE EARTH.

85

Ulloa*, is more than three miles perpendicular
from the sea; and it became a volcano at the
time of the Spaniards' first arrival in that country.
A new eruption of it happened in the year 1743,
having been some days preceded by a continual
roaring in its bowels. The sound of one of these
mountains is not like that of the volcanoes in Eu-
rope, confined to a province, but is heard at an
hundred and fifty miles distanced “ An aper-
ture was made in the summit of this immense
mountain ; and three more about equal heights,
near the middle of its declivity, which \ras at
that time buried under prodigious masses of snow.
The ignited substances ejected on that occasion,
mixed with a prodigious quantity of ice and snow,
melting amidst the flames, were carried down with
such astonishing rapidity, that in an instant the
valley from Callo to Latucunga was overflowed ;
and besides its ravages in bearing down the houses
of the Indians, and other poor inhabitants, great
numbers of people lost their lives. The river of
Latucunga was the channel of this terrible flood ;
till being too small for receiving such a prodigious
current, it overflowed the adjacent country, like
a vast lake, near the town, and carried away all the
buildings within its reach. The inhabitants re-
tired into a spot of higher ground behind the
town, of which those parts which stood within
the limits of the current were totally destroyed.
The dread of still greater devastations did not sub-
side for three days; during which the volcano
ejected cinders, while torrents of melted ice and

Ulloa, vol. i. p. 442.

G 3

+ Ibid.

86 A HISTORY OE

snow poured down its sides. The eruption lasted
several days, and was accompanied with terrible
roarings of the wind, rushing through the vol-
cano still louder than the former rumblings in its
bowels. At last all was quiet, neither fire nor
smoke to be seen, nor noise to be heard ; till, in the
ensuing year, the flames again appeared with re-
cruited violence, forcing their passage through
several other parts of the mountain, so that in clear
nights the flames being reflected by the trans-
parent ice, formed an awfully magnificent illumi-
nation.”

Such is the appearance and the effect of those
fires which proceed from the more inward re-
cesses of the earth ; for that they generally come
from deeper regions than man has hitherto ex-
plored, I cannot avoid thinking, contrary to the
opinion of Mr. Buffon, who supposes them rooted
but a very little way below the bed of the moun-
tain. We can never suppose, says this great
naturalist, that these substances are ejected
from any great distance below, if we only con-
sider the great force already required to fling
them up to such vast heights above the mouth of
the mountain; if we consider the substances
thrown up, which we shall find, upon inspection,
to be the same with those of the mountain be-
low; if we take into our consideration, that air
is always necessary to keep up the flame ; but,
most of all, if we attend to one circumstance,
which is, that if these substances were exploded
from a vast depth below, the same force required
to shoot them up so high, would act against the
sides of the volcano, and tear the whole mountain

THE EARTH. 87

in pieces. To all this specious reasoning, particular
answers might be easily given ; as that the length
of the funnel increases the force of the explo-
sion ; that the sides of the funnel are actually
often burst with the great violence of the flame ;
that air may be supposed at depths at least as far
as the perpendicular fissures descend. But the best
answer is a well-known fact ; namely, that the
quantity of matter discharged from fEtna alone,
is supposed, upon a moderate computation, to ex-
ceed twenty times the original bulk of the moun-
tain*. The greatest part of Sicily seems covered
with its eruptions. The inhabitants of Catanea
have found, at the distance of several miles,
streets and houses, sixty feet deep, overwhelmed
by the lava or matter it has discharged. But
what is still more remarkable, the walls of these
very houses have been built of materials evidently
thrown up by the mountain. The inference from all
this is very obvious; that the matter thus exploded
cannot belong to the mountain itself, otherwise,
it would have been quickly consumed ; it cannot
be derived from moderate depths, since its amaz-
ing quantity evinces that all the places near the
bottom must have long since been exhausted;
nor can it have an extensive, and, if I may so call
it, a superficial spread, for then the country round
would be quickly undermined ; it must, there-
fore, be supplied from the deeper regions of the
earth ; those undiscovered tracts were the Deity
performs his wonders in solitude, satisfied with
self approbation !

* Kircher, Mund. Subt. vol. i. p. 209,
G 4

88

A HISTORY OF

CHAP. X.

Of Earthquakes.

HaVIKG given the theory of volcanoes, wc
have in some measure given also that of earth-
quakes. They both seem to proceed from the
same cause, only with this difference, that the
fury of the volcano is spent in the eruption, that:
of an earthquake spreads wider, and acts more
fatally by being confined. The volcano only af-
frights a province, earthquakes have laid whole
kingdoms in ruin.

Philosophers * have taken some pains to dis-
tinguish between the various kinds of earth-
quakes, such as the tremulous, the pulsative, the
perpendicular, and the inclined ; but these are
rather the distinctions of art than of nature,
mere accidental differences, arising from the situ-
ation of the country or of the -cause. If, for in-
stance, the confined fire acts directly under a
province or a town, it will heave the earth per-
pendicularly upward, and produce a perpendicu-
lar earthquake. If it acts at a distance, it will
raise that tract obliquely, and thus the inhabi-
tants will perceive an inclined one.

Nor does it seem to me that there is much
greater reason for Mr. Buffon’s distinction of earth-
quakes, one kind of which he supposes! to be pro-
duced by fire, in the manner of volcanoes, and con-
fined but to a very narrow circumference. The

+ Bufifon, vol. ii. p. 328.

* Aristotle, Agricola, Buffon.

THE EARTH.

89

other kind he ascribes to the struggles of confined
air, expanded by heat in the bowels of the earth,
and endeavouring to get free. For how do these
two causes differ? Fire is an agent of no power
whatsoever without air. It is the air, which be-
ing at first compressed, and then dilated in a can-
non, that drives the ball with such force. It is
the air struggling for vent in a volcano, that
throws up its contents to such vast heights. In
short, it is the air confined in the bowels of the
earth, and acquiring elasticity by heat, that pro-
duces' all those appearances generally ascribed to
the operation of fire. When, therefore, we are
told that there are two causes of earthquakes, we
only learn, that a greater or smaller quantity of
heat produces those terrible effects; for air is the
only active operator in either.

Some philosophers, however, have been willing
to give the air as great a share in producing these
terrible efforts as they could; and, magnifying its
powers, have called in but a very moderate degree
of heat to put it in action. Although experience
tells us that the earth is full of inflammable mate-
rials, and that fires are produced wherever we de-
scend; although it tells us that those countries,
where there are volcanoes, are most subject to
earthquakes, yet they step out of the way, and
so find a new solution. These only allow but
just heat enough to produce the most dreadful
phenomena, and backing their assertions with
long calculations, give theory an air of demon-
stration. Mr. Amontons* has been particularly

* Memoires de I’Academie dc Sciences, an. 1703.

90 A HISTORY OF

sparing of the internal heat in this respect ; and
has shewn, perhaps accurately enough, that a
very moderate degree of heat may suffice to give
the air amazing powers of expansion.

It is astonishing, however, to trace the pro-
gress of a philosophical fancy let loose in imagi-
nary speculations. They run thus : “ A very mo-
derate degree of heat may bring the air into a
condition capable of producing earthquakes ; for
the air at the depth of forty-three thousand five
hundred and twenty-eight fathom below the sur-
face of the earth, becomes almost as heavy as
quicksilver. This, however, is but a very slight
depth in comparison of the distance to the cen-
tre, and is scarcely a seventieth part of the way.
The air, therefore, at the centre, must be infi-
nitely heavier than mercury, or any body that
we know of. This granted, we shall take some-
thing more, and say, that it is very probable there
is nothing but air at the centre. Now let us
suppose this air heated, by some means, even to
the degree of boiling water, as we have proved
that the density of the air is here very great, its
elasticity must he in proportion ; a heat, there-
fore, which at the surface of the earth would
have produced but a slight expansive force, must
at the centre produce one very extraordinary,
and, in short, be perfectly irresistible. Hence
this force may, with great ease, produce earth-
quakes; and, if increased, it may convulse the
globe ; it may, by only adding figures enough to
the calculation, destroy the solar system, and
even the fixed stars themselves.” These reveries
generally produce nothing ; for, as I haye ever

THE EARTH.

91

observed, increased calculations, while they seem
to tire the memory, give the reasoning faculty
perfect repose.

However, as earthquakes are the most formida-
ble ministers of nature, it is not to be wondered
that a multitude of writers have been curiously
employed in their consideration. Woodward has
ascribed the cause to a stoppage of the waters be-
low the earth’s surface, by some accident. These
being thus accumulated, and yet acted upon by
fires, which he supposes still deeper, both con-
tribute to heave up the earth upon their bosom.
This, he thinks, accounts for the lakes of water
produced in an earthquake, as well as for the fires
that sometimes burst from the earth’s surface upon
those dreadful occasions. There are others who
have supposed that the earth may be itself the
cause of its own convulsions. When, say they,
the root or basis of some large tract is worn away
by a fluid underneath, the earth sinking therein,
its weight occasions a tremor of the adjacent
parts, sometimes producing a noise, and some-
times an inundation of water. Not to tire the
reader with a history of opinions instead of facts,
some have ascribed them to electricity, and some
to the same causes that produce thunder.

It would be tedious, therefore, to give all the
various opinions that have employed the spe-
culative upon this subject. The activity of the
internal heat seems alone sufficient to account for
every appearance that attends these tremendous
irregularities of nature. To conceive this dis-
tinctly, let us suppose, at some vast distance
under the earth, large quantities of inflammable

92

A HISTORY OF

matter, pyrites, bitumens, and marcasites dispos-
ed, and only waiting for the aspersion of water,
or the humidity of the air, to put their fires in
motion ; at last, this dreadful mixture arrives ;
waters find their way into those depths, through
the perpendicular fissures : or air insinuates itself
through the same minute apertures; immediately
new appearances ensue: those substances, which
for ages before lay dormant, now conceive new
apparent qualities ; they grow hot, produce new
air, and only want room for expansion. How-
ever, the narrow apertures by which the air or
water had at first admission, are now closed up ;
yet as new air is continually generated, and as
the heat every moment gives this air new elasti-
city, it at length bursts, and dilates all round ;
and, in ifs struggles to get free, throws all above
It into similar convulsions. Thus an earthquake
is produced, more or less extensive, according to
the depth or the greatness of the cause.

But before we proceed with the causes, let us
take a short view of the appearances which have
attended the most remarkable earthquakes. By
these we shall see how far the theorist corresponds
with the historian. The greatest we find in an-
tiquity, is that mentioned by Pliny, * in which
twelve cities in Asia Minor were swallowed up in
one night. He tells us also of another, near the
lake Thrasy men e, which was not perceived by the
armies of the Carthaginians and Romans, that
were then engaged near that lake, although it
shook the greatest part of Italy. In another

* PUn. lib. ii. can. 86.

THE EARTH.

93

place * he gives the following account of an
earthquake of an extraordinary kind. “ When
Lucius Marcus, and Sextus Julius, were consuls,
there appeared a very strange prodigy of the
earth, (as I have read in the books of iEtrus-
can discipline) which happened in the province of
Mutina. Two mountains shocked against each
other, approaching and retiring with the most
dreadful noise. They, at the same time, and in
the midst of the day, appeared to cast forth
fire and smoke, while a vast number of Roman
knights and travellers from the JEmilian way,
stood and continued amazed spectators. Several
towns were destroyed by this shock ; and all the
animals that were near them were killed.” In the
times of Trajan, the city of Antioch, and a great
pin t of the adjacent country, was buried by an
earthquake. About three hundred years after,
in the times of Justinian, it was once more de-
stroyed, together with forty thousand inhabi-
tants : and, after an interval of sixty years, the
same ill-fated city was a third time overturned,
with the loss of not less than sixty thousand
souls. In the year 1182, most of the cities of
Syria, and the kingdom of Jerusalem, were de-
stroyed by the same accident. In the year 1594,
the Italian historians describe an earthquake at
Puteoli, which caused the se^a to retire two hun-
dred yards from its former bed.

But one of those most particularly described in
history, is that of the year 1 693; the damages
of which were chiefly felt in Sicily, but its mo-

* Plin. lib. Ui. cap. 85.

94-

A HISTORY OF

tion perceived in Germany, France, and England.
It extended to a circumference of two thousand
six hundred leagues ; chiefly affecting the sea-
coast and great rivers ; more perceivable, also,
upon the mountains than in the vallies. Its mo-
tions were so rapid, that those who lay at their
length, were tossed from side to side, as upon a
rolling billow.* The walls were dashed from
their foundations ; and no less than fifty-four
cities, with an incredible number of villages,
were either destroyed or greatly damaged. The
city of Catanea, in particular, was utterly over-
thrown. A traveller, who was on his way thi-
ther, at the distance of some miles, perceived a
black cloud, like night, hanging over the place.
The sea, all of a sudden, began to roar; Mount JEt-
na to send forth great spires of flame ; and soon
after a shock ensued, with a noise as if all the
artillery in the world had been at once discharg-
ed. Our traveller, being obliged to alight in-
stantly, felt himself raised a foot from the ground,
and turning his eyes to the city, he with amaze-
ment saw nothing but a thick cloud of dust
in the air. The birds flew about astonished ; the
sun was darkened ; the beasts ran howling fromt
the hills ; and, although the shock did not con-
tinue above three minutes, yet near nineteen
thousand of the inhabitants of Sicily perished in
the ruins. Catanea, to which city the describer
was travelling, seemed the principal scene of ruin;
its place only was to be found; and not a foot-
step of its former magnificence was to be seen
remaining.

* Phil. Trans.

THE EARTH.

95

The earthquake which happened in Jamaica, in
1692, was very terrible, and its description suf-
ficiently minute. “ In two minutes time it de-
stroyed the town of Port-Royal, and sunk the
houses in a gulph forty fathoms deep. It was at-
tended with a hollow rumbling noise, like that of
thunder ; and, in less than a minute, three parts
of the houses, and their inhabitants, were all
sunk quite under water. While they were thus
swallowed up on one side of the street, on the
other, the houses were thrown into heaps ; the
sand of the street rising like the waves of the sea,
lifting up those that stood upon it, and immedi-
ately overwhelming them in pits. All the wells
discharged their waters with the most vehement
agitation. The sea felt an equal share of turbu-
lence, and, bursting over its mounds, deluged
all that came in its way. The fissures of the
earth were, in some places, so great, that one of
the streets appeared twice as broad as formerly.
In many places, however, it opened and closed
again, and continued this agitation for some time.
Of these openings, two or three hundred might
be seen at a time; in some whereof the people
were swallowed up ; in others, the earth closing,
caught them by the middle, and thus crushed
them instantly to death. Other openings, still
more dreadful than the rest, swallowed up whole
streets ; and others, more formidable, spouted up
whole cataracts of water, drowning such as the
earthquake had spared. The whole was attended
with the most noisome stench ; while the thun-
dering of the distant falling mountains, the whole
sky overcast with a dusky gloom, and the crash

96

A HISTORY OF

of falling habitations, gave unspeakable horror
to the scene. After this dreadful calamity was
over, the whole island seemed converted into a
scene of desolation ; scarcely a planter’s house
was left standing; almost all were swallowed up;
houses, people, trees, shared one universal ruin ;
and, in their places, appeared great pools of wa-
ter, which, when dried up by the sun, left only
a plain of barren sand, without any vestige of
former inhabitants. Most of the rivers, during
the earthquake, were stopt up by the falling in
of the mountains ; and it was not till after some
time that they made themselves new channels.
The mountains seemed particularly attacked by
the force of the shock ; and it was supposed that
the principal seat of the concussion was among
them. Those who were saved, got on board
ships in the harbour; where many remained
above two months, the shocks continuing, dur-
ing that interval, with more or less violence every
day.”

As this description seems to exhibit all the ap-
pearances that usually make up the catalogue of
terrors belonging* to an earthquake, I will sup-
press the detail of that which happened at Lis-
bon, in our own times, and which is too recent
to require a description. In fact, there are few
particulars in the accounts of those who were pre-
sent at that scene of desolation, that we have not
more minutely and accurately transmitted to us
by former writers, whose narratives I have for
that reason preferred. I will therefore close this
description of human calamities, with the ac-
count of the dreadful earthquake at Calabria, in

THE EARTH.

91

1638. It is related by the celebrated Father
Kircher, as it happened while he was on his jour-
ney to visit Mount AEtna, and the rest of the
wonders that lie towards the south of Italy. I
need scarcely inform the reader that Kircher is
considered, by scholars, as one of the greatest
prodigies of learning.

“ Having hired a boat, in company with four
more, two friars of the order of St. Francis, and
two seculars, we launched, on the twenty-fourth
of March, from the harbour of Messina, in Sicily,
and arrived, the same day, at the promontory of
Pelorus. Our destination was for the city of Eu-
phremia, in Calabria, where we had some business
to transact, and where we designed to tarry for
some time. However, Providence seemed willing
to cross our design ; for we were obliged to con-
tinue for three days at Pelorus, upon account of
the weather, and though we often put out to sea,
yet we were as often driven back. At length, how-
ever, wearied with the delay, we resolved to
prosecute our voyage ; and, although the sea
seemed more than usually agitated, yet we ven-
tured forward. The gulph of Charybdis, which
we approached, seemed whirled round in such a
manner, as to form a vast hollow, verging to a
point in the centre. Proceeding onward, and
turning my eyes to fEtna, I saw it cast forth large
volumes of smoke, of mountainous sizes, which
entirely covered the whole island, and blotted out
the very shores from my view. This, together
with the dreadful noise, and the sulphureous
stench, which was strongly perceived, filled me
with apprehensions that some more dreadful ,cala-
VOL. I. H

98

A HISTORY OF

mity was impending. The sea itself seemed to
wear a very unusual appearance ; those who have
seen a lake in a violent shower of rain covered all
over with bubbles, will conceive some idea of its
agitations. My surprise was still increased by the
calmness and serenity of the weather; not a
breeze, not a cloud which might be supposed to
put all Nature thus into motion. I therefore
warned my companions that an earthquake was
approaching; and, after some time, making for
the shore with all possible diligence, we landed at
Tropa?, happy and thankful for having escaped the
threatening dangers of the sea.

“ Butour triumphs at land were of short duration;
for we had scarcely arrived at the Jesuit’s College
in that citv, when our ears were stunned with a
horrid sound, resembling that of an infinite
number of chariots driven fiercely forward, the
wheels rattling, anti the thongs cracking. Soon
after this, a most dreadful earthquake ensued ; so
that the whole tract upon which we stood seemed
to vibrate, as if we were in the scale of a balance
that continued wavering. This motion, however,
soon grew more violent; and being no longer able
to keep my legs, I was thrown prostrate upon the
ground. In the mean time, the universal ruin
round me redoubled my amazement. The crash
of falling houses, the tottering of towers, and
the groans of the dying, all contributed to raise
my terror and despair. On every side of me I saw
nothing but a scene of ruin ; and danger threaten-
ing wherever I should fly. I commended myself to
God as my last great refuge. At that hour, O how
vain was every sublunary happiness! Wealth,

THE EARTH.

99

honour, empire, wisdom, all mere useless sounds,
and as empty as the bubbles in the deep. Just
standing on the threshold of eternity, nothing but
God was my pleasure ; and the nearer I approach-
ed, I only loved him the more. After some time,
however, finding that I remained unhurt, amidst
the general concussion, I resolved to venture for
safety, and running as fast as I could, reached the
shore, but almost terrified out of my reason. I
did not search long here till I found the boat in
which 1 had landed, and my companions also,
whose terrors were even greater than mine. Our
meeting was not of that kind where every one is
desirous of telling his own happy escape ; it was
all silence, and a gloomy dread of impending terrors.

“ Leaving this seat of desolation, we prosecuted
our voyage along the coast ; and the next day
came to Rochetta, where we landed, although the
earth still continued in violent agitations. But we
were scarcely arrived at our inn, when we were
once more obliged so return to the boat ; and, in
about half an hour, we saw the greatest part of
the town, and the inn at which we had set up,
dashed to the ground, and burying all its inhabi-
tants beneath its ruins.

“ In this manner, proceeding onward in our little
vessel, finding no safety at land, and yet, from the
smallness of our boat, having but a very danger-
ous continuance at sea, we at length landed at Lo-
pizium, a castle midway between Tropse and Eu-
phasmia, the city to which, as I said before, we
were bound. Here, wherever I turned my eyes,
nothing but scenes of ruin and horror appeared ;
towns and castles levelled to the ground ; Strom-

h 2

100 A HISTORY OF

balo, though at sixty miles distance, belching*
forth flames in an unusual manner, and with a noise
which I could distinctly hear. But my attention
was quickly turned from more remote to contiguous
danger. The rumbling sound of an approaching
earthquake, which we by this time were grown ac-
quainted with, alarmed us for the consequences ;
it every moment seemed to grow louder, and to
approach more near. The place on which we stood
now began to shake most dreadfully; so that being
unable to stand, my companions and I caught
hold of whatever shrub grew next us, and sup-
ported ourselves in that manner.

“ After some time, this violent paroxysm
ceasing, we again stood up, in order to prosecute
our voyage to Euphremia, that lay within sight.
In the mean time, while we were preparing for
this purpose, I turned my eyes towards the city,
but could see only a frightful dark cloud, that
seemed to rest upon the place. This the more sur-
prised us, as the weather was so very serene. We
waited, therefore, till the cloud was passed away :
then turning to look for the city, it was totally
sunk. Wonderful to tell ! nothing but a dismal
and putrid lake was to be seen where it stood. We
looked about to find some one that could tell us of
its sad catastrophe, but could see none. All was
become a melancholy solitude; a scene of hideous
desolation. Thus proceeding pensively along, in
quest of some human being, that could give us
some little information, we, at length, saw a boy
sitting by the shore, and appearing stupified with
terror. Ot him, therefore, we enquired concerning
the fate of the city ; but he could not be prevailed

THE EARTH.

m

on to give ns an answer. We entreated him with
every expression of tenderness and pity to tell us ;
but his senses were quite wrapt up in the contemn
plationof the danger he had escaped. We offered
him some victuals, but he seemed to loath the
sight.

We still persisted in our off ces of kindness ;
but he only pointed to the place of the city,
like one out of his senses ; and then running up
into the woods, was never heard of after. Such
was the fate of the city of Euphasmia: and as
we continued our melancholy course along the
shore, the whole coast, for the space of two
hundred miles, presented nothing but the remains
of cities; and men scattered, without an habitat
tion, over the fields. Proceeding thus along, we
at length ended our distressful voyage by arriving
at Naples, after having escaped a thousand dan->
gers both at sea and land,”

The reader, I hope, will excuse me for this long
translation from a favourite writer, and that the
sooner, as it contains some particulars relative to
earthquakes not to be found elsewhere. From the
Avhole of these accounts we may gather, that the
most concomitant circumstances are these :

A rumbling sound before the earthquake. This
proceeds from the air, or fire, or both, forcing
their way through the chasms of the earth, and
endeavouring to get free, which is also heard in
volcanoes.

A violent agitation, or heaving of the sea, some-;-
times before and sometimes after that at land. This
agitation is only a similar effect produced on the
waters with that at land, and may be called, for

H 3

102

A HISTORY OF

the sake of perspicuity, a sea-quake; and this
also is produced by volcanoes.

A spouting up of waters to great heights. It is
not easy to describe the manner in which this is
performed ; but volcanoes also perform the same,
Vesuvius being known frequently to eject a vast
body of water.

A rocking of the earth to and fro, and some-
times a perpendicular bouncing, if it may be so
called, of the same. This difference chiefly arises
from the situation of the place with respect to the
subterranean fire. Directly under, it lifts ; at a far-
ther distance, it rocks.

Some earthquakes seem to travel onward, and are
felt in different countries at different hours the
same day. This arises from the great shock being
given to the earth at one place, and that being
communicated onward by an undulatory motion,
successively affects different regions in its progress;
as the blow given by a stone falling in a lake is not
perceived at the shores till some time after the first
concussion.

The shock is sometimes instantaneous, like the
explosion of gunpowder; and sometimes tremu-
lous, and continuing for several minutes. The
nearer the place where the shock is first given, the
more instantaneous and simple it appears. At a
greater distance, the earth redoubles the first blow,
with a sort of vibratory continuation.

As waters have generally so great a share in pro-
ducing earthquakes, it is not to be wondered that
they should generally follow those breaches made
by the force of fire, and appear in the great chasms
which the earthquake has opened.

THE EARTH.

103

These are some of the most remarkable pheno-
mena of earthquakes, presenting a frightful assem-
blage of the most terrible effects of air, earth, fire,
and water.

The valley of Solfatara, near Naples, seems to
exhibit, in a minuter degree, whatever is seen of
this horrible kind, on the great theatre of Nature.
This plain, which is about twelve hundred feet
long, and a thousand broad, is embosomed in
mountains, and has in the middle of it a lake of
noisome blackish water, covered with a bitumen,
that floats upon its surface. In every part of this
plain, caverns appear smoking with sulphur, and
often emitting flames. The earth, wherever we
walk over it, trembles beneath the feet. Noises
of flames, and the hissing of waters are heard at
the bottom. The water sometimes spouts up eight
or ten feet high. The most noisome fumes, fetid
water, and sulphureous vapours, offend the smell.
A stone thrown into any of the caverns, is ejected
again with considerable violence. These appear-
ances generally prevail when the sea is any way
disturbed ; and the whole seems to exhibit the ap-
pearance of an earthquake in miniature. How-
ever, in this smaller scene of wonders, as well as
in the greater, there are many appearances for
which perhaps we shall never account ; and many
questions may be asked, which no conjectures can
thoroughly resolve. It was the fault of the phi-
losophers of the last age, to be more inquisitive
after the causes of things, than after the things
themselves. They seemed to think that a confession
of ignorance cancelled their claims to wisdom :
they, therefore, had a solution for every demand.

h 4

104 A HISTORY OF

But the present age has grown, if not more inqui-
sitive, at least more modest ; and none are now
ashamed of that ignorance which labour can
neither remedy nor remove.

CHAP. XI.

Of the appearance of New Islands , and Tracts ;
and of the disappearing of others.

Hitherto we have taken a survey only of
the evils which are produced by subterranean fires,
but we have mentioned nothing of the benefits
they may possibly produce. They may be of
use in warming and cherishing the ground, in
promoting vegetation, and giving a more exqui-
site flavour to the productions of the earth. The
imagination of a person who has never been out
of our own mild region, can scarcely reach to
that luxuriant beauty with which all nature appears
cloathed in those very countries that we have
but just now described as desolated by earth-
quakes, and undermined by subterranean fires.
It must be granted, therefore, that though in
those regions they have a greater share in the
dangers, they have also a larger proportion in the
benefits of Nature.

But there is another advantage arising from sub-
terranean fires, which, though hitherto disregarded
by man, yet may one day become serviceable to
him ; I mean, that while they are found to swal-
low up cities and plains in one place, they are
also known to produce promontories and islands
in another. We have many instances of islands

THE EARTH.

m

being thus formed in the midst of the sea, which
though for a long time barren, have afterwards
become fruitful seats of happiness and industry.

New islands are formed in two ways ; either
suddenly, by the action of subterraneous fires;
or more slowly, by the deposition of mud, car-
ried down by rivers, and stopped by some ac-
cident*. With respect particularly to the first,
ancient historian, and modern travellers* give us
such accounts as we can have no room to doubt
of. Seneca assures us, that in his time the island
of Therasia appeared unexpectedly to some ma-
riners, as they were employed in another pursuit
Pliny assures us, that thirteen islands in the Me-
diterranean appeared at once emerging from the
water; the cause of which he ascribes rather to
the retiring of the sea in those parts, than to any
subterraneous elevation. However, he mentions
the island of Hiera, near that of Therasia, as
formed by subterraneous explosions ; and adds to
his list several others, formed in the same manner.
In one of which he relates that fish in great
abundance were found, and that all those who
eat of the#i died shortly after.

“ On the twenty-fourth of Mayf, in the year
1707, a slight earthquake was perceived at San-
torin ; and the day following, at sun-rising, an
object was seen by the inhabitants of that island,
at two or three miles distance at sea, which ap-
peared like a floating rock. Some persons, de-
sirous either of gain, or excited by curiosity,
went there, and found, even while they stood

* Buffon, vol. ii. p. 343. f Hist, de l’Acad. an. 1708, p. 23.

106

A HISTORY OF

upon this rock, that it seemed to rise beneath
their feet. They perceived also that its surface
was covered with pumice stones and oysters,
which it had raised from the bottom. Every day
after, until the fourteenth of June, this rock
seemed considerably to increase ; and then was
found to be half a mile round, and about thirty
feet above the sea. The earth of which it was
composed seemed whitish, with a small portion of
clay. Soon after this the sea again appeared
troubled, and steams arose, which were very
offensive to the inhabitants of Santorin. But on
the sixteenth of the succeeding month, seventeen
or eighteen rocks more were seen to rise out of
the sea, and at length to join together. All this
was accompanied with the most terrible noise,
and fires which proceeded from the island that
was newly formed. The whole mass, however,
of all this new-formed earth, uniting, increased
every day, both in height and breadth, and by
the force of its explosions, cast forth rocks to
seven miles distance. This continued to bear
the same dreadful appearances till the month of
November in the same year ; and it is at present
a volcano which sometimes renews its explosions.
It is about three miles in circumference; and
more than from thirty-five to forty feet high.”

It seems extraordinary, that, about this place
in particular, islands have appeared at different
times, particularly that of Hiera, mentioned above,
which has received considerable additions in suc-
ceeding ages. Justin # tell us, that, at the time

* Justin, 1. 30. cap. 4.

THE EARTH.

107

the Macedonians were at war with the Romans,
a new island appeared between those of Thera-
menes and Therasia, by means of an earthquake.
We are told, that this became half as big again
about a thousand years after ; another island
rising up by its side, and joining to it, so as
scarcely at present to be distinguished from the
former. _

A new island was formed, in the year 1720,
near that of Tercera, near the continent of Africa,
by the same causes. In the beginning of Decem-
ber, at night, there was a terrible earthquake at
that place, and the top of a new island appeared,
which cast forth smoke in vast quantities. The
pilot of a ship, who approached it, sounded
on one side of this island, and could not find
ground at sixty fathom. At the other side the
sea was totally tinged of a different colour, ex-
hibiting a mixture of white, blue, and green ;
and was very shallow. This island, on its first
appearance, was larger than it is at present ; for
it has, since that time, sunk in such a manner,
as to be scarcely above water.*

[* In the spring of 1783, a volcanic island was formed in the
vicinity of Iceland ; which, according to the accounts of the navi-
gators who that year visited the country, attracted no small no-
tice. The discoverer, Captain Von Lowenhorn, in the Danish
service, who arrived just at the time of the first eruption, when
smoke and flames ascended out of the sea, relates that no island
or any land could be seen, from which these flames could origi-
nate. No wonder, then, that he fell into the greatest conster-
nation, when, as he expresses himself, he saw the waves on fire.
The captain and crew, therefore, conceived the notion that the
day of judgment was at hand, and took to their prayer and
hymn-books, devoutly to prepare themselves for their approach-

108

A HISTORY OF

A traveller, whom these appearances could not
avoid affecting*, speaks of them in this manner 5
“ * What can be more surprising than to see fire
not only break out of the bowels of the earth,
but also to make itself a passage through the
waters of the sea ! What can be more extraordi-
nary or foreign to our common notions of things,
than to see the bottom of the sea rise up into a
mountain above the water, and become so firm
an island, as to be able to resist, the violence of
the greatest storms ! I know that subterraneous
fires, when pent in a narrow passage, are able
to raise up a mass of earth as large as an island.
But that this should be done in so regular and

rng end. But as no trumpet sounded, as the sun remained un-
darkened, and the firmament undisturbed, they began to reflect
farther what it might be ; and at last hit upon the thought that
Iceland had been sunk by an earthquake, and that this was the
last remains and ejection of Ilecla, the well-known burning
mountain upon that island. Wholly possessed with this idea,
they were on the point of tacking about, and returning to Den-
mark with the news of the dreadful event ; but, luckily, they
had not proceeded far before they got sight of the coast of Ice-
land.

The scite of the volcanic eruption lies only 7| nautical miles,
(15 to a degree) from the south-w est point of Iceland ; and as
there are numerous instances of such volcanic eruptions becom-
ing an island, the Danish government directed, the following
year, that all ships bound to Iceland should examine the new-
formed island ; but so entirely had it vanished, that none of
them either saw or could discover the smallest trace of it. How-
ever, towards the end of the next year, a Danish ship of war,
of 64 guns, was wrecked on this rock ; which is now no longer
visible, but remains a most dangerous rock, nearly level with
the surface of the water.]

* Phil. Trans, vol. v. p. lt)7.

THE EARTH. W9

exact a, manner that the water of the sea should
not be able to penetrate and extinguish those
fires ; that, after having made so many passages,
they should retain force enough to raise the earth;
and, in fine, after having been extinguished, that
the mass of earth should not fall down, or sink
again with its own weight, but still remain in a
manner suspended over the great arch below I
This is what to me seems more surprising than
any thing that has been related of Mount iEtna,
Vesuvius, or any other volcano.”

Such are his sentiments; however, there are
few of these appearances any way more extraor-
dinary than those attending volcanoes and earth-
quakes in general. We are not more to be sur-
prised that inflammable substances should be
found beneath the bottom of the sea, than at si-
milar depths at land. These have all the force of
fire giving expansion to air, and tending to raise
the earth at the bottom of the sea, till it at
length heaves above water. These marine vol-
canoes are not so frequent; for, if we may judge
of the usual procedure of nature, it must very
often happen that, before the bottom of the sea
is elevated above the surface, a chasm is opened
in it, and then the water pressing in, extinguishes
the volcano before it has time to produce its ef-
fects. This extinction, however, is not effected
without very great resistance fr®m the fire be-
neath. The water, upon dashing into the ca-
vern, is very probably at first ejected back with
great violence ; and thus some of those amazing
waterspouts are seen, which have so often asto-

4

110

A HISTORY OF

nished the mariner, and excited curiosity. — But
of these in their place.

Besides the production of those islands by the
action of fire, there are others, as was said, pro-
duced by rivers or seas carrying mud, earth, and
such like substances, along with their currents ;
and at last depositing them in some particular
place. At the mouths of most great rivers, there
are to be seen banks, thus formed by the sand
and mud carried down with the stream, which
have rested at that place, where the force of the
current is diminished by its junction with the
sea. These banks, by slow degrees, increase at
the bottom of the deep ; the water in those
places is at first found by mariners to grow more
shallow ; the bank soon heaves up above the sur-
face ; it is considered, for a while, as a tract of
useless and barren sand ; but the seeds of some
of the more hardy vegetables are driven thither
by the wind, take root, and thus binding the
sandy surface, the whole spot is clothed in time
with a beautiful verdure. In this manner there
are delightful and inhabited islands at the mouths
of many rivers, particularly the Nile, the Po, the
Mississippi, the Ganges, and the Senegal. There
has been, in the memory of man, a beautiful and
large island formed in this manner, at the mouth
of the river Nanquin, in China, made from the
depositions of mud at its opening; it is not less
than sixty miles long, and about twenty broad.
La Loubere informs us,# in his voyage to Siam,

* Lettres Curieuses ct Edifiantes, see. xi. p. 234.

THE EARTH.

Ill

that these sand-banks increase every day, at the
mouths of all the great rivers in Asia ; and hence
he asserts, that the navigation up these rivers be-
comes every day more difficult, and will, at one
time or another, be totally obstructed, The
same may be remarked with regard to the Wol-
ga, which has at present seventy openings into
the Caspian Sea ; and of the Danube, which has
seven into the Euxine. We have had an instance
of the formation of a new island, not very long
since, at the mouth of the Humber, in England.
“ It is yet within the memory of man,” says the
relator,* “ since it began to raise its head above
the ocean. It began its appearance at low wa-
ter, for the space of a few hours ; and was buried
again till the next tide’s retreat. Thus, succes-
sively, it lived and died, until the year Idbd,
when it began to maintain its ground against the
insult of the waves ; and then first invited the
aid of human industry. A bank was thrown
about its rising grounds ; and being thus defend-
ed from the incursions of the sea, it became firm
and solid, and, in a short time, afforded good
pasturage for cattle. It is about nine miles in cir-
cumference, and is worth to the proprietor about
eight hundred pounds a year.” It would be end-
less to mention all the islands that have been thus
formed, and the advantages that have been de-
rived from them. However, it is frequently found
that new islands may often be considered as only
turning the rivers from their former beds; so that,

* Phil. Trans, rol. iv. p. 251,

112 A HISTORY OF

in proportion as land is gained at one part, it is
lost by the overflowing of some other.

Little, therefore, is gained by such accession ;
nor is there much more by the new islands which
are sometimes formed from the spoils of the con-
tinent. Mariners assure us, that there are some-
times whole plains unrooted from the main lands*
by floods and tempests. These being carried out
to sea, with all their trees and animals upon them,
are frequently seen floating in the ocean, and ex-
hibiting a surprising appearance of rural tranquil-
lity in the midst of danger. The greatest part,
however, having the earth at their roots at length
washed away, are dispersed, and their animals
drowned ; but now and then some are found to
brave the fury of the ocean, till being stuck ei-
ther among rocks or sands, they again take firn
footing, and become permanent islands.

As different causes have thus concurred to pro-
duce new islands, so we have accounts of others
that the same causes have contributed to destroy.
We have already seen the power of earthquakes
exerted in sinking whole cities, and leaving lakes
in their room. There have been islands, and re-
gions also, that have shared the same fate ; and
have sunk with their inhabitants, never more to
be heard of. Thus Pausanias* tells us of an
island, called Chryses, that was sunk near Lem-
nos. Pliny mentions several ; among others, the
island Cea, for thirty miles, having been washed
away, with several thousands of its inhabitants.

* Pausanias, 1. 8. in Arcad. p. 509.

THE EARTH.

113

But of all the noted devastations of this kind,
the total submersion of the island of Atakintis,
as mentioned by Plato, has been most the sub-
ject of speculation. Mankind, in general, now
consider the whole of his account as an inge-
nious fable; but when fables are grown famous
by time and authority, they become an agree-
able, if not a necessary part of literary informa-
tion. ‘ /

“ About nine thousand years are passed,” says
Plato, # “ since the island of Atalantis was in be-
ing, The priests of Egypt were well acquainted
with it ; and the first heroes of Athens gained
much glory in their wars with the inhabitants.
This island w7as as large as Asia Minor and Syria
united ; and was situated beyond the pillars of
Hercules, in the Atlantic ocean. The beauty of
the buildings, and the fertility of the soil, were
far beyond any thing a modern imagination can
conceive ; gold and ivory were every where com-
mon, and the fruits of the earth offered themselves
without cultivation. The arts, and the courage
of the inhabitants, were not inferior to the happi-
ness of their, situation ; and they Were frequently
known to make conquests, and over-run the con-
tinent of Europe and Asia.” The imagination of
the poetical philosopher riots in the description
of the natural and acquired advantages, which
they long enjoyed in this charming region. “ If,”
says he, “ we compare that country to our owii,
ours will appear a mere wasted skeleton, when
opposed to it, Their mountains, to the very tops,

VOL. i.

* Plato in Crilia.
I

114

A HISTORY OF

were clothed with fertility, and poured down rivers
to enrich the plains below.”

However, all these beauties and benefits were
destroyed in one day by an earthquake sinking
the earth, and the sea overwhelming it. At pre-
sent, not the smallest vestiges of such an island
are to be found ; Plato remains as the only autho-
rity for its existence, and philosophers dispute
about its situation. It is not for me to enter into
the controversy, when there appears but little
probability to support the fact ; and, indeed, it
would be useless to run back nine thousand years
in search of difficulties, as we are surrounded
with objects that more closely affect us, and that
demand admiration at our very doors. When
I consider, as Lactantius suggests, the various
vicissitudes of nature; lands swallowed by yawn-
ing earthquakes, or overwhelmed in the deep ;
rivers and lakes disappearing, or dried away ;
mountains levelled into plains ; and plains swell-
ing up into mountains; — I cannot help regard-
ing this earth as a place of very little stability ;
as a transient abode of still more transitory be-
ings.

CHAP. XII.

Of Mountains.

Having at last, in some measure, emerged
from the deeps of the earth, we come to a scene
of greater splendour; the contemplation of its
external appearance. In this survey, its moun-

THE EARTH.

115

tains are the .first objects that strike the
imagination, and excite our curiosity. There is
not, perhaps, any thing in all nature that im-
presses an unaccustomed spectator with such
ideas of awful solemnity, as these immense piles
of natures erecting, that seem to mock the mi-
nuteness of human magnificence.

In countries where there are nothing but plains,
the smallest elevations are apt to excite wonder.
In Holland, which is all a flat, they shew a little
ridge of hills, near the sea-side, which Boerhaave
generally marked out to his pupils as being moun-
tains of no small consideration. What would be
the sensations of such an auditory, could they at
once be presented with a view of the heights and
precipices of the Alps, or the Andes. Even among
us, in England, we have no adequate ideas of a
mountain-prospect; our hills are generally sloping
from the plain, and clothed to the very top with
verdure. We can scarcely, therefore, lift our
imaginations to those immense piles whose tops
peep up behind intervening clouds, sharp and
precipitate, and reach to heights that human ava-
rice or curiosity have never been able to ascend.

We, in this part of the world, are not, for that
reason, so immediately interested in the question
which has so long been agitated among philoso-
phers, concerning what gave rise to these inequa-
lities on the surface of the globe. In our own
happy region, we generally see no inequalities but
such as contribute to use and beauty; and we
therefore are amazed at a question enquiring how
such necessary inequalities came to be formed,
and seeming to express a wonder how the globe

i 2

U<$ A HIST OB V OF

comes to be so beautiful as we find it. But though
with us there may be no great cause for such a de-*
mand, yet in those places where mountains deform
the face of Nature, where they pour down cata--
tacts, or give fury to tempests, there seems to bd
good reason for enquiry either into their causes or
their uses. It has been, therefore, asked by many1
in what manner mountains have come to be
formed, or for what uses they are designed ? j
To satisfy curiosity in these respects, much
reasoning has been employed, and very little know-
ledge propagated. With regard to the first part of
the demand, the manner in which mountains were
formed, we have already seen the conjectures of
different philosophers on that head. One suppos-
ing that they were formed from the earth’s broken
shell, at the time of the deluge : another, that
they existed from the creation, and only acquired
their deformities in process of time : a third, that
they owed their original to earthquakes : and still
a fourth, with much more plausibility than the rest,
ascribing them entirely to the fluctuations of the
deep, which he supposes, in the beginning, to have
covered the whole earth. Such as are pleased with
disquisitions of this kind, may consult Burnet,
Whiston, Woodward, or Buffion. Nor would I be
thought to decry any mental amusements, that at
worst keep us innocently employed ; hut, for my
own part, I cannot help wondering how the oppo-
site demand has never come to be made : and why
philosophers have never asked how we come to
have plains ? Plains are sometimes more preju-
dicial to man than mountains. Upon plains, an
inundation has greater power ; the beams of the

THE EARTH,

ill

sail are often collected there with suffocating fierce-
ness ; they are sometimes found desert for several
hundred miles together, as in the country east of
the Caspian sea, although otherwise fruitful, merely
because there are no risings nor depressions to form
reservoirs, or collect the smallest rivulet of water.
The most rational answer, therefore, why either '
mountains or plains were formed, seems to he, that
they were thus fashioned by the hand of Wisdom,
in order that pain and pleasure should be so con-
tiguous, as that morality might be exercised eithci
in bearing the one, or communicating the other.

Indeed, the more I consider this dispute respect-
ing the formation of mountains, the more I am
struck with the futility of the question, There is
neither a straight line, nor an exact superficies, in
all nature. If we consider a circle, even with ma-
thematical precision, we shall find it formed of a
number of small right lines, joining at angles
together. These angles, therefore, may be consi-
dered in a circle as mountains are upon our globe ;
and to demand the reason for the one being moun-
tainous, or the other angular, is only to ask why a
circle is a circle, or a globe is a globe. In short, if
there be no surface without inequality in Nature,
why should we be surpris

surface are scarcely distinguishable, if compared
to its magnitude ; and I think we have every reason
to be content with the answer.

Some, however, have avoided the difficulty by
urging the final cause. They alledge that moun-
tains have been formed merely because they are
useful to man. This carries the enquirer but a part

It has often been said,

118

A HISTORY OF

of the way ; for no one can affirm that in all places*
they are useful. The contrary is known, by hor-
rid experience, in those vallies that are subject j
their influence. However, as the utility -ny
part of our earthly habitation is a very pleasing
and flattering* speculation to every philosopher, it
is not to be wondered that much has been said
to prove the usefulness of these. For this pur-
pose, many conjectures have been made that have
received a degree of assent even beyond their evi-
dence; for men were unwilling to become more
miserably wise.

It has been ailed ged, as one principal advantage
that we derive from them, that they serve, like
hoops or ribs, to strengthen our earth, and to bind
it together. In consequence of this theory, Ivir-
cher has given us a map of the earth, in this man-
ner hooped with its mountains ; which might have
a much more solid foundation, did it entirely cor-
respond with truth.

Others have found a different use for them, es-
pecially when they run surrounding our globe,
which is, that they stop the vapours which are
continually travelling from the equator to the
poles ; for these being urged by the heat of the
sun, from the warm regions of the line, must all
be accumulated at the poles, if they were not
stopped in their way by those high ridges of
mountains which cross their direction. But an
answer to this may be, that all the great moun-
tains in America lie lengthwise, and therefore do
not cross their direction.

But to leave these remote advantages, others as-
sert, that not only Jthe animal but vegetable part

THE EARTH.

119

of the creation would perish for want of conve-
nient humidity, were it not for their friendly assist-
ance. Their summits are, by these, supposed to
arrest, as it were, the vapours which float in the
regions of the air. Their large inflexions, and
channels, are considered as so many basons pre-
pared for the reception of those thick vapours,
and impetuous rains, which descend into them.
The huge caverns beneath are so many magazines
or conservatories of water for the peculiar service
of man : and those orifices by which the water is
discharged upon the plain, are so situated as to en-
rich and render them fruitful, instead of returning
through subterraneous channels to the sea, after
the performance of a tedious and fruitless circula-
tion*.

However this be, certain it is that almost all our
great rivers find their source among mountains ;
and, in general, the more extensive the mountain,
the greater the river : thus the river Amazon, the
greatest in the world, has its source among the
Andes, which are the highest mountains on the
globe ; the river Niger travels a long course of
several hundred miles from the mountains of
the Moon, the highest in all Africa; and the
Danube and the Rhine proceed from the Alps,
which are probably the higest mountains of Eu-
rope.

It need scarcely be said that, with respect to
height, there are many sizes of mountains, from
the gently rising upland, to the tall craggy pre-
cipice. The appearance is in general different in

* Nature Displayed, vol. id. p. 88.
I 4

i JO A HISTORY OF

those of different magnitudes. The first arc
clothed with verdure to the very tops, and only
seem to ascend to improve our prospects, or supply
us with a purer air : but the lofty mountains of
the other class have a very different aspect. At a
distance their tops are seen, in wavy ridges, of the
very colour of the clouds, and only to be distin-
guished from them by their figure, which, as I
have said, resembles the billows of the sea*. As
we approach, the mountain assumes a deeper
colour ; it gathers upon the sky, and seems to hide
half the horizon behind it. Its summits also are
become more distinct, and appear with a broken
and perpendicular line. What at first seemed a
single hill, is now found to be a chain of conti-
nued mountains, whose tops, running along in
ridges, are embosomed in each other ; so that the
curvatures of one are fitted to the prominences of
the opposite side, and form a winding valley
between, often of several miles in extent; and all
the way continuing nearly of the same breadth.

Nothing can be finer, or more exact, than Mr.
Pope’s description of a traveller straining up the
Alps. Every mountain he comes to he thinks will
be the last; he finds, however, an unexpected hill
rise before him ; and that being scaled, he finds
the highest summit almost at as great a distance as
before. Upon quitting the plain, he might have
left a green and a fertile soil, and a climate warm
and pleasing. As he ascends, the ground assumes
a more russet colour; the grass becomes more
mossy, and the weather more moderate. Still as

* Lettres Philosopbiqiies sur la F ormation, &c. p. 106.

121

the Earth.

he ascends, the weather becomes more cold, and
the earth more barren. In this dreary passage, he
is often entertained with a little valley of surprising
verdure, caused by the reflected heat of the sun
collected into a narrow spot on the surrounding
heights. But it much more frequently happens
that he sees only frightful precipices beneath, and
lakes of amazing depths ; from whence rivers are
formed, and fountains derive their original. On
those places next the highest summits, vegetation
is scarcely carried on; here and there a few plants
of the most hardy kind appear. The air is intol-
erably cold ; either continually refrigerated with
frosts, or disturbed with tempests. All the ground
here wears an eternal covering of ice, and snows
that seem constantly accumulating. Upon emerg-
ing from this war of the elements, he ascends
into a purer and a serener region, where vegeta-
tion is entirely ceased ; where the precipices, com-
posed entirely of rocks, rise perpendicularly above
him ; while he views beneath him all the combat
of the elements ; clouds at his feet; and thunders
darting upwards from their bosoms below*. A
thousand meteors, which are never seen on the
plain, present themselves. Circular rainbows']';
mock suns ; the shadow of the mountain projected
upon the body of the air J ; and the traveller’s own
image, reflected as in a looking-glass, upon the
opposite cloudj.

Such are, in general, the wonders that present
themselves to a traveller in his journey either over
the Alps or the Andes. But we must not suppose

t

+ Tbid. J Phil. Trans, vol. v. p. 152.
|| Ulloa, vol. i.

* UUoa, vol. i.

122

A HISTORY OF

that this picture exhibits either a constant or ah
invariable likeness of those stupendous heights.
Indeed, nothing can be more capricious or irre-
gular than the forms of many of them. The
tops of some run in ridges for a considerable
length, without interruption ; in others the line
seems indented by great vallies to an amazing
depth. Sometimes a solitary and a single moun-
tain rises from the bosom of the plain ; and
sometimes extensive plains, and even provinces,
as those of Savoy and Quito, are found embo-
somed near the tops of mountains. In general,
however, those countries that are most moun-
tainous, are the most barren and uninhabitable.

If we compare the heights of mountains with
each other, we shall find that the greatest and
highest are found under the line*. It is thought
by some, that the rapidity of the earth’s motion
in these parts, together with the greatness of the
tides there, may have thrown up those stupendous
masses of earth. But, be the cause as it may,
it is a remarkable fact, that the inequalities of the
earth’s surface are greatest there. Near the Poles,
the earth, indeed, is craggy and uneven enough ;
but the heights of the mountains there are very
inconsiderable. On the contrary, at the Equator,
where Nature seems to sport in the amazing size
of all her productions, the plains are extensive,
and the mountains remarkably lofty. Some of
them are known to rise three miles perpendicular
above the bed of the ocean.

To enumerate the most remarkable of these,

* Buffonj passim.

THE EARTH.

123

according to their size, we shall begin with the
Andes, of which we have an excellent description
by Ulloa, Avho went thither by command of
the king of Spain, in company with the French
Academicians, to measure a degree of the meri-
dian. His journey up these mountains is too
curious not to give an extract from.

After many incommodious days sailing up the
river Guayaquil, he arrived at Caracol, a town
situated at the foot of the Andes. Nothing
could exceed the inconveniences which he ex-
perienced in this voyage, from the flies and mos-
chetoes (an animal resembling our gnat.) “ We
were the whole day,” says he, “ in continual mo-
tion to keep them off ; but at night our torments
were excessive. Our gloves, indeed, were some
defence to our hands ; but our faces were en-
tirdy exposed ; nor were our clothes a sufficient
defence for the rest of our- bodies ; for their
stings penetrating through the cloth, caused a very
painful and fiery itching. One night, in coming
to an anchor near a large and handsome house
that was uninhabited, we had no sooner seated
ourselves in it, than we were attacked on all sides
by swarms of moschetoes, so that it was impos-
sible to have one moment’s quiet. Those who
had covered themselves with clothes made for this
purpose, found not the smallest defence ; where-
fore, hoping to find some relief in the open fields,
we ventured out, though in danger of suffering-
in a more terrible manner from the serpents. But
both places* were equally obnoxious. On quit-
ring this inhospitable retreat, we the next night
took up our quarters in a house that w7as inha-

l

124

A HISTORY OF

bited ; the host of which, being informed of the
terrible manner we had passed the night before,
gravely told us, that the house we so greatly
complained of, had been forsaken on account of
its being the purgatory of a souk But we had
more reason to believe that it was quitted on ac-
. count of its being the purgatory of the body.
After having journeyed for upwards of three
days, through boggy roads, in which the mules
at every step sunk up to their bellies, we began
at length to perceive an alteration in the climate ;
and having been long accustomed to heat, we
now began to feel it grow sensibly colder,

“ It is remarkable, that at Tariguagua we
often see instances of the effects of two opposite
temperatures, in two persons happening to meet;
one of them leaving the plains below, and the
other descending from the mountain. The for-
mer thinks the cold so severe, that he wraps
himself up in all the garments he can procure ;
while the latter finds the heat so great, that he
is scarcely able to bear any clothes whatsoever.
The one thinks the water so cold, that he avoids
being sprinkled by it ; the other is so delighted
with its warmth, that he uses it as a bath. Nor
is the case very different in the same person,
who experiences the same diversity of sensation
upon his journey up, and upon his return. This
difference only proceeds from the change natu-
rally felt at leaving a climate to which one has
been accustomed, and coming into another of
an opposite temperature.

“ The ruggedness of the road from Tarigua-
gua, leading up the mountain, is not easily de-

4

THE EARTH.

125

scribed. In some parts the declivity is so great,
that the mules can scarcely keep their footing;
and in others, the acclivity is equally difficult.
The trouble of having people going before to
mend the road, the pains arising from the many
falls and bruises, and the being constantly wet
to the skin, might be supported, were not these
inconveniences augmented by the sight of such
frightful precipices, and deep abysses, as must fill
the mind with ceaseless terror. There are some
places were the road is so steep, and yet so nai^
row, that the mules are obliged to slide down,
without making any use of their feet whatsoever.
On one side of the rider, in this situation, rises
an eminence of several hundred yards ; and on
the other, an abyss of equal depth ; so that if
he in the least checks his mule, so as to destroy
the equilibrium, they both must unavoidably
perish.

“ After, having travelled about nine days in
this manner, slowly winding along the side of
the mountain, we began to find the whole
country covered with an hoar frost ; and a hut
in which we lay had ice on it. Having escaped
many perils, we at length, after a journey of
fifteen days, arrived upon the plain, on the ex^
tremity of which stands the city of Quito, the
capital of one of the most charming regions
upon earth. Here, in the centre of the torrid
zone, the heat is not only very tolerable, but in
some places the cold also is painful. Here they
enjoy all the temperature and advantages of per-,
petual spring ; their fields being always covered
with verdure, and enamelled with flowers of tli$

126

A HISTORY OF

most lively colours. However, although thu
beautiful region be higher than any other country
in the world, and although it took up so many
days of painful journey in the ascent, it is still
overlooked by tremendous mountains ; their
sides covered with snow, and yet flaming with
volcanoes at the top. These seem piled one upon
the other, and rise to a most astonishing height,
with great coldness. However, at a determined
point above the surface of the sea, the congela-
tion is found at the same height in all the moun-
tains. Those parts which are not subject to a
continual frost, have here and there growing
upon them a rush, resembling the genista, but
much more soft and flexible. Towards the ex-
tremity of the part where the rush grows, and
the cold begins to increase, is found a vegetable,
with a round bulbous head, which, when dried,
becomes of amazing elasticity. Higher up, the
earth is entirely bare of vegetation, and seems
covered with eternal snow. The most remark-
able mountains are, that of Cotopaxi, (already
described as a volcano) Chimborazo, and Pich-
4&cha. Cotopaxi is more than three geographical
miles above the surface of the sea : the rest are
not much inferior. On the top of the latter
was my station for measuring a degree of the
meridian ; where I suffered particular hardships,
from the intenseness of the cold, and the vio-
lence of the storms. The sky around was, in
general, involved in thick fogs, which, when
they cleared away, and the clouds, by their
gravity, moved nearer to the surface of the
earth, they appeared surrounding the foot of the
1

THE EARTH.

127

mountain, at a vast distance below, like a sea, en-
compassing an island in the midst of it. When
this happened, the horrid noises of tempests were
heard from beneath, then discharging themselves
on Quito, and the neighbouring country. I saw
the lightnings issue from the clouds, and heard
the thunders roll far beneath me. All this time,
while the tempest was raging below, the moun-
tain top, where I was placed, enjoyed a delight-
ful serenity ; the wind was abated ; the sky clear;
and the enlivening rays of the sun moderated the
severity of the cold. However, this was of no
very long duration, for the wind returned with
all its violence, and with such velocity as to
dazzle the sight ; whilst my fears were increased
by the dreadful concussions of the precipice, and
the fall of enormous rocks ; the only sounds that
were heard in this frightful situation.”

Such is the animated picture of these moun-
tains, as given us by this ingenious Spaniard:
and I believe the reader will wish that I had
made the quotation tftill longer. A passage over
the Alps, or a journey across the Pyrenees, ap-
pear petty trips or excursions, in the comparison ;
and yet these are the most lofty mountains we
know of in Europe.

If we compare the Alps with the mountains
already described, we shall find them but little
more than one half of the height of the former.
The Andes, upon being measured by the baro-
meter, are found above three thousand one
hundred and thirty-six toises or fathoms above
the surface of the sea*. Whereas the highest

* UUoa, vol. i; p. 442.

12S

A HISTORY OF

point of the Alps is not above sixteen hundred!
The one, in other words, is above three miles
high the other about a mile and a half. The
highest mountains in Asia are, Mount Taurus,
Mount I m mhus, Mount Caucasus, and the moun-
tains of Japan. Of these, none equals the Andes
in height* although Mount Caucasus, which
is the highest of them, makes very near ap-
proaches, Father Verbiest tells of a mountain
in China, which he measured, and found a mile
and a half high#. In Africa, the mountains of
the Moon, famous for giving source to the Niger
and the Nile, are rather more noted than known.
Of the Peak of Teneriffe, one of the Canary
Islands that lie off this coast, we have more cer-
tain information. In the year 1727, it was
visited by a company of English merchants,
who travelled up to the top, where they ob-
served its height, and the volcano on its very
summit f- They found it a heap of mountains,
the highest of which rises over the rest like 3
sugar-loaf, and gives a name to the whole mass.
It is computed to be a mile and a half perpendi-
cular from the surface of the sea. Kircher gives
us an estimate of the heights of most of the other
great mountains in the world ; but as he lias
taken his calculations, in general, from the an-
cients, or from modern travellers, who had not
the art of measuring them, they are quite incre-
dible. The art of taking the heights of places
by the barometer is a new and an ingenious in-
vention, As the air grows lighter as we ascend^

* Verbiest, a la Chine,

i Phil. Trans, vol. ?i

THE EARTH.

12$

the fluid in the tube rises in due proportion; thus
the instrument being properly marked, gives the
height with a tolerable degree of exactness ; at
least enough to satisfy curiosity.

Few of our great mountains have been esti-
mated in this manner; travellers having, per-
haps, been deterred, by a supposed impossibility
of breathing at the top. However, it has been
invariably found, that the air in the highest that
our modern travellers have ascended, is not at all
too fine for respiration. At the top of the Peak
of Teneriffe, there was found no other incon-
venience from the air, except its coldness ; at
the top of the Andes there was no difficulty of
breathing perceived. The accounts, therefore,
of those who have asserted that they were un-
able to breathe, although at much less heights,
are greatly to be suspected. In fact, it is very
natural for mankind to paint those obstacles as
insurmountable, which they themselves have not
had the fortitude or perseverance to surmount.

The difficulty and danger of ascending to the
tops of mountains, proceeds from other causes,
not the thinness of the air. For instance, some
of the summits of the Alps have never yet been
visited by man ; but the reason is, that they rise
with such a ruggid and precipitate ascent, that
they are utterly inaccessible. In some places they
appear like a great wall of six or seven hundred
feet high; in others there stick out enormous
rocks, that hang upon the brow of the steep,
and every moment threaten destruction to the
traveller below.

In this manner almost all the tops of the

VOL.' I. K

I

130

A HISTORY OF

highest mountains are bare and pointed. And
this naturally proceeds from their being so con-
tinually assaulted by thunders and tempests. All
the earthy substances with which they might
have been once covered, have for ages been
washed away from their summits ; and nothing
is left remaining, but immense rocks, which no
tempest has hitherto been able to destroy.

Nevertheless, time is every day, and every
hour, making depredations ; and huge fragments
are seen tumbling down the precipice, either
loosened from the summit by frost or rains, or
struck down by lightning. Nothing can exhibit
a more terrible picture than one of these enor-
mous rocks, commonly larger than a house,
falling from its height, with a noise louder than
thunder, and rolling down the side of the moun-
tain. Dr. Plot tell us of one in particular, which
being loosened from its bed, tumbled down the
precipice, and was partly shattered into a thou-
sand pieces. Notwitstanding, one of the largest
fragments of the same, still preserving its motion,
travelled over the plain below, crossed a rivulet
in the midst, and at last stopped on the other
side of the bank ! These fragments, as was said,
are often struck off by lightning, and sometimes
undermined bv rains : but the most usual man-

1/ J

ner in which they are disunited from the moun-
tain, is by frost : the rains insinuating between the
‘interstices of the mountain, continue there until
there comes a frost, and then, when converted
into ice, the water swells with an irresistible force,
and produces the same- effect as gun-powder,
splitting the most solid rocks, and thus shatter-
ing the summits of the mountain.

TflE EARTH. 131

But not rocks alone, but whole mountains are, by
various causes, disunited from each other. We see
in many parts of the Alps, amazing clefts, the sides
of which so exactly correspond with the opposite,
that no doubt can be made of their having been once
joined together. At Cajeta,* in Italy, a mountain
was split in this manner by an earthquake; and
there is a passage opened through it, that appears
as if elaborately done by the industry of man. In
the Andes these breaches are frequently seen. —
That at Thermopyle, in Greece, has been long fa-
mous. The mountain of the Troglodytes, in
Arabia, has thus a passage through it : and that in
Savoy, which nature began, and which Victor
Amadeus completed, is an. instance of the same
kind.

We have accounts of some of these disruptions,
immediately after their happening. “ In the month
of June,'!' in the year 1714, a part of the moun-
tain of Diableret, in the district of Valais, in
France, suddenly fell down, between two and
three o’clock in the afternoon, the weather being
, very calm and serene. It was of a conical figure,
and destroyed fifty-five cottages in the fall. Fif-
teen persons, together with about a hundred
beasts, were also crushed beneath its ruins, which
covered an extent of a good league square. The
dust it occasioned instantly covered all the neigh-
bourhood in darkness. The heaps of rubbish were
more than three hundred feet high. They stopped
the current of a river that ran along the plain,

* Buffon, vol. ii. p. 364.

t Hist, de PAcademie des Sciences, p. 4. an. 1715.

A HISTORY OF

132

which is now formed into several new and deep
lakes. There appeared, through the whole of this
rubbish, none of those substances that seemed to
indicate that this disruption had been made by
means of subterraneous fires. Most probably, the
base of this rocky mountain was rotted and de-
cayed; and thus fell without any extraneous vio-
lence.” In the same manner, in the year lb 18,
the town of Pleurs, in France, was buried beneath
a rocky mountain, at the foot of which it was
situated.

These accidents, and many more that might be
enumerated of the same kind, have been produced
by various causes : by earthquakes, as in the
mountain at Cajeta ; or by being decayed at the
bottom, as at Diableret. But the most general
way is, by the foundation of one part of the moun-
tain being hollowed by waters, and thus, wanting
a support, breaking from the other. Thus it ge-
nerally has been found in the great chasms in the
Alps ; and thus it almost always is known in those
disruptions of hills, which are known by the name
of land-slips. These are nothing more than the
siblings down of an higher piece of ground, dis-
rooted from its situation by subterraneous inunda-
tions, and settling itself upon the plain below.

There is not an appearance in all nature that so
much astonished our ancestors, as these land-slips.
In fact, to behold a large upland, with its houses,
its corn, and cattle, at once loosened from its
place, and floating, as it were, upon the subjacent
water ; to behold it quitting its ancient situation,
and travelling forward like a ship, in quest of new
adventures ; this is certainly one of the most ex-

■ Q

THE EARTH.

133

traordinary appearances that can be imagined ;
and to a people, ignorant of the powers of Nature,
might well be considered as a prodigy. Accord-
ingly, we find all our old historians mentioning it
as an omen of approaching calamities. In this
more enlightened age, however, its cause is very
well known ; and, instead of exciting ominous ap-
prehensions in the populace, it only gives rise to
some very ridiculous law-suits among them, about
whose the property shall be ; whether the land
which has thus slipt, shall belong to the original
possessor, or to him upon whose grounds it has
encroached and settled. What has been the de-
termination of the judges, is not so well known ;
but the circumstances of the slips have been mi-
nutely and exactly described.

In the lands of Slatberg,# ift the kingdom of
Iceland, there stood a declivity, gradually ascend-
ing for near half a mile. In the year 1713, and on
the 10th of March, the inhabitants perceived a
crack on its side, somewhat like a furrow made
with a plough, which they imputed to the effects of
lightning, as there had been thunder the night be-
fore. However, on the evening of the same day,
they were surprised to hear an hideous confused
noise issuing all round from the side of the hill ;
and their curiosity being raised, they resorted to
the place. There, to their amazement, they found
the earth, for near five acres, all in gentle motion,
and sliding down the hill upon the subjacent plain.
This motion continued the remaining part of the
day and the whole night • nor did the noise cease-

* Phil. Trans, vol. iv. p. 250.
K 3

1 34

A HISTORY OF

during the whale time ; proceeding, probably, from
the attrition of the ground beneath. The clay fol-
lowing, however, this strange journey down the
hill ceased entirely; and above an acre of the
meadow below was found covered with what before
composed a part of the declivity.

However, these slips, when a whole mountain’s
side seems to descend, happen but very rarely.
There are some of another kind, however, much
more common; and, as they are always sudden,
much more dangerous. These are snow-slips,
well known, and greatly dreaded by travellers. It
often happens, that when snow has long been ac-
cumulated on the tops and on the sides of moun-
tains, it is born down the precipice, either by
means of tempests, or its own melting. At first,
when loosened, the volume in motion is but small,
but gathers as it continues to roll; and, by the
time it has reached the habitable parts of the
mountain, is generally grown of enormous bulk.
Wherever it rolls it levels all things in its way, or
buries them in unavoidable destruction. Instead
of rolling, it sometimes is found to slide along from
the top ; yet even thus it is generally as fatal as
before. Nevertheless, we have had an instance,
a few years ago, of a small family in Germany, that
lived for above a fortnight beneath one of these
snow-slips. Although they were buried, during
that whole time, in utter darkness, and under a
bed of some hundred feet deep, yet they were
luckily taken out alive ; the weight of the snow
being supported by a beam that kept up the roof ;
and nourishment being supplied them by the milk

THE EARTH.

135

of an ass, if I remember right, that was buried
under the same ruin.*

But it is not the parts, alone, that are thus found
to subside ; whole mountains have been known to-

A well authenticated case of a woman surviving nearly eight
days, buried in the snow, without food, occurred near Imping-
ton, in Cambridgeshire ; and is related by Mr. Okes, the sur-
geon who attended her, in the annals of medicine for the year
1799.

Elizabeth W oodcock, aged 42, of a slender, delicate make, on
her return from Cambridge, on the evening of the second of
February, being exhausted with running after her horse which
had started from her, and becoming numbed in the hands and
feet, sat down on the ground. At that time a small quantity of
snow had but drifted near her, but it began to accumulate very
rapidly ; and when Chesterton bells had rang at eight o’clock,
she was completely inclosed and penned in by it. To the best
of her recollection, she slept very little during the first night. —
On the morning of the third, observing before her a circular
hole in the snow, about two feet in length and half a foot in
diameter, running obliquely upwards, and closed with a thin
covering of ice or snow, she broke off a branch of a bush that
was close to her, and with it thurst her handkerchief through the
hole, as a signal of distress.

In consequence of the external air being admitted, she felt her-
self very cold. On the second morning of her imprisonment,
the hole was again closed up, and continued so till the third
day, after which time it remained open. She heard distinctly
the ringing of the village bells, noises on the highway, and even
the conversation of some gipsies who passed near her, but could
not make herself heard. She easily distinguished day and night,
could even read an almanack she took from her pocket. The
sensation of hunger ceased almost entirely after the first day.—
Thirst was throughout her predominant feeling ; and this she
had the plentiful means of allaying, by sucking the surrounding
snow. She felt no gratification from the use of her snuff. On
Friday the eighth, when a thaw took place, she fdt uncom-
monly faint and languid : her clothes were wet quite through by

$ 4

136

A HISTORY OF

tally to disappear. Pliny * tells us, that in his
own time, the lofty mountain of Cybotus, toge-
ther with the city of Eurites, were swallowed by
an earthquake. The same fate, he says, attended
Phlegium, one of the highest mountains in
^Ethiopia; which, after one night’s concussion,
was never seen more. In more modern times, a
very noted mountain in the Molucca islands,
known by the name of the Peak, and remarkable
for being seen at a very great distance from sea,

i

the melted snow ; and the aperture became enlarged, and tempt-
ed her in vain to attempt to disengage herself.

On Sunday the 10th, a little after mid-day, she was discovered.
A piece of biscuit and a small quantity of brandy were given her,
from which she found herself greatly recruited ; but she was so
much exhausted, that, on being lifted into the chaise, she
fainted.

Mr. Okes saw her that day on her way home : he found her
hands and arms sodden, but not very cold, and her pulse did not
indicate the great debility which might have been expected : her
legs were cold, and her feet in a great measure mortified. She was
directed to be put into bed without delay, and to take some
weak broth occasionally, but no strong liquors, and not to be
brought near the fire. Next day she was affected with symp-
toms of fever ; her pulse was rising, her face was flushed, and
her breathing short ; occasioned probably by having taken too
much food, and being incommoded by the crowd of visitors.
Her feet were also in a complete state of mortification, her
ancles cold and benumbed, and the integuments puffy. Cloths
w etted wfith brandy were applied to her feet, some antifebrile
remedies and a little opium w ere given her. The mortification,
however, proceeded, and, on the 17th of March, all the toes
were removed, and the bones of the heels were bare in many
parts; on the 17th of April, the date of the last report, the
sores wrerc free from sloughs, and diminishing daily in size ; her
appetite was becoming tolerably good, and her health w^as im-
proving.]

* Plin. 1. 2. cap. 93.

THE EARTH. 137

was swallowed by an earthquake ; and nothing
but a lake was left in the place where it stood. —
Thus, while storms and tempests are levelled
against mountains above, earthquakes and waters
are undermining them below. All our histories
talk of their destruction ; and very few new ones
(if we except Mount C'enere, and one or two such
heaps of cinders) are produced. If mountains, .
therefore, were of such great utility as some phi-
losophers make them to mankind, it would be a
very melancholy consideration that such benefits
were diminishing every day. But the truth, is,
the valleys are fertilized by that earth which is
washed from their sides ; and the plains become
richer, in proportion as the mountains decay.

CHAP. XIII.

Of Water.

Jn contemplating Nature, we shall often find the
same substances possessed of contrary qualities,
and producing opposite effects. Air, which li-
quifies one substance, dries up another. That
fire which is seen to burn up the desert, is often
found, in other places, to assist the luxuriance of
vegetation ; and water, which, next to fire, is the
most fluid substance upon earth, nevertheless
gives all other bodies their firmness and dura-
bility ; so that every element seems to be a power-
ful servant, capable either of good or ill, and only
awaiting external direction, to become the friend
or the enemy of mankind. These opposite qualn

138

A HISTORY OF

ties, in this substance in particular, have not failed
to excite the admiration and enquiry of the cu-
rious.

That water is the most fluid penetrating body,
next to fire, and the most difficult to confine, is
incontestibly proved by a variety of experiments.
A vessel through which water cannot pass, may
be said to retain any thing. It may be objected,
indeed, that syrups, oils, and honey, leak through
some vessels that water cannot pass through ; but
this is far from being the result of the greater te-
nuity and fineness of their parts ; it is owing to
the rosin wherewith the wood of such vessels
abounds, which oils and syrups have a power of
dissolving ; so that these fluids, instead of finding
their way, may more properly be said to eat their
way through the vessels that contain them. How-
ever, water will at last find its way even through
these; for it is known to escape through vessels of
every substance, glass only excepted. Other bo-
dies may be found to make their way out more
readily indeed ; as air, when it finds a vent, will
escape at once; and quicksilver, because of its
weight, quickly penetrates through whatever
chinky vessel confines it : but water, though it
operates more slowly, yet always finds a more cer-
tain issue. As, for instance, it is well known that
air will not pass through leather ; which water will
very readily penetrate. Air also may be retained
in a bladder ; but water will quickly ooze through.
And those who drive this to the greatest degree of
precision, pretend to say, that it will pass through
pores ten times smaller than air can do. Be this as
it may, we are very certain that its parts are so

THE EARTH.

139

small that they have been actually driven through
the pores of gold. This has been proved by
the famous Florentine experiment, in which a
quantity of water was shut up in an hollow ball of
gold, and then pressed with an huge force by
screws, during which the fluid was seen to ooze
through the pores of the metal, and to stand, like
a dew, upon its surface.

As water is thus penetrating, and its parts thus
minute, it may easily be supposed that they enter
into the composition of all bodies, vegetable, ani-
mal, and fossil. This every chemist’s experience
convinces him of ; and the mixture is the more ob-
vious, as it can always be separated, by a gentle
heat, from those substances with which it had been
united. Fire, as was said, will penetrate where
water cannot pass ; but then it is not so easily to
be separated. But there is scarce any substance
from which its water cannot be divorced. The
parings or filings of lead, tin, and antimony, by
distillation, yield water plentifully : the hardest
stones, seasalt, nitre, vitrol, and sulphur, are found
to consist chiefly of water ; into which they resolve
by force of fire. “ All birds, beasts, and fishes,”
says Newton, “insects, trees, and vegetables, with
their parts, grow from water ; and, by putrefaction,
return to water again.” In short, almost every
substance that we see, owes its texture and firm-
ness to the parts of water that mix with its earth ;
and, deprived of this fluid, becomes a mass of
shapeless dust and ashes.

From hence we see, as was above hinted, that
this most fluid body, when mixed with others,
gives them consistence and form. Water, by

140

A HISTORY OF

being mixed with earth or ashes, and formed into
a vessel, when baked before the lire, becomes a
coppel, remarkable for this, that it will bear the
utmost force of the hottest furnace that art can
•contrive. So the Chinese earth, of which por-
celane is made, is nothing more than an artificial
composition of earth and water united by heat;
and which a greater degree of heat could easily
separate. Thus we see a body, extremely fluid of
itself, in some measure assuming a new nature, by
being united with others ; we see a body, whose
fluid and dissolving qualities are so obvious, giving
consistence and hardness to ail the substances of
the earth.

From considerations of this kind, Thales, and
many of the ancient philosophers, held that all
things were made of water. In order to confirm
this opinion, Helmont made an experiment, by di-
vesting a quantity of earth of all its oils and salts,
and then putting this earth, so prepared, into an
earthen pot, which nothing but rain-water could
enter, and planting a willow therein ; this vegeta-
ble, so planted, grew up to a considerable height
and bulk merely from the accidental aspersion of
rain-water ; while the earth in which it was planted
received no sensible diminution. From this ex-
periment, he concluded, that water was the only
nourishment of the vegetable tribe ; and that
vegetables, being the nourishment of animals, all
organized substances, therefore, owed their support
and being only to water. But this has been said
by Woodward to be a mistake : for he shews, that
water being impregnated with earthy particles, is
only the conveyer of such substances into the

THE EARTH.

141

pores of vegetables, rather than an increaser of
them, by its own bulk : and likewise, that water is
ever found to afford so much less nourishment, in
proportion as it is purified by distillation. A plant
in distilled water will not grow so fast as in water
not distilled : and if the same be distilled three
or four times over, the plant will scarcely grow
at all, or receive any nourishment from it. So
that water, as such, does not seem the proper
nourishment of vegetables, but only the vehicle
thereof, which contains the nutritious particles,
and carries them through all parts of the plant.
Water, in its pure state, may suffice to extend or
swell the parts of a plant, but affords vegetable
matter in a moderate proportion.

However this be, it is agreed, on all sides, that
water, such as we find it, is far from being a pure,
simple substance. The most genuine, we know,
is mixed with exhalations and dissolutions of vari-
ous kinds ; and no expedient that has been hitherto
discovered, is capable of purifying it entirely. If
we filter and distil it a thousand times, according
to Boerhaave, it will still depose a sediment : and
by repeating the process, we may evaporate it en-
tirely away, but can never totally remove its impu-
rities. Some, however, assert, that water, properly
distilled, will have no sediment # ; and that the lit-
tle white speck which is found at the bottom of the
still, is a substance that enters from without. Kir-
cher used to shew, in his Museum, a phial of wa-
ter, that had been kept for fifty years, hermetically

* HiU’s History of Fossils.

142

A HISTORY OF

sealed during which time it deposed no sedi-
ment, but continued as transparent as when first
it was put in. How far, therefore, it may be
brought to a state of purity by distillation, is un-
known ; but we very well know, that all such wa-
ter as we every where see, is a bed in which plants,
minerals, and animals are all found confusedly
floating together.

Rain-water, which is a fluid of Nature’s own
distilling, and which has been raised so high by
evaporation, is, nevertheless, a very mixed and im-
pure substance. Exhalations of all kinds, whe-
ther salts, sulphurs, or metals, make a part of its
substance, and tend to increase its weight. If we
gather the water that falls, after a thunder clap,
in a sultry summer’s day, and let it settle, we shall
find a real salt sticking at the bottom. In winter,
however, its impure mixtures are fewer, but still
may be separated by distillation. As to that which
is generally caught pouring from the tops of
houses, it is particularly foul, being impregnated
with the smoke of the chimnies, the vapour of the
slates or tiles, and with other impurities that birds
and animals may have deposited there. Besides,
though it should be supposed free from all these,
it is mixed with a quantity of air, which, after be-
ing kept for some time, will be seen to separate.

Spring-water is next in point of purity. This,
according to Doctor Halley, is collected from the

* Hermetically sealing a glass vessel, means no more than
heating the mouth of the phial red hot ; and thus, -when the
glass is become pliant, squeezing the mouth together with a pair
of pincers, and then twisting it six or seven times round, which
effectually closes it up.

THE EARTH. 143

air itself ; which being sated with water, and com-
ing to be condensed by the evening’s cold, is dri-
ven against the tops of the mountains, where be-
ing condensed, and collected, it trickles down by
the sides, into the cavities of the earth ; and run-
ning for a while under-ground, bubbles up in foun-
tains upon the plain. This having made but a
short circulation, has generally had no long time
to dissolve or imbibe any foreign substances by
the way.

River- water is generally more foul than the for-
mer. Wherever the stream flows, it receives a
tincture from its channel. Plants, minerals, and
animals, all contribute to add to its impurities ; so
that such as live at the mouths of great rivers, are
generally subject to all those disorders which con-
taminated and unwholesome waters are known to
produce. Of all the river- water in the world, that
of the Indus, and the Thames, are said to be most
light and wholesome.

The most impure fresh water that we know, is
that of stagnating pools and lakes, which, in sum-
mer, may be more properly considered as a jelly of
floating insects, than a collection of water. In
this, millions of little reptiles, undisturbed by any
current, which might crush their frames to pieces,
breed and engender. The whole teems with
shapeless life, and only grows more fruitful by en-
creasing putrefaction.*

[* Water is now known to be a compound substance, con-
sisting of a mixture of oxygene or vital air, and hydrogene or
inflammable air, in the proportion of about six parts of the for-
mer with one of the latter. When water is stagnant or quies-
cent, it becomes gradually decomposed by the greater warmth of

4

144

A HISTORY OF

Of the purity of all these waters, the lightness,
and not the transparency, ought to be the test.
Water may be extremely clear and beautiful to the
eye, and yet very much impregnated with mineral
particles. In fact, sea-water is the most transpa-
rent of any, and yet is well known to contain a

the atmosphere, and readily parts with its oxygenous or vital
part; and it is in consequence of this evaporation and decompo-
sition of the morning dews, that those streams of vital air are
poured into the atmosphere, occasioning the invigorating and
freshening sensations which are felt early in a summer’s morning,
or by the sides of rivers, or after thunder storms. In propor-
tion as Avater is decomposed, it becomes vapid and ill tasted, and
unfit for the purposes of life ; and at last a putrescent mass,
highly charged Avith inflammable or foul air, discharging un-
wholesome and pestilential vapours.

When water, in consequence of stagnation, has been partly
decoirfposed, by violent agitation, it greedily absorbs vital air
from the surrounding atmosphere, till it has recovered its due
proportion.

Stagnant Avater is Avariner, from its concentrating the rays of
the sun into distinct focuses. Agitated Avater, by refracting and
breaking the rays of the sun, continues nearly of the same tem-
perature, and is kept cool, in consequence of the evaporation oc-
casioned by the mist or small particles thrown up by agitation.
Take a quantity of Avater, which by a stagnation has become
vapid, -and ill tasted, and agitate it in the open air a few minutes,
by pouring it hastily from one cup to another, and it will reco-
ver its briskness and vivacity. It is by this means, that sea-
water, and the Avaters of streams and rivers, preserve their
freshness.

In most of the larger ships of the navy, and in merchantmen
destined for long voyages, an apparatus is made use of for re-
freshing water that is become foul : this consists in a series of
perforated receptacles, like cullenders, through which the water
passes from one to the other in drops, and which in its passage
imbibes its proper proportion of oxygene or vital air.]

Dr, Turton on cold and hot baths.

THE EARTH. \*5

laro’e mixture of salt and bitumen. On the eon-
trary, those waters which are lightest, have the
fewest dissolutions floating in them ; and may,
therefore, be the most useful for all the purposes of
life. But, after all, though much has been said
upon this subject ; and although waters have been
weighed with great assiduity, to determine their de-
gree of salubrity ; yet neither this, nor their curd-
ling with soap, nor any other philosophical stand-
ard whatsoever, will answer the purposes of true
information. Experience alone ought to determine
the useful or noxious qualities of every spring ; and
experience assures us, that different kinds of water
are adapted to different constitutions. An incon-
testible proof of this, are the many medicinal springs
throughout the world, whose peculiar benefits are
known to the natives of their respective countries.
These are of various kinds according to the differ-
ent minerals with which they are impregnated •
hot, saline, sulphureous, bituminous, and oily. But
the account of these will come most properly under
that of the several minerals by which they are pro-
duced.

After all, therefore, we must be contented with
an impure mixture for our daily beverage : and yet,
perhaps, this very mixture may often be more
serviceable to our health than that of a purer
kind. We know that it is so with regard to
vegetables : and why not, also, in general, to man?
Be this as it will, if we are desirous of having
water in its greatest purity, wre are ordered, by the
curious in this particular, to distil it from snow,
gathered upon the tops of the highest mountains,
and to take none but the outer and superficial

VOL. I.

L

/

146 A HISTORY OF

part thereof. This we must be satisfied to call
pure water ; but even this is far short of the pure
unmixed philosophical element ; which, in reality,
is no where to be found.

As water is thus mixed with foreign matter,
and often the repository of minute animals,, or
vegetable seeds, we need not be surprised that,
when carried to sea, it is always found to putrefy.
But, we must not suppose that it is the element
itself, which thus grows putrid, and offensive,
but the substances with which it is impregnated.
It is true, the utmost precautions are taken to
destroy all vegetable and animal substances that
may have previously been lodged in it, by boiling :
but, notwithstanding this, there are some that
will still survive the operation; and others, that
find their way (during the time of its stowage.
Seamen, therefore, assure us, that their water is
generally found to putrefy twice at least, and
sometimes three times, in a long voyage. In
about a month after it has been at sea, when the .
bung is taken out of the cask, it sends up a noi-
some and dangerous vapour, which would take
fire upon the application of a candle. * The whole
body of the water then is found replete with little
wormlike insects, that float, with great briskness,
through all its parts. These generally live for
about a couple of days ; and then dying, by depo-
siting their spoils, for a while increase the putre-
faction. After a time, the heavier parts of these
sinking to the bottom, the lighter float, in a scum,
at the top ; and this is what the mariners call the

* Phil. Trans, vol. v. part ii. p. 71.

THE EARTH. 147

water’s purging itself. There are still, however,
another race of insects, which are bred, very pro-
bably, from the spoils of the former; and produce,
after some time, similar appearances : these dying,
the water is then thought to change no more.
However, it very often happens, especially in hot
climates, that nothing can drive these nauseous
insects from the ship’s store of water. They
often increase to a very disagreeable and fright-
ful size, so as to deter the mariner, though parch-
ing with thirst, from tasting that cup which they
have contaminated.

This water, as thus described, therefore, is a
very different fluid from that simple elementary
substance upon which philosophical theories have
been founded ; and concerning the nature of which
there have been so many disputes. Elementary
water is no way compounded ; but is without
taste, smell, or colour ; and incapable of being dis-
cerned by any of the senses, except the touch.
This is the famous dissolvent of the .chemists, into
which, as they have boasted, they can reduce all
bodies; and which makes up all other substances,
only by putting on a different disguise. In some
forms, it is fluid, transparent, and evasive of the
touch; in others, hard, firm, and elastic. In
some it is stiffened by cold; in others dissolved by
fire. According to them, it only assumes external
shapes from accidental causes ; but the mountain
is as much a body of water as the cake of ice
that melts on its brow ; and even the philosopher
himself is composed of the same materials with
the cloud or meteor which he contemplates.

Speculation seldom rests when it begins. Others,

L 2

145

AH /STORY OF

disallowing the universality of this substance, will
not allow that in a state of nature there is any
such thing as water at all. What assumes the
appearance, say they, is nothing more than melted
ice. Ice is the real element of Nature’s making;
and when found in a state of fluidity, it is then
in a state of violence. AH substances are na-
turally hard; but some more readily melt with
heat than others. It requires a great heat to melt
iron ; a smaller heat will melt copper : silver, gold,
tin, and lead, melt with smaller still : ice, which is a
body like the rest, melts with a very moderate
warmth ; and quicksilver melts with the smallest
warmth of all. Water, therefore, is but ice kept in
continual fusion ; and still returning to; its former
state, when the heat is taken away. Between these
opposite opinions, the controversy has been carried
on with great ardour; much has been written
on both sides ; and yet, when we come to examine
the debate, it will probably terminate in this ques-
tion, whether cold or heat first began their opera-
tions upon water? This is a fact of very little im-
portance, if known ; and what is more, it is a fact
we can never know.

Indeed, if we examine into the operations of
cold and heat upon water, we shall find that they
produce somewhat similar effects. Water dilates in
its bulk, by heat, to a very considerable degree ;
and what is more extraordinary,- it is likewise di-
lated by cold in the same manner.

If water be placed over a fire, it grows gra-
dually larger in bulk, as it becomes hot, until it
begins to boil ; after which no art can either in-
crease its bulk, or its heat. By increasing the

THE EARTH.

149

fire, indeed, it may be more quickly evaporated
a wav: but its heat and its bulk still continue
the same. By the expanding of this fluid by
heat, philosophers have found a way to determine
the warmth or the coldness of other bodies ; for if
put into a glass tube, by its swelling and rising,
it shews the quantity of heat in the body to which
it is applied ; and by its contracting, and sinking,
it shews the absence of the same. Instead of using-
water in this instrument, which is called a ther-
mometer, they now make use of spirit of wine,
which is not apt to freeze, and which is endued even
with a greater expansion, by heat, than water.
The instrument consists of nothing more than a
hollow ball of glass, with a long tube growingout
of it This being partly filled with spirits of
wine, tinctured red, so as to be seen when it
rises, the ball is plunged into boiling water, which
making the spirit within expand and rise in the
tube, the water marks the greatest height to which
it ascends ; at this point the tube is to be brokeu off,
and then hermetically sealed, by melting the glass
with a blow-pipe : a scale being placed by the side,
completes the thermometer. Now as the fluid ex-
pands or condenses with heat or cold, it will rise and
fall in the tube in proportion; and the degree or quan-
tity of ascent or descent will be seen in the scale,
No fire, as was said, can make water hotter,
after it begins to boil. We can therefore at any
time be sure of an equable certain heat ; which is
that of boiling water, which is invariably the same.
The certainty of such a heat is not less useful
than the instrument that measures it. It affords
a standard, fixed degree of heat over the whole

l 3

150

A HISTORY OF

world; boiling water being as hot in Greenland as
upon the coasts of Guinea, One fire is more in-
tense than another : of heat there are various de-
grees ; but boiling water is a heat every where the
same, and easily procurable.

As heat thus expands water, so cold, when it
is violent enough to freeze the same, produces
exactly the same effect, and expands it likewise.
Thus water is acted upon in the same manner
by two opposite qualities; being dilated by both.
As a proof that it is dilated by cold, we have
only, to observe the ice floating on the surface of
a pond, which it would not do were it not di-
lated, and grown more bulky, by freezing, than
the water which remains unfroze. Mr. Boyle,
however, put the matter past a doubt, by a va-
riety of experiments #. Having poured a pro-
per quantity of water into a strong earthen ves-
sel, he exposed it, uncovered, to the open air, in
frosty nights ; and observed, that continually
the ice reached higher than the water before it
was frozen. He filled also a tube with water, and
stopped both ends with wax : the water, when
frozen, was found to push out thestoppleS from both
ends ; and a rod of ice appeared at each end of
the tube, which shewed how much it was swollen
by the cold within.

From hence, therefore, we may be very certain
of the cold’s dilating of the water ; and experience
also shews, that the force of this expansion has
been found as great as any which heat has been
found to produce. The touch-hole of a strong

l

*BoyICj vol. i. p. 610.

I

1

THE EARTH.

151

gun-barrel being stopped, and a plug of iron
forcibly driven into the muzzle, after the barrel
had been filled with water, it was placed in a mix-
ture of ice and salt : the plug, though soldered
to the barrel, at first gave way, but being fixed
in more firmly, within a quarter of an hour the
gun-barrel burst with a loud noise, and blew up
the cover of the box wherein it lay. Such is its
force in an ordinary experiment. But it has been
known to burst cannons, filled with water, and
then left to freeze ; for the cold congealing the
water, and the ice swelling, it became irresistible.
The bursting of rocks, by frost, which is frequent
in the Northern climates, and is sometimes seen
in our own, is an equal proof of the expansion of
congealed water; for having, by some means,
insinuated itself into the body of the rock, it has
remained there till the cold was sufficient to af-
fect it by congelation. But when once frozen,
no obstacle is able to confine it from dilating;
and, if it cannot otherwise find room, the rock
must burst asunder.

This alteration in the bulk of water might
have served as a proof that it was capable of be-
ing compressed into a narrower space than it oc-
cupied before ; but, till of late, water was held to
be incompressible. The general opinion was,
that no art whatsoever could squeeze it into a
narrower compass ; that no power on earth, for
instance, could force a pint of water into a vessel
that held a hair’s breadth less than a pint. And
this, said they, appears from the famous Floren-
tine experiment ; where the water rather than
suffer com pressure, was seen to ooze through the

l 4

152

A HISTORY OF

pores of the solid metal ; and, at length, making a
cleft in the side, spun out, with -great vehemence.
But later trials have proved that water is very
compressible, and partakes of that elasticity which
every other body possesses in some degree. In-
deed, had not mankind been dazzled by the bril-
liancy of one inconclusive experiment, there were

numerous reasons to convince them of its having

*

the same properties with other substances. Ice,
which is water in another state, is very elastic, A
stone flung slantingly along the surface of a pond,
bounds from the water several times ; which
shews it to be elastic also. But the trials of Mr.
Canton have put this past all doubt; which being
somewhat similar to those* of the great Boyle,
who pressed it with weights properly applied,
carry sufficient conviction,

What has been hitherto related, is chiefly ap-
plicable to the element of water alone ; but its
fluidity is a property that it possesses in common
with several other substances, in other respects
greatly differing from it. That quality which
gives rise to the definition of a fluid, namely, that
its parts are in a continual intestine motion, seems
extremely applicable to water. What the shapes
of those parts are, it would be vain to attempt to
discover. Every trial only shews the futility of
the attempt ; all we find is, that they are extremely
minute; and that they roll over each other with
the greatest ease. Some, indeed, from this pro-?
perty alone, have not hesitated to pronounce
them globular; and we have in all our hydrosta-
tical books, pictures of these little globes in q,
state of sliding and rolling over each other. But

THE EARTH.

155

all this is merely the work of imagination ; we
know that substances of any kind, reduced very
small, assume a fluid appearance, somewhat resem-
bling that of water. Mr. Boyle, after finely pow-
dering and sifting a little dry powder of plaister of
Paris, put it in a vessel over the fire, where it
soon began to boil like water, exhibiting all the
motions and appearances of a boiling liquor.
Although but a powder, the parts of which we
know are very different from each other, and
just as accident has formed them, yet it heaved
in great waves, like water. Upon agitation, an
heavy body will sink to the bottom, and a light
one emerge to the top. There is no reason to
suppose the figure of the parts of water round,
since we see their fluidity very well imitated by
a composition, the parts of which are of various
forms and sizes. The shape of the parts of wa-
ter, therefore, we must be content to continue
ignorant of. AH we know is, that earth, air, and
fire, conduce to separate the parts from each
other.

Earthy substances divide the parts from each
other, and keep them asunder. This division
may be so great, that the water will entirely lose
its fluidity thereby. Mud, potter’s clay, and
dried bricks, are so many different combinations
of earth and water ; each substance in which the
parts of water are most separated from each other,
appearing to be the most dry. In some sub-
stances, indeed, where the parts of water are
greatly divided, as in porcelane, for instance,
it is no easy matter to recover and bring them
together again ; but they continue in a manner

154

A HISTORY OF

fixed and united to the manufactured clay. Tim
circumstance led Dr. Cheney into a very peculiar
strain of thinking. He suspected that the quan-
tity of water, on the surface of the earth, was
daily decreasing. For, says he, some parts of it
are continually joined to vegetable, animal, and
mineral substances, which no art can again re-
cover. United with these, the water loses its
fluidity ; for if, continues he, we separate a few
particles of any fluid, and fasten them to a solid
body, or keep them asunder, they will be a fluid no
longer. To produce fluidity, a considerable number
of such particles are required; but here they are
close, and destitute of their natural properties.
Thus, according to him, the world is growing
every day harder and harder, and the earth firmer
and firmer; and there may come a time when every
object around us may be stiffened in universal fri-
gidity ! However, we have causes enough of anx-
iety in this world already, not to add this prepos-
terous concern to the number.

That air also contributes to divide the parts of
water, we can have no manner of doubt ; some
have even disputed whether water be not capable
of being turned into air. Though this cannot be
allowed, it must be granted, that it may be turned
into a substance which greatly resembles air (as
we have seen in the experiment of the reolipile)
with all its properties ; except that, by cold, this
new-made air may be condensed again into water.

But of all the substances which tend to divide
the parts of water, fire is the most powerful.
Water, when heated into steam, acquires such
force, and the parts of it tend to fly off from

THE EARTH. 155

each other with such violence, that no earthly
substance we know of is strong enough to confine
them. A single drop of water, converted into
steam, has been found capable of raising a weight
of twenty tons; and would* have raised twenty
thousand, were the vessel confining it sufficiently
strong, and the fire below increased in proportion.

From this easy yielding of its parts to external
pressure, arises the art of determining the specific
N gravity of bodies by plunging them in water ; with
many other useful discoveries in that part of na-
tural philosophy, called hydrostatics. The laws of
this science, which Archimedes began, and Pas-
cal, with some other of the moderns, have im-
proved, rather belongs to experimental than to na-
tural history. However, I will take leave to men-
tion some of U19 most striking paradoxes in this
branch of science, which are as well confirmed by
experiment, as rendered universal by theory. It
would indeed be unpardonable, while discoursing
on the properties of water, to omit giving some
account of the manner in which it sustains such
immense bulks as we see floating upon its soft and
yielding surface : how some bodies, that are known
to sink at one time, swim writh ease, if their sur-
face be enlarged : how the heaviest body, even gold
itself may be made to swim upon water; and
how the lightest, such as cork, shall remain sunk at
the bottom : how the pouring in of a single quart
of water, will burst a hogshead hooped with
iron : and how it ascends, in pipes, from the val-
ley, to travel over the mountain : these are circum-
stances that are at first surprising; but, upon a
slight consideration, lose their wonder.

2

A HISTORY OF

* In order to conceive the mariner in which all
these wonders are effected, we must begin by ob-
serving that water is possessed of an invariable pro-
perty, which has not hitherto been mentioned ;
that of always keeping its surface level and even.
Winds, indeed, may raise it into waves; or art
spurt it up in fountains ; but ever, when left to it-
self, it sinks into a smooth even surface, of which
no one part is higher than another. If I should
pour water, for instance, into the arm of a pipe of
the shape of the letter U, the fluid would rise in
the other arm just to the same height; because,
otherwise, it would not find its level, which it in-
variably maintains. A pipe bending from one hill
down into the valley, and rising by another, may
be considered as a tube of this kind, in which the
water, sinking in one arm, rises to maintain its
level in the other. Upon this principle all water-
pipes depend ; which can never raise the water
higher than the fountain from which they pro-
ceed.

Again, let us suppose for a moment, that the
arms of the pipe already mentioned, may be made
long or short at pleasure; and let us still further
suppose, that there is some obstacle at the bottom
of it, which prevents the water poured into one
arm, from rising in the other. Now it is evident,
that this obstacle at the bottom will sustain a pres-
sure from the water in one arm, equal to what
would make it rise in the other; and this pressure
will be great, in proportion as the arm filled with

* In the above sketch, the manner of demonstrating used by
Monsieur D’Alembert is made use of as the most obvious, and
the most satisfactory. Vide Essai sur, &c.

1

THE EARTH.

157

water is tail. We may, therefore, generally con-
clude, that the bottom of every vessel is pressed
by a force, in proportion to the height of the
water in that vessel. For instance, if the vessel
filed with water be forty feet high, the bottom of
that vessel will sustain such a pressure as would
raise the same water forty feet high, Svhich is very
great. Hence we see how extremely apt our pipes
that convey water to the city are to burst; for de-
scending from an hill of more than forty feet
high, they are pressed by the water contained in
them, with a force equal to what Would raise it
more than forty feet high ; and that this is some*
times able to burst a wooden pipe, we can have no
room to doubt of.

Still recurring to our pipe, let us suppose one of
its arms ten times as thick as the other; this will
produce no effect whatsoever upon the obstacle
below, which we supposed hindering its rise in the
other arm ; because, bow thick soever the pipe may
be, its contents would only rise to its own level ;
and it will, therefore, press the obstacle with an
equal force. We may, therefore, universally con-
clude, that the bottom of any vessel is pressed by
its water, not as it is broad or narrow, but in pro-
portion as it is high. Thus the water contained in
a vessel not thicker than my finger, presses its bot-
tom as forcibly as the water contained in an hogs-
head of an equal height; and, if we made holes in
the bottoms of both, the water would burst out as
forceful from the one as the other. Hence we
may, with great ease, burst an hogshead with a
single quart of water, and it has been often done.

158

A HISTORY OF

• i

We have only*, for this, to place an hogshead on
one end, filled with water: we then bore a hole in
its top, into which we plant a narrow tin pipe, of
about thirty feet high : by pouring a quart of water
in to this, at the top, as it continues to rise higher in
the pipe, it will press more forcibly on the bottom
and sides of the hogshead below and at last burst it.

Still returning to our simple instrument of de-
monstration. If we suppose the obstacle at the
bottom of the pipe to be moveable, so as that the
force of the water can push it up into the other
arm ; such a body is quicksilver, for instance.
Now, it is evident, that the weight of water
weighing down upon this quicksilver in one arm,
will at last press it up in the other arm ; and will
continue to press it upwards, until the fluid in both
arms be upon a par. So that here we actually see
quicksilver the heaviest substance in the world, ex-
cept gold and platina, floating upon water, which
is but a very light substance.

When we see water thus capable of sustaining
quicksilver, we need not be surprised that it is ca-
pable of floating much lighter substances, ships,
animals, or timber. When any thing floats upon
water, we always see that a part of it sinks in the
same. A cork, a ship, a buoy, each buries itself a
bed on the surface of the water ; this bed may be
considered as so much water displaced ; the water
will, therefore, lose so much of its own weight as is
equal to the weight of that bed of water which it
displaces. If the body be heavier than a similar
bulk of water it will sink ; if lighter, it will swim.
Universally, therefore, a body plunged in water,

* Nollet’s Lectures.

THE EARTH.

159

loses as much of its weight as is equal to the
weight of a body of water of its own bulk. Some
light bodies, therefore, such as cork, lose much of
their weight, and therefore swim ; other more pon-
derous bodies sink, because they are heavier than
their bulk of water.

Upon this simple theorem entirely depends the
art of weighing metals hydrostatically. I have a
guinea, for instance, and desire to know whether
it be pure gold : I have weighed it in the usual way
with another guinea, and find it exactly of the
same weight, but still I have some suspicion, from
its greater bulk, that it is not pure. In order to
determine this, I have nothing more to do than to
weigh it in water with that same guinea that 1
know to be good, and of the same weight ; and
this will instantly shew the difference ; for the true
ponderous metal will sink, and the false bulky one
will be sustained in proportion to the greatness of
its surface. Those whose business it is to examine
the purity of metals, have a balance made for this
purpose, by which they can precisely determine
which is most ponderous, or, as it is expressed,
which has the greatest specific gravity. Seventy-
one pound and a half of quicksilver is found to be
equal in bulk to a hundred pound weight of gold.
In the same proportion, sixty of lead, fifty-four of
silver, forty-seven of copper, forty-five of brass,
forty-two of iron, and thirty-nine of tin, are each
equal to a hundred pound of the most ponderous
of all metals.

This method of precisely determining the purity
of gold, by weighing in water, was first discovered
by Archimedes, to whom mankind have been in-

i6o a History of

debted for many useful discoveries. Hiero, king1
of Sicily, having sent a certain quantity of gold to
be made into a crown, the workman, it seems, kept
a part for bis own use, and supplied the deficiency
with a baser metal. His fraud was suspected by
the king, but could not be detected, till he applied
to Archimedes, who weighed the crown in water;
and, by this method, informed the king of the
quantity of gold which was taken away.

It has been said, that all fluids endeavour to pre-
serve their level ; and, likewise, that a body pressing
on the surface, tended to destroy that levek
Hence it will easily be inferred, that the deeper
any body sinks, the greater will be the resistance
of the depressed fluid beneath. It will be asked,
therefore, as the resistance increases in proportion
as the body descends, how comes the bod}^ after
it is got a certain way, to sink at all? The answer
is obvious. From the fluid above pressing it down
with almost as great a force as the fluid beneath
presses it up. Take away, by any art, the pres-
sure of the fluid from above, and let only the re-
sistance of the fluid from below be suffered to act,
and after the body is got down very deep, the re-
sistance will be insuperable. To give an instance :
a small hole opens in the bottom of a ship at sea,
forty feet we will suppose below the surface of the
water ; through this the water bursts up with great
violence; I attempt to stop it with my hand, but
it pushes the hand violently away. Here the hand
is, in fact, a body attempting to sink upon water,
at a depth of forty feet, with the pressure from
above taken away. The water, therefore, will
overcome my strength ; and will continue to burst

THE EARTH. 161

in till it has got to its level: if I should then dive
into the hold, and clap my hand upon the opening
as before, I should perceive no force acting against
my hand at all, for the water above presses the
hand as much down against the hole, as the water
without presses it upward. For this reason, also,
when we dive to the bottom of the water, we sus-
tain a very great pressure from above, it is true,
but it is counteracted by the pressure from below;
and the whole acting uniformly on the surface of
the body, wraps us close round without injury.

As I have deviated thus far, 'I will just men-
tion one or two properties more, which water, and
all such like fluids, is found to possess. And
first, their ascending in vessels which are emptied
of air, as in our common pumps for instance.
The air, however, being the agent in this case,
we must previously examine its properties, before
we undertake the explanation. The other proper-
ty to be mentioned is, that of their ascending in
small capillary tubes. This is one of the most ex-
traordinary and inscrutable appearances in nature.
Glass tubes may be drawn, by means of a lamp,
as fine as a hair; still preserving their hollow within..
If one of these be planted in a vessel of water, or
spirit of wine, the liquor will immediately be seen
to ascend; and it will rise higher, in proportion,
as the tube is smaller ; a foot, two feet, and more.
How docs this come to pass? Is the air the cause ?
No: the liquor rises, although the air be taken
away. Is attraction the cause? No : for quick-
silver does not ascend, which it otherwise would.
Many have been the theories of experimental phi-
losophers to explain this property. Such as are
vol. x. • M

162

A HISTORY OF

fond of travelling in the regions of conjecture,
may consult Hawksbee, Morgan, Jurin, or Wat-
son, who have examined the subject with great
minuteness. Hitherto, however, nothing but doubts
instead of knowledge have been the result of
their enquiries. It will not, therefore, become us
to enter into the minuteness of the inquiry, when
we have so many greater wonders to call our atten-
tion away*.

chap. xry.

Of the Origin o f Rivers.

XVlE sun ariseth, and the sun goeth down, and
pants for the place from whence he arose. All
things are filled with labour, and man cannot utter
it. All rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is not
full. Unto the- place whence the rivers come,
thither they return again. The eye is not satisfied

i

[* This phenomenon which has so long embarrassed philoso-
phers, is easily soluble upon the principle, that the attraction
between the particles of glass and water is greater than the at-
traction between the particles of water themselves : for, if a
glass tube be held parallel to the horizon, and a drop of water
be applied to the under side of the tube, it will adhere to it : nor
will it fall from the glass, till its bulk and gravity are so far in-
creased as to overbalance the attraction of the glass. Hence it
is easy to conceive, how sensibly such a power must act on the
surface of a fluid, not viscid as water, contained within the ca-
vity of a small glass tube ; as also that the quantity of the fluid
raised, will be as the surface of the bore which it fills, that is,
as the diameter of the tube.]

THE EARTH.

163

-with seeing, nor the ear with hearing*. Thus
speaks the wisest of the Jews. And, at so early a
period was the curiosity of man employed in ob-
serving these great circulations of nature. Every
eye attempted to explain those appearances ; and
every philosopher who has long thought upon the
subject, seems to give a peculiar solution. The
enquiry whence rivers are produced : whence they
derive those unceasing stores of water, which con-
tinually enrich the world with fertility and verdure :
has been variously considered ; and divided the
opinions of mankind, more than any other topic
in natural history.

In this contest, the various champions may be
classed under two leaders, Mr. De la Hire, who
contends that rivers must be supplied from the sea,
strained through the pores of the earth and Dr.
Halley, who has endeavoured to demonstrate, that
the clouds alone are sufficient for the supply. Both
sides have brought in mathematics to their aid;
and have shewn, that long and laborious calcula-
tions can at any time be made, to obscure both
sides of a question.

De la Hirej' begins his proofs, that rain-water,
evaporated from the sea, is insufficient for the pro-
duction of rivers; by shewing, that rain never pe-
netrates the surface of the earth above sixteen
inches. Thence he infers, that it is impossible for
it, in many cases, to sink so as to be found at such
considerable depths below. Rain-water, he grants,
is often seen to mix with rivers, and to swell their

* Ecclesiastes, chap. i. ver. 5, 7, 8.

+ Hist, tie l’Acad. 1713. p. 56.

164

A HISTORY OF

currents ; but a much greater part of it evaporates.
In fact, continues he, if we suppose the earth every
where covered with water, evaporation alone would
be sufficient to carry off two feet nine inches of it
in a year; and yet, we very well know, that scarcely
nineteen inches of rain-water falls in that time; so
that evaporation would carry off a much greater
quantity than is ever known to descend. The
small quantity of rain-water that falls is therefore
but barely sufficient for the purposes of vegetation.
Two leaves of a fig-tree have been found, by ex-
periment, to imbibe from the earth, in five hours
and a half, two ounces of water. This implies the
great quantity of fluid that must be exhausted in
the maintenance of one single plant. Add to this,
that the waters of the river Rungis will, by calcu-
lation, rise to fifty inches; and the whole country
from whence they are supplied never receives fifty
inches, in the year, by rain. Besides this, there are
many salt springs, which are known to proceed im-
mediately from the sea, . and are subject to its flux
and reflux. In short, wherever we dig beneath the
surface of the earth, except in a very few instances,
water is to be found ; and it is by this subterraneous
water, that springs and rivers, nay, a great part
of vegetation itself, is supported. It is this subter-
raneous water, which is raised into steam by the in-
ternal heat of the earth, that feeds plants. It is this
subterraneous water that distils through its inter-
stices ; and there cooling, forms fountains. It is
this that, by the addition of rains, is increased into
rivers ; and pours plenty over the whole earth.

On the other side of the question*', it is asserted,

f Phil. Trans, vol. ii. p. 128.

THE EARTH.

165

that the vapours which are exhaled from the sea,
and driven by the winds upon land, are more than
sufficient to supply not only plants with moisture,
but also to furnish a sufficiency of water to the
greatest rivers. For this purpose, an estimate has
been made of the quantity of water emptied at the
mouth of the greatest rivers ; and of the quantity
also raised from the sea by evaporation ; and it has
been found, that the latter by far exceeds the for-
mer. This calculation was made by Mr, Mariotte.
By him it was found, upon receiving such rain as
fell in a year, in a proper vessel, fitted for that pur-
pose, that, one year with another, there might fall
about twenty inches of water upon the surface of
the earth, throughout Europe. It was also com-
puted, that the river Seine, from its source to the
city of Paris, might coverall extent of ground, that
would supply it annaliy with above seven millions
of cubic feet of this water, formed by evaporation.
But, upon computing the quantity which passed
through the arches of one of its bridges in a year,
it was found to amount only to two hundred and
eighty millions of cubic feet, which is not above
the sixth part of the former number. Hence it
appears, that this river may receive a supply brought
to it by the evaporated waters of the sea, six times
greater than what it gives back to the sea by its
current; and, therefore, evaporation is more than
sufficient for maintaining the greatest rivers ; and
supplying the purposes also of vegetation.

In this manner, the sea furnishes sufficient humi-
dity to the air for furnishing the earth with all ne-
cessary moisture. One part of its vapours fall upon
its own bosom, before they arrive upon land.

m 3

166 A HISTORY OF

Another part is arrested by the sides of mountains,
and is compelled, by the rising stream of air, to
mount upward towards the summits. Here it is
presently precipitated, dripping down by the cran-
nies of the stone. In some places, entering into
the caverns of the mountain, it gathers in those
receptacles, which being once filled, all the rest
overflows; and breaking out by the sides of the
hills, forms single springs. Many of these run
down by the vallies, or guts between the ridges of
the mountain, and form little rivulets or brooks;
many of these meeting in one common valley, and
gaining the plain ground, being grown less rapid,
become a river : and many of these uniting, make
such vast bodies of water as the Rhine, the
Rhone, and the Danube.

There is still a third part, which falls upon the
lower grounds, and furnishes plants with then-
wonted supply. Rut the circulation does not rest
even here ; for it is again exhaled into vapour by
the action of the sun ; and afterwards returned to
that great mass of waters whence it first arose.
This, adds Doctor Halley, seems the most reason-
able hypothesis; and much more likely to be true
than that of those who derive all springs from
the filtering of the sea waters through certain ima-
ginary tubes or passages within the earth ; since it
is well known, that the greatest rivers have their
most copious fountains the most remote from the
sea#.

This seems the most general opinion ; and yet,
after all, it is still pressed with great difficulties; and

* Phil. Trans, vol. ii. p. 128.

THE EARTH.

167

there is still room to look out for a better theory.
The perpetuity of many springs, which always yield
the same quantity when the least rain or vapour is
afforded, as well as when the greatest, is a strong
objection. Derham* mentions a spring at Up-
minster, which he could never perceive by his
eye to be diminished, in the greatest draughts,
even when all the ponds in the country, as well as
an adjoining brook, have been dry for several
months together. In the rainy seasons also, it was
never overflowed ; except sometimes, perhaps, for
an hour or so, upon the immission of the external
rains. He, therefore, justly enough concludes,
that had this spring its origin from rain or vapour,
there would be found an increase or decrease of
its water, corresponding to the causes of its pro-
duction.

Thus the reader, after having been tossed from
one hypothesis to another, must at last be con-
tented to settle in conscious ignorance. All that
has been written upon this subject, affords him
rather something to say, than something to think ;
something rather for others than for himself.
Varenius, indeed, although he is at a loss for the
origin of rivers, is by no means so as to their form-
ation. He is pretty positive that all rivers are ar-
tificial. He boldly asserts, that their channels have
been originally formed by the industry of man. His
reasons are, that when a new spring breaks forth,
the water does not make itself a new channel, but
spreads over the adjacent land. Thus, says he,
men are obliged to direct its course ; or, otherwise

* Derham Physico-Theol,

M 4

168 A HISTORY OF

Nature would never have found one. He enume-
rates many rivers, that are certinly known, from
history, to have been dug by men. He alledges,
that no salt-water rivers are found, because men
did not want salt-water; and as for salt, that was
procurable at a less expense than digging a river
for it. However, it costs a speculative man but
a small expense of thinking to form such an hypo-
thesis. It may, perhaps,, engross the reader’s pa-
tience to detain him longer upon it.

Nevertheless, though philosophy be thus igno-
rant, as to the production of rivers, yet the laws
of their motion, and the nature of their currents,
have been very well explained. The Italians have
particularly distinguished themselves in this re-
spect, and it is chiefly to them that we are indebted
for the improvement*.

All rivers have their source either in mountains,
or elevated lakes ; and it is in their descent from
these, that they acquire that velocity which main-
tains their future current. At first their course is
generally rapid and headlong ; but it is retarded
in its journey by the continual friction against its
banks* by the many obstacles it meets to divert
its stream, and by the plains generally becoming
more level as it approaches towards the sea.

If this acquired velocity he quite spent, and
the plain through which the river passes is en-
tirely level, it will, notwithstanding, still continue
to run from the perpendicular pressure of the
water, which is always in exact proportion to the
depth. This perpendicular pressure is nothing

* S. Guglielmini della Naturade Fiumi, passim.

THE EARTH.

169

more than the weight of the upper waters pressing
the lower out of their places, and consequently
driving them forward, as they cannot recede
against the stream. As this pressure is greatest in
the deepest parts of the river, so we generally find
the middle of the stream most rapid; both be-
cause it has the greatest motion thus communi-
cated by the pressure, and the fewest obstructions
from the banks on either side.

Rivers thus set into motion are almost always
found to make their own beds. Where they find
the bed elevated, they wear its substance away,
and deposit the sediment in the next hollow, so
as in time to make the bottom of their channels
even. On the other hand, the water is continu-
ally gnawing and eating away the banks on each
side; and this with more force as the current hap-
pens to strike more directly against them. By
these means it always has a tendency to render
them more strait and parallel to its own course.
Thus it continues to rectify its banks, and enlarge
its bed; and, consequently, to diminish the force
of its stream, till there becomes an equilibrium
between the force of the water, and the resistance
of its banks, upon which both will remain without
any further mutation. And it is happy for man
that bounds are thus put to the erosion of the
earth by water; and that we find all rivers only
dig and widen themselves but to a certain degree*.

In those plains f and large vallies where great
livers flow, the bed of the river is usually lower

* Guglielmini della Natura de Fiumi, passim.

t Bufi'on. De Fleuves, passim, vol. ii,

1

170

A HISTORY OF

than any part of the valley.. But it often happens
that the surface of the water is higher than many
of the grounds that are adjacent to the banks of
the stream. If, after inundations, we take a view
of some rivers, we shall find their banks appear
above water, at a time that all the adjacent valley
is overflown. This proceeds from the frequent
deposition of mud, and such like substances,
upon the banks, by the rivers frequently overflow*
ing; and thus, by degrees, they become elevated
above the plain ; and the water is often seen
higher also.

Rivers, as every body has seen, are always
broadest at the mouth ; and grow narrower to-
wards their source. But what is less known,
and probably more deserving curiosity, is, that
they run in a more direct channel as they imme-
diately leave their sources ; and that their sinuo-
sities and turnings become more numerous as they
proceed. It is a certain sign among the savages
of North America, that they are near the sea,
when they find the rivers winding, and every
now and then changing their direction. And
this is even now become an indication to the
Europeans themselves, in their journies through
those trackless forests. As those sinuosities, there-
fore, increase as the river approaches the sea, it
is not to be wondered at, that they sometimes
divide, and thus disembogue by different chan-
nels. The Danube disembogues into the Euxine
by seven mouths; the Nile by the same number;
and the Wolga, by seventy.

The currents* of rivers are to be estimated very

* Buffon. De Fleuves, passnn, vol. ii.

THE EARTH.

m

differently from the manner in which those writers,
who have given us mathematical theories on this
subject, represent them. They found their cal-
culations upon the surface being a perfect plain,
from one bank to the other : but this is not the ac-
tual state of Nature ; for rivers, in general, rise in
the middle ; and this convexity is greatest in pro-
portion as the rapidity of the stream is greater.
Any person to be convinced of this, need only
lay his eye as nearly as he can on a level with
the stream, and looking across to the opposite
bank, he will perceive the river in the midst to be
elevated considerably above what it is at the
edges. This rising in some rivers, is often found
to be three feet high ; and is ever increased, in
proportion to the rapidity of the stream. In this
case, the water in the midst of a current loses a
part of its weight, from the velocity of its motion ;
while that at the sides, for the contrary reason,
sinks lower. It sometimes, however, happens,
that this appearance is reversed ; for when tides
are found to flow up with violence against the
natural current of the water, the greatest rapidity
is then found at the sides of the river, as the wa-
ter there least resists the influx from the sea. On
those occasions, therefore, the river presents a
concave rather than a convex surface : and, as in
the former case, the middle waters rose in a ridge;
in this case, they sink in a furrow.

The stream of all rivers is more rapid in propor-
tion as its channel is diminished. For instance,
it will be much swifter where it is ten yards broad,
than where it is twenty; for the force behind still
pushing the water forward, when if comes to the

4

172

A HISTORY OF

Harrow part it must make up by velocity what it
wants in room.

It often happens that the stream of a fiver is
opposed by one of its jutting banks, by an island
in the midst, the arches of a bridge, or some such
obstacle. This produces, not unfrequently, a
back current; and the water having passed the
arch with great velocity, pushes the water on each
side of its direct current. This produces a side
current, tending to the bank; and not unfrequently
a whirlpool ; in which a large body of waters are
circulated in a kind of cavity, sinking down in the
middle. The central point of the whirlpool is
always lowest, because it has the least motion;
the other parts are supported, in some measure,
by the violence of theirs; and, consequently, rise
higher as their motion is greater; so that towards
the extremity of the whirlpool must be higher
than towards the centre.

If the stream of a river be stopped at the sur-
face, and yet be free below ; for instance, if it be
laid over by a bridge of boats, there will then be
a double current ; the water at the surface will flow
back, while that at the bottom will proceed with
increased velocity. It often happens that the
current at the bottom is swifter than at the top,
when, upon violent land-floods, the weight of wa-
ters towards the source presses the waters at the
bottom, before it has had time to communicate
its motion to the surface. However, in all other
cases, the surface of the stream is swifter than the
bottom, as it is not retarded by rubbing over the
bed of the river.

It might be supposed that bridges, dams, and

THE EARTH. 17$

other obstacles in the current of a river, would re*
tard its velocity. But the difference they make
is very inconsiderable. The water, by these stop-
pages, gets an elevation above the object ; which,
when it has surmounted, it gives a velocity that
recompenses the former delay. Islands and turn-
ings also retard the course of the stream but very
inconsiderably ; any cause which diminishes the
quantity of the water, most sensibly diminishes
the force and the velocity of the stream.

An increase* of water in the bed of the river,
always increases its rapidity; except in cases of
inundation. The instant the river has overflowed
its banks, the velocity of its current is always
turned that way, and the inundation is perceived
to continue for some days; which it would not
otherwise do, if, as soon as the cause was discon-
tinued, it acquired its former rapidity.

A violent storm, that sets directly up against
the course of the stream, will always retard, and
sometimes entirely stop its course. I have seen
an instance of this, when the bed of a large river
was left entirely dry for some hours, and fish were
caught among the stones at the bottom.

Inundations are generally greater towards the
source of rivers, than farther down ; because the
current is generally swifter below than above;
and that for the reasons already assigned.

A little river t may be received into a large one,
without augmenting either its width or depth.
This, which at first view seems a paradox, is yet

* Baffon, toI. ii. p. 62.

+ Guglielmini.

174

A HISTORY OF

very easily accounted for. The little river, in this
case, only goes towards increasing the swiftness of
the larger, and putting its dormant waters into
motion. In this manner, the Venetian branch of
the Po was pushed on by the Ferarese branch and
that of Panaro, without any enlargement of its
breadth or depth from these accessions.

A river tending to enter another, either perpen-
dicularly, or in an opposite direction, will be di-
verted, by degrees, from that direction ; and be
obliged to make itself a more favourable entrance
downward, and more conspiring with the stream of
the former.

The union of two rivers into one, makes it flow
the swifter ; since the same quantity of water, in-
stead of rubbing against four shores, now only
rubs against two. And, besides, the current being
deeper, becomes, of consequence, more fitted for
motion.

With respect to the places whence rivers proceed,
it maybe taken for a general rule, that the largest*
and highest mountains supply the greatest and
most extensive rivers. It may also be remarked,
in whatever direction the ridge of the mountain
runs, the river takes an opposite course. If the
mountain, for instance, stretches from north to
south, the river runs from east to west ; and so con-
trariwise. These are some of the most generally
received opinions with regard to the course of ri-
vers; however, they are liable to many exceptions;
and nothing but an actual knowledge of each par-
ticular river can furnish us with an exact theory of
its current.

* Doctor Ilalley.

THE EARTH.

115

The largest rivers of Europe are first, the Wolga,
which is about six hundred and fifty leagues in
length, extending from Reschow to Astrachan. It
is remarkable of this river, that it abounds with
water during the summer months of May and
June ; but all the rest of the year is so shallow, as
scarcely to cover its bottom, or allow a passage
for loaded vessels that trade up its stream. It was up
this river that the English attempted to trade into
Persia, in which they were so unhappily disappoint-
ed, in the year 1741. The next in order is the
Danube. The course of this is about four hundred
and fifty leagues, from the mountains of Switzer-
land to the Black Sea. It is so deep between Bu-
da and Belgrade, that the Turks and Christians
have fleets of men of war upon it, which frequent-
ly engaged during the last war between the Otto-
mans and the Austrians : however, it is unnavi-
gable further down, by reason of its cataracts,
which prevent its commerce into the Black Sea.
The Don, orTanais, rvhich is four hundred leagues
from the source of that branch of it called the
Softna, to its mouth in the Euxine Sea. In one
part of its course it approaches - near the Wolga;
and Peter the Great had actually begun a canal,
by which he intended joining those two rivers ;
but this he did not live to finish. The Nieper, or
Borysthenes, which rises in the middle of Muscovy,
and runs a course of three hundred and. fifty
leagues, to empty itself into the Black Sea. The
Old Cossacks inhabit the banks and islands of this
river ; and frequently cross the Black Sea, to plun-
der the maritime places on the coasts of Turkey.
The Dwina, which takes its rise in a province of

176

A HISTORY OF

\

the same name in Russia, that runs a course of three
hundred leagues, and disembogues into the White
Sea, a little below Archangel.

The largest rivers of Asia, are the Hohanho, in
China, which is eight hundred and fifty leagues in
length, computing from its source at Raja Ribron,
to its mouth in the Gulph of Changi. The Jenisca
of Tartary, about eight hundred leagues in length,
from the Lake Selinga to the Icy sea. This river
is, by some, supposed to supply most of that great
quantity of drift wood which is seen floating in the
seas near the Arctic circle. The Oby, of five hundred
leagues, running from the lake of Kila into the
Northern Sea. The Amour, in Eastern Tartary,
whose course is about five hundred and seventy-five
leagues, from its source to its entrance into the sea
of Kamtschatka, The Kiam, in China, five hun-
dred and fifty leagues in length. The Ganges, one
of the most noted rivers in the world, and about as
long as the former. It rises in the mountains which
separate India from Tartary ; and running through
the dominions of the Great Mogul, discharges it-
v self by several mouths into the bay of Bengal. It
is not only esteemed by the Indians for the depth,
and pureness of its stream, but for a supposed sanctity
which they believe to be in its waters. It is visited
annually, by several hundred thousand pilgrims,
who pay their devotions to the river as to a god ;
for savage simplicity is always known to mistake
the blessings of the Deity for the Deity himself.
They carry their dying friends from distant coun-
tries, to expire on its banks ; and to be buried in
its stream. The water is lowest in April or May ;
but the rains beginning to fall soon after* the flat

THE EARTH, 177

country is overflowed for several miles, till about
the end of September ; the waters then begin to re-
tire, leaving a prolific sediment behind, that en-
riches the soil, and, in a few days time, gives a
luxuriance to vegetation, beyond what can be con-
ceived by an European. Next to this may be
reckoned the still more celebrated river Euphrates.
This rises from two sources, northward of the city
Erzerum, in Turcomania ; and unites about three
days journey below the same ; whence, after per-
forming a course of five hundred leagues, it falls
into the gulph of Persia, fifty miles below the city
of Bassora in Arabia. The river Indus is extended,
from its source to its discharge into the Arabian
Sea, four hundred leagues.

The largest rivers of Africa are the Senegal,
which runs a course of not less than eleven hundred
leagues, comprehending the Niger, which some
have supposed to fall into it. However, later ac-
counts seem to affirm that the Niger is lost in the
sands, about three hundred miles up from the west-
ern coasts of Africa. Be this as it may, the Sene-
gal is well known to be navigable for more than
three hundred leagues up the country ; and how
much higher it may reach is not yet discovered, as
the dreadful fatality of the inland parts of Africa
not only deters curiosity, but even avarice, which
is a much stronger passion. At the end of last war,
of fifty Englishmen that were sent to the factory
at Galam, a place taken from the French, and
nine hundred miles up the river, only one returned
to tell the fate of his companions, who were des-
troyed by the climate. The celebrated river Nile
is said to be nine hundred and seventy leagues,

VOL I. N

H8 A HISTORY OF

from its source among the mountains of the Moon,
in Upper ^Ethiopia, to its opening into the Mediter-
ranean Sea. The sources of this river were consi-
dered as inscrutable by the ancients; and the
causes of its periodical inundation were equally un-
known. They have both been ascertained by the
missionaries who have travelled into the interior
parts of ^Ethiopia. TheNile takes its rise in the king-
dom of Gojam*, from a small aperture on the top
of a mountain, which, though not above a foot and
a half over, yet was unfathomable. This fountain,
when arrived at the foot of the mountain, expands
into a river : and, being joined by others, forms a
lake thirty leagues long, and as many broad ; from
this, its channel, in some measure, winds back to
the country where it first began ; from thence, pre-
cipitating by frightful cataracts, it travels through
a variety of desart regions, equally formidable,
such as Amliara, Olaca, Damot, and Xaoa. Upon
its arrival in the kingdom of Upper Egypt, it runs
through. a rocky channel, which some late travellers
have mistaken for its cataracts. In the beginning
of its course, it receives many lesser rivers into it ;
and , Pliny was mistaken, in saying that it received
none. In the beginning also of its course, it has
many windings ; but, for above three hundred
leagues from the sea, runs in a direct line. Its an-
nual overflowings arise from a very obvious cause,
which is almost universal with the great rivers that
take their source near the Line. The rainy season,
which is periodical in those climates, floods the
rivers ; and as this always happens in our summer.

Kircher Mund. Subt. vol. ii,p. 72.

THE EARTH.

179

so the Nile is at that time overflown. From these
inundations, the inhabitants of Egypt derive hap-
piness and plenty : and, when the river does not
arise to its accustomed heights, they prepare for an
indifferent harvest. It begins to overflow about
the seventeenth of June; it generally continues to
augment for forty days, and decreases in about as
many more. The time of increase and decrease,
however, is much more inconsiderable now than it
was among the ancients. Herodotus informs us,
that it was a hundred days rising, and as many
falling ; which shews that the inundation was much
greater at that time than at present. Mr. Buffon*
has ascribed the present diminution, as well to the
lessening of the mountains of the Moon, by their
substance having so long been washed down with
the stream, as to the rising of the earth in Egypt,
that has for so many ages received this extraneous
supply. But we do not find, by the buildings that
have remained since the times of the ancients, that
the earth is much raised since then. Besides the
Nile in Africa, we may reckon the Zara, and the
Coanza, from the greatness of whose openings into
the sea, and the rapidity of whose streams, we form
an estimate of the great distance from whence they
come. Their courses, however, are spent in water-
ing deserts and savage countries, whose poverty or
fierceness have kept strangers awayf.

✓

* Buffon, vol. ii. p. 82.

[+ Mr. Bruce, whose accuracy is now no longer questionable,
informs us, that the Nile originates, as Kircher has said, in the
country of the Agows, and about 600 yards from the village of
Ceesh, in the province of Sacala. About the middle ot a triangular

180 A HISTORY OF

But of all parts of the world, America, as it ex-
hibits the most lofty mountains, so also it supplies

marsh, and not quite 40 yards from the foot of the mountain on
which Geesh stands, is a circular hillock, raised about three feet
from the surface of the marsh itself. The diameter of this hillock
is not quite 12 feet, and is surrounded by a shallow trench, which
collects the water and sends it off to the east. This is firmly
built of sods brought from the sides, and kept constantly in re-
pair by the Agows, who worship the river, and perforin their re-
ligious ceremonies upon it, as upon an altar. This is the first
fountain of the Nile: the second is about 10 feet from the former,
a little to the west by south, and is only 1 1 inches in diameter :
the third is about 20 feet S. S. W. from the first. From each of
these fountains flows a brisk running rill, which, uniting with the
w ater of the first trench, goes off on the east side in a stream,
which our author conjectures would fill a pipe about 2 inches in
diameter. The lotigitude of the principal fountain was found to
be 36° 55' 30'' east of Greenwich.

The Nile, thus formed by the union of streams by these three
fountains, runs east for about 30 yards, till it is met by the edge
of the land descending from Sacala. By this it is turned gradu-
ally N. E. and then due N. and in the 2 miles it flows in that di-
rection, it receives many small springs from each side. From
this place it turns to the west, and continues for about 4 miles,
where there is a small cataract about 6 feet high : after which it
flows gently through the plains of Goutto, and winds in its di-
rection more than any river Mr. Bruce ever saw. Here it is
joined by several small rivulets, and becomes a considerable
stream, with high and broken banks. In its course it inclines to
the N. E. and receives two other small rivers ; turning then
sharply to the E. it falls down another cataract, about three miles
below which it receives the Jemma, not inferior in size to itself :
proceeding to the N. it at last crosses the S. part of the lake
Tzana or Dembeia, preserving the colour of its stream during its
passage, and issuing out at the W. side of it in the territory of
Dara : after reaching Alata, there is the third cataract about 40
feet high, and which Mr. Bruce says was the most magnificent
sight he ever beheld. Below this tremendous water-fall, the hill
takes a S. E. direction, receiving a great number of streams from
1

THE EARTH.

181

the largest rivers. The foremost of these is the
great river Amazon, which, from its source in the
lake of Lauricocha, to its discharge into the W est-
ern Oce^n, performs a course of more than twelve
hundred leagues*. The breadth and depth of this
river are answerable to its vast length ; and, where
its width is most contracted, its depth is augmented
in proportion. So great is the body of its waters,
that other rivers, though before the objects of ad-
miration, are lost in its bosom. It proceeds, after
their junction, with its usual appearance, without
any visible change in its breadth or rapidity ; and,
if we may so express it, remains great without os-

both sides, and taking a direction almost due N. approaches to
within 62 miles of its source. In this part of the river, croco-
diles are met with in great numbers. It now seems to have forced
its passage through a gap in some very high mountains which
bound the country of the Ganges, and falls down a cataract of 280
feet high ; and immediately below this are two others, both of
very considerable height, running afterwards close by Senaar,
where plenty of gold is washed down the mountains by the tor-
rents in the rainy season. It afterwards makes a sharp turn to
the E. passing by many large towns, inhabited by Arabs, of a
w'hite complexion : then passing Gerri, and turning to the N. E.
it joins the Tacazze : having at length received the great river
Atbara, it turns directly N. for about two degrees, when making
a very unexpected turn W. by S. for more than two degrees in
longitude, it arrives at Korti : from Korti it runs almost S. W.
till it passes Dongola ; after which it comes to Moscho, a con-
siderable town and place of refreshment to the caravans passing
from Egypt to Ethiopia : thence turning to the N. E. it meets
with a chain of mountains in about 22° 15' longitude, where is the
seventh cataract, named Fan Adel, about half as high as that of
Alata. This course is now continued, till it falls into the Me-
diterranean, having passed one other cataract much inferior to
any of the rest.]

* Ulloa, vol. i. p. 388.

N 3

182

A HISTORY OF

tentation. In some places it displays its whole mag-
nificence, dividing into several large branches, and
encompassing a multitude of islands ; and, at
length, discharging itself into the ocean, by a chan-
nel of a hundred and fifty miles broad. Another
river, that may almost rival the former, is the St.
Lawrence, in Canada, which rising in the lake As-
siniboils, passes from one lake to another, from
Cristinaux to Alempigo; from thence to lake Su-
perior ; thence to the lake Hurons ; to lake Erie ;
to lake Ontario ; and, at last, after a course of nine
hundred leagues, pours their collected waters
into the Atlantic ocean. The river Missisippi is
of more than seven hundred leagues in length, be-
ginning at its source near the lake Assiniboils, and
ending at its opening into the Gulph of Mexico.
The river Plate runs a length of more than eight
hundred leagues from its source in the river Pa-
rana, to its mouth. The river Oroonoko is seven
hundred and fifty leagues in length, from its source
near Pasto, to its discharge into the Atlantic Ocean.

Such is the amazing length of the greatest
rivers ; and even in some of these, the most re-
mote sources very probably yet continue un-
known. In fact, if we consider the number of
rivers which they receive, and the little acquaint-
ance we have with the regions through which
they run, it is not to be wondered at that geo-
graphers are divided concerning the sources of
most of them, As among a number of roots by
which nourishment is conveyed to a stately tree,
it is difficult to determine precisely that by which
the tree is chiefly supplied ; so, among the many
branches of a great river, it is equally difficult

THE EARTH.

18.3

to tell which is the original. Hence it may easily
happen, that a similar branch is taken for the ca-
pital stream ; and its runnings are pursued, and
delineated, in prejudice of some other branch that
better deserved the name and the description. In
this manner *, in Europe, the Danube is known
to receive thirty lesser rivers ; the Wolga, thirty- two
or thirty-three. In Asia, the Hohanno receives
thirty-five; the Jenisca above sixty; the Oby as
many; the Amour about forty; the Nanquin receives
thirty rivers; the Ganges twenty; and the Euphrates
about eleven. In Africa, the Senegal receives more
than twenty rivers ; the Nile receives not one for five
hundred leagues upwards, and then only twelve or
thirteen. In America, the river Amazon receives
above sixty, and those very considerable ; the river
St. Lawrence about forty, counting those which
fall into its lakes ; the Missisippi receives forty ;
and the river Plate above fifty.

I mentioned the inundations of the Ganges and
the Nile, but almost every other great river whose
source lies within the tropics, have their stated
inundations also. The river Pegu has been called,
by travellers, the Indian Nile, because of the similar
overflowings of its stream : this it does to an ex-
tent of thirty leagues on each side ; and so ferti-
lizes the soil, that the inhabitants send great quan-
tities of rice into other countries, and have still
abundance for their own consumption. The river
Senegal has likewise its inundations, which cover
the whole flat country of Negroland, beginning and
ending much about the same time with those of

* Buffan, vol. ii. p. 74,

'N 4

184

A HISTORY OF

the Nile ; as, in fact, both rivers rise from the same
mountains. But the difference between the effects
of the inundations in each river is remarkable : in
the one, it distributes health and plenty: in the
other, diseases, famine, and death. The inhabitants
along the torrid coasts of the Senegal can receive no
benefit from any additional manure the river may
carry down to their soil, which is by nature more
than sufficiently luxuriant ; or, even if they could,
they have not industry to turn it to any advan-
tage. The banks, therefore, of the rivers, lie uncul-
tivated, overgrown with rank and noxious herbage,
and infested with thousands of animals of various
malignity. Every new flood only tends to in-
crease the rankness of the soil, and to provide
fresh shelter for the creatures that infest it. If the
flood continues but a few days longer than usual,
the improvident inhabitants, who are driven up
in the higher grounds, want provisions, and a fa-
mine ensues. When the river begins to return
into its channel, the humidity and heat of the air
are equally fatal ; and the carcases of infinite
numbers of animals, swept away by the inunda-
tion, putrifying in the sun, produce a stench that
is almost insupportable. But even the luxuriance
of the vegetation becomes a nuisance. I have been
assured, by persons of veracity who have been up
the river Senegal, that there are some plants grow-
ing along the coast, the smell of which is so pow-
erful, that it is hardly to be endured: It is certain,
that all the sailors and soldiers who have been at any
of our factories there, ascribe the unwholesomeness
of the voyage up the stream, to the vegetable va-
pour. However this be, the inundations of the

THE EARTH.

185

rivers in this wretched part of the globe, contri-
bute scarcely any advantage, if we except the
beauty of the prospects which they afford. These,
indeed, are finished beyond the utmost reach of art :
a spacious glassy river, with its banks here and there
fringed to the very surface by the man grove- tree
that grows down into the water, presents itself to
view. Lofty forests of various colours, with open-
ings between, carpeted with green plants, and the
most gaudy flowers ; beasts and animals of various
kinds, that stand upon the banks of the river, and,
with a sort of wild curiosity, survey the mariners
as they pass, contribute to heighten the scene.
This is the sketch of an African prospect ; which
delights the eye, even while it destroys the consti-
tution.

Besides these annually periodical inundations,
there are many rivers that overflow at much shorter
intervals. Thus most of those in Peru and Chili
have scarcely any motion by night ; but upon the
appearance of the morning sun, they resume their
former rapidity : this proceeds from the mountain
snows, which, melting with the heat, increase the
stream, and continue to drive on the current while
the sun continues to dissolve them. Some rivers
also flow with an even, steady current, from their
source to the sea ; others flow with greater rapidity,
their stream being poured down in a cataract, or
swallowed by the sands, before they reach the sea.

The rivers of those countries that have been
least inhabited, are usually more rocky, uneven,
and broken into water falls or cataracts, than
those where the industry of man has been more
‘prevalent. Wherever man comes, nature puts on

186

A HISTORY OF

a milder appearance : the terrible and the sublime
are exchanged for the gentle and the useful ; the
cataract is sloped away into a placid stream ; and
the banks become more smooth and even*. It
must have required ages to render the Rhone or
the Loire navigable ; their beds must have been
cleaned and directed ; their inequalities removed ;
and, by a long course of industry, nature must
have been taught to conspire with the desires of
her controller. Every one’s experience must have
supplied instances of rivers thus being made to
flow more evenly, and more beneficially to man-
kind ; but there are some whose currents are so
rapid, and falls so precipitate, that no art can ob-
viate ; and that must for ever remain as amazing
instances of incorrigible nature.

Of this kind are the cataracts of the Rhine ; one
of which I have seen exhibit a very strange appear-
ance ; it was that at Schathausen, which was frozen
quite across, and the water stood in columns where
the cataract had formerly fallen. The Nile, as was
said, has its cataracts. The river Vologda, in Russia,
has two. The river Zara, in Africa, has one near
its source. The river Velino, in Italy, has a cataract
of above a hundred and fifty feet perpendicular.
Near the city of Gottenburgh'f', in Sweden, the
river rushes down from a podigious high precipice
into a deep pit, with a terrible noise, and such dread-
ful force, that those trees designed for the masts
of ships, which are floated down the river, are
usually turned upside down in their fall, and often

* Buffon, to], ii. p. 90.

+ Phil. Tran. vol. ii. p. 325,

THE EARTH. 187

are shattered to pieces, by being dashed against the
surface of the water in the pit ; this occurs if the
masts fall sideways upon the water ; but if they fall
endways, they dive so far under water that they
disappear for a quarter of an hour, or more : the
pit into which they are thus plunged has been often
sounded with a line of some hundred fathoms
long, but no ground has been found hitherto.
There is also a cataract at Powerscourt, in Ireland,
in which, if I am rightly informed, the water falls
three hundred feet perpendicular; which is a
greater descent than that of any other cataract
in any part of the world. There is a cataract at
Albany, in the province of New York, which
pours its stream fifty feet perpendicular. But of
all the cataracts in the world, that of Niagara, in
Canada, if we consider the great body of water
that falls, must be allowed to be the greatest, and
the most astonishing.

This amazing fall of water is made by the river
St. Lawrence, in its passage from the lake Erie
into the lake Ontario. We have already said that
St. Lawrence was one of the largest rivers in the
world ; and yet the whole of its waters are here
poured down by a fall of an hundred and fifty
feet perpendicular. It is not easy to bring the
imagination to correspond with the greatness of
the scene ; a river extremely deep and rapid, and
that serves to drain the waters of almost all North
America into the Atlantic ocean, is here poured
precipitately down a ledge of rocks, that rise like
a wall, across the whole bed of its stream. The
width of the river, a little above, is near three
quarters of a mile broad, and the rocks, where it

4

188 A HISTORY OF

grows narrower, are four hundred yards oven
Their direction is not straight across, but hollow-
ing inwards like an horse-shoe ; so that the cata-
ract, which bends to the shape of the obstacle,
rounding inwards, presents a kind of theatre the
most tremendous in nature. Just in the middle
of this circular wall of waters, a little island, that
has braved the fury of the current, presents one
of its points, and divides the stream at top into
two ; but it unites again long before it has got to
the bottom. The noise of the fall is heard at se-
veral leagues distance; and the fury of the waters
at the bottom of their fall is inconceivable. The
dashing produces a mist that rises to the very
clouds ; and that produces a most beautiful rain-
bow, when the sun shines. It may easily be con-
ceived, that such a cataract quite destroys the
navigation of the stream; and yet some Indian
canoes, as it is said, have been known to venture
down it with safety.

Of those rivers that lose themselves in the
sands, or are swallowed up by chasms in the earth,
we have various information. What we are told by
the ancients, of the river Alpheus, in Arcadia, that
sinks into the ground, and rises again near Syra^
cuse, in Sicily, where it takes the name of Arethu-
sa, is rather more known than credited. But we
have better information with respect to the river
Tigris being lost in this manner under Mount Tau-
rus ; of the Guadilquiver in Spain, being buried
in the sands ; of the river Greatah, in Yorkshire,
running underground, and rising again ; and even
of the great Rhine itself, a part of which is no
doubt lost in the sands, a little above Leydem

THE EATRH.

189

But it ought to be observed of this river, that bv
much the greatest part arrives at the ocean : for,
although the ancient channel which fell into the
sea, a little to the west of that city, be how entirely
choked up, yet there are still a number of small
canals, that carry a great body of waters to the
sea : and besides, it has also two very large open-
ings, the Lech, and the Wal, below Rotterdam,
by which it empties itself abundantly.

Be this as it will, nothing is more common in
sultry and sandy deserts, than rivers being thus
either lost in the sands, or entirely dried up by the
sun. And hence we see, that under the Line, the
small rivers are but few ; for such little streams
as are common in Europe, and which with us re-
ceive the name of rivers, would quickly evaporate,
in those parching and extensive deserts. It is
even confident^ asserted, that the great river Niger
is thus lost before it reaches the ocean ; and that its,
supposed mouths, the Gambia, and the Senegal,
are distinct rivers, that come a vast way from the
interior parts of the country. It appears that the
rivers under the Line are large ; but it is other-
wise at the Poles*, where they must necessarily
be small. In that desolate region, as the moun-
tains are covered with perpetual ice, which melts
but little, or not at all, the springs and rivulets
are furnished with a very small supply. Here, '
therefore, men and beast would perish, and die
for thirst, if Providence had not ordered, that in
the hardest winter, thaws should intervene, which
deposit a small quantity of snow-water in pools

i

* Kranfz’s History of Greenland, vol. i. p. 41.

190 A HISTORY OF

tinder the ice ; and from this source the wretched
inhabitants drain a scanty beverage.

Thus, whatever quarter of the globe we turn
to, we shall find new reasons to be satisfied with
that part of it in which we reside. Our rivers fur*,
nish all the plenty of the African stream, without
its inundation ; they have all the coolness of the
Polar rivulet, with a more constant supply ; they
may want the terrible magnificence of huge cata-
racts, or extensive lakes, but they are more navi-
gable, and more transparent; though less deep
and rapid than the rivers of the torrid zone, they
are more manageable, and only wait the will of
man to take their direction. The rivers of the
torrid zone, like the monarchs of the country,
rule with despotic tyranny, profuse in their boun-
ties, and ungovernable in their rage. The rivers
of Europe, like their kings, are the friends, and
not the oppressors of the people; bounded by
known limits, abridged in the power of doing ill,
directed by human sagacity, and only at freedom
to distribute happiness and plenty.

C H A P. XV.

Of the Ocean in general ; and of it Saltness .

If we look upon a map of the world, we shall
find that the ocean occupies considerably more of
the globe, than the land is found to do. This
immense body of waters is diffused round both the
Old and New Continent, to the south; and may sur-
round them also to the north, for what we know.

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wi

but the ice in those regions has stopped our en-
quiries. Although the ocean, properly speaking,
is but one extensive sheet of waters, continued
over every part of the globe, without interruption,
and although no part of it is divided from the
rest, yet geographers have distinguished it by dif-
ferent names; as the Atlantic or Western Ocean,
the Northern Ocean, the Southern Ocean, the Pa-
cific Ocean, and the Indian Ocean. Others have
divided it differently, and given other names ; as
the Frozen Ocean, the Inferior Ocean, or the
American Ocean. But all these being arbitrary
distinctions, and not of Nature’s making, the na-
turalist may consider them with indifference.

In this vast receptacle, almost all the rivers of
the earth ultimately terminate; nor do such great
supplies seem to increase its stores ; for it is neither
apparently swollen by their tribute, nor diminished
by their failure ; it still continues the same. In-
deed, what is the quantity of water of all the
rivers and lakes in the world, compared to that
contained in this great receptacle* ? If we should
offer to make a rude estimate, we shall find that
all the rivers in the world, flowing into the
bed of the sea, with a continuance of their present
stores, would take up at least eight hundred years
to fill it to its .presept height. For, supposing
the sea to be eighty-five millions of square miles in
extent, and a quarter of a mile upon an average
in depth, this, upon calculation, will give above
twenty-one millions of cubic miles of water, as
the contents of the whole ocean. Now, to estj-

* Buffon, vol. ii, p. 70,

192

A HISTORY OF

mate the quantity of water which all the rivers
supply, take any one of them ; the Po, for in-
stance, the quantity of whose discharge into the
sea, is known to be one cubic mile of water in
twenty-six days. Now it will be found, upon a
rude computation, from the quantity of ground
the Po, with its influent streams, covers, that all
the rivers of the world furnish about- two thousand
times that quantity of water. In the space . of a
year, therefore, they will have discharged into the
sea about twenty-six thousand cubic miles of wa-
ter ; and not till eight hundred years, will they
have discharged as much water as is contained iii
the sea at present. I have not troubled the
reader with the odd numbers, lest he should ima-
gine I was giving precision to a subject that is in-
capable of it.

Thus great is the assemblage of waters diffused
round our habitable globe ; and yet, immeasurable
as they seem, they are mostly rendered subservient
to the necessities and the conveniences of so little
a being as man. Nevertheless, if it should be
asked whether they be made for him alone, the
question is not easily resolved. Some philoso-
phers have perceived so much analogy to man in
the formation of the ocean, that they have not
hesitated to assert its beino- made for him alone.
The distribution of land and water*, say they, is
admirable; the one being laid against the other so
skilfully, that there is a just equipoise of the
whole globe. Thus the Northern Qcean balances
againt the Southern ; and the New Continent is

* Derham’s Physico-Theol.

THE EARTH.

193

an exact counterweight to the Old. As to any
objection from the ocean’s occupying too large a
share of the globe, they contend, that there could
not have been a smaller surface employed to sup-
ply the earth with a due share of evaporation.
On the other hand, some take the gloomy side of
the question ; they either magnify # its apparent
defects ; or assert, that j* what seems defects to
us, may be real beauties to some wiser order of
beings. They observe, that multitudes of animals
are concealed in the ocean, and but a small part of
them are known ; the rest, therefore, they fail not
to say, were certainly made for their own benefit,
and not for ours. How far either of these opinions
be just, I will not presume to determine; but of
this wre are certain, that God has endowed us with
abilities to turn this great extent of w'aters to our
own advantage. He has made these things, per-
haps, for other uses ; but he has given us faculties
to convert them to our own. This much-agitated
question, therefore, seems to terminate here. We
shall never know whether the things of this world
have been made for our use; but we very well
know that we have been made to enjoy them. Let
Us then boldly affirm, that the earth, and all its
bonders, are ours; since we are furnished with
powers to force them into our service. Man is
* le lord of all the sublunary creation ; the howling
Jvage, the winding serpent, with all the untame-
e and rebellious offspring of Nature, are de-
r°}ed in the contest, or driven at a distance

V O L

* Burnet’s Theory, passim.

+ Pope’s Rthic Epistles, passim.

.0

194

A HISTORY OF

from his habitations. The extensive and tempes-
tuous ocean, instead of limiting or dividing his
power, only serves to assist his -industry, and en-
large the sphere of his enjoyments. Its billows,
and its monsters, instead of presenting a scene ot‘
terror, only call up the courage of this little intre-
pid being ; and the greatest danger that man now
fears on the deep, is from his fellow-creatures.
Indeed, when I consider the human race as Na-
ture has formed them, there is but very little of
the habitable globe that seems made for them.
But when I consider them as accumulating the
experience of ages, in commanding the earth, there
fis nothing so great, or so terrible. What a poor
contemptible being is the naked savage, standing
on the beach of the ocean, and trembling at its
tumults ! How little capable is he of converting
its terrors into benefits ; or of saying, behold an
element made wholly for my enjoyment ! He con-
siders it as an angry deity, and pays it the homage
of submission. But it is very different when he
has exercised his mental powers ; when he has
learnt to find his own superiority, and to make it
subservient to his commands. - It is then that his
dignity begins to appear, and that the true Deity
is justly praised for having been mindful of man;
for having given him the earth for his habitation,
and the sea for an inheritance. - ...

This power which man has obtained over the
ocean, was at first enjoyed in common ; and none
pretended to a right in that element where all
seemed intruders. The sea, therefore, was open
to all till the time of the emperor Justinian. His
successor Leo granted such as were in possession of

THE EARTH.

195

the shore, the sole right of fishing befo're their re-
spective territories. The Thracian Bosphorus was
the first that was thus appropriated ; and from that
time it has been the struggle of most of the powers
of Europe to obtain an exclusive right in this ele-
ment. The republic of Venice claims the Adriatic.
The Danes are in possession of the Baltic. But
the English have a more extensive claim to the
empire of all the seas, encompassing the kingdoms
of England, Scotland, and Ireland; and although
these have been long contested, yet they are now
considered as their indisputable property. Every
one knows that the great power of the nation is ex-
erted on this element; and that the instant England
ceases to be superior upon the ocean, its safety
begins to be precarious.

It is in some measure owing to our dependance
upon the sea, and to our commerce there, that we
are so well acquainted with its extent and figure.
The bays, gulphs, currents, and shallows of the
ocean, are much better known and examined than
the provinces and kingdoms of the earth itself.
The hopes of acquiring wealth by commerce, has
carried man to much greater length than the de-
sire of gaining information could have done. In
consequence of this, there is scarcely a strait or an
harbour, scarcely a rock or a quicksand, scarcely
an inflexion of the shore, or the jutting of a pro-
montory, that has not been minutely described.
But as these present very little entertainment to
the imagination, or delight to any but those whose
pursuits are lucrative, they need not be dwelt
upon here. While the merchant and the mari-
ner are solicitous in describing currents and

o 2

196

A HISTORY OF

soundings* the naturalist is employed in observ-
ing wonders, though not so beneficial, yet to him
of a much more important nature. The saltness
of the sea seems to be foremost.

Whence the sea has derived that peculiar bitter-
ish saltness which we find in it, appears, by Aris-
totle, to have exercised the curiosity of naturalists
in all ages. He supposed (and mankind were for
ages content with the solution) that the sun con-
tinually raised dry saline exhalations from the
earth, and deposited them upon the sea ; and hence,
say his followers, the waters of the sea are more
$alt at top than at bottom. But, unfortunately for
this opinion, neither of the facts is true. Sea salt
is not to be raised by the vapours of the sun ; and
sea water is not salter at the top than at the bot-
tom. Father Bohours is of opinion that the Crea-
tor gave the waters of the ocean their saltness at
the beginning ; not only to prevent their corruption,
but to enable them to bear greater burthens. But
their saltness does not prevent their corruption ; for
stagnant sea water, like fresh, soon grows putrid :
and, as for their bearing greater burthens, fresh
water answers all the purposes of navigation quite
as well. The established opinion, therefore, is
that of Boyle*, who supposes, “that the sea’s salt-
ness is supplied not only from rocks or masses of
salt at the bottom of the sea, but also from the salt
which the rains and rivers, and other waters, dis-
solve in their passage through many parts of the
earth, and at length carry with them to the sea.*
But as there is a difference in the taste of rock-salt

* Boyle) vol. iii. p. 221.

THE EARTH.

191

found at land, and that dissolved in the waters of
the ocean, this may be produced by the plenty of
nitrous and bituminous bodies that, 'with the salts,
are likewise washed into that great receptacle. These
substances being thus once carried to the sea, must
for ever remain there ; for they do not rise by
evaporation, so as to be returned back from whence
they came. Nothing but the fresh waters of the
sea rise in vapours; and all the saltness remains be-
hind. Hence it follows, that every year the sea
must become more and more salt ; and this specu-
lation Doctor Halley carries so far as to lay down
a method of finding out the age of the world by
the saltness of its waters. “For if it be observed*,”
says he, “ what quantity of salt is at present con-
tained in a certain weight of water, taken up from
the Caspian Sea, for example, and, after some cen-
turies, what greater quantity of salt is contained in
the same weight of water taken from the same
place; we may conclude, that in proportion as the
saltness has increased in a certain time, so much
■must ithave increased before that time ; and we may
thus, by the rule of proportion, make an estimate
of the whole time wherein the water would acquire
the degree of saltness it should be then possessed
of.” All this may be fine; however, an experiment,
begun in this century, which is not to be completed
till some centuries hence, is rather a little mortify-
ing to modern curiosity : and, I am induced to
think, the inhabitants round the Caspian Sea will
not be apt to undertake the inquiry.

This saltness is found to prevail in every part

* Phil. Trans, vol. v. p. 218.
o 3

198

A HISTORY OF

'of the ocean ; and as much at the surface as at
the bottom. It is also found in all those seas that
communicate with the ocean ; but rather in a less
degree.

The great lakes, likewise, > that have no outlets
nor communication with the ocean, are found to
be salt : but some of them in less proportion. On
the contrary, all those lakes through which rivers
run into the sea, however extensive they be, are,
notwithstanding, very fresh : for the rivers do not
deposit their salts in the bed of the lake, but carry
them, with their currents, into the ocean. Thus
the lakes Ontario and Erie, in North America, al-
though for magnitude they may be considered as
inland seas, are, nevertheless, fresh-water lakes ;
and kept so by the river St. Lawrence, which passes
through them. But those lakes that have no
communication with the sea, nor any rivers going
out, although they be less than the former,
ate, however, always salt. Thus, that which goes
by the name of the Dead Sea, though very small,
when compared to those already mentioned,, is so
exceedingly salt, that its waters seem scarcely ca-
pable of dissolving any more. The lakes of Mex-
ico, and of Titicaca, in Peru, though of no great
extent, are, nevertheless, salt; and both for the same
reason.

Those who are willing to turn all things to the
best, have not failed to consider this saltness of the
sea as a peculiar blessing from Providence, in or-
der to keep so great an element sweet and whole-
some. W hat foundation there may be in the re-
mark, I will not pretend to determine ; but we shall
shortly find a much better cause for its being kept
- sweet, namely, its motion.

THE EARTH. 199

On the other hand, there have been many who
have considered the subject in a different light, and
have tried every endeavour to make salt-water fresh,
so as to supply the wants of mariners in long voy-
ages, or when exhausted of their ordinary stores.
At first it was supposed simple distillation ivould
do ; but it was soon found that the bitter part of
the water still kept mixed. It was then tried by
uniting salt of Tartar with sea- water, and distilling
both : but here the expense was greater than the
advantage. Calcined bones were next thought of;
but a hogshead of calcined bones, carried to sea,
would take up as much room as a hogshead of wa-
ter, and was more hard to be obtained. In this
state, therefore, have the attempts to sweeten sea-
water rested ; the chymist satisfied with the reality
of his invention ; and the mariner convinced of its
being useless. I cannot, therefore, avoid mention-
ing a kind of succedaneum which has -been lately
conceived to answer the purposes of fresh-water,
when mariners are quite exhausted. It is well
known, the persons who go into a warm bath,
come out several ounces heavier than they went in ;
their bodies having imbibed a correspondent quan-
tity of water. This more particularly happens, if
they have been previously debarred from drinking,
or gp in with a violent thirst ; which they quickly
find quenched, and their spirits restored. It was
supposed, that in case of a total failure of fresh-wa-
ter at sea, a warm bath might be made of sea-wal
ter, for the use of mariners ; and that their pores
would thus imbibe the fluid, without any of its
salts, which would be seen to crystallize on the sup*
face of their bodies. In this manner, it is supposed,

o 4

,30(5

A HISTORY 0F

a sufficient quantity of moisture may be procured
to sustain life, till time or accident furnish a more
copious supply.

But, however this be, the saltness of the sea can
by no means be considered as a principal cause in
preserving its waters from putrefaction. The ocean
has its currents, like rivers, which circulate its
contents round the globe ; and these may be said
to be the great agents that keep it sweet and whole-
some. Its saltness alone would, by no means,
answer this purpose : and some have even imagined
that the various substances with which it is mixed,
rather tend to promote putrescence than impede it.
Sir Robert Hawkins, one of our most enlightened
navigators, gives the following account of a calm,
in which the sea continuing for some time without
motion, began to assume a very formidable appear-
ance. “ Were it not,” says he, £c for the moving of
the sea, by the force of winds, tides, and currents,
it would corrupt all the world. The experiment of
this I saw in the year 1590, lying with a fleet about
the islands of Azores, almost six months ; the
greatest part of which time we were becalmed.
Upon which all the sea became so replenished with
several sorts of jellies, and forms ofserpents, adders,
and snakes, as seemed wonderful: some green, some
black, some yellow, some white, some of divers co-
lours, and many of them had life ; and some there
were a yard and a half and two yards long ; which
had I not seen, I could hardly have believed. And
hereof are witnesses all the company of the ships
which were then present : so that hardly a man
could draw a bucket of water clear of some corrup-
tion. In which voyage, towards the end thereof,

THE EARTH.

20 i

many of every ship fell sick, and began to die apace.
But the speedy passage into our country was a re-
medy to the crazed, and a preservative for those
that were not touched.”

This shews, abundantly, how little the sea’s salt-
ness was capable of preserving it from putrefaction :
but, to put the matter beyond all doubt, Mr. Boyle
kept a quantity of sea- water, taken up in the English
channel, for some time barrelled up ; and, in the
space of a few weeks, it began to acquire a fetid
smell* : he was also assured, by one of his acquaint-
ance, who was becalmed for twelve or fourteen days
in the Indian sea, that the water, for want of mo-
tion, began to stink ; and that had it continued
much longer, the stench would probably have poi-
soned him. It is the motion, therefore, and not
the- saltness of the sea that preserves it in its pre-
sent state of salubrity ; and this, very probably, by
dashing and breaking in pieces the rudiments, if I
may so call them, of the various animals that would
otherwise breed there, and putrefy.

There are some advantages, however, which are
derived from the saltness of the sea. Its waters
being evaporated, furnish that salt which is used
for domestic purposes ; and, although in some
places it is made from springs, and, in others, dug
out of mines, yet the greatest quantity is made
only from the sea. That which is called bay-salt, 1
(from its coming to us by the Bay of Biscay) is a
stronger kind, made by evaporation in the sun :
that called common salt, is evaporated in pans over
the fire, and is of a much inferior quality to the
former.

* Boyle, vol. ii> p. 222.

202

A HISTORY OF

Another benefit arising from the quantity of salt
dissolved in the sea, is, that it thus becomes heavier,
and, consequently, more buoyant. Mr. Boyle, who
examined the difference between sea- water and
fresh, found that the former appeared to be about
a forty-fifth part heavier than the latter. Those, al-
so, who have had opportunities of bathing in the
sea, pretend to have experienced a much greater
ease in swimming there, than in fresh-water. How-
ever, as we see they have only a forty-fifth part
more of their weight sustained hv it, I am apt to
doubt whether so minute a difference can be practi-
cally perceivable. Be this as it may, as sea-wa-
ter alters in its weight from fresh, so it is found al-
so to differ from itself in different parts of the
ocean. In general, it is perceived to be heavier,
and consequently salter, the nearer we approach the
Line*.

But there is an advantage arising from the salt-,
ness of the waters of the sea, much greater than
what has been yet mentioned ; which is, that their
congelation is thus retarded. Some, indeed, have
gone so far as to say, that f sea-water never
freezes: but this is an assertion contradicted by
experience. However, it is certain that it requires
a much greater degree of cold to freeze it than
fresh- water ; so that, while rivers and springs are
seen converted into one solid body of ice, the sea
is always fit for navigation, and no way affected by
the coldness of the severest winter. It is, therefore,
one of the greatest blessings we derive from this ele-
ment., that when at land all the stores of Nature

* Phil. Trans, yol. ii. p. 297.

2

f Macrobius

THE EARTH.

203

are -locked up from us, we find the sea ever open
to our necessities, and patient of the hand of in-
dustry.

But it must not be supposed, because in our
temperate climate we never see the sea frozen, that
it is in the same manner open in every part of it. A
very little acquaintance with the accounts of mari-
ners, must have informed us, that at the polar re-
gions it is embarrassed with mountains, and moving
sheets of ice, that, often render it impassable.
These tremendous floats are of. different magni-
tudes ; sometimes rising more than a thousand
feet above the surface of the water* ; sometimes dif-
fused into plains of above two hundred leagues in
length ; and, in many parts, sixty or eighty broad.
They are usually divided by fissures; one piece fol-
lowing another so close, that a person may step
from one to the other. Sometimes mountains are
seen rising amidst these plains, and presenting the
appearance of a variegated landscape, with hills
and valleys, houses, churches, and towers. These
are appearances in which all naturalists are agreed ;
but the great contest is respecting their formation.
Air. Buffon assertsf, that they are formed from
fresh- water alone ; which congealing at the months
of great rivers, accumulate those huge masses that
disturb navigation. However, this great naturalist
seems not to have been aware ' that there are two
sorts of ice floating in these seas ; the flat ice, and
the mountain ice : the one formed of sea-water on-
ly, the other of fresh J.

The flat, or driving ice, is entirely composed of

* Krantz’s History of Greenland, vol. i, p. 31.

+ Buffon, vol. ii. p. 91. J Krantz.

204

A HISTORY OF

sea-water ; which, upon dissolution, is found to be
salt ; and is readily distinguished from the moun-
tain or fresh-water ice, by its whiteness, and want
of transparency. This ice is much more terrible to
mariners than that which rises up in lumps : a ship
can avoid the one, as it is seen at a distance ; but it
often gets in among the other, which sometimes
closing, crushes it to pieces. This, which mani-
festly has a different origin from the fresh- water
ice, may perhaps have been produced in the Icy
Sea, beneath the Pole ; or along the coasts of
Spitz berg, or Nova Zembla.

The mountain-ice, as was said, is different in
every repect, being formed of fresh-water, and ap-
pearing hard and transparent ; it is generally of a
pale green colour, though some pieces are of a
beautiful sky blue ; many large masses, also, appear
grey ; and some black. If examined more nearly,
they are found to be incorporated with earth,
stones, and brush-wood, washed from the shore.
On these also are sometimes found, not only earth,
but nests with birds eggs, at several hundred miles
from land. The generality of these, though almost
totally fresh, have, nevertheless, a thick crust of
salt-water frozen upon them, probably from the
power that ice has sometimes to produce ice. Such
mountains as are here described, are most usually
seen at spring-time, and after a violent storm,
driving out to sea, where they at first terrify the
mariner, and are soon after dashed to pieces by the
continual washing of the waves; or driven into
the warmer regions of the south, thereto be melted
away. They sometimes, however, strike back upon
their native shores, where they seem to take root

THE EARTH.

205

at the feet of mountains ; and, as Martius tells us,
are sometimes higher than the mountains them-
selves. Those seen by him were blue, full of clefts
and cavities made by the rain, and crowned with
snow, which alternately thawing and freezing every
year, augmented their size. These, composed of
materials more solid than that driving at sea, pre*
sented a variety of agreeable figures to the eye, that,
with a little help from fancy, assumed the appear-
ance of trees in blossom ; the inside of churches,
with arches, pillars, and windows ; and the blue
coloured rays, darting from within, presented the
resemblance of a glory.

If we enquire into the origin and formation of
these, which, as we see, are very different from the
former, I think we have a very satisfactory account
of them in Krantz’s History of Greenland ; and I
will take leave to give the passage, with a very few
alterations. “ These mountains of ice,” says he,
“ are not salt, like the sea-water, but sweet ; and,
therefore, can be formed no where except on the
mountains, in rivers, in caverns, and against
the hills near the sea-shore. The mountains of
Greenland are so high, that the snow which falls
upon them, particularly on the north side, is, in
one night’s time, wholly converted into ice: they
also contain clefts and cavities, where the sun sel-
dom or never injects his rays : besides these, are
projections, or landing places, on the declivities of
the steepest hills, where the rain and snow-water
lodge, and quickly congeal. When now the ac-
cumulated flakes of snow slide down, or fall with
the rain from the eminences above on these promi-
nences; or, when here and there a mountain-spring

4

206

A HISTORY OF

comes rolling down to such a lodging place, where
the ice has already seated itself j they all freeze,
and add their tribute to it. This, by degrees,
waxes to a body of ice, that can no more be over-
powered by the sun ; and which, though it may
indeed, at certain seasons, diminish by a thaw, yet,
upon the whole, through annual acquisitions, it as-
sumes an annual growth. Such a body of ice is
often prominent far over the rocks. It does not
melt on the upper surface, but underneath ; and
often cracks into many larger or smaller clefts,
from whence the thawed water trickles out. By
this it becomes, at last, so weak, that being over-
loaded with its own ponderous bulk, it breaks loose
and tumbles down the rocks with a terrible crash.
Where it happens to overhang a precipice on the
shore, it plunges into the deep with a shock like
thunder : and with such an agitation of the water,
as will overset a boat at some distance, as many a
poor Greenlander has fatally experienced.” Thus
are these amazing ice mountains launched forth
to sea, and found floating in the waters round both
the Poles. It is these that have hindered mariners
from discovering the extensive countries that lie
round the South Pole: and that probably block up
the passage to China by the North.

I will conclude this chapter with one effect more,
produced by the saltness of the sea ; which is, the
luminous appearance of its waves in the night. All
who have been spectators of a sea by night, a little
ruffled with winds, seldom fail of observing its fiery
brightness. In*' some places it shines as far as the

* Boyle, vol. i. p. 294.

THE EARTH. 207

eye can reach ; at other times, only when the waves
boom against the side of the vessel, or the oar clashes
into the water. Some seas shine often ; others
more seldom ; some, ever when particular winds
blow ; and others, within a narrow compass; a
long tract of light, being seen along the surface,
whilst all the rest is hid in total darkness. It is
not easy to account for these extraordinary appear-
ances : some have supposed that a number of lumi-
nous inserts produced the effect, and this is in re-
ality sometimes the case; in general, however, they
have every resemblance to that light produced by
electricity ; and, probably, arise from the agitation
and dashing of the saline particles of the fluid
against each other. But the manner in which this
is done, for we can produce nothing similar by any
experiments hitherto made, remains for some hap-
pier accident to discover. Our progress in the
knowledge of Nature is slow; and it is a mor-
tifying consideration, that we are hitherto more
indebted for success to chance than industry*.

[* Most of the marine insects, and many fish, emit a phos-
phorescent light when they are in a certain state of decay ; and
some of them even while they are alive. Who has not seen a
mackarel just before it becomes putrid, shining in the dark like a
diamond? The author of this note has frequently seen the sea
in this state of illumination. It is called by sailors the sea bream,
and is generally observeable from sun set till an hour or two af-
terwards, and always when the air is calm and the water tolerably
quiescent. If at this time, the hand be dipped in the water, the
drops will run off like gems. Upon filtering some of it, there has
always remained behind a great number of those almost invisible
marine worms called, in the system of Nature, Nereis noctiluca.
It is, therefore, beyond doubt, that this appearance is caused by
these and other minute animals of like properties, and is probably

208

A HISTORY OF

CHAR XVI.

Of the Tides , Motion , and Currents of the Sea ;
with their Effects.

IT was said, in the former chapter, that the waters
of the sea were kept sweet by their motion, with-
out which they would soon putrefy, and spread uni-
versal infection. If we look for final causes, here,
indeed, we have a great and an obvious one that
presents itself before us. Had the sea been made
without motion, and resembling a pool of stag-
nant water, the nobler races of animated nature
would shortly be at an end. Nothing would then
he left alive but swarms of ill-formed creatures,
with scarcely more than vegetable life ; and sub-
sisting by putrefaction. Were this extensive bed
of waters entirely quiescent, millions of the smaller
reptile kinds would there find a proper retreat to
breed and multiply in ; they would find there no
agitation, no concussion in the parts of the fluid to
crush their feeble frames, or to force them from
the places where they were bred ; there they would
multiply in security and ease, enjoy a short life, and
putrefying, thus again give nourishment to num-
berless other, as little worthy of existence as them-
selves. But the motion of this great element ef-
fectually destroys the number of these viler crea-

assisted by the decayed phosphorescent particles of fish and sea-
worms, floating near the surface of the sea, and driven up by
particular winds.]

THE EARTH.

20.9

tures ; its currents and its tides produce conti-
nual agitations, the shock of which they are not
able to endure; the parts of the fluid rub against
each other, destroy all viscidities ; and the ocean,
if I may so express it, acquires health by exercise..

The most obvious motion of the sea, and the
most generally acknowledged, is that of its tides.
This element is observed to flow for certain hours,
from south towards the north ; in which motion
or flux, which lasts about six hours, the sea gra-
dually swells; so that entering the mouths of
rivers, it drives back the river waters to their
heads. After a continual flux of six hours, the
sea seems to rest for a quarter of an hour; and
then begins to ebb, or retire back again, from
north to south, for six hours more ; in which time
the waters sinking, the rivers resume their natural
course. After a seeming pause of a quarter of an
hour, the sea again begins to flow as before : and
thus it has alternately risen and fallen, twice a
day, since the creation.

This amazing appearance did not fail to excite
the curiosity, as it did the wonder of the ancients.
After some wild conjectures of the earliest philoso-
phers, it became well known, in the time of Pliny,
that the tides were entirely under the influence, in
a small degree, of the sun ; but in a much greater
of the moon. It was found that there was a flux
and reflux of the sea, in the space of twelve hours
fifty minutes, which is exactly the time of a lunar
* day. It was observed, that whenever the moon
was in the meridian, or, in other words, as nearly
as possible over an}' part of the sea, that the sea
flowed to that part, and made a tide there : on the

VOL. i. r

210

A HISTORY OF

contrary, it was found, that when the moon left
the meridian, the sea began to flow back again
from whence it came; and there might be said to
ebb. Thus far the waters of the sea seemed very
regularly to attend the motions of the moon. But
it appeared, likewise, that when the moon was in
the opposite meridian, as far off on the other side
of the o’lobe, that there was a tide on this side
also ; so that the moon produced two tides, one
by her greatest approach to us : and another by
her greatest distance from us : in other words, the
moon, in once going round the earth, produced
two tides, always at the same time; one on the part
of the globe directly under her ; and the other, on
the part of the globe directly opposite.

Mankind continued for several ages content
with knowing the general cause of these wonders,
hopeless of discovering the particular manner of
the moon’s operation. Kepler was the first who
conjectured that attraction was the principal cause;
asserting, that the sphere of the moon's operation
extended to the earth, and drew up its waters.
The precise manner in which tliis is dope, was dis-
covered by Newton.

The moon has been found, like all the rest of
the planets, to attract, and to be attracted by the
earth. This attraction prevails throughout our
whole planetary system. The more matter there
is contained in any body, the more it attracts : and
its influence decreases in proportion as the dis-
tance, when squared, increases. This being pre-
mised, let us see what must ensue upon supposing
the moon in the meridian of any tract of the sea.
The surface of the water immediately under the

THE EARTH.

211

moon is nearer the moon than any other part of
the globe is; and, therefore, must be more subject
to its attraction than the waters any where else.
The waters will, therefore, be attracted by the
moon, and rise in a heap ; whose eminence will
be the highest where the attraction is greatest.
In order to form this eminence, it is obvious that
the surface, as well as the depths, will be agitated;
and that wherever the water runs from one part,
succeeding waters must run to fill up the space it
lias left. Thus the waters of the sea, running
from all parts, to attend the motion of the moon,
produce the flowing of the tide; and it is high
tide at that part wherever the moon comes over it,
or to its meridian.

But when the moon travels onward, and ceases
to point over the place where the waters were just
risen, the cause here of their rising ceasing to ope-
rate, thev will flow back bv their natural gravity,
into the lower parts from whence they had travel-
led ; and this retiring of the waters will form the
ebbing of the sea.

Thus the first part of the demonstration is ob-
vious ; since, in general, it requires no great saga-
city to conceive that the waters nearest the moon
are most attracted’ or raised highest by the moon.
But the other part of the demonstration, namely,
how there come to be high tides at the same time,
on the opposite side of the globe, and where the
waters are farthest from the moon, is not so easy
to conceive. To comprehend this, it must be
observed, that the part of the earth and its
waters that are farthest from the moon are the
parts of all others that are least attracted bv

V 2

212 A HISTORY OF

the moon : it must also be observed, that all the
waters, when the moon is on the opposite side of
the earth, must be attracted by it in the same di-
rection that the earth itself attracts them ; that is,
if I may so say, quite through the body of the
earth, towards the moon itself. This, therefore,
being conceived, it is plain that those waters
which are farthest from the moon, will have less
weight than those of any other part, on the same
side of the globe ; because the moon's attraction,
which conspires with the earth’s attraction, is
there least. Now, therefore, the waters farthest
from the moon, having less weight, and being
lightest, will be pressed on all sides, by those that,
having more attraction, are heavier: they will be
pressed, I say, on all sides ; and the heavier waters
flowing in, will make them swell and rise in an
eminence directly . opposite to that on the other
side of the globe, caused by the more immediate
influence of the moon.

In this manner the moon, in one diurnal revolu-
tion, produces two tides ; one raised immediately
under the sphere of its influence, and the other
directly opposite to it. As the moon travels,
this vast body of waters rears upward, as if to
watch its motions ; and pursues the same constant
rotation. However, in this great work of raising
the tides, the sun has no small share ; it produces
its own tides constantly every day, just as the
moon does, but in much less degree, because the
sun is at an immensely greater distance. Thus
there are solar tides, and lunar tides. When the
forces of these two great luminaries concur, which
they always do when they are either in the same,

THE EARTH.

213

or in opposite parts of the heavens, they jointly
produce a much greater tide, than when they are
so situated in the heavens, as each to make pecu-
liar tides of their own. To express the very same
thing technically; in the conjunctions and oppo-
sitions of the sun and moor, the attraction of the
sun conspires with the attraction of the moon ; by
which means the high spring tides are formed.
But in the quadratures of the sun and moon, the
water raised by the one is depressed by the other ;
and hence the lower neap-tides have their produc-
tion. In a word, the tides are greatest in the
syzigies, and least in the quadratures.

This theory well understood, and the astrono-
mical terms previously known, it may readily be
brought to explain the various appearances of the
tides, if the earth were covered with a deep
sea, and the waters uninfluenced by shoals, cur-
rents, straits, or tempests. But in every part of
the sea, near the shores, the geographer must
come in to correct the calculations of the astro-
nomer. For, by reason of the shallowness of some
places, and the narrowness of the straits in others,
there arises a great diversity in the effect, not to
be accounted for without an exact knowledge of
all the circumstances of the place. In the great
depths of the ocean, for instance, a very slow and
imperceptible motion of the whole body of water
will suffice to raise its surface several feet high ;
but if the same increase of water is to he con-
veyed through a narrow channel, it must rush
through it with the most impetuous rapidity.
Thus, in the English Channel, and the German
Ocean, the tide is found to flow strongest in those

p 3

214

A HISTORY OF

places that are narrowest ; the same quantity of
water being, in this case, driven through a smaller
passage. It is often seen, therefore, pouring
through a strait with great force ; and, by its ra-
pidity, considerably raised above the surface of
that part of the ocean into which it runs.

This shallowness and narrowness in many parts
of the sea, give also rise to a peculiarity in the
tides of some parts of the world. For in many
places, and in our own seas in particular, the
greatest swell of the tide is not while the moon
is in its meridian height, and directly over the
place, but some time after it has declined from
thence. The sea, in this case, being obstructed,
pursues the moon with what dispatch it can, but
does not arrive with all its waters till long after the
moon has ceased to operate. Lastly, from this
shallowness of the sea, and from its being ob-
structed by shoals and straits, we may account
for the Mediterranean, the Baltic, and the Black
Sea, having no sensible tides. These, though to
us they seem very extensive, are not however large
enough to be effected by the influence of the
moon ; and as to their communication with the
ocean, through such narrow inlets, it is impossible
in a few hours they should receive and return wa-
ter enough to raise or depress them in any consi-
derable degree.

In general we may observe, that all tides are much
higher, and more considerable in the torrid zone,
than in the rest of the ocean ; the sea in those parts
being generally deeper, and less affected by change-
able winds, or winding shores*. The greatest

O O

* Buffon, vol. ii. p. 187.

THE EARTH.

-215

tide we know of, is that at the mouth of the river
Indus, where the water rises thirty feet in height.
How great, therefore, must have been the amaze-
ment of Alexander's soldiers at so strange an ap-
pearance ! They who always before had been ac-
customed only to the scarcely perceptible risings
of the Mediterranean, or the minute intumescence
of the Black Sea, when made at once spectators of
a river rising and falling thirty feet in a few hours,
must no doubt have felt the most extreme awe,
and, as we are told*, a mixture of curiosity and
apprehension. The tides are also remarkably
high on the coast of Malay, in the straits of
Sunda, in the Red Sea, at the mouth of the river
St. Lawrence, along the coasts of China and
Japan, at Panama, and in the gulph of Bengal.
The tides at Tonquin, however, are the most re-
markable in the world. In this part there is but
one tide, and one ebb, in twenty-four hours $
whereas, as we have said before, in other places
there are two. Besides, there, twice in each month
there is no tide at all, when the moon is near the
equinoctial, the water being for some time quite ,
stagnant. These, with some other odd appearances
attending the same phenomena, were considered
by many as inscrutable ; but Sir Isaac Newton,
with peculiar sagacity, adjudged them to arise
from the concurrence of two tides, one from the
South Sea, and the other from the Indian Ocean.
Of each of these titles there come successively two
every day ; two at one time greater, and two at
another that are less. The time between the ar-

* Quintus Curlius,

216 A HISTORY OF

rival of the two greater, is considered by him as
high tide ; the time between the two lesser, as
ebb. In short, with this clue, that great mathe-
matician solved every appearance, and so esta-
blished his theory, as to silence every opposer*.

This fluctuation of the sea from the tides, pro-
duces another, and more constant rotation of its
waters, from the east to the west, in this respect
following the course of the moon. This may be
considered as one great and general current of the
waters of the sea ; and although it be not every
where distinguishable, it is nevertheless every where
existent, except when opposed by some particular
current or eddy, produced by partial and local
causes. This tendency of the sea towards the
west is plainly perceivable in all the great straits of
the ocean ; as, for instance, in those of Magellan,
where the tide running in from the east, rises
twenty feet high, and continues flowing six hours;
whereas the ebb continues but two hours, and the
current is directed to the west. This proves that
the flux is not equal to the reflux ; and that from
both results a motion of the sea Westward, which

[*' M. St. Piere, a celebrated French philosopher, endeavours
to account for the tides, by the alternate semiannual solution of
the ices at the poles. The sun being for nearly six months to-
gether alternately above and below the horizon at each of the
poles, he supposes must act with great force upon the vast masses
ot ice there accumulated, and occasion those currents of water,
which by the motion of the earth are delivered along the coasts
in semidiurnal tides : in all lakes, he observes, though some of
them are of vast magnitude, the moon has no influence in pro-
ducing the least appearance of tide ; and in proportion as the
earth is removed from the poles, the tides diminish and be-
come at length hardly perceptible.]

THE EARTH*

217

is more powerful during the time of the flux than
the reflux.

But this motion westward has been sensibly ob-

Sr

served by navigators, in their passage back from
India to Madagascar, and so on to Africa. In
the great Pacific Ocean also it is very perceivable :
but the places where it is most obvious, are, as was
said, in those straits which join one ocean to an-
other. In the straits between the Maldivia islands,
in the gulph of Mexico, between Cuba and J u -
catan. In the straits of the gulph of Paria, the
motion is so violent, that it hath received the ap-
pellation of the Dragon’s Mouth. Northward in
the sea of Canada, in Wai gat’s straits, in the
straits of Java, and, in short, in every strait where
the ocean on one part pours into the ocean on the
other. In this manner, therefore, is the sea car-
ried with an unceasing circulation round the
globe ; and, at the same time that its waters are
pushed hack and forward with the tide, they have
thus a progressive current to the west, which
though less observable, is not the less real*

Besides these two general motions of the sea,
there are others which are particular to many
parts of it, and are called currents. These are
found to run in all directions, east, west, north,
and south ; being formed, as was said above, by
various causes ; the prominence of the shores, the
narrowness of the straits, the variations of the
wind, and the inequalities at the bottom. These,
though no great object to the philosopher, as their
causes are generally local and obvious, are never-
theless of the most material consequence to the
mariner; and, without a knowledge of which, he

218 A HISTORY OB’

could never succeed. It often lias happened, that
when a ship has unknowingly got into one of
these, every thing seems to go forward with suc-
cess, the mariners suppose themselves every hour
approaching their wished-for port, the wind fills
their sails, and the ship’s prow seems to divide the
water ; but, at last, by miserable experience they
find, that instead of going forward, they have been
all the time receding. The business of currents,
therefore, makes a considerable article in naviga-
tion; and the direction of their stream, and
their rapidity, has been carefully set down. This
some do by the observation of the surface of the
current ; or by the driving of the froth along
the shore ; or by throwing out what is called
the log- line, with a buoy made for that pur-
pose; and by the direction and motion of this,
they judge of the setting, and the rapidity of the
current.

These currents are generally found to be
most violent under the equator, where indeed all
the motions of the ocean are most perceivable.
Along the coasts of Guinea, if a ship happens to
overshoot the mouth of any river it is bound to,
the current prevents its return ; so that it is
obliged to steer out to sea, and take a very large
compass, in order to correct the former mistake.
These set in a contrary direction to the general
motion of the sea westward ; and that so strongly,
that a passage which with the current is made in
two days, is with difficulty performed in six weeks
against it. However, they do not extend above
twenty leagues from the coast : and ships going
to the East-Indies, take care not to come within

THE EARTH. 21 £

the sphere of their action. At Sumatra, the cur-
rents, which are extremely rapid, run from south
to north ; there are also strong* currents between
Madagascar and the Cape of Good Hope. On the
western coasts of America, the current always runs
from the south to the north, where a south wind,
continually blowing, most probably occasions this
phenomenon. But the currents that are most
remarkable, are those continually flowing:, into the
Mediterranean sea, both from the ocean by the
straits of Gibraltar, and at its other extremity,
from the Euxine sea by the Archipelago. This
is one of the most extraordinary appearances in
nature, this large sea receiving not only the nu-
merous rivers that fall into ir, such as the Nile,
the Rhone, and the Po, but also a very great in-
flux from the Euxine sea on one part, and the
ocean on the other. At the same time, it is seen
to return none of those waters it is thus known to
receive: outlets running from it there are none ;
no rivers but such as bring it fresh supplies ; no
straits but what are constantly pouring their wa-
ters into it. It has therefore been the wonder of
mankind in every age, how and by what means
this vast concourse of waters are disposed of; or
how this sea, which is always receiving, and never
returning, is no way fuller than before. In order
to account for this, some have said, that the wa-
ter was re-conveyed by subterraneous passages into
the Red Sea*. There is a story told of an Ara-
bian cailiff, who caught a dolphin in this sea, ad-
miring the beauty of which, he let it go again,

* Kircher Mund. Subt, vok J.

220

A HISTORY OF

having previously marked it by a ring of iron.
Some time after a dolphin was caught in the Red
Sea, and quickly known by the ring to be the same
that had been taken in the Mediterranean before.
Such, however, as have not been willing to found
their opinions upon a story, have attempted to ac-
count for the disposal of the waters of the Me-
diterranean by evaporation. For this purpose they
have entered into long calculations upon the ex-
tent of its surface, and the quantity of water that
would be raised from such a surface in a year.
They then compute how much water runs in by
its rivers and straits in that time; and find, that the
quantity exhausted by evaporation greatly exceeds
the quantity supplied by rivers and seas. This
solution no doubt, would be satisfactory, did not
the Ocean, and the Euxine, evaporate as well
as the Mediterranean : and as these are sub-
ject to the same drain, it must follow, that all the
seas will in this respect be upon a par ; and, there-
fore, there must be some other cause for this
unperceived drain, and continual supply. This
seems to be satisfactorily enough accounted for by
Dr. Smith, who supposes an undercurrent running
through the straits of Gibraltar to carry out as
much water into the Ocean, as the upper current
continually carries in from it. To confirm this,
he observes,, that nearer home, between the north
and south foreland, the tide is known to run one
way at top, and the ebb another way at bottom.
This double current he also confirms by an expe-
riment communicated to him by an able seaman,
who being with one of the king’s frigates in the
Baltic, found he wrent with his boat into the mid-

THE EARTH.

221

stream, and was carried violently by the current;
upon which a basket was sunk, with a large can-
non-ball, to a certain depth of water, which gave a
check to the boat’s motion ; as the basket sunk
still lower, the boat was driven by the force of
the water below, against the upper current ; and
the lower the basket was let down, the stronger
the under current was found, and the quicker was
the boat’s motion against the upper stream, which
seemed not to be above four fathom deep. Hence
we may readily infer, that the same cause may
operate at the straits of Gibraltar; and that while
the Mediterranean seems replenishing at top, it
may be emptying at bottom.

The number of the currents at sea are impos-
sible to be recounted, nor indeed are they always
known ; new ones are daily produced by a variety
of causes, and as quickly disappear. When a
regular current is opposed by another in a narrow
strait, or where the bottom of the sea is very un-
even, a whirlpool is often formed. These were
formerly considered as the most formidable ob-
structions to navigation, and the ancient poets and
historians speak of them with terror ; they are de-
scribed as swallowing up ships, and dashing them
against the rocks at the bottom : apprehension did
not fail to add imaginary terrors to the descrip-
tion, and placed at the centre of the whirlpool a
dreadful den, fraught with monsters whose bowl-
ings served to add new horrors to the dashings of
the deep. Mankind at present, however, view
these eddies of the sea with very little apprehen-
sion ; and some have wondered how the ancients
could have so much overcharged their descrip-

-K22 A HISTORY OF

tions. But all this is very naturally accounted
for. In those times when navigation was in its
infancy, and the slightest concussion of the waves
generally sent the poor adventurer to the bottom, it
is not to be wondered at that he was terrified at the
violent agitations in one of these. When his little
ship, but ill fitted for opposing the fury of the sea,
was got within the vortex, there was then no pos-
sibility of ever returning. To add to the fatality,
they were always near the shore; and along the
shore was the only place where this ill-provided
mariner durst venture to sail. These were there-
fore dreadful impediments to his navigation ; for
if he attempted to pass between them and the
shore, he was sometimes sucked in by the eddy;
and if he attempted to avoid them out at sea, he
was often sunk bv the storm. But in our time,
and in our present improved state of navigation,
Charybdis, and the Euripus, with all the other
irregular currents of the Mediterranean, are no
longer formidable. Mr. Addison, not attending
to this train of thinking, upon passing through the
straits of Sicily, was surprised at the little there
was of terror in the present appearance of Scylla
and Charybdis; and seems to be of opinion, that
their agitations are much diminished since the
times of antiquity. In fact, from the reasons
above, all the wonders of the Mediterranean Sea
are described in much higher colours than they
merit, to us who are acquainted with the more
magnificent terrors of the Ocean. The Mediter-
ranean is one of the smoothest and most gentle
seas in the world ; its tides are scarcely perceivable,
except in the gulph of Venice, and shipwrecks arc

THE EARTH.

223

less known there than in any other part of the
world.

It is in the Ocean, therefore, that these whirl-
pools are particularly dangerous, where the tides are
violent, and the tempests fierce. To mention only
one, that called the Maelstroom, upon the coasts
of Norway, which is considered as the most
dreadful and voracious in the world. The name
it has received from the natives, signifies the navel
of the sea, since they suppose that a great share of
the water of the sea is sucked up and discharged by
its vortex. A minute description of the internal
parts is not to be expected, since none who were
there ever returned to bring back information. The
body of the waters that form this whirlpool, are
extended in a circle above thirteen miles in cir-
cumference*'. In the midst of this stands a rock,
against which the tide in its ebb is dashed with in-
conceivable fury. At this time it instantly swal-
lows up all things that come within the sphere of
its violence, trees, timber, and shipping. No skill
in the mariner, nor strength of rowing, can work
an escape : the sailor at the helm finds the ship at
first go in a current opposite to his intentions ; his
vessel's motion, though slow in the beginning, be-
comes every moment more rapid ; it goes round in
circles still narrower and narrower, till at last it is
dashed against the rocks, and instantly disappears ;
nor is it seen again for six hours : till the tide flow-
ing, it is vomited forth with the same violence
with which it was drawn in. The noise of this
dreadful vortex still farther contributes to increase

* Kircher Mund. Subt. yol. i. p. 155.

A HISTORY OF

2 24

its terror, which with the clashing of the waters,
and the dreadful valley, if it may be so called,
caused by their circulation, makes one of the most
tremendous objects in nature,

CHAP. XVII.

Of the Changes produced hy the Sea upon the

Earth.

F ROM what has been said, as well of the earth
as of the sea, they both appear to be in continual
fluctuation. The earth, the common promtuary
that supplies subsistence to men, animals, and
vegetables, is continually furnishing its stores to
their support. But the matter which is thus de-
rived from it, is soon restored and laid down again
to be prepared for fresh mutations. The transmi-
gration of souls is no doubt false and whimsical ;
but nothing; can be more certain than the transmi-
gration of bodies : the spoils of the meanest reptile
may go to the formation of a prince ; and, on the
contrary, as the poethas it, the body of Caesar may
be employed in stopping a beer-barrel. From this,
andother causes, therefore, the earth is in conti-
nual change. Its internal fires, the deviation of its
rivers, and the falling of its mountains, are daily
altering its surface ; and geography can scarcely
recollect the lakes and the vallies that history once
described.

But these changes are nothing to the instability
of the ocean. It would seem that inquietude was
as natural to it as its fluidity. It is first seen with

THE EARTH. 22S

a constant and equable motion going towards the
west ; the tides then interrupt this progression, and
for a time drive the waters in a contrary direction;
beside these agitations, the currents act their part
in a smaller sphere, being generally greatest where
the other motions of the sea are least ; namely,
nearest the shore : the winds also contribute their
share in this universal fluctuation : so that scarcely
any part of the sea is wholly seen to stagnate.

Nil enim quiescit, undis impeUitur anda ,

Et spiritus et calor toto se corpore miscent.

As this great element is thus changed, and con-
tinually labouring internally, it may be readily sup-
posed that it produces correspondent changes upon
its shores, and those parts of the earth subject to
its influence. In fact, it is every day making
considerable alterations, either by overflowing its
shores in one place, or deserting them in others : by
covering over whole tracts of country, that were
cultivated and peopled, at one time ; or by leaving
its bed to be appropriated to the purposes of vege-
tation, and to supply a new theatre for human in-
dustry at another.

In this struggle between the earth and the sea
for dominion, the greatest number of our shores
seem to defy the whole rage of the waves, both by
their height, and the rocky materials of which they
are composed. The coasts of Italy, for instance*,
are bordered with rocks of marble of differ-
ent kinds, the quarries of which may easily be dis-

* Button, vol. ii. p. 199.

VOL I. Q

226

A HISTORY OF
tinguished at a distance from sea, and appear like
perpendicular columns of the most beautiful kinds
of marble, ranged along the shore. In general,
the coasts of France, from Brest to Bordeaux, are
composed of rocks; as are also those of Spain and
England, which defend the land, and only are in-
terrupted here and thereto give an egress to rivers,
and to grant the conveniencies of bays and har-
bours to our shipping. It may be in general re-
marked, that wherever the sea is most violent and
furious, there the boldest si lores, and of the most
compact materials, are found to oppose it. There
are many shores several hundred feet perpendicular,
against which the sea, when swollen with tides, or
storms, rises and beats with inconceivable fury.
In* the Orkneys, where the shores are thus formed,
it sometimes, when agitated by a storm, rises two
hundred feet perpendicular, and dashes up its spray,
together with sand, and other substances that com-
pose its bottom, upon land, like showers of rain.

Hence, therefore, we may conceive how the vio-
lence of the sea, and the boldness of the shore, may
be said to have made each other. Where the sea
meets no obstacles, it spreads its waters with a
gentle intumescence, till all its power is destroyed,
by wanting depth to aid the motion. But when
its progress is checked in the midst, by the promi-
nence of rocks, or the abrupt elevation of the land,
it dashes with all the force of its depth against the
obstacle, and forms, by its repeated violence, that
abruptness of the shore which confines its impetu-
osity. Where the sea is extremely deep, or very

* Buffon, vol. ii. p. 191.

THE EARTH.

221

much vexed by tempests, it is no small obstacle
that can confine its rage ; and for this reason we
see the boldest shores projected against the deepest
waters ; all less impediments having long before
been surmounted and washed away. Perhaps of
all the shores in the world, there is not one so high
as that on the west of St. Kilda, which, upon a late
admeasurement*, was found to be six hundred
fathom perpendicular above the surface of the sea.
Here, also, the sea is deep, turbulent, and stormy;
so that it requires great force in the shore to
oppose its violence. In many parts of the world,
and particularly upon the coasts of the East Indies,
the shores, though not high above water, are ge-
nerally very deep, and consequently the waves roil
against the land with great weight and irregularity.
This rising of the waves against the shore, is called
by mariners the surf of the sea ; and in shipwrecks
is generally fatal to such as attempt to swim on
shore. In this case, no dexterity in the swimmer,
no float he can use, neither swimming girdle nor
cork jacket will save him ; the weight of the su-
perincumbent waves breaks upon him at once, and
crushes him with certain ruin. Some few of the
natives, however, have the art of swimming and of
navigating their little boats near those shores,
where an European is sure of instant destruction.

In places where the force of the sea is less violent,
or its tides less rapid, the shores are generally seen
to descend with a more gradual declivity. Over
these, the waters of the tide steal by almost imper-
ceptible degrees, covering them for a large extent,

* Description of St. Kilda.

Q 2

228

A HISTORY OF

and leaving* them bare on its recess. Upon these
shores, as was said, the sea seldom beats with any
great violence, as a large wave has not depth suffi-
cient to float it onwards ; so that here only are to
be seen gentle surges making calmly towards land,
and lessening as they approach. As the sea, in the
former description, is generally seen to present pros-
pects of tumult and uproar, here it more usually ex-
hibits a scene of repose and tranquil beauty. Its
waters, which when surveyed from the precipice, af-
forded a muddy greenish hue, arising from their
depth and position to the eye*, when regarded
from a shelving shore, wear the colour of the sky,
and seem rising to meet it. The deafening noise
of the deep sea is here converted into gentle mur-
murs ; instead of the water’s dashing against the
face of the rock, it advances and recedes, still going-
forward, but with just force enough to push its
weeds and shells, by insensible approaches, to the
shore.

There are other shores, beside those already des-
cribed, which either have been raised by art to op-
pose the sea's approaches, or, from the sea’s gain-
ing ground, are threatened with imminent destruc-
tion. The sea’s being thus seen to give and take
away lands at pleasure, is, without question, one of
the most extraordinary considerations in all natural
history. In some places it is seen to obtain the su-
periority by slow and certain approaches ; or to
burst in at once, and overwhelm all things in un-
distinguished destruction ; in other places it de-
parts from its shores, and where its waters have

* Newton’s Op*’ >.163 — 167.

THE EARTH.

229

been known to rage, it leaves fields covered with the
most beautiful verdure.

The formation of new lands, by the sea's conti-
nually bringing its sediment to one place, and by
the accumulation of its sands in another, is easily
conceived. We have had many instances of this
in England. The island of Oxnev, which is adja-
cent to Romney marsh, was produced in this man-
ner. This had for a long time been a low level,
continually in danger of being overflown by the
river Rother ; but the sea, by its depositions, has
gradually raised the bottom of the river, while it
lias hollowed the mouth; so that the one is suffici-
ently secured from inundations, and the other is
deep enough to admit ships of considerable burthen.
The like also may be seen at that bank called the
Dogger-sands, where two tides meet, and which
thus receives new increase every day, so that in time
the place seems to promise fair for being habitable
earth. On many parts of the coasts of France,
England, Holland, Germany, and Prussia, the sea
has been sensiblv known to retire*. Hubert Tho-

c/

mas asserts, in his Description of the country of
Liege, that the sea formerly encompassed the city
of Tongres, which, however, is at present thirty-five
leagues distant from it : this assertion he supports
by many strong reasons ; and among others, by
the iron rings fixed in the walls of the town, for
fastening the ships that came into the port. In Italy
there is a considerable piece of ground gained at
the mouth of the river Arno ; and Ravenna, that
once stood by the sea side, is now considerably re-

* Buffon, vol. vi. p. 424.

230

A HISTORY OF

moved from it. But we need scarcely mention
these, when wre find that the whole republic of Hol-
land seems to be a conquest upon the sea, and in a
manner rescued from its bosom. The surface of
the earth, in this country, is below the level of the
bed of the sea : and I remember, upon approach-
ing the coast, to have looked down upon it from
the sea, as into a valley ; however, it is every day
rising higher by the depositions made upon it by
the sea, the Rhine, and the Meuse ; and those parts
which formerly admitted large men of war, are
now known to be too shallow to receive ships of
very moderate burthen*. The province of Jucatan,
a peninsula in the gulph of Mexico, was formerly
a part of the sea: this tract, which stretches out
into the ocean, a hundred leagues, and which is
above thirty broad, is every where, at a moderate
depth below the surface, composed of shells, which
evince that its land once formed the bed of the sea.
In France, the town of Aigues Mortes was a port
in the times of St. Louis, which is now removed
more than four miles from the sea. Psalmodi, in
the same kingdom, was an island in the year 815,
but is now more than six miles from the shore. All
along the coasts of Norfolk, I am very well assured,
that, in the memory of man, the sea has gained fifty
yards in some places, and has lost as much in
others')'.

* Buffon, vol. vi. p. 424.

[+ The ancient city and see ofDunwich, in Suffolk, which was
once a league from the sea, is now nearly eaten up by its encroach-
ments. Of its eight churches, not one is left, and the beach in-
tersecting the church-yard of the cathedral, has exposed to view
the graves of its ancient inhabitants. Such is the power of time,
over all human hope and precaution !]

THE EARTH.

231

'Thus numerous, therefore, are the instances of
new lands having been produced from the sea,
which, as we see, is brought about two different
ways: first, by the waters raising banks of sand
and mud where their sediment is deposited: and
secondly, by their relinquishing the shore entirely,
and leaving it unoccupied to the industry of man.

But as the sea has been thus known to recede
from some lands, so has it, by fatal experience,
been found-To encroach upon others; and, pro-
bably, these depredations on one part of the
shore, may account for their dereliction from
another ; for the current which rested upon some
certain bank, having got an egress in some other
place, it no longer presses upon its former bed,
but pours all its stream into the new entrance,
so that every inundation oftheseamay be attended
with some correspondent dereliction of another
shore.

However this be, we have numerous histories of
the sea’s inundations, and its burying whole pro-
vinces in its bosom. Many countries that have
been thus destroyed bear melancholy witness to
the truth of history ; and shew the tops of their
houses, and the spires of their steeples, still stand-
ing at the bottom of the water. One of the most
considerable inundations we have in history, is that
which happened in the reign of Henry I. which
overflowed the estates of the earl Godwin, and
forms now that bank called the Goodwin sands.
In the year 1546, a similar irruption of the sea des-
troyed a hundred thousand persons in the territory
of Dort ; and vet a greater number round Dullart.
In Friezland, and Zealand, there were more than

Q 4

232

A HISTORY OF

three hundred villages overwhelmed ; and their re-
mains continue still visible at the bottom of the
water in a clear day. The Baltic Sea has, by slow
degrees, covered a large part of Pomerania ; and,
among others, destroyed and overwhelmed the fa-
mous port of Vineta. In the same manner, the
Norwegian Sea has formed several little islands
from the main land, and still daily advances upon
the continent. The German Sea has advanced
upon the shores of Holland, near Catt ; so that
the ruins of an ancient citadel of the Romans,
which was formerly built upon this coast, are now
actually under water. To these accidents several
more might be added ; our own historians, and
those of other countries, abound with them ; almost
every flat shore of any extent being able to shew
something that it has lost, or something that it has
gained from the sea.

There are some shores on which the sea has made
temporary depredations ; where it has overflowed,
and after remaining perhaps some ages, it has
again retired of its own accord, or been driven back
by the industry of man*. There are many lands
in Norway, Scotland, and the Maldivia islands,
that are at one time covered with water, and at
another free. The country round the Isle of Ely,
in the times of Bede, about a thousand years ago,
was one of the most delightful spots in the whole
kingdom. It was not only richly cultivated, and
produced all the necessaries of life, but grapes also
that afforded excellent wine. The accounts of that
time are copious in the description of its verdure

* Ruffon, vol. ii. p. 425.

THE EARTH.

233

and fertility ; its rich pastures, covered with flowers
and herbage ; its beautiful shades, and wholesome
air. But the sea breaking in upon the land, over-
whelmed the whole country, took possession of the
soil, and totally destroyed one of the most fertile
vallies in the world. Its air, from being dry and
healthful, from that time became most unwhole-
some, and clogged with vapours; and the small
part of the country that, by being higher than the
rest, escaped the deluge, was soon rendered uninha-
bitable, from its noxious vapours. Thus this
country continued under water for some centuries ;
till, at last, the sea, by the same caprice which had
prompted its invasions, began to abandon the earth
in like manner. It has continued for some ages to
relinquish its former conquests ; and although the
inhabitants can neither boast the longevity, nor
the luxuries of their former pre-occupants, yet they
find ample means of subsistence ; and if they hap-
pen to survive the first years of their residence
there, they are often known to arrive at a good old
age.

But although history be silent as to many other
inundations of the like kind, where the sea has
overflowed the country, and afterwards retired, yet
we have numberless testimonies of another nature,
that prove it beyond the possibility of doubt: I
mean those numerous trees that are found buried at
considerable depths in places where either rivers or
the sea has accidentally overflown *. At the mouth
of the river Ness, near Bruges, in Flanders, at the
depth of fifty feet, are found great quantities of'

* Buffon, vol. ii. p, 403.

234

A HISTORY OF

tree§ lying as close to each other as they do in a
wood : the trunks, the branches, and the leaves,
are in such perfect preservation, that the particular
kind of each tree may instantly be known. About
five hundred years ago, this very ground was known
to have been covered by the sea ; nor is there any
history or tradition of its having been dry ground,
which we can have no doubt must have been the
case. Thus we see a country flourishing in verdure,
producing large forests, and trees of various kinds,
overwhelmed by the sea. We see this element de-
positing its sediment to a height of fifty feet; and
its waters must, therefore, have risen much higher.
We see the same, after it has thus overwhelmed and
sunk the land so deep beneath its slime, capriciously
retiring from the same coasts, and leaving that ha-
bitable once more, which it had formerly destroyed.
All this is wonderful ; and perhaps, instead of at-
tempting to enquire after the cause, which has hi-
therto been inscrutable, it will best become us to
rest satisfied with admiration.

* At the city of Modena in Italy, arid' about four
miles round it, wherever it is dug, when the work-
men arrive at the depth of sixty-three feet, they
come to a bed of chalk, which they bore with an au-
gre five feet deep : they then withdraw from the
pit, before the augre is removed, and upon its ex-
traction, the water bursts up through the aperture
with great violence, and quickly fills this new-made
well, which continues full, and is affected neither
by rains nor droughts. But that which is most
remarkable in this operation, is the layers of earth
as we descend. At the depth of fourteen feet, are
found the ruins of an ancient city, paved streets,

THE EARTH.

235

houses, floors, and different pieces of Mosaic. Under
this is found a solid earth, that would induce one
to think had never been removed ; however, under
it is found a soft oozy earth, made up of vegetables ;
and at twenty-six feet depth, large trees entire, such
as walnut-trees, with the walnuts still sticking
on the stem, and their leaves and branches in ex-
act preservation. At twenty-eight feet deep, a
soft chalk is found, mixed with a vast quantity of
shells; and tfiis bed is eleven feet thick. Under
this, vegetables are found again, with leaves and
branches of trees as before ; and thus alternately
chalk and vegetable earth to the depth of sixty-three
feet. These are the layers wherever the workmen
attempt to bore; while in many of them, they also
find pieces of charcoal, bones, and bits of iron.
From this description, therefore, it appears, that
this country has been alternately overflowed and
deserted by the sea, one age after another: nor
were these overflowings and retirings of trifling
depth, or of short continuance. When the sea
burst in, it must have been a long time in overwhel-
ming the branches of the fallen forest with its se-
diments; and -still longer in forming a regular bed
of shells eleven feet over them. It must have, there-
fore, taken an age, at least, to make any one of
these layers; and we may conclude, that it must
have been many ages employed in the production
of them all. The land, also, upon being deserted,
must have had time to grow compact, to gather fresh
fertility, and to be drained of its waters before it
pould be disposed to vegetation ; or before its trees
could have shot forth again to maturity.

We have instances nearer home of the same kind,

236 A HISTORY OF

given us in the Philosophical Transactions ; one of
them by Mr. Derham. An inundation of the sea
at Dagenham, in Essex, laying bare a part of the
adjacent pasture, for above two hundred feet wide,
and, in some places, twenty deep, it discovered a
number of trees that had lain there for many ages
before; these trees, by laying long under ground,
were become black and hard, and their fibres so
tough, that one might as easily break a wire, as
any of them : they lay so thick in the place where
they were found, that in many parts he could step
from one to another : he conceived, also, that not
only all the adjacent marshes, for several hundred
acres, were covered underneath with such timber,4
but also the marshes along the mouth of the
Thames, for several miles. The meeting with these
trees, at such depths, he ascribes to the sediment of
the river, and the tides, which constantly wash-
ing over them, have always left some part of their
substance behind, so as, by repeated alluvions, to
work a bed of vegetable earth over them, to the
height at which he found it.

The levels of Hatfield- Chace, in Yorkshire, a
tract of above eighteen thousand acres, which was
yearly overflown, was reduced to arable and pasture
land, by one Sir Cornelius Vermusden, a Dutch
man. At the bottom of this wide extent, are found
millions of the roots and bodies of trees, of such ?is
this island either formerly did, or does at present
produce. The roots of all stand in their propef
postures ; and by them, as thick as ever they could
grow, the respective trunks of each, some above
thirty yards long. The oaks, some of which have
been sold for fifteen pounds a-piece, are as black

THE EARTH.

237

as ebony, very lasting, and close grained. The
ash-trees are as soft as earth, and are commonly cut
in pieces by the workmen’s spades, and as soon as
flung up into the open air, turn to dust. But all
the rest, even the willows themselves, which are
softer than the ash, preserve their substance and
texture to this very day. Some of the firs appear
to have vegetated, even after they were fallen, and
to have, from their branches, struck up large trees,
as great as the parent trunk. It is observable,
that many of these trees have been burnt, some
quite through, some on one side, some have been
found chopped and squared, others riven with great
wooden wedges, all sufficiently manifesting, that
the country which was deluged, had formerly been
inhabited. Near a great root of one tree were
found eight coins of the Roman emperors; and in
some places, the marks of the ridge and furrow
were plainly perceivable, which testified that the
ground had formerly been patient of cultivation.

The learned naturalist who has given this des-
cription*, has pretty plainly evinced, that this
forest, in particular, must have been thus levelled
by the Romans ; and that the falling of the trees
must have contributed to the accumulation of the
waters. “The Romans,” says he, “ when the
Britons fled, always pursued them into the fortresses
of low woods, and miry forests : in these the wild
natives found shelter; and, when opportunity
offered, issued out, and fell upon their invaders
without mercy. In this manner, the Romans were
at length so harassed, that orders were issued out

*■ Phil, Tran?, vol. iv. part ii. p. 214.

238 - A HISTORY OF

for cutting down all the woods and forests in
Britain. In order to effect this, and destroy the
enemy the easier, they set fire to the woods com-
posed of pines, and other inflammable timber,
which spreading, the conflagration destroyed not
only the forest, but infinite numbers of the wretched
inhabitants who had taken shelter therein. When
the pine-trees had thus done what mischief they
could, the Romans then brought their army
nearer, and, with whole legions of the captive
Britons, cut down most of the trees that were yet
left standing ; leaving only here and there some
great trees untouched, as monuments of their
fury. These, unneedful of their labour, being
destitute of the support of the underwood, and of
their neighbouring trees, were easily overthrown
by the winds, and, without interruption, remained
on the places where they happened to fall. The
forest thus fallen, must necessarily have stopped
up the currents, both from land and sea ; and
turned into great lakes, what where before but
temporary streams. The working of the waters
here, the consumption and decay of rotten boughs
and branches, and the vast increase of water-moss
which flourishes upon marshy grounds, soon formed
a covering over the trunks of the fallen trees, and
raised the earth several feet above its former level.
The earth thus every day swelling, by a continual
increase from the sediment of the waters, and by
the lightness of the vegetable substances of which it
was composed, soon overtopt the waters by which
this intumescence was at first effected ; so that it en-
tirely got rid of its inundations, or only demanded
a slight assistance from man for that purpose.”

THE EARTH 239

This may be the origin of all bogs, which are
formed by the putrefaction of vegetable substances,
mixed with the mud and slime deposited by wa-
ters, and at length acquiring a sufficient con-
sistency.

From this we see what powerful effects the sea
is capable of producing upon its shores, either by
overflowing some or deserting others; by altering
the direction of these, and rendering those craggy
and precipitate, which before were shelving. But
the influence it lias upon these is nothing to that
which it has upon that great body of earth which
forms its bottom. It is at the bottom of the sea
that the greatest wonders are performed, and the
most rapid changes are produced ; it is there that
the motion of the tides and the currents have their
whole force, and agitate the substances of which
their bed is composed. But all these are almost
wholly hid* from human curiosity: the miracles of
the deep are performed in secret ; and we have but
little information from its abysses, except what
we receive by inspection at very shallow depths,
or by the plummet, or from divers, who are known
to descend from twenty to thirty fathom#.

The eye can reach but a very short way into the
depths of the sea; and that only when its surface is
glassy and serene. In many seas it perceives no-
thing but a bright sandy plain at bottom, extend-
ing for several hundred miles, without an interven-
ing object. But in others, particularly in the Red
Sea, it is very different: the whole bottom of this
extensive bed of waters is, literally speaking, a

* Phil. Trans, yoI, iv. part. ii. p. 192.

3 -to

A HISTORY OF

forest of sub-marine plants, and corals formed by
insects for their habitation, sometimes branching
out to a great extent. Here are seen the madre-
pores, the sponges, mosses, sea-mushrooms, and
other marine productions, covering every part of
the bottom ; so that some have even supposed the
sea to have taken its name from the colour of its
plants below. However, these plants are by no
means peculiar to this sea, as they are found in
great quantities in the Persian gulph, along the
coast of Africa, and those of Provence and Ca-
talonia.

The bottom of many parts of the sea near Ame-
rica presents a very different, though a very beau-
tiful appearance. This is covered with vegetables,
which make it look as green as a meadow, and
beneath are seen thousands of turtles, and other
sea- animals, feeding thereon.

In order to extend our knowledge of the sea
to greater depths, recourse has been had to the
plummet ; which is generally made of a lump of
lead of about forty pounds weight, fastened to a
cord*. This, however, only answers in moderate
depths ; for when a deep sea is to be sounded, the
matter of which the cord is composed, being
lighter than the water, floats upon it, and when let
down to a considerable depth, its length so in-
creases its surface, that it is often sufficient to
prevent the lead from sinking; so that this may
be the reason why some parts of the sea are said
to Have no bottom.

In general, we learn from the plummet, that the

* Boyle, toI. ii. p. 5.

THE EARTH.

24-1

bottom of the sea is tolerably even where if has
been examined ; and that the farther from the
shore, the sea is in general the deeper. Notwith-
standing, in the midst of a great and unfathom-
able ocean, we often find an island raising its head,
and singly braving its fury. Such islands may
be considered as the mountains of the deep; and,
could we for a moment imagine the waters of the
ocean removed, or dried away, we should probably
find the inequalities of its bed resembling those
that are found at land. Here extensive plains ;
there valleys; and, in many places, mountains of
amazing height. Mr. Buache lias actually given
us a map of that part of its bottom, which lies
between Africa and America, taken from the several
soundings of mariners : in it we find the same un-
even surface that we do upon land, the same
eminences, and the same depressions. In such
an imaginary prospect, however, there would be
this difference, that as the tops of land-mountains
appear the most barren and rocky, the tops of
sea-mountains would be found the most verdant
and fruitful.

The plummet, which thus gives us some idea
of the inequalities of the bottom, leaves us totally
in the dark as to every other particular; recourse,
therefore, has been had to divers: these, either
being bred up in this dangerous way of life,
and accustomed to remain some time under water
without breathing, or assisted by means of a diving-
bell, have been able to return some confused and
uncertain accounts of the places below. In the
great diving-bell improved by Dr. Halley, which
was large enough to contain five men, and was

242

A HISTORY OF

supplied with fresh air by buckets, that alternately
rose and fell, they descended fifty fathom. In this
huge machine, which was let down from the mast
of the ship, the doctor himself went down to the
bottom, where, when the sea was clear, and espe-
cially when the sun shone, he could see perfectly
well to write or read, and much more to take up
any thing that was underneath : at other times,
when the water was troubled and thick, it was
as dark as night below, so that he was obliged to
keep a candle lighted at the bottom. But there is
one thing very remarkable : that the water, which
from above was usually seen of a green colour,
when looked at from below, appeared to him of a
very different one, casting a redness upon one of
his hands, like that of damask roses# — a proof
of the sea's taking its colour not from any thing
floating in it, but from the different reflexions of
the rays of light. Upon the whole, the accounts
we have received from the bottom, by this con-
trivance, are but few. We learn from it, and from
divers in general, that while the surface of the sea
may be deformed by tempests, it is usually calm and
temperate belowf; that some divers who have gone
down when the weather was calm, and came up
when it was tempestuous, were surprised at their
not perceiving the change at the bottom. This,
however, must not be supposed to obtain with
regard to the tides, and the currents, as they are
seen constantly shifting their bottom; taking their
bed with great violence from one place, and de-
positing it upon another. We are informed, also,

* Newton’s Optic, p. 56.

+ Boyle, vol. iii. p. 242.

THE EARTH. 24S

by divers, that the sea grows colder in proportion
as they descend to the bottom ; that as far as the
sun’s rays pierce, it is influenced by their warmth ;
but lower, the cold becomes almost intolerable.

A person of quality, who had been himself a diver,
as Mr. Boyle informs us, declared, that though he
seldom descended above three or four fathoms, yet
he round it so much colder than near the top, that
he could not well endure it ; and that being let
down in a great diving-bell, although the water
could not immediately touch him, he found the air
extremely cold upon his first arrival at the bottom.

From divers also we learn, that the sea in many
places is filled with rocks at bottom : and that
among their clifts, and upon their sides, various
substances sprout forward, which are either really
vegetables, or the nests of insects, increased to some
magnitude. Some of these assume the shape of
beautiful flowers ; and though soft, when taken up,
soon harden, and are kept in the cabinets of the
curious.

But of all those divers who have brought us in-
formation from the bottom of the deep, the famous
Nicola Pesce, whose performances are told us by
Kircher, is the most celebrated. I will not so
much as pretend to vouch for the veracity of
Kirclier’s account, which he assures us he had from
the archives of the kings of Sicily ; but it may
serve to enliven a heavy chapter. “ In the times
of Frederic, king of Sicily, there lived a celebrated
diver, whose name was Nicolas, and who, from his
amazing skill in swimming, and his perseverance
under water, was surnamed the Fish. This man
had, from his infancy, been used to the sea • and

a 2

24 4

A HISTORY OF

earned his scanty subsistence by diving for corals
and oysters, which he sold to the villagers on
shore. His long acquaintance with the sea, at last,
brought it to be almost his natural element. He
frequently was known to spend five days in the
midst of the waves, without any other provisions
than the fish which he caught there, and ate
raw. He often swam over from Sicily to Calabria,
a tempestuous and dangerous passage, carrying
letters from the king. He was frequently known
to swim among the gulphs of the Lipari islands,
210 way apprehensive of danger.

“ Some mariners out at sea one day observed
something at some distance from them, which they
regarded as a sea-monster ; but upon its approach,,
it was know to be Nicolas, whom they took into
their ship, when they asked him whither he was
going in so stormy and rough a sea, and at such
a distance from land, he shewed them a packet of
letters, which he was carrying to one of the towns
of Italy, exactly done up in a leather bag, in such a
manner as that they could not he wetted by the sea.
He kept them thus company for some time on their
voyage, conversing and asking questions; and
after eating a hearty meal with them, he took
his leave, and jumping into the sea, pursued his
voyage alone.

“ In order to aid these powers of enduring in
the deep, nature seemed to have assisted him in a
very extraordinary manner ; for the spaces between
his fingers and toes were webbed as in a goose ;
and his chest became so very capacious, that he
could take in at one inspiration as much breath as
would serve him for a whole day.

THE EARTH. 245

c< The account of so extraordinary a person did
not fail to reach the king himself ; who, actuated
by the general curiosity, ordered that Nicolas
should be brought before him. It was no easy
matter to find Nicolas, who generally spent his
• time in the solitudes of the deep ; but at last, how-
ever, after much searching, he was found, and
brought before his majesty. The curiosity of this
monarch had been long excited by the accounts he
had heard of the bottom of the gulph of Charyb-
dis ; he therefore conceived that it would be a pro-
per opportunity to have more certain information ;
and commanded our poor diver to examine the bot-
tom of this dreadfuTwhirlpool : as an incitement
to his obedience, he ordered a golden cup to be flung
into it. Nicolas was not insensible of the danger
to which he was exposed; dangers best known
only to himself ; and he therefore presumed to re-
monstrate : but the hopes of the reward, the de-
sire of pleasing the king, and the pleasure of
shewing his skill, at last prevailed. He instantly
jumped into the gulph, and was swallowed as in-
stantly up in its bosom. He continued for three
quarters of an hour below; during which time the
king and his attendants remained upon shore anxi-
' ous for his fate ; but he at last appeared, buffeting
upon the surface, holding the cup in triumph in
one hand, and making his way good among the
waves with the other. It may be supposed he was
received with applause, upon his arrival on shore :
the cup was made the reward of his adventure ;
the king ordered him to be taken proper care of;
and as he was somewhat fatigued and debilitated

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246

A HISTORY OF

by his labour, after a hearty meal, he was put to
bed, and permitted to refresh himself by sleeping.

“ When his spirits were thus restored, he was
again brought to satisfy the king’s curiosity
with a narrative of the wonders he had seen; and
his account was to the following effect. He
would never, he said, have obeyed the king’s
commands had he been apprized of half the dan-
gers that were before him. There were four things,
he said, that rendered the gulph dreadful, not
only to men, but even to the fishes themselves :
first, the force of the water bursting up from the
bottom, which requires great strength to resist ;
secondly, the abruptness of the rocks, that on
every side threatened destruction; thirdly, the
force of the whirlpool, dashing against those
rocks ; and fourthly, the number and magnitude
of the polypous fish, some of which appeared as
large as a man, and which every where sticking
against the rocks, projected their fibrous arms to
entangle him. Being asked how he wras able so
readily to find the cup that had been thrown in,
he replied, that it happened to be flung by the
waves into the cavity of a rock, against which
he himself was uro-ed in his descent. This ac-

O

count, however, did not satisfy the king’s curiosity :
being requested to venture once more into the
gulph for further discoveries, he at first refused ;
but the king, desirous of having the most ex-
act information possible of all things to be found
in the gulph, repeated his solicitations ; and,
to give them still greater weight, produced a
larger cup than the former, and added also a purse
of gold. Upon these considerations, the unfor-

THE EARTH. 247

timate Pessacola once again plunged into the
whirlpool, and was never heard of more.”

' „ * '1

CHAP. XVIII.

A summary Account of the Mechanical Pro-
perties of Air.

Having described the earth and the sea,
we now ascend into that fluid which surrounds
them both ; and which, in some measure, supports
and supplies all animated nature. As, upon view-
ing the bottom of the ocean from its surface, we
see an infinity .of animals moving therein, and
seeking food ; so, were some superior being to re-
gard the earth at a properd istance, he might consi-
der us in the same light : he might from his superior
station, behold a number of busy little beings,
immersed in the aerial fluid, that every where sur-
rounds them, and sedulously employed in procur-
ing the means of subsistence. This fluid, though
too fine, for the gross perception of its inhabitants,
might, to his nicer organs of sight, be very visi-
ble; and, while he at once saw into its operations,
he might smile at the varieties of human conjec-
ture concerning it : he might readily discern, per-
haps, the height above the surface of the earth to
which this fluid atmosphere reaches : he might
exactly determine the peculiar form of its parts
which gives it the spring or elasticity with which
it is endued : he might distinguish which of its
parts were pure incorruptible air, and which only
made for a little time to assume the appearance, so

r 4

248

A HISTORY OF

as to be quickly returned back to the element from
whence it came. But as for us, who are immersed
at the bottom of this gulph, we must be contented
with a more confined knowledge ; and, wanting a
proper point of prospect, remain satisfied with a
combination of the effects. s

One of the first things that our senses inform
us of is, ' that although the air is too fine for our
sight, it is very obvious to our touch. Although
we cannot see the wind contained in a bladder,
we can very readily feel its resistance; and though
the hurricane may want colour, we often fatally
experience that it does not want force. We have
equal experience of the air’s spring or elasticity :
the bladder, when pressed, returns again, upon
the pressure being taken away ; a bottle, when
filled, often bursts, from the spring of air which is
included.

So far the slightest experience reaches ; but/ by
carrying experiment a little farther, we learn that
air also is heavy : a round glass vessel being
emptied of its air, and accurately weighed, has
been found lighter than when it was weighed with
the air in it. Upon computing the superior weight
of the full vessel, a cubic foot of air is found to
weigh something more than an ounce.

From this experiment, therefore, we learn, that
the earth, and all things upon its surface, are
every where covered with a ponderous fluid, which
rising very high over our heads, must be propor-
tion ably heavy. For instance, as in the sea, a
man at the depth of twenty feet sustains a greater
weight of water than a man at the depth of but
ten feet ; so will a man at the bottom of a valley

THE EARTH.

249

have a greater weight of air over him, than a man
on the top of a mountain.

Hence we may conclude, that we sustain a very
great weight of air ; and although, like men walk-
ing at the 'bottom of the sea, we cannot feel the
weight which presses equally round us, yet the pres-
sure is not the less real. As in morals we seldom
know the blessings that surround us till we are
deprived of them, so here we do not perceive the
weight of the ambient fluid, till a part of it is
taken away. If, by any means, we contrive to
take away the pressure of the air from any. one
part of our bodies, we are soon made sensible of
the weight upon the other parts. If we clap our
hand upon the mouth of a vessel from whence the
air has been taken away, there will thus be air on
one side, and none on the other ; upon which, we
shall instantly find the hand violently sucked in-
wards, which is nothing more than the weight of
the air upon the back of the hand that forces it
into the space which is empty below.

As by this experiment w^e perceive that the air
presses with great weight upon every thing on
the surface of the earth, so by other experiments
we learn the exact weight with which it presses.
First, if the air be exhausted out of any vessel, a
drinking vessel for instance*, and this vessel be
set with the mouth downwards in water, the water
will rise up into the empty space, and fill the in-
verted glass ; for the external air will, in this case,
press up the water where there is no wTeight to re-

i , '

* This may be done by burning a bit of paper in the same,
and then quickly turning it down upon the water.

I

250

A HISTORY OF

sist; as, one part of a bed being pressed, makes
the other parts, that have no weight upon them,
rise. In this case, as was said, the water being
pressed without, will rise in the glass ; and would
continue to rise (if the empty glass were tall
enough) thirty- two feet high. In fact, there
have been pipes made purposely for this experi-
ment of above thirty-two feet high ; in which,
upon being exhausted, the water has alway risen
to the height of thirty -two feet : there it has
always rested, and never ascended higher. From
this, therefore, we learn, that the weight of the
air which presses up the water, is equal to a
pillar or column of water which is thirty-
two feet high ; as it is just able to raise such a
column, and no more. In other words, the sur-
face of the earth is every where covered with a
weight of air, which is equivalent to a covering
of thirty-two feet deep of water; or to a weight
of twenty-nine inches and a half of quicksilver,
which is known to be just as heavy as the former.

Thus we see that the air at the surface of the
earth is just as heavy as thirty-two feet of water,
or twenty-nine inches and a half of quicksilver;
and it is easily found, by computation, that to raise
water thirty-two feet will require a weight of
fifteen pounds upon every square inch. Now,
if we are fond of computations, we have only to
calculate how many square inches are in the surface
of an ordinary human body, and allowing every
inch to sustain fifteen pounds, we may amaze our-
selves at the weight of air we sustain. It has been
computed, and found, that our ordinary load of
air amounts to within a little of forty thousand

THE EARTH.

251

pounds : this is wonderful ! but wondering* is not
the way to grow wise.

Notwithstanding this be our ordinary load, and
our usual supply, there are at different times very
great variations. The air is not, like water, equal-
ly heavy at all seasons ; but sometimes is lighter,
and sometimes more heavy. It is sometimes more
comprest, and sometimes more elastic or springy,
which produces the same effects as an increase of its
weie-ht. The air which at one time raises water

O

thirty-two feet in the tube, and quicksilver twenty-
nine inches, will not at another raise the one to
thirty feet, or the other to twenty-six inches. This
makes, therefore, a very great difference in the
weight we sustain ; and we are actually known, by
computation, to carry at one time four thousand
pounds of air more than at another.

The reason of this surprising difference in the
weight of air, is either owing to its pressure from
above, or to an increase of vapour floating in it.
Its increased pressure is the consequence of its
spring or elasticity, which cold and heat sensibly
affect, and are continually changing.

This elasticity of the air is one of its most amaz-
ing properties ; and to which it should seem no-
thing can set bounds. A body of air that may
be contained in a nut-shell, may easily, with heat,
be dilated into a sphere of unknown dimensions.
On the contrary, the air contained in a house, may
be compressed into a cavity not larger than the eye
of a needle. In short, no bounds can be set to
its confinement or expansion ; at least, experiment
has hitherto found its attempts indefinite. In every
situation, it retains its elasticity ; and the more

252

A HISTORY OF

closely we compress it, the more strongly does it
resist the pressure. If to the increasing the elasti-
city on one side by compression, we increase it on
the other side by heat, the force of both soon be-
comes irresistible ; and a certain French philosopher
supposed*, that air thus confined, and expanding,
was sufficient for the explosion of a world.

Many instruments have been formed to measure
and determine these different properties of the air ;
and which serve several useful purposes. The ba-
rometer serves to measure its weight ; to tell us
when it is heavier, and when lighter. It is com-
posed of a glass tube or pipe, of about thirty
inches in length, closed up at one end ; this tube is
then filled with quicksilver ; this done, the maker,
clapping his finger upon the open end, inverts the
tube, and plunges the open end, finger and all, into
a bason of quicksilver, and then takes his finger
away : now the quicksilver in the tube will, by its
own weight, endeavour to descend into that in the
bason ; but the external air, pressing on the surface
of the quicksilver in the bason without, and no
air being in the tube at top, the quicksilver will
continue in the tube, being pressed up, as was said,
by the air, on the surface of the bason below. The
height at which it is known to stand in the tube,
is usually about twenty-nine inches, when the air
is heavy; but not above twenty-six, when the air
is very light. Thus, by this instrument we can,
with some exactness, determine the weight of the
air ; and, of consequence, tell, before-hand, the
changes of the weather. Before fine dry weather,

* Monsieur Amontons.

THE EARTH.

253

the air is charged with a variety of vapours, which
float in it unseen, and render it extremely heavy, so
that it presses up the quicksilver; or, in other
words, the barometer rises. In moist, rainy weather,
the vapours are washed down, or there is not heat
sufficient for them to rise, so that the air is then
sensibly lighter, and presses up the quicksilver with
less force ; or, in other words, the barometer is
seen to fall. Our constitutions seem also to cor-
respond with the changes of the weather-glass ;
they are braced, strong, and vigorous, with a large
body of air upon them ; they are languid, relaxed,
and feeble, when the air is light, and refuses to
give our fibres their proper tone.

But although the barometer thus measures the
weight of the air with exactness enough for the
general purposes of life, yet it is often affected with
a thousand irregularities, that no exactness in the
instrument can remedy, nor no theory account
for. When high winds blow, the quicksilver gene-
rally is low ; it rises higher in cold weather than in
warm ; and is usually higher at morning and even-
ing than at mid-day : it generally descends lower
after rain than it was before it. There are also
frequent changes in the air, without any sensible al-
teration in the barometer.

As the barometer is thus used in predicting the
changes of the weather, so it is also serviceable in
measuring the heights of mountains, which mathe-
maticians cannot so readily do : for as, the higher
we ascend from the surface of the earth, the air be-
comes lighter, so the quicksilver in the barometer
will descend in proportion. It is found to sink at
the rate of the tenth part of an inch for every nine-

254

A HISTORY OF

ty feet we ascend ; so that in going up a mountain,
if I find the quicksilver fallen an inch, I conclude,
that I am got upon an ascent of near nine hundred
feet high. In this there has been found some varia-
tion; into a detail of which, it is not the business
of a natural historian to enter.

In order to determine the elasticity of air, the
wind-gun has been invented, which is an instrument
variously made ; but in all upon the principle of
compressing a large quantity of air into a tube, in
which there is an ivory ball, and then giving the
compressed elastic air free power to act, and drive
the ball as directed. The ball thus driven, will
pierce a thick board: and will be as fatal, at small
distances, as if driven with gunpowder. I do not
know whether ever the force of this instrument has
been assisted by means of heat ; certain I am, that
this, which could be very easity contrived by means
of phosphorus, or any other hot substance applied
to the barrel, would give such a force as I doubt
whether gunpowder itself could produce.

The air-pump is an instrument contrived to ex-
haust the air from round a vessel adapted to that
purpose, called a receiver. This method of ex-
hausting, is contrived in the simple instrument, by
a piston, like that of a syringe, going down into
the vessel, and thus pushing out its air ; which, by
means of a valve, is prevented from returning into
the vessel again. But this, like all other compli-
cated instruments, will be better understood by a
minute inspection, than an hour’s description; it
may suffice here to observe, that by depriving ani-
mals, and other substances, of all air, it shews us,

THE EARTH. 255

what the benefits and effects of air are in sustaining
life, or promoting vegetation.

The digester is an instrument of still more extra-
ordinary effects than any of the former; and suffi-
ciently discovers the amazing force of air, when its
elasticity is augmented by fire. A common tea-
kettle, if the spout were closed up, and the lid put
firmly down, would serve to become a digester, if
strong enough. But the instrument used for this
purpose is a strong metal pot, with a lid to screw
close on, so that, when down, no air can get in or
return : into this pot meat and bones are put, with
a small quantity of water, and then the lid screwed
close : a lighted lamp is put underneath, and, what
is very extraordinary (yet equally true) in six or
eight minutes the whole mass, bones and all, are
dissolved into a jelly ; so great is the force and
elasticity of the air contained within, struggling
to escape, and breaking in pieces all the substances
with which it is mixed. Care, however, must be
taken not to heat this instrument too violentlv ; for
then, the inclosed air would become irresistible,
and burst the whole, with perhaps a fatal explo-
sion.

There are numberless other useful instruments
made to depend on the weight, the elasticity, or
the fluidity of the air, which do not come within
the plan of the present work ; the design of which
is not to give an account of the inventions that
have been made, for determining the nature and
properties of air, but a mere narrative of its effects.
The description of the pump, the forcing-pump, the
fire-engine, the steam-engine, the syphon, and
many others, belong not to the naturalist, but the

256

A HISTORY OF

experimental philosopher : the one gives a history
of Nature, as he finds she presents herself to him :
and he draws the obvious picture : the other pur-
sues her with close investigation, tortures her by
experiment to give up her secrets, and measures
her latent qualities with laborious precision. Much
more, therefore, might be said of the mechanical
effects of air, and of the conjectures that have been
made respecting the form of its parts ; how some
have supposed them to resemble little hoops coiled
up in a spring; others like fleeces of wool ; others,
that the parts are endued with a repulsive quality,
by which, when squeezed together, they endeavour
to fly ofl^ and recede from each other. We might
have given the disputes relative to the height to
which this body of air extends above us, and con-
cerning which there is no agreement. We might
have enquired how much of the air we breathe is
elementary, and not reducible to any other sub-
stance ; and of what density it would become, if it
were supposed to be continued down to the centre
of the earth. At that place we might, with the
help of figures, and a bold imagination, have shewn
it twenty thousand times heavier than its bulk of
gold. We might also prove it millions of times
purer than upon earth, when raised to the surface
of the atmosphere. But these speculations do not
belong to natural history ; and they have hitherto
produced no great advantages in that branch of
science to which they more properly appertain.

THE EARTH. £.$"7

CHAP. XIX.

An Essay towards a Natural History of the Air.

A LATE eminent philosopher has considered our
atmosphere as one large chemical vessel, in which
an infinite number of various operations are con-
stantly performing. In it all the bodies of the
earth are continually sending up a part of their sub-
stance by evaporation, to mix in this great alembic,
and to float a-while in common. Here minerals,
from their lowest depths, ascend in noxious, or in
warm vapours, to make a part of the general mass;
seas, rivers, and subterranean springs, furnish
their copious supplies ; plants receive and return
their share ; and animals, that by living upon, con-
sume this general store, are found to give it back
in greater quantities, when they die*. The air,
therefore, that we breathe, and upon which we
subsist, bears very little resemblance to that pure
elementary body which was described in the last
chapter ; and which is rather a substance that may
be conceived, than experienced to exist. Air, such
as we find it, is one of the most compounded bodies
in all nature. Water may be reduced to a fluid
every way resembling air, by heat ; which, by cold,
becomes water again. Every thing we see gives off
its parts to the air, and has a little floating atmos-
phere of its own round it. The rose is encompassed
with a sphere of its own odorous particles; while

* Boyle, vol. ii. p. 593.

V0L. I.

S

A HISTORY OF

S *8

the night-shade infects the air with a scent of a
more ungrateful nature. The perfume of musk
flies off in such abundance, that the quantity re-
maining becomes sensibly lighter by the loss. A
thousand substances that escape all our senses, we
know to be there ; the powerful emanations of the
load-stone, the effluvia of electricity, the rays of
light, and the insinuations of fire. Such are the
various substances through which we move, and
which we are constantly taking in at every pore,
and returning again with imperceptible discharge !

This great solution, or mixture of all earthly bo-
dies, is continually operating upon itself ; which,
perhaps, may be the cause of its unceasing motion :
but it operates still more visibly upon such grosser
substances as are exposed to its influence ; for
scarcely any substance is found capable of resisting
the corroding qualities of the air. The air, say
the chemists, is a chaos furnished with all kinds of
salts and menstruums ; and, therefore, it is capable
of dissolving all kinds of bodies. It is well known,
that copper and iron are quickly covered, and eaten
with rust; and that, in the climates near the equa-
tor, no art can keep them clean. In those dreary
countries, the instruments, knives and keys, that
are kept in the pocket, are nevertheless quickly in-
crusted ; and the great guns, with every precaution,
after some years, become useless. Stones, as being
less hard, may be readily supposed to be more easily
soluble. The marble of which the noble monu-
ments of Italian antiquity are composed, although
jin one of the finest climates in the world, shew the
impressions which have been made upon them by
the air. In many places they seem worm-eaten by

259

THE EARTH.

time; &nd, in others, they appear crumbling into
dust. Gold alone seems to be exempted from this
general state of dissolution ; it is never found to
contract rust, though exposed never so long: the
reason of this seems to be, that sea-salt, which is
the only menstruum capable of acting upon, and
dissolving gold, is but very little mixed with the
air ; for salt being a very fixed body, and not apt
to volatilize, and rise with heat, there is but a small
proportion of it in the atmosphere. In the elabo-
ratories, and shops, however, where salt is much
used, and the air is impregnated with it, gold is
found to rust as well as other metals.

Bodies of a softer nature are obviously destroyed
by the air*. Mr. Boyle says, that silks brought
to Jamaica, will, if there exposed to the air, rot
even while they preserve their colour ; but if kept
therefrom, they both retain their strength and
gloss. The same happens in Brasil, where their
cloaths, which are black, soon turn of an iron co-
lour ; though, in the shops, they preserve their pro-
per huef. In these tropical climates also, such
are the putrescent qualities of the air, that white
sugar will sometimes be full of maggots. Drugs
and plasters lose their virtue, and become ver-
minous. In some places they are obliged to ex-
pose their sweetmeets by day in the sun, otherwise
the night air would quickly cause them to putrefy.
On the contrary, in the cold arctic regions, animal
substances, during their winter, are never known
to putrefy ; and meat may be kept for months,
without any salt whatsoever. This experiment

* Buffon, vol. iii. p. 62. + Ibkt, vol. iii. p. 68.

s 2

<2G0 A HISTORY OF

happily succeeded with the eight Englishmen that
were accidentally left upon the inhospitable coasts
of Greenland, at a place where seven Dutchmen
had perished but a few years before ; for killing-
some rein-deer for their subsistence, and having no
salt to preserve the flesh, to their great surprise,
they soon found it did not want any, as it re-
mained sweet during their eight months conti-
nuance upon that shore. 4|

These powers, with which air is endued over
unorganized substances, are exerted in a still
stronger manner over plants, animals of an in-
ferior nature, and, lastly, over man himself. Most
cf the beauty, and the luxuriance of vegetation,
is well known to be derived from the benign in-
fluence of the air ; and every plant seems to have its
favourite climate, not less than its proper soil. T be
lower ranks of animals also, seem formed for their
respective climates, in which only they can live.
Man alone seems the child of every climate, and ca-
pable of existing in all. However, this peculiar
privilege does not exempt him from the influences
of the air ; he is as much subject to its malignity,
as the meanest insect or vegetable.

With regard to plants, air is so absolutely neces
sary for their life and preservation, that they wi
not vegetate in an exhausted receiver. All plan
have within them a quantity of air, which sup
ports and agitates their juices. They are cpnt*
nually imbibing fresh nutriment from the
increase this store, and to supply the wants w
they sustain from evaporation. When, t ier
the external air is drawn from them, they ai ^
Ion 2:er able to subsist. Even that quanti

26'*

THE EARTH

air which they before were possessed of, escapes
through their pores, into the exhausted receiver ;
and as this continues to be pumped away, they
become languid, grow flaccid, and die. How-
ever, the plant or flower thus ceasing to vegetate,
is kept, by being secured from the external air,
a much longer time sweet than it would have con-
tinued, had it been openly exposed.

That air which is so necessary to the life of
vegetables, is still more so to that of animals ;
there are none found, how seemingly torpid soever,
that do not require their needful supply. Fishes
themselves will not live in water from whence the
air is exhausted ; and it is generally supposed that
they die in frozen ponds, from the want of this
necessary to animal existence. Many have been
the animals that idle curiosity has tortured in the
prison of a receiver, merely to observe the manner of
their dying. We shall, from a thousand instances,
produce that of the viper, as it is known to be
one of the most vivacious reptiles in the world ; and
as we shall feel but little compassion for its tor-
tures. Mr. Boyle took a new-caught viper, and
shutting it up into a small receiver, began to pump
away the air#. “ At first, upon the air’s being
drawn away, it began to swell ; some time after he
had done pumping, it began to gape, and open its
Ja^’S; being thus compelled to open its jaws, ^it once
nore resumed its former lankness ; it then began

4f 7 O

move up and down within, as if to seek for air,
and after a while foamed a little, leaving the foam
8 mking to the inside of the glass ; soon after the

" Boyle’s Physico-Mechaa. Exper. pasfcim.
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262 A HISTORAkOF

body and neck grew prodigiously tumid, and a
blister appeared upon its back ; an hour and a half
after the receiver was exhausted, th£- distended vi-
per moved, and gave manifest signs of life ; the
jaws remained quite distended ; as it were from be-
neath the epiglottis, came the black tongue, and
reached beyond it ; but the animal seemed, by its
posture, not to have any life: the mouth also was
grown blackish within; and in this situation it com
tinued for twenty-three hours. But upon the air’s
being re-admitted, the viper’s- mouth was presently
closed, and soon after opened again: and for some
time those motions continued, which argued the
remains of life.” Such is the fate of the most in-
significant or minute reptile that can be thus in-
cluded. Mites, fleas, and even the little eels that are
found swimming in vinegar, die for want of air.
Not only these, but the eggs of these animals,
will not produce in vacuo, but require air to bring
them to perfection. , ,/M

As in this manner air is necessary to their subsis-
tence, so also it must be of a proper kind, and not
impregnated with foreign mixtures. That factiti-
ous air which is pumped from plants or fluids, is
generally, in a short time, fatal to them. Mr. Boyle
has given us many experiments to this purpose.
After having shewn that all vegetable, and most
mineral substances, properly. prepared, may afford
air, by being placed in an exhausted receiver, and
this in such quantities, that some have thought it
a new substance, made by the alteration which the
mineral plant has undergone by the texture of its
parts being loosened in the operation — having
shewn, I say, that this air may be drawn in great

THE EARTH.

263

quantities from vegetable, animal, or mineral sub-
stances, such as apples, cherries, amber burnt, or
hartshorn* — he included a frog in artificial air, pro-
duced from paste ; in seven minutes space it suffered
convulsions, and at last lay still, and being taken
out, recovered no motion at all, but was dead. A
bird inclosed in artificial air, from raisins, died in a
quarter of a minute, and never stirred more. A
snail was put into the receiver, with air of paste; in
four minutes it ceased to move, and was dead, al-
though it had survived in vacuo for several hours :
so that factitious air proved a greater enemy to ani-
mals than even a vacuum itself.

Air also may be impregnated with fumes that are
instantly fatal to animals. The fumes of hot iron,
copper, or any other heated metal, blown into the.
place Avhere an animal is confined, instantly des- *
troy it. We have already mentioned the vapours
in the grotto Del Cane suffocating a dog. The an-
cients even supposed, that these animals, as they
always ran with their noses to the ground, were the
first that felt any infection. In short, it should seem
that the predominance of any one vapour, from
any body, how wholesome soever in itself, becomes
infectious ; and that we owe the salubrity of the air
to the variety of its mixture^.

* Boyle’s Physico-Mechan. vol. ii. p. 598.

[+ The atmospheric air which invests the globe, ^has been, till
ftc present age, considered as simple and homogenous ; and all
!ts operations to depend on its relative degree of heat, cold,
Moisture, or dryness : but it is in fact the receptacle of all kinds
0 effluvia, produced from terrestrial or marine substances, either
®atnraily or artificially. This atmosphere, excluding all foreign
°dies occasionally mjxcd with it, is found to consist of two com-

S 4

2 64- A HISTOKY OF

* •

But there is no animal whose frame is more sen-
sibly affected by the changes of the air than man.
It is true, he can endure a greater variety of climates
than the lower orders generally are able to do ; but
it is rather by the means which he has discovered
of obviating their effects, than by the apparent
strength of his constitution. Most other animals
can bear cold or hunger better, endure greater fa-
tigues in proportion, and are satisfied with shorter
repose. The variations of the climate, therefore,
would probably affect them the less, if they had the
same means or skill in providing against the seve-
rities of the change. However this be, the body
of man is an instrument much more nicely sensible
of the variations of the air, than any of those
which his own art has produced ; for his frame
alone seems to unite all their properties, being invi-
gorated by the weight of the air, relaxed by its
moisture, enfeebled by its heat, and stiffened by its
frigidity.

But it is chiefly by the predominance of some
peculiar vapour, that the air becomes unfit for hu-
man support. It is often found, by dreadful expe-
rience, to enter into the constitution, to mix with

ponent parts ; oxygene, or vital air, necessary for the existence
and preservation of animal life and vegetation ; and azote, or foul
air, immediately destructive of all animal life. The atmosphere
in its best state, is found to consist of 74 p. cent, of foul air, and
26 of vital air ; and in proportion as one or the other predomi-
nates over this combination, it is found more or less fit for animal
respiration : the grotto Del Cane and other subterraneous places
excluded from the action of the atmospheric air and the rays of
light, are filled with foul air, deprived almost entirely of its vital
parts.

THE EARTH.

265

its juices, and to putrefy the whole mass of blood.
The nervous system is not less affected by its ope-
rations; palsies and vertigoes are caused by its
damps ; and a still more fatal train of distempers
by its exhalations. In order that the air should be
wholesome, it is necessary, as we have seen, that it
should not be of one kind, but the compound of se-
veral substances ; and the more various the compo-
sition, to all appearance the more salubrious. A
man, therefore, who continues in one place, is not
so likely to enjoy this wholesome variety, as he
who changes his situation ; and, if I may so express
it, instead of waiting for a renovation of air, walks
forward to meet its arrival. This mere motion, in-
dependent even of the benefits of exercise, be-
comes wholesome, by thus supplying a great vari-
ety of that healthful fluid by which we are sus-
tained.

A thousand accidents are found to increase these
bodies of vapour, that make one place more or less
wholesome than another. Heat may raise them in
too great quantities ; and cold may stagnate them.
Minerals may give off their effluvia in such propor-
tion as to keep away all other kind of air; vege-
tables may render the air unwholesome by their sup-
ply ; and animal putrefaction seems to furnish a
quantity of vapour, at least as noxious as any of
the former. All these united, generally make up
the mass of respiration, and are, when mixed to-
gether, harmless ; but any one of them, for a long-
tune singly predominant, becomes at length fatal.

The effects of heat in producing a noxious qua-
hty in the air, are well known. Those torrid re-
gions under the Line are always unwholesome. At

266 A HISTORY OF

Senegal, I am told, the natives consider forty as a,
very advanced time of life, and generally die of old
age at fifty. At Carthagena* in America, where
the heat of the hottest day ever known in Europe
is continual, where, during their winter season,
these dreadful heats are united with a continual
succession of thunder, rain, and tempests, arising
from their intenseness, the wan and livid complex-
ions of the inhabitants might make strangers sus-
pect that they were just recovered from some dread-
ful distemper ; the actions of the natives are con-
formable to their colour ; in all their motions there
is somewhat relaxed and languid; the heat of the
climate even affects their speech, which is soft and
slow, and their words generally broken. Travellers
from Europe retain their strength and ruddy colour
in that climate, possibly for three or four months ;
but afterwards suffer such decays in both, that
they are no longer to be distinguished from the in-
habitants by their complexion. However, this
languid and spiritless existence is frequently drawl-
ed on sometimes even to eighty. Young persons
are generally most affected by the heat of climate,
which spares the more aged; but all, upon their ar-
rival on the coasts, are subject to the same train of
fatal disorders. Eew nations have experienced the
mortality of these coasts, so much as our own : m
©ur unsuccessful attack upon Carthagena, more
than three -parts of our army were destroyed ny
the climate alone ; and those that returned froin
that fatal expedition, found their former vigour n-
retrievably gone. In our more fortunate expedition,

* Ulloa, toI. i. p. 42.

THE EARTH.

267

which gave us the Havannah, we had little reason
to boast of our success ; instead of a third, not a
fifth part of the army were left survivors of their
victory, the climate being an enemy that even he-
.roes cannot conquer.

. The distempers that thus proceed from the cruel
malignity of those climates are many ; that, for in-
stance, called the Chapotonadas, carries off a mul-
titude of people ; and extremely thins the crews of
European ships, whom gain tempts into those in-
hospitable regions. The nature of this distemper is
but little known, being caused in some persons by
cold, in others by indigestion. But its effects are
far from being obscure ; it is generally fatal in
three or four days : upon its seizing the patient, it
brings on what is there called the black vomit,
which is the sad symptom after which none are
ever found to recover. Some, when the vomit at-
tacks them, are seized with a delirium, that, were
they not tied down, they would tear themselves to
pieces, and thus expire in the midst of this furious
paroxysm. This disorder, in milder climates, takes
the name of the bilious fever, and is attended with
milder symptoms, but very dangerous in all.

There are many other disorders incident to the
human body, that seem the offspring of heat; but
to mention no other, that very lassitude which pre-
' ails in all the tropical climates, may be considered
as a disease. The inhabitants of India*, says a
modern philosopher, sustain an unceasing languor,
r°m the heats of their climate ; and are torpid in

* Linnaei Amaenitates, vol. y. p. 444.

268 A HISTORY OF

the midst of profusion*. For this reason, the
great Disposer of Nature has cloathed their coun-
try with trees of an amazing height, whose shade
might defend them from the beams of the sun ;
and whose continual freshness might, in some mea-
sure, temperate their fierceness. From these shades,

' therefore, the air receives refreshing moisture, and
animals a cooling protection. The whole race of
savage animals retire, in the midst of the day, to
the very centre of the forests, not so much to
avoid their enemy man, as to find a defence against
the raging heats of the season. This advantage,
which arises from shades in torrid climates, may
probably afford a solution for that extraordinary
circumstance related by Boyle, which he imputes
to a different cause. In the island of Ternate, be-
longing to the Dutch, a place that had been long
celebrated for its beauty and healthful ness, the
clove-trees grew in such plenty, that they in some
measure lessened their own value : for this reason,
the Dutch resolved to cut down the forests, and
thus to raise the price, of the commodity : but they
had soon reason to repent of their avarice; for
such a change ensued, by cutting down the trees,
that the whole island, from being healthy and de-
lightful, having lost its charming shades, became

£* It is now known that plants in general have not only a
power of correcting bad air, but of improving common air, i» a
few hours, when exposed to the light of the sun ; but in the niiht
time, or w hen they are not influenced by the solar rays, they con-
taminate the air : this is occasioned by their discharging Iar?c
quantities of vital or pure air in the day time, and absorbing
air in the night time ; for this reason i< is, that the night air
so unwholesome, especially in the neighbourhood of trees* J

THE EARTH.

extremely sickly, and has actually continued so to
this day. Boerhaave considered heat so prejudi-
cial to health, that he was never seen to go near a
tire.

An opposite set of calamities are the consequence,
in climates where the air is condensed by cold. In
such places, all that train of distempers which are
known to arise from obstructed perspiration, are'
very common*' ; eruptions, boils, scurvy, and a
loathsome leprosy, that covers the whole body
with a scurf, and white putrid ulcers. These dis-
orders also are infectious ; and, while they thus
banish the patient from society, they generally ac-
company him to the grave. The men of those
climates seldom attain to the age of fifty ; but the
women, who do not lead such laborious lives, are
found to live longer.

O ^ \

The autumnal complaints which attend a wet
summer, indicate the dangers of a moist air. The
long continuance of an east wind also, shews the
prejudice of a dry one. Mineral exhalations, when
copious, are every where known to be fatal ; and
although we probably owe the increase and luxuri-

ance of vegetation to a moderate degree of their
armth, yet the natives of those countries where
^ ere are mines in plenty, but too often experience
* e 110xious effects of their vicinity. Those trades
J .so ^at deal in the" preparations of metals of all
are always unwholesome; and the workmen,
er s°me time, are generally seen to labour under
s,es, and other nervous complaints. The vapours
0lTl some vegetable substances, are well known to

Krantz’s History of Greenland, yoI. i. p. 235.

270

A HISTORY OF

be attended with dangerous effects. The shade of
the machinel tree, in America, is said to be fatal ; as
was that of the juniper, if we may credit theancients.
Those who walk through fields of poppies, or in
any manner prepare those flowers for making
opium, are very sensibly affected with the drowsi-
ness they occasion. A. physician of Mr. Boyle’s
acquaintance, causing a large quantity of black
hellebore to be pounded in a mortar, most of the
persons who were in the room, and especially the
person who pounded it, were purged by it, and
some of them strongly. He also gathered a cer-
tain plant in Ireland, which the person who beat
it in a mortar, and the physician who was standing
near, were so strongly affected by, that their hands
and faces swelled to an enormous size, and continued
tumid for a long time after.

But neither mineral nor vegetable steams are so
dangerous to the constitution, as those proceeding
from animal substances, putrefying either by disease
or death. The effluvia that comes from diseased

bodies, propagate that frightful catalogue of dis-
orders which are called infectious. The parts which
compose vegetable vapours, and mineral exhala-
tions, seem gross and heavy, in comparison of these
volatile vapours, that go to great distances, and
have been described as spreading desolation over
the whole earth. They fly every where ; penetrate
every where ; and the vapours that fly from a singk
disease, soon render it epidemic.

The plague is the first upon the list in this ejass
of human calamities. From whence this scoui©
of man’s presumption may have its beginning, ^
not well known ; but we well know that it is p

THE EARTH. <37 1

pagated by infection. Whatever be the general
state of the atmosphere, we learn, from experience,
that the noxious vapours, though but singly intro-
duced at first, taint the air by degrees : every per-
son infected, tends to add to the growing maligni-
ty; and, as the disorder becomes more general, the
putrescence of the air becomes more noxious, so
that the symptoms are aggravated by continuance.
When it is said that the origin of this disorder is
unknown, it implies, that the air seems to be but
little employed in first producing it. There are some
countries, even in" the midst of Africa, that we learn
have never been infected with it; but continue,
for centuries, unmolested. On the contrary, there
are others, that are generally visited once a year, as
in Egypt, which, nevertheless, seems peculiarly
blessed with the serenity and temperature of its
climate. In the former countries, which are of
vast extent, and many of them very populous,
every thing should seem to dispose the air to make
the plague continual among them. The great heats
°f the climate, the unwholesomeness of the food,
the sloth and dirt of the inhabitants, but, above
ah, the bloody battles which are continually fought
among them, after which heaps of dead bodies are
Eft unburied, and exposed to putrefaction. All
these one might think would be apt to bring the
pEgue among them ; and yet, nevertheless, we are
^sured, by Leo Africanus, that in Numidia the
P ague is not known once in a hundred years ; and
iat in Negroland, it is not known at all. This
^eadful disorder, therefore, must have its rise, not
any previous disposition of the air, but from
°me particular cause, beginning with one i'ndivi-

272

A HISTORY OF

dual, and extending the malignity, by communi-
cation, till at last the air becomes actually tainted
by the generality of the infection*.

The plague which spread itself over the whole
world, in the year 1 346, as we are told by Mezeray,
was so contagious, that scarcely a village, or even
a house, escaped being infected by 'it. Before it
had reached Europe, it had been for two years tra-
velling from the great kingdom of Cathay, where
it began by a vapoufmost horridly fetid; this broke
out of the earth like a subterranean fire, and upon
the first instant of its eruption, consumed and de-
solated above two hundred leagues of that country,
even to the trees and stones.

In that great plague which desolated the city of
London, in ,tbe year 1665, a pious and learned
schoolmaster of Mr. Boyle’s acquaintance, who
ventured to stay in the city, and took upon him the
humane office of visiting the sick and the dying,

[* The plague is supposed to have its origin in upper Egypt-
After the waters have subsided from the overflowing of the Xdei
a putrid exhalation is raised from the slime and carcases of fis
and other animals, highly detrimental to animal life : this, with
the heat of the weather, and the superstition and filthiness of the
inhabitants, soon produces this most malignant of all diseases • a 1
as no preventive precautions are taken by the gross and idle ■
habitants, it soon spreads over the whole of Turkey, Eg} P ?
Syria ; and thence it is communicated by commerce to other P* ^
of the globe. Of its highly infectious nature Dr. Y
his travels, relates several instances. A brother of the . ^
general Julien died of. the plague : he received the
taking a pinch of snuff from a box, out of which a P^s ^ pC.
had the plague on him at the time, had also taken snu* .guc,
lice, says he, the property of a turk who died from t ^
was given to another, w'ho, without fear or thought.

I

THE EARTH, 27S

who had been deserted by better physicians,
averred, that being once called to a poor woman
who had buried her children of the plague, he found
the room where she lay so little that it scarcely
could hold any more than the bed whereon she was
stretched. However, in this wretched abode, be-
side her, in an open coffin, her husband lay, who
had some time before died of the same disease ; and
whom she, poor creature, soon followed. But
what shewed the peculiar malignity of the air,
thus suffering from animal putrefaction, was, that
the contagious steams had produced spots on the
very wall of their wretched apartment : and Mr.
Boyle’s own study, which was contiguous to a pest-
house, was also spotted in the same frightful man-
ner. Happily for mankind, this disorder, for more
than a century, has not been known in our island ;
and, for this last age, has abated much of its vio-
lence, even in those countries where it is most
common. Diseases, like empires, have their revo-
lutions; and those which for a while were the
scourge of mankind, sink unheard of, to give place
to new ones, more dreadful, as being less under-
stood.

for this revolution in disorders, which has em-
ployed the speculation of many, Mr. Boyle accounts
m the following manner : “ Since,” says he,“ there
^ant not causes in the bowels of the earth to make
c°nsiderable chan ges amongst the materials that

hne has plentifully treasured up in those maga-

caught the infection, and quickly died. In this way
^e*i< e ra%ht have passed into the hands of twenty more, with
111(5 apathy and fatal effects. 3

*OL I.

T

A HISTORY OF

z ines, and as those noxious steams are abundantly
supplied to the surface, it may not seem improbable,
that, in this great variety, some may be found ca-
pable of affecting the human frame in a particular
manner, and thus of producing new diseases. The
duration of these may be greater or less, according
to the lastingness of those subterraneous causes
that produced them. On which account, it need
be no wonder that some diseases have but a short
duration, and vanish not long after they appear ;
whilst others may continue longer, as having under
ground more settled and durable causes to maintain
them.”

From the recital of this train of mischiefs pro-
duced by the air, upon minerals, plants, animals, and
man himself, a gloomy mind may be apt to dread
this indulgent nurse of nature as a cruel and an
inexorable step-mother : but it is far otherwise ; and
although we are sometimes injured, yet almost all
the comforts and blessings of life spring from its
propitious influence. It would be needless to ob-
serve, that it is absolutely necessary for the sup-
port of our lives ; for of this, every moment’s ex-
perience assures us. But how it contributes to this
support, is not so readily comprehended. All allow
it to be a friend, to whose benefits we are constant-
ly obliged : and yet, to this hour, philosophers are
divided as to the nature of the obligation. The
dispute is, whether the air is only useful by hs
weight to force our juices into circulation*; or,
whether, by containing a peculiar spirit, it mixes
with the blood in our vessels, and acts like a splir

* Keil. Robinson.

THE EARTH. 275

to tlieir industry*. Perhaps it may exert both
these useful offices. at the same time. Its weight
may give the blooddts progressive motion, through
the larger vessels of the body ; and its admixture
with it cause those contractions of all the vessels,
which serve to force it still more strongly forward,
through the minutest channels of the circulation.
Be this as it may, it is well known that that part
of our blood which has just received the influx of
the air in our bodies, is of a very different colour
from that which has almost performed its circuit.
It has been found, that the arterial blood which
has been immediately mixed with the air in the
lungs, and, if I may so express it, is just begin-
ning its journey through the body, is of a fine ’florid
scarlet colour ; while, on the contrary, the blood
of the veins that is returning from having perform-
ed its duty, is of a blackish crimson hue. Whence
this difference of colour shall proceed, is not well
understood; we only know the fact, that this florid
colour is communicated by the air ; and we are
well convinced, that this, air has been admitted in-
to the blood for very useful purposes j\

* Whytt upon vital and involuntary Motions.

[ + .By the late discoveries of Dr. Priestly, M. Lavoisier, and
other philosophers, it appears that by the function of respiration,
the oxygene or vital part of the atmospheric air is received by the
blood through the membranes of the lungs, and by means of the
heart conveyed through the arterial system, whence it is return-
ed back to the heart through the veins, after having in its passage
parted with a considerable portion of its oxygene. By this ad-
dition, it likewise appears, that the colour of the blood is changed
from a dark to a light florid red : hence we perceive the reason,
"hy the blood in the lungs and arteries is of a bright scarlet red,

T 2

276

A HISTORY OF

Besides this vital principle in animals, the air also
giv eslife and body to flame. A candle quickly
goes out in an exhausted receiver ; for having soon
consumed the quantity of air, it then expires, for
want of a fresh supply. There has been a flame
contrived that will burn under water : but none has
yet been found that will continue to burn without
air. Gunpowder, which is the most catching and
powerful fire we know, will not go off in an ex-
hausted receiver ; nay, if a train of gunpowder be
laid, so as that one part may be fired in the open
air, yet the other part in vacuo will remain un-
touched, and unconsumed. Wood also set on fire,
immediately goes out ; and its flame ceases upon
removing the air ; for something is then wanting
to press the body of the fire against that of the fuel,
and to prevent the too speedy diffusion of the
flame. We frequently see cooks, and others, whose
business it is to keep up strong fires, take proper
precautions to exclude the beams of the sun from

and in the veins of a dark brownish red ; and as at every insp>-
ration, a portion of the oxygene of the atmosphere is consumed
by the lungs, that which is returned at every expiration must b«
rendered unfit for the purposes of animal life, and accounts fur
the difficulty of breathing we find in confined situations, aud
impossibility of living long without free access to the atmospte
ric air. Water possesses oxygene also, as a part of its compo-
sition, and contains air in its pores ; whence the blood ot fish **
ceives oxygene from water or the air contained in it, by nican!
of their gills, in the same manner as the blood is oxygenated
the lungs of air-breathing animals, changing its colour fr®m
dark to a light red in the vessels of their gills, which con9”^e>
a pulmonary organ adapted to the medium in which the) ^
In all combustion, likewise, oxygene is consumed; whic s
ms why a candle will not burn without a fresh supply of air*

THE EARTH. 277

shining upon them, which effectually puts them
out. This they are apt to ascribe to a wrong cause ;
namely, the operation of the light; but the real
fact is, that the warmth of the sun-beams lessens
and dissipates the body of the air that goes to feed
the flame ; and the fire, of consequence, languishes
for want of a necessary supply.

The air, while it thus kindles fire into flame, is
notwithstanding found to moderate the rays of
light, to dissipate their violence, and to spread an
uniform lustre over every object. Were the beams
of the sun to dart directly upon us, without passing
through this protecting medium, they would either
burn us up at once, or blind us with their efful-
gence. But by going through the air, they are
reflected, refracted, and turned from their direct
course, a thousand different ways: and thus are
more evenly diffused over the face of nature.

Among the other necessary benefits the air is
of to us, one of the principal is its conveyance of
sound. Even the vibrations of a bell, which have
the loudest effect that we know of, cease to be
heard, when, under the receiver of an air-pump.
Thus all the pleasures we receive from conversation
with each other, or from music, depend entirely
upon the air.

Odours likewise are diffused only by the means
of air; without this fluid to swim in, they would
for ever remain torpid in their respective substances ;
and the rose would affect us with as little
sensations of pleasure, as the thorn on which it
grew.

Those who are willing to augment the catalogue
•f the benefits we receive from this element, assert

t 3

278

V

A HISTORY OF

also, that tastes themselves would be insipid, were
it not that the air presses their parts upon the
nerves of the tongue and palate, so as to produce
their grateful effects. Thus, continue they, upon
the tops of high mountains, as on the Pike
of Teneriffe, the most poignant bodies, as pepper,
ginger, salt, and spice, have no sensible taste, for
want of their particles being thus sent home to
the sensory. But we owe the air sufficient obliga-
tions, not to be studious of admitting this among
the number : in fact, all substances have their
taste,, as well on the tops of mountains, as in the
bottom of the valley ; and I have been one of
many, who have ate a very savoury dinner on the
Alps.

It is sufficient, therefore, that we regard the air
as the parent of health and vegetation : as a kind
dispenser of light and warmth ; and as the conveyer
of sounds and odours. This is an element of
which avarice will not deprive us ; and which
power cannot monopolize. The treasures of the
earth, the verdure of the fields, and even the re-
freshments of the stream, are too often seen going
only to assist the luxuries of the great ; while the
less fortunate part of mankind stand humble spec-
tators of their encroachments. But the air no li-
mitations can bound, nor any land-marks restrain.
In this benign element, all mankind can boast an
equal possession ; and for this we all have equal
obligations to Heaven. We consume a part of it,
for our own sustenance, while we live; and, when
we die, our putrefying bodies give back the supply?
which, during life, we had accumulated from the
general mass.

THE EARTH.

279

CHAP. XX.

Of Winds, irregular and regular.

W IND is a current of air. Experimental philo-
sophers produce an artificial wind, by an instrument
called an eolipile. This is nothing more than a
hollow copper ball, with a long pipe ; a tea-kettle
might be readily made into one, if it were entirely
closed at the lid, and the spout left open ; through
this spout it is to be filled with water, and then set
upon the fire, by which means it produces a violent
blast, like wind, which continues wrhile there is any
water remaining in the instrument. In this man- '
ner water is converted into a rushing air ; which,
if caught, as it goes out, and left to cool, is again
quickly converted into its former element. Besides
this, as was mentioned in the former chapter,
almost every substance contains some portions of
air. Vegetables, or the bodies of animals left to
putrefy, produce it in a very copious manner. But
it is not only seen thus escaping from bodies, but it
may be very easily made to enter into them. A
quantity of air may be compressed into water, so as
to be intimately blended with it. It finds a much
easier admission into wine, or any fermented liquor ;
and an easier still, into spirits of wine. Some
salts suck up the air in such, quantities, that they
are made sensibly heavier thereby, and often are
melted by its moisture. In this manner, most
bodies, being found either capable of receiving or
affording it, we are not to be surprised at those

t 4

28 0 A HISTORY OF

streams of air that are continually fleeting round
the globe. Minerals, vegetables, and animals, con-
tribute to increase the current ; and are sending off
their constant supplies. These, as they are differ-
ently affected by cold or heat, by mixture or putre-
faction, all yield different quantities of air at dif-
ferent times ; and the loudest tempests, and most
rapid whirlwinds, are formed from their united
contributions.

The sun is the principal instrument in rarefying
the juices of plants, so as to give an escape to their
Imprisoned air; it is also equally operative in pro-
moting the putrefaction of animals. Mineral ex-
halations are more frequently raised by subterranean
heat. The moon, the other planets, the seasons,
are all combined in producing these effects in a
smaller degree. Mountains give a direction to the
courses of the air. Fires carry a current of air
along their body. Night and day alternately chill
and warm the earth, and produce an alternate cur-
rent of its vapours. These, and many other causes,
may be assigned for the variety, and the activity
of the winds, their continual change, and uncer-
tain duration.

With us on land, as the wind proceeds from so
many causes, and meets such a variety of obsta-
cles, there can be but little hopes of ever b ringing
its motions to conform to theory ; or of foretelling
how it may blow a minute to come. The great
Bacon, indeed, was of opinion, that by a close
and regular history of the winds, continued for a
number of ages together, and the particulars of
each observation reduced to general maxims, we
might at last come to understand the variations ol

THE EARTH.

281

this capricious element ; and that we could foretel
the certainty of a wind, with as much ease as we
now foretel the return of an eclipse. Indeed, his
own beginnings in this arduous undertaking, seem
to speak the possibility of its success ; but, unhap-
pily for mankind, this investigation is the work
of ages, and we want a Bacon to direct the pro-
cess.

To be able, therefore, with any plausibility, to
account for the variations of the wind upon land, is
not to be at present expected ; and to understand
any thing of their nature, we must have recourse
to those places where they are more permanent and
steady. This uniformity and steadiness we are chiefly
to expect upon the ocean. There, where there is no
variety of substances to furnish the air with various
and inconstant supplies ; where there are no moun-
tains to direct the course of its current, but where
all is extensively uniform and even ; in such a
place, the wind arising from a simple cause, must
have but one simple motion. In fact, we find it
so. There are many parts of the world where the
winds, that with us areso uncertain, pay their stated
visits. In some places they are found to blow one
way by day, and another by night ; in others, for
one half of the year, they go in a direction contrary
to their former course : but what is more extraor-
dinary still, there are some places where the winds
never change, but for ever blow the same way.
This is particularly found to obtain between the
tropics in the Atlantic and JEthiopic oceans ; as
well as in the great Pacific sea.

Pew things can appear more extraordinary to a
person who has never been out of our variable lati*

282

A HISTORY OF

tudes, than this steady wind, that for ever sits in
the sail, sending the vessel forward ; and as effec-
tually preventing its return. He who has been
taught to consider that nothing in the world is so
variable as the winds, must certainly be surprised
to find a place where there is nothing more uni-
form. With us their inconstancy has become a
proverb ; with the natives of those distant cli-
mates, they may talk of a friend or a mistress as
fixed and unchangeable as the winds, and mean a
compliment by the comparison. When our ships
are once arrived into the proper latitudes of the
great Pacific ocean, the mariner forgets the
helm, and his skill becomes almost useless : nei-
ther storms nor tempests are known to deform the
glassy bosom of that immense sheet of waters ; a
gentle breeze, that for ever blows in the same di-
rection, rests upon the canvas, and speeds the na-
vigator. In the space of six weeks, ships are thus
known to cross an immense ocean, that takes more
than so many months to return. Upon returning,
the trade- wind, which has been propitious, is then
avoided ; the mariner is generally obliged to steer
into the northern latitudes, and to take the advan-
tage of every casual wind that offers, to assist him
into port. This wind, which blows with such
constancy one way, is known to prevail not only in
the Pacific ocean, but also in the Atlantic, between
the coasts of Guinea and Brazil ; and, likewise, in
the iEthiopic ocean. This seems to be the great
universal wind, blowing from the east to the west,
that prevails in all the extensive oceans, where the
land does not frequently break the general current.
Were the whole surface of the globe an ocean.

THE EARTH.

23'S

there would probably be but this one wind, for
sever blowing from the east, and pursuing the mo-
tions of the sun westward. All the other winds
seem subordinate to this ; and many of them are
made from the deviations of its current. To form,
therefore, any conception relative to the variations
of the wind in general, it is pfroper to begin with
that which never varies.

There have been many theories to explain this
invariable motion of the winds ; among the rest,
we cannot omit that of Dr. Lvster, for its
strangeness : cc The sea,” says he, “ in those lati-
tudes, is generally covered over with green weeds,
for a great extent ; and the air produced from the
vegetable perspiration of these, produces the trade-
wind.” The theory of Cartesius was not quite so
absurd. He alledged, that the earth went round
faster than its atmosphere at the equator ; so that
its motion, from west to east, gave the atmos-
phere an imaginary one from east to west ; and
thus an east wind was eternally seen to prevail.
Rejecting those arbitrary opinions, conceived
without force, and asserted without proof, Dr.
Halley has given one more plausible ; which seems
to be the reigning system of the day.

To conceive his opinion clearly, let us, for a
moment, suppose the whole surface of the earth to
be an ocean, and the air encompassing it on every
side, without motion. Now, it is evident, that
that part of the air which lies directly under the
beams of the sun, will be rarefied ; and, if the sun
remained for ever in the same place, there would be
a great vacuity in the air, if I may so express it,
beneath the place where the sun stood. The sun

284

A HISTORY OF

moving forward, from east to west, this vacuity
will follow too, and still be made under it. But
while it goes on to make new vacuities, the air
will rush in to fill up those the sun has already
made ; in other words, as it is still travelling for-
ward, the air will continually be rushing in behind,
and pursue its motions from east to west In this
manner, the air is put into motion by day ; and,
by night, the parts continue to impel each other,
till the next return of the sun, that gives a new
force to the circulation.

In this manner is explained the constant east
wind that is found blowing round the globe, near
the equator. But it is also known that, as we re-*
cede from the equator on either side, we come into
a trade-wind, that continually blows from the
poles, from the north on one side, or the south on
the other, both directing towards the equator.
This also proceeds from a similar cause with the
former ; for the air being more rarefied in those
places over which the sun more directly darts
its rays, the currents will come both from the
north and the south, to fill up the intermediate
vacuity.

These two motions, namely, the general one
from east to west, and the more particular one
from both the poles, will account for all the phe-
nomena of trade-winds ; which, if the whole sur-
face of the globe were sea, would undoubtedly be
constant, and for ever continue to blow in one di-
rection. But there are a thousand circumstances
to break these air-currents into smaller ones ; to
drive them back against their general course ; to
raise or depress them; to condense them into

THE EARTH. 28S

storms; or to whirl them in eddies. In conse-
quence of this, regard must be often had to the
nature of the soil, the position of the high moun-
tains, the course of the rivers, and even to the lux-
uriance of vegetation.

If a country, lying directly under the sun, be
very flat and sandy, and if the land be low and ex-
tensive, the heats occasioned by the reflection of
the sun-beams, produces a very great rarefaction
of the air. The deserts of Africa, which are con-
formable to this description, are scarcely ever fan-
ned by a breath of wind by day; but the burning
sun is continually seen blazing in intolerable splen-
dour above them. For this reason, all alonp' the
coasts of Guinea, the wind is always perceived
blowing in upon land, in order to fill up the va-
cuity caused by the sun’s operation. In those
shores, therefore, the wind blows in a contrary di-
rection to that of its general current ; and is con-
stantly found setting in from the west.

From the same cause it happens, that those con-
stant calms, attended with deluges of rain, are
found in the same part of the ocean. For this
tract being placed in the middle, between the wes-
terly winds blowing on the coast of Guinea, and
the easterly trade-winds that move at some dis-
tance from shore, in a contrary direction, the ten-
dency of that part of the ah; that lies between these
two opposite currents, is indifferent to either, and
so rests between both in torpid serenity; and the
weight of the incumbent atmosphere, being dimi-
nished by the continual contrary winds blowing
from hence, it is unable to keep the vapours sus-

286

A HISTORY OF

pended that are copiously borne thither; so that
they fall in continual ruins.

But it is not to be supposed, that any theory can
account for all the phasnomena of even those winds
that are known to be most regular. Instead of a
complete system of the trade-winds, Ave must ra-
ther be content with an imperfect history. These*',
as was said, being the result of a combination of
effects, assume as great a variety as the causes
producing them are various.

Besides the great general wind above mentioned,
in those parts of the Atlantic that lie under the
temperate zone, a north wind prevails constantly
during the months of October, November, Decem-
ber, and January. These, therefore, are the most
favourable months for embarking for the East In-
dies, in order to take the benefit of these winds,
for crossing the Line : and it has been often
found, by experience, that those Avho had set sail
five months before, were not in the least farther
advanced in their voyage, than those who waited
for the favourable wind. During the winter of
Nova Zembla, and the other arctic countries, a
north wind reigns almost continually. In the
Cape de Verde islands, a south Avind prevails dur-
ing the month of July. At the Cape of Good
Hope, a north- Avest wind blows during the month
of September. There are also regular winds, pro-
duced by various causes, upon land. The ancient
Greeks Avere the first Avho observed a constant
breeze, produced by the melting of the snows, m

* Buffon, toI. iH p. 230.

287

THE EARTH.

some high neighbouring countries. This was per-
ceived in Greece, Thrace, Macedonia, and the
fEgean sea. The same hind of winds are now re-
marked in the kingdom of Congo, and the most
southern parts of Africa. The flux and reflux of
the sea also produces some regular winds, that
serve the purposes of trade ; and, in general, it may
be observed, that wherever there is a strong cur-
rent of water, there is a current of air that seems
to attend it.

Beside these winds that are found to blow in one
direction, there are, as was said before, others that
blow for certain months of the year, one way, and
the rest of the year the contrary way : these are
called the monsoons, from a famous pilot of that
name, who first used them in navigation with suc-
cess*. In all that part of the ocean that lies be-
tween Africa and India, the east winds begin at
the month of January, and continue till about the
commencement of June. In the month of Au-
gust or September, the contrary direction takes
place; and the west winds prevail for three or
four months. The interval between these winds,
that is to say, from the end of June to the begin-
ning of August, there is no fixed wind ; but the
sea is usually tossed by violent tempests, proceed-
ing from the north. These winds are always sub-
ject to their greatest variations as they approach
the land ; so that, on one side of the great penin-
sula of India, the coasts are, for near half the year,
harassed by violent hurricanes, and northern tem-
pests; while, on the opposite side, and all along

* Varenii Geographia Generajis, cap. 20.

*88 A HISTORY OF

the coasts of Coromandel, these dreadful tempests
are wholly unknown. At Java and Ceylon, a west
wind begins to reign in the month of September;
but, at fifteen degrees of south latitude, this wind
is found to be lost, and the great general trade-
wind from the east, is perceived to prevail. On the
contrary, at Cochin, in China, the west wind be-
gins at March ; so that these monsoons pre-
vail, at different seasons, throughout the Indies.
So that the mariner takes one part of the year to
go from Java to the Moluccas ; another from
Cochin to Molucca; another from Molucca to
China ; and still another to direct him from China
to Japan.

There are winds also that may be considered as
peculiar to certain coasts ; for example, the south
wind is almost constant upon the coasts of Chili
and Peru ; western winds almost constantly pre-
vail on the coast of Terra Magellanica ; and in
the environs of the Streights le Maire. On the
coasts of Malabar, north and north-west winds
prevail continually; along the coast of Guinea,
the north-west wind is also very frequent ; and, at
a distance from the coasts, the north-east is al-
ways found prevailing. From the beginning of
November to the end of December, a west wind
prevails on the coasts of Japan ; and, during the
whole winter, no ships can leave the port of Co-
chin, on account of the impetuosity of the winds
that set upon the coast. These blow with such
vehemence, that the ports are entirely choked up
with sand, and even boats are not able to enter.
However, the east winds that prevail for the other
half of the year, clear the mouths of their harbour

THE EARTH.

289

from the accumulations of the preceding winter,
and set the confined ships at liberty. At the
Straits of Babelmandel there is a south wind that
periodically returns, and which is always followed
by a north-east.

Besides winds thus peculiar to certain coasts*
there are others found to prevail on all the coasts,
in warm climates ; which, during one part of the
day, blow from the shore* and, during another
part of it, blow from the sea. The sea-breeze, in
those countries, as Dampier observes, commonly
rises in the morning, about nine, proceeding slow^-
ly, in a fine small black curl, upon the surface of
the water, and making its way to refresh the
shore. It is gentle at first, but increases gradually
till twelve, then insensibly sinks away, and is to-
tally hushed at five. Upon its ceasing, the land-
breeze begins to take its turn, which increases till
twelve at night, and is succeeded, in the morning,
by the sea-breeze again. Without all doubt, no-
thing could have been more fortunate, for the in-
habitants of the warm countries, where those
breezes blow, than this alternate refreshment,
which they feel at those seasons when it is most
wanted. The heat, on some coasts, would be in-
supportable, were it not for such a supply of air,
when the sun has rarefied all that which lay more
immediately under the coast. The sea-breeze
temperates the heafi of the sun by day ; and the v
land-breeze corrects the malignity of the dews
and vapours by night. Where these breezes, there-
fore, prevail, and they are very common, the inha-
bitants enjoy a share of health and happiness, un-
known to those that live much farther up the
vol. i.

u

290

A HISTORY OF

country, or such as live in similar latitudes with-
out this advantage. The cause of these obviously
seems to arise from the rarefaction of the air by
the sun, as their duration continues with its ap-
pearance, and alters when it goes down. The sun,
it is observed, equally diffusing his beams upon
land and sea, the land, being a more solid body
than the water, receives a greater quantity of heat,
and reflects it more strongly. Being thus, there-
fore, heated to a greater degree than the waters,
it, of consequence, drives the air from land out to
sea; but, its influence being removed, the air re-
turns to fill up the former vacuity. Such is the
usual method of accounting for this phenome-
non ; but, unfortunately, these sea and land-
breezes are visitants that come at all hours. On
the coasts of Malabar*, the land-breezes begin at
midnight, and continue till noon ; then the sea-
breezes take their turn, and continue till midnight.
While, again, at Congo, the land-breezes begin at
five, and continue till nine the next day.

But, if the cause ©f these be so inscrutable, that
are, as we see, tolerably regular in their visitations,
what shall we say to the winds of our own climate,
that are continually shifting, and incapable ol
rest? Some general causes may be assigned, which
nothing but particular experience can apply-
And, in the first place, it may be observed, that
clouds and heat, and, in short, whatever either in-
creases the density or the elasticity of the air, m
any one placea will produce a wind there : for the
increased activity of the air thus pressing more

* Buffon, vol, ii. p. 252.

291

THE EARTH.

powerfully on the parts of it that are adjacent, will
drive them forward ; and thus go on, in a current,
till the whole comes to an equality.

In this manner, as a denser air produces a wind,
on the one hand ; so will any accident, that con-
tributes to lighten the air, produce it on the other:
for, a lighter air may be considered as a vacuity
into which the neighbouring air will rush : and
hence it happens, that when the barometer marks
a peculiar lightness in the air, it is no wonder that
it foretels a storm.

The winds, upon large waters, are generally
more regular than those upon land. The wind at
sea generally blows with an even steady gale ; the
wind, at land, puffs by intervals, increasing its
strength, and remitting it, without any apparent
cause. This, in a great measure, may be owing to
the many mountains, towers, or trees, that it meets
in its way, all contributing either to turn it from its
course, or interrupt its passage.

The east wind blows more constantly than any
other, and for an obvious reason : all other winds
are, in some measure, deviations from it, and
partly may owe their origin thereto. It is gene-
rally, likewise, the most powerful, and for the
same reason.

There are often double currents of the air.
While the wind blows one way, we frequently see
the clouds move another. This is generally the
case before thunder ; for it is well known that the
thunder cloud always moves against the wind:'
the cause of this surprising appearance has hither-
to remained a secret. From hence we may con-
clude, that weathercocks only inform us of that

u 2

292

A HISTORY OF

current of the air, which is near the surface of the
earth ; but are often erroneous with regard to the
upper regions ; and, in fact, Derham has often
found them erroneous.

Winds are generally more powerful on elevated
situations than on the plain, because their progress
is interrupted by fewer obstacles. In proportion
as we ascend the heights of a mountain, the vio-
lence of the weather seems to increase, until we
have got above the region of storms, where all is
usually calm and serene. Sometimes, however,
the storms rise even to the tops of the highest
mountains ; as we learn from those who have been
on the Andes, and as we are convinced by the
deep snows that crown even the highest.

Winds blowing from the sea are generally
moistcr, and more attended with rains, than those
which blow over extensive tracts of land : for the
sea gives off more vapours to the air, and these are
rolled forward upon land, by the winds blowing
from thence*. For this reason, our easterly winds
that blow from the continent, are dry, compared
with those that blow from the surface of the
ocean, with which we are surrounded on every
other quarter.

In general the winds are more boisterous in
spring and autumn, than at other seasons : fob
that being the time of high tides, the sea may
communicate a part of its motions to the winds.
The sun and moon, also, which then have a
greater effect upon the waters, may also have some
influence upon the winds ; for, there being a giea

* Derham's Physieo-Theol.

THE EARTH.

293

body of air surrounding the globe, which, if con-
densed into- water, would cover it to the depth of
thirty-two feet, it is evident that the sun and moon
will, to a proportionable degree, affect the atmos-
phere, and make a tide of air. This tide will be
scarcely perceivable, indeed ; but, without doubt,
it actually exists ; and may contribute to increase
the vernal and autumnal storms, which are then
known to prevail.

Upon narrowing the passage through which the
air is driven, both the density and the swiftness of
the wind is increased. For, as currents of water
flow with greater force and rapidity by narrowing
their channels, so also will a current of air, driven
through a contracted space, grow more violent and
irresistible. Hence we find those dreadful storms
that prevail in the defiles of mountains, where the
wind, pushing from behind through a narrow
channel, at once increases in speed and density,
levelling, or tearing up, every obstacle that rises
to obstruct its passage.

Winds reflected from the sides of mountains and
towers, are often found to be more forceful than
those in direct progression. This we frequently
perceive near lofty buildings, such as churches or
steeples, where winds are generally known to pre-
Naih and that much more powerful than at some
distance. The air, in this case, bv striking; against
tne side of the building, acquires additional densi-
ty’ and, therefore, blows with more force.

These differing degrees of density, which the air
f°nnd to possess, sufficiently shew that the force
the winds do not depend upon their velocity
alone ; so that those instruments called axiemome-

u 3

294

A HISTORY Of

ters , which are made to measure the velocity of
the wind, will by no means give us certain infor-
mation of the force of the storm. In older to es-
timate this with exactness, we ought to know its
density; which, also, these are not calculated to
discover. For this reason, we often see storms
with very powerful effects, that do not seem to
shew any great speed ; and, on the contrary, we
see these wind-measurers go round, with great
swiftness, when scarcely any damage has followed
from the storm.

Such is the nature and the inconstancy of the
irregular winds with which we are best acquainted.
But their effects are much more formidable in those
climates, near the tropics, where they are often
found to break in upon the steady course of the
trade-winds, and to mark their passage with de-
struction. With us the tempest is but rarely
known, and its ravages are registered as an uncom-
mon calamity ; but, in the countries that lie be-
tween the tropics, and for a good space beyond
them, its visits are frequent, and its effects are an-
ticipated. In these regions the winds vary their
terrors ; sometimes involving all things in a suffo-
cating heat; sometimes mixing all the elements of
fire, air, earth, and water together ; sometimes,
with a momentary swiftness, passing over the face
of the country, and destroying all things in their
passage ; and sometimes raising whole sandy de-
serts in one country, to deposit them upon some
other. We have little reason, therefore, to en'y
these climates the luxuriance of their soil, 01 tie
brightness of their skies. Our own muddy a*’nl/,S.^
phere, that wraps us round in obscurity, thoug i 1

THE EARTH.

295

fails to gild our prospects with sun-shine, or our
groves with fruitage, nevertheless answers the
call of industry. They may boast of a plentiful,
but precarious harvest; while, with us, the la-
bourer toils in a certain expectation of a moderate,
but a happy return.

In Egypt*, a kingdom so noted for its fertility,
and the brightness of its atmosphere, during sum-
mer, the south winds are so hot, that they almost
stop respiration ; besides which, they are charged
with such quantities of sand, that they sometimes
darken the air, as with a thick cloud. These sands
are so fine, and driven with such violence, that
they penetrate every where ; even into chests, be
they shut never so closely. If these winds happen
to continue for any length of time, they produce
epidemic diseases; and are often followed by a
great mortality. It is also found to rain but very
seldom in that country; however, the want of
showers is richly compensated by the copiousness
of their dews, which greatly tend to promote ve-
getation.

In Persia, the winter begins in November, and
continues till March. The cold, at that time, is
intense enough to congeal the water ; and snow
falls in abundance upon their mountains. During
the months of March and April, winds arise, that
blow with great force, and seem to usher in the
beats of summer. These return again, in autumn,
with some violence ; without, however, producing
any dreadful effects. But, during their summer,
all along the coasts of the Persian gulph, a very

* BuffoH, vol. ii. p. 258.

u 4

296 A HISTORY OF

dangerous wind prevails, which the natives call the
Sameyel, still more dreadful and burning than
that of Egypt, and attended with instant and fa-
tal effects. This terrible blast, which was, per-
haps, the pestilence of the ancients, instantly kills
all those that it involves in its passage. What its
malignity consists in, none can tell, as none have
ever survived its effects, to give information. It
frequently, as I am told, assumes a visible form ;
and darts, in a kind of bluish vapour, along the
surface of the country. The natives, not only of
Persia, hut Arabia, talk of its effects with terror;
and their poets have not failed to heighten them
with the assistance of imagination. They have
described it as under the conduct of a minister of
vengeance, who governs its terrors, and raises, or
depresses it, as he thinks proper*. These deadly
winds are also known along the coasts of India, at
Negapatam, Masuiipatam, and Petapoli. But,
luckily for mankind, the shortness of their duration
diminishes the injuries that might ensue from their
malignityf.

* Herbelot. Bibliotheque Oriental.

£ + The pestilential winds of the East are described by vari-
ous authors under various denominations. M. de Beauchamp
describes a remarkable south wind in the deserts about Bagdat,
called Serevansum, or poison wind : it burns the face, impedes
respiration, strips the trees of their leaves, and is said to pass on
in a straight line, and often kills people in six hours. M. V ol-
ney says, the hot w ind or ramsin, seems to blow at the season
when the sands of the deserts are hottest, and the air is then fille
with an extremely subtile dust.

Mr. Bruce, in his travels, thus describes the appearance an
effects of the simoon?. u At eleven o’clock, while we were,
with great pleasure, contemplating the rugged tops of Chiggn >

THE EARTH

297

The Cape of Good Hope, as well as many
islands in the West Indies, are famous for their
hurricanes, and that extraordinary kind of cloud
which is said to produce them. This cloud, which
is the fore-runner of an approaching hurricane, ap-
pears, when first seen, like a small black spot, on
the verge of the horizon ; and is called, by sailors,
the bull’s eye, from being seen so minute at a vast
distance. All this time, a perfect calm reigns over
the sea and land, while the cloud grows gradually
broader as it approaches. At length, coming to
the place where its fury is to fall, it invests the
whole horizon with darkness. During all the time
of its approach, an liolloAV murmur is heard in the
cavities of the mountains ; and beasts and ani-

vhere we expected to solace ourselves with plenty of good wa-
ter, Idris cried out, with a loud voice, 4 Fall on your faces, for
here is the simoom.’ I saw, from the S. E. a haze come, in co-
lour like the purple part of a rainbow, but not so compressed
and thick : it did not occupy twenty yards in breadth, and was
about twelve feet high from the ground : it was a kind of blush
upon the air, and it moved very rapidly; for I could scarce turn
to fall upon the ground with my head to the northward, when I
felt the heat of its current plainly upon my face. We all lay flat
upon the ground as if dead, till Idris told us it was blown over.
The meteor, or purple haze which I saw, was indeed passed,
hut the light air that blew, was of heat to threaten suffocation :
f°r my part, I found distinctly in my breast, that I had imbibed
a Part of it ; nor was I free of an astmatic sensation, till I had
been some months in Italy.”

These winds, says Dr. Darwin, seem all to be of volcanic
°ngin, with this difference, that the simoom is attended with a
S*re<im °i electric matter : they seem to be in consequence of
arthquakes, caused by the monsoon floods, which fall on vol-
^“lc ^lres in Syria, at the same time that they inundate the

2 98

A HISTORY OF

mals, sensible of its approach, are seen running
over the fields to seek for shelter. Nothing can be
more terrible than its violence when it begins.
The houses in those countries, which are made of
timber, the better to resist its fury, bend to the
blast like osiers, and again recover their rectitude.
The sun, which, but a moment before, blazed with
meridian splendour, is totally shut out; and a mid-
night darkness prevails, except that the air is in-
cessantly illuminated with gleams of lightning, by
which one can easily see to read. The rain falls,
at the same time, in torrents ; and its descent has
been resembled to what pours from the spouts of
our houses after a violent shower. These hurri-
canes are uot less offensive to the sense of smelling
also ; and never come without leaving the most
noisome stench behind them. If the seamen also
lay by their wet cloaths, for twenty-four hours,
they are all found swarming with little white mag-
gots, that were brought with the hurricane. Our
first mariners, when they visited these regions,
were ignorant of its effects, and the signs of its
approach; their ships, therefore, were dashed to
the bottom at the first onset; and numberless
were the wrecks which the hurricane occasioned.
But, at present, being forewarned of its approach,
they strip their masts of all their sails, and thus
patiently abide its fury. These hurricanes are
common in all the tropical climates. On the
coasts of Guinea they have frequently three or
four in a day, that thus shut out the heavens, or
a little space ; and when past, leave all again in
former splendour. They chiefly prevail on t
coast in the intervals of the trade-winds ; the P

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299

proach of which clears the air of its meteors, and
gives these mortal showers that little degree of
wholesomeness which they possess. They chiefly
obtain there during the month of April and May;
they are known at Loango from January to April;
on the opposite coast of Africa, the hurricane son-
son begins in May ; and, in general, whenever a
trade-wind begins to cease, these irregular tempests
are found to exert their fury.

All this is terrible; but there is a- tempest,
known in those climates, more formidable than
any we have hitherto been describing, which is
called, by the Spaniards, a Tornado. As the for-
mer was seen arriving from one part of the hea-
vens, and making a line of destruction ; so the
winds in this seem to blow from every quarter,
and settle upon one destined place, with such fu-
ry, that nothing can resist their vehemence-.
When they have all met, in their central spot,
then the whirlwind begins with circular rapidity.
The sphere every moment widens as it continues
to turn, and catches every object that lies within
its attraction. This also, like the former, is pre-
ceded by a flattering calm ; the air is every where
hushed ; and the sea is as smooth as polished
glass: however, as its effects are more dreadful
than those of the ordinary hurricane, the mariner
thes all the power of his skill to avoid it ; which,
ff he fails of doing, there is the greatest danger of
iris going to the bottom. All along the coasts of
Guinea, beginning about two degrees north of the
lnej and so downward, lengthwise, for about a
thousand miles, and as many broad, the ocean is
'innavigable on account of these tornadoes. In

300

A HISTORY OF

this torrid region there reigns unceasing tornados,
or continual calms ; among which, whatever ship
is so unhappy as to fall, is totally deprived of all
power of escaping. In this dreadful repose of all
the elements, the solitary vessel is obliged to con-
tinue, without a single breeze to assist the mari-
ner s wishes, except those whirlwinds, which only
serve to increase his calamity. At present, there-
fore, this part of the ocean is totally avoided ;
and, although there may be much gold along the
coasts of that part of Africa, to tempt avarice, yet
there is something, much more dreadful than the
fabled dragon of antiquity, to guard the treasure.
As the internal parts of that country are totally
unknown to travellers, from their burning sand
and extensive deserts, so here we find a vast tract
of ocean, lying off in shores, equally unvisited by
the mariner.

But of all these terrible tempests that deform
the face of Nature, and repress human presump-
tion, the sandy tempests of Arabia and Africa are
the most terrible, and strike the imagination most
strongly. To conceive a proper idea of these, we
are by no means to suppose them resembling those
whirlwinds of dust that we sometimes see scattering
in our air, and sprinkling their contents upon our
roads or meadows. The sand-storm of Africa
exhibits a very different appearance. As the sand of
which the whirlwind is composed is excessively fine,
and almost resembles the parts of water, its motion
entirely resembles that of a fluid ; and the whole
plain seems to float onward, like a slow inundation.
The body of sand thus rolling, is deep enough to
bury houses and palaces in its bosom; travellers

THE EARTH.

301

who are crossing* those extensive deserts, perceive
its approach at a distance ; and, in general, have
time to avoid it, or turn out of its way, as it gene-
rally extends but to a moderate breadth. However,
when it is extremely rapid, or very extensive, as
sometimes is the case, no swiftness, no art, can
avail; nothing then remains, but to meet death
with fortitude, and submit to be buried alive with
resignation.

It is happy for us of Britain, that we have no
such calamity to fear ; for, from this, even some
parts of Europe are not entirely free. We have an
account given us, in the History of the French
Academy, of a miserable town in France, that is
constantly in danger of being buried under a similar
inundation ; with which I will take leave to close
this chapter. “ In the neighbourhood of St. Paul
de Leon, in Lower Brittany*, there lies a tract of
country along the sea-side, which before the year
1666 was inhabited, but now lies deserted, by rea-
son of the sands which cover it, to the height of
twenty feet ; and which every year advance more
and more inland, and gain ground continually.
From the time mentioned above, the sand has
buried more than six leagues of the country in-
ward ; and it is now but half a league from the town
of St. Paul ; so that, in all appearance, the inha-
bitants must be obliged to abandon it entirely. In
tbe country that has been overwhelmed, there are
stdl to be seen the tops of some steeples peeping
through the sand, and many chimnies that still re-
gain above the sandy ocean. The inhabitants,

* Histoire de 1’ Academic des Sciences, an. 1722.

302 A HISTORY OF

however, had sufficient time to escape ; but being
deprived of their little all, they had no other re-
source but begging for their subsistence. This ca-
lamity chiefly owes its advancement to a north,
or an east wind, raising the sand, which is extremely
fine, in such great quantities, and with such velo-
city? that M. Deslands, who gave the account, says,
that while he was walking near the place, during
a moderate breeze of wind, he was obliged, from
time to time, to shake the sand from his cloaths
and his hat, on which it was lodged in great quan-
tities, and made them too heavy to be easily borne.
Still further, when the wind was violent, it drove
the sand across a little arm of the sea, into the
town of Roscoff, and covered the streets of that
place two feet deep ; so that they have been obliged
to carry it off in carts. It may also be observed,
that there are several particles of iron mixed with
the sand, which are readily affected by the load-
stone. The part of the coast that furnishes these
sands, is a tract of about four leagues in length ;
and is upon a level with the sea at high-water. 1 he
shore lies in such a manner as to leave its sands,
subject only to the north and east winds, that bear
them farther up the shore. It is easy to conceive
how the same sand that has at one time been borne
a short way inland, may, by some succeeding and
stronger blast, be carried up much higher; and
thus the whole may continue advancing forward,
deluging the plain, and totally destroying its fer-
tility. At the same time, the sea, from whence
this deluge of sand proceeds, may furnish it in m
exhaustible quantities. This unhappy country,
thus overwhelmed in so singular a manner, ^ay

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303

well justify what the ancients and the moderns
have reported concerning those tempests of sand in
Africa, that are said to destroy villages, and even
armies in their bosom.

[Dr. Darwin observes, “the air is perpetually sub-
ject to increase or diminution from its combination
with other bodies, or its evolution from them. The
vital part of the air called oxygene, is continually
produced in this climate from the perspiration of
vegetables in the sun-shine, and probably from
the action of light on clouds or on water in the
tropical climates, where the sun has greater power,
and can exert some yet unknown laws of luminous
combination. Another part of the atmosphere,
which is called azote, is perpetually set at liberty
from animal and vegetable bodies by putrefaction
or combustion, from many springs of water, from
volatile alkali, and probably from fixed alkali ; of
which there is an inexhaustible source in the water
of the ocean. Both these component parts of the
air are perpetually again diminished by their con-
tact with the soil which covers the surface of the
earth, producing nitre. The oxygene is diminished
111 the production of all acids, of which the car-
bomc and muriatic exist in great abundance : the
azote is diminished in the growth of animal bodies,
°f which it constitutes an important part, and in
lts combinations with many other natural pro-
ductions.

They are both probably diminished in immense
Quantities by uniting with the inflammable air
^hich ai‘ises from the mud and rivers of lakes at
s°uie seasons, when the atmosphere is light, the
x} gene of the air producing water, and the azote

304

A HISTORY OF

producing volatile alkali by their combinations
with this inflammable air. At other seasons of the
year these principles may again change their com-
binations, and the atmospheric air be re-produced*

M. Lavoisier found that one pound of charcoal
in burning consumed two pounds nine ounces of
vital air, or oxygene. In the process of making
red lead, every barrel containing 1200 weight, con-
tains nearly 2000 cubic feet of vital air. If this
can be performed in miniature, what may not be
done in the immense elaboratories of Nature ?

Airis likewise manufactured and destroyed in the
greatest abundance within the polar circles. Can
this be effected by some yet unknown law of the
congelation of aqueous or saline fluids, which may
set at liberty their combined heat, and convert
both a part of the acid and alkali of sea- water in-
to their component airs? Or, on the contrary,
can the electricity of the northern lights convert
inflammable air and oxygene into water; whilst
the great degree of heat at the poles, unites the
azote with some other base ? Another manufacture
of air would seem to exist within the tropics, or at
the line, though in a much less quantity than at
the poles, owing, perhaps, to the action of the sun’s
light on the moisture suspended in the air : but in
all other parts of the earth these absorptions and
evolutions of air, in a greater or less degree, are
perpetually going on in inconceivable abundance;
increased probably, and diminished at different
seasons of the year, by the approach or retrocession
of the sun’s light. To this should be added, that
as heat and electricity, and perhaps magnetism, are
known to displace air, it is not impossible but that

THE EARTH.

305

the increased or diminished quantities of these fluids
diffused in the atmosphere may increase its weight
as well as its bulk.

South-west Winds. The velocity of the
surface of the earth, in moving round its axis, di-
minishes from the equator to the poles : whence
if a region of air in this country should be sud-
denly removed a few degrees towards the north, it
must constitute a western wind. South-west winds,
therefore, consist of air flowing from the south,
and seeming occasionally absorbed at its arrival to
more northern latitudes. It has a real direction
from the west, owing to its not having lost on its
journey the greater velocity it had acquired from
the earth’s surface from whence it came. These
winds are analagous to the monsoons bet ween the
tropics, and frequently continue for four or six
weeks together, with a low barometer and rainy
weather. 2. They sometimes consist of north-east
air, which had passed by us or over us, which be-
comes retrograde by a commencing deficiency of
the air of the north. _ These winds continue but a
day or two, attended with a severe frost with a
sinking barometer ; their cold being increased by
their expansion, as they return into an incipient
vacancy.

North-east Winds consist of air flowing
from the north, where it seems occasionally pro-
duced : has an apparent direction from the east,
owing to its not having acquired in its journey the
increasing velocity of the earth’s surface ; these
winds are analogous to the trade winds between
the tropics, and frequently continue in the vernal
months for four and six weeks together, with a
VOL. i. x

306

A HISTORY OF

high barometer, and fair or frosty weather. 2.
They sometimes consist of south-west air, which
had passed by us or over us, driven back by a new
accumulation of air in the north : these continue
but a day or two, and are attended with rain.

North-west Winds consist, first of south
wes.t winds which have passed over us, bent down
and driven back towards the south by newly gene-
rated northern air : they continue but a day or two,
and are attended with rain or clouds. 2. They
consist of north-east winds bent down from the
higher parts of the atmosphere; and having there
acquired greater velocity than the earth’s surface,
are frosty or fair. 3. They consist of north-east
winds formed into a vertical or spiral eddy, as on
the eastern coasts of North America, and bring
severe frost.

South-east Winds consist, first of north-east
winds, become retrograde, continued for a day or
two, frosty or fair, with a sinking barometer. 2.
They consist of north-east winds formed into a ver-
tical eddy, not a spiral one, frost or fair.

North Winds consist, first of air flowing
slowly from the north, so that they acquire the ve-
locity of the earth’s surface as they approach ; they
are fair or frosty, and seldom occur. 2. They con-
sist of retrograde south winds ; these continue but
a day or two, are preceded by south-west winds,
and are generally succeeded by north-east winds,
cloudy or rainy, with the barometer rising.

South Winds consist, first of air flowing slow-
ly from the south, losing their previous western
velocity by the friction of the. earth's surface as
they approach ; they are moist, and seldom occur*

THE EARTH.

301

2. They consist of retrograde north winds : these
continue but a day or two, are preceded by north-
east winds, and generally succeeded by south-west
winds : they are colder, with the barometer sinking.

East Winds consist of air brought hastily from
the north, and not impelled farther forwards,
owing to a sudden beginning absorption of air, in
. the northern regions ; they are very cold, with the
barometer high, and generally succeeded by south-
west winds.

West Winds consist of air brought hastily
from the south, and checked from proceeding far-
ther to the north by a beginning production of air
from the northern regions : they are warm and
moist, and generally succeeded by north-east winds.
2. They consist of air bent down from the higher
regions of the atmosphere : if this air be from the
south, and brought hastily, it becomes a wind of
great velocity, moving perhaps sixty miles in an
hour : it is warm and rainy, and if it consists of
northern air bent down, it is of less velocity and
colder.

Trade Winds. A column of heated air be-
comes lighter than before, and will therefore as-
cend, by the pressure of the cold air which sur-
rounds it, like a cork in water, or like heated smoke
in a chimney. Now as the sun passes twice over
the equator, for once over the tropic, the equator
has not time to become cool, and on this account
it is generally hotter at the line than at the tropics ;
and therefore the air over the line, except in some
few instances hereafter to be mentioned, continues
to ascend at all seasons of the year, pressed upwards
by regions of air brought from the tropics. This

x

I

* '

30S A HISTORY OF

air thus brought from the tropics to the equator,
and which had previously only acquired the velo-
city of the earth's surface at the tropics, will now
move too slow for the earth's surface at the equator,
and will thence appear to move in a direction con-
trary to the motion of the earth : hence the trade-
winds, though they consist of regions of air brought
from the north on one side of the line, and from
the south on the other, will appear to have the dia-
gonal direction of north-east and south-west winds.
Now it is commonly believed, that there are supe-
rior currents of air passing over these north-east and
south-east currents in a contrary direction, and
which descending near the tropics produce vertical
Avhirlpools of air. The moisture contained or dis-
solved in the ascending heated air at the line, must
exist in great tenuity, and by being exposed to the
great light of the sun in that climate, the water
may be decomposed, and the new airs spread on
the atmosphere from the line to the poles.

Monsoons and tornadoes in the Arabian and In-
dian seas, are winds which blow six months one
way, and six months the other, and are called mon-
soons ; by the accidental disposition of land and
sea it happens, that, in some places, the air near the
tropic is supposed to become warmer when the sun
is vertical over it, than at the line. The air in
these places consequently ascends, pressed upon
one side by the north-east regions of air, and on
the other side by the south-west regions of air : for
as the air brought from the south has previously
obtained the velocity of the earth’s surface at the
line, it moves faster than the earth’s surface near the
tropic where it now arrives, and becomes a south-

THE EARTH.

303

west wind ; while the air from the north becomes a
north-east wind. These two winds do not so quiet-
ly join and ascend as the north-east and south-east
winds, which meet at the line with equal warmth
and velocity, and form the trade-winds ; but as
they meet in contrary directions before they ascend,
and cannot be supposed accurately to balance each
other, a rotatory motion will be produced as they
ascend, like water falling through a hole, and a
horizontal or spiral eddy is the consequence : these
eddies are more or less rapid, and are called torna-
does in their most violent state, raising water from
the ocean in the west, or sand from the deserts in
the east; in less violent degrees they only mix the
two currents of north-east and south-west air, and
produce by this means incessant rains, as the air of
the north-west acquires some of the heat of the
south-west wind. This circumstance of the eddies of
air and sand produced by the monsoon winds in
Abyssinia is thus described by Mr. Bruce. “ We
were here at once surprised and terrified by a sight
surely one of the most magnificent in the world. In
that vast expanse of desert from west and to north-
west of us, we saw a number of prodigious pillars
of sand at different distances, at times moving with
great celerity, at others stalking on with a majestic
slowness ; at intervals we thought they were coming
in a very few minutes to overwhelm us ; and small
quantities of sand did, more than once, actually
reach us. Again they would retreat so as to be al-
most out of sight, their tops reaching to the very
clouds: there the tops often separated from the
bodies; and these, once disjointed, dispersed in

the air, and did not appear more. Sometimes they

x 3

310

A HISTORY OF

were broken near the middle, as if struck with a
large cannon shot. About noon, they began to
advance with considerable swiftness upon us, the
wind being very strong at north. Eleven of them
ranged along-side of us about the distance of
three miles. The greatest diameter of the largest
appeared to me, at that distance, as if it would
measure ten feet: they retired from us with a wind
at south cast, leaving an impression on my mind
to which I can give no name, though surely one
ingredient in it was fear, with a considerable deal
of wonder and astonishment. It was in vain to
think of flying : the swiftest horse, or fastest sail-
ing ship could be of no use to carry us out of this
danger ; and the full persuasion of this, rivetted me
as if to the spot where I stood, and I let the ca-
mels gain on me so much in my state of lameness,
that it was with some difficulty I cojulcl overtake
them.” He likewise relates that, for many succes-
sive mornings, at the commencement of the rainy
monsoon, he observed a cloud of apparently small
dimension whirling round with great rapidity,
and, in a few minutes, the heavens became co-
vered with dark clouds and consequent great
rains.

Another cause of tornadoes, independent of the
monsoons, is ingeniously explained by Dr. Frank-
lin. When, in the tropical countries, a stratum of
inferior air becomes so heated by its contact with
the warm earth, that its expansion is increased
more than is equivalent to the pressure of the stra-
tum of air over it ; or when the superior stratum
becomes more condensedly cold than the inferior
one by pressure, the upper region will descend and

THE EARTH.

311

the lower ascend : in this situation, if one part of
the atmosphere be hotter from some fortuitous cir-
cumstances, or has less pressure over it, the lower
stratum will begin to ascend at this part, and re-
semble water passing through a hole, as mentioned
above. . If the lower region of air was going for-
wards with considerable velocity, it will gain an
eddy by rising up this hole in the incumbent hea-
vy air, so that the whirlpool or tornadoe has not
only its progressive velocity, but its circular one
also, which thus lifts up or overturns every thing
within its spiral whirl. By the weaker whirlwinds
in this country, the trees are sometimes thrown
down in a line of only twenty or forty yards in
breadth, making a kind of avenue through a coun-
try. In the West Indies the sea rises like a cone
in the whirl, and is met by black clouds produced
by the cold upper air, and the warm lower air be-
ing rapidly mixed ; whence are produced the
great and sudden rains called water-spouts, while
the upper and lower airs exchange their plus or mi-
nus electricity in perpetual lightnings.

Land and Sea Breezes. The sea being a
transparent mass, is less heated at its surface by
the sun’s rays than the land, and its continual
change of surface contributes to preserve a greater
uniformity in the heat of the air which hangs over
it : hence the surface of the tropical islands is
more heated during the day than the sea that sur-
rounds them, and cools more in the night, by its
greater elevation ; whence, in the afternoon, when
the lands of the tropical islands have been much
heated by the sun, the air over them ascends
pressed upwards by the cooler air of the encircling

x 4

A HISTORY OF

31 ‘2.

ocean ; in the morning again the land becoming'
cooled more than the sea, the air over it descends
by its increased gravity, and blows over the ocean
near its shores. 1

CHAP. XXL

Of Meteors , and such Appearances as result from
a Combination of the Clements.

In proportion as the substances of nature are
more compounded and combined, their appearances
become more inexplicable and amazing. The pro-
perties of water have been very nearly ascertained.
Many of the qualities of air, earth, and fire, have
been discovered and estimated ; but when these
come to be united by Nature, they often produce
a result which no artificial combinations can imi-
tate : and we stand surprised, that although we
are possessed of all those substances which Nature
makes use of, she shews herself a much more vari-
ous operator than the most skilful chemist ever
appeared to be. Eveiy cloud that moves, and
every shower that falls, serves to mortify the phi-
losopher’s pride, and to shew him hidden qualities
in air and water, that he finds it difficult to ex-
plain. Dews, bail, snow, and thunder, are not
less difficult for being more common. Indeed,
when we reflect on the manner in which Nature
performs any one of these operations, our wonder
increases. To see water, which is heavier than air,
rising in air, and then falling in a form so very
different from that in which it rose ; to see the
same fluid at one time descending in the form of

THE EAUTH. 3 IS

hail, at another in that of snow; to see two
clouds, by dashing against each other, producing
an electrical fire, which no watery composition that
we know of can effect ; these, I say, serve suffici-
ently to excite our wonder; and stiil the more, in
proportion as the objects are ever pressing on our
curiosity. Much, however, has been written con-
cerning the manner in which nature operates in
these productions ; as nothing is so ungrateful to
mankind as hopeless ignorance.

And first, with regard to the manner in which
water evaporates, and rises to form clouds,
much has been advanced, and many theories de-
vised. All water*, say some, has a quantity of
air mixed with it; and the heat of the sun darting
down, disengages the particles of this air from the
grosser fluid : the sun’s rays being reflected back
from the water, carry back with them those bub-
bles of air and water which, being lighter than the
condensed air, will ascend till they meet with a
more rarefied air ; and they will then stand sus-
pended. Experience, however, proves nothing of
all this. Particles of air or fire are not thus
known to ascend with a thin coat of water ; and,
in fact, we know that the little particles of steam
are solid drops of water. But, besides this, water
is known to evaporate more powerfully in the se-
verest frost, than when the air is moderately
warmf. Doctor Hamilton, therefore, of the uni-
versity of Dublin, rejecting this theory, has endea-
voured to establish another. According to him,

* Spectacle de la Nature, vol. iii.

f Memoires de PAcademie des Sciences, an. 1705.

314

A HISTORY OF

as aqua fortis is a menstruum that dissolves iron,
and keeps it mixed in the fluid ; as aqua regia is a
menstruum that dissolves gold ; or as water dis-
solves salts to a certain quantity ; so air is a men-
struum that corrodes and dissolves a certain quan-
tity of water, and keeps it suspended above. But,
however ingenious this may he, it can hardly be
admitted ; as we know, by Mariotte’s experi-
ment*, that if water and air be inclosed together,
instead of the air’s acting as a menstruum upon
the water, the water will act as a menstruum upon
the air, and take it all up. We know also, that of
two bodies, that which is most fluid and penetrat-
ing, is most likely to be the menstruum of the
other; but water is more fluid and penetrating
than air, and, therefore, the most likely of the two
to be the menstruum. We know that all bodies
are more speedily acted upon, the more their parts
are brought into contact with the menstruum that
dissolves them : but water, inclosed with comprest
air, is not the more diminished therebyt. In
short, we know, that cold, which diminishes the
force of other menstruums, is often found to pro-
mote evaporation. In this variety of opinion, and
uncertainty of conjecture, I cannot avoid thinking
that a theory of evaporation may be formed
upon very simple and obvious principles, and em-
barrassed, as far as I can conceive, with very few
objections.

We know that a repelling power prevails in na-
ture, not less than an attractive one. This rep ul-

* Mariotte, de. la Nature de I’ Air, p. 97, 106.

+ Sec Boyle’s Works, vot ii. p. 619.

THE EARTH. 315

sion prevails strongly between the body of fire
and that of water. If I plunge the end of a red
hot bar of iron into a vessel of water, the fluid
rises, and large drops of it fly up in all manner of
directions, every part bubbling and steaming until
the iron be cold. Why may we not, for a mo-
ment, compare the rays of the sun, darted directly
upon the surface of the water, to so many bars of
red hot iron ; each bar, indeed, infinitely small,
but not the less powerful ? In this case, wherever
a ray of fire darts, the water, from its repulsive
quality, will be driven on all sides ; and, of conse-
quence, as in the case of the bar of iron, a part of
it will rise. The parts thus rising, however, will
be extremely small ; as the ray that darts is ex-
tremely so. The assemblage of the rays darting
upon the water in this manner, will cause it to rise
in a light thin steam above the surface ; and, as
the parts of this steam are extremely minute, they
will be lighter than air, and, consequently, float
upon it. There is no need for supposing them
bubbles of water filled with fire ; for any sub-
stance, even gold itself, will float on air, if its
parts be made small enough ; or, in other words,
if its surface be sufficiently increased. This wa-
ter, thus disengaged from the general mass, will be
still farther attenuated and broken by the reflected
rays, and consequently more adapted for ascend-
ing-

From this plain account, every appearance in
evaporation may be easily deduced. The quantity
of heat increases evaporation, because it raises a
greater quantity of steam. The quantity' of wind
increases evaporation ; for, by waving the surface

SI 6

A HISTORY OF

of the water, it thus exposes a greater surface to
the evaporating rays. A dry frost, in some mea-
sure, assists the quantity of evaporation ; as the
quantity of rays are found to be no wa}^ diminish-
ed thereby. Moist weather alone prevents evapo-
ration ; for the rays being absorbed, refracted, and
broken, by the intervening moisture, before they
arrive at the surface, cannot produce the effect ;
and the vapour will rise in a small proportion.

Thus far we have accounted for the ascent of
vapours ; but to account for their falling again, is
attended with rather more difficulty. We have
already observed, that the particles of vapour, dis-
engaged from the surface of the water, will be
broken and attenuated in their ascent, by the re-
flected, and even the direct rays, that happen to
strike upon their minute surfaces. They will,
therefore, continue to ascend, till they rise above
the operation of the reflected rays, which reaches
but to a certain height above the surface of the
earth. Being arrived at this region, which is cold
for want of reflected heat, they will be condensed,
and suspended in the form of clouds. Some va-
pours that ascend to great heights will be frozen
into snow; others, that are condensed lower
down, will put on the appearance of a mist, which
we find the clouds to be when we ascend among
them, as they hang along the sides of a mountain.
These clouds of snow and rain, being blown about
by winds, are either entirely scattered and dis-
persed above, or they are still more condensed by
motion, like a snow-ball, that grows more large
and solid as it continues to roll. At last, there-
fore, they will become too weighty for the air

317

THE EARTH.

which first raised them to sustain ; and they will
descend, with their excess of weight, either in
snow or rain. But, as they will fall precipitately
when they begin to descend, the air, in some mea-
sure, will resist the falling ; for, as the descending
fluid gathers velocity in its precipitation, the air
will increase its resistance to it, and the water
will, therefore, be thus broken into rain ; as we
see, that water which falls from the tops of houses,
though it begins in a spout, separates into drops
before it has got to the bottom. Were it not for
this happy interposition of the air, between us and
the water falling from a considerable height above
us, a drop of rain might fall with dangerous force,
and a hail-stone might strike us with fatal ra-
pidity.

In this manner, evaporation is produced by
day ; but when the sun goes down, a part of that
.vapour which his rays had excited, being no
longer broken, and attenuated by the reflecting
rays, it will become heavier than the air, even be-
fore it has reached the clouds ; and it will, there-'
fore, fall back in dews, which differ only from rain
in descending before they have had time to con-
dense into a visible form*.

According to Dr. Darwin, the atmosphere will dissolve a
certain quantity of moisture as a chemical menstruum, even
when it is much below the freezing point, as appears from the
diminution of ice suspended in frosty aif ; but a much greater
quantity of water is evaporated and suspended in the air by
means of heat, which is, perhaps, the universal cause of fluidity,
for water 4s known to boil w ith less heat in vacuo, and that the
air, therefore, rather hinders than promotes its evaporation in
higher degrees of heat. The quick evaporation occasioned in
Tatuo by a small degree of heat is agreeably seen in what is

318 A HISTORY OF

Hail, the Cartesians say, is a Frozen cloud, half
melted, and frozen again in its descent. A hoar

termed a pulse-glass, which consists of an exhausted tube of
glass, with a bulb at each end of it, and with about two thirds
of the cavity filled with alkohol, in which the spirit is instantly
seen to boil by the heat of the finger’s end applied on a bubble
of steam in the lower bulb, and is condensed .again in the upper
bulb by the least conceivable comparative coldness.

Another circumstance evincing that heat is the principal
cause of evaporation is, that at the time of water being convert-
ed into steam, a great quantity of heat is taken away from the
neighbouring bodies : if a thermometer be repeatedly dipped in
ether or in rectified spirits of wine, and exposed to a blast of
air to expedite the evaporation by removing the saturated air
from it, the thermometer will presently sink below freezing.
’Phis warmth taken from the ambient bodies at the time of eva-
poration by the steam, is again given out when the steam is con-
densed into water : hence the water, in a worm-tub during dis-
tillation, so soon becomes hot, and hence the warmth accompa-
nying the descent of rain in cold wrcather. Hence water may ei-
ther be dissolved in air, and may then be called an aerial solu-
tion of water ; or it may be dissolved in the fluid matter of heat,
according to the theory of M. Lavoisier, and may then be called
steam.

But, as water is, perhaps, many hundred times more soluble
in the fluid matter of heat than in air, the eduction ot this heat,
by whatever means it is occasioned, may be the principal cause
of evaporation. Thus if a region of air is brought from a
warmer climate, as the south-west winds, it becomes cool by its
contact with the earth in this latitude, and parts with so much of
its moisture as was dissolved in the quantity of heat, which it
now loses, but retains that part which was suspended by its at-
traction to the particles of air, oV by aerial solution, even in
the most severe frosts. A second immediate cause of rain, is a
stream of N. E. wind descending from a superior current of air,
and mixing with the warmer S. W. wind below ; or the reverse
of this (viz.) a superior current of S. W. wind mixing with an
inferior one of N. E. wind : in both these cases the whole hea-
vens become instantly clouded, and the moisture contained in

THE EARTH.

519

frost is but a frozen dew. Lightning we know to
be an electrical flash, produced by the opposition

the S. W. current is precipitated. A third method by which
a region of air becomes cooled, and in consequence dsposits
much of its moisture, is from the mechanical expansion of air
when part of the pressure is taken off : in this case the expand-
ed air becomes capable of receiving or attracting some of the
matter of heat into its interstices, and the vapour, which was
previously dissolved in this heat, is deposited, as is seen in the
receiver of an air-pump, which becomes dewy, as the air within
becomes expanded by the eduction of part of it. Another por-
tion of atmospheric water may possibly be held in solution by
the electric fluid, since, in thunder storms, a precipitation of the
water seems to be either the cause or the consequence of the
eduction of the electricity, but it appears more probable, that
the water is condensed into clouds by the eduction of its heat,
and that then the surplus of electricity presents their coales-
cence into larger drops, which immediately succeeds the depar-
ture of lightning.

The immediate cause why the barometer sinks before rain is,
first, because a region of warm air, brought to us in the place of
the cold air which it had displaced, must weigh lighter, both
specifically and absolutely, if the height of the warm atmos-
phere be supposed to be equal to that of the preceding cold
one : and, secondly, after the drops of rain begin to fall in any
column of air, that column becomes lighter, the falling drops
only adding to the pressure of air in proportion to the resist-
ance which they meet with in passing through that fluid.

If we could suppose water to be dissolved in air without,
heat, or in very low degrees of heat, the air would probably
become heavier, as happens in many chemical solutions ; but if
w ater dissolved in the matter of Heat, be mixed with an aerial
solution of water, there can be no doubt but an atmosphere con-
sisting of such a mixture must become lighter in proportion to
the quantity of the matter of heat. On the same circumstance
depends the visible vapour produced from the breath of animals
in cold weather, or from boiling a kettle ; the particles of cold
air w ith which it is mixed, steal a part of its heat, and become
themselves raised in temperature ; whence part of the water is

520

A HISTORY OF

of two clouds : and thunder to be the sound pro-
ceeding from the same, continued by an echo re-
verberated among them. It would he to very little
purpose, to attempt explaining exactly how these
wonders are effected : we have as yet but little in-
sight into the manner in which these meteors are
found to operate upon each other ; and, therefore,
we must he contented with a detail rather of their
effects than their causes.*

precipitated in visible vapour, which, if in great quantity, sinks to
the ground, if in small quantity, and the surrounding air be not
previously saturated, spreads itself till it becomes again dissolved.] ,

The atmosphere, having been shown to consist of certain
proportions of vital and foul air, together with a mixture of
other gasses : the changes which take place shew that new combi-
nations and decompositions are continually going on in it : on
these chemical alterations depend the greater number of meteoro-
logical phenomena, and they may be considered as the result of the-
mutual action of the different component parts of the atmos-
phere, aided by electricity. Rain, besides its being caused by
the compression of evaporated moisture, may be produced by
the mixture of hydrogene in certain proportions with the com-
mon atmospheric air : for, when two parts of hydrogene gas are
mixed with six parts of common air, the mixture explodes with
a great noise and violence, and a quantity of water is formed equal
in weight to these two bodies. This may account for violent
thunder-storms, accompanied with lightning and loud peals of
thunder. Snow and hail appear to be aggregate particles of va-
pour becoming too heavy for suspension in the atmosphere, and
congealed or frozen by passing through a stream of cold air:
shooting stars consist of electric sparks, or lightning, passing
from one part to another in the higher regions of the atmosphere.
Lightning is produced in the lower region of air, from the accu-
mulation or defect of electric matter in those floating fields of va-
pour : and, as it is thus produced in dense air, it proceeds but a
short course ; on account of the greater resistance it meets, and
is attended with a loud explosion* Meteors, or fire-balls, Dr.

\

THE EARTH.

321

In our own gentle climate, where Nature wears
the mildest and kindest aspect, every meteor seems
to befriend us. With us, rains fall in refreshing
showers, to enliven our fields, and to paint the land-
scape with a more vivid beauty. Snows cover the
earth, to preserve its tender vegetables from the in-
clemency of the departing winter. The dews des-
cend with such an imperceptible fall as no way in-
jures the constitution. Even thunder is seldom in-
jurious ; and it is often wished for by the husband-
man, to clear the air, and to kill numberless insects
that are noxious to vegetation. Hail is the most
injurious meteor that is known in our climate ; but
it seldom visits us with violence, and then its fury
is but transient.

One of the most dreadful storms we hear of*,

Darwin supposes, may be produced in the second region of air,
where the twilight ceases to be refracted, where the air is 3000
times rarer than at the surface of the earth, and where the com-
mon air is surrounded by an atmosphere ot inflammable gas ten-
fold rarer than itself : in this region, in which a ball of electricity
might pass with infinite ease and Telocity, such a ball passing
between inflammable and common air, would set fire to them as
it passed along. On the 18th of August, 1783, one of these large
meteors, or fire-balls appeared, which w as estimated to be between 60
and 70 miles high, and to travel lOOOmilesat the rate of about 20
miles a second: it had a real train oflightleft behind it in its passage;
and in some part of its course gave off sparks or explosions.
Northern lights seem to be electric streams, taking place in the
same region of the atmosphere, w here the common air exists in
extreme tenuity, and where they seem to be repelled or radiated
from an accumulation of that fluid in the north, and not attracted
like fire-balls : this may account for the diffusion of their light,
as well as the silence of their passage.]

* Phil. Trans, vol. ii. p. 147.

y

VOL. i.

322

A HISTORY OF

was that of Hertfordshire, in the year 1 697- It
began by thunder and lightning, which continued
for some hours, when suddenly a black cloud came
forward, against the wind, and marked its passage
with devastation. The hail stones which it poured
down, being measured, were found to be many of
them fourteen inches round, and, consequently, as
large as a bowling-green ball. Wherever it came,
every plantation fell before it ; it tore up the ground,
split great oaks, and other trees, without number ;
the fields of rye were cut down, as if levelled with
a scythe ; wheat, oats, and barley, suffered the same
damage. The inhabitants found but a precarious
shelter, even in their houses, their tiles and windows
being broke by the violence of the hail-stones,
which, by the force with which they came, seemed
to have descended from a great height. The birds,
in this universal wreck, vainly tried to escape by
flight ; pigeons, crows, rooks, and many more of
the smaller and feebler kinds, were brought down.
An unhappy young man, who had not time to take
shelter, was killed; one of his eyes was struck out
of his head, and his bodv was all over black with
the bruises: another had just time to escape, but
not without the most imminent danger, his body
being bruised all over. But what is most extraor-
dinary, all this fell within the compass of a mile.

Mezerav, in his history of France, tells us of a
shower of hail much more terrible, which happened
in the year 1510, when the French monarch invaded
Italy. There was, for a time, a horrid darkness,
thicker than that of midnight, which continued till
the terrors of mankind were changed to still more
terrible objects, by thunder and lightning breaking

323

THE EARTH.

the gloom, and bringing on such a shower of hail,
as no history of human calamities could equal.
These hail-stones were of a bluish colour ; and
some of them weighed not less than a hundred
pounds. A noisome vapour of sulphur attended
the storm. All the birds and beasts of the country
were entirely destroyed. Numbers of the human
race suffered the same fate. But what is still more
extraordinary, the fishes found no protection from
their native element, but were equal sufferers in the
general calamity.

These, however, are terrors that are seldom ex-
erted in our mild climates. They only serve to
mark the page of 'history with wonder; and stand
as admonitions to mankind, of the various stores
of punishment in the hands of the Deity, which
his power can treasure up, and his mercy can sus-
pend.

In the temperate zones, therefore, meteors are
rarely found thus terrible : but between the tropics,
and near the poles, they assume very dreadful and
various appearances. In those inclement regions,
where cold and heat exert their chief power, meteors
seem peculiarly to have fixed their residence. They
are seen there in a thousand terrifying forms, as-
tonishing to Europeans, yet disregarded by the na-
tives, from their frequency. The wonders of air,
fire, and water, are there combined, to produce the
most tremendous effects ; and to sport with the la-
bours and apprehensions of mankind. Lightnings,
that flash without noise ; hurricanes, that tear up
the earth ; clouds, that all at once pour down their
contents, and produce an instant deluge; mock
suns, northern lights, that illuminate half the he-

324 A HISTORY OF

ttiisphere ; circular rainbows ; halos ; fleeting balls
of fire$ clouds, reflecting back the images of things
on earth, like mirrors ; and water-spouts, that burst
from the sea, to join with the mists that hang im-
mediately above them. These are but a part of
the phenomena that are common in those coun-
tries; and from many of which, our own climate
is, in a great measure, exempted.

The meteors of the torrid zone are different from
those that are found near the polar circles : and it
may readily be supposed, that in those countries
where the sun exerts the greatest force in raising-
vapours of all kinds, there should be the greatest
quantity of meteors. Upon the approach of the
winter months, as they are called, under the line,
which usually begin about May, the sky, from a
fiery brightness, begins to be overcast, and the
whole horizon seems wrapt in a muddy cloud. Mists
and vapours still continue to rise; and the air,
which so lately before was clear and elastic, now
becomes humid, obscure, and stifling : the fogs be-
come so thick, that the light of the sun seems, in a
manner, excluded ; nor would its presence be
known, but for the intense and suffocating heat of
its beams, which dart through the gloom, and, in-
stead of dissipating, only serve to increase the mist.
After this preparation, there follows an almost con-
tinual succession of thunder, rain, and tempests.
During this dreadful season, the streets of cities
flow like rivers ; and the whole country wears the
appearance of an ocean. The inhabitants often
make use of this opportunity to lay in a stock of
freshwater, for the rest of the year; as the same
cause which pours down the deluge at one season,

THE EARTH. 325

denies the kindly shower at another. The thunder
which attends the fall of these rains, is much more
terrible than that we are generally acquainted
with. With us, the flash is seen at some distance,
and the noise shortly after ensues; our thunder
generally rolls on one quarter of the sky, and one
stroke pursues another. But here it is otherwise ;
the whole sky seems illuminated with unremitted
flashes of lightning; every part of the air seems
productive of its own thunders ; and every cloud
produces its own shock. The strokes come so
thick, that the inhabitants can scarce mark the
intervals ; but all is one unremitted roar of ele-
mentary confusion. It should seem, however,
that the lightning of those countries is not so fatal,
or so dangerous, as with us ; since, in this case,
the torrid zone would be uninhabitable.

When these terrors have ceased, with which,
however, the natives are familiar, meteors of another
kind begin to make their appearance. The intense
beams of the sun, darting upon stagnant waters,
that generally cover the surface of the country,
raise vapours of various kinds. Floating bodies of
fire, which assume different names, rather from
their accidental forms, than from any real differ-
ence between them, are seen without surprise. The
draco volans, or flying dragon, as it is called ; the
ignis fatuus, or wandering fire ; the fires of St.
Iielmo, or the mariner’s light, are every where fre-
quent : and of these we have numberless descrip-
tions. “ As I was riding in Jamaica,” says Mr.
Barbham, “ one morning from my habitation, situ-
ated about three miles north-west from Jago de la
Vega, I saw a ball of fire, appearing to me of the

Y 3

326

A HISTORY OF

bigness of a bomb, swiftly falling down with a great
blaze. At first I thought it fell into the town ; but
when I came nearer, I saw many people gathered
together, a little to the southward, in the Savan-
nah, to whom I rode up, to enquire the cause of
their meeting : they were admiring, as I found,
the ground’s being strangely broke up and ploughed
by a ball of fire ; which, as they said, fell down
there. I observed there were many holes in the
ground ; one in the middle of the bigness of a man’s
head, and five or six smaller round about it, of the
bigness of one’s fist, and so deep as not to be fa-
thomed by such implements as were at hand. It
was observed, also, that all the green herbage was
burnt up, near the holes ; and there continued a
strong smell of sulphur near the place, for some
time after.”

Ulloa gives an account of one of a similar kind,
at Quito*. “About nine at night,” says* he, “a
globe of fire appeared to rise from the side of the
mountain Pichinca, and so large, that it spread a
light over all the part of the city facing that moun-
tain. The house where I lodged looking that way,
I was surprised with an extraordinary light, darting
through the crevices of the window-shutters. On
this appearance, and the bustle of the people in the
street, I hastened to the window, and came time
enough to see it, in the middle of its career ; which
continued from west to south, till I lost sight of
it, being intercepted by a mountain, that lay
between me and it. It was round ; and its apparent
diameter about a foot. I observed it to rise from

f Ulloa, vol. i. p, 41.

327

THE EARTH.

the sides of Pichinca ; although, to judge from its
course, it was behind that mountain where this
cono-eries of inflammable matter was kindled. In
the first half of its visible course, it emitted a pro-
digious effulgence, then it began gradually to grow
dim; so that, upon its disappearing behind the in-
tervening mountain, its light was very faint.”
Meteors of this kind are very frequently seen be-
tween the tropics ; but they sometimes, also, visit
the more temperate regions of Europe. We have
the description of a very extraordinary one, given
us by Montanari, that serves to shew to what great
heights, in our atmosphere, these vapours are found
to ascend. In the year 1 676, a great globe of fire
was seen at Bononia, in Italy, about three quarters
of an hour after sun-set. It passed westward, with
a most rapid course, and at the rate of not less than
a hundred and sixty miles in a minute, which is
much swifter than the force of a cannon-ball, and,
at last, stood over the Adriatic sea, In its course
it crossed over all Italy ; and, by computation, it
could not have been less than thirty-eight miles
above the surface of the earth. In the whole line
of its course, wherever it approached, the inhabi-
tants below could distinctly hear it, with a hissing
noise, resembling that of a fire-work. Having
passed away to sea, towards Corsica, it was heard,
at last, to go off with a most violent explosion,
much louder than that of a cannon ; and, immedi-
ately after, another noise was heard, like the rattling
of a great cart upon a stony pavement ; which was,
probably, nothing more than the echo of the former
sound. Its magnitude, when at Bononia, appeared
twice as long as the moon, one way ; and as broad

y 4>

I

328 A HISTORY OF

the other ; so that, considering its height, it could
not have been less than a mile long, and half a mile
broad. From the height at which this was seen,
and there being no volcano, on that quarter of the
world, from whence it came, it is more than pro-
bable that this terrible globe was kindled on some
part of the contrary side of the globe, in those re-
gions of vapours, which we have been just describ-
ing; and thus, rising above the air, and passing
in a course opposite to that of the earth’s motion,
in this manner it acquired its amazing rapidity.

To these meteors, common enough southward, we
will add one more of a very uncommon kind,
which was seen, by Ulloa, at Quito, in Peru ; the
beauty of which will, in some measure, serve to
relieve us, after the description of those hideous
ones preceding. “ At day-break,” says he, “ the
whole mountain of Pam bam area, where we then
resided, was encompassed with very thick clouds ;
which the rising of the sun dispersed so far, as to
leave only some vapours, too fine to be seen. On
the side opposite to the rising sun, and about ten
fathoms distant from the place where we were
standing, we saw, as in a looking-glass, each his
own image ; the head being, as it were, the centre
of three circular rainbows, one without the other,
and just near enough to each other as that the co-
lours of the internal verged upon those more exter-
nal ; while round all was a circle of white, but with
a greater space between. In this manner these
circles were erected, like a mirror, before us ; and
as we moved, they moved, in disposition and order.
But, what is most remarkable, though we were six
in number, every one saw the phenomenon, with

THE EARTH.

329

regard to himself, and not that relating to others.
The diameter of the arches gradually altered, as the
sun rose above the horizon; and the whole, after
continuing a long time, insensibly faded away. In
the beginning, the diameter of the inward iris,
taken from its last colour, was about five degrees
and a half ; and that of the white arch, which sur-
rounded the rest, was not less than sixty-seven de-
grees. At the beginning of the phenomenon, the
arches seemed of an oval or eliptical figure, like
the disk of the sun ; and afterwards became per-
fectly circular. Each of these was of a red colour,
bordered with an orange ; and the last bordered by
a bright yellow, which altered into a straw colour,
and this turned to a green ; but, in ail, the external
colour remained red.” Such is the description of
one of the most beautiful illusions that has been
ever seen in nature. This alone seems to have
combined all the splendours of optics in one view.
To understand the manner, therefore how this
phenomenon was produced, would require a perfect
knowledge of optics ; which it is not our present
province to enter upon. It will be sufficient, there-
fore, only to observe, that all these appearances
arise from the density of the cloud, together with
its uncommon and peculiar situation, with respect
to the spectator and the sun. It may he observed,
that but one of these three rainbows was real, the
rest being only reflections thereof. It may also
be observed, that whenever the spectator stands be-
tween the sun and a cloud of falling rain, a rain-
bow is seen, which is nothing more than the re-
flection of the different coloured rays of light from
the bosom of the cloud. If, for instance, we take

1

A HISTORY OF

3 30

a glass globe, filled with water, and bang it. up be-
fore us, opposite the sun, in many situations, it will
appear transparent ; but if it is raised higher, or
sideways, to an angle of forty-five degrees, it will
at first appear red ; altered a very little higher, yel-
low; then green, then blue, then violet colour ; in
short, it will assume successively all the colours of
the rainbow ; but, if raised higher, still it will be-
come transparent again. A falling shower may be
considered as an infinite number of these little
transparent globes, assuming different colours, by
being placed at their proper heights. The rest of
the shower will appear transparent, and no part of it
will seem coloured ; but such as are at angles of
forty-five degrees from the eye, forty-five degrees
upwards, forty -five degrees on each side, and forty-
five degrees downward, did not the plain of the
earth prevent us. We, therefore, see only an arch
of the rainbow, the lower part being cut off from
our sight by the earth’s interposition. However,
upon the tops of very high mountains, circular
rainbows are seen, because we can see to an angle
of forty-five degrees downward, as well as upward,
or sideways, and therefore we take in the rainbow’s
complete circle.

In those forlorn regions, round the poles, the
meteors, though of another kind, are not less nu-
merous and alarming. When the winter begins,
and the cold prepares to set in, the same misty ap-
pearance which is produced in the southern cli-
mates by the heat, is there produced by the con-
trary extreme*. The sea smokes like an oven, and

* Paul Egede’s History of Greenland.

THE EARTH. 331

a fog arises, which mariners call the frost smoke.
This cutting mist commonly raises blisters on se-
veral parts of the body ; and, as soon as it is wafted
to some colder part of the atmosphere, it freezes to
litcleicy particles, which are driven by the wind,
and create such an intense cold on land, that the
limbs of the inhabitants are sometimes frozen, and
drop off.

There also, halos, or luminous circles round the
moon, ere oftener seen than in any other part of
the earth, being formed by the frost smoke; al-
though the air otherwise seems to be clear. A
lunar rainbow also is often seen there, though some-
what different from that which is common with
us; as it appears of a pale white, striped with grey.
In these countries also the aurora borealis streams,
with peculiar lustre, and variety of colours. In
Greenland it generally arises in the east, and darts
its sportive fires, with variegated beauty, over the
whole horizon. Its appearance is almost constant
in winter ; and, at those seasons when the sun de-
parts, to return no more for half a year, this meteor
kindly rises to supply its beams, and affords suffi-
cient light for all the purposes of existence. How-
ever, in the very midst of their tedious night, the
inhabitants are not entirely forsaken. The tops of
the mountains are often seen painted with the red
rays of the sun ; and the poor Greenlander from
thence begins to date his chronology. It would
appear whimsical to read a Greenland calendar, in
which we might be told, that one of their chiefs
having lived forty days, died, at last, of a good old
age ; and that his widow continued for half a day

332

A HISTORY OF

to deplore his loss, with great fidelity, before she
admitted a second husband.

The meteors of the day, in these countries, are
not less extraordinary than those of the night :
mock suns are often reflected upon an opposite
cloud; and the ignorant spectator fancies that
there are often three or four real suns in the firma-
ment at the same time. In this splendid appear-
ance the real sun is always readily known by its su-
perior brightness, every reflection being seen with
diminished splendour. The solar rainbow there
is often seen different from ours. Instead of a
pleasing variety of colours, it appears of a pale
white, edged with a stripe of dusky yellow: the
whole being reflected from the bosom of a frozen
cloud.

But, of all the meteors which mock the imagi-
nation with an appearance of reality, those strange
illusions that are seen there, in fine serene weather,
are the most extraordinary and entertaining. “No-
thing,” says Krantz, “ever surprised me more, than,
on a fine warm summers day, to perceive the islands
that lie four leagues west of our shore, putting on a
form quite different from what they are known to
have. As I stood gazing upon them, they appeared,
at first, infinitely greater than what they naturally
are; and seemed as if I viewed them through a large
magnifying glass. They were not thus only made
larger, but brought nearer to me. I plainly descried
every stone upon the land, and all the furrows
filled with ice, as if I stood close by. When this
illusion had lasted for a while, the prospect seemed
to break up, and a new scene of wonder to present

THE EARTH 333

itself. The islands seemed to travel to the shore,
and represented a wood, or a tall cut hedge. The
scene then shifted, and shewed the appearance of
all sorts of curious figures ; as ships with sails,
streamers, and flags ; antique elevated castles, with
decayed turrets ; and a thousand forms, for which
fancy found a resemblance in nature. When the
eye had been satisfied with gazing, the whole
groupe of riches seemed to rise in air, and at length
vanish into nothing. At such times the weather is
quite serene and clear; but comprest with such
subtle vapours, as it is in very hot weather; and
these appearing between the eye and the object,
give it all that variety of appearances which glasses
of different refrangibilities would have done.” Mr.
Krantz observes, that commonly a couple of hours
afterwards a gentle west wind and a visible mist
follows, which puts an end to this lusus natures.

It were easy to swell this catalogue of meteors
with the names of many others, both in our own
climate and in other parts of the world. Such as
falling stars, which are thought to be no more
than unctuous vapours, raised from the earth to
small heights, and continuing to shine till that mat-
ter which first raised and supported them, being-
burnt out, they fall back again to the earth, with
extinguished flame. Burning spears, which are a
peculiar kind of aurora borealis ; bloody rains,
which are said to be the excrements of an insect,
that at ( that time has been raised into the air.
Showers of stones, fishes, and ivy-berries, at first,
no doubt, raised into the air by tempests in on.e
country, and falling at some considerable distance,
m the manner of rain, to astonish another. But

334 A HISTORY OF

omitting these, of which we know little more than
what is thus briefly mentioned, I will conclude
this chapter with the description of a water-spout;
a most surprising phenomenon ; not less dreadful
to mariners, than astonishing to the observer of
nature.

These spouts are seen very commonly in the
tropical seas, and sometimes in our own. Those
seen by Tournefort, in the Mediterranean, he has
described as follows. “ The first of these,” says
this great botanist, “ that we saw, was about a
musket-shot from our ship. There we perceived
the water began to boil, and to rise about a foot
above its level. The water was agitated and whit-
ish ; and, above its surface, there seemed to stand
a smoke, such as might be imagined to come from
wet straw before it begins to blaze. It made a
sort of a murmuring sound, like that of a torrent,
heard at a distance, mixed, at the same time, with
a hissing noise, like that of a serpent : shortly af-
ter, we perceived a column of this smoke rise up to
the clouds, at the same time whirling about with
great rapidity. It appeared to be as thick as one’s
fina’er ; and the former sound still continued.
When this disappeared, after lasting for about
eight minutes, upon turning to the opposite
quarter of the sky, we perceived another, which
began in the manner of the former ; presently af-
ter, a third appeared in the west ; and instantly
beside it still another arose. The most distant of
these three could not be above a musket- shot
from the ship. They all continued like so many
heaps of wet straw set on fire, that continued to
smoke, and to make the same noise as before. We

335

THE EARTH.

soon after perceived each, with its respective canal,
mounting up in the clouds, and spreading where it
touched; the cloud, like the mouth of a trumpet,
making a figure, to express it intelligibly, as if the
tail of an animal were pulled at one end by a weight.
These canals were of a whitish colour, and so
tinged, as I suppose, by the water which was con-
tained in them ; for, previous to this, they were ap-
parently empty, and of the colour of transparent
glass. These canals were not straight, but bent in
some parts, and far from being perpendicular, but
rising in their clouds with a very inclined ascent.
But what is very particular, the cloud to which
one of them was pointed happening to be driven
by the wind, the spout still continued to follow its
motion, without being broken ; and passing be-
hind one of the others, the spouts crossed each
other, in the form of a St. Andrew’s cross. In
the beginning they were all about as thick as one’s
finger, except at the top, where they were broader,
and two of them disappeared ; but shortly after, the
last of the three increased considerably ; and its
canal, which was at first so small, soon became as
thick as a man’s arm, then as his leg, and, at last,
thicker than his whole body. We saw distinctly,
through this transparent body, the water, which
rose up with a kind of spiral motion ; and it
sometimes diminished a little of its thickness, and
again resumed the same ; sometimes widening at
top, and sometimes at bottom ; exactly resembling
a gut filled with water, pressed with the fingers, to
make the fluid rise, or fall ; and I am well convinced
that this alteration in the spout was caused by the
wind, which pressed the cloud, and impelled it to

336

A HISTORY OF

give up its contents. After some time its bulk was
so diminished as to be no thicker than a man’s arm
again ; and thus, swelling and diminishing, it at
last became very small. In the end, I observed the
sea which was raised about it to resume its level by
degrees, and the end of the canal that touched it
to become as small as if it had been tied round with
a cord ; and this continued till the light, striking
through the cloud, took away the view. I still,
however, continued to look, expecting that its parts
would join again, as I had before seen in one of the
others, in which the spout was more than once
broken, and yet again came together ; but I was
disappointed, for the spout appeared no more/’

Many have been the solutions offered for this sur-
prising appearance. Mr. Buffon supposes the
spout, here described, to proceed from the operation
of fire, beneath the bed of the sea; as the waters
at the surface are thus seen agitated. 1 However,
the solution of Dr. Stuart is not divested of proba-
bility ; who thinks it may be accounted for by
suction, as in the application of a cupping-glass to
the skin.

Wherever spouts of this kind are seen they are
extremely dreaded by mariners ; for if they happen
to fall upon a ship, they most commonly dash it to
the bottom. But, if the ship be large enough to
•sustain the deluge, they are at least sure to destroy
its sails and rigging, and render it unfit tor sailing.
It is said that vessels of any force usually fire their
guns at them, loaden with a bar of iron ; and if so
happy as to strike them, the water is instantly seen
to fall from them, with a dreadful noise, though
without any farther mischief.

THE EARTH.

337

I am at a loss whether we ought to reckon these
spouts called typhous ; which are sometimes seen
at land, of the same kind with those so often
described, by mariners, at sea, as they seem to dif-
fer in several respects. That, for instance, observed
at Hatfield, in Yorkshire, in 1687, as it is described
by the person who saw it, seems rather to have
been a whirlwind than a water-spout. The season
in which it appeared was very dry, the weather ex-
tremely hot, and the air very cloudy. After the
wind had blown for some time, with considerable
force, and condensed the black clouds one upon
another, a great whirling of the air ensued ; upon
which the centre of the clouds, every now and
then, darted down, in the shape of a thick long-
black pipe ; in which the relator could distinctly
view a motion, like that of a screw, continually
screwing up to itself, as it were, whatever it hap-
pened to touch. In its progress it moved slowly
over a grove of young trees, which it violently
bent, in a circular motion. Going forward to a
barn, it in a minute stript it of all the thatch, and
filled the whole air with the same. As it came near

* p

the relator, he perceived that its blackness proceed-
ed from a gyration of the clouds, by contrary
winds, meeting in a point, or a centre : and where
the greatest force was exerted, there darting down,
like an Archimedes's screw, to suck up all that
cam6 in its way. Another which he saw, some
time after, was attended with still more terrible ef- '
feets; levelling, or tearing up great oak-trees, catch-
ing up the birds in its vortex, and dashing them
against the ground. In this manner it proceeded
with an audible whirling noise, like that of a mill;

VOL. i.

z

338

A HISTORY OF

and, at length, dissolved, after having done much
mischief i

But we must still continue to suspend our assent
as to the nature even of these land spouts ; since
they have been sometimes found to drop, in a
great column of water, at once upon the earth, and
produce an instant inundation*, which could not
readily have happened had they been caused by the
gyration of a whirl-wind only. Indeed, every con-
jecture regarding these meteors, seems to me en-
tirely unsatisfactory. They sometimes appear in
the calmest weather at sea, of which I have been
an eye-witness; and, therefore, these are not
caused by a whirlwind. They are always capped
by a cloud; and, therefore, are not likely to pro-
ceed from fires at the bottom. They change place :
and, therefore, suction seems impracticable. In
short, we still want facts, upon which to build a
rational theory ; and, instead of knowledge, we
must be contented with admiration. To be well
acquainted with the appearances of Nature, even
though we are ignorant of their causes, often con-
stitutes the most useful wisdomf.

* Phil. Trans, vol. iv. p. ii. 108.

[ + Dr. Franklin supposes a water-spout and a whirl-wind to
proceed from the same cause : a fluid moving from all points hori-
zontally towards a centre, must at that centre either mount or
descend. If a hole be opened in the middle of the bottom of a
tub tilled with water, the water w ill flow from all sides to the
centre, and ;hen descend in a whirl: but the air flowing on or near
the surface of land or water, from all sides towards a centre, must
at that centre ascend, because the land or water will hinder
descent.

The lower region of the air is often more heated, and so more
rarefied, than the upper, and consequently specifically lighter: it

THE EARTH.

339

[But among all the wonders that have lately en-
gaged the attention of the philosopher and the che-
mist, is the circumstance, that after the explosion
of these luminous meteors, heavy stones, varying
in bulk and number, have almost constantly fallen
from them to the earth. Credibility in a fact, for
which not even a conjectural cause in the remotest
degree probable could be assigned, was for some
time suspended : but the proofs are now so nu-
merous, and of such respectable authority, that it
can no longer be doubted.

therefore a large tract of land or sea, unsheltered by clouds and
unruffled by wind, become violently heated and rarefied, so that
the lower region become lighter than the superincumbent upper
one, the heated lighter air will ascend like smoke up a chimney ;
and as this rising cannot operate through the whole tract at once,
because that would leave too extensive a vacuum, the rising will
begin in that column which happens to be most rarefied ; and the
warm air will flow horizontally from all parts of this column,
where the several currents meeting, a whirl or eddy is naturally
formed, ascending by a spiral motion, in the same manner as
water descends spirally through the hole in the tub.

If the vacuum passes over water, the water may rise in a body
or column to the height of about 32 feet; and this whirl of air
may be as invisible as air itself. As the whirl weakens, the tube
may apparently separate in the middle ; the column ot water
subsiding, the superior condensed part drawing up to the cloud.
The tube or whirl of air may nevertheless remain entire, the mid-
dle only becoming invisible, as not containing any visible matter.

The author of this note has, frequently, in a fine calm sum-
mer’s day, w hen the sun has been very hot, and the atmosphere
unruffled by winds, seen sheaves of corn, hay-cocks, and other
moveable substances, suddenly lifted up with a circular motion,
and carried to a considerable distance : and in a blazing fire,
where the flame and smoke are carried up through a small chim-
ney, if a piece of paper or other very light substance be put into
the flame, it will be lifted up the chimney vvjth a spiral motion.^

z 2

340

A HISTORY OF

In the year 1794, Dr. Chaklni published a dis-
sertation on this subject : and two years afterwards
Mr. King* produced a still more complete collection
of examples, both ancient and modern, many of
them supported by such evidence, that even scepti-
cism could no longer refuse its consent. Mr.
Howard, in the Philosophical Transactions for 1802,
published an admirable treatise, endeavouring to
throw all possible light upon a subject so singular
and interesting. He not only collected all the re-
cent and well authenticated accounts of the fall of
these stony bodies, and examined the evidence of
their truth, but procured specimens of the stones
which were said to have fallen in different places,
compared them together, and subjected them to
chemical analysis. It may here be proper to give
a few of the more recent instances, with the testi-
monies upon which they rest.

In July, 17 94, about twelve stones fell near
Sienna in Tuscany, as related by the Earl of Bristol.
December 13, l?9d, a large stone of fifty-six
pounds weight, fell at Wold cottage in Yorkshire,
and is described by captain Topham. February
19, 179b, a stone often pounds weight fell in Por-
tugal, an account of which is given by Mr. Southey.
December 10, 1798, showers of stones fell at Be-
nares in the East Indies, upon the testimony of J.
Lloyd Williams, Esq. April 26', 1803, according
to M. Fourcroy, several stones, from ten to four-
teen pounds weight, fell near L'Aigle in Normandy.

In corroboration of these facts, it appears, that
whether they have fallen in England, France, Italy,
Germany, or India, they are all composed of the
same ingredients, all resemble each other, and com-

THE EARTH.

S41

pletely differ from any other known stone. Some^
times the stones continue luminous till they sink
into, the earth, but most commonly their luminous-
ness disappears at the 'time of explosion ; but they
are always found hot. Their size differs from a
few ounces to several tons ; they are usually of a
roundish form, and always covered with a black
crust. When broken they appear of an ashy-grey
colour, and of a granular texture, like a coarse sand.-
stone, and have an earthy smell.

A stone which fell in Yorkshire, deprived as much
as possible of its metallic particles, according to
Mr. Howard, produced from one hundred and
fifty grains, seventy-five of siliceous earth, thirtyr
seven of magnesia, forty-eight of oxyde or calx of
iron, and two of oxyde, or calx of nickell ; leaving
an excess from its original weight of twelve grains,
owing to the oxvdation of the metallic bodies.

Various conjectures have been made, to account
for their appearance; but such is the obscurity of
the subject, that no opinion in the slightest degree
probable has yet been advanced. It was at first
supposed, that they had been thrown out of vol-
canoes, but the immense distance from all volcanoes
renders this opinion of little value. Chaldni en-
deavoured to prove, that the meteors from which
they fell, were bodies floating in space, uncon-
nected with any planetary system, attracted by the
earth in their progress, and kindled by their rapid
motion in the atmosphere. Laplace suggests the
probability of their having been thrown off by the
volcanoes of the moon ; but the meteors which al-
most always accompany them, and the swiftness of
their horizontal motion, persuade us to reject this

z 3

N

34t A fjlSTORY OF

bpinion. Sir William Hamilton, and Mr. King,
with greater probability^ consider them as concre-
tions actually formed in the atmosphere.

In addition to these, the showers of Sulphur
which are related to have occasionally fallen, and
the vast masses, of iron fouud in South America,
and Siberia, are supposed to have their origin from
the same causes : for it is a singular coincidence,
that these pieces of iron contain nickell, which has
never been known to be present in real native
iron.

Upon the whole, we can only look with ignorant
astonishment, and at present consider these stony
and metallic masses as fragments of meteoric fire-
balls, which have burst in the atmosphere, the origin
and causes of which must be left to the accumula-
ted wisdom and enquiry of future ages.]

CHAP. XXII.

The Conclusion.

Having thus gone through a particular des-
cription of the earth, let us now pause for a mo-
^ment, to contemplate the great picture before us.
The universe may be considered as the palace in
which the Deity resides ; and this earth as one of
its apartments. In this, all the meaner races of
animated nature mechanically obey him ; and stand
ready to execute his commands, without hesitation.
Man alone is found refractory ; he is the only being
endued with a power of contradicting these man-

THE EARTH.

343

dates. The Deity was pleased to exert superior
power iu creating him a superior being ; a being-
endued with a choice of good and evil ; and capa-
ble, in some measure, of co-operating with his own
intentions. Man, therefore, may be considered
as a limited creature, endued with powers imita-
tive of those residing in the Deity. He is thrown
into h. world that stands in need of his help ; and
has been granted a power of producing harmony
from partial confusion.

If, therefore, we consider the earth as allotted for
our habitation, we shall find, that much has been
given us to enjoy, and much to amend ; that we
have ample reasons for our gratitude, and still
more for our industry. In those great outlines of
nature, to which art cannot reach, and where our
greatest efforts must have been ineffectual, God
himself has finished these with amazing- grandeur
and beauty. Our beneficent Father has consider-
ed these parts of nature as peculiarly his own ; as
parts which no creature could have skill or strength
to amend : and, therefore, made them incapable of
alteration, or of more perfect regularity. The hea-
vens and the firmament shew the wisdom and the
glory of the Workman. Astronomers, who are
best skilled in the symmetry of systems, can find
nothing there that they can alter for the better.
God made these perfect, because no subordinate
being could correct their defects.

When, therefore, we survey nature on this side,
nothing can be more splendid, more correct, or
amazing. We there behold a Deity residing in the
midst of an universe, infinitely extended every way,
animating all, and cheering the vacuity with his

7f 4

344

A HISTORY OF

presence ! We behold an immense and shapeless
mass of matter, formed into worlds by his power,
and dispersed at intervals, to which even the ima-
gination cannot travel ! In this great theatre of
his glory, a thousand suns, like our own, animate
their respective systems, appearing and vanishing
at divine command. We behold our own bright
luminary, fixed in the centre of its system, wheel-
ing its planets in times proportioned to their dis-
tances, and at once dispensing light, heat, and ac-
tion. The earth also is seen with its twofold mo-
tion ; producing, by the one, the change of sea-
sons • and, by the other, the grateful vicissitudes
of day and night. With what silent magnificence
is all this performed ! with what seeming ease !
The works of art are exerted with interrupted
force ; and their noisy progress discovers the ob-
structions they receive : but the earth, with a si-
lent steady rotation, successively presents every
part of his bosom to the sun ; at once imbibing
nourishment and light from that parent of vegeta-
tion and fertili tv.

y « |

But not only provisions of heat and light are
thus supplied, but its whole surface is covered with
a transparent atmosphere, that turns with its mo-
tion, and guards it from external injury. The
rays’ of* the sun are thus broken into a genial
warmth ; and, while the surface is assisted, a gen-
tle heat is produced in the bowels of the earth,
which contributes to cover it with verdure. Wa-
ters also are supplied in healthful abundance, to
support life, and assist vegetation. Mountains
arise, to diversify the prospect, and give a current
to the stream. Seas extend from one continent tq

THE EARTH

345

■the other, replenished with animals, that may be
turned to human support; and also serving to en-
rich the earth with a sufficiency of vapour.
Breezes fly along the surface of the fields, to pro-
mote health and vegetation. The coolness of the
evening invites to rest ; and the freshness of the
morning renews for labour.

Such are the delights of the habitation that has
been assigned to man ; without any one of these,
he must have been wretched ; and none of these
could his own industry have supplied. But while
many of his wants are thus kindly furnished, on
the one hand, there are numberless inconveniences
to excite his industry on the other. This habita-
tion, though provided with all the conveniences of
air, pasturage, and water, is but a desart place,
without human cultivation. The lowest animal
finds more conveniences in the wilds of nature
than he who boasts himself their lord. The whirl-
wind, the inundation, and all the asperities of the
air, are peculiarly terrible to man, who knows
their consequences, and, at a distance, dreads
their approach. The earth itself, where human
art has not pervaded, puts on a frightful gloomy
appearance. The forests are dark and tangied ;
the meadows over-grown with rank weeds ; and
the brooks stray without a determined channel.
Nature, that has been kind to every lower order of
beings, has been quite neglectful with regard to
him; to the savage uncontriving man the earth is
an abode of desolation, where his shelter is insuffi-
cient, and his food precarious.

A world thus furnished with advantages on one
side, and inconveniences on the other, is the pro-

346

A HISTORY OF

per abode of reason, is the fittest to exercise the
industry of a free and a thinking creature. These
evils, which art can remedy, and prescience guard
against, are a proper call for the exertion of his fa-
culties; and they tend still more to assimilate him
to his Creator. God beholds, with pleasure, that
being which he has made, converting the wretched-
ness of his natural situation into a theatre of tri-
umph; bringing all the headlong tribes of nature
into subjection to his will ; and producing that
order and uniformity upon earth, of which his own
heavenly fabric is so bright an example.

CHAP. XXIII.

A Comparison of Animals with the inferior
Ranks of Creation.

Having given an account of the earth in ge-
neral, and the advantages and inconveniences with
which it abounds, we now come to consider it
more minutely. Having described the habitation,
we are naturally led to enquire after the inhabi-
tants. Amidst the infinitely different productions
which the earth offers, and with which it is every
where covered, animals hold the first rank ; as well
because of thfe finer formation of their parts, as of
their superior power. The vegetable, which is
fixed to one spot, and obliged to wait for its acci-
dental supplies of nourishment, may be considered
as the prisoner of nature. Unable to correct the
disadvantages of its situation, or to shield itself

ANIMALS.

347

from the dangers that surround it, every object
that has motion may be its destroyer.

But, animals are endowed with powers of mo-
tion and defence. The greatest part are capable,
by changing place, of commanding Nature; and
of thus oblio-ino- her to furnish that nourishment

o o

which is most agreeable to their state. Those few
that are fixed to one spot, even in this seemingly
helpless situation, are, nevertheless, protected from
external injury, by a hard shelly covering; which
they often can close at pleasure, and thus defend
themselves from every assault. And here, I think,
we may draw the line between the animal and ve-
getable kingdoms. . Every animal, by some means
or other, finds protection from injury ; either
from its force, or courage, its swiftness, or cun-
ning. Some are protected by hiding in conveni-
ent places ; and others by taking refuge in a hard
resisting shell. But, vegetables are totally unpro-
tected ; they are exposed to every assailant, and
patiently submissive in every attack. In a word, an
animal is an organized being that is in some mea-
sure provided for its own security ; a vegetable is
destitute of every protection.

But though it is very easy, without the help of
definitions, to distinguish a plant from an animal,
yet both possess many properties so much alike,
that the two kingdoms, as they are called, seem
mixed with each other. Hence, it frequently puz-
zles the naturalist to tell exactly where animal life
begins, and vegetative terminates ; nor, indeed, is
it easy to resolve, whether some objects offered to
view, be of the lowest of the animal, or the high-
est of the vegetable races. The sensitive plant,

31 S

A HISTORY OF

that moves at the touch, seems to have as much
perception as the fresh-water polypus, that i§ pos-
sessed of a still slower share of motion. Besides,
the sensitive plant will not re-produce upon cut-
ting in pieces, which the polypus is known to do ;
so that the vegetable production seems to have the
superiority. But, notwithstanding this, the poly-
pus hunts for its food, as most other animals do.
It changes its situation ; and, therefore, possesses
a power of chasing its food, or retreating from dan-
ger. Still, therefore, the animal kingdom is far
removed above the vegetable ; and its lowest de-
nizen is possessed of very great privileges, when
compared with the plants with which it is often
surrounded.

However, both classes have many resemblances,
by which they are raised above the unorganized
and inert masses of nature. Minerals are mere in-
active, insensible bodies, entirely motionless of
themselves, and waiting some external force to
alter their forms, or their properties. But, it is
otherwise with animals and vegetables ; these are
endued with life and vigour; they have their state
of improvement and decay; they are capable of
re-producing their kinds; they grow from seeds
in some, and from cuttings in others; they seem
all possessed of sensation, in a greater or less de-
gree ; they both have their enmities and affec-
tions; and, as some animals are, by nature, impel-
led to violence, so some plants are found to exter-
minate all others, and make a wilderness of the
places round them. As the lion makes a desert
of the forest where it resides, thus no other plant
will grow under the shade of the man chin eel- tree.,

ANIMALS.

34$

Thus, also, that plant, in the West-Indies, called
caraguata, clings round whatever tree it happens
to approach : there it quickly gains the ascen-
dant ; and, loading the tree with a verdure not its
own, keeps away that nourishment designed to
feed the trunk ; and, at last, entirely destroys its
supporter.

As all animals are ultimately supported upon ve-
getables, so vegetables are greatly propagated, by
being made a part of animal food. Birds distri-
bute the seeds wherever they fly, and quadrupeds
prune them into greater luxuriance. By these
means the quantity of food, in a state of nature, is
kept equal to the number of the consumers ; and,
lest some of the weaker ranks of animals should
find nothing for their support, but all the provi-
sions be devoured by the strong, different vege-
\ tables are appropriated to different appetites. If
transgressing this rule, the stronger ranks should
invade the rights of the weak, and, breaking
through all regard to appetite, should make an in-'
discriminate use -of every vegetable, nature then pu-
nishes the transgression, and poison marks the
crime as capital.

If again we compare vegetables and animals,
with respect to the places where they are found,
we shall find them bearing a still stronger simi-
litude. The vegetables that grow in a dry and
sunny soil, are strong and vigorous, though not
luxuriant ; so, also, are the animals of such a cli-
mate. Those, on the contrary, that are the joint
product of heat and moisture, are luxuriant and
tender : and the animals assimilating to the vege-
table food, on which they ultimately subsist, are

250

A HISTORY OF

much larger in such places than in others. Thus,
in the internal parts of South-America and Afri-
ca, where the sun usually scorches all above, while
inundations cover all below, the insects, reptiles,
and other animals, grow to a prodigious size : the
earth-worm of America is often a yard in length,
and as thick as a walking-cane; the boiguacu,
which is the largest of the serpent kind, is some-
times forty feet in length ; the bats, in those coun-
tries, are as big as a rabbit ; the toads are bigger
than a duck, and their spiders are as large as a
sparrow. On the contrary, in the cold frozen re-
gions of the north, where vegetable nature is stint-
ed of its growth, the few animals in those climates
partake of the diminution; all the wild animals,
except the bear, are much smaller than in milder
countries ; and such of the domestic kinds as are
carried thither, quickly degenerate, and grow less.
Their very insects are of the minute kinds, their
bees and spiders being not half so large as those in
the temperate zone.

The similitude between vegetables and animals
is no where more obvious than in those that be-
long to the ocean, where the nature of one is ad-
mirably adapted to the necessities of the other.
This element it is well known has its vegetables,
and its insects that feed upon them in great abun-
dance. Over many tracts of the sea, a weed is
seen floating, which covers the surface, and gives
the resemblance of a green and extensive meadow.
On the under side of these unstable plants, mil-
lions of little animals are found, adapted to their
situation. For, as their ground, if I may so ex-
press it, lies over their heads, their feet are placed

ANIMALS.

351

upon their backs ; and, as land animals have their
legs below their bodies, these have them above.
At land also, most animals are furnished with eyes
to see their food ; but at sea, almost all the reptile
kinds are without eyes, which might only give
them prospects of danger, at a time when unprovid-
ed with the means of escaping it*.

Thus, in all places, we perceive an obvious si-
militude between the animals and the vegetables of
every region. In general, however, the most per-
fect races have the least similitude to the vegeta-
ble productions on Which they are ultimately fed ;
while, on the contrary, the meaner the animal, the
more local it is found to be, and the more it is in-
fluenced by the varieties of the soil where it re-
sides. Many of the more humble reptile kinds are
not only confined to one country, but also to a
plant; nay, even to a leaf. Upon that they sub-
sist, increase with its vegetation, and seem to de-
cay as it declines. They are merely the circum-
scribed inhabitants of a single vegetable ; take
them from that, and they instantly die ; being en-
tirely assimilated to the plant they feed on, as-
suming its colour, and even its medicinal pro-
perties. For this reason, there are infinite num-
bers of the meaner animals that we have never an
opportunity of seeing in this part of the world ;
they are incapable of living separate from their
kindred vegetables, which grow only in a certain
climate.

Such animals as are formed more perfect, lead 'a
life of less dependance; and, some kinds are found

* Linna?i Amaenitates. vol. v. p. 68.

352

A HISTORY OF

to subsist in many parts of the worl(J at the same
time. But, of all the races of animated nature,
man is the least affected by the soil where he re-
sides, and least influenced by the variations of ve-
getable sustenance : equally unaffected by the lux-
iirianee of the warm, climates, or the sterility of
the poles, he has spread his habitations over the
whole earth ; and finds subsistence as well amidst
the ice of the north as the burning deserts under
the line. All creatures of an inferior nature, as
has been said, have peculiar propensities to pecu-
liar climates ; they are circumscribed to zones, and
confined to territories where their proper food is
found in the greatest abundance ; but man may
be called the animal of every climate, and suffers
but very gradual alterations from the nature of any
situation.

As to animals of a meaner rank, whom man
compels to attend him in his migrations, these be-
ing obliged to live in a kind of constraint, and
upon vegetable food, often different from that of
their native soil, they very soon alter their natures
with the nature of their nourishment, assimilate to
the vegetables upon which they are fed, and thus
assume very different habits as well as appearances.
Thus, man, unaffected himself, alters and directs
the nature of other animals at his pleasure ; in-
creases their strength for his delight, or their pa-
tience for his necessities.

This power of altering the appearances of
things seems to have been given him for very wise
purposes. The Deity, when he made the earth,
was willing to give his favoured creature many op-
ponents, that might at once exercise his virtues,

353

ANIMALS.

and call forth his latent abilities. Hence we find, b
in those wide uncultivated wildernesses, where
man, in his savage state, owns inferior strength,
and the beasts claim divided dominion, that the
whole forest swarms with noxious animals and ve-
getables ; animals, as yet undescribed, and vege-
tables which want a name. In those recesses Na-
ture seems rather lavish than magnificent, in be-
stowing life. The trees are usually of the largest
kinds, covered round with parasite plants, and in-
terwoven at the tops with each other. The
boughs, both above and below, are peopled with
various generations ; some of which have never
been upon the ground, and others have never stir-
red from the branches on which they were pro-
duced. In this manner millions of minute, and
loathsome creatures, pursue a round of uninter-
rupted existence, and enjoy a life scarcely superior
to vegetation. At the same time, the vegetables,
in those places, are of the larger kinds, while the
animal race is of the smaller : but, man has alter-
ed this disposition of nature ; having, in a great
measure, levelled the extensive forests, cultivated
the softer and finer vegetables, destroyed the num-
berless tribes of minute and noxious animals, and
taken every method to increase a numerous breed
of the larger kinds. He thus has exercised a se-
vere control ; unpeopled nature, to embellish it ;
and diminished the size of the vegetable, in order
to improve that of the animal kingdom.

To subdue the earth to his own- use was, and
ought to be, the aim of man ; which was only to
be done by increasing the number of plants, and
diminishing that of animals : to multiply ex-

VOL. I. A A

354

A HISTORY OF

istence, alone was that of the Deity. For this
reason, we find, in a state of nature, that animal
life is increased to the greatest quantity possible :
and, we can scarcely form a system that could add
to its numbers. First, plants or trees are provided
by Nature, of the largest kinds; and, consequent-
ly, the nourishing surface is thus extended. In
the second place, there are animals peculiar to
every part of the vegetable, so that no part of it
is lost. But the greatest possible increase of life
would still be deficient, were there not other ani-
mals that lived upon animals ; and these are,
themselves, in turn, food for some other greater
and stronger set of creatures. Were all animals to
live upon vegetables alone, thousands would be
extinct that now have existence, as the quantity
of their provision would shortly fail. But, as
things are wisely constituted, one animal now sup-
ports another ; and thus, all take up less room
than they would by living on the same food ; as,
to make use of a similar instance, a greater num-
ber of people may be crowded into the same
space, if each is made to bear his fellow upon his
shoulders.

To diminish the number of animals and increase
that of vegetables, has been the general scope of
human industry ; and, if we compare the utility of
the kinds, with respect to man, we shall find, that
of the vast variety in the animal kingdom, but
very few are serviceable to him ; and, in the vege-
table, but very few are entirely noxious. How
small a part of the insect tribes, for instance, are
beneficial to mankind, and what numbers are in-
jurious ! In some countries they almost darken the

ANIMALS.

355

air : a candle cannot be lighted without their in-
stantly flying upon it, and putting out the flame*.
The closest recesses are no safeguard from their
annoyance; and the most beautiful landscapes of
nature only serve to invite their rapacity. As
these are injurious from their multitudes ; so most
of the larger kinds are equally dreadful to him,
from their courage and ferocity. In the most
uncultivated parts of the forest these maintain an
undisputed empire ; and man invades their re-
treats with terror. These are dreadful ; and there
are still more which are utterly useless to him, that
serve to take up the room which more beneficial
creatures might possess ; and incommode him, ra-
ther with their numbers than their enmities. Thus,
in a catalogue of land-animals, that amounts to
more than twenty thousand, we can scarcely
reckon up an hundred that are any way useful to
him ; the rest, being either all his open, or his se-
cret enemies, immediately attacking him in per-
son, or intruding upon that food he has appropri-
ated to himself. Vegetables, on the contrary,
though existing in greater variety, are but few of
them noxious. The most deadly poisons are often
of great use in medicine ; and even those plants
that only seem to cumber the ground, serve for
food to that race of animals which he has taken
into friendship or protection. The smaller tribes
of vegetables, in particular, are cultivated as con-
tributing either to his necessities or amusement ;
so that vegetable life is as much promoted by hu-

* Ulloa’s Description of Guayaquil.
A A 2

556 A HISTORY OF

man industry, as animal life is controlled and di-

V 9

minished.

Hence, it was not without a long struggle and
various combinations of experience and art, that
man acquired his present dominion. Almost every
good that he possesses was the result of the con-
test ; for, every day, as he was contending, he was
growing more wise ; and patience and fortitude
were the fruits of his industry.

Hence, also, we see the necessity of some ani-
mals living upon each other, to fill up the plan of
Providence ; and we may, consequently, infer the
expediency of man’s living upon all. Both ani-
mals and vegetables seem equally fitted to his ap-
petites ; and, were any religious, or moral motives,
to restrain him from taking away life, upon any ac-
count, he would only thus give existence to a va-
riety of beings made to prey upon each other;
and, instead of preventing, multiply mutual de-
struction.

CHAP. XXIV. ,

Of the Generation of Animals.

Before we survey animals in their state ot
maturity, and performing the functions adapted to
their respective natures, method requires that we
should consider them in the more early periods ot
their existence. There has been a time when the
proudest and the noblest animal was a partaker of
the same imbecility with the meanest reptile ; and,
while yet a candidate for existence, equally help-

357

ANIMALS.

less and contemptible. In their incipient state all
are upon a footing ; the insect and the philosopher
being equally insensible, clogged with matter, and
unconscious of existence. Where then are we to
begin with the history of those beings, that make
such a distinguished figure in the creation ? Or,
where lie those peculiar characters in the parts that
go to make up animated nature, that mark one
animal as destined to creep in the dust, and ano-
ther to glitter on the throne ?

This has been a subject that has employed the
curiosity of all ages, and the philosophers of every
age have attempted the solution. In tracing Na-
ture to her most hidden recesses, she becomes too
minute or obscure for our inspection; so that we
find it impossible to mark her first differences, to
discover the point where animal life begins, or the
cause that conduces to set it in motion. We
know little more than that the greatest number of
animals require the concurrence of a male and fe-
male to re-produce their kind ; and that these, dis-
tinctly and invariably, are found to beget creatures
of their own species. Curiosity has, therefore, been
.active, in trying to discover the immediate result of
this union, how far either sex contributes to the be-
stowing animal life, and whether it be to the male
or female that we are most indebted for the privi-
lege of our existence,

Hippocrates has supposed that fecundity pro-
ceeded from the mixture of the seminal liquor of
both sexes, each of which equally contributes to
the formation of the incipient animal. Aristotle,
on the other hand, would have the seminal liquor
in the male alone to contribute to this purpose,

a a 3.

358 •

A HISTORY OF

while the female supplied the proper nourishment
for its support. Such were the opinions of these
fathers of philosophy ; and these continued to be
adopted by the naturalists and school-men of suc-
ceeding ages, with blind veneration. At length,
Steno and Harvey, taking anatomy for their guide,
gave mankind a nearer view of nature, just ad-
vancing into animation. These perceived in all
such animals as produced their young alive, two
glandular bodies, near the womb, resembling that
ovary, or cluster of small eggs, which is found in
fowls ; and, from the analogy between both, they
gave these also the name of ovaria. These, as they
resembled eggs, they naturally concluded had the
same offices ; and, therefore, they were induced to
think that all animals, of what kind soever, wrere
produced from eggs. At first, however, there was
some altercations raised against this system ; for,
as these ovaria were separate from the womb, it
was objected that they could not be any way in-
strumental in replenishing that organ, with which
they did not communicate. But, upon more mi-
nute inspection, Fallopius, the anatomist, perceiv-
ed two tubular vessels depending from the womb,
which, like the horns of a snail, had a power of
erecting themselves, of embracing the ovaria, and
of receiving the eggs, in order to be fecundated by
the seminal liquor. This discovery seemed, for a
long time after, to fix the opinions of philoso-
phers. The doctrine of Hippocrates was re-esta-
blished, and the chief business of generation w-as
ascribed to the female. This was, for a long time,
the established opinion of the schools ; but Leu-
wenhoeck, once more, shook the whole system,

ANIMALS.

359

and produced a new schism among the lovers of
speculation. Upon examining the seminal liquor
of a great variety of male animals, . with micros-
copes, which helped his sight more than that of
any of his successors, he perceived therein infinite
numbers of little living creatures, like tadpoles,
very brisk, and floating in the fluid, with a seem-
ing voluntary motion. Each of these, therefore,
was thought to be the rudiments of an animal,
similar to that from which it was produced ; and
this only required a reception from the female, to-
gether with proper nourishment, to complete its
growth. The business of generation was now,
therefore, given back to the male a second time,
by many ; while others suspended their assent,
and chose rather to confess ignorance than to em-
brace error*.

In this manner has the dispute continued for
several ages, some accidental discovery serving, at
intervals, to renew the debate, and revive curiosity,
It was a subject where speculation could find much
room to display itself; and Mr. Buffon, who loved
to speculate, would not omit such an opportunity
of giving scope to his propensity. According to
this most pleasing of all naturalists, the microscope
discovers that the seminal liquor, not only of males,
but of females, also, abounds in these moving little
animals, which have been mentioned above, and
that they appear equally brisk in either fluid. These
he takes not to be real animals, but organical par-
ticles, which, being simple, cannot be said to be
organised themselves, but go to the composition of

* Bonet Considerations sur les Corps Organises.

A A 4

366 A HISTORY OF

all organised bodies whatsoever. In the same man-
ner as a tooth, in the wheel of a watch, cannot be
called either the wheel, or the watch, and yet con-
tributes to the sum of the machine. These orga-
nical particles are, according to him, diffused
throughout all nature, and to be found not only in
the seminal liquor, but in most other fluids in the
parts of vegetables, and all pa,rts of Animated na-
ture. As they happen, therefore, to be differently
applied, they serve to constitute a part of the ani-
mal, or the vegetable, whose growth they serve to
increase, while the superfluity is thrown off 'in the
seminal liquor of both sexes, for the re-production
of other animals or vegetables of the same species.
These particles assume different figures, according
to the receptacle into which they enter; falling into
the womb they unite into a foetus ; beneath the bark
of a tree they pullulate into branches ; and, in
short, the same particles that first formed the ani-
mal in the womb, contribute to increase its growth
when brought forth*.

To this system it has been objected, that it is im-
possible to conceive organical substances without
being organized ; and that, if divested of organi-
zation themselves, they could never make an orr
ganized body, as an infinity of circles could never
make a triangle. It has been objected, that it is
more difficult to conceive the transformation of
these organical particles than even that of the ani-
mal, whose growth we are enquiring after; and
this system, therefore, attempts to explain one ob-
scure thing by another still more obscure,

* Mr. Buffcm

ANIMALS. 36*

But an objection, still stronger than these, has
been advanced, by an ingenious countryman of our
own; who asserts, that these little animals, which
thus appear swimming, and sporting, in almost
every fluid we examine with a microscope, are not
real living particles, but some of the more opake
parts of the fluid, that are thus increased in size,
and seem to have a much greater motion than they
have in reality. For the motion being magnified
with the object, the smallest degree of it will seem
very considerable ; and a being almost at rest may,
by these means, be apparently put into violent
action. Thus, for instance, if we look upon the
sails of a wind-mill moving, at a distance, they ap-
pear to go very slow ; but, if we approach them,
and thus magnify their bulk to our eye, they go
round with great rapidity. A microscope, in the
same manner, serves to bring our eye close to the
object, and thus to enlarge it ; and not only in-
crease the magnitude of its parts, but of its motion.
Hence, therefore, it would follow, that these orga-
nical particles that are said to constitute the bulk
of living nature, are but mere optical illusions ;
and the system founded on them must, like them,
be illusive.

These, and many other objections have beenmade
to this system ; which, instead of enlightening the
mind, serve only to shew, that too close a pursuit of
Nature very often leads to uncertainty. Happily,
however, for mankind, the most intricate enquiries
are generally the most useless. Instead, therefore, of
balancing accounts between the sexes, and attempt-
lng to ascertain to which the business of genera-
hon most properly belongs, it will be more instruc-

362

A HISTORY OF * *

tive, as well as amusing, to begin with animal nature,
from its earliest retirements, and evanescent out-
lines, and pursue the incipient creature through all
its changes in the womb till it arrives into open

day.

The usual distinction of animals, with respect to
their manner of generation, has been into the ovi-
parous and viviparous kinds ; or, in other words,
into those that bring forth an egg, which is after-
wards hatched into life, and those that bring forth
their young alive and perfect. In one of these two
ways all animals were supposed to have been pro-
duced, and all other kinds of generation were sup-
posed imaginary or erroneous. But later discoveries
have taught us to be more cautious in making
general conclusions, and have even induced many
to doubt whether animal life may not be produced
ynerely from putrefaction*.

Indeed, the infinite number of creatures that pu-
trid substances seem to give birth to, and the vari-
ety of little insects seen floating in liquors, by the
microscope, appear to favour this opinion. But,
however this maybe, the former method of classing
animals can now by no means be admitted, as we
find many animals that are produced neither from
. the womb, nor from the shell, but merely from cut-
tings; so that to multiply life in some creatures, it
is sufficient only to multiply the dissection. This
being the simplest method of generation, and that
in which life seems to require the smallest prepara-
tion for its existence, I will begin with it, and so
proceed to the two other kinds, from the meanest
to the most elaborate.

* Bonet Consul, p. 100.

J

ANIMALS. 363

The earth-worm, the millipedes, the sea-worm,
and many marine insects, may be multiplied by be-
ing cut in pieces ; but the polypus is noted for its
amazing fertility ; and from hence it will be proper
to take the description. The structure of the po-
lypus may be compared to the finger of a glove,
open at one end, and closed at the other. The
closed end represents the tail of the polypus, with
which it serves to fix itself to an}’ substance it hap-
pens to be upon ; the open end may be compared
to the mouth ; and, if we conceive six or eight
small strings issuing from this end, we shall have
a proper idea of its arms, which it can erect,
lengthen, and contract, at pleasure, like the horns
of a snail. This creature is very voracious, and
makes use of its arms as a fisherman does of his net,
to catch, and entangle such little animals as hap-
pen to come within its reach. It lengthens these
arms several inches, keeps them separated from
each other, and thus occupies a large space in the
water, in which it resides. These arms, when ex-
tended, are as fine as threads of silk, and have a
most exquisite degree of feeling. If a small worm
happens to get within the sphere of their activity,
it is quickly entangled by one of these arms, and,
soon after, the other arms come to its aid ; these
altogether shortening, the worm is drawn into the
animal’s mouth, and quickly devoured, colouring
the body as it is swallowed. Thus much is neces-
sary to be observed of this animal’s method of
living, to shew that it is not of the vegetable tribe,
but a real animal, performing the functions which
other animals are found to perform, and endued
with powers that many of them are destitute of.

364

A HISTORY OF

But what is most extraordinary remains yet to be
told ; for, if examined with a microscope, there
are seen several little specks, like buds, that seem
to pullulate from different parts of its body ; and
these, soon after, appear to be young polypi, and
like the large polypus, begin to cast their little arms
about for prey, in the same manner. Whatever
they happen to ensnare is devoured, and gives a
colour not only to their own bodies, but to that of
the parent; so that the same food is digested, and
serves for the nourishment of both. The food of
the little one passes into the large polypus, and
colours its body ; and this, in its turn, digests, and
swallows its food to pass into theirs. In this man-
ner every polypus has a new colony sprouting
from its body ; and these new ones, even while at-
tached to the parent animal, become parents them-
selves, having a smaller colony also budding from
them. All, at the same time, busily employed in
seeking for their prey, and the food of any one
of them serving for the nourishment, and circula-
ting through the bodies of all the rest. This soci-
ety, however, is every hour dissolving ; those newly
produced are seen at intervals to leave the body of
the large polypus, and become, shortly after, the
head of a beginning colony themselves.

In this manner the polypus multiplies naturally ;
but, one may take a much readier and shorter way
to increase them, and this only by cutting them in
pieces. Though cut into thousands of parts, each
part still retains its vivacious qualities, and each
shortly becomes a distinct and a complete polypus :
whether cut lengthways or crossways, it is all the
same : this extraordinary creature seems a gainei

ANIMALS.

363

by our endeavours, and multiplies by apparent des-
truction. The experiment has been tried, times
without number, and still attended with the same
success. Here, therefore, naturalists, who have
been blamed for the cruelty of their experiments
upon living animals, may now boast of their in-
creasing animal life, instead of destroying it. The
production of the polypus is a kind of philosophical
generation. The famous Sir Thomas Brown wished
to be able to produce children by the same method
as trees are produced : the polypus is multiplied in
this manner ; and every philosopher may thus, if
he please, boast of a very numerous, though, I
should suppose, a very useless progeny.

This method of generation, from cuttings, may
be considered as the most simple kind, and is a
strong instance of the little pains Nature takes in
the formation of her lower and humbler productions.
As the removal of these from inanimate into
animal existence is but small, there are but few
preparations made for their journey. No organs
of generation seem provided, no womb to receive,
no shell to protect them in their state of transition.
The little reptile is quickly fitted for all the offices
of its humble sphere, and, in a very short time,
arrives at the height of it's contemptible perfection.

The next generation is of those animals that we
see produced from the egg. In this manner all
birds, most fishes, and many of the insect tribes, are
brought forth. An egg may be considered as a
womb, detached from the body of the parent ani-
mal, in which the embryo is but just beginning to
be formed. It may be regarded as a kind of in-
complete delivery, in which the animal is disbur-

366 A HISTORY OF

thened of its young, before its perfect formation.
Fishes, and insects, indeed, most usually commit
the care of their eggs to hazard ; hut birds, which
are more perfectly formed, are found to hatch them
into maturity, by the warmth of their bodies.
However, any other heat, of the same temperature,
would answer the end as well; for either the warmth
of the sun, or of a stove, is equally efficacious in
bringing the animal in the egg to perfection. In
this respect, therefore, we may consider generation
from the egg as inferior to that in which the ani-
mal is brought forth alive. Nature has taken care
of the viviparous animal in every stage of its exist-
ence. That force which separates it from the pa-
rent, separates it from life ; and the embryo is shield-
ed with unceasing protection till it arrives at ex-
clusion. But it is different with the little animal
in the egg; often totally neglected by the parent,
and always separable from it, every accident may
retarc^ its growth, or even destroy itsexistence. Be-
sides, art, or accident, also, may bring this animal
to a state of perfection ; so that it can never be
considered as a complete work of Nature, in which
so much is left for accident to finish or destroy.

But, however inferior this kind of generation
may be, the observation of it will afford great in-
sight into that of nobler animals, as we can here
watch the progress of the growing embryo, in every
period of its existence, and catch it in those very
moments when it first seems stealing into motion.
Malpighi and Haller have been particularly indus-
trious on this subject ; and, with a patience almost
equalling that of the sitting hen, have attended in-
cubation in all its stages. From them, there loie,

ANIMALS. 361

we have an amazing history of the chicken in the
egg, and of its advances into complete formation.

It would be methodically tedious to describe
those parts of the egg, which are well known, and
obvious; such as its shell, its white, and its yolk;
but the disposition of these is not so apparent. Im-
mediately under the shell lies that common mem-
brane, or skin, which lines it on the inside, ad-
hering closely to it every where, except at the
broad end, where a little cavity is left, that is filled
with air, which increases as the animal within
grows larger. Under this membrane are contained
two whites, though seeming to us to be only one,
each wrapped up in a membrane of its own, one
white within the other. In the midst of all is the
yolk, wrapt round, likewise, in its own membrane.
At each end of this are two ligaments, called cha-
lazte, which are, as it were, the poles of this micro-
cosm, being white dense substances, made from
the membranes, and serving to keep the white and
the yolk in their places. It was the opinion of
Mr. Derham, that they served also for another pur-
pose: for a line being drawn from one ligament to
the other, would not pass directly through the
middle of the yolk, but rather towards one side,
and would divide the yolk into two unequal parts,
by which means these ligaments served to keep the
smallest side of the yolk always uppermost; and in
this part he supposed the cicatricuia, or first speck
of life, to reside; which, by being uppermost, and
consequently next the hen, would be thus in the
Warmest situation. But this is rather fanciful than
hue, the incipient animal being found In all situa-

368

A HISTORY OF

tions, and not particularly influenced by any*„
This cicatricula, which is the part where the ani-
mal first begins to shew signs of life, is not unlike
a vetch, or a lentil, lying on one side of the yolk,
and within its membrane. All these contribute
to the little animal’s convenience or support ; the
outer membranes, and ligaments, preserve the
fluids in their proper places ; the white serves as
nourishment; and the yolk, with its membranes,
after a time, becomes a part of the animal's bodyf.
This is the description of an hen’s egg, and answers
to that of all others, how large or how small
soever.

Previous to putting the eggs to the hen, our phi-
losophers first examined the cicatricula, or little
spot already mentioned ; and which may be consi-
dered as the most important part of the egg. This
was found, in those that were impregnated by the
cock, to be large ; but, in those laid without the
cock, very small. It was found, by the microscope,
to be a kind of bag, containing a transparent
liquor, in the midst of which the embryo was seen
to reside. The embryo resembled a composition of
little threads, which the warmth of future incuba-
tion tended to enlarge, by varying, and liquefying
the other fluids contained within the shell, and thus
pressing them either into the pores or tubes of their

substance. * $ 'I

Upon placing the eggs in their proper warmthj*
either under the sun, or in a stove, after six hours
the vital speck begins to dilate, like the pupil o

* Haller.

+ Ibid.

+ Malpighi

ANIMALS. 369

the eye. The head of the chicken is distinctly
seen, with the back- bone, something resembling
a tadpole, floating in its ambient fluid, but as yet
seeming to assume none of the functions of animal
life. In about six hours more, the little animal is
seen more distinctly; the head becomes more plain-
ly visible, and the vertebrae of the back more easily
perceivable. All these signs of preparation for life
are increased in six hours more ; and, at the end of
twenty-four hours, the ribs begin to take their
places, the neck begins to lengthen, and the head to
turn to one side.

At this time*, also, the fluids in the egg seem to
have changed place : the yolk, which was before
in the centre of the shell, approaches nearer to the
broad end. The watery part of the white is, in
some measure, evaporated through the shell, and
the grosser part sinks to the small end. The lit-
tle animal appears to turn towards the part of
the broad end,, in which a cavity has been described,
and with its yolk seems to adhere to the membrane
there. At the end of forty hours the great work
of life seems fairly begun, and the animal plainly
appears to move ; The back-bone, which is of a
whitish colour, thickens ; the head is turned still
more on one side ; the first rudiments of the eyes
be gin to appear ; the heart beats, and the blood be-
gins already to circulate. The parts, however, as
yet are fluid ; but, by degrees, become more and
more tenacious, and harden into a kind of jelly.
At the end of two days, the liquor, in which the
chicken swims, seems to increase ; the head ap-

/ i • ♦

* Harvey.

VOL. I. B B

370

A HISTORY OF

pears with two little bladders in the place of eyes,
the heart beats in the manner of every embryo
where the blood does not circulate through the
lungs. In about fourteen hours after this, the
chicken is grown more strong ; its head, however,
is still bent downwards ; the veins and arteries be-
gin to branch, in order to form the brain ; and the
spinal marrow is seen stretching along the back-
bone. In three days, the whole body of the chicken
appears bent ; the head, with its two eye-balls,
with their different humours, now distinctly ap-
pear : and five other vesicles are seen, which soon
unite to form the rudiments of the brain. The
outlines also of the thighs and wings begin to be
seen, and the body begins to gather flesh. At the
end of the fourth day, the vesicles that go to form
the brain approach each other ; the wings and
thighs appear more solid ; the whole body is co-
vered with a jelly-like flesh ; the heart, that was
hitherto exposed, is now covered up within the
body, by a very thin transparent membrane ; and,
at the same time, the umbilical vessels, that unite
the animal to the yolk, now appear to come forth
from the abdomen. After the fifth and sixth
days, the vessels of the brain begin to be covered
over ; the wings and thighs lengthen ; the belly is
closed up, and tumid ; the liver is seen within it,
very distinctly, not yet grown red, but of a very
dusky white ; both the ventricles of the heart are
discerned, as if they were two separate hearts, beat-
ing distinctly ; the whole body of the animal is co-
vered over ; and the traces of the incipient feathers
are already to be seen. The seventh day, the head
appeal's very large; the brain is covered entiielj

ANIMALS.

371

ever ; the bill begins to appear betwixt the eyes ;
and the wings, the thighs, and the legs, have ac-
quired their perfect figure*. Hitherto, however,
the animal appears as if it had two bodies ; the yolk
is joined to it by the umbilical vessels that come
from the belly ; and is furnished with its vessels,
through which the blood circulates, as through the
rest of the body of the chicken, making a bulk
greater than that of the animal itself. But towards
the end of incubation, the umbilical vessels shorten
the yolk, and with it the intestines are thrust up
into the body of the chicken, by the action of the
muscles of the belly ; and the two bodies are thus
formed into one. During this state, all the organs
are found to perform their secretions ; the bile is
found to be separated, as. in grown animals ; but
it is fluid, transparent, and without bitterness :
and the chicken then also appears to have lungs.
On the tenth, the muscles of the wings appear, and
the feathers begin to push out. On the eleventh,
the heart, which hitherto had appeared divided,
begins to unite ; the arteries which belong to it
join into it, like the fingers into the palm of the
hand. All these appearances only come more into
view, because the fluids the vessels had hitherto se-
creted were more transparent ; but as the colour of
the fluids deepen, their operations and circulations
m-e more distinctly seen. As the animal thus, by
the eleventh day completely formed, begins to
gather strength, it becomes more uneasy in its situ-
ation, and exerts its animal powers with increasing
force. For some time before it is able to break the

, * Haller.

B B 2

312 ) ' A HISTORY OF

shell in which it is imprisoned, it is heard to chir-
rup, receiving a sufficient quantity of air for this
purpose, from that cavity which lies between the
membrane and the shell, and which must contain
air to resist the external pressure. At length, upon
the twentieth day, in some birds sooner, and later
in others, the inclosed animal breaks the shell with-
in which it has been confined, with its beak ; and,
by repeated efforts, at last procures its enlarge-
ment.

From this little history we perceive, that those
parts which are most conducive to life, are the first
that are begun : the head, and the back-bone,
which no doubt inclose the brain, and the spinal
marrow, though both are too limpid to be discerned,
are the first that are seen to exist : the beating of
the heart is perceived soon after : the less noble
parts seem to spring from these ; the wings, the
thighs, the feet, and, lastly, the bill. Whatever,
therefore, the animal has double, or whatever it
can live without the use of, these are latest in pro-
duction: Nature first sedulously applying to the
formation of the nobler organs, without which
life would be of short continuance, and would be
begun in vain.

The resemblance between the beginning animal
in the egg, and the embryo in the womb, is very
striking; : and this similitude has induced many to
assert, that all animals are produced from eggs', m
the same manner. They consider an egg excluded
from the body by some, and separated into the
womb by others, to be actions merely of one kind ,
with this only difference, that the nourishment ©
the one is kept within the body of the parent, an

ANIMALS.

373

increases as tlie embryo happens to want the sup-
ply; the. nourishment of the other is prepared all
at once, and sent out with the .'beginning animal,
as entirely sufficient for its future support. But
leaving this to the discussion of anatomists, let us
proceed rather with facts than dissertations ; and
as we have seen the progress of an oviparous animal,
or one produced from the shell, let us likewise trace
that of a viviparous animal, which is brought
forth alive. In this investigation, Graaf has, with
a degree of patience characteristic of his nation,
attended the progress and increase of various ani-
mals in the womb, and minutely marked the
changes they undergo. Having dissected a rab-
bit, half an hour after impregnation, he perceived
the horns of the womb, that go to embrace and
communicate with the ovary, to be more red than
before ; but no other change in the rest of the
parts. Having dissected another, six hours after,
he perceived the follicules, or the membrane cover-
ing the eggs contained in the ovary, to become
reddish. In a rabbit dissected after twenty-four /
hours, he perceived, in one of the ovaries, three fol-
licules, and, in the other, five, that were changed ;
being become, from transparent, dark and reddish.
In one dissected after three days, he perceived the
horns of the womb very strictly to embrace the
ovaries; and he observed three of the follicules in
one of them, much longer and harder than before ;
pursuing his inquisition, he also found two of the
oggs actually separated into the horns of the womb;
and each about the size of a grain of mustard-seed ,
these little eggs were each of them inclosed in a
double membrane, the inner parts being filled with

b b 3

374

A HISTORY OF

a very limpid liquor. After four days, he found, in
one of the ovaries, four, and in the other, five fol-
licules, emptied of their eggs : and in the horns cor-
respondent to these, he found an equal number of
eggs thus separated : these eggs were now grown
larger than before, and somewhat of the size of
sparrow-shot. In five days, the eggs were grown
to the size of duck-shot, and could be blown from
the part of the womb where they were, by the
breath. In seven days, these eggs were found of
the size of a pistol-bullet, each covered with its.
double membrane, and these much more distinct
than before.- In nine days, having examined the
liquor contained in one of these eggs, he found it,
from a limpid colour, less fluid, to have got a light
cloud floating upon it. In ten days, this cloud be-
gan to thicken, and to form an oblong body, of
the figure of a little worm : and, in twelve days,
the figure of the embryo .was distinctly to be per-
ceived, and even its parts came into view. In the
region of the breast he perceived two bloody
specks ; and two more, that appeared whitish.
Fourteen days after impregnation, the head of the
embryo was become large and transparent, the eyes
prominent, the mouth open, and the rudiments of
the ears beginning to appear ; the back- bone, of
a whitish colour, was bent towards the breast ; the
two bloody specks being now considerably in-
creased, appeared to be nothing less than the out-
lines of the two ventricles of the heart ; and the
two whitish specks on each side, now appeared to
be the rudiments of the lungs ; towards the region
of the belly, the liver began to be seen, of a reddish
colour : and a little intricate mass, like ravelled

ANIMALS. 375

thread, discerned, which soon appeared to be the
stomach and the intestines : the legs soon after
began to be seen, and to assume their natural po-
sitions : and from that time forth, all the parts
being formed, every day only served to develope
them still more, until the thirty-first day, when
the rabbit brought forth her young, completely
fitted for the purposes of their humble happi-
ness.

Having thus seen the stages of generation in the
meaner animals, let us take a view of its progress
in man ; and trace the feeble beginnings of our
own existence. An account of the lowliness of our
own origin, if it cannot amuse, will at least serve
to humble us ; and it may take from our pride,
though it fails to gratify our curiosity. We can-
not here trace the variations of the beginning ani-
mal, as in the former instances ; for the opportu-
nities of inspection are but few and accidental : for
this reason, we must be content often to fill up the
blanks of our history with conjecture. And first,
we are entirely ignorant of the state of the infant in
the womb, immediately after conception ; but we
have good reason to believe that it proceeds, as in
most other animals, from the egg*. Anatomists in-
form us, that four days after conception, there
is found in the womb an oval substance, about the
size of a small pea, but longer one way than the
other; this little body is formed by an extremely
fine membrane, inclosing a liquor a good deal re-
sembling the white of an egg : in this may, even

* This history of the child in the womb is translated from
Mr. Buffon, with some alterations.

BB 4

376

A HISTORY OF

then, be perceiv'ecl, several small fibres, united to-
gether,' which form the first rudiments of the em-
bryo. Beside these, are seen another set of fibres,
which soon after become the placenta, or that body
by which the animal is supplied with nourish-
ment. 1

Seven days after conception, we can readily dis-
tinguish, by the eye, the first lineaments of the
child in the womb. However, they are as yet
without form ; shewing, at the end of seven days,
pretty much such an appearance as that of the
chicken after four-and- twenty hours, being a
small jelly-like mass, yet exhibiting the rudiments
of the head : the trunk is barely visible'; there
likewise is to be discerned a small assemblage of
fibres issuing from the body of the infant, which
afterwards become the blood-vessels that convey
nourishment from the placenta to the child, while
inclosed in the womb.

Fifteen days after conception, the head becomes
distinctly visible, and even the most prominent fea-
tures of the visage begin to appear. The nose is
a little elevated ; there are two black specks in the
place of eyes; and two little holes, where the ears
are afterwards seen. The body of the embryo also
is grown larger ; and both above and below, are
seen two little protuberances, which mark the
places from whence the arms and thighs are to pro-
ceed. The length of the whole body at this time,
is less than half an inch.

At the end of three weeks, the body has received
very little increase; but the legs and feet, with
the hands and arms, are become apparent. The
growth of the arms is more speedy than that 01

ANIMALS.' # 377

the legs ; and tlie fingers are sooner separated than
the toes. About this time, the internal parts are
found, upon dissection, to become distinguishable.
The places of the bones are marked by small thread-
like substances, that are yet more fluid even than
a jelly. Among them, the ribs are distinguishable,
like threads also, disposed on each side of the
spine ; and even the fingers and toes scarcely ex-
ceed hairs in thickness.

In a month, the embryo is an inch long ; the
body is bent forward, a situation which it almost
always assumes in the womb, either because a pos-
ture of this kind is the most easy, or because it
takes up the least room. The human figure is now
no longer doubtful: every part of the face is dis-
tinguishable ; the body is sketched out ; the bow-
( els are to be distinguished as threads : the bones
are still quite soft, but in some places beginning to
assume a greater rigidity ; the blood-vessels that
go to the placenta, which, as was said, contributes
to the child’s nourishment, are plainly seen issuing
from the navel (being therefore called the umbilical
vessels) and going to spread themselves upon the
placenta. According to Hippocrates, the male em-
bryo developes sooner than the female : he adds,
that, at the end of thirty days, the parts of the
body of the male are distinguishable ; while those
of the female are not equally so till ten days after.

In six weeks, the embryo is grown two inches
long ; the human figure begins to grow every day
more perfect ; the head being still much larger, in
proportion to the rest of the body ; and the mo-
tion of the heart is perceived almost by the eye. It
bas been seen to beat in an embryo of fifty days

37S A HISTORY OF

old, a long time after it had been taken out of the
womb.

In two months, the embryo is more than two
inches in length. The ossification is perceivable
in the arms and thighs, and in the point of the
chin, the under jaw being greatly advanced before
the upper. These parts, however, may as yet be
considered as bony points, rather than as bones.
The umbilical vessels, which before went side by
side, are now begun to be twisted like a rope, one
over the other, and go to join with the placenta,
which as yet is but small.

In three months, the embryo is above three
inches long, and weighs about three ounces. Hip-
pocrates observes, that not till then the mother
perceives the child’s motion ; and lie adds, that in
female children, the motion is not observable till
the end of four months. However, this is no ge-
neral rule, as there are women who assert, that
they perceived themselves to be quick with child,
as their expression is, at the end of two months,
so that this quickness seems rather to arise from
the proportion between the child's strength and
the mother's sensibility, than from any determi-
nate period of time. At all times, however, the
child is equally ajive ,* and, consequently, those ju-
ries of matrons that are to determine upon the
pregnancy of criminals, should not enquire whe-
ther the woman be quick, but whether she be with
child ; if the latter be perceivable, the former fol-
lows of course.

Four months and a half after conception, the
embryo is from six to seven inches long. All t ie
parts are so augmented, that even their propoitioo-

ANIMALS.

379

are now distinguishable. The very nails begin to
appear upon the fingers and toes ; and the sto-
mach and intestines already begin to perform their
functions of receiving and digesting. In the sto-
mach is found a , liquor similar to that in which
the embryo floats ; in gne part of the intestines, a
milky substance ; and, in the other, an excremen-
titious. There is found also, a small quantity of
bile in the gall-bladder ; and some urine in its own
proper receptacle. By this time, also, the posture
of the embryo seems to be determined. The head
is bent forward, so that the chin seems to rest
upon its breast ; the knees are raised up towards
the head, and the legs bent backward, somewhat
resembling the posture of those who sit on their
haunches. Sometimes the knees are raised so high
as to touch the cheeks, and the feet are crost over
each other ; the arms are laid upon the breast,
while one of the hands, and often both, touch the
visage ; sometimes the hands are shut, and some-
times, also, the arms are found hanging down by
the body. These are the most usual postures
which the embryo assumes ; but these it is fre-
quently known to change ; and it is owing to
these alterations that the mother so frequently
feels those twiches, which are usually attended
with pain.

The embryo, thus situated, is furnished by Na-
ture with all things proper for its support ; and, as
it increases in size, its nourishment also is found to
increase with it. As soon as it first begins to grow
in the womb, that receptacle, from being very
small, grows larger; and, what is more surprising,
thicker every day. The sides of a bladder, as we

380

A HISTORY OF

know, the more they are distended the more they
become thin. But here, the larger the womb grows
the more it appears to thicken. Within this the
embryo is still farther involved, in two membranes,
called the chorion and amnios ; and floats in a thin
transparent fluid, upon which it seems, in some
measure, to subsist. However, the great store-
house, whence its chief nourishment is supplied, is
called the placenta ; a red substance somewhat re-
sembling a sponge, that adheres to the inside of
the womb, and communicates, by the umbilical
vessels, with the embryo. These umbilical vessels,
which consist of a vein and twro arteries, issue
from the navel of the child, and are branched out
upon fhe placenta ; where they, in fact, seem to
form its substance; and, if I may so express it, to
suck up their nourishment from the womb, and
the fluids contained therein. The blood thus re-
ceived from the womb, by the placenta, and com-
municated by the umbilical vein to the body of
the embryo, is conveyed to the heart; where,
without ever passing into the lungs, as in the born
infant, it takes a shorter course; for, entering the
right auricle of the heart, instead of passing up
into the pulmonary artery, it seems to break this
partition, and goes directly through the body of
the heart, by an opening called the foramen ovale,
and from thence to the aorta, or great artery ; by
which it is driven into all parts of the body. Thus
we see the placenta, in some measure, supplying
the place of lungs ; for, as the little animal can re-
ceive no air by inspiration, the lungs are therefore
useless. But we see the placenta converting the
fluid of the womb into blood, and sending it, by t ic

ANIMALS.

381

umbilical vein, to the heart; from whence it is dis-
patched by a quicker and shorter circulation
through the whole frame.

In this manner the embryo reposes in the womb ;
supplied with that nourishment which is fitted to
its necessities, and furnished with those organs
that are adapted to its situation. As its sensa-
tions are but few, its wants are in the same pro-
portion ; and it is probable that a sleep, with
scarce any intervals, marks the earliest period of
human life. As the little creature, however, ga-
thers strength and size, it seems to become more
wakeful and uneasy ; even in the womb it bepins
to feel the want of something it does not possess ;
a sensation that seems coeval with man’s fnature,
and never leaves him till he dies. The embryo
even then begins to struggle for a state more
marked by pleasure and pain, arid, from about the
sixth month, begins to give the mother warning
of the greater pain she is yet to endure. The
continuation of pregnancy, in woman, is usually
nine months ; but there have been many instances
when the child has lived that was born at seven ;
and some are found to continue pregnant a month
above the usual time. When the appointed time
approaches, the infant, that has for some months
been giving painful proofs of its existence, now be-
gins to increase its efforts for liberty. The head
is applied downward, to the aperture of the womb,
and by reiterated efforts it endeavours to extend
the same: these endeavours produce the pain

which all women, in labour, feel in some degree ;
those of strong constitutions the least, those most
weakly the most severely,; since we learn, that the

382

A HISTORY OF

women of Africa always deliver themselves, and
are well a few hours after ; while those of Europe
require assistance, and recover more slowly. Thus
the infant, still continuing to push with its head
forward, by the repetition of its endeavours, at
last succeeds, and issues into life. The blood,
which had hitherto passed through the heart, now
takes a wider circuit; and the foramen ovale closes ;
the lungs, that had till this time been inactive, now
first begin their functions ; the air rushes in to dis-
tend them ; and this produces the first sensation of
pain, which the infant expresses by a shriek ; so
that the beginning of our lives, as well as the end,

is marked with anguish*.

From comparing these accounts, we perceive
that the most laboured generation is the most per-
fect ; and that the animal which, in proportion to
its bulk, takes the longest time for production, is
always the most complete when finished. Of all
others, man seems the slowest in coming into life, as
he is the slowest in coming to perfection; other
animals, of the same bulk, seldom remain in the
womb above six months, while he continues nine ;
and even after his birth appeals moie than any
other to have his state of imbecility prolonged.

We may observe also, that that generation is the
most complete in which the fewest animals are
produced: Nature, by attending to the production
of one at a time, seems to exert all her effor in
Win- it to perfection; but, where this atten-
tion is divided, 'the animals so produced come in o
the world with partial advantages. In this ma

* Bonet Contemplat. tie la Nature, vol. 1. p- 21-

3SS

ANIMALS,

ner twins are never, at least while infants, so
large or so strong, as those that come singly into
the world ; each having, in some measure, rob-
bed the other of its right ; as that support, which
Nature meant for one, has been prodigally di-
vided.

In this manner, as those animals are the best
that are produced singly, so we find that the no-
blest animals are ever the least fruitful. These are
seen usually to bring forth but one at a time, and
to place all their attention upon that alone. On
the other hand, all the oviparous kinds produce in
amazing plenty; and even the lower tribes of vivi-
parous animals increase in a seeming proportion to
their minuteness and imperfection. Nature seems
lavish of life in the lower orders of the creation ;
and, as if she meant them entirely for the use of
the nobler races, she appears to have bestowed
greater pains in multiplying the number than in
completing the kind. In this manner, while the
elephant and the horse bring forth but one at a
time, the spider and the beetle are seen to produce
a thousand : and even among the smaller quadru-
peds, all the inferior kinds are extremely fertile ;
any one of these being found, in a very few
months, to become the parent of a numerous pro-
geny.

In this manner, therefore, the smallest animals
multiply in the greatest proportion ; and we have
reason to thank Providence, that the most formi-
dable animals are the least fruitful. Had the lion
and the tiger the same degree of fecundity with
the rabbit or the rat, all the arts of man would be
unable to oppose these fierce invaders ; and we

384 A HISTORY OF

should soon perceive them become the tyrants of
those who claim the lordship of the creation. But
Heaven, in this respect, has wisely consulted the
advantage of all. It has opposed to man only such
enemies as he has art and streng'th to conquer;
and, as large animals require proportional supplies;
Nature was unwilling to give new life, where it,
in some measure, denied the necessary means of
' subsistence.

/ In consequence of this pre-established order, the
animals that are endowed with the ihost perfect
methods of generation, and bring forth but one at
a time, seldom begin to procreate till they have al-
most acquired their full growth. On the other
hand, those which bring forth many, engender be-
fore they have arrived at half their natural size.
The horse and the bull, come almost to perfection
before they begin to generate ; the hog and the
rabbit, scarcely leave the teat before they become
parents themselves. In whatever light, therefore,
we consider this subject, we shall find that all
creatures approach most to perfection, whose ge-
neration most nearly resembles that of man. The
reptile produced from cutting is but one degree
above the vegetable. The animal produced from
the egg is a step higher in the scale of existence :
that class of animals which are brought forth alive,
are still more exalted. Of these, such as bring
forth one at a time are the most complete ; and
foremost of these stands man, the great master oj
all , who seems to have united the perfections ot all
the rest in his formation.

ANIMALS.

CHAP. XXV.

The Infancy of Man.

When we take a survey of the various classes
of animals, and examine their strength, their beau-
ty, or their structure, we shall find man to possess
most of those advantages united, which the rest
enjoy partially. Infinitely superior to all others
in the powers of the understanding, he is also su-
perior to them in the fitness and proportions of his
form. He would, indeed, have been one of the
most miserable beings upon earth, if with a senti-
ent mind he was so formed as to be incapable of
obeying its impulse; but Nature has otherwise
provided ; as with the most extensive intellects to
command, she has furnished him with a bodv the
best fitted for obedience.

In infancy*', however, that mind, and this body,
form the most helpless union in all animated na-
ture ; and, if any thing can give us a picture of
complete imbecility, it is a man when just come into
the world. The infant just born, stands in need of
all things, without the power of procuring any.
The lower races of animals, upon being produced,
are active, vigorous, and capable of self-support ;
hut the infant is obliged towwait in helpless expec-
tation, and its cries are its only aid to procure
subsistence.

An infant just born may be said to come from
°ue element into another; for, from the watery

* Buffon, vol. iv. p. 173.

VOL. I.

C C

386

A HISTORY OF

fluid in which it was surrounded, it now immerges

into air; and its first cries seem to imply how

greatly it regrets the change. How much longer

it could have continued in a state of almost total

insensibility, in the womb, is impossible to tell;

but it is very probable that it could remain there

some hours more. In order to throw some light

©

upon this subject, Mr. Buffo n so placed a pregnant
bitch as that her puppies were brought forth in
Warm water, in which he kept them above half an
hour at a time. However, he saw no change in
the animals, thus newly brought forth ; they con-
tinued the whole time vigorous; and, during the
whole time, it is very probable that the blood
circulated through the same channels through
which it passed while they continued in the
womb.

Almost all animals have their eves closed*, for
some days after being brought into the world.
The infant opens them the instant of its birth.
However, it seems to keep them fixed and idle ;
they want that lustre which they acquire by de-
grees ; and if they happen to move, it is rather an
accidental gaze than an exertidn of the act of see-
ing. The light alone seems to make the greatest
impression upon them. The eyes of infants aie
sometimes found turned to the place where it is
strongest; and the pupil is seen to dilate and dimi-
nish, as in grown persons, in proportion to the
quantity it receives. But still, the infant is inca-
pable of distinguishing objects ; the sense of see-
ing, like the rest of the senses, requires an habit

O'

* Button, vol. iv. p. 173

ANIMALS.

387

before it becomes any way serviceable. All the
senses must be compared with each other, and
must be made to correct the defects of one ano-
ther, before they can give just information. It is
probable, therefore, that if the infant could ex-
press its own sensations, it would give a very ex-
traordinary description of the illusions which it
suffers from them. The sight might, perhaps, be
represented as inverting objects, or multiplying
them ; the hearing, instead of conveying one uni-
form tone, might be said to bring up an inter-
rupted succession of noises ; and the touch appa-
rently would divide one body into as many as there
are fingers that grasped it. But all these errors are
lost in one common confused idea of existence ;
and it is happy for the infant, that it then can
make but very little use of its senses, when they
could serve only to bring it false information.

If there be any distinct sensations, those of pain
seem to be much more frequent and stronger than
those of pleasure. The infant’s cries are sufficient
indications of the uneasinesses it must, at every
interval, endure; while, in the beginning, it has
got no external marks to testify its satisfactions.
It is not till after forty days that it is seen to
smile ; and not till that time also the tears begin
to appear, its former expressions of uneasiness be-
ing always without them. As to any other marks
of the passions, the infant being as yet almost with-
out them, it can express none of them in its visage ;
which, except in the act of crying and laughing,
ls fixed in a settled serenity. All the other parts
°f the body seem equally relaxed and feeble ; its
motions are uncertain, and its postures without

c c2

388

A HISTORY OF

choice ; it is unable to stand upright; its hams arc
yet bent, from the habit which it received from its
position in the womb; it has not strength enough'
in its arms to stretch them forward, much less to
grasp any thing with its hands ; it rests just in the
posture it is laid ; and, if abandoned, must con-
tinue in the same position.

Nevertheless, though this be the description of
infancy among mankind in general, there are
countries and races, among whom infancy does
not seem marked with such utter imbecility, but
where the children, not long after they are born,
appear possessed of a greater share of self-support.
The children of Negroes have a surprising degree
of this premature industry : they are able to walk
at two months; or, at least, to move from one
place to another : they also hang to the mother’s
back without any assistance, and seize the breast
over her shoulder, continuing in this posture till
she thinks proper to lay them down. 1 his is very
different in the children of our countries, that sel-
dom are able to walk under a twelvemonth.

The skin of children newly brought forth is al-
ways red, proceeding from its transparency, by
which the blood beneath appears more conspicu-
ous. Some say that this redness is greatest in
those children that are afterwards about to have
the finest complexions ; and it appears reasonable
that it should be so, since the thinnest skins arc
always the fairest. The size of a new-born in-
fant is generally about twenty inches, an its
weight about twelve pounds. The head is large,
and all the members delicate, soft, an Pu 3*
These appearances alter with its age, as it Oio\

ANIMALS.

389

older, the head becomes less in proportion to the
rest of the body ; the flesh hardens ; the bones
that before birth grew very thick in proportion,
now lengthen by degrees, and the human figure
more and more acquires its due dimensions. In
such children, however, as are but feeble or sickly,
the head always 'Continues too big for the body ;
the heads of dwarfs being extremely large in pro-
portion.

Infants, when newly born, pass most of their
time in sleeping, and awake with crying, excited
either by sensations of pain, or of hunger. Alan,
when come to maturity, but rarely feels the want
of food, as eating twice or thrice in the four-and-
twenty hours, is known to suffice the most voraci-
ous : but the infant may be considered as a little
glutton, whose only pleasure consists in its appe-
tite ; and this, except when it sleeps, it is never
easy without satisfying. Thus Nature has adapt-
ed different desires to the different periods of life ;
each as it seems most necessary for human support
or succession. While the animal is yet forming,
hunger excites it to that supply which is necessary
for its growth ; when it is completely formed, a
different appetite takes place, that incites it to
communicate existence. These two desires take
up the whole attention at different periods, but are
very seldom found to prevail strongly together in
the same age ; one pleasure ever serving to repress'
the other : and, if we find a person of full age,
placing a principal part of his happiness in the na-
ture and quantity of his food, we have strong rea-
sons to suspect, that with respect to his other ap~

c c 3

390

A HISTORY OF

petites, he still retains a part of the imbecility of
his childhood.

It is extraordinary, however, that infants, who
ai e thus more voracious than grown persons, are
nevertheless more capable of sustaining hunger.
We have several instances, in accidental cases of
famine, in which the child has been known to
survive the parent ; and seen clinging to the breast
of its dead motner. I heir little bodies also are
more patient of cold ; and Ave have similar in-
stances of the mother’s perishing in the snow,
while the infant has been found alive beside her.
However, if we examine the internal structure of
infants, we shall find an obvious reason for both
these advantages. Their blood-vessels are known
to be much larger than in adults ; and their nerves
much thicker and softer: thus, being furnished
with a more copious quantity of juices, both of the
nervous and sanguinary kinds, the infant finds a
temporary sustenance in this superfluity, and does
not expire till both are exhausted. The circula-
tion also being larger and quicker, supplies it with
proportionable warmth, so that it is more capa-
ble of resisting the accidental rigours of the
weather*.

[* Under circumstances like these, it is probable, that not-
withstanding all nourishment was taken from the mother, the in-
fant received, for some time, its natural supplies,' though dimi-
nished in quantity : and while the mother was perishing nith
cold .and exhaustion, maternal tenderness would take care to sup-
ply the infant with such warmth as clothing and pressure to her
living body could administer, The blood ot the infant more-
over, being principally arterial, its greater degree of oxygena-
tion would preserve respiration and life longer than in adults,
under similar abstraction of necessary stimulants. 3

ANIMALS. 391

The first nourishment of infants is well known

*

to be the mother’s milk ; and, what is remarkable,
the infant has milk in its own breasts, which may
be squeezed out by compression : this nourishment
becomes less grateful as the child gathers strength ;
and perhaps, also, more unwholesome. However,
in cold countries, which are unfavourable to propa-
gation, and where the female has seldom above
three or four children at the most, during her life,
she continues to suckle the child for four or five
years together. Iri this manner the mothers of
Canada and Greenland are often seen suckling
two or three children, of different ages, at a
time.

The life of infants is very precarious, till the
age of three or four, from which time it becomes
more secure; and when a child arrives at its
seventh year, it is then considered as a more cer-
tain life, as Mr. Buffon asserts, than at any other
age whatever. It appears, from Simpson’s Tables,
that of a certain number of children born at the same
time, a fourth part are found dead at the end of
the first year ; more 'than one third at the end of
the second ; and, at least, half, at the end of the
third : so that those who live to be above three
years old, are indulged a longer term than half the
jest of their fellow- creatures. Nevertheless, life,
at that period, may be considered as mere animal
existence ; and rather a preparation for, than an
enjoyment of those satisfactions, both of mind
and body, that make life of real value : and hence
it is more natural for mankind to deplore a fellow-
creature, cut off in the bloom of life, than one dy-
ing in early infancy. The one, by living up to

c c 4

392

A HISTORY OF

youth, and thus wading through the disadvantage-
ous parts of existence, seems to have earned a short
continuance of its enjoyments ; the infant, on the
contrary, has served but a short apprenticeship to
pain; and, when taken away, may be considered as
rescued from a long continuance of misery.

There is something very remarkable in the growth
of tire human body*. The embryo in the womb
continues to increase still more and more, till it is
born. On the other hand, the child’s growth is
less every year till the time of puberty, when it
seems to start up of a sudden. Thus, for instance,
the embryo, which is an inch long, in the first
month, grows but one inch and a quarter in the
second ; it then grows one and a half in the third ;
two and a half in the fourth ; and in this manner
it keeps increasing, till, in the last month of its
continuance, it is actually found to grow four
inches ; and, in the whole, about eighteen inches
Jon a*. But it is otherwise with the child when
born : if we suppose it eighteen inches at that
time, it grows, in the first year, six or seven inches;
in the second year, it grows but four inches; in
the third year about three ; and so on, at the rate
of about an inch and a half, or two inches, each
year, till the time of puberty, when Nature seems
to make one great last effort, to complete her \\ oik,
and unfold the whole animal machine.

The growth of the mind in children seems to
correspond with that of the body. The compara-
tive progress of the understanding is gieatei in in-
fants than in children of three 01 foui }tars old.

* Mr. Buffon, yol. iv. p. 173.

393

ANIMALS.

If we only reflect a moment on the amazing acqui-
sitions that an infant makes in the first and se-
cond years of life, we shall have much cause for
wonder. Being sent into a world where every
thing is new and unknown, the first months of
life are spent in a kind of torpid amazement ; an
attention distracted by the multiplicity of objects
that press to be known. The first labour, there-
fore, of the little learner is, to correct the illusions
of the senses, to distinguish one object from ano-
ther, and to exert the memory, so as to know them
amain. In this manner a child of a vear old has

o

already made a thousand experiments ; all which
it has properly ranged, and distinctly remembers.
Light, heat, lire, sweets, and bitters, sounds soft
or terrible, are all distinguished at the end of a
very few months. Besides this, every person the
child knows, every individual object it becomes
fond of, its rattles, or its bells, may be all consi-
dered as so many new lessons to the young mind,
with which it has not become acquainted, without
repeated exertions of the understanding. At this
period of life, the knowledge of every individual
object cannot be acquired without the same effort
which, when grown up, is employed upon the most
abstract idea : every thing the child hears or sees,
all the marks and characters of nature,' are as much
unknown, and require the same attention to attain,
as if the reader were set to understand the charac-
ters of an Ethiopic manuscript : and yet, we see in
how short a time the little student begins to under-
stand them all, and to give evident marks of early
industry.

It is very amusing to pursue the young mind,

391

A HISTORY OF

while employed in its first attainments. At about
a year old, the same necessities that first engaged
its faculties, increase, as its acquaintance with na-
ture enlarges. Its studies, therefore, if I may use
the expression, are no way relaxed ; for, having
experienced what gave pleasure at one time, it de-
sires a repetition of it from the same object ; and,
in order to obtain this, that object must be pointed
out : here, therefore, a new necessity arises, which,
very often, neither its little arts nor importunities
can remove; so that the child is at last obliged to
set about naming the objects it desires to possess
or avoid. In beginning to speak, which is usually *
about a year old, children find a thousand difficul-
ties. It is not without repeated trials that they
come to pronounce any one of the letters ; nor
without an effort of the memory, that they can re-
tain them. For this reason, we frequently see
them attempting a sound which they had learned,
but forgot ; and when they have failed, I have
often seen their attempt attended with apparent
confusion. The letters soonest learned, are those
which are most easily formed ; thus A and B re-
quire an obvious disposition of the organs, and
their pronunciation is consequently soon attained.

Z and R, which require a more complicated posi-
tion, are learned with greater difficulty. And this
may, perhaps, be the reason why the children in
some countries speak sooner than in others ; for
the letters mostly occurring in the language of One
country, being such as are of easy pronunciation,
that language is of course more easily attained.
In this manner the children of the Italians are said
to speak sooner than those of the Germans ; the

ANIMALS.

395

language of the one being smooth and open ; that
of the other crowded with consonants, and ex-
tremely guttural.

But be this as it will, in all countries children are
found able to express the greatest part of their
wants by the time they arrive at two years old ;
and from the moment the necessity of learning
new words ceases, they relax their industry. It is
then that the mind, like the body, seems every year
to make slow advances ; and, in order to spur up
attention, many systems of education have been
contrived.

Almost every philosopher who has written on
the education of children, has been willing to point
out a method of his own, chiefly professing to ad-
vance the health and improve the intellects at the
same time. These are usually found to begin with
finding nothing right in the common practice ; and
by urging a total reformation. In consequence of
this, nothing can be more wild or imaginary than
their various systems of improvement. Some
will have the children every day plunged in cold
water, in order to strengthen their bodies; they
will have them converse with the servants in no- '
thing but the Latin language, in order to strengthen
their minds ; every hour of the day must be ap-
pointed for its own studies, and the child must
learn to make these very studies an amusement;
till about the age of ten or eleven it becomes a pro-
digy of premature improvement. Quite opposite
to this, we have others, whom the courtesy of
mankind also calls philosophers : and they will have
the child learn nothing till the age of ten or eleven,
at which the former has attained so much perfection;

306

A HISTORY OF

with them the mind is to be kept empty, until it
has a proper dist inction of some metaphysical ideas
about truth ; and the promising pupil is debarred
the use of even his own faculties, lest they
should conduct him into prejudice and error. In
this manner, some men, whom fashion has celebrat-
ed for profound and fine thinkers, have given their
hazarded and untried conjectures, upon one of the
most important subjects in the world, and the most
interesting to humanity. When men speculate at
liberty upon innate ideas, or the abstracted dis-
tinctions between will and power, they may be per-
mitted to enjoy their systems at pleasure, as they
are harmless, although they may . be wrong ; but
when they alledge that children are to be every day
plunged in cold water, and whatever be their con-
stitutions, indiscriminately. inured to cold and mois-
ture; that they are to be kept wet in the feet, to
prevent their catching cold ; and never to be cor-
rected when young, for fear of breaking their
spirits when old ; these are such noxious errors,
that a!1 reasonable men should endeavour to oppose
them. Many have been the children whom these
opinions, began in speculation, have injured or
destroyed in practice ; and I have seen many a lit-
tle philosophical martyr, whom I wished, but was
unable to relieve.

If any system be therefore necessary, it is one
that would serve to shew a very plain point ; that
very little system is necessary. The natural and
common course of education is in every respect the
best : I mean that in which the child is permitted
to play among its little equals, from whose similar
instructions it often gains the most useful stores of

ANIMALS.

3.97

knowledge. A child is not idle because it is play-
ing about the fields, or pursuing a butterfly; it is
all this time storing its mind with objects, upon
the nature, the properties, and the relations of
which future curiosity may speculate.

I have ever found it a vain task to try to make a
child’s learning its amusement ; nor do I see what
good end it would answer were it actually attained.
The child, as was said, ought to have its share of
play, and it will be benefited thereby ; and for every
reason also it ought to have its share of labour.
The mind, by early labour, will be thus accustomed
to fatigues and subordination ; and whatever be
the person’s future employment in life, he will be
better fitted to endure it: he will be thus enabled
to support the drudgeries of office with content ;
or to fill up the vacancies of life with variety. The
child, therefore, should by times be put to its duty
and be taught to know, that the task is to be done,
or the punishment to be endured. I do not object
against alluring it to duty by reward; but we well
know, that the mind will be more strongly stimu-
lated by pain ; and both may, upon some occasions,
take their turn to operate. In this manner, a child,
by playing with its equals abroad, and labouring
with them at school, will acquire more health and
knowledge than by being bred up under the wing
of any speculative system-maker; and will be thus
qualified for a life of activity arid obedience. It
is true, indeed, that when educated in this manner,
the boy may not be so seemingly sensible and for-
ward as one bred up under solitary instruction ;
and, perhaps, this early forwardness is more en-
gaging than useful. It is well known, that many

398

A HISTORY OF

of those children who have been such prodigies of
literature before ten, have not made an adequate
progress to twenty. It should seem, that the}'
only began learning manly things before their
time ; and, while others were busied in picking up
that knowledge adapted to their age and curiosity,
these were forced upon subjects unsuited to their
years ; and, upon that account alone, appearing ex-
traordinary. The stock of knowledge in both may
be equal ; but with this difference, that each is yet
to learn what the other knows.

But whatever may have been the acquisitions of
children at ten or twelve, their greatest and most
rapid progress is made when they arrive near the
age of. puberty. It is then that all the powers of
nature seem at work in strengthening the mind,
and completing the body : the youth acquires cou-
rage, and the virgin modesty ; the mind, with new
sensations, assumes new powers ; it conceives with
greater force, and remembers with greater tenacity.
About this time, therefore, which is various in dif-
ferent countries, more is learned in one year than
in any two of the preceding : and on this age, in
particular, the greatest weight of instruction ought
to be thrown.

CHAP. XXVI.

Of Puberty.

It has been often said, that the season of youth
is the season of pleasures : but this can only be true
in savage countries, where but little preparation is

ANIMALS. 399

made for tlie perfection of human nature ; and
where the mind has but a very small part in the en-
joyment. It is otherwise in those places where na-
ture is carried to the highest pitch of refinement,
in which this season of the greatest sensual delight
is wisely made subservient to the succeeding and
more rational one of manhood. Youth, with us,
is but a scene of preparation; a drama, upon the
right conduct of which all future happiness is to
depend. The youth who follows his appetites, too
soon seizes the cup, before it has received its best
ingredients; and, by anticipating his pleasures, robs
the remaining parts of life of their share ; so that
his eagerness only produces a manhood of imbeci-
lity and an age of pain.

The time of puberty is different in various
countries, and always more late in men than in
women. In the warm countries of India, the
women are marriageable at nine or ten, and the men
at twelve or thirteen. It is also different in cities
where the inhabitants lead a more soft, luxurious
life, from the country where they work harder, and
tare less delicately. Its symptoms are seldom alike
in different persons ; but it is usually known by a
swelling of the breasts in one sex, and a roughness
of the voice in the other. At this season also the
women seem to acquire new beauty, while the men
lose all that delicate effeminacy of countenance
which they had when boys.

All countries, in proportion as they are civilized
or barbarous, improve or degrade the nuptial satis-
faction. In those miserable regions, where strength
makes the only law, the stronger sex exerts its power,
and becomes the tvrant over the weaker : while the

k!

400

A HISTORY OF

inhabitant of Negroland is indolently taking his
pleasure in the fields, his wife is obliged to till the
grounds, that serve for their mutual support. It is
thus in all barbarous countries, where the men throw
all the laborious duties of life upon the women ;
and, regardless of beauty, put the softer sex
to those employments that must effectually de-
stroy it.

But, in countries that are half barbarous; parti-
cularly wherever Mahometanism prevails, the men
run into the very opposite extreme. Equally bru-
tal with the former, they exert their tyranny over
the weaker sex, and consider that half of the human
creation as merely made to be subservient to the
depraved desires of the other. The chief, and in-
deed the only aim of an Asiatic, is to be possessed
of many women, and to be able to furnish a seraglio
is the only tendency of his ambition. As the
savage was totally regardless of beauty, he, on the
contrary, prizes it too highly; he excludes the
person who is possessed of such personal attrac-
tions from any share in the duties or employments;
of life ; and, as if willing to engross all beauty to
himself, increases the number of his captives in
proportion to the progress of his fortune. In this
manner he vainly expects to augment his satisfac-
tions, by seeking from many, that happiness which
he ought to look for in the society of one alone.
He lives a gloomy tyrant, amidst wretches of his
own making ; he feels none of those endearments
which spring from affection, none of those delica-
cies which arise from knowledge. His mistresses,
being shut out from the world, and totally ignorant
of all that passes there, have no arts to entertain

ANIMALS. 401

his mind, or calm his anxieties; the day passes with
them in sullen silence, or languid repose; appetite
can furnish but few opportunities of varying the
scene ; and all that falls beyond it must be irksome
expectation.

From this avarice of women, if I may be allowed
to express it so, has proceeded that jealousy and sus-
picion which ever attends the miser; hence those low
and barbarous methods of keeping the women of
those countries guarded, and of making, and procur-
ing eunuchs to attend them. These unhappy crea-
tures are of two kinds, the white and the black. The
white are generallymade in the country where they
reside, being but partly deprived of the marks of
virility ; the black are generally brought from the
interior parts of Africa, and are made entirely bare.
These are chiefly chosen for their deformity : the
thicker the lips, the flatter the nose, and the more
black the teeth, the more valuable the eunuch ; so
that the vile jealousy of mankind here inverts the
order of Nature ; and the poor wretch finds him-
self valued in proportion to his deficiencies. In
Italy, where this barbarous custom is still retained,
and eunuchs are made, in order to improve the
voice, the laws are severely aimed against such
practice ; so that being entirely prohibited, none
but the poorest and most abandoned of the people
still secretly practise it upon their children. Of
those served in this manner, not one in ten is found
to become a singer ; but such is the luxurious folly
of the times, that the success of one amply com-
pensates for the failure of the rest. It is very dif-
ficult to account for the alterations which castra-
tion makes in the voice, and the other parts of the

VOL. I. ' D D

402

A HISTORY OF

body. The eunuch is shaped differently from others.
His legs are of an equal thickness above and below;
his knees weak; his shoulders narrow; and his
beard thin and down}". In this manner his person
is rendered more deformed ; but his desires, as I
am told, still continue the same ; and actually, in
Asia, some of them are found to have their serag-
lios, as well as their masters. Even in our country,
we have an instance of a very fine woman’s being-
married to one of them, whose appearance was the
most unpromising : and, what is more extraordi-
nary still, I am told, that this couple continue per-
fectly happy in each other’s society.

The mere necessities of life seem the only aim of
the savage ; the sensual pleasures are the only
study of the semi-barbarian ; but the refinement of
sensuality, by reason, is the boast of real politeness.
Among the merely barbarous nations, such as the
natives of Madagascar, or the inhabitants of Con-
go, nothing is desired so ardently as to prostitute
their wives, or daughters, to strangers, for the most
trifling advantages ; they will account it a dis-
honour not to be among the foremost who are
thus received into favour ; on the other hand, the
Mahometan keeps his wife faithful, by confining
her person ; and would instantly put her to death,
if he but suspected her chastity. With the politer
inhabitants of Europe both these barbarous ex-
tremes are avoided ; the woman s person is left free,
and no constraint is imposed but upon her affec-
tions. The passion of iove, which may be consider-
ed as the nice conduct of ruder desire, is only
known, and practised in this part of the world ;
so that what other nations guard as their right, the

ANIMALS. 403

more delicate European is contented to ask as a
favour. In this manner, the concurrence of mutual
appetite contributes to increase mutual satisfaction ;
and the power on one side of refusing, makes every
blessing more grateful when obtained by the other.
In barbarous countries, woman is considered mere-
ly as an useful slave ; in such as are somewhat more
refined, she is regarded as a desirable toy ; in coun-
tries entirely polished, she enjoys juster privileges ;
the wife being considered as an useful friend, and
an agreeable mistress. Her mind is still more
prized than her person ; and without the improve-
ment of both, she can never expect to become truly
agreeable ; for her good sense alone can preserve
what she has gained by her beauty.

Female beauty, as was said, is always seen to im-
prove about the age of puberty ; but if we should
attempt to define in what this beauty consists, or
what constitutes its perfection, we should find no-
thing more difficult to determine. Every country
has its peculiar way of thinking, in this respect;
and even the same country thinks differently, at
different times. The ancients had a very different
taste from what prevails at present. The eye-brows
joining in the middle was considered as a very pe-
culiar grace, by Tibullus, in the enumeration of the
charms of his mistress. Narrow foreheads were
approved of, and scarcely any of the Roman ladies
that are celebrated for their other perfections, but
are also praised for the redness of their hair. The
nose also of the Grecian Venus was such as would
appear at present an actual deformity ; as it fell in a
straight line from the forehead, without the smallest

d D 2

404

A HISTORY OF

sinking* between the eyes ; without which we never
see a face at present

Among the noderns, every country seems to
have peculiar ideas of beauty*. The Persians ad-
mire large eye-brows, joining in the middle ; the
edges and corners of the eyes are tinctured with
black, and the size of the head is increased by a
great variety of bandages, formed into a turban.
In some parts of India, black teeth and white hair
are desired with ardour ; and one of the principal
employments of the women of Thibet, is to redden
the teeth with herbs, and to make their hair white
by a certain preparation. The passion for coloured
teeth obtains also in China and Japan ; where, to
complete their idea of beauty, the object of desire
must have little eyes, nearly closed, feet extremely
small, and a waist far from being shapely. There
are some nations of the American Indians, that
flatten the head of their children, by keeping them,
while young, squeezed between two boards, so as to
make the visage much larger than it would natu-
rally be. Others flatten the head at top ; and others
make it as round as they possibly can. The inha-
bitants along the western coasts of Africa have a
very extraordinary taste for beauty. A flat nose,
thick lips, and a jet black complexion, are there
the most indulgent gifts of Nature. Such, indeed,
they are all, in some degree, found to possess.
However, they take care, by art, to increase the
natural deformities, as they should seem to us;
and they have many additional methods of render-

* Mr. BufPon.

ANIMALS. 405

ing the persons still more frightfully pleasing.
The whole body and visage is often scarred with a
variety of monstrous figures ; which is not done
without great pain, and repeated incision; and
even sometimes parts of the body are cut away.
But it would be endless to remark the various arts
which caprice, or custom, has employed to distort
and disfigure the body, in order to render it more
pleasing : in fact, every nation, how barbarous so-
ever, seems unsatisfied with the human figure, as
Nature has left it, and has its peculiar arts of
heightening beauty. Painting, powdering, cut-
ting, boring the nose, and the ears, lengthening the
one, and depressing the other, are arts practised in
many countries : and, in some degree, admired in
all. These arts might have been at first introduced
to hide epidemic deformities ; custom, by degrees,
reconciles them to the view ; till, from looking
upon them with indiiference, the eye at length be-
gins to gaze with pleasure.

CHAP. XXVII.

Of the Age of Manhood *.

The human body attains to its full height
during the age of puberty ; or, at least, a short time

* This chapter is translated from Mr. Buffon, whose descrip-
tion is very excellent. Whatever I have added is marked by in-
verted commas, “ thus/’ And in whatever trifling points I have
differed, the notes will serve to shew.

dd3

406

A HISTORY OF

after. Some young people are found to cease
growing at fourteen or fifteen, others continue their
growth till two or three and twenty. During this
period they are all of a slender make: their thighs
and legs small, and the muscular parts are yet un-
filled. But, by degrees, the fleshy fibres augment ;
the muscles swell, and assume their figure ; the
limbs become proportioned, and rounder ; and be-
fore the age of thirty, the body, in men, has ac-
quired the most perfect symmetry. In women, the
body arrives at perfection much sooner, as they ar-
rive at the age of maturity more early ; the muscles,
and all the other parts being weaker, less compact,
and solid, than those of man, they require less time
in coming to perfection ; and, as they are less in
size, that size is sooner completed. Hence the
persons of women are found to be as complete at
twenty, as those of men are found to be at thirty.

The body of a well- shaped man ought to be
square ; the muscles should be expressed with
boldness, and the lines of the face strongly marked.
In the woman, all the muscles should be rounder,
the lines softer, and the features more delicate.
Strength and majesty belong to the man, grace and
softness are the peculiar embellishments of the other
sex. In both, every part of their form declares
their sovereignty over other creatures. Man sup-
ports his body erect ; his attitude is that of com-
mand ; and his face, which is turned towards the
heavens, displays the dignity of his station. The
image of his soul is painted in his visage ; and the
excellence of his nature penetrates through the ma-
terial form in which it is enclosed. His majestic
port, his sedate and resolute step,, announce the

ANIMALS.

407

nobleness of his rank. lie touches the earth only
with his extremity ; and beholds it as if at a disdain-
ful distance. His arms are not given him, as to
other creatures, for pillars of support ; nor does
he lose, by rendering them callous against the
ground, that delicacy of touch which furnishes
him with so many of his enjoyments. His hands
are made for very different purposes ; to second
every intention of his will, and to perfect the gifts
of Nat ure.

When the soul is at rest, all the features of the
visage seem settled in a state of profound tranquil-
lity. Their proportion, their union, and their har-
mony seem to mark the sweet serenity of the mind,
and give a true information of what passes with-
in. But, when the soul is excited, the human visage
becomes a living picture ; where the passions are
expressed with as much delicacy as energy, where
every motion is designed by some correspondent
feature, where every impression anticipates the will,
and betrays those hidden agitations, that he would
often wish to conceal.

It is particularly in the eyes that the passions are
painted; and in which we may most readily disco-
ver their beginning. The eye seems to belong to
the soul more than any other organ; it seems
to participate of all its emotions; as well the most
soft and tender, as the most tumultuous and force-
ful. It not only receives, but transmits them by
sympathy : the observing eye of one catches the
secret fire from another; and the passion thus often
becomes general.

Such persons as are short-sighted labour under
a particular disadvantage in this respect. They

d d 4

408

A HISTORY OF

are, in a maimer, entirely cut off from the language
of the eyes ; and this gives an air of stupidity to
the face, which often produces very unfavourable
prepossessions. However intelligent we find such
persons to be, we can scarcely be brought back
from our first prejudice, and often continue in the
first erroneous opinion. In this manner we are
too much induced to judge of men by their phy-
siognomy; and having, perhaps, at first, caught
up our judgments prematurely, they mechanically
influence us all our lives after. This extends even
to the very colour, or the cut of people’s cloaths ;
and we should, for this reason, be careful, even in
such trifling particulars, since they go to make up
a part of the total judgment which those we con-
verse with may form to our advantage.

The vivacity, or the languid motion of the eyes,
give the strongest marks to physiognomy ; and
their colour contributes still more to enforce the
expression. The different colours of the eye are
the dark hazle, the light hazle, the green, the blue,
and grey, the whitish grey, “ and also the red.”
These different colours arise from the different co-
lours of the little muscles that serve to contract the
pupil ; “ and they are very often found to change
colour with disorder and with age.”

The most ordinary colours are the hazle and the
blue, and very often both these colours are found
in the eyes of the same person. Those eyes which
are called black are only of the dark hazle, which
may be easily seen upon closer inspection; how-
ever, those eyes are reckoned the most beautiful
where the shade is the deepest ; and either in these,
or the blue eyes, the fire, which gives its finest

409

ANIMALS.

expression to the eye, is more distinguishable in
proportion to the darkness of the tint. For this
reason, the black eyes, as they are called, have the
greatest vivacity ; but, probably, the blue have the
most powerful effect in beauty, as they reflect a
greater variety of lights, being composed of more
various colours.

This variety, which is found in the colour of the
eyes, is peculiar to man, and one or two other
kinds of animals ; but, in general, the colour in
any one individual is the same in all the rest. The
eyes of oxen are brown ; those of sheep of a water
colour ; those of goats are grey ; “ and it may also
be, in general, remarked, that the eyes of most
white animals are red ; thus the rabbit, the ferret,
and, even in the human race, the white Moor, all
have their eyes of a red colour.”

Although the eye, when put into motion, seems
to be drawn on one side ; yet it only moves round
the centre; by which its coloured part moves
nearer, or father from the angle of the eye-lids,
or is elevated or deprest. The distance between
the eyes is less in man than in any other animal ;
and in some of them it is so great, that it is im-
possible that they should ever view the same object
with both eyes at once, unless it be very far off.
“ This, however, in them, is rather an advantage
than an inconvenience ; as they are thus able to
watch round them, and guard against the dangers
of their precarious situation.”

Next to the eyes, the features, which most give
a character to the face, are the eye-brows ; which
being, in some measure, more apparent than the

410

A HISTORY OF

other features, are most readily distinguished at a
distance. “ Le Brun, in giving a painter direc-
tions, with regard to the passions, places the prin-
cipal expression of the face in the eye-brows. From
their elevation and depression, most of the furious
passions are characterized ; and such as have this
feature extremely moveable, are usually known to
have an expressive face. By means of these we
can imitate all the other passions, as they are raised
or depressed, at command ; the rest of the features
are generally fixed ; or, when put into motion,
they do not obey the will.; the mouth and eyes,
in an actor, for instance, may, by being violently
distorted, give a very different expression from
what he would intend ; but the eye-brows can
scarcely be exerted improperly ; their being raised,
denotes all those passions which pride or pleasure
inspire ; and their depression marks those which
are the effects of contemplation and pain. Such
who have this feature, therefore, most at command,
are often found to excel as actors.”

The eye-lashes have an effect, in giving expres-
sion to the eye, particularly when long and close ;
they soften its glances, and improve its sweetness.
Man and apes are the only animals that have eye- ,
lashes both upon the upper and lower lids; all
other animals want them on the lid below.

The eye-lids serve to guard the ball of the eye,
and to furnish it with a proper moisture. The
upper lid rises and falls ; the lower has scarce any
motion ; and although their being moved depends
on the will, yet it often happens that the will is un-
able to keep them open, when sleep or fatigue op-

ANIMALS.

411

presses the mind. In birds, and amphibious qua-
drupeds, the lower lid alone has motion ; fishes
and insects have no eye-lids whatsoever.

The forehead makes a large part of the face, and
a part which chiefly contributes to its beauty. It
ought to be justly proportioned ; neither too
round nor too flat ; neither too narrow nor too
low ; and the hair should come thick upon its ex-
tremities. It is known to every body how much
the hair tends to improve the face ; and how much
the being bald serves to take away from beauty.
The highest part of the head is that which becomes
bald the soonest, as well as that part which lies
immediately above the temples. The hair under
the temples, and at the back of the head, is very
seldom known to fail, “ and women are much less
apt to become bald than men. Mr. Buffon seems
to think they never become bald at all ; but we
have too many instances of the contrary among us,
not to contradict very easily the assertion. Of all
parts or appendages of the body, the hair is that
which is found most different in different climates;
and often not only contributes to mark the coun-
try, but also the disposition of the man. It is, in
general, thickest where the constitution is strong-
est; and more glossy and beautiful where the
health is most permanent. The ancients held the
hair to be a sort of excrement, produced like the
nails ; the part next the root pushing out that im-
mediately contiguous. But the moderns have
found that every hair may be truly said to live, to
receive nutriment, to fill and distend itself like the
other parts of the body. The roots, they observe,
do not turn grey sooner than the extremities, but

412' A HISTORY OF

the whole hair changes colour at once ; and we
have many instances of persons who have grown
grey in one night’s time*. Each hair, if viewed
with a microscope, is found to consist of five or six
lesser ones, all wrapped up in one common cover-
ing ; it appears knotted, like some sorts of grass,
and sends, forth branches at the joints. It is bul-
bous at the root, by which it imbibes its moisture
from the body, and it is split at the points ; so that
a single hair, at its end, resembles a brush. What-
ever be the size or the shape of the pore, through
which the hair issues, it accommodates itself to
the same ; being either thick, as they are large ;
small, as they are less ; round, triangular, and va-
riously formed as the pores happen to be various.
The hair takes its colour from the juices flowing
through it ; and it is found that this colour differs
in different tribes and races of people. The Ame-
ricans and the Asiatics have their hair black,
thick, straight, and shining. The inhabitants of
the torrid climates of Africa have it black, short,
and woolly. The people of Scandinavia have it
red, long, and curled ; and those of our own, and
the neighbouring countries, are found with hair of
various colours. However, it is supposed by
many, that every man resembles in his disposition
the inhabitants of those countries whom he resem-
bles in the colour and the nature of his hair ; so
that the black are said, like the Asiatics, to be
grave and acute ; the red, like the Gothic nations,
to be choleric and bold. However this may be,
the length and the strength of the hair is a general

* Mr. Buffon says that the hair begins to grow grey at the
points, but the fact is otherwise.

ANIMALS.

413

mark of a good constitution ; and, as that hair
which is strongest is most commonly curled, so
curled hair is generally regarded among us as &
beauty. The Greeks, however, had a very differ-
ent idea of beauty in this respect; and seem to
have taken one of their peculiar national distinc-
tions from the length and the straightness of the
hair.”

The nose is the most prominent feature in the
face ; but, as it has scarcely any motion, and that
only in the strongest passions, it rather adds to the
beauty than to the expression of the countenance.
“ However, I am told, by the skilful in this branch
of knowledge, that wide nostrils add a great deal
to the bold and resolute air of the countenance ;
and where they are narrow, though it may consti-
tute beauty, it seldom improves expression.” The
form of the nose, and its advanced position, are
peculiar to the human visage alone. Other ani-
mals, for the most part, have nostrils, with a par-
tition between them ; but none of them have an
elevated nose. Apes themselves have scarcely any
thing else of this feature but the nostrils ; the rest
of the feature lying flat upon the visage, and
scarcely higher than the cheek bones. “ Among
all the tribes of the savage men also, the nose is
very flat; and I have seen a Tartar who had
scarcely any thing else but two holes through
which to breathe.”

The mouth and lips, next to the eyes, are found
to have the greatest expression. The passions have
great power over this part of the face ; and the
mouth marks its different degrees by its different
forms. The organ of speech still more animates

414 A HISTORY OF

this part, and gives it more life than any other fea-
ture in the countenance. The ruby colour of the
lips, and the white enamel of the teeth, give it such
a superiority over every other feature, that it seems
to make the principal object of our regards. In
fact, the whole attention is fixed upon the lips of
the speaker; however rapid his discourse, however
various the subject, the mouth takes correspon-
dent situations ; and deaf men have been often
found to see the force of those reasonings which
they could not hear, understanding every word as
it was spoken*.

“ The under jaw in man possesses a great variety
of motions, while the upper has been thought, by
many, to be quite immoveablef. However, that
it moves in man, a very easy experiment will suf-
fice to convince us. If we keep the head fixed,
with any thing between our teeth, the edge of a
table for instance, and then open our mouths, we
shall find that both jaws recede from it at the

Professor Camper, in his dissertation on skulls, has drawn
this excellent corollary. If a line be drawn longitudinally from
the forehead to the mouth, and another transversely from the
point of the ear to meet the other line, the head will be perfectly
formed in proportion as these two lines approach to a right an-
gle. The skull of the Grecian makes nearly a right angle : that
of the European of colder climates is something less : the Jew,
the savage, and the Hottentot, have their gradual approaches to
an acute angle, in consequence of the greater or less protrusion
of the bones of the mouth : the ape, the dog, and the swine,
make a still more acute angle ; tiil, at length, in the beaks of
birds, the two lines nearly meet.]

+ Mr. Buffon is of this opinion. He says, that the upper
jaw is immoveable in all animals. However, the parrot is an ob«
vious exception ; and so is man himself, as shewn above.

ANIMALS.

415

same time; the upper jaw rises, the lower falls,
and the table remains untouched between them.
The upper jaw has motion as well as the under ;
and, what is remarkable, it has its proper muscles
behind the head, for thus raising and depressing
it. Whenever, therefore, we eat, both jaws move
at the same time, tjiough very unequally ; for the
whole head moving with the upper jaw, of which
it makes a part, its motions are thus less observa-
ble.” In the human embryo, the under jaw is
very much advanced before the upper. “ In the
adult, it hangs a good deal more backward : and
those whose upper and under row of teeth are
equally prominent, and strike directly against each
other, are what the painters call under-hung ; and
they consider this as a great defect in beauty*.
The under jaw in a Chinese face falls greatly more
backward than with us ; and, I am told, the dif-
ference is half an inch, when the mouth is shut
naturally.” In instances of the most violent pas-
sion, the under jaw has often an involuntary qui-
vering motion; and often, also, a state of languor
produces another, which is that of yawning.
Every one knows how very sympathetic this kind
of languid motion is ; and that for one person to
yawn, is sufficient to set all the rest of the com-
pany a yawning. A ridiculous instance of this
was commonly practised upon the famous M‘Lau«
rin, one of the professors at Edinburgh. He was
very subject to have his jaw dislocated; so that
when he opened his mouth wider than ordinary, or
when he yawned, he could not shut it again. In

* Mr. Buffon says, that both jaws, in a perfect face; should
be on a level ; but this is denied by the best painters.

416 A HISTORY OF

the midst of his harangues, therefore, if any of his
pupils began to be tired of his lecture, he had only
to gape, or yawn, and the professor instantly
caugdit the sympathetic affection ; so that he thus
continued to stand speechless, with his mouth wide
open, till his servant, from the next room, was
called in to set his jaw again*.”

When the mind reflects with regret upon some
good unattained or lost, it feels an internal emo-
tion, which acting upon the diaphragm, and that
upon the lungs, produces a sigh ; this, when the
mind is strongly affected, is repeated ; sorrow suc-
ceeds these first emotions, and tears are often seen
to follow ; sobbing is the sigh still more invigorat-
ed ; and lamentation or crying proceeds from the
continuance of the plaintive tone of the voice,
which seems to implore pity. “ There is yet a si-
lent agony, in which the mind appears to disdain
all external help, and broods over its distresses
with gloomy reserve. This is the most dangerous
state of mind ; accidents or friendship may lessen
the louder kinds of grief ; but all remedies for this
must be had from within : and there, despair too
often finds the most deadly enemy.”

Laughter is a sound of the voice, interrupted
and pursued for some continuance. The muscles
of the belly, and the diaphragm* are employed in
the slightest exertions ; but those of the ribs are
strongly agitated in the louder : and the head
sometimes is thrown backward, in order to raise
them with greater ease. The smile is often an in-

* Since the publication of this work, the editor has been
credibly informed, that the professor had not the defect here
mentioned.

ANIMALS.

417

dication of kindness and good will : it is also often
used as a mark of contempt and ridicule.

Blushing proceeds from different passions ; be-
ing produced by shame, anger, pride, and joy.
Paleness is often also the effect of anger ; and al-
most ever attendant on fright and fear. These al-
terations in the colour of the countenance are en-
tirely involuntary ; all the other expressions of the
passions are, in some small degree, under con-
trol ; but blushing and paleness betray our secret
purposes ; and we might as well attempt to stop
them, as the circulation of the blood, by which
they are caused.

The whole head, as well as the features of the
face, takes peculiar attitudes from its passions : it
bends forward, to express humility, shame, or sor-
row; it is turned to one side in languor or in pity;
it is thrown with the chin forward in arrogance
and pride; erect. in self-conceit and obstinacy;
it is thrown backwards in astonishment ; and com-
bines its motion to the one side and the other, to
express contempt, ridicule, anger, and resentment.
“ Painters, whose study leads to the contempla-
tion of external forms, are much more adequate
judges of these than any naturalist can he; and it
is with these a general remark, that no one passion
is regularly expressed on different countenances in
the same manner; but that grief often sits upon
the face like joy; and pride assumes the air of
passion. It would be vain, therefore, in words, to
express their general effect, since they are often as
various as the countenances they sit upon ; and in
making this distinction nicely, lies all the skill of
the physiognomist. In being able to distinguish

VOL. I. E E

418

A HISTORY OF

what part of the face is marked by nature, and
what by the mind ; \vrhat part has been originally
formed, and what is made by habit, constitutes
this science, upon which the ancients so much va-
lued themselves, and which we at present so little
regard. Some, however, of the most acute men
among us, have paid great attention to this art ;
and, by long practice, have been able to give some
character of every person whose face they examin-
ed. Montaigne is well known to have disliked
those men who shut one eye in looking upon any
object ; and Fielding asserts, that he never knew a
person with a steady glavering smile, but he found
him a rogue. However, most of these observa-
tions, tending to a discovery of the mind by the
face, are merely capricious; and Nature has kindly
hid our hearts from each other, to keep us in good
humour with our fellow-creatures.”

The parts of the head which give the least ex-
pression to the face, are the ears ; and they are ge-
nerally found hidden under the hair. These, which
are immoveable, and make so small an appearance
in man, are very distinguishing features in quadru-
peds. They serve in them as the principal marks
of the passions ; the ears discover their joys or their
terrors, with tolerable precision ; and denote all their
internal agitations. The smallest ears, in men, are
said to be most beautiful ; but the largest are found
the best for hearing. There are some savage na-
tions who bore their ears, and so draw that part
down, that the tip of the ears are seen to rest upon
their shoulders.

The strano’e variety of the different customs of

C* 4/

men, appears still more extravagant in their man-

ANIMALS. ' 4i 9

ner of wearing their beards. Some, and among
others the Turks, cut the hair off their heads, and
let their beards grow. The Europeans, on the con-
trary, shave their beards, and wear their hair. The
Negroes shave their heads in figures at one time,
in stars at another, in the manner of friars : and
still more commonly in alternate stripes ; and their

little boys are shaved in the same manner. The
*/

Talapoins, of Siam, shave the heads and the eye-
brows of such children as are committed to their
care. Every nation seems to have entertained dif-
ferent prejudices, at different times, in favour of
one part or another of the beard. Some have ad-
mired the hair upon the cheeks on each side, as we
see with some low-bred men among ourselves, who
want to be fine. Some like the hair lower down;
some chuse it curled; and others like it straight.
“ Some have cut it into a peak; and others shave
all but the whisker. This particular part of the
beard was highly prized among the Spaniards ; till
of late, a man without whiskers was considered as
unfit for company ; and where Nature had denied
them, Art took care to supply the deficiency. We
are told of a Spanish general who, when he bor-
rowed a large sum of money from the Venetians,
pawned his whisker, which he afterwards took
proper care to release. Kingson assures us, that a
considerable part of the religion of the Tartars con-
sists in the management of their whiskers; and that
they waged a long and bloody war with the Per-
sians, declaring them infidels, merely because they
would not give their whiskers the orthodox cut.
The kings of Persia carried the care of their beards
to a ridiculous excess, when they chose to wear

E £ 2

420

A HISTORY OF

them matted with gold thread : and even the kings
of France, of the first races, had them knotted and
buttoned with gold. But of all nations, the Ame-
ricans take the greatest pains in cutting their hair,
and plucking their beards. The under part of the
beard, and all but the whisker, they take care to
pluck up by the roots, so that many have supposed
them to have no hair naturally growing on that
part : and even Linnaeus has fallen into that mis-
take. Their hair is also cut into bands ; and no
small care employed in adjusting the whisker. In
fact, we have a very wrong idea of savage finery ;
and are apt to suppose that, like the beasts of the
forest, they rise, and are dressed with a shake : but
the reverse is true ; for no birth-night beauty takes
more time or pains in the adorning her person
than they, I remember, when the Cherokee kings
were over here, that I have waited for three hours
during the time they were dressing. They never
would venture to make their appearance till they
had gone through the tedious ceremonies of the
toilet; they had their boxes of oil and ochre,
their fat, and their perfumes, like the most effimi-
n ate beau, and generally took up four hours in
dressing, before they considered themselves as fit
to be seen. We must not, therefore, consider a de-
licacy in point of dress, as a mark of refinement,
since savages are much more difficult in this pai ti-
tular, than the most fashionable or tawdry Euro-
pean. The more barbarous the people, the fonder
of finery. In Europe, the lustre of jewels, and
the splendour of the most brilliant colours, aie ge-
nerally given up to women, or to the weakest pait
of the other sex, who are willing to be contempti-

ANIMALS.

421

bly fine : But in Asia, these trifling fineries are
eagerly sought after by every condition of men ;
and, as the proverb has it, we find the richest jew-
els in an iEthiop’s ear. The passion for glittering
ornaments, is still stronger among the absolute
barbarians, who often exchange their whole stock
of provisions, and whatever else they happen to be
possessed of, with our seamen, for a glass-bead, or
a looking-glass.”

Although fashions have arisen in different coun-
tries from fancy and caprice, these, when they be-
come general, deserve examination. Mankind
have always considered it as a matter of moment,
and they will ever continue desirous of drawing the
attention of each other, by such ornaments as mark
the riches, the power, or the courage of the wearer.
The value of those shining stones which have at all
times been considered as precious ornaments, is en-
tirely founded upon their scarceness or their bril-
liancy. It is the same likewise with respect to
those shining metals, the weight of which is so little
regarded, when spread over our cloaths. These
ornaments are rather designed to draw the atten-
tion of others, than to add to any enjoyments of
our own ; and few there are that these orna-
ments will not serve to dazzle, and who can
coolly distinguish between the metal and the
man.

All things rare and brilliant will, therefore, ever
continue to be fashionable, while men derive great-
er advantage from opulence than virtue ; while the
means of appearing considerable are more easily ac-
quired, than the title to be considered. The first

e e 3

422

A HISTORY OF

impression we generally make, arises from our
dress ; and this varies, in conformity to our incli-
nations, and the manner in which we desire to be
considered. The modest man, or he who would
wish to he thought so, desires to shew the simpli-
city of his mind, by the plainness of his dress ; the
vain man, on the contrary, takes a pleasure in dis-
playing his superiority, “ and is willing to incur the
spectator’s dislike, so he does but excite his atten-
tion.”

Another point of view which men have in dress-
ing, is to increase the size of their figure; and to
take up more room in the world than Nature
seems to have allotted them. We desire to swell
out our cloaths by the stiffness of art, and raise our
heels, while we add to the largeness of our heads.
IIow bulky soever our dress may be, our vanities
are still more bulky. The largeness of the doctor's
wig arises from the same pride with the smallness of
the beau’s queue. Both want to have the size of
their understanding measured by the size of their
heads.

There are some modes that seem to have a more
reasonable origin, which is to hide or to lessen the
defects ofNature. To take men altogether, there are
many more deformed and plain, than beautiful
and shapely. The former, as being the most nu-
merous, give law to fashion ; and their laws are
generally such as are made in their own favour.
The women begin to colour their cheeks with
red, when the natural roses are faded ; and the
younger are obliged to submit, though not com-
pelled by the same necessity. In all parts of the

/

ANIMALS.

423

world, this custom prevails more or less ; and pow-
dering and frizzing the hair, though not so gene-
ral, seems to have arisen from a similar control.

But leaving the draperies of the human picture,
let us return to the figure, unadorned by art.
Man’s head, whether considered externally or in-
ternally, is differently formed from that of all other
animals, the monkey-kind only excepted, in
which there is a striking similitude. There are
some differences, however, which we shall take
notice of in' another place. The bodies of all qua-
druped animals are covered with hair ; but the
head of man seems the part most adorned ; and
that more abundantly than in any other animal.

There is a very great variety in the teeth of all
animals ; some have them above and below ; others
have them in the under jaw only ; in some they
stand separate from each other ; while in some they
are continued and united. The palate of some fishes
is nothing else but a bony plate studded with
points, which perform the offices of teeth. All
these substances, in every animal, derive their origin
from the nerves, the substance of the nerves har-
dens by being exposed to the air ; and the nerves
that terminate in the mouth, being thus exposed,
acquire a bony solidity. In this manner, the teeth
and nails are formed in man; and in this manner,
also, the beak, the hoofs, the horns, and the
talons of other animals, are found to be produced.

The neck supports the head, and unites it to the
body. This part is much more considerable in the
generality of quadrupeds, than in man. But
fishes, and other animals that want lungs similar to
ours, have no neck whatsoever. Birds, in general,

e e 4

424 . A HISTORY OF

have^fche neck longer than any other kind of ani-
mals : those of them, which have short claws, have
also short necks ; those, on the contrary, that
have them long, are found to have the neck in
proportion. “ In men, there is a lump upon the
wind-pipe, formed by the thyroid cartilage, which
is not to be seen in women ; an x\rabian fable says
that this is a part of the original apple, that has
stuck in the man’s throat by the way, but that the
woman swallowed her part of it down.”

The human breast is outwardly formed in a very
different manner from that of other animals. It is
larger in proportion to the size of the body ; and
none but man, and such animals as make use of
their fore feet as hands, such as monkies, bats, and
squirrels, and such quadrupeds as climb trees, are
found to have those bones called the clavicles, or,
as we usually term them, the collar-bones*. The
breasts in women are larger than in men ; how-
ever, they seem formed in the same manner;
and, sometimes, milk is found in the breasts of
men, as well as in those of women. Among ani-
mals, there is a great variety in this part of the
body. The teats of some, as in the ape and the
elephant, are like those of men, being but two, and
placed on each side of the breast. The teats of the
bear amount to four. The sheep has but two,
placed between the hinder legs. Other animals,
such as the bitch, and the sow, have them all along
the belly; and, as they produce many young, they
have a great many teats for their support. The

* Mr. Buffon says, that none but monkeys hare them ; but
this is an oversight.

ANIMx\LS.

425

form also of the teats varies in different animals ;
and, in the same animal, at different ages. The
bosom in females seems to unite all our ideas of
beauty, where the outline iscontinually changing,
and the gradations are soft and regular.

“ The graceful fall of the shoulders, both in
man and woman, constitute no small part of iVeauty.
In apes, though otherwise made like us, the shoul-
ders are high, and drawn up on each side towards
the ears. In man they fall by a gentle declivity ;
and the more so, in proportion to the beauty of
his form. In fact, being high-shouldered, is not
without reason considered as a deformity, for we
find very sickly persons are always so ; and people,
when dying, are ever seen with their shoulders
drawn up in a surprising manner. The muscles that
serve to raise the ribs, mostly rise near the shoul-
ders : and the higher we raise the shoulders, we the
more easily raise the ribs likewise. It happens,
therefore, in the sickly and the dying, who do not
breathe without labour, that to raise the ribs they
are obliged to call in the assistance of the shoul-
ders ; and thus their bodies assume, from habit,
that form which they are so frequently obliged to
assume. Women with child also are usually seen
to be high-shouldered ; for the weight of the in-
ferior parts drawing down the ribs, they are
obliged to use every effort to elevate them, and
thus they raise the shoulders of course. During
pregnancy, also, the shape, not only of the shoul-
ders, but also of the breast, and even the features
of the face, are greatly altered : for the whole up-
per fore-part of the body is covered with a broad
thin skin, called the xnyoides ; which, being, at

426

A HISTORY OF

that time, drawn down, it also draws down with
it the skin, and, consequently, the features of the
face. By these means the visage takes a particular
form ; the lower eye-lids, and the corners of the
mouth, are drawn downwards; so that the eyes are
enlarged and the mouth lengthened : and women,
in these circumstances, are said, by the mid wives,
to be all mouth and eyes.”

The arms of men but very little resemble the
fore feet of quadrupeds, and much less the wings
of birds. The ape is the only animal that is pos-
sessed of hands and arms ; but these are much
more rudely fashioned, and with less exact propor-
tion than in men ; “ the thumb not being so well
opposed to the rest of the fingers, in their hands, as
in ours.”

The form of the back is not much different in
man from that of other quadruped animals, only
that the reins are more muscular in him and
stronger. The buttock, however, in man, is dif-
ferent from that of all other animals whatsoever.
What goes by that name, in other creatures, is
only the upper part of the thigh : man being the
only animal that supports himself perfectly erect,
the largeness of this part is owing to the peculia-
rity of his position.

Man’s feet also are different from those of ail
other animals, those even of apes not excepted.
The foot of the ape is rather a kind of awkward
hand ; its toes, or rather fingers, are long, and that
of the middle longest of all. This foot also wants
the heel, as in man ; the sole is narrower, and less
adapted to maintain the equilibrium of the body in
walking, dancing, or running.

ANIMALS.

427

The nails are less in man than in any other ani-
mal. If they were much longer than the extremi-
ties of the fingers, they would rather be prejudicial
than serviceable, and obstruct the management of
the hand. Such savages as let them grow long,
make use of them in flaying animals, in tearing
their flesh, and such like purposes ; however,
though their nails are considerably larger than
ours, they are by no means to be compared to the
hoofs or the claws of other animals. “ They may
sometimes be seen longer, indeed, than the claws of
any animal whatsoever ; as we learn that the nails
of some of the learned men in China are longer
than their fingers. But these want that solidity
which mieht give force to their exertion's ; and
could never, in a state of nature, have served them
for annoyance or defence.”

There is little known exactly with regard to the
proportion of the human figure ; and the beauty
of the best statues is better conceived by observ-
ing than by measuring them. The statues of an-
tiquity, which were at first copied after the human
form, are now become the models of it ; nor is
there one man found whose person approaches to
those inimitable performances, that have thus, in
one figure, united the perfections of many. It is
sufficient to say that, from being at first models,
they are now become originals ; and are used to
correct the deviations in that form from whence
they were taken. I will not, however, pretend to
give the proportions of the human body, as taken
from these, there being nothing more arbitrary,,
and which good painters themselves so much con-
temn. Some, for instance, who have studied after

A HISTORY OF

428

these, divide the body into ten times the length of
the face, and others into eight. Some pretend to
tell us that there' is a similitude of proportion in
different parts of the body. Thus, that the hand
is the length of the face; the thumb the length
of the nose; the space between the eyes is the
breadth of an eye ; that the breadth of the thigh,
at thickest, is double that of the thickest part of
the leg, and treble the smallest ; that the arms ex~
tended, are as long as the figure is high ; that the
legs and thighs are half the length of the figure.
All this, however, is extremely arbitrary; and the
excellence of a shape, or the beauty of a statue, re-
sults from the attitude and position of the whole,
rather than any established measurements, begun
without experience, and adopted by caprice. In
general, it may be remarked that the proportions
alter in every age, and are obviously different in
the two sexes. In woman, the shoulders are nar-
rower, and the neck proportionably longer than in
men. The hips also are considerably larger, and
the thighs much shorter than in men. These pro-
portions, however, vary greatly at different ages.
In infancy, the upper parts of the body are much
larger than the lower; the legs and thighs do not
constitute any thing like half the height of the
whole figure ; in proportion as the child increases
in age, the inferior parts are found to lengthen ; so
that the body is not equally divided until it has ac-
quired its full growth.

The size of men varies considerably. Men are
said to be tall who are from five feet eight inches
to six feet high. The middle stature is from five
feet five to five feet eight : and those are said to

ANIMALS.

429

be of small stature who fall under these measures.
“ However, it ought to be remarked, that the
same person is always taller when he arises in the
morning, than upon going to bed at night; and
sometimes there is an inch difference ; and I have
seen more. Few persons are sensible of this re-
markable variation ; and, I am told, it was first
perceived, in England, by a recruiting officer. He
often found that those men whom he had enlisted
for soldiers, and answered to the appointed 'stand-
ard at one time, fell short of it when they came to
be measured before the colonel, at the head quar-
ters. This diminution in their size proceeded
from the different times of the day, and the dif-
ferent states of the body when they happened to
be measured. If, as was said, they were measured
in the morning, after the night’s refreshment, they
were found to be commonly half an inch, and very
often a whole inch taller than if measured after
the fatigues of the day ; if they were measured
when fresh, in the country, and before a long fa-
tiguing march to the regiment, they were found
to be an inch taller than when they arrived at their
journey’s end. All this is now well known among
those who recruit for the army ; and the reason of
this difference of stature is obvious. Between all
the joints of the back-bone, which is composed of
several pieces, there is a glutinous liquor deposited,
which serves, like oil in a machine, to give the parts
an easy play upon each other. This lubricating li-
quor, or synovia, as the anatomists call it, is poured
in during the season of repose, and is consumed
by exercise and employment ; so that in a body,
after hard labour, there is scarce any of it remain-

430 A HISTORY OF

ing* ; but all the joints grow stiff, and their motion
becomes hard and painful. It is from hence,
therefore, that the body diminishes in stature.
For this moisture being drained away, from be-
tween the numerous joints of the back-bone, they
he closer upon each other ; and their whole length
is thus very sensibly diminished ; but sleep, by re-
storing the fluid, again swells the spaces between
the joints, and the whole is extended to its former
dimensions.

“ As the human body is thus often found to
differ from itself in size, so it is found to differ in
its weight also : and the same person, without any
apparent cause, is found to be heavier at one time
than another. If, after having eaten a hearty
dinner, or having drank hard, the person should
find himself thus heavier, it would appear no way
extraordinary; but the fact is, the body is very
often found heavier some hours after eating a
hearty meal, than immediately succeeding it. If,
for instance, a person, fatigued by a day’s hard la-
bour, should eat a plentiful supper, and then get
himself weighed upon going to bed; after sleeping
soundly, if he is again weighed, he will find him-
self considerably heavier than before ; and this dif-
ference is often found to amount to a pound, or
sometimes to a pound and a half. From whence
this adventitious weight is derived is not easy to
conceive ; the body during the whole night ap-
pears rather plentifully perspiring than imbibing
any fluid, rather losing than gaining moisture :
however, we have no reason to doubt but that ei-
ther by the lungs, or, perhaps, by a peculiar set of
pores, it is all this time inhaling a quantity of

ANIMALS.

431

fluid, which thus increases the weight of the
whole body, upon being weighed the next morn-

• a

in g .

Although the human body is externally more
-delicate than any of the quadruped kind, it is,
notwithstanding, extremely muscular : and, per-
haps, for its size, stronger than that of any other
animal. If we should offer to compare the
strength of the lion with that of man, we should
consider that the claws of this animal give us a
false idea of its power; we ascribe to its force
what is only the effects of its arms. Those which
man has received from Nature are not offensive;
happy had art never furnished him with any more
terrible than those which arm the paws of the
lion !

But there is another mannerf of comparing the
strength of man with that of other animals ; name-
ly, by the weights which either can carry. We
are assured that the porters of Constantinople
carry burthens of nine hundred pounds weight :
Mr. Desaguliers tells us of a man, who, by distri-
buting weights in such a manner as that every part
of his body bore its share, he was thus able to raise
a weight of two thousand pounds. A horse, which
is about seven times our bulk, would be thus able
to raise a, weight of fourteen thousand pounds, if
its strength were in the same proportion^. “ But,

* From the experiment also, the learned may gather upon
what a weak foundation the whole doctrine of Sanctorian per-
spiration is built ; but this disquisition more properly belongs
to medicine than natural history.

+ Mr. Button calls it a better manner, but this is not the case.

X Mr. ButFon carries this subject no farther ; and thus far.
without explanation, it is erroneous.

432

A HISTORY OF

the truth is, a horse will not carry upon its back-
above a weight of two or three hundred pounds,
while a man, of confessedly inferior strength, is
thus able to support two thousand. Whence
comes this seeming superiority ? The answer is ob-
vious. Because the load upon man’s shoulders, is
placed to the greatest advantage ; while, upon the
horse’s hack, it is- placed at the greatest disadvan-
tage. Let us suppose, for a moment, the man
standing as upright as possible, under the great
load abovementioned. It is obvious that all the
bones of his body may be compared to a pillar
supporting a building, and that his muscles have
scarce any share in this dangerous duty. How-
ever, they are not entirely inactive ; as man, let
him stand never so upright, will have some bend-
ing in different parts of his body. The muscles,
therefore, give the bones some assistance, and that
with the greatest possible advantage. In this
manner, a man has been found to support two
thousand weight ; but may be capable of support-
ing a still greater. The manner in which this is
done, is by strapping the load round the shoulders
of the person, who is to bear it by a machine, some-
thing like that by which milk-vessels, or water-
buckets are carried. The load being thus placed
on a scaffold, on each side, contrived for that pur-
pose, and the man standing erect in the midst, all
parts of the scaffold, except that where the man
stands, are made to sink; and thus the man main-
taining his position, the load, whatever it is, be-
comes suspended, and the column of his bones
may be fairly said to support it. If, however, he
should but ever so little give way, he must inevit-

ANIMALS.

433

ably drop ; and no power of his can raise the
weights again. But the case is very different with
regard to a load laid upon a horse. The column
of the bones there lies a different \ray ; and a weight
of five hundred pounds, as I am told, would break
the back of the strongest horse that could be found.
The great force of a horse and other quadrupeds,
is exerted when the load is in such a position as
that the column of the. bones can be properly ap-
plied ; which is lengthwise. When, therefore, we
are to estimate the comparative strength of a horse,
we are not to try what he can carry, but what he
can draw ; and, in this case, his amazing superio-
rity over man is easily discerned ; for one horse can
draw a load that ten men cannot move. And, in
some cases, it happens that a draft horse draws the
better for being some\vhat loaded ; for, as the pea-
sants say, the load upon the back keeps him the
better to the ground.”

There is still another way of estimating human
strength by the perseverance and agility of our
motions. Men, who are exercised in running,
outstrip horses ; or at least hold their speed for a
longer continuance. In a journey, also, * a man
will walk down a horse ; and, after they have both
continued to proceed for several days, the horse
will be quite tired, and the man will be fresher than
in the beginning. The king’s messengers of Ispa-
han, who are runners by profession, go thirty-six
leagues in fourteen hours. Travellers assure us
that the Hottentots outstrip lions in the chase;
and that the savages, who hunt the elk, pursue
with such speed, that they at last tire down and
take it. We are told many very surprising things

vol. i. r F

•434

A HISTORY Ot

of the great swiftness of the savages, and of the
longjourneys they undertake, on foot, through the
most craggy mountains, where there are no paths
to direct, nor houses to entertain them, They are
said to perform a journey of twelve hundred
leagues in less than six weeks. “ But, notwith-
standing what travellers report of this matter, I
have been assured, from many of our officers and
soldiers, who compared their own swiftness with
that of the native Americans, during the last war,
that although the savages held out, and, as the
phrase is, had better bottoms, yet, for a spurt, the
* Englishmen were more nimble and speedy.”

Nevertheless, in general, civilized man is igno-
rant of his own powers ; he is ignorant how much
he loses by effeminacy ; and what might be ac-
quired by habit and exercise. Here and there, in-
deed, men are found among us of extraordinary
strength ; but that strength, for want of opportu-
nity, is seldom called into exertion. “ Among the
ancients it was a quality of much greater use than
at present; as in war the same man that had
strength sufficient to carry the heaviest armour,
had strength sufficient also to strike the most fa-
tal blow. In this case, his strength was at once
his protection and his power. We ought not to
be surprised, therefore, when we hear of one man
terrible to an army, and irresistible in his career, as
we find some generals represented in ancient his-
tory. But we may be Very certain that this prow-
ess was exaggerated by flattery, and exalted b\
terror. An age of ignorance is ever an age of
wonder. At such times, mankind, having no just
ideas of the human powers, are willing rather to

ANIMALS.

435

represent what they wish than what they know ;
and exalt human strength, to fill up the whole
sphere of their limited conceptions. Great strength
is an accidental thing; two or three in a country
may possess it ; and these may have a claim to he-
roism. But what may lead us to doubt of the ve-
racity of these accounts is, that the heroes of anti-
quity are represented as the sons of heroes ; their
amazing strength is delivered down from father to
son ; and this we know to be contrary to the
course of nature. Strength is not hereditary, al-
though titles are : and I am very much induced to
believe, that this great tribe of heroes, who are all
represented as the descendants of heroes, are more
obliged to their titles than to their strength, for
their characters. With regard to the shining cha-
racters in Homer, they arc all represented as
princes, and as the sons of princes ; while we are
told of scarcely any share of prowess in the meaner
men of the army ; who are only brought into the
field for these to protect or to slaughter. But no-
thing can be more unlikely than that those men,
who were bred in the luxury of courts, should be
strong ; while the whole body of the people, who
received a plainer and simpler education, should be
comparatively weak. Nothing can be more con-
trary to the general laws of nature, than that all the
sons of heroes should thus inherit not only the
kingdoms, but the strength of their forefathers ;
and we may conclude, that they owe the greatest
share of their imputed strength rather to the dig-
nity of their stations than the force of their arms ;
and, like all fortunate princes, their flatterers hap-
pened to be believed. In later ages, indeed, we

F F2 / -

436

A HISTORY OF

have some accounts of amazing strength, which we
can have no reason to doubt of. But in these, na-
ture is found to pursue her ordinary course; and
we find their strength accidental. We find these
strong men among the lowest of the people, and
gradually rising into notice, as this superiority had
more opportunity of’ being seen. Of this number
was the Roman tribune, wh6 went by the name of
the second Achilles ; who, with his own hand, is
said to have killed, at different times, three hun-
dred of the enemy ; and when treacherously set
upon, by twenty-five of his own countrymen, al-
though then past his sixtieth year, killed fourteen
of them before he was slain. Of this number was
Milo, who, when he stood upright, could not he
forced out of his place. Pliny, also, tells us of one
Athanatus, who walked across the stage at Rome,
loaded with a breast- plate weighing five hundred
pounds, and buskins of the same weight. But of
all the prodigies of strength, of whom we have
any accounts in Roman history, Maximin, the
emperor, is to be reckoned the foremost. Whatever
we are told relative to him is well attested ; his cha-
racter was too exalted not to be thoroughly
known ; and that very strength, for which he was
celebrated, at last procured him no less a reward
than the empire of the world. Maximin was above
nine feet in height, and the best proportioned man
in the whole empire. He was by birth a ri hracian ;
and, from being a simple herdsman, rose through
the gradations of office, until he came to be Em-
peror of Rome. The first opportunity he had ot
exerting his strength, was in the presence of all the
citizens in the theatre; where he overthrew twelve

ANIMALS.

431

of the strongest men in wrestling, and outstript
two of the fleetest horses in running, all in one
day. He could draw a chariot loadcn that two
strong horses could not move ; he could break a
horse’s jaw with a blow of his fist ; audits thigh
with a kick. In war he was always foremost and
invincible ; happy had it been for him and his
subjects, if, from being formidable to his enemies,
lie had not become still more so to his subjects; he
reigned, for some time, with all the world his ene-
my ; all mankind wishing him dead, yet none dar-
ing to strike the blow. As if fortune had resolved
that through life lie should continue unconquera-
ble, he was killed at last by his own soldiers, while
lie was sleeping. We have many other instances,
in later ages, of very great strength, and not fewer
of amazing swiftness ; but these, merely corporeal
perfections, are now considered as of small advan-
tage, either in war or in peace. The invention of
gunpowder has, in some measure, levelled all force
to one' standard; and has wrought a total change
in martial education through all parts of the world.
’In peace also, the invention of new machines
every day, and the application of the strength of
the lower animals to the purposes of life, have ren-
dered human strength less valuable. The boast of
corporeal force is, therefore, consigned to savage
nations, where those arts not being introduced, it
may still be needful; but, in more polite countries,
few will be proud of that strength which other ani-
mals can be taught to exert to as useful purposes as
they.

“ If we compare the largeness and thickness of
our muscles with those of any other animal, we

43* A 'HISTORY OF

shall find that, in this respect, we have the advan-
tage ; and if strength or swiftness, depended upon
the quantity of the muscular flesh alone, I believe
that,, in this respect, we should be more active and
powerful than any other. But this is not the
case a great deal more than the size of the mus-
cles goes to constitute activity or force; and it is
not he who has the thickest legs that can make the
best use of them. Those, therefore, who have
written elaborate treatises on muscular force, and
have estimated the strength of animals by the
thickness of their muscles, have been employed to
very little purpose. It is, in general, observed
that thin and raw-boned men are always stronger
and more powerful than such as are seemingly
more muscular ; as, in the former, all the parts
have better room for their exertions.”

Women want much of the strength of men ;
and, in some countries, the stronger sex have
availed themselves of this superiority, in cruelly
and tyrannically enslaving those who were made
with equal pretensions to a share in all the advan-
tages life can bestow. Savage nations oblige their
women to a life of continual labour; upon them
rest ail the drudgeries of domestic duty; while the
husband, indolently reclined in his hammock, is
first served from the fruits of her industry. From
this negligent situation he is seldom roused, except
by the calls of appetite, when it is necessary, ci-
ther by fishing or hunting, to make a variety in
his entertainments. A savage has no idea of tak-
ing pleasure in exercise ; he is surprised to see an
European walk forward for his amusement, and
then return back again. As for his part, he could

ANIMALS, f 43.9

be contented to remain for ever in the same situa-
tion, perfectly satisfied with sensual pleasures and
undisturbed repose. The women of these coun-
tries are the greatest slaves upon earth ; sensible of
their weakness, and unable to resist, they are obliged
to suffer those hardships which are naturally in-
dicted by such as have been taught that nothing
but corporeal force ought to give pre-eminence.
It is not, therefore, till after some degree of refine-
ment, that women are treated with lenity ; and not
till the highest degree of politeness, that they are
permitted to share in all the privileges of man*
The first impulse of savage nature -is to confirm
their slavery ; the next, of half barbarous nations,
is to appropriate their beauty ; and that of the
perfectly polite, to engage then- affections. In ci-
vilized countries, therefore, women have united the
force of modesty to the power of their natural
charms ; and thus obtain that superiority over tilt
mind, which they are .unable to extort by their
strengtli.

END OF THE FIRST VOEUNTE.

S'rihted by J. Wright, St. John’s Square, Cierkenweli.

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